#chp in the stacks

[jolalibrary]

11. dusky pink

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

“You didn’t have to come to help me.”

Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”

A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”

Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”

It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”

“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”

Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.

Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.

But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.

“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”

“But...?”

Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”

Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”

“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”

Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.

Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”

Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.

Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”

His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”

“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”

He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.

“I think you could do something like this.”

Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”

“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”

Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.

“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”

Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”

“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”

It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”

“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”

Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”

“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.

Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.

Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.

Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?

If I did, was it appreciated?

I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.

I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.

Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.

See, we have our things. Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.

I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?

I think I could find something for you to sit on.

Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.

Be a good movie, though.

[SENDS PHOTO]

Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.

It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.

I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.

You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.

Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.

Yours love me.

I am very aware.

If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.

Have I told you how pretty you are today?

Such a charmer. [SENDS PHOTO]

See I knew you looked pretty.

Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.

For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.

Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.

Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.

It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.

You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.

You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—

The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.

Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.

And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”

Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.

"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”

Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.

“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”

Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.

And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.

And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.

Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.

He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.

“This one!”

Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”

His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”

Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”

“Cause of the spikey back?”

Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”

“He has a little beak too, right?”

Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"

“I’ve been doing my research.”

At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.

Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.

The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.

“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”

“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.

Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”

Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.

“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.

Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”

Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.

Think you have a new fan.

Stop, do I really?

Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.

Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.

Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?

You not sick of me?

Not even a little bit.

I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.

The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.

It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.

“He hasn’t shut up about you.”

No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.

“Yeah?”

“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”

Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”

And you ramble.

For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.

“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”

You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.

“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”

“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.

Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.

“And, really like? That’s a new one.”

“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”

Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.

A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.

But, then, he’s not anyone.

“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”

Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”

“Only if you have the space too.”

“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”

Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.

“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”

“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”

Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”

“Frankie…”

“Have I… Is it too much?”

Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.

“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”

Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”

“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”

“I’ll make sure to move it next time”

Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”

Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.

You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.

“Send me a photo—post-training.”

His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.

“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”

“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”

Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.

Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.

“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”

“Would you, though?”

Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”

“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”

Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”

“I’m glad I’m useful.”

Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”

Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”

“You sure about that?”

Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.

Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.

“Frankie…”

“Baby, why don’t we hang—“

“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”

“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”

Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”

Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Francisco!”

His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.

“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”

“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”

Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[scriberye]

A Secret Held Tight (3/?)

────────── DEMETRIAN TITUS x F!READER x CATO SICARIUS ⚠️ Romance, Pregnant!Reader Weeks after a night of celebrations, you find yourself pregnant and ready to run, only to have your plans thwarted by Titus who vows to keep you safe. Now you must navigate the complexities of falling in love, and the scrutiny of Captain Cato Sicarius. a/n: Cato makes his appearance! This could probably do with another round of editing since I was writing it between dungeon queues. chp. one / chp. two

You awaken slowly, groggy and disoriented, as the events of last night come flooding back. Your body is heavy, and your spirit drained. With a weary sigh, you sit up, a sudden wave of nausea hitting you. You clutch your stomach as you fight through it. Thankfully, nothing comes up.

Taking a moment to recover, you look around at your new quarters. The room is small and barren, save for the bed you sit on. With time and care, you could make it cozier, maybe even squeeze a bassinet in for the baby. The two doors pose a challenge though — one leads to the hall, while the other likely connects your room to Titus’.

Rising carefully, you make your way to the door and knock. There’s no response. You open it cautiously, peering inside only to find Titus’ room empty. Curious, you step through.

His room mirrors your own in its simplicity. A neatly made bed pushed up against the wall, and a desk nearby with a modest collection of books stacked in the corner, their spines worn from use.

Just as you’re about to examine the books closer, Titus enters, a tray of food balanced in his hands. He’s surprised to see you up, and he smiles. It’s awkward at best, as though he’s unsure if he’s doing it right. In truth, there haven’t been many causes to warrant smiling lately.

“Good morning,” he says, placing the tray down on his desk. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to answer him, resting a hand on your rounding belly. It wasn’t obvious yet, but you could already feel the changes. Just last night, you had steeled yourself for a life of solitude with your child. Now you were safe in the place you tried to flee — safe under an Ultramarine’s protection.

“I’m better, thank you, my lord.”

“Titus,” he corrects softly. “Please, when we’re alone, there’s no need.”

“O-of course. Titus,” you echo, testing his name on your lips. It’s strangely intimate to address him without titles, and both of you blush like bashful teenagers.

An awkward silence follows until Titus clears his throat, gesturing toward the tray. “You slept through breakfast, so I brought you some.”

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down at the desk and looking over the contents of the tray. It’s a modest feast — bread, an array of fruits, and a jug of clean water, far more than what you were accustomed to eating before. You nibble at the bread. It seemed the safest of the options for your rolling stomach.

“I informed the kitchen it was for a pregnant woman,” Titus says, sitting on the edge of his bed, “and they insisted I bring it all. You’d think I stumbled into a nest of nids with how frenzied they were.”

You laugh quietly, and Titus’ gaze softens when he looks at you. “When you’ve had your fill, you may accompany me to battle practice.”

The meal passes in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages as Titus reads through the codex astartes. You eat what you can, mindful of the persistent morning sickness that kept hounding you.

Once you’re finished, you follow Titus to the training grounds. He joins his brothers, exchanging a few words as they wait for others to join. You find a bench in a cloister that’s out of the way and settle in to watch.

The respect the other marines have for Titus is obvious, even amongst the younger brothers who look at him with open admiration. You’d heard that Titus had been demoted, though the particulars remained a mystery — details a serf wasn’t privy to. Still, losing rank did nothing to reduce their respect for him.

You brush your hand over your stomach. He’ll be a great father.

With all the brothers assembled, training begins in earnest, their first drill focusing on close-quarter combat. The sounds of power armor whirring and the grunts of exertion fill the air. And Titus is magnificent. His form, stacked with muscle and powerful, moves with grace and precision from years of training. Each swing, every punch, every move is efficient, nothing is wasted.

Every so often, his gaze drifts towards you, and when your eyes meet his, your cheeks bloom with warmth and you duck your head with an embarrassed smile. A younger brother nearly gets a hit on him while he’s distracted by you, but Titus recovers with a dodge.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure approaching, clad in gleaming blue armor — Cato Sicarius. It’s almost theatrical how the sun glints off his armor, casting a bright reflection. His piercing gaze is locked on you, and your heart races as he gets closer.

“Serf,” he says, his voice calm, yet the way he addresses you cuts deeper than any blade. It’s like an insult. You lower your head.

“My lord,” you murmur.

“I had heard Titus took on a pregnant serf. I’m disappointed to find it true.” His eyes narrow, his eyes boring into you with a strange, unsettling familiarity. “And who is the father?”

“I-I don’t know, my lord. It’s complicated,” you stammer.

Sicarius regards you with a mixture of frustration and annoyance. He doesn’t give you a moment to collect yourself. “Complicated? How do you not know?” he presses harder, his voice low and urgent. “You must have some idea.”

Your hands tremble, and you clasp them together to keep yourself from shaking. The world seems to close in; the accusations are heavy and crush the air from your lungs. Before you can muster a response, another marine strides purposefully towards you, his face stern — Titus.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is,” he declares. “What matters is her safety and well-being, and that of the child and I will take that responsibility.”

Sicarius jerks his head to face Titus with a frown. “Titus. Remember your duty. Do not let these personal matters interfere with that.”

Titus is unwavering, a bulwark against Sicarius. “I assure you, Captain, my duties are my priority. If you take issue with my decisions, we may take this to the Primarch.”

Sicarius glances once more between you and Titus, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he nods curtly. “Very well, brother,” he concedes, though his tone implies this matter is far from over. He turns and strides over to the group of marines, his voice rising in stern commands as he begins scolding and correcting their forms.

Titus sighs, relaxing as he looks down at you. “Are you alright?” he asks, jolting you back to reality.

You nod, clutching your hands protectively over your stomach. “I-I am, thank you. I feel like I can’t stop saying that…”

“There’s no need for thanks, I am happy to aid you.” Titus smiles, and this time, it seems more natural. “Do not dwell on his words, Cato has always been difficult. Come, midday meal is soon. I’ll see you to the kitchens.”

He holds out his hand, and you slip yours into his. Titus’ grip is steady and reassuring as he helps you to your help, and you take comfort in that — in him.

Later that night, after concluding evening prayer, Titus made his way towards the kitchens, planning to retrieve a meal for himself and you. He wonders what they’ll suggest you eat this time. How much did you need to eat, anyway? A million thoughts race through his mind as he rounds a corner.

From behind a column, a figure emerges and Titus stops, watching as the person hurries to him. It’s a serf, one he recognizes as serving Cato Sicarius. This can’t be good.

“Lord Titus,” the serf begins, his voice hushed and heavy with fear. “I have something important I must tell you, concerning your serf.”

Titus straightens, snapping to attention. “Speak.”

The serf hesitates, casting worried glances around as if someone might overhear him. Walls of the fortress had ears. “Captain Sicarius is the father,” he blurts out, eyes wide with fear. “I-I saw him leaving my chambers that night, and when I entered, I found her.”

A heavy silence falls upon them, thick and oppressive, as the revelation hangs in the air. The tension stretches into a long, suffering stillness. The serf wrings his hands in an attempt to calm his nerves, searching Titus’ face for any sign of emotion — and finds none.

Finally, Titus speaks, his voice cold and measured. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

With a hasty bow, the serf scurries away, gone as quickly as he appeared, leaving Titus alone with his turbulent thoughts. Titus breathes deep, his nostrils flaring. His fists clench at his sides, the knuckles turning white from the force.

That bastard.

🏷️ @danart501

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 2: Same time next week?

Series masterlist Chapter 1 here

Chp. 2 summary: Your first tutoring session with Sarah goes as expected, until Joel gets home and sends your head spinning. Rating: Teen (for now) Tags/Warnings: flirting, sexual tension, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU no outbreak Word Count: 2.4k A/N: Blown away by the response to my posts so far, thank you all so much! This story will be updated every Friday unless otherwise specified. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for this and others.

Taglist: @mysterialee

The next couple of days pass by in a flurry of jetlag. The Adlers are nice: Easy to get on with, friendly but not in a way that makes you feel like you’re living on top of them. Connie’s cooking is good, if a little repetitive, and Danny is sweet and makes you laugh, telling you stories about his youth living in Austin. Nana doesn’t speak, but she has your mum’s eyes, and you spend the evenings sitting by her in the living room, reading the stack of novels you brought with you, enjoying the easy company and warm sunlight.

You see Joel outside through the window one early morning, casually ask Connie about him as you watch him load toolboxes and ladders into the bed of his truck. One kid, Sarah, a brother who lives with him, most of the time, no wife. This last shouldn’t send a spike of something like excitement down the back of your spine, but it does. You’d just assumed he was married when he’d told you about Sarah – no wedding ring, but working in construction, that made sense.

The knowledge that there isn’t a Mrs Miller makes you re-evaluate the car journey back from the airport, the way he’d let his arm rest along the back of your seat, that teasing, mischievous glint in his eye as he’d said goodbye, promising to take you up on your offer of maths lessons for Sarah. Those thoughts keep you up late that night, pressing your thighs together beneath the thin cotton top sheet in the Adler’s guest room.

Early Sunday evening you bump into Sarah in the driveway when you get back from Walmart, equipped with a new US sim card for your mobile. She’s sweet, even prettier in real life than in the photo you saw, not at all shy like you were when you were her age.

“Dad said you’re good at math,” she says without preamble, appearing from the side of Joel’s truck, looking at you with a sideways expression that’s a mix of consideration and incredulity.

“Pretty good, yeah.” You reply, stomach jolting at the thought of Joel talking about you, even if it’s to say something as benign as how talented you are at maths. “I’d be happy to help you out with homework, or whatever, if you want. I promise I’ll try not to make it too boring.”

Sarah smiles at this, the incredulity in her face morphing into approval, or as close to approval a thirteen year old can manage.

“You coming, Sarah?” Joel says, stepping out of the front door, head down as he examines something on the phone he’s holding. “Oh,” he says, looking up and seeing you, “hey.”

“Hi.”

He’s dressed the same as he was when he picked you up from the airport; dark t-shirt over faded jeans, the knees a little worn, but he’s wearing a baseball cap today, pulling his messy curls back from his forehead. You feel a blush inching up your neck as he so obviously tries to avoid checking you out in the tiny shorts you pulled on that morning.

“How are you settling in?” He asks, moving to stand next to Sarah by the truck.

He crosses his arms against his chest and the movement draws your eyes to his biceps, struggling against the tight sleeves of his tee. There’s a thin slither of a tan line just above where his shirt naturally falls, paler skin peeking out. It makes your head swim.

You clear you throat, refocus your eyes on his face.

“Good, I think. It’s a big change, but it’s nice. Hot, though.”

“Texan summers.” He replies, “Take a bit of getting used to if you ain’t suffered through one before.”

“I’ll say.”

“Sarah’s keen on those lessons, by the way.” He puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder, shakes her about so that she giggles. “Here,” He pulls out his mobile. “You got a US number yet?”

“Just picked up a new sim, actually” You pull your own mobile out, read off your number to him so that he can put it into his phone.

“I’ll text you later on,” He says, “we’re just heading out now.”

You say your goodbyes and leave the sweltering heat of the driveway, listening to Joel’s truck start up and pull off. Inside, Mercy greets you, rests her head on your knee as you collapse onto the sofa, clutching your mobile to your chest.

True to his word, Joel texts later that evening as you’re getting ready for bed.

Glad ur settling in ok. Would Tuesday work for math with Sarah? She gets back from school around 4. Joel.

You type out several draft replies before finally sending one that matches his straight-to-the-point tone.

Thanks. Tuesday works for me. See you then.

His response doesn’t arrive until the next morning, and when it does, your stomach sinks.

Sounds great. Will just be Sarah though, I’m working late Tuesday.

It’s almost embarrassing how disappointed you are by those last four words. In your head, it had been you, Sarah and Joel around their kitchen table, Joel’s toned forearms resting on warped wood, his deep chuckle in your ear as you worked through maths problems with Sarah. This makes you feel guilty, of course, because the whole point of this exercise is helping Sarah with her maths homework, not flirting with her father.

You fall back against the pillows of your bed. Around you, the room is already starting to feel a little like home. All of your toiletries are stacked up on the dressing table, and you’ve put your clothes away into the generous walk-in closet. Your books are scattered about the room, a few on the bedside table, another pile of them next to the full length mirror. The bed sheets are cool when you slip beneath them, bare legs sliding against soft cotton.

You stare at the green-grey light of your Nokia, looking at the last text from Joel, wondering if you should reply or just leave it. Best to play it cool, you decide, but restraint’s never been your strong suit and before you can stop yourself you’re typing out a reply, hitting the send button and grinning into the pillowcase.

That’s a shame. I was looking forward to testing your addition skills.

He doesn’t reply.

*****

Tuesday rolls around, bringing unrelenting sun and a dry heat that keeps you indoors most of the day. You help Connie rearrange her DVDs – an impressive collection – and take Nana out onto the porch in the early afternoon, waiting for Sarah to get home from school.

It’s just before four when she appears at the end of the cul-de-sac, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she makes her way towards you. She’s got her school bag slung over one shoulder, jeans rolled up at the ankles, a pair of scruffy Nikes on her feet. 

“Hi, Nana, Connie,” she calls as she approaches the porch, gaze turning to you, “math whizz,” she finishes, grinning.

“Hi yourself,” you return, pushing yourself out of the deckchair, brushing crumbs off of your bare legs. You say a quick bye to the Adlers and follow Sarah up her own driveway and into the cool, still air of the Miller’s kitchen.

It’s a little disorderly: there are pots scattered on the kitchen sides, and a menagerie of clutter on the table which sits under a window, bright afternoon sunlight streaming in. Sarah dumps her school bag on this, pushes a notepad, two tape measures and a pair of mugs out of the way so that you can sit beside her.

“Okay,” she says, drawing out an exercise book and placing it in front of her, “before we get into this I need you to understand that math is my weakest subject.”

“Right,” You say, watching her serious expression as she pushes the book across the table towards you, “understood.”

“And you need to promise me you won’t judge me based solely on my algebra skills, or lack of them.”

This makes you laugh, a chuckle bubbling up out of your throat. Sarah holds your gaze, her face still serious.

“Sorry,” you say, “I mean to say, I would never judge anyone based on their maths skills.”

Sarah’s face breaks into a grin. “I’m just messing with you.” She says, laughing at the look on your face. “I am pretty bad at algebra, though.”

She’s not. You work through a dozen or so exercises, helping her when she gets stuck, showing her where she’s going wrong, but she’s actually fairly good at the calculations once you’ve explained it to her a couple of times. The afternoon goes by quickly. After two hours or so Sarah stretches in her chair, yawning.  

“You wanna stay for dinner?” She asks, pushing the exercise book away from her. “It’s just leftover chicken casserole, but there’s enough if you want some.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

You sit by as she reheats the casserole, refusing your offers of help. Instead, you look around the rest of the room, searching out little hints of Joel that are tucked about: A pair of worn leather sandals by the back door, two plaid shirts hanging on the back of the door to the living room, a battered, dog-eared copy of a drill instruction manual, well-read and ringed with coffee stains.

It’s comfortingly domestic, and it makes your chest ache a little, thinking of your mum back home in London, all the friends and familiarity you left behind. Then Sarah’s placing a hot plate of casserole in front of you, joking about the fact that you don’t look very much like a mathematician, by which she means you don’t resemble Albert Einstein.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You tell her, and she smiles.

“You should. You’re much prettier than he was.”

You help Sarah do the dishes, stacking them neatly on the side to be put away later. After, Sarah asks if you want to stay and watch a movie, and you both spread yourselves out on the sofa in the Miller’s living room, flick on the television and watch Tim Allen and Sigourney Weaver mess about in outer space.

Sarah falls asleep before the film ends, even though the sun hasn’t fully set and its barely ten. You’re debating waking her when there’s a rattling from the kitchen and the sound of the front door creaking open. Joel.

You hear him clear his throat, scrape his boots on the door mat and then his deep voice is cutting through the silence of the house. “Sarah? You still up, baby?”

Sarah shifts where she’s asleep next to you but doesn’t stir. You push yourself off the sofa, step into the kitchen. Joel’s pulling off a toolbelt from around his waist, thick fingers unbuckling the clasp in a way that makes your heart rate jump up.

“Hey,” You say, leaning against the doorframe.

He jumps, his eyes shooting up to you before recognition softens his gaze.

“Hi,” He replies, finally working the toolbelt off and letting it drop onto the worktop beside him, “I didn’t expect you to still be here. Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine. Sarah made me dinner and we watched a movie. Well, she fell asleep.”

Joel chuckles at this, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, she has a habit of doin’ that.”

“Work okay?” You ask, thinking you should probably leave him to a restful evening, not wanting to at all.

“Long,” He says, rubbing at the coarse stubble on the side of his jaw. “How did math go?”

“Good. She’s bright, just needed a little bit of guidance with it.”

“Always been switched on. Dunno where she gets it from.” He steps around the kitchen island, rolling his jacket down off of his shoulders as he goes, narrow hips winding around the island and the fridge toward you.

He pulls a ten dollar note out of his back pocket, hands it to you between two thick, calloused fingers. “For the lesson,” He says.

“You don’t have to, Joel, honestly.”

“S’only fair, darlin’” He proffers the note again and you take it, trying not to think about the way that casual darlin’ has gone straight to your head, blood rushing to your cheeks so that they feel like they’re on fire.

“She in there?” Joel asks then, nodding behind you to the lounge. “Oh, yeah,” You turn, let Joel look past you into the darkness of the living room, where Sarah is spread out on the sofa, breathing deeply, eyes flickering in the dull light from the paused DVD. 

As he leans into the room he steps toward you, the movement bringing him distractingly close, making you notice how much taller he is than you, how much broader. The t-shirt he’s wearing is stretched almost painfully across his shoulders, wear showing in the stressed seams. The patchy stubble at his jaw is longer than it was a few days ago, covering the sharpness of his jaw, the strong lines of his throat.

He looks away from Sarah’s form on the sofa then, his dark eyes flicking over your face, catching you watching him. You feel a blush creeping along your neck and up to your cheeks, and try to look away, but he’s holding your gaze, pupils wide in the dim light. Then his eyes dip down to your lips, follow the slight movement of your tongue as it worries at the edge of your mouth.

You can feel heat rolling off of him in waves and you wonder how it would be to push yourself up onto tip-toes and kiss the corner of his plush lower lip. This close, you can see the thin creases that line his eyes, the beginnings of grey in his dark eyebrows, raised slightly and pinching in the middle as he looks at you.

Your head is tilted up, your breath mingling in the dizzyingly narrow space between you. He clears his throat. You both realise, quite suddenly, how close you’re standing. Before you can say anything he’s moving back, tension breaking as he takes the white-hot heat of his body with him, leaving you flushed and dizzy.

“I should get Sarah to bed.” He says into the silence.

There’s a flush in his tanned face, painting his cheeks a deep red-brown, evidence that you aren’t alone in your distraction, in the surge of arousal that seems to be lighting you up from the inside. He runs a hand through already dishevelled hair.

“Right,” you reply, hoping he can’t hear the quaver in your throat, “I should head home.”

Outside, you rest for a moment against the wall next to the Adler’s front door.

Your heart is still thumping in your chest, each beat a reminder of the look in Joel’s eyes as he towered over you, his breath hot on your face, pupils blown wide because of the darkness, or maybe something else.

Before you get inside, your phone buzzes. The text is from Joel.

Same time next week?

You grin at the screen.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Café for Killers || 1- Lloyd Hansen

Summary: In this café, where people usually enjoy their coffee, after 12 a.m., the actual customers arrive, posing a risk to the temporary owner's life as she works here.

Character: Female Reader x Lloyd Hansen

Chp 1, Chp 2 .-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

"Thank you for coming!" 

You beamed a warm smile at the customers, your eyes crinkling at the corners. With practiced ease, you leaned down and began clearing the remnants of their meal, stacking the used dishes with a practiced clatter.

A few customers offered curt nods of appreciation, their faces etched with the weariness of late nights. They pushed open the heavy window door with a sigh, the clink of the bell announcing their departure. 

"This place is a lifesaver," one woman remarked, her voice thick with exhaustion. "Only this cafe open till midnight, and the coffee's delicious on top of that. Easy on the wallet, too."

"Sure is," her friend replied. His gaze drifted towards the back of the house, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "Wonder if the owner's managing some sleep."

"You got a crush on the owner?"** His friend chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. 

"N-no, not at all!" he stammered, a blush creeping up his neck. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, sounding a little too high-pitched. 

He glanced back at the cafe one last time, the warm glow from your window cutting through the darkness. As he checked his phone, the illuminated screen revealed the time: 12:00 AM. 

Twilight Café.

The name fits perfectly, known to students far and wide as a sanctuary for late-night studying sessions and caffeine-fueled study marathons.

But beneath its welcoming exterior lurked something darker that demanded the café stay open until the witching hour.

Behind the welcoming façade of Twilight Café, catering to the late-night needs of college students lies a perilous secret that necessitates its doors staying open until 12 a.m. each night.

This isn't merely about accommodating nocturnal study sessions; there's a far more sinister reason behind the extended hours.

As the temporary owner of Twilight Café, you find yourself grappling with a promise made in haste when your uncle unexpectedly left the business in your hands.

What was meant to be a temporary arrangement—a favor to help him during his recovery from surgery—has turned into a daunting obligation.

Your mother's insistence and your experience as a barista seemed like reason enough to step in and lend a hand. Initially, you didn't mind; there were no ill feelings as you took on the responsibility.

After all, it was family, and supporting your uncle during a difficult time felt like the right thing to do.

However, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, you began to question the true nature of your uncle's request. The moment he handed you that nondisclosure agreement and insisted you sign away any possibility of backing out until he was fully recovered, a seed of doubt was planted in your mind.

Why the need for such secrecy? What was your uncle hiding behind the guise of a simple café? 

Regret gnawed at you as you helped your uncle and he revealed the private room and second storage area. 

'Cling.' 

The ring from the back door opening echoed through the cafe, signaling that it was past 12:00 a.m.

You swiftly lowered the café's window curtains, dimming the lights to set the atmosphere.

With a mix of trepidation and resignation, you prepared the coffee for the mysterious guests in the private room. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you carefully arranged the cups on the tray, each movement precise yet tinged with nervousness.

With the tray of coffees in hand, you approached the private room, noting the presence of two burly guards stationed at the door. One of them wordlessly opened the door, allowing you entry.

As you stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted palpably. The customers here were unlike the students and employees.

They are killers, merchants, assassins.

The Twilight Café was made for these types of customers.

They gathered here under the cover of night, their presence starkly contrasted with the usual patrons. Most of the killers who come here want to enjoy coffee since most of them can't sleep, or they need a place to hide, or they want to buy a weapon. But since your uncle is still sick, the weapon store is closed.

Typically, bookings were required for their attendance, allowing you to anticipate the number of guests. Tonight, there were only four individuals, two of whom were regulars.

"Ah, my coffee has arrived. You're a lifesaver, sunshine,"  came a voice from the table.

It was Lloyd Hansen, a renowned merchant and assassin. The casualness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

With a forced smile, you nodded in acknowledgment, your body tense with discomfort. As you set down the tray, you couldn't shake the unease that washed over you, a silent reminder of the dangerous world you found yourself entangled in.

And the other one is Carmichael, his partner in crime, while the other two, you've never seen them before.

You gently placed the coffee cup down, eager to leave the room quickly. Making a small bow, you murmured, "Enjoy your coffee."

"She's really polite. I like her," Lloyd remarked while Carmichael nodded.

You offered a smile in response before swiftly exiting the room.

Returning to the front of the café, the atmosphere felt lighter and safer. You glanced at your watch, noting that you couldn't leave until 3 a.m., the designated time limit for the killers' stay.

To distract yourself, you turned to watching cooking videos, the only thing that seemed to ease your mind amidst the unsettling environment.

With noise-canceling headphones in place, you blocked out the eerie voices that had plagued you since starting work here.

On your first day, you fainted. There was a fight among the killers, and the private room, once a cozy haven for them, lay in ruins.

However, a cleaning team was swiftly dispatched to address the aftermath. They were hired specifically to handle the grisly task of cleaning up bloodstains—a chilling reminder of the dangerous world you had unwittingly become a part of.

Time passed until you felt a looming shadow behind you. It was Lloyd, standing before you. Your eyes widened, and you fought the urge to scream.

Blood was splattered across his face, his smile only adding to his menacing appearance.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I made a mess. Those two didn't agree with me. You know I don't like that," Lloyd explained.

You nodded, unable to find your voice.

Lloyd chuckled at your reaction, finding amusement in your fear, likening you to a cute puppy.

"No worries, I've called the cleaning team," he continued, handing you a white envelope. "Here's the money for the repairs."

Great, you didn't have to enter the private room and witness what had occurred inside.

"Oh," he added, retrieving his wallet and pulling out $100 bills. "Here's a tip for the delicious coffee." He put the money in front of you.

"I'll see you again soon." With a wink, Lloyd left through the backdoor, leaving you to contemplate the surreal encounter.

As soon as he closed the door, you collapsed, overwhelmed. "Oh my god," you muttered under your breath.

‘PING’

Then, a notification pinged from the system, interrupting your relieved moment. Another customer for tomorrow—a killer.

You sighed heavily, frustration building inside you. This is the life of a temporary owner of a café for killers.

Who's going to be the next killer coming to the cafe?

You could decide which character and skills each character possesses.

The character with the most replies and reblogs will be the next customer.

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.7 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 6. Chapter 8.

Grief

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, Grief, Loss, talk of dead friend, death, crying, emotional break down, talk of unfair treatment of clones, Rex is a SWEETHEART, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag List (Thank you for liking my writing <3): @arctrooper69 @heavenseed76 @ghostlyembassy

Announcement: Field Surgeon Ferrum of the 107th legion has fallen in battle.

Service to be held in 3 standard rotations on Coruscant, Republic military base

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. All medical personnel in the GAR were connected via networks and communications. It was to keep tabs on the overall health of the army and swap medical advice. You didn’t know every single doctor and medic, but you knew this one. 

Doctor Ferria Ferrum. A fierce, hard working togruta with a bit of a sarcastic streak. You worked with them at your former hospital on Coruscant, before the war. They left to join the army before you. You hadn’t seen them since they left that day, but you’ve exchanged messages if the holo allowed. 

“Doctor?” Kix’s hand was on your shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Oh. right. You opened the holo on your desk in the medical bay. With a nod, you closed the message, “...Yes, I am.” You stood, meeting Kix’s eye, “I’m alright.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but nodded anyway, “If you need a minute to…grieve…”

You took a deep breath to steady your emotions, “No, I’m good to work. If I need to step away, I will.”

The two of you returned to work. There were still many injured from the second battle of Geonosis. Many to the point where The Resolute had to dock at a medical space station. Not to mention Ahsoka’s run-in with a brain-invading worm.

The poor girl has a fever and chills from freezing an entire ship to slow the parasites down. 

It was clear, you couldn’t go to the memorial service. There was too much to do. You’d have to grieve alone this time. 

As you made your rounds, you tried not to think about it. You were at war, losses were expected. You needed to steel your heart and keep going. 

So you did. 

That was, until Ahsoka mentioned something, “Doctor..?” She mumbled, “Are you ok?” The padawan was buried under blankets, and the fever medicine made her drowsy. Her eyes were half closed from sleepiness, “You seem…sad.”

“How do you know I'm sad?” you asked, keeping your voice as calm as you could. Right now, you were replenishing the fluid IV that you gave the togruta.

“The Force.” was her blunt response. 

Damnit.

You frowned as you checked her temperature, “I was just informed a colleague of mine had died in battle,” Your eyes were focused as you prepared medicine to ease her fever, “And there’s too much to do here for me to go to Coruscant for the memorial.”

Ahsoka matched your frown, “You should go.” 

“I have a responsibility here,” You gave her a small, hollow smile, “Besides, I prefer being here. With you, Rex, Anakin and the other soldiers.”

The padawan nodded slowly, shifting to lay on her side, “Everyone is glad you're here…with the 501st.”

For some reason, her words twisted your heart and made tears blur your vision. Maybe the shock finally wore off and the grief hit you. Maybe it was just the fact that the teen was honest and pure in her words. Maybe it was a reassurance that you unknowingly needed about your place among the troopers. 

Either way, you had to turn and wipe away your tears, “Thank you, Ahsoka…” your voice cracked before you cleared your throat, “Get some rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you.”

She nodded groggily before you hurried from the medical bay. You needed to get away from anything medicine related. It reminded you too much of the places where you and Ferria spent time together.

You managed to find an empty storage area. Armor and helmets were stacked neatly on shelves, but you paid it all no mind.

The door was closed and a hand was over your mouth to cry in less than a minute. You leaned against the door, sinking to the floor to weep as quietly as you could. The tears felt hot against your skin as your sadness overwhelmed you, clouding your mind. 

You gave yourself 10 minutes. 10 minutes to cry. 10 minutes to let yourself feel. 

Then you had to get back-

“-Half of the doctors on this station are leaving for this damn service.” 

Through the metal door, you could hear the passing words of several troopers. Despite your state, you listened. 

“The 212th medic is leaving too, it's ridiculous. All because they’re a nat-born.” 

“If that doctor was a clone, no one would bat an eye-”

Their words faded off into nothing as they passed the door and continued down the hall. It hurt, knowing how they left. 

But they were right.

How many clones died on the field only to be forgotten? How many good troopers had perished to be left to rot in the dirt? 

They were right. If Ferria wasn’t a torgruta, if they were a clone, this service wouldn’t be happening on Coruscant. Their body would have been left behind, to remain on some unknown planet. 

 If you fell in battle, you’d be given a memorial. Your body would be collected if possible and you’d be given a proper burial. All because you were nat-born. An outsider among clones. Your status gave you special treatment and power you didn’t mean to have.

It wasn’t fair. You knew that.

But it still hurt to hear. 

At some point you moved away from the door, leaning against the wall. The cold metal felt icy on your skin as you let your tears fall. You stopped weeping, just staring ahead to cry silently. 

You had to return to work. After all, there were probably some troopers who needed bandages changed, or painkillers to sleep as they healed. Kix could handle it, but it was your job. You couldn’t shut down because of Ferria’s death. The clones weren’t allowed to break, so why should you?

Maker, it was hard to move.

Your motivation was shot. All you needed was just���a few minutes to recharge. Process. That's all…

You could hear the steps and mumbles of the soldiers as they passed through the hall. The galaxy was moving on as if nothing happened. In the grand scheme of the war and life, it was true. That was the reality of it all. 

Ferria was a small piece in this war. And for the first time in a while, you asked yourself a single question.

What’s the point of all of this?

“What should we do? A holo-card maybe?” You opened your eyes, hearing the discussion between two more troopers. Seemed everyone on the ship and medical station were talking about the funeral service. 

Ferria was well liked at the hospital. Perhaps they made a lot more friends in the army than you thought. 

The other one didn’t sound entirely interested in the conversation, “Nothing. I’m sure the doc is fine. They probably didn’t even know that field surgeon.”

“But we don’t know that! Why not-”

“Whatever it is you two are doing, move on.” Rex’s voice cut between the troopers like a knife, “Get to your duties.” 

“Yes sir.” 

After a few moments, the door to the storage closet opened. You looked up, coming face-to-face with the captain of the 501st. He had sympathy written all over his face. 

“Hi.” you croaked, “I’m sorry, I know I should get back to the medical bay, I just needed a minute.”

He closed the door and locked it behind him before stepping towards you to sit down, “It's alright. Kix is handling it. Are you ok?”

You nodded, feeling a deep pain in your chest.

“I want the truth.” he deadpanned. 

Slowly, you shook your head, “Not really, no. Ferria was a friend of mine.” The Captain wanted honesty and you didn’t feel the need to lie to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Rex put a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. 

“No, I’m sorry. Half the doctors on the medical station are leaving,” you murmured, “So for the next few rotations the troopers need to wait longer for medical care. And I know that’s upsetting them.”

Rex gave you a confused and concerned look. 

“I overheard some of them talking.” You informed the Captain, “So it’s a good thing I’m staying, I suppose.”

The Captain sighed, “If you feel the need to go-.”

“It’s not fair.” You snapped, vision blurring, “No, it's not fair.” Tears streamed down your cheeks again, “Ferria gets a memorial. A whole funeral, but what about the soldiers they died with? What about the clones!?” You figured out the agony that's settled in your chest.

It was guilt.

Guilt for mourning so deeply. Guilt for Ferria’s special treatment. Guilt for knowing when you died, you’d have the same respectful ceremony while the clones would be forgotten. 

“I mean, here I am, crying like a child after losing one person” You hissed, anger and frustration burning you as much as the grief did, “Meanwhile, how many brothers did you lose on Geonosis!? How many of those good men will get the same respect? A funeral? A memorial service?” 

The 501st captain remained silent, worry clear in his brown eyes as you ranted.

“It's not fair to you or anyone else for me to fall apart. I can’t-!” Your emotional rambling was stopped abruptly by Rex pulling you into a tight hug. You were taken off guard for a second before wrapping your arms around him to return the embrace. 

“Don’t use your energy crying over the memorials and funerals we won't get,” Rex murmured, “Use your energy to remember those of us who fall in battle. Remember their names. Who they were.” 

Your crying started up again, and you buried your face into the plastoid of his shoulder. He was warm. Warm and protective. You felt safe enough to break apart in his arms.

“It’s alright to grieve for your comrade, just as I grieve for my brothers.” His tone was patient and kind as he whispered to you, “Don’t shove away your feelings for our benefit. It’s alright to feel this way, just like you always tell us when we’re overwhelmed, hurt or upset.” 

Of course he’d use your own words on you. On several occasions he’d witness you calm a trooper down from a panic attack. Or wipe their tears as they cried from a nightmare or loss. You’d always say the same thing as you comforted them.

It’s alright to feel this way.

Rex let you cry out your grief. You shook and sobbed as he ran his hands up and down your back. 

The sting of loss was a painful one. He knew that all too well. But he kept his head held high, in order to be strong for the rest of his brothers.

You tried to do the same.

He held you tightly, keeping you close for all long as you needed. Luckily, he locked the door so no one could intrude on such a vulnerable moment. 

Minutes later you took a calming breath, pulling away to wipe away your tears. After a second you used your sleeve to dry the wet spot on his armor, “Sorry, I cried on your armor.”

Rex snorted, “It’s fine. There's been worse on this plastoid.”

You let out a soft laugh, looking at him. Perhaps it was how tired your brain was, but you broke into exhausted giggles. He did as well, though, most likely faking it to make you feel better. His arms were still loosely around you, not quite realizing how nice it made you feel. 

“Thank you,” you croaked, regretfully pulling away. Rex stood, offering you a hand, which you took.

He gave you a soft and understanding look, “Are you going to be alright?” He had a hand on your upper arm, giving a comforting squeeze. 

With a nod, you rubbed the back of your neck, “I will be. I just…needed a few minutes.” You took a deep breath, “I’m good now. Again, thank you Rex.”

His eyes were on you, but after a second he nodded, “Alright…But if you need anything, find me.” 

Your smile was small and hollow, “You as well, for anything, ok?” You walked to the door and opened it. The hallway was bright compared to the dark storage room you had found shelter in, giving you pause to let your eyes adjust. With another sigh, you stepped out and made your way back to the medical bay. 

As soon as you returned, you were met with quiet. Injured, recovering clones were asleep. Ahsoka was out cold from both the fever and the medicine. Kix was stocking up one of the cabinets, and he gave you a nod in greeting when you arrived.

Once you returned to your desk, you were greeted with a folded piece of flimsi. On it were the written words of ‘Sorry for Your Loss.’

You took the card in your hands and opened in. inside were the signed names of so many soldiers. Among them were the names of General Skywalker and Admiral Yularen.

Jesse, Kix, Oddball, Fisher, Jamie, Reign, Redeye, Hardcase, Echo, Fives, and countless more…

Your fingers traced over the written letters, a smile on your lips. You read them all, feeling your heart become lighter with each name. 

“Thank you, Kix.” You looked up at him, “Thank you.”

He smirked, not looking away from the bottles in his hands before putting them away, “You can thank the Captain. It was his idea, he got the announcement too and remembered you knew Dr.Ferrum.”

You looked back at the card, thumb ghosting over one more name, written neatly near the center. 

Rex.

[callsigns-haze]

Short love: Chp 2

The time moving slow

Summary: The is about widowed father Bradley Bradshaw who enlists his brother-in-law Jake Seresin and childhood best friend Robert Floyd to help raise his three daughters, eldest Donna Jo Margaret (D.J for short), middle child Stephanie and youngest Michelle in his San Diego home. 

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Warning: Fluff, flirting

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the nursery as Y/n stirred awake. Stretching her arms above her head, she let out a contented sigh before turning her attention to the crib beside her.

There, nestled amongst the blankets, lay baby Michelle, her chubby cheeks flushed with sleep as she stirred awake. With a smile, Y/n reached down and gently lifted her niece into her arms, cradling her close as she cooed softly.

"Good morning, little one," Y/n whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Michelle's forehead. "Time to wake up and start the day."

Michelle gurgled happily in response, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp at Y/n's fingers as she blinked sleepily up at her aunt.

With a tender smile, Y/n carried Michelle out of the nursery and into the bathroom, where she began to fill the tub with warm water. Setting Michelle down on the bathroom counter, she quickly undressed her, giggling at the baby's delighted squeals as she kicked her feet in excitement.

"Alright, sweetie, time for your bath," Y/n said, her voice filled with warmth as she lowered Michelle into the tub, the warm water enveloping her tiny body.

Michelle splashed happily in the water, her laughter filling the room as Y/n gently washed her hair and body, careful to keep the soap out of her eyes.

As Y/n prepared the bath for Michelle, she filled the tub with warm water, ensuring it was just the right temperature for her precious niece. With gentle hands, she undressed Michelle, revealing her chubby little body and golden locks of hair that shone in the soft morning light.

Taking a washcloth and a bottle of gentle baby shampoo, Y/n wet Michelle's hair, lathering it up with care. The sweet scent of the shampoo filled the air as she worked her fingers through Michelle's silky strands, massaging her scalp with tender affection.

With each pass of the washcloth, Y/n meticulously washed Michelle's tiny body, paying special attention to every crease and fold. She hummed a soft tune as she worked, the sound filling the room with a sense of calm and tranquility.

Michelle cooed and giggled in response, her eyes sparkling with delight as she splashed in the warm water. Y/n couldn't help but smile at the sight, her heart overflowing with love for her adorable niece.

Once Michelle's hair and body were clean and fresh, Y/n carefully lifted her out of the tub and wrapped her in a fluffy towel. Gently patting her dry, she savored the feeling of Michelle's soft skin against her own, cherishing the precious moments they shared together.

With Michelle dressed in a cute little outfit, Y/n lifted her onto her hip, feeling the warmth of her tiny body against her own as they made their way down to the kitchen. The soft patter of Michelle's feet against Y/n's side filled the air as they descended the stairs together.

As they reached the kitchen, Y/n's heart swelled with gratitude at the sight before her. There, standing at the stove with a spatula in hand, was Jake, a proud smile on his face as he flipped pancakes with practiced ease.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Jake greeted them, his eyes lighting up as Y/n and Michelle entered the room. "I thought I'd whip up some breakfast for my two favorite girls."

Y/n couldn't help but return Jake's smile, feeling a warmth spread through her at his thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Jake," she said, her voice filled with appreciation as she settled Michelle into her high chair.

As Jake plated up a stack of pancakes and poured a glass of juice for Y/n, she couldn't help but marvel at the sense of family and love that filled the kitchen. Despite the early hour, there was an undeniable warmth and joy in the air, a testament to the bond they shared as a family.

With Michelle giggling happily in her high chair, Y/n and Jake sat down at the table together, savoring the simple pleasure of a homemade breakfast and the company of loved ones. And as they shared a meal together, Y/n couldn't help but feel grateful for the moments of happiness and togetherness that filled their home each day.

As Y/n and Jake sat down at the table together, the aroma of freshly cooked pancakes filling the air, there was a comfortable silence between them. But as they began to eat, the silence was broken by the soft clinking of utensils against plates, and soon, conversation flowed naturally between them.

"So, Jake," Y/n began, her voice gentle as she took a bite of her pancakes. "It's been a while since we've seen each other, hasn't it?"

Jake nodded, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips as he remembered the last time they had shared a moment like this. "Yeah, it has," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "Five years, to be exact."

Y/n couldn't help but feel a flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the mention of their last encounter. "I can't believe it's been that long," she admitted, her voice soft with reminiscence.

Jake's gaze softened as he met Y/n's eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. "Yeah, me neither," he agreed, his tone filled with warmth. "But I'm glad we're here now, sharing this moment together."

Y/n nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over her at Jake's thoughtful words. "Me too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the memories of their past encounters lingering in the air like a bittersweet reminder of the bond they shared. And as they finished their pancakes and cleared the table together, Y/n couldn't help but feel hopeful for the future, grateful for the chance to reconnect with Jake after so many years apart.

As they finished their breakfast, Jake rose from the table with a smile, collecting the plates and utensils to start cleaning up the kitchen. "I've got this, Y/n," he offered, his tone warm and reassuring. "You go ahead and relax."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at Jake's kindness, feeling a wave of appreciation wash over her. "Thank you, Jake," she said, her voice filled with gratitude as she leaned back in her chair.

As Jake worked at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of their meal, he couldn't help but steal glances at Y/n, his heart racing with anticipation. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he cleared his throat and turned to her with a hesitant smile.

"So, Y/n," he began, his voice slightly nervous. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you... single?"

Y/n's cheeks flushed pink at Jake's question, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. But she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest at the implication behind his words.

"Yeah, I am," she replied, her voice soft but steady as she met Jake's gaze. "Why do you ask?"

Jake's smile widened at her response, his heart soaring with hope. "Well, I was just thinking... maybe we could catch up sometime," he suggested, his tone hopeful. "You know, go out for coffee or something."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at Jake's invitation, her lips curving into a smile as she nodded eagerly. "I'd like that," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "I'd really like that."

And as they stood together in the kitchen, surrounded by the remnants of their breakfast and the warmth of their shared connection, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the possibilities that lay ahead. With Jake by her side, she knew that anything was possible, and she couldn't wait to see where their journey would take them.

------

As Y/n left for work, leaving Jake and the others in charge of baby Michelle for the first time, the men exchanged nervous glances, uncertainty written all over their faces. "Uh, Jake, do you know how to change a diaper?" Bob asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Jake furrowed his brow, racking his brain for any knowledge he might have on the subject. "Well, I've seen Y/n do it a few times," he admitted, his tone uncertain. "But I've never actually done it myself."

Bob nodded in understanding, a similar sense of unease gnawing at him. "Me neither," he confessed, his voice tinged with anxiety.

With a determined nod, Jake squared his shoulders, steeling himself for the task at hand. "Alright, well, how hard can it be, right?" he said, trying to sound confident.

Together, they approached Michelle's crib, where she lay babbling happily to herself. Taking a deep breath, Jake reached down to unfasten her diaper, only to realize they were completely unprepared.

"Uh, Bob, did Y/n leave any diapers out?" Jake asked, panic creeping into his voice.

Bob shook his head, his eyes widening in realization. "I don't think so," he replied, his tone filled with resignation.

With no diapers in sight, Jake and Bob exchanged a look of desperation. "We'll have to improvise," Jake declared, his voice determined.

Scouring the kitchen for supplies, they finally settled on using kitchen paper and a plastic bag as makeshift alternatives. With clumsy hands and bated breath, they attempted to change Michelle, fumbling with the unfamiliar task as they tried to keep her calm.

Despite their best efforts, their makeshift diaper proved to be less than ideal, and they ended up with a mess on their hands. But through it all, they persevered, their determination unwavering as they worked together to care for Michelle.

And as they finally managed to clean her up and settle her back into her crib, Jake and Bob exchanged a weary but proud smile. Though they may have struggled, they had risen to the challenge, proving that with a little ingenuity and a lot of determination, anything was possible.

As Stephanie returned home, she couldn't help but notice the chaotic scene unfolding in the living room. Her confusion grew as she spotted Michelle, her baby sister, lying in her crib without a diaper.

"Um, guys, what's going on?" Stephanie asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she approached Jake and Bob.

Jake and Bob exchanged sheepish glances, their cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught in their moment of diaper-changing desperation. "Uh, Steph, it's a long story," Jake began, his voice tinged with awkwardness.

Before he could continue, Stephanie cut him off, a knowing look dawning on her face as she spotted the diaper bag sitting out in the open. "You guys forgot the diaper bag, didn't you?" she asked, her tone amused but exasperated.

Jake and Bob nodded sheepishly, unable to meet Stephanie's gaze as they admitted to their oversight. "Yeah, we kinda, uh, improvised," Bob confessed, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

Stephanie couldn't help but chuckle at their predicament, shaking her head in amusement. "Well, next time, maybe remember the essentials," she teased, her tone light but teasing.

With a sigh, she retrieved the diaper bag and handed it to Jake and Bob, a smile playing on her lips. "Here, you'll probably need this," she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Jake and Bob accepted the diaper bag with grateful smiles, feeling a sense of relief wash over them at the sight of familiar supplies. "Thanks, Steph," Jake said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Stephanie waved off their thanks with a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't mention it," she replied, her tone teasing. "Just try not to cause too much chaos while I'm gone, okay?"

With a playful wink, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving Jake and Bob to clean up their makeshift mess and tend to Michelle's needs with the proper supplies. And as they got to work, they couldn't help but feel grateful for Stephanie's understanding and support, knowing that with her help, they could handle anything that came their way.

As Stephanie disappeared down the hallway, her teasing words echoing in the air, Jake and Bob couldn't help but exchange amused glances. Her quick wit and playful banter, despite her young age, never failed to amuse them.

"Man, that kid's got some sass," Bob remarked, a grin spreading across his face as he shook his head in amusement.

Jake chuckled in agreement, his laughter echoing Bob's sentiments. "Yeah, she definitely takes after her sister," he replied, his tone fond but amused.

The two men shared a laugh at Stephanie's expense, marveling at her precociousness and the way she effortlessly charmed everyone around her. Despite the chaos of the moment, her humor had managed to lighten the mood and bring a smile to their faces.

And as they set about cleaning up their makeshift mess and attending to Michelle's needs with the proper supplies from the diaper bag, they couldn't help but feel grateful for the lively spirit and infectious laughter that filled their home. With Stephanie around, there was never a dull moment, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, signaling the end of the school day, the front door swung open to reveal ten-year-old DJ, her stomach rumbling with hunger after a long day of classes.

"Hey, guys!" DJ called out as she entered the house, her voice echoing through the hallway.

Jake and Bob glanced up from their respective tasks, their attention shifting from Michelle to DJ as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Hey, DJ! How was school?" Jake asked, a warm smile on his face as he greeted his niece.

DJ grinned, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her uncle. "It was great, but I'm starving!" she exclaimed, her stomach growling audibly in agreement.

Jake's smile widened at DJ's enthusiasm, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern as he glanced back at Michelle, who was happily playing in her crib. With Y/n still at work, he knew they needed to juggle caring for Michelle while also attending to DJ's needs.

"Alright, DJ, let's get you something to eat," Jake said, his tone determined as he scooped Michelle up into his arms.

As Jake tended to Michelle, Bob hesitantly stepped forward, eager to help in any way he could. "Uh, DJ, is there anything specific you want for lunch?" he asked, his voice tentative.

DJ shrugged, her attention focused on Michelle as she cooed and babbled in Jake's arms. "I'm not sure. Surprise me!" she replied, her tone lighthearted.

With a nod, Bob set about rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator, searching for inspiration as he tried to come up with a suitable meal for DJ. After a few minutes of deliberation, he settled on making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, a classic comfort food that he hoped would satisfy her hunger.

As Bob got to work in the kitchen, Jake settled Michelle into her high chair, making sure she had plenty of toys to keep her entertained while they prepared lunch. With DJ chatting away happily beside them, the kitchen was soon filled with the comforting aroma of melting cheese and simmering soup, a tangible reminder of the love and care that went into every meal they shared together.

And as they sat down to eat, laughter and conversation filling the air, Jake couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and gratitude for the makeshift family they had created. Despite the challenges they faced and the obstacles they had yet to overcome, there was an undeniable sense of warmth and joy in their home, a testament to the bonds of love and friendship that held them together.

As the afternoon wore on, Y/n finally returned home from work, her exhaustion evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. But as she stepped through the front door and into the warm embrace of her family, her weariness melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that could only be found in the presence of loved ones.

With Jake and Bob by her side, and DJ and Michelle playing happily nearby, Y/n knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be. And as they settled in together for a cozy evening at home, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple moments of happiness and togetherness that filled their lives each day.

With Jake, Bob, DJ, and Michelle by her side, Y/n knew that no matter what challenges they faced or obstacles they encountered, they would always have each other. And as they laughed and played and shared in the joys of family life, she couldn't help but feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude for the love and laughter that filled their home each and every day.

As the sun set on another day, casting a warm glow over their little corner of the world, Y/n couldn't help but feel hopeful for the future that lay ahead. With her family by her side, she knew that anything was possible, and she couldn't wait to see where life would take them next.

And as they gathered together for a cozy evening at home, surrounded by the warmth and love of family, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over her. For in that moment, she knew that no matter what challenges they faced or obstacles they encountered, they would always have each other. And that was more than enough to fill her heart with joy and gratitude, now and forevermore.

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

@rosiahills22

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

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@senawashere

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@itsmytimetoodream

@jessicab1991

@ahh-chickens

[onelatenight-longago]

Stepping Into the (Spot) Light

Warnings/Tags: Fem!Reader, Depictions of Violence and Torture, semi-soft Buggy, he's a danger but also a marshmallow of a man, life on the Big Top, becoming one of the crew, sexual tension and teasing, romance, finding freedom and found family

Description: Buggy plays the hero just the one time and now he's a got a new crew member who will change everything for him.

A/N: I'm going to double post this story, first in 1st person then again in 2nd person.

Chp. [1] [2] - First Person Chp. [1] [2] - Second Person (below)

You awoke on a soft bed, its satin red sheets wrapped gently around you. The room was dark, lit only by a small candle on the bedside table but it did not matter. You were too exhausted, too worn down and weary to focus on much more. Your body ached and your mind was clouded. All you could do was take in the warmth of the bed around you, and the smell of smoke, paint, and the faint scent of sweet apples. 

You had never known comfort like this and settled yourself deeper into the soft bed.

Too soon you were interrupted by a burly looking man busting through the door. “Wear this and come to the ring, you’ve got five minutes.” He spoke gruffly, throwing clothes down on the bed then turning and quickly stomping out, barely even looking in your direction.

Your heart slammed its way into your throat, the events prior now fully flooding back into your mind. Your escape from Wasp, the curious red smoke that crawled its way through town, the man who called out to you as you faded into unconsciousness. You had no clue where you were but the bonds Wasp had on you were gone and your cuts and scraps were carefully dressed and you were laid down comfortably in a bed so divine you were sure you were dead and in the afterlife. You should have been scared, surely waking up in a strange place. But instead you felt excited, the anticipation of what laid beyond this room drove you to your feet. The clothes thrown onto the bed were as equally beautiful as the bed you had found yourself in. It was a shimmering dress, tattered in all the right spots as to look nearly intentional. Fishnet tights, that the sight of made a blush crawl across your face. A red and white striped bandana and black boots, rough and well worn. 

You dressed quick enough and with a deep breath you opened the door, unsure of what lay ahead but certain that it was far better than being Wasp’s captive. 

As you wandered down the long walkway, clearly makeshift and surrounded by tattered canvas, it became clearer and clearer that you were in some circus tent. The myriad of people you had passed, barely sparing you a glance, were all dressed in either wild show costumes or jester-like outfits ranging from simple to intricate. The shouting of orders and questions and answers all around  you had begun to become overwhelming so you picked up your pace, following the winding walkway, hardly paying mind to the branching rooms.  

When you finally came to the end, faced with a canvas entryway, someone had finally stepped out and spoke to you. 

“You can wait in here.” A man stepped up, his green hair and absurdly large checkered scarf catching you off guard. “Come, there is tea laid out.” He stepped past you separating the canvas curtains and holding them open for you, gesturing for you to step through into the small room. “Please, sit and relax. I will be back soon to show you to your seat.” Without so little more an explanation he walked out the way you had come and you were left to take in your surroundings.

The room seemed small if only because it was stacked with so much equipment there was barely room for the plush couch and table sat off to the one side. As you made yourself comfortable and began to fix yourself a cup of tea you looked around, taking in the sight of unicycles, juggling pins, ropes and rigs of all sorts, silks and fabrics, whips and canes, torches, stands, platforms, mats, and so on and so forth. All the makings of any other traveling circus. 

It occurred to you that you supposed host was the clown-looking man who you had silently begged after Wasp’s torture. You wondered who he was, his image vaguely familiar. Clearly a clown, this was his circus, and the green-haired man mentioned coming back to show you to your seat. You sipped gently on the hot tea, conflicted on whether you should be anxious or excited. You settled on both, steeling yourself, resolving to keep your guard up but also resigning to just go along with whatever lay ahead.  You were free of Wasp, and though that meant potentially falling into the hands of another similar situation, you were interested in seeing where this silly little circus went. 

You were content with your pot of tea, cozy sofa, and more pillows than any one person should ever have on a sofa, so when your peace was interrupted by the green-haired man’s reappearance you shrugged the sense of comfort off and readied yourself. 

“If you’d like to follow me?” The man asked primly with a slight bow, he crossed the room and untied another canvas opening, holding the one curtain back and gesturing you through. With caution you followed his cue, stepping into a darkened room that was incredibly spacious. This must be the main event space. The man gestured to you to follow him and you soon found yourself settled into a plush wingback chair.

“Best seat in the house.” The man said with a smile before taking his leave. You sat and looked out, your eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness and seeing the empty circus ring form. It wasn’t long before the music started up and performers began pouring from what seemed every corner of the big top. You were entranced as you watched fire breathers stalk the edges while acrobats tumbled around them. Closer towards the center were the jugglers all juggling a mix of pins, knives, and lit torches. Just beyond them was another ring, this one with sword swallowers. Above it all aerial acrobats were swinging and tossing each other without a care. And in the very center of the ring was a lion standing amid a platform just big enough for it, while a tamer with a whip and chair antagonized the snarling and snapping beast. 

You watched on, your eyes tracking the fluid movement from act to act. You couldn’t help the smile spread across your face so wide it nearly hurt. You clapped and laughed and hollered, you had never seen such a show before. As the music crescendoed your breath caught in your throat, the acts had begun to pick up their pace and their stunts became more dangerous. You were in complete awe and wonder at their skillmanship. On the top of the crescendo, the lights fell while the performers continued on. The light of all the torches fire breathers instantly changed the mood of the show, the wonder of it all now had a darker and sharper edge to it. Slowly the performers cleared from the center of the ring and you watched on, nearly half out of seat, as a form began to build itself in the center. Before you could even begin to wrap your mind around what you had seen, the spotlights all immediately flickered on and zeroed in on the man in the center. 

It was the man whose eyes you met across the roadway as you lay gasping in pain in the dirt. He was smiling, something razor sharp but delighted all in the same expression. You threw yourself from your seat and clapped and hollered wildly as he spread his arms, clearly displaying himself as the curator of the wonderful show you had just had the pleasure of watching. 

“Thank you, thank you!” The man shouted, bowing dramatically. “However, this was but only the first act.” With a snap of his fingers his performers, all as one, ceased their acts and moved to the outer edge of the ring. Their smiles morphing into something more vicious. Slowly the house lights began to raise and it was then you noticed that you were not the only audience this show had. Off to the side in a set of bleachers, all chained and gagged was Wasp and his crew.

[angst-king]

A man by many names Pt 10

(Can't believe we've made it to chp 10 ^-^ hope you like it so far) (CW mentions vomit, description of panic attack, bullying/torture) There was something familiar about you and your name, to Katsuki. It was clear you weren’t Izuku’s biological child, but why would he adopt a random kid? Why did your name sound like he’d heard it before?

“Hey Katsuki you wanted to look into the latest missing child case, right? Here” A small stack of papers was set beside him letting him know a file had been sent to his computer as well. He checked it out. They needed him to unscramble the photos used for the missing child poster. As he worked he watched the pieces come together, each set of pixels was like puzzle pieces being connected. Slowly with time the image became clearer, he furrowed his brows in disbelief. Now he knew why you looked familiar. But that didn’t answer why you were with Izuku, why would he take a child? Then he remembered the broadcast, he was the villain, and Izuku was Devour! He said that you had come to him after being kicked out, but could Katsuki truly believe that? Why would he take an interest in you all because you ran up to him for help? Why go through all this trouble for you?

It was a late night on patrol, and Katsuki wanted answers, he god damn it he was gonna get’em! He remembered Izuku’s route, and this time came on a less busy patrol time in hopes that would lure Izuku to him. He didn’t know much about Izuku’s villainy, he kept himself pretty low profile until now. No one had true reports of his appearance or witnesses of what he had done before all of this! He had heard around the area rumors about him or what might be him. Many locals said there was a person leaving mangled body parts. Very few reports spoke of seeing a tall figure hovered over a body. All he’d have to do is wait!

So he did, and it seemed like clockwork that he came around 1 am. A tall figure hopped from a roof and into the alleyway, the light jingle of the bag’s zippers echoed. The feet padded around until Katsuki turned on his flashlight. Yup even through the mask and hoodie he recognized those green eyes anywhere!

“Izuku?” Izuku froze and sneered, preparing to run in a moment’s notice, he put his guard ready to fight. Katsuki held his hands up defensively as he got closer.

“Ey ey I’m not gonna arrest you or whatever, I’ve just got questions.” Izuku backed towards the wall glaring daggers at Katsuki.

“No, i’m not answering shit” Then Katsuki grabbed him by the shoulder again to keep him from running and yanked in towards himself. He saw a look of fear flash in Izuku’s eyes, then a fist collided with his stomach. He let go before a set of teeth could come down on his wrist again.

“Shit that fucking hurts, what the fuck don’t bite me, you asshole!” “Don’t fucking grab me next time bitch.” Izuku spat and tried to get away again but this time Katsuki grabbed him by the bag swung him around into a corner and towered over him.

He grits his teeth in frustration, staring down at the green-haired man, and blocks his path.

“You either answer me or I arrest you.”

“Oh? For what?” Izuku asked snidely

“For withholding the missing child (y/n)” Izuku froze and looked up at him. He quickly tried to compose himself as anger coursed through him.

“And why do you think I have them?” “Because I fixed the photos they have of them, and they match the name and face of the child with you the other day.” With that information Izuku tried anything he could to get away, he didn’t want to tell Katsuki anything. He would probably have him arrested no matter what he told him. That bastard created years of his suffering, why in the hell would he cooperate now?

“Look I won't turn you in if you answer my questions, I won't say a damn word to anyone.” “And why should I trust you or give a damn?” Izuku asked bitterly being arrested in and of itself wasn’t the bad part. It was leaving you without anyone, of course, it had been set up that if anything happened then Dabi and Toga would look after you but. He knew neither of them could do it for very long.

“I want to help” Izuku ‘tch’ed and chuckled rolling his eyes at the blond’s proclamation.

“Yeah, you? Help? Don’t joke, you’re bad at them.” “I’m serious Izuku, I know you did the broadcast, and hearing just the confession from that sick fuck made me wanna vomit…How they could do something like that to a child.” “Yeah yeah, you’re real concerned, you’re still the same guy who tortured me for the majority of my childhood, so why would I trust you with that information? It seems like you haven’t changed either. Still a loud-mouth lunatic who has no respect for anyone.” Izuku squirmed and writhed beneath Katsuki, trying to find a weak spot to exploit so he could get away but Kasuki wouldn’t let him.

“Look I know I was horrible back then but, come on, its my job, and my kid’s friends with yours.” Izuku huffed, he knew Katsuki wouldn’t let him go until he answered him, just like in middle school.

“Fine.”

They sat down on the pavement to talk since Izuku refused to feel caged in.

“Alright, ask.” “Is it true (Y/n) came to you willingly?”

“Yeah, I didn’t kidnap them. The first time I found them outside wandering around in the dark, had to keep them safe. We kept meeting up every so often causes those shit bags kept kicking them out to party, so i kept watch.” “Why are you going after them, why not report them to the police?” “Because the police and detectives won't do shit and can be easily bought out with money.” Katsuki raised a brow, he could sense there was more to this answer than Izuku was giving.

“Didn’t think you had a soft spot for kids?” “I didn’t think you’d still be a hero but look where we are?” Izuku quipped folding his arms over his chest.

“You just didn't seem like the type to take in a random child and put yourself out there for one. I mean if you really are a villain, you must’ve been a quiet one, and now you’re in the spotlight anonymously or not. All for some kid” Izuku went quiet to him, you weren’t ‘some kid’, it sounded stupid but. You were his everything, his reason for living! You made him happy, you gave him purpose! He loved coming home to see the pictures you’ve drawn, or sitting on the couch and watching Bluey with you. He loved seeing you happy, hearing your feet pitter-pattering around when you got excited about something. Your big eyes lit up when he got you ice cream. He liked being the person to protect you, to show you the world didn’t have to be so horrible and scary.

“I…I like giving (Y/N) the chance at life and protection I never got. I strive to deliver the justice the adults around me failed to even try for.” He murmured while leaning back against the cold cement wall behind him. His eyes looked at the ground as a small smile crept onto his face behind the mask.

“Huh? Speak up dude, I’m going deaf” Izuku huffed and explained

“No one stood up for me, not my peers, not our teachers, principal, or my own mother. No one. I suffered that torture at the hands of them all. All they did was watch or turn away when I begged and pleaded for help as you treated me like nothing but a roach.” Katsuki knew what izuku meant, and remembered their school days. He wasn’t wrong, the teachers practically allowed it to happen, they punished Izuku for even speaking up at times!

“My mother was my only reason for living, I killed myself both mentally and physically numerous times but each time. She encouraged me to keep going, to find something, anything to hold onto. She may not have done anything when it came to justice but, she never belittled me or made me quit. As long as I didn’t lose myself, she would still love me.”

“Would she still love you if she knew you turned out to be a villain?” Katsuki asked, though he knew it came out rude, Izuku still replied.

“…..yes….at least the one I am now, I don’t think she would disapprove.”

He adjusted his mask and took glances at Katsuki who seemed to be taking in what he said.

“I was left for the wolves all my life, and I can’t stand by to watch another child go through anything similar if I can help it. When (Y/n) came to my house on the verge of unconsciousness burned and bloodied, I saw myself. I saw a small innocent being clinging on to life that people were trying to smash. I saw myself, I saw a child with who no one was bothering to reach out, they were turning a blind eye all over again. I couldn’t allow that.” As Izuku spoke he stammered and began to feel himself get choked up, tears welled his his eyes but he wouldn’t cry in front of Katsuki. He refused to do that long ago, he hated for anyone to see him like this.

Katsuki nodded along, it did sort of hurt to realize just how much he hurt Izuku back then, and how it lingered into his life now. He could feel the emotion even if Izuku tried to sound unbothered. He could still see everything he had done as he spoke. He could remember the countless days Izuku would come to school trembling in his uniform. He remembered Izuku’s screams, how he’d reach his hand out towards others for help, and they’d turn away from him with looks of disgust. As if he had a disease they didn’t want to catch. He remembered his muffled cries as he forced his head into the koi fish pond. Izuku’s arms and legs flailed as he drowned.

The days he came back to school bandaged up with dead tired eyes. Hell, he walked in on Izuku trying to slit his throat once and what did Katsuki do? Called him a worthless waste of space who wouldn’t even be able to kill himself correctly. It truly was a miracle Izuku was even alive and well, physically well that is, mentally it was obviously he wasn’t.

“I-i…..I’m…” Dammit Katsuki come on! Say it! You waited this fucking long, you may never get this chance ever again! Damn, his throat felt like it was closing up when he tried to apologize. The weight of realization was crushing him, the realization that nothing would be able to fix what they had.

“I-i’m sorry…Izuku.” It was hardly a whisper.

“Don’t waste your time or breath” Izuku said firmly, Katsuki looked at him with confusion. Didn’t he want an apology after all he did?

“Your words mean nothing, your actions say everything.” Well, Katsuki couldn’t argue with that sentiment, actions did speak louder than words. But how would he prove it to him.

“You keep our little secret and I wont kill you.” He wagered, Katsuki nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a moment. It weighed over them like a blanket of snow before Izuku sent a side eye his way and asked.

“Are you done interrogating me?” Katsuki’s eyes darted to him and he sighed heavily.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” With that, Izuku stood up with a stretch, adjusted his backpack, and started to head for the roof.

“Ey, isn’t this your territory?” Izuku rolled his eyes at his question.

“I’m not hunting with the likes of you or your stupid lil friends around.” Damn, that was cold, but before Katsuki could say anything Izuku climbed back up the side of the building and onto the roof into the darkness.

Katsuki was now alone, alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t help the maul over everything. His childhood friend still saw him the same after all these years, what did he expect though? If Katsuki had been in his situation he’d probably do the same. What he did was practically torture! He brought Izuku to the point of suicide many times and now after years apart, he expects Izuku to just accept his apology? No! No. Izuku was right he was gonna half to prove it.

Sitting on the sidewalk Katsuki looked through pictures on his phone and found one of him and his child together.

“I’ll do better, I’ll prove it, I promise.”

He eventually continued on with the rest of his patrol until it was time to go home.

(pov change)

Izuku was glad to finally get away from him, he thought his heart was going to explode or abruptly stop altogether! When he got on the roof he collapsed to his knees clutching his chest and gasping for air! Fucking hell his anxiety was still just as horrible as ever! His chest felt heavy and tight as if someone were squeezing the air out of him. It hurt it hurt so much! He wasn’t even hungry for cannibal food or interested in hunting anymore. His entire body was tremoring, and his stomach sloshed nauseously until he found himself hunched over vomiting.

Just being around Katsuki made him ill, now he knew everything, or well everything pertaining to the situation with you and him. Not to mention he poured his feelings out to Katsuki, oh gods just remembering what he said made him wanna puke again. His vision was blurring and his mind started to become fuzzy. Shivering and shaking with tears down his face and sitting beside a puddle of his own sick. He hated this he hated this so damn much.

It took him a while to get off that rooftop, but he knew he had to get off before sunrise. He house-hopped until he found the convenience store. Grabbed himself an instant ramen pack and some meat on a stick, along with a soda. He ate his late-night dinner in an alleyway to calm himself down and give him the strength to get back home.

Once again he climbed in through the window and went to go and check on you. When he saw you fast asleep in your bed he smiled, you had struggled with sleeping on your own for a while. Often sleeping in his bed when you felt scared, tonight must have been an easy night for you. Izuku brushed your hair out of your face and pulled the blankets over you with a soft look in his eyes. He then went to get himself ready for bed now that he was coming down from his anxiety.

He took a nice long hot shower, washing off the blood from previous kills. Brushed his teeth to get the sourness out of his mouth, and changed into some comfortable clothes before climbing into bed. Damn, he loved his bed why did he ever leave it? Closing his eyes he was ready to let sleep take him.

But it didn’t his mind was still racing. He wanted to know whether Katsuki was genuine with his apology, he wanted to know why he truly wanted to get involved. Why did he care? Why did he bother to listen to his spiel? Was he going to tell everyone about this? What would this mean for them? Would you be safe now? Would the heroes come looking for you? Katsuki had now given them a clear photo of what you looked like so they would start looking for you. Was he planning an ambush? Would you and him have to move? He hoped not he needed to be able to continue his plan, but he also wanted to keep you safe!

Oh fucking hell just go to sleep, Izuku!

[burninlovebutler]

25 - New Years Pt. 1 - Til You Come Back for More* // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin x fem!oc | word count: 4k-ish

warnings: angst, jealousy, mentions of strip clubs/sex work, alcohol, excruciating teasing from a fed up!austin, taunting, fingers, lots of dialogue, 18+ only, MDNI

summary: Austin meets Elsie at a roof top new years party, bringing an unexpected plus-one with him. Elsie finds herself overcome with a foreign feeling of jealousy that demands an outlet.

prev chp -> 24 - Ski Slopes**

see masterlist/summary for chapter log & background info

will i still love you like this when it’s midnight?

will you still love me like this when it’s midnight?

the new year comes but i’ll be lonely tonight

Til you come back for more

-ELSIE-

Nox and I finally arrived to this stupid corporate party Nox’s coworker invited us to for New Years. It was what was described to me as “modern black tie 20’s Great Gatsby” themed… whatever the fuck that meant. I suppose when you work with a bunch of overgrown frat boys as business partners, party themes aren’t executed that well. My only saving grace was that I invited Austin. I knew Nox would eventually ditch me for his coworker buddies and leave me alone, so the least I could do was have Austin come with me.

I tugged at my satin green dress while checking my phone for any updates from Austin, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to my best friend in jeans and a leather jacket – quite the difference to the suits crowding the roof top. I then took notice of the petite blonde that followed behind him.

Austin cleared his throat. “Elsie, this is my friend Aspen.” Austin gesturing between us.

‘Friend’ yeah right.

“Aspen, this is my friend Elsie.”

‘Friends’ sure.

I wondered if they were friends like we are.

And what exactly was that?

“Hi!” Aspen chirped and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you Elsie!”

I shook her hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

Austin seemed to have ignored the memo with his casual attire that made him stick out like a sore thumb – Aspen evidently had nailed the assignment, a slinky silver dress hung over her thin body. She was exactly the kind of girl he always ended up with. She was everything I wasn’t.

“Oh! I’ll get us some drinks! I’ll be right back Aust.” She pecked his cheek quickly and fluttered away to the inside bar.

Aust?

Who the fuck was this bitch?

 “I didn’t know you were bringing someone?” I questioned, wanting to cross my arms but it seemed inappropriate, there’s no reason for me to be so peeved about another girl with him.

“Oh well, I just thought I might as well bring a date to the party.”

A date?

“Oh well, you just didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not.” He replied shortly.

“You’re not what?”

“Seeing her. We’re just friends.”

“You just said she’s your date, she kissed you.”

“I’m your ‘date’ to shit all the time. And you kiss my cheek too.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but the words sliced just the same. He never seemed to object before, it’s not like he felt this searing over Nox. Other than his hatred for him.

The bubbly blonde returned with drinks expertly stacked in her hands. “Here, do you mind holding this for me?” handing her cup to Austin, “I have to call Courtney back, I might have to go cover her shift at the club.” She said with a pout.

Club?

And she was gone again. “Club?” I asked the second she was gone.

“Yeah, she works at a club.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What kind of club?”

His eyes diverted, “Ehm, you know just a night club.”

“Which one?” Narrowing my eyes but quickly softening them, keeping my reactions calm.

“’Body Language’.”

“The strip club!” I was losing my grip of restraint. Scratching his arm, he just nodded. “And what does she do there?”

“She’s a bottle girl,” He answered casually, “But sometimes she covers other shifts.”

“So, she’s a stripper.”

“No, she’s a bottle service girl. Most of the time.”

“Right, and you’re ‘just friends’.”

He met my eyes now, the energy shifted. “What does it matter?” He snapped back at me, obviously catching on to my unwarranted attitude.

I hadn’t thought that far, I reeled in my interrogation. What did it matter? “It doesn’t – I was just wondering. She seems…nice.”

“Well, like I said, we’re just friends.”

“Right.” I knew he was lying, he’s the worst fucking liar.

Aspen returned even perkier than before, “She found someone else! Thank god I didn’t wanna leave. You seem so fun!”

Oh my god why did he have to pick the more irritating girls. I gave a forced tight-lipped smile. “Austin tells me you’re a writer!”

“Oh uh, yeah. I work for an online magazine.” How boring compared to a stripper, suddenly feeling insecure about my profession.

“That’s really cool!” Agonizingly sweet, like cotton candy perfume. It made me want to vomit.

“What do you do?” Wanting her answer.

“Oh, I work at the strip club down the street, I’m a bottle service girl!” She answered like it was the most prestigious job.

So, he wasn’t lying about that. “So, you never strip?” I felt Austin’s eyes burning into me.

She giggled, “Oh sometimes I do, that’s where the real money is.” Of course it is.

“I bet. And what does a bottle girl do exactly?” Taking a very necessary gulp of my saturated drink. I knew my tone came off quite judge-y, but I couldn’t help it. I’m extremely supportive of sex workers, it wasn’t about that. It was something else.

“Well let’s see. Mostly I just walk around in lingerie pouring drinks for the patrons. I can give lap dances if I want to. Or use the private rooms if I’m asked specifically.” She spoke about it so professionally. I’d never heard a club employee explain their duties like that.

“Ah.” I stole the last sip of my drink.

“I keep telling Austie he needs to come visit me!” She looked up at him like a little kid and he curled his arm around her waist.

Austie? Only I ever called him that. Me. Just me.

“You could come visit too!” She offered, “If you’re into that. You could bring your boyfriend.”

I snapped my eyes up to Austin’s, “Maybe I will.” His eyes matched my intensity. Aspen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t care. The ditzy blonde reminded me of literally every girl he’d ever dated. Though, she was nicer than most. At least she was fucking nice. I never understood how he ended up with girls like her, he’s so the opposite of anything they were.

I wanted absolutely nothing more about this interaction. Scanning the crowd for Nox, he blended into all the rest of the 3-piece suits. “Well, I better find Nox, it was nice meeting you Aspen.” I fled before she even had a chance to respond.

-

As predicted, Nox payed little attention to me, leaving me alone with too many glasses of champagne and a dance floor.  The latest Doja Cat song blared from the DJ’s speakers and to say that I was enjoying myself would be an understatement. The alcohol coursing through my veins, the anger of Nox’s absence and the unexplainable fury with Austin all fueled the way I danced and spun around the dance floor. My hips swung in time with the music and my emerald green dress flowed accordingly.

Every time I caught a glimpse of Austin, his eyes were already on me. It was interesting to see the difference of his gaze on me versus Aspen. On me, his eyes were dark, brooding, maybe even… angry?

On her, it was soft, kind, happy, fun.

That was how he would look at me, when we were alone. Maybe that just wasn’t us anymore. Perhaps we’d crossed one too many lines to stay who we were. If our, incidents, were starting to cause a rift between us, I knew it had to end. Just the idea of living without him as my best friend was unbearable. The weirdness between us had to end, no matter how much I disliked his new girlfriend.

Lost in my own thoughts, I twirled into another swirling girl resulting in her red wine spilling all down the front of your satin dress. A sharp gasp came from you as the cold liquid spread over your clothes.

“What the fuck.” You muttered trying to piece together what happened. To your shock stood Aspen covering her filled lips with a dainty hand.

“Oh my gosh Elsie I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“ She began desperately apologizing, not a hint of insincerity in her voice, but it only made me more infuriated.

Even in my drunken state I knew I shouldn’t voice the vile words I had swirling in my head. “I have to go.” Brushing harshly between them to the kitchen within the penthouse. Behind me I heard Austin apologize to Aspen before his footsteps tried to keep up after me.

“Elsie!” He called and didn’t take long before he caught up to me, “What the fuck was that about?”

I spun to face him emphasizing the growing deep red stain on my slitted dress, “She got fucking red wine on my dress, that’s what that was about.” I hissed turning and charging back away from him, pushing through the crowded loft. Boiling alcohol bubbled in my veins

“You bumped into her and knocked it on yourself Elsie.” His tone was far calmer than what I’d expected, I expected him to be angrier – angrier at me for knocking into his sparkly new girlfriend or angrier at her for spilling wine onto me. The calmness of it was making me angry. Why wasn’t he angry at either of those things?

I felt his hand grasp my arm briefly but dislodged thanks to a stranger’s passing elbow. Each body I brushed past built up the already boiling alcohol in my veins, I couldn’t look back at him, I didn’t dare - I was seeing red and I didn’t want to see it on him.

Though, it was no surprise that he caught up to me – amazing how much speed you gain from just having height. His hand clamped itself around my bicep, “Let me help you.” A grumbled whisper filled your ear, his warm breath shooting goosebumps across your neck.

Of course, I retracted my arm from him, “No I don’t fucking need your help.” But his grip didn’t give, and he hauled me into the crowded kitchen.

“Yes, you fucking do Elsie,” Both tone and facial expressions curled with frustration but immediately toned it down when he noticed the other people in the kitchen watching, who soon filed out, no doubt from the uncomfortable air. Once gone he wrapped his hands firm on my shoulders, dark blue eyes glaring down at me. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Finally, I was able to wiggle my way out of his grasp, “I don’t have a fucking problem. You’re the one being the prick.”

He rolled his eyes and snatched a dish towel, running it under water before tugging the wet material from my chest. “I’m being a prick by dancing with my date?” He snapped, his focus seemingly on getting the stain out.

“No, you’re just – I don’t know you’re just being fucking mean.” I flustered, the adrenaline pumping through my body was making every thought and memory blurry.

“Mean?” With snide, glancing up at me briefly, “How the fuck am I being mean? Because I fucking brought a girl to a party? Because I didn’t come to be your secondary date?”

I noticed his eyes subtly surveying the party behind the kitchen as if he was ashamed to be seen with me. “No – No it’s not about that.” I stuttered out, realizing I didn’t have an answer.

Dropping the fabric and slamming the towel on the counter, “Then what is it about Elsie, please fucking enlighten me.”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip at the lack of my response, “Hm.”

Oh– his tongue. It had taken every piece of me to snuff out the memory of his tongue. His tongue on my – his tongue making me feel things I’d never felt. My eyes lingered on his plump lips, it sent a warm trickle down to my lower stomach.

As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t. Not again. We had just gotten past it.

“It’s ju-“ I was in his grasp again, my wrist this time being used to tow me away to the hallway. Jiggling the handle of every room before finding an empty one and pulled us into it. He locked the door and spun me against the door.

My arms crossed over my chest, “What? You’re scared of her seeing me with you?”

“What does it fucking matter Elsie?” Through straight, gritted teeth.

“So, you are scared of your girlfriend seeing us.”

“For the last fucking time she’s not my girlfriend.” He pushed himself off the door running fingers through his golden hair. “Jesus fucking christ, what does it fucking matter?”

“Answer the question.”

“What? If I care if she sees me with you?” He stepped back closer, towering over me then leaning down to eye level. “No, she doesn’t give a fuck. I don’t give a fuck. We’re not together. She’d try to fuck you if she wanted.”

“Well I-“ Pressing back into the door as if I could camouflage into it.

“You what?” He hissed, eyes narrow and callous.

I blurted the only sane answer I could think of, “I don’t like her.”

“I don’t like Nox.” Shooting back with even stronger ammo. I made him put up with Nox, why couldn’t I just fucking put up with Aspen.

“Yeah but-“

“Actually, you know what I’d like to know why you don’t like her. Because she’s been nothing but nice to you. And you’ve been fucking rude.” His accelerating voice almost frightened me.

“Augh- It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about Elsie.” His thinning dark blues felt like lasers.

“I don’t know it’s not-“

“What is it about.” He questioned again before I could even finish my sentence.

“I-I don’t know it’s not her-.”

“Then what the fuck is it about!” His hand slammed against the door right beside my head.

I immediately tensed beneath him. “I don’t have an answer.” I let out quietly.

“I think you do.” He moved closer, his voice even lower.

“I-I really don’t.” I sputtered out, barely even loud enough to hear.

His hand gave him an anchor on the door to lean down just below my ear, “Sure you do. C’mon use your words.”

My breath hitched in my throat as if I just swallowed an ice cube whole. The words rang a memory of when I was in his lap, in the bathroom on Christmas. His tone smooth as butter, vastly different than the fuming voice from just seconds ago. It caused a flutter in the pit of my belly and my heartrate to spike. The ice cube in my throat kept me silent.

His hand tilted my chin up to face him, “You can do it darlin’. Use your words.” His words were sweet, encouraging, but his tone was anything but. Condescending, teasing, punishing. It was like my voice was stolen, I couldn’t even form a sentence. I couldn’t think over my heart thumping against my skull. I could only blink up at him.

His hand moved up my side – but never touching. His touch hovering over my body, somehow worse than him actually touching me. The flutter in my stomach now dropped between my thighs. Moving to my chest, a bent knuckle traced around my breast then just ever so slightly grazing my hardened nipple. I took my lip between my teeth trying to stifle a moan, but it failed. “Fuck.” I breathed out, causing a smirk to curl his lips. How did he make me so fucking weak.

“Ah, that’s it. So, you can use your words.” His deepened voice sent shivers down my spine and straight between my legs. And again, the ability to speak left.

His hovering fingers descended down my front painfully slow. “Could you do that for me again?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Then his fingers now lingering in front of my core. The buzzing below my hips only worsened. The feeling of his hand just being near me was enough to cause a pooling in my panties. I sucked in a staggered breath.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” His hand now hovering back and forth across my hips. “You want me to touch you?” My eyes widened, what the fuck was he doing to me, some twisted hypnotic dance. A devious smile spread across his face, “Ah that’s it isn’t it?”

My heart now in my throat, threatening to rip out of my body. I still couldn’t speak, I didn’t want to answer. And yet I nodded. His lips again at my ear, “Well maybe if you use your words, I just might.”

The throbbing in my core begged me to respond. “Please.” I whispered.

The same devious smirk returned, but he didn’t move any closer to me. “I wanna hear it again.”

“Fuck, please.” Two fingers now moved in circles a centimeter away from where I needed him.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.” The words leaving me much whinier than intended.

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t you remember? Your own rule.” His words so fucking serrated. “’No touching’.”

I suddenly regretted every word past me ever said. This also confused me since we had touched before, technically. I just wanted to do that again, just enough for it to not feel as wrong. Even though, it still lingered a guilt. “We’ve touched before.” Looking up at him with innocent eyes. For some reason my response made me nervous for his reaction.

And I was right, his gaze turning menacing, “Yeah, I’m not doing that shit anymore. We’re either gonna touch or we’re not.” His brows lowering, striking both fear and arousal in me. “All or nothing. I’m done caring about the rules, I want to break them.”

My eyes rounded and my fucking speech leaving me yet again. How was I supposed to argue with him, I couldn’t break them. No matter how much I wanted to.

He hummed, “I have a question.” My stare answered for me.

“You still think about me when you’re touching yourself?”

Fuck not this again. I didn’t want to answer it this time as it had only gotten more rampant since Christmas. Especially when I thought of his cock in my mouth. I hesitated before answering, worried of how I’d respond if he grew any more taunting. “Yes.” Barely a whisper.

“Hm.” Pausing before continuing, “And how is that any different than my fingers on you? I mean, you’re imaging they’re my fingers aren’t you?” My mouth went to gasp but suddenly lost function. He was fucking torturing me. “So,” Another pause, “So your fingers get to touch your pretty pussy but mine don’t?”

God fucking damnit. My panties already fucking drenched and he hadn’t even touched me.

“That’s pretty selfish darlin’, don’t ya think?” He continued this taunting little game, “You get to make yourself cum to the thought of me, but you won’t even let me actually do it.” The fact that he was so focused on my own pleasure made it even fucking worse. He wasn’t here complaining that I wasn’t getting him off, he was complaining that I wouldn’t let him get me off.  I’d never been with anyone who cared so much about my own orgasm like that.

“If you’re so deprived that you need to touch yourself thinkin’ about me,” His teasing fingers resumed their cruel motions just in front of where I wanted him the most. “Then I wonder, if I could make you cum without even touching you at all.”

The rapid pulse in my clit suggested he might. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the door. I could feel the electric distant swirling of his fingers right in front of my sensitivity. “Remember what my tongue felt like? If I could touch you, you’d be in my mouth right now.”

“Fuck.” Was all I could muster.

“I’d swirl over your swollen clit while my fingers fucked you. I’d fucking devour you.” His cruel tone only worsening the problem between my legs.

“Fuck Austin, please don’t stop.” It was like my brain was communicating with my body, creating an imaginary feeling as if it was happening, as if his fingers were actually touching me. But I wanted the real thing. My shifting thighs made a feeble attempt at any added friction.

“Fuck, if I was allowed to touch you, I’d wanna be inside you, I’d want to fuck you. Would you like that?” He’d never said that out loud, we’d never said that out loud, and there it was like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to say.

Silence – Yes I fucking would. I need it right now. Is what I would say if I had any ounce of bravery.

“C’mon baby,” He whispered into my neck, “Wouldn’t you like my cock deep inside of you?” Goosebumps ruptured across every inch of my skin.

Baby

That name never did much for me, but in his voice, god I swore it was different. He’d only used it a time or two before and I’d never had any name make my stomach flip the way his ‘Baby’ did. It was like a warm blanket I never wanted to unravel from.

“Yes.” The buzzing and the wetness in my panties only grew, I didn’t know how much more they could absorb.

“Good girl, you can follow directions.” Teasing, as if he were talking to a hound dog that finally learned a trick.

“What- What would you do next?” My eyes timidly looking up at him, the sight of him only intensifying every blinking nerve in my body.

“Hm. I like when you listen to me. I just might let you cum.”

Pressing my thighs together even rougher only barely aiding the pulsing, driving me toward my finish line. “Fuck.”

“I’d push you to the edge over and over.” His crooked words curled around every blood vessel, pushing my heart into a dangerously fast pulse.

“Multiple times?” I squeaked both in fright and excitement.

He let out a chuckle as if he was proud, probably remembering the couch. “Yeah baby, multiple times. God, I’d hold you there, torturing you with my tongue. Again and again.”

“O-Oh.”

“Then I’d go back to fucking you, burying myself deep inside your wet cunt.” As much as he would probably deny it, I knew he was struggling just as me. I could feel his hard member against my thigh only making my core crave him more.

“I need you to touch me, I take it back. I take it all back. I don’t want this rule anymore.” I wanted him, all of him – no, I needed all of him.

“Nuh uh, that’s not how this works.”

“Please.” I begged.

“Alright, I’ll oblige, just a bit.” His fingers now pressed against my covered clit, over the dress and panties. He began ever so slightly moving them in circular motions. It wasn’t much but it was something. But I wanted more. I grasped his arm and pressed his hand more into me. But he pulled back to his original restrained position. “No.”

I let out a utterly pathetic whine, “I need to cum, please.”

“This is what you get. You can have this or nothing.”

Letting out a groan, “Fine.” He continued his swirling motions barely over my heat. I was so close, every cell blinking with pure unbridled need. I wanted to scream from how much tension was built in my body. I wanted to beg. I’ve never begged for anything in my fucking life. But god did I want to get on my knees and beg right now.

“Please I’m so close.” I whimpered, my desire now dripping down my thigh.

“Yeah?” He asked, “Could you do somethin’ for me darlin?”

“Anything.” I barely got the word out through my accelerated breathing.

“Anything huh?”

I nodded desperately, gripping the sides of my dress, practically vibrating. “Yes- Fuck anything, I’ll do anything. Anything, whatever you want.”

The energy shifted, this time cruel. “Then can you tell me what all that bullshit was about out there? Can you tell me what the fuck this is about?”

My eyes shot open, that was the last thing I expected. I realized that this little game was just a ploy to get my answer. “I-I”

“Nuh uh,” His motions slowed, “I need your words Elsie.” And I was back to just Elsie. It now sounded like the worst possible thing I could ever be called.

My eyes squeezed shut, the borderline painful throbbing in my pussy pleaded me to give in. “If you tell me, I’ll touch you.” He bargained, “That’s all you gotta do, a couple little words and I’ll let you cum. It’s as simple as that.”

My chest dropped, I couldn’t give in. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” His middle finger giving me slightly more pressure as it slid up and down my covered slit. “C’mon darlin’ give in to me, just tell me. I want to hear it. I want to make you cum.”

I let out the most regretful sigh, “I can’t Aus.”

“Hm.” His hand pulled away, “Guess that’s it huh?”

I ached for his touch back, I wanted to give in so fucking bad. I didn’t want him to leave.

He turned to leave but then returned, rested his hand on the door just above my head and leaned down one last time. His index tracing up my throat and tilting my chin up, “I don’t want you to clean up. I want you to spend the rest of the night in your soaked panties, and every time you feel it, I want you to think of me.” He growled beneath my ear, his voice reverberated through my entire body. It only made the aching in my hips worse. “And I want you to feel it while you’re dancing with your boyfriend.”

He cracked the door open but before leaving he left me with one last thing, “Make sure you wait in here for a while. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to see you come out of a room with me, looking like that.”

Just like that he was gone, leaving me like this, flustered and bright red. I was throbbing and wet and desperate. I felt so fucking pathetic like I had just lost an easy game.

Suddenly I heard a roar in the party, I finally peak out to a unanimous, “Happy New Year!”

In the center of the party was Austin curled around Aspen locked in a New Year’s kiss. It stung. It stung as if a bee the size of Mount Everest just speared its stinger straight through my heart.

Why did it hurt so much. And why couldn’t I fucking say it.

Next Chapter -> 26 - New Years Pt. 2 [coming soon]

forever winter spotify playlist ❄️

Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

tagging: @cryingabtab @julie181 @navsblog @michellelv @purejasmine @denised916 @centaine @golden-kiwis 💖

[pennyblossom-meta]

Sneak peak: The Ides of April, chp 5

Just a short-ish draft for pt1 of the the next chapter while I'm busy with work. The words aren't flowing so well lately, so it might take a while to wrap everything up.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

--

Anna stepped into the shop, her movements slow and deliberate. She halted on top of a sunken mat neatly tucked at the entrance, feet sinking a tad into the coarse material while the door creaked shut behind her with a low groan. Hesitation hung in the air as she cast a wary glance around the dimly lit parlour. Shadows flickered on the shelves, drawing an eerie, blue-ish glow.

A faintly musty, sweet-sour smell with a dash of something else clung to the air in the Olde Tokyo Sutra, the kind found in terribly old buildings, where time had seeped into the very foundations. Anna shifted on her feet and then looked down; the wooden floorings were deeply pigmented, worn by centuries of heavy furniture and strolling feet. She tilted her head, wondering whether the beams would break under her weight — and if so, would she fall into a decrepit basement, smelling of stale dust, perhaps brimming with cobwebs? 

The floorboards whined as the wizard wobbled forward, slowly. Clutching her wand, she noted how the windows were sealed shut from the inside. What shy light blessed her eyes came from an antique oil lamp further down the room, barely outlining the sturdy bookcases that lined against the walls, towering upwards as if they elongated into infinity, the upper reaches shrouded in darkness. Someone thought to stack tomes upon tomes in precarious piles on the floor in such a way that defied gravity with a strange, miraculous balance. At the back, a sinuous staircase wound its way to a wide platform above the counter, bursting at the proverbial seams with more books, scrolls and artefacts while a stuffed vulture hung from the rails with its wide wings open as if lunging for prey, in a competent work of taxidermy.

Anna pursed her lips. She’d wager Flourish and Blotts felt less menacing after closing hours than this place. There was something oppressive in the air, making her feel as though the very walls were watching her.

“Merlin’s beard,” she muttered, trying to mitigate the tension. “Should the yõkai be jumping on people like that? Does this happen often?”

A hiss like that of old hinges echoed in the silence. “Do not be so quick to judge, mademoiselle. Yõkai is as yõkai does, as do we all,” said the wizard, shuffling forward sans cane in awkward steps as his body twisted painfully to the left. Embroidered moons and sequins in silver thread glittered with each sway, like a luminous wave, revealing skinny feet trapped inside a pair of yellow slippers.

“Still not right, not in a domestic environment,” she replied, frowning at the animal skulls neatly decorating one of the higher shelves. The click of her shoes echoed, a lone utterance in the otherwise loud silence. “This neighbourhood is riddled with Muggles. What if one accidentally witnessed something? We’d have the Ministry swooping down like a ton of bricks.”

The wizard let out a raspy cough. “Les non magiques, oui. Alors, there are rules on top of rules to regulate how magical creatures engage with humans — and even stricter rules on what they mustn’t do.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working; it’s not the first time I’ve encountered a yõkai in Tokyo.”

“And it will not be the last,” nodded the wizard.

Anna’s frown deepened. “It won’t?”

“Non, it will not. Most unfortunate mademoiselle, I am aware. The binds of the Statute of Secrecy tether the yõkai to our kind. They are drawn to us, to the magique,” the wizard lowered his voice, as if adding an afterthought. “Perhaps it is the souls.”

Anna hesitated. “Do they follow us? I’ve…felt something around me, in the street. Several times. Maybe several somethings — but when I turn around, there’s no one there.”

“Were you, perchance, accompanied by Muggles?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“In broad daylight?”

“Not just, but yeah.”

“Did you cross the ancient places, mademoiselle — walk through the cobbled izakayas streets, towards the edge of the city where modern architecture is less daunting?”

Anna's brows furrowed further. “Sometimes.”

The wizard threw her a watery glance over his shoulder. “Yõkai do not like modernity.  They adapt, but live in the past — never content. A sad, terrible fate. Their existence is haunted by the old days. They followed vous, mademoiselle, one of the few witches in Tokyo because we are like a flame to a moth, as you English say.”

Anna hummed in acknowledgement, shoulders slightly slumped. “I think it’s the other way around, actually.”

All of a sudden, she heard a low hum coming from above. Then, tiny, hurried footsteps. Narrowing her eyes, she looked up. The second floor…?

“Allez, mademoiselle,” called the wizard from afar.

Anna almost jumped, drawing her eyes away from the dark ceiling. A lurch of pity twisted in her stomach at the sight of the old wizard’s gait. Before she could offer to help, however, a pair of watery eyes locked onto hers, sharp with an unexpected awareness. Perhaps sensing her intent, he raised a trembling hand — pale, wrinkled, and marked with age spots — and gave his wand a shaky flick. At once, a dozen candles hidden in the dark lit up above them, floating like fairy lights at Yule.

Grimacing, Anna covered her eyes from the unexpected brightness.

The floorboards groaned under her weight as she followed the elderly wizard, maintaining a respectful distance as he limped slowly around the counter. With a muffled wheeze, he lowered himself into a cushioned chair. Anna’s gaze wandered over the room’s peculiar decor — skulls belonging to mysterious creatures, dried flowers hanging from the rafters, peculiar trinkets casting eerie shadows in the dim light and… a televisor?

She frowned, tilting her head at the black box sitting on the large wooden desk. A red oni mask dangled from the antenna.

“How remarkable,” her fingers lightly grazed the cold porcelain nose on the mask, though her eyes were set on the televisor. It looked older than her own. “Thought I was the only one interested in Muggle appliances, perhaps in a long radius still.”

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted begonias paired with oleander in a vase, and cattails alongside laurel, framed behind glass on the walls. Together, they formed an odd, yet deliberate tapestry of symbols: a warning for caution, yet promises of peace and success. Superstition intertwined with eastern philosophy, the foundation of a long-standing and quietly potent venture. 

The wizard nodded, pulling out a pipe and some dry weed from one of the bottom drawers with a trembling hand. “A useful trinket to stay aware of les Muggles in these troubled times, mademoiselle. Alors, what brings vous to our humble bookshop? A thirst for Japan’s finest recipes? A nouveau livre on spells? Recherche?”

The wizard looked at her pointedly over his glasses. 

There’s that ‘something else’, she thought, fighting a grimace as the wizard whispered a few words to burn the weed inside the bowl. The resulting waft wasn’t quite like tobacco, but the smell was rank, acrid enough to make her feel a tad lightheaded.

“Yes, indeed,” Anna coughed daintily into her sleeve, her heart thumping a little too fast in the loud silence. “There’s this class at To-Ho, — Japanese Literature — we're doing an intro on Premodern fiction and suggested books on kami for this semester's essay.”

“One would assume les non magique bookshops to be out of reading material on kami.” 

She hesitated, sensing a trap. The wizard’s eyes remained a sharp, watery blue, though his hands seemed steadier, trembling less. “Precisely. They've been nothing short of pandemonium ever since that Second Kira emerged.”

“Oui, c’est vrai,” with a nod, the wizard sucked in a breath and then puffed out a ring of smoke that went over Anna’s head. “Shinigami are controversial in both communities.”

Anna bit her lip. The wizard smiled serenely, unperturbed. 

"Mademoiselle, I am far too old and tired for these games," he muttered, voice weary. Unsteady, the wizard pushed himself up from the chair with frail hands, biting down the pipe lip as he gripped the armrest for support with surprising strength. He then beckoned Anna to follow up the narrow staircase. “Poor liars give themselves away in the blink of an eye. Let us speak plainly, s’il vous plaît.”

Anna blushed, startled, as if slapped. With careful steps, she shuffled behind, head held high despite herself. A few candles drifted toward them with a quiet whoosh, their soft glow casting more light over the platform.

The wizard halted in front of the centre bookcase, a sturdy structure with shelves secured by an iron grid. Enchanted, clearly, Anna thought warily as she approached. She could feel the faint hum of magic emanating from the intricately looped metal, a soft, persistent pulse that reverberated in the air.

With a flick of his wand, the wizard opened the gate and summoned two books, keeping them in the air, hovering, waiting for her to check as he smoked his pipe. Anna leaned forward, slightly crestfallen when she noticed the covers were written in Japanese.

“An overview on kami,” the wizard explained, gesturing first to the book on the left with his pipe, “and alleged encounters between les non magique with the yokai, narrated from a wizarding perspective. Written in classical notation, not contemporary.”

“I’ve never even learned how to—” she stopped mid-sentence, though her meaning was quite clear.

The wizard cast her a searching, albeit sharp stare. He blew another smoke ring. “Yõkai, elves, centaurs, mermaids, Veela, gnomes and dwarves…there are more than enough magical creatures in the world, mademoiselle. We do not need the shadow of shinigami hovering over our heads. They’re but an invention from the Christian faith, le Grim Reaper. Azrael. L’ange de la mort. Idle fancy.”

“Then why forbid us from discussing shinigami in the presence of Muggles at all?” Anna sighed, ignoring the pitiful look the wizard sent her way. She opened one of the books, careful hands flipping the pages — they were old, so very old, and filled with a myriad of unintelligible kanji that she couldn’t make sense of. Not without an army of dictionaries and many sleepless nights to look forward to.

“Private recherche would not be an affront to le nouveau law,” the wizard offered in a softer tone. As if nudging her towards a less daunting path. “Perhaps a book on fairy folklore might improve the mademoiselle’s spirits?”

Hesitating, Anna looked over the two covers once again. She could do it, couldn’t she? When had she ever been unafraid of toil?

...

TBC

[hushed-chorus]

Six Photo Sunday

Hey everyone, I hope you've had a good week! I'm scheduling this ahead of time so thanks to everyone who may have tagged me already!

Today I'm doing something a little different. I wanted to share some photos of places that inspired What Remains After The Storm.

Although WRATS is pitched as a fantasy AU, I'd say that is a 'flag of convenience' (i.e. I could play fast and loose with the setting to suit the story's needs). In many ways, WRATS is a historical fantasy based in Cornwall, UK, including Cornish mythology and fictionalisations of real places. So please enjoy these photos and tidbits on the fic's inspiration.

I'll share the first photo above the cut, and the following five below.

Cornish cliffs (Image by Tim Hill)

Whenever I imagine young Simon scurrying around on the cliffs, I think of something like this. The moor backs onto the cliffs, and the sea is often rough. Wrecks were incredibly common around Cornwall's coast, owing partly to strong currents and its many reefs and skerries. Many impoverished locals would seize the cargo of wrecked ships, and were often accused of intentionally luring ships to wreck by using false lights, but there is no clear evidence that this happened.

More (and tags) below the cut

Bodmin Moor (Image by Richard Norris)

The Cornish moorland has been gently grazed for centuries, so it is a patchwork of heather, gorse, bracken, coarse grass and distinctive granite tors which resemble pancakes stacks (though not pictured are some of the beautiful wooded valleys, one of which features in chp 8). It is exposed, frequently windy, and often dangerous--dotted with forgotten mine shafts and boggy terrain. When not at his barn, this is where Simon wanders with his goats.

Mên-an-Tol (Image by LoggaWiggler)

This formation of neolithic standing stones is one of my favourite places in Cornwall. Local folklore says that if you suspect that your child has been stolen by Fae and a changeling left in its place, you can pass the changeling through the hole and have your child returned to you. It was also credited with curing rickets. This formation and its legend is directly referenced in WRATS, where it is known as "the Way-In Stone" (and previously known by Simon as "The Scone With The Hole").

St Michael's Mount (Image by Tim Hill)

My other favourite place in Cornwall! This small tidal island is where Pitch Manor is based in WRATS. It can be reached at low tide by a causeway (pictured part-submerged here) amd otherwise must be reached by boat. The island includes a castle and chapel, with a small village and harbour on its landward-facing side. In WRATS, the location has been the seat of the Pitches since time immemorial, but in reality it has a long and varied history, such as a site of pilgrimage, siege and tourism.

St Ives harbour, Cornwall, no date given (from the book Reflections of Old Cornwall by Reg Watkiss)

More vibes for you! Fishing was the basis of Cornwall's economy for centuries. Whenever a shoal of fish was sighted off the coast, almost everyone would turn out to help. The men and various boats worked together, arranging their nets to scoop up the whole shoal, while the women waiting in the harbour to salt and barrel them.

Newlyn, Cornwall c. 1900 (from Reflections of Old Cornwall)

This steep, cobbled street is very typical of Cornish villages. Many of the granite cottages are homes which doubled up as fish cellars, but some structures were inns or boat- and basket-makers' sheds. When I look at this, I can't help but think of a bare-footed Baz, hood drawn over his face, angrily stomping a puddle. Today, most Cornish villages are dominated by holiday lets and airbnbs, and many of the houses have been renovated beyond recognition. However, you can still glimpse some of the old charm in numerous places.

Ok so yeah, that's my love letter to Cornwall done. Thank you for indulging me, and I hope the readers of WRATS get something out of this!

@johnwgrey @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @erzbethluna @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @yeonjunenby @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @tea-brigade @whogaveyoupermission @nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @shrekgogurt @theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @palimpsessed @valeffelees

[quotablefanfiction]

Hakuba’s first stop was the break room.  Coffee and bento in hand -- from a pot guarded by three twitchy officers, and a table stacked with well over a hundred name-tagged bento guarded by six more cops, which was either the cushiest, most boring, or most nerve-wracking assignment of the day -- they sat in a corner and watched patrols check in for lunch breaks.

there are some unexpected stressors when dealing with Kid (chp. 5)

Arcane Dealings by joisbishmyoga (AO3) Case Closed (Meitantei Conan) – Teen – Edogawa Conan (Kudou Shinichi)/Kaitou Kid (Kuroba Kaito) #Post-Series #Stuck as Conan #Shota – sort of #Physical Age Difference #Secret Identities #Secret Relationship #Canon typical murders #Lots of dead people in violent ways

A serial killer in Osaka. But if Heiji had felt the need to call Conan, it had to be extremely baffling. This wouldn’t be a typical “guy knifing young women” sort of case.

Part 4 of the Deal series (AO3)

[sbizz25]

Chp 2

It has been many years since that incident. Isla has adopted Y/n as a daughter, and they quickly get along since Isla's quirk is Earth just like Y/n's. So Isla could only train Y/n's earth side.

Isla : "Come on Y/n it's time to train! Put on you blind fold!"

Y/n : "Really again Isla"

Isla : "Don't complain! It's part of your training, now Hurry Up!"

Isla wanted Y/n to see from her Pov since she can't see. She taught her how to make sense of it like sensing the vibration through the ground. Around their surroundings giving a mental image of it. Also allowing them to have a 360 version. They could tell how many people were there by their breathing, heartbeat, body heat, etc. Isla uses semi-sense as a daily thing since she is blind. Just like Toph from the Avatar. Isla could tell when they're lying but Y/n can't do that just breathing and body heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

( This is around S2 Ep16-19 After the Hero Killer or after they came back to school after training with pro-heros)

Y/n : "Isla have you been checking the mail lately? "

Isla : "Of course I have , why would you think that?!"

Y/n: "SuUre I'm going to check just in case cause we haven't gotten mail in a while." Y/n went downstairs to check the box, and when she opened the box a bunch of papers came flying out of the box. Y/n sighs "God damn it Isla." She grabs all the papers and brings them up the stairs into the apartment. She was looking through the stack of papers and saw a letter from UA. She was furious and kicked open the door of the apartment.

Y/n : "Isla! You lied to Me!".

Isla stands up "Ahh No! I would never lie to you, the Audacity! mph!

Y/n : "Isla you're facing the wall, I'm over here".

Isla : "Ohh!". Turns to Y/n. "what was I saying ohh yea , I never lie!"

Y/n: " Ohh really then what is this then!" shows her the letter.

Isla: "Geez I wonder what is it, Remember I Am Blind !"

Y/n : " Oops, it's a letter from UA"

Isla : " Oh my god you got into UA!"

Y/n: "Yeah but it was weeks ago, I don't know if they would still accept me."

Isla: "Ooff yea". Gets her white cane. "Don't worry sweet heart I'm sure you'll get in , I have my ways". Y/n : "yyay I guess".

Isla: " But double check if your dumb add did actually got in and we will go to UA tomorrow child, cause I'm going to sleep , I need my beauty sleep."

       Time Skip: To UA In The Principal's Office Nezu: " Lady Isla what brings you and your daughter here today?" President Mic, Midnight, and EaserHead were there also in the office.

Isla: "Ahh yes so my lovely daughter Y/n got into UA but you see we just found out yesterday at night".

President Mic: "?? How we sent out those letters to everyone weeks ago!"

Midnight: " Isn't kind of too late for her to join or—"

Nezu: " I mean she did get in but Y/n might be a bit behind".

Isla: " Yes, I could train her at home to make up the missing work, I mean I am a pro hero plus SomeBody Named Aizawa Owes Me a Favor Cause of Last Time—"

Aizawa: " Ok! ok! Deal, Y/n can be here in UA and she will be in my class!" Then whispers to Nezu "Plz Nezu just this once, this bitch is crazy!"

Nezu whispered back to him: "Fine but you're going to be in charge of her if anything happens it's on you". Looks back at Isla. Nezu: " Uhh alright then". Stamps the paper "Y/n is accepted and she will start going to school tomorrow, make sure you have your uniform and Midnight will tell you the rest".

Midnight: "Ok Y/n I'll show you around the school and rules tomorrow".                Time Skip: Morning Time Isla with pots and pans banging together "wakey Wakey Batch, it's time for school you don't want to be late!"

Y/n rises up from her bed "Uhh! fine i'll get up" Isla: " Ok you have 15 mins and the food is ready on the table"                          Skip 15 mins Later Isla: " Y/n! Are you ready ?!" Y/n grabs a waffle and eats it on the way " yea I am".

Isla opens a hole on the ground and they get in and heads towards UA. Isla dropped off Y/n and she went to side to meet up with Midnight to show her around the school.

Midnight: " Alright Y/n down the hall to the right is where Class 1A is"

Y/n: "Okie thanks". Midnight: " Ok I see you later than, they need me somewhere else bye".

Y/n started to head towards Class 1 A. Y/n mind "I really don't want to socialize with humans". She arrived at the door "Alright I guess there's no turning back".

Aizawa : "The written exam is only one element, there's also the practical portion to worry about. Good Luck". Looks where Y/n was standing next to the door. "Also we have a new student, Come on in". Y/n walks inside.

Aizawa: "This is Y/n, she is going to be with us starting today, please try to get along with her. Don't scare her away". Then hands her some paperwork too.

Aizawa: " I'll get going now, Y/n just fine a seat and sit down and do some of the paper work". Y/n walks to a seat between Iida and Uraraka just ignoring the class complaining about Mid Term.

Momo : "This is Wonderful, Yes let's do it!"

All group : "alright right!"

Momo: "Okay then, we can hold a study section at my residence over the weekend"

Mina: "Seriously?! I can't wait to see your fancy digs"

Momo: " Oh! I must call mother and have her prepare the great hall for us to set up; it'll be the perfect spot"

All group : "Great Hall!!??"

Y/n mind " Jesus Christ, how rich is this bitch, I only live in a studio that is broken down with a crazy lady".

Momo: "What kind of tea does everyone like, I'll have her make sure we're stocked"

All group : " That's over killed"

Momo: " In my family blah blah blah we'll of course the new girl will join us right ?!" turns to looks at     Y/n. " Uhh M-me?" pints at herself.

Momo: " Yes! I'll start preparing everything and blah blah".

Y/n goes back going her work and someone near her has been looking at her since she came in. ?? : "She looks very similar like I have seen her before"

Time Skip: Weekend; All The Group Arrived at Momo's House

Denki: "Wow... I knew her family had cash but I didn't know she was this rich!" They ranged the doorbell.

Momo on the speaker : " I've been waiting for you, Everyone please come on in" All of the group sat down on the dinner table

Ojiro: " I couldn't feel anymore out of place right now"

Sero: "Yea me too" Momo comes in with a cart of food. Y/n mind :" yes finally food"

Momo: "Is something wrong"

All Group: "No Everything Is Perfect!"

Study Session Over : Skip Exam Day

Aizawa: " Alright put your pencils down, the last person in each row bring the answer sheets to me"

Mina: "Thanks so much for all your help"

Denki: " I didn't left anything blank at least"

Skip: The Written Exams Were Over it was Time for the Practical Exam Aizawa: "Now then let's begin the last test, it's possible to fail this final if you wanna go camping, then don't make any stupid mistakes"

Jiro: "Why are all the teachers here?!"

Aizawa: " I expect many of you have gathered information and believe you have some idea of what you'll be faced today"

Denki: "We're fighting this big old metal robot!" Mina: "FireWork! S'Mores, Here we come, Camp!"

Nezu : " actually this year's test will be completely different for various reasons" All group : "Principal Nezu?!"

Momo : " You're changing things ??!"

Nezu: " The test now has a new focus, there will be HeroWork, of course, but also teamwork and combat between actual people. So what does that mean for you? Your students will be working together in pairs and your opponent will be one of our esteemed UA teachers. Isn't that!* Fabulous *!"

All group: "We're fighting the teachers !?" Aizawa: "Additionally your partners and opponents have already been chosen etc blah blah and for the last pair is Midnight Vs Sero and Mineta Ohh yea One last thing Y/n you're sitting out this one since you. and late to class. So you just have to take notes for each fight but if you don't You'll fail too"

Mina : "Ahh what ! Lucky Y-n" Hugging her Y/n : " Yea I know "

Time Skip: All battles Are Finished

Y/n reviewing her thoughts. Y/n mind: " Ahh so that's all my classmate's quirks huh, Hmmm what's his name again Ohh yeah Shoto Todoroki, he has 2 quirks like me". She looks over at Todoroki and stares at him. Y/n mind " he looks cute I think I might  like him"

                             To Be Continued

[waythroughtheice]

8 and 22~

Alright!

8. How many WIP do you currently have?

Uh-oh. This'll be a list since I have a stack of WIP. I divide this into categories of "will eventually publish" and "just for me".

In the "will eventually publish", I have:

All is Quiet Chp. 17

Synthesis Reaction Chp. 6

But there is a friend (Zero's PoV of the century X was away)

The crossover stuff with Legends Reborn

Experience is the Cain of the Blind (the next part of the Robot Masters went back in time saga)

Those One Piece one shots I actually have finished but wouldn't mind publishing. Maybe.

"In the bleak midwinter", a Legend of Zelda au. Only one chapter so far, though, and I actually want to finish it before publishing it.

In the "Just for me" category we have:

A lot of Pokemon fics, like a self-insert that I have like three chapters on (I'm not publishing this because I don't think I'll ever finish it)

Stuff based on Straight Elf's Traveler, some I do publish for that discord server, others I don't. The stuff I won't publish comprises of multiple one shots based off of an au of that awesome fic. Also a crossover with One Piece, because why not.

That one Demon Slayer and MHA crossover. Some one shots are finished, others are not. The finished ones I won't publish because, again, I'll never actually finish the rest of them and I consider it unfair to do something and not commit to the end.

An AU of Linked Universe that's mixed with manwha and fire emblem sensibilities; all the Links are brothers and princes. Most are only half-brothers because their bio dad (the king) is awful. Ganondorf takes over when Time is like nine years old; this causes....issues. Ganondorf and Time have an interesting dynamic in this au since Ganondorf holds all the power, and quite a few hostages since Time's little brothers are very young. Eventually he does get kicked out when Time is 16, and more things ensue from there.

A Dark End of Hyrule, wherein Spirit (who didn't travel with the Chain) travels to a Dark Hyrule and uhhhh it doesn't go well.

A few One Piece one shots wherein Law travels back in time to Roger's time thanks to Straw Hat Shenanigans, changes somethings. Roger--who got healed by Law--ends up adopting all the D. kids, it's hilarious.

The Trenchcoat AU, wherein it's a lot of AU's masquerading as one big AU. It's a One Piece AU, wherein Garp dies when Ace and Luffy are young, so Sengoku takes 'em in. The Five Elders interfere, though, and it ends up with Luffy in a wheelchair thanks to an "illness" that only the Navy has the cure to. Ace works as a Vice Admiral to get the medicine for Luffy. There are a lot of complicated feelings with the Sengoku-Ace relationship. Luffy is Luffy and has the entirety of Marineford wrapped around his rubbery fingers.

A self-insert to One Piece, but like Roger's time. Rouge gets a whole pirate crew, and builds a city in the New World.

Iiiii think that's it?

22. Care to share any future WIP ideas you have lined up?

Uhhhhh.....this is again split into the two categories. For the publishing side of things (which is the only side I'll share)...Experience is the Cain of the Blind technically doesn't have anything written in it yet, so I think it counts.

Basically, the premise--set up from the first fic--is that Duo (the robot who sent the Robot Masters back in time) told Blues that he'd send all his family back in time, right?

And he did! It's just that what Blues didn't consider at the time--since he didn't know about X is that.....

All means all.

Cue X waking up in the pod by Dr. Cain 100 years later, completely disoriented, and after looking around at this new, strange time proceeds to go what.

(The Robot Masters didn't find the paper will, oops. Well, they will eventually but at that point Dr. Cain's already absconded with X.)

Zero and Axl are eventually found through shenanigans, and Dr. Cain is here for the ride. The Robot Masters do eventually catch up, which is even more shenanigans.

Did I mention that it's from Dr. Cain's PoV? Yeah, this entire thing will be from Dr. Cain's PoV.

Thanks for the asks!

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.10 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 9. Chapter 11.

Mayhem and Chaos

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

As predicted, Fives and Hardcase were causing trouble. Were you going to stop it? No. Would you get involved? No. 

Would you standby and watch? Absolutely. 

At some point Kix had also joined in, aiding the troopers in their toying with the starships. 

You sat back, hoping you didn’t have to use life saving measures on any of these lovable idiots. 

“All right…” Fives typed away at a console next to the ship Hardcase had chosen. After some tinkering, the ARC trooper looked back up, “Okay, there. Should be a little easier.”

Hardcase rolled his wrists, adjusting to the controls. After a few moments to prepare, the Umbaran fighter lifted into the air, hovering unsteadily.  You weren’t entirely sure what they had changed from the first time, but you really really hoped nothing was going to explode.

After a couple of moments however, the ship jerked forward and the trooper inside overcorrected backward. One of the wings slammed into a stack of crates, sending them flying into the far side wall. Fives ducked, narrowly avoiding getting struck by the ship as well.

“Hardcase! What are you doing!?” He shouted up. 

“If I knew I wouldn’t be doing it!” Hardcase snapped back, clipping another umbaran fighter and dislodging from its holdings. 

You grabbed Kix and dove out of the way, barely dodging the thing as it hit the ground and knocked over shelves of metal boxes. The ship was out of control, spinning in the air and nearly hitting two other troopers. 

“Look out!”

“Move!”

Fives gripped the console and shook his head, “Great. This can't get much worse!”

As if on command, an intercom from a different dashboard buzzed before Krells voice boomed out, “Trooper, what's going on down there?”

The ARC trooper shoved the soldier out of the way, “Er... Yes, sir. Everything's fine in the hangar, sir.” He answered sounding as unconvincing as possible, 

Hardcase slammed into two other starships, sending them to the ground with loud clangs. You flinched, knowing this was going to be hard to explain.

“Then why have the alarms been triggered?!” The Jedi snapped over the console.

Fives stuttered before barely coming up with a response, “It's just a drill, a safety drill, sir!”

You and Kix managed to get behind a knocked down pile of crates. Both of you watched helplessly as Hardcase spun out of control, ramming into the wall and bouncing off of it. 

“Safety check occurs at 0600. Who authorized this drill?!”

The ARC trooper choked on his words before coming up with another excuse, “Uh...We are decrypting the alien hardware, sir. Standard operating procedure!” He finally found an answer to tell the General. 

Clones can not lie for shit! You threw a dumbfounded look at Kix before running to another spot for safety. 

Hardcase hit an already downed ship, sending it bouncing in one direction before screeching to a halt. Apparently things could get worse because the damn starship began to rapidly fire green bolts everywhere. 

“Shit!” You ducked down behind an open metal crate, next to Jesse “Hardcase, can you land the fucking thing!?”

“Let me try!” He called down to you. After a twist of his wrist, one of the large cannons attached jerked slightly and charged up a bright bolt, “No, no, no, no, no!” Hardcase desperately tried to undo…whatever he triggered, but was too late. 

The bolt launched, hitting directly into the hangar doors, causing a burst of light and the metal to melt into ash. 

“They’re dead. Krell is going to kill them.” Kix mumbled, sitting next to you, and Jesse, who was laughing too hard to speak. 

You had your face in your hands when Hardcase managed to land the Umbaran fighter, “Got it. I got it. It's easy. Just level your hands.” He had a proud smirk when the ship was fully on the ground and the cockpit opened. 

Five dashed forward, exasperated at what happened, “What, are you crazy? You could've gotten us killed! Not to mention ruining our hopes of flying this mission!” 

“It's a malfunction, no harm done.” The other trooper tried to calm his friend. Before he could say anything else, another voice cut through the air. 

“Explain this,” Krell demanded as he stomped towards the clones, “Now.” He was followed by captain Rex who looked more concerned and confused than mad.

Fuck! Clones really can’t lie for shit! You shot up, instantly speaking, “It was a trap, sir!” You could hear Jesse repress his snickering as you continued, turning the Jedi’s ire to you, “They were decrypting the enemy craft when what appears to be some sort of preventative failsafe went off.”

Rex’s eyes widened at you, but he remained silent, praying the Jedi wouldn’t see right through you.

“A trap!?” The General leaned forward at you, glaring. 

“Yes sir,” Hardcase spoke up, covering for your lie, “The fighter went haywire and had I not been able to get control of it, and aim the missile at the doors, something worse might've happened.” He was standing at attention as the besalisk stared him down. 

You kicked Jesse who hadn’t managed to stop his laughing. Rex, on the other hand, looked damn near stupefied. Kix had his face in his hands and you swear you could hear him praying.

Krell put his arms behind his back, a critical gaze on the troopers in front of him, “Is this true?” His question was directed at Fives who flinched at the sudden attention. 

After a second to stutter he nodded, “Yes, sir. That is what happened, no doubt.” 

The jedi General huffed, “Well, Captain Rex, looks like I was correct. The Umbaran fighters are dangerous and not fit for flight,” He turned and began to walk out of the half-destroyed hangar, “Lock down these fighters. I don’t want anything else exploding.” 

Rex shook his head and cast a look at Fives and Hardcase before turning to follow the general. 

You sank to the floor, putting your face in your hands. Jesse managed to calm down enough to get up and give a friendly clap to the two soldiers, “I thought the plan was to destroy the enemy ship with the fighters, not blow up our own hangar.” He had a grin as he put a hand on his hip. 

You were about to say something when your comm beeped, “Doctor, you're needed in the medical bay. A patrol’s been injured.” Without waiting another beat, you dashed out of the hangar, Kix close behind you.

The two of you had arrived to a broken patrol of 5 men. 

The most healthy was Cloud, holding a broken arm. But he was standing, and not your concern at the moment. 

Blue had a hand over his charred shoulder. His helmet was off and he was breathing, awake and aware of his surroundings, However, next to him was a trooper laying on the floor. You could see the blood seep from under the helmet and pool onto the sterile white tiles. 

Forty. His name is Forty. You remembered, spotting the ‘40’ he had written on his helmet. 

Bind was on the floor, normally white plastiod stained a deep red. His helmet was off, jaw barely hanging on to his skull by shredded muscle and ripped tendons. It looked like he took a blaster bolt directly through the mouth, melting his tanned skin. 

In his shaky arms was Thrall, heavy amounts of blood streaming from his stomach and chest. It looked like he had been ripped open by a beast and then thrown around. He was unmoving, and you weren’t even sure if he was even breathing.

“Kix, take Forty!” You commanded, immediately leaping into your training. Within minutes you had Thrall on one of the medical beds and hooked up to life support machinery.

Visually, you assessed the damage. To be safe, you used your new umbaran scanner to confirm. 

Broken ribs. Ruptured diaphragm. Collapsed right lung.

Your medical mind put the pieces together. You prioritized. 

Stabilize the lung, restore oxygen. Then, control the bleeding. Repair the diaphragm. Stabilize ribs. 

So you got to work. Your hands were fast and efficient, setting the chest tube correctly to inflate the lung. From there, you focused on the sources of bleeding. However, your repairs weren’t quick enough. 

Thrall’s heart rate took a nosedive. You fought against his death as long as you could, using a cardiac massage and other life restoring methods to keep him alive. As hard as you struggled and tried to save him, his body gave out. 

Thrall succumbed to his wounds, and the list of the dead forced its way into your head. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Thrall.

“I’m sorry, He’s gone.” You informed the others before getting to Bind’s side. Kix was still working on Forty, and you couldn’t see exactly what the medic was dealing with.

Bind was breathing heavily, clearly in agony over the damage that was done to him. He was trembling, terrified and now grief stricken from losing Thrall.

“Bind, don’t worry, I got you.” Your voice took a soft tone as you injected him with the strongest painkiller available to you, “What happened to you five?” 

“Krell sent us to a backroad West of here,” Blue responded shakily, “Said it could be used as a supply route, but…”

“He didn’t tell us traps were set over there.” Cloud finished his comrades sentence, “When we commed him for a scanner to sweep the area he said there wasn’t time. We needed to secure the road.” 

“Krell…” You growled.

Bind flinched, jumping slightly when your finger brushed over an exposed nerve. 

Immediately you felt sympathy. As someone who, just a rotation ago, had your own nerves exposed to open air, you knew his pain, “I’m sorry Bind.” you murmured softly, “I know it hurts…”

He stared at you, brown eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Soldier bravado…of course…

“Blue,” you called to the trooper, “Come here, and let him squeeze your hand. He’s in a lot of pain.” You hid the true intentions of your request. 

Hold his hand so he doesn’t feel alone. 

Blue did as asked, clasping his trembling brother's hand. 

Kix slammed his hands down on the surgical table. He swore, sweeping the medical supplies onto the tile floor where they clattered, “He’s gone.” His voice was trembling from emotion. 

Forty.

Cloud slid onto the floor and ripped off his helmet before throwing it. It bounced a couple of times on the ground, “I fucking hate Krell!” He snapped. You didn’t comment when you saw the tears on his cheeks, “He’s purposely trying to get all of us killed!” 

Kix sat down next to you, aiding in Bind’s jaw. This time, Blue spoke up, “How many men have we lost?”

“Too many.” Your answer didn’t seem to make him happy, so with a sigh you told the truth, “Assuming any MIA are casualties…almost a third.” You’ve seen the numbers. You’ve seen the names. The list you replayed in your head were only those who died under your hands that you blamed on Krell. There were many more. Those you couldn’t get to. Those who perished in the field that would remain as they decomposed. Those Kix lost. 

There were too many that have died on Umbaran soil.

With Anakin and Ahoska, these numbers would never get so high. When they would lead, Kix and you were enough to handle the 501st with the Venator on standby to take the more seriously injured off the field. 

But with Krell? It was clear that two medics wasn’t nearly enough. 

If you had known this was going to happen, you would have contacted those you knew in other legions for support. You were sure General Plo would have gladly given his medics in the 104th to support the 501st. 

Fuck, if General Plo was leading the 501st, you were sure Kix and you wouldn’t even have injured to help.

“One third.” Cloud whispered, “one third of our brothers…”

You stabilized Bind’s jaw and let Kix finish up. Wordlessly you went to the emotional trooper's side to begin to help his broken arm. Before you did so, you reached up and wiped his tears from his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “When we get out of this, and we will get out of this, I’m going to reach out to some contacts to punish Krell for all of this.”

“Will that even work?” Blue asked from where he was, now being tended to by the clone medic. 

With a sigh you gave an honest answer, “I’m not sure,” you admitted, “But I know some senators. Even helped a few, so I’m sure they’d be willing to at least listen to me.”

“Just give up, Doc.” Cloud sniffled, looking away from you, “No one cares about us. We’re clones. We’re meant to be thrown onto the battlefield and then thrown away like trash.” 

“Not if I can help it.” You responded, “I’ll become a senator just to stop that from happening if I have to.”

Blue snorted, “I’m gonna tell you, Doc. it's talk like this that has Captain Rex in love with you.”

Oh, shit did they know? Play dumb. Kix glanced up at you before looking back down at Blue’s shoulder. 

Your words were steady and calm as you spoke, “He’s not in love with me, we’re just good friends.”

“You might see that,” Blue continued before wincing at something Kix had done, “But every time you turn your back, the Captain gets this lovestruck look in his eyes. He looks like a puppy, I swear to the Maker.”

Bind nodded in confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. Oh if only they knew the truth.

Then an idea came into your head.

“What else does he do?” You asked playfully, taking full advantage of this. 

“Well, that last planet, on Sataran.” the trooper continued, “there were three women and two men that tried to get with him. And not only did he turn them all down, he was looking for you directly afterward.”

You remembered that. Poor Rex had been so flustered to have been flirted with so aggressively. 

“He’s in love with you, doctor.” Cloud chimed in quietly, “You make him happy.” 

These guys needed a distraction from their grief. That much was clear. It's why Blue was so quick to start gossiping about their captain. All you could do was smile softly.

“All set,” you stood once Cloud’s arm was stable, “Bind, I want you to stay here, take the bed on the far left. Blue, Cloud, you two can go to the barracks to rest.” They all gave you a salute before following your command. 

Once Bind was under the effects of painkillers and sedatives, you took a deep breath, “How long was that?”

“Couple hours at least,” Kix murmured, sitting down on a stool next to one of the medical consoles, after a few moments he sighed, “So one third of the 501st is dead?”

You confirmed with a nod.

“Maker, we suck at our jobs.” He mumbled, rubbing his face in his hands. 

With a bitter snort, you began to evaluate the other soldiers. You use the scanner you cracked earlier. Their wounds differed of course. Severe burns, broken bones, head injuries, but the anomaly in their brains was consistent. 

Perhaps it’s just a clone thing…

As you were working, the doors opened again. Dogma and Tup walked into the med bay. The longer haired trooper looked tired, as if he had been woken up against his will and dragged here by the former. 

“Are you two alright?” You spoke first, thinking perhaps they needed something for their sleep. It wasn't unheard of for troopers to need medicine in order to get a proper amount of rest. 

“Well, doctor,” Tup cleared his throat, “We-”

“Where did Hardcase, Jesse, and Fives go?” Dogma demanded. 

Oh boy…

“If you two are just here to waste our fucking time, you may as well leave.” Kix snapped, standing to face them. 

Dogma, however, didn't seem entirely phased by the medic, “If you know where they are, you need to tell the General. Otherwise it's insubordination.”

Poor Tup looked like he didn’t want to be here. You noticed the trooper looked extremely uncomfortable and unsure. 

Your anger spiked, “Fine,” You approached the demanding trooper and grabbed his wrist, “Let me show you what we’ve been doing.” Your steps lead you to the surgical table that Thrall was laying on under a sheet. Still holding his wrist, you threw back the white cover, revealing the dead trooper. 

“That!” You snapped, glaring at Dogma as he yanked his wrist back, eyes wide. “We don't know where those three are because we have been trying to fix that!”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall.

Your emotions surged. Your vision blurred with tears. 

Fuck. Calm down. Keep yourself together!

“Your ass kissing of an incompetent General hasn’t done anything to help us.” you seethed, “So get the fuck out of my sight and don’t bother me unless your fucking dying!” 

He scrambled out of the medical bay, most likely to find Rex. Tup stopped in front of the door before looking back, “I think you're doing the best you guys can.” He sounded genuinely sorry for the situation, “Thank you for working so hard, and…I’m sorry.” He left quickly after Dogma, maybe hoping to talk him down. 

Kix sighed and shook his head, “You ok?” He asked quietly. 

No. I’m not. You thought before lying to your medic friend.

“Yea, just…yea. I’m fine.”

[thatcheeseycandle]

//SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 31 OF IN PURSUIT OF SELF

DING DING DING IVE REBLOGGED THE CHAPTER ITS TIME FOR THE REACTION TO IPOS CHP 31 WOOOOOOOOO

AGHGHSHDHFBFHSB THE TITLE CARD, AS ALWAYS, GOT ME HYPEDDDD AUDISJHA HD JSHANCBANDNDN

Wiat HWTA WHAT WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED?????

Ay AYYYYYY GREEN ARROW HERE AS EMPTIPNAL SUPPORT BEHAKAHDHD

AweewjahddvAJWSHAHDBDB FOUND FAMILY MOMENT NUMBER ONE

Oh no OH GOSH TORNADO- BEHAHAHAHHAHDJAHDHAHAH NGL WHEN I FIRST HEARD OF IT TOO I HAD THE SAME FEELING HEHAHAHDBNA

Okay boiler sludge is a fair name for it actually HEHAJHDNNNFNF

Oh OH TRUST ME TORNADO THEY REALLY ARE-

Arrow ARROW JUSKO- THE CATS ARE FIGHTING AGAIN THEY REALLY ARE-

Ay AY AN ARGUEMENT???? OKAY IM KINDA RECALLING ON WHAT IT COULD BE- WAIT PARDON????? OKAY THATS GOOD ARROWS TRYNA YKNOW BE GOOD

helahdDGHELAUSGD I NEEDED A FEW SECONDS TO PROCESS WHAT SHE JUST SAID IM SORRY BEHAHABDHD

I JUST GOT A QUICK FLASHBACK TO WHAT TAW VALLEY SAID ABOUT EVERYONE FLIRTING WITH SCOT WHEN I REAF THAT AND I DIDNT THINK IT WOULD BE TRUE NGL

Oh to be not famous and oh to just live peacefully- (insert very loud opera music)

Yes YES FIESTY TORNADO BEHAHF

AHEHAHDBD YES TORNADO ONE OF THE TRUEST WORDS YOUVE EVER SAID THEY ARE A CUTE COUPLE

Im sorry TAW VALLEY SAID WHAT NOW???? OHHHH BOYYY IM ALL EARS I REALLY AM IM ALL EARS ALL EYES AND EARS

Ohhh OHHHSHSHDHDKDBD TORNADO YKNOW ITS TIME SHE LEARNT ABOUT THE LOVE TRIANGLE THOSE TWO HAD BEHAJAHHDHS

Im very VERY EXCUTED THIS BIT NOW GOT ME EXCITED FOR THE NEW BLOG HEKAHFKD OOOHH THE TENSION

Ay AY AY WHAT WHATAFAQ TRURO???

Wait WINSTON KNEW?? HE KNEW ABOUT NORTH WHATAGBSADAKAKA HOW WHEN HUH

Oi OI WAIT AYYYY GOLD AND DP1 LETS GOAOAYDJFB THEYRE HERE

Yeah YEAHH THE COOL KIDS BEJAJDH

Ph wait.. OHW AHATA WAIT WIAY IS TRURO GONNA TURN HUMAN??? IS HE???

Wait WINSTON ITS STARTING TO STACK IP HES GONNA TRUROS GONNA DO IT

Truro TRURO YOU LITTLE YOU DO LOOK GOOD FOR GODS SAKE

Oh OH? WELL.. YEAH I MEAN NGL TRURO HAS A POINT NOW CONSIDERING THAT- BUT STILL HES RIGHT YEAHHH

Yeah YEHJAFJJAHAHSBC

Lady WHATSG OH EHS GONNA GO HES GONNA TODAYS THE DAY HES GONNA DO IT

WOAH WOAGDHQOWAOAGD AYAYAYAY AY AY AY

Oh Gold COME ON- THEYRE MORE THAN RELIABLE THEYRE COOL AND LOTS MORE WORDS I DONT REMEMBER BUT I KNOW FIT THEM

Ayy AYYY YEAHHAHAGD

Wait WIAT KING EDWARD II KING WDMEJSH YEAH SHAKR HER OFF DO IT DO ITYOU CAN DO IT YOU CNA DODO TUTJTKTTTT

King ed wjandd KING ENEEWARDD AHSHGKGJJA NAOOOOOO

Wait wait WAIR SIRNGEL??! 1??1?11!5????? WHATDTH

God HE HAS TO REST SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK-

As soon as I read King George's dialogue I STOOD UP FORM MY BEAD WYAYYEHAHAHSHDHHAHAHAHAHA FINALALAAAYSYYYYYY SHES DEAD SHES GONE SHES GONNA DIE FINALALALDTHAJ 1ST HNWNSNDBD

Ohhh OIHHOHOHOJJ GETETEVHER TSTNANEIRJT YEAHHH LET SGOGOOOOO SHES FINALLYYYYYYY SHES FINALLY DONE FOR LETS GOGOOOOO

Guess shes GOING BACK TO HISTORY CLASS HEJAHFMEKDNFB SHES FINALLY GONNA BR DONE FOR FIMALFYAHBD AFTER SO LONG SHES FINALLYYYY DONE

YOU LTIYKTLEE YOU LITTLESHE IS NOT THAT IF SHE WERENT THERE THE PLACE WOULD PROBABLY BE A MESS

Yes YES EYSGSGDYE GO STANIER HO GOGOGOGOGOGOGOOOO

OHGOHIHOGODOGOHOHON CAINE WAS HER SON????????? NOW PEOPLE THAT IS HOW YOU CONNECG PEOPLE TOGETGER IN WRITING OHGMSUODJSHFBFB I DIDNT WHAT OKAY I DIDNT EXPECT THUS GOGYSMFUUSUFKCJV

ATTEMPTED HOMICIDE????????? GWARATAHSGAGSRA

YOU LTITKLEE MS PARSOSN WHWY WODYSLS DYOSUDBDOTVRHAISI WHY OWUDLD YOU DO THIS TO US WHY WHAYHSHAAAAAAAA

SHE DIDNT HAVE TO DO IT

I had to pause form typing CAUSE MU GODOSHDB I COUDLTJNS LOSE KING EDWARD II ISTG ATLEAST KING GEORGE

MY HEART IS NOT OKAY.

Oughfjfhgv OUGUFJSHF GOD THIS BIT HURT ME THE MOST AGAGSHAHAGGAHAHAA

Oh OH TRURO IS THERE TRUROS THERE YUP WERE ONTO TRURO'S POV NOW

Somebody IMSOEEBOSDY COVER HIS EYES HE CANT SEE HIS FIANCE LIKE THSI HE CANT NOT NOW AAAAAAA

Mallard MALLARD YOU LITTLE AAAAAAVSHRJWHAGDHF NO YOU DO NOT CALL TRURO THAT MY GOSH

I needed a moment of silence to process what just happened.. WHATA WHAT. IM VERY CONCERNED FOR TRURO AND GADWALL- BUT HEY ATLEAST GADWALL CAN TALK NA CAUSE YKNOW ITS GONNA COME IN HANDY

Oh OHHHH WE GOING TO PENDENNIS HERE WE GO

I almost REHFELL GOFF MY BREBD IS THAT HIS TRUE NAME?????? NO WAY HE JUST USED HIS TRUE NAME OGHAMFUSYAJDB

"But it is hard to convince myself of my worth." HERE COMES THE TEARS THEYRE FLOWING

Im aorry CLUNC ASYLE DID WHTACA NOW? SHE HAS THE NERVE TO SAY THAT CAUSE ITS RICH THAT A FACT SHE'S TECNICALLY TOGETHER WITH UNION

BEHEJABDBSHS POOR PENDENNIS HES JUST CONFUSED ON HOW TRURO DID THAT HEHAHAHDBHWBDHDNDMSA

AQERJAUEYEHDB AWESHSB ITS OLD ART OF TRURO AND SCOT AT THE ENSNWHAJDHSNFB

And hey I FINISHED IT BEFORE DINNER HRJAHDNDHF WELL DONT I FEEL FULL ENOUGH TO NOT EAT EHAJDBD (full of tears HEKSFBS)

WOOO OKAY THAT WAS ANOTHER EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER EXCEPT THE MAIN EMOTION WAS SHOCK SO YEAH ANOTHER WELL-DELIVERED PLOT THAT HAD EACH BIT OF IT SMOOTHLY YET SHARPLY DELIVERED

Conclusion: A VERY WELL WRITTEN FANFIC BY REDWYVERNWRITES

(Im very VERY hyped for next chapter BEJAHDJDGC)