#Fives and Echo needed a push to reunite

[clonemando]

A Kiss a Day in May

Day 25- Reunion Kiss

Fives/Echo, implied Rex/Fox

Each day this month I have a 100 word drabble featuring a different clone with a kiss prompt. Not all are romantic and they include all sorts of pairings and relationships. Feel free to offer pairing/ character suggestions for future days.

Rex and Fox had carefully coordinated for weeks for this moment. Fives was leaning against the counter at the cafe chatting at Fox about something he wasn't listening to when the door chimed as Rex held it open for Echo to walk in.

Fives immediately went silent and Fox watched as Echo's eyes widened hopefully once he noticed his partner's tattoo. Then Fives was crushing Echo in a hug and crying and finally kissing him desperately. Rex grinned at Fox who smirked back knowing he had earned his reward for later. Being the good guy could actually be fun sometimes.

[stellarbit]

Shifting Loyalties NSFW

Word Count: 7.7k Pairings: The Bad Batch x fem!reader, Tech girlies you get an extra treat. Warnings: I'm not gonna lie y'all, this is smut with almost no plot. I can't list it all. I have no excuses, it's all the batch at once so that should give you an idea of what you're walking into. But no clonecest here. Barely proofread. Summary: The Bad Batch and you are supporting the 501st on a mission, where you are reunited with your old squad. The Batch get a bit jealous and Jesse fans the flame. NSFW

Fives is alive for this because, who doesn’t need more Fives and who doesn’t want to scream at canon sometimes.

-

“It’s obnoxious is what it is.” Crosshair spat, biting down hard enough on his toothpick to snap it in two.

The source of his irritation was the scene unfolding amongst the men of the 501st. During another last-minute mission as General Skywalker's backup, you and Echo had settled in with your former squad before it was time to turn in for the night. Gathered in a loose circle were Echo, Rex, Jesse, Fives, Kix, and you, catching up while the Batch observed from a distance.

Perched on a crate, with Fives at your side leaning on an elbow and talking your ear off, you crossed your ankles and swayed your feet lightly, clearly enjoying the conversation. When Fives' hand casually landed on your thigh, emphasizing his point, Wrecker couldn't suppress a low groan.

"What's so special about those guys, anyway?" Wrecker grumbled, tossing a hand in your direction as a loud laugh escaped you. "I bet it's not even that funny!"

Paying as little attention to the situation as possible, Tech interjected, "There's nothing 'special' about them. It’s simply a shared history." He glanced up to see Fives stand a bit taller, gesturing animatedly as he dominated the conversation. Fives leaned closer to you, his hands gripping your knees for balance.

Logically, there was nothing wrong with their behavior. As Tech understood it, such comradery was not uncommon amongst the regs. Yet seeing you at the center of it set his teeth on edge.

Kix and Jesse had picked up on the Batch’s attitude the moment you stepped off the Marauder. Rex warmed up to the 99’s but the rest of the 501st maintained their distance. That distance solidified into distaste when you left the 501st to join the Batch.

As Rex and Echo broke away on their own, Jesse sidled up to your side, opposite of Fives, with Kix at his side. While Fives pulled every laugh out of you he could, Kix noticed the scowl Tech was leveling him and subtly nudged Jesse.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience.” Kix muttered.

Jesse glanced briefly towards the four Batch members who were watching intently. "Oh, really?" Jesse scoffed, his gaze sweeping over the group before returning to you with a renewed, cocky smile. “Well, then let’s give them something to look at.”

Hopping up next to you, Jesse leaned into your space to position behind your back and hovering over your waist. “Say, Shorty?” He finally interrupted Fives’ ramblings, getting the ARC trooper to push off of you.

“Oh!” You laughed. “Back to ‘Shorty’ are we?”

Fives crossed his arms and grinned, “Well, seeing as how you are shorter than us - you’ll always be a shorty to us.” He nodded towards his brothers at your side. You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at you betrayed your enjoyment

Catching this, Jesse and Fives shared a knowing look, Fives briefly glancing at Jesse's hand still poised near your side. Fives then uncrossed his arms and nodded subtly.

“As I was saying…” Jesse continued, his tone teasing. “You ever get over that little twitch of yours?”

A confused look passed over you. With a small shake of your head you asked, “What ‘twitch?’”

Without warning, Jesse’s hand snapped to your side, his fingers wiggling into your ribs, eliciting a yelp as you jumped into him. In a desperate attempt to escape his tickling, you shimmied forward, laughing through the discomfort. The sudden movement toppled you off the crate, straight into Fives’ waiting arms. Without missing a beat, he caught you with one arm cradling your ass and the other holding you by your waist.

Jesse and Kix chuckled as you shoved against Fives, your feigned anger fooling no one. Kix leaned over to Jesse, musing, "Oh, they didn't like that one bit."

“Looks like someone should go lend them some comfort.” Jesse said sarcastically, sauntering off towards the four troopers.

From their side, the Batch watched on in disgust as you sat in Fives’ arms losing yourself in laughter. He hoisted you over his shoulder, bouncing you a couple of times for show, before setting you back on your feet.

"Show off," Hunter muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turned from the spectacle. He gestured to his brothers with a brisk nod. "C'mon lads, let’s head inside." Despite the order, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair remained firmly in place as Jesse approached, his presence igniting further irritation.

A guttural growl rumbled from Crosshair as Jesse closed in, his tone playful yet provocative. "You're not heading out so soon, are you, fellas?" He jerked a thumb back in your direction, his grin sharp. "You’re missing all the fun over here."

“Oh goody.” Crosshair angled a mean smile at him, placing a toothpick between his lips. “Tell me, are all regs as dull as you?”

Maintaining his composure, Jesse leaned in slightly, his confidence unshaken. “With her smiling like that, I can’t say I’m too worried about being dull. We always kept her smiling. In fact, most nights with us ended with her being happy.” He casually rested a hand on his hip, his smirk widening. “Guess you fellas are only good with clankers.”

Tech, standing next to Crosshair, frowned deeply, his eyes flicking between the men of the 501st and you. His voice was sharp, clinical. “What exactly are you insinuating?”

Before Jesse could reply, Wrecker pushed forward, his massive frame towering as he stepped between his brothers. His voice was deep and menacing, each word dripping with threat., “Yeah, what are you in-sin-ua-ting?”

Jesse stepped closer, meeting the challenge and smirking up at the large clone. “I’m saying, we must’ve been doing something you aren't.” His gaze briefly flickering over to where you were mingling with others, finally realizing where Jesse had strayed off to. While he could, Jesse snuck in one more jab. “Guess Echo didn’t tell you everything. We were more than a squad to her.”

The implication ripped a growl from Crosshair, but before he could escalate the situation, your warm voice broke the tension. “You wouldn’t be causing trouble now, would you, Jesse?”

Jesse turned toward you with a feigned innocence, his chuckle light. “Of course not,” he replied smoothly. “Just catching them up on the old days.” As he clapped a hand on your shoulder and gave it a playful shake, he threw in, “Speaking of which, why don’t you bunk with us tonight, Shorty? It’ll be just like old times.”

His use of your nickname in front of your squad heated your face. From the noise Crosshair made, you were going to have trouble living that down.

With a laugh, you rolled his hand off your shoulder, your tone light but firm. “Oh, I don’t think so. I actually need to get some sleep.” You poked a finger into Jesse’s chest plate playfully yet pointedly. “Which I’m sure wouldn’t happen with your lot around.”

Wrecker's eyebrows flew up as he shot a look at Hunter, who wore a similarly stunned expression. They were just beginning to catch glimpses of your unfiltered self, and while they had suspected the men of the 501st were trying to rile them up, they never dreamt of the level of intimacy you just admitted to.

Seeing you banter so comfortably with the regs, with laughter and playful jabs, left the Batch glowering. For the first time in their lives, they were truly jealous of these regs. They were getting used to being the closest to you, the ones you leaned on during missions, and this unexpected side of you—closer with regs than them—struck a chord.

“Let’s go, lads.” Hunter ordered with a firmness that turned your head. You knew your squad was on edge with the regs, but Hunter sounded almost angry. He left without another word and his brothers trailed behind shortly after. Crosshair was the last to leave, flicking his toothpick past Jesse, barely missing his face.

Watching them retreat to the makeshift barracks adjacent to the 501st’s, you turned to Jesse, your expression one of exasperation. "What did you do?" you demanded.

Jesse put his hands up innocently, saying, “Not my fault your squad doesn’t like to share.”

Share? Weighing the worth of further questioning him against checking in with the Batch, you grumbled in frustration and pointed a warning finger at your former squadmate, “You’re just as bad.” Not allowing him to get under your skin as well you made for your barracks. 

You walked in on the Batch quietly conversing, standing around Wrecker as he sat on a bottom bunk. Out of the lot, Tech and Wrecker turned slightly to see you walking in their direction. You gave a little wave as you neared. The conversation fell silent the nearer you got, widening your nervous smile. They are not happy, you inwardly groaned

Attempting to break the tension you said in a light tone, “Can’t believe we’re actually sleeping in the barracks.” Pulling up to the corner of Wrecker’s bunk, you leaned against the post, arms crossed. “Echo will be pleasantly surprised.”

Crosshair snorted, “It fits. He’s full of surprises.” His odd response, again, pinched your brows.

Widening your eyes and raising your brows in the awkward moment, you flared your fingers out around your arms. “Well, I’ll just pick a bunk.”

You pushed off the bunk only for Wrecker to catch you by the elbow and tug you into his lap, teetering on his thigh, with a hand at the small of your back.

You twisted in your spot to smile at Wrecker, who was looking unexpectedly bashful. “What’s all this?” They boys had only recently started toeing past physical boundaries, this was a bit of a jump for them. Further trying to dissipate the tension, you rocked into Wrecker with your hip. “Scared of sleeping alone suddenly?”

Wrecker swallowed hard, his eyes darting briefly to his brothers as if seeking support or reassurance.

Maintaining a polite, albeit confused, smile you followed his line of sight.. While Tech kept his nose in his datapad, Crosshair stepped up next to Hunter, prompting the Sergeant to step forward and take a knee in front of you.

Hunter's gaze was heavy as he took a deep breath, then slowly lifted his eyes to meet yours. The intensity there caused you to catch and hold your breath, something going taut between you.

"We've been thinking," Hunter began, his voice cautious, as if testing the waters. His hand gently came to rest over your knee, his touch causing you to straighten instinctively, pressing you further into Wrecker’s lap. Until then, you had almost forgotten your position with Wrecker, but his large hand then settled more firmly around your waist.

The dual sensation of their touches sent a shiver through you, a subtle tremble that Wrecker evidently felt too, eliciting a soft, strained noise from him.

“There’s something we’d like to do for you.” Hunter smiled, his hand sliding north of your knee.

You went stock still, eyes blown wide as Hunter leaned in. You shot a look at Crosshair to find him twirling a toothpick between his fingers with a satisfied smile. Next to him, Tech caught your eyes. Where Hunter’s eyes had stilled you, Tech’s thrilled you. You were happy to be seated with Wrecker, because having Tech’s full attention made you feel weak.

“What’s that?” You asked, voice just above a whisper, as you broke away from Tech to find Hunter still watching you. You heart jumped into your throat when Hunter’s thumb smoothed over your inner thigh.

“Have you ever thought about-” Hunter paused, clearing his throat to cover up his hesitation. Slowly and calmly he started again, “Have you ever thought about spending the night with us?”

“I already-”

“Think a little harder.” Crosshair cut you off with an amused tune. Your eyes snapped to Crosshair and, somehow, the arrogance in his stance filled you in on Hunter’s meaning. Heat flared through you, flushing your face so quickly you knew even your ears were red. 

On more than one occasion you’d found release lost in the fantasy of being the center of their attention. Every time you witnessed them sans armor you had to manually breathe through professionalism.

Again you looked to Hunter, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth with a slow nod. Hunter dipped his head, hiding the way his smile widened. Barely lifting his head, he chuffed and followed up with, “Would you like to spend tonight with us?” 

You were able to swallow the whine in your throat enough to nod another affirmative. Hunter opened his mouth but was interrupted by Tech.

“That will not suffice.” Both you and Hunter looked to Tech for clarification. Tech adjusted his goggles but shook his head. “If this is something you want, you will need to agree to what we are asking verbally.” Your legs squeezed together at Tech’s stern tone.

You felt Hunter’s gaze shift back to you, but you eyes were trained on Tech. A smile, wobbly and excited, fluttered over your lips. “Yes,” Heat pooled between your legs, you squirmed in Wrecker’s lap, and you said. “I want to spend the night the night with you guys.”

Wrecker’s other hand found your side, firming his grip to hold you in place. He laughed through his nerves, “Watch it with that.”

Suddenly, you became very aware of where you were seated in his lap. Pushed back over his knee, just an inch or so from his crotch. If you twisted even the slightest you’d pressed him. With intent, you carefully turned into him to offer a smile. As Wrecker groaned against the pressure of your leg you offered a half-assed apology. 

Wrecker took one look at you and crashed his lips into yours. A moment of shock hit you before your started moving against him, melting into the feel of his tongue against yours. When Wrecker leaned you back and deepened the kiss, a little needy noise escaped you 

It was enough for Crosshair to kick Wrecker’s foot.  “Ease up.” Crosshair. Wrecker did indeed ease up, breaking the kiss and leaving you dazed and panting in his eyes.

“Sorry,” He chuckled, lifting a thumb to wipe your lips dry. “Got a lil excited there.”

All you could manage was a hum as he righted you in his lap. Hunter tilted his head back, his smile turning into a challe, “You sure wanna do this?”

You answered by sliding from Wrecker’s knee onto his, slipping your arms around his neck, and stopping just as your lips hovered over his. Lightly squeezing his thigh between yours, you said on a breath. “I’ll only say it once more. I want this.” Grinding onto him, you added. “Badly.”

Catching his lips in a slow kiss, you moved with his hands as they found your hips and pressed you harder onto his knee. With every brush of your clit against him, an ache, hot and desperate, grew in your core. The sound of shuffling armor only reached you as Hunter tapped your thigh, easing you back into reality. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

Eager to continue as quickly as possible, you bounced off of Hunter’s knee to make quick work of your attire. By the time you were down to your underthings they were all down to their blacks in some way. Tech’s was still zipped up, Crosshair and Hunter had theirs stripped to the waist, and Wrecker was stepping out of his. 

Just the sight of them fully dressed was enough to fluster you, finally seeing them bare made you feel downright feral. 

Wrecker stepped over to you, his already erect cock swaying with him. Your mouth went dry at his size, though it was fitting for a man of his stature. He tilted his head with a grin and gestured for the bunk behind you.

As you sat, you came face to face with his massive member before he dropped to a knee. The idea of taking him first, after not having anyone for a long time, thrilled you as much as it intimidated you. A warm body pressed against your back as a pair of long legs, still dressed in black, appeared on either side of you.

Wrecker hooked his fingers into your panties and pulled them off as Tech, in a low tone, said into your ear, “He’s going to warm you up.” 

The chill his voice sent through you hit at the same time Wrecker’s tongue slid over you. Arching into Tech, you whined as Wrecker picked up a steady pace of long flat licks that ended with covering your clit with his mouth. 

Tech wormed a hand between your bodies to discard your bra and give him access to your chest. Gloved hands cupped around your breasts, gently tracing the shape of them before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

Your entire body tensed as Tech played with your nipples. From between your legs, Wrecker chuckled as he slid his middle finger into you, “Oh, she likes that.” The ache Hunter had ignited grew as Wrecker kissed and sucked on your clit while working his finger into you.

“Is it true that you enjoy this?” Tech asked, applying more pressure as you writhed against him.

“Yes,” You barely managed to pant as you quickly reached your peak. “I do, I do, I-”

As you tightened around Wrecker’s finger, he suddenly broke away from you, leaving you empty and at the painful edge of release. “Not yet.” Wrecker left a kiss on your inner thigh as you grabbed to pull him back, only stopped by Tech holding you against him.

“Not yet.” Tech repeated sternly, again stilling you with his voice in your ear.

Wrecker stood as Tech slid out from behind you. Wrecker took his place, positioning you on top of his lap to spread your knees with his. Taking his finger, still wet with you, he traced your slit all the way to your ass. You were starting to tense at the sensation when Wrecker cooed as he slid his finger into you. “Don’t worry, I gotcha.”

Spread wide as Wrecker fingered you, Hunter could see how badly you ached to be filled. With each stroke of Wrecker’s finger, you visibly clenched. Hunter finally released the length of him when you pressed a hand over your mouth to restrain a moan.

Crosshair stepped in to pull your hand away, letting the tail end of your noises loose. “They could hear.” You whined louder than you wanted.

Crosshair held your face in his hand, angling you to face him. With a hand braced on the top bunk, Crosshair leaned down to your eye level. Sucking on a tooth, he smirked as his eyes roamed your writhing form. Meeting your gaze again he gave you a gentle shake as he practically purred, “Then let’s give them something to listen to.”

He’d distracted you enough that Hunter’s sliding into between your legs startled you. Crosshair released your face when Hunter’s cock made contact with you. You leaned forward for a glimpse of him. His swollen head slid over you until he brushed up passed your clit. Precum leaked from him and slid down to mix with your own wetness. Hunter traced you a few times before he tipped your chin up. 

Lined up with you, Hunter asked, “Ready?” Wrecker buried his finger in you as they both waited for your answer.

“Hunter, please.” You quickly whined, bracing your hand on his shoulders, truly desperate to be filled with him.

Hunter leaned in and rolled his hips into you, slowly breaching you until he was completely inside. “You feel,” Huntered groaned, “So good.” As he started pulling out, Wrecker timed his fingers with him. 

Standing within reach of you, Crosshair pulled himself free of his blacks as he watched on. Your attention only pulled away from where you and Hunter were joined when you caught sight of Crosshair stroking himself.

Your noises grew in volume as the Hunter and Wrecker filled you over and over. Only a few strokes in and your toes were already curlling. Feeling your sudden grip, Hunter fully sheathed himself in you as Wrecker left you empty.

“You good?” Hunter asked in a strained voice as he throbbed within you.

You nodded, a blissful smile flashing over you. “Really good.” 

Beneath you, Wrecker squirmed to reposition himself, even raising you out of his way as he did. You heard Wrecker spit but couldn’t tell what on. Hunter pulled you against him for support as Wrecker pressed up against your ass and slid over its entrance. You tried to whip around but Hunter held you firm. 

Pressing a kiss into your neck, Hunter mumbled, “Tell us to stop and we will.”

While Wrecker waited, throbbing against you, Hunter lightly rocked his hips, moving just enough to rub into your cervix. You watched Crosshair’s head angle to get a view of your ass, then your heaving chest, before settling back on your eyes. He continued stroking himself, smirk growing as a needy expression flooded you. 

You swallowed hard when precum spilled out of Crosshair’s cock. “Keep going.” You moaned, granting Wrecker the permission to pull you down onto him. Your body went taught when the flare of his glans pushed past your threshold. Inhaling, you whined and waited for more of Wrecker.

You only waited a second longer before you were grinding yourself over him, not only taking more of Wrecker but grinding farther onto Hunter. “That’s a good girl.” Wrecker sighed happily as he leaned back on one hand and supported your ass as you moved over him. 

The two of them had you completely filled, stretching you in a way that made you see stars. You knew you’d never be the same after feeling this. Hunter angled your hips enough that each thrust pushed into your G-spot. Each of their thrusts had you whimpering louder as you felt the ache in your core tighten.

Giving your ass cheek a firm grasp, Wrecker’s head fall back in ecstacy. It took everything in him to not move faster and push harder into you. He wanted to feel you make you come completely undone around him, break apart for him even, but he sat back and let you pleasure yourself on him.

Eyes still on Crosshair, you extended an open hand to him, urging him closer. The sniper snorted but obliged you, giving you full access to his body. Resting back on Wrecker, you let Hunter take over the rhythm as you pulled Crosshair closer. 

Swiping a thumb over Crosshair’s slit, his precum spilled over you. Crosshair ran a hand over your hair and around to your jawline. “Of course that’s not enough for you,” Crosshair mused. His cock, thick in your hand, had a small patch of silver hair at its base you brushed as you pumped your hand over him.

Each deliberate move of your hand challenged Crosshair’s composure. He clenched his jaw to hide the pleasure he felt. His resolve cracked as his eyes fluttered and he leaned in to your grasp.

The rare sight of Crosshair’s softened features made you whimper and writhe in Hunter’s hold. Your tightening grip rushed Hunter to his limit. He rested his forehead in the crook of your neck. “Mesh’la, keep doing that and I won’t last much longer.” 

Allowing himself a few shallow thrusts, Wrecker groaned, “I’m right there too.” He’d barely gotten the words out when Wrecker groaned loudly, pumping hard into you as he throbbed and lost control.

Hunter picked up his pace until he quickly pulled out and, a second later, coated you in cum. His hips kept rocking against you, rubbing over your clit and fueling the ache in your core. “Right there, right there.” You encouraged him as he kept moving over you until completely emptied himself. 

With Wrecker still throbbing inside you, paired with the sudden pressure on your clit, your orgasm hit you hard. It wracked your body until your legs quivered. Fucked into an euphoric state, you leaned towards Crosshair, still aching for pleasure. You’d never dreamt this would be a reality and you were quickly becoming greedy. 

“Easy now,” Wrecker murmured and, as gently as he could, eased out of you. Without him and Hunter, you felt emptier than ever before. 

Hunter scooted back enough to sit back on his knees, panting and pushing his hair back out of his face. He watched as Wrecker pressed a kiss to your shoulder and helped you crawl over his legs to face Crosshair.

Prying your mouth open with a thumb, Crosshair hummed down to you, “If you want a taste, you better do it quickly.” A chill ran down your spine as Crosshair pulled you by your mouth, guiding you to the tip of his cock. 

You stuck your tongue out to swirl around his head. He hissed as you eagerly took him into your mouth, bobbing over him and swiping your tongue side to side as you did. As promised, Crosshair only allowed you a small taste of him before pulling you off him.

He knelt to your eye level, crouching on the balls of his feet, to ask, “Do you want more?” 

Your brows pulled together and a lazy smile lifted your lips. “I want you, Crosshair.”

Crosshair stilled for a moment, something striking a chord in him. His eyes quickly scanned yours before he caught your lips in a fast, hurried kiss. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips, “On your knees.”

The sniper helped you to your feet and got you onto the neighboring bunk. He guided you onto your hands and knees, facing his brothers. There was no teasing nor dragging out the moment. No, Crosshair immediately lined himself up with you, leaned over to cage you in his arms, and whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” 

In one smooth thrust, Crosshair buried himself inside of you, immediately taking up a steady pace as he fucked you into the bunk. Crosshair draped himself over you, sneaking a hand around you and right to the apex of your thighs. 

“Incoming.” Tech chimed from across the room. 

Crosshair held you in place as the barracks door swooshed open and Echo walked in. A drop of panic hit your stomach when Echo’s sweeping look found you. Confused, horror overtook the cyborg and as he hurried over.

Nearly stumbling over Hunter, still regaining his composure on the floor, Echo ripped around to you. “Crosshair, what do you think you are doing?!”

Crosshair pushed off of you, straightening to posture over you and face Echo. Using your hips as leverage, Crosshair slowed his pace and confidently answered, “Whatever what she wants.”

Echo’s expression went stunned as he knelt in front of you. Slightly dazed, flushed, and cum covered, you tucked your face into the mattress in a rush of embarrassment. Still, you whined each time Crosshair’s hips hit yours. 

Echo reached a concerned hand out, encouraging you to lift yourself again. His eyes searched yours, but you were too far gone to do anything but reach for the man in front of you. You ran your hand as far down Echo’s torso as you could and turned to press a kiss into his palm. “Echo.” His name came out on a moan that brought heat to his cheeks. 

“Looks like there is something else she wants.” Crosshair chuckled behind you. He leaned back over you, bringing his mouth to your ear but holding Echo’s stare. “Why don’t you tell Echo what you want?”

You could barely think through Crosshair’s relentless thrusting and the rhythm of his fingers. “Echo.” His eyes slid to you to catch you kissing his hand again. “I want to taste you.” Licking the length of his hand, you wrapped your mouth around his forefinger.

Echo had been growing hard from the moment he saw your bare skin until the softness of your mouth got him instantly hard. Glancing between you, Echo kept an eye on the hand still reaching for him and slowly brought his hips to meet your touch.

As you pried off his codpiece with one hand, Echo assisted in pulling himself out of his underlayer. 

You pulled Echo by his thigh so that he overshadowed your face. Starting at his base, where his balls met his shaft, you flattened your tongue and ran it up the length of him. Reaching his tip, you steadied him with your hand. 

Echo mumbled under a grunt as you moved your mouth over him, “Oh, stars.” 

The taste of Echo narrowed your focus on him, seeking to hear his pleasure. When Crosshair heard your own muffled moans, felt them with his chest against your back, he lifted off you. He traced a finger down your spine, feeling you arch into his touch as he went.

Echo was still adjusting to the reality he’d walked into when you started working your hand in tandom with your mouth. His hand flew to your head, his fingers threading into your hair. He couldn’t help himself as he kept his hand firm and met your rhythm with his own. You slackened into him as he pushed against the back of your throat.

The way you twitched around Crosshair, pulled a moan from him. Sensing your little struggle as you tried to take more of Echo, Crosshair again reached for your clit. “Relax.” He whispered as his hand made lazy circles around you.

Sliding off of Echo you swallowed and looked up to find him watching you with wide eyes and mouth slightly open. You didn’t look away as you opened wider and took him into your mouth. With a deep breath you relaxed as best you could and pushed him to the back of your throat. Moaning around him you pressed on until you felt him squeeze down your throat.

A moan, breathless and low, finally escaped Echo and he held you fast against him. The sounds you’d worked so hard for twisted that familiar ache in your core. Your eyes watered against the pressure as his cock twitched in your throat. You tasted him spilling inside you as he came undone. 

Crosshair grunted, shuddering as you clenched down on him. Unwilling to finish before you did, Crosshair focused his touch on your clit into light, fast strokes.

You tapped Echo repeatedly until he pulled his softening cock out of you. Gasping for air your fell onto your elbows, head hanging over the side of the bunk. Face down, ass up you sounded on the verge of tears as you warbled, “Cross, I can’t. I’m gonna-”

His thrusts become long, slow, and angled right into the soft spot inside you. “Go on then.” Crosshair urged you on. “We all want to hear you.”

The low tone of his voice finished you. Your eyes rolled back and you cried out as you lost yourself in Crosshair’s hold. He continued pushing you through your release as long as he could until Crosshair had to pull out. Gripping your hips tight, he thrust one final time against you and sent ropes of his cum down your back. In the throws of his own pleasure, his groans matched yours in volume.

It took a few moments for your both to settle back into the present. Your legs were so weak that you were at Crosshair’s mercy to keep you upright. He felt you relax and sag into his him, prompting him to gently lay you to rest on your side. He brushed your hair out of your face, letting you look up at him without moving your head.

He watched you pant a second longer, swallowed and asked, “You okay?”

A little smile came to you. You coughed out an affirmative hum, and warmly croaked, “More than okay.”

Echo came around to your side, looking over you with concern. “What can we do?”

“Relax.” Hunter, already half dressed, came behind Echo and gestured casually towards another area. “Tech’s on it.” His gaze softened as he smiled down at you over Echo’s shoulder. “You really are something.”

His praise sent a wave of warmth through you, though you could only muster a pleasant hum in response, your energy still recovering.

“Tech’s gonna help you get cleaned up. That okay with you?” Hunter waved someone, presumably Tech, over. 

Taking a deep breath, you raised onto your elbow. Tech was indeed inbound carrying some supplies and still full dressed. Suddenly you felt as bare as you were. You couldn’t look away, but gave Hunter the nod he and Crosshair needed to step away.

“C’mon boys, let’s give her some privacy.”

Echo looked you over once more, nodded and followed his brothers lead.

Soon it was just you and Tech in the quiet. For most of what happened, you’d lost track of Tech. Who had, by the looks of it, had steered completely clear of the scene.

Tech settled down next to you, placing a stack of necessities beside your head—clothes, towels, all topped with a bowl of water. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position with one hand, inspecting the items he had brought. “Thank you,” you mumbled shyly, the simple kindness in his preparation bringing some softness you very much needed.

“Sit up.” Tech instructed as he brought the water closer. You followed his order, positioning yourself with your back slightly turned. Looking over your shoulder, you watched Tech dip a small towl in the water before bringing it to your shoulder.

The towel was cool against your flushed skin. Jumping you said through a chill, “That’s cold, Tech.”

“You do not want warm water for this.” Tech said matter-of-factly. “Heat will denature the proteins in the se-”

“Oh! I didn’t know that.” You said quickly, cutting him off while also doing terrible job at covering your embarassment.

Tech rotated between wiping your back and ringing out the towel. When silence again fell over you, Tech asked softly. “Are you in any pain?”

You thought for a moment, doing a mental sweep of your body, and replied, “No, I’m okay.” You squeezed your eyes shut hearing yourself stuttering your words.

Tech immediately questioned you again, “Are you having regrets?”

You flinched to turn around, but kept your back to him. “No.” You replied softly. It went quiet again as Tech did a final swipe of your back.

“Now turn around.” Tech swapped out the towel for a fresh one as you slowly turned to face him. 

Again, Tech dampened the cloth and brought it to your skin, the cool touch hitching your breath. As his hands carefully wiped your skin, he observed your slow, controlled breathing. His eyes darted to yours. 

“You are uncharacteristically silent.” Tech noted bluntly with no follow up theory as to why.

Shoving your nerves to a manageable level, you blurted out, “Why didn’t you join?”

Tech’s hand stilled, but he kept your gaze for a beat. Moving to dampen the towel, he followed it with his eyes. He shrugged, saying, “Not really my thing.”

Your stomach dropped at his simple dismissal. Under your breath you said, “Oh.” 

You kept watching Tech as he brought the towel back to your chest. When it came time to wipe your breast, Tech found your gaze again. He flattened his hand under the cloth and ran his whole hand over your breast, his thumb catching on your nipple.

A brazen surg hit you and you pushed, “So, I’m not really your thing?”

Tech pulled back slightly with his hand wiping you. Raising a brow he asked cautiously, “My thing?”

Despite slightly regretting your line of questioning, your fingers fidgeted together as you clarified, “As in, you’re not interested in being with me.”

His wariness faded as he focused back on his work, again rinsing the towel. “That… is not entirely accurate.” He lowered the towel down between your breasts to your stomach. He wore a cocky smile as he said, “Besides, something such as after care requires a more delicate touch.”

You caught his hand before he made it to your navel. “Then what would be entirely accurate?”

Tech looked up through his goggles, his lip pulling to the side as he weighed what to say next. He wanted to make sure he was indeed being entirely accurate as he confessed, “I’m not interested in being with you in the company of others.”

His insinuation caught you off guard. Sitting a little more upright, your angled your head for a better view of those brown eyes. “So… you do want me?”

Tech’s head sagged slightly as he deadpanned. “Well, of course I do.” In your surprise, you released Tech’s hand and allowed him to finish wiping you down.

Steeling yourself against the warmth following his touch, you prodded further, “What if it was just you and I?”

Missing the subtlety behind you question, Tech simply replied, “That would be different for me.”

“It’s just you and I now, Tech,” You reminded him, voice barely above a whisper.

He was mid rinse when he heard you. The thought caused him to pause only for a moment before he wrung the towel out and turned back to you. Tech didn’t move to touch you. Instead, he muttered, “I did consider that, but I was not certain such an arrangment would interest you.”

Unable to let the chance pass, you grabbed Tech’s wrist again and flat out admitting, “It very much interests me.”

His attention fell to your hold on him for a moment. Gently he pulled out of your hand, moving the cool towel between your legs. Leaning closer as the fabric met your skin, Tech asked, “Does it interest you right now?”

“Well, of course it does.” You repeated his words in an impression of him. He hadn’t anticipated the sudden playfulness in your voice, but it brought a small smile to Tech.

Carefully, he wiped you clean, noting the movement in your face as he found every sensitive bit. When he was satisifed with his work, Tech set all the items he brought on the floor. He sat in front of you, one leg over the side of the bunk, and adjusted his goggles as he took in the full view of you. “You are beautiful," He marveled.

You got to your knees and scooted closer. With bated breath you asked what you've wanted to for weeks, “Can I kiss you?”

Tech blinked once, then twice before responding, “Given the circumstances, that wouldn’t be unwarranted.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice that forced a smile from you.

Your reaction pulled a mirrored smile from Tech that had crawling into his lap. With no restraint, you moved in to kiss him. Pecking him with feverish kisses, Tech quickly relaxed into your rhythm to deepen the sensation. It seemed he'd been waiting just as long as you.

His hands slid around to your back and tugged you against him. You held Tech’s face in your hands and ran your tongue across his bottom lip. It took little coaxing for Tech to give you access to his mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his.

You sat intertwined, blissfully lost in the taste of each other and comfortable in each other’s hold. Tech hardened beneath you and the angle your were sat on Tech had your crotch directly against his. The realization hit you both at the same time as started moving against one another.

The friction of his blacks made the pressure between your legs that much more mind numbing. Moaning into your kiss, you retreated a fraction with Tech chasing your lips. “Get out of this.” You managed to say.

Tech straightened himself while keeping you in his lap and his mouth on yours. Without breaking away from you, he peeled out of his blacks. Only when he couldn’t budge them farther did Tech pull away. You both were desperate for air, but more desperate for each other.

Dodging Tech’s hands, you helped him the rest of the way out of the clothing and hurried back into his lap. Tech leaned back against the bed post when you were saddled on top of him. With Tech’s assistance you raised yourself over him. The natural curve of his cock allowed you to line up with him without your hands. 

You tried to lower yourself, but Tech’s hand on your ass held you in place. “May I record this?”

Without question you nodded. After he tapped the side of his goggles, he returned your nod and released his hold on you. 

As soon as he eased up you sunk onto him. The sudden fullness of him immediately brightening your smile. Tech firmed his grip on your back, pulling you and your clit against his abdomen. “I’d like you to start slow.”

You gave in to his request, supporting yourself on his shoulders as you patiently rolled your hips. He had you pressed against him in a way that constantly stimulated you, sending more warmth between your legs. When he felt what it did to you, heard his name on your tongue, he started moving beneath you, saying almost in warning, “I’m going to move faster.”

Tech was stronger than you'd imagined, effortlessly sliding you over him and thrusting into you from below. The pace at which you moved against each other, completely intertwined, quickly sent you into delirium. He pressed against you in every way, against the walls of your pussy and the ache in your clit. By the grip you had on Tech, there was no hiding your rising ecstasy.

“That-” Tech grunted out, leaning you further so you were completely against him. “Must feel good.” His tone was confident, arrogant even and it made you want to fuck him until he couldn’t speak.

Still, your new position gave Tech the leverage he needed to find your G-spot. As he grazed it, you cried out his name, encouraging him to maintain that specific angle. “Tech! Keep going right there, please.” Your encouragement ended in pleading.

Doing exactly as you asked, Tech held you in place and drilled into you. Keeping a careful, steady rhythm that in moments took you right to the edge of an orgasm and shoved you right over.

You couldn’t speak as you shook in Tech’s arms. Every inch of you quaked as a softer wave of heat spread through you. Lolling against Tech, he held you close and he rocked you both forward.

Still seated inside you, Tech rested you onto your back with your legs hooked behind him. Turning your cheek with a kiss, Tech exposed your neck. He pumped into you while he trailed kisses to your ear.

“This is the only way I’ll have you.” Tech purred into your ear. You locked your ankles and pulled Tech deeper inside you. Tech noticably throbbed and chuckled softly, “That is not going to help me last.”

You used your legs as leverage to move over him, humming, “Good, I don’t want you to.”

Tech pulled back to flash you smirk. “In that case…” He rested a elbow by your head, held you by your waist and pulled out to thrust back into you. “I’m already close. You need to tell me where you want me.”

Feeling him deep inside you made it an easy decision. You pressed him with another kiss as you said, “Inside.”

Tech rocked hard into you, thoroughly filling you as he came inside you. The two of you settled into each other, spent and panting through mutual trembling. 

“Well,” Tech took a deep breath and pushed up over you. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

After all the heat died down and you were all in fresh clothes, you laid out on your cot with an arm over your eyes. In their respective cots, Crosshair and Echo lounged on the edge of sleep while Wrecker and Hunter and Tech were quietly chatting.

Before the night ended you had one last relentless question.

Popping up on an elbow, you looked towars the still awake men. “Hunter?” You singled out the leader. Once you caught his eye you asked, “What caused all that?” The silence that fell pulled a suspicious smile from you.

With his back to you, Crosshair snorted, broadening your smile. You laughed and asked again, “What?” 

Wrecker groaned, rolling his head back. “It was the regs.”

Echo immediately perked up, twisting to exchange a look with you. “What about them?” Echo asked warily.

Hunter sighed, “Jesse told us about how they used to…” He took a deep breath and rolled his hand as he continued, “Make you happy, let’s say.”

“And Echo knew.” Wrecker grumbled.

“Wait-” You and Echo tried interjecting, but Tech cut in.

“Not to mention you said how you wouldn’t get any sleep with them.”

When the dots connected for you, you covered your mouth, hung open, with a hand but couldn’t back the laugh that bubbled out of you. 

From his cot, Echo covered his face with a groan, “Oh, no.”

Even Crosshair now sat up, exchanging confused looks with Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter.

Crosshair glanced at you and with an annoyed undertone he asked, “What?” He clearly did not like being on the outside of whatever you and Echo knew.

You shook your head and couldn’t fully answer through your laughter. “I never…”

Echo waved his prosthetic in the direction of the wall shared with the 501st. “We never did any of that. Jesse was just getting under your skin.” He groaned again, looking upwards and  begging the Force for help. Gesturing in your direction he added, “And we wouldn’t get any sleep because they’d never stop yapping.”

You took deep breaths to settle down as Crosshair started chuckling. 

“In retrospect, that is the more plausible option.” Tech said, shocked Jesse got the better of him. 

Collapsing on your bunk, you called out warmly, “For the record, I am much happier as a part of this squad.”

Crosshair got the last word in, scoffing the last of his humor away, “Better be.”

taglist: @bruh-myguy-what @baddest-batchers @psychrebel I hope specifically hope this makes you happy

[late-to-the-party-81]

Her Alpha

AN: It’s Alpha Steve time!It feels good to be updating all my series 😀 This fits in between Surprise, Surprise and Birthday Gifts

@noseyrosey1597 asked: I’m obsessed with Alpha nomad Steve and his omega. Could you possibly do a one shot where she meets the team? Maybe she doesn’t like Tony

Endless thanks to my beta,  @endlesstwanted. Likes are loved, reblogs are golden. Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Bingo and Challenge fills:

@steverogersbingo  - A1 - Alpha Steve

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: It’s not even been 24 hours since you and Steve were reunited, but it’s the start of the next chapter - you’re moving in with him at the Avengers Compound, which also means it’s time to meet the team. You’ve just got to hope you can keep your pregnancy hormones under control.

Relationship: Alpha Steve x Pregnant Omega Reader

Word count: 2.8k

CW: A/B/O, Sexual content (P in V sex, pregnancy sex, knotting), Steve’s dirty talk, smidge Angst, hormonal and aggressive Omega Reader, Pet names (Omega, sweetheart, Mama).

You woke up, an almost long forgotten feeling of contentment suffusing you, and turned within the pair of thick arms that held you. With a sigh you looked up into the face of Steve, your Alpha. You lifted your hand and smoothed a lock of his hair back from his forehead, marvelling at the sheer beauty of him. It was almost criminal, the way his long eyelashes kissed his freckled skin. A happy chirp made its way out of your throat and Steve stirred, pulling you tighter to his body. 

If it weren’t for the ache on your neck, or the echoing one between your legs, you’d still believe this was a dream. Five months had gone without you seeing each other, longer than anytime before, but now the sporadic visits were finally over. The Accords were rescinded, Steve was no longer a criminal on the run and you could truly be together. Today Steve would be taking you to where he lived, the Avengers Compound in upstate New York, and you wouldn’t have to put up with this shitty, damp apartment anymore. You’d have a nice place to live, access to a state of the art medical facility for when your pup (or pups) came, and you’d get to meet all of Steve’s friends. What a difference a day made.

You sighed again and tilted your head to press your lips against Steve’s. His eyes were still closed, but you knew he wasn’t fully asleep because he deepened the kiss almost immediately and a muscular thigh, covered in coarse hair, pushed its way between your legs. You rocked against it as he kissed you, despite the fact that it increased the ache that was there. You welcomed the mild discomfort because it meant he was really here with you.

“Morning, ‘Mega,” Steve mumbled against your lips. He rolled onto his back and pulled you with him so you were straddling his hips, his morning wood slotting against your sex. Your fingers threaded into the slightly too long hair at the nap of his neck and he let out a pleasured growl.

“Morning, Alpha,” you purred as you lightly ground down onto him. You were wet already, a combination of being back in your Alpha’s arms along with being in your second trimester - your libido had picked up and Steve couldn’t have returned at a better time.

“Ready to leave this all behind?” he asked as his large hands landed on your hips and helped you move back and forth over his length, covering it in your arousal.

“Mmm-hmm,” you confirmed. “Although I’m not ready to leave this bed yet. There’s something I wanna do first.” You lifted your body, took Steve in hand and then sunk back down, a feeling of bliss suffusing your whole being. You were glad that it hadn’t been that long since he was last inside you so that you didn’t need to go through any arduous prep.

“Oh, sweetheart. Fuck.” You very rarely took the lead like this - you blamed your hormones - and Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head. “That’s it, Mama. Ride me. Take what you need. Look so god-damn sexy, carrying my pups. If I could I fuck some more into you. Jeez.”

The power trip was making you dizzy with arousal. You wanted him to lose his mind due to his want and desire for you. He was your Alpha - your mate. You were pregnant with his pups, and now you were going to start the rest of your life together this very day.

As you rocked atop him, Steve ran a hand up your body to cup one of your breasts. His thumb flicked over your engorged nipple and you gasped at the sensation as your body clenched around his length. Your whole body was much more sensitive now.

“Steve,” you keened, and sped up your movements. “So close, Alpha. Make me come, please!” You knew he was close as well because you could feel his swelling knot teasing your entrance. 

“Your wish is my command, Omega.” His other hand dropped to your clit and he drew matching circles over it, both hands working in tandem on different parts of your body to pull you over the edge. You moaned loudly as the pleasure hit, rocking back and forth on his cock as your pussy spasmed. A second dart of pleasure hit you as Steve’s knot popped and you felt his cum fill you up. Steve’s noises of ecstacy merged with yours as your movements slowed and then finally stilled. You collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily, your bodies still joined together.

“We don’t need to pack up until this afternoon, do we?” you asked. Steve chuckled, his body jiggling yours as he did.

“You don’t need to do anything, Omega. I can sort it out while you’re having a nap.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh, good,” you replied and then let out a yawn. “I find myself worn out for some reason.”

“I wonder why,” Steve replied with a snort. “Now relax. Let your Alpha deal with all the mundane stuff.

As the car made its way up the long drive leading to the large, white compound, you felt your stomach flutter in anticipation. You’d never met the other Avengers, having only encountered Steve by chance just before he went on the run. It had been like one of those moments from an old movie, where your eyes had met across a crowded room. You’d approached each other warily, sensing a connection but being sensibly cautious. Then you’d each caught the scent of the other, and that had been it. It was a miracle you hadn’t just started fucking in the middle of the coffeeshop, the way your body had reacted - your inner Omega would have done so, happily. Luckily, Steve was a little bit more controlled and managed to at least wait until you’d had one dinner together before agreeing to come back to your apartment with you. 

That had been just over two years ago, and given how he’d mated you and then had to disappear, only returning for your heat or his rut, your relationship could be termed a whirlwind. Now you were going to meet his friends - his family - and announce that you were going to be having his pups in a matter of months. Your hands twisted in the fabric of your coat, and you pulled your lower lip between your teeth to chew on it.

Picking up on your anxiety, Steve pulled you tighter into his embrace and used his thumb to release your lip from its torture.

“They’re gonna love you, Omega. I promise.” His deep voice soothed you and you rested your head on his chest.

“You’re sure?” you asked quietly.

“How could they not? You’re so sweet and kind. And when they know you’re carrying my pups they’re gonna be thrilled. Happy likes you already, so you have nothing to worry about.”

You flicked your eyes up to the driver’s mirror, catching the glance of the tall, broad and cheerful Beta who’d turned up to whisk you and Steve back to the compound. Apparently he was Tony Stark's Head of Security and you’d been put straight at ease when he’d greeted you with a genuine smile and a ‘Nice to meet you, ma’am.’ You hoped the rest of the introductions would go as smoothly.

The car came to a halt, and you looked out of the tinted window in awe at the enormity of the site. 

“Here we go, Mama - home sweet home.” Steve got out of the car and then held out his hand to assist you. “Let’s head on over to the common room - the others are waiting. Happy will sort out your bags for us.”

Unused to this level of attention, you spun around to face the security specialist. “Oh, you don’t have to. I’m sure we can…”

Happy held up his hand and flashed you a grin. “It’s not a problem at all, ma’am. It’s practically a holiday compared to some of the things Mr Stark asks me to do.”

You giggled back as you wondered what on earth Iron Man had his staff doing? You’d wouldn’t ask though, getting the feeling that you’d regret knowing the answer.

With your arm tucked safely in his, Steve led you into the state of the art compound and along a maze of corridors. Each one looked the same. Your confusion and apprehension must have shown on your face.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart - you’ll learn your way around in no time, and while you’re getting there, you can just ask FRIDAY for help - she’s Tony’s AI and can help with whatever you need.” Steve lifted his head and addressed the ceiling. “Isn’t that right, FRIDAY?”

“It is, Captain. I’m here to assist in any way possible.”

You jumped as the voice came out of hidden speakers, and Steve couldn’t hide his smile.

“Is she always listening?” you whispered, pulling Steve down closer to you. The thought that there would be a computer intelligence that would be able to hear you… your cheeks started to heat at the thought.

Steve shook his head. “She does continually monitor us and the surroundings as standard, but not everything is for her computer eyes, sweetheart. We can tell her when to engage the privacy protocols.” He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and leant closer. “Some things are just for me, Omega.” He let out a little growl and nipped at your lower lip, making you jump for the second time in as many minutes, although for totally different reasons. His eyes were dark and his expression held all sorts of promises, but you knew there was no time for that at this moment. Besides, the wait would just make it better.

Your mate obviously had the same idea, as he started walking again, keeping his stride short so he wasn’t dragging you along.

“So, Bucky, Nat, Wanda and Vision live on site. Sam splits his time between here and DC. Clint also splits his time. Thor has rooms here for when he’s visiting from Asgard - at least with his hammer he doesn’t have to worry about the commute time. Tony and Pepper obviously have their own place, but Tony spends a lot of time here, mainly because Pepper’s banned all his large tech and tinkering stuff from their house. Tony should be here, or at least on his way over. He said he was desperate to meet you.”

“Why does that worry me?” you jested.

“He’ll just flirt with you - that’s what Tony does. And he’ll mainly do it to wind me up.” He screwed up his face and you giggled. The idea that you’d even respond to the flirting of someone who wasn’t your Alpha was laughable.

Steve had done a good job of distracting to you, because you didn’t even think about the fact that you must be near your destination until Steve steered you through an open doorway and into a room that housed a large number of sofas, a massive TV, a kitchenette, a foosball table and seven other people.

“And here we are,” said Steve as he came to a halt, moving you in front of him with his arms clasped around your waist. “Everyone, this is my beautiful Omega. Sweetheart - this is everyone.”

You knew your eyes were bugging out of your head. You were in the presence of literal superheroes - your brain had long gotten over the fact that Steve was Captain America - and didn’t for the life of you know how you were going to adjust. 

One of them pushed away from the wall and walked towards you with a shy smile, long dark hair flopping over his brow. “Hey, Doll. I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet you. Sorry I kept Stevie away from you for so long.”

You grinned back at him and shook his proffered hand. At this distance you could tell he was an Alpha, just like Steve. His scent wasn’t unpleasant - metal, sandalwood and fresh snow - but it didn’t speak to you like Steve’s did. His blend of spring sunshine, lemon thyme and honey called to your Omega in a way that no other Alpha’s ever had. “It’s good to meet you too. I’m looking forward to finding out all of Steve’s deep dark secrets from you.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed, and you heard Steve mutter something under his breath that sounded like ‘I thought it was Tony I’d have to worry about’.

The next to step forward was a petite, but lethal looking red-head. You knew from news reports that this was the Black Widow - or Natasha. “Hi, I’m Nat. I’m glad that this idiot finally managed to find someone to put up with him.”

You sniggered behind your hand as Steve let out a cry of mock anger. Hearing all of the banter made your heart soar. It really was like meeting Steve’s family. 

He introduced you around to the others, and you subtly scented them as they got close. Nat had a strange scent - like a cross between an Alpha and a Beta, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Sam and Thor were both Alphas, Clint was a Beta, Wanda an Omega, and Vision was just Null, being an artificial construct.

Your inner Omega was slightly concerned by Wanda for a few moments, until you realised that she and Steve obviously had a big brother-little sister vibe going on and you relaxed.

“Now,” said Steve, “the only person left to meet is…”

There was a crashing and clattering noise from the hallway, and then another man appeared - there was no mistaking who it was.

“...Tony.” Steve finished.

Tony swaggered into the room, walking up to you and Steve.

“Hey Capsicle, sorry I’m late.” He clapped his hand jovially on Steve’s shoulder and grinned.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’d pulled away from Steve, grasped Tony’s wrist, and pulled it away so he was no longer touching your Alpha. Your upper lip curled and a snarl left your mouth.

“My mate,” you spat at the surprised Omega.

The room fell silent and you felt nine pairs of eyes focussed on you, but your hindbrain was in control, protecting your growing family from this interloper.

“Umm, sweetheart?” Steve placed his hand on your back between your shoulder blades. “Are you alright?”

You growled, eyes still focussed on Tony, who had much more of your Alpha’s scent lingering to him than you were happy with.

“My Alpha,” you bit out, stepping up into Tony’s personal space. “Mine.”

“Okay…” Tony breathed out, slowly removing your hand from him and taking a few steps back, looking you up and down as if he was trying to see what was under your coat. “So, ummm, I think congratulations are in order! I’m guessing that’s what’s set you off.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision cock his head and heard him whisper to Wanda. “I think I’ve missed something, dearest.”

“She’s pregnant and she sees Tony as a threat,” Wanda whispered back.

Tony coughed awkwardly and drew your attention back to him.

“I can assure you that I’m not after Ste - your Alpha. I have an Alpha of my own. See.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing you his mating scar.

Your eyes narrowed as you peered at him. “You smell of my Alpha.” The accusatory tone was obvious, and you could feel Steve shifting awkwardly behind you.

“Well, we do spend a lot of time together. We’re friends. I was helping him yesterday - trying to find you.”

You snarled again and Tony’s eyes went wide, as though he thought you might leap forward and try to rip his throat out with your teeth. Your inner Omega was considering it.

“B-But,” Tony continued, “I smell of my own Alpha - Pepper - more. Here…” he held his wrist out towards you, and cautiously you leant forward and sniffed. Tony smelled of oil, coffee and amber. Steve’s scent lingered on him, but it was almost drowned out by another set of notes - vanilla, jasmine and lemon.

“Hhmmph.” You grunted out a non-committal noise, but backed up towards Steve again, taking hold of his arm and aggressively scenting at his wrist - publicly claiming him -, never letting your gaze leave Tony.

“Sweetheart? Omega? Would you like to go to our apartment now and have a little rest?” Steve spoke tentatively, as though you were a bomb set on a hair trigger.

“Not rest. Knot.” you retorted before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room. “FRIDAY - which way to Captain Rogers’ apartment?”

The Avengers watched you go, and then looked at each other as soon as you were out of view.

“Well,” said Tony as he breathed out heavily. “I might have to keep my distance from Cap for the next few months.” 

Nat chuckled. “Might be best, especially if you want to keep your larynx intact.”

Tony brought his hand up to cup his own throat, lips twisting wryly. “Yeah. At least we know one thing - she’s not gonna let Rogers walk all over her.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions

[mistatsunrise]

Shards of Loyalty

Amidst the shadows of betrayal and loyalty, one rebel medic must navigate fractured bonds in the heart of the Empire's darkness.

Fandom: Star Wars, The Bad Batch

Pairing: Wolffe x Reader

Content: Angst as the reader briefly reunites with Wolffe on Teth

Warnings: Spoilers for TBB S3ep06+07

Word Count: 2,978

A/N: I watched the episode, cried, then spent all my time writing this. Also, I couldn't help but have Gregor simp for the reader in this one. Art in divider is by lornaka.

Sitting around the grey flexsteel table, laughter danced around you, as soft giggles spilled from your lips. Your eyes closed briefly as your cheeks rose, a toothy grin wide across your face in a way that made each corner hurt. Across from you was the other source of joyful sounds, in his worn, white plastoid commando armour. His features were spread into a similar grin, crow's feet crinkled about his chestnut brown eyes that glinted in the artificial light of the ship’s interior, and the worn lines upon his tan skin stretched about his smile. A small, stray strand on his dark, slicked-back hair had fallen out of place, which he brushed back into place with a quick swipe of his gloved hand.

As you calmed your laughs, you shifted your hand to take hold of your cup of caf that sat on the table in front of you, the earthy smell of it curling in your nose as you inhaled. Before taking a sip of it, you tilted your head towards the clone opposite you as he rubbed the side of his face, trying to calm his laughter that was greater than yours.

“As soon as we land, I’m going to go get Nemec to confirm that, Gregor,” you teased him softly, to which the clone burst into another bout of laughter.

“You don’t trust me?” Gregor cooed as his laughs subsided again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. It wasn’t serious though, the lop-sided smirk on his face making it evident.

You rolled your eyes softly, placing your hand around the warm cup and lifting it to take a sip. The caf inside tasted too dry and was bitter on your tongue. Yet, you focused on Gregor, paying the poor taste of the caf little mind. “That mission was wild, I need to hear Nemec’s account. I believe you… but, maker, I need to hear more.”

Gregor chuckled softly at that, raising his cup of caf to his lips as you spoke. Yet, you noticed his dark chestnut hues shift from looking at you, moving to looking at the stairs towards the cockpit. The heavy sound of metal prosthetic legs, slightly muted by boots, traveled down to the table. In the doorway, Echo emerged, his pallid features holding a sense of alarm. He cut to the chase, his caramel eyes settling upon both you and Gregor as he spoke.

“Rex commed. Imperials have discovered the base at the spire. They need extracting, ASAP. We’re about five parsecs away.”

You flicked your eyes back to Gregor, whose dark eyes had now hardened with solemnity. There was an unspoken understanding between you three. Your voice vocalized before you even registered it, holding an almost emotionless tone to it.

“Affirmative.”

You pushed yourself from your chair as Gregor simultaneously stood. You all knew what needed to be done, no orders were needed. That’s how this little group of rebels worked, efficiently like a well-oiled droid; not like the Separatist clankers, but like the whirring of a reliable R-series astromech.

Gregor shifted past you on your right, raising a hand to place gently on your shoulder. His digits gave a gentle, but brief squeeze before departing, a small gesture of reassurance. It was all you needed to push yourself forward, to walk down the familiar corridors of the ship towards the medbay.

Once in the dark room, surrounded by dim blue hues and softly blinking lights of green, red, white, and blue, you didn’t need to turn on the main light to navigate about; you knew this place like the back of your hand. You had transitioned from a medcenter medic to a field medic for the clone rebels, and this place was now as close to a home as you could probably get. You missed your life before, at the medcenter, but here, in this dim room, it was easy to put away the memories, the good and the bad, and be enveloped in the blanket of shadows and low light.

As you sought for your medical bag, fingers grazing against the embroidered section of the fabric, a memory surfaced.

“It’s a gift, for helping with… well, everything.”

Wolffe’s voice echoed in your mind as if he was there. He’d stood before you, a small bundle in his outstretched hand. It was wrapped rather poorly, the edges of the paper coming unfolded as it sat there, as if the commander either hadn’t bothered to find an adhesive, or he simply couldn’t find one. It seemed too awkward for him, in a way, and that was coming from the person who’d been there for… well, everything. At least from the moment he’d arrived, fresh red scar and painfully burnt eye from a lightsaber wound. There had certainly been some awkward moments in his recovery, but somehow, it was not as awkward as this moment. Perhaps, because for once, Wolffe was the one giving, and neither of you was used to it. You’d taken the gift, fingers pulling at the paper to unveil an embroidered patch in the middle, the symbol of the Wolfpack in the middle. “I want you to be an honorary member of the Wolfpack,” Wolffe had explained, still rather awkwardly. At the time, you didn’t know why, but when you went home, to sew the patch to your medpack bag, you’d found his comm details written in the paper wrapping too. That moment felt like a lifetime ago. All memories of Wolffe did. You had been so close. So close, that you’d almost admitted to him that you loved him. But that never came to pass. The world as you knew it shattered, and you had to rebuild. The medbay you currently knelt in was a testament to that.

A sigh, heavy and warped with longing, passed from your lips, falling into the air of the dark room. You had to focus; Rex, Nemec, Fireball, and Howzer were relying on you for the extraction, and you needed to be ready in case anyone was harmed… which was inevitable. Hopefully, all injuries would be minor. Pushing the past where it belonged, in the past and away from your conscious thought, you grabbed the medpack, pulling the straps over your shoulders. No time to dawdle. You stood straight, pack weighing on your shoulders, and you navigated the hallways the way you had just walked, back to the mess room, and then further, up the stairs to the cockpit.

At the very front was Echo, facing ahead as the blue streaks of light shot by like endless blaster bolts. A few seats back sat Gregor, leaning forward with arms crossed over his knees. Both sat in silence; apprehension hung in the air, the deep breath before plunging into conflict, something both clones were used to. You certainly weren’t, yet you were not one to let the unease overwhelm you. Taking a few steps forward, you plant yourself in the leather of the chair opposite Gregor, your voice cutting through the silence.

“How long until we get there?”

Echo tilted his head back slightly, the caramel hues of his irises glinting in the light of hyperspace, coming in from the viewports. “Another couple of minutes. Rex and the boys will need to hold on until then.”

Gregor’s voice quickly cut in after Echo finished his sentence, drawing your attention to him. He’d swiveled his chair to face you, having grabbed something from the small side sill at the edge of the cockpit. “Here, take this blaster,” Gregor extended his hand out, holding a DC-17 hand blaster to you. “Not sure if we’ll have to fight. Be safe than sorry.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, momentarily going higher pitch before lowering to his usual pitch. After the voice cracks, a small burst of nervous laughter escaped the clone. It was not long ago that you and Gregor shared humorous laughter, and now all that joy had dissipated. You leaned forward, outstretching your arm to take the blaster from Gregor’s hand. Your fingers curled around the weapon and softly brushed Gregor’s hand, warm still through the gloves. As you pulled the blaster back to rest on your lap, Gregor offered you a small, yet warm smile, sincerity glinting in his eyes, wordlessly telling you not to worry.

At the console, Echo moved to pull the ship out of hyperspace. The streaking lights of passing stars shortened, congealing into pin-prick dots of light. Outside the transparisteel before you, the looming, dark shape of Teth emerged. As you got closer, you spied a bright white light at the location, and Echo deftly moved to send an alert to Rex that you were inbound. Gregor stood, leaning over one of the chairs closer to the console, and so you joined him, to get a better look at the scene. You saw a line of Imperial soldiers - you couldn’t quite make out their armor from here. Huddled before them, alert yet holding fire was Rex and the others… A glance over them showed you easily that some were missing - who you didn’t know. Blasted Imperials, you always lost good clones to them. What surprised you was that they didn’t try anything against the ship.

You pushed yourself to stand from your chair, and Gregor nodded to you, standing up straight himself. Echo swung the ship around for easy access to Rex and the others, and quickly you and Gregor sprinted down the halls towards the door. You gripped the blaster tight in your hand. If it came to blows, you were ready to take down a few of the Empire’s men in exchange for the missing troopers. With a swoosh, the door lowered, spilling white light from your ship against the bright spotlights of the Imperial ship. Before you stood the shadowy figures of both your men and the Imperials. It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust upon those who stood there. You looked to your troopers first - only Rex and Howzer remained, the rest were the Bad Batch, with their child and pet. Nemec… Fireball… Both of them were gone.

Anger surged through you, and you raised your gaze to glare at the leader of the Imperial troopers, intent on giving him the most venomous stare you could muster. Yet, as the details of the man were revealed to you, a crack suddenly shattered your heart in half. The blaster in your hand fell slack as you just stared… The one behind this, who’d allowed the deaths of Nemec, Fireball, and the others, was none other than the man you loved. Wolffe.

Beside him, the clone commando eased forward slightly, yet Wolffe raised his arm to tell the trooper, his voice quiet yet rumbling in a commanding tone, “Stand down.” You just about heard it, although his actions spoke louder than his words at that moment. He was going to let you all go, despite likely being ordered to take down your group. Before you, Rex nodded his head with respect for the commander. They were brothers, and loyal to each other even if they fought on opposite sides. That loyalty gave you hope, sparking up inside your chest where the ruins of your heart now lay cracked, perhaps to mend and bond that wound taken to it.

The Bad Batch, followed by Howzer, moved quickly back up to the ship, and Rex himself turned his back to Wolffe. With them, everything had been said and done, but you… You didn’t quite understand. Wolffe was disobeying the Empire at this moment, but he appeared to still be staying with them. You stepped forward down the ramp, brushing past the lanky figure of Crosshair, onto the rocky ground below. Wolffe’s gaze shifted from the turning figure of Rex towards where you stepped, pushing past those retreating in an almost defiant manner. Your eyes met, and the firm expression of the Commander shifted. His eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting softly; his left, natural eye with its caramel hues seemed vulnerable at that moment. Standing opposed to his brothers was different from standing opposed to the person he’d loved. Looking at him, you saw that too awkward stance again, echoing the past when he first truly opened up to you. There was hope, yet this was not a moment, or even such a thing, to be easily navigated. Not with the troopers at Wolffe’s back, and the Empire too. Not with your ship, your group of rebels about to depart. It wasn’t even as easy as giving commlink details on a crumpled piece of paper.

Rex’s hand met your shoulder as he stopped by you. It was hard to break away from Wolffe’s gaze, but you did. The look on Rex’s face told you everything you needed to know. That pair of amber eyes showed understanding, but an urgency, that nothing could be done now, and it was time to move on. You nodded your head slightly, your gaze meeting Wolffe’s, which had shifted to a more guarded look. There was still a hint of uncertainty in his singular natural eye, but his cybernetic one seemed dull and void. All you could do was offer the commander a nod, not unlike the one that had been shared with Rex, but this one told him that you’d be back, and that you’d both be able to reunite someday. Rex’s hand slipped from your shoulder, and with that, you too turned around. The captain allowed you to slip ahead of him so that he could secure safety as you finished boarding.

The steps onto the ship were hard, but you knew that this was not the last time you would see Wolffe. You did not dare look back, for if you did, you feared you’d lose your composure. Yet, thankfully, as you stepped back onto the firm flooring of the ship, you were surrounded by the clones that had supported you during this new reign of the Empire; Rex at your back, Gregor at your side, and Howzer at the front. The ramp raised and the door swooshed shut, leaving you standing there. The Bad Batch lingered around you too, and in that moment, you wished for them to be gone, to leave you with the ones you trusted, but you knew Echo would scold you for that, as they were his squad too. The conflict was evident on your face, it must be, because the pet of the Bad Batch snuffled its nose and came up to you, sniffing at you and rubbing against your legs in a friendly way. The child smiled at you, “Batcher’s just saying hi, don’t worry.” She seemed to have mistaken your expression for a reaction to the animal. It eased your mind a little, and you gave the kid a smile in response.

Rex shifted, stepping around you, and he headed over to the doorway that led to the corridor through the ship, “Come on, let’s settle down and… well… that was a lot. We all need some rest.” The largest clone in the Bad Batch, Wrecker, heartily agreed, followed by the child, then Hunter and the slinking Crosshair. There was no use in lingering here yourself, so you made your way down the corridor after them. In that walk, you realized that you felt as though part of you was missing, like there was a hole in your heart. It seemed that when it cracked when you saw Wolffe with the Empire, a part of it fell and was now left with him. You really would have to go back for it.

Once the ship was traveling at hyperspeed once more, and the Bad Batch was settled down in the cockpit with Echo, you found yourself sitting around that same table you’d been sitting at with Gregor before this all occurred. This time, you sat right next to Gregor, instead of opposite him, and Howzer sat in the chair you had occupied. Rex was standing to the side, stirring some sweetener into his cup of caf. Surrounded by your little mismatched squad, you finally felt able to breathe and to speak. Letting out a sigh, you voiced that which you’d been dying to say since you saw the commander. “I can’t believe Wolffe sided with the Empire.” Gregor shifted slightly, wordlessly putting a hand on your shoulder. These few clones were the ones that knew about your connection to Wolffe, so you felt safe to speak of it here.

Rex turned his head slightly, looking at you with his amber gaze, holding sincerity within it. “Wolffe doesn’t seem to know everything the Empire’s done. He’s likely still under the influence of the chip. But, like with all of us, he did show signs of resistance.”

Howzer added to Rex’s comment, shoving a thumb in the direction of the cockpit, “If Crosshair can be redeemed, then Commander Wolffe can too. That clone showed that he truly had changed today… and I still almost find it hard to believe, even though I saw it with my own eyes. If that can be done, then getting Wolffe to see sense would be like a sandstorm on Geonosis - inevitable.”

The missing clones from your gathering came to mind though, and you frowned, “But… Fireball… Nemec… Wolffe didn’t-”

“Actually,” Rex cut you off, “They were firing at us with stun rounds. There was one of those shadow troopers after us… That was who got Fireball and Nemec. Wolffe’s men appeared to be ordered to take us down with stun rounds.”

You exhaled softly. Wolffe was still loyal to his brothers, even those who fought against him, that was clear. There was no reason to lose hope, even under the dark rule of the Empire. It gave you purpose too; to keep fighting until Wolffe was finally by your side once more.

Thanks for reading!

[shiorihyuga]

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become.

Chapter Five

The evening sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow through the small windows of the cabin. Inside, Aurora sat at the wooden table, carefully examining the small vial of elixir she had just finished creating. She held it up to the light, the amber liquid catching the sunlight. It had taken her weeks to perfect, carefully gathering herbs from the surrounding forest and cataloging their properties in the notebook that lay open beside her.

Aurora had always loved herbalism, a passion passed down from her mother. But now, in the quiet safety of the cabin, she had been able to immerse herself in it fully. This elixir was meant for Eren—something to help with the fatigue he faced after long days of covert operations. He was pushing himself too hard, she could see that. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and though he never complained, Aurora could tell how exhausted he was every time he returned.

A soft smile played on her lips as she corked the vial and set it carefully on the table. She had finally done it. This would help him. She could picture the look on his face when she handed it to him, the way his green eyes would soften in gratitude, even though he’d probably insist he didn’t need it.

She glanced out the window, her heart giving a small, fluttering beat. He should be back soon, she thought. Eren always returned just before sunset, like clockwork. Even though he was focused on his mission, he always made time to come back to her.

The cabin had become their sanctuary—quiet, safe, tucked away from the rest of the world. But as much as Aurora enjoyed the peace, there was always a small undercurrent of fear. The danger was ever-present, lurking just outside the boundaries of their small world.

As she began tidying up the table, her mind drifted to thoughts of Eren. She missed him during the day, missed the sense of security he brought just by being near. She glanced down at the notebook filled with her notes on the plants she’d discovered, and for a brief moment, she let herself dream of a future where they could live without fear. A future where Eren wouldn’t have to fight, where they could just… exist.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the cabin, shattering the peaceful silence.

Aurora froze, her heart instantly pounding in her chest. Her first thought was Eren, but no—that wasn’t how he knocked. Eren always knocked twice, softly. This knock was harsh, loud, and unfamiliar.

Fear surged through her, and she quickly stood, her eyes darting to the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. No one knew about this cabin except for Eren. She reached for the vial of elixir, gripping it tightly in her hand, as if it could offer some sort of protection.

Another knock—this time more forceful, rattling the door on its hinges.

Aurora’s breath quickened, her mind racing. She didn’t know who was out there, but something in her gut told her it wasn’t good. The sound of footsteps outside the cabin sent a cold shiver down her spine, and she backed away from the door, her heart thudding in her chest.

This isn’t Eren.

Before she could think of what to do, the pounding grew louder—more violent. The wood groaned under the strain, and then, with a sudden, sickening crack, the door burst open, the hinges splintering as it was kicked inward.

A man stood in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the fading light outside. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dirty, his clothes torn and stained. His eyes were wild, darting around the cabin before locking onto Aurora. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days, and there was a desperate, dangerous edge to him. He was a Marleyan criminal who had escaped and was now on the run.

Aurora’s blood ran cold.

“Please…” she stammered, taking a step back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man’s lips curled into a snarl, and he stepped inside, slamming the broken door behind him. “Shut up,” he growled, his voice rough and menacing. “I didn’t know anyone was living here. But now that I see you, I can’t have any witnesses.”

Aurora’s heart raced in terror. She could barely comprehend what was happening. The man moved toward her, his eyes dark and predatory. There was no reasoning with him—he was focused on survival, and that meant silencing anyone who could turn him in.

He’s going to kill me.

She backed away, her mind screaming for her to run, but her body frozen in fear. Her hands trembled as she clutched the vial of elixir, as if it could somehow protect her. She didn’t know what to do. She had no weapons, no way to defend herself.

The man lunged toward her, his hand reaching for a knife tucked into his belt. Aurora screamed, stumbling back as he closed the distance between them in an instant.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps pounded through the forest outside. Eren had been on his way back when he heard her scream—sharp, terrified. His heart had stopped, and without thinking, he had sprinted back toward the cabin, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong.

He crashed through the trees, his breath ragged, and burst into the clearing just in time to see the cabin door hanging off its hinges. Panic seized him, but there was no time for thought. He charged toward the cabin, fear and rage boiling inside him.

Inside, the man grabbed Aurora by the wrist, pulling her toward him. She struggled, but he was too strong. His knife gleamed in the dim light as he raised it, ready to strike.

But before he could, the door slammed open again with a force that rattled the entire cabin.

Eren.

His eyes blazed with fury as he stormed inside, his gaze locking onto the man who had dared to lay a hand on Aurora. The criminal barely had time to react before Eren was on him, his body moving with the lethal speed of a soldier who had seen far too much death. He grabbed the man by the collar, ripping him away from Aurora and slamming him against the wall with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs.

Everything after that happened in a blur. The man barely had time to register Eren’s arrival before Eren was on him, his body moving with the lethal precision of a soldier. In a flash, Eren grabbed the man by the wrist, twisting it with such force that the knife clattered to the ground. The man grunted in pain, struggling to break free, but Eren was relentless.

He didn’t know who this man was, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care why he was here or what had led him to this point. The only thing Eren cared about was that this man had threatened Aurora.

“Get away from her,” Eren growled, his voice low and menacing as he bashed the man’s head into the wall again, this time with a brutal force that made the wooden beams creak.

The man gasped, his eyes wide with panic as he struggled against Eren’s iron grip. “What the hell are you—”

Eren didn’t let him finish. His hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat and squeezing, his face dark with fury. There was no hesitation, no mercy in his eyes. This man had tried to kill Aurora. Eren wouldn’t give him the chance to regret that mistake.

The man thrashed desperately, trying to claw at Eren’s arm, but Eren tightened his grip, cutting off his air supply. The man’s wild, panicked eyes darted around, searching for a way out, but it was too late. He was already dead—he just didn’t know it yet.

With a final, sickening crack, Eren crushed the man’s throat, letting his lifeless body fall to the floor with a dull thud.

For a moment, the cabin was eerily silent, the only sound Eren’s ragged breathing as he stood over the body, his fists still clenched tightly. He didn’t feel anything. No remorse, no guilt. The man had been a threat. And Eren had eliminated him. That was all there was to it.

He turned to Aurora, who was standing frozen by the table, her eyes wide with shock, her chest heaving as she struggled to process what had just happened. Her face was pale, her body trembling, but she was unharmed.

“Aurora,” Eren said, his voice softer now as he stepped toward her, his expression shifting from rage to concern. “Are you okay?”

Aurora blinked, her heart still racing, and she slowly nodded, though her voice trembled when she spoke. “I… I’m okay. I… I didn’t know what to do. He just… came in.”

Eren reached out, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, his touch grounding her as she tried to calm herself. “It’s over now,” he said quietly, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Aurora’s breath caught in her throat, and she suddenly felt the weight of everything crash down on her. The fear, the relief, the shock of it all—it was too much. She collapsed against Eren’s chest, her hands gripping his shirt as she let out a shaky breath.

Eren wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she trembled against him. He could feel her fear, her fragility in that moment, and it made his heart ache. He had been too late. Even if she was unharmed, she had been terrified, and that was something Eren couldn’t forgive himself for.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I should have been here.”

Aurora shook her head against his chest, her voice muffled as she replied. “You saved me, Eren. That’s all that matters.”

Eren held her for a long time, the tension in his body slowly easing as the adrenaline began to fade. But even as the cabin grew quiet again, the rage that had sparked inside him remained, simmering just beneath the surface.

He would protect Aurora. No matter what.

As Aurora stood there, enveloped in Eren’s strong arms, her mind raced, struggling to process the sheer chaos of what had just happened. The cabin, which had felt like a sanctuary just moments ago, was now the scene of something horrifying. A stranger had broken in, intent on killing her, and Eren—her childhood friend, her protector—had snapped the man’s neck without a second thought. It had all happened so quickly, too quickly for her to even comprehend.

The entire ordeal couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes, but in those five minutes, her world had turned upside down. One minute she was peacefully preparing for Eren’s return, and the next, she was fighting for her life, watching as Eren killed a man right in front of her. The man’s lifeless body still lay crumpled on the floor, his face frozen in the terror of his last moments.

Her hands trembled as she clung to Eren’s shirt, her breath coming in shallow, shaky gasps. She could still hear the sound of the door breaking, the man’s cruel voice, the way the air had been filled with violence so suddenly. And then, Eren’s expression—cold, determined, deadly—as he had crushed the man’s throat with nothing but his bare hands.

Aurora closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart, but the images played over and over in her mind, too vivid to escape. She could feel Eren’s steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, could feel the warmth of his body against hers, but it wasn’t enough to stop the overwhelming fear that still gripped her.

“I… I don’t… I don’t know what just happened,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as though saying it aloud would make it more real. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt as she buried her face deeper into his chest, seeking the comfort that only he could provide.

Eren’s arms tightened around her, his hand gently stroking her back in slow, calming motions. He didn’t say anything at first—what could he say? He had acted on pure instinct, driven by the overwhelming need to protect her. But now, holding her like this, he could feel the weight of what had just happened pressing down on both of them.

"I’m sorry," Eren whispered again, his voice low and heavy with guilt. His breath was warm against her hair, but there was something cold and distant in his tone. "I should’ve been here sooner. You shouldn’t have had to go through that."

Aurora shook her head, her voice trembling as she spoke. “No, Eren… you… you saved me. I—” She choked on her words, the shock and fear still clouding her thoughts. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t put into words the terror she had felt, the helplessness that had consumed her when that man had come for her with a knife.

The memory of Eren’s cold, lethal precision lingered in her mind. He hadn’t hesitated—not for a second. She had seen him fight before when he praticed his hand-to-hand combat outside, seen the power and violence he could unleash as both a human and titan, but this had been different. This had been personal. Eren had killed that man to protect her, and he had done it without blinking.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her eyes wide and filled with confusion. “How… how do you do it, Eren?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “How do you just… kill like that? So quickly, without hesitation?”

Eren’s expression softened, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes as he looked down at her. He had seen too much death, been forced to make too many impossible choices. He wasn’t the same boy she had known all those years ago in Shiganshina. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and he had learned long ago that sometimes survival meant doing terrible things.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. “I’ve done things, Aurora… things I’m not proud of. But if it means keeping you safe, if it means protecting the people I care about… then I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Aurora’s heart ached at his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She had always known that Eren was different now, that the boy she had once played with had grown into a man hardened by the horrors of the world. But hearing him say it, hearing the pain and guilt in his voice—it made her realize just how much he had sacrificed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to—”

Eren shook his head, cutting her off. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is my fault. I should’ve been here.”

Aurora’s hands tightened around his shirt, her chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths. “No, Eren… it’s not your fault,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “You saved me.”

Eren stared at her for a long moment, his green eyes filled with an intensity that made her chest tighten. He didn’t know how to explain the feelings that had surged through him when he had heard her scream. The fear, the rage, the primal need to protect her at any cost—it had been overwhelming. And now, holding her in his arms, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had come too close to losing her.

Slowly, Aurora pulled herself out of Eren’s embrace, her hands still trembling as she wiped at her tear-streaked face. The fear still lingered, but being in his arms had helped calm the panic that had gripped her. She looked around the cabin, her gaze falling on the broken door, the scattered wood, and then finally on the man’s lifeless body lying on the floor.

Her stomach churned at the sight, and she quickly averted her gaze. “What do we do now?” she whispered, the weight of the situation settling over her. “We… we can’t just leave him here.”

Eren’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening as he glanced at the body. He nodded grimly. “I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly, his voice cold and determined. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Aurora swallowed hard, nodding as she took a shaky breath. She trusted him—she always had. But the world they were living in now was so different from the one they had known as children. There was no more innocence, no more safety. Only survival.

As Eren moved to deal with the body, Aurora sat down at the table, her hands still trembling as she tried to steady her breathing. The cabin had been their sanctuary, a place where she had felt safe for the first time in years. But now, the walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of the danger pressing down on her.

Eren glanced over at her, his expression softening as he saw the fear still lingering in her eyes. “I promise you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with determination. “I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

Aurora nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I know.”

But as she sat there, her heart still racing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The world outside was closing in, and no matter how hard Eren fought to protect her, the danger would always be there, lurking in the shadows.

And yet, as long as she had Eren, she knew she wouldn’t face it alone.

Eren stood still for a moment, his eyes locked on Aurora, who sat trembling at the table, her eyes filled with fear and unease. He could feel the tension radiating from her, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them both. The body on the floor was a grim reminder of the brutal reality they faced—this wasn’t a peaceful world where they could hide forever. Every day was a battle for survival, and Eren couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Not for a second.

He knew what had to be done, but leaving Aurora alone, even for a short while, made his chest tighten with unease. He couldn’t stand the thought of anything else happening to her. Yet, he also knew the body couldn’t stay here. The sight of it was making her uncomfortable, and the longer it remained, the greater the risk of someone else stumbling upon them.

Eren turned to Aurora, his voice gentle despite the weight of the situation. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, his hand reaching out to gently brush her shoulder. “I need to get rid of the body. But I promise I’ll make sure everything is safe before I go.”

Aurora looked up at him, her face pale but nodding in understanding. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice still shaky. “Just… be careful.”

Eren gave a small nod before turning his attention to the body. His expression hardened, his jaw clenched as he knelt down to grip the dead man by the collar. Whoever this man had been, whatever his reasons for stumbling across their cabin, none of it mattered now. The moment he had broken in, the moment he had threatened Aurora, his fate had been sealed. Eren didn’t regret snapping his neck. The only thing he regretted was that Aurora had to witness it.

He signed his death warrant the second he stepped inside.

Even if the man hadn’t been hostile, even if he had been nothing more than a wanderer, Eren knew he still would’ve killed him. He couldn’t afford to take any chances—not with Aurora’s safety, and not with the mission. They were both too valuable, too dangerous to be discovered. He was the holder of the Founding Titan, the most wanted man in Marley, and Aurora… she was a runaway slave from the most powerful family in the country. If anyone found out who they were, it would be over for both of them.

Eren’s priorities were clear: Aurora came first. Always. And after that, the War Hammer Titan. These were the only two things that mattered to him right now.

He carefully dragged the body toward the door, his muscles tensing as he pulled the man’s dead weight out of the cabin. As he stepped outside, he paused for a moment, scanning the surrounding area, his senses heightened for any sign of danger. The trees stood still, the evening air quiet and undisturbed. But Eren didn’t relax. He couldn’t afford to. Not with what was at stake.

After making sure the area was secure, Eren began dragging the body deeper into the woods. His thoughts were calm and methodical, his focus unshaken by the gruesome task at hand. He had done things like this before, made decisions that others might find impossible. But Eren had long since accepted that the world they lived in required hard choices. If anyone threatened what he was working for—if anyone posed a danger to Aurora or his mission—he would kill them without hesitation.

He would do whatever it took to protect her. And whatever it took to secure the War Hammer Titan. In that order.

As he dragged the body further away from the cabin, Eren’s mind replayed the moment in the cabin over and over again. The man’s face twisted with fear, his life slipping away beneath Eren’s hands. It hadn’t been the first time Eren had taken a life, and it wouldn’t be the last. The guilt he had once felt over killing had long since faded, replaced by a cold, unwavering resolve. His mission—their survival—was all that mattered.

Aurora’s face flashed in his mind again, the look of terror she’d had when the man burst through the door. It wasn’t the blood or violence that haunted Eren—it was the thought that he had been too late, that he hadn’t been there in time to stop the fear that had gripped her. He hated that she had been put in danger, hated that she had to see the worst parts of this life. He wanted to shield her from all of it, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t possible.

He knelt down in the clearing, digging a shallow grave with his bare hands. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to keep the body hidden. Eren worked quickly, his movements efficient and precise, his mind already turning to what needed to be done next. The Raid on Liberio was still months away, but every day brought them closer. And every day, the risks grew greater.

Once the grave was dug, Eren dropped the body in without a second glance, covering it with dirt and leaves until the ground looked undisturbed. He stood up, brushing the soil from his hands, and looked around one last time to make sure there were no signs of what had happened.

Satisfied, Eren turned and began the walk back to the cabin. His steps were heavy, his mind still turning over the events of the day. He couldn’t shake the image of Aurora’s fear-stricken face, the way her voice had trembled when she spoke.

I can’t let this happen again, he thought, his jaw tightening. I have to keep her safe. No matter what.

As he reached the cabin, Eren stepped inside quietly, his gaze immediately falling on Aurora. She was still sitting at the table, her hands folded in her lap, her face pale but calm. When she saw him, she offered a small, tentative smile.

“I’m okay,” she said softly, as if sensing the concern radiating from him. “I’m… just trying to process everything.”

Eren nodded, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry anymore,” he said quietly. “He’s gone. No one will find him.”

Aurora looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for a moment. There was something unspoken between them—an understanding that the world they lived in was unforgiving, that this wouldn’t be the last time they faced danger. But as long as they had each other, they could face it together.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. “For protecting me.”

Eren’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, his heart swelling with something deeper than he could express. “I’ll always protect you, Aurora,” he said firmly, his voice steady with the weight of his promise. “Always.”

Aurora nodded, her heart feeling lighter despite everything that had happened. She trusted him completely, and no matter how dark the world became, she knew Eren would always be there.

…

The cabin was quiet now, the earlier chaos feeling like a distant memory, though the weight of it still hung in the air. Eren had done everything he could to make sure Aurora felt safe, but as the evening deepened into night, he could sense the lingering tension in her. The fear she had experienced still gripped her, making the silence in the cabin feel heavy.

Aurora stood near the small bed in the corner of the room, wringing her hands together as she glanced at Eren. She had been thinking about asking him this for what felt like hours, but her nerves had kept her quiet. After what had happened earlier—the terror of almost losing her life, the violent way Eren had protected her—she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone tonight.

But asking him to stay… to sleep beside her… it felt like such an intimate request.

She swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to speak. “Eren…?” she started softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eren turned to her immediately, his eyes softening at the sight of her standing there, clearly unsure of herself. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, stepping closer.

Aurora hesitated for a moment, feeling her heart race. She didn’t know how to ask this without sounding… awkward. But she didn’t want to be alone tonight, not after everything. And there was only one person she trusted, only one person who made her feel safe.

“I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” she admitted quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “Not after… everything that happened.” She glanced up at him, her blue eyes searching his face for any sign of rejection. “Could you… stay with me? In the bed?”

Eren’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he froze. His heart skipped a beat, and he could feel a faint blush creeping up his neck. In the bed? With Aurora? He wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Did she want him to just lay beside her for comfort, or… did she want him to hold her?

The thought sent a surge of nervousness through him, but there was also a warmth that spread through his chest at the idea. He had always cared for Aurora, and now that they were together again, those feelings had only grown stronger. He’d do anything for her, anything to make her feel safe.

“Y-yeah, of course,” Eren stammered slightly, trying to keep his voice steady. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he quickly nodded, not wanting to make her feel awkward. “I’ll stay with you.”

Aurora felt a rush of relief wash over her, but she also couldn’t ignore the nervous flutter in her chest. She hadn’t meant for it to sound so forward, but after what had happened earlier, all she wanted was the reassurance of Eren’s presence. Just having him close made her feel safer, like nothing could harm her while he was there.

Eren hesitated for a moment before he walked over to the bed, his mind still racing. He glanced at Aurora, who was standing beside the bed, her cheeks faintly pink as she avoided his gaze. He could tell she was nervous too, and for some reason, that made him feel a little more at ease. She wasn’t asking for anything more than comfort—he knew that. But still, the idea of lying beside her, holding her, made his heart race.

Without saying a word, Eren carefully climbed into the bed, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight. Aurora followed suit, slipping under the covers and lying on her side, facing away from him. The bed was small, and the space between them was almost nonexistent.

Eren swallowed hard, trying to calm his racing thoughts. His entire body felt tense, every nerve on edge. He wasn’t sure what to do—whether he should reach out and hold her or simply stay on his side of the bed. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want her to feel alone.

For a moment, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. The warmth of the blankets surrounded them, but Eren could feel the nervous tension in the air.

“Eren?” Aurora’s voice was soft, barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Eren’s heart skipped another beat. “Yeah?”

Aurora hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. “Can you… can you hold me?”

The question made Eren’s heart race even faster, but he didn’t hesitate this time. He carefully shifted closer, slipping an arm around her waist and gently pulling her back against his chest. Aurora’s body was warm, and as she settled into him, he could feel the tension in both of them slowly start to fade.

His heart pounded in his chest as he held her, the feel of her soft hair brushing against his chin. He hadn’t been this close to anyone in such a long time, and now, lying here with Aurora in his arms, it felt… right. She was the only person who had ever made him feel like this, and in this moment, nothing else mattered.

Aurora felt the warmth of Eren’s body against her back, and the tension that had been building inside her all evening finally began to dissipate. His arm around her was strong and protective, and for the first time since the terrifying events earlier, she felt safe. She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to relax into his embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of gratitude.

Eren didn’t respond with words. Instead, he tightened his hold on her ever so slightly, his heart swelling at the feeling of her in his arms. He didn’t know what the future held for them, but right now, in this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that Aurora was safe, and he was here to protect her.

As the quiet of the night settled around them, the tension between them faded into something softer, something deeper. And though neither of them said anything more, the unspoken feelings they had both been holding onto lingered in the space between them, warm and undeniable.

Aurora lay still, her body pressed against Eren’s as his arm wrapped securely around her waist. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, the warmth of his body seeping into hers through the blankets.

Her thoughts raced, but not from fear. Despite the violent encounter earlier, despite watching Eren take a life without hesitation, she had never felt more secure. His presence, his strength—it was comforting in a way that she hadn’t expected. The weight of his arm around her, the steady, protective hold, made her feel like nothing could harm her as long as he was there.

But then there was the way she could feel him. Every inch of him. His muscled torso pressed against her back, his solid frame surrounding her. She was so much smaller than him, and the size difference between them was only more noticeable in this intimate position. She shifted slightly, feeling his arm tighten instinctively, and her breath hitched. He’s so strong.

Aurora closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing thoughts. It was impossible not to think about him. Eren wasn’t the boy she remembered from Shiganshina—he was a man now, hardened by war and burdened with the fate of their people. But to her, he was still the person she had always cared for, and now, in this moment, she was keenly aware of just how close they were. Physically, emotionally.

She could feel the firm planes of his body, the way his warmth enveloped her. And even though he had killed a man earlier, it didn’t scare her. If anything, it reassured her. She knew, without a doubt, that Eren would do anything to protect her. There was something powerful in that knowledge, something that made her feel… safe.

But at the same time, she couldn’t ignore how aware she was of him. Her cheeks flushed as she realized just how close they were, especially when she felt the firmness of his chest against her back, his breath on her neck. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same tension, the same awareness of their proximity.

Meanwhile, Eren was trying his best to keep it together, thankful that Aurora had her back turned to him so she couldn’t see the blush burning across his face. He had been holding her for what felt like hours, and every second had him more on edge. He could feel every curve of her body pressed against him, every soft line of her form molded against his.

Aurora had changed since they had first reunited in Marley. She had been so thin, so frail when he found her, malnourished from the years of being a slave to the Tybur family. But now, after months of living in the cabin, her body had filled out, and Eren couldn’t help but notice how beautifully she had grown. Her curves had become more pronounced, her skin glowing with health, and he had always admired her, though he kept those thoughts to himself.

But admiring from a distance was different than feeling it. Now, with her pressed so tightly against him, he was struggling to keep his thoughts from wandering. Her hips, her waist, the way her body fit perfectly against his—it was almost too much. Her butt pressed into his crotch, and Eren had to bite the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to react.

Stay calm, he told himself, his breath uneven. Don’t get turned on. Don’t let her notice.

He closed his eyes, hoping to distract himself, but the warmth of her body, the soft feel of her against him, only made it harder. His grip around her waist tightened slightly, but he quickly loosened it, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was taking advantage of the situation.

Aurora shifted again, her back pressing more firmly into him, and Eren swallowed hard, his face growing hotter by the second. God, she feels…

He forced himself to focus on something else, anything else, but it was impossible. Her presence was overwhelming. He could smell the faint scent of herbs on her, a mix of the garden and the fresh air from the woods outside. It was intoxicating, and every time she moved, his heart beat a little faster.

Eren’s mind raced, a part of him wanting to pull her closer, to let the feelings he’d been holding in for months come to the surface. But another part of him knew this wasn’t the time. Aurora had been through too much today, and right now, she needed comfort, not whatever confusing emotions were swirling in his chest.

Just stay still, he reminded himself, his breath shallow. But even as he told himself that, he couldn’t stop the faint blush from creeping up his neck.

Aurora, too, was finding it harder to remain calm. She could feel the tension in Eren’s body, the way his muscles tensed every time she moved. And though he was trying his best to keep it together, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same way she was. The closeness, the warmth, the unspoken bond between them—it was all so overwhelming.

She wanted to ask him if he was okay, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she simply lay there, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her back, letting the comfort of his presence wash over her.

Neither of them spoke, the silence between them charged with everything they weren’t saying. But in that quiet, something unspoken lingered—something deep and undeniable, something that neither of them could ignore for much longer.

But for now, they stayed as they were, wrapped in each other’s warmth, acutely aware of the other’s presence, and hoping that the tension between them wouldn’t betray the feelings they were both trying to hide.

Eren, desperate for something—anything—to distract himself from the warmth of Aurora's body pressed against his, noticed the small vial on the table. The firelight caught on the glass, casting a soft glow over the amber liquid inside. He could tell it wasn’t there earlier, and the sight of it sparked enough curiosity to pull his mind away from the tension in his body.

Trying to focus on something other than the way Aurora’s soft curves fit perfectly against him, Eren cleared his throat softly. “Hey… what’s that on the table?” he asked, his voice low, trying to sound casual. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, but he loosened it slightly, just enough to give her space to answer without feeling too close.

Aurora blinked, grateful for the distraction as well. Her heart had been racing ever since she asked Eren to hold her, and though his presence made her feel safe, there was no denying the nervous tension in the air. She followed his gaze to the vial on the table, and her lips curved into a small smile, remembering the work she had put into creating it.

“Oh, that,” she said softly, her voice still a little shaky from the events of the day. “It’s an elixir I made. It’s supposed to help with fatigue.”

Eren raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Fatigue?” He shifted slightly, his hold on her still gentle, but his attention fully focused on what she had just said. “You made that for me?”

Aurora nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah… I noticed how tired you’ve been lately, with everything going on. I thought… maybe it could help. I know it’s not much, but it’s something.”

Eren felt a warmth spread through his chest, this time not from the closeness of their bodies, but from the thoughtfulness behind her words. Despite everything she had been through, despite the fear and uncertainty they were both facing, Aurora had taken the time to think about him. She had gone out of her way to create something that would ease his burden, even if it was something as simple as an elixir for his fatigue.

“Thank you,” Eren said quietly, his voice sincere. He tightened his arm around her just slightly, a silent gesture of appreciation. “I’ve… been feeling it, you know. All of this. But you didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

Aurora smiled faintly, feeling a little more relaxed now that they were talking about something else. “It wasn’t any trouble. I’ve always loved working with herbs… and I guess I wanted to do something that could help you. You’ve done so much for me already.”

Eren looked at her with a soft, almost unreadable expression, though she couldn’t see it with her back turned to him. The fact that she had gone to such lengths for him, after everything she had endured, stirred something deep within him. He didn’t feel deserving of her kindness, not after the life he was leading—the violence, the bloodshed, the choices he had made. But hearing her talk about wanting to help him, wanting to ease his burden, made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Gratitude. And something more.

“You don’t owe me anything, Aurora,” Eren murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Everything I’ve done… I’ve done because I want to. Because I care about you.”

Aurora’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and she could feel the blush rising in her cheeks again. She shifted slightly in his arms, unsure of how to respond. She wasn’t used to hearing such vulnerability from him, but the sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t ignore.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But still… I wanted to do something.”

Eren glanced at the vial again, his mind drifting back to the effort she must have put into creating it. He had seen her working in the garden, seen the care she took with every plant, every herb. And now, to know that all of that was for him… it made the tension between them feel even more charged.

“You really think it’ll help?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He was grateful for the change in conversation, something to focus on other than the way her body was pressed against his. “I mean, I’ve never had anything like that before.”

Aurora chuckled softly, the sound a welcome break from the tension in the room. “It should help,” she replied. “It’s not a miracle cure, but it’ll give you more energy. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, Eren.”

He nodded, knowing she was right. The mission, the weight of what he had to do—it had taken its toll on him. But he never let himself rest. There was too much at stake. Too much to lose if he didn’t keep moving forward.

“I’ll try it,” Eren said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Aurora. It means a lot.”

Aurora smiled to herself, feeling a little more at ease now. She was still hyper-aware of how close they were, of the way his arm was wrapped around her waist, but the conversation had helped calm her nerves. She hadn’t expected him to appreciate the elixir so much, but hearing him say it meant more to her than she realized.

As the night stretched on, the tension between them slowly began to ebb, replaced by a quiet comfort. They stayed like that, lying close together in the warmth of the bed, the unspoken feelings between them still lingering, but now softened by the simple act of caring for each other.

~

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Tags: @prettiergemini @Datshittuebrat @mxnst3rz @thirstyb-ches @nironasaran

[quartzhearted]

Knowing your King's, even if formerly, birthday was an easy enough task. Even out in Lapis's middle of nowhere type village had it been something just about anybody could tell you, and so as the days tick down, getting closer and closer, the date echoes fiercely in her mind.

Giving something to Diamant had been enough of an event to work up to, but given the rocky start Lapis had had with Morion since reuniting in Fódlan? It's even more nerve-wracking to be honest. But when she thinks of Alcryst making it abundantly clear that he wanted to meet her family and be proper to them...

...Well, to be honest, Lapis wanted to do the same for his. And so she vows to herself to push everything before aside and try and do this birthday right!

“ Your Majesty! ”  Lapis greets him, ramrod straight.  “ Um, happy birthday! I gotcha a gift. Hope it works for you. ”

She holds out the modestly wrapped present for him. As a measure of precaution, she explains it:

“ I made you a bunch of different remedies and fit them into a container that should be easy to carry no matter where you go. ”  The box is compact enough to fit into any bag, and inside the box were different compartments to keep its contents divided up cleanly.  “ 'Course, you can use the container for more than just remedies so long as it's small enough, like snacks or coins, but... ”

Though Lapis was known for being crafty, the box wasn't meant to be the star of the gift. 

“ Now that you're back, I'm sure your sons worry the world for you, ”  she admits her motive.  “ And, um, that includes me too now! But a warrior's always gonna go out and fight to protect what they love. No getting around that. So I won't stop you. But I thought if you had different medicines and poultices ready on hand, that'd help make sure you get back home. ”

If she could ease the concerns of her two princes, then all would be well. She knows a warrior's heart as she does a child's, and so she put her all into making sure she made the most effective remedies she could with what herbs and flowers she could find.

“ If you need a guide for what each one does, I'm more than happy to help! I've used them all before myself, so I can vouch for how well they work, mmhm. Shouldn't be any problems there. ”

as if morion's birthday couldn't get any better, lapis comes to him with her own gift---stiff as a board, sure, but she's here! ( he really needs to find a way to get her to relax around him... )

" good to see ya, lapis! " morion smiles, patting her shoulder. " though, really, you can just call me ' morion ' now. ' mister morion ' if you just can't live without the titles, but c'mon! we battled together! " anyone who can hold their own in a chain of battles that intense ( nevermind the absolute WALLOPING she'd given that shade back in the gold round, PHEW! ) is someone morion would gladly be equals with. " but we'll talk about that some other time. what's this, now? "

as lapis explains the purpose of her gift, morion can't help his expression going soft. sure, she's a worrier---make that three that he knows---but she knows a thing or two about morion's heart. acknowledging that he's not just gonna sit around and twiddle his thumbs is encouraging enough, but that she made something to assuage all the worry... goodness. now THERE'S a present.

morion feels warm. " well, now, lapis, that's very kind of you. " he pops open the box for a quick look. sure enough, remedies and poultices of all kinds sit in neat little sections, awaiting their use. " hardheaded as i am, i do get all sorts of nicks and scrapes. lots of times i don't have an elixir handy, and it drives the boys nuts---this is perfect. not just for me, but for them, too. you really do think five steps ahead. "

sigh. he sure is glad his sons have such dependable retainers.

...

...

wait a minute.

" ...whatd'ya mean, ' includes you now too '?? "

[bullet-prooflove]

TornApart!Series Part Six: Family - Jubal Valentine x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @trublu2u @greenies-green @darqchilddaydreamz @proceduralpassion @burningpeachpuppy @evee87 @delightfulheroshoeflap @iworldlywriter @helsinkibaby @penguin876 @justamadgirlinabox @a-noni-love @brownskinbaby22 @oklahomapeach @yezzyyae @soultrysworld

Torn!Apart Series:

Part One: Nothing To Tell - Rina forces Jubal to make a choice.

Part Two: Pause - Jubal breaks your heart.

Part Three: One Sip - Jubal knows all it takes is one sip.

Part Four: Real Talk - Scola gets real with Jubal.

Part Five: Don't Lie to Me (NSFW) - Jubal comes clean about Rina.

Body language is important, Jubal knows that from the undercover work he’s done over the years. It’s the thing that lets most new agents down when they’re training for UC operations. He’s used to projecting strength and confidence, basic leadership principles however today he has to check himself because he knows that Rina is watching.

He pauses for a second before he steps inside 26 Fed. There can be no suspicion that he spent the night with you, no signs that he’s not the forlorn, heartbroken spectre that’s walked through the reception area these past couple of weeks.

He forces himself to forget the contented noise you made when he kissed you goodbye this morning, his hand smoothing over your hair as you lay twisted up in your sheets. It been before five and he’d needed to get back to his place to shower and change. Yesterday’s clothes would be a telltale sign, as would the scent of your shower oil. It’s little things like that can raise a red flag and he will not take a chance of compromising you.

He takes a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to fill his lungs as he adjusts the messenger bag on his shoulder. He thinks of the past few weeks, how empty his world had become, how devoid of colour. It dampens that brightness that surges through his veins at being reunited with you, pushes it down until there’s no echo of it.

He steps inside the building with his shoulders slumped and his head down, moving at his usual brisk pace. He can feel Rina’s eyes on him from the balcony above and it adds an extra weight. He thinks about everything that could go wrong, and it gives him that pinched expression, the one that indicates how stressed he is. He swipes his security pass over the machine before he passes through the turnstile and into the depths of the building.

When he reaches the JOC it’s quiet, he doesn’t expect any less. It’s too early for anyone else to be here, it’s become part of his routine in the past few weeks without you. Stay late, come in early, a way to get his mind off your absence. He has to maintain that if he wants to continue this charade for Rina.

He doesn’t realise Isobel is in, not until she opens the door to her office and indicates for him to come inside.

“Is something wrong?” He asks her taking up residence in one of the visitor’s chairs across from her desk.

“Scola informed me of your predicament.” She tells him before sliding a file across the desk towards him.

Jubal frowns as he reaches forward and picks up the folder. He isn’t surprised that Scola got there before him, the other man is practical, proactive. The longer this goes on, the more likely it is that Jubal will slip up and you’ll pay the price for it. The two of you had talked about bringing Isobel in on the whole thing last night, there’s no love lost between her and the Acting Director, Isobel has connections the two of you don’t. It made sense.

His gaze strays to the paperwork inside of the folder. He reads through the emails, his heart wrenching as he takes in the details.

“She’s already put the transfer through.” He says as his vision starts to tunnel. It feels like the air has rushed out of the room and he can’t fucking breathe.

“I’ve spoken to S.A.C Morrison, he’s fighting it but…”

“She’s the Assistant Director.” Jubal states, his voice rough as his palm rubs over his goatee. His world is falling apart, he can feel the whole thing shifting underneath his feet.

“I’m speaking to the other heads of divisions; we’re going to appeal to the Director to have her removed due to issues with operational decisions but that takes time.” Isobel tells him.

“So, this is it?” Jubal asks her, his voice full of desperation. “Stefani gets shoved back under?”

Isobel shakes her head.

“I had a conversation with Assistant Director of the Fugitive Task Forces, we came through the academy together. She says if one of her S.A.Cs puts in a request for Stefani and her expertise as a special assignment that would delay the transfer to Undercover Operations indefinitely.”

“Special assignment takes priority over everything else.” Jubal agrees, his brain stumbles over the details. “Rina wouldn’t be able to enforce it.”

“No, she would not.” Isobel says with the ghost of a smile. “Remy Scott sent the application through this morning, his team’s been a man down since Barnes went on maternity leave. He’s been looking for someone with the right skillset to fill the role. It’ll be a bit more travel for Stefani, but she gets to stay here in New York, with you.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” Jubal tells her as he leans forward so that he can meet Isobel’s gaze. “You have no idea what this means to me, to the both of us.”

“I do.” She tells him honestly. “What Rina’s doing to you, it isn’t fair, and I can’t sit back and let that happen. The two of you were there for me when David Owen broke into my home, I will forever be grateful for that.”

Jubal swallows hard against the ache in his chest.

“Yea well, you’re family.” He tells her. “And family looks after each other, right?”

“Yea.” Isobel says simply. “They do.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sopejinsunflower]

a/n: I keep writing from dreams! This was a dream that was so vivid it woke me up crying. Although I didn’t dream of Yoongi specifically, I changed the main actor of my dream to him as I think he fits the bill the most. Hope you like this short one :)

Title definition:  insurrection of peasants against the nobility in northeastern France in 1358—so named from the nobles' habit of referring contemptuously to any peasant as Jacques, or Jacques Bonhomme. 

Warning: 18+, minors DNI

Summary: The world is in ruins. The new government, The Order, is corrupted and it’s a constant battle for people to even have access to basic needs. But a vigilante is fighting for the people, leading The Jackals against the government. You were forced to join The Patrol, working under The Order to curb the rebellion. What happens when you run into an old familiar face on an impromptu assignment? What happens when you learn that the dead can come back and the truth has been under your nose all this time?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x you

Tags: Childhood lovers AU! Reunited lovers, dystopian world, vigilantes and revolutions, corrupted government, violence mentioned, coarse language, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 13.4k

Another bomb goes off in the distance, the ground rumbling with the aftershock, sending you slightly unsteady on your feet. 

All this for one man. 

You let out a sigh as your in-ear crackle and the Commander’s voice echoes through, gruff and urgent, like always. “All units move to Precinct 1, now! I want every warm body there right now. We’re going to box this motherfucker and bring him in.”

Again, you sigh, dread filling your chest and weighing your feet down. To be honest, you don’t want to join the fight. You rather hang back, patrolling the usually empty alleyways for renegades that are never dwindling now even after the heavy push back from The Order lately, thanks to him. Most vigilantes work in the cloak of night but this one, this one doesn’t seem to care for cover much. He does as he pleases, appearing and disappearing like some kind of wizard from one place to the next, wreaking havoc. 

He came out of nowhere, rising out of the shadows the moment The Order established themselves as the new government twenty-five years ago; a backdoor government that no one voted for, mind you, sneaking in the same way pesky cockroaches infest a house. It was a betrayal to the people’s rights, taken away from them in plain daylight and enforced so blatantly it was just rubbing salt on wounds. People were angry, they rioted until it was all snuffed out with police force and smoke bombs and threats of emprisonment. It wasn’t pretty.

Many ended behind bars. Many lives were lost but were unaccounted for. Anyone who raises their voice against The Order ends up missing. Families are torn apart. And when they still couldn’t completely silence the people, the lockdown came, heavy and callous. Food and water were rationed, resources were cut, companies burnt down, jobs were lost, curfews were imposed. No one is allowed to be out after 6PM. It was punishment, they say, until the people learn to behave. 

But humans are resilient beings, learning to adapt to survive. Within the hushed whispers of the residents, there were talks of a revolt, a group of people called The Jackals who are slowly planning, scheming for The Order’s downfall and he is leading them. They were quiet and careful, sneaking out past curfew hours for secret meetups. To curb this, the Peace Patrol was formed, tasked to help tame and whittle them out, with the guarantee of extra water and food and even access to special items like liquor and soap and even hot water directed to your household if you give up any information and more if you join the ranks. It was the promise of comfort-living, of ease. 

As an orphan, you lived with an uncle who is a heavy supporter of The Order. He ranted about putting a bullet through The Jackals as if he personally knew who they were. He made random, wild assumptions about the neighbours being one of them based on anything that he didn’t agree on, like looking at him funny or not taking out the trash on time or even for watering their own plants with a watering can instead of the garden hose like ‘normal people do’. He didn’t even have plants to take care of so how would he know what was normal? 

So when you were old enough, he insisted you serve his beloved government, joining the ranks of the Peace Patrol. “I have a bad knee so you will have to. Get me some of those beer kegs they promised,” he had said. “Or you can go ahead and live in the streets. Time to repay all the money I spent raising you.”

So here you are, jogging only lightly heading towards Precinct 1 with your lead feet, your face growing pale and a stomach that is threatening to upend all your measly breakfast. Here’s another honest truth: you are fucking scared. Everytime there are sightings of him, it’s a warzone. It’s like no one cares what happens to the area that gets under heavy fire, the people caught in the crossfire. And he doesn’t seem to care, either. They call him Robin Hood but no one knows his real name. Hell, no one knows who he is, they’ve never even seen his face. 

To the people, he’s a hero. To the government, he’s a menace that needs to be eliminated. To you, honestly, he’s just a troublemaker, an annoyance. You don’t agree with The Order but he wasn’t making things any better. His small good deeds of stealing from the government to give to the people is only causing problems to the same people he’s helping. It’s a loss, loss. What is the point even? 

You finally join your platoon, crowding a desolate grey building riddled with bullet holes all across the bottom wall. Someone squeezes your hand and you look around to find Daiki smiling down at you. He pulls you in for a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“You there,” the Commander calls out from the front, pointing your way. You jump slightly, gulping hard as you look at him. The information was that he’s holding up in the yard at the side of the building and they are sending in ten people to scout the place. “You’re the tenth. You’re going down to the yard, give a look around. If you find him, immobilise him. If he’s not there, join the others on the first floor.”

You don’t respond. There’s a ringing in your ear and you stand there, rooted to the spot, unmoving. Daiki nudges you and you blink rapidly, trying to get your bearings. The other nine are already making their way forward. You move, joining the Commander at the front. 

“We got him blocked in,” The Commander says smugly. “All you need to do is find him. Now go!”

Why not send the whole team, you wanted to ask but your voice is lodged in your throat. The plan doesn’t seem foolproof, something is off. As you approach the building, unshouldering your AR-15 and holding it in both hands, one of the others huffs, “They don’t know if he’s alone or not. That’s why they’re sending us in first, the bastards.”

Right. Baits. Lure him and his people out. They can afford to lose ten patrol officers, no big deal. There’s always more waiting in line to enjoy the limited privileges. Did Daiki know this before he had pushed you forward?

Your palms are sweating inside your gloves and the lightweight rifle feels too heavy to hold up properly. An older officer looks at you almost sympathetically. “The yard’s not that big. You can cover it in a couple of minutes, a quick sweep. If nothing then join us upstairs.”

“And if he’s there?”

He seems to think about it. Most of the other officers will just say shoot him dead or alert the others or anything along those lines. But all he says is, “Pray he goes easy on you, kid.”

They disperse, going up the stairs to take on different levels of the buildings in pairs. The officer’s words rang in my ears, his words echoing in my brains. Robin Hood is a ruthless killer, they say. He once wiped out ten patrol officers to break through one of The Order’s resource warehouses to steal supplies. All on his own. Anyone with the Patrol uniform on, anyone who wields The Order’s emblems and idealistics is his target. 

There’s a small flight of stairs to head down to the yard on the west side of the building and you’ve never gone down a longer set of stairs in your life. From the top of the stairs, you can literally see the whole yard below and contemplated calling it all clear without having to look. But the yard follows a bend that rounds to the back of the building. Your heart is hammering in your chest like a wild bird wanting to be free and each step further down feels like an eternity. You’re at the bottom of the steps now, praying that you will find nothing when suddenly there is chaos up above upstairs. 

Gunshots and yelling. You freeze, craning your neck to look upward. Did they find him upstairs? A window glass shatters and you dove to the bottom of the stairs, covering your head, crouching down low as glass pieces rain down over you. Fear grips you like a vice and you remain there with your hands over your ears, dry-heaving. Your blood has run cold. Somewhere along the Patrol line upstairs, you can hear heavy machinery moving. Tanks. They got tanks. 

You press yourself against the wall as the commotion upstairs escalates. The smell of gun smoke is heavy in the air and you think you can even detect the hint of copper as bullets bury or zip through flesh. That’s what you imagine is happening upstairs. You can’t tell apart the shoutings of your comrades and those of the enemies. Is he among them? 

Something in your periphery moves and you turn to look. There in the corner of the building, you can see a pair of boots peeking out. They’re scruffed and look nothing like the Patrol’s issued pair. Your stomach twists and your heart is in your throat, ready to jump out if you even open your mouth. 

Please just walk the other way, please just walk the other way.  

But the person steps forward into your line of vision and walks cooly over to the middle of the yard, looking up as if he can see towards the Patrol line. Then slowly, almost deliberately, he turns his head to look directly at you and your breath hitches. 

It’s him. 

This is your first time seeing the infamous Robin Hood but something in your gut tells you that it’s him, no doubt. He stands there in black cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt that you can see the silhouette of his toned chest. A dark maroon jacket completes the look. As your eyes travel upwards, you first notice the long hair tied up in a half-knot before you see his eyes; dark and angry like that of a dragon, glaring at you from above the black cloth hiding the bottom half of his face.

Realisation dawns on you like a cold bucket of water; you know him. Even with the mask, you know him. And judging from the way he softens his eyes, tilting his chin to the side, he remembers you, too. Emotions flood into your chest as if someone had broken a long-standing dam inside you, filling you with confusion and sadness and nostalgia all at once. You want to rise to your feet but you can’t, your body not listening to any feeble commands. You want to call out to him but it feels like your lips are sewn together. 

A loud crashing noise jerks both of your attention upwards and you see the tank crashing through the iron fence that circles the building. It moves slowly, an impending doom that is about to put this whole place on fire. You turn back to him, panic bubbling. He’s staring at you again, his eyes conveying nothing, not even the urgency to flee the area. They are just calm, taking you in. 

“What are you doing?!”

The Commander’s voice bursts through your in-ear, loud and angry. “What are you doing?! Get him! Shoot him!”

That’s when you notice your Commanding Officer standing at the top of the hill, safely out of the way of the tanks, pointing at him. But it’s too late. You watch the man called Robin Hood run to the edge of the yard and scale the fence. At the top, he takes one last look back at you and his name comes back to mind. Before you can call out to him, he disappears on the other side. 

BOOM!

The tank takes a shot at the fence, tearing a hole through it, the shell landing somewhere on the residential area below; whether it’s the noise or the artillery shaking the ground, you’re not sure. Your ears ring so loud you feel disoriented, stumbling to stand up but tripping on your feet. You lean against the wall, breathing hard while the world around you sway under your feet before you finally crash to the floor, your vision going dark.

***

You wake up to Daiki leaning over you, his forehead creasing with worry. He has a tight grip on your right hand in both of his. 

“Hi, there,” he greets softly, helping you to sit up. “Slowly, slowly. There we go.”

The infirmary is the last place you want to be in. The place is dark and dingy for a hospital and smells of death and vomit and strong disinfectant. You would think that a dystopian world would be much better but when the government is battling a single man with a group of unarmed people, scrambling to remain in power, money is being poured into weapons and armoury. Whatever’s left can’t even help maintain the society they want so desperately controlled. It’s a joke. Maybe he wasn’t wrong after all. 

“How you’re feeling?”

You rub at your temples. “Like my head is full of cement.”

Daiki chuckles. “That’s not too bad, I guess.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Just a few hours,” he replies. “The team’s worried about you. They think he did something to you. Some kind of poison or something.”

You stare at him, not comprehending. 

“The Commander said he was just standing there while you sat, frozen, unmoving,” he explains, shaking his head. “And then you just passed out. They did some blood tests but found nothing. Must be advanced work. The Jackals are growing more dangerous.”

“You’re saying that a group of people who meet at night in sewers or abandoned places,” you say carefully, gauging his reaction, “are making advanced bioweapons to attack us?”

He shrugs but doesn’t answer.

“Are you hearing yourself?” you push, incredulous. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. How would they ev-”

“Who the hell knows how they’re doing what they’re doing, babe,” he retorts heatedly. “Hell, I don’t even understand what they’re trying to do. They’re a nuisance to society.”

“They’re not the ones with tanks bombing every little place,” you mutter almost cautiously, looking down as you fiddle with the edge of the worn blanket. 

Daiki is looking at you funny, like he can’t quite understand you. Maybe he doesn’t. He shrugs again, patting your arm. “Look, you probably still have whatever it was he gave you in your system. You’ll feel more like yourself once that’s flushed out.” He stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the frontline,” he says, putting on his gloves. “They found a new hideout.” The way he’s grinning at you makes you sick but you bite your tongue and don’t say anything. He leans down and places a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Rest well.”

The door closes behind him and you subconsciously wipe at your cheek, the same spot he kissed you. You’re not sure why and only realise it when it’s done. A few minutes later, you decide to leave, not to join Daiki at the front line but somewhere away from it to unwind. You have one place in mind, the only place unmarred by all the fighting and the chaos and the chase of a man no one knows who. Maybe except for you now that you’ve seen him.

– – – 

The park is situated at the edge of the city, a place no one really goes to anymore lest you want to be accused of being a Jackal exploring new hideouts. 

But you’re here in your Patrol uniform of black pants, black long sleeves shirt with the Patrol emblem on the chest as well as a red band around the upper arm. Black fingerless gloves for gripping the weapons issued to each officer and a pair of heavy combat boots that you find hard to run in, ironically. You left your bulletproof vest and rifle back at the barracks. You didn’t think you’d need them here nor do you like having them with you.

The park is a stark contrast to its surroundings, its lush green grass like a beacon on a map. The trees swayed gently in the wind, making this soft, comforting sound that can lull you to sleep if you let yourself. The park isn’t big, with a huge water fountain in the middle. It’s not working anymore, the pool is so dry there’s cracks and dust. Back in its glory days, people used to come here to watch the water light up in different colours as music fills the air. You only remember seeing it as a child. Now, it’s like people have even forgotten the place exists, but nature seems to thrive in the absence of humans. 

You choose a tree and sit down under the shade, your back against the bark, your legs stretched out in front of you, crossed at the ankles. The wind blows through your hair and you take a deep breath and close your eyes. When was the last time you felt at peace like this? You can’t remember, probably since you joined the Patrol two years ago. It was also the last time you saw your uncle, opting to live in the barracks instead. But even away from him, it wasn’t easy to quit the force. Those who did, no matter on what grounds or for what reason, were all hunted later down the line, marked as traitors or enemies’ spies, anything to have them killed unquestioned. It’s like they couldn’t handle people leaving. 

You let out a heavy sigh. You just want some peace and quiet, to relax without having to think about this fucked up world you’re living in. Just as you’re in between falling asleep but awake enough to notice sounds around you, you hear the quiet rustling of footsteps. Your eyes shoot open, looking around the park to locate the source of the noise. The silence almost sounds dubious, narrowing your eyes as you peer at certain bushes and dark spots that may hide something within it. 

“You’re away from home.”

Your skin could have literally jumped off your back as you scramble to your feet. The voice had come from behind you and as you turned around, there he was, leaning against the tree with his arms crossed, his face half hidden this time behind a red handkerchief covering from his nose down.

“You,” you breathe out. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He looks around the place as if looking for something. “As far as I remember, I don’t need a reason to be at a public park. The question is, what are you doing here? Your platoon is busy firing at an empty building right now. Shouldn’t you be with them?”

You gawk at him, unsure of what to even say. A wanted man is telling you he has every right to be here but asking you why you’re not helping the same people who put a bounty on his head? “I came from the infirmary,” you offer lamely. “I’m not on duty.”

He nods as if it all makes sense. “So why are you here?”

You don’t answer, literally lost for words. He’s so blase about everything. Is he for real? You end up shrugging your shoulders. “It’s a public park, you said.”

Again, he nods. “I guess murderers need to unwind, too, huh.”

Anger flashes red hot for you. “Murderers?! I’ve never killed anyone in my life! You’re the one that’s going around killing people and stealing stuff that’s not yours. Stuff that could’ve helped others who need them!”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m not the one with tanks bombing houses full of people. I’m not the one with the automatic rifles opening fire in public. And I’m not the one stocking up on bare essentials that should have been offered to the public freely without restrictions.”

“If it’s offered freely then there won’t be enough for all,” you snap back, your hands balled into fists. “It’s rationed so everyone can have a portion.”

He lets out a soft laugh, the kind where adults do when little kids say something they don’t know about. Not once did he move from his spot against the tree, eyeing you curiously instead of warily, probably because you stupidly don’t have your weapon with you. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

When you don’t answer, he pushes off from the tree and walks slowly towards you, step by step. You move in the opposite way, reversing with every step he takes. He speaks again. “What if I tell you that those resources don't need to be rationed? What if I told you that even without the government allocation, people can get more than just a portion? What if I told you that the rationing helps no one except the higher ups, that they’re living lavishly enough they don’t have to worry about those who are affected by the rations? What if I told you that The Order has more blood on their hands than on ours? That they are the reason people are dying? That people, families are going missing?”

He moves closer and closer. 

“All those warehouses they have all over the city, have you seen them?”

You nod. “Of course I have.”

“But have you seen the inside?”

You remain quiet.

“They’re chock full of food and barrels of water and medication and everything the city would need to not just survive, but to live. Each and every one of them. Not to mention the underground ones. Do you know about those?” You’re backed against the fountain now, the edge of the pool digging into the back of your thighs yet he’s still advancing. “Either you’re all being fooled or you choose to remain ignorant.”

He takes one final step and now he’s toe to toe with you, looming over you tall and menacing, no, confident. He emits this aura that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, whether in his vigilante shit or here with you. He bends down and whispers into your ears. “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? You’re not like them. So why do you choose to remain in the dark? Is being a sheep easier?”

You can feel yourself shaking, can feel your lips trembling, lowering your gaze to look at the ground, at how the tip of his boots are flushed against yours. Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it beating against your chest in this close proximity. The only thing is, you’re not sure if you’re trembling in fear or anticipation of what he might do to you. On the one hand, he’s known to be the most dangerous man, his fighting skills unrivalled by any on the force. On the other, there’s something in his words that made you listen. 

A slender finger reaches out and tips your chin up so you have no choice but to look him in the eye. “You believe me, don’t you?” he whispers. “I know you do. I can see it in your eyes.”

You try to pull away but he holds your chin in place. Something in his eyes tells you that he’s thinking, calculating something in his mind. His forehead has a slight crease and you wish you know what he’s thinking. “Who are you?” you ask in a hush tone, the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

“You know who I am,” he answers in the same low voice. 

Something about the moment, probably the fact that you’re this close and there’s not an ounce of animosity from him, made you reach out, gingerly, with a shaky hand. You hold the end of the handkerchief around his face between two fingers and he doesn’t move, doesn’t put up a fight. Slowly and almost like you are scared to face the truth, you pull the cloth down, revealing his face. He’s right; you do know him. You just had to be sure.

“Min Yoongi,” you say breathlessly. “It’s really you.”

He nods once and his grip on your chin relaxes as he cups your cheek. “It’s really me.”

“But…how?” your throat feels tight and your vision is blurring with tears. “I saw you…in the fire. I saw you- how? After all these years and you never- I don’t understand.” You pull away from him, wrenching your face from his hold. The tears flow freely. “I thought you were dead,” you gasp. “I believed you were dead.”

“I know,” he says. “To be honest, I was. For a while.”

A radio buzz and a voice, garbled and hardly comprehensive, comes through. He reaches to the band of his pants and pulls it out. He remains looking at you as if you might suddenly run away or disappear in front of his eyes. “If you believe in anything that I say today, meet me back here tomorrow after dark. Make sure no one follows you. And wear normal clothes.”

You open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off. “I’ll explain everything then. I promise. I have to go now.”

He pulls back, regarding you with a serious look, like he’s reluctant to leave you. Then, taking you by surprise, he leans in and presses a long, hard kiss on the middle of your forehead, the kind of kiss that makes you squeeze your eyes shut because it invokes such strong emotions, both turmoil and relief. When he pulls away, his thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the tears. And then he’s stepping back, jogging lightly before he finally turns around, talking to the radio in his hand. He disappears the moment he enters the tree line back towards the city. 

– – – 

The next day, it all seems quiet in the city. There was less activity and barely any gunshot sounds echoing into the sky. It almost seems peaceful. Was it coincidence or planned by the mastermind himself?

Sneaking out of the barracks is not that hard.

The hard part was to convince Daiki that you prefer to sleep alone tonight with the others in your own bunk bed rather than in his private quarter, a privilege given to those of higher ranks. But after much coaxing, one that involves a quick fuck against his metal desk as it rattles against the wall for his neighbour to hear, he finally relents. But instead of going back to your dorm room, you head out. 

Now, the gate patrol is a whole different thing but everyone knows you’re the ‘Lieutenant’s girl’ so a quick lie was easy to make up. A solo stakeout to make up for the hours you lost today for being in the infirmary, you said and it was accepted pretty easily. No one wants to deal with the lieutenant should they accuse you of lying. Once you’re confident you’re out of sight, you take off the red band from your upper arm and stuff it into your back pocket. You readjust the rifle on your back and make a run for the park.

You arrive breathless with worn out legs just after 7PM, well after the sun had set. The park looks different at night than it does during the daytime, the trees looking more terrifying and every little noise startling you. None of the streetlights work and you think that it’s for the best. You’re not sure where to wait so you opt to remain under the same tree as yesterday, sitting down so as to not be seen. 

“Good, you’re here.”

You jump to your feet, surprised. “You need to quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

But one look at his face, this time unmasked and the maroon jacket nowhere to be seen, you shake your head dismissively. “Never mind,” you mutter. It’s still new to you, to see him again after all these years. Everything feels familiar and foreign at the same time, like you know him but don’t. He looks the same, talks the same, walks the same, even fucking smells the same, yet he’s not the same man you thought you lost. You have so many questions.

“Not here,” he says as if reading your mind. “Come.”

You follow him heading the opposite side of the park. “Where are we going?”

“No talking,” he orders. “Stay quiet and stay close.”

In your confusion, you barely register that he has taken your hand and led you towards a place beyond the city limit that no one has ever ventured to, not since decades ago after the fall of the monarchy and right before The Order came about. You were not more than babies then, blissful in your ignorance of the world collapsing only to be left smack in the middle to fight the battles started by your ancestors. It’s twisted and unfair. 

If the city itself is run down, this area is even more bare. Buildings that long crumbled stand like rotten teeth jutting from the earth, barred up windows of abandoned shops and houses, cars left behind like whoever had driven them had just stopped and jumped out. The one thing that flourished is the wilderness, the ground plush with long grass and snaking vines.

As you walk alongside Yoongi, you can see shadows flitting just beyond your periphery and birds cawing eerily up above but not once did his steps falter. He seems awfully familiar with the place. Again, you wanted to ask but you keep your mouth shut and walk on for more than an hour it seems, the city getting smaller and smaller behind you until it completely disappears from view. 

Just as you’re about to break the silence, a familiar building looms ahead and your jaw drops. It’s the old government building, the Blue House. Most of its structures remain but creeping plants cover most of the front part and trees grow wildly, surrounding it in a sort of natural enclosure. As you get closer, you notice that one of the rooms upstairs is lit, not brightly but with what looks like a single candle. The front doors are still intact and as you cross the threshold and Yoongi closes the door behind you, you turn to see The Jackal’s flag erected on the side of the once lavish cascading stairs; the silhouetted head of the namesake animal on a white background. 

You know exactly what this place is: the base camp that The Order had spent years searching for. You turn to look at him, wide-eyed. Why would he bring you here? Only then do you notice your hand in his and you pull away under the guise of removing your weapon to prop it against the bannister. 

You follow him up the stairs to the left and down a long hallway until he stops at a room. He enters and you follow suit. A single candle is left lit on a desk in the middle of the room but the place is almost bare. There are books stacked on the floor and what looks like a few sleeping bags in a corner but that is it.

Yoongi takes you through a connecting door and this one has a single mattress in the middle of the room. No pillows, no blankets. On one wall, a large map of the country is stuck to it with multiple stickers and Xs and circles. Random articles are pinned up next to it, mostly in regards to The Order from years back, some on the Jackals and a single, small and worn newspaper clipping of an article pertaining to a fire at the big school in the middle of the city exactly nine years ago. The title reads, ‘SOPA up in flames, 139 dead’.

“It wasn’t an accident,” he says from right behind you. “But you knew that, didn't you?”

You don’t answer, the memories of that day coming back in blurry crashing waves. No one really knew how the fire started, only that students and staff had been bending over coughing and hacking by the time anybody knew what was even happening. The smoke had been thick and suffocating and crawling on the floor had not done much good. The first two floors were already engulfed. There was a smell of burnt meat in the air, acidic in your throat. 

You remember the fear of dying a gruesome death, the panic of being trapped with no way out. But most of all, you remember the sickening twist of your stomach as you had this clear knowledge that Yoongi’s class had been on the second floor. Music, the subject he loved most. When the firefighters came, most of those who survived, a total of twenty-five including two teachers, waited in dread. When it was clear that no rescue mission could be done, that no more victims could be pulled out, you had fallen to your knees, not crying but just sitting there in complete silence.

It took the whole day for the fire to be put out and another day to recover pretty much everybody. It wasn’t hard; since it was a sudden fire, most of the school had been trapped where they were. You didn’t see the body, only the aftermath picture of the music room: only charred remains left, soot and ash. On the memorial day was only when you finally broke down, inconsolable, shattered into pieces no matter how many hands held you together that night. The love of your life was gone, his name a number on a list, not even a body to bury.

Days later, rumours flew. They said that the fire was started because there had been some information that the Jackals had been using the school storage basement as a base and the fire had been started by them to cover their tracks. One person said he knew the friend of a friend who knew someone who admitted that the fire was actually started by hired goons, hired by The Order, actually. But rumours were rumours, nothing much of it could be made heads or tails of but the first version spread far and wide, intentionally so.

“Where were you all these years?” you manage to say through the lump in your throat, your voice heavy and raw. You turn to look at him, really look at him. His hair is long, stray pieces falling over his face and instead of the young boy you remember, the face is that of a man who has seen and done things he wished he didn’t have to. There’s a hardness in his expression that restricts him from showing his true feelings, a subtle wariness in his eyes from not being able to trust everything he sees. He is a boy that grew up too fast in a hard place. 

Yoongi returns my gaze. “Here and there,” he answers. “Everywhere. Places you don’t even know existed.” 

Tears prick your eyes, threatening to fall but you press your palms against them, drying them immediately. “Tell me everything.”

He regards you for a moment and it stings to think that he’s thinking if he can trust you. But then you realise it’s not trust he’s having problems with. There’s worry in his eyes, a sort of hesitance that comes from not wanting to burden you with things unnecessary. It’s not like it would change anything. The past is the past, talking about it would only be painful for him, but mostly for you.

But Yoongi can’t ignore the pleading look in your eyes. All this time he wonders how it would be like if he meets you again, if he would feel the same after almost a decade. He was sure that everything of that time had been flushed out of his system. The only times you crossed his mind was when he closed his eyes at night, alone in the dark, that’s when he misses you. He had a war to fight, he told himself, and if push comes to shove, he would need to be able to do what has to be done without his heart getting in the way. His Saem had drilled it into his head, didn’t he? To forget everything, leave behind the life he led and dedicate every fibre of his being to the Jackals in order to fight for the people.

Yoongi convinced himself that if he found you on the enemy's side, he wouldn’t hesitate to do what he must. He spent years telling himself that he was prepared. The more active he became, the more job he took over from his Saem, the more of a fortress he had built around himself and his heart. But looking at you now, your eyes glassy, your cheeks pink, and the lips that you’re chewing on to keep steady, all the emotions that he’s been suppressing surges back up to the forefront. It’s like he’s seventeen again standing in front of you, just a boy looking at the girl he thought he would someday marry, a dream long-time dead. 

He takes your face in his hands. His palms are calloused, hardened skin from the life of an avenger, but his touch is gentle like a whispering feather. You place your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the pulse beating beneath his wrist. He’s alive, living and breathing. And he’s here, right in front of you. All this time he lives with you in haunted memories, a ghost of the love you’ve lost so young. Yet here he is now, a grown man yet you can still see that same boy, slowly resurfacing.

You step closer to him, placing your hands over his chest, feeling the strong heart beating underneath your fingers. You grab fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer. There’s a lot of feelings at once and anger is one of them, growing stronger with each eb and flow of your emotions. He was alive all this time and not once did he try to contact you. He was alive all these years and not once did he try to let you know. He was alive and breathing while you spent years mourning his death. He was alive and running around the city right under your nose when you were convinced your heart died with you the day of the fire. 

So you start punching him and punching him, pounding his chest with your fists, your teeth gritted together. “You left me,” you mumble. “You left me.” Your voice grows stronger as the tears flow heavy. “You left me, you left me, you left me! You left me alone, Yoongi! How could you?! I thought you died! I mourned you! A part of me died with you! You left me!” By the end of it, you’re wailing, both in action and in your words, screaming through the pain, wanting nothing but to make him hurt the same way you’re hurting. 

Yoongi stands there almost motionless, letting you hit him over and over again. Your fists barely cause him any pain but seeing you so vulnerable hurts him more. He captures your wrists in one hand but you struggle, twisting and turning this way and that, trying to release yourself. You’re screaming at him. “Let go of me! Let go! I want to go home! Let go of me!”

Using his other arm, he wraps it around your shoulders, encircling you easily enough and pulling you in with one rough tug. All the fight left you, burying your face into his shirt, your tears wetting it down to his skin. You both crash to the floor in a heap, and he repositions his legs so you sit in between them, halfway on his lap as he cradles you. It’s not until your crying is reduced to hiccuping did you realise that he’s gasping for air, too. You look up just in time as his tears fall on your face, wetting your forehead and cheeks.  

He looks down at you, his cheeks and nose red, his eyes puffy. After a moment, he finally croaks out the one thing you’ve been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry.”

You sit up, kneeling in front of him, your cheeks wet from your own tears starting up again. It’s your turn to offer comfort, gently tucking his loose hair behind his ears and brushing away his tears with your fingers that are already wet with your own. He cries as you cup his cheeks with both hands, leaning into your touch, and like steel to a magnet, your lips are drawn to his.

Yoongi falls quiet, eyes squeezed shut. It’s like the breath had been knocked out of him and all his brain activity shuts down for a second. His shoulders feel a thousand times lighter and he can’t remember the last time he felt this way. Something in him releases, like a rubber band that finally snaps apart and his hand reaches to caress your face. The kiss deepens, both your lips moulding against each other like the perfect jigsaw puzzles falling into place and he leans more into you. 

You feel his hand squeeze your waist, hard enough to make you gasp. His tongue prods in between your teeth, licking, finding yours in a duel of which of you will dominate the other. You climb into his lap, your legs on either side of him, your hands in his hair. His hands slip under your shirt, his palms hot and searing on your skin, his fingers splayed out on your back. Yoongi sucks on your tongue and you moan into his mouth, your brain going stupid. All you can think about is, it’s him, he’s here, he’s back, he’s home.

When you finally break apart, both of your lips are swollen and bruised. You can still taste him on your tongue as you rest your forehead against his. Yoongi closes his eyes, breathing in deep to calm himself. When he opens them again, they are clearer than before, almost brighter, like a cloud had finally moved out of the way of the sun. 

Once your fluttering heart is still again, you lean back to look at him. He raises his eyes and you can see his guard is down. The hardness on his face is gone. “Tell me everything,” you say again and this time he nods. 

“It’s a long story,” he says as you move off him to sit next to him instead, your hand firmly in his. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

Nine years ago

Happy. He’s feeling happy. 

With every movement of his skilled fingers over the black and white keys, with every note he produced as he closely followed the spread sheets in front of him, he felt happier and happier, his mood growing lighter, his fingers moving faster, almost automatically without having to refer to the music sheet wrinkled with overuse. The choir across from him started up and he led them through the piece with ease and a flourish that only Min Yoongi could. In these moments, the choirs were like surfers and him the waves beneath their board.

The music teacher, who was also the conductor, beamed happily his way but the boy was too lost in the music to even notice. When the song finished and Yoongi had ended the last note with a satisfying nod of his head, the music teacher broke into a tearful clap. Shy Yoongi couldn’t take compliments well so he excused himself to the restroom, walking out of the class with his head down. 

There in the boys toilet of the second floor, he leaned over the sink to wash his face. The silver chain around his neck slipped out of shirt and he took a moment to look at it, a fond smile playing on his lips. The obsidian stone warmed in his hand before he placed it back safely into his shirt. That was when he smelled the smoke, coming in from the small vent on the wall near the floor. He crouched down low, sniffing to confirm his own senses. 

A fire? From where? 

The vents snaked throughout the whole school building, connecting each and every floor. Smoke rose upwards so it could be coming from downstairs. He rushed out and stood in the stairwell, listening for any movements, any noise or urgency but none came. Odd. He took the stairs three at a time and the heavy door that led to the basement was ajar. A voice in his head screamed for him to pull the emergency bell but curiosity took the better of him as he tiptoed down the stairs beyond the door. 

The basement was hardly used, storing all the broken school facilities as well as extra ones; from broken chairs and desks and rolling whiteboards and old TV sets to broken music instruments and sports equipment and festivals ornaments and decorations. Most of these things were collecting dust, home to insects and spiders. Even the lights weren’t working. Yoongi was close to going back upstairs when a noise in the distance caught his attention. He walked in further to investigate. 

He should have walked away then. He should’ve gone back up and informed a teacher, another student, anybody. He should have listened to his gut screaming at him to run, go back upstairs and pull on the fire alarm. Things might have been different if he had done either of those things. His fate was sealed from here onward. 

The smell of smoke is thicker but he had yet to see it. It could have been the semi-darkness, it could have been his stubborn interest blinding everything else. It didn’t take him long to finally see the flicker of light somewhere in the middle of the pile of random items. A fire is starting and only growing stronger and wilder, now visibly jumping from desk to desk, licking everything from wall to wall. Something, no, someone, rushed past him in the dark, barrelling into his shoulder, knocking him backwards. Before he could find his feet again, the fire was big enough to make his eyes sting as he struggled to his feet and bolted for the door. 

Unfortunately for him, the person had closed it behind him, locking it from the outside. He bangs on it but the heavy, wooden door made only a muffled sound and the first floor was mostly administrative offices, usually empty during classes. He started to scream, kicking and punching the door to no avail and bloody knuckles. Behind him, the fire raged strong and big enough for him to feel the heat on his back.

He pressed his back to the door, looking around in panic. There was no way out. He was trapped. Two things would happen, he thought. One, he will die first, in here, all alone. Two, the fire will spread throughout the whole school and bring everything down on top of him. Where were you? Maths class, third floor. You should have enough time to escape, right? Fuck. He laughed darkly to himself, wiping the tears away from the corner of his eyes. He wouldn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Then someone is standing in front of him, a cloth wrapped around the bottom half of his face. “What the hell are you doing, boy? We need to go!”

Yoongi stared at the stranger. The man rushed forward and grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him up. “Do you want to die?!”

Yoongi shook his head.

“Then let’s go.”

The man led him around the fire, sticking close to the walls. The heat was so strong Yoongi was sure some parts of him were melting off. His eyes stung so bad and his chest hurt from breathing in all the smoke no matter how hard he buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. Panic rose once again because where the hell was the stranger taking him? Going to the back of the storage is suicidal, there was only one way out!

   He wanted to resist but the man had a hard grip on his wrist and everytime he twisted, it only pained him even more. He couldn’t ask, couldn’t speak unless he wanted to eat smoke. The man stopped in front of a wall covered with a huge school festival banner from twelve years ago. With one tug with both hands, he ripped the banner down to reveal a hole in the wall big enough for a man to crawl through. He pointed to it. “Get in.”

Yoongi hesitated but the man pulled at his arm and shoved him towards the hole. “Get moving or stay here and die.”

Yoongi took one last look behind him, at the fire that roared so loud his ears could barely hear anything else. The ends of his hair were singed but he wouldn’t notice it until later. Desperate and confused, Yoongi knelt on his knees and entered the crawlspace, crying the whole way through the very long tunnel with the man right behind him. When he finally emerged through the other side, a group of people were already waiting. One of them stepped forward, salt and pepper hair peeking from under the worn out beanie he had on his head.

Yoongi staggered to his feet and looked around, his breath wheezing. The man with the beanie and a black cloth around his nose and mouth clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to The Jackals, son.”

Present time

“...and I’ve been with them ever since.”

You’re lost for words, looking at the side of his face as he’s turned away. Everything that you knew of the fire unravelled. There’s relief in knowing that he didn’t suffer as you had thought but then there’s a sense of betrayal that you were made to think so all this time. He walked away unscathed from the incident that robbed you of every chance of happiness and traumatised you so badly from survivor’s guilt. 

Yoongi, unaware of your internal struggle, continues to talk. “They took me under their wings. I was homeschooled and,” he scoffs, “my education wasn’t what you will learn in school. I learned how to fight, how to strategize, how to lead. I learned a lot. Saem, the leader and my teacher, took particular interest in me. Maybe he saw potential, maybe he saw himself, I’m not sure. But I was modelled and shaped to take his place. You see, he was sick. Cancer and he didn’t have long. He died three years ago and…well, I’m in charge now.”

Three years ago was when The Jackals seemed to ramp up even more, fighting back at every chance. The number of government warehouses that were raided tripled in number and that was when they started recruiting more patrol officers, luring with the same privileges that The Jackals was fighting for. It was the same reason why your uncle made you join. 

Your conflicting thoughts and emotions are hindering you from making any sound judgement of how you should move forward. Do you accept him into his arms like you had always wished you could? Or do you turn away from him for causing the chain reaction of everything that happened in your life? 

“What was his name? Your Saem?” you ask the one question that didn’t feel too complicated to talk about.

“Jack,” Yoongi answers with a scoff. “That’s why it’s named The Jackals.”

Yoongi finally turns around to face you, eyes shrouded in so much uncertainty it’s hard to think that he’s the Robin Hood everyone seems to always count on and the one the government wants gone. You return his gaze, unsure of what else to do because, honestly, you’re so confused.

“Do you hate me?” he asks in a voice not of a vigilante. He sounds like Min Yoongi from nine years ago, small and shy but would spend hours alone at the piano writing songs only you’ve had the pleasure to listen to, songs he secretly wrote for you but never voiced out. But you knew, you always knew because you would catch him watching you in the corner of your eyes, silently enjoying your every reaction. 

And just like you knew then, you know now, too. No, you don’t hate him, not even close. Angry, yes. Disappointed, yes. Hurt, yes. But never hate. You spent too long on your knees begging for him to be returned and then the same amount of time begging for the pain to hurt less, so why would you turn away from him now? You might have been young then, but he has always been it; the one, the light of your life, the calm to your storm, the missing piece coming home. 

Without a word, you lean over and place a kiss on the side of his head, caressing his cheek. You shake your head. “I’ve missed you.” You choke on a sob and Yoongi pulls you tight, burying his face into your neck. 

A single tear creeps down Yoongi’s cheek as he holds on to you. “I’m home now.”

***

Yoongi returns from scouring the whole building for what could be used as pillows and blankets. He carries back in a couple of sofa cushions and one sofa throw big enough for two people, looking sheepishly as you look at the items in his hands.

“Where do you usually sleep?” you ask, taking the cushions and inspecting it for weird stains. Yoongi had taken care to shake them off of any dust collecting but you still eye it warily. 

He looks confused, looking around the room. “Here?”

You look at him in surprise. “Here? On this mattress?”

He nods, scratching the back of his neck.

“But…” you look at the lumpy thin mattress, “there’s literally nothing here. How do you even sleep?”

Yoongi looks away as he mumbles, “I don’t.” He situates himself next to you, fidgeting with the throw blanket and spreading it over both of you. He’s doing his hardest to not look at you, pretending not to notice your staring. 

He honestly can’t remember the last time he slept. Closing his eyes and resting for a couple of hours a night is all he’s been doing. It was the price he paid for living life as a wanted man but up until now, it never really bothered him much. It had been enough. Any extra time he had had been put into planning and strategising with his men, sleep was irrelevant, just something his body needed to recharge. Besides, sleep is when his brain is at leisure to think about things he wants to forget because remembering is painful; things like you. 

“Sleep,” he says, lying down directly on the mattress. “You have a few hours before we have to go back.”

“Go back?” you sit up on your elbow.��

He looks at you. “If you don’t go back ,they’ll be looking for you.”

“No,” you object. “If you think I’ll go back there after tonight you’re dead wrong.”

After his recount of his version of the school fire, Yoongi had talked at length about everything else; what The Order was actually hiding, the amount of supplies there actually are, the depth of corruption, the crimes done in the dark, the number of missing people who are actually dead, what The Order is up to and their end game. He talked about what The Jackals is all about, that they don’t actually have any inconsequential weapons, that they don’t in fact have that many secret hideouts and meeting spots, and definitely not producing any bioweapons of any sorts. The Jackals had only one goal: to bring the truth to light. In order to do that, the government must fall.  

Yoongi gives you a hard stare, eyebrows furrowing. “What about friends? Families?”

You laugh sarcastically. “I don’t have any.”

He nods slowly. Then, looking up at you through hooded eyes, he asks, “Boyfriend? Partner?”

Ridiculously, your heart does a tiny flutter and you stifle the smile on your lips. You shake your head. “No one that mattered.” Then, on a serious note, you add, “I’m staying here. With you.”

His eyes light up but his face is still wrought with worry. “But it’s dangerous. Tomorrow is never a guarantee and there’ll be days I won’t be here as I’ll be out there. I don’t want you to wait for me wor-”

“Who says about staying here waiting for you?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows and crossing your arms. “I’m not going to sit on my ass and wait around for you.”

Yoongi looks confused. 

“I’m going with you,” you say, determined. “I want to fight, too. And don’t you dare tell me I can’t or it’s too dangerous or any other bullshit. I’m sticking with you even if it means I have to stitch us together.”

Yoongi chuckles. “But you said you had always been scared of being on the frontline, that being with the Patrol wasn’t something you wanted?”

“I was,” you nod. “But I’m not with the Patrol anymore.” You link your fingers with his. “I’m with you.”

There’s a shadow of a smile on his face and he scoots closer. “But it’ll be dangerous.”

“I know.”

He leans closer. “It’ll be life-threatening.”

“I know.”

He rests a hand on your thigh, big and heavy. “People will be shooting at you. Tanks bombing at you.”

“I know,” you breathe out, your breath hitching as you feel his hand creep under your shirt to rest on your waist. 

Yoongi tilts his head, lips inches from yours. “You might end up wanted by the government, a bounty on your head.”

“As long as it’s as high as yours,” you whisper, leaning in, wanting nothing than to connect your lips but he’s pulling back. 

He snorts. “Doubt it.”

He brushes his lips against yours, not a kiss but just enough to make you let out a whine. He laughs quietly. “I don’t remember you being this needy, baby girl.”

“You left me waiting long enough, Yoongi,” you grumble, pulling him close by the shirt. “It’s just cruel to make me wait any longer.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear, rubbing your earlobe absentmindedly. “You’re right. I’m not a cruel person.”

“Prove it then.” You glance up at him through your lashes, a cocky smirk on your lips. Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice, eyes flashing as he tilts you down by the back of the neck, making you gasp involuntarily as he covers your mouth with his. The first kiss you shared earlier was intimate, passionate; it was a love rekindled. This is different. This feels like someone started a bonfire in the pit of your stomach, the hotness travelling to every inch of you and down to your core. This is hunger, a desperate, ravenous need to have him, consume him.

Your hands are everywhere, in his hair, on his neck, on his face, on his chest and then on his back. As he lays you down, one arm remains under your neck while the other holds your face as if to make sure you never break the kiss. You wouldn’t anyway, can’t, so hungry for him your tongue probes his mouth, teeth gnashing, lips moulding together in a way that keeps you wanting more. And the fire in your stomach burns hotter.

You tug at his shirt and he only takes a second to break away and pull it off over his head before reconnecting again. “I want you,” he grunts out in between kisses. “Please.”

“I want you, too,” you moan as he trails wet, hot kisses down your chin to your neck, sucking on sensitive spots that makes your heart race and the place between your legs wet. “Yoongi, please,” you plead, guiding his hand to your chest. 

He feels blindly for the bra clasp and undo it with careless fingers. When the bra comes off, he leans back for a moment, eyes wide in pleasant surprise as he takes in your figure. The last time you had been together, you were only teens. Now, both of you are well into your adulthood and for a moment, he is hit with the realisation that you are no longer an innocent girl. He looks up, cheeks burning from staring but is more stunned when he sees your swollen lips and pretty eyes looking back at him. 

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he exhales. 

You let out a shy giggle. “Took you long enough to realise.”

“Fuck,” he says again. “I’m so fucking stupid.” He dives, burying his face back in your neck, kissing, licking, biting on every inch he can get. He continues down, ignoring how your t-shirt is still on before pressing his face in between your breasts, licking a strip up your sternum. You call out his name, one hand in his hair. He takes that as cue and attaches his lips around your nipple. You moan out through closed lips and all he wants right now is to hear you, really hear you without any hindrance. 

Using his tongue, he flicks at your nipple while drawing circles with the pad of his finger on the other one, feeling it growing erect. The tent in his pants is growing uncomfortable to the point of pain but he’s savouring every moment, making up for lost time. He wants to worship you as a form of asking forgiveness, focusing on your breasts as if this is on the list of important things he needs to do. He kneads and squeezes them with his hands, all the time his mouth and tongue work your other nipple, making you writhe and moan under him. 

He leaves saliva trails from one nipple to the other, alternating between both. He squeezes both boobs together, taking both nipples in his mouth and suckling. It stings but it only excites you more, feeling his hardness pressing against your thigh. Like you, he, too, has grown from boyhood to man. Judging from the rock hard rod hiding in his pants, it’s nothing like what it was nine years ago. Then again, Yoongi is no longer the thin, scrawny kid he was nine years ago either. He’s a fighter, a warrior now. 

“Yoongi,” you mewled as he peppers kisses down your stomach. He comes to the button of your dark jeans and rips it open with one tug, glancing up at you. To show consent, you lift your butt up as he shimmies the jeans down your legs and pass your ankles, chucking it aside. His dragon eyes zone in on the wet patch on your cotton underwear. He hooks his fingers around the band. “Can I?”

You nod fervently, annoyed that he had to even ask. But that question was just out of courtesy; the underwear is off before you even blink. You hear him let out a curse under his breath and for a moment, you’re feeling shy again, the same way you felt the first time you lay with him. Your unclothed pussy glistens with your want and Yoongi lowers himself, hooking one arm under one of your knees and pushing that leg up, spreading you wide open. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he mumbles, hot breath falling on your core. “So beautiful.”

He sticks his tongue out and places it at your entrance and licks upward all the way to your clit, letting the flat of his tongue explore your folds. You let out a moan. “Oh, Yoongi. Oh, that feels so good.”

Yoongi hums in response, placing a kiss on your pubic bone, working his way up with kisses on your belly-button, on your diaphragm, your sternum, your collarbone. He kisses his way up your chin and back to your mouth, open-mouthed and sloppy, making sure you taste yourself. You’re almost panting, the places where his lips landed hot and cool at the same time. You run your hands down his chest, feeling the muscles there and then his hard abs, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his pants. 

He pulls away to look at you, eyebrows lightly knitting together. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve waited long enough,” you reply, your voice just above a whisper. “I’ve spent the past nine years only having you in dreams and fantasies, wondering what my life would have been like if you were still around. I’ve spent long nights nursing an aching heart, wishing you’d appear so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I spent every morning ashamed that I’m awake, getting older when the love of my life is forever frozen in time. So, don’t ask if I’m sure that this is what I want when it feels like every wish and prayer in the past nine years are collected into this moment. I’ve been waiting so long. Don’t make me wait any more, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes are a revolving door of emotions, flitting from sadness to anger to regret and then want. His eyes burn with the lust growing in the pit of his stomach, growing dark as his pupils dilate. There’s something wild about it, a feral animal just straining against its chains, wanting to break free and you tug the button of his pants off, provoking the beast. Yoongi leans back as he shimmies his pants off just below his ass, resting his hands on your thighs, massaging them lightly. 

You reach out your hands, wanting to hold on to him and he leans back over you with one hand next to your head while the other guides himself to your entrance. You feel his tip nudge your hole, sliding up and down your warmth, collecting moisture before he pushes in, slow and steady. You wince against the strain, your walls stretching open to accommodate his size, his shape, his length, inch by inch, welcoming him home. You bite down your lips to not make a sound and Yoongi runs his hand through your hair, doing his best to make it hurt less. He’s hurt you enough. 

When Yoongi bottoms out, you let out the breath you’ve been holding. You both stay like that for what seems like minutes, staring into each other’s eyes. Yoongi caresses your cheek and you bury your hands on the back of his head, the bun in his hair unravelling. His long hair frames his face, dark and unruly, matching the look in his eyes. Yoongi breathes in deep, steadying breaths, trying to distract himself from the tightness wrapping around his cock because, fuck, he doesn’t think he can last long like this. 

You smooth the lines on his forehead with a finger, giving him a small nod, telling him that you’re ready. He moves, pulling out just as slow and stopping halfway before sinking back in. You hum at the sensation, loosening your legs from around him to give him more space. Yoongi goes to work, leaning on both his elbows as he rocks into you in a slow, consistent rhythm, watching as your eyelids flutter close and your mouth falls open. You’re breathing hard, your pussy so wet Yoongi has to focus extra hard to not let this reunion be short-lived. He can hear the loud, squelching sound in between your legs and the faster Yoongi moves, the more moans are spilling out of your lips. 

“Oh, Yoongi. Yoongi,” you call out, nails digging into his back. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Yoongi. I’ve missed you so much.”

There’s tears in the corners of your scrunched up eyes and Yoongi picks up his pace. He can feel your walls flutter around him every time his tip kisses your cervix. He goes in deep, expelling any hints of any man you’ve been with since he ‘died’, training your cunt to mould into his shape and only his. If you had a man back home, he no longer belongs. If you had a lover back at the barracks where you ran away from, Yoongi wants to make sure that they know you belong to him, the vigilante they’ve been hunting down. It’s time to take back his place. Mine, he thinks. Always have been. 

The vast room is filled with sounds from the two of you; your moans and calls of his name, his grunts and panting, skin slapping against skin. The others won’t be back until a few hours later and Yoongi intends to use that time well. 

“Please, Yoongi,” you beg through your moans. “Please, I want to come. I want you to fill me up.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened at your request, looking up at you but his movements didn't cease. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips at the look on his face. “Check my arm,” you tell him and against his better judgements, he does, feeling with his fingers and finding the birth control implant easily enough. You giggle and Yoongi blushes. You tighten your legs around him. “I want you, Min Yoongi. I want your mark all over me, deep inside me. Please.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. His new goal in life is to give you everything that you want, even if it kills him. He repositions himself in a way that his cock hits that sensitive spot of yours, that place that makes you arch your back involuntarily, that place that makes your brain go to jelly and your voice echoes off the walls in a mix of his name and incomprehensible words. Hit hits the spot with practised accuracy, watching you unravel underneath him, feeling the burn of your nails carving down his arms, gritting his teeth at how wet and tight you are around him. He can’t hold back any longer.

You sense it from the way his pace quickens, almost losing any rhythm but oh, did it still feel good. You realise it’s not just the act itself that’s bringing you to this high; it’s the knowing that it’s him, that it’s your beloved Min Yoongi, back from the dead, rowing into you like his life depended on it, his face scrunching up, little grunts and moans escaping his tight lips. Sweat drips from his hairline and his jaws are clenched, eyes half-closed. 

You cup his cheeks. “Yoongi, my love,” you call out, making him look at you. And then he’s taking you there, ascending with you by his side. He crashes his lips into yours and you clench around him, moans spilling into his mouth, legs locking around his hips. Feeling your walls milking him, he releases. “Baby, I’m coming,” he groans out just as hot, milky liquid spills into you, making you gasp one more time. You can feel yourself squeezing him, feel every curve and ridge of his cock buried in you and you cling onto him as his face is in your neck.

 You both lay there panting, him on top of you, his weight like a comforting blanket, skin sticky with sweat sticking to each other. He raises up on one hand to look at your flushed face, tucking your hair back. “I’m home,” he says for the second time that night.

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, hands tangling back up into his hair. It’s going to take more than once for the both of you to get reacquainted, bodies and souls, and you have all night long.

***

Through the window, the sun is breaking over the horizon. 

Yoongi is awake, not that he was ever asleep to begin with. He had spent the last few hours in the dark watching your face as you slept soundly in his arms.  In your slumber, he spies the chain around your neck and curiously fishes it out. During the lovemaking earlier, you never fully undressed and he hadn’t noticed the necklace until now. He rolls the little moonstone in between two fingers, bittersweet memories flooding in his mind. It hits him how long it really had been since he left and the tears that creep down his cheek are silent. 

You stir, pressing yourself against his chest, searching for warmth now that the early morning cold is coming in from the broken windows. With a small click, your moonstone connects with his obsidian, completing the heart-shaped locket. Your eyes slowly open.

“Good morning,” you rasp and Yoongi leans down to capture your lips with his. “Good morning,” he replies in an equally throaty voice. 

You look down to see your connected necklaces and your mouth falls open. You gingerly touch the black and white heart in between your chest and his. “You still have it.” 

Yoongi nods. “It never left my neck. It was the only thing I have of you. Of us.” But then, he gets up, disconnecting the lockets. “We should get dressed. The others will be back soon.”

“Others?” you sit up, pulling the blanket to cover your chest as Yoongi stands up to pull on his pants. He can’t help but sneak glances at your collarbones, at the mark he had left last night.  

“Yes,” he says with a smirk. “The others.”

You hurry to put on your clothes, hopping on one foot as you ask, “And what are you going to tell them about me?”

Yoongi pauses with his shirt halfway over his arms. “We get new recruits all the time. It’s not rare.”

You laugh. “Is sleeping with them part of their initiation?”

Yoongi flashes you a look. “No,” he says, almost defensively. He takes your arm and twirls you around into his embrace. “This is a special occasion,” he adds, his voice low. 

You can hear movements from outside and Yoongi releases you to peek out the window. “They’re here.”

You join him, looking down at the small group of men and women, the white bands around their arms stark in the semi-darkness as they walk through the shade. One person looks up and waves and Yoongi nods. 

“Come on,” he says, pulling you by the hand. 

The group barely bats an eye your way. They take one look at your hand in his and understanding seems to dawn on them. The man from earlier steps forward, eyes on you. “Never thought I’d see another Patrol officer in our ranks.”

“Another?” 

You turn to Yoongi but the man answers. “You probably don’t know me.” He extends a hand. “Lieutenant Kim. No more a lieutenant but they insisted.” He nods towards the group behind him. 

Your eyes widen. Lieutenant Kim Taepyung, the infamous lieutenant that left the force but not before trying to rectify it. He was announced dead a day before he was supposed to leave for good. Suicide, the higher ups reported, blew his own brains out so badly they refused to release his body to his family. It was fishy but no one was going to question it. Now it makes sense why; he was never dead. Are the Jackals full of undead people? Your head is starting to ache.

“Yoongi, I need to speak with you,” he says seriously. 

The two retreat into the other room while the others disperse to rest or talk amongst themselves. You linger around the door until it becomes too awkward to stay, walking down the hallway, exploring the Blue House room by room. Nothing much of the old world is left, nothing of value at least. Sofas and carpets that used to be expensive and luxurious hold no worth anymore. Elegant decors and wallpapers touched by time and mould are left to decay and rot.   

You make it back to the others and Yoongi and the ex-lieutenant are back outside, talking to the others in low whispers. You stand by the doorway long enough for one of the people to look up, alerting Yoongi to your presence. He turns around and beckons you over the desk they are standing around. There’s a hand-drawn map in the middle that you can’t quite make out.

“We’re moving our base here,” explains Yoongi, pointing at a rectangle on the paper. 

You tilt your head this way and that, trying to figure out the location. The layout looks somewhat familiar and it takes you another second to realise it, looking up at Yoongi. “Isn’t this the building I met you at yesterday?”

Yoongi smirks. “The same one.”

“Why are you going back there?”

“Because,” the ex-lieutenant answers, “the best place to hide is in plain sight. They won’t look there twice.”

“The basement down there is connected to multiple underground tunnels,” says Yoongi, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’ll be the best place for us to hole up, move around the city undetected.”

“But they got all those tunnels down there blocked,” you say. “You won’t be able to use them much. Most of the patrols are down there, too, at certain points.” You notice that both Yoongi and the ex-lieutenant are looking pointedly at you. You look from Yoongi to the other man and then back. “What?”

“You think you can map out all the sentry points?” Yoongi asks.

You smile, almost smugly. “I can. But on one condition.”

The ex Patrol lieutenant doesn’t look happy but Yoongi is amused. A small smile tugs on his lips. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You step forward, toe to toe with Yoongi, your chin jutting out, a serious look on your face. “You won’t ever leave my side ever again. I’m with you through everything; every fight, every mission, every stupid, risky move you plan to make.”

Ex-Lieutenant Kim stifles a laugh, looking away. Yoongi glances at him and shoots him a dirty look before looking back at you, sighing. “Fine,” he says in a mock-resigned tone. “Whatever you wish for.”

“Seems like our captain isn’t much of our captain anymore,” one of the women teases and Yoongi pouts. The group laughs and the ex-lieutenant pats you on the shoulder. “Welcome to the Jackals.”

Under the table, unbeknownst to any of the others, Yoongi reaches out for your hand, gripping it tightly as everyone leans over the crudely-made map, listening intently as you mark out all sentry spots in the city, above and underground, and tells them the usual Patrol schedules. All those long months being ‘Lieutenant Daiki’s girl’ is coming to fruition because sleeping in his private quarters let you have information no one else does. That man is also a talker; he shared everything with you, unfiltered. 

Yoongi watches you talk but not really listening. He’s looking at the way your eyelashes flutter above your cheeks, at how animated you are. He listens to the sound of your voice the same way he used to listen to every note of the piano he was playing all those years ago, noting things that no one else can hear. Your eyes shine every time you glance up at him and all he wants is to whisk you away into a private room so he can bury his face in your hair and in your neck. 

He had always known why he fights for the people, why he dedicated his life to the cause. But now, looking at you, it’s clear to him that he has much more to fight for. Strength flows into him through your connected hands and he’s never felt so invincible.

“Are you listening?” you ask, pausing and frowning up at him.

Yoongi nods, flustered. “Yes. Please continue.”

In that moment, a feeling that is foreign to you, something you haven’t felt in a long time, spreads over you like warmth from a fireplace. You continue to talk but all the while your brain tries to process. It takes a while for you to place that feeling, unknown to you at first, but remembering the name when Yoongi gives your hand a light squeeze.

It’s home, the feeling of belonging. And for the first time in a long, long time, the future of the world doesn’t feel so bleak, not when Min Yoongi’s strong capable hands are in yours. The Jackals just grew twice as strong and the war has only just begun. 

a/n2: I honestly wanted this to be more bad ass-ish but...lmk what you think of this one shot in the comment or ask. Like and reblog will be much appreciated :)

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

[ladycamillewrites]

Against the Odds

Chapter 10 - Don't be sorry

warnings: pregnancy stuff, emotional scenes, cussing

masterlist

“Chris? Can you hear me?“

“Tom! G’day mate! I know I might’ve overstrained your nerves yesterday“ Chris sighed, suddenly feeling a bit guilty for throwing the overwhelming piece of information at his best friend on a random Thursday night. Wile he was out with Benedict.

“No, it’s- I… fuck, man“ Tom’s husky voice echoed through the Aussie’s phone, self-doubts were battling rays of hope for a brighter future in his voice. “I’m in Dubai right now“

Short silence.

“Erm, you are where?“ 

“Dubai. It’s a three hour layover but those guys have quite the comfortable business class lounge“ Tom replied, the rattling of cutlery adding to the background noises.

The gears in Chris’ head shifted fast, the realization of what his best friend was doing set in like a lightning. But honestly he didn’t expect anything else. Tom was a good man with a strong heart.

“Oh god, thank ya. Y/n is” he stopped for a second “Well, she needs you“, his voice vanishing in a whisper as he heard your high-pitched curse from upstairs. Perhaps the baby was giving his sister some thundering headaches again. A muffled giggle resounded from the actor’s vocal cords whereas Tom was on red alert.

“Is she alright? God, I should’ve come far earlier“ the Brit sighed, doing a desperate facepalm and his left forearm landed on the table with a dull smack. The Arabian specialties he ordered smelled tantalizing however, his hunger was gone.

“Bro, calm down. It’s probably just the baby doing it’s first moves. She always complains about how it tickles on the inside and she can’t do anything about it“ the Thor actor explained, trying to take the guilt from his friend. There was no real need to make him insecure by telling the first conjecture about the reason of your cry. 

“Thank god. It sounds like her“ Tom chuckled lightly, freeing his forehead from the strong grip of his hand. Planes were taking off and pushing back behind the thick windows giving him hope to finally be reunited with the woman he loved more than anything else.

And his unborn child.

“So, If nothing gets in the way I’ll be arriving in Brisbane at 2pm“. 

“I’ll pick you up, bro. Have a nice flight“ Chris hurried to say goodbye before his secret phone call would blow up.

You were bustling all around the house, finding something new to do every five minutes. The second trimester, despite of small movements of the baby and occasional migraine, was flooding you with energy and motivation to do the most random stuff at even more random times. 

“Arielle? Where are you?“ Liam’s voice echoed from downstairs. “Bathroom. Thor tries to eat my bikini bottooooooms“ you yelled back, the panic in your voice amusingly audible. The fluffy Australian Shepherd was a sweetheart. Mostly. But sometimes he turned into Satan himself and tried to annoy the hell out of you.

“Thor tries to do what?“ Your youngest brother asked, the wicked entertainment obvious. Of course he found that funny. “When you finished laughing could you please get your pretty ass up here and put that dog away-ahhhhh!“.

Liam bit his hand to repress a roaring laughter while Chris fist banged on the counter top. Another desperate try to keep it in whereas your agitated curses echoed from above. Their gazes met and both knew they were absolutely defeated. Bursting out in crippling laughter the brothers bathed in your suffering. 

“Liam and Chris fucking Hemsworth! I know y’all grinning like a shot fox. M’ gonna kill you by drowning in the sea“ you cried out before dull thuds announced you descending the stairs and approaching your brothers with the chewed string of wet fabric menacingly in your hand. “Nooo, don’t“ Liam cried out running away from you like a scared, giggling child. You were a mess with your brothers but hell, no one cared so it was just perfect. 

“You’ll buy me a new crossie, friend“ you pointed at Chris who was still choking on a slice of mango. “Why should I?“ He threw his hands up in despair before the salivated fabric hit his naked torso with a wet smack. You weren’t to play games with right now but secretly you enjoyed the childish banter.

*ding-dong*

“Arielle, could you please accept the mail?“ Chris yelled from out of the garage. He just got back from grocery shopping and you were the only one dry and inside since your nephews were having quality time with their mother in the pool. Reluctantly, you got up, hasty legs carrying you towards the big, white door. 

Lost in thoughts about Tom, the few months you relished in a perfect life with him London, you twisted the doorknob.

“Hello, my love“.

Your jaw dropped, hands flying up to cup your cheeks as the man you were thinking about nonstop stood in the doorframe, a pretty bouquet made out of lilies and roses in his hands. It felt like you were frozen, as if the person who played you as character just paused the game while Tom’s coy yet incredibly charming smile dazzled your widened eyes. 

“May I come-“ he began, but the baritone voice you had missed so much died as your lips sealed with his. It was as if there had never been a second of pause, not even the slightest touch of difference. It was beautiful whereas you felt horrible inside. Hot tears teetered in the brink of your eyelids, ready to stain Tom’s notorious blue sweater.

“I missed you, darling“ he breathed as you parted for a second, causing the dam of your eyes to breake and gushes of salty tears streamed down you reddened cheeks. 

You had basically abandoned him, left him without a trace and only a ludicrous excuse of a letter. Nevertheless, the man stood right here in front of you smiling thorough his own emotionality with the biggest doe eyes. He wasn’t angry, was he?

Honestly, you couldn’t even blame him if he was.

“Listen, Tom I- I am so fucking sorry” it blurted out of you, unable to meet his ocean blues and turning away from the door instead. Your step away allowed the Brit to enter, however, you were trying to get a safe distance. A few feet that would spare you from his beautiful face contorted in disappointment like a Bernini statue.

“Love, please” 

“No, I can’t. There’s no adequate excuse for what I have done. I should have spoken to you before I left. I should’ve told you that I am…” your voice died in the sore passageway of your throat. Tom was unaware of your biggest secret, wasn’t he?

A whole damn child spending it’s thirteenth week of live in your belly was a hell of a secret. You felt like crumbling apart.

“Pregnant? I know, y/n” Tom’s soothing voice hoisted your gaze from the floor, rays of hope sparkling in your eyes and the broadly smiling man came closer. Was he alright with it? Would he possibly want to have a child with you? A thousand scenarios rumbled through your agitated mind, images of your happy family life fighting the idea of raising him or her alone.

“How do you-“ you began, your boyfriends sharp jawline pointing at your brother as he nodded agreeing wordlessly. Chris sat in the staircase grinning like a Cheshire Cat and holding both thumbs up in an affirmative gesture. Of course. How could you’ve been so stupid to tell him and not expecting him to tell his best friend who happened to be the father. 

You scoffed, grabbing Tom’s hand and pulling him across the whole living room until you reached the terrace, elaborately peppered with exotic plants and a few loungers. Peaceful and peace was definitely what you desired the most. Inner peace with yourself and the man you were ready to lose everything else for. 

“I found out the night of the London Awards but I was already in the tenth week. Remember when I stumbled and you dragged me to the ER?” you whispered, hands playing with vivid petals of the bouquet Tom had bought you. Oh, the scent was heavenly reminding you of the unique lilly-scented washing powder Tom used for his dress shirts. 

Probably not a coincidence but a gentle innuendo.

“Oh god. Why- Why didn’t you tell me?” He panted, looking up from the glass table that separated you like bars of a mental prison. His question weighed heavy on your delicate shoulders, the tickle of your baby’s first tries of movements added oil to the fire that spread across every single sense. It felt shitty, as if you had committed a felony.

“Fuck“ you sighed, hiding your sensitive face in the last fortress of small hands. You had hurt him and blatantly so. Shifting uncomfortable on the soft leather, you stopped as his gentle fingertips brushed your bare knees, slowly pushing the hem of your dress upwards, calculated wave-like motions. “Thomas, I didn’t mean to fool you. I really didn’t. It was just… I-“ you began to stammer mid-sentence.

“Shhh“ he calmed your troubled mind, squatting from the leathery surface and reaching to grab your waist. A gentle flex of his exposed forearms lifted you upwards, coaxing you to straddle his lap. His scent invaded your nostrils like sedative gas, his touch melted your spent muscles like lava melts snow. It felt like the exact same home you left three weeks ago.

Guilt. That was what fueled your tears as soon as your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck. You had left him. Pregnant. You could never properly excuse this although your choice had been influenced heavily by the greedy, destructive voices that wanted nothing but drama and heartbreak.

“I know, darling. I could never reproach you for what you did“ he whispered, the big hand continuously tracing little circles and other swirling patterns on your back. “But I sincerely hope that you can give us a second chance“ the Brit purred carefully. “Please, love. I need you“ the last words flew silently in the Australian breeze like a heavy promise. A promise to your ears only before it got carried away.

“Would you want me back? After…well, I left you?“ You murmured barely audible against the drenched fabric of his signature sweater. Your tears had devoured his whole shoulder but the relentless sun would dry it in an instant anyway. A bit of wetness was Tom’s smallest problem at the moment.

“I’ve never not wanted you, y/n. Since the day Chris introduced me to you again I knew you would play the leading role my own, personal movie. God, I have thought about you since that day. Nonstop, not until this very second“ 

“Can we take a break from the world? Just us and the people who don’t judge for a little while? I need to get my life- we need to get our life sorted“ you paused for a little sigh, slightly hesitant to mention the ‘issue‘. “Especially since she’s with us“.

“So… you think it is a girl? Our baby?“ Tom breathed, the words sinking in like hot ash burning all his previous experiences and nurturing the new life he would be building with you. And with whoever little wonder was hiding in your womb. It was much to take in. “Our baby“ he repeated almost absent-mindedly, thoughts trailing off to how he would be a father in about… wait.

“How far along are you, love?“ The question dragged you out of the gleeful bliss of watching Tom’s gorgeous face contort in pure awe. “Fourteenth week so in the beginning of the second trimester“ you began to explain, your boyfriend’s lips twitching with every new piece of vulnerable information he got. You could almost smell his adorable excitement. 

“Wow” his soft baritone cooed, almost in sync with your giggle. “With you wearing this loose dress I could never have guessed”.

“And yes, somehow I have the feeling it’s a girl. She’ll have your beautiful curls, Tommy“. You smiled so freely and happily for the first time in a long time. Your cheeks wandered up to give way to proud, curling lips and your pregnancy glow reflected the sun like a touch of divinity. He always wanted to have children once and with you being their mother, the actor couldn’t be any happier. He never had been to be exact, in none of his earlier relationships.

Tom hummed in approval, returning your smile before your delicate hand grabbed his, guiding it towards your stomach but he stopped, steel blue doe eyes searching for consent. He was a gentleman of the first waters. Always. Even if it was about his own flesh and blood growing like a wonderful flower.

“Go on“ you smiled coyly, gaze fixed on the Brit’s unique facial features scanning them for any sign of reaction as he touched your small bump. It wasn’t too big yet but clearly visible now that you brushed the fabric of the dress. “Christ“ he breathed, a sudden warmth spreading from his palms like a calming balm. You could feel how she was enjoying her dad’s touch.

For the first time knowingly.

“You’re gonna be a father, Thomas Hiddleston“ you snickered. The angelic sound of your words and their overwhelming meaning dragged the curly haired Brit out of his trance and back into the reality he would cherish and treasure like a guard dog. 

“We- we’ll have a baby“ he eventually whimpered with a sniffy tone. The man had lost control over his words or expressions. “I thought it was impossible for me“ you mused, smiling to yourself at all the comments and bottomless accusations Nate had planted in your mind.

Bullshit. It had all been bullshit and Tom, the real love of your life, had proven it.

Nate could proudly go fuck himself because you had everything you wanted. 

But deep down you knew this triumph wouldn’t be for too long. In a few months the premiere of ‘The Moralizer‘ would take place with compulsory attendance for you and Tom. Logically the world world would know if you came.

However, you wanted to keep this piece of heaven for as long as it lasted. In private.

“God, y/n. You're growing a wonder. I can’t wait to meet him“ he chuckled pulling you in a gentle kiss and lavishly toying with your lower lip. He was devastatingly seductive as always but suave in his tender touch.

“Him? So you don’t think it’s a girl?“ You mused against his wet lips, both of your mouths curling in fond smiles and giggles. 

“Hmmm“ he hummed, the dark timbre of his voice always remaining you of Loki, the Asgardian god you had a massive movie-crush on since the first Thor movie and naturally it got progressively worse. To your defense, you weren’t alone. “No. It’s gonna be a daddy’s boy“.

“Tommy! What even is my role then? You cannot just claim little Hiddles!“ 

“Excuse me? Little Hiddles?“ Tom chuckled, butterflies swirling in his belly at your face all scrunched up in mischievous laughter and of course the cute nickname you had given the baby. He would copy that most definitely. ‘Little Hiddles’ he repeated in his head, pride swelling in his chest, the thought of you as the mother of his child was simple in it’s nature but utterly beautiful.

“Y/n, Tom? Can we talk for a second?“ A shy Elsa peeked around the corner of the brick column. She had been an angel since your arrival, the second person to know of your pregnancy in general and the best source of productive help you got so far. She had three kids after all.

“Sure, and thank you for letting me stay, Elsa. Truly“ Tom unwrapped his charming, British smile making Elsa return it a mere blink of an eye. This man was a honeytrap for every breathing being, a fluffy looking predator that could lure anyone he wished. But it was you who owned his pure heart. You and baby-Tommy, of course.

“You’re something like my brother-in-law so how could I say no?“ She giggled, sitting down opposite of you. “Have you told him about the appointment and the little thing we’ve planned?“ 

You but your lower lips, sudden nervousness cursed your veins at the thought of today’s ultrasound appointment. The biggest one in a while and with a little luck, the doc would be able to determine the gender. Hopefully, everything was alright with your little wonder. You couldn’t bear any complications in this emotionally vulnerable state. Not with the newfound happiness Tom brought with him from London. 

“Well, erm I thought you c- can“ you begun to stutter like a child, your gaze jumping from Tom’s right eyes to his left. “She has a big exam today and now that the daddy is here…“ Elsa tried to help you, nodding affirmatively until the words slipped from your tongue.

“Would you like to come with me?“ 

“If you would have me, dove“ Tom cooed with excitement tugging at his lips.

Chris’ wife was slowly melting but not from the Australian sun, no, from the utter cuteness of the whole scenario. It felt like the final, happy reunion in a rom-com with the best actors on the planet. To her you definitely were.

“And Elsa wants to organize a gender reveal party if that’s okay with you, baby“ you snickered against his muscular chest, the training for Skull Island and the Moralizer was still showing off so seductively. If everything was going well later, Tom would definitely not be allowed the leave the bedroom tonight. 

You were touch starved and so was he, his hips subtly bucking as you leaned back, temptingly putting your cleavage on display for him.

Oh, the passion never died.

“I can hear it in your voice, dove. You would love this, wouldn’t you?“ He mocked playfully, long digits flying to hold you in place. “Maybe“. The giggle spoke volumes, making the handsome Brit set up the serotonin-boosting smile you loved so much about him. The shiny teeth reflected the sun like luxurious pearls while you drowned in the ocean and sky blue shades of his almond eyes.

A beautiful man and all yours. Hopefully, forever.

“Ready? It could feel a bit cold“ the doctor asked for consent before applying the ultrasound probe on your bump. It tickled, felt weird but Tom was sitting right next to you caressing your arm and smiling like an exited kid. You wouldn’t know whether it was a girl or a boy since Elsa planned the party for you. 

The doc knew so everything that came out of his mouth were the standard affirmations. You smiled at Tom, watching him look at the monitor with an awe-struck expression painting his sharp facials.

Fuck Nate. This was exactly what you wanted. This man and this little family.

But his smile died, brows furrowed in confusion as the doctor mumbled incoherent phrases to himself, moving the probe across your belly as if he was searching something. 

“Ehm, is everything alright?“ Your dry voice was shaking and Tom’s big hand grabbed your left hand. The tension was palpable and thousands of bad scenarios began to flash in your irritated mommy-mind. 

“Oh, sorry! Yes, it is actually all good twice“ he explained, fingers moving on the monitor to make measurements or whatever this device was capable of. 

Your confused gaze met your boyfriend’s equally puzzled ocean blues, both unable to process what the doctor was trying to imply. 

“You didn’t know?“ The older man asked again, an exited grin on his thin lips. “Sorry, know what?“

“You’re expecting twins, Ms Hemsworth“ 

“I beg your pardon?“ It blurted out of Tom, disbelief written all over his gorgeous face like an emotional love letter. The shock turned into a sweet realization as the monitor got turned and you saw the two tiny beings sharing your belly like roommates.

“Well, the babies are a bit small for your stage of pregnancy but it's nothing to worry about. Both seem perfectly healthy“.

Two babies.

“Oh my god“ you breathed, mouth agape from feeling you couldn’t even describe properly. Of course, you were overwhelmed for more than just a blink of an eye and maybe would need some days to really process this. However, the main emotions were pure luck, happiness and pride swelling in your fast pounding heart when glassy eyes met Tom.

* beep beep *

“Oh, excuse me for a minute“ the friendly doctor nodded, the honest smile on his face silently congratulating the happy couple before the he left. 

“Twins, darling! You’re a wonder“ Tom sobbed, sweet tears rolling down the sharp path of his cheekbones until they hit your naked belly. It felt so wholesome yet utterly distant as you sat up, back against Tom’s chest and both staring at the on-hold image the doctor captured. 

At first you thought you would never have a baby and now… two little creatures sleeping safe and sound in your bump. The natural consequence of your love to the most perfect man on earth.

“I- I don’t… we have to buy twice as much clothes?!“ It blurted out of you, realization slowly setting like dawn. Tom just chuckled, the deep sound intertwining with happy sobs and vibrating against your neck. He held you tight, one hand sinking down to cup your belly in such loving manner, the twins would surely notice.

“Looks like I have to order two Loki jumpers then“. “Sorry, you ordered what?“ You bursted out in laughter swiftly turning your shoulders to face the grinning man. He was Loki, there was no doubt. But the stubble of his beard was kind of distracting to the image of the ethereal trickster nevertheless, you loved it as much. 

“You will be an amazing father, Tom“ you snickered, the tip of your nose touching his before his pointer brushed your chin and coaxed you into a passionate kiss. Tongues were swirling around each other, tears were mingling at your touching cheeks. This moment was one to treasure, one that was burnt deep in your memory. One that you shared with Tom forever and maybe would think about again when your twins had kids of their own…

“I’m so sorry I left you. Is there any way I could-“ but Tom was quick to interrupt “Love, we talked about this. No more apologies because I am happier than ever“ he breathed in between the heated kiss. Perhaps it grew a bit out of control, his greedy hands melting in the curves of your hips.

“Guys, I’ve heard you’re-“ Elsa stumbled in the room, the handle of her bag getting caught on the doorknob. With heavy pants you parted, mentally thanking the door for distracting your sister-in-law. There was no need for her to see you almost making out in the examination room of the local hospital, right?

“Twins!“ You grinned like a Cheshire Cat while it was still dawning on you that this meant twice the work, twice the fatigue and twice the bustle.

But hell, as if you couldn’t manage it with Tom on your side. You were ready for this luck of a challenge and so was your boyfriend, agog to tell his mom. You’ve met her already, even visited her a few times and she was so adorable. The perfect grandmother, you were sure.

Elsa squeaked like an overly exited child, jumping around to pull both of you in a hug. “Congratulations, you two“ she chirped, suddenly pulling back to stare at you with eyes widened and a silent o on her lips. “Oh gosh! I have to double up all the decoration and stuff“ it blurted out of her bestowing you a good round of laughter.

Unbeknownst to you the doctor returned, your documents and files in his hands.

“Mister Hiddleston, do you know your blood type by any chance?“ He intervened, the smile in his voice audible as the sweet serotonin swirling in the air infiltrated him as well. 

“A negative, sir“ his answer came like shot leaving Elsa and you startled, exchanging funny looks as the doc completed the entries in your maternity record. “Well, you could shoot me in the leg and I wouldn’t know“ your best friend quipped nudging Tom in the side to elicit some kind of explanation.  

Tom’s amused chuckle warmed your heart as you smoothened your blouse again, turning on the medical couch, your legs dangling freely. “While filming Skull Island they needed to know in case anyone got injured in the backland of Vietnam“ he explained, smiling at all the interesting memories he made.

“Have you heard that mini-Hiddlestons? Your daddy is a pretty cool guy“ you cackled, caressing the small bump hidden by comfortable leggings.

“Twins? Are you kidding me mate?“ Chris’ deep voice echoed through the whole house as Tom proudly presented the ultrasound picture the doc gave you. “What?“ India squeaked running towards her daddy and swiftly grabbing the photo. Logically, it was just a weird black and white image of something she was far too young to realize but her youthful joy was unstoppable. 

“Like Tristan and Sasha?“ She asked Tom, small eyebrows furrowed in concentration to process the gleeful situation. India had idolized her aunt y/n since the day she was born and finding out there would be more kids in her family soon was totally awesome to her.

“Exactly. Maybe this kind of luck runs in the Hemsworth-blood?“ Tom joked patting his bro’s shoulders; the man as hard as rock yet fighting happy tears like a toddler. “You have no idea what multiplying this kind of work means“ your big brother tried to detract from his emotionality but Tom just laughed it off.

There was no space for worries or fears right now. Just bliss.

“Chris, what the hell?“ Liam intervened crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. The youngest brother sometimes actually was the most reasonable. “Are you really just terrifying him? Give this man a break“.

“Exactly, Chris. Listen to your brother“ you feigned seriousness while jumping on Liam’s back letting him carry you around the house like a human horse. “To the fridge“ you commanded strictly, extending one arm with your fingers pointing to the kitchen.

The mini-Hiddles were hungry so the mango in the fridge was destined to die.

The other mango you knew was certainly better suited for more private times…

“Lucky you. The last few days she wanted me to drive her to Macca’s“ Chris sighed, getting up to indulge his begging daughter’s wish to go play with Thor. Tom was left turning around on the couch, his right arm resting on the backrest so that he could watch his beautiful y/n bickering with her brother. She was perfect, curling the corners of lips upwards with ease. 

After you were finished arguing with Liam on how to cut a mango the right way, you were huddled up in Tom’s strong arms, the two of you enjoying the privacy at the pool. Light blue pool lights were creating flickering and swaying rays with the tiny waves rippling across the water surface. It was so peaceful, and so was your heart. Almost.

“Tommy?“ “Hmm?“ He hummed, eyes closed and tired from the excruciatingly long day. A stop-over flight, a fateful talk and finding out he was gonna be the dad of twins had the Brit’s mind dizzy.

However, it was a good kind of dizzy, the way you would feel after a fun rollercoaster ride. 

“What do you say about taking some time off? I want to to savor this with you before we have to face reality again“ you spoke, barely audible in the valley between his biceps and torso. You knew it was going to happen and the media outcry would be heavy. Needless to say you weren’t keen on Nate’s fucking stupid comments. 

But they would meet your ears soon enough and you wanted to be prepared.

“Of course. I already told my manager about a break due to personal reasons. Are three weeks fine with you, darling?“ He cooed, dexterous digits toying with a strand of your hair sprawled across his bare chest. You could feel his defined pectorals flexing as his arm reached out to cradle your figure lovingly. 

“More than fine, my love“ you grinned up at him. “We will be stronger than ever“ He added while his ocean blues wandered your bikini clad body greedily. Oh, how well you knew this look and what would follow. 

“I hope so, Tommy. But let’s not waste time on those idiots, shall we?“ You chirped, his subtle beard tickling your delicate skin as your lips sealed agin.

a/n: twins guyssss 🎉 let's see if the newfound happiness lasts

tags: @crimson25 @kikster606 @huntress-artemiss @123forgottherest @lovingchoices14 @ozymdias @vbecker10 @coldnique @lokixryss @simplyholl @peaches1958 @lokibadguy @jennyggggrrr @stephenstrangeaddictions @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mischief2sarawr @mypsychoticlove @mochie85 @muddyorbs @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @simping-for-marvel @lady-rose-moon @goblingirlsarah @kats72 @vickie5446 @buffyfan2833 @12-pm-510 @ladymischief11 @somewiseguy @woooonau @cabingrlandrandomcrap @alchemxx @honeyrydernot

[lizajane2]

Bad Batch 3x04

"I can't contact Hunter."

"That's not the priority."

For once, I agree with Crosshair. YOU'RE CRASHING!

I love how Omega gives the same energy back to him. It's fucking great.

"You're the one who wanted to bring the hound." Hey! Batcher is a sweet girl and yeah, I've only known her for one episode, but I'd protect her with my life.

"That went well."

"Stow it."

And then there's:

"Then quit wasting time complaining." Omega is out here saying all the things I wanna say to Crosshair if he was real.

Listen, this man is going through an existential crisis and giving me whiplash. He fights with himself about doing the right thing vs making a selfish decision. Like I know there's good in him, I see it but damn it all, figure out who you are! He's also growing and I love that for him.

Not the scream done by the stormtrooper when being blasted away by the ship. I'm fucking dying!

I admit as heartwarming as I felt when Wrecker and Omega hugged, I shit you not I wanted to push him aside so she could see Hunter. I just love their father/daughter relationship so much that I needed to see him hug her before anyone else did! I mean:

"We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you."

"Five." HE WAS KEEPING COUNT!

Hunter may not be physically affectionate, but damn does he make up for it with action and words. The man skipped two steps down the ramp, reached out for Omega before she even made it to him, and hugged her tightly. He doesn't need to be emotional like Wrecker, doesn't have to be.

I have thoughts. I'm so ecstatic that they reunited with each other but damn, the moment Crosshair stepped out of that ship all of the joy was sucked out. And it should be that way. There should be shock and relief but also anger, tension, and pain. There should be apprehension from Hunter, anger from Wrecker, and animosity from Crosshair. They all feel betrayed. I want them to forgive him, forgive each other believe me, but I don't want them to be easy on Crosshair either. Especially if he did remove his chip. I know that sounds harsh after everything that's happened, but I want it to be that way. I WANT THE ANGST.

THIS SEASON IS SO GOOD! I WISH IT WOULD JUST STREAM ALL THE EPISODES AT ONCE SO I COULD BINGE-WATCH IT!

Also Echo: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!

[jillianfahey]

Bad Batch - Afterlife? Echo 1 1/2 (AKA Echo's thoughts on the situation)

Echo could hear the call of his brothers around him, all of them old enough to be shipped out for war. But here they were, talking and laughing in a place that had continuous corridors like Kamino. Yet it was not Kamino, there was no sound of the ocean always in the background and no Kamonians watching them There was no trainers or droids, it was just brothers.

Walking along the corridor Echo started asking about the Bad Batch, trying to find the members of his squad. All of his older brothers pointed him in the same direction, and as he walked he could hear children's laughter. When he reached the stretch of corridor everyone had directed him to he heard, “ECHO!” and a body slammed into him.

Pushing back the brother he thought he would never see again, “Fives?”

The old grin broke over his batchmates face, “Yup.” Then stepping aside, “Look whos here.” Behind him was Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait all the brothers they had lost on that first mission to Rishi. Domino Squad hugged, laughed, and shed some tears at being reunited after all of this time. 

The next few months Echo split his time between the Domino Squad enjoying being a brother again, and keeping Crosshair and Tech out of trouble. When Wrecker arrived that became an even larger headache made worse by the instant friendship that formed between Wrecker and Hevy due to their love of weapons and explosions. Echo could breathe again when Hunter arrived to help him keep the chaos under control. But another problem arrived when he noticed how many ‘accidents’ were meeting troopers that had insulted the Batch, especially Tech, in some way. Crosshair having been in the area or shooting range at or shortly before could have been a coincidence but Echo knew his brother and tried to keep it to a minimum.

All of this made it so the only time that Echo could think of you was in the quiet of the night. Your beautiful eyes, the sun in your hair, how you adapted to every member of the batches abilities and made them more comfortable. Somehow his memories always landed on the few time you held his scope the same way you did his hand. Physical touch was rare with you due to your past as a slave, and every moment was precious to him.  

The day was the same as any other with Echo being on the lookout for trouble and when he saw the brothers stirring he looked over to made sure it wasn’t caused by one of his. But then his heart stopped. It was you, wearing a loose sleeveless garment that fell to mid thigh and was see though enough to show the outline of your body but solid enough to keep out details. Stepping forward he spoke, “Y/n?”

Turning in a whirl of fabric you see him and run, ramming into his chest and wrapping your arms around him in a fierce hug, “Echo!”

Hugging your shaking form in return he asked, “Are you alright?” He knew you weren’t but your answer would let him know what he needed to do.

Echo could feel you shaking your head while still pressing against his chest, “It’s too much.”

Immediate extraction it is. Hugging you a little tighter he answers, “Come with me.” Moving you into more of a side hug he leads the way to the Bad Batches apartment. You had met them before, and meeting anyone new right now could just make everything worse.

Getting both of you into the apartment Echo takes you though the living area and straight to his room before gently extracting himself from the hug. You seem to collapse on the bed while he found the sweatpants he had traded for this possibility and a t-shirt. Taking them over to you, “Y/n?” You look up at him your beautiful eyes showing a fight to stay in the present while you were curled up looking small and vulnerable. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and assure you that nothing would hurt you again, but that was not what you needed now. Setting the clothes next to you on the bed, “I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Going to the kitchen he starts the pot boiling for tea, a kind you have always said helps when your struggling with the memories. Then he set the table with the tea service and a plate of scones he had made. He had been learning to cook in the hope of impressing you one day. Pouring the now boiling water over the tea leaves in the teapot that matched the tea service he had just set it on the table when you emerge. Immediately crossing to you he looks into your face, “Any better?”

With a grateful smile that stopped Echos heart again you nod, "Thank you Echo." Seeing you blanket closer to yourself he wished he could hold you for reassurance, "What is this place?"

Taking a deep breath he answers, "We don't know what it's called, just that some people come here after they have been shot." Leading you to the table, "There seems to be no pattern in the people brought here though."

You pick up the teapot and pouring out some, "That is odd." You start shaking and set the teapot down hard enough to cause some of it to spill, "Sorry."

Echo quickly crosses to you, "There's nothing to be sorry about." Opening his arms in the silent offer of a hug he looses his breath again when you run into his arms, almost burying yourself into him looking for comfort. Settling down on the bench the two of you remain in the side hug long after your finished with tea and scones. Echo looked down at your head and nodded inwardly, he would keep you safe. He had promised to on the first day he had met you, and would keep that promise until the day he died.

*********************************************************************

*Authors Note: If you have requests for other clones and/or Jedi you want to react to this situation feel free. I just started with the Bad Batch because the dream that inspired this had Crosshair and I had to do all of the boys. And I hope that all the Echo lovers are fine with this one. I added Domino Squad there because all of them deserve to be happy.

[honeybummer]

Astarion Fic where his wife loses her memories and intimacy triggers them!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57037258/chapters/145056385

Chapter 1 Reunited Astarion raced towards the old bell tower outside Baldur's Gate, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and desperation. His wife, Lyra, had been spotted there. Finally—after four agonizing months without her. He would finally get her back.

They had snatched her off the streets in the middle of the day while he had been at home. He could never forgive himself for not being with her that day.

He had spent every waking moment stalking the streets, listening to conversations in taverns, infiltrating hideouts, and doing everything within his abilities to find a trace of her whereabouts.

Days upon days of tireless searching had left him physically and emotionally drained, all the while juggling the duties that awaited him back home. Despite having plenty of helpers and friends, he struggled to manage his life without her.

As he approached the tower, rain pelted down mercilessly, drenching him to the bone. The ancient structure loomed ahead, its stone walls glistening in the dim light of sporadic lightning strikes that split the sky.

The air was thick with the scent of wet earth, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the landscape.

Astarion's thoughts raced as he sprinted closer. Images of Lyra, her laughter, and the warmth of her embrace fueled his determination. The nights spent alone, haunted by memories and fears, were about to end. She was near; he could feel it in the very core of his being.

He hadn't had time to call for assistance when a messenger rushed into his study to inform him that his wife had been seen. He just grabbed his leathers, his weapons, and fled after informing their housekeeper. But he didn't need assistance.

He was the vampire ascendant. With a restored soul in tow, Lyra had made sure of that.

Astarion couldn’t shake the overwhelming guilt that gnawed at his conscience. This entire ordeal was his fault. Lyra's striking a deal with Bhaal to reclaim Astarion’s soul had inevitably incurred the wrath of the god of murder. Now, his followers hunted her relentlessly, driven by sinister motives Astarion could only begin to fathom.

The specifics didn’t matter to him. All he knew was that he needed to save her, just as she had saved him countless times before.

Reaching the base of the tower, he paused briefly to catch his breath, his mind racing. The heavy oak door stood before him. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Astarion pushed it open, the creaking hinges protesting against the force.

Inside, the air was humid and musty. A single staircase spiraled upwards, disappearing into darkness. A scream pierced the air. Lyra.

He began his ascent, each step echoing in the silence like a rapid drumbeat.

As he climbed, memories of Lyra flooded his mind—shared bedrolls, heated arguments during missions, and playful banter. They had begun as wary strangers, each harboring their own hidden agendas, but gradually, they had clawed their way into each other’s hearts. What started as indifference and rivalry had blossomed into passionate nights on the road.

The uncertainty of her fate gnawed at him, but he pushed the doubt aside, focusing instead on the possibility of finally reuniting with her. If one fucking hair had been touched on her head, he swore–

Another scream and then a grunt.

Reaching the top, he emerged into a circular chamber dominated by a large, ancient bell. Faint candlelight dimly lit the room, casting eerie shadows across the walls. A small room stood off to the side where five figures stood.

Lyra.

Astarion watched as a follower of Bhaal seized Lyra by the waist. She twisted her body with impressive agility, driving her elbow into the man's ribs. A sharp grunt of pain escaped the attacker, his grip slackening just enough for her to gain the upper hand. She didn't hesitate. She stomped her heel down on his foot with a precise and powerful move, eliciting a yelp of pain.

The man staggered, and Lyra spun around, her eyes blazing with determination. She brought her knee up sharply into his stomach, forcing a gasp from his lips as he doubled over. Astarion felt a surge of pride and relief as he watched her, and he reached for another attacker as they neared his wife.

Astarion gave a powerful kick to the man's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. He rose, and Astarion quickly sunk a dagger into his chest, silencing him forever. Another and another came out of nowhere, and Astarion ended them quickly.

In the blink of an eye, another man latched onto his wife, and she ripped her arm from his grasp. Astarion saw the fire in her eyes, the unyielding resolve that had kept her alive and strong despite everything they had been through. But, her movements became slow.

That’s when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the – gods, the bruises marring her cheek and arms. He wanted to explode. Lyra tripped and fell to the floor.

The man lifted his hand to bury a dagger into Lyra’s thigh, but Astarion knocked it out of his hand, and it scattered across the floor.

He grabbed the man by his neck and thrust him to the floor. Lighting flashed, illuminating the terror on the face of a follower of Bhaal. Astarion couldn’t help but laugh as he lifted his leg and brought his foot down hard onto the skull of the man who had dared harm his wife.

He heard Lyra gasp behind him as the man’s brains decorated the wood floor.

When the danger was eliminated, he turned to her, still huddled against the wall, her legs trembling.

"Lyra?" Astarion's voice cracked with emotion as he called out, his heart racing with a mix of relief and apprehension.

His eyes were wide on him, and then they flickered to behind him, where he heard the arrival of more attackers. Astarion's instincts kicked in, drawing his blades with a fluid grace born of centuries of survival. The sound of steel ringing against steel filled the chamber as he fought off the attackers, his movements a deadly dance amidst the flickering candlelight.

His mind raced with strategies to protect Lyra, even as she watched in stunned silence.

As the last of Bhaal's followers fell beneath his blades, Astarion stood panting, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He turned towards Lyra, his chest heaving with exertion and emotions too raw to name.

He knelt on the floor, a great smile breaking across his face. He pulled her into his arms and felt tears prick in his eyes.

Drawing back slightly, he cradled her face in his hands, his touch gentle yet urgent. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep kiss born of overwhelming gratitude for her survival. His heart raced with the sheer relief of finding her alive and mostly unharmed. He still needed to get her home so he could assess any wounds she might hav–

Gasping with pain and disbelief, Astarion pulled back to see a dagger suddenly embedded into his chest, right through his heart. He looked into Lyra's eyes, seeing that hers softened into relief.

She had stabbed him. And she was… relieved?

"Lyra, it's me," he managed to choke out, trying to convey reassurance through the pain. He pulled the dagger from his chest and clutched at the wound, which he knew would soon close. He was ascended, after all. It would take a lot more than that to kill him.

He tossed the dagger to the side and felt his skin stitching back together. He blew out a breath and stared at his wife.

Her eyes widened in horror, absolute horror.

"What are you?" she gasped.

Gasped, as if she didn't know what he was capable of. As if she believed the wound would kill him.

He reached for her again, and she recoiled. Then, she lifted her hand to strike him. He caught her wrist effortlessly, and she tried to rip it from his grasp but was unsuccessful.

After the ascension he had been gifted immense strength. Before Lyra could take him down with no problem, but now her efforts were nothing to him.

They had battled for hours in the courtyard of their home, with her trying to find ways to trip him up. She had succeeded several times. Where Astarion had strength, he lacked the skill of meticulous footwork, and Lyra was a master at it.

So, to take him down, she had to use her wits. But fighting his strength with her strength? He would win that battle every time.

A sudden chill of realization swept over Astarion. How could it be that Lyra didn't recognize him? The tower was bathed in enough candlelight to illuminate his face.

"It's me, Lyra," he said, touching his hand to his chest. "I'm getting you out of here. Let's hurry." He moved forward so that he could gather her in his arms.

She shuffled back from him, desperately trying to flee. "I don't know you."

Astarion's gaze fell upon Lyra's trembling form, his heart aching with a mixture of love and confusion.

She cowered before him, her eyes wide with fear and anger, not recognizing the face of the man who had just moments ago embraced her with such overwhelming relief.

He studied her carefully, taking in the signs of distress etched across her features—the way her breath hitched with every tentative movement, the bruises decorating her skin, and the flicker of pain in her eyes that mirrored his own.

The revelation hit him like a blow.

Her memories had been taken.

Again.

[hippogrifffeathers]

(i can't) reign it in : part 1

In the immediate aftermath of battle, the professors race further into the foundations of Hogwarts. They daren't focus on the dangerous pickling of magic in the air, or how empty wiggenweld bottles crack underfoot- all that matters is getting to MC and Eleazar.

They find them, but in a worse state than anyone could have foreseen.

or, read it on ao3!

the hogwarts legacy hyperfixation is here and i am indulging it completely.

There had been no time to find relief in Fig and MC’s escape, to yell parting words of encouragement or support (for what, none of the professors were still entirely sure), Matilda’s attention drew quickly away from the back of Eleazar’s head, the flutter of MC’s cape as they rushed deeper into the foundations of Hogwarts- and onto the swinging axe of an oncoming goblin.

The battle could have raged on for minutes or hours, it all felt the same fighting under the grounds of Hogwarts, blasting at goblins and trolls indiscriminately. 

She had greatly underestimated the threat of Ranrok and his loyalists, they all had.

All except Eleazar and MC, who were paying for the Wizarding World’s ignorance deeper below- out of reach of any further help.

‘Keep Hogwarts safe’ Eleazar has asked, but the entrance to Hogwarts was in one direction, and the broken bridge he and MC had crossed to greater depths was in another. Goblins were making a try for both, and five Hogwarts professors were all that stood in their way. They could keep both safe, and they would.

Torn between defending any further entry into Hogwarts, and pushing Goblins over the ledge they had been attempting to rebuild the bridge over, it was the resolve of faith in their colleagues’ abilities that kept them fighting. Hope they’d all make it through this battle. Any other awareness felt lost under the red and black glow of armour, decorating the every swing of a weapon raised against them, scattered throughout the battlefield.

Until it faded away.

Armour no longer glowing, glowing red eyes melting to leave room for confusion and shock, cries of outrage echo across the cavern. Rendered momentarily stunned by the loss of power had left their enemies vulnerable, and wands continued to fire upon them as the goblin’s tried to rally themselves for a second wave- there would be time yet for celebration.

Taking down the rest of their attackers was almost too easy by comparison, perhaps aided by the growing lightness that filled their chests, a mutual awareness had settled between them all, and palpable relief, an overwhelming pride.

As the last of the goblins fell, Matilda turned to her colleagues, all finally reunited and gratefully unscathed. She felt a grin grow on her features, sentiments mirrored on her colleague’s expressions.

“They did it.”

That impossible, elusive duo, who’d shared a bond closer than student and teacher. How could any of them have known that the new fifth-year would be pulled under Eleazar’s wing, the pair of them would spending the better part of this year keeping secrets and sneaking off of school grounds- Eleazar, who hadn’t smiled so brightly since Miriam was alive, and the hesitant new student who flourished in his company. 

The same hesitant new student, so new to magic, who had just crushed a rebellion right in its tracks and, with hope, stopped Ranrok.

If their professors felt pride, they could only imagine the way Eleazar would be glowing right now, and suddenly it wasn’t enough to imagine that paternal glow for themselves. They needed to see it.

It wasn’t enough to revel in their student and friend’s victory from such a distance, they needed to be there with them- to see their safety and triumph for themselves.

With nary a scratch between them, Matilda turned her attention to the chasm before the group, the long drop below, blocking them from following Eleazar and MC deeper into the school foundations. “What do we suggest then? Even the strongest of summoning charms won’t cross such a deep chasm.”

Abraham drifted into her periphery, a thoughtful look on his face as he considered the rubble around them, “It will be rudimentary, but I believe I know a charm that will do the trick.”

With a flick of his wand, stones began to levitate from the battleground around them, making their way past the group of professors. Mudiwa and Matilda attempt to school the minor discomfort on their faces, as the bodies of goblins slide off from the top of summoned stones, landing back on the ground with an unforgiving thud of flesh and metal. Instead, their gazes fixed ahead, as the collection of rubble continued to gather, forming a bridge- uneven, and without rails, but sturdy. 

“I cannot say how long it will hold, not when everything in the air feels so…unpredictable, but it will get us across. That’s all that matters.” As if to emphasise his point, Abraham took the lead, making the first steps across the bridge.

Without hesitation, the others followed, with nary a second thought given to the destruction they were leaving behind. 

They paid little attention to the lack of echo their hurried footfalls caused, just as they were all willing to dismiss the unsettling aura in the air- too much had happened already tonight, and their answers were still so few. They were no longer in their element- a message that could not have been made clearer, than by the broken bridge now before them, the grand stone guards that stood on the opposite ledge, defending swirling architecture of grandeur, an empty space within its walls- spikes in magic that hissed at them to stay back. Come closer. Enticing. Threatening.

Abraham’s words from earlier creeped into their minds, unpredictable.

For a moment, the five lingered, eyes on the long fall before them, the edgings of dread curling at their mind. 

MC and Eleazar had been here, stood in this spot- had they crossed the broken bridge? What of the statues, the empty space in the centre of the stonework?

Even now, after Eleazar had promised the truth, had confessed in his letter about Ancient Magic and Ranrok’s plans, so much felt unanswered. A mystery. 

All this, they could be patient for, would wait to hear the full truth- what Eleazar had dared not condemn to written word- but it didn’t solve the most pressing concern on their minds, the unspoken fear between them all, and they searched the empty hall for any clues.

Where were they?

MC, Eleazar, Ranrok. They had all been here, and now all that remained was dust and rubble, a fall to unforgiving stone below. The crackle of magic in the air so powerful it threatened to drown out anything else- how could anyone have made it through such an atmosphere?

Grips tightened on their wands, the beginnings of fear in their hold. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to find Eleazar and MC here, and instead it was empty, with only the humming in the air to keep them company, an unsettling taunt of what if?

“Wait.” Head snapped around to look in the direction of the voice, pulling the other staff from their thoughts. Dinah stood to the side, away from the group, a sharp look of focus in her eye- the same that had reminded them she wasn’t always a Professor of Hogwarts, but was once an Unspeakable. She stepped aside, revealing a downward slope, an obscured pathway leading deeper into the foundations, “This way. They went this way.”

It was all they needed to hear. Following after Dinah, they treaded down the slope, and tried not to allow their gazes to settle on large, broken pieces of rubble, scorch marks that looked fresh. It became harder when the crunch of glass echoed between the group, attention focused on Abraham, who had frozen in his tracks. 

Carefully, he lifted one foot, revealing a crushed bottle under his shoe, dregs of liquid still clinging to the bottom. Their stomachs dropped at the familiar warm green shade- none more than Aesop, who had seen that configuration of smashed glass one too many times in his classroom, from careless students.

A smashed potions tube.

And in it, the dregs of Wiggenweld.

Suddenly, the heat of battle that had been warm under their skin became a stinging heat of panic, a fresh wave of frantic worry passed between them. Unspoken questions gave way to horrifying images, scenes of injury played over and over again. Ranrok was defeated, of that they were confident- but then why didn’t they feel reassured? 

“We must keep going.” Aesop’s tone broke through the cloud of worry, as he walked on, a gentle pressure on Abraham’s shoulder as he did so, “If there’s empty bottles of Wiggenweld here, we can only hope for the best.”

The staunch resolution was enough to bring the others to their senses, once again allowing Dinah to lead the way as they continued on, treading deeper still into the foundations. 

Ignoring the rubble became no easier, not now that they were attuned to spot the shine of potions bottles, and worse still, the occasional streak of crimson decorating the ground. Wand threatening to snap under her grip, Matilda determinedly looked away, trying to focus instead on the layout around them, on trying to listen for her friend and her student.

Around them, the magic lingering in the air threatened to become suffocating as they progressed deeper, becoming more frantic, unbalanced. Only Dinah seemed unaffected by the spike, only increasingly curious as they pressed on, rounding a final corner they stopped abruptly in their steps.

The scene that greeted them is terrifying. Flat planes of rock as far as they could see, the same broken rubble scattered in the foreground. Hanging in the air was an orb, bright and pulsating its glow. None of it meant anything, and none of it caught their attention.

Not over the sound of broken sobbing, the kneeling figure of their new student, alive- gloriously, thankfully alive- but curled over a body, as if protecting it, blind to anything else. The professors’ hearts stop at the sight of familiar silver hair, blue robes-

Eleazar.

Dead.

No-

Eleazar, that enigmatic, bright soul- gone from them. Leaving behind a child, MC, someone they all knew had become something closer to him than his student, his mentee- his charge.

And now, someone who was alone in the rubble of battle, who had saved them all but at the cost of someone so close to them.

Another choked cry broke the professors from their horror, spurring them down the final slope and rushing across the broken planes of stone.

There would be time to mourn later, to lament all they had lost tonight. For now, there was a grieving child who needed their help.

It was impossible not to register the alarming strength of raw power that crackled in the air, even the smell of magic growing thicker still. As they stood just paces from MC, they almost felt foolish for ever having assumed this magic was just the after effect of battle, the magic in the Hogwarts foundations. The truth hadn’t hit them until they had gotten closer, it felt impossible, foolish to speak aloud, but made so much sense.

All this magic in the air, it was coming from MC.

It felt like a reminder, stronger than any other they’d seen on the way here, of just what they were dealing with. Confirmation of what this child had already done.

As they neared, MC gave no indication of hearing them. It was a contrast from the dutiful student they had become so accustomed to, the ever-attentive child who wouldn’t miss the slightest flick of a wand, now blind to the world outside of the Professor in their arms, their head bowed away from any sightline, sobs wracking their body.

Matilda took a deep breath before edging closer to MC’s side, to Eleazar’s body. They all knew what had to come first, but that wouldn’t make the process any easier.

“MC? MC, we’re here now,” Soft words fell on deaf ears, with not even a flinch as Matilda knelt in the stone next to MC, allowing her gaze to quickly sweep over as much of her student’s frame as she could see. “Do you think you can let go of El-Professor Fig?”

They were covered in blood and bruising, tears in their clothes remained the only indicator left of wounds covered up with vials of Wiggenweld. They looked less like the wide-eyed new fifth-year, with a world of magic and possibility at their fingertips, and more like a soldier, left alone on the battlefield.

Well, not alone.

Not anymore.

Carefully, arms wrapped around MC’s frame, mindful of any injuries hidden beneath robes and their hunched posture. Matilda’s heart breaks all over again as she feels the sharp shudder of their cries, the way they try to resist as she gently, but insistently, begins to pull them back.

The movement breaks them out of their stupor.

“No, no, nonono please, don’t- don’t,” MC’s strangled cry breaks through the tears, and none of them can feel entirely grateful MC is with them again, “He’s not, he can’t be-”

Her eyes sting, but Matilda won’t let the tears fall. Not now. 

“He’s gone. He’s gone, MC, and I know-I know it hurts, but you need to move back, we’ve got him now-” MC shakes in her arms, nonsensical protests continue to fall from their lips. Matilda keeps her grip steady, “We’ve got you both, but you need to let go-”

“NO!” It’s not the sharp yell that alarms the professors, not the painful, desperate denial in MC’s voice that causes the group to momentarily recoil in shock. It’s the tremor in the ground, the way the glowing orb above their heads had suddenly begun to pulsate. The air around them prickled. A warning. 

At the sharp spike in magic, three wands pointed instinctively up at the pulsing glow, protective over the group below. The absence of a wand drew their attention back, turning to face the fourth member of their group, confused at their lack of alarm.

Dinah wasn’t even looking at the unstable magic above them, her wand hand not so much as twitching to move. Even with the static in the air, she wasn’t concerned.

As if sensing her colleagues gazes on her, Dinah met their confused glance and shot the briefest look at the levitating object before meeting their gaze again, and shook her head. Then, once assured she had their attention, wordlessly looked away- her eyeline pointed, knowing.

And settling firmly on MC.

“He isn’t! He- No! Don’t- Don’t take him away!” 

Only Matilda hadn’t wavered despite the tremours in the ground, the magic spiking in the air- her hold on MC just as steady as before. And suddenly, the others understood what Dinah had already pieced together, the slight glow to the student’s skin only making it clearer.

Wordlessly, Aesop came closer, joining Matilda on MC’s other side. With an understanding nod between them, Matilda made a gentle retreat, making room for him to reach forward and place his hands over MC’s, where they had been resting on Eleazar’s. They shook under his steady grip.

“I know it hurts right now, and you’ve been so strong when you shouldn’t have had to be. It’s over now.” A hitch of shaking breath, another rumble in the ground, Aesop pressed on, “Let us take it from here. No more threats are coming, you did it.” Another breath, the ground stopped shaking, the crackle in the air settled to a dim hum, “Hogwarts is safe, you’re safe.” 

For a moment, he waits. Allows his words to break through the fugue of grief that wracked their body until slowly, MC nods.

Finally, finally, Aesop felt the hands under his grip relax, the accepting slump of MC’s shoulders as they allowed themselves to be pulled away from Eleazar’s body. Their magic calming (because that’s what this was, all around them, this magic- it was all MC, it had to be).

Aesop tried not to sigh too heavily with relief, to think too hard about what they had just witnessed. From the delicate way his colleagues approached himself and Matilda, it was obvious they felt the same way.

Proof, before them, of the magnitude of power this child held, of the ancient magic Eleazar had alluded to in his letter. 

Not in a container, like they had originally assumed- but in a student.

They all exchanged a look of silent, mutual agreement- they would talk about this later, not now.

Mudiwa approaches Aesop’s side, a nod to the shaking student beside him, where his hands now rested on their shoulders, almost in a side hug. He takes a second longer to squeeze them closer, register the first glimpse of their face any of them have gotten, the blood drying atop their forehead, downcast eyes he was sure would be red-rimmed and wet with tears. Their body still shook with grief under his hold, but their magic had settled now, their skin back to its usual pallor.

Slowly, he lets go, allowing Mudiwa to take his place, knowing he will be more useful with what is to come next. Wordlessly, he and Matilda rise to stand opposite Abraham and Dinah, Eleazar’s body lying between them all.

Mudiwa wastes no time, her arms wrapping around MC as she tucked their face into the junction of her neck and shoulder, murmuring reassurances in their ear. She didn’t mind the spot of dampness on her robes as MC cries, the fists clutching her clothes in ways that would only leave wrinkles- she is a professor, a mother, and she would offer this comfort a thousand times over.

Assured MC’s face was turned away, a soft ‘levioso’ passed between the four professors, as Eleazar’s body now floated between them. He looked peaceful at least, with no visible injuries to be seen. Whatever had happened, they hoped it was quick.

In his arms lay a wand- it was familiar, pale in colour with elaborate twisted wood, but they couldn’t place it. The sturdiness of their charm held, Eleazar’s hold on the wand didn’t so much as wobble, not even as Abraham took control of the spell himself. Silently, he and Dinah stepped around Eleazar’s body, between them all partially obscuring the sight from the grieving child.

Wordlessly, they waited. Tried not to watch as MC’s cries settled and they slowly pulled out of Mudiwa’s embrace, rising to stand on their own, body turned away from their professors, from Eleazar, away from further scrutiny and up- up at the glowing orb hanging over them.

Allowing MC the time to collect themself, the professors take a moment to properly survey the expanse of land. The main battlefield, if they were to guess. Scratch marks entangled with charred stone, other areas looked as though they had been subject to intense blasts of lightning. It was easier to look at those, than the drying specs of blood, the empty vials of potions they would guess were more Wiggenweld. The mysterious orb that responded to MC’s magic floated above them all, promising destruction as the slightest wrong move.

It all felt like a jigsaw puzzle, but with so many key pieces missing, and no easy place to start.

They have so many questions, so many concerns, and no time for any of them.

It causes a ripple of unease between them all, the practised way MC collects themself, bringing their breath under control, fixing their composure to turn back around and face their professors, shoulders back and hands braced in front of them, any indiction of the pain they were in, cut off.

They shouldn’t be so good at it, closing themself off like this. How much hurt had they successfully been hiding from their professors, their friends, over the course of this year? How much had their teachers missed?

MC doesn’t look at Eleazar, keeps their gaze on their professors, even as they finally speak. Their voice is rougher than usual, scratchy from crying maybe, weary with exhaustion. 

“I’m sorry about all…that.” Their gaze momentarily flickers down, hiding what almost looked like…shame? Just as quickly, MC’s gaze was back on them, any sign of their previous rumination, gone, “Thank you for coming, without you I don’t know what would have- if we would have gotten here on time.” Finally, their gaze turned away, looked out across the wake of destruction- but there was no fear or sadness there, not like one would normally expect from someone who had faced a long battle. Nor was there the curiosity extended their professors, no wonder for what had happened, for they had seen the worst of it it themselves. Been in it. They continued on, a hard edge to their voice. Unmerciful, detached. “He’s gone. Ranrok is dead.”

It was not surprising, but the professors still allowed the words to ring between them in a wave of relief, a confirmation of the news they had hoped for, had guessed was the case. 

Only Aesop and Dinah responded differently, a look of unease between them. That had not been the voice of someone who had taken their first life.

MC pressed on, the cold tone gone from the voice as their attention returned to their professors, eyes sweeping them with unmasked concern, “Are you all okay? His loyalists can be quite nasty.”

It was almost laughable that MC would be asking them that, after all they had just endured, and perhaps it would be a trifle amusing- if it weren’t so thoroughly depressing. 

“We are just fine, nothing we couldn’t handle.” Matilda, with all her patience and understanding, only smiled at her student, “I believe the more pressing question is are you okay?” MC opened their mouth, but Matilda continued on before they could brush any concerns off. MC had been doing enough of that this entire year, “We can get you seen once we’re back at the Castle. For now, we should all focus on getting back out of here.” 

For a moment, nothing was said, a frown marred MC’s expression as they thought. A baffling sight, this was by far the easiest question MC would face from a professor over this incident, what was there to think about?

Unexpectedly, MC’s face fell as they shook their head, eyes flickering back at the glowing orb behind them as they spoke, “I’m afraid I can’t leave yet, professor. There’s still so much to do- that I need to do. I need to secure the repository-” Repository, the glowing orb as a name then, “And make sure the security functions still work. It may take some time, you should all go on without me.”

Aesop scowled, go on without them, as though any of them would ever agree to something so ludicrous, especially under these circumstances. A biting retort on the edge of his tongue, Dinah steps forward and responds before he can. Likely for the best.

Dinah’s tone is full of knowing, as she meets MC’s gaze with matching intensity, “The repository isn’t going anywhere. You are the only person who can control it, am I right?” MC hesitated, and for a moment Dinah feared they’d remain frustratingly tight-lipped, before giving a small nod. “Then it can wait, until you have more energy,” Or, control over whatever this magic is, “For now, return with us to the Castle, and you can finish this another time.” 

MC’s hesitation was clearly written across their face, rebuff at the ready. Dinah put her final card down, “It’s that, or we’ll all wait here until you are ready to go.”

It was a harsh ultimatum, with Eleazar’s body still floating behind them all, and all eyes would be on MC as they go about the same ancient magic business they had fought so hard to keep a secret all year. Dinah waited patiently.

MC’s gaze wavered, flickering as they weighed their options.

It pained them to admit, but Professor Hecat was right, they were exhausted. Torn between feeling seconds from spontaneous combustion, or losing themself to a dead faint, they likely weren’t in the right space to be messing with any more ancient magic right now- especially not something as powerful as the final repository.

With a sigh, MC nodded their agreement, and Dinah tried not to let the relief show on her face. In truth, she wasn’t sure any of them could have stopped MC if they had insisted on persevering.

“Wonderful. Now, apparating within Hogwarts grounds isn’t usually permitted, but the lift on the charm should still be in effect, so if you stay with me we can use side-apparition. It’s quite nasty the first time, so fair warning.” Matilda offered an arm, palm facing upward, in MC’s direction.

Fingers brushed against the palm of her hand, before sharply pulling back, as if shocked. The professors watched the way MC’s eyes had widened, sudden realisation in their eyes.

Matilda’s stomach swirled with trepidation. Another bump in the road…

“I-I can’t come with you, Professor. I’d nearly forgotten- how could I nearly forget- I need to tell the K- someone.” A pausing breath, “I need to update someone about what’s happened here. That can’t wait.”

The obvious secret keeping wasn’t appreciated, but Matilda knew when to pick her fights with students, and this wasn’t one of those.

“Very well, if this is something that can’t wait then so be it. I trust you know the way out of here, then? El-” Matilda choked on the name, and hoped MC failed to notice, but by the flash of pain on their face, no such luck, “The letter only told us to come to the foundations, it never mentioned an entrance.”

MC’s shoulders slumped at her words, and all too late the professors realised it was with relief, “Actually Professor I…I need to go alone. Perhaps it’s best for you to apparate out of here.”

MC prepared themself for the counterarguments, knowing this is one their professors wouldn’t so easily relent on, but neither would MC. It was bad enough their professors knew the location of the final repository, they wouldn’t allow the secret of the map chamber to get out too.

“You cannot be serious, we aren’t allowing you to walk through these battlegrounds alone.” Aesop tried not to roll his eyes, not wanting to risk looking petulant.

“Professor I can’t, I- nobody can know the entrance to this repository, or anything to do with this magic. I’m not changing my mind.” MC’s tone of fierce independence was almost enough to make their professors’ convictions waver on their own, stubborn in their desire to stay tight-lipped, and hide so many truths from those around them. Solely burdened with this knowledge.

Secrets upon secrets, even now.

Familiar frustration prickled under the professors’ skin, memories of artful question evasion and mysterious disappearings from Eleazar. For the better part of the school year, he and MC had been hiding under secrets and dealing with that burden alone- and for what, the professors could not begin to understand, even now, with so many fractions of these secrets revealed to them. 

But they were humble enough to know when they were in over their heads. 

Whatever this magic was, it was powerful. MC stood before them, robes torn and bloodied, brimming with barely-controlled magic, after taking down Ranrok, defeating countless goblins and trolls on the way. To stand in front of them and try to tell them how to navigate this situation, to act like the authority figures they technically were, felt wrong.

And yet, MC was still a child. They should be spending their time bonding with friends within the safety of Hogwarts walls, nursing headaches during long study sessions and gossiping happily with their housemates at mealtimes. Their biggest worries should have been the next essay for class, or whether their house will win the cup- not whatever this is.

It was unfair. Cruel, to deal a child such a damning card, burdening them with the weight of secrecy and power.

This child, their student. The charge of a beloved, now lost, friend. Incredibly powerful or not, they needed help, support- something they seem to have gone without for far too long.

But MC was willing to leave the repository for now, they had conceded that much- so now, it was the professors’ turn to compromise. They had to pick their battles.

A warm hand settled on MC’s shoulder, firm but easy to shake off if they wanted to. They didn’t. Abraham offered them a smile, “Very well then, if you insist on returning to the Castle alone then we won’t stop you.”

“Thank you Professor, I-”

“Ah, ah ,ah- I wasn’t finished.” He didn’t drop the smile, even as MC’s gaze narrowed into nothing short of suspicion, “We won’t stop you, but some of us will walk back with you- only to where we came from, no further.” He cast a critical eye at their robes, pausing to think before adding, “After Professor Sharp checks you are healthy to travel, of course.”

It was a small addition to make to his terms, but an important one. They had to set a precedent.

MC’s brows furrowed as they considered his offer, relaxing slightly when they seemed to find no trap in his conditions, “That sounds fair.”

“I am glad you’re not completely resistant to reason.” Aesop cut through, “Then I suppose you’ll also find it fair that you meet us in the Hospital Wing afterwards. Straight afterwards. No detours.”

If their past actions were anything to go by, should MC be left to their own devices they would gladly retire to their dorm room and assume a simple Wiggenweld would be enough to take care of their injuries, bypassing any formal medical attention at all. 

They may have gotten away with as much so far, but not tonight.

Clearly, MC had come to the same conclusion, exhausting any mental list of counterarguments with a heavy, and clearly reluctant, sigh. None of the professors could quite find it themself to feel bad about their student’s obvious reluctance, not when it was towards getting medical help.

Instead, Abraham gave a gentle squeeze of their shoulder in comfort, before clearing space for Aesop to come forward, wand poised as he let his gaze sweep down the torn and dirtied robes quickly, mentally preparing himself for any further action that might be necessary.

“You may feel a slight tingle, I’m afraid it’s been some years since I needed this spell. Try to be still, it’ll work quicker if you do. It’s not perfect, only useful for physical injuries, but it should be enough until Nurse Blainey can see to you.” MC nodded, but made no further movement as Aesop cast the spell, trying to ignore the painful familiarity of the wand movement, the murmured incantation he had cast so many times in his auror days.

He wasn’t there. He was here, deep in the foundations of Hogwarts, casting an auror-trained diagnostic spell on a child.

Magic fades from where the spell had wrapped around their frame, in their place Aesop is confronted with the damage that remains. He tries not to let the shock register on his face, not when he feels the heat of MC’s inquisitive eyes on him.

There’s so many red flags it sticks in his chest. Injuries that hadn’t healed completely, wounds that weren’t enough for even multiple Wiggenwelds to take care of- the idea of MC depending on so minor a healing potion when facing Ranrok didn’t sit well with him.

“There’s some lingering injuries, but nothing that should stop you from being able to see to whatever unfinished business you must attend to,” How tempting it would be, to lie and claim they were unfit to travel the rocky terrains back to the Castle, to ensure MC would leave with the staff, now. Regretfully, their student was as stubborn as they came, and no fool.

Aesop consoled himself by pulling out a vial from his robes, offering it to MC, grimly grateful that his auror instincts had never left him, “Drink this, to be certain. It’s a more potent version of Wiggenweld- it should take care of the worst of that ankle, at least.”

MC stared down at the deep gash in momentary confusion, as though they had forgotten it was there in the first place, before graciously accepting the offered potion, downing it in one with practised fluidity.

“Thank you, professor.” They nodded to Aesop, seemingly relieved as they tested their weight on the now gash-free foot, only to frown and let out a soft hiss of pain as their weight buckled.

Aesop wasn’t the only one to reach forward, acting on pure instinct, but it wasn’t needed. Just as quickly as they stumbled, MC righted themself, frowning down at the joint as though it was a particularly nasty exam question, before grabbing the ends of their torn cape, ripping a strip of fabric with little care.

The professors watched as MC brushed off the offer of help from Mudiwa, kneeling down to wrap their ankle in the fabric.

Tentatively, they rose and took a step forward. Then another. And another. Back and forth.

Pleased their binding worked, MC now faced their professors- who were trying their best not to make any further insistences about MC joining them right away in the hospital wing. They knew when not to push it.

“...Can we go now?” A sharp contrast to their earlier assured attitude, MC sounded almost insecure as they waited for someone to say something, to give them permission to carry on. Another painful reminder that this was still a child, one who seemed so much younger, more vulnerable, when they didn’t have the mask of ‘secret magic responsibilities’ to hide behind. Looking to their professors for help, for guidance in what came between now, and whoever it was they needed to speak with.

Matilda made an effort to keep her tone warm and reassuring, as she spoke up, “Of course we can,” Gesturing MC closer towards her and away from where Abraham and Mudiwa stood by Eleazar’s body, the smallest vein of relief running through her when his body was no longer in MC’s sightline, not unless they turned around, “We’ll trust you to lead the way. Professors Ronan and Onai will apparate and get a head start on us in the meantime.”

MC nodded, slipping easily into the role of group leader as they headed in the direction of the upward slope, towards the way out. They missed the exchanging nods of agreement behind their back before the professors parted ways, Abraham and Mudiwa watching after them even as the ‘pop’ of apparition took them away, along with the solemn figure of Eleazar’s body.

They had the head-start to take him to St Mungoes, where his body could be cared for appropriately. Hopefully, there would be enough time between that and when the Ministry officials started asking questions, that the professors could agree on what truths they would reveal, what they would keep for themselves, and what they would do about the many blank gaps they had- that only MC could fill, but likely wouldn’t.

Despite Matilda’s earlier offer for MC to lead the way, the arrangement becomes more of a reverse triangle formation, Matilda and Dinah on either side of their student, Aesop tailing in the back. They were all careful to hang back slightly, to keep MC in their sightlines- perhaps it was overkill, but they didn’t want to take any chances.

Their journey back continues in relative silence, the professors make no comment of the stone structure they had walked by earlier- not even as MC’s gaze fixes on the empty space within, watchful of the guarding statues as they turn the corner, proceeding further away.

Dinah spares a second glance at the structure, her gaze flickered between the void of space being guarded, and MC, then chancing a look below, where she knew that floating orb- the repository- would be found. She knew better than to ask- but the curiosity stabbed at her brain even as she turned away, wondering if she would be more content to forget what mystery they had just come across, than to live with the memories but never any answers.

No questions were asked about the bridge Abraham had earlier constructed, but MC had paused for a moment to test their own weight on the structure before deeming it safe enough to cross. 

Aesop bit his tongue, there were certainly far less dangerous ways to test the stability of something than standing on it.

As they crossed the bridge, it was hard not to admire the easy confidence with which MC traversed the uneven terrain, especially faced with such a drop to either side. They even had the time to pause and look back to their professors, to check on them, but after the third glance, seemed confident they weren’t going anywhere and didn’t bother to look again as they all stepped down from the bridge, and continued through the rubble of the former battlegrounds.

Which was fortunate, because it was hard to hide the fact you were keeping an eye on someone, when they were keeping an eye on you.

There was still a small limp to MC’s step, but they seemed determined to press on despite any pain they were feeling, so the professors resolved not to give it any further attention, not yet anyway.

Instead, they tried to focus on the other details, the slight glow of magic lingering at MC’s fingertips, the way their torn cape fluttered in the non-existent breeze- but all of it faded away as the professors caught sight of their face. The way MC stared out over the empty battlefield.

Eyes surveying the litany of bodies scattered across the ground, lying amongst the rubble- there’s no remorse in MC’s gaze, no alarm for the volume of violence that had occurred tonight. No fear or concern at all in their eyes.

At least, until there is a twitch of movement to their left. 

Before any of the professors can even blink, MC’s body is rigid, their wand raised in preparation as they watch for the twitch of movement, eyes calculating. A single body among the masses twitches again, rouses from unconsciousness. They see it at the same time MC does, a goblin still alive, and fast regaining awareness.

The professors would be proud of MC’s defensive skills, if it wasn’t so telling about what they had been through these past months, if it wasn’t for the glint of cold calculation in their eyes.

For a moment, everything is still- as though the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for whatever comes next. 

MC’s grip tightens on their wand but still they remain still, analytical. The air crackles with magic once again, a momentary distraction from the rousing goblin ahead, from the tension in MC’s frame.

Only Aesop catches it, the faintest glow of jet green- a colour that was impossible for him to mistake, that haunted his nightmares, one he’d hoped he would never have to see again. 

And yet he swears, for a moment, just a moment, MC’s wand glowed that familiar hue-

It’s over before he can get a better look. 

Underfoot, the ground shakes with the rumble of thunder, and then the goblin is gone. In a bright flash of magic, so quick Aesop could almost swear it hadn’t happened, the goblin had disappeared. 

No incantation, hardly any wand movement to speak of, and it was over.

He had seen it before, they all had. What now felt like days ago, but perhaps was mere hours ago or less, MC had battled their way across these foundations and summoned that same power to get themselves and Eleazar through. At the time, there had been no opportunity for their professors to stop and ponder on the incredible power- but now, having just witnessed it again, it was an effort not to ask anything further, to question just what MC was capable of.

Oblivious to their audience, or perhaps intentionally ignorant of it, MC lowered their wand and pocketed it with a smooth flourish, unperturbed by the magic they had just displayed, the life it had just ended. Not even casting a glance behind them, MC continued on.

Aesop exchanged an uneasy look with Matilda and Dinah, but neither of them said a word. So much had happened tonight, there was no telling just how much their young student had gone through, for the sake of one life perhaps it was not their place to judge. It certainly wasn’t Aesop’s.

The group continued on in silence, only the faint rush of running water and the crackle of stones underfoot to hold their focus, keep their thoughts from straying. 

It was hard not to allow their thoughts, their worries, to derail as the professors watched MC push forward. Despite only having the lead by a few paces, it may as well have been miles. They had all spent far too much time teaching teenagers not to recognise the signs of a wandering mind when they saw one, stray thoughts running unattended.

Matilda urged to break MC’s ruminating, whatever negative cycle of thoughts they had descended to, but the space MC had maintained between themself and their professors was no mere coincidence or case of youthful stamina. She would respect this boundary. For now.

The professors recognise it before their student does, the path where they had all crossed paths with MC and Eleazar, with little idea the magnitude of what they were about to face, but ready to do so regardless.

They’d had no idea what shape they would find the pair in, no idea this would be the last time they would see Eleazar alive, side by side with MC and exchanging quips with them as they battled trolls and goblins, nodding at them in thanks for their timely arrival.

Despite the pain in their chests at the memory, the way they wished they could have said goodbye, had even a minute longer with their friend- they recalled the way Eleazar had guided MC through the battlefield, had fought alongside them in perfect tandem as Matilda and Aesop found the pair, eyes watchful over his charge even as they disappeared round that final corner, onward to the final fight.

They knew Eleazar wouldn’t have changed a thing about what happened tonight, if the outcome would stay the same.

They would honour that wish, with everything in their power.

Ahead, MC slows to a stop and turns on their heel to face their professors, hands interlaced in front of them- the picture of composure, vehemence.

There was definitely no chance of MC allowing their professors to accompany them any further, then.

They offer a firm nod, but their foot kicks at a loose pebble as they talk, voice betraying their exhaustion, “See you in the Hospital Wing, then?”, and they are once again reminded that it’s a child standing before them, not a soldier- no matter how desperate MC is to convince them otherwise.

“Yes, as soon as you're finished. Whatever responsibilities you must attend to, make it brief. You can return after Nurse Blainey has cleared you, that’s the agreement,” Technically, nobody had said anything about clearing MC for duty, but Aesop figured it didn’t hurt to add, “Okay?”

MC pauses for a moment, something that would be fractional to anybody aside from their professors, before nodding their agreement, signing their agreement with a quiet “As soon as I’m finished.”- it’s as good a promise as they’re going to get.

With a final sweeping glance around the room, as though committing it to memory, each of the professors disapparate in a ‘pop’, empty spaces where they had been standing just moments ago.

For a moment, MC does nothing, eyeing the ground where the professors had just stood- their watchful gaze no longer burning into MC’s back.

Content that they wouldn’t be coming back, MC pulled their wand out from its sheath, gripping the familiar handle with surety as they kept their back to the exit of the cavern, walking away from the Map Chamber, and back into the deep foundations of Hogwarts. What their professors didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Their eyes scanned the rubble, the scattered bodies, for any sign of consciousness- any survivors. 

The Keepers could wait ten minutes more, if it meant the final repository remains a secret.

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Rating the Bad Batch: Season 2 Episodes

In celebration of the end of the season (and something I did to occupy myself while I waited) I listed, all the season 2 episodes. It also turned out a lot longer than I originally anticipated. I love talking about characters and plot and all the writing stuff!

Anyways, the usual disclaimer: these are MY opinions, and MY analyses that I thought might be fun to share.

The Outpost

This one is definitely going to be the longest of all of my explanations, so go to the bathroom, grab your popcorn, etc. while you still can.

Just to clarify, I have never been a Crosshair stan. I also never hated Crosshair. I wanted him to come back to the Batch, but I wasn’t sure what could push him over the edge and cause him to desert the Empire like the series has been alluding to since the finale of season one. This episode was that final push, and it just drop-kicked me off the cliff right along with him. Not only was this episode a visual masterpiece, full of symbolism and emotion, but it was also the perfect balance of character focus and plot relevance, which is ironic seeing as the Batch wasn’t even in it.

From the beginning, I already knew what kind of episode this would be. Lieutenant Nolan, introduced in a seamless fashion, was the perfect villain for this episode, and I think we all knew he would get his comeuppance in the end. Taken separately Nolan was just another inexperienced and power-hungry imperial officer who viewed clones as hardly anything more than expendable parts, useless old equipment that needed to be disposed of. He was just another, if slightly more vocal, Admiral Rampart. However, it was still Lieutenant Nolan’s actions that pushed Crosshair to his breaking point. 

Then we meet Commander Mayday. Then, Commander Mayday meets our protagonist. As soon as he was introduced, I fell in love with this guy. I only realized later that it was because he reminded me of the clones from the Clone Wars that we had come to know and love. Rex’s unfailing loyalty, Fives’ sarcastic demeanor, Cody’s experienced leadership, Hunter’s brotherhood. Mayday was the perfect contrast for Nolan’s selfishness.

Mayday immediately accepts Crosshair for who he is, doesn’t ask him to elaborate on how he got there, and treats him like his equal. Again, a drastic contrast to Nolan, who clearly sees clones as lesser beings, unworthy of his time and effort. Mayday is the brother that Crosshair so desperately needs.

I think it also says something about Crosshair’s character. He is loyal to a fault.

So far, we have already seen his loyalty to the Empire tested. Even if he won’t admit it, Mayday gained his unending loyalty after he saved Crosshair’s life. Crosshair had complained about “dead weight,” only to voluntarily carry an injured and dying Mayday all the way back to the Outpost. That’s how desperate Crosshair was to have a brother again.

And then, it was all for nothing. Nolan refused to help the two of them, Mayday died for a pointless mission, and Crosshair was left with nothing. I don’t believe that Crosshair expected to live after he shot the Lieutenant, that was just how little he still had to live for.

I think the biggest point of this episode wasn’t just to be the final reason for Crosshair to leave the Empire. It was also to make Crosshair realize how lonely he was. How much he missed his squad. And this was only supported by what happens in Tipping Point.

2. Tipping Point

There was so much going on in Tipping Point, but I think it was the perfect setup for whatever’s going to go down in the last two episodes. Not only is Echo back, but he’s back with a purpose: setting up what I hope will finally reunite Crosshair and the Bad Batch. Our glimpse into what Echo has been up to for the last five episodes was also pretty cool. (And they brought Howzer back)

3. The Crossing

This episode was another “filler” that I liked mostly because of the character development. We finally get that tender moment between Tech and Omega that I had been waiting for since the beginning. We also got to see the fallout of Echo’s absence as Omega comes to terms with Echo’s choice to leave them, which was something we didn’t get to see a lot of for Crosshair.

4. Truth and Consequences

It’s hard to ignore this episode as the mid-season finale. The Bad Batch meets Rex again, Rampart gets his comeuppance, we finally get to see the final fate of the clones, and Echo chooses his own path. I think it was the perfect way to up the stakes, and bring the second narrative following the clones still in the Empire to an end: with Sidious’ victory.

5. The Solitary Clone

Since the ending of the last season, we were left wondering what happened to Crosshair. Now, we find out that the Empire took their sweet time rescuing him. Cody becomes one of the deciding factors for Crosshair’s eventual desertion of the Empire. Cody’s words are what finally cause Crosshair to stop following orders blindly. I think this episode was an extremely important moment in our favorite sniper’s development.

6. The Clone Conspiracy

This episode is mostly here because of its awesome setup for the next episode. It was really cool seeing the clones’ spreading dissidence, as well as those who continue to follow orders. Senator Riyo Chuchi’s return was also really cool to see. I can’t wait to see what Chuchi gets up to with Rex and the other renegade clones.

7. Faster

I’m sure that by now, you all have realized that I am a huge fan of character-centric episodes. What other people call “filler,” I see as an opportunity to get to know our favorite characters better! For me, Faster was one of those episodes. It was really fun and entertaining to see Tech’s more feral side, if you ask me! 

Additionally, this episode was great foreshadowing of the developments between Cid and the Bad Batch. Although I do think it would be odd if the show were to leave their relationship as it is. I doubt this is the last we’ll see of Cid.

8. Ruins of War

Again, seeing Tech’s feral side was pretty crazy. I have to admit, he had me scared when he got stuck under that crate. I think anyone who watched Andor will understand.

Anyways, this was the climax of the first arc of the season, and ended with another important theme of the story. Echo wants to do something about the Empire, Hunter wants to remain safe and hidden. Other than that, it didn’t have all that much groundbreaking themes or developments.

9. Metamorphosis 

This episode was pretty fun! I liked the horror-style beginning, and it was essential to the play because it revealed to the Empire that the Bad Batch was, in fact, not dead. The Batch uncovered a new conspiracy: the Zillo beast, a loose end which I am glad has finally been resolved. I’m also somewhat startled by the similarities between Fives’ discovery of the chips and this. I just hope it doesn’t turn out the same way.

I guess the only reason this episode wasn’t a little higher on the list is because it wasn’t the spiderweb of character development and plot that some of the other episodes in the season were.

10. Spoils of War

Honestly, I was kind of surprised I didn’t rate this one higher up on my list. After all, it was the season premiere, and a very exciting story full of conflict both plot-wise and between the characters. I don’t really have any problems with it, per se, I just think it worked better as a set-up for the climax of the following episode, along with Hunter and Echo’s moral differences, which would resolve themselves in Truth and Consequences.

11. Pabu

Pabu was, almost literally, the calm before the storm. It’s important in a story to see the characters happy, if only for a short while, because it makes the darkness that follows all the more stark and painful for the audience. Seeing the Bad Batch so content on Pabu prepared us for the coming storm.

I think we can all agree it was a much needed break, but I still have an issue with Phee. It just confuses me that they have known her for such a short time, and are so quick to trust her with everything. I do wish we had seen more of her first, more development of their relationship before the Batch placed their trust in her so completely.

12. Tribe 

Again, this episode was mainly filler, but I did enjoy seeing Gungi again! The episode called back to the fact that the war and its fallout had caused so much displacement, even for literal kids like Gungi and Omega. It helped to set up Hunter’s concerns that we see on Pabu, that he doesn’t want to strip Omega of her childhood.

13. Retrieval

Again, this episode acted as a call to change, as well as to set up the Batch’s conflict with Cid. When the Marauder is stolen, Hunter (and the others for that matter) realize how important this ship is to them. It’s their home. In turn, Hunter realizes that he wants something better for Omega, that she deserves a place to call “home,” as is cemented when Benni chooses to remain on his home planet rather than find somewhere else. Seeing Omega with Benni reminds us, as in Tribe, that she is just a kid, and she needs a chance to make friends with other kids. Otherwise, it remained another filler episode.

(Also, that trust fall between Omega and Hunter literally had me yelling)

14. Entombed 

This episode just didn’t do it for me. It was entertaining as a little Indiana Jones style adventure, and introduced a character that would affect the Batch for the foreseeable future, but I don’t think it did much for the latter. 

Unlike a lot of the other “filler” episodes this season, such as Tribe, or The Crossing, we didn’t get a lot of character focused moments. Normally, I’d be fine with this. It’s good to have a light-hearted episode every now and again! I really enjoyed Faster, even though it could also be categorized as “filler.” The major character related issue was the Bad Batch’s introduction to Phee, which for me is a whole other issue.

I was really disappointed with how they introduced Phee as a major character, and I would claim that she is one. So far, she has contributed quite a lot to the Bad Batch, and is one of the main reasons they’re considering staying permanently on Pabu. In the beginning of the episode, she was construed, at least in Hunter’s point of view, as a not very trustworthy character. At least, that was what I picked up. I also wouldn’t have guessed, from the introduction, that she would be a character who would stick around for so long. There’s so many other things I have to say about Phee, I think I’ll just leave it at this: her introduction did not do her justice, and that was the main point of this episode. That’s why Entombed is at the bottom of my list.

[superblysubpar]

AMANADA.

THE ENDING OF THIS CHAPTER.

I AM INCONSOLABLE I FEEL CRAZY WHAT'S HAPPENING THE FLASHBACK?! I HATE YOU no I don't but like yeah I do

You grit your teeth and offered a curt nod, pulling him with you through the gash. That swoop rocketed your stomach, but backwards, a tug at your navel that felt right, like pieces were falling back into places, like someone had reversed the fall of a Jenga tower. The bits that wobbled and swayed now firm and planted like your boots to the grey matter of the Ether. 

I just really loved this description and I loved the sinking horrible (okay maybe loved isn't the right word) feeling of something isn't right and we know it isn't right except oh boy steve smells something suspicious too.

Emotion clawed at your chest at the gesture, wetting your eyes, thus far the only remembrance you’d heard for your fallen compatriots. Your team leads fought fire with fire, and died at the hands of the Devil. When you closed your eyes, you could still make out the sharp angles of their necks. Hank cradled his partner. Staring at their lifeless bodies, Vickie’s hand tugging you to retreat, you wondered if you’d succumb to the same fate. Bodies twisted and torn, in the arms of someone you loved.

I DO NOT like this description Amanda. Not one bit. Reader didn't get to hold Vickie. And I fear this is some foreshadowing shit and I will be coming for you if it is. You've been warned!!! (But like I do love the tragically beautiful description you poet genius BUT NO)

You watched Steve toe at her knee with his shoe until she looked up, and he offered his fist in some form of solidarity or congratulations. She returned the gesture with knocked knuckles before the two of them erupted into a more intricate secret handshake. 

I need to kiss him 🤷‍♀️

“Sure, okay,” Vickie scurried to round the landing before you, to stand a few stairs ahead and box you in. “But like, I don’t know, it really looks like it’s over. You know? Like really over. Which none of us thought would happen, and maybe it’d be good for you to consider what you’re going to do next, right? I just think you really need to seize an opportunity. And I’m not just saying this because you’re my best friend and he’s Robin’s best friend. I just want you to be happy.” 

I DONT LIKE THIS. I DONT LIKE THAT LINDA SAID THE SAME THING. I DONT LIKE IT.

Of course, you wanted to feel the coarse pads of his fingertips draw circles just north of the insides of your knees. You wanted to feel his breath fan your pulse points. You wanted to hear the way his breath caught when you dug your nails into his scalp.

You’d settle for soft kisses to the temple after long runs through the Ether, like the ones you’d caught him press to Robin’s sweat-slick hair. You’d settle for the elaborate high-fives he’d give the children when they’d reunite after nights in Quarantine. You’d settle for half-smiles across the caf like the ones he’d give you when you’d finally caught his gaze. 

Your reaction to Steve Harrington was reckless, always had been. Volatile, even, the way your heart raced, the heat that churned through you like water boiled over. There was always something in his tone that challenged you, always something in his gaze that riled you up. He pushed you over the edge you teetered on with an eye roll and a smug smile, arms pinned over your head against the mat or mask over his face on the Scorch course. 

The warmth of Steve’s palms coaxed you forward until he caught your mouth with his once more, and his words echoed in your mind beside her, a chorus of contradiction. This is your last night here. You fit right here. I’ll never leave you. It’s not like you’d be alone. Two truths pulling at you like a rope over a line, neither would exist while the other did. 

“I can wait.” His voice was soft, almost imperceptible, and his brown eyes held that same hopefulness you’d seen in Vickie’s.

"I CAN WAIT."

“Harrington and Nancy make better partners than you two did. He actually listens to her.” 

You snorted, rolled your eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“He and Munson ask about you constantly. I caught Wheeler and Henderson trying to hack into your security camera footage.” He wrapped his knuckles against the glass again, pointing toward the camera that had been watching you. He waggled thick fingers, and you mirrored him, trying to hide the swell of something lighter within you. 

Wildfire • Searing

A trip to the Ether brings force new pain and horrors, and you spend time in quarantine remembering truths of the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 9,356

Warnings: There's a flashback this chapter! I marked it off and hopefully it's easy to understand, but please let me know if it's confusing! Thank you! • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slooooowburn, made out scene that goes nowhere fun, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Four: Pyre • Chapter Six: Combustion

---

NOW

September 1988

Byers hummed under his mask, the low rumble of his chest against your arm that shook like the truck bed over treacherous and unpredictable terrain. Your eyes were closed in attempt to quell the nausea of motion sickness. The soft vibrations of the boy’s voice combined with some foreign sixth sense you could feel in the marrow of your bones, steeling the claws of terror that shredded your esophagus. 

The truck came to a halt, and you peered one eye open to take in your surroundings. The streets of Hawkins were black on a still night, moon casting shadows down alleyways and across the back side of The Hawk’s marquee. Harrington pulled himself to two feet, reaching a hand to help you up. You took it, pack weighing you down.

“Argyle, radio on?” Nancy hopped from the tailgate and spoke into the receiver clipped to her shoulder strap. Her voice echoed to the one on your chest, and Steve’s, a handful more of Scorch team as you all stepped onto pavement, dust kicking up at your heels. 

“Copy that, Scorch lead,” Argyle repeated, and then you heard the slow crank of his window before he shouted. “Hey, be careful out there. I’m just a call away.” His demeanor had sobered entirely.

Jonathan met him at the window, and they exchanged an intimate handshake. 

You had to look away. 

Your breath tasted of oxygen from your tank and tequila without the buzz, adrenaline taking over and burning through the calories before it could hit you properly. Your ears rang a bit, struggling to focus on the crunch of asphalt beneath your feet. You were moving before you’d even realized, a steady walk.

Something tingled in your fingertips, a magnetic pull. You halted your steps and clenched your fist, released, clenched again. With a frown, you glanced forward at the gaping wound in concrete, a pulsating wall of wet and vines, a whisper that sounded like home. 

Something snatched your wrist, and you pulled back to find Steve’s eyes on you, big brown and worrisome. 

“Alright, we go in, find the source, torch what we can, and get back to the Gate.” Nancy’s voice cut through the air. She stood before the gash in the wall, the steady pulse of red flashed across slender features. “Stay in your groups. Watch your feet. If anyone gets bit, you call for immediate quarantine.” She paused and looked out on the group before her before saying, “Stay alive.”

The torch end of her gun split through the thin membrane, and the vines began to slink away, leaving the space gaping and cold. Again, it pulled you to it, tugged on your sleeve opposite Steve’s grip, led you forward. 

“Hey, are you good?” He asked, voice low, breath too warm against your ear. He sounded underwater. 

You grit your teeth and offered a curt nod, pulling him with you through the gash. That swoop rocketed your stomach, but backwards, a tug at your navel that felt right, like pieces were falling back into places, like someone had reversed the fall of a Jenga tower. The bits that wobbled and swayed now firm and planted like your boots to the grey matter of the Ether. 

“Steve,” Jonathan called, far off. “You two are with us.”

—

 The Ether was a desolate landscape of ash and ruin. Vines overtook the charred remains of your comrades and their own kind. Not as thick as they had been, dust remained, still in the damp atmosphere. No wind kissed at cheeks. No cloud moved, an overhead shadow of burgundy and black. 

You felt the next quake before it settled, a buzzing in your fingertips, a rumble in your stomach. The only movement in a statuesque world. Then the asphalt rolled, cracked. You gripped Steve’s shoulder strap to hold him upright as Nancy and Jonathan barreled into one another for support. 

Nancy shouted orders, muffled by her mask, but you watched her two fingers pointing for cover. Northbound, a semi upsized, jack-knife becoming a rickety shelter. 

One-by-one, you filed in on unsteady footing, the Ether quaking around you. The crackle of broken limbs split the air as widow makers were shaken from nearby trees, branches stabbing into decaying Earth at right-angles. A power line groaned and snapped, loose line slapping against asphalt a handful of meters away. 

“What exactly are we looking for?” Steve asked, voice too loud, breath fanning your ear. 

“Sign’s He’s back,” is all Nancy could muster before her hands came flying near your face. You crouched out of her way just in time to see her slapping Steve’s mask back onto tanned cheeks. “Keep your mask on.”

“You mean signs like an Earthquake…” Jonathan snapped. Mid-word, the low rumble stopped, settling your stomach, an ache in your knees. 

“Let’s keep going,” Nancy instructed, peeling herself from beneath the truck bed to scout the road once more. 

“Do you feel anything?” Steve’s voice came muffled this time, still inches from your cheek, and you felt his hand, once again, around your wrist. He held you back, allowing the other two to gain quite a distance. 

You swallowed, adjusted your straps. You felt everything: the prickle of your skin beneath his clammy fingertips, the damp chill of stagnant air, that all-to-familiar set of eyes between your shoulder blades. The smell of death and decay somehow stronger. 

Steve stepped into your sight line, jaw tight, brown eyes full of worry. His plastic mask cut into the bridge of his nose, past smile lines you hadn’t seen in years. He released your wrist, but the steady burn of his knuckles against yours grounded you, pulled you right-side up. 

Then you heard her voice. Vickie spoke your name. Her breath fanned your cheek. Her nose nuzzled your ear, sent chills down your spine.

Steve had heard her too, maybe he’d even seen her. You watched as brown eyes went wide, face flashing in terror. He lurched forward, forearm shoving at your bicep to get you out of his way. “Jonathan!”

Everything else happened in slow-motion: the turn of your heel as you crashed to the ground, pack weighing you down and bouncing off cold asphalt, Steve’s footfall echoing as he scrambled for the trigger. Fifteen feet away, a demodog crouched on its haunches, flower-like face opening one petal at a time, claws extended before it sprung.

Jonathan Byers cried out, a sound that pierced the dull throb at the base of your skull. The meat of your palms turned to pulp as you caught yourself, hands and elbows bloodied, but the taste of iron filled your mouth like copper pennies, mixing with saliva and the soft meat of human flesh.

You sputtered, spraying the pavement red, and scrambled to your feet.

Steve kicked at the beast, hard, sending it flying from the gaping wounds on Jonathan’s side. It caught itself in a slide. Another one leapt from the ruins of the semi trailer, the sound in its throat guttural, dark, bone chilling. 

“Steve!” You called, pulling your gun from its holster.

Nancy was faster on the jump, knocking it from the sky with her fist. 

Jonathan managed to fight off a third, smacking it over the head with the butt of his weapon with a distinct grunt of pain.

“All clear?” You called from behind the first two, thrower heavy in your hands, finger on the trigger. 

“Clear!” Steve and Nancy confirmed, taking two steps backward until they were backed into Jonathan.

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger. There was minor kickback, nothing you weren’t used to, and the surge of power as you sprayed the creatures with a stream of liquid fire. The heat burned at your mask, the tops of your cheeks, your lashes, a sensation you were all-to-familiar with, had made peace with, found home in. But as the flames stuck to the gooey flesh of the monsters, as the smell of ash and decay met your nostrils, something worse settled into the pit of your stomach, seared beneath your own flesh, charred your bones.

You dropped the device in your hands, unable to maintain hold. Your breath had been stolen from you, replaced instead with unbearable, all encompassing pain. Was this what Vickie felt when you stripped her flesh from her bone? Was this white hot the same that she felt in her last moments, fire on her last breath? You fell to your knees. 

“Harrington to base, we need emergency evac immediately.” Steve’s voice stuttered over the radio on your chest. You heard your name and Byers’. “Requesting medic and mandatory quarantine.”

You ripped your mask from your face and gasped for air, trying to see past the blur of your eyes. The horrible image of Vickie’s death flashing in your mind again and again and again.

“Copy that, evac on its way,” Argyle’s voice was high-pitched, cut-off on the end as he undoubtedly hit the gas. 

“Harrington, it’s Munson. What’s going on out there?”

Two hands grasped your face, cold, clammy, a plunge of relief despite the fire still rattling inside you. Soft thumbs swept at the tops of your cheeks, and when your eyes focused, Steve was inches from your face, his own expression wrought with worry. 

“Harrington!?”

“Demo dogs,” Nancy answered for him. You glanced over the man’s shoulder to see her tightening a tourniquet around Jonathan’s thigh. She reached for her radio again, hand slick with her partner’s blood.

“What do you mean dogs? Alive?” Hopper’s voice came through the radio this time, and it wasn’t until he’d said it that you realized. You hadn’t seen a single living creature in the Ether since Vecna died. No demogorgon walked the scorched Earth, no demo bat patrolled the skies. For over a year now, this place was desolate, empty. 

“Hey, look at me,” Steve squared your chin back to him while Nancy explained your team’s predicament back to base. “Are you in there?”

“I could feel it,” you croaked, voice shaking. “The fire, Steve. I felt it.”

“I know,” he frowned. “You were screaming.”

Just like Vickie had screamed, engulfed in flame, calling your name, pleading for you to stop. 

Your stomach rolled, and you shoved your partner out of the way as it emptied its contents to the asphalt, as black and bloody as the heap of dog charred not fifteen feet away. 

“Is she flayed?” Nancy approached, ever the investigator. “Are you flayed?” 

“No,” Steve stepped between the two of you. 

“Nancy,” Jonathan warned from his place on the ground. He was holding his side together with one hand, and his face was growing increasingly pale. 

“I just want to know what we’re dealing with here,” she explained, teeth grit to turn her jaw sharp as glass. “Is he back? Is he talking to you?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at you, and you shook your head, wiped your mouth on the back of your hand.

“Well, you’re clearly connected to the hive mind, so -” 

“Nancy!” Jonathan called, sending a chill down your spine. His partner rushed to his side, and he gripped her hand. “Help me up.”

“Steve,” you rasped, staggering backwards, out of earshot. “Maybe she’s right.” 

“Stop it,” your own partner held his hand up before he helped Nancy pull Jonathan to his feet. 

“I mean, what if he can see all of this through me? What if I lead him right to base?”

“You won’t,” Jonathan grit his teeth, leaned on Steve’s broad shoulder. “I’ll keep my eye on you.”

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands, and you watched his measured gaze point Nancy’s direction. She wiped blood on her pant legs and nodded, adjusting the straps of her pack. 

“You’re not staying out here,” you argued. “There are dogs, bats, probably. Who knows what else.” 

“Someone has to stay and figure it out.” Nancy pointed out.

Before you could come up with more excuses, more reasons to pull Steve back with you, back to the base and back to safety, Argyle’s set of wheels squealed into view. He reached out the window to pop open the door handle to the rickety old pick-up, a distinct scowl darkening his features. 

“What the fuck didn’t you understand about ‘be careful’, Byers?” But there was no meanness in his tone as he scurried to help Steve pull Jonathan up and onto the open tail gate of the truck bed. 

Nancy followed, heaving his pack up beside him. 

You waited a long moment, turning to face the beasts you’d helped gun down. They felt eerily familial now, some kin you’d betrayed with the tug of your finger. They lay before you charred and pock-marked, flesh bubbling to a sludge of goo beneath their forms. A shiver on the wind caught your shoulder tops. 

“Let’s go, buddy! We gotta get this idiot stitched up, pronto!” Argyle called, drumming the side of your caravan back to the real world, your real home. 

You lifted yourself up and over a wheel-well, pack weighing heavy against your lower back. Someone tossed a handkerchief your way as a means to blindfold yourself. You gripped it tightly in one hand, willing your trembling fingers to still. 

Over the red cotton, you caught a whispered moment between lovers. Jonathan told Nancy not to worry, begged her to be careful, pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her salted lips, her pointed jaw clutched in a grimy hand. 

You bit back emotion that welled, this need that pitted itself somewhere dark, somewhere deep. You turned your cheek away from the couple and found a honeyed gaze, brown eyes beneath a crumpled brow. You opened your mouth to speak, but something latched to that need, somewhere dark and deep, lurking on the water’s edge, a predator waiting to strike. 

You grit your teeth and dutifully brought your handkerchief to your eyes. Strong hands replaced yours at the back of your head, maintaining a knot that wasn’t too tight, and you felt the warmth of Steve’s breath against your ear. “Keep it contained.” 

With the wrap of a fist to the tin roof, your stomach lurched, and you were off. Steve’s words and Jonathan’s hummed tune playing tennis in the recesses of your mind. 

———

THEN

One Year Earlier

September 1987

The music was so loud. Pop ballads blasted through overhead speakers that once called fire drills and announced containment breaches. Chatter echoed against concrete walls between each break in song. The occasional whoop and holler accompanied the clinking of plastic cups and pouring of more liquor. 

Your own glass of lukewarm bourbon stung like smoke, only sweeter, and hung at your side. You were tucked into a folding chair in the corner, watching the party rage on in an echoing cafeteria, the bitter taste of defeat on your tongue.

Your best friend clung to the shadows on the far side of the room, pressed against a pillar with her face buried in her girlfriend’s throat. The smiles on both of their faces were the only consolations you’d allow yourself to celebrate.

“Hey, don’t know if you heard, the Wicked Dick of the Upside Down is dead,” Eddie Munson slid into your purview, all curls and dimpled smile. He returned your non-response with an eye roll, and ordered you to hold his walker steady so he could dip into the seat beside you.

He slumped against you, his denim jacket jingling with the amount of pins stabbed through it. “You’re seriously harshing my mellow.” 

“Oh, am I?” You rolled your eyes and continued your stare into the middle distance, watching the steady pulse of happy party goers. “I’m not stopping you from enjoying your night.” 

“Yes you are,” he whined. “Because the little dark rain cloud over your head is bumming me out.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like celebrating,” you sighed. 

Eddie hummed, nodded, all hair in your periphery. He shifted in his seat, and you caught a glint of light out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled a flask from his pocket and twisted the cap off, tipping it against the plastic brim of your cup. “For Gutierrez and Ramsay,” he mumbled low enough for you to hear.

Emotion clawed at your chest at the gesture, wetting your eyes, thus far the only remembrance you’d heard for your fallen compatriots. Your team leads fought fire with fire, and died at the hands of the Devil. When you closed your eyes, you could still make out the sharp angles of their necks. Hank cradled his partner. Staring at their lifeless bodies, Vickie’s hand tugging you to retreat, you wondered if you’d succumb to the same fate. Bodies twisted and torn, in the arms of someone you loved.

With a shaky hand, you brought the sticky sweet beverage back to your lips. 

“You know, Linda told me we can’t carry the burden of every life lost. It’ll just weigh us down.” Eddie sounded about as convinced of the bullshit as you were. 

You rolled your eyes and took another swig for good measure, the bourbon stinging like ash at the back of your throat. “Fuck Linda.”

A laugh caught your attention, a private moment that was probably too far for you to catch, but your subconscious was listening for it. Steve Harrington was perched on a cafeteria table, all long limbs and head thrown back in delight. A smile lit up his tanned features as he took what you could assume were slicing insults from Erica Sinclair. 

Her own lips were pursed into a shy smile, a rare expression on her sweet little face that had your own heart swooping. The girl’s arms were crossed, face tilted downward to hide the smile before it spread across all of her features.

You watched Steve toe at her knee with his shoe until she looked up, and he offered his fist in some form of solidarity or congratulations. She returned the gesture with knocked knuckles before the two of them erupted into a more intricate secret handshake. 

The entire exchange warmed your insides more than the drink in your cup ever could on a day like this.

“Hey, dickheads,” Eddie’s call startled you back into focus.

You cowered into him, as to not be seen by wandering eyes, and noticed the couple of teens he’d called out for. Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler inched by, red solo cups in their hands. 

Eddie beckoned with long, ringed fingers. “Are you both insane? If Hopper caught you with those, you’re dead men.” 

“Hopper can’t do anything about it,” Wheeler scoffed, but he kept his volume low. 

You snorted.

“Uh huh,” Eddie cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“We were bringing them for you guys,” Henderson informed a little too loudly, the most obvious lie he’d told.

Wheeler kicked him in the shin. 

“Thanks so much, Henderson. We were running dry.” Eddie’s face split into a grin, and he held his hands out to receive the kids’ drinks. 

Shoulders slumped in defeat, the two boys handed over their drinks. 

You noticed, with the faintest glint of light, that Eddie had exchanged them for his flask. “You bring that back to me tomorrow, or else.” He hissed, but couldn’t manage to hide the look of mischief from his brown eyes, the curve of his mouth.

With a matched grin on their faces, the boys scurried away down a secret hallway to partake in their own form of celebration.

“Eddie Munson, you big softy,” you snorted, elbowing his side. 

He sighed, taking a long sip of something bright red from the cup in his right hand. You managed a chuckle at the cringe of dramatics on his face at the taste, tongue stained neon within seconds of the liquid touching his lips. He chased it with whatever he held in the left.

“Did you just confiscate these from the children?”

Robin and Vickie approached the two of you, hand-in-hand, matching lovestruck looks on both of their faces. Eddie extended the cherry concoction, and Robin took it with a matching look of mischief in her blue eyes. 

You felt a familiar sneaker tap against your own, and managed to greet your best friend with a sad smile. Her head was tilted toward you, pretty orange hair cascading over her shoulders. She took two fingers to the rim of your cup to tip it towards her, peering over to see just how much you hadn’t drank.

“Did Steve find you?” Robin asked, licking neon from the crease of her plush lips. 

Something odd kicked in your chest, not unfamiliar, just dormant, and your face warmed. You avoided Vickie’s gaze as she tapped your foot again, and you shook your head. You peeled your cup from her grasp to take another drink.

“Oh, well he was looking for you,” Robin shrugged, but you noticed the smirk meet her lips simultaneous to her own cup. 

You narrowly avoided Vickie’s waggled eyebrows as you glanced over your own cup to search for Steve across the bustling caf. He was no longer perched tabletop, Erica long-since distracted in a conversation with her brother. But it didn’t take long for your eyes to attract like magnets to those broad shoulders, the gloss of his hair, the curve of his tricep. 

He stood toward the center of the crowd, locked into a conversation with Nancy Wheeler. Dim light was cast across her pointed features, and she seemed engaged in their conversation, a lightness on her brow you hadn’t seen since you’d met her. She seemed relieved, celebratory, maybe even a tad shy as she spoke, hands tucked beneath her arms. 

“I think I might go to bed,” you swallowed, sliding Eddie the remainder of your drink before pushing into Vickie’s space to stand. 

“I’ll walk you up,” your best friend seemed too eager, a frenetic energy buzzing under her skin. 

You tried to ignore the kiss she shared with her partner, letting Eddie offer a loving bite to your wrist like a feral child in his form of a goodnight. You patted his hair, and Robin took your spot beside him, cheersing you with a red cup and lips stained pink. You nodded. “Night.” 

-

The stairwell echoed in silence, that swell of a pulse in your eardrums that matched the tandem steps of you and your best friend. The steel door slammed shut behind you, quieting the ruckus of the celebration down below. An odd chill coursed over your shoulder, and you glanced behind you to find nothing and no one but the vast expanse of concrete and steel spiraling for floors below. 

“They’d want you to be happy, you know,” Vickie cut the silence, chewing the smile from her face with extreme difficulty.

You rolled your eyes and continued your climb. “I know, Vic. It’s just… complicated.” 

“Have you talked to him since?” She pressed. 

She referred to a drunken night one week earlier. You’d fallen asleep in Steve’s bed, nose-to-nose, large fingertips tracing hidden circles into your skin. 

“No,” you avoided her gaze, despite her neck stretching to catch you. “But it’s fine. We’ve been busy.” You’ve been avoiding him, sinking yourself in training, in Scorch, in fighting. Secrets shared between covers felt insignificant compared to a fire-fight with hundreds lost, minuscule in comparison to the ache from your grief and the confusion you’d attached to a win you weren’t sure would ever come. 

“Sure, okay,” Vickie scurried to round the landing before you, to stand a few stairs ahead and box you in. “But like, I don’t know, it really looks like it’s over. You know? Like really over. Which none of us thought would happen, and maybe it’d be good for you to consider what you’re going to do next, right? I just think you really need to seize an opportunity. And I’m not just saying this because you’re my best friend and he’s Robin’s best friend. I just want you to be happy.” 

She was nervous, rambling. 

You glanced around, her voice echoing up the staircase, and you gripped her wrist to lead her back up beside you. “Okay, I get it. Take a deep breath.” 

“Sorry,” her shoulders relaxed, bumping your own as you continued your climb. A soft breath of a laugh fell from her lips.

You pushed open the heavy steel door, holding it for her to pass through before you fell back in step, sneakers tapping against linoleum flooring, dimly lit by the escaping sunlight. 

Vickie walked beside you, gaze a little far-off, hands wringing in front of her, twisting at a ring on her middle finger.

You pulled your key on its lanyard from a pants pocket, and your dorm door clicked open. “You want a glass of water?”

You fell easily into your roles. You filled her a plastic cup of water while she tidied discarded books and pages, piled your laundry into a basket. She smiled at your eye roll, and you watched as she drained the cup. She caught a bead of water as it fell from her lip and released another of those nervous laughs, the ones that prickled the hair at the base of your neck, the ones you knew preceded confrontation. 

“Vic, what’s going on with you?” You scoffed, crossing arms over your chest. “You’re being cagey.”

She rolled her eyes, but you saw the chew of her lip. Caught, she turned her back and paced toward your bed before slowly lowering herself at the foot. “You really think this is done? Do you really feel like he’s dead?” 

This woman had fought monsters. You’d watched her jump into action on dozens of occasions, leading hundreds of innocent people to safety. You’d seen her face covered in char and sweat and ash as she scorched the remnants of her hometown. You’d seen tears spring to her eyes as the landmarks of your shared childhoods crumbled into matching piles of ruin. Never had you seen as much concern etched across her soft features. 

You swallowed, nodded. “He’s gotta be, right? We watched him burn. Eleven said…” A chill swept over the back of your neck as you watched Vickie twist her ring around her finger once more.

“I know, but I don’t know. Do you think he could have like… jumped onto someone else? Maybe he’s in hiding without a body somewhere.” Her tenor was starting to quicken, the breadth of her sternum rising and falling too rapidly.

You reached out for her, and she jumped under your touch. “Hey, why are you so worried about this?” 

Her eyes were wide like saucers, dark circles beneath them that you’d honestly all possessed over the last few particularly grueling weeks, but in this moment, hers felt pronounced. 

You swept hair from her long eyelashes, tucked it behind her ear. “What’s going on?” 

She shook her head, scrubbed at her face with her hands, and peeled upward and out of your grasp. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” 

“Nothing’s stupid. Come on, talk to me.” You reassured her, taking her seat on the foot of your bed, preparing for the worst. 

“It’s…” She paused, back to you, shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. When she spun to face you, her demeanor had changed, lightened. The rain cloud that hovered before seemed to drift away. “I just want this to be over so bad. Robin and I have been talking about what we’re going to do, when this is all over. It used to feel so far away, and now it’s right here, and I’m scared, I guess, but excited, but also just anxious, and - “

“So tell me about it,” you cut her off, somehow managing a smile despite the repeated reminder that this was over and soon you’d be floating in a world who didn’t understand what you’d gone through, and odds are, you’d be alone. 

She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit her mom had scolded her for since she was a child, but that aching smile fell back over her features, and she crossed to collapse on the bed beside you. The mattress harrumphed under her weight. “We talked about going to school together. We both got into IU.” 

“Yeah?” You fell backwards beside her, staring up at the stained dorm ceiling panels. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I’m nervous, but like, excited, you know?”

You swallowed back that lump growing in your throat. “You were excited before. You still want to be a music teacher?” 

Vickie always had her plans, organized chaos in the form of binders stuffed with mail-in applications, the gentle push and prod of you to apply with her. You could never decide, stuffing envelopes into that floorboard beside your bed, lying about acceptance letters when she’d received her own. You’d sipped vodka out of matching Betty and Veronica mugs and tried not to imagine her off in the big city without you. 

“Or art,” she confirmed, fingers tracing lines in your ceiling like the constellations you used to lay out and watch.

You sighed simultaneously, and snorted in response. 

She muttered your name, and you glanced sideways to catch the pale yellow light cascading across high, freckled cheekbones, a soft sadness in her eyes. “Do you think I’m being reckless?”

You frowned. 

She caught your gaze and swallowed. “With Robin, I mean. I think I might ask her to move in with me, and I know that sounds crazy because we’re literal children, and - ”

You caught her wrist mid-air, gave it a squeeze, managed a dry laugh. “Vic, you literally followed her into War.”

The laugh that poured from her at the irony was warm enough to pull a genuine smile to your lips, a gesture that was growing more and more foreign as this fight continued. Your grip loosened on her wrist, and she moved to interlock your fingers, her little silver ring scratching between roughed-up knuckles, blistered and burned. 

“You know I’ll never leave you, right?” 

You bumped her with your forehead, her visage blurring in the proximity. “Couldn’t get rid of me when you moved to Hawkins, what makes you think you can get rid of me now?”

Satisfied with your answer, she brought the back of your hand to her lips for a peck and release. 

“Good,” she tutted, rising from the foot of your bed to open the tiny wardrobe beside you. She pushed aside a couple of grey tank tops and pulled a black v-neck from the rack, holding it to herself as if she didn’t have forty in her own closet to match. “Then I can talk to you without you getting mad at me, right?” 

The challenge prickled your skin, competitive nature over-wrought with irritation at the shift of her tone from sincere to playful, mean, even. “Probably not,” you snapped, propping yourself on your elbows to catch the shirt she tossed your direction. 

“Put this on, it makes your boobs look amazing.” 

You groaned and flopped back to the mattress, suddenly warm and exposed under her gaze. You hid your face in the t-shirt, hangar still attached, and shook your head. Her name slipped from your mouth in annoyance.

Yours was repeated back to you in a mocking tone. “What if tonight’s the last night?”

The rustle of your drawers pulled your focus from around a sleeve. “What?” 

She was bent over a pair of jeans you hadn’t worn in well over a year. A tear had pulled through the fibers on both knees, and you were positive the waist band wouldn’t fit now. “What if it really is all over?” She tossed the denim beside you. “What if this is the last night we’ll be in this building? What if it’s the last night we celebrate with these people? What if it’s your last chance to talk to everyone?” 

You knew she didn’t mean ‘everyone’. 

“I get that you’re sad, okay? I’m sad too. I’m going to miss them just as much as you are.” Vickie’s hands found your knees, and she jostled them. “And I understand if you’re tired. We’re all exhausted. I yawned about twenty times dancing with Robin in there. She yelled at me.” Her face lit up with something fierce. “But I’m asking you to get dressed and come with me back to the party, because tonight might be your last night, and I don’t want you to miss your chance.” 

You scoffed and tossed the shirt aside. “Miss my chance for what?” 

Her mischievous gaze was hard to avoid, and she leaned in even closer. “I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”

It was a question you’d asked yourself several times over the last week, when avoiding Steve meant slipping into the girl’s locker room and excess of times or taking the rickety elevator to avoid him on the staircase. You thought last time would be the ‘last time’ so-to-speak, and all the other times before that. That’s just how life worked under fire. 

And last time, as with each of your last times, you’d ended up exchanging truths under government issues linens, chuckling soft breaths against one another’s mouths, making promises of honesty and protection. You weren’t sure you needed more than that. 

Of course, you wanted to feel the coarse pads of his fingertips draw circles just north of the insides of your knees. You wanted to feel his breath fan your pulse points. You wanted to hear the way his breath caught when you dug your nails into his scalp.

You’d settle for soft kisses to the temple after long runs through the Ether, like the ones you’d caught him press to Robin’s sweat-slick hair. You’d settle for the elaborate high-fives he’d give the children when they’d reunite after nights in Quarantine. You’d settle for half-smiles across the caf like the ones he’d give you when you’d finally caught his gaze. 

“Okay, forget about it,” Vickie glossed over your non-response. “Just come downstairs and hang out with me. We’ll find Robin and Eddie and get you another drink and just pretend like we’re stupid kids again. Maybe we’ll sneak into the pool.” 

Her optimism was always so difficult to crush, her rosy lips split into a grin, and you knew she wouldn’t cease fire until you complied. 

With a resigned sigh, you reached your hand for her to help you up, and you nodded.

She took your hand with a grin and tugged you to your feet. 

-

The party below spilled upwards into living rooms and dorms. Music on overhead speakers was transferred to boomboxes and acoustic guitars. Instead of echoing off concrete walls, laughter was absorbed into threadbare couches. Hallways dimmed to the red glow of Exit signs. Footfall faded, stumbled behind locked doors. 

You perched on a comfortable sofa in the living space, waving Eddie goodnight as he waggled his fingers. Vickie and Robin had sandwiched you in sloppy kisses before they slunk off hand-in-hand, whispering sweet nothings. You sunk further into the cushions, hugging one tightly in your lap as the lights turned off and your world was cast in moonlight from a nearby window. 

You sat there for ages, maybe the entire night, staring out at the greyscale world beyond, those treetops tinged in golds and rubies in the daylight. You thought of your friends, hand-in-hand, and of Pedro and Hank, arm-in-arm, and of the emptiness that lingered when you recognized life, as you lived it, was coming to a close. 

You pondered and mourned in silence, starlight the ever-present reminder that you were Rightside Up and safe, somehow, a promise Steve had kept without realizing it. 

“Hey,” a voice full of recognition startled you from your reverie, and you turned to face Steve. His strong features were silhouetted, but you knew the curve of his shoulders, the dip of his jaw. 

“Hey,” you offered a smile, shrinking further into your seat. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, gesturing for permission to join you.

You nodded, shrugged. “Not really.”

He crossed slowly before sitting, his weight on the springs shifting your own. He was close, warmth radiating off biceps pressed against yours. “I was looking for you.” He touched his knuckles to your knee, a sensation that shot electricity through you. 

“Oh?” Your voice squeaked, throat dry. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, and you ventured a glance his direction. The moonlight poured in, pale yellow against his features, his nose, cheek, the swoop of his chestnut hair. “I know you and Hank and Pedro were really close, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

His eyes shone, and you had to pull yourself from his gaze to process his words. He cared. The thought brought a smile to your cheeks despite the grief you felt in your soul. You tipped your face away from him and played with fraying of the canvas lining the pillow in your lap. 

You contemplated lying, reassuring you both that you’d be fine, but something about his warm presence settled beside you, the soft lilt of his voice, had you speaking freely. “I will be,” you nodded, a sentiment you hadn’t even realized until you spoke it into existence. “I just haven’t had time to think about what my life’ll be like without their… guidance.” Orders, teasing, coaxing, care.

“I get that,” Steve sighed beside you, head tilting to rest on the furniture at your backs. “It’s been kind of nice not having to make decisions for myself.” 

“What were you going to do, before all of this?” You gestured to concrete walls, a singular window, a common space long since vacant. 

His gaze trailed the room before landing on you, and you warmed under it. With another sigh, he looked outward again. “I thought I had a plan for when it was all over, but that was a year ago.” He waved it off. 

You nudged him with your elbow. “What was it? Maybe it’ll give me some inspiration.”

He snorted, shook hair into his eyes. “Ah, yeah. I doubt it.” 

“Come on, Harrington,” you goaded. “What was it? Become an actor? Join the circus?” This felt better, right, the tease of competition between you settling the tension that was building with each passing glance.

“Try marrying the girl of my dreams and having six kids?” That popped the bubble. You couldn’t hide the face of disgust and unease that settled after his comment, knowing all you knew about him already. “Yeah, bad, right?” 

You stuffed back a remorseful chuckle, tried to keep a strange bout of jealousy at bay when you remembered his conversation with Nancy earlier, how engaged the two of them looked, how hopeful her blue eyes were. 

You cleared your throat, made firm eye contact with your pillow, shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like you aren’t the only one with those aspirations. I’ve heard Rob and Vic might move in together.” A harmless bean spilled surely wouldn’t rile up your best friend. 

“Wait, how do you know that? I thought Robin was going to wait to ask her…” Steve trailed off, and when your eyes met, you both rolled them in exasperation for the gushy love shared between clueless women. 

“So what about you?” Steve asked after a moment had passed, little finger soft once again to your knee. “If this is really all over, what’re you going to do?” 

You glanced back over the parking lot, the trees, Scorch course off in the distance. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out… where I fit. You know?” You locked your fingers together above your pillow, as Vickie had done earlier, but without the lightness of her touch, yours were bruised and calloused and burnt. Your knuckles were sore.

“Right here,” he said.

His eyes were dark, brow soft, yet pensive, and under his watch, you couldn’t breathe. It was the same panic you’d felt all week when you’d watched him cross the caf or climb into the bed of a truck, that fight or flight ramping up within your rib cage. 

“I’m serious,” he shrugged, shoulder knocking your own. “What if you fit here?” He pressed a large finger into the pillow on your lap for emphasis. The skin of your wrists and hands lit up with proximity. “You’re so good at this whole thing, and we know it isn’t over. The Upside Down didn’t close up when Vecna died like we thought it would. There’s still a mess to clean up. Who says you have to leave? That you have to move on right now and make some huge life plan over night?” 

You blinked back at him because you hadn’t considered any of that, and maybe it’s because this existence had been something everything was counting down the chance to run from. You’d all been thrust into this life when the world opened up (or earlier), and you followed orders because that’s what kept you safe, what kept you alive. You’d never considered that maybe you were made for this. Although, when Steve mentioned it, things did sort of kick back into place. 

His knee knocked yours. “It’s not like you’d be alone.” 

The implications rendered you silent, a splash of cool water across skin that had been set ablaze, filling the space with steam. Your breathing was shallow, mouth dry, and you couldn’t unstick your knuckles from each other, though his hand remained centimeters away, picking at that same tear in the fabric you’d been playing with moments earlier. You felt yourself go stock straight, rigid against the warmth of his bicep. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable last week?” His voice was barely a gravel, a shockwave of electricity sent through you.

You swallowed in vain, shook your head. 

His eyes trailed your features, and you bit hard on your lip when he stopped there, before he found your gaze again. “Because I meant it when I promised I’d keep you safe.” 

Your reaction to Steve Harrington was reckless, always had been. Volatile, even, the way your heart raced, the heat that churned through you like water boiled over. There was always something in his tone that challenged you, always something in his gaze that riled you up. He pushed you over the edge you teetered on with an eye roll and a smug smile, arms pinned over your head against the mat or mask over his face on the Scorch course. 

Maybe that’s why neither of you were surprised when you reached across the space and pressed your lips to his. Neither of you stiffened at a first kiss, noses bumped and knuckles. Simultaneous, you parted for a breath and dove back for something stickier, something warmer, something more dangerous.

He was sweet, whisky and something softer, ice cream, maybe. His lips were warm, and a bit dry, but plush. And when you finally sunk your fingertips into his silky hair, you coaxed a breathy whine that sent warmth pooling through you. 

“Is this okay?” You hissed between kisses.

He hummed in agreement, hands reaching for your middle to tug you into his lap. He massaged your thighs with oversized hands as you bracketed his hips, pulling another loud groan from deep in his throat.

You had him pinned beneath you now, hips rolled, and his head thrown back against the sofa, pupils blown with your fingers in his hair. The moonlight cast shadows across his chiseled features, a constellation of freckles down his left side. The way he watched you, lips licked, sent a wave crashing through you, another sizzle to fan the embers burning within you.

His hands found your hips, and your ribcage beneath the t-shirt you’d been forced to change into, and you thought of Vickie’s encouragement, her optimism that this would be the last of it.

The warmth of Steve’s palms coaxed you forward until he caught your mouth with his once more, and his words echoed in your mind beside her, a chorus of contradiction. This is your last night here. You fit right here. I’ll never leave you. It’s not like you’d be alone. Two truths pulling at you like a rope over a line, neither would exist while the other did. 

Steve sucked in a breath, harsh, and you blinked your eyes open to see him licking a tender lower lip. You’d bit down on him without realizing, that ever-present competition fresh between you. He didn’t seem to mind, already going back in, but you pinned his shoulders back, pushed off of him to stand. 

“Whoa, it’s okay,” he wiped at the corners of his mouth, ran a hand through his hair to replace yours. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, stumbling backwards until you almost tripped on a coffee table. You managed to side-step it, feeling claustrophobic surrounded by so much canvas furniture. 

He stood to catch you in case you fell, and the reach of his arms had you backing even farther into the shadows of a long corridor. He recoiled, scratching at the back of his neck. “Are you sure? Because um… I didn’t mean to push anything if you weren’t…” 

You shook your head, that familiar panic clawing at your chest at the mess you’ve created. “Steve, it’s fine. I just don’t think I should do this right now.”

A crease formed between his brows, concerned, pitying, and he shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Okay?” 

You sighed, scrubbed at tired eyes, tried to ignore the taste of him that lingered on your lips. You’d already taken it too far, already scratched the itch that had been growing within you for months now.

“I can wait.” His voice was soft, almost imperceptible, and his brown eyes held that same hopefulness you’d seen in Vickie’s.

Guilt rattled your rib cage, searing. You nodded and said goodnight. 

-

The night remained sleepless, starring at water-stained ceiling tiles while you contemplated next steps. The feeling of Steve’s hands ghosted your ribcage. The image of Vickie’s hands twisted in your own burned behind your eyes.

Knuckles wrapped against your door, and you pulled your watch from the beside table to look at the time. 08:25. With a resigned sigh, you buckled it over your wrist and answered the door. You startled to find Nancy Wheeler on the other side, brown crinkled and hair curled around her slender features. 

“Hopper wants us.” She informed you, managing the softest of smiles. 

You swallowed, nodded, and went for your room key on the countertop.

After the loss of Gutierrez and Ramsay, your Scorch team needed new leaders, and there was still so much Ether to scorch.

———

NOW

September 1988

Stains on pale yellow walls churned at a bread-and-broth full stomach as cigarette smoke wafted in beneath the broken seal at the bottom of the door. The lone light flickered, exacerbating a migraine that had lingered for weeks now, maybe months. Two familiar faces sat on the other side of the plexiglass, wrinkles between their brows, smoke swirling round faces. 

“How you feeling, kid?” Hop asked, voice gruff, concerned, paternal. 

“Sweaty,” you winced, peeling your tank top from your sternum. “Hope I don’t smell. My shower is one scalding pressure wash every morning.”

Hopper snorted, a cloud of smoke exiting each nostrils and floating skyward. “I know. It’s Hell.” 

Hell was the Ether. Hell was the tug between your shoulder blades. Hell was lurking somewhere deep, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. 

“How is everyone? Byers?” You grit your teeth, pushing back the wave of nausea and slumping against the glass that fogged on your side. The water bottle, lukewarm, was the only reprieve you’d been given from your sauna, refilled at frequent intervals to ensure you stayed upright and alert. 

“Jonathan’s fine, but he’s not out of the woods yet. We’ve got him holed up too. Huntley and Miller are dead. Dog fight this morning on the county border.” 

You cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes closed to push back the visions of yourself lashing out against the two Scorchers, gnawing on their flesh, the fresh squeeze of hot blood between your teeth. “I was hoping that was just a dream.” 

“Are you having any visions right now?” Owens asked, voice gentler than his gruff counterpart.

You shook your head. “Same as yesterday and the day before. I can see her,” you gestured to somewhere in your periphery, where the wave of fiery hair stood out, just beyond your reach. “And I can feel him.” That tug in your shoulder, the bend in your spine that itched and ached. You rolled your shoulders and pushed it back. “But I don’t see anything unless I’m asleep. Even then it’s just roaming the Ether. I can never see him. He’s not coming out.” 

“What happens when those fuckers catch fire?” Hop asked, wrapping his knuckles against the glass. By the look in his eye, he was testing the strength of it, making sure it’d hold you back.

You took another sip of water. “I wake up.” 

“Maybe we do a bit of uh… what do they call it? Remote viewing? Put her under, have her tap in.” Hop spoke under his breath, but you knew he was talking about Eleven. He knew Hop was talking about Eleven. You felt the itch under your shoulder and shuddered again. 

Owens caught your movement and stopped Hopper with a hand up. “Alright, miss. Are you comfortable if we take another look at your back?” 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright and turned your back to the men to pull your shirt up and over your head, holding it to your front with what little sliver of modesty you could maintain. Although, at this point, you’d lost your will to care. 

For days now, you hadn’t noticed growths on your back, no indication that you’d been Flayed or that this parasite was growing within you. Nothing showed itself beside this feeling you had that you couldn’t explain, that no one could understand. 

“Thank you, dear,” Owens wrapped his knuckles to the window to tell you it was safe to put your shirt back on. 

You did so and turned to face the men again. Both of them offered characteristic grimaces: one of pity, the other of disdain. You slumped back into the chair next to the window. “So, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

The older man shrugged, scratched at his forehead. “Unfortunately, we might just have to keep you in here until we discuss further plans. We kind of have to keep you out of the loop, kiddo. Can’t risk him hearing us.” 

You understood. You shook your water bottle, tapped it against the glass, and said, “Empty.”

“Fresh water, coming right up,” he smiled and stood. “Jim?” 

Hopper waved him off, stamping his cigarette out on the seal. You watched ash scatter the ground. He stood, chair groaning beneath him, and he towered over you on the other side of the glass, teeth ground into a clenched jaw. He scratched at the stubble on his chin. 

“Harrington and Nancy make better partners than you two did. He actually listens to her.” 

You snorted, rolled your eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“He and Munson ask about you constantly. I caught Wheeler and Henderson trying to hack into your security camera footage.” He wrapped his knuckles against the glass again, pointing toward the camera that had been watching you. He waggled thick fingers, and you mirrored him, trying to hide the swell of something lighter within you. 

“Keep holding him back,” he ordered, your commanding officer once more.

With exchanged nods, he exited down the hallway with Owens, and you slumped back against the fogged glass. You swallowed and stared up at the bright green bulb that glowed just beneath the lens of the camera.

—

Days had gone by. Maybe nights had too, but you couldn’t tell under the buzzing fluorescents. You had no windows to the outside world, probably miles beneath the Earth at this point, just on the precipice of that churning, horrific world on the other side. 

You tossed and turned on your cot, sheets stained with sweat that clung to every inch of you. Cries echoed a few boxes down, unfamiliar voices of more and more faces sequestered into quarantine, their fates somehow worse than your own. 

All you wanted was to stay awake. If you stayed awake, he stayed away. But the ache of your eyelids added to the dull throb at the base of your skull, and every so often, the rake of fingertips down your arm coaxed you into a slumber. 

Feet sputtered down the hall, steady, a run, and your heartbeat matched it. You launched from the unsteady rock of your cot and met a figure as its hands slapped against the glass of your window, steadying itself.

“Harrington?” You frowned at your partner on the other side. His palm met yours, thick glass in between, and his chest rose and fell as his breath fogged the glass. “What’s going on?” 

He shrugged, slumped into the chair Hopper had been in. It creaked beneath him, and he glanced down the hallway for on-lookers before turning back to you. “Are you okay?” 

“Are you?” You scurried into your own chair, leaning in to get a better look at him.

The bruise around his eye was yellowing, and his hair looked good pushed off his brow. He maintained that signature scowl, but there was something soft in his eyes as he observed you the same way you looked him over. “Are you suffocating in there?”

“Only a little,” you shrugged. “Why are you here?” You glanced back down the hallway, as much as you could see, to find it the same as it always had been, empty. 

“We had a bad firefight yesterday. Ten dogs or so.”

You did another cursory glance of his person. That you could see, there were no bandages. His hair wasn’t burned or singed. Any soot had been scrubbed from the creases on his face. 

“Could you feel it?” 

You shook your head and watched his shoulders relax. You wished you could soothe him further, reassure him you were okay, that you were safe, but the two souls attached to you lingered in the periphery. Instead, you tapped your fingertips to the glass. “I thought of something yesterday.” 

Steve adjusted in his seat, glanced down the hallway once more before leaning in to read your lips.

“You remember the party, the night after he died, or at least, we thought he did?” You asked, feeling that presence heavy over your shoulder. 

Recognition flashed behind your partner’s eyes, and he shied from your gaze, scratching at the back of his neck.

You warmed, tried to forget the feeling of your hands there, of his warm hands against your sides. Something prodded your shoulder. You cleared your throat. “Vickie made a weird comment that night, off-handed. She was acting really shady, and she asked if he could have latched himself on someone. The body died, but maybe the soul didn’t?”

He looked back up at you, brow crinkled, understanding sinking into him, and you watched his ribcage deflate. His knees began to bounce, and he buried his face into his hands. 

“And if that’s true, she had him for almost a year. It had nothing to do with the flower. He just latched on to the nearest thing, and when she died,” you gestured to yourself. “Maybe he’s weaker now.”

Steve was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. “You couldn’t save her.” 

You swallowed back emotion that boiled at that slap in the face. “She didn’t tell us. None of us could, but I’m telling you.” You hoped he couldn’t hear the desperation in your tone.

“This happened to her, and you murdered her.” His voice was lower, graveled. 

You balled your fist, swallowed back that panic which seared at your ribcage.

“What do you expect to happen to you?” Finally, he met your eye, his own brown replaced with piercing blue, cloudy. The smell of charred flesh stung at your nostrils. The taste of ash filled your mouth. 

---

[A/N: Remember when I said hiatus cuz of NaNo and then I wrote this chapter? *insert eye roll here* I can't help it! This story wants to pour out of me, and I want it to, too. I love these two more than anything. They bring me endless joy. And they kissed! I made them kiss! In a flashback, but still. Maybe they'll kiss again, who knows? Maybe the reader dies a horrific death like Chrissy, who knows? I do. I know. And I love it so much. Thanks, as always, for reading xo]

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Chapter Four: Pyre • Chapter Six: Combustion

[mediocre-writerr]

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending. 

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers. 

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally. 

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,” 

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head. 

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled. 

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside. 

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back. 

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh. 

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?” 

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered. 

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,” 

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank. 

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!” 

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,” 

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him. 

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!” 

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!” 

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered. 

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry. 

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly. 

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely. 

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,” 

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else. 

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake. 

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time. 

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse. 

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,” 

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?” 

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!” 

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe. 

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive. 

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter. 

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!” 

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs. 

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t. 

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?” 

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently. 

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?” 

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,” 

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,” 

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,” 

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out. 

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked. 

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,” 

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran. 

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”. 

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!” 

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!” 

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,” 

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left. 

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,” 

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live. 

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed. 

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,” 

“Of course,” 

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears, “Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?” 

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off. 

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,” 

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,” 

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her. 

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers. 

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,” 

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!” 

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie. 

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair. 

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s. 

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.