#I just wanted him to tell me about hemlock

[mollywog]

Me: so in the book there are these poisonous berries called Nightlock, that —

Husband: Nightcock?!?

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

lovely weather for a bonfire tonight!! congrats on 5k you beautiful beautiful writer 🫶🏼🫶🏼

can i please get forced proximity with remus 🤭

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 874 words

You look up at the sound of movement in the stacks, and you groan when you connect the dots. 

“You’re joking.” 

Remus lifts his brows as slides into the seat across from you, the scar next to his eye stretching with the movement. “You look surprised to see me.” 

“Slughorn told me he’d ‘connect me’ with a tutor.” You roll your eyes, dragging your thumb and forefinger over the feather of your quill so it ruffles. “He didn’t tell me it’d be one of Gryffindor’s golden boys.” 

“He might have suspected you wouldn’t accept the help.” You scoff but don’t deny it, and Remus starts taking books out of his bag, one amber eye on you. “I’m a bit surprised you need tutoring, to be honest.” 

“I barely do,” you say, hating how petulant the lie sounds as soon as it’s out of your mouth. “I just like to stay on top of things. Don’t want to fall behind.” 

He hums, a soft curl to his bottom lip as he sets his books down on the wooden table. “Suppose that’s how you’ve always stayed right on my heels.” 

“I’m going to pass you in charms this year,” you reply reflexively. Then heat rises to your face, because you very well might, but Remus will likely pass you in potions. Though the two of you have been nearly neck-and-neck for marks since you got to Hogwarts, you’ve always been better than him in potions, at least until now. 

Remus must see the shift in your mood. His posture changes, and you hate the gentleness of his tone when he says, “You probably will. So, what are we working on?” 

You huff out a breath. “Um, I’m supposed to be brewing an antidote to this poison Slughorn gave me.” 

“Okay, and what’s the problem?”

You glare at him, but Remus only looks at you steadily. “I don’t know what the poison is, much less how to find the antidote. I’ve memorized every poison in our textbook, and it doesn’t seem like any of them.” 

“It may not be in the book,” he says, voice lower and far less sharp than yours. “Do you have it with you?” 

You dig in your bag, retrieving the small vial of liquid. It’s clear but thick, a sludge that sticks to the edges of the glass when you try to swirl it. Remus takes it from you. 

“It’s not about knowing what the poison is so much as what’s in it.” He removes the stopper, sniffing tentatively at the semi-liquid stuff inside. “Once you can figure out some of the key ingredients, you can use other ingredients to nullify those in your antidote.” He holds it out a few inches from your nose. “Smell.” 

You lean directly over it and breathe in, and instantly, instinctively, recoil back into your seat. You feel your face scrunch up, throat convulsing in a gag. 

“Fuck,” you choke out, “is that how it kills you?” 

Remus chuckles, and the sound tickles down your spine like a grazing touch. 

“You did that on purpose,” you accuse. 

“It wasn’t on purpose, but it was entertaining.” 

“Dick.” 

He grins. It’s an effort not to return it. “How did it smell?” 

“Rank. As if you don’t know.” 

Remus’ grin worsens. “I mean what did it smell like, love.” 

“Oh.” You ignore the way your heart stutters at the endearment, slipped in at the end of his statement like it’s automatic. “Um, kinda like piss? But mustier.” 

“Good.” Your tutor’s voice is coaxing. He leans his elbows on the table, his eyes on yours. “What common ingredient in poisons does that remind you of?” 

The realization must show on your face, because Remus’ lips twist upwards before you even speak. “Hemlock,” you breathe. 

“There you are,” he says, nearly as quietly. “And what is the easiest ingredient to counteract hemlock with?” 

“Bezoar.” You tilt your head back, covering your face with your hands. Remus laughs again, and you hear him stoppering the vial. “I can’t believe I’ve spent all week agonizing over this, and it was that simple. I just need to make a potion with bezoar?” 

“And preferably a few other things to counteract the less fatal side effects, but yeah.” You lower your hands and Remus is giving you a knowing look, almost proud, as he passes you back the vial. “See, you managed it.” 

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. 

“I think you’re getting too in your head about needing to memorize everything,” he says, propping his chin on a hand. And he looks nice like this. Boyish, like someone you could honestly enjoy talking to. His hair pushes up above his ear. “You’re a hard worker, but you need to give yourself some credit for your intuition, too. You knew what the poison was once you let yourself think about it, you were just too focused on the facts to get there without help.” 

“You shouldn’t be telling me this.” You feel a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just going to use the knowledge to beat you out in potions and everything else, you know. Being nice to me doesn’t get you a free pass.” 

Remus’ eyes crackle with challenge. “Wouldn’t expect any different.”

[svearehnn]

Worship | Azriel x Priestess!Reader

Summary: In which Azriel shows you that he does, in fact, know how to worship you.

This is purely smut. Do not expect a plot lmao. also minors dni pretty please thank you.

Warnings: pussy worship baby, smut, p in v, choking, absolute worship of reader, cat and mouse game (kinda?)

It started with the simple touches. Hands brushing, eyes locking for only a second before you looked away, a blush covering your face. You had only known the male for a week, yet it seemed as if every bone in your body yearned to be near him. 

Azriel was hemlocked beauty, sharp and stunning, but you knew there was something dark lurking beneath his golden skin. Ever since that first night in the library, where you saw him on the couch, you had not been able to stop thinking about him. He was propped up against the leather arm, a book in one hand while his other propped up his head. He glanced up at you and that was when you knew you were gone. You were utterly enamored by him, and he knew it.

That’s why whenever you saw him, there was a slight smirk on his lips. His fingers would skim your own, or they would rest on your hips as he passed. The shadows that accompanied him would ghost over your forearms, your calves, your cheek. 

You knew he thought this was a game–it was all too easy to rile the Day Court priestess up, to make your cheeks heat, to be the reason behind your shy glances. You, however, could not find a reason to care. Azriel was absolutely delectable and you wouldn’t mind landing in his bed. But you were playing your own game, at the time. He wasn’t going to get you easily. And it seemed as though his patience was almost up.

Azriel was exactly where he was the first time you saw him. You had given him a nod as you entered, books already stacked in your arms as you beelined for a table across the room from him. Even as you felt his eyes roam your body, you studied. Your nose stayed stuck in book after book for two hours. His shadows were getting antsy, more whirling around you by the minute. You finally glanced up at Azriel with a quirked brow and a soft smile on your lips. 

“You mind calling back your shadows?” Instead of responding he bookmarked his forgotten novel and stalked towards you, wings flexing out slightly. You stood, closing your own novel and bringing it to rest against your chest. 

“What have you been reading about for hours?” He drawled, his tone uninterested, but his asking saying otherwise. You shrugged and pushed your chair in.

“Oh, just priestess work. It would bore you.” You began to walk to the shelves, swaying your hips more than usual, as you went to return the book to its rightful spot. 

“Humor me.” He was following you; that was exactly what you wanted. You halted, whirling around to face him as you tilted your head in amusement.

“Well, I’m re-reading the old ways of worship.” The room around you became shaded as his shadows started to filter through the library.

“Worship? Please, do tell. In what ways do the past priestesses worship their gods?” You bit your lip, flitting your gaze to the ground.

“Well,” you started, eyes back on his, “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t understand.” He smirked at that as he casually leaned against a bookshelf beside him.

“What wouldn’t I understand, little priestess?” You shrugged and turned down one of the rows, Azriel following behind. Only once the novel that you held was placed back onto the shelf, you turned and deaned to answer him.

“You don’t know how to worship, Azriel.” Once the words left your lips, it was as if a switch was turned on. Azriel’s eyes darkened, zoning in on you with those hazel hues. 

“I know how to worship,” He purred, taking a step towards you as his wings stretched out behind him. Your eyes widened unconsciously, a gulp going down your throat. You always knew Azriel was scary, but this? This was utterly terrifying in the best possible way. His dark hair was mussed, eyes glazed as they stared into yours. His typically rigid posture was looser. He was looking down at you as if he were a god and you his creation.

For a second, you thought perhaps ichor ran through his veins. You pushed that thought deep down, however, knowing exactly what the Elders would have to say about that.

“I’ve spent years learning at the Temple, you’ve never set foot in to pray. Of course you don’t know how to worship.” He chuckled as he took another step towards you, effectively backing you up against the bookshelf.

“That’s where you’re wrong, little priestess.” Featherlight fingertips smoothed across your cheek and down your neck. Azriel leaned in, hot breath on your skin, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I know how to worship.” His grip tightened on the back of your neck, keeping you still as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. You couldn’t help but to expose your neck to him, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as he pressed chaste kisses down your neck.

“I may not know how to worship your gods,” his eyes gazed up at you as he got down on his knees, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder, “but I certainly do know how to worship you.” A gasp escaped you as he sucked a bruise into the skin of your inner thigh. His name fell from your lips, a failed hesitation as he moved his lips upward.

Your arousal pooled off of you in waves–even you could smell it as his finger traced your slit through soaked panties. Hazel irises met yours again, a silent question as he teased the fabric down. Your eyes shut, head hitting the novels behind you.

“Oh gods, yes.”

Azriel put your leg down, gently helping you out of your undergarments. He pulled your leg back up over his shoulder as soon as the piece of fabric was discarded on the floor. “A god indeed,” he murmured, eyes unmoving from your glistening pussy. That was the only warning you got before he licked a fat stripe up your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips. You felt him smile against your skin, lips wrapping around your bud and sucking softly. Your hands moved with their own volition, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling on the strands ever so slightly.

He growled and nipped, sending a bolt of heat up your spine. Azriel parted to slide a finger against you, coating it in your slick. As soon as he plunged it into you, his lips were back on your clit in a frenzy. He was no longer gentle, but ravenous, feasting on you like a man starved while his shadows eased down the sleeves of your dress.

You felt like you were floating, blissed out sounds falling from your lips, thighs shaking as he held you against the shelf. Shadows breezed around your nipples, pinching and pulling, and another finger entered you. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he lilted against you, his words vibrating against your clit. You dug your fingers into his scalp, fully at his mercy as your orgasm overcame you. His name was the only word you seemed to know as he worked you through your pleasure, never slowing down. Your eyes opened, black spots coating your vision as you looked down at him with tears in your eyes.

“Please, please Azriel.” You whined, eyes fluttering shut once again as another wave washed over you.

“Please what?” He pushed his fingers in deeper, hitting the spot that made you fall apart again.

“It’s too much.” You were sobbing by the time he pulled away from you. He stood up, hands steady against your hips as your body threatened to slide to the floor. Azriel tilted your chin, urging your eyes to meet his. He was golden, eyes alight, lips glistening with your cum. Seeing him struck a cord, arousal already pooling in your core again, thighs clenching shut to release some of the burden.

“I want to hear you say it,” he drawled, fingers bunching your skirts up above your ass. 

“Say what?” He only smirked, one of his hands leaving your hips to undo his belt.

“You know what I want you to say.” You froze as he pulled out his dick, precum beaded at the tip of his head. When you didn’t respond, eyes glued to his length, his hand wrapped around your neck. He squeezed gently, your gaze flitting up to his. “Say it, little priestess.” You felt him press up against you, suppressing a whimper as he smeared your cum along his shaft.

“I-you know how to worship,” you whispered, hands gripping his shirt. “Gods you know how to worship, Azriel, I-fuck.” He slid into you, bottoming out within less than a second. A soft moan left his lips, his forehead falling against yours, fingers digging into the plush skin of your neck.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he groaned as he snapped his hips back into you. “You’re the only altar I will ever worship at, priestess.”

You were already fucked out but gods, his words emptied your mind completely. His dick was hitting you in all the right places, his hips never faltering as his pace quickened, bringing you straight to your release. 

“Gods Azriel,” You whimpered, obscene moans and sobs wracking your body as pulse after pulse of ecstasy brought you to the skies.

“Say my name again.” You obliged, his name falling from your lips again and again until he was faltering. One deep thrust in and he was flying. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he pulsed inside of you. Sweat-slicked skin, heavy breathing–Azriel was the first to move, pulling out of you before placing two hands on your cheeks and pulling you into a candied kiss. When he withdrew he lifted you into his arms, placing his lips on your forehead in a quick peck.

“Let’s get cleaned up, little priestess.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Softly, you mumbled out your thanks to the gods. Azriel only chuckled as he winnowed the both of you to his bath where hot water was already flowing out of the faucet to greet you.

[storiesforallfandoms]

i don’t ever wanna see you with him ~ roman godfrey;hemlock grove

word count: 2551

request?: no

description: after he gets jealous of her best male friend, she decides to put him in his place

pairing: roman godfrey x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

Roman Godfrey was spoiled and entitled. Everyone in Hemlock Grove knew that. He was the heir to the massive empire in their small town, so it wasn’t a surprise that he had a sense of entitlement. That entitlement tended to extend to his romantic relationships, too. Roman was often very possessive and jealous over his girlfriends. Most of them liked that, most of them viewed it as hot and endearing.

(Y/N) was not one of those girls.

She and Roman had met through (Y/N)’s best friend, Peter. He was enamored with her the minute he laid his eyes on her, and, secretly, (Y/N) had felt the same way. Not that she would ever tell him that. She had been warned about Roman before she met him. She wasn’t about to give into him so easily; she made him work for it - for her. And he really did put in the work until (Y/N) trusted his commitment to her and agreed to date him.

There was one issue about Roman, though, and that was his jealousy towards (Y/N) and Peter’s friendship. He thought he kept it lowkey, but both Peter and (Y/N) knew. They both knew Roman better than he thought they did. They could see when his eyes darkened whenever he looked at them. They could see his jaw tighten whenever (Y/N) laughed at something Peter said. They could see the way Roman always needed to be touching (Y/N) whenever the three of them were hanging out.

It wasn’t that Roman didn’t like Peter. When it was just the two of them, they were the best of friends. It was Peter with (Y/N) that Roman didn’t like. And that was what pissed (Y/N) off. Peter had been her friend long before he was Roman’s, and long before Roman and (Y/N) started dating. And that’s all they were - friends. There had never been any sort of romantic feelings between them, and there never would be.

That’s why (Y/N) was walking up to Peter’s trailer on her own on a sunny afternoon. He was laying in a hammock, his eyes closed as he soaked up the sun. Upon hearing her footsteps, he opened one eye and peered over at her.

“Where’s your shadow?” he asked.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “He’s not that attached to me.”

“He may as well be a wart on your ass, (Y/N). Especially when it comes to me.”

“He’s certainly a pain in my ass,” (Y/N) muttered. “Move over, I want some hammock.”

Peter chuckled and shuffled over slightly. (Y/N) got into the hammock, laying with her feet towards Peter’s head and her head towards his feet. The hammock swayed with the motions before it settled again.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” (Y/N) said as her body relaxed into the swaying fabric.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Roman. I didn’t tell him I was coming.”

“Is that healthy? Like, for your relationship.”

“I didn’t lie to him or anything. He’s busy with some family shit, so I haven’t even heard from him yet today. If he were to ask, I’d tell him I’m here.”

“And then he’d show up and kick my ass.”

(Y/N) sighed and rested her head back against the hammock. “Do you think he’ll ever stop being so...”

“So Roman?” Peter finished. (Y/N) nodded. “It’s hard to tell. His entire life he’s been surrounded by enablers, or he’s been under the control of his insane mother. I think we’re the first people to treat him like an actual person and not like he owns the world. So either we could help him, or he’ll annoy us both to a point where we can’t deal with him anymore.”

The latter option was what worried (Y/N) the most. She loved Roman, other than his jealousy he was an amazing boyfriend who loved and cared for her so deeply. She didn’t want to lose him, but she knew Peter had a point about if Roman couldn’t control that jealousy. She couldn’t live the rest of her life wondering how Roman was going to react to every guy she interacted with, whether it was friends, co-workers, or just random guys she ran into on the street. And she definitely was not going to be made to choose between Roman and Peter when she had known and been friends with Peter the longest.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Peter knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t the first time they had this conversation.

They fell into a comfortable silence. There really didn’t need to be any conversation. This was the first time in quite some time that the two were able to spend time together and actually enjoy it. So that’s what they were doing: enjoying their time.

The enjoyment didn’t last too long, though, as they heard a car pulling up in front of Peter’s place. Peter’s mom’s car was already in the driveway, so there was only one person it could be. That suspicion was confirmed by a car door slamming and Peter rolling his eyes when he saw whoever it was approaching. (Y/N) huffed out a sigh as she prepared herself for the argument that was undoubtably coming.

“You two look comfy,” Roman commented.

“We are,” Peter responded. “Wanna join? you can lay across us.”

Roman glared at him before turning to (Y/N). “I was trying to call you. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

She looked down at her purse where her phone was, which she had left on the ground when she climbed into the hammock. She gestured to it. “It’s too far away for me to reach. And my phone is on vibrate, as it always is, and you know that.”

His jaw clenched. (Y/N) felt her frustration reaching its peak.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” Roman asked.

“Well, for one, you haven’t responded to my texts at all today, so it’s not like I’ve even been talking to you today,” (Y/N) retorted. “And two, you don’t own me, Roman. I’m not required to tell you every single thing I’m doing or where I’m going.”

“You do if you’re hanging out with other guys by yourself.”

(Y/N) swung her legs over the side of the hammock and stood up so quickly that Peter nearly flipped out of it. She approached Roman with such ferocity that Roman took a step back before she reached him.

“Let me tell you one thing, Roman Godfrey: I’m done with this jealousy bullshit. I am not your property, I am your girlfriend. You do not control where I go or who I’m friends with. Especially when the person in question is my best friend who I’ve known way before I met you. This dark, entitled rich boy bullshit might work on other girls in this town, but it’s not working on me. If you want someone to put up with that, then you may as well find someone else to be your girlfriend, cause I can’t do this anymore.”

She picked up her purse and put it over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Roman asked as she started walking away.

“Anywhere that’s away from you!” she hissed. Over her shoulder she added, “I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was home by herself that night. Her parents had gone out to some kind of function, and had asked if she wanted to tag along, but she told them to go on without her. She felt like she needed some time alone to come to terms with what had happened that day.

Peter had texted her asking if she was okay, but she hadn’t responded. She wasn’t upset with him by any means, as he didn’t even do anything wrong, but she just felt like she didn’t want to talk just yet. When she did respond, it was going to be to tell him she wanted to forget everything that had happened that day and to move on as if everything was normal, minus the fact that she and Roman were no longer together.

Roman hadn’t texted or called at all. She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that he hadn’t, or if it had hurt less.

She was sat in the living room, half paying attention to some movie that was playing on TV, when a knock came at the door. The sudden sound startled (Y/N). She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she knew her parents weren’t either as they weren’t even home. She figured it might be a door to door salesman, or someone trying to talk to her about the Lord, although it seemed too late at night for any of that. Either way, she stood from the couch and went to answer the door.

Standing there, leaning against her doorway, was Roman Godfrey.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Can I come in?” he asked in return.

“Not until you answer my question.”

“I came to talk to you.”

“You have a phone, which I know you know how to use because you were blowing mine up before you came to attack me and Peter.”

“I wanted to come talk to you in person. You’d be more likely to answer the door if you didn’t know I was coming than to answer your phone if you knew it was me calling.”

Okay, he has a point.

(Y/N) reluctantly stepped aside and gestured for Roman to come in. She closed the door behind him and led him towards the living room. She had been sat with all the lights off before Roman knocked and hadn’t realized just how dark the room had become. She switched on a small table lamp and muted the movie before sitting back in her spot on the couch.

“Your parents aren’t home?” Roman asked.

“No, they’re gone to some gala for dad’s work,” she responded. “Don’t get any funny ideas. We’re not together anymore, remember?”

Roman winced, as if her words had physically harmed him. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I came to talk about.”

He sat down next to her on the couch, but left a respectable distance between them. She appreciated that it seemed like he wasn’t trying to be too pushy towards her or anything, at least not yet.

“Go on then,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Start talking. What was so important that you had to come down from your castle to speak to the commoner?”

Roman scowled at her. “You know you’re not a commoner.”

“Compared to you and your wealth I am. But that’s not the conversation we’re having right now. Whatever it is you wanted to say, say it, and then I’ll decide whether or not I want you to leave immediately.”

Roman sighed and ran his hands through his hair. (Y/N) quickly glanced at the dark brown strands that were between his fingers. His hair was always incredibly soft. (Y/N) always loved to run her hands through his hair and seized every opportunity to do so. She had to look away just as quickly and shove down those painful memories. She couldn’t let herself break and go back to him just because of something so trivial.

“I’m sorry.”

The words shocked (Y/N) so much that she almost physically jumped when he said them. They were words she had very rarely ever heard said with such sincerity coming from Roman’s mouth. She had heard it in sarcastic mutters under his breath whenever his mother chastised him for something stupid, or said to defuse a situation that was getting a little too heated, but this wasn’t in either of those ways. This time, he actually meant it.

“Can you say that again?” (Y/N) asked.

Roman chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I said I’m sorry.”

“One more time.”

“(Y/N), I do have more to say.”

“Yeah, but this is what I want to hear.”

Roman shook his head at her, a smile threatening to break out across his face. “Look, what you said earlier, at Peter’s, you were right. You are my girlfriend, not my property. I shouldn’t have been so possessive and attempting to control your friendship with Peter. I just...every time you two are together, I’m reminded about the fact that you and Peter are close, and that you’ve been close for a very long time. I know that Peter isn’t as much of a prick as I am, some would say he’s an actual nice guy I guess. I know there’s nothing between the two of you, but there’s always been this fear in the back of my mind that maybe...maybe that could change. That you would want Peter more than you want me.”

There was hurt in his big green eyes. His confession surprised her because Roman always seemed so confident in himself. It was one of the first things she had ever heard about him, about how cocky he was.

“Why did you never tell me before?” she asked.

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to seem like a crazy, possessive boyfriend. I didn’t realize I had already been acting like that. I actually thought I was hiding it well.”

“Yeah, because showing up to Peter’s place because I didn’t answer my phone is totally not a crazy, jealous boyfriend move.”

He chuckled. “Okay, touché. That was not one of my better moments.”

“None of how you were acting was one of your better moments,” (Y/N) said. “I would’ve much preferred you to have told me how you were feeling instead of bottling them up and allowing yourself to treat your best friend like garbage whenever we were hanging out.”

Roman cringed. “I did treat Peter pretty terribly, didn’t I? God, he probably hates me.”

“You’re definitely not his favorite person right now, but I’m sure you can get back in his good graces by acting like an actual person and not like a jealous piece of shit.”

“What about your good graces?”

(Y/N) thought to herself for a moment. He had come to apologize in person. He knew the way he had acted was wrong, he actually apologized for it, and it seemed like he was willing to make a change. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to work on the jealousy and actually change it.

“I think you can get back there,” she said. “You’ll just have to work for it again.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

(Y/N) smiled. She moved closer towards him and unmuted the movie. “You can start by cuddling me and finishing this bullshit movie with me.”

He smiled back at her and put his arm around her shoulder. “I can do that. But why are we finishing the movie if it’s bullshit?”

“Because I’m invested in the bullshit.”

Roman chuckled and pulled (Y/N) towards him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he put his head on hers. He tested the waters by placing a kiss on the top of her head. (Y/N) didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her head to kiss his cheek before settling against him again.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Congratulations on your follower milestone!! You deserve all of them and more! I'm sorry it took me so long to send in a request! If it's too late, I totally understand.

I will request something with Hunter (Star Wars) and the quote: "It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, so long as somebody loves you."

I hate to be picky, but I've been so emotional lately, maybe I could ask that it not be a sad one? There can be angst, as long as it's not a sad ending? If that doesn't work out, let me know!

Thank you!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

@clonethirstingisreal I'm so sorry you've been emotional lately. So I've tried to write something with a bit of angst but a whole lot of fluff. So I hope you like it.

Sending you a big squishy hug.

Love oo.

I'm That Somebody

Warning: Tease, fluff, slight angst, self-doubt, questioning the other person's love, tenderness, kissing, hugs. I think that's it, if I miss anything please let me know.

Main Master List   |   AO3 Link | Quote Roulette

Hunter sat in front of the comm station of your ship, smiling to himself, his eyes closed as he swung the chair back and forth slightly with his foot. Enjoying the simple peace of a supply run. No bounty hunters. No Hemlock. No Empire. Just a simple supply run.

You smirked as you saw him in his element.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“Just enjoying the restful trip.”

“More like you’re enjoying the quiet, since Wrecker, Omega, and Crosshair all decided to stay behind.”

He opened one of his eyes slightly, taking your wrist in his hand as he pulled you close, getting you to sit on his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist holding you tight against him. 

“I’m enjoying being alone with you.”

“That’s because you’re a sucker.”

“No, that’s because I love you.” Hunter pressed his nose into your hair, smiling as he felt your hand gently rub his bicep, while your head gently rested on his.

You let out a huff, not quite believing him.

“What’s that for?” He asked, pulling back to look at you.

“What’s what for?”

“That scoff.”

A deep sigh escaped you, “I … I know you love me. I know.” You nodded softly, “But until when?”

“Until when what?”

“Until when are you going to love me?”

He looked at you confused and slightly hurt, “Wait.” He shifted you, so he could get a proper look at your face, “Do you think I’m going to get tired of you or something?”

“Aren’t you? I mean …” you closed your eyes, trying to tell your mouth to shut up, trying to get it to stop vomiting all your insecurities out into the open, “Let’s face it sweetie, I am not easy to deal with. I have insecurities. Issues. Anxieties…”

“And?” Hunter cut you off, “And that’s supposed to make me have a timer on my love.”

You opened your eyes, focusing on the floor of your shuttle, “Everyone else has.”

He let out a quiet sigh, “Do I look like everyone else?”

“No.”

“Do I look like I give in or call it quits like some weak civvie?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why would I ever give up on you?”

Your eyes slowly shifted from the floor to look into his eyes, he looked hurt and vulnerable. It hit you how much you had hurt him, but your own insecurity, “I’m sorry… I … it’s not you…”

He gently pressed a finger to your lips, he could see how much your own mind was about to start spiralling and that’s the last thing he wanted. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, pulling you closer.

“Cyare, please listen,” he spoke into your ear, as his nose brushed against your hair, "It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, so long as somebody loves you. And I'm that somebody. I love you because of you. You can be the most annoying person and I’ll still love you. You can be ruthless and cold, and I’ll still love you. You can balloon up to a 1000 pounds, and I’ll still love you. I love you because you are funny, sweet, kind, a little neurotic,” he chuckled lightly, “a little crazy, but it all combines into this amazing person that I get to hold in my arms. I love you because you look at me like I matter. I love you because you don’t look down at me just because I’m a clone. You look at me, like I exist.” 

He pulled back tilting your head slightly so he could kiss your neck, “I love you,” he pressed another kiss, “because you taste like my favourite fruit. I love you, because when you’re in my arms, I feel complete. That won’t change in two years, five years, 10, 20, until my last dying breath, how I feel about you will never change.” He pressed another kiss just behind your ear, pulling back to look at you. “So please don’t lose faith in me or think I’m like any of those other pieces of garbage that aren’t worthy of your love.”

As his hand cupped your cheek, you held it against you, leaning into his warmth as you closed your eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

“I know.”

“I love you. I love you so much, I wonder if I’m deserving of your love.”

“You are,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and jawline, “you are more than deserving of my love. I’ll remind you every day, every hour, every minute if you need me to.”

You wrap your arms around him, feeling his heartbeat against your chest, as the warmth from his body starts to settle against you, making you feel safe and protected. Hunter doesn’t hesitate as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. 

“I’m never letting you go, cyare. Never.”

“Promise?”

“Till every star burns out.”

You let out a soft wet chuckle, as the tears you’d been fighting and holding back started to emerge, “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

Hunter smiled as he pressed another kiss to your neck, “I like it when you’re possessive,” he chuckled, “I love you. Don’t forget that. Ever. I’ll always be here for you.”

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[fieldsofwriting]

With Hayden having Henrietta and Juniper having Dozy, what do you think is every love interest's ideal pet? I feel like a good amount of them would wind up being cat people to be honest lol

You are very right, I think everyone would be very ride or die with thier pets tbh. Like there is friendly debates at the Tavern over who is the best. They'd have a best in show every year. Head cannons below the cut!

Balor:

This man is a Cat lover through and through. There is no convincing me otherwise.

I could see him having the sweetest little black cat- ya know to add to they mystery vibees.

He would love to have the cat run around with him, and when he's out and about I can see it curling up around his shoulders.

THIS MAN SPOILS HIS BABY.

So much, this cat wants for absolutely nothing.

If he gets it after his D&D sessions- it have a silly name like Snickelfritz. For the vibes.

Reina:

She strikes me as a dog girlie honestly.

I think she'd like using her dog as an excuse to get out of the kitchen every now and again and just go on walks with them.

I think she'd have a chocolate lab- yes because of the name but I also can't see her having a little dog.

She would spoil the shit out of the dog too- this dog gets so many homemade treats.

Not to mention Hemlock would feed him table scraps. And Luc would love to take them out too for bug adventures.

I could also see her being the kinda dog owner to give them cute little bandana's and everything to wear.

They'd also probably have a food name tbh.

Celine:

I think she could go either way. I can definitely see her having both cats and dogs growing up.

But once she's moved out? I think she's got a bunny.

She'd LOVE taking them out to her garden and letting them roam.

She'd also love being able to give the bunny farm fresh foods!

I mean look at her and tell me that she doesn't look like she'd hold a bunny in her arms and walk around town.

She'd make it a little flower crown and everything too.

She'd get Ryis to help her make the best most lavish bunny cage there is too.

I think she'd give the bunny a cute name like Petal.

March:

Okay- hear me out. As a kid? I think he had a bearded dragon. He would have thought they were SO COOL. Alright?

But now, as like an adult? I think he wouldn't hate any animal. Mans a big softy under that hard exterior.

I think though- he'd prefer Dogs over cats.

MOSTLY because the dog would remind him of Olric

Also you've seen those arms. I think be a crime to not get him a dog so you can throw a stick to them.

He'd pretend not to care at all about the dog- but then he'd fight so hard to make it have a cool name. (He'd probably try for Copper.)

You know those dads that are like "Don't bring home any damn animals!" And then bonds with the said animal. That's him.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! Let me know if you want me to do some of the other characters too!! And thank you for your request! :3 Requests are open!!

[fellthemarvelous]

Without hope, we have nothing.

(Spoilers and speculation included a bit further down)

This is actually a post about the Bad Batch and not Star Wars Rebels, but this bit is important so...

Try not to cry when you remember that Tech is the one who taught Hera Syndulla how to mask her ship's signature, a move that made her a massive threat to the Empire and a move that she often used to her advantage. She was such a threat to the Empire that they wanted to capture her alive so they could make an example of her for her years of defiance.

And then also try not to cry when you remember that when Hera was taken prisoner by the Empire, Kanan Jarrus sacrificed his life to free her and save the future of the Rebellion. Try not to cry when you think about the fact that Kanan Jarrus aka Caleb Dume was the Jedi padawan the Bad Batch protected (except for Crosshair) from the Empire during Order 66 by claiming Hunter killed him.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Echo lied to the Empire to protect a Jedi.

And Tech taught Hera how to evade the Empire when the Bad Batch helped her family (Chopper included) escape Ryloth after being accused of treason.

Clone Force 99's actions had a direct outcome on the success of the Rebellion. They refused to commit treason against the Republic and all they did was commit treason against the Empire. They were strong enough to resist the effects of the inhibitor chip (Crosshair and Wrecker for awhile), outright ignored Order 66 (Hunter and Tech), or were tortured and turned partially into a machine against his will by the Techno Union and used as a weapon against the Republic who, upon rescue, immediately jumped back into Separatist territory and fucked their asses up (Echo). Luckily, with the help of Rex, they got their chips removed after Wrecker tried to kill all of them.

Everything under the cut is pure speculation. I'm having a galaxy brain moment, I just have no idea if it's pointing me in the right direction or not lol.

If you disagree with me, I don't need you to rudely tell me why.

After his time on Tantiss, Crosshair can now identify with Echo more than anyone else in the Bad Batch (and Tech if CX-2 is Tech).

When they went to rescue Echo, Crosshair is the one who snidely told Captain Rex that he would have left Echo behind too.

Which is exactly what happened to Crosshair when the Empire turned him into a weapon against his own brothers. He had no choice because the Empire attached him to a machine and amped up the effect of his inhibitor chip so he could not disobey orders.

Rex told Cody "I think Echo is still alive" and Cody told him that was impossible. Anakin accompanied him on this rescue mission with The Bad Batch (we know Cody would have too if he hadn't been injured).

I think that if Tech is CX-2, Crosshair already knows or highly suspects it. He's terrified of Tantiss. I think we're going to have a parallel moment of Crosshair possibly saying the same thing, knowing that he could never leave a brother behind again after what he went through, especially if CX-2 is Tech. (I also wouldn't be surprised if Omega suspected something after her trip back to Tantiss with CX-2.)

We never saw Echo's body after the explosion. Instead we got this image. An empty helmet and a droid arm.

Crosshair defected from the Empire when he witnessed the Empire tell him that Mayday was only a clone and not worth giving medical attention to. Those actions resulted in the death of Mayday and that's when Crosshair chose to shoot an Imperial officer between the eyes (similar to Dogma's execution of General Krell in many ways).

If Tech is CX-2, that is the second Bad Batcher the Empire has turned into an enemy against his brothers.

This is the last we saw of Tech.

Hemlock was fucking lying when he said that Tech's glasses were all they recovered. Why the hell would he have found Tech's glasses and not Tech? All we see below him are clouds. And this is the last bit of Tech we see. That gun is in the shot with his glasses for a reason.

I feel like this is going to parallel Echo's rescue from Skako Minor. Tech and Echo are both highly intelligent huge ass nerds (remember that the battle plans being used against the Republic were written by both Rex and Echo, and Cody acknowledged that Rex was one of their best strategists in the GAR) who always ended up working best together.

Part of me wonders if we are heading into a show centered on the clone troopers in a post Order 66 world going up against the Empire as they try to rescue more of their brothers. Enough to become a problem for the Empire.

Part of me also wonders if the inclusion of Force sensitive children in the Bad Batch means Rex will need to call Ahsoka into the fray. Wolffe has only appeared once so he hasn't even switched sides, let alone even started blocking Ahsoka's messages to Rex yet. During the Clone Wars she had to save Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. During the Rebellion, the saved more Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. It makes me wonder if she is also going to save Force sensitive children from this too? I might be reaching a bit too much here, but it could be a possibility! She seems to always show up when Force sensitive children need to be rescued from Darth Sidious.

No matter what ending we get for the Bad Batch, I know it's going to leave us with hope for the future because the message in Star Wars has always shown us that hope will always be stronger than fear.

A simple act of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope.

Without hope, we have nothing.

These episodes are all relevant to Echo's journey. The Domino Squad was referred to as a bad batch and Echo was the one who seemed to struggle the most with orders that conflicted with doing what needed to be done. He is the one who memorized the regulations manual after all. And now the Bad Batch are on a similar journey because they have never trusted regs before, but now it seems they might have to trust the regs to come to help them the way they helped Rex and Echo before the war ended. The way they helped Gregor after the war ended.

If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but that's a fanfic I can always write!! I don't want to get into who I think is going to die or survive, but I have my suspicions there too and I'm already in too much pain to keep going.

[arcielee]

the salver & the sword

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 4.4k+ warnings: AFAB reader, more missed moments, just sprinkling some seasonings and placing you back into this crockpot that is slow burn author's note: Sorry this chapter was delayed. I have been rewatching jjk and Nanami crept into my brain. I always knew he was going to show up but I was unsure as to how. Also, Runa belongs to @itbmojojoejo (thank you for letting me borrow her) from their amazing story Crimes Of Passion (another fandom, but I don't care). I just fell in love with this OC and thought, "Yes. This is perfect. This is exactly what Nanami needs." Also, oji is uncle in Japanese. Enjoy! 💜

Chapter IV ~ No Hesitation

At first your sorrow held over like a heavy fog, a slow dissipation as you settled into a routine with the days that followed. 

The general was a man who seemed to wake before the sun, tending to Mimiko while you remained curled in the furs, hazy blinks into the sunlight spilling through the trees. You helped pack up the camp, saddling everything onto the horse, and Suguru would take the lead while you walked along the other side, just as before. He kept Mimiko at a steady pace, allowing you time to unfurl from your silence, from your lingering grief that grew lighter with your steps. 

He asked you simple questions which allowed you to tell memories of your father, and you found it soothing to share your history, the story of how Atsumeru was passed down. It was an endeavor began by your grandmother, who was a renowned healer across the sea. She taught your father everything he knew and when he came of age, she gifted it to him, telling him to go and make his own name. 

It was a dam broken, and you continued on to share about your mother, something that was both familiar but foreign on your tongue, a pain more muted after all the time that passed but never forgotten as her very fierceness was embedded into your blood. She had fled the Ryomen Kingdom after Sukuna’s violent claimant of the throne, and was just a wounded refugee that your father came across. 

He cared for her and as she healed, she could not help but fall in love with him. 

“After she died, I knew I wanted to follow after my grandmother and my father.” Your cheeks were warm from your overshare, and you peered over at Suguru. 

He was watching you, a pain flickering over his features before he dared ask. “What happened to her?” 

His thoughtfulness touched you, though that pain was not as raw as it once was, just another event in that lifetime ago, back at Hoshi. It was something else that fell into place, creating this pathway that seemingly carved its way back again.

“She was cut by a shi no ha during the battle of Hoshi. It was not deep, of course, so she and my father focused on helping those more grievously injured.” 

Your eyes stayed forward, hiding the shine of unshed tears, habitual now with your current heartache, but you noticed the tension that rippled over him. “The death blade.” It was a statement confirming what you shared. 

Hemlock grew rampant in the north and was poisonous when ingested. The Ryomen soldiers would ground it and line the insides of the scabbards and sheaths with it, a tactic that allowed a fatality with shallow swipes of their steel. This method allowed a slower, painful reaction, with stomach cramps and a rapid pulse, a slight fever that could be ignored until it would scorched through, boiling the marrow of your bones. 

And then, it was too late. 

It was new to the battlefield, nothing to be prepared for. Your father did not realize what was happening until he noticed how her eyes dilated, black swallowing the color, and her jaw locked, saliva frothing at the corners of her lips. It was a chain reaction all around, plaguing those who thought they survived the battle, and his supplies were sorely limited.

Nothing could be done to save them all. 

“I now try to always be prepared,” you admitted. 

Suguru was quiet for a moment. “The charcoal?” 

You nodded, a warmth with the thought that he recalled the pouch that you tucked away along with the other herbs purchased. “You can mix it with water and it helps prevent it from being absorbed from the stomach and into the body,” you confirmed. “And besides, I need to take whatever I can find these days.” 

He was watching you, his stoicism held on like a guard with glints of unsaid emotions that came and went with the flutter of your pulse, a silence that now curled into your abdomen. You allowed him the time, as you realized he took a conscientious effort to gather his thoughts. 

“I believe you will make your own name,” he said, “just as your father had.” 

The sincerity in his tone prickled your skin and you looked ahead again, your face burning. “That is what I hope. I know I can start again–I have my father’s book, I have the few mementos of my mother, and I still have that pouch of silver.” 

Suguru only hummed his acknowledgement, but you caught the smile touching his lips. 

The days were spent in this way, a conversation revived that allowed you a raw honesty you never shared before, but it was something you wished to give him. Suguru still felt like an enigma, unreadable, and at the same time, he returned that candor with any question you dared to ask him. 

For Suguru, you found it to be an even exchange, with his ceaseless patience shown to you in every situation. There was no hesitation because of your sex, but he would share tasks, like capturing smaller wildlife of the forest: he showed you how to strip away the fur and cut the meat into strips, placing them over the fire to dry out. He was not one to bloat you with praise, just his low murmur when you mastered whatever was shown.

You preened from that attention.

He gifted you his hunting knife which felt comically big for your hand, but he showed you how to keep a firm hold and cut some rope to knot around your waist, a place for its sheath. His hands were careful and the warmth of his palms bled through your dress, fluttering into the pit of your stomach. 

“So you can protect yourself,” he told you, “if I am not there.” 

That struck you deep, rattling you with the thought, if I am not there, and it spilled past your lips before you could stop it. “Then I will pray to the gods that you always are.” 

The unsaid flared in his eyes, a conflicting desperation to press onward or remain rooted in the moment, and you were the one to pull away from him, your disappointment carving into your belly. He needed a distraction, it seemed, and you allowed it. 

Autumn allowed berries to blossom, and you showed Suguru the difference between the edible ones and the poisonous ones. You held on your skirt to carry, picking until your fingers stained and washing them in the river that followed along. It was a treat to share until you both ate your fill. 

Still he remained guarded, still deliberate with his every action towards you, and it left you craving for something unknown in return. You found yourself mindful of the setting sun with the stretch of shadows, eager to help set up the campsite. Your patience petered away until the blackened blue sky extended overhead and the stars glittered bright above, and only then would he reach for you, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around to hold you close.

It lulled the disappointment, the craving that wound tight within you, scattering away into the solace he unknowingly created at night. His steady breathing and his warmth were comforting in a way you wished you could dig your fingers into and never let go. 

But the sun would rise again and pull him away. You would wake, alone, to repeat the day. 

It was not anything you experienced before. Other suitors would come by and speak with your father about your “need” for a husband, a good man, but he would chuckle and tell them same thing, “It is her decision. Only she will know.” Time again it proved that whatever you were looking for did not exist within them, and you wondered if it could ever be found.

And now you were walking across the Tengen Kingdom with the purple-eyed demon. It felt that you still did not know him, truly, though his actions showed you one man versus his legend known throughout. Your curiosity knitted onto your features, stealing bolder glances across Mimiko.

The amber hues of the coming dusk washed over Suguru, illuminating him–his eyes showed golden in the light and the black silk spill of his hair gleamed, the sun reflecting Nanako and her gemstone that glittered in her hilt over his shoulder. 

Worthy, returned the thought, followed by the intrusive: He is so very handsome. 

“What about you, Suguru?” 

Autumn decorated the road with leaves of burnt orange and red, the crisp air returning as the sun curved to tuck away. You had been bared to him and felt desperate to understand the man beneath the myth, but hid your eagerness with your almost teasing tone, beneath your sly smile. 

“What about me?” He asked, his eyebrow arching, daring you. 

You swallowed. “I wish you to tell me more of who you are.” 

“But I do not have much to tell.”

His smile spoke otherwise, and you continued. “You are the most fearsome swordsman of the Queensguard, and you have nothing to tell?” Your palm pressed to Mimiko to guide your steps without looking, to tilt your head towards him with a mocking pitch. “The very same man who wields a legendary blade that chose him?” 

You relished in the rose tones that flushed his face, the soft smile that touched his lips. “I do not believe that you do not have much to tell. Nothing to share outside of your lore?” You hesitated. “No lady of the court that awaits your return?” 

That thought had been twisting in your stomach, but you were determined to remain coy, flippant as you waited for him to pick out his words. When he looked to you, the shadow cast cut away the gold glow, his purple eyes pinning you. “My life is my duty to the queen and to the prince. No one stays very long, and I cannot blame them.” 

It was sombering, and it left you burning with questions you could not stomach to ask– a feeling that replaced the dull ache with something that seemed unattainable. For Suguru, a general’s devotion was his life, just as being a salver was your own, and to ask him for anything else… 

You broke away from his gaze, biting into your bottom lip, caging your thoughts behind your teeth. 

“Besides,” –you dared to look back to see him smirking, and it flared through you– “who would wait around when I am sent on a fool’s errand?” 

Suguru was never what you were expecting, and your laughter spilled in a way that felt absurd, pulling a string of merriment that pearled tears in the corners of your eyes. He was pleased with your reaction. 

“General Suguru Geto.”

You froze, the voice cutting through. Suguru looked ahead to see a man walking up from a pathway with a fishing net over one shoulder and carrying a basket brimming with mackerel. “I had thought the gods bless us,” the stranger seemed dour, unsettling, “but I see it was only to prepare for you coming across my path unexpectedly.”  

A smile stretched across Suguru’s jawline, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and you exhaled, unaware you had been holding your breath. “We both know you do not believe in destiny in that way, Kento Nanami.” 

“Perhaps.” He was sunkissed, his golden hair slicked back and the gleam of his perspiration pulling his cotton shirt to his form, to his broad shoulders. The severity etched onto his sunken features softened as he came closer, his hazel eyes flitting from you and settling onto Suguru. 

“Either way, here you stand now,” he gestured, a smile curving on his lips, dimpling into his cheek. “Come, follow me home to see Runa and the kids. We can eat and you can tell me about whatever Satoru has you doing now.” 

+ + + +

Kento Nanami had grown up in Hoshi, serving alongside Suguru and Prince Gojo during the war. He found his notoriety when he led a small militant group, cutting westward to ambush and kill the infamous major general, Mahito, which resulted in crippling the Ryomen force. The tandem continued, allowing Suguru to press north, Nanako in hand, beating them back across the border and ending the war. 

You were already aware of these tales from the ballads and songs about the purple-eyed demon and the valiant fight that echoed throughout the Tengen Kingdom, their efforts forever immortalized. 

What you did not know was the kinship that was forged during this. You also learned that Suguru Geto, and sometimes the prince, would come and visit in the springtime, and how Kento’s children referred to him as oji.

You followed along in a daze, the road ahead splitting and a stone path weaving away into an enclave of trees. A wooden fence bordered around, providing ample room for livestock where some goats and a cow grazed. Suguru unhitched Mimiko so she could join, and you helped him carry what you had back towards the cabin aglow, smoke curling up from the chimney. 

A woman came to the doorway, tall and lean with a copper spill of curls and blue eyes that pierced through you. “Suguru,” she called his name with a warmth, a fondness that touched her lovely features. “We were not expecting you so soon.” 

“This is my wife, Runa.” Kento moved towards the steps of the wooden porch that stretched around, setting down the basket before wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. You felt your blood simmer and looked away, spotting two more sets of eyes peering from around her skirts, a little girl and a little boy. 

“Off with you!” Runa pushed Kento back, still smiling. “You smell like fish!” 

“Oji!” The little girl burst forward, unabashed, her eyes golden, with a wildfire of strawberry curls and freckles strewn across her nose and cheeks. 

Suguru crouched on command to scoop her up and she giggled as he tossed her upwards. “Hana, I want you to meet my friend,” he said, settling her onto his hip before turning towards you. 

Her eyes widened with your name, a toothy grin on display when she asked if you belonged to her oji. You wished for the earth to swallow you, but Runa was quick to react, sweeping Hana back into her arms and chiding her– “You little minx, you cannot ask that.” 

“But you said that he needed a lady friend!”

The warm tones clashed with Runa’s hair, panic glinting in her eyes as she ushered the little girl back inside, along with the basket of fish. You could not look at Suguru, but focused on the other pair of eyes–blue like his mother’s. He stepped forward on unsteady legs, his hands reaching to grab your skirts with a shy smile as he looked up at you. 

Kento reached to ruffle his golden hair. “And this is my youngest, Nobu.”

“Hello.” You kneeled to be at his eye level and his skin stained pink, his smile dimpling his face. “Do you want to come inside with me?” 

He nodded and you took his hand, allowing the men their reunion. You followed after Runa and Hana to the kitchen that was wide and spacious. A table was placed in the center where the basket spilled, and the stove burned bright with a warmth that filled the room. 

For you, it felt like a long-lost home. The children played on the floor while you followed Runa’s command, taking the spare knife to remove the heads and split the fish in half while she tended to the broth and rice. Hana offered her services to spot and pluck the pin-bones and Nobu watched with a wide-eyed wonder. 

Runa was effortless, a sharp wit that had you tittering, a boldness that allowed her prying to understand the guests her husband brought home. “What brings you both out here?” 

Your embarrassment prickled over and you cleared your throat. “Uh, the prince commanded for me to be fetched by…” you faltered on his name, “the general, so that I can become his wife.” 

Runa stopped to look at you, aghast, her empathy bringing her brows together and her lips downturned. “Poor Utahime. I see that Satoru remains as rash as always,” she tsked. “And pulling you into it, you poor thing.” 

You giggled again. “I feel bad for Suguru, if anything, as he has been given the duty to return with me.” 

“I see we have nothing better to do with a decorated general,” she began to stir the broth again, shaking her head. “So what will you do?”

It was only fair for her to ask. Runa did not know you. “I have to go and let the prince know that I will not marry him.” 

It was her turn to laugh, a warm raucous that filled the air along with the gustful smells of supper. “I like you already.” 

The men came inside as dinner was served, the children eating their fill while you listened to more of the stories shared about Suguru and Satoru and Kento, with mentions of that blustering knight, Yu Haibara. You ached from your laughter, savoring this unconditional friendship shown at the table, flowing with ease and filling your chest with a warmth that touched your cheeks. 

It was getting late and Nobu had fallen asleep, curled in his mother’s arms though Hana fought to stay awake, her head dozing against Kento. You watched their affection, the tenderness in this family that called to you–the vast difference from the loured expression Kento greeted you with earlier. Now he held his daughter with one arm while he reached with his other to pull on Runa’s curls, and the gesture forced a blush in response. 

You had to know. “How did you two meet?” 

It was curiosity, or perhaps a sort of envy coiling in your chest, watching their love so bold in front of your eyes. Throughout the night, Kento always looked to his wife, to his children, with a softness to his features, a glow reserved for them. Runa would catch his wandering eye and her radiance returned, brightening the blue of her eyes. 

It was something almost tangible. 

She laughed at your question, pulling your attention. “You may somewhat relate, but imagine waking up and finding a damn soldier bleeding in your garden.” 

“She actually thought I was dead,” Kento corrected, his eyebrow arched at her, a good nature scowl scrawled across his sharp features. “I woke up to her going through my belongings–”

Runa held your gaze. “It was war and things were dire,” she defended with a wicked grin. 

“Nonetheless,” he shifted to pull Hana up, resting her head on his shoulder, “I found her holding my sword–assessing it for its worth, in retrospect,” –a manic giggle spilled from Runa’s lips– “and noticed some of the surviving men of Mahito coming up behind her.”

You saw that Runa’s eyes shone as she listened, as if she was hearing it for the first time. You looked to Suguru and saw his smirk on display for whatever was coming next. “I was going to warn her,” Kento continued, “but she quickly turned to them, portraying this damsel-in-distress act, begging them to remove me, luring them closer and then…”

Kento paused, a slight smile on his lips with the memory. “Well, I had not seen such skill with a blade since Suguru–” 

“My father taught me and my brother very well.” Runa boasted. 

“She cut through them all, hacking them into pieces to dispose of them.” Kento was proud. “I watched her, covered in their blood, and I told her she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” 

Runa smirked. “I thought he had lost too much blood.”

“She pulled me inside and took care of me until I healed, and I would have stayed if Suguru and Satoru had not found me.” 

“She begged us to take you away,” Suguru scoffed, adding to the retelling. “She told us that he had gone mad.” 

You looked back to Runa and she shrugged. “Kento proposed,” she explained, rolling her eyes, but she was luminous with rose hues. “He told me that he wished for me to become his wife. I told him no, that he needed to go and end this blasted war, and only after, if he still felt compelled, he could come back and perhaps I would reconsider.” 

Your heart fluttered with the prospect, the possibility of leaving a life of sworn duty, seeing how it now thrived in this very residence. You licked your lips. “And, I am assuming, you did just that?” 

Kento returned a war hero and the queen had offered him whatever his heart desired; she granted him a dishonorable discharge. “I had to go back to her,” he explained.

“He never stopped talking about her,” Suguru teased. “It was endless about this red haired beauty who wielded a sword so fine, piercing his heart…”

Amongst the tittering, Kento looked to you, his asperity returning with his words. “It was not love at first sight, but something that came from the moment that I truly saw her. She called to my heart and it recognized her.” His smile was soft again. “I would do it again.” 

His words rolled over, pulling at your heart, and your eyes flitted back to Suguru. He looked away, crimson on his cheeks. 

It was the sleepy whimper from Hana that broke the moment and Kento pushed to stand. Runa shifted, but Suguru was quicker, moving to pull Nobu into his arms, following after his friend to put the kids to bed. 

She watched her husband walking away, her head tilting to admire. “We do have a spare room for you and Suguru,” she told you without looking. “It’s for when my brother comes through, but the bed should be cozy enough for the two of you–” 

You nearly squeaked your surprise. “But, we are not–” you stammered, unwilling to say it out loud. 

“Really? I was so sure,” Runa turned to face you, surprised. “But–I apologize, I only assumed with how you would look at him, and the way Suguru blushed with what–”

The thought never finished as Kento and Suguru returned. Instead, baths were to be drawn for their guests and for the day to come to an end. You followed after Runa, lost in your thoughts and the steam that rose from the tub, almost startled when she pressed something in your arms: a clean dress to change and a chemise, along with a belt. 

“For your blade,” she smiled. “I noticed you had it knotted around your waist.” 

You flushed. “That was Suguru’s doing. He wanted me to be able to defend myself, if I needed to.” 

Runa watched you for a moment, the scrutinous blue blaze of her eyes. “Then allow this belt to help with that.” She turned to leave, pausing in the doorway, peering over her shoulder back at you. “Suguru is… not shy, but he holds onto his honor like armor.” 

“What do you mean?” You were quiet with your question, your eyebrows knitting together. 

Runa sighed. “He would never try anything, especially if you are intended for Satoru.” 

She left you alone with a scurry of thoughts and emotions that twisted throughout, a wave of gooseflesh in its wake. Intended, the word repeated, almost poisonous, and you felt as if you were burning. 

You peeled away your old dress and slipped beneath the water with the bar of soap you made, the honeysuckle and tree oil soothing. You soaked, your mind pulling back to Suguru with an absent-minded tracing of your fingers along the top of your thighs, moving up to press into your knee before falling away again. 

It always returned to him, a muscle memory formed since he first came and found you in your garden. 

Your agitation had burned bright despite the legend that stood in front of you, irksome with his subtle arrogance he carried with his posture, his gait, his certainty with every word spoken as bold as the blade strapped to his backside. There was a power to his gaze, the glitter of amethyst that pulled you with some unspoken emotion that danced, while his lips held onto his infuriating, perpetual smirk. 

But your perspective of him had changed, though you could not pinpoint the moment with so many woven together in the short amount of time shared: the market, the fire, the nights curled up against his chest under the endless stretch of starlight. 

You always thought him handsome, you could admit, but that seemed a girlish crush at first. This was something that matured without you realizing; it was the way his gaze always seemed to find you, rooting you, and how he would tease you when you balanced on the precipice of your temper, and how it would ground you again.  

That night at the market–you asked him to stay because something told you that he could be trusted, that he was safe. He showed you glimpses of his true character outside the lore and legend with how he touched you that night of the fire, his gentle wipe away of your tears mixed with ash, his empathy somber on his face. 

He did not let you go that night, you realized and that memory flushed through you, curling into your lower abdomen. You shifted, water spilling over the edges, and you slipped beneath, washing away the suds before you finally pulled yourself out. You dried with the sheets left behind and changed into the cotton chemise, brushing the rose oil into your hair and plaiting it back, moving back through the quiet home and towards the spare room. 

Moonlight spilled through the windows, and tapers were lit for an amber glow. You saw Suguru at the other end, dressed in a clean shirt and slacks from Kento, baggy on his lithe form. He paused. “I was going to just sleep in the loft,” he offered, looking at you. 

And your heart recognized him. “You should stay.” Your voice was quiet, careful with your shy admittance. “I sleep better with you at my side.” 

At first, he seemed stricken with your words, and his jaw ticked as he processed them. Suguru then nodded and reached to take your hand, leading you towards the spare room.

The bed was as cozy as promised with the scent of fresh hay and clean linen, mixing pleasantly against his skin, warming your cheeks as you curled back on his chest. 

taglist: @sugurubabe @elliesndg @paprikaquinn @yeehawbrothers @witchbybirth

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[yoitsjay]

ONLY if you're still taking in songfic requests

Sweater weather with Crosshair making out with his s/o

The line "I hate the beach but I stand in California with my toes in the sand" feels so him, specially bcs he's in Pabu

Here you go bestie ;]

Holes Of My Sweater

Pairings: Crosshair x Gn! Reader

Summary: Crosshair had a lot to make up for. Though some mistakes he knew he couldn't fix.

Warnings: non descriptive smut, p in v, steamy kisses, character death. I hope you enjoy your surprise

Word Count: 1,831

And all I am is a man.

His lips were on yours the minute he saw you down at the beach on Pabu. He honestly thought you wouldn’t come back, not after the argument you had with him, not after Kaller- after what he had done?

I want the world in my hands

But you had forgiven him, and now you stood in front of him, arms wrapped around his shoulders with one hand cupping the nape of his neck as he held you flush against his torso, lips unwilling to part from each other.

I hate the beach

You soaked up his warmth and the warmth of the sand between your toes, finally breaking the kiss as you let out a soft little sigh, one that Crosshair wanted to hear over and over again, maybe in his bed, maybe in yours.

But I stand in Pabu with my toes in the sand.

“I have an idea.” Crosshair mumbled, his lips pressing to yours again, though you leaned into it, letting your eyes flutter closed as you just kissed for a few seconds, though when he pulled back again you couldn’t help the soft whine that left your lips.

Use the sleeves of my sweater, let's have an adventure.

“Let's go to my place.” He whispered, and you snorted in response, “A bit presumptuous no?” You asked softly, though he just gave you a look, and gestured to how you had yourself arching into his touch. “Touche” You muttered.

Head in the clouds but my gravity centered

Within seconds Crosshair had you up in his arms, your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, and one arm supported your lower back while the other was raised, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck as he kissed you again.

Touch my neck and i'll touch yours

Crosshair knew his way around Pabu pretty well now, so even as he stumbled while carrying you, and kissing you, he could still navigate back to his small little home that overlooked the beach.

You in those little high waisted shorts, oh.

But then Crosshair set you down again, not quite off the beach, instead he had brought you to a more secluded area, and his lips were back on yours, trailing down the skin of your neck as soft little sighs fell from your lips,

Oh, she knows what i'm thinking about

And what i think about…

“Crosshair…” You trailed off, cupping his cheeks as you brought his head back up, staring into the man's honeyed eyes. He hummed in response, feeling drunk from the touch of your hands, and your lips.

One love, two mouths

One love, one house

no shirt no blouse

“I love you.” You whispered, and he frowned, pressing his forehead against yours. “But- I've done so many horrible things… I almost hurt you- I wanted to…” He trailed off, feeling your breath fan against his lips as you sighed. “You may have done some pretty awful things, Cross, but I never stopped caring about you. I knew it was the chip controlling you… you felt like we betrayed you.” you muttered, cupping his face in your hands.

just us, you find out

nothing that i wouldn’t wanna tell you about.

“But you’ve been doing so good, at trying to make up for the things you did. You helped us take down Hemlock, and save Omega from Tantiss. You made it up to us, and we forgave you… I'm forgiving you.” You whispered, staring into his eyes, seeing him blink away the tears that were threatening to fall.

‘Cause it's too cold

For you here

A cold breeze blew past you and Crosshair, and he felt you shiver ever so slightly, so once again he enveloped you in his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

And now so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, feeling your hands slide up and down his back. “It’s okay Crosshair, everything will be okay.” You reassured, and he smiled lightly before pulling back, seeing you shiver again as the cold bit at your skin.

And if i may just take your breath away

I don't mind if there's not much to say.

You and Crosshair stared into each other's eyes as a comfortable silence overtook you, your hands slid up his torso, finding purchase on his abdomen underneath his sweater, leeching up the warmth that he was radiating.

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

Crosshair shivered upon feeling your touch, though he didn’t mind, instead his mind wandered, and he couldn’t help but wonder how far he could go with you, how far you’d let him touch, and squeeze and hold.

the goosebumps start to rise

the minute that my left hand meets your waist

Crosshair reached forward, his metal hand resting on the dip of your hip while his left hand slid up, sliding underneath your shirt as he ghosted his fingertips across the skin of your waist. You shivered again, but not from the cold. Goosebumps trailed up your skin, chasing after his touch until he pulled his hand back.

Then i watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue cause you love the taste, yeah

Then he raised his hand upwards, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. Your lips parted in response, and he dipped a finger past your lips. You let your eyes flutter closed, swirling your tongue around his finger for just a moment until he pulled his hand back.

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Inside this place is warm.

Crosshair didn’t want to wait anymore, he swept you up into his arms, basking in the heart laugh that fell from your lips as he carried you back to his hut, opening the door and closing it behind him with his foot as he brought you over to the small couch in the living area.

Outside it starts to pour

Coming down

Once seated, Crosshair's lips were back on yours, tongue sliding into your mouth just as rain started pelting heavily against the window. Your eyes fluttered closed, legs wrapped around his waist as he laid you back, his hands sliding up and down your hips as he kissed you.

one love, two mouths

one love, one house

no shirt, no blouse

Your hands slid up his sweater, grasping the ends as you broke the kiss momentarily, pulling the sweater off his body, tossing it behind you without a care of the world. Crosshair took advantage of the slight distance between you, as he had a similar idea, and was now working off your own shirt, sitting you up slightly as he pulled it off, and tossed it somewhere in the room as well.

Just us, you find out

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no no no.

“God Cross” You muttered softly, arching your skin against his as you ran your hands up and down his back, digging your nails slightly into his skin as he lifted your hips slightly so you were slotted closer to him.

‘Cause it's too cold

For you here

His lips were back on yours, though he deepened the kiss quicker than he had previously, feeling you arch into his touch, soft moans tumbling from your lips which he promptly silenced with his own open mouthed grunts.

And now so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

Crosshair then sat up, bringing you with him as he carried you from the couch, to the bedroom that was lit up dimly, it was comforting, and the warmth seeped into your skin, the rain on the window filling in the comfortable silence as Crosshair set you down on his bed, then started removing his pants.

‘Cause it's too cold

For you here

“Do you really want me? want this?” Crosshair asked suddenly, taking you off guard, since his hands were back on your waist, tugging at the band of your pants, silently asking for them to be removed if you wanted to continue this…

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

And of course you did…

“Fuck yes Crosshair, i wan’t you, like how we used to be.” You whispered. A shimmer of guilt flooded his heart, though was replaced with a swell of love for you as you leaned up, placing soft kisses against the skin of his neck.

‘Cause it's too cold

For you here

“Okay princess.” Crosshair whispered, the nickname sending shivers down your spine, igniting your core with arousal. “Lay back and relax for me.” He whispered. You could only nod your head, following what he asked of you as you scooted up his bed, resting your head on the pillows as you angled your hips upward, sliding off your pants and underwear, tossing them to the floor.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Crosshair devoured you, in more ways than just one, he had been so gentle to start, though with some encouragement you felt like you were being fucked back to the times during the clone wars. When you and Crosshair would sneak off on missions or when you were docked on Coruscant for supplies or a new mission, when hed take you to an alley, or a hotel and fuck your brains out.

it's too cold

For you here

You knew it would take a while for anyone to truly adjust to life on Pabu, after a lifetime filled with war. You understood more than anyone that adjusting to peace? true peace? was hard… Though as you and Crosshair came time from your highs, and now snuggled up beneath the blankets of his bed, you knew that things would be okay.

And now, let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

“Y/n…” Crosshair whispered your name, and you tilted your head upwards, staring into his eyes as you smiled, sliding your hand up to his cheek, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. “Yes Cross?” You replied, tone soft as you watched his eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments.

And it's too cold, it's too cold

The holes of my sweater.

“I wish you were real.” He whispered.

And that's when his eyes shot open, he was sitting up in bed, gripping the sheets desperately as he looked around. But you weren't there. The side of the bed that he would have shared with you was empty and cold, much like the space in his heart that you had once filled.

Crosshair had killed you on Kaller, and that was a mistake he could never take back. You were gone, and the only way he could remember you was through his dreams… or perhaps his nightmares…

And it broke him.

➺

Tag list:

Crosshair:

@nyctophobiart

Tbb:

@only-my-unexistent-fiances

All:

@moomoog017

[miss-musings]

The Dad Batch as DBZA Piccolo quotes

Hunter, seeing Omega for the first time in 1.01 "Aftermath": I'm gonna steal that kid.

*****

Wrecker, confronting Fennec Shand as she tries to abduct Omega in 1.04 "Cornered": Bitch, you look like Mulan.

Fennec: And you look like a pro wrestler.

Wrecker: I get that. Now hand over the kid.

Fennec: Oh, you want this kid?

Wrecker: I want her.

Fennec: You want this kid?

Wrecker: I want her.

Fennec: You want this kid?

Wrecker: I want her.

Fennec: You want, you want?

Wrecker: I WANT THAT KID!!

Fennec: *throws Omega at Wrecker*

Omega: Hi, Wrecker!

Wrecker: Merry Life Day!

Wrecker: *gets the shit beat out of him by Fennec*

Omega: Wrecker!

*****

Omega, as she's falling to her death in 1.09 "Bounty Lost": WRECKER, HELP!

Wrecker: *appears with the Bad Batch and lifts her out of the flight pod to safety*

Omega, genuinely surprised: Holy cow, that worked!

*****

Hunter, telling the Bad Batch to leave him on Daro in 1.14 "War-Mantle": You guys get on out of here. I'll take on these troopers myself.

Omega: But Hunter!

Hunter: No buts! Echo, you take care of Omega.

Echo: So keep doing what I've been doing then?

Hunter: Yeah-huh.

Echo: Yeah, I figured.

Echo, to the others: Let's go.

Wrecker: Oh, thank the Force!

Omega, as they’re leaving: Hunter, beat them within an inch of their lives! And hang them up by their entrails!!

Hunter, thinking: Wow, she sounds like she's had a hard time. Echo should REALLY have a talk with her.

*****

Omega, as she falls to her possible death in 2.09 "The Crossing": Crapbaskets!

Tech: *jumps after her, grabs her and helps her get to safety*

Omega: Tech, you saved me again!

Tech, realizing they're now trapped in another part of the cave: "Saved" is sort of subjective here.

*****

Makko yelling at Benni and the other kids who are essentially his slaves in 2.10 "Retrieval": Well, I'm sorry but ... I don't listen to BASTARDS.

Benni and the other kids: *shocked*

Tech: Omega?

Omega: Yeah?

Tech: You're a good kid.

Omega, confused: Oh... thanks?

*****

Hemlock: *taunts the Bad Batch about Tech's death in 2.16 "Plan 99"*

Omega: Tech!!

Hunter, holding her back from fighting Hemlock herself: Omega, no!

Omega: I'll kill him! I'll f*cking kill him!

Hunter: You can't! Hemlock is too strong for you.

Omega: Tech would let me go.

Hunter: No, he wouldn't. And he's smarter than me.

Omega: Oh... that's actually a good point.

*****

Crosshair putting himself in harm's way to protect Omega in 3.04 "A Different Approach": WHY CAN'T YOU SAVE YOUR OWN DAMN SELF!?!?!

*****

Echo reuniting with Omega in 3.05 “The Return”: Omega! Are you OK? Do you need some juice? Did you get into that school you wanted?

Omega: Doesn't look like it.

Echo, screaming so loud all of Pabu can hear him: NOOOOOOOO!!!

*****

Crosshair, as he and his brothers go to Tantiss in 3.12-14: Alright, better go save Omega.

Hunter, referring to the clone prisoners: What about the others?

Crosshair: What about the others?

*****

Hemlock, as he guards the captured Batch Bad members in 3.15 “The Cavalry Has Arrived”: I'm going to drag each one of them down here and murder them until you finally give me what I want.

Omega, from a distance: No, please!

Hemlock, to Omega: Shhh. It's OK. I'll save your dad for last.

Hemlock, to the Bad Batch: HEAR THAT HUNTER?!!!!

Hunter: I mean, if you're just going to say it.

Wrecker: I don't get it.

*****

Omega: *hugs Crosshair for the first time in 3.15*

Different versions of Crosshair: *reacting in his mind*

TCW Crosshair: Did our heart just skip a beat?

Imperial Crosshair: That is precious.

S3 Crosshair: Shut. The. F*ck. Up.

*****

NOTE: I decided to throw an extra Tech one in there in honor of our bestest boy, and an extra Crosshair one because I'm a CrossDad fan. Plus, Piccolo and Crosshair are very similar, so I feel like Piccolo's quotes really work best for him.

If you'd like to watch the DragonBall Z Abridged / TFS clips for yourselves, I've linked them here.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Ash Walker: Part 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Now that we’re all here it’s time I tell you what the job is.”

Hemlock kicked the holographic table and it buzzed into life, the projection lighting up the room in a soft blue glow. Six pairs of eyes turned to look at the projection as Hemlock pointed to the slowly turning image of a world.

“This is Thescara III-“ he began before being immediately cut off.

“Frak this shit.” One of the onlookers declared. “I’m not sitting one foot on that cursed world. You drop me off on the nearest barren moon.”

“What’s wrong with Thescara III?” another onlooker asked.

Septh looked at Hemlock and scoffed. “No wonder you wanted a new crew of fresh pups, for no seasoned salvager would join up with you.”

“You going to answer my question old man, or are you just keep ignoring me?”

Septh looked at the Fling then back at Hemlock with a hard stare. Hemlock paused and took a look around the room at his new crew. There was the Theosian called Tug standing in the back. He wore his ceremonial metal armor that was crafted to his flesh upon birth and was the muscle of the group.

The Guppin Fling was sitting in front of Tug with all four of his legs crossed. They were the youngest of the group and were it not for his hacking skills he’d not be here at all. Hemlock saw a lot of himself in the Guppin but was worried his enthusiasm would make him careless.

Opposite them were the triplets Nok, Uma, and Rue. None of them were particularly good with any skillset, but Hemlock needed the extra hands for lugging things and they came cheap. In truth he still didn't know which was which so he’d just shout a name and tell them to do something.

Last was Septh; the only one he’d used for multiple jobs. He was an old hand at the salvage game and was understandably not happy about being kept in the dark until the last moment.

“Thescara III was originally a human world until their war with the Jen. Rather than engage the humans on the surface where they knew the humans had the advantage they dropped a couple thousand low yield nuclear bombs across the entire surface reducing it to perpetual nuclear winter.”

“Cowards.”

Hemlock turned to see Tug adjusting himself against the wall and send a small tremor through the decking before spitting a gob of something black on to the floor and continued talking.

“True warriors face their foes face to face; not through the lens of a computer monitor.”

“If you knew what humans can do with a sharpened stick you might think twice.”

The triplets snickered at this but went silent when Tug shot them a sidelong glance.

“None of this matters, save for the fact there is over seven million credits locked away in the capital branch bank of Universal Credit that is just sitting there waiting to be nabbed.”

The mention of loot drew everyone’s attention. That many credits were enough to buy decent chunk of a moon, or live a life of luxury on a paradise world for seven lifetimes.

 “It’s just been sitting there; this entire time?” one of the triplets asked. “How do we know the credits are still there?”

Gods they even sound the same, Hemlock thought.

“’The planet has been an ecological nightmare ever since the bombs went off. You can only stay on the surface for a short period of time before the radiation levels kill you. Couple that with the vault’s combination randomly rotating itself every hour it’s made it impossible to crack it before the radiation bakes you.”

“If that’s true then what chance do we have?” Septh interrupted.

In response Hemlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold disc.

“Because we aren’t going to need to crack the vault with this little ticket here.” Hemlock smiled. “As this little dingy is a corporate level security key, which can open any UC vault automatically.”

The triplets and Fling whistled in amazement, and with good reason. Those types of security keys were only given to executive level personnel and the loss of one would trigger an immediate reaction force to retrieve it.

“Do I want to know how you got that?” Septh asked.

Hemlock shrugged. “I’m borrowing it from a certain partner who will remain nameless for now.”

He pointed back to the hologram and grinned. “Now, time to plan our payday.” ---------------------------

Parting through the dense cloud coverage, Hemlock kept a constant eye on the retro rockets to match the ever changing wind patterns. He had flown through hurricanes and gale force winds that could cleave metal like paper, yet Thescara III was proving to be an entirely different beast.

Not only was the planet covered in a near perpetual cloud cover that dispensed ash but the sheer amount of nuclear bombs that had been dropped had also changed the planet’s equilibrium. Wind direction changed in intensity and direction by the minute, air pockets were abound like it was a minefield, and that wasn’t even getting into the random lightning strikes that could short out the entire ship if one struck home.

“I told you this planet was-“ Septh began before another air pocket the ship and the ship dropped suddenly.

Hemlock grinned at his good fortune and once more adjusted a series of dials. It took a few moments to pass through the last bit of turbulence and finally get below the cloud cover.

“Welcome to Thescara III everyone.” Hemlock said as the planet’s surface finally came into view.

As far as his eyes could see the entire planet was covered in layer upon layer of grey ash. Spires of city skyscrapers loomed up out of the ground like the skeleton fingers of gods, their shadows casting long across the ruins of a dead city.

After a few moments of circling Hemlock found the ideal landing site and brought the ship down. From the city records he was able to obtain the opening was once a large park at the heart of the capital city and only a few city blocks away from their target.

With a loud thud the support legs touched down on the surface and the engines began slowly powering down. Hemlock was already unbuckling harness and making for the cargo hold. Septh was in lock step behind him as the pair entered the hold to find the rest of the crew already suiting up.

Tug still had his armor on but had donned an atmospheric helmet. Hemlock could see the faint green glow of targeting feeds displaying on the inside of the helmet as the warrior performed basic systems checks. The triplets were gathering around hauler making final checks. They wore standard atmospheric suits with different colors for distinction as they circled the hauler. It was an anti-grav model with several large cases stacked on the back which the crew would fill with credits.

Hemlock was crazy enough to take this risk but not stupid enough to think he or his crew could haul seven million credits back without transport so the triplets were to be glued to the thing the entire time.

Fling was the last of the group off to the side that Hemlock found. He was struggling to attach the gloves of his suit when he approached and helped him.

“So if we have a key to the vault,” Fling began as he nodded thanks to Hemlock for the glove assist, “why exactly do you need me?”

“If the key fails you’re the contingency.” Hemlock said plainly. “I always hedge my bets, and I always have a plan B.”

Fling smirked. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted for being plan A.”

Hemlock didn’t reply as he finished checking the rest of Fling’s suit and stepping back as Septh approached. He casually flung a spare helmet to Hemlock who caught it midair and donned it with ease.

“Listen up everyone,” he began as he spoke over the shared com network, “we have three hours to get in and out before the next radiation wave sweeps through here.”

Slapping the release button on the side of the hull sirens began blaring and the boarding ramp slowly cracked open and lowered down to the surface. A fresh blizzard of ash slowly began sweeping into the hold as the crew hopped onboard the hauler.

“Keep in coms range, keep an eye on your radiation meters, and for frak’s sake do not go wandering off.” Hemlock broke off checking on his crew to look down the boarding ramp as it fully opened. “This is not a world you want to be alone on.”

With his instructions delivered he slapped the top of the hauler’s cab and the triplets drove the vehicle forward. No sooner had the hauler reached the bottom of the ramp did Hemlock realize something was wrong.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Hemlock turned to see Fling looking off to the left of the boarding ramp and followed his gaze. His eyes went wide as he saw the outline of a Nebula B class freighter parked right next to his ship.

From the cockpit he had assumed it was another mound of ash, but now looking up at it from the ground he could see the underside of the ship clear as day. It’s boarding ramp was likewise lowered but now was coated in several layers of ash.

“Competition?” Tug asked as he hefted his power rifle. Septh shook his head in response as his eyes went over the freighter.

“This thing’s been here a while now.” He answered. Tug looked at him then back at the silent freighter. “How can you tell?” he asked.

“Nebula B’s are notorious for their engines never fully shutting down and always making a low rumbling sound.” Septh said as he put a hand to his ear. “For it to be silent it must have burned through its fuel reserves, and those can last about two-three years.”

“That’s not the half of it.”

Hemlock turned to see Tug nodding in the opposite direction to see a row of other spaceships lining alongside theirs like a giant parking lot.

“What the hell is this…” One of the triplets said from the hauler cabin. “Where are all their crews? Why’d they leave their ships out like this?”

“It’s-“ Septh began but Hemlock cut him off.

“Shut it.” Hemlock barked. He pointed down the road lined with ash covered vehicles. “We’ve got three hours and we don’t have time to waste!”

The crew looked amongst themselves before the hauler lurched forward again.

[immoralimmortals]

Akatsuki Flowers! What a lovely ask. Let's look at your suggestions first:

Hidan, prince's feather:

Ohhhh immortality! I think that's perfect. Apparently a nickname for this flower is "kiss-me-over-the-garden-gate"

Deidara, buttercups:

Youth, joy, play, simple pleasures? Interesting choice, I can see why you went this direction! Matches his hair, too. It seems awfully innocent for him, I wonder if he'd disagree!

Deidara, australian rose:

A couple of results say "you are all that is lovely", and my gut tells me that may not be what you intend? But nevermind that LOOK HOW PRETTY IT IS

Anyhow!

I've used a little bit of flower symbolism, as you've probably guessed, for my fic! Red roses (and their various states of life, death, and preservation) and forget-me-nots are pretty obvious, though. But I used two others, hydrangeas, and daffodils, and they both suit Kisame!

Kisame, hydrangea, daffodil:

I picked a hydrangea festival, for one because it's a real thing that happens, and two, it means heartfelt emotion! I think Kisame feels with all of his being, intensely. He, as many people are not, is someone very aware that he is not always aware, if that makes sense; he is wary of the way his blood can boil, rage heating under the skin. Goes along with him not always feeling "human." Daffodil, the flower I used for the lotion in my fic, is in opposition as it stands for truth and honesty. We all know "truth" is sort of Kisame's thing. It's his pinnacle of morals, his reason for living, and then dying. I think it keeps him in line, too.

Itachi, white poppy:

Consolation, Rest, (Eternal) Sleep, Peace, Dormant Affection. He's a man that is a nice comparison and foil to Kisame, because like him, he feels deeply and has to deal with that in order to carry out his sacred duty. He is a man that wants peace, and with the short time he has on Earth tries to use it to redeem himself, his brother, the Uchiha name as well as he can, all the while dreaming that things will eventually go for the better. Dead man walking, a ghost with work to do.

Nagato, flowers of the elm tree:

Protection, Warn of Others, Purification of tainted areas. He protects his village by summoning rain, keeping watch of who even so much as whispers dissent. His land is pure. And he will purify the world. Perhaps it's a warning about him, too.

Konan, white rose:

Honestly this is a pretty predictable choice lol. I think she's emotionally...stagnant. In constant mourning, even if by her definition she's entirely moved on. Like Nagato, she takes her pain and uses it to continue, define her existence. She is the right hand, that which Pain uses to purify, an angel who does not boast of her power. She merely acts upon the will of that which justifies death.

Kakuzu, spruce, chamomile

Spruce: Eternal hardiness, Endurance, Symbol of North and Cold.

Chamomile: Patience, Attracts Wealth, Energy in Adversity

Yeah, I know spruce isn't technically a flower, but it's a growth on a tree and something you'll see in the language of flowers, so I'm using it. Kakuzu's ring, of course, means "north", and I honestly think it's fascinating to think of that in comparison to the north wind. He is a man as hardy and cold as the world he's trudged through. He's the definition of withstanding the worst, both physically and emotionally. The chamomile goes along with that, with a tenacity to make things work. You don't get to live to be 91 and still an active rogue ninja without a willingness to crack some eggs.

(also my art accounts are all chamomile-carillon or some variation. I love chamomile. And I love Kakuzu. yea)

Sasori, the four ancient poisons:

Aconite: Lustre (reflected light), Misanthropy

Hellebore: A Beautiful Year Ahead, Wit Relieve My Anxiety, Relieve my anxiety, tranquilize me

Hemlock:   You will cause my death

Nightshade: Truth, Silence; Your Thoughts are Dark ; Falsehood ; witchcraft/sorcery

I at first was just going for poison but all of these are PERFECT for him in their own right. Misanthropic man who wants to feel numb, wants to cause death and ultimately chooses to die. The contradiction of nightshade being both truth and falsehood...reminds me of how contradictory he is. A man who is trying to gain all the time in the world, absolutely impatient and unwilling to wait a second. Oh I can see the art for this in my head now....

Obito, love-lies-bleeding:

Love-lies-bleeding (Amaranthus): Desertion, Hopelessness, Constant, Unchangeable, Immortal or Unchangable Love, Immortality, Fidelity, Everlasting Friendship

This one just kind of has it all for him. The way everything good that ever happened to him left his world, his steeled resolve, his extended life via Madara's help, his love for Rin... Hoo.

Zetsu, two-bloomed green rose, dock flower, astilbe

Two-bloomed rose: Secrecy

Green rose: alien, strange, We Are Worlds Apart

Dock: patience

Astilbe (false goat's beard): I'll Still Be Waiting

He's really defined by his patience-- black Zetsu especially but white Zetsu was also playing the long game too, sticking around Obito since his childhood. The rose is pretty self-explanatory; he keeps a lot of secrets and he exists in a way that is very hard for others to comprehend. I figure he has difficulty understanding others, too.

[waywardsou2]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ General Bad Batch Head Canons ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hunter

He was secretly always jealous of Cut getting to settle down, have a life, a family, getting away from all the war and bloodshed. Hunter had wanted that but never thought it was possible

Hunter cried, fully cried to himself the night after Crosshair, despite everything that had just happened on Kamino, had still chosen the Empire over his brothers. Despite all he had seen on the battlefield all of the people he had failed to save, nothing hurt more than losing his brother.

When he was young, and ever since then Hunter has only ever let his brothers trim his hair. And he helps them cut theirs too. Hunter is very particular about his hair being a certain length and usually only trims his hair a few inches at best.

Hunter's face tattoo is actually to cover a birthmark. His other brothers (not the batch) used to tease him about it when they were cadets. He eventually got the tattoo to cover it up. These days he regrets it and doesn't understand why he folded to their teasing but he's still happy with it anyway. He doesn't regret the tattoo perse more the reason he felt the need to get it in the first place

Wrecker

Wrecker got Lula from a kid he helped on Ryloth when the Separatists were attempting to invade the planet, he loved it and was very attached to the toy. But he knew how important it was to the kid and he kept it with him for years until he gave it to Omega. He thought it made sense to give it to her, a young kid he had helped gave it to him and now he had passed it on to the next kid who needed it

Wrecker used to place fake bombs or stink bombs under his brother's bunks as pranks. He was always so obvious whenever he was doing this because he would be over-eager and giggle to himself, but he did manage to jump his brothers a few times with the prank

When Wrecker was caught in a bombing accident that messed up his eye and scared his face, he had a hard time adjusting to the way he looked, he didn't recognize part of himself now. And he especially hated when his hair didn't grow back the same way, and because of that he decided to shave it all off and continue to keep his head bald

In addition to that I think that when Wrecker was younger, he had hair a similar length to Hunter, and he liked it, despite the Kaminoans telling him to cut it several times. He does miss his hair at times, but he does like it better without hair hindering him.

Tech

Techs goggles function the same as prescription glasses, he's actually far sighted, this is why his helmet was built to fit around his goggles because he basically cannot see without them

(less of a head canon more of a canon fact with my personal twist) Tech is the youngest of his brothers but he was the quickest to mature and grow, which he likes reminding them about constantly.

(this one is gonna hurt, sorry in advance) When he fell off of the rail car into the ravine below, he didn't instantly but have some very fatal wounds and wasn't far off, Hemlock and his men found him and Hemlock took his goggles from off of his dying body and left. Leaving his men to dispose of him (I don't know what my mind was thinking when I wrote this, I guess I just love angst too much)

Tech had feelings for Phee but he never knew if she was being polite or flirting with him. He never said anything about it to her or his brothers because he figured that there was never going to be a time for him to ever act on those feelings so he never did anything about them.

Echo

(keep in mind I haven't seen any pre Bad Batch content of Echo so some of this stuff might conflict with his canon)

When Echo got blown up and had to have his face reconstructed he was awake for most of the procedure because if he slept or if they induced him it wasn't likely that he would wake up again, especially considering all of the damage done to his body and brain.

(Idk why but this one is super random but just feels right to me) Echo really likes butterflies, he likes the delicacy and beauty that comes from the creature's existence, the first time he saw one he was taken aback and had stopped to admire it. His Commander scolded him for getting left behind at the time

Echo used to pick at his head implants, they made him really uncomfortable and self-conscious, and his brothers used to have to stop him from damaging them and endangering himself. It was a really big issue of his for a while.

Crosshair

Crosshair's tattoo is also a cover-up for a scar, it's the right side of the crosshair that touches his nose. That line is actually a healed over scar underneath. He thought considering his nickname that the tattoo wasn't a bad idea. He was also secretly just copying his big brother Hunter, not that he would ever admit that

This guy can nap anywhere, and I mean anywhere. He doesn't sleep so he naps when he can. In trees, standing up, in the cockpit literally any where.

Adding onto the head canon from before I think Crosshair would have insomnia. But as he would do he never told the Kaminoans because he didn't want them to "fix him"

Crosshair has a nervous/general tick where he chews on his lip, he used to chew it so often that he often had cuts all over them. In place of cutting up his lips he decided to try and alternative - toothpicks. This was a good way to hide it but to still be able to tick when he needed to, plus the toothpicks were easy to access because he could collect them from the mess hall on Kamino

I realised at the end that I hadn't written any for Omega. How dare I? I promise I'll upload some soon

Hope you enjoyed these! Tell me your head canons below!

[stars-n-spice]

Questions TBB Better Fucking Answer Soon:

Where the FUCK is Tech??? Stop fucking giving us hope that he might be C2-X or whatever the fuck. Fucking show us his dead body or give him back to us!

Where the FUCK is Cody?? Huh??? Where did he go??? Only acceptable answer? He's on his way to Tatooine to be with Obi-Wan. You reveal that and all will be forgiven. I promise. Maybe.

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED WITH WOLFFE FOR LETTING REX AND THE GANG GET AWAY HUH??? I'M SURE THERE WERE CONSEQUENCES!! WHEN THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO GET HIM BACK???

What the fuck is up with Omega. Straight up. What. How. and Why? Same with Emerie. How the fuck did they come to be? Are they trans? yes. next question.

Also why does Emerie get a last name and nobody else does, hm? Why is she Emerie Karr, is that like,, did she choose that or like?? Ok dumb question sure but like,, EXPLAIN HOW AND WHY OR JUST CONFIRM SHE'S TRANS OR SOMETHING C'MON NOW.

SHOW US WHAT THE FUCK IS IN THOSE FUCKING TUBES!

I'm sorry, I'm yelling but I've spent most of this season fucking confused and frustrated.

Where the fuck did the zillo beast go? And when is it going to eat Hemlock and Palpatine?

So...Senator Chuchi and Clone Revolution when?

And like...Cid is just...she's just going to be able to get away with what she did? We're just gonna forget about her? I mean sure, but I really thought they'd bring her back or something.

What the fuck happened to Crosshair on Tatniss? Wait, nevermind, don't tell me, I don't want to know, it'll only make me sad-

WAIT SO LIKE,, DID CROSSHAIR EVER ACTUALLY GET HIS FUCKING CHIP REMOVED OR NOT???

Explain again Hunter's enhanced senses and why the fuck he seems to have lost them in this season.

Also answer why Wrecker is the most perfect man ever? Why did they craft the most wonderful man to exist and then make him not real? You trying to kill me or what?

Feel free to add on because there are only the ones on the top of my head.

[pjmmania]

To Be a Viper - Part II

Content Warnings: References to sex, mentions of suicide, grief

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Thank you for supporting this work so far. It’s been really awesome to watch the numbers climb little by little, especially for a small account like mine! Let me know in the comments what you think - I’d love to hear from you. Thanks again and enjoy Part II:)

—————

Jimin pushed himself off the rock wall with his right foot. He let out a breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear you say those words all day, that you were ready to give him whatever information he needed. He tilted his head towards the house, gesturing for you to follow him back the way you came.

“It’s a simple question,” He said, “And it’s alright if the answer doesn’t come to you right away.”

“Okay.” You replied wearily.

“What I need to know, and what Yohan would like to get out of you, is where your parents were stockpiling the weapons.”

You were at a loss, "How would I possibly know the answer to that?"

"Like I said, it's okay if it doesn't come to you right now," Jimin was being gentle, even encouraging, "But you likely do know the answer. When my father was explaining everything to us, right after we left home, he told us that he suspected the weapons were being taken out of the country, possibly to a remote location."

"What made him think that?"

"Well, because it would make sense, wouldn't it? Our parents were so close for so long. They knew virtually everything about each other. So if one party needed to keep something hidden, then that hiding place would best be somewhere far and unexpected."

You crossed your arms as you walked along lazily, deriding him, "No offense, Jimin, but that seems like a pretty loose theory. It's based on nothing but conjecture."

He looked at you and smirked, "Great minds think alike. I thought so too at first, but then I remembered when your father took you on that one spontaneous trip. Remember? It was our freshman year of high school, so the timeline matches up fairly well."

"Yes," You mumbled, trying to piece something together in your mind, "He wouldn't tell me where we were going, saying it was a surprise."

Memories replayed in your head. You remembered your impromptu getaway with your father. Jimin was correct - it was right at the beginning of high school. It was a fond memory of your father, until now. You were so giddy about it when it happened. He gave you only a day to pack, increasing your wonder and excitement. When you discovered you were heading to America, you were overjoyed. You'd always wanted to visit.

Jimin nodded, "Probably because he didn't want you to tell me, for fear that it would get back to my parents. And I recall you being secretive about it when you returned, which was strange. It was one of the only times you kept something from me.”

"Right...Before we left, he told me that it would be nice to have this one vacation just between us, as father and daughter. I guess I was happy to play along. We didn't have anything like that, a fun little secret just for us."

"Where did you end up going, Y/N?" He nudged you cautiously, eager for the information but careful of your emotions.

You recalled the exact spot. You could see it, you could smell it. That charming little cottage on that gorgeous lake in the mountains, birds chirping in the western hemlock treeline surrounding you.

But you couldn't remember the name of that place.

Jimin noticed your eyes darting around as you wracked your brain for something. He was going to be patient with you on this.

"I-I don't know what it was called," You got frustrated with yourself, "I can see it so clearly, though. I remember that trip so well. We were somewhere in America. There were mountains nearby, and we stayed in a cottage on a lake. The lake let out to a bigger body of water. I don't know the name of it for some reason. It was really secluded, not a place that people...that people would know."

You closed your eyes, almost embarrassed that you just confirmed his whole theory in real-time.

The mafia boss was losing count of how many times you’d managed to weaken his resolve since the morning. He felt the pull to put his arm around you, just as he had countless times in a past life. Caving to this impulse, he placed his arm around your shoulder and walked you along.

“It’s alright,” He assured you, “The name will come to you. Thank you for telling me this.”

Feeling his semi-embrace came with so much nostalgia. It was precisely what you longed for in that moment, a glimpse of what life used to be - not only before this terrible day, but before your father died. When you and Jimin were close, when you had someone you could lean on for anything.

It was a cruel predicament indeed, where the man who had just blown up your life was also the only one who could console you.

You allowed your body to lean on his as you traversed upon the sand.

“So is this all your life is?” You inquired quietly, “Just guns and schemes and always having to watch your back?”

He chuckled and squeezed you closer in a manner that resembled a familiar playfulness, “Of course not. I still enjoy my life, all of us do. We have to do a lot a dirty work, but it has its perks. We get to travel. We have fun.”

“When did you meet all those guys?” You asked.

Jimin shrugged, “They all came aboard at various times. Picked them up as I’ve gone along. Their backgrounds are pretty diverse. Namjoon is one of the sharpest people I’ve ever met and the first one I brought on board. He worked for my parents, actually. Helped connect them to firearm manufacturers that were willing to help in their black market sales. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Hoseok all come from different street gangs. Jin came from a rich family, super smart. He went to medical school but got kicked out for selling drugs right out of the hospital. He’s saved a few of our lives before, sewn up some bullet wounds here and there.”

“Have you been shot before?”

He nodded, but it didn’t seem to bother him, “Once, yes. On my left thigh, but thanks to Jin’s expertise I was able to recover pretty quickly. One of Yohan’s little cronies did it. Got me while I was leaving a nightclub. I haven’t let myself be that careless since.”

You didn’t know what to say, “I’m sorry.”

Jimin smirked, “I’m not. That fucking sleaze accomplished the opposite of what he intended. I became more alive then ever. I got tougher, more refined.”

There was a period of silence. The breeze weaved through the gap between your bodies, its subtle whistle filling your ears.

Then you thought of the one member of the group he hadn’t talked about, the one who currently could not have ranked any lower on your scorecard.

“What about Taehyung?”

He looked at your face, detecting some malice in your conviction, “I met Tae almost a full year ago at a, shall we say, gentlemen’s club.”

It could be interpreted as warped, but that made you giggle a little. Your system needed to be lighthearted, it needed something to laugh at, “That makes perfect sense.”

Jimin was confused at your change in attitude, yet welcomed the sound of your genuine laughter, “Oh it does, does it?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “The one you met at a strip club was the one you sent to be all slimy and flirtatious with me. The womanizer.”

He smiled and laughed a little too, “When you put it that way, I guess it is a bit on-the-nose.”

Your mood sobered shortly after you got back inside the house. The remainder of the day was spent in a limbo. Jimin showed you the rest of the Safe House just to pass some more time. Eventually, you simply retreated back up to your assigned room.

The guys and the staff gave you your space. After the story had been told, it felt like it was alright to call it a day. You had taken in all that your body could handle. Not even hungry for dinner, you remained in your room for the rest of the day and fell asleep early.

The following morning, the boss went about the typical routine. He got out of bed and padded into his bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

Looking into the mirror, Jimin examined his slicked-back hair. He noticed how far his dark roots had grown and realized it was time to dye it again.

It was something he’d done periodically, to change appearance. He’d been blonde for a long time. Perhaps he was due for a new color, but he set that down for now.

He went downstairs, where Bongcha was scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees.

Jimin went and crouched down in front of her.

“Good morning, Sir.” She smiled with labored breath. She swept a piece of hair out of her face.

“Morning,” He shared his own friendly grin, “Care to tell me what you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning the floors,” the maid said innocently, knowing the question was well-intended, “I didn’t have the time to do it before your arrival, so I thought I might-”

Jimin cut her off, stopping her sponge-clutching hand from moving, “No, this kind of manual work won’t be your burden for the time being. Not in your condition.”

Bongcha seemed relieved yet concerned.

The boss knew exactly what she was thinking and squashed it immediately, “Don’t worry. I have a household full of healthy men who are quite capable of doing their fair share of chores.”

The maid let out a sigh, but smiled with a nod, “I think I have to agree with you on that, Sir.”

Jimin chuckled and helped her to her feet, “It’s about time we all stop being a bunch of bums around here, huh? Come have breakfast with me. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

Bongcha agreed. This was the side of this man she was trying to tell you about the day before. Fiercely loyal to and caring toward those in his inner circle.

They sat in the dining room together and ate Eunji’s delightful cooking. Both of them would attest that she made the best scrambled eggs on the planet. Jimin had coffee, and she had decaffeinated tea.

The boss took this opportunity to ask her an important question, “How has he been with you as of late?”

She swallowed her bite and tilted her head candidly, “Not too bad.”

“That’s not good.”

“I think he’s just still getting used to the situation,” She said, “I understand it will take some time. He’s been kind, just a little standoff-ish compared to before.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Well he needs to realize that he doesn’t get to take his time. You don’t. You’ve been dealing with it day in and day out for…how many weeks has it been now?”

“Nine, Sir.”

“And you still plan on keeping it?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“I will talk with him.”

Bongcha set her fork down, “Please do not chide him.”

He raised his brows with a grin, “I didn’t say ‘chide’, did I? We will talk.”

The maid was feeling a little squeamish and decided to change the note of this little morning chat. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she said, “I think I can see how you and Y/N used to be friends.”

The boss hummed a laugh into his mug, “Is that so?”

“Quite,” The young woman replied, “Your personalities are very similar.”

Jimin had to express his amusement once again, “Though I usually align with your sensibilities, I really don’t think you have your finger on the pulse this time, Bongcha. We are very different people. Perhaps in a past life we were alike, but certainly not now.”

She sipped her tea elegantly, “Well, I can only speak to what I’ve seen so far, which granted is very little, but I’d argue that my position here had given me a keen eye when it comes to these things.”

The leader let his mug rest on the table, “Okay, then elaborate.”

Bongcha started to poke the eggs on her plate to gather another forkful, “She is headstrong, but tactfully so. Kind at heart, but intolerant of disrespect. Her tongue can be sharp, but never loose.”

“You mean to say she is calculating.”

The blonde woman tilted her head. That word sounded too negative, “No, Sir. I’d rather go with…discerning.”

Before he could respond, Jimin heard another set of footsteps coming their way.

It was Hoseok, with disheveled hair, baggy sweatpants, and a wrinkled white t-shirt. He entered the room with a yawn, using his pistol to satisfy an itch on the back of his neck.

He gave the pair a nod, “Kids.”

He sat down perpendicular to Jimin, who was at the head of the table. The boss grimaced, “You reek of Macallan.”

The elder couldn’t have cared less, “At least I reek of a top-shelf brand.”

The boss became aggravated, “Jesus Christ, go fucking shower.”

He then looked at the maid, who was trying to seem disinterested in the conversation by looking down. Jimin grinned at her and then turned his head back to Hoseok.

“And after that, you can clean the floors.”

Bongcha pressed her lips together to conceal her amusement.

Hoseok let out a guffaw, “You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Jimin taunted him while leaning back in his chair with arms crossed, “Have Kookie join you too. A little manual labor, to put some hair on your chest.”

After he ate and got some coffee in his system, the hungover member began his assignment. He picked up where the maid had left off, right by the staircase. An inconvenient spot for his pride, as all the others got to make fun of him as they came downstairs.

The only way one who didn’t get away with it was Jungkook. He wasn’t pleased when he learned that he had to help with the task, at Jimin’s insistence. As the youngest of the seven, Jungkook was a little more sensitive to performing duties he believed were below his station. Of course, his boss was aware of this, but he needed some humbling from time to time.

Soon it was the middle of the morning and the house was wide awake. These kinds of days were the best for the group. No jobs to do - just tucked away in a secluded part of Jeju Island with some relaxation time to be absorbed.

Jin and Namjoon sat in the living room, enjoying a screwdriver and Irish coffee respectively, while the others ate breakfast. Jin noticed the boss meandering around the first floor with his mug of black coffee. This wasn't atypical behavior, especially when he had much on his mind.

Keeping his volume discreet, he remarked to the other, "Apparently he told Y/N everything yesterday. Even asked her the question we all want to know the answer to."

Namjoon glanced back at their leader, observing the same thing, before turning back to face Jin, "Good for him."

"No, he looks distraught," Jin sighed at the younger man's nonchalance, "I thought he'd be the opposite by now. We have the girl, he offloaded all the information he needed to tell her. He should feel relief."

Namjoon made sure his voice was lowered and leaned in a bit, "Take it from me, since I worked for his parents. Though I rarely ever saw Jimin and never met Y/N during those days, his father mentioned how close they were. Once he even told me that Jimin favored being around her over all others. All others. Like, over girlfriends."

The elder cocked a brow as he swallowed a gulp of his screwdriver, "You think he was in love with her?"

"I don't know. Jimin has certainly never said that, but you remember how it was to be a teenage guy. We're all fucking idiots at that age, often so dumb that we can't even realize our own feelings." Namjoon explained.

The other chuckled, "Well that's a cute sentiment and all, but what does that have to do with him being stressed out right now?"

"I think he's just feeling paranoid and guilty that he had to do this to her. Obviously he cares about her a lot. I'd wager that it's pretty fucking hard to bring someone you care about into this kind of life. But he'll get over it, just like she will. Because they both have to. And that's all there is to it, hyung."

Jin laughed, "As if it's that simple."

Jimin began to feel your absence as the morning went on, but understood that you needed a decent rest. You were recuperating from the longest and most emotionally draining day of your life.

But you weren’t resting. You were lying in bed and staring at your the lock screen on your phone. The background photo was of the River Thames in London. You captured it from the street during one pretty sunset the previous summer. The London Bridge was standing proudly over the calm, reflective water.

You’d give anything to be able to go back. Back to a charming life in Europe, back to the career you adored.

The lock screen also showed endless notifications. They were calls and texts from your family. You hadn’t turned off your location, and more damningly, you hadn’t returned home last night like you said you would.

Their texts were panicked, asking if you were in trouble. You wondered if they had put the pieces together by now. Did they suspect you were with Jimin?

Your nerves escalated, forcing you out of bed. You just needed to move and focus on something else.

Subconsciously, you ended up standing at the windows. The sky was blanketed with clouds, and there was no wind to move them. From your viewpoint, you could look down on the back deck. There was zero activity and motion below, until you saw someone emerge.

You could decipher that this was Jimin by the light hair and distinguished gait. He had a black leather jacket on, and hands in his pockets to deal with the nippy early spring climate. At first, you expected to see someone follow him out the back door, but after a few moments, it became clear that he was alone.

He ambled around without intention, as if he was sleep-walking. This was a habit of his that you recognized, the aimless pacing of a man with a lot on his mind. Although this time, it wasn’t due to nervousness for an upcoming school exam.

You could gather that his life now came with a whole different kind of weight on his shoulders. He had men to look after, staff to keep safe. He was locked in an arms race that would cost him his life, if he lost.

You found yourself pitying him, despite all the heartache he had caused you in the past twenty-four hours.

Your phone began to buzz again. You looked down to see Uncle Yohan’s name and photo come up on the screen. You let it go unanswered.

You needed to remember where you and your father went on vacation, all those years ago. It was your ticket out of this mess. Jimin didn't need to spell it out for you - you could put two and two together. Whoever reached this hidden trove of weapons first would gain a crucial edge over the other, guaranteeing more security, if not the end to this cut-throat rivalry.

Then you saw another guy join Jimin outside. Black hair, a round face, muscular stature. Most likely Jungkook.

He must have called Jimin's name, making him turn around. In doing so, he noticed you standing at the window, gaze locking with yours immediately.

You felt frozen, unable to offer a wave or a smile.

Curious to see what his brother was staring at, Jungkook also turned his head. When he saw that it was you, the youngest member looked back at Jimin. He observed a perfectly calm, perhaps even pleasant expression on his face, as if just laying eyes on you brought him solace.

You uprooted from your spot and removed yourself from their sights, heading into the bathroom to wash up.

Jimin returned his sole focus to Jungkook. He noticed his sleeves and knees all soapy, which forced him to cross his arms over his chest and attempt to cover up a laugh with one hand up to his lips.

The younger didn't find it funny, "Might I ask when it became my responsibility to scrub the fucking floors?"

The boss smirked, "You may, although I'm not sure you want to have this conversation."

"Oh, I do." Jungkook challenged.

He had no clue what was coming his way, but if he was insisting, then so be it. Jimin dropped his smug attitude and agreed, opening his arms and gesturing to a set of chairs along the pool. Their frames were wooden with ivory cushioning on top.

Jungkook reclined back and put his arms behind his head, while the leader sat upright facing him, elbows propped on his knees.

Jimin was already bothered by how airy and indifferent he looked.

"Well go on," The younger sighed, "Let's have it out."

The older man laughed out his frustration, shaking his head down at the ground, "You are a damn fool sometimes, you know that?"

"Enlighten me, hyung."

"I had you clean the floors because it wouldn't kill you to learn to take some accountability around here."

"That's all fine and good, but you have a maid to 'take accountability' for house chores."

There it was.

Jimin had it. His tone dropped a level, hardening against his subordinate, "You're right. If only my maid hadn't been fucking impregnated recently."

Jungkook met his cold stare instantly. His unbothered expression soured as he exhaled in a dramatic groan, “Jesus Christ, hyung. That’s what this is about? Real clever of you to sneak that in there.”

“I didn’t sneak shit. You’re the one who inquired in the first place, and you’re the one who had to get your dick wet.”

The accused shot up to his feet, “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Jungkook,” Jimin became even more elevated, “You can’t run from this one.”

He began to walk away, forcing the boss to his feet. In a swift maneuver of dominance, Jimin used his arm to block Jungkook from passing. He shoved him backwards a few paces and got in his face.

His eyes were deadly serious, bearing into the younger’s so fiercely that it was like a form of mind control. Despite being shorter in stature and leaner, Jimin had an uncanny way of asserting such power. But then again, it was in his blood.

His voice was hushed, coming through a clenched jaw, “Did I say you could walk away? Hm? Sit the fuck down.”

Jungkook had a temper of his own that he had to keep in-check. Breathing slowly, he lowered himself back into the chair.

Jimin remained standing and put his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky for a moment, “I won’t tolerate this little act of yours any longer. You don’t get to knock up my leading maid, who I thought you had feelings for, and then pretend like it never happened. I can understand that it’s not what you wanted or planned for, but it’s time to step up.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighed, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you have no fucking idea what this feels like. Would you feel ready to be a dad?”

“It’s not about readiness, it’s about responsibility,” The boss snapped, “And for the record, I do know what it feels like. Do you think I felt prepared for this life when it was forced on me? Do you think I wanted this? Sometimes things just fall into your lap and you need to rise to the occasion, Jungkook.”

The younger buried his face into his hands, “Fucking Christ…”

Jimin sat back down and put a hand on his shoulder, “There are worse fates than being a father.”

“As if I’d know anything about that.”

It struck a chord. Jungkook never knew his father. There was no model to imitate, no rule book to follow. A silence was cast between the two men.

After a few minutes of sitting and listening to the gentle breeze, Jungkook muttered, “What the hell does any of this have to do with making me scrub the floor again?”

That made the boss laugh. He patted the back of his good friend heartily, “You can ask Bongcha about that. It seems like the two of you need to have a long discussion.”

“She asked you to make me do it?”

Jimin grinned, “You know she’d never do that.”

Jungkook knew he was right. No one who knew Bongcha would think she’d go behind someone’s back like that. She was far too gentle a soul.

Then the superior recalled finding her on the floor, overworking herself, and he frowned.

“But,” Jimin said, “I didn’t feel like I had a choice other than to speak with you about this. Someone had to take over for her. When I came downstairs this morning, she was trying to do it, breathing hard and looking exhausted. I wasn’t going to let her continue. That’s my responsibility.”

The black-haired man looked down, feeling shame for the first time in a long while. He rubbed his palms together as he pictured it - the woman carrying his child slaving away like that. Regardless of where their once blossoming relationship stood, that just didn’t sit well.

Jimin could see the gears turning behind his lowered eyes. He was starting to get it.

“I’ll talk to her.” Jungkook said.

He received another firm pat on the shoulder, “Good man. Let me know what comes of it. If I need to make other arrangements for Bongcha, I will.”

There was a mutual understanding of what he meant by that. This wasn’t the best environment for an expectant mother, let alone a baby. If she would feel safer in a different location, perhaps a new apartment somewhere, then Jimin would provide that.

They got up from their chairs and proceeded to head back inside.

Jungkook promised, “I’ll keep you informed, but don’t put all your energy towards this. We’ve got bigger problems.”

The boss glanced back up to your window, “Trust me, I’m aware. That’s why I’m calling a meeting, right now."

You were brushing your teeth until your gums bled, preoccupied with the same swimming thoughts. You were trying to clutch every single moment of that trip to America, hoping to come out the other side with a name.

Meanwhile, your phone rang again. It was an unidentified number, but you were too nervous to pick up. It very well could have been your family, trying to trick you into speaking to them. The vibration of the device caused it to move on the countertop near the sink. Unfortunately, it was already slightly over the edge of the surface. The buzzing moved the phone just enough to cause it to fall onto the floor.

It landed on its side, causing the case to pop right off.

You instantly turned the sink off, spit into it, and wiped your lips. Then you crouched down to pick up your phone and, more importantly, the photos you kept safe behind the case. They had fanned out on the floor, making your stomach drop. These photos were too precious.

You took a minute looked at them. One was of you and your mother. You were a small child, nuzzling into her chest with a sweet toothless smile. It made you remember her scent and what it felt like to be in her arms. You began to tear up, now understanding the context of her suicide.

The second was one of you and your father. You were older in this photo, a teenager. You were standing together, arms around each other in the middle of the giggles. Knowing your father, he probably had just said something to make you laugh. For some reason you remembered taking this one - you had set your phone against a tree trunk and put it on a timer. There was no one else around to take your picture because it was just the two of you there. On vacation, with a lake in the background…

It hit you. This was the place.

You sank down onto your rear with a thud, brows furrowed as you scanned the photo for any evidence of a name. There was nothing else in the background besides the lake, a long dock with yellow poles, and a hilly tree line.

Hastily, you flipped the photo over, and there was your answer, written in your own handwriting:

‘Trip to Lake Lauko’

Lake Lauko.

Lake Lauko.

That was it. You were positive. The timeline matched up with what Jimin told you, given your age in the photo. To your surprise, you were elated to have found the answer. This knowledge gave you leverage. It made you feel like you finally had some power in this situation.

You quickly changed into some medium-wash jeans and a faded green sweater. You needed to share this with them as soon as possible.

With damp hair and bare feet, you practically flung the door open and ran downstairs with the photo pinched between your index finger and thumb.

“Jimin!” You called as you descended on the staircase.

You made your way into the living room, expecting to find people there, but it was to no avail. In fact, the entire floor was quiet. There was no sign of life until Bongcha rounded a corner from the other room.

“Is there something you need, Miss?”

“Yes,” you panted a little, “I need to see Jimin. Where is he?”

“He has called a meeting. The men are gathered downstairs in the Game Room.”

“The ‘Game Room’? Like for video games and stuff?” You asked.

The maid giggled, “No, Miss. That’s what they call their conference room.”

You recalled Jimin referring to this business as a game, so you supposed that made sense.

“Am I allowed to go down?” You tilted your head a little.

“I’m not the judge of that,” Said the blonde woman, “But if it’s important-”

You pressed eagerly, “It is.”

Bongcha smiled cordially, "Then I will take you. Follow me."

You let her take the lead and went to a door you hadn't seen yet. She opened it, revealing a staircase that went to a below-ground level of the house. The lights were already on down there, revealing a lower floor that was every bit as nice as the others. The main portion of it looked like a smoke lounge, complete with an enormous bar. The sight of all of that top-shelf liquor was nauseating, after the hangover you had yesterday.

An open door to the left showed another room, which appeared to be a gym. Though the lights were off, you could make out the weights, treadmills, etcetera.

Bongcha headed past all of that and took a right, coming upon a closed door with a numeral pad mounted on the wall next to it. The pad had a red light, presumably meaning that the door was locked. You couldn't see which numbers she pressed, but you heard a small beep with every digit being entered.

Then the light on the pad turned green, followed by the sound of a lock unhatching from within.

Your guide opened the door and went in. You found Yoongi and Namjoon's eyes landing on you from their black leather chairs.

Jimin's voice could be heard, "Yes, Bongcha?"

Before she could answer him, you paced into the room behind her, making the other guys swivel their chairs in your direction. Jimin stood up from his seat at the head, fingers keeping contact with the long twelve-seater table. Your newly-showered and unfinished appearance brought about concern. Plus, your face expressed urgency.

He glanced at the small object in your hand, "Y/N, what's wrong?"

By the look of interest on her boss's face, Bongcha had no doubt that they would hear what you had to say. She discreetly exited the room behind you and shut the door. It automatically locked again.

Your eyes were darting across all of the faces now staring you down.

Jimin asked you again, "Y/N? What happened?"

Your attention snapped back to him. You slowly raised the hand that held the photo of you and your father, "I-I remembered the name. I know where the weapons are."

All of the guys shared looks of astoundment, gazes flitting back and forth between you and the boss.

His face told of both curiosity and relief, "Already? You're positive?"

You nodded and made your way across the room to him. You handed him the photo, "I know for a fact that this is the place we were talking about. And check the back."

Jimin cracked a grin. He flipped around the image and read aloud, "Lake Lauko, huh? Namjoon, pull that up."

Namjoon followed orders, typing away on the laptop in front of him, which seemed to be hooked up to the large television screen on the wall opposite the head.

In the meantime, Jimin asked you, "Where did you get this photo?"

"I keep pictures of my mother and father in my phone case." You said quietly, uncomfortable with all of the others hearing such an intimate detail of your grief.

He nodded with a hum.

"Here we go," Namjoon announced, directing everyone's attention to the screen, "Lake Lauko, located slightly east of the Puget Sound. State of Washington, United States."

There were images of the lake blown up for everyone to see. It was a beautiful place, just as you remembered. The group was observing keenly, including yourself.

"Looks remote, just as we thought." Yoongi remarked.

Jimin kept checking between your photo and the images on the screen ahead, looking for any signs of similarity. They needed to be able to pinpoint the exact spot.

"There," He eventually called out, pointing with his other hand, "Right there. Pull up that one on the bottom left, Joonie."

You noticed the same thing as soon as the image became enlarged. It was a picture of the lake from a higher angle, showing the same dock that was in your personal photo - the one with the yellow poles.

Jimin passed your belonging off to Hoseok, who then passed it to Jungkook. It began traveling around the room, making you uneasy. You didn't want these men having visibility into a private memory of yours like this. It felt like an intrusion, to allow them to see the younger version of yourself with your deceased father.

"It's the same dock." Jin nodded.

Jimin smirked, gesturing to the large screen once more, "That's it, gentlemen. That's exactly where we want to go. We leave in one week."

There was an uproar of clapping and celebratory noises. They were patting each other on the back and whatnot, grateful that they finally had the answer. The boss watched with gratification written on his face, enjoying the sight of his men getting to have this weight lifted off their shoulders.

He then smiled at you, "Thank you."

But the zeal you possessed when you first made the discovery had been drained from you. You weren't happy. You weren't eager. You weren't even relieved anymore.

All you felt was that you had just betrayed your own family. The thing that could have helped them win this long-drawn war, you had just given away to their enemies. You thought of your dear parents. Your father, smiling joyously next to you in that old photo. Would he be ashamed of the fact that you had just broken faith with Uncle Yohan, his brother?

You pursed your lips together, looking down at the floor. A nod was all you could offer Jimin in return, before making an excuse to leave the room, "I just wanted to let you know. I'll, um, go back upstairs now and get something to eat."

You turned and walked out of the meeting, and no one followed.

Luckily, finding your way back to the main floor was uncomplicated. You aimed to head into the kitchen, where you hoped to find something small to eat. What you told Jimin wasn't entirely a lie - you were starting to get hungry.

You walked in on a conversation between Eunji and Bongcha.

"No," The maid sounded like she was whining, which was strange, given the graceful composure she'd been showing you thus far, "I'm sorry, I just can't eat kimchi right now. Even the smell of it makes me nauseous."

Eunji saw you and cleared her throat, warning Bongcha to stop.

Both women looked at you and put on their smiles. The cook wiped her apron and said, "Can I get you something to eat, Miss?"

You sighed, "Anything. You don't need to make something fresh. I'll take leftovers."

The woman could tell you were in distress, so she offered you a smile, "Leftovers? I cook for seven men, Miss. There are never leftovers in this place."

That made you laugh a little, fostering more appreciation for her, "I guess it was a silly proposition."

The maid left the kitchen soon after and Eunji whipped up a rice bowl with veggies and beef for you. As you ate and the cook cleaned up, you asked her, "Is Bongcha sick?"

Eunji paused, but then shook her head, "No, Miss. She's expecting."

Your chewing ceased for a moment before you swallowed and remarked, "Oh, I didn't realize."

"She isn't showing quite yet," the cook dried a pan she had just hand-washed, "Don't say anything to her unless she tells you, Miss. I'm only informing you since you would have found out eventually."

"Why can't I congratulate her?" You asked, "Oh, does she intend to...you know...?"

Eunji quelled that concern, "No, Miss. In fact, she's quite excited about it. She's just having some trouble in the early stages."

“I see. Who is the father?” You asked. Perhaps you were prying too much, but you couldn’t say no to the opportunity to focus on a situation that wasn’t your own.

The cook closed off, “Oh, I-I’m afraid that isn’t for me to say, Miss.”

The way she seemed to earnestly search for another task to perform made you all the more intrigued. Why was that such a touchy subject?

Then it dawned on you. Bongcha lived and worked full-time here. With Jimin and his men. You remembered the day before, how kind Jimin was with her and how highly she spoke of him. He had also told you quite openly that he’d been to strip clubs before. Was it that far off-base to think that a mafia boss in his sexual prime would fornicate with female members of his own staff?

You didn’t ask any further questions.

It was dark outside now, and you were sitting out on the back deck alone. The temperature had dropped, leaving you huddled on one of the sofas in one of the warm sweat sets Bongcha got for you.

You weren't opposed to the cold. You had a lot on your mind and it helped you think.

There was a battle being fought in your head. One side knew the safest thing to do was to join Jimin, and the other wanted to believe your family was redeemable.

Your family had undeniably been dishonest with you, while he had told you the truth. It was clear who you could trust and who you couldn't. You should have been feeling good about your decision to stay here, and you were, until you gave them the information. Something about taking real action against your own flesh and blood made your skin crawl.

Was it because their manipulation of you was that deeply engrained? Was it because it directly contradicted the values your late parents had instilled in you, to be loyal to your family?

You had taken sides with a man whose family destroyed yours. They were responsible for all of your heartache, and yet here you were. Was it a cowardly act of self-preservation, or were you simply being smart?

Thoughts and memories attacked each other, fueling the opposing sides.

You let out a small groan and buried your face in your hands. It felt like you were going into overdrive, collapsing under this monster that was gnashing its teeth at you.

"Hey you."

You sighed into your hands, not exactly in the mood to speak with him, "Not now, please."

"That's alright." He said. You looked up to find Jimin standing over you, holding your photo in his hand and extending it out to you, "I just wanted to return this to you."

You were so upset before that you hadn't realized that you left it behind in the Game Room, "Oh...Thanks."

You looked down at the photo, the lighting from the surrounding outdoor bulbs and lamp posts allowing you to faintly see the image. It flooded your heart with so much love and pain that your chest felt physically heavy.

Jimin began to leave you, abiding by your request. Then you had a feeling that pissed you off - you wanted him to stay.

"Wait," You huffed, causing him to turn around, "I changed my mind."

You scooted over, making room for him. Jimin smiled gently and sat next to you. He was in a charcoal grey hoodie and comfy black cargo pants, his lounge-around attire, apparently. The pair of you overlooked the rest of the back deck for some time, taking in the stillness of it all.

That is, until he said, "I'm sorry for how it was in the Game Room earlier. I know it wasn't easy for you to give us that information, and for it to be treated with celebration rather than respect hurt you."

Staring dead ahead, you replied, "Actually, it was easy for me to tell you. I found that photo and bolted downstairs. After we spoke yesterday, I truly believed that it was the right thing. I believed that you had my best interest at heart and that you were being honest with me. It's like giving you that crucial information meant fully committing to joining you all here. And I thought I was ready to do that. Evidently, I was wrong."

Jimin's expression went from remorseful to perturbed, "And do you still believe that I have your best interest at heart, and that I've been honest with you?"

You looked into his serious dark eyes, "Yes. It's just...They're my family. And I betrayed them."

He gave you a sullen look, "Can I let you in on a secret?"

You nodded.

Jimin put his calloused hand on your cheek and used a sympathetic tone, "You didn't betray your family, Y/N. They betrayed you. Yohan, Aera, and Eoduun knew the circumstances and didn't tell you, not because they wanted to spare you, but because they were priming you to hand over the same information you just gave to me. And although they loved you and might not have known it, your parents betrayed you by setting you up for this life. So did mine. But if I've learned anything over these past eight years, it's that you're not a bad person for doing the best you can with the cards you were dealt."

You felt like crying, your voice almost in a whisper, "And these are the cards we were dealt."

He nodded slowly, "These are the cards we were dealt. And one more thing."

"What?"

The mafia man put his other hand up to your other cheek, "You choose who your family is. All of us here, we can be your family if you want us to be."

His words were genuine and warm, filling your heart with loud echoes of the past. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and held his hands there. A tear rolled down your cheek but was derailed by his palm. It felt like you were seeing him anew. There were hints of the old Jimin before. Now, he was fully there. Mafia or not, you could see him sitting before you.

You shook your head, still holding his wrists, "I can't believe you're here right now."

Jimin took the chance to tease you and lighten the mood. He chuckled, "You can't believe that I'm here at my own house?"

You broke into a giggle, but it died down quickly, "No, I can't believe that you're here at all. You just vanished from my life. I mourned that loss as if you had actually died. It's like you've come back to life."

He smirked, “I’ve come back blonde and tattooed.”

You laughed slightly. He was smiling into your eyes, and yours into his. You then wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His sweatshirt smelled faintly of oranges and whiskey. Jimin held you around your back, soaking in your embrace.

“I missed you.” You said.

He closed his eyes, “I missed you too.”

Your taste of happiness was interrupted by the back door opening and closing. More of the guys were coming outside.

Jimin pulled away from the embrace and sighed, “Here they come.”

Hoseok called out to both of you, “Hey, we’re having a bonfire. You guys want to join?”

“Be there in a few minutes!” The leader responded. You glanced in their direction, seeing the reflection of light bouncing off bottles of dark liquor. A few of them sounded drunk already, judging by their laughter and volume.

Jimin seemed like he wanted to be with them, but he remained at your side for the time being.

“You know,” He nudged you with his side softly, gesturing to the photo in your hand, “I had a similar moment of clarity when you handed me that picture. The past couple of days have been hard for me too. I’ve felt this overwhelming guilt, even though I know that we had to bring you here. But now that I’ve seen this…The girl that I knew in another life, I don’t regret it anymore. She was the one I thought of all these years, when things became unbearable or when I needed to be reminded of something good in my life.”

Your focus went from the photo to his eyes. For the first time you saw something desperate in them. He had lost his entire family in a pool of blood, his life was cut to shreds. But you were still there, so he had a reason to keep going. He had been clinging to the idea of you.

It was your turn to lighten the mood, “You thought of a high school version of me? Creep.”

Jimin threw his head back and laughed. Oh how you missed his authentic laughter. It was a few octaves deeper than it used to be, but its cadence was the almost the same. It made you laugh along with him.

“And just like the high school version of yourself, you are still impossible.” He said with a little wink and a partial grin.

It was a minuscule, subconscious action, but that little wink translated differently than it would have in the past. While you’d recovered a part of your friendship, there was still twelve years of distance between the two of you. You couldn’t simply pick up right where you left off, so the wink of his eye didn’t read as platonic. As if that didn’t feel strange enough, you were just as confused to find yourself enjoying it regardless.

In the dim yet proficient lighting, you began to notice how handsome he was. He was your old friend, yes, but now you were starting to view him as a man. A little rugged yet distinguished. His jawline was the biggest change from his younger self - now sharpened by the aging process. And God, did you finally see what all the fuss was about his lips back in the old days. They were sultry and pillowy, perhaps even inviting.

Likewise, Jimin was seeing you through a new lense. Your features still brought about a familiar comfort, but he saw them as utterly gorgeous. Your eyes were twinkling in a way that pulled him. Your body had developed more - desirable according to any man’s standards. You were every bit as adorable and kind as that girl in the photo, but now there was something else too. Something striking.

All of this mutual observation lasted but a millisecond. Then, both looking for an escape, you made your way over to the bonfire together. Whatever you had just felt, you shook it off.

It was a gorgeous fire pit area. The flames were nurtured in a round stone table, surrounded by plush ivory seating with rattan framing. These included a four loveseats covering all sides and four arm chairs. It was another twelve-seat arrangement.

You plopped down next to Jimin on one of the loveseats, to no one’s surprise, but this gave you the opportunity to get to know the other guys a bit more.

As they drank and cracked jokes, some of them quite dark, you laughed along. At first, it felt very much as though you were force by yourself to enjoy their company. But, as the hours passed, it got easier. You were able to perceive their individual personalities better, and they got to see a tiny bit more of you. Your guard was still mostly up, but it was at least a start. And you certainly didn’t join them in drinking.

It got late and you decided to go to bed, the first out of the group to do so. The exhaustion washed over you as soon as you walked back into the house, and took you under shortly after your head hit the pillow.

You had a long road ahead of you if you wanted to feel truly content here, but today was a start.

[fieldsofwriting]

A/N: I made a banner and dividers (I found the stars on pinterest) 😌 look at me go. But, once again this is tagged as x reader as well. Feel free to use a word replacer for this :) (I also know that March’s eyes are black. However, I decided to take creative freedom.)

Summary: Violet has been in Mistria for just a little over a week now. But she has never experienced drunk March before.

Warnings: Just drinking at the Inn on friday night!

Settling into her new life in Mistria wasn’t hard. Violet got up everyday bright at early, watered her crops and tried to clear her farm for a few hours before she’d inevitably run up to town and buy seeds to replenish the ones she harvested. She’d stop at the inn and get some soup, talk to Hemlock or Jo when they were there. Then she’d run around a bit more, stopping in to say hi to everyone. Maybe go do some fishing or check out the Western Ruins to see if there was anything else so could donate to the museum. But there was one thing she never skipped. And it was saying hello to everyone, that was always the number one priority.

She’d never skip March. Despite his prior attitude, and as much as she wanted too. Violet had to prove to him and everyone else here that she wasn’t going anywhere. But, her first Friday in town as she shuffled into the Inn after getting her farm- mostly cleared off she was met with Reina’s bright bubbly voice.

“Violet!” She grins, running around to get to her faster. God- that action alone made her want to scoop her up into her arms and spin her around. Reina was so sweet every single time without fail. She felt like a friend that Vi could talk to for hours while laying in her lap. And normally she would share the same enthusiasm as her but, Violet ended up looking up slowly from the pure exhaustion she was experiencing; those rocks on her farm were no joke. And while Reina was always a delight to see, she just wanted soup. That creamy delightful smelling soup that was bubbling in the cauldron. Was that cheese? God she hoped it was cheese.

“Mm?” She grumbles but it doesn’t deter Reina. She quickly gets her a bowl of soup and slides in next to her. Violet's whole mood increasing tenfold as she digs in and looks at Reina.

“You have to make sure to come to the inn tonight!” Reina beams, with the stupidly gorgeous smile she had. “It’s always a blast on Friday nights! Everyone has so much fun! Tell me you’ll come!” She pleads with her. And Violet is a simple woman.

With food in her system, finally the farmer smiles. “It’s really that cool? I guess I’ll have to come check it out. But i’m working on getting the bridge repaired for the Saturday Markets. So, it might be later in the night.” She replies smiling at her new friend. Reina grins and claps, reaching to give her a hug which Violet quickly accepts. It was like hugging one of those giant stuffed bears you won at carnivals.

“Yes! That’s fine! Whenever you can!” She beams. Violet had to admit, her enthusiasm was nice. Everyone seemed so excited to integrate her into this town as if she was always apart of it. It…was refreshing. Violet gives Reina a nod.

“You have my word, I’ll be here.” Vi smiles, and she meant it. She'd be there. It would be nice to relax and hang out with everyone at the Inn, she just hoped she could get the bridge done before then.

———

It felt silly. Violet felt completely and utterly foolish. Standing in front of her mirror, just minutes before she was going to head over to the Inn trying to decide what to wear. Surely everyone would be wearing their normal everyday clothes. She kicks away the little black dress. But why- why did she care so much about her own outfit?! She could just wear her normal outfit. It would be fine. At least that was what she was trying to convince herself of. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that this might be a good chance to show off for a particular red head-

She shakes her head, "No." She says quickly pointing at herself in the mirror. "No, no, no, Violet. You are not falling for a red head! He's not even a real red head! You can see his roots! You are not doing this." She scolds herself. "This is your chance to distance yourself from anything and anyone. We are not fucking it up because we need therapy!" Violet lets out a big huff. Running her hand through her hair, and nodding. She'd just- wear this. Her normal outfit. Stripped shirt. Overall dress. Knee highs. It be fine.

Once, she enters the Inn she can see why Reina was so insistent. Everyone is there, sitting at various tables doing whatever it is- they were doing. It was bustling, it was lively...it felt like home.

"Violet!"

The Violet in question looks to see Reina rushing forward, a warm smile on her face. "You made it!" She cheers, god- she was so fucking sweet. Violet just wanted to curl up with her and pour her heart out to her. She was so wonderful, Violet can feel the smile spread.

"I told you! I wouldn't miss it!" She gives Reina a hug. Resisting the urge to melt into her arms. "But...everywhere looks so busy..." She whispers.

"Oh! Don't worry about that, just walk around and chat! Everyone kinda does their own thing, you'll find your place in time." Reina reassures. Those words- she had no idea the amount of tears Violet is holding back in that very moment.

"Y-yeah..." Violet nods, "Right." She gives Reina a nod before going over to the Eiland, Celine, Balor, Adeline, and Holt.

"Hello, Violet!" Eiland greets, his smile isn't as warm as Reina's- at least not in the same capcity. Where Reina's smile was like curling up with a blanket, in front of the fireplace on a cold winter morning? Eiland's was like the sunshine, like when you were a kid and played too hard during the summer falling to the ground and feelings the warm ground. “We’re playing Dungeons and Drama! You’re welcome to listen for a bit.” He offers.

“Yeah.” Violet nods, sitting next to Holt with a smile. Everyone introducing their characters had her smiling as she went to enjoy some of the other groups as well. She’d never tell a soul but The Bearded Bad Brad was her favorite so far.

At the next table, she played around of cards before she realized Olric was just- unbelievably lucky. She frowned, she hated loosing. And, everyone was starting to get rowdy because of his unbelievable luck. So, she politely excused herself from the table. Making her way over to the bar-

“Violet!” March said, but that was way too enthusiastic to be March. Slowly, she turned around, and it was in fact March. Or a clone of him? It had to be, standing there with the biggest smile she’d ever seen him have. Slight blush on his cheeks, “Come over here! Sit next to me!! You’re always so busy during the week!” The clone said.

“March is quite the lightweight.” Elsie speaks up. Violet looks over at the regal old woman. “But it is him, he’s a kind drunk.” She gives Violet a nod. She turns back to March.

“You’re telling me that’s not a clone?”

A roar of laughter from the bar. “No, dear.” Elsie smiles. “That very much so is March, our grumpy little blacksmith.”

“Violet!” He whines, “Come here!” He pouts even more. How could she refuse? Making her way over to the drunk March, she can’t help but smile at him. His hair was mused from him running his hands through it, his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol. His smile was contagious, especially as he realized Violet was walking toward him.

“Hi March.” She smiles gently. Her heartbeat picking up, starting to sound like a kick drum in her ears. He was so- devastatingly pretty. Up close, March looked so fucking good. His stupidly nice jawline, dazzling hazel eyes. Violet blinks- Hazel? Weren’t they black? She tries to subtly move further away, watching as the light hits them different changing the color. Making it appear a darker almost black color.

March, does not like that Violet is leaning away. He wanted to examine every part of her face. The way that her cheeks moved when she smiled, the perfect plumpness of her lips, how her eyes shimmered like jewels in the light. The purple hue catching the light like she melted down a purple sapphire and let it pool in her eyes. He also needed to know why she looked so confused, reaching a hand out he gently pressed her back into his side. “You look confused.”

“Your eyes aren’t black.” She mumbles, still looking at him like that. Almost like her gaze was pinning him to his spot.

March raises an eyebrow, smiling and letting out a small laugh. “No. They aren’t.” He grins, “Why? Do you think it make me prettier?” He says batting his perfectly dark eyelashes up at her. Violet lets out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around his broad, sturdy shoulders. Caldarus strike her down now. She was touching him. She was touching March, and he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pushing her off, she felt her stomach doing flips at the proximity.

“No, it just shocked me. They normally look black when you’re next to the forge.” She comments softly, still entranced by them. She wants to reach up, cup his cheek and tilt his head up so she can see them better.

“Mm.” March nods, leaning his head on her shoulder. Violet can feel her face heating at the action. She can feel eyes on her from the other patrons, and if she could muster a look at them she’d glare. But if she looks anywhere but firmly behind the bar, she’d explode. “Olric’s got them too.”

“Yeah?” She breathes, looking down at March. “Good to know.”

“Do you like them?” He looks back up at her. Violet’s breath hitches as she sees the swirls of green and brown in his eyes even better. The light from above emphasizing more of the green. “You look like an angel.”

Violet shakes her head. “Wh-what?” She says with a shocked laugh.

March gives her a big smile. Reaching up and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “You look like an angel. The light is like-“ He moves his hand around her face, to signal the halo of laughter around her.

She needs air. She needs space. She can’t do this- March can’t be that sweet. No matter what Elsie said, this had to be a clone of March and the real one was plotting her demise somewhere. “M-March…” Violet says quietly, taking a step back. But he frowns, pulling her back into him.

“I like when you say my name.” He mumbles. Still looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. As if he would give her the world. Violet couldn’t do this. She steps away from him, dodging his arms again.

“Goodnight March.” She whispers quickly, slapping some money down on the table to cover her food for the night and rushing out.

A/N: I know that March’s sprite has black eyes- but consider. No. Kfjjfjfksks no in all fairness I just thought it be interesting if he had hazel eyes, my brother does and they change the intensity depending on the lighting he’s in. So I thought because he’s around the forge so much it be interesting!