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reds-writings · 9 months ago

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jealousy, jealousy!

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: hello! welcome to my first bout of writing! feedback is greatly appreciated and i hope you enjoy! there isn't much rust content on here so i figured i'd create it myself lmao

warnings: cursing, steamy scenes but nothing too crazy, sorta sexism, marty hart being himself, rust being pigheaded, mentions of sex, etc etc let me know if i missed anything (minors just don't bother interacting regardless thank you!)

word count: around 5.8k

Never did you think that sitting in the passenger’s seat of Rustin Cohle’s red Ford pickup could have you seething as it did now. This wasn’t at all how your night was supposed to go and the culprit of said unsavory evening was sitting right next to you, cigarette pinched between tense fingers and eyes set hard on the dark highway ahead. The stubborn bastard had made no move to turn on the radio to save you both from the borderline unbearable silence. All you had was the humid Louisiana air from his rolled-down window flowing into the truck’s cabin and you couldn’t quite find it in you to be grateful for the fact he seemed to have kept in mind you detested the smell of that sour burning tobacco.

Just who the hell does he think he is?

The question that repeated itself a mile a minute in your Coors-addled brain as it fought to catch up with all that just occurred not even a mere hour prior. Rust, as you already well knew, did not bother himself much when it came to others unless it strictly involved the endless trials of his work. That was the line he drew on a daily basis. Nothing could be clearer than the fact that Rust had little to no capacity for getting truly personal with most who existed in his orbit.

It was something you dealt with a bit better than the likes of your other partner Marty day in and day out at the CID. Though he may be one mystery wrapped in a more or less fucked up enigma, Rust’s way of functioning stayed relatively consistent. You didn’t dig often given that he wasn’t up and ready to offer much in the first place. He was sharp and strong-minded. Possessing most qualities that make well for a good investigative partner. Lines didn’t get muddled. It was how you preferred it. Up until recently, that is.

You didn’t have much nerve or will to go down that route right about now.

Earlier in the day…

Your fingers were cramping at the end of typing the last dregs of the day’s reports. This recent case was starting to weigh heavier and heavier as an influx of countlessly cryptic details revealed themselves with each milestone of the investigative process. Something about this being darkly occultish as it was made it all the more daunting. There was a sense of underlying dread that this was something bigger than all of you. A sentiment you found yourself sharing with at least one of your partners: Rust. Marty on the other hand was still on the fence, not totally in the business of believing this was more than just some twisted piece of shit who had nothing better to do with his time. You wish you had half the mind to reduce it down to something so simple.

Strange things were not that of an irregular occurrence around these parts. Though said strange things didn’t have the habit of making it to the limelight as the Dora Lange case had. This wasn’t the type of case where one could be fine with just leaving it at work and picking it back up when they returned the next day as normal. Its disturbing details twisted themselves into every fiber of your daily life since that poor girl was found posed in Erath. It was better to eat, sleep, and breathe this case so that it may be solved all the more quickly.

A world with one less monster like the one capable of committing a murder such as this is was a world where you could maybe sleep a little more soundly.

Rolling your shoulders back, you twisted your aching neck side to side, resounding with an aching series of pops. God, I need a drink. You thought to yourself as you leaned back into the roller chair at your desk. The clock on your floor’s wall read 6:02. With all the work on your part done you figured you could slip out with much complaint. Stiffly rising from your spot, you started to pack away any necessary belongings into your well-loved messenger bag. Marty glanced up from his notes with a small quirk of his brow, “You headin’ out?”

Throwing your hair up to save yourself from the impending humidity from outside you replied, “Yeah. Need to wash the day off me and go grab a drink or somethin’. Bein’ out talkin’ to them church folk in the heat nearly all afternoon then witnessin’ Rust make that one boy shit himself was enough for the day.”

Marty snorted to himself at that while Rust made no move to acknowledge your statement from his spot as he analyzed his comically large ledger. The blonde sipped his evening coffee as you finished gathering your things, “Don’t get too crazy tonight now. Lots to do in the days to follow I reckon the more this case stays befuddlin’ as is.”

You scoffed lightly, “I don’t doubt that. I’ll probably just head to that Blue Gator joint off the highway. Grab a few beers. Maybe a dance should one be willin’. Need’ta let loose is all.”

“I’m sure any fella would be delighted to spin the night away with the likes of you, darlin’. Leave it at just dancin’ will ya?” Marty snickered a bit as you scowled and flipped him off idly. You notice in your peripheral Rust go still with a pen in hand but he didn’t make any move to look up or participate in the conversation.

Continuing, you fix Marty with a half-hard look, “I’m sure you have your extracurricular activities beyond the job so it ain’t a sin to have my own. Anways, this is hardly an appropriate conversation to have betwixt coworkers, Martin. Keep your nose outta it.”

Marty let out a surprised guffaw and placed an offended hand over his heart. Rust still hadn’t moved an inch from his position. When you let your gaze drift over towards the silent half of the duo you were met with that cold blue stare of his. The mere instance of contact left you feeling funnier than you’d prefer as of late. Things were starting to blossom into something a little different between you two after the few months of being in each other’s presence. He had been starting to open up in a manner he hadn’t bothered to when he first transferred to the CID here in Louisana. His presence had been quiet but no less intimidating, leaving you and Marty at a loss of what to do to prompt him out of his self-imposed shell.

Now, as this new case unfolded it seemed to trigger a sudden release of the deepest tidbits of his…intense opinions and values that went on within the inner workings of his mind. Marty often found himself wishing that Rust never bothered to open his mouth at all. Anything coming from the brooding Texan seemed to offend Hart on some deeper level one way or another.

For you, while it was not all that pleasant to constantly hear how fucked up we as a collective were and how life had little to no meaning, were intrigued nonetheless. You believed that Rust was just as human as everyone else despite him pushing himself as far away from that narrative as possible. He was just broken in a way that couldn’t ever be truly reversed. So while his infinitely dismal ramblings left you feeling more defeated about life than anything else at times, you couldn’t find it in you to really hold it against him.

When it came to your dynamic, he seemed to have more of an unspoken respect for you than most of your colleagues did within the department. It wasn’t some radical declaration made by him that clued you in on the matter. He mostly just treated you the same as everyone else. Not inherently negative nor too positively outgoing where others could accuse him of giving you some form of special treatment. He listened to you and took your input into genuine consideration which was more than you could ask for when it came to working alongside any of your other male counterparts. However, there were these little instances within the recent weeks that had your mind (and heart) taking another route when it came to how Rust Cohle just might regard you.

First, it started with fresh coffee materializing on your desk by the time you’d be strolling in at morning time. Two sugars with one cream and always in your favorite green mug ordained with hand-painted daisies. Very specific and not at all a detail that Marty ever bothered himself with remembering about you in the time you’d known each other. Not that you ever really cared. No one else here would ever think to offer you a damn thing unless it was maybe the lovely receptionist up at the front.

It wasn’t until one night you had forgotten your keys at your desk and made your way back inside the assumingly empty department only to find the Rust Cohle with sleeves pushed up to his elbows in the small office kitchen cleaning your daisy mug that you’d left haphazardly in the sink before leaving. You watched in silent awe as he had set it gently aside after drying it for what you assumed was for the next morning where he’d be the one who dutifully made your memorized coffee order in secret before your arrival. To him, the act was probably meaningless.

To you, the simple scene made your heart squeeze in a way you didn’t think was possible.

Next, it occurred when he started offering you rides to and fro after your car suffered a nasty rear-ending thus needing to have it sit in the shop for the time being. At first, it was a little nerve-wracking to be in close proximity without Marty present to break any drawn-out silences but after a while you’d found yourself in a rhythm you could call your own. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you’d sit and listen to whatever old country cassettes he had stowed away in his glove compartment. It was never dull to you.

Each car ride had you piecing together factoids that unfurled into the evergrowing idea that was your new(ish) partner. You still found yourself sharing more about your own life than he did more often than not but you were okay with that. Even if he wasn’t the most reactive of men, you knew he held on to every word. Anything he decided to sparingly share had you doing the same with a reverence you weren’t sure you carried for anyone else.

After getting your car back and no longer needing his chauffeur services a silent agreement had followed. Neither party was completely ready to let go of the pleasant thirty-three minutes permitted to be spent together outside of work. It was decided that he’d drive you home on nights you happened to leave late, deeming it too dangerous to be traveling home at odd hours in the night although you had already been doing so plenty before he manifested into your life.

Eventually, he even found himself at your house one day after having determined that your porch steps needed fixing…or that your gutters should be cleared…or that the lawn was looking a little too overgrown than what was acceptable. Small acts where you felt that maybe he wanted to be in your presence a bit longer than normally desired when it came to his usual limits of socialization.

Seeing him working around your property with that sweat-soiled wife beater of his and those lithe, god-given arms made that squeeze in your heart reach new heights and your tongue feel like lead. Who knew such pictures of domesticity could have this intense of a hold over you? You usually prided yourself in not being so easily affected by men. Though it wasn’t necessarily news that Rust was his own brand of a striking handsome that stood out against most men you’d come across. The sweet tea you’d supply for the dreadful heat when he’d carry out his projects ended up being more for your own benefit than his.

You caught yourself feeling greedy for more of his presence as he made himself an increasingly present fixture in your life. Which realistically…couldn’t lead to any sort of good.

Bringing yourself back to now, his gaze held an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Hell, most times it was hard enough to know exactly what he was thinking unless he outright declared it. Maybe it was disapproval? Judgement? It wasn’t likely that he wanted to hear about your potential escapades. You probably wouldn’t want to hear of his either (not that he ever does speak of it if he even engages in that sort of activity) but you’d be coming from a different place on that matter. He returns to the pages of his ledger after deciding to break the staring spell, “I don’t see what sorta grand company could be found at an establishment such as the Green Gator.”

His tone came out a bit too passive for your liking. Bordering the ugly lines of judgy which was something that rubbed you wrong entirely, “It’s the Blue Gator-”

“Oh hush up, Mr. High and Mighty. Not every man is as intellectually driven as you find yourself. Most men want fun and ain’t gonna pass it up when it’s in front of em’. They don’t need nearly as much as you do to get their rocks off.” Marty angles himself towards Rust in his chair, already willing to bat for you in his more than unhelpful way.

Rust just scoffed and shook his head slightly, “Wouldn’t expect a thing from anyone in this vast shithole…buncha ignorant shitheels with no sense of fuckin’…” He muttered the rest of his ramblings detailing the severe lack of intelligence that the people of Louisiana seemed to hold while bringing his attention back to his ledger.

His shoulders were set in a harder line than usual. Marty got a kick out of it all, reducing Rust’s distaste to not being able to participate in normalcy like anybody else in the world could.

On your end, it struck a nerve that he clearly found your plans more than dissatisfactory. It left an unpleasant taste in your mouth to be on the potential receiving end of Rust’s ruthless judgments.

“You forget him, y/n. You have yourself a good ol’ time with whatever strappin’ young man of your choosing should he be lucky. Don’t let grumpy guss piss on your parade.”

You find yourself grimacing at how much focus on you and the prospect of potentially getting laid has been put. You look back to Rust but he seemed to be no longer interested in your presence, back in his own world and on the case. Patting Marty on the shoulder you finally make your way to head out, “G’night. I’d love it if we never brought any of this up again. Page me if anythin’ comes up.”

“Y’got it, darlin’. You stay safe.” Marty points at you a bit more seriously and you nod in slight exasperation with a soft ‘got it’ before officially leaving. Rust hadn’t said another word which left you feeling all sorts of confused. Relieved he didn’t further insult your plans for a night out? Disappointed he didn’t put up much of a fight when it came to you maybe trying to avoid any of your current problems with the company of another man? You don’t know what you expected but you did know that you needed to get it together and just let this shit go even for just one night.

And what a night it would be indeed.

Night at the Blue Gator…

The night was proving to be a bit more than uneventful. Perhaps uneventful was just about the only thing your mind could handle at the given moment with everything else going on. The lingering feeling of Rust’s disapproval had also left you more affected than desired. With a few Coors in your system, you find your gaze a little hazy as it passes around the kitschy establishment.

Some George Strait song filters through the bar on top of the active chatter of the patrons taking up a surprising amount of space for a Wednesday night. The cute little black dress you managed to find in your closet and squeeze into was becoming less than ideal as you found yourself hearing the siren call of just calling it quits and crawling into bed back home. Clean sheets and reruns of something like The Golden Girls…absolute fucking heaven right about now.

Briefly pressing your perspiring bottle to your forehead, you soon enough were roped into a dance as some lively Brooks and Dunne tune came on. The fella who managed to drag you on the dancefloor was decent enough. A bit short and plenty bald… with maybe a tad too eager of hands for your tastes that left you feeling a bit removed from the experience as a few more songs went on. You weaseled yourself out of the crowd after ‘promising’ baldy (named Rex or Tex but who’s to really care) you’d make your return after grabbing a refreshment.

Making your way to the bar your legs come to a sudden halt at the sight of a familiar figure slouched on a stool. After your brief shock shifted into a brewing irritation, your feet found themselves mobile again as you sidle next to Rust and order yourself another drink. He put out his cigarette as soon as you were near his side but made no motion to speak so you find yourself shooting first.

“For a place you couldn’t bother gettin’ the name right of you can color me surprised to see you here.”

“A man ain’t allowed to drink after work?” Is his flat reply.

You put your hands up in mock defense, “No need for my permission. Just didn’t think you’d grace the simpletons ‘round here when you can have a drink for free and in peace in the comforts of your own home.”

Rust didn’t have anything to say to that, instead lifting his own drink to his lips, “That man sure had a grip on ya. Doesn’t seem the type you’d to give the time of day to. Less’ you’re that compelled to blow off steam.”

The thinly veiled nonchalance of his insult didn’t go past you. Instead, it caused you to bristle only in the way you could when you had a few drinks in you, a bit more sensitive and a helluva lot more confrontational. Who was he to judge how you spend your time? Let alone who the hell you spend it with? You set your new drink down with more force than necessary and felt your face starting to get hot.

“I can dance with just about anybody.”

“That’s been made clear.”

“And why in god’s name do you care exactly just who it is I dance with?”

“Don't remember ever givin' the implication that I quite cared.” Calculated blue flitted over you as if bored. But you knew better.

“I’m sorry, did you just come here to make me out to be some desperate whore for drinkin’ and dancin’ when I’m a grown-” That got his expression to fall with something closely resembling alarm.

“That ain’t-”

“Last I checked I can do whatever I so fuckin’ please. Do not go insertin’ yourself in the aspects of my life in which you are not fuckin’ concerned. Some of us are lonely and tired and can’t take comfort in stupid murder manuals or severe stretches of solitude. Call it my shitty programmin’ but that’s just how it is for most people. If I wanna drink and let a greaseball feel me up then that’s entirely up to me! Shit, it might be dumber than hell but it’s not like I’m gonna sit and wait around for you to make a move! That’s if you even feel a speck of the way I’m startin’ to towards you. Knowin’ you you’ve probably noticed and just like to see me embarrassed or somethin’.”

Everything was coming out like one big bout of word vomit. There was an even deeper change in Rust’s demeanor but you were too tipsy and too angry to pay much notice. The burning behind your eyes grew stronger as you threw up a finger to jab at his shoulder,

“It is not up to you to judge people for the shit they do that you deem is beneath you every chance you get. You’re not perfect yourself and I know you know it. But thanks anyway for making me feel like a fuckin’ stupid loser-” Your heated rant was interrupted by a fat mitt of a hand making its way around your waist.

“This fella botherin’ you, honey?” The hot whiskey-riddled breath of Tex or Lex or whoever the fuck immediately made your nose wrinkle in disgust. Your patience had run its due course for the night as you roughly shoved him off you,

“Oh come off it, Dex-”

“It’s Rex.”

“I don’t care no more I’m leavin’.” You threw a couple bills on the bar’s surface before making your move past both the offending men. Rex had different ideas and made the choice of gripping your arm tightly without much remorse despite your loud protest.

“You still owe me a dance, bitch. Where d’ya think you’re goin-”

“You best get your hands off her, boy.” Rust’s glare was off-putting even to you. Rex was either too stupid or too drunk to really care as he attempted to yank you back towards him. With your heart racing, all you could think to do was take your heel-adorned food and stomp on his booted one hard. The short bastard yelped as he let you go, giving you the room to skirt past him far enough just in time for Rust to take him by the collar and send him reeling with a swift punch.

Rex surprisingly regained momentum and took his chance to get a lick back at Rust but his opponent was already plenty steps ahead of him. Rust took Rex’s fist, twisting it behind the shithead’s back, and slammed his head into the bar countertop with a sick thud. A commotion had well enough formed by now and it was your obvious cue to start hustling your way out. Rust spit on the man who now had made a home on the sticky floorboards before turning to you. Your chest was heaving as you made way to open your mouth but he wouldn’t hear it as he grabbed your arm and started leading you out.

The bar doors slammed open and the persistently thick air of the South drove you further into rage. You yanked your arm a few times until finally freeing yourself from his clutches. He didn’t stop to acknowledge you, instead making his way toward his truck as if expecting you to faithfully trail behind.

“Where exactly do you get off?!” You demanded, struggling to keep up in your heels which then had you electing to nearly fall over yourself trying to rip them off.

No answer.

“I’m talkin’ to you! What the hell is wrong with you?” Your feet were finally free on the warm pavement of the parking lot. You still received no reply.

“RUSTIN.” Your throat nearly felt raw at the volume of your hollering. He stopped at his truck’s passenger door and opened it. The blood in your veins thrummed while your head and heart felt like they were going to burst out of their respective places.

“Get in the truck.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re drunk-”

“You ain't one to talk. Don’t think I ain’t seen those bottles of cough syrup in your car or them pill bottles you got! I’ll make it just fine-"

“Y/n.” His low baritone left no room for argument, nor did his hard stare. You felt like a petulant child staring back at him with your arms crossed.

Your will to break was unshakeable but you had the inclination that if you pushed him hard enough he’d have you in that passenger seat even if you came kicking and screaming. Huffing out a harsh breath you half stomped your way over and climbed in. Grabbing the handle for yourself you slammed the door before he had the chance to close it for you. You felt a lick of petty satisfaction when you saw his shoulders drop and a hand come up to squeeze the back of his neck. It wasn’t often you could catch Rust off-guard, let alone see him visibly exasperated.

After a moment or two, he rounded his way to the driver’s side and got inside with noticeably less ruckus than you did. He lit a cigarette as he pulled out of the parking lot, but not before rolling down the window in consideration of you. Bastard.

“My car better find its way back into my damn driveway come morning.”

He remained silent for the rest of the way.

Back to the present…

Pulling up to your house, the truck hadn’t even made a complete stop before you unbuckled and hastily hopped on out. You only stumbled a bit as the old Ford squeaked behind you in what was probably the harsh fashion in which Rust must’ve slammed on his brakes at your sudden escape. You heard the truck get thrown into park and a heavy slam of a door shutting as you quickened your pace up the pathway to your front porch. Your heaving breaths were drowned out by the frogs and nearby cicadas that created their own little symphony on your property. You knew Rust was following you but you naively hoped you’d make it up to shut the door in his face just in time.

'Fuck, I forgot my shoes.’ Was your narrow thought as you fumbled for your key ring in the endless depths of your purse. Rust’s footsteps grew closer causing you to whip around and shove him back with a clumsy force much to his surprise.

“Don’t you come followin’ me! I’ve had just about enough of you!”

“Listen-”

“No you listen! Never have I been more embarrassed than you’ve made me tonight. Never have I felt more stupid and small all because you decided today was the day I’d be on the shit end of your scathing criticisms! You can fuck right off with that mess. I’m goin’ to bed.” You turned to start your trek before he spoke up again,

“My intentions were not to come by and make you feel stupid.”

A near-jarring laugh clawed its way from your system, “Oh, so that’s your twisted way of makin’ a girl feel cared for. Is that it?”

He let out a frustrated sound, “What’d you mean by startin’ to feel a certain way towards me. Back at the bar.”

Your heart nearly dropped out of your ass just then. Did you really blab on about that somewhere in the middle of your tirade? God, you could just about go feed yourself to the gators right now. Work would no doubt be complete hell after this nightmare of an outing.

“Take it how you want it. I know with you being as perceptive as you are it shouldn’t come as a mystery what I might feel. You do plenty towards me that’s had me foolishly thinkin’ there could be a one in a million chance of somethin’ but no dice. So what I want to know is why did you follow me out. Why did you come all this way to ruin my night.”

The silence was biting as he offered up no explanation. He seemed to be trying to figure out that answer himself. Instead of the petty satisfaction you felt from seeing him at a loss earlier, he seemed well and truly bothered now which left a sinking feeling in your gut. The thought of the immovable force in front of you being this bothered when it came to matters involving you just made you all the more disoriented. There was only one other plausible explanation as to why he went through all this trouble to insert himself into the mix.

You could almost fall to your knees laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of your creeping realization. It couldn’t be. There was just no way. But given the miserable look of Rust’s obvious inner battle on what he should decide to say to you had you gawking.

The man was jealous. Rustin Cohle, feeler of nothing and believer of none, was jealous. A fit of giggles made their way out of you before you could help it. It might’ve been in poor taste during the seriousness of the moment between you both but you couldn’t stop. Rust seemed all the more distressed as if he’d been caught red-handed. Stripped bare in front of you despite no real accusation of his behavior being made quite yet.

“If I knew any better I’d say you were plain jealous, Rust. Can’t say I see you bein’ capable of actin’ so irrationally. I thought entertainin’ such primal notions was too beneath you. Especially should it involve lil ol’ me.”

But he was indeed more than susceptible to all the irrational factors of his so-called programming when it came to you. You were beautiful. Mind, body, and soul. Your presence brought things to the surface he didn’t believe he could ever have the experience of feeling again. It scared him shitless. Having to face what was making his old tired heart beat into a lively rhythm again after convincing himself things of that nature were abysmally futile. Even as you stood in front of him now, with eyes and hair looking something fiercely wild, feet bare and dirtied from your lack of shoes in that high-cut black ensemble you had on. He absolutely knew that he couldn’t bring himself to deny what his programming was demanding of him when it came to the unknowing hold you had over him. Flexing his shaking fingers as if to render them steady he took a slow approach to you.

This was a moment where you had neither the sense nor the imagination to anticipate what he’d do next. It was as if your heart had forgotten how to keep itself beating. This was the closest you had found yourself in his proximity. Being able to see every fine detail of the tragically beautiful man in front of you could have left you speechless for the rest of your days.

A large, calloused hand came to cup your jaw then the other followed. Both nearly took up the entire sides of your face, and their warmth made you feel as if you were on fire. His grip was firm… more so intenful if you were to put a name to it. Eyes searched each other in the most tortuously bated moment you’d ever found yourself being victim to. If you were to move an inch or look away the spell might be broken forever and you think you might just collapse if that were to happen. When had you gotten this dramatic?

Kiss me. God, kiss me. Just kiss me. You thought over and over as if willing it into his mind. Then, as if he heard you through some unspoken link, he did.

It was like being let in on one big universal secret that couldn’t be fathomed by most. Never had you thought a kiss could wield as much power as Rust’s did. For being such a hard and withdrawn individual, the feeling of his slightly chapped lips on your plush ones felt nothing short of soul-bearing and endlessly warm. Trailing your hands up his broad chest, the quick pitter-pattering of his heart didn’t go past you. Drawing your palms up further you reach to lace deft fingers into the sandy waves that you’d secretly been aching to touch for a while now. His breath faltered as you pulled back for a brief moment. It wasn’t long before the invisible magnet between you both had you returning for more.

The kiss turned more intense, bodies pressing and molding into each other as if you could become one entity. His tongue traced the seams of your lips and you had no qualms with letting him invade your senses further. The need for air was becoming harder to ignore but no force on earth could rip you away. The desire for him was something you’d not felt for another person in you’re not sure how long. If not ever. His breath held traces of the Lonestar he’d been cradling and the cigarette he’d deeply pulled on the way here and it had you absolutely hooked as it curled into your mouth. You didn’t know how long the pair of you stood on your porch necking like a bunch of desperate teenagers but by the time he pulled away you felt dizzy at the sight of his flushed complexion and swollen lips. Possessiveness gripped your being at the thought of being able to have such an effect on him. You. No one else.

Rust’s grip loosened on your heated face as he planted one last sweet kiss on you before stepping away entirely. It was a shock that you had any remaining strength to keep yourself upright. His expression seemed a bit more relaxed, a bit too casual for what just transpired. There was a brief pause.

“Don’t go out dancin’ anymore.”

With that, he turned and made his slow descent back to his truck. Snapping out of your daze once the words sunk into the crevices of your Rust-drunk brain you quirked a brow,

“If that’s your odd way of layin’ claim on me I think I’m gonna need to ask for a more straightforward redo, mister.”

You saw his shoulders shake slightly in amusement as the night found itself ending on a more playful albeit confusing note, “G’night, y/n.”

“I’m bein’ serious, Rust. You can’t just kiss a girl like that then waltz on out. I have questions.” You pointed.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” The cowboy gave a slight wave and then got into his truck. Oh, you could wipe that subtly growing smirk right off his stupid face. His dry sense of humor made its presence known at what you thought was the most inopportune of times. You stood there watching his truck disappear into the night, the ghost of him sticking to you like molasses. Your fingertips graced your buzzing lips and you could’ve started giggling again like some schoolgirl. How ridiculous indeed.

You were so not letting any of this go when you got into work tomorrow.

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #true detective #marty hart #true detective imagine #rust cohle imagine #true detective season 1 #matthew mcconaughey

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happy-beeeps · 9 months ago

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Darling, I Would Do it Again

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, injury, angst with a happy ending, language

Summary: After a mission goes south, Hunter risks it all to get you back.

Thanks @starboytech for the request! Birthday requests still open!❤️🥰🫶

Four walls, one floor, one metal slab you assume is a bed, one small chamber pot you’ve decided not to investigate.

One broken rib, three gashes, one puffy lip, one bruised ego.

You’ve been itemizing your surroundings, counting your affects, trying to keep some semblance of composure. It’s what you’d learned in med training, the effects of shock can be the sneakiest killer in a crisis. From the moment that Trandoshan had grabbed you, you’d been doing your best to keep yourself on the other side of a panic attack.

To say the mission had gone sideways would’ve been a colossal understatement. It was well and properly fucked. Truly FUBAR as Wrecker would say. What was supposed to be a simple grab and go of some cargo (and information) from a small collection of pirates had turned into the squad attempting to infiltrate a fully operational pirate base, who dabbled in trading and selling live cargo. CID’s intel had been dated at best, or designed for failure at worst. The last thing you remembered was pushing Omega towards Wreckers outstretched hands, as Hunter screamed, clamoring for you as the squad ran towards the exit they had blasted open. You were running, legs striding, until you felt a singe, then burning pain in your calf. The tranq was fast, your vision fading to black before you even knew what had hit you.

That was, by your count, three rotations ago. The pirates had scarcely been by, only to throw food at your cell and offer vulgar remarks. From what you had gathered, you were the only live cargo aboard this section of the ship. There was no way of knowing where you were going, and no way of knowing what awaited you when you got there.

Honestly, you hoped Hunter and the rest of the batch had figured you a lost cause. You were vastly underprepared for any siege, and the danger these pirates posed to Omega made you sick. You had looked hell in the eyes before, and you’d do it again to keep them safe.

Hunter was, in Tech’s words, displaying the worst show of territorial protectiveness a clone had shown in his memory. In Echo’s words, he was kriffing irate. He hadn’t spoken since you were taken, instead pacing aimlessly through the hull of the Marauder, eyes glazed over, jaw tightened. Not even Omega had dared speak to him in this state, instead coloring pictures of their small family to give you when you returned. Tech had warned them that even with the tracker Wrecker had chucked onto the ship, they needed to be practical, but the look that flashed across Hunter’s eyes had softened the rest of the statement into a whisper. He was going to get you back, non debatable. Even as the ship blurred through hyperspace, tailing the ship to the best of their abilities, he had willed a thought to you. I’m coming for you cyar’ika.

One broken rib, one gash, two cuts, one broken heart.

You knew that even as the ship touched down, there was no way they were coming, you had hoped that even. Still, the thought that you’d never see them again, never lay in Hunter’s arms again, had you fighting back tears. A different pirate, a human man with a cybernetic eye that reminded you all too well of a clone you had befriended so many moons ago, had warned you that when they had completed inventory, you’d be taken to the highest bidder.

You hadn’t shown any crack of emotion the whole time, but wept the moment he left. It had all gone so wrong, so fast.

The ship rocked for a moment, a commotion coming from far down the hall. You had seen large crates of merchandise when you had first snuck aboard, and figured something had merely snapped loose. It wasn’t until the telltale sounds of blaster fire that you had even begun to think about this hell coming to an end.

It was coming closer, moving towards you. The sounds of yelling and blaster fire and body after body hitting the floor. In a flash, the door was flung open, and you caught sight of the silhouette of Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker standing against the smoke and sparks in the air.

Echo had moved to a panel near you, where you assumed the controls to the cells were held, and Wrecker stood near the door, ready for incoming threats. Echo had gotten the door opened in a mater of moments, and was now working on closing the main blast door to the detention area. Hunter had moved in immediately, taking one, two, three, big steps and closing the gap between you, careful to press you against his chest on the opposite side of your break.

“You came for me.” You wept, tears flooding from your eyes freely, “but Omega, the squad,”

“There is nothing in any system that could ever keep me from you, you understand? I would never stop looking for you, whoever had you would never know peace.” His words were rushed, angry, but his smoothing hands against your hair told you all you needed to know. Hunter was terrified, terrified that they’d have come all this way for you to already be gone, or worse, come to collect your corpse. You wanted to badly to rip off his helmet and kiss him, but given the circumstances, held back.

“This is cute and all, but we gotta move!” Wrecker’s voice came in loud as Echo managed to get the opposite blast door open. The four of you took off running, Hunter pressing against you as he cushioned any impact on your already aching body. It was working, you thought, whatever distraction Wrecker had planned and whatever interference Tech was running was working. You’d nearly made your way to the door Echo had opened, to what you assumed the rendezvous point was, when you were met with company. Most shots were met with a fast response from the batch, but a few were close for comfort. It was like deja vous, you were so close to freedom.

In a moment that had to have lasted no longer than four seconds, you heard Hunter turn around, before yelling “no!” And sidestepping in front of you.

The shot that landed in his chest would have hit you squarely, with no armor. You screamed his name, and Wrecker wasted no time picking up his downed brother, tossing him over his shoulder as if he was weightless. Echo slid into Hunter’s spot, urging you forward as you all moved to where the Marauder was waiting, engines already firing as Omega motioned you all foreword, eyes wide.

One shattered chest plate, one nasty bruise, two broken ribs. He was alive. He wasn’t wounded. You tried to repeat these truths to yourself as you worked on him on the tiny pull down stretcher the Marauder had. All your years as a med never made caring for those you loved any easier. You shakily applied bacta patches to the angry bruised spot on his chest, anxious to heal it before any internal bleeding caused irreparable damage. Tech is expertly piloting the ship away from danger, and last you saw Omega was tucked snuggle between Wrecker’s arms as he attempted to distract her from any negative thinking with Lula. Echo was up front with Tech, so it left you alone with Hunter.

You knew he’d pull through the second you removed the plastoid. Sure, his chest plate had been shot to smithereens, but it had done it’s job. Your own chest ached at the reality of how much danger you’d actually been in. How much danger he had risked just to bring you home.

His wounds were patched, bacta slowly working its way through his body. All that was left to do was wait.

You weren’t sure how long had passed, the inhabitants of the Marauder had moved to a restful sleep while you were keeping a vigil for Hunter. He woke up with a shaking breath, eyes wide, hand shooting out to grip the side of the stretcher, your name breathing from his lips like a desperate prayer.

“Shh, I’m here, I’m here,” you crooned, leaping up from your chair and moving to stand next to him, hands running across his sweat-damp face and hair. Your own wounds had been patched in the meantime, and your sudden movement had made you wince, but it didn’t matter now that you had tangible proof he was okay.

“Couldn’t leave you, had to come back for you,” he breathed, his eyes settling as he locked with yours. He pushed up a bit, leaning against the metal wall of the ship while he focused on you. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing I was the reason you were hurt.”

“Hunter, with all my love, how do you think I’ve felt waiting for you to wake up?”

“I’d take a blaster shot for you for less, you know that,” he sighed, but offered you an apologetic smile. The two of you settled into silence for a beat, you simply tracing your fingers over his knuckles while he watched you, content to see you alive and in his arms.

“I’d do all of this again, you know. Wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“You know, to end up with you, to have you with me,” he brought your hand to his face, lips pressing sweetly on each of your knuckles, “I’d go through any kind of hell just for, just for the chance to have you in my life. Every banthashit choice, I’d do it all for you ten more times, cyar'ika.”

You had no words at first, just leaned over to him and tried to channel all of your possible love into a kiss along his hairline. The words came to you, slowly, and you murmured back, “I’d have them put me back in it. All for you.”

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb hunter x reader #hunter bad batch #hunter x reader #hunter x you #hunter #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x you #tbb

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sircolinmorgan · 7 months ago

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i finally got round to watching the last episode of Inspector Morse, i have watched quite a few episodes in the last year but i've never really managed to get into it, i think i'm just too attached to Endeavour.

anyway, my point is that i'm just very emotional about Morse and Jim Strange. they had a friendship (albeit a complicated one) that lasted for 30+ years! jim was there when morse died and had his back right until the end! morse was always a terrible friend, he lets jim down at important moments and he never fully trusted him (with good reasons at times - the masons being one of them) and yet jim is always there even when morse is pushing him away. Jim has no idea about Morse's feelings for Joan, he just wants his best mate by his side when he gets married.

jim gives morse a place to live, is the only one listening to morse in Zenana with his unexplained deaths theory (and gets himself stabbed in the process), gets him back in CID in s6, needs his help investigating george's death and doesn't give up even though morse doesn't want to know, and in IM he's still there picking up the pieces wherever morse goes.

What i think is interesting is that Jim was brought up by his grandma, i don't think it's ever said what happened to his parents or if he had any siblings. His grandma doesn't seem like a warm and friendly person, did Strange have a lonely childhood too? Does he recognise that loneliness in Morse? i think the pair of them are more alike than morse would care to admit.

#this is rambly and doesn't make much sense #but watching the scene in IM where morse dies and jim is there made me well up thinking about their history!!!#i just have a lot of feelings about them #and don't even get me started on morse and max - it's a shame max wasn't in IM for long #but they have such a long history too!!!#endeavour #itv endeavour

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clu-ven · 2 years ago

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I don‘t know if your Requests are open, but if they are could you write one where the Reader is a Jedi and traveling with the Bad Batch and when they meet Rex in the Bar she finally reunites with him and the Bad Batch just being so confused that a Jedi and Clone were in a relationship while the Republic was still there.🤗

That Familiar Feeling

word count: 3.4k

tags: vague mentions of dealing with grief and order 66, self-doubt, crying, many happy kisses

~and before anyone points it out, lemme just say this doesn't exactly match the scene of Rex reuniting with the Batch (for obvious reasons and because I forgot little details which is annoying me lol)~

Something’s… off.

Entering Cid’s Parlour, the feeling of the force overwhelms you. It’s as if someone has thrown cold water over you, the force welcoming you with an eerie friendliness. It makes you falter, stopping abruptly as the sensation ambushes you.

“Oof-” Echo walks straight into you, bumping against your shoulder. He takes a step to the side, his surprised expression quickly becoming one of concern “You ok? What is it?”.

“I… I’m not sure,” you answer honestly, before trying to ease his worry “It’s probably nothing, I’ll be fine in a few minutes”.

Echo isn’t convinced but he gives you a nod, not wanting to pry. “If you’re sure…” giving you a swift once over to make sure you didn’t get injured on the mission, he carries on.

It’s been a while since you last connected with the force, becoming hesitant to reach out ever since it happened. You tried in the initial days after the order was given but the overwhelming pain and grief that greeted you each time made you pull away.

It’s not something you could deal with then and it’s not something you can deal with now, the wounds still fresh in your mind.

But this is a different feeling. It’s the force you used to know, something that worked with you and not against. It’s familiar… and that puts you on edge.

With this familiarity brings a fear of the unknown. When you worked hand in hand with the force, you could have located what’s causing this in a matter of seconds… but nowadays, where you go from week to week without reaching out to the force, it’s much harder, with the subtle shift in atmosphere being your only warning that something is different.

Your eyes scan the parlour, though there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The usual crowd is here, drinking their problems away and playing Dejarik.

Unfortunately, the Batch has gotten back later than expected, so the limited sunlight that graces Cid’s parlour during the day has vanished. Now, you can only rely on the frustratingly dim lights to help your investigation.

“C’mon, this way,” Cid cuts off your search, walking past you as she gestures to her office. Everyone begins to follow her, though you’re more reluctant.

Hunter catches your eye and you know he can sense it too but through a different method. Exchanging uneasy looks, you both make a silent agreement to stay on high alert before trailing after Cid and into her office.

Thankfully Cid isn’t in the mood for nonsense (when is she?) and so she gets straight into business. You stay quiet during the debrief of the mission and the accompanied discussion of payment, your mind elsewhere.

Although the feeling isn’t as strong in here, it’s still undoubtedly nearby, invading your every thought. Even when Cid’s focus turns to you, the feeling’s hold on you doesn’t fade.

“What’s her problem?” her voice is faint, as if she’s far off in the distance.

You don’t react. While this feeling is certainly daunting, a part of you is scared that if you push it away, this sliver of familiarity will slip through your fingers and disappear forever.

More talking ensues, though it’s more like mumbling to you, and you presume Cid has brushed past your reserved demeanour.

The harder you focus on the force, the quieter their voices become. Closing your eyes to further centre yourself, the feeling slowly becomes intelligible. You’re so close to uncovering what is causing this when it happens.

The sound of blaster fire is so sudden, you accidentally let go of the feeling, your body tensing at the noise. Your eyes dart open and for a split second, everyone freezes, the realisation of conflict sinking in before military training quickly takes over.

You reach down, instinctively going to grab your lightsaber but instead find a blaster in its place. Turns out, carrying a lightsaber in a galaxy where Jedi are seen as traitors isn’t the best idea.

Hunter takes the lead, charging out of the office and into the main area. Cid keeps up his pace, ready to defend her business with everything she’s got. You’re next in line, alongside Echo. Tech and Wrecker are the last out, both keeping Omega close.

As the other patrons scurry out, a hooded figure stands by one of the tables. Placing their blaster down on the metal surface, their armour immediately catches your attention. You almost didn’t notice the colour painted on to the plastoid, the dim lights distorting the shade of blue.

It can’t be. Surely not.

As much as your brain wants to rationalise it as being someone else, the instantly recognisable blue of the 501st is hard to deny. Before the figure pulls down their hood, the feeling finally reveals itself to you.

This familiar feeling is not one to fear. It is not the grief of losing one’s you admittedly became attached to or the terror of how the war ended but instead, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s a reminder of why you fought so hard. It’s the warmth people can bring, the safety you give others and is fondly reciprocated. But it’s more than that. It’s love. It’s Rex.

“Who are you?” yells Cid, gesturing to him. The others are still on high alert, with not even the likes of Echo noticing the comforting blue paint.

His gloved hands cautiously pull down his hood, revealing the face you’ve longed to see again. He looks uncertain, his eyes glancing over everyone until finally landing on you.

Although his face is sullen with a mist of hesitancy shrouding his expression, you can still see his gaze soften for you. And that’s all you need to know it’s actually him standing in front of you, not some brainwashed soldier or distraction sent by the Empire. It’s truly him, the Rex you know and love.

Despite always wanting to hold out hope that you would meet him someday, you couldn’t deny the facts stated on the Empire’s records. You remember the ache in your chest when Tech read it out, solemnly stating that Rex was reported dead.

Tears sprout from your eyes, a mixture of pure happiness and relief washing over you. Echo opens his mouth to speak but you get there first, taking the words out of his mouth.

“Rex!” his name comes out as a choked cry, your knees starting to buckle as you close the distance between you both, Hunter and Cid automatically stepping out of your way.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much emotion at once. Even when you first heard the news that Rex supposedly perished with the others, you suppressed your emotions. Though that was more out of fear, unsure if you could control the power of the force while facing so much grief.

Perhaps that’s another reason why you distanced yourself from the force, scared that the constantly lurking presence of the dark side might have used such powerful yet negative emotions against you.

You know Rex isn’t a big fan of PDA, especially around his brothers but as you throw your arms around him, you feel him hold you back. His strong arms wrap around your waist, one hand running up your back to keep you as close as possible.

It’s a surreal moment to feel him against you, his hard armour hidden underneath his cloak digging into you as you try to press yourself even closer to him. Not that you particularly care about that right now. The only thing that matters at this moment is Rex.

Burying your face into his neck, the warmth of his skin soothes you and for the first time in months, you relax.

“I… I thought you…” you want to say a million things at once, your brain unable to pick one coherent thought to say “I heard what happened… the mission report said you were… Oh, Rex”.

Giving up on trying to speak, you move to see that handsome face of his again, your hands instinctively coming up to his jawline.

The look in his eyes isn’t what you’re expecting. A mixture of worry and fear shines in his gaze, his eyebrows pinching together as he wordlessly looks at you. It doesn’t take a jedi to figure out why this is his initial reaction. Considering the recent event between all clones and jedi’s, it’s understandable for him to be nervous.

He’s scared that you won’t trust him, that what you once had together has died alongside the Republic. There’s only one way you can think of that can give Rex the reassurance he so desperately yearns for. Using your hands to keep his head in place, you kiss him.

At first, you feel him tense. The shock that not only are you kissing him in general but in front of his brothers making him freeze. But just as you wonder if you made the right move, Rex melts into the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as his lips begin moving against yours.

Unbeknownst to you, as your lips touch your beloved Captain’s, the Batches' mouths all happen to fall open. Well, most of them anyways. Tech is too busy doing something on his datapad to witness the kiss.

Wrecker, who stands next to Tech, gives his brother a nudge. Tech looks up at his shocked face before looking over at you and Rex… and then casually back down to his datapad.

“Wha- Tech,” Wrecker tries to whisper “are you seeing what I’m seeing? Or was I hit on the head too hard?”.

Tech glances up again just in time to see the end of the kiss and you affectionately bury your head back into the crook of Rex’s neck, the both of you whispering sweet nothings to one another.

“Considering her reaction when I informed her of the Captain's supposed demise, this isn’t a surprise” he shrugs, refocusing on his datapad.

Despite Tech’s statement that this isn’t a surprise, it most definitely is for Hunter, who stands there in complete shock. Even with his heightened senses, Hunter didn’t expect this. He isn’t sure what to do or where to look but thankfully, Omega grabs his attention.

She lets out a small gasp as she makes her way to the front of the group, looking up at the others before a large grin spreads across his face.

“They look like good friends” she gives Hunter a wink and he rolls his eyes, subtly placing his hand on Omega's shoulder so he can swiftly cover her eyes if you two kiss again.

Just like his brothers, Echo’s mouth falls open too but his lips quickly form a smirk. Memories come rushing back to him as he remembers the rumours that you two liked each other as well as the countless number of times Fives would try to get the Captain to admit his feelings.

It’s a strangely satisfying moment to see you both wrapped in each other’s embrace, finally getting some closure to what was once seen as a far fetched piece of gossip.

Speaking loudly so you’ll both hear, Echo pats Hunter on the back “C’mon, let’s give them some space”. As you pull your attention away from Rex, you watch the others silently agree, most of them giving you a reassuring nod before retreating to the bar area.

Within a matter of moments, you lead Rex to one of the quieter parts of the parlour, your hand in his as you sit on one of the lumpy couches. Rex sits beside you, hand still enclosed around yours.

You watch the Captain with adoration in your eyes, giving him a moment of silence as he gathers his thoughts. Your gaze lowers to his neck, noticing how his Adam's apple bobs anxiously. But then, he speaks.

“I… I thought about you every rotation, no matter how painful it was” Rex keeps his gaze down, watching how his thumb begins to rub the back of your hand “I wasn’t sure if you… well, if you made it. I tried searching for you through mission reports but when the Republic fell, my code was denied access to all official reports”. He huffs out a laugh “I was surprised the Empire was smart enough to do that”.

Giving his hand a small squeeze, you smile, though Rex doesn't notice, his eyes still cast downwards “Tech was able to hack into it. I’m marked as missing in action and uh, well, you’re actually marked as deceased”. You’re unsure how to deliver such news, unable to tell whether being labelled as dead is a good or bad thing, both choices having some pro’s and con’s.

Rex nods, quietly taking in this new information, though right now, he’s not that bothered by what the Empire has him marked as. Rex has more important things to address, the Empire surprisingly being at the back of his mind.

Staying silent, he lets the moment pass. Rex knows why you’re telling him this and he finds some solace in how you want to give him any intel you have. But there’s more important matters… or, well, relationships to discuss.

Yet despite its importance, Rex is hesitant to bring this up. On one hand, he doesn’t want to mention Order 66 or the horrors it caused but he can’t just ignore it either.

As much as he wants to bask in his ignorance, oblivious to what you’ve been through since then or how you feel about the clones, it’s not something he can do. He has to know how you feel.

Speaking rather abruptly, the words spill from his mouth “I’m sorry for showing up without any warning”.

You’re taken aback by his words, not seeing a reason why Rex should be apologising. Taking a deep breath, he elaborates “I’m not sure where you were when it happened, or what you’ve been through… I don’t even know if you want to see me and if you don’t, I’ll go”.

Finally Rex looks up at you, his eyes glossy as he tries to keep his composure. But his voice betrays him, his tone cracking as he continues “I want you to know that, you won’t hear from me again if that’s what you think is best. You have that choice. I don’t want to put you through more pain, especially after everything this face has done to you”.

You know he’s referring to the clones in general, doing a small gesture to his very recognizable face. Although Rex wasn’t with you when Order 66 was put in place, he has some understanding of what you’ve been through.

Rex has had a lot of time to think about this, to picture how his brothers suddenly turned on you and tried with all their might to kill you.

It was this very thought that made him hesitate when you first entered the parlour. He was going to call out to you but then the doubts crept in. Maybe you wouldn’t see him but instead simply see the face of a clone, a face that tried to kill you, albeit not him specifically.

You’re sure you can feel your heart ache, watching as Rex tries his best to keep his emotions at bay. Bringing your hand up, you gently cup his face.

Before you can even speak, Rex leaves out a shaky breath, your touch comforting him in ways he didn’t know was possible.

Your voice is stern, determined to get your point across so Rex will undoubtedly understand how you feel. “The only thing this face has done is love me, cherish me, care for me when I’m injured…” you list out as Rex closes his eyes, hanging on your every word “carry me to bed when I’m too stubborn to rest, cheer me up when I’m sad and it’s this face that’ll go to the most dodgiest looking parlour in all of Ord Mantell in the hopes of finding me there”.

He smiles at that last part, a stray tear running down his cheek as he opens his eyes.

You’re quick to wipe it away, mirroring his smile with one of your own. Needing to keep you close, Rex rests his forehead on yours, savouring the sensation of your breath hitting against his face. “You’re sure?” He asks in a low whisper.

“Positive” you confirm, unable to resist the urge to capture his lips in another kiss.

Over at the bar, Wrecker tries his best to inconspicuously look over. Keeping his gaze fixed on the two of you, he nudges Hunter, causing the Sergeant to groan. “They're kissing again” he announces.

Echo rolls his eyes, poking Wrecker with his scomp link “Stop gawking at them, will ya?”. Wrecker flinches away from him, almost stumbling on to Hunter “Hey! Watch it with that!”.

“You’re the one who needs to watch it,” Echo retorts, his gaze drifting over to you two as he repeats his sentence in his head. “Actually, no, don’t watch it or well, them” he tries to clarify, huffing at himself before hastily stating “you need to watch where you’re staring!”.

“I’m just keeping an eye on her!” Wrecker snaps back “I didn’t think Regs and Jedi’s were on good terms anymore”.

Hanging his head low, Hunter tightens his grip on his drink. “Will the two of you shut it?” he huffs, feeling the inklings of a headache coming on.

Echo opens his mouth to say more but stops himself, not wanting you and Rex to join them mid-argument. Instead, he decides to take another swig of his drink.

“Wrecker does have a point,” Tech chimes in “Rex could still have his inhibitor chip in place”.

Echo wastes no time in jumping in again, determined to defend his Captain. “Oh yeah, he definitely looks like he’s still chipped,” he replies sarcastically.

“Perhaps another defective chip? Or maybe the control the inhibitor chips possess are only for a limited time” Tech thinks out loud, purposely ignoring Echo’s response.

“This is one long kiss,” Wrecker comments, causing Echo to once again roll his eyes as he realises Wrecker is still looking over “you don’t think they're going to uh… y’know… take it further? They know we can see them, right?”.

Echo doesn't even warrant that question deserving of a reply.

Almost causing Hunter’s heart to jump out of his chest, Omega chirps up “How would they take it further”. She looks up at the Batch with an excited smile, the adrenaline of another clone being here yet to settle.

Hunter shoots Wrecker a glare, hurriedly fishing a few credits out of his pocket. “Here, kid” he drops the credits into Omega’s hand “do me a favour and beat Wrecker in a few games of Dejarik”.

Omega’s eyes grow wide at the credits as she leaves out an “Oooooh” noise. Barking out a loud laugh, Wrecker beams “C’mon best of three, loser has to buy the winner Mantell Mix”. As the two of them wander off to another part of the parlour, Hunter leaves out a silent sigh of relief.

The abrupt sound of Wrecker’s laugh catches both you and Rex off guard, causing Rex to reluctantly break off the kiss. His eyes dart from your face to where the others relax at the bar. “Was that directed at us?” he quietly mumbles, heat racing to his cheeks.

Giving him a reassuring smile, you peck his lips one more time “I doubt it, Rex”.

Rex gives you his signature lopsided smile in response, something you’ve ached to see for months. It makes you want to kiss him again but you can sense the others glancing over.

“You ready to go over to them?” he asks, though judging from how his gaze lingers on your lips, you’re not the only one with the urge to kiss.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him a playful nudge as you add “the sooner you say hi to your brothers, the sooner I get you all to myself”.

Rex chuckles in reply, standing as he tries to compose himself. “Oh you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to get you alone” he offers you his hand, shooting you a mischievous wink as he does.

“Well, Captain, you just have to wait another twenty minutes and I’m all yours” taking his hand, you stand, ready to reunite Rex with the Batch.

#captain rex x reader #captain rex fanfiction #captain rex #star wars clone wars #clone captain rex #captain rex x you #the bad batch #tcw rex #tcw rex x you #clone trooper x reader #clone trooper x you #ct 7567 #clone wars fic #captain rex fic #tbb captain rex #sw tbb #tbb

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retrospect1003 · 3 months ago

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Calling All Skeletons

The beginnings of my tbb x oc fanfiction! This is mainly a slow burn romance between Wrecker and oc, Doc. This takes place during season 1 episode 5 and will follow the show's story. I'm new to this writing fanfiction thing, so bare with me! I hope you all enjoy!

Word count: ~2.4k

Banner by: @blackseafoam

Chapter 1: Crash Landing

As the Havoc Marauder glides over Ord Mantell, a seemingly recent crash site is noticed outside of the city. The smoke danced out of the dismembered ship as the batch of clones observed from the forward cabin.

“That does not bode well for us,” Tech stated as he maneuvered to the landing site.

Hunter kept his eyes on the crashed ship, “While I doubt anyone survived that crash, we’ll stay vigilant and avoid making too much noise.”

With that said, the Marauder hovers down the landing port and securely lands. The group rehashes rules with Omega and, with a placement of their helmets, they head into the city in search of Cid.

From inside the city, a poorly disguised imperial medic stumbles out of an alleyway. Blue and green paint drips from her arms and runs down the dents and wears in the armor. Her helmeted head tilted up to the sky, a familiar ship flying overhead.

“An omicron-class assault shuttle?” The medic questioned quietly to herself as she began to assess her situation.

With a heavy disgruntled sigh, she moved forward to another alleyway to investigate the ship further. Traversing through the unknown of the city, each step taken questioned if it was going in the right direction.

“Remember the rules?” Asked an unfamiliar voice down the way.

The voice brought the medic’s feet to a halt, her eyes moving to investigate. It took no time for her to duck down behind a crate, recognizing the distinctly armored clones and observing from her place. The realization pushed through the countless questions in her mind. These were the deserter clones and child from Kamino. Wanting to solidify her thoughts, her hands typed away on her data pad and found the reports. Tucking her data pad away into a bag on her belt, the medic begins her pursuit of the assault shuttle from earlier once again. Her senses have seemingly returned to her as she searches the city’s layout and successfully finds a path to the ship port.

With some trial and error, the painted medic was gazing at the omicron-class shuttle and taking in each of its features. It was like the aura of the ship was drawing her closer to it, much different than other shuttles she’d been around. Her hand hesitated before meeting the ship’s side instinctively, her lips curling up into a small smile as her shoulders relaxed.

“I hope I’m making the right choice,” the medic whispered to herself as her hands and eyes studied the shuttle.

“We’ll be in and out of there in no time!” Wrecker exclaims with a hearty laugh.

Tech is quick to reply to Wrecker, “While the job seems to be simple, we shouldn’t assume all will go well. When does it ever?”

Hunter examines the drive Cid handed off to them as the squad makes their way back to the ship. Saving a kid and maybe some others from slavers shouldn’t be too much of a challenge for them, right? Sounds like a breeze compared to escaping the Empire. He held the chip between two of his fingers and tilted his hand out, Tech taking it away and beginning to analyze.

The entrance to the port was approaching, a sight that should be reassuring yet Hunter stops in his tracks as he brings his fist up. He noticed some colored splotches along the way with some tracks, pointing them out to the others as he brought out his blaster. Starting to move in to watch from the entrance, there’s a single armored person who was… covered in paint?

“Who’s that?” Omega questioned.

“Not sure. Stay in the middle of us,” Hunter readied his aim on the unknown figure by the Marauder. Omega didn’t bother asking questions as she positioned herself between all her brothers with their guns ready at the aim.

Hunter moved out slowly with the batch so they all had good eyes on the target, “Drop any weapons on you.”

The medic’s body tensed at the demanding words said behind her back. Her hand found the blaster holstered on her hip and threw it to the ground before raising her hands above her head. Taking a heavy breath in and out, she turned her body slowly to the voice.

With a lighthearted sigh, the medic took a turn to speak, “I’ve been waiting to talk to you guys!”

Her hands move slowly and lift off her helmet. Her ashy brown hair is tied up in a bun, many stray hairs falling out of place messily. Her green eyes, accompanied by dark tired bags, crinkled as a smile curved her lips.

“They call me Doc,” she revealed as her gloved hand pushed back the hairs in her face, “Before you shoot me, I need some help. If you’ll hear me out.” Her brows furrowed with soft eyes.

The squad of defiant clones eyed Doc suspiciously as she moved and spoke. Doc kept her hands where they all could see them, even if her nerves were starting to tingle. Hunter eyes each of her features and gestures before lowering his weapon with a disgruntled sigh.

“You’ve got a minute to explain.”

Doc nodded as she began, “The Empire started recruiting soldiers from planetary defense forces, and I was part of the first Elite Squad as a medic. I thought the Empire was going to better the galaxy…” She struggled to find her words, “that was, until I was forced to follow unneeded violent orders. After we left Onderon and returned to Kamino, I stole a ship, I crashed it here, and I hope they think I’m dead.”

At the mention of Onderon, the brothers looked between each other. Her story seemed to make sense, and it also explained the crashed ship outside of the city. Doc shifted awkwardly where she stood, hands still raised in the air while watching them.

Omega spoke into her comm device in a whisper, “I think she’s like us.”

Wrecker was first to look at Omega and then back at the medic. From under his helmet, he was smiling eagerly. His head turned to Omega and gave her a small nod. There wasn’t much time to debate the medic’s situation as Hunter holstered his blaster, inviting the others to do the same.

“Just get on the ship. Don’t think you’re trusted yet,” Hunter glared at Doc as the hatch to the Marauder lowered.

Picking up and holstering her blaster, Doc gave Hunter an understanding nod and watched as the others loaded into the ship, “I get it. Thank you.” Doc followed behind, “Knowing some names would be pretty nice too,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Omega piped up first as she stood in front of Doc, “I’m Omega, and these are my brothers Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Wrecker,” pointing to each of her brothers.

“Brothers, you say?” Doc questioned lightly before shrugging it off, “Well, it’s nice to meet you and your brothers, Omega.”

With a nod, Omega walked off with Echo and to find her trooper toy. Doc on the other hand admired the interior of the ship as she made her way up to the front cabin. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact a group of rogue clones managed to make a ship into a home.

“You mentioned the Empire recruiting soldiers including yourself. Was it just your squad or are there others?” Tech questioned Doc with a glance before returning back to his data pad.

Doc whipped her head around, snapping out of her thoughts of the Marauder, “Well, I don’t have an exact number.” She paused for a moment before continuing on, “I know there were many more offering their services or asked by the Empire to join the Galactic Army. I was one of the first and didn’t interact many with soldiers outside of my squad.”

Hunter thought through her words before adding to the conversation, “Why would the Empire be training people to be soldiers when they’re supplied with clones?”

“I have no clue. I thought the same thing you did when they offered to train me.” Doc leaned her back against the wall, “I understand why you all left.”

Wrecker was making an attempt to listen to the conversation, but the pang of pain in his head made it a weaker attempt. He groaned as he held his head, hunched over in his seat.

Hunter turns to his brother with a hint of concern, “You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing,” Wrecker groaned as he stood and began to walk away.

Doc placed a hand on the large clone’s arm to stop him from leaving, “I can run a diagnostic and provide a remedy for the ache.” She offered to Wrecker, “I’m specifically trained in this. It wouldn’t hurt to let me give it a shot.”

Wrecker’s eyes found Doc and he once again tried to shrug it off, mostly to avoid having to sit and get stuck for a diagnostic, “No, really. I’m fine-”

“Please. It’s the least I can do,” Doc nearly pleaded to Wrecker, “We can skip the in depth diagnostic if that’ll convince you.”

There was a brief pause between the two before Wrecker let out a deep sigh, “Fine, but just this once.”

“Fine, just this once,” Doc assured with a grin as she moved her arm for Wrecker to walk to the back of the Marauder.

Slumping into one of the swivel chairs, Wrecker released a mild groan with a hand on his head. The sharp stabbing pain followed with throbs was too much to handle, even for a person of his strength and stature. Doc took her seat across from Wrecker, setting her data pad and backpack to the side. A few bacta patches were pulled out along with different bottled liquids and pastes before she stood up.

“I’m going to do a quick examination to try and determine what kind of headache you have,” Doc explained gently as she placed a hand over the one on his head, “Will you let me do that?”

Wrecker had his eyes closed tightly as she spoke, up until he felt her touch. His eyes slowly peaked open to look at Doc as he moved his hand from his head hesitantly. Doc shared a soft smile before looking for any bruising and coming up short.

“This might be silly to ask,” she started with a hum, “but have you hit your head at all recently? Multiple times?”

Wrecker let out a gruff chuckle, “I hit my head all the time! Nothin’ I can’t take!” He claimed with confidence, a grimace and groan following after his words.

Doc rolled her eyes at his words as she brought out her flashlight, “Ah, right. The big tough guys don’t get hurt,” she chuckled.

“Hey! I didn’t say I didn’t get hurt, I said I can take it!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, tilt your head up,” the medic bantered as her hand slid down his head to his chin. Her fingers beckoned him to turn his face up towards her, Wrecker complying as his eyes met hers. The touch was demanding, yet felt soft and caring, even through a glove. A warmth ran through his body and appeared faintly on his cheeks. The stare they shared was short-lived as Doc turns on her flashlight and dims it, “I’m going to flash this light into your eyes. I’m testing for light sensitivity and to be sure your eyes…”

She paused as she looked back into his eyes, focusing specifically on the left one. This then led to Doc grabbing his chin and turning his face away to get a better look at his scar. Doc managed to successfully snap Wrecker from his thoughts as he raised an eyebrow, “Uh, what’re ya doin��?”

Tilting her wrist, she brings Wrecker’s face back towards her, “Can you see from your left eye at all?”

Wrecker closed his right eye, forming a wink, “Not much. Everything’s blurry and looks like shadows.”

“Noted,” She brought the flashlight up and beamed it into his left eye, noticing little to no dilation from his pupil, “Open the other eye.”

Following her instruction, Wrecker opened his eye to be met with a light, “Agh!” He was quick to shut his eye tight, batting away the hand holding the flashlight, “What was that for?!”

“I warned you!” Doc turned the flashlight off, turning to the items she set out. Examining a bottle, she grinned, “To make up for it, I have a drink for you that’ll ease your headache.”

“Like medicine?”

“No, like tea. This isn’t anything the Empire or the Republic would’ve given you.”

Doc unscrewed the lid of the bottle and offered it to Wrecker, “It works best if you drink it slowly over the next twenty or so minutes.” Wrecker eyed the bottle, not sure if he should accept, but his headache urged him differently. He takes the bottle, bringing it to his lips and tilting it back. A silky sweet flavor danced on his tongue before he swallowed, his eyes widening and lips parting to reveal a toothy grin.

“Where’d ya learn to make this? It’s great!” Wrecker complimented as he went for another sip.

The medic sat back in the seat across from Wrecker with a short laugh, “I’m self-taught. Used to play around with herbs and stuff. I’m glad you like it.”

“You need to make more of it!” Wrecker started to take longer drinks, her instructions and his headache leaving his mind.

Doc shook her head with a shy smile, “Maybe I will.”

The two shared identical looks with one another before feeling the ship turn to land. They both stood up to get ready to go, bumping into each other before trying to awkwardly move out of the way. Doc gave up and sat back down to gather her things, “My bad, you go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Wrecker lifted his helmet, placing it on, “Nah, uh, don’t worry about it.” The words struggled in his mouth as he walked away to leave the ship. The medic muffled a chuckle before swinging her bag over her shoulders, following after Wrecker with her helmet.

Notes: Well, that's the first chapter! Kind of a rough start, but I'm hoping to improve as I go. Thanks for reading! (Also should I upload this to AO3?)

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otherworldseekers · 2 months ago

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FFXIVwrite2024 Day 5: Stamp

WoLNero 383 words Nero has a new toy and with Severia off to investigate the Void, Cid is the one who has to deal with it.

“Garlond!” Nero shouted as he burst into his nominal boss’s office. “Show me what you’re working on.”

“Seven hells, Nero, why?” Cid questioned him, knowing it was likely futile.

Nero didn’t answer him. He grabbed the first schematic his saw from Cid’s out tray and began to peruse it. “Hmmm. Yes. Yes. I see. Not bad, not bad at all.” Placing the sheet flat on an empty part of Cid desk, Nero took a small object from his pocked and pressed it against the schematic. Then he triumphantly handed it back to Cid.

“What in the…” Cid held up the violated schematic and saw blazed across the top in brilliant red letters the words “THE NERO SCAEVA STAMP OF APPROVAL”. The lettering was surrounded by a frankly tasteless amount of gears and other bits and bobs one might associate with the engineering profession. “Godsdamnit, Nero, why would I need your stamp of approval? I’m in charge here. And where did you get that anyway?”

Nero brandished the stamp in question and smirked. “Severia had it made for me for my nameday.”

Cid gave a long suffering sigh. Once at the very beginning of Severia and Nero’s relationship, he had held out some hope that the Warrior of Light might have a calming affect on his old friend. But as time passed it became apparent that quite the opposite had happened. For some unaccountable reason, Severia Zetsuen was tremendously fond of Nero Scaeva just as he was; brash, arrogant, reckless, ambitious, proud, the whole nine yalms. In the end, her affection for the Garlean deserter only spurred him on to greater heights of achievement and assholery.

And Nero didn’t really consider anyone but Severia and Cid to be worthy of his time or attention. So Nero got to be Cid’s problem whenever Severia was off on one of her planet saving missions or some such. Just like her to give him a toy like this and then scarper off to the Void.

Cid rubbed his temples as Nero rifled through the other papers in his trays looking for things to approve. He’d never been a religious man for obvious reasons, but just then he was willing to pray to any god for Severia to get her ass back to Eorzea as soon as possible.

#Severia x Nero #WoLNero #FFXIVwrite2024 #Severia Zetsuen #Nero Scaeva #Cid Garlond #my writing #ffxiv fanfiction #All My Tomorrows

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quillandsaber · 5 months ago

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FF16 Theory Time

I think that Cid suspected that Clive = Ifrit even before they first met.

I stumbled on this theory thinking about the fact that Cid was able to recognize Clive...from a thirteen-year-old description of Clive's impressive skills as a teenager. They'd never met before; Cid had never seen the Blessing of the Phoenix before. Cid also mentioned having heard rumors of Clive having survived the massacre that killed almost everyone else and there being a second Dominant of fire who caused a lot of the destruction during that massacre.

While I think it's unreasonable to assume that Cid knew, Clive being that second Dominant of fire (because it's a lot easier to survive a massacre caused by an invading army and a giant fire kaiju if you become said fire kaiju) is a plausible enough theory with the information Cid had to hand that he would likely consider it worth his time to investigate. I'd even go so far as to theorize that finding Clive was already on Cid's to-do list. That's why Cid was able to recognize Clive immediately from the Blessing of the Phoenix: Cid had done some research on it and had been thinking about it recently enough to be able to distinguish it from any other fire-attuned Bearer magic.

#ffxvi #clive rosfield #cidolfus telamon #fan theories #headcanon not fact

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sephirthoughts · 10 days ago

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The Ghost of Shinra Manor 👻

It's still spooky season till after Día de los Muertos so it's not technically late!

summary: It's been two years since the events of Dirge of Cerberus. Cloud visits his hometown, and investigates a rumor of a ghost, haunting Shinra Manor. If you're surprised by who it turns out to be, you are beyond my power to save, comrade.

tags: g-g-g-ghosts!!! sefikura, sephiroth x cloud, sane!sephiroth (sort of), post advent children, post dirge of cerberus, canon timeline, delusions, intermitten amnesia, low drama, enemies to…whatever the hell they have going on

NOTE: i was raised by outdoorsy, log cabin, roughing-it parents and there will be a lot of details about this type of living because that is what i like

warnings: references to death, PTSD, past abuse, etc. all of hojo's greatest hits, mention of animal death in the context of ethical subsistence hunting/fishing, canon-typical violence, technical nudity but i didn't describe anything so you'd have to imagine it yourself which is not on me, pervert

rating: teen and up [for now]

Part 1: Reunion

A big, black, Fenrir model motorcycle roared up the dirt road, leaving clouds of dust in its wake. Its golden-haired rider adjusted his goggles and pulled his black scarf up, over his nose and mouth. It was late spring, which was still mid-winter in the Nibel region, and as he drew nearer to the mountain, the wind grew colder and sharper, till it felt like it was full of tiny, icy needles.

He had a little hunting cabin, up there, that no one else knew about. They knew he went somewhere, it was just that he didn’t specify the location to anyone but Cid and Vincent, who had helped him fix the place up, and were sworn to secrecy.

Why didn’t he tell the others where it was? Why would he? He went there to be alone. To decompress, when the weight of people’s lives got too heavy to carry. When their voices began to cut into his skull like buzz-saws, and he felt the thread of his tolerance strained to the snapping point.

Even for a person with a normal brain and no life-altering trauma, things would have been claustrophobic, in their little house. Marlene and Denzel were underfoot every minute of the day, and their continued presence meant that when Cloud wasn’t out on long deliveries, he and Tifa had to share a bedroom. He couldn’t fall asleep, with another person in the room, though, so they didn’t use it at the same time. He was a night person, anyway.

She tried to act like she wasn’t hurt by his refusal to share a bed with her, but she was a shit actress. He had attempted to make her feel better by explaining that he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for girls—or for anyone, really—but he could tell she didn’t really believe it. Or that she at least thought of it as something they could work on.

Everyone (except Vincent) thought that. That something was wrong with him, and that he’d get better, if they persevered in telling him so. The way he was didn't make sense to them, therefore it wasn't normal, therefore it was a problem that needed to be solved. Hooray for the neuro-typical majority.

No one ever asked Cloud what he thought. They just told him what he should think, and then made decisions for him. Most of the time, it was easier to just go along with it, especially since he didn’t want everyone to be mad at him. Them being mad at him meant they’d talk to him even more, and use louder voices. He hated that.

He should have insisted on getting his own place, a long time ago. He and Tifa had been playing house from necessity, at first, but there was nothing actually keeping them together, now, aside from habit. Habit and guilt.

Who knew when she started to think of it as a real family. As if she and Cloud were a mother and father, with a couple of kids. As absurd as that was. They were barely more than kids, themselves.

When Cid and Vincent got married, people got even more obnoxious with the hints and "jokes" about when him and Tifa were going to tie the knot. She’d act all embarrassed and explain that their relationship wasn’t like that, but she’d glance at him, with that look in her eyes, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

He sighed, as he rounded a long curve in the road. He knew himself well enough to know that he’d probably wind up giving in and just marry her. Didn’t seem like a very happy ending, for either of them, but who got one of those, these days?

It did seem like an especially shit deal for her, though. Marry the kid no one liked, from your backwater hometown, live in a shithole two-bedroom over a bar, slinging booze and taking care of two adopted kids, while your asexual husband spends most of his time away, for work.

Asexuality was a spectrum, though, and Cloud was somewhere near the middle. It just wasn’t the heterosexual middle. He made an earnest effort, once, but he couldn’t get it up for a woman, no matter how hard he tried, and it just wound up being awful and making the girl cry.

Fucked a couple of guys back when he was a trooper, but that was rare. Not that there weren’t plenty of interested troopers and even SOLDIERs, it was just that he had never wanted any of them. What he had really wanted was Sephiroth.

Cloud was nine years old, when he fell in love with the perfect face, that he saw on television and the recruiting posters, that were always plastered all over every vertical surface, in town. The obsession only grew stronger, as he grew older.

He joined up as soon as they’d take him, at age fourteen. The training was miserable and grueling, but he gritted his teeth and worked his ass off, keeping his idol firmly in his sights. Whenever the opportunity came up, he applied to the SOLDIER program. For all his diligent efforts, he met with rejection after rejection.

Several years passed, that way, with disappointment weighing ever more heavily on his heart. But just when he was losing hope that he’d ever meet the object of his worship face to face, he was assigned to a mission with the silver soldier himself. Wouldn’t you know it, that mission was to check on the reactor, in his very own hometown.

They say never to meet your heroes, but the implication is that you’ll be disappointed. Cloud was not disappointed. Sephiroth was everything he had ever imagined, and more. Ten times more beautiful, and a hundred times stronger and faster. His legendary height was one thing to know logically, and another thing entirely to experience in person. He was literally superhuman.

And yet, despite his angelic appearance and godlike strength, he wasn’t arrogant or demanding, at all. He was thoughtful and soft-spoken, and obviously cared for his subordinates. He asked their opinions, and actually listened. Encouraged them, rather than berating them. He even learned and called them by their first names. It was the most humanely Cloud had been treated by any superior, apart from Zack.

Following those two around, on that mission, Cloud fell more hopelessly in love with his silver-haired deity, than ever. He loved Sephiroth with his whole young soul. Right up to the moment he watched that famous blade pierce his mother’s heart.

Cloud Strife died, that night, as surely as Claudia had, and whatever this thing was, that he had become, was born. This thing capable of killing gods and monsters. This thing that survived years in a mako tank, being tortured by that bastard Hojo. This thing that had absorbed Zack’s memories, and remembered everything but Zack. This thing that hated Sephiroth, with every fiber of its being. Hated him as much as Cloud had loved him.

The sun was low in the sky, behind a blanket of grey clouds, when he finally pulled up to the clearing, where his unassuming cabin was tucked away.

He swung his leg off the saddle, then he winced and clutched his chest. His heart had been aching more and more as he approached Nibelheim. Not in the metaphorical sense, because of the tragedies he’d been through there—it was actual, physical pain.

He wasn’t exactly sure when it started, though, bcause he was so used to pain, it just got shoved to the back of his mind. Which it did again, now. It wasn’t bad enough to incapacitate him, so he ignored it, and unbuckled the leather panniers, which he slung over his shoulder.

The cabin was locked up tight, just like he left it, with all the traps and wards in place. Not surprising. No one came up this way, anymore, since the reactor shut down.

Fortunately, the cabin didn’t need the reactor, for power. He’d bought an old, Wutaian, nuclear generator, to heat the water and supply electricity, and hooked it up with Cid's help. Thing was expensive as hell, but it was quiet, reliable, and would last literally forever.

He stepped inside and typed in a code on a wall panel. When the generator hummed to life, he switched the electric lights on, and took a look around. The place was a little dusty, since he hadn’t been there since last summer, but otherwise, everything was just how he left it.

It was a simple, single-room cabin. Nothing fancy, except he and Cid had redone the insulation and added the electrical wiring. Water came from a dedicated well, deep enough to take advantage of the Nibel region’s unique geothermal situation, and not freeze.

There was a bed in one corner, with a frame of roughhewn logs, and a cedar trunk at the foot, where the blankets and pillows were stored. The bathroom door and the kitchen were on the other side (just a stove, small refrigerator, a few cabinets, and a sink), and the fireplace was central. In the opposite corner to the bed, there was a steel camp table, with two folding chairs, as if he’d ever have a guest here.

He tossed his panniers on the bed and went right back out to carry in firewood. Supply was getting low. The cupboards were pretty barren, too, but he’d go into town tomorrow to stock up on canned and dry goods. Those were just a supplement to the main source of food, up here, which was hunting.

When he was a kid, hunting was a long and grueling ordeal, with uncertain payoff. Now, augmented by Sephiroth’s cells and whatever else Hojo did to him in that lab, it was as easy as a trip to the grocery store. He left and returned with a brace of rabbits, within half an hour. It was late spring, so they were already nice and fat, too.

With the ruthless efficiency of a seasoned survival hunter, he skinned, cleaned, and washed them, and set them roasting on the iron spit, over his little hearth. He was out of anything resembling spices, but the meat was good enough roasted, with just a little salt.

That night, as he lay in bed, that ache in his chest seemed to grow worse, and made him toss and turn restlessly. When he finally drifted off, he dreamed of being impaled on Masamune and lifted into the air. Sephiroth’s green cat-eyes, staring up at him, with that deranged smile on his beautiful face. Black feathers fell like snow all around him.

I will never be a memory…

In the morning, Cloud went into town. Despite the reactor being shut down, Nibelheim was more lively than ever. With no Shinra, there was no one to pay mortgages to, so the residents weren’t eager to leave the homes which now belonged to them, free and clear. Then the WRO came in and added infrastructure, opened a school and clinic, and paid subsidies to local shepherds and artisans and the like, so the little town was actually prospering.

“Howdy, Mr. Strife!” the round-faced, balding man at the general goods store said cheerfully, when Cloud brought his purchases to the counter. “Been nigh on a year, since I seen ya. Stayin’ a while?”

“Little while,” Cloud answered noncommittally. “How are things, in town? Anything needs looking into, while I’m here?”

The man scratched his chin. “Nothin’ particular. Just the usual rumors, is all. Monsters in the woods. Creepy things goin’ on at the old manor. That kinda thing.”

“Let me guess. The vampire, again?”

“Nah, nah, ain’t heard nothin’ about that fella in a long time. These days, it’s a ghost.”

“Fiends, or something else?”

“Folks are sayin’ it’s the ghost of a woman, with long, white hair. Don’t do nothin’ but wander around inside the manor, wailin’ and moanin’. They say if you go over there, at night, you can hear her, but if she catches ya snoopin’ around, she sucks out your soul.”

Cloud snorted. “Sounds like the usual bullshit.”

“You ain’t kiddin’!” the man laughed. “Folks got too much time and not enough to do, these days, so they get to tellin’ tales. Y’never know what they’ll say, next. Maybe devils or goblins.”

“Well, if it keeps kids away from the manor, the ghost stories are probably for the better. It’s a dangerous place,” Cloud said, taking his full grocery bags. “I’ll be heading over there, tonight, to clear out any monsters that may have got in, over the winter. I’ll be sure to look out for the ghost.”

“Haha, you do that! Have a good one, Mr. Strife!”

Despite his reticence and flat indifference to overtures of friendship, Cloud was rather popular with Nibelheim’s current residents, because whenever he was in town, he’d deal with any local wildlife problems. Even if no one had anything pressing, he always checked Shinra Manor, since the ruins attracted a lot of monsters, and if they started establishing nests, they could pose a real threat to the townsfolk.

He spent the rest of the day chopping and stacking firewood, fishing using a thundaga materia and a net (which was technically cheating, but he was fishing for food, not sport), and scouting around for signs of dens, near the town. When the sun got low, he strapped on his sword and began the short, two-mile hike to Shinra Manor.

When he emerged from the woods, on the bumpy, neglected dirt road, it was already dark. The hulking ruin of the house loomed like the desiccated corpse of some titanic beast, off in the darkness, behind the bent and rusted iron fence. Cloud kicked the creaking gates open and strode in.

The property was overgrown with brambles and sedge grass, and ugly, grey vines, with huge thorns covered much of the half-collapsed structure. The front doors had long fallen off the hinges, so the entrance was just a yawning, black hole, like the mouth of a tomb.

Cloud faltered and clutched his chest, as he approached the house, but not for any fear of the supernatural. He’d killed too many supernatural creatures to care about even the biggest and vilest ones. Besides, he knew firsthand that the scariest thing in Shinra Manor had been a living human being, named Hojo.

It was just that the pain in the area of his heart had gotten steadily worse, on the walk here, and now it was throbbing insistently, aching so badly it was getting hard to ignore it.

What the hell could it be? He’d chopped wood and done other physical labor all day, without noticing it. Why was it getting worse, now, after a relatively light walk?

He was thinking about this, in mild annoyance, when he heard a noise inside the house. In the blink of an eye, his sword flashed out and he shifted into combat mode, all senses on alert.

As he stepped inside, the stench of dry-rot hit him in the face, like a wool blanket. He paused and surveyed the area. It was pretty dark, in here, but he had excellent night-vision, so it was more like dim twilight, to him.

The noise was coming from the upper level, somewhere. A rasping sound, like dry corn husks scraping the walls. Every once in a while, there was a burst of creepy cackling. His lip curled. He knew exactly what that was.

The main stairwell had collapsed, so he leapt lightly up to the landing on the next level, and stalked down the hall. Around the corner, the doors to all the rooms (which were miraculously intact), were closed tight. The scraping sound was coming from…pretty much all of them. How did those things manage to get into the rooms and shut the doors behind them?

“Dumbshits,” he grumbled, and kicked the first door open.

Sure enough, a bunch of floating fiends, with markings like stupid jack-o-lantern faces on their balloon-like air-sacs, were bobbing around the room cackling at each other. When the door exploded inward, they shrieked and rushed at Cloud. With a casual swing of his sword, he obliterated all of them at once.

Their dying howls riled up the ones in the other rooms. Apparently they couldn’t figure out how to get out, though, so they just rasped and thudded around, cackling like idiots. Cloud kicked the next door down and blasted those ones, too.

He repeated this process, for each room, making his way down the hall, till he reached the room with the secret passage, to the basement levels. There was no noise from this one. He tried the knob. It clicked easily, and the door swung open, with a hollow creak.

No fiends in here, but the passage to the basement was open. He’d better go down there and clear out anything else, that might be lurking. Monsters loved dark, dank places like that.

Slapping his sword back onto the magnetic holder, he hopped down the black hole, and landed on a stone floor, three full stories below.

The impact of his boots was still echoing in the stone-walled chamber, when he heard it. A low, eerie moan, that seemed to come from somewhere far off. At the same time, that pain split through his chest like a crack of thunder, making him grab his heart and gasp for breath.

The moan stretched out into a wail, rising in pitch and wavering, before it dwindled again. The sound sent chills racing up his spine. Things like ghosts and monsters held no terror for him, but this was different. He wouldn’t even call it fear. It was more like…a rush of numinous awe.

He threw a firaga burst, to light a couple of the torches on the wall, and surveyed the crypt. Vincent’s coffin was gone. The others had been tossed about and smashed to bits. Bones littered the floor.

Step by step, he descended deeper into the basement. Toward that old library. Toward that horrible place, where he was stuck with needles and probes, cut open and sewn back together, had his eyes blinded with chemicals and his lungs filled with burning mako, till his throat was too scorched and raw, to even beg for death.

His stomach churned and cold sweat was beading on his forehead, but he kept going, compelled by that ghastly moaning and the splitting pain in his chest.

He passed through the library, still scattered all over with heaps of old books, smelling heavily of their musty scent. The door was open, on the other side. The moaning had turned into a low whimpering, punctuated with choking sobs. It didn’t sound like a woman’s voice, though.

Drawing his sword again, and clenching his teeth against the agonizing ache in his heart, he stepped into the next chamber, all his hyper-tuned senses on high alert. There were collapsed pillars and scorch marks, and slashes made by huge claws in the stone walls, from their fight with Vincent, in his beast form.

Along the far wall, were several heavy, steel doors, with locking bars on the outside. The one the noise was coming from was ajar. It wasn’t the lab he’d been confined in. It was on the opposite end of the long chamber—the one with those strange vats, labeled Project-S, which Vincent had taken umbrage to them entering, back then.

Cloud pushed the door the rest of the way open and scanned the room. In the inky, underground darkness, even his night-vision was pushed to the limits, and he could only see very dimly, but it was enough to spot the source of the noise.

It was a naked, ash-white, human figure, curled up in the corner of the room, trembling and whimpering. Its pallid body seemed insubstantial, almost transparent at the edges, like it was fading out of reality. That was probably just an illusion, brought on by the heavy darkness.

He used a materia to summon a little ball of light, and as the white glow filled the room, the figure gave a hoarse cry and curled up tighter.

Cloud squinted at it. This must be the ghost, people claimed was haunting the place, but why would they say it was a woman? Its back was to him and its head was down, wrapped up protectively in its arms, but he could see that it was a man, from the broadness and muscularity of the shoulders.

“N—no, please,” the ghost stammered, in a weak half-whisper. “Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll be good. I won’t…I won’t ask about her anymore, I promise. Please.”

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?” Cloud said.

His own voice startled him, sounding solid and very loud, compared to the feeble murmurs of the ghost, which were muted and distorted, as if Cloud was hearing them through water.

“No, g—go away! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” the thing wailed, as Cloud stepped closer.

“Will you shut up and listen to me?” Cloud said, keeping the sword trained on the huddled figure.

The ghost’s piteous pleas cut off abruptly, but it kept trembling and cowering.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Cloud soothed. “Calm down, ok? What are you doing here? Did you get lost?”

Hesitantly, the figure lifted its head.

Cloud’s heart stopped.

Time seemed to stop.

Long, silver hair hung over the ghastly-white face, and cascaded to the floor, pooling around its bare feet, like water. From between the moon-colored strands, pale-blue eyes peered up at him, with slit, catlike pupils.

“Who…who are you?”

#sefikura #sephiroth x cloud #sephiroth #cloud strife #enemies to something #low drama #hurt/comfort #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #dirge of cerberus #post dirge #canon timeline #final fantasy vii #woods #cabin #roughing it

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

Note

400 request! Could you do some thing like enemies to lovers with Cid, maybe an argument that leads to an angry kiss. With some spice at the end?

Thankyou!

Thanks for the 400 request, anon! Sorry it took me an absolute age to get round to it - I'm still working my way through a few. I didn't quite get enemies to lovers but there's some argumentative banter and a tiiiiny bit of spice towards the end - please let me know what you think in an anon ask xxx Sparks Cidolfus Telemon x female reader Fluffy, little sprinkling of spice towards the end

You start to look up at the sound of the bell tinkling over the door, announcing a customer, but the heavy boots on the wooden floorboards tell you all you need to know and you sigh, casting your eyes immediately back down when you see who it is darkening your doorstep.

“No.”

“Love, that’s not a nice greeting. Want to try again?”

“Cidolfus-” “Oh, I am in trouble.” He smirks. “Now, this is a nice one.” You hear him heave a pot up in his hands, “how much?"

You look up then – he’s admiring the ceramic with a fake interest. “Not for sale.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and relieve the tension as he places the pot down. “I have a headache that could down a behemoth and I cannot deal with that and you today.”

“Then,” the approaching footsteps show he has not heeded your plea, “you should let me help you.”

“Help?” You scoff. “You always bring more trouble to my door. If the Imperials or Dragoons get word of you being here…”

“They’ll what – poke and prod me with their little halberds?” He pretends to pout. “I don’t fear them and, if someone would finally accept my very gracious offer, neither would you.”

“Leave.” You seethe. “You’re nothing but a hinderance these days.”

“Surely it’s the thought that counts.” He chuckles, laying both palms down on the desk to show he had no plans to leave. “Besides, if you would concede, Tarja could whip you off something for that headache too, quick as you like.”

“By the Mothers. I swear-“

“This isn’t a very viable way to run a business, love – chasing your customers away at the door.”

“You’re not a real customer.”

He shrugs, before lifting a hand off the counter and grabbing a gil pouch off his belt. He drops it in show, the bag giving a satisfying thunk as it hit the counter to show off its contents.

“I’ll take however much this will get me.”

“You won’t. I hold the right to refuse you service.” You stress, shoving the pouch back across to him.

“You’re such a funny shopkeeper, someone might get ideas you’re up to something else here.”

You sigh, meeting his eyes at last. He’s a handsome man and he knows it – part of what makes him so cocky. “What will it take for you to leave me be?”

He throws his arms wide. “Come join my group of outlaws.”

“I’m doing fine work here.” You grumble. Your paths had crossed a few years back. He’d heard word of someone shipping ailing Bearers out to the Kingdom of Waloed – something he could not stand, given his history. His investigations had led straight to you – ushering them onto a boat in a way that wasn’t befitting on a slave master. After a tense exchange, it had been established that the two of you were of the same opinion – that Bearers didn’t deserve the hand they had been dealt and were trying to help where you can in different ways. You’d buy up Bearers where you could and, under the guise of selling them to Waloed, you’d find them havens throughout Valisthea, allowing them to live their final days in peace, for whatever it was worth.

He was smug, cocky, thought he was the Mother’s gift to all around him, and it drove you up the wall – like he expected you to swoon over him and his swagger, go along with whatever he wanted. But no, you’d stayed firm, held your resolve – Cidolfus Telemon will not get his way with you.

“What if I say I’m worried?”

“About yourself? You should be. I heard a certain rumour about an unwanted visitor to Drake’s Head.”

He quirks an eyebrow, looks surprised for a moment before his face falls back into its self-assured grin. “I just wanted a closer look, love.”

The bell above the door rings again and a real customer walks in – a nobleman, by the looks of it, with real gil to burn.

You look at Cid and nod your head towards the door. Thankfully, he relents, giving you a wink and a wave and finally heads out the door.

Later that evening, you’re about to lock up when a hand squeezes your shoulder. You turn, alarmed, and find yourself facing a trio of Imperial soldiers – all sporting the same haircut under military standards, the same hardened stares.

“I’m awfully sorry, but I’m closed for the day, sirs. Mayhaps you can return in the morning.” You keep your tone light, almost ditsy to try and diffuse what is clearly not a group of soldiers out shopping for pots.

“I’m afraid this matter really cannot wait, my lady.” The soldier reaches past you and opens the door into the shop before pushing you back within. “After you.”

You make it five steps in when you hear a sword being unsheathed and an almighty clatter as it collides with a group of pots on display.

“Oops.” The soldier says, dryly.

“Accidents happen.” This isn’t good – whatever this is.

“They do.” We wouldn’t want any more happening, would we?”

“No, sir.”

“Like, it must have been an accident when Cidolfus Telemon was here this afternoon and you did not bring it to our attention.”

“Who?” You tilt your head, trying to mimic confusion. The soldier, the commander of this merry trio, you reckon, grabs you by your jaw, squeezing your cheeks.

“Don’t play dumb, my lady. You’ll only make this worse for yourself. What business did you conduct with him?”

“None.” He lets go of your jaw and shoves you backwards, sending you crashing into another display of pots. Jagged bits of ceramic poke at your back and thighs, but that pain is nothing to the fear you feel when he draws his sword.

“Ladies should not lie.”

“And that is no way to treat a lady, lads.” Cid’s smooth voice comes from the doorway. The soldiers spin on their heels, holding their swords aloft. He steps in, casually, rolling up his sleeves.

“Surrender, Telemon.”

Sparks of lightning begin to crackle along his arm and into his palm. “Not my style.” And before the soldiers can make another move, he punches his fist into the ground, sending three strikes of lightning in each of their directions, sending the trio flying up for a moment before crashing down into more of your pots - dead.

You stare in disbelief of what’s just occurred, your heart pounding as Cid strides over to you, pulling you up to your feet.

“Are you all right?”

“You.” You growl, grabbing hold of either side of his collar with both hands and yanking him forward. “I told you that you’re nothing but trouble.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Love, I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant to happen-“ You cut him off with a bruising kiss and for a moment he doesn’t reciprocate, stunned, before he drops his hands and slides his tongue in between your lips, fighting for dominance. His hands find your waist and he pulls you closer, one hand dropping down to squeeze your backside. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, but that won’t do. You let go of his collar, trailing your fingers down his chest and then lower, ghosting his crotch, causing him to moan into your mouth…

“We gotta go, Cid – more Imperials heading this way!” A voice comes from the door – one you recognize as another part of his crew.

He pulls away, frowning. “We’ll have to continue this back at my place, love. Come on.” And with no hesitation, his hands are back at your waist and the smug bastard throws you over your shoulder, patting your backside as he adjusts his grip.

“Cidolfus!” --

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #cid telemon x reader #cidolfus telamon #cidolfus telemon x you #ffxvi x reader

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sanguinesky-if · 2 months ago

Text

Sanguine Sky: Chapter 3 Pt. 1 is OUT! [Patreon Update]

Hello! I'm happy to announce that Chapter 3 Pt. 1 is out! The update contains 78k words [excl. code].

Here's the link: [Early-release DEMO].

What awaits you in the update:

A busy morning at the department a week after the CID team's arrival: ▹ Seven unique scenes, one for each of the ROs, plus one additional scene for the solo route. ▹ Jealousy moments for both the MCs and ROs [optional] [based on decisions made in Chapter 2].

A new investigation that leads to a place from your past that you'd hoped never to return to: ▹ An unexpected encounter with Investigator S. Goldstein at a crime scene. ▹ Personal struggles and the possibility of experiencing an initial breakdown [conditional]. ▹ Additional POV scenes with one of the CID team members [conditional].

Total word count for early-release demo: 180k words [excl. code].

A list of key plot points that can alter the morning scenes with the ROs [not all-inclusive and not affecting every RO]:

Choice between conducting an interview with R or visiting the morgue with T and I.

Paul(a)'s relationship status [if encountered].

Choices made during the evening of Chapter 2 Pt. 2 [conversation with Morgan, visit to K's office; a phone call with L].

Decisions made directly in Chapter 3 Pt. 1 scenes.

Technical notes:

All scenes are separated into different files, and some content is repeated across them [repetitions have been subtracted from the word count]. This setup allows me to fix bugs in one scene without affecting saves in other scenes. The structure of a single playthrough is as follows: ▹ [Morning + Solo scene] file. ▹ [RO' scene] files. ▹ [Day scene] file. [All the scenes will be combined into two files ('Morning + ROs' and 'Day') for the public update.]

Morning scenes with the ROs are only available with the ROs that match your MC's preferences and are not blocked by a special choice labeled [block]. Soon, I'll make a post clarifying some important points about interactions with the chosen RO to supplement romance system overview post. You can find all other important technical notes and helpful information on how to access the maximum content in the Patreon post.

Thank you for your support! ♥

#if #interactive fiction #interactive novel #choicescript #dashingdon #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #if: wip #if demo #if update #demo update #update #announcement

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theink-stainedfolk · 3 months ago

Text

New WIP!!!

The Shadows We Cast

In a legendary tale of heroism, Sardius, a former undercover officer, once almost brought down a notorious criminal organization from the inside. With unwavering courage and unrelenting determination, Sardius gained the trust of the organization's leaders, gathering crucial evidence that ultimately led to their organisation disbanding and the leader escaping by a mere breath . Though the details of their story have become the stuff of legend, the legacy of Sardius continues to inspire and motivate.

Investigator Arizal, a man with a humble demeanor, and his Captain, Kaavi, a sharp and astute leader, were living a relatively normal life in the Issoire Investigative Bureau, Crime Investigation Division. Arizal, with his unassuming nature, and Kaavi, with his keen intuition, worked together in harmony, solving crimes and maintaining the peace in their corner of the city. Their days were filled with routine investigations and paperwork, a far cry from the high-stakes world of undercover operations.

But when The Archon, a sinister force, emerged from the shadows, threatening to destroy the fragile peace, Arizal's life was turned upside down. With its presence, the shadows grew darker, and the secrets Arizal kept hidden, threatenedto be exposed. The Archon's power was unlike anything the city had ever seen, and Arizal, as a member of the CID, was thrust into the forefront of the battle against this malevolent force. As The Archon's influence spread, Arizal's worst fears began to resurface, and he was faced with a daunting reality: he had no choice but to confront his demons head-on.

@cottonberry

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yoonmetogether · 2 months ago

Text

Not In the Cards Prologue

pairing: dirty cop!hoseok x mob boss!seokjin (rest of the story will feature bodyguard!yoongi x CEO!fem reader)

genre: mafia

summary: a tragic love affair sets the stage and unfolds the story yet to come.

warnings: angst!!!!!, hurt/comfort, smut (not explicit), family drama, troubled childhoods, parental loss, trauma, su!c!dal thoughts, mentions of violence and murder (blood/guns), panic attacks, drug addiction/rehab, everyone is going through it, alcohol, weed smoking, age gap, borderline stockholm syndrome (whoops!)

this is a loaded chapter, so i apologize ahead of time if it comes out like an info dump lol

also reminder, Angel is reader's pseudonym

minors pls dni, nsfw

wc: 6.7k 😀

teaser l prologue l part i. I reminīscēns: strangers l part ii. I

“Hey, agent Jung, are you busy?”

Hoseok peers up from his laptop to the rookie poking his head into his office.

“What’s up?” Taking it as permission to enter, the rookie looks behind him at the hallway before stepping in and shutting the door, fidgeting nervously with a manila folder in his hand.

“Um, I have something,” he murmurs quietly, and Hoseok’s fingers freeze above the keyboard. Glancing back up, the rookie stares at the ground as he stays in place in front of the door. Hoseok sighs and sits back in his chair, stretching his hands cramped from hours of typing up reports. This can’t be good.

"Don’t just stand there, bring it over."

“Right,” the rookie squeaks, rapidly shuffling forward and holding out the folder with a slight bow. Hoseok winces at the intimidation the rookie clearly feels from him and he lowkey hates how he’s grown a reputation of being a hard ass.

Nevertheless, he accepts the folder and silently prays it isn’t what he thinks it is but once he opens it and sees the face of the man already tattooed in his mind, he has to hold back a series of curses. His jaw ticks as he leans forward to flip over the many sheets of paper holding information to the case of the alleged son of the Sparrow don, filled with leads and scrappy evidence gathered over years of investigations that he once was a part of as a rookie himself.

“What are you showing me?” He grumbles, thinking he would be looking at some new report of a half-assed lead but there's nothing in here that he hasn't already seen and spent sleepless nights practically memorizing.

The rookie clears his throat and points to the second half of the folder, quickly glancing over his shoulder as if someone had suddenly appeared behind him.

“I found a copy of the warrant the CID is drafting up.”

Hoseok is glad for the countless hours he's spent training himself to pass polygraph tests, otherwise his heart would be racing out of his chest and there would be nothing but panic written all over his face. Criminal Investigative Division, the office he climbed himself out of to serve in the CIA instead, getting away from domestic law enforcement to try and keep a low profile.

The rookie, a seriously intelligent and experienced cyber tech, uses his employment to hack into the intelligence agency databases in order to keep Hoseok informed about the CID's investigation into the Sparrow organization that holds the northern cities by the throats, poisoning the streets with internationally traded drugs, military-grade weapons, and counterfeit goods, all for lower-hierarchy syndicates to play with in the black market and make a buck for themselves. The CID has been going after the don, Kim Dongsoo, for years, trying to take him down for hundreds of pages of blue and white-collar crimes, but thanks to generational power and sickeningly innumerous wealth, the pockets of politicians, cops, judges, and lawmakers have been lined by the don and it's hard to pin him down with any kind of conviction, since most of the evidence would have to be illegally obtained and therefore inadmissible in court. And now that the mob boss suddenly passed away, the CID turned their attention to his successor, Kim Seokjin, the face staring up at him from the manila.

Hoseok suddenly stands up, gripping the folder in a way that crinkles the papers. He leans forward and doesn't miss the way the rookie gulps.

"Are you stupid? Bringing this here to my office when anyone could snatch this right out of your hand to have a look? Do you want to screw me over?" The rookie looks like he's shaking in his boots in response to Hoseok's menacing tone and piercing glare. Hoseok misses the time when he used to be the fun, goofy agent around the office.

(He blames it on the man who trained the sunny disposition out of him ever since he'd been forced to go down this dirty rotten path. Min, the one who has a scar over his eye and shoots looks that could kill, who Hoseok had to learn to not be scared of. Now, they’re practically best buds; if there can even be such a friendship in this line of work. Sometimes the only fun Hoseok has is holding over Min's head the fact that he could arrest him at any point and lock him up for life. In return, Min reminds him how he could snipe him between the eyes and in the balls from two blocks away. But Hoseok knows the man is capable of far worse things - like round-housing him until he folds up like a pretzel, neatly slitting his throat to bury him in scattered locations without a trace of DNA, and even running him off the road going 193 kph, leaving without a scratch on his car or a burn on his tires. Not that he could actually do anything since Hoseok has been fucking the man they both call boss who fills their bank accounts. But he'll never find out that Hoseok gets a few more zeroes tacked on every month thanks to that same man. Well, play one game of poker and Min could drain him of every last penny in the blink of an eye. Hoseok is shit at poker.)

"Sir, everyone's gone for the day," the rookie stutters and Hoseok whips his attention out of his daze to the window, finding it is indeed very dark outside, and then takes notice of the time on his laptop, indicating how fast the day had gotten away from him. He sharply exhales and drops the folder on the desk, sitting down with a plop to rub his hands over his face as exhaustion settles heavily in his bones.

"Next time, find me outside the building, or I'll have your job. Understand?"

The rookie rapidly nods, significantly paler, and Hoseok dismisses him with a wave of his hand and not a single word. Not even bothering to tell him that his offshore bank account will receive an exuberant reimbursement for his work because the rookie already knows that, and it's the only reason that he comes back to deal with Hoseok’s moody ass. He waits until his mole shuffles out and the door clicks shut to collapse in his chair, mind starting to race as he thinks of his next move.

One thing is for certain. This is his excuse to see Kim Seokjin.

Shutting off his laptop and gathering all his files into his briefcase because he's not one to stop working when the day is done, he quickly mulls over the contents of the warrant, looking for any reason the judge would have not to sign it, and drops it in the shredder with a vengeance when he finds none. He shreds the rest of the file and carries out the scraps to burn in the fireplace back home.

Once he pulls into his garage, he routinely checks his surroundings as he presses the button to lower the door, and when he's safely locked alone inside, he finds the panel he installed under the steering wheel to fish around for the early-2010s android burner that has only one contact, listed under 'astronaut.'

cabin this weekend? sent 21:22

Hours later when he's in bed, attempting to sleep before 4am, he puts the battery back in the phone and checks that he received a message just thirty minutes ago. For the first time all day, maybe even all week, he feels lighter.

see u <3 received 3:36

He takes out the battery once more and puts the phone under his pillow. He lays his head down and tries to sleep but his anxious, racing mind has him slipping out of bed and packing for the overnight road trip, suitcase full of cozy sweaters and joggers. He won't be leaving until well into the evening, but he wants to be ready. He's looking forward to the 2-hour drive, but not the earful he'll be getting from his mother about canceling family plans at the last minute with vague lies about working overtime on a case. That's something he's had to get used to doing, lying to his family and friends. But he's worked through that, knowing there's no way they'll ever be able to understand all the risks he's been taking all these years. Back then, when he was a different, more honest person, he wouldn't have understood either. Now, with the access he has to multiple bank accounts which hold numbers that could support him and his family for at least nine generations to come, he tells himself it's not all for nothing. Even though he's not doing it entirely for the money. No, that's just a bonus. It's for the man he's going to drive up a mountain to see. A man who appears in the forefront of his mind any time he gets a second to close his eyes. A man he'd die for, who he hopes would do the same for him.

That's what this is all for.

Around eight that night, at a stoplight, Hoseok whips out his burner and types up a quick message to 'astronaut' that he's almost there. He smiles when he receives a grainy, irrelevant cat meme in response and drops the phone in the console as soon as the light turns green.

Driving up the steep hills, he soaks in the sight of blankets of snow that line the sides of the road and the trees. He knows this could be the last time he'll take this route that makes him look forward to the cozy fireplace waiting for him at the cabin, started by the man who makes his heart just as warm. A string tightens there when he worries it won't be long until he'll be forced to douse it.

The road is long and dark so his mind starts to wander, thinking back to how he ended up here.

He had just turned 25 when he was assigned to infiltrate the mob, acting as a hijacker of trucks and ships coming in and out of the harbor. He was sure it was a hazing thing, getting the ambitious rookie into a semi-dangerous situation to see if he had what it takes. He found out a bit too late that he should've been smarter. He slipped up and his one mistake landed him in a windowless van with zip ties around his wrists and a sack over his head that only came off once he was thrown onto a cold, concrete floor. After he adjusted his vision to the harsh bright lights, his breath was completely stolen from him when he realized he was kneeling before a man whose face belonged in a museum. He barely registered he was in a dungeon of sorts, or the suited guards packed with illegal weapons surrounding him, too busy taking in the sight of the glory that was Kim Seokjin. Behind him was a younger, doe-eyed boy who was practically the spitting image of the taller, more muscular man, and Hoseok assumed this to be his brother, what with the way he stared at him as if learning every move he made so he could one day be like him. And that was confirmed when Seokjin let him throw the first few punishing punches and kicks to let Hoseok know just what he'd gotten himself into.

He held it together when he was interrogated and forced to beg for his life, seeing as he'd been made as the pig cop he was, and just as he thought he'd never see the light of day again, he and everyone around him were surprised that Jin did not decide to spill his blood right there on the stained floor, but gave him the option to die or become an informant, a mole, a dirty cop for his benefit instead. And of course he chose the option to live, even if it meant he would spend the rest of his life in paranoia, anxiety, and fear. At least he'd be making more money than he could ever imagine.

Since he had been found out, he came up with a different story to tell his boss that didn't include being caught by the mob's successor, which ended with him being taken off of the case and sent into witness protection until further notice. And that landed him on another continent in a secluded location, where no one, not even his mother, knew he was there. So imagine his surprise when three authoritative knocks pounded on his door one day and there stood none other than Kim Seokjin. But he shouldn't have been surprised. Not when he knew that the don's son had the resources to find him. Hell, Hoseok probably had colleagues who were puppeteered by him and Jin was there to add him to more lines of strings.

And to do this, Jin set him up with Namjoon, an esteemed lawyer who doubled as a computer science engineer, producing the Sparrow’s digital landscape to increase their market using cryptocurrencies. Namjoon trained and tutored Jungkook, Jin's younger brother who once broke Hoseok's nose, since Jin complained he was too old for all that technology, but really it was a reason to keep Jungkook off the streets for the time being. He worked with Namjoon to keep out traces of evidence in the CIA system that could lead back to Jin and the don, using his police access to wipe cameras, intimidate witnesses, and bribe judges and criminal lawyers. After a year, Jin introduced him to the man who called himself D, and they worked together to scope out other moles in the syndicate, the ones who worked against them, whether they were soldiers or associates, allies or rivals, and paid close attention to the guards employed to Jin's security team, and eventually his little brother's. He became the bad guy and even though the guilt and regret has taken years off his life, he doesn't care. Because he's doing all of this to protect Jin.

Hoseok learned that Jin was eight years his senior, but that didn't stop him from pining after him. He likes to think that it wasn’t some kind of Stockholm syndrome because Jin technically gave him an option to work for him or not (fucked up as it was) and employed him with a salary he'd never be able to spend in one lifetime. He could've killed him, but didn't. Instead, he arranged private, secret meetings that not even his personal guard knew about, under the guise for Hoseok to provide updates but more often than not, they would end up drinking and smoking and sharing stories and parts of themselves with each other. Jin does have a charm and a sense of humor, to the point that sometimes Hoseok forgets the man is who he is, responsible for the majority of the crime and corruption in the city and surrounding districts. Maybe it was all an act, a ploy, to get Hoseok trapped. And if it was, it fucking worked. Overtime, he fell. And fell hard.

Hoseok knew how dangerous Jin was but it didn't stop him from kissing him one night when it was late and they were silly and delirious from being sleep-deprived, because the spark had been there all along. Hoseok believes that's what had saved him in the first place. Jin took him to bed and fucked him until he saw stars.

Afterwards Jin dragged him onto the balcony where they smoked a joint together and for hours Jin pointed out constellations and planets littering the sky that they could see clearly from the cabin he's driving to now. Hoseok remembers every star Jin named, every fact about every planet and galaxy Jin gushed about, every dream Jin had of being an astronaut ever since he was a kid. He thought that because of how good he was at being lonely, he would do so well up in space. Hoseok wondered if Jin felt lonely when they were together, because he certainly didn't. Hoseok kissed him anytime he felt Jin needed a reminder - that he was there and wouldn't go anywhere unless Jin wanted him to. Down the road, Jin would tell him how his smile reminded him of the sun and make Hoseok's heart burst, because maybe there was still some good left in him after all, if someone like Jin could see it. And that was the beginning of the end.

He pulls into the snowy driveway of the cabin almost at the top of the mountain, edges of the roof lined in soft-yellow lights, smoke billowing out of the two chimneys, all signs of life hidden by thick forests of tall evergreen trees, and notices a silhouette in the window holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate, soon disappearing with a flutter of the sheer curtain once he puts the car in park. The door swings open and he chuckles when he hears his nickname "Sunny!" shouted through the windshield as he collects his things and a bag of takeout before stepping out of the car.

Strong, warm arms wait for him on the porch stairs and he wraps his free arm around the waist of the man who in another universe could be the love of his life. The embrace lasts for a little more than thirty seconds before he's tugged inside of the gloriously toasty cabin and isn't given the chance to release his lungs of cold air as his breath is stolen by a heated kiss. Jin shoves him against the door and his scarf is hastily tugged off, coat unzipped, and takeout carelessly dropped on the floor.

"Happy holidays, Sunny," Jin whispers in a warm breath of chocolate.

"You too, Jinnie," Hoseok whispers back, shrugging off his coat and tearing off his hat just as plush lips press again on his mouth.

He lets himself be manhandled towards creaky wooden stairs, mouths and hands never detaching from their touch-starved bodies. They pass the kitchen and Hoseok breathes in the festive smells wafting from the oven.

"You've been baking?"

"You know it," Jin mumbles, working the shirt out of Hoseok's jeans. "You don't mind waiting until later to eat, right?" Hoseok shakes his head and kisses him with a hum before Jin takes his hand and leads him upstairs, laughing when Jin clumsily trips over the steps and accidentally slams Hoseok into the railing.

It's snowing outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows but neither of them pay attention as Hoseok, again, lets himself be tossed back onto the ridiculously soft bed and mounted by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. He lets Jin fuck him into submission, to the point that it hurts, giving him full control of his body like he belongs to him. Because he does. As the mattress rocks, headboard thumping against the wall, he stares up at Jin through his swinging bangs, noticing the background shadow of falling snow cast on the ceiling above his head, but he can only focus on the fire and fury that blacken Jin's eyes when they're together like this and Hoseok understands why he gets this way sometimes, especially when it's been so long.

But he quickly takes the reins before Jin can get carried away, flipping him onto his stomach to take him from behind, forcing Jin to let go of his resolve, of his need to be in control because Hoseok knows how exhausting it is to be in charge all of the time. Especially of a bunch of goddamn criminals. His hand that presses on the back of Jin's neck doesn't just do the job of keeping his face planted in the bedding, but covers the flying crow carrying a skull branded just below his hairline (with four rings circled around its neck, marking Jin as the fourth blood successor) because sometimes it makes him nauseous to see it, to be reminded of who they really are, outside of this safe haven. As soon as they step foot back home, they'll have to pretend like they don't even know each other, where Hoseok will go back to being a national security agent and Jin to the most powerful criminal in the city, maybe even the country. A criminal from the very empire Hoseok was tasked as a rookie to infiltrate and build a case against, but eventually turned out to become a dirty cop, working to keep the prettiest and darkest eyes he's ever looked into out of prison because he's stupid and fell in love.

Even though both of them have never admitted it to each other, after all this time, it's there.

It's there in the way that neither of them have touched anyone else ever since they first started this, despite the months that have passed between times spent in secret. In the way they think about each other every day, when Jin sends him corny dad jokes and outdated memes that brighten Hoseok's week whenever he gets the chance to check his second phone. And in the way Hoseok drives all the way up a fucking mountain on a weekend he should be with his family, hours away from home, where Jin bakes and has hot chocolate waiting for him on the counter that has since turned cold and forgotten. And they’ll be in bed for hours, so the cookies and takeout will have gone to waste too. Oh, well. Hoseok would take Jin being under him, on him, inside him over baked goods and Jin's favorite noodles any day.

After the room has become blissfully hot and steamy with passion, the two men slip into a deep sleep that they both desperately need, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if neither of them have any plans to let go. However many hours later, Hoseok stirs to his favorite pair of biceps pulling him into his favorite broad chest, lips pressing against his temple. And as they lay there in silence, Hoseok begins to feel the air change with something that settles anxiety in his gut and even somehow lowers the temperature in the room. He pushes himself further against Jin in hopes to preserve that warmth that only exists between the two of them.

Jin turns on his back and pulls Hoseok onto his chest, turning his head to stare out of the window at the cascading snow blinding the horizon and Hoseok listens to the heartbeat thundering beneath his head.

"Y'know," Jin's gentle voice disturbs the solitude and Hoseok tries to blink himself awake. "It’s just a theory, but in the right kind of spacecraft, an astronaut could get almost as close as four million miles to the sun." "Really?" Hoseok asks, eyes drooping with a brain too tired to wonder why Jin chose now to bring up one of his space-obsessed facts. They haven't looked at the sky yet, not that there would be anything to see except the snow falling. And the sun set hours ago.

"Mm. Any closer and the astronaut would get burned." His eye peeks open at that simplistic conclusion and he huffs a worn out laugh, nuzzling into Jin's chest.

"I think they'd get a little more than burned, hyung." It's quiet for a moment. "Exactly." And Jin sits up suddenly, making Hoseok realize that wasn't just a theory. It was one disguised as a metaphor.

He panics and sits up as the elder whisks himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom, dragging a hand down his face when the shower turns on not seconds after the door shuts with a bit more force than necessary. Usually Hoseok would be traipsing off to follow him, but when he hears a heavy thud reverberate through the walls, an echo of Jin's rugged fist slamming into the tile, Hoseok swallows down the anxiety-ridden nausea in his gut and goes downstairs to shower in the second bathroom instead.

Upon returning to the bedroom to change, duffle bag in hand, he finds Jin switching out the soiled sheets and comforter. He goes to help, but he's waved off, and with an ache growing under his ribs, he quietly dresses and does his best not to become overwhelmed from this ominous tension forming between them. When the bed is made, Jin disappears downstairs and a small hill of hope arises when the cabin is suddenly blasted with holiday tunes and the smells of a new savory recipe. This time, Jin does let him help, passes behind him with hands on his waist while Hoseok chops and seasons, hips bumping occasionally as Jin maneuvers around the kitchen to cook up the best meal Hoseok will have had in months. Hoseok knows he's turned up the music extra loud so neither of them will talk. And he pretends he's fine with that.

After dinner, when they clear the table and wash the dishes in quiet tandem, and Jin turns down the music so Hoseok can hear his thoughts again, the older man heads to the window seat across from the kitchen, just under the stairs. He cracks open the window and Hoseok starts to scold him for letting in the cold air from the fucking snow storm outside, but then Jin pulls out a familiar roll of paper and a lighter and Hoseok shuts his mouth. He finishes drying up a dish, puts it away, and goes over to him, mid-step when Jin finally speaks.

"Say what you came here to tell me, Seok," Jin says flatly and Hoseok sighs as he plants himself behind him, hand sitting on Jin's lap while he tries to ignore the frigid air. He presses his frown to Jin's shoulder covered in the softest cashmere.

"You say that like it's the only reason I came here."

"But it's the main reason, right?" Hoseok leans away, frown deepening, and crosses his arms as his back settles against the oak wood wall. He stares at the snow softly falling over the hills, making the night grey instead of pitch black, wishing they could just be enjoying the view and not having this dreaded conversation.

"We only ever meet here when you have news about my case." Hoseok shoots a glare to the back of Jin's head and nudges his foot into his hip. "That's not true." He waits impatiently as the older man finishes up his joint with shoulders that grow more tense as the seconds pass by in silence.

"It's cold, can you hurry up?" Hoseok urges in a terse voice, watching as Jin nods once before taking a final drag and dropping the unfinished joint out of the window, letting the snow put it out. He stopped offering Hoseok weed ever since the office started doing random drug tests. Jin pulls in the frame, sealing out the cold, and settles back against Hoseok's chest, saying nothing when the younger man hesitates to uncross his arms and wrap them around his shoulders.

"They're getting ready to ask a judge to sign the warrant," he inevitably admits, eyes shutting as a tight feeling squeezes his chest when he feels Jin's entire body tense up.

"They're really gonna arrest somebody around the holidays? Who does that?"

Hoseok lets out a small snort, heart rate relaxing as he's reminded that one of the reasons he loves Jin so much is because of his ability to make light of a situation, no matter how serious.

"Tell me I'll at least get until after New Years."

"Maybe towards the end of January."

Jin huffs dramatically, enticing Hoseok to kiss the side of his head.

"I guess that means I won't have to get you a gift for your birthday." Hoseok tries to smile, but it’s tugged down with sadness.

“You know you never have to get me anything." Jin places a hand on his knee, a kiss on his elbow.

“Yeah, I do, Sunny. It gives me an excuse to see you." Past tense. Hoseok's heart sinks and he tangles their legs together.

"And after tonight, who knows if we'll..." Jin's voice tapers off and Hoseok fights the urge to give into tears. He can't be weak. Not for something he's known he can't have.

“What are my charges? Since apparently they’re sticking this time.”

“Drug and weapons trafficking. They can’t get you for racketeering because the evidence is mostly linked to your father.”

Jin stares at his cuticles for a few moments again, nothing but the sound of firewood crackling and snapping on the other side of the room, before he sits up abruptly again, knocking his head into Hoseok's chin.

"Fuck, what am I gonna do?!" Jin blurts, raking hands through his hair and tugging at the roots. Hoseok stays silent because he doesn't know what to tell him.

"Jungkook, he- he's not ready. He just got out of rehab for fucks' sake!"

A frown wrinkles Hoseok's chin.

"And Angel-" Jin continues, gulping down a breath. "She's barely spoken to me since she got engaged to that prick and I know that's the worst thing I've made her do but it wasn't my idea! It was his!"

Hoseok leans forward as he can sense the panic entering Jin's voice, paired with the shaking of his broad shoulders as he loses control of his breathing.

"This was his plan, he was never going to let them get away from all this. He knew the law was gonna come after him, he got too fucking loaded and it made him sloppy and now-" Jin sniffs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Hoseok hangs his head like he's not supposed to know Jin is crying.

"Now I'm taking the fucking fall. And I could give a shit about what happens to me, but Jungkook and Angel?!" Jin twists around and Hoseok is taken aback by the wild, frantic look on his face, eyes tinged pink with raw tears.

"They can't do this, they're not supposed to do this! I was never supposed to let Jungkook take my place, much less get Angel involved!" Tears are streaming down Jin's face as he reaches for Hoseok's sweater, curls his fists in the fabric to pull him forward like he's the only thing he can hang onto.

"And now they both are and it's-" Jin sobs. "It's all my fucking fault!"

There's a pain in Hoseok's chest as Jin collapses and smothers his face against it. And Hoseok lets him cry for however long he needs to, because here, in this space, is the only place safe for Jin to release the hardness that has been driven into his soul by his father since he was a little boy. In his tears, he grieves the childhood he lost when his mother died and left him with a father who forced the youth out of him, forbade him from being anything but stoic, taught him that showing emotions meant he was weak and lacked control.

Yet somehow, Jin had been able to keep a part of himself, however small, that lets him enjoy and appreciate the little things in life, to crack stupid jokes, to have a smile on his face in the right company even if it's a mask.

And Hoseok knows it's because of Jin's siblings. He thinks that without them, Jin wouldn't allow himself to be charming, or silly, or make stupid jokes. He thinks that despite how he was raised, he taught himself to be for his siblings the man he wanted in his father. Especially since he ended up raising them himself from ages four and two when their mother left and he vowed to never let their father do to them what he endured all the way up to a few months ago, to the day he buried an empty casket beneath a headstone engraved with his last name. He was glad that his siblings were made to take on their mother's maiden name, even though his brother had been born as a fallback plan to carry on the Kim legacy if something ever happened, and his sister never existed to their father, both kept in hiding only until they were needed for the family business.

Despite what he was taught, Jin loved them. From the moment he found out about them, he made sure to raise them as if their existence wasn't surrounded by death and greed and crime and sometimes pure evil. Even though all of them grew up without a mother, he wasn't going to let either of them feel abandoned or like no one loved them. Because he was determined to maintain their childhood that had been stolen from him. He was the one who took them away to a park whenever their father yelled at and threatened their mother, just before she left. As a fourteen-year old, he would pack them in the car and drive them far enough away from home, because with the way he was aging, he passed for at least seventeen. When he got back one day, their mother told him to take care of them and after that, he never saw her again. But he kept his promise.

He made them lunches, took Jungkook to school, stayed home with Angel until she was old enough to go to daycare, all while pretending to be the babysitter when he dropped them off so they wouldn’t be mistaken for family. Having different last names helped him feel like he wasn’t completely lying. As soon as he picked them up and brought them home, he always had dinner ready, helped them with crafty projects and homework while he did his own, got them ready for bed, read stories and sang lullabies, and stayed up way too late worrying about how much longer his father would let him do this.

He knew he couldn't always be the best brother, but he'd be damned not to try.

When he finished high school and his father took every spare moment of his free time away to instead spend grinding away the rest of his innocence in preparation to take over for him one day, he made sure his brother and sister were left with the best nannies. And as they grew older, he sent them away to the best boarding schools in order to keep them away from the family business for as long as possible.

In disguise, he went to Jungkook’s baseball games and math tournaments, and Angel’s piano recitals and debates whenever he could, and if he was unable, he sent one of his guards instead to film them undercover.

Sometimes when he hated everything, hated himself, wished he’d never been born, he spent one too many nights driving back and forth across the Han river bridge, wondering if his father would call him a coward for not having the balls to throw himself over. Because every time he stood on the railing and leaned over imagining what it’d be like to drown in water that pretty, he thought of the only two people he ever truly loved. The ones he hid a picture of in his wallet, because he couldn’t take any on his phone, or even leave some around his house that’s way too big and hollow for just one person, as it would put a risk of revealing both of them to his world too soon.

So each and every time, he got down from the railing, went back to his car, and pulled out his third phone to put them on a three way call, doing his best to keep the fact that he almost permanently abandoned them hidden from his voice. He didn’t care if they playfully complained that he interrupted something in their busy, accomplished lives overseas, because he needed to talk to them so they could save him. Time and time again.

But now they have to be saved, and Jin doesn't know if he can. Because he fears that once he’s arrested, they’ll both be put in the worst possible danger and he won’t be around to protect them. He’ll be breaking his promise to their mother. And out of all the sins he's committed, that would be the one thing he could never ask forgiveness for.

So in the midst of his tears and panic, he comes up with a plan to make sure nothing will happen to them in his absence. If anything does, he'd have no problem sending himself straight to the bottom of the river.

They move to the living room for more comfortable seating while Jin goes through his process of formulating plans. Hoseok listens intently, taking mental notes and sharing ideas of how to ensure the safety of Jin's siblings. It involves him, Namjoon, and D, a plethora of guards and weapons, that would all, without fail, protect Jungkook and Angel at all costs. Making plans helps Jin calm down and he eventually returns to his place against Hoseok's chest, hiccupping every now and then from crying so much.

"Promise me you'll look out for them, Sunny," Jin pleads in a quiet, nasally tone, needing reassurance for the tenth time.

"I will. We all will. Me, Joon, D..." he promises.

And then, in a deep breath and a whisper, "We love you."

There's a pause just before Jin slowly turns around with a look in his eye filled with so much emotion that Hoseok has never seen before (and will never see again). There's a glint and a sparkle there as he glances at Hoseok's mouth, something that tells him he wants to say those kind of words back but can't. Instead, he makes a joke, true to his character.

"I've had fantasies about you arresting me,” Jin says, kissing Hoseok on the corner of his mouth as he huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I’d mind going to jail if you were the one taking me there.”

Hoseok cackles as Jin wiggles his eyebrows. "You’re a sick freak, hyung."

With an agreeing grin, Jin kisses him and fucks him right there on the couch, then makes love to him on the floor in front of the fireplace on the faux fur rug, under the warmest, softest blanket. They mark their territory on each other's skin with bruises and bites that will last for weeks. When they're both sweaty and breathless, Jin falls asleep on top of him and Hoseok tries to memorize every inch of his body, like he hasn't already done so countless times before, because he just wants to make sure he never forgets what love feels like. He succumbs to exhaustion with tears pricking the corners of his eyes that he won't let fall.

When he wakes, Jin is gone. Hoseok sits up in the eerily silent, practically empty cabin. The fire is now reduced to embers and it's significantly colder in the cabin. Hoseok hates the hollow feeling he gets as he moves around collecting his things, heavy blanket wrapped around him as he looks for any trace of Jin but finds nothing. The baking ware is gone as well. But there's a carefully wrapped meal left for him in the fridge that he won't be able to stomach until later that day.

There’s a big plate of decorated cookies on the counter and his heart stops and sags when next to it he finds an old phone turned off, covered in Jin's fingerprints, an astronaut sticker plastered and worn on the back.

Taped to it is a note that reads:

If you ever need to save yourself, it’s all right here.

And Hoseok melts on the floor in a puddle of tears at the notion that Jin is willing to sacrifice himself, his freedom, his life all for him if it's one day necessary. This is something he never would have imagined, especially not since years ago when Jin once threatened him and his family for his loyalty and devotion with a gun held to his head. Now, Hoseok thinks he would leave all that behind to stay with Jin. It's stupid and irresponsible, he knows, but Hoseok hasn't found anything in anyone like what he has in Jin. And he doesn't think he ever will. But none of that matters now. Because Jin will be gone and there is nothing Hoseok can do, except pick himself up and leave like none of that meant anything.

He's gotten really good at lying.

part 1. coming soon!!! (for real this time)

masterlist

thanks for reading! this is the last of 2seok we'll see in this series :( they'll be mentioned throughout, but there just won't be anymore interactions. maybe at the very end who knows. i also could be lying and suddenly change my mind lol. hope you enjoyed! let me know if i missed any warnings.

xxx- claret

notes: i hope this all makes sense, like with the legal shit lol, i'm kind of making stuff up as i go bc it's imperative to the plot that both Jin and his father are no longer in charge so bear with me. That and i love the idea of hoseok being a dirty cop and having some forbidden love with mob boss jin.

taglist: @polarnightmyg @rinkud

#agust d #bts angst #bts mafia #bts mafia au #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi mafia #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #agust d haegum #yoongi bodyguard au #bts jin #kim seokjin #2seok #2seok angst #bts jhope #hoseok #not in the cards

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psychiccent · 3 months ago

Text

Finally finished editing my old posts so NOW I can keep haunting these tags lol

Ever seen a clingy Ko? In the final Peacebreaker showdown in Providence, Kogami and Akane (and Co.) have miraculously survived the assault on Peacebreaker HQ. Up until this point, Akane has kept Kogami at a distance by being more reserved in their interactions. Ko feels/knows this, and you can see the tension carried in his body in a lot of scenes that feature Akane and himself in a room together.

If you ever need a hint, keep an eye on Kogami anytime Frederica is in frame. Frede, to me at least, always serves as a reminder to be observant of the subconscious tells a person gives off through body language, namely Ko. We see that through this unspoken language, Ko wants to be close to Akane, to reacquaint himself with this new version of her. I can't blame him; they have been separated for quite some time and Akane is not the rookie from season 1 or the woman running at his heels from PP the Movie. She's now a top dog in her own right and he's heard some things (Thanks Frede!).

When we have Ko and Akane coming down from the adrenaline high of that final encounter with the leader/bad guy in Providence, Ko has Akane formally place him under arrest. It is symbolic in a way and shows us that Kogami is not running from his actions (Or Akane), and that he is prepared to stay and face the consequences. That's not the only message I see reflected here though. To set the tone, after years of separation and hardship, Kogami has FINALLY made his way back home, and has even managed to worm his way into the CID building due to a joint investigation. Through this, Ko is finally able to reunite with Akane, under totally justifiable circumstances (ALLEGEDELY - Gino would say lolololol or rather "Screw you!" if we are going by the movie script - The man literally told Ko to stay away). When Ko DOES manage to get in physical proximity of her, the emotional distance is vast, and he sees how others have come to surround Akane during his absence. It's a tough pill to swallow for him (though obviously he refuses to admit it).

Then we have the risky business during the raid on the Peacebreaker HQ. Akane is really putting her neck on the line here, a fact Kogami brings up before they officially set out, and the audience is treated to an anxious Ko. He understands why things are falling in place as they are, regarding the mission, but Ko can't help but warn Akane away from doing anything excessively dangerous/risky while on her own. We even see Ko's anxiety spike when Akane admits that she cannot make any promises to him. Akane figures she is already out of the pot and into the fire and there could be no greater risk taken at this point and time. She is resigned to what fate has in store for her and is facing it head on. She even jokes that Kogami should be quick if he does not want to worry (DON'T DO THAT TO THE TEAM AKANE LOL, HE ALREADY LIKES TO SPRINT AHEAD INTO THE ACTION LIKE A MAD DOG). The next time Kogami sees Akane, it is with a gun planted to her head, and a maniac rambling above her. When the danger has passed and they both have a moment to BREATH, they have an emotional exchange.

From this point onward, clingy Ko has been activated. The man HAS to be cuffed to Akane in this moment and it is purely selfish in nature. Any reason to cut away the distance between them, Ko takes. This is why, despite still being in enemy territory, Ko handicaps himself with a physical connection to Akane. This would arguably put them both at risk, with Kogami restricted in how he can respond to any additional threats; this leaves them both quite vulnerable. Logically speaking here, they could have managed just fine WITHOUT the cuffs attached but Ko will have none of it. It's not like Ko is ignorant to the danger they are still in either, taking off his bulletproof vest, Kogami has Akane wear it instead...*just in case* (I'm not swooning, YOU ARE).

The handcuffs are an assurance that Akane won't easily be taken/snatched away from Kogami and offers him the best excuse to stay as close to Akane as possible. In the Providence Blu-ray edition photos, I am in LOVE with two photos in particular. One features Gino, Ko and Akane making their way through the aftermath and rubble of the raid/assault. Ko still carries Akane in this scene but get a good LOOK at Gino here. The man looks troubled/perplexed/bothered and is solemn in his guardian role for the two here. Something about Akane and Ko is triggering Gino, but what could that be? More on that later.

Akane is awake in this photo, and it looks like everyone is having it out with their inner demons individually. Sure, they are moving together as a group, but each person is dealing with a different internalized conflict. I'll have to break that down more in a future post because there is PLENTY to take from that. The next photo, which I tend to favor more, shows the crew waiting on evac to go back home. Frede, though largely unseen, has her shadow playing in the outskirts. I took this as another reminder/hint to analyze Ko and BOI HOWDY. This man is getting his FILL of Akane and Ko's position and demeanor tells us this CLEARLY.

Akane has passed out by this point and is sleeping soundly. Next to her, Ko's body language is telling us something grand. Kogami's head is tilted slightly away from Akane while a lit cigarette hangs from his lips. (I HC here that he is trying to be considerate of his sleeping beauty by keeping her air mostly clear lol) There's a small smile peeking out here as Ko stares back out to the audience. He looks SATISFIED. Why wouldn't he be? Everyone who needed to live has survived and anyone who died had it coming. This is a victory through in through as far and he is concerned, and we see Ko settled into a relaxed position absolutely BASKING in it.

A few things stood out to me here. First, that injured leg Ko was moving on throughout mission was not fully healed, yet here we see Kogami bending that same leg awkwardly to the side to rest along Akane's. You could argue that Ko is just using his leg as a minor support to keep their hands level and comfortable, BUT there is no way Ko is not feeling some kind of strain or discomfort with that abused limb, ESPECIALLY after all the action that took place prior, PLUS having to carry Akane out of the smoldering remains of that HQ. That leg has GOT to be throbbing by now and for comfort, Ko SHOULD be mirroring Gino's stance nearby with his leg outstretched in front of him. But. Ko's leg is flush to Akane's, their hands teasing one another in the shadows. GOSH. WOW. On the opposite side of his body, closer to the dominator, his leg and arm are drawn up and holding a small bit of tension (My shipper goggles have me seeing this as another symbolic showing of how Ko often tries to shield Akane, but I digress).

The STAR here is Gino. He STILL looks troubled. His body is tense and drawn in, despite being on standby to finally go home. He is still triggered by something, and you can see him looking off to the side, pointedly AWAY from Ko and Akane. What's happened, you ask? Gino has scented Ko's BS " I do this because of that" clause again and he is NOT impressed. He knows Ko has a profound effect on Akane and her psyche, and he also knows his best friend as a person and what Ko's habits and actions tend to mean. Gino has seen this before with these two...that SPARK they seem to share, and it becomes apparent that Gino's prior warnings/threats from earlier in this movie and past installments have ultimately fallen on deaf ears (Cuz Ko gonna do what Ko gonna do at the end of the day, then reason it out to his advantage later lol).

Not to mention how OBVIOUS Ko is being in the moment. They are technically all candidates for arrest, it's not just Ko. HE pulled the trigger, yes. But so did literally everyone else. They ALL went in guns blazing with no approval. NO ONE has to be in cuffs, and EVERYONE knows it, Gino especially. But Ko clings on. In the novel, we see Ko's intent is to get her handed to a medical bot/professional as soon as he can, and I find that super sweet. Ko won't hand his girl off to ANYONE when she's injured, not even his best friend. The only person who could get Akane away from Kogami in that moment is Akane herself and you cannot convince me otherwise.

#kogami shinya #shinkane #tsunemori akane #akane tsunemori #kouaka #kougami shinya #psycho pass

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