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honkytonk-hangman · 11 months ago

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Just Another Thing – [1]

Walt 'Finn' Finnegan x Reader/OC

Summary: God help anyone who might've thought a nice, stable relationship might bring some kind of change to Walt Finnegan's usual mischief and mild-hedonism. God especially help them if they also thought a girlfriend would provide any sort of calming influence over him.

She definitely influenced him, anyone could tell you that, unfortunately just never in any way that could even remotely be described as 'calm'.

Warnings: cussing, mentions of and talk of sex, sexy body parts, ect. reader/OC is named Kimberly/Kimber, but it is still written in second person and her name shouldn't come up very often.

Notes: oh boy oh boy oh boy you have no clue how excited i am for this fic. it's literally been in the works for over a year. i'd even go as far as to say it's my fave fic in recent memory!!! Im not sure yet how many parts, but the story does have a beginning and end.

It's not necessary to have watched the film before reading this fic, as this is set in the year after, around 1982, however certain character dynamics could be confusing. Also i definitely headcanon Finn and Beverly becoming good friends, hidden beneath a layer of exasperation of course but he is definitely the type to go to all the theatre stuff like come on look at him!!!!!

okay enough from me now heres the fic I really hope you enjoy!!!

You register the alarm on your friends’ face’s far too late to do anything, and the next thing you know you’re clutching the crown of your head, a dull throbbing ache now pulsing under your fingertips.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation, you’ve been hit in the head by a ball plenty of times, but the sheer weight behind this particular impact stood out to you. That, and you knew it couldn’t have been the volleyball you and your friend’s were playing with, because you currently held it.

“What the fu–” you begin angrily, already whipping around in the direction you’d been hit, cutting yourself off at the sight of an approaching man, a look of genuine remorse painted on his features as he jogs toward you. Behind him, a group of guys with baseball gloves watch on with various cringing expressions. Just as the man nears you, his eyes subtly travel up and down your figure, his lip quirking with approval, but he keeps his face apologetic. He comes to a stop several feet away, where the baseball had landed, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you, placing his hands on his hips and lifting his chin at you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, and it at least sounds sincere. “Roper’s never had much of an eye.”

You purse your lips, but try not to look too angry. He was cute, you realise dumbly, still rubbing your head. Dirty blond hair settled in light waves at the top of his collar, a matching blond moustache groomed neatly above his upper lip. He was tall, broad across the shoulders and chest in a way you’d only ever really seen on guys who worked out, athletes and the like. He also looked a little older than a lot of the students you’d see walking around campus, and he certainly didn’t approach you with the confidence of a freshman, so you figure he must be at least an upperclassmen.

“Well, maybe y'all should work on that with him,” you grumble lightly, and drop your hand.

“You okay?” he nods at your head, and you shift to lean on one foot, not missing the flicker of his eyes to watch as you do, or the way he lingers on your rapidly rising and falling chest before he meets your eye again.

“Isn’t the first time, certainly won’t be the last. Hair probably won’t sit right tonight, though,” you complain.

“Big date?” he asks, the teasing tone unmistakable. You lift your chin a little indignantly.

“I’m sure your day is just riding on my answer, but I don’t feel particularly inclined on telling you that,” you huff, heart rate doubling when he laughs, looking away from you for the first time as he grins widely.

“Well, how about this,” he starts once he’s sobered, bending down to swipe the baseball from the grass, taking a step toward you as he does. “The next time I see you, I promise you won’t get hit in the head,” he waves the ball as if you need reminding, but takes another step closer. “And you tell me what night works best to take you out?”

You fail to hide the amused smile that pulls at your lips, but then again, you weren’t really one for playing hard to get. You can see now that he’s only a few feet away, that his eyes are a startling green, and you think you wouldn’t mind running into him again, sans head injury.

“Alright,” you tell him, stepping back with a nod. “Next time.”

It takes all of your will power to turn away from him and move back towards your friends, though you feel his eyes on you for some distance, and make sure you swing your hips just a little more than you usually might.

Part of you regrets not making plans then and there, but the other part of you shivers at the already building tension of your potential next meeting.

Squinting at your reflection in the mirror, you flip your feathery waves once more over your shoulder, before almost immediately letting it fall back where it was. Just as you’d predicted, thanks to the decent-sized lump on the crown of your head, your Jerry Hall blowout was looking less supermodel and more super-odd.

Scrunching your nose as you mess with your tresses one last time, let out a huff, and force yourself to turn away, just in time for Nancy to appear at your open door, her curled fingers tapping gently on the wood.

“Hey Kimber,” she begins, pausing to give you a whistle as you exit your bathroom and do a twirl for her. Your collared halter-neck jumpsuit was supposed to be worn with a ruffle-neck blouse, but you’d never intended to style it that way, not to mention it was tight enough that you’re not totally sure you’d even be able to fit said blouse beneath it anyway.

“Something’s telling me Miss Texas ‘56 didn’t have this particular ensemble in mind when she ordered this for you outta her fancy lil’ Saks catalogue��” Nancy teases. You roll your eyes.

“Saks don’t do catalogues.” you correct her with a faux air of haughtiness, but don’t bother to contend her point. All of your housemates were more than familiar with your former Beauty Queen mother, despite never having met her. The monthly ‘care packages’ she sent you, filled with various ‘in season’ (see: frivolous) items of clothing and ‘essentials’ spoke volumes about who exactly Mrs Charlene Wynne was. That mostly just amounting to ‘eternally neurotic but well-meaning’.

Nancy pokes her tongue out at you and scoffs out a laugh.

“Whatever, the point is; Mama doesn't always know best. You look foxy!”

You let out a laugh and smooth your hands over your thighs, thanking her softly.

You weren’t at all oblivious to the way you looked. Certainly you were no Raquel Welch, but most days you could manage something in the realm of Christie Brinkley or Cheryl Ladd, which was pretty damn good. You had your mother to thank for that, though your dad was no slouch either, but considering your mother couldn’t walk ten steps without someone recognising her from her Miss Texas win almost thirty years ago, you’ll give her most of the credit. As a result of your parent’s contributions, you’d become aware fairly quickly of the effect you tended to have on men, especially College men.

“Did you need me for something?” you prompt after a few more moments of Nancy preening over your outfit, remembering that she had come up here with a purpose some minutes ago now. Nancy blinks, before she makes a soft gasping sound, and straightens up.

“That’s right! Beverley arrived a little while ago, she was asking for you!” she informs you, waving her hand in the vague direction of the stairs and the party quickly coming to life on the first floor.

“I’m coming now!” you tell her, giving your hair one last flip before you move for your door, closing it behind you and quickly following Nancy as she all but skips.

The ‘little’ get together had officially started a little while ago, but you’d had a study group that had run long, meaning you were now fashionably late to your own houseparty, if there were even such a thing.

Almost immediately once you crest the lower steps, you feel yourself shift into focus, totally in your element now, a cool, easy smile finding a place on your features. It isn’t difficult for you to move through the light throngs of people, despite your arrival not going unnoticed by those around you, but instead of excusing yourself meekly past distracted conversationalists, you’re liked enough that partygoers both consciously and subconsciously make way for you, plenty of familiar faces greeting you warmly in passing as you go.

You aren't surprised to find the kitchen milling with guests too, though the music is a little quieter here, so you figure it will remain more sparsely populated until later in the night, when everyone is comfortably tipsy.

“Kimberley!” A female voice calls out, perhaps a little too loudly, but you’d come to expect as much from anyone deeply involved in theatre.

“Beverly!” you match her energy, volume and all, knowing that she was likely already feeling a little out of place among the other guests, who were all mostly part of the College’s various sports teams and who you suspect weren’t even aware there even was a theatre program.

You can’t stop yourself from grinning ecstatically, overjoyed to see your friend for the first time since classes had commenced for the year. However, you feel more than you see the redhead that collides with you, her much shorter frame crashing into yours with a comforting force, and thanks to your non incosiderable height, as well as your many years playing volleyball, you hardly even budge from the impact, even in your chunky platform heels. You quickly hug Beverley in return, but far sooner than you’d like, she’s pulling back and launching into what sounds like a planned monologue.

“Okay! So, you know how ages ago I said I was going to set you up with one of Jake’s housemates from the baseball house?” Beverly starts, already waving her hands expressively, her expression bright and excited. You search your mind, but honestly, you aren’t sure if the conversation sounds familiar or not. You’d had a lot of people say similar things to you throughout your college career so far. Most of the time they were totally off-base matches, but you were always happy to experience new things, new people.

Beverley doesn’t wait for your reply though, clapping her hands and rubbing them together.

“Well, of course the team was invited tonight, meaning I can finally introduce you!” she exclaims, looking wildly over her shoulder, as though the person in question was supposed to be just behind her. When she sees an empty kitchen, she frowns and purses her lips. The glimmer of annoyance is wiped from her face by the time she’s looking back at you, and she huffs good-naturedly.

“I told him to wait for me…” she links your arms as she speaks, and you happily let her lead you to the kitchen door, where a light bubble of conversation floats through from outside. You have to let out a laugh at her sheer excitement, which appears genuine, though not in her usual manner.

The usual manner meaning that every so often when the two of you found yourselves at the same club or bar, whenever she or her friend’s were being bothered, the pretty redhead would giddily inform you that she had someone she wanted you to meet, then standing back and watching gleefully as you casually sapped up the creep’s attention, only to bluntly shoot him down and send him off.

You don’t get the feeling this is one of those times, but from what you knew of the baseball team, you very well may have to do some shooing on your own behalf tonight.

Outside on the tiny back-deck, a small group of people had gathered and right away your brain sparks with familiarity, though you have very little time to consider this before Beverley is releasing your arm and stepping forward. She smiles brightly as she sweeps between you and a man who turns around as if on cue.

“Finn, this is Kimberley Wynn! Kimberley, this is Finn! I am almost certain that the two of you will get along famously,” Beverely announces with a flourish and a wink. You and Finn both blink startled at one another for several moments, before mutual recognition quickly sets in. Your lips slowly pull into a wide grin, and you don’t bother hiding the fact that you’re now looking him over with no subtly, just as he’d done to you earlier in the park.

“I’m not about to get clobbered again, am I?” you begin flirtily, glad that the man, Finn, recognises you as well, though unlike you, he seems to avoid taking the opportunity to check you out again, to his loss. Instead, he smiles big, almost showmanly, and takes up a slight lean on the railing behind him.

“If it’s any consolation, your hair looks great,” Finn replies cooly, and it’s almost as though you’d never parted ways at all. You flick your hair over your shoulder, seeing how his eyes follow the movement before they’re locked back on yours and you already know you’ve got this man hook, line and sinker.

“Luckily for you,” you sniff, though your smile undercuts any real resentment. Finn seems to grin a little wider then, more genuinely than the showman smile. You think the way his eyes crinkle in the corners is sweet, and that he should smile that way all the time.

“Wait, you two already know each other?!” Beverley cuts in, suddenly reminding you that she was in fact still standing there, watching and listening. “How?!” the redhead demands, not going so far as to stomp a foot, but she does cross her arms in a huff as she looks between the two of you in betrayed disbelief, though you note most of her ire seems directed at Finn.

The blonde swings his gaze back to the shorter woman, seemingly tickled by her apparent annoyance, yet his teasing expression is full to the brim with endeared fondness. You get the impression that this was the natural state of their friendship, and that Finn is about to say something inflammatory just to get a bigger rise, which might be a little funny, but you cut in before he can speak, relieving Beverly of her confusion.

“All Star over here threw a baseball at my head this afternoon,” you say pointedly, making sure he doesn’t mistake your happiness to see him for forgiveness. Finn holds his hands up then, and jerks a thumb in the direction of a man in the larger group of party goers on the porch.

“Roper threw a baseball at your head this afternoon,” he corrects you, as though that should absolve you of your attitude.

“Oh, that’s right! You just failed to catch it!” you tease, watching as he winces dramatically and grasps at his chest.

“You wound me sweetheart!” he exclaims ruefully, and despite the vaguely amicable antagonism, you can see now why he and Beverly are friends.

“Then we’re even.” You say. You already agree with the redhead’s earlier assessment; the two of you were going to get along famously.

Finn shrugs in a manner that reads more as relenting than indifference, and at least some of his overly performative act comes away. Beverley scoffs a laugh, rolling her eyes heavily as she reaches out to shove Finn in the arm. He sways, you think for her benefit, which makes you smile.

“Only you could throw a baseball that hits the one girl on campus who’d actually put up with you…” she snorts, seemingly assuming his chances with you were now dashed. Finn raises a finger in protest.

“As we just discussed, I only failed to catch the ball that hit the one girl on campus who may or may not be willing to put up with me. I’d like that to go on record.” He smiles at her simperingly. Beverley regards him with a withering look for several seconds, before choosing to ignore him entirely, turning to you.

“Have fun.” she says, sounding much more like her usual manner, though before you can tell her it’s alright, she’s already spun away, and when you find her again, she’s tucking herself under the arm of her boyfriend, Jake.

You shake your head, and look back at Finn, finding his gaze already locked on you. He pushes away from the railing then, and steps toward you.

“You know what this is?” he asks you, once more sounding like an actor reading lines, and gesturing between you. “Fate.” he says, lowering his voice somewhat like it was a secret just for the two of you.

You cock your head at his odd little act, though you aren’t entirely un-charmed by it. It was rather different to when you’d met this afternoon, despite his blatant flirting then, now it was as if you were speaking with a completely different person. A stage magician, perhaps.

“So, why don’t we go get a drink in your hand, and then you can tell me which day works for our upcoming date.” Finn gives a slight flourish, and while his whole demeanour is still clearly put on, there is an endearing element to his theatrics, a silliness that you might find more charming if it didn’t feel so much like he was performing for you.

He offers you his arm graciously, which you can imagine combined with his hyped up charm, would have plenty of women already giggling into their sleeves, which you don’t do, but you do place your other hand over his warm skin as well, and allow him to lead you back into the kitchen.

“So what’ll it be? Beer? Fruity punch? Fruity punch and beer?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and even though he’s still playing a role of some kind, it’s not hard for you to see through it.

“Fruity punch,” you say decisively. “Can’t stand the taste of beer.” You tell him honestly, watching as he goes about procuring you a glass of the punch you yourself had made, and appreciating the effort he puts in to make sure you have at least two cherries, though, you don’t think he means it to be suggestive, despite your own thoughts going straight to the gutter over the matter.

“So, what you’re saying is; I should switch to the punch if I want to test this theory about you being the one girl on campus who’ll put up with me later?” he asks in amusement, at last handing you your drink, his eyes sparkling. You accept the drink and give a noncommittal shrug as you take a small sip.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, but I’ll certainly appreciate it later.” You really feel no need to go along with his act, not seeing any reason to play coy about your intentions, not in the way he seemed to feel was par for the course at least. You watch as Finn takes a moment to actually process your words, a brief mix of surprise and curiosity passing over his features, but it’s quickly covered up by a much more ‘cool’ looking mask.

You have to crack a smile at his sheer determination to convince you to have sex with him, the poor man somehow didn’t realise he was preaching to the choir.

“You really do look fantastic, by the way,” Finn says after a few moments of awkward quiet pass. You push aside your amusement, and grin happily at him, smoothing your hand over the material fondly.

“Thanks! I feel like one of ‘Charlie’s Angels’,” you gush a little, briefly feeling silly for bringing up the comparison, however, this time Finn’s smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way you liked, making his whole face seem softer and more natural, pouring with warmth.

“Trust me, Farrah’s got nothing on you right now,” he tells you sweetly, continuing to fondly watch you preen, not just at the compliment, but because you think this might be the first time all evening he isn’t speaking from some kind of script.

The moment passes quickly, though, and as you duck your head to accept his praise, you see his face momentarily scrunching up in a wince, like he was scolding himself for saying something so saccharine. You consider telling him that you found the sweetness endlessly more endearing than any of the other lines so far, but you hold your tongue. You had a small feeling that his pretence was really more about him, than about you, at least to a degree.

Finn is about halfway through earnestly telling you about his apparently ‘average’ sized cock when you at last run out of patience. The gimmick itself was entertaining enough, definitely an original approach to picking up women, and you’d even played along to start with, but you can’t help wondering why you’re standing around talking about his cock when you could be doing other things with it instead.

While he’s still talking, you reach into your pocket and dig around for a moment, before you find what you’re after. Finn trails off when you turn and lay the coin face-side up on his forearm. He blinks at it in confusion, for a few seconds, before looking questioningly up at you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask before he can speak again, and force yourself not to pump your fist triumphantly when his confusion is quickly replaced with affection. Sure, you knew he wanted to have sex with you already, but now he thought you were cute, too.

“Alright,” he answers simply, fully angling his body toward yours, leaning in closer to you at the same time.

“So, this whole ‘average sized cock’ thing, does it actually work? I mean, has it worked when you’ve used it before?” you tip your head up at him, genuinely curious, but you don’t miss the way Finn’s features fall blank for a second after you speak, his smile fading, replaced with mild discomfort. He seems to shift back from you slightly, regarding you once more before he replies.

“I guess this is the time it doesn’t.” He all but mutters, his frown deepening as he looks away from you again, clearing his throat this time and straightening up, obviously embarrassed. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks back at you evenly.

“Could’ve stopped me earlier,” he says a little stiffly, though seemingly coming to terms with whatever direction he now thought this conversation was taking. You can’t help yourself then, his sulking making you laugh, fully and joyfully, but before he can sulk further, you lay your hand gently on his arm, over the penny, and give him a light squeeze. You shake your head as your laughter dies down, and fix him with a warm expression

“I never said it wasn’t working– in a manner of speaking,” You softly tell him, watching as he blinks down at you. You hurry to explain. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t working, but only because it’s totally unbelievable.”

Finn at last relaxes somewhat, though his slight frown remains as he considers your complaint.

“What’s so unbelievable about it?” he demands, in a way that tells you this pick-up tactic was one he was proud of, though clear playfulness had returned to his voice.

Confident that you were now talking, actually talking to Finn as he was, and not as he thought would get him laid, you feel energised to engage with the subject matter more seriously. You scoff and roll your eyes at his indignation.

“Firstly,” you start, shifting to lean on your hip, bringing you closer once again. “No guy is ever going to accept, let alone admit that he has an average sized-cock, and he’s definitely not going to admit it to a woman he wants to fuck.” You say matter-of-factly, though you didn’t have anything more than your not-insubstantial intimate experiences with men to go off of as proof.

“Guys who really are average, don’t think that they are, and they probably never will because no woman is going to bring up the fact that his seven inch cock looks suspiciously closer to five.” you wave your hands a little, not realising before now that you really had any firm opinions on this subject.

You see the cogs in Finn’s brain turning as he regards your words with something that resembles amused but genuine interest. You figure he hadn’t expected you to really have a point, which to be fair, you hadn’t expected either. You do plan to let him respond, but you suddenly remember something else you’d been thinking about earlier, when he’d first brought up the concept.

“–And! In my experience, guys who do have big cocks, they don’t really say anything, or they mislead you entirely, so that they can get off on hearing you telling him how big he is.”

That earns a hearty laugh from Finn, who shrugs a shoulder in admittance at that point at the very least. He’d returned at last to watching you fondly, and you think once more that Beverley had been spot on in introducing the two of you. You’re pretty sure Finn is the only man who would so happily, or nonchalantly debate with you about the size of other men’s cocks, just as you’re sure that you’re the only woman on campus who has ever challenged him on it.

Finn hums in thought. “So, you believe men will only ever overcompensate or undercompensate?” he asks, but it's more of a statement. He watches you intently as he tips his chin, and you nod.

“Exactly.”

A moment passes between the two of you, before Finn leans forward, right into your space, wearing a pleased smirk.

“In that case honey,” he starts, voice sounding a little deeper now, huskier somehow. “What’s the verdict then?” he stares at you unwaveringly, challenging you. You frown.

“The verdict on what?” you ask, though at this point you couldn’t muster much genuine interest, not when all this verbal foreplay was slowing down the process of getting him in your bedroom for some actual foreplay.

Finn’s smirk grows then, seemingly glad you’d asked. You watch as his eyes dip briefly down to your chest, where his height and closeness grant him a very good view of your tits. He meets your gaze again before he speaks.

“Do you think I’m overcompensating, or undercompensating?”

You blink and stare at him as you process, not even bothering to hide your captivation, but it lasts for mere seconds before your lips are curling into a coy smile to match his own. You copy his move then, dropping your eyes to take in the front of his jeans, but you don’t look back up again as he had. Instead, you reach out and begin tracing his belt buckle. Finn inhales sharply, clearly taken off guard by your forwardness, which was clearly working for him.

You’re momentarily distracted from his belt as you catch sight of the rather sizable bulge forming at the front of his pants, giving you a pretty good idea of what the verdict should be. You lick your lips without really thinking, but take full advantage of the way Finn’s eyes follow the movement, tracing the path over your now wet mouth as he awaits your answer. You lean in, closing the miniscule distance between you at last, and give his belt a teasing little tug toward you.

“Y’know, I haven’t a clue,” you lie nonchalantly, your smile only growing when you use his belt to pull yourself in and press right up against his front. “But I’d love to find out.”

#everybody wants some!!#walt finn finnegan #finnegan x reader #walt finnegan x reader #idk what to tag ethis even

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photogirl894 · 4 months ago

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"Sun and Rain Part 2: Age of the Empire"

Chapter 39

"Hard Hits"

A "Bad Batch" fanfic!

Pairing: Hunter x fem OC, Echo (more best friend pairing)

A/N: Well y'all...you knew this was coming 😅

Today is my last day of summer break before going back to work and what a better way to show my despair at going back to work by posting a chapter full of angst?? 😜 If you like angst, then you're gonna have a heyday with this one! I've had one scene in this chapter written for a looooong time now, so it's great to finally put it out there!

Also, there's a fun Kimber/Hunter moment I threw in based off of this art I got commissioned a while ago 🥰 See if you can spot it!

Hope y'all still enjoy! (Just don't hate me at the end of this one 😅)

Taglist: @the-sad-batch , @nimata-beroya , @intrepidmare , @legolkenxbi , @tech-aficionado ,

@ladykatakuri , @d1n0-dan , @sammi9498 , @darthzero22 , @scarlettrose9901 ,

@thebadbatchscyare , @chxpsi , @ilikemymendarkandfictional , @4pplecider , @locitapurplepink ,

@l-lend , @nekotaetae , @eternalwaffle , @merkitty49 , @avathebestx ,

@idoubleswearimawriter , @techs-stitches , @fantasyproductions , @totallyunidentified , @dreamsandrosies ,

@theknightofivanhoe

《 Chapter 38

》 Chapter 40

All parts (Part 2) (Part 1)

Explanation: Kimber and Hunter are now Crosshair's prisoners and things come to a head between the Bad Batch and Crosshair back on the planet where it all began....

Huddled together, Kimber and Hunter found themselves on the floor of an Imperial shuttle, still in cuffs and now sailing through hyperspace on their way to an undisclosed location. Two members of Crosshair's team were in the back area guarding them and standing by the door that led further into the ship.

A loud alarm rang through the ship, indicating the door was about to open. Hunter's head lifted and his eyebrows furrowed together, which gave Kimber the indication of exactly who was coming. The door slid open and in strolled Crosshair, glaring down at the two of them. Kimber took notice that he had Hunter's knife attached to his belt.

“Where are we going?” Hunter asked him.

Crosshair got down in front of him and pulled out Hunter's comm device from one of his pouches. “You'll find out soon enough,” he stated as he turned the device on, “and so will your squad.”

“Wow…so quick to forget they were your squad once, too. Your family, no less,” Kimber snapped, which he ignored as he stood back up.

“Using my comm won't work. They'll know it's a trap,” Hunter debated.

Crosshair looked back at him and simply stated, “They'll still come for you.”

“Oh, stop being coy, Crosshair,” said Kimber, irritated. “Where are you taking us?”

He side-eyed her for a moment before answering, “Back to where this all started.” Then with that, he turned on his heel and walked back through the door, letting it close behind him.

Kimber and Hunter exchanged anxious glances, wondering what Crosshair could possibly mean. Kimber’s gaze dropped in thought to her bound hands. Where could he be taking them? What did he mean by “where it all started”? Did he mean the Empire? That would probably mean Coruscant, but that didn’t seem as significant. Or perhaps he meant Order 66, which preceded even the Empire. That happened for them on Kaller, but even that didn’t seem to strike her as important enough to return to. No…there had to be another planet. One that meant something to all of them.

Then it hit her. He wasn’t talking about where things with the galaxy started. He was talking about where things with their squad started...where everything went wrong for them.

That meant only one place.

“I know where we’re going,” Kimber stated aloud, turning to Hunter.

“Quiet!” the female guard sternly scolded her.

Now even more frustrated, Kimber replied with a roll of her eyes, “We're just talking. Calm down.”

“Hey! We said quiet!” the other guard; a male one stated gruffly.

“Or what? You going to kill me?” she challenged, getting up to her feet. “I don’t think your Commander will be happy with that since we’re his prisoners.”

“Kimber, don’t,” Hunter warned her.

The male guard stepped forward and ordered Kimber, “Sit down.”

Feeling emboldened by her anger, she looked the trooper down and defiantly responded, “No.”

The trooper was quick to react as the butt of his blaster rifle forcefully met her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her and, with a choked gasp, she dropped to a knee and clutched her stomach. Hunter immediately moved to stand up, but the other guard approached and held her weapon at his head to keep him from moving.

“That’s for disobeying orders!” the soldier who hit Kimber cried out.

She coughed and gasped for breath before letting out a light snicker. “You should know this about me: I don’t like following orders...especially when they come from Imperial scum like you.”

She didn’t know what possessed her to be this audacious to the Imperial soldiers, but her anger and animosity of the situation was overpowering all sense of logic and common sense. The consequence of her statement was then being struck again by the Imperial’s blaster rifle, this time across the face. She let out a loud, pained cry and Hunter called her name in worry. Her left cheekbone throbbed from the impact and she clenched her teeth, holding herself together. This was nothing compared to other punishments she’d suffered in the past, but that didn’t exactly make the pain any less impactful still.

The alarm rang again and the doors opened as Crosshair stepped inside, having heard the commotion from the other side. “Stand down,” he ordered the two guards.

Stepping back and standing again at attention, the male guard informed him, “She defied our orders, sir.”

Crosshair glanced at Kimber indignantly and commented, “She’s good at that.”

Then he walked up to her and took her arm, pulling her up to her feet and towards the door. Kimber tried to resist and she heard Hunter cry out for her, but Crosshair removed her from the room with ease and the doors closed behind them. Once they were alone, he lightly pushed her into one of the safety seats in front of him on the side of the small hallway. She cast a displeased look up at him and then turned away. She didn’t even want to look at Crosshair right now. All she could feel was resentment towards him as he stood there, looking down on her.

Then he spoke, his voice oddly calm, “He hit you hard.” Then she felt his hand carefully touching her hurt cheek.

With an annoyed grunt, she swapped his hand away with her bound hands. “What of it?” she asked back.

Stepping back, he said, “I gave orders that you both were to be unharmed. I should reprimand him for using such force on you.”

She scoffed at the notion of him punishing his subordinate on her behalf. “Save your false pity. I don't want it,” she said, turning even more away.

“It isn’t false. You think I want to see you this way?” he asked.

“I don't know, Crosshair. What do you want?” she questioned him, now looking back at him. “Because frankly, I can't figure that out. You tried to kill us multiple times, then we find out it's most likely not of your own volition and then you were practically begging me not to fight last time I saw you. You seemed almost like yourself, but you still hold allegiance to the Empire. Even now, instead of outright killing me or Hunter, you've captured us and you're taking us back to Kamino.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Cocking her head to the side, she added confidently, “Yeah, I figured it out.”

An impressed grunt sounded from his throat. Then he replied, “You always were sharp.”

Kimber rolled her eyes, unamused, and turned her gaze away. “Oh, don't act familiar with me now. Unless you have anything to say to me that's actually worth my time, I want to go back with Hunter.”

“Kimber, why must you keep fighting me?” he demanded.

That question ignited a spark of disbelief within her and her head snapped back in his direction, fire in her eyes. “Why must I--? If you're seriously asking me that question, then you're way more far gone than I thought,” she spat at him. Then she shook her head and sighed with defeat. “I really don't know who you are anymore.”

Crosshair simply stared back at her, his eyes instinctively going to the red mark on her cheek that was already beginning to bruise. Even now, seeing her hurt in any way made his blood run hot. He couldn’t suppress that even if he tried. He just wanted her to see reason with the Empire; to see the bigger picture like he did, but she was determined to keep opposing him no matter what. She didn’t understand what he was trying to do...but she would. He would see to that soon.

He walked over to the doors, turned back to Kimber and told her, “I would advise you stay quiet. Make it easy on yourself.” Then he activated the doors and stepped aside, allowing her back into the room.

Kimber just gave him one more displeased glance and walked back inside without saying a word to him. Hunter, who was still seated on the floor, looked up at her immediately with concern and seemingly relaxed slightly as he realized she was okay. She took her place back beside him on the ground, giving him a nod of reassurance. There was definitely a look in his eye that told her he wanted to say something admonishing towards her for how she behaved earlier, but was choosing to stay quiet lest they get in trouble again.

All they had to do now was wait in uncomfortable silence until they reached their destination.

They had no idea how long it had been when they felt the ship jolt out of hyperspace. Hunter reached over with his joined hands and took Kimber’s protectively in his own as they figured out they would soon be landing. A minute later, they heard the loud tapping of rainfall on the roof of the ship and Kimber’s shoulders sank. The rainfall confirmed they were exactly where she predicted they’d end up.

She turned to Hunter and mouthed silently, “Kamino.” To which, he nodded in understanding.

Soon, they were both told to get up by the guards and gruffly pulled to their feet. Crosshair came into the back with them, his helmet on over his head, and carrying both Hunter and Kimber’s helmets under his arm. The ramp to the ship lowered and Crosshair led his two hostages and the other soldiers out. Kimber recognized the Kaminoan hangar right away and could hear the clapping of the thunderstorms behind them outside. They were greeted by a young human male with light skin, brown hair and dressed in an Imperial officer’s uniform. Judging by the badge he had on his chest, Kimber deduced he was most likely an Admiral of some sort. He was escorted by five troopers; two in dark armor matching Crosshair’s and three in regular white armor. Crosshair and his group halted in front of the Imperial officer.

The Imperial asked in a deep, authoritative voice, “Where are the rest of them?”

“They’ll be here. We’ll intercept upon arrival,” Crosshair informed him.

The Admiral directed his attention to Hunter and Kimber and stepped closer to them. “So you’re the ones they call ‘Hunter’ and ‘Kimber’,” he greeted them, his tone bordering on condescending. “The destruction your squad caused on Ryloth got my attention.”

Neither of them said a word to him and just remained stoic in their expressions.

It was then the Admiral took notice of the mark on Kimber’s face, which had darkened a bit more over time, and he commented, “A shame that such a lovely face like yours had to be so marred.”

She sneered, immediately annoyed at his backhanded compliment, and replied, “Keep talking like that and you’ll be saying that to yourself in a mirror.”

That earned her an elbow to the arm from Hunter, warning her to stay quiet.

“Admiral Tarkin described you as quite the feral woman…and I see he was correct in that regard,” said the Imperial. When he just got a glare in return, he turned back to Crosshair. “I leave this to you, Commander. Stay on schedule.”

Crosshair and his soldiers walked around the Admiral, forcefully pushing Hunter and Kimber forward, which aggravated them even more. They walked through the hangar and into the brightly-lit halls of Tipoca City, which was certainly something Kimber hadn’t missed at all. The strange thing, though, was that the halls were practically empty. There were no Clone troopers or Kaminoans walking around. Not even any young Clone cadets could be seen. Only a couple Imperial soldiers walked by and that was it.

“Where are all the regs?” Hunter inquired.

“When did you start caring about them?” Crosshair asked back, now with his blaster pointed at Hunter's back as they walked and having given Kimber's helmet to the other soldier with them.

“No Kaminoans either,” said Hunter. Then it dawned on him. “This facility's being decommissioned.”

Kimber sighed as she now realized that upon hearing Hunter say it aloud. “Of course…,” she whispered.

Hearing no reply to the contrary, Hunter remarked to Crosshair, “You don't seem too concerned.”

“Why would I be?” Crosshair questioned.

Stopping to face his brother, Hunter responded, “Because the Empire will be phasing out Clones next.”

Jabbing his blaster into Hunter's chest, Crosshair stated, “Not the ones that matter.”

As Hunter glared at him, Kimber went on to ask him sharply, “What will that mean for me, then? I'm not a Clone. Are you saying I don't matter?”

“You've pushed your luck enough,” Crosshair answered her, “but I think the Empire could still make use of you.”

“You think I’m just going to let the Empire use me the same way they’re using you? Not a chance,” she said snidely.

The other trooper then pushed her forward with the tip of his gun and ordered, “Keep moving.”

The four of them continued on a few more feet and rounded a corner where they entered a Kaminoan security control room. The room was mostly lit by several multicolored holographic projections throughout. One of Crosshair's squadmates informed him that they had detected a ship entering the planet's system, but they had lost it below the scanner range, which Crosshair affirmed was the rest of Clone Force 99 and another one of the troopers said they would notify the scouts.

“Don't bother. They'll come to us,” Crosshair stated. Then he looked at Hunter and Kimber as he added, “They don't leave their own behind...most of the time.”

“Really? You're going to pull that card?” Kimber snapped as Crosshair removed his helmet.

“You tried to kill us. We didn't have a choice,” Hunter said sternly.

Crosshair sat down on one of the bowl-like seats in the room, scoffed lightly and asked as he placed a toothpick in his mouth, “And I did?”

Something about that simple question rendered both Kimber and Hunter speechless and they were unsure how to respond. Kimber almost said he did have a choice, but then remembered the inhibitor chip. In truth, he hadn't had a choice, but they hadn't known that at the time and that still didn't change the fact that he had shot at them and tried to kill them. All she could do was glance at Hunter with uncertainty, not knowing quite what to do.

Hunter stayed quiet, too, for a moment, his mind going over every possible thing he could say to sway his brother. Despite how frustrated he was with Crosshair, there was still a part of him that wanted to get through to him. If not for his own sake, then for Kimber's. Crosshair's absence and actions had affected her the most and he hated seeing her suffer because of the chip in Crosshair's head. If there was a chance he could do something before the rest of his squad got involved, then he had to try and take it.

He moved closer to Crosshair and said in a quieter voice so only they could hear, “Crosshair, we've seen what the Empire's doing...occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right.”

Standing up from his seat and removing the toothpick, Crosshair replied nonchalantly, “You still don't see the bigger picture…but you will.”

“Ugh, just stop with the bigger picture talk. That's not what this is about,” Kimber put in, vexed at his inability to see past that mindset.

Hunter sighed, exasperated. “Can't you see they're using you?” he asked, shaking his head. “It's that inhibitor chip in your head. It's making you follow--”

His words were cut off by the sound of an alarm blaring over the sound system and one of the troopers informing Crosshair that there was an unauthorized entry on one of the platforms. Hunter and Kimber exchanged knowing looks. The others were now inside the facility.

“Right on schedule,” said Crosshair. “Time to go.”

“Crosshair, please, don't do this. I'm begging you,” Kimber pleaded with him. “Whatever you plan to do, leave the others out of it.”

He simply looked back at her and replied, “Who's the one begging now?”

As she gaped at him in disbelief, he shoved Hunter's helmet into his bound hands and then hers was given to her just as forcefully. Then they both were pushed forward again out the door by Crosshair's troopers.

As they walked through the facility, the remainder of Crosshair's squad met up with them and continued on with them. Before long, Hunter and Kimber recognized where they were being led to. They were heading to the training room. Unfortunately, they both knew it would be easy for Crosshair and his soldiers to pick off the Bad Batch one by one since it was open ground.

“I know what you're trying to do, Crosshair,” said Kimber as they kept going.

Over his shoulder, he flatly replied, “Good for you.”

Knowing her squad's lives were at stake, she quietly said to him, “You said you wanted to talk back on Ryloth. Fine, then let's talk. It's not too late to stop this.”

“It is too late. You had your chance. All of this…will end here tonight,” he said back, quickening his pace away from her.

She wanted to say more, but once again, one of the other troopers shoved her forward to keep her moving and she couldn’t suppress an annoyed growl at them. She wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe she should have just talked to Crosshair back on Ryloth when she’d been given the chance. Now, it might be too late…both for her and her squad.

They soon reached the large training room and a wave of nostalgia hit Kimber right away. She remembered her first time in this room, fighting Droids on her own to try and prove herself to the Prime Minister. She remembered the last time they’d been to Kamino and the whole squad had been sent into this room to prove themselves to Admiral Tarkin and show the continued efficiency of Clone troopers. Now, they were back once more and it was most likely going to be the last place they’d ever see.

“Take your positions,” Crosshair ordered his troops, stopping Hunter and Kimber in place partway through the room and keeping his blaster aimed at their backs.

The rest of the troopers situated themselves on either side of the room; two on the left and three on the right, but then they stopped around the center of the room instead of by the main entrance. Both Kimber and Hunter realized they were anticipating the Bad Batch were going to come up through the central lift instead of the entrance, knowing they’d still be following Hunter’s comm trace. They waited apprehensively for the rest of the squad to arrive. Kimber had a feeling the others would come up the lift instead of the entrance, thinking they’d get ahead of Crosshair…but unfortunately, he was already a step ahead of them.

Kimber also took notice that one of Crosshair’s troopers had her sniper rifle on their back and she couldn’t help but sneer to herself. One way or another, she’d get her rifle back from them and if she had to, she would use it on that soldier first.

A few minutes later, just as Crosshair predicted, the central lift came up from below the floor and on the platform stood Echo, Wrecker and Tech with their weapons all drawn and Crosshair’s squad all raised their own weapons at them, showing the Clones they were outmatched.

Patronizingly, Crosshair greeted them by tossing Hunter’s comm towards them and saying, “And here we all are…together again. You won’t be needing your weapons.”

The other soldiers slowly closed in on the Clones, warning them to get rid of their weapons. The Clones all looked to Hunter, who gave them a nod to comply. Begrudgingly, they all threw their blasters to the floor as well as a thermal detonator from Tech and Wrecker’s large vibroblade.

“See? Following orders isn’t so difficult,” Crosshair taunted them, though it was mostly directed at Hunter. Then he looked around slightly and asked the others, “Where’s your little sidekick?”

“You think we’d bring her here?” Wrecker questioned. He lifted his helmet up onto his head and added, “We’re smarter than that.”

“Lying was never your strength, Wrecker,” Crosshair stated. Then he ordered one of his soldiers to find Omega and they exited the room.

Echo then called out, “Are you two all right?”

“We’re fine,” Kimber answered.

“You are not. There is a contusion on your left cheek,” Tech pointed out.

Behind her, Crosshair snidely remarked, “That’s what happens to those who defy orders.”

“Yeah, something you used to be good at once,” Kimber said back. “Or have you conveniently forgotten that?”

Crosshair didn’t say anything back.

Soon, one of his troopers stated, “We’re running out of time, Commander.”

“Hold your positions,” Crosshair ordered.

It was then Hunter’s turn to look over to Crosshair and, with a glare on his face, he asked, “So this was your grand plan? Bring us here and kill us?”

“If I wanted you dead, you would be,” Crosshair said back, his voice turning dark under his helmet. “Not that it wouldn’t be justified.”

“Justified? Are you kidding me?” Kimber questioned, appalled. “What have we done that would justify killing us?”

“You betrayed everything we stood for,” Crosshair answered, “And for what? The Republic?”

Hunter responded steadfastly, “We’re loyal to each other, not some Empire.”

Crosshair then said five words that struck both Hunter and Kimber to the core:

“You weren’t loyal to me.”

The two of them went wide-eyed in shock and couldn’t find the words to reply to him. That wasn’t the response they were anticipating.

He continued, “I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you what you never gave me...a chance.”

Crosshair’s squad all turned their heads to him in surprise and even the other Clones were astonished, too. Hunter and Kimber still remained silent. What did this mean for them? What was Crosshair really doing?

Just then, he put a finger up to the side of his helmet, getting a transmission. Then he spoke aloud, “Send her on a shuttle off-world.”

Kimber’s anxiety spiked hearing that. That meant Omega had been found.

“Crosshair, don’t,” Hunter said.

“It’s for her own good…and yours,” Crosshair said back.

Hunter pushed further, insisting, “Omega belongs with us.”

“Living among fugitives where she’s in constant danger?” Crosshair asked. Then he scoffed in bemusement. “You want to protect the kid, then let her go. Stop pretending to be something you're not, Hunter.”

Before she could stop herself, Kimber said snarkily back, “Oh, that's rich coming from you, Crosshair, thinking you have any importance in this Empire! You think this is who you are? You're no different than the regs you claim to hate so much.”

Turning to Kimber, Crosshair replied, “I am not. None of us are.” He looked back at Hunter. “You know this, too, Hunter. We're not like the regs. We never have been. We're superior.” Once again, his tone grew ominous as he went on, “The Empire can't protect the galaxy without strength. This is what we were made for. Think of all we could do...together.”

With one fluid motion, Crosshair then pulled out Hunter's knife from his belt and broke Hunter's cuffs with one downward stroke. Afterwards, he pushed him forward towards his brothers. Kimber inhaled shakily in fear of whatever Crosshair had planned.

“We were brothers once,” Crosshair said to Hunter, not paying heed to Kimber still beside him. “We can be again.”

Kimber wanted that more than anything; it was all she had wished for, for months and at any other time, she would've welcomed that chance without hesitation…but something in his voice indicated that what he was proposing was not what she or any of the others wanted. Something still wasn’t right.

Hunter inquired suspiciously, “Why would we trust you?”

In response, Crosshair aimed his blaster at them again.

“No!” Kimber cried out, going to run forward.

“Don’t move,” Crosshair ordered, whirling around on her and pointing his blaster her way. When she stopped, he then said, “I don’t want to make you a part of this.”

“Commander?” one of the troopers asked, puzzled at the favoritism his Commander was showing.

Kimber glared harshly at Crosshair. Now, he had the audacity to care about what happened to her and put her above his brothers? All she wanted to do was give him a piece of her mind, but with the blaster pointed at her, she was disgruntled and kept her mouth shut.

With that, Crosshair turned his weapon back to his brothers and then ordered his squad to stand down, but to everyone’s surprise, they actually refused his order and kept their weapons aimed at the Clones. The tension of the moment was almost palpable as the Clones and Kimber apprehensively waited for Crosshair’s next move.

They weren’t prepared for what happened next.

Crosshair fired his blaster…off to the side, where the shot suddenly bounced off the wall and around the room in the blink of an eye and, to the Clones’ and Kimber’s shock, all of Crosshair’s squadmates dropped dead to the floor, each of them with a smoking hole in their bodies. In that moment, the Bad Batch all discovered that Crosshair's reflective discs had been strategically placed throughout the room and had reflected his shot to kill his squad.

He had been planning for this all along.

When everyone looked to Crosshair with both curiosity and caution, he approached them, took off his helmet and asked Hunter, “Does that answer your question?”

“Crosshair…!” Kimber gasped out, still too stunned at what had just happened. She was stunned even more when Crosshair unexpectedly turned to face her and cut her bindings off with Hunter’s knife.

However, any hope in the situation was short-lived as Crosshair started walking towards them, his blaster aimed at them again. Hunter put himself in front of Kimber and they both guardedly moved back as Crosshair advanced.

“You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It’s time to stop running,” he said to them as he then lowered his weapon. Then he implored them, “Join the Empire…and you will have purpose again.”

Kimber could feel her heart dropping. She should’ve known this seemed too easy and too good to be true. “You think that’s what this is all about: not knowing our purpose?” she asked in unbelief.

“You really don’t get who we are, do you?” Hunter also questioned.

Crosshair’s face darkened from the shadows that framed his face and his facial expressions contorted with enmity, his eyes widening with fury. “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Don’t become my enemy,” he threatened, a growl in his low voice unlike anything they’d ever heard from him before.

“Crosshair…we never were,” Hunter countered, his expression crestfallen.

Finally, Kimber had had enough. She was so disheartened at Crosshair’s relentless insistence that they join the Empire and acting as though they were the villains in this situation. There were things she wanted to say to him that she’d been bottling up the whole time. Inside, she felt like a dam ready to burst and couldn’t let this go on any longer.

She pushed past Hunter’s arm, stepped up and asked, “Crosshair...can you look me in the eye and tell me that you're truly happy with the Empire?”

“Kimber, no,” Hunter said warningly.

She ignored him and kept going, her gaze set intently on Crosshair and her voice strong and tenacious, “Can you look me...in the eye...and tell me that you would rather obey the Empire's orders and impose oppression on several planets than traversing the galaxy with us? I know you think we're meant for more than that, but would that really be so bad right now? Wouldn't you rather just be with us instead of helping spread terror through the galaxy?” She took another step closer to him and her tone turned to pleading. “You know what the Empire is doing is wrong. With them, you might have found a semblance of acceptance in a time of pain, but did you really find happiness or purpose? I refuse to believe you have. I know you think we abandoned you...and I am sorry for that.”

Listening to her, Crosshair’s face seemingly began to soften slightly.

“You think you're giving us a chance, but that's not what this is. You now have a chance to escape all of this!” she said emotionally. Then she took a risk and moved even closer to him so she was directly in front of him, looking up into his face, and she laid her hands on his arms, which made him flinch. “Come back with us, Crosshair. Come back to your family, where you really belong. You need us...and more importantly, we need you. I need you. I need my partner back. I need my brother back. You and me, we're the eyes in the sky together...remember? I've said these things a thousand times and I'll say them a thousand more. Please, I'm begging you...come home, brother.”

She released his arms and stepped back, her eyes searching his face for his potential reaction. There was conflict in his eyes as he glanced down to the ground, seemingly in deep thought. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking and she wished she could see into his mind. Had anything she said had an affect on him at all? Had she finally been able to get through to him?

Finally, he spoke up, “Kimber…I--”

The alarms inside the room went off all of a sudden, which made everyone jump in surprise. Right after that, the turret towers rose up from the ground as did several rows of training Droids. This was an unexpected complication. To make things worse, Hunter suddenly sprinted past Kimber and tackled Crosshair to the ground.

“No…!” Kimber groaned at seeing that happen, just when she thought maybe she’d gotten through to Crosshair, but there was no time to focus on it as, a second later, the Droids started firing on them.

Kimber quickly leapt and rolled behind the barricade closest to her as the other three grabbed their weapons from off the ground and started firing at the Droids. As she crouched behind her cover, she spotted the now dead trooper that had her sniper rifle and she pulled it off of their back.

“Serves you right,” she mumbled aloud as she put the rifle back together. Then she leaned back and placed her back against the battlement just as Echo crouched behind it next to her.

“Hey, why did you activate the Droids?” she heard Wrecker ask loudly in annoyance.

“This was not my doing,” Tech responded.

Echo and Kimber both popped up from behind their cover and took some more shots at the Droids, which now seemed to be coming from every corner of the room.

“Ugh, they're everywhere!” Kimber complained.

“I don't know what brought them in here, but be careful, Kim,” Echo told her.

As she kept shooting at the Droids, she glanced over to where Hunter and Crosshair were still struggling against each other on the ground, wishing they would stop. Then there came a shot from high up, taking out one of the Droids closest to them. When she looked up, she saw Omega up on one of the towers, her bow drawn, and next to her was AZI, the medical Droid. All Kimber could do was hope the kid would stay safe in this fight. She continued fending off the Droids coming their way and she saw Hunter finally kick Crosshair off of him. They continued to fight as they got to their feet. Kimber wanted to keep her eyes on them to ensure they didn't hurt each other, but there were more Droids heading for them. Her first instinct was to protect both of them, so she continued shooting the Droids behind them.

A few seconds later, she saw Hunter grab Crosshair around his waist, pick him up and then full on body slam him to the ground, rolling over top of him and coming back up with both his blaster in one hand and his vibroblade in the other. With Crosshair down for a moment, Hunter seized the opportunity to start shooting the Droids, as well.

Just then, another set of Droids came up from the floor right in the middle of the room; behind Hunter and in between the battlements everyone else was hiding behind. Kimber jumped over to the other side as Echo moved himself out of the way, too, as did Wrecker and Tech on their side. Hunter also turned around to fight them, leaving his back exposed to Crosshair. They were all now completely surrounded, but they weren't going to give up.

Kimber fired at the new wave of Droids...and then heard the familiar sound of another sniper rifle.

Her head whipped around and she was astonished to see Crosshair had stood up with his rifle and was now also shooting the Droids. He wasn't running or trying to go for Hunter while his back was turned. He was actually helping her and the others fight the current threat! She couldn't believe it!

The others noticed, too, and it felt as though they had an extra push to fight as hard as they could. Wrecker came out from behind the battlement, drawing his large blade, and stabbed the Droid closest to him, kicking it back to give everyone room to move. Everyone jumped out into the open at once, their weapons firing all around the room at the Droids. In that pivotal moment, with all six members of the Bad Batch back together in the same place, it felt as though they were fighting as a real squad again.

Kimber saw movement off to the side of the room and saw that the one remaining member of Crosshair's Imperial squad; the one who had gone off to find Omega had returned. Seeing that the rest of the squad had been killed off by their Commander, Kimber saw no reason to leave this one standing. She directed her sights onto the Imperial soldier and fired at her, but she were quick to avoid Kimber's shots as she backed out and ran out the training room's side door. Kimber ran forward a couple steps to go after her, but then she stopped, glancing back at her boys. She couldn't leave them now, not when they were in danger. They needed her here. She was just going to have to let the Imperial soldier go.

As she ran back into the fray, Wrecker threw a Droid through the air that crashed into another one. Then Hunter ran at a Droid, jumped up onto it and stabbed right into its neck area with his knife. The Droid started short-circuiting and wobbling with Hunter still holding onto it until Crosshair took a shot directly at its head. As it toppled over, Hunter leapt off and the two of them shared a quick glance before diverting their attention to other incoming attacks. Wrecker, Echo and Tech had moved to higher ground while Hunter, Kimber and Crosshair stayed on the main level.

Kimber was shooting at the Droids and evading their shots when she found herself back to back against Hunter, who met her gaze over his shoulder, smirked and then told her as they continued fighting, “I couldn't say it before, so I'll say it now: you are by far the most hot headed trouble-seeker of a woman I've ever met.”

Knowing he was referring to her misbehavior back on the shuttle, she just grinned to herself and said back, “Compliment me later, Sergeant.” Then she took back up her rifle and resumed firing at the Droids, ducking out of the way of a bolt that shot just between them and springing off to the side. She fired a shot at the Droid that had just fired at them and it went straight through the center.

“Kimber, behind you!” Wrecker called to her on the other side of the room.

She heard the warning and turned around to see a Droid right behind her. Before she could react, the Droid shoved her, sending her flying back a few feet and her rifle fell out of her hand. She quickly sat up and saw two blaster bolts come from behind her and hit the Droid in the neck and the head. When she looked behind her, she expected it to be Hunter, but she was wrong.

Her savior had been Crosshair.

He simply gave her a nod and went back to fighting the rest of the enemies. She was taken aback for a brief moment. He had saved Hunter earlier and now, he had just saved her. Surely, that had to mean something; that he still cared…maybe the Crosshair she knew was beginning to come back.

Swiftly, Kimber picked up her rifle, got to her and rejoined in the fight. She noticed Omega had somehow made her way down from the tower to the ground along with AZI. The number of Droids left was dwindling down thanks to everyone’s efforts and very soon, all of them were taken down. Now, all that was left was dealing with Crosshair. Hunter and Crosshair were in the center of the room; Wrecker, Echo, Tech and Omega were all on one side and Kimber was on the other and they all closed in towards the middle of the room just as Crosshair faced Hunter…and Hunter raised his blaster at him.

“Hunter, please don’t!” Kimber cried out, coming up next to him. She stole a look at Crosshair across from him and he looked conflicted...even minorly defeated. Though, when she looked back at Hunter, there was a forlorn look in his face and in his eyes as he gazed over at his brother.

Then he spoke, desperately pleading similarly to how Kimber had earlier, “Crosshair…forget the Empire. This isn’t you. It’s your inhibitor chip. We can help you.”

Crosshair shook his head and responded, his voice low again, “Wrong. I had my chip removed…a long time ago.”

That response stunned all the Clones and they were rendered speechless.

For Kimber…her world was shattered in an instant.

Crosshair’s chip had been removed? What did this mean? More importantly, when had this happened? Given all the things he’d done in general, to his brothers and the things he’d done to her, how much of it had been because of the chip and how much of it had been of his own volition? All this time, she’d believed he could never have done any of those things of his own free will; the Crosshair she knew and loved would never threaten her, his family or other innocent people! No…he had to be lying. There was no way this was true. Her blood ran cold and her body went numb just thinking about it.

Finally, Hunter broke the silence. “Since when?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Crosshair asked in return, exasperated and with a shake of his head.

“Yes!” Hunter growled at him, his teeth now clenching in anger at Crosshair’s reluctance to answer.

Kimber wanted to shout at him that of course it mattered when he got his chip out and to demand he tell the truth, but she was too stunned to speak. All she could do was stare at Crosshair.

Then, with a look of frustration, Crosshair responded to Hunter, “This…is who I am.”

“No...NO!” Kimber finally screamed, a mix of sorrow and outrage growing within her. “This is not who you are, Crosshair! Stop lying to us! I know you and you would never do any of this willingly! You would never! Please, tell me this isn’t true!”

He glanced over at her, but his expression remained unchanged and he said nothing back to her. That only broke Kimber’s heart even more and she felt incredibly betrayed, even more than she had before on Bracca.

“No…it can’t be,” she thought despairingly in her mind.

As he turned his glaring attention back to Hunter, she noticed his hand that held his rifle twitch ever so slightly and his finger was inching up towards the trigger.

Crosshair brought up his weapon and a stun blast was fired.

Hunter watched as Crosshair got disoriented, fell to his knees and then collapsed forward onto the floor. However, he had been shocked to see Crosshair drop all of a sudden because the stun shot had not come from his own blaster, even though he had been a millisecond away from firing it. His head turned to Kimber next to him and he saw she was standing there, her eyes wide in sad horror, panting heavily and with her rifle raised.

She had been the one to stun him.

Taking note of the pain in her eyes, Hunter sheathed his vibroblade, put away his blaster and approached her, gently placing one hand on her arm and the other on her rifle. “Easy, love. It’s okay,” he said to try and help calm her, lightly pushing down on her weapon to get her to lower it.

“No…it’s not,” she replied, tears forming in her eyes.

He removed his hand from her rifle and brought it up to her face, tenderly rubbing his thumb on her cheek and giving her an encouraging look, one that was silently telling her to stay strong. Even though what had just happened was heartbreaking, they were going to be okay and figure things out. She wasn’t confident in what he was trying to tell her, but she still appreciated his attempt to reassure her nonetheless and she leaned more into his hand, taking in what warmth she could.

After he stepped away, they realized everyone else was walking up to them and Omega suddenly came running down and threw her arms around Hunter, relieved to see he was okay. Kimber, however, kept her eyes on Crosshair unconscious on the floor. She didn’t know who she was really looking at anymore. What would she even say to him whenever he came to? She wanted to scream, cry, run away, punch him while he was down…then right then, she felt a pair of arms hug her around her waist, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into reality. When she glanced down, she found herself looking into the bright, brown eyes and smiling face of Omega. Grateful for the young girl’s comforting hug, Kimber laid a hand on Omega’s head and smoothed her hair, mustering up a smile for her. After the kid let her go, Kimber walked over to where everyone else was standing around, watching Hunter crouch down beside Crosshair and inspect his head.

A few seconds passed when they all heard beeping and Tech stepped forward, declaring urgently to Hunter while looking at his datapad, “Three Venators are descending into the city. We need to leave now.”

Heeding Tech’s warning, Hunter proceeded to pick up Crosshair’s rifle and pack, placed the pack on his own back and ordered Wrecker to grab Crosshair. “He’s coming with us,” he said.

Kimber hadn’t expected Hunter to say that, given the information she’d just learned about Crosshair. “We’re…taking him back?” she asked Hunter, a slight sliver of hope in her tone just as Wrecker lifted Crosshair and slung him over his shoulder.

He gave her a nod. “We’ll figure things out with him once we get out of here…but we’re not leaving him behind again,” he avowed.

She would’ve burst into tears in that moment if they weren’t in immediate danger, so she withheld her emotions for the time being. Putting her rifle on her back, she gave him a nod back and stated, “Let’s leave this Forceforsaken place.”

With that, the Clones, Kimber and AZI took off running from the training room and into the bright white hallways of Tipoca City, the urgency of their situation giving them the speed they needed. They were all reunited, they had Crosshair back with them--albeit a bit against his will--and now, they had to get away before the Empire cornered them and captured them. They had to move fast.

Suddenly, everything around them trembled. The ground shook beneath them and they all started to stumble and lose their balance. The lights in the corridor flickered briefly and then were suddenly shut off. Something was happening outside and it definitely wasn’t good. Hunter called to everyone to hurry and get to the outside lift. They picked up speed and reached the door to the outside, halting immediately as they got out into the rain.

To everyone’s terror, they saw and could hear laser fire raining down from the sky onto the city and everything before them was being destroyed. In seconds, there was a huge, thundering explosion directly in front of them, blowing up a good portion of the pathway.

“Back inside! Go!” Hunter cried out, turning around and going back the other way.

Kimber turned to follow and saw that Omega was still standing in place, watching in fright the horrors that were unfolding in front of her as her home was being destroyed before her very eyes. AZI had grabbed her hand, but she wasn’t moving.

“Omega, we have to go! Now!” Kimber cried frantically, taking Omega by the shoulders and giving her a necessary shove back towards the door and after the others.

Just as Omega started running, another laser blast suddenly hit the spot where she had just been standing, blowing up a chunk of the bridge, and the force of the blast sent Kimber flying backwards further down the pathway. She rolled and ended up going over the broken edge, but her hand quickly grabbed the ledge. Unfortunately, she could feel her gloved hand already starting to lose her grip on the ledge that was slick from the heavy rain. She heard, even over the sounds of the Venator fire, Omega and a couple of the others scream her name, but she knew that if any of them came out after her, they would more than likely get killed.

All she could do was yell, “Run!” just before her hold on the edge of the bridge was lost.

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #my sergeant #bad batch fanfic #hunter x oc fic #sun and rain fanfic

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 11 months ago

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At the Cabaret Pt. 5 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: Lady Lenore is back at the Cabaret and struggling to find her place there in her condition. She's still slowly recovering and with the help of her new partner, she learns how to heal. Cabaret is her first and only true love, is there room for more?

Warnings: Brief references to the previous sexual assault but no gory details. Discussions of sex and intimacy. Recovering from trauma, struggling with depression and probable PTSD. Sexism and objectification (less than in previous chapters). Outdated marital language and very binary. Brief mention of periods and blood at the very end.

word count: 2529k +

Sleep on The Floor- The Lumineers 🎶

I Want a Good Man- Annette Hanshaw 🎵

I'll Be Seeing You- Billie Holiday 🎶

Not proofed- sorry folks!

She went back to work the next day, still sore and uncomfortable. She wanted to get back, to put everything behind her. Her black eye was painfully obvious and she was still too sore to dance so she watched. She helped the younger dancers with their moves and waved away any questions about her eye. Clara covered her acts and made a little extra which she needed. She sat in the audience during the performances, losing all the bad thoughts and memories in the glitz and glamor onstage. She had a small table to herself towards the back and wore normal clothing, hiding her in plain sight. She ordered rums and cokes and smoked heavily.

Towards the end of the night, she heard someone sit beside her and rounded on him. When she looked, it was Tommy. He took off his hat and placed it on the table beside him and sniffed.

“You know you shouldn’t be back at work.” He said below his breath and stole her glass of rum and coke.

“I’m not performing.” She answered softly. “I just wanted to watch.”

They sat in silence, watching as Clara stripteased the audience. She smiled despite herself and looked over to make fun of Tommy but found that he was looking directly at her, his eyes wild in the soft lighting.

“Come home with me, Lenore.” He said seriously.

“What do you mean?” She swallowed nervously. He took a deep breath and looked back at Clara, his eyes unfocused on her as he thought of Lenore.

“Be my wife.” He said nonchalantly and lit a cigarette, staring down at the lightened end. She ran her fingers through her hair and chuckled softly.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Try me.” He turned to her with the dare.

“You want to marry me, Tommy?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Yes, I do.” He nodded and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I want to marry you, Lenore.” He said again and leaned in closer. “I’ll make you happy and I’ll look after you. I’ll be a good husband.”

“But do you love me?” She whispered breathlessly.

“Are you going to make me say it?” He sighed.

“Yes.”

“Ah, Lenore... I love you.” He said slowly in his serious, deadpan way of talking. She blushed and leaned in hesitantly, wanting to kiss him. He responded and kissed her slowly, his lips sucking against hers. She was breathless when she pulled away and caught him smiling a little.

“You’re smiling, Tommy.”

“Nonsense.” He continued to smile and put an arm around her shoulders. His suit smelled like Small Heath’s factories and coal. She rested her head against his neck and sighed. His hand stroked the skin on her arm and he rubbed his cheek against her hair.

“I’ll marry you under one condition.” She whispered.

“And what’s that?”

“You let me work for a little while longer.”

“I don’t love the prospect of having to share my wife with other men.” He grumbled and she smiled.

“Just up until we get married, ok?”

“Anything else?”

“No more whores.” She kissed his knuckle, still bruised from slamming them against the doors when she was assaulted by Kimber. He watched her quietly and licked his lips.

“No,” he shook his head, “no one else.” He kissed her head gently and pulled her closer. “No one but you, Lenore.”

…

After a week of rest she was able to go back onstage. It all still gave her a thrill to dress up and step out under the white glare of lights and eyes. Billy Kimber had assaulted the show-version of herself so each movement she exercised reminded her of his violation. She’d never thought of herself as a whore but stepping into the ring of light she realized she was a whore for the performance, for the audience, and for herself. It was a way to take Lady Lenore back from the bathroom floor. Tommy had come to every performance since he’d asked to marry her, taking Kimber’s old booth so whenever she looked over, instead of thinking of Kimber, she thought of Tommy and how much he loved her. He stayed and smoked his cigarettes and drank his whiskey until she was done and met her at the stage door like a true admirer, a single red rose held between his fingers like a school-boy.

She wore her engagement ring while she performed, basking in the waves of shimmery light that exploded out when the ring hit the spotlight.

“Sorry, boys!” She’d yelled, “I’m a taken woman now.” Tommy watched her with a smirk and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. The crowd had applauded more out of fear, eyeing Tommy Shelby in the nearby booth, than actual excitement. They were sad to be losing their favorite sweetheart, Lady Lenore. “Say, none of you boys should be imagining me naked now.” She teased with a pout. The audience laughed and whistled. She could see Tommy laughing, his wide lips drawn up into a rare, beautiful smile.

The problem, she’d discovered, was that she felt too vulnerable as herself when she was anywhere else. Lady Lenore could handle anything but she couldn’t be Lady Lenore when she was with Tommy. As much as she tried to hide it, she was scared to have sex with Tommy, with anyone. He hadn’t asked for it but she dreaded the day when he would. Yes, she wanted to fuck him but what if it reminded her of Kimber? What if she started to hate him? What if it hurt? What if she could never satisfy him? She didn’t want it to be a wound that never healed, scar tissue that caused problems later. She hoped that her love would be enough.

In her routines since her engagement she’d switched totally over into a singer. She no longer did strip teases or barely-there costumes. It was her message to Tommy, a way of telling him that she was his and his only. She stepped out in a bright turquoise dress with butterfly sleeves, dotted with pearls. The dress itself was short in a flapper style and decorated with matching turquoise feathers. Dancers escorted her on stage with white feathered skirts. She took the mic and swirled her long strand of pearls.

“Gee, you all look a little lonesome out there tonight. Don’t they girls?” She whipped around to her dancers and they pouted dramatically, flickers of naughtiness in their doll eyes.

“Can’t you do something ‘bout it?” She asked with a sly smile. The audience roared.

“Don’t worry, boys. We’ve got the fix!” She winked at the band who struck up “I Want A Good Man.”

Gee, I’m awful lonesome,

I need company,

‘Cause I’ve turned my sweetie down

For he’s been cheating on me

She flashed her ring and the audience laughed. The girls broke out into a racey number, in their feathered tutus.

If you crave endearing charms,

I can fill your empty arms

I wanna good man,

And I want him bad

She hugged herself and did a brief Charleston step. The girls switched sides on the stage and shimmied their jeweled chests at the audience. She bounced on her heels and acted with her hands, selling the song.

For love indeed

Is what I need,

Affection is my line

In my plea, for goodness sake,

Won't someone give me a break?

I wanna good man,

And I want him bad

The dancers ran into the audience and surrounded the stage, forming a small kickline. Their garters slid slowly down their legs to their ankles and then flew off into the crowd of excited men. When she looked over, Tommy’s eyes were still stuck to her as if there weren’t half naked women throwing their undergarments off. His pretty face stared back at her and she smiled wider, dimples appearing on either side of her mouth. The dancers rushed back on stage with feather fans and fluttered them behind Lenore’s head. She stretched out her white gloved arms and turned back to the audience.

The rest is up to us

Here I am, make up your mind,

Girls like me are hard to find

I wanna good man,

And I want him so bad!

The crowd applauded and the dancers scurried off stage to change into their next set of costumes. She followed them and found her chair at the dressing table, dropping into it with a relieved sigh. Lucy changed into her next costume and congratulated Lenore quickly with a kiss on the cheek.

“You were wonderful, Nore!” She squealed and hurried back out for Clara’s number.

“Thank you!” She called after her and smiled at herself in the mirror. She felt herself switching back into her normal self, residue anxieties manifesting once again, heavy on her heart. She sat like that until the dressing room emptied before she started to cry, holding her head in her hands. No matter how much she pretended to be fine, she had to fight this feeling of overwhelming filth. She felt filthy and naked whenever she wasn’t acting. It was a cruel loop that she couldn’t get out of. Tommy was one of the only men that she felt comfortable around anymore. She was healing and it was hard. The dressing door opened and Tommy walked in, closing the door behind him. He approached her slowly with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lip. He looked down at her, tears still staining her face and cocked his head slightly to the side before nodding.

“Come ‘ere.” He beckoned her over with open arms and she stood from the chair and wrapped her arms around his chest.

“Tonight is the last night, yeah?” He said smoothly and she nodded.

“No more.” She cried softly and he stubbed the cigarette out, one arm still wrapped around her. He rubbed her back and waited silently as she stopped crying.

As much as she loved Cabaret, it was clear that she needed more time away from the memories the room offered. He wiped the running makeup from her face and helped her change, fetching the last costume from the rack for her. It was a simple champagne colored dress that she wore with her hair pinned up. He trailed his finger down her bare arm but withdrew it when she shivered. She looked at his reflecting in the lighted mirror and took in the way his body looked beside hers. He was strong and full, sturdy, like a pillar in the wind.

"I love you, Tommy." She whispered to the reflection and he smirked shyly.

“You look beautiful.” Tommy whispered back. She nodded, tears already beginning to burn once again in her eyes. He slipped a warm hand around her waist and escorted her through the narrow hallway to the stage. She watched from the sidelines as Clara took her bows. She traded places with Clara and watched as Tommy went back to his seat at the booth, his arm strewn over the booth’s back. The audience whistled as she stepped up to the microphone.

“This is my last song for you boys. I'm retiring a bit early. It's a sad song and I hope it won’t break your hearts.” She smiled and nodded to the band. “I’ll Be Seeing You” began with a jazzy piano riff and a trombone whine.

I’ll be seeing you

In all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces

She sang raspily into the microphone and squinted up into the moon glow of the spotlight.

I’ll be seeing you

In every lovely summer’s day

In everything that’s light and gay

I’ll always think of you that way.

She fought the tears in her sockets and smiled lovingly at Tommy, the one she wanted to hear these lyrics. God, she loved him. She loved him so bad that she felt a sharp magnetic pull, like their hearts were opposite poles, pulled together. The men in the audience reacted in different ways. Some looked sadly into their beer and others watched her, their mouths held slightly agape. Tommy watched her with his usual straight face and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it looked like he loved her. His head fell gently to the side as he smoked a cigarette, his eyes trained on her as she sang. She winked quickly.

I’ll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is newI’ll be looking at the moon

But I'll be seeing you.

She repeated the last verse in a swelling voice that silenced the room and saddened her heart.

I’ll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is new

I’ll be looking at the moon

But I’ll be seeing you.

The trombone played the ending out with a sour flare and she bowed to the loud clatter of applause and whistles. She wiped a tear from her eye and smiled, waving goodbye. She blew kisses to everyone and stalked slowly off the stage. The dancers offstage wiped away their tears.

“That was so beautiful, Nore.” Clara whispered and dabbed her eyes.

“Did you mean that this was your last performance ever?” One girl asked.

“I’m done with Cabaret and I’m ready to move on. I’ll have a husband soon…” She tried to smile and followed Lucy down the hallway back to the dressing room. She changed back into her street clothes and exchanged heart-felt goodbyes with the dancers. When she pulled herself away from the powdery haze of the dressing room, Tommy was waiting outside in the alley, his peaky hat’s razor twinkling in the moonlight. When she emerged, he discarded his cigarette, dropping it into a puddle and slipped a hand around her waist.

“Did you like my song, Tommy?” She smiled as he held her close to his side.

“Sad.” He chuckled.

“Did it break your heart?”

“No, no.” She shook his head, “It's already been broken.” He looked down at her and pulled her into his chest, kissing her. She sighed and kissed him back, relaxing into the touch that she was starting to crave.

“Who broke your heart, Tommy Shelby?” She asked softly against his lips.

“The same girl who’s mending it.” He smiled slyly and they continued to walk. They hurried around large puddles of coal dust and got to the entrance of her building, the street side was covered in black coal like matte black paint. She stepped up on one of the rough cement stairs and stood on the falls of her feet so that she was face to face with Tommy. She gave him quick little kisses like pecs and hugged him around his broad shoulders. Kissing him, she remembered what she’d been meaning to tell him all day. She was too nervous to tell him before but as he held her waist loosely in his gloved hands, she felt safe enough to finally say it.

“Tommy, I have something to tell you,” she pulled away and placed her hands on each of her shoulders, looking into his dark eyes in the shadows.

“What?” He inhaled deeply.

“I bled yesterday, Tommy.” She whispered with a sincere smile. “I’m not pregnant.” She almost started crying again with relief. He seemed surprised by the news, not expecting it. After a few short moments, he nodded and took her hands in his. He cleared his throat and appeared to be fighting tears too but didn't let them show.

“Good, good," was all he could say as he smiled and kissed her long fingers, his nose brushing her engagement ring. He clenched his jaw and she pulled his face up to meet hers. They stared at each other for a while, unable to come up with words.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." She nodded emphatically.

“I know, Tommy.” She kissed him and held onto him tightly. He pulled away after a minute, kissing her forehead. “We can put that all behind us now. We’ll be married in another two weeks.” She reminded him and he smiled, starting to walk away.

“Hmmm, that so?” He called over his shoulder playfully.

"Its too late to back out now!" She called after him.

"Go to bed, Lenore!" He called back and crossed the street, his long black coat swaying with each step.

_______ End of pt. 5 :)

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #cillian fluff #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #cabaret #burlesque #1920s #flapper #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder imagine #cillian x reader

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sl-newsie · 4 months ago

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 21: Welcome Back

2 years later

Kimber wasn’t the only one who suffered from the battle. Campbell took a shot. Left his leg useless. Witnesses said a blonde woman did it. But that’s all behind us now. Small Heath has grown into my heart as a new home. Unfortunately the calling to my old home wasn’t weak enough to stop me from tying up loose ends. A few months after the whole Kimber dual I decided to take a quick trip back home to Brooklyn. The Shelbys were disappointed to see me leave, especially Finn. But I assured them I would be back in a few weeks’ time.

Sadly time did not agree to my plan. The instant I arrived back home I discovered my stay was going to exceed far beyond what I’d hoped. Mother contracted tuberculosis and since my brothers were called away on ‘private business’ I was obligated to stay and nurse her back to health. For the next half a year I received multiple letters from the Shelbys asking about my return. After a while I simply replied that only God can answer for me.

And God must have heard my prayers because lo and behold after what seemed like a whole century mother finally recovered. I thank the angels a million times and counting for her good health. My parents are reluctant towards my decision to return to Birmingham but the mention of an official job persuaded them. No words were said about what type of business I’m working for. One packed trunk and one boat ticket later I’m right back to where I’d been lost two years ago.

Nothing seems to have changed. Small Heath is still the same gloomy and dusty crime heap as it was when I arrived last time. The sight of the familiar Shelby household makes my heart soar. But my excitement is crushed the minute I enter the home. No lights are on. A dreary atmosphere has draped over the house and is dead silent. Where is everyone? According to Thomas’ letters their business has been thriving. Where else would they be?

“Hello?” I poke my head into the kitchen.

Still no one. I set my suitcase down and move to the back door. Where on Earth-?

“Who’s there?” a gruff voice asks sharply. I know that voice.

“Is that any way to treat a visitor?” I accuse lightly and open the door. “Thomas Shelby. It’s good to once again be of service.”

Same handsome smile. Same piercing blue eyes. As usual he’s dressed to the nines in a fine black suit. But this seems slightly fancier than usual.

“Hello, love.” He offers a hand and we shake. “‘S good to see your smile light up this place.”

I get straight to the point. “What happened? Why the dress-up?”

Thomas hangs his head and pulls out a cigarette. “Freddie’s dead. Pestilence.”

Dear Lord. Another death. Poor Ada, she was so happy with him.

I give a heavy sigh. “Why is it whenever I’m around the shadow of death follows me? I am so sorry. How’s Ada been?”

He takes a puff and a halo of smoke clouds his face. “She’s taking it fine, actually. Says she’s free now.”

“Acceptance is a vital stage of grief.”

He gives a small hum and passes me to walk into the kitchen. “How’s things in America?”

I guess that discussion is closed. “Much better now that my mother’s well. Though I wish I could say the same for my in-laws in Germany. They had to move back to the Netherlands since the economy’s been so run down.”

Thomas, as usual, reaches for a whiskey bottle I’ve brought. “I heard Prohibition is in full swing.”

I groan. “Don’t remind me. Father’s been taking a hit and we finally convinced him to open a speakeasy.”

He takes a drink and hums in approval. “‘S good to have you back.”

It’s sad to see Thomas hasn’t lost his gruff personality. If anything he’s just as cold as before. I suppose all hope of having a relationship higher than being his employee has withered in these long two years. But at least his heart has been given time to mend.

I haven’t seen Grace around in America… Though maybe that’s because as soon as I got home I had my brothers send out a warning to our contacts to keep her away from Brooklyn. In America we stand by loyalty and never forget.

“We’re expanding to London,” Thomas continues and I follow him towards the Bull Ring.

“Yes, your last letter hinted at that. Congratulations.”

“Congratulations can wait. The Garrison’s just been attacked.”

Seems that the Shelby’s lives are still violent as ever.

“Another mystery for Thomas Shelby to solve. Mind if I help?”

Thomas opens the door to let me through, then takes a drag from his cigarette and smirks. “It’d be a waste of a trip if you didn’t. Although some of us are still surprised you’ve held on this long.”

Shelby Company Limited is now officially on the door. There’s also new hired help. A few new bookkeepers and secretaries. But no familiar faces.

“You can go catch up with the others while I go see to a lead,” Thomas says and gestures to the back office.

“Where are the others? Where’s Polly?”

“She and John are in the back. Better let her know you’re here or she’ll have my head. Finn too. They’ve missed you.” He pauses and seems to think over his next words. “We’ve all missed you.”

A warm smile creeps onto my face. “‘S good to feel wanted. I’m glad to be back.” I point to the new sign. “You’ve got your name on the door now.”

He nods. “‘S my office.”

I raise a brow and tilt my head respectfully. “Impressive. It suits you.”

He opens the door and I stride in, literally walking into a conversation between Polly and John. Both of them haven’t noticed me yet. What I do see is that Finn has hidden himself under the table, trying to be part of the conversation. Sneaky lad.

“Six. Six questions since you’ve walked through that door,” the Romanian woman says. “Soon you’ll have to start being the man with the answers.”

“Why?” John asks.

Polly frowns. “Seven. Because when London happens you’ll have to hold up your end. Or we’ll find someone else who can.”

“He can do it,” I say, determined.

Both their heads whip around to spot me in the doorway. Beneath the table Finn’s eyes go wide and Polly breaks into a wide grin.

“Verena, love! Good to see you!” Polly rushes over and pulls me into a hug. “You made it over ok?”

“Yes yes, it was a dull trip.” I catch my breath from her death-like grip and smile at the young Shelby. “My goodness! Look at you! Finn, you grew like a weed! Might I say a fine young gentleman!”

Finn, wearing a sheepish smile, stands up from under the table. He holds out a hand and we both shake. “You talked with Thomas?”

“Briefly. He still as stubborn as before?”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Since you’re back now, does that mean…?”

I cannot stop smiling today! “Yes, Finn. I can set aside time for some more lessons. I thought you’d be sick of them by now.”

He gawks at my words. “No way! I’ve missed them.”

Oh. I didn’t think they meant this much. But I suppose since his brothers have been so busy with the London expansion then Finn might get looked over now and then.

“Patience, Finn. I’m sure Verena’s tired from her travels.” Polly ushers him away and gestures for me to follow her out. “You have no idea what it’s been like to be the mother hen around here. Thanks so much for coming back. How’s your mum?”

“She’s recovered and hasn’t let it slow her down,” I answer. “And now my brother Abel-”

But a John pulls Polly over and I’m left alone. Um, good to be back? I guess I can wait in the kitchen until someone gives me further instructions. Patience, Verena. It’s been two long years. These people don’t need me busting in with catch-up chit chat.

“Ugh.”

There’s no mistaking that grunt. Thomas must be back from his lead. I poke my head out and see my guess is correct. The gangster seems angered by something.

“You’re upset,” I observe, wanting an explanation.

Thomas grunts again and puffs on a cigarette. “Best for you to stay out of it.”

Oh. So much for clear communication. “Thank you for taking your anger somewhere else. Can I help with anything?”

“Apparently I’m the chosen one. Some Irish scum tried to shake me up.”

Irish. Possibly IRA. Uncle Colon would have told me if he was sending any contacts.

“You gonna call a family meeting?” A bit of my Brooklyn slang slips.

Thomas cracks a small smile at my accent. “Bingo. Would you mind making biscuits to go along with it? You have no idea how hard it’s been without them.”

I mock-curtesy and Thomas goes on to enter his office. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Shelby. When should I tell them to expect you?”

He gets to his desk and turns around. “Don’t bother with that. I’ll show up when I show up.”

Same old Thomas. God has graced his family with prosperity. Still I suppose time hasn’t been too kind on his heart for him to act so brash. So where do I come in?

Good to know the kitchen hasn't changed. How appropriate. My place remains doing what women do best: keeping house. Soon enough I mix up some dough for biscuits and bake the first batch just as Finn walks through for the family meeting.

“John and Arthur are on their way. You can join too.”

Word must travel fast. I quickly throw the hot cookies onto a plate and follow Finn into the back office. Finn begins pacing beside where Polly is standing. There are a few more standing in the back but I can’t put my finger on their names. Esme waits on the staircase, while the rest of the Shelby brothers are in front.

“Sit down, Finn,” Arthur instructs.

Finn obeys but is still antsy.

“Where the bloody Hell is Tommy?” John asks impatiently.

“He’s on his way,” Polly answers sternly.

Arthur thinks for a moment and then stands up to fetch a wooden crate. “Well while we’re waiting so patiently.” He sets the crate on the table. “Whiskey.”

Now I step closer into the room to make my presence known, holding one of father’s bottles.

“If you’re looking for whiskey, might I suggest the Steenstra brand?” Both brothers look up and I give them a wave. “John, Arthur. You’re looking well.”

Behind their stern frowns their eyes lighten up and they each offer a quick hug.

“Good to have you back, Steenstra.” Arthur gladly takes the bottle and offers me a glass. “You still don’t drink, eh?”

“Only for special occasions.”

“And being reunited with the Peaky Blinders isn’t one?” Arthur replies. “Come on, Steenstra. Have a drink!”

I can’t help but give into his hospitality. “Very well.”

John passes over the glass with a small frown. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”

“She’s forgiven, John. She made biscuits!”

John’s attitude immediately changes and he pulls over the plate I’ve brought. Finn joins in on drinking as well but I keep my mouth shut. I settle down next to him just as John gets up to address us.

“Before Tommy gets here I think there’s a few things we need to get straight between the rest of us.”

Polly scoffs. “You think?”

John nods. “Yeah. I want to know… when did we all take a vote on this expansion south?”

This doesn’t sound right. “You mean the move to London wasn’t a group decision?”

Esme speaks up. “Should she be here?”

She gives John a look and he mulls over the idea. “Um, maybe-”

“Shut it,” Finn interrupts sharply. “Verena’s the one who taught me to think, not you. She stays.”

John looks at the floor and nods. “Right then. Now, I see all the books. Shelby Company Limited has been making 150 pounds a day. Sometimes more. Why are we changing things?”

Finn considers this with a serious expression. I’m glad to see my teachings about economics haven’t gone wasted. John and Polly bicker some more and Esme tries to butt in. If only someone would tell me about what the Hell is going on then maybe I could do something besides make biscuits.

Just then Thomas walks in and the arguing stops.

“Everyone’s allowed to speak. On your feet, Esme. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

She stands up from her place on the stairs but John begins before she can speak.

“I speak for our household. So-”

Thomas won’t have it. “John, this is a modern enterprise that believes in equal rights for women. On your feet, Esme.”

My, Thomas has changed. He’s allowing more outside opinions. Women’s ones, at that. In some places back home it’s like pulling teeth to even win a conversation against a man about what shoe polish is better. But I know better. Grace left a bigger mark on him that he’ll care to admit.

Esme takes a breath and sets her jaw straight. “‘M not a bloody member of this family, but perhaps that can allow me to see things in a different light. I have kin in Shepherd's Bush and Portobello. It’s more like wars between armies down there. I want to raise my child somewhere with no violence.” She glares defiantly at Thomas. “London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas. That’s all I have to say.”

“That was a lot of words.”

Arthur offers a glass. “Wash ‘em down with a drink.”

Thomas nods in response. “Thank you, Esme. Firstly, the bang in the pub had nothing to do with London. Understood? That is something I’m dealing with on my own. Secondly, we have nothing to fear from the proposed business expansion so long as we stick together.” He gestures to where I’m sitting. “Our dear ally and friend Verena is joining us for this, so we will have strength in numbers. After the first few weeks, nine-tenths of what we do in London will be legal. The other tenth is in good hands. Isn’t that right, Arthur?”

His brother nods. “That’s right.”

“Some of you in this room have discussed your reservations,” Thomas addresses. “Fair enough. If any of you don’t want no part in the future of this company, walk out the door. Right now. For those of you with ambition, expansion begins tomorrow.”

John’s itching to say something but remains silent. Polly still looks torn about the matter but Arthur seems fine with it and celebrates with another drink. Finn rubs his head and soon both he and Thomas are looking at me expectantly. The answer is obvious.

“I just traveled thousands of miles to get back to work. I’m not backing out now.”

Finn lets out a sigh of relief and his older brother slowly claps. Family or not, I’ve just dug myself deeper into this crazy world.

“Welcome back, Ms. Steenstra.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #grace burgess #cillian murphy

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shelbystales · 1 year ago

Text

Honor and Blood - Part Twenty

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Read previous parts here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19

Summary: you are a gypsy and your family lives near Birmingham. Tommy Shelby needs a favor and Johnny Dogs says you’re the one he should ask for. A meeting is scheduled and when Tommy meets you, he is instantly drawn to you.

Warning: Swearing, angst

A/N: Please comment and interact. tell me what you think! it means a looot to me if you do!

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Y'know, Red, sometimes I think you don't take what I say too seriously," Billy remarked, lounging in his chair with his feet up on his office desk.

"Ah, I do," Red replied, trying to hide his building anger.

"I gave you simple instructions. Find the fucking weapons," he said as if it were a breeze, "but here you are, playing house."

"I'm out there looking for answers," Red shot back.

"Right, but we already have the answers, Red," he shrugged. "When you're out there asking who has the weapons, the answer is unanimous, isn't it?"

Duke nodded in agreement, "The Peaky Blinders."

"Yeah, easy peasy. So do something about it," he said, removing his feet from the desk and leaning in with his forearms on the table to get closer to Duke. "The shop was a warning. You don't want the next one to be the depot with those expensive machines your lovely daughter bought, do you?" he taunted. Duke was seething with anger.

"I've been doing me best to find out where they are," Duke responded, giving Kimber a deathly glare.

"Have you really? The Red I know would have had Thomas Shelby tied to a chair, bleeding the answer from his mouth. I hope your lovely daughter isn't the one to blame in here” Kimber continued.

"Keep her out of this," Duke warned, his voice laced with tension, which only seemed to amuse Kimber further.

"Please, Daddy, don't hurt him," Kimber taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm. Duke's grip tightened on the armchair, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grasp. "I need to know who's loyal, Red. You know what happens to those who prove disloyal to me. Maybe the shop wasn’t enough incentive? Should I pay her a visit?"

In that moment, Duke visualized himself vaulting over the table, his small yet sharp knife carving a vicious path across Kimber's throat, from ear to ear.

"There's no need," Duke said, rising to his feet. "I'll get your bloody guns." He left Kimber's office, a wave of nausea washing over him. He couldn't believe he was being pushed around like this by a man like Kimber.

Walking down the streets, Duke's mind raced with conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being manipulated by Kimber, a man he despised. He clenched his fists, a physical manifestation of the storm raging within him.

He was used to being the one in control, the mastermind behind the scenes. But now, his power was slipping through his fingers, and he hated every moment of it.

Meanwhile, you were at the camp, organizing the house and preparing for a small meeting to address the concerns of your group. Your group was sizeable, but not as large as the Less family. While they had around 50 people, your group consisted of about thirty.

"What are we going to do when the money runs out?" someone asked, their worry evident in their voice.

"Is it even worth going back? What if they do it again?" another voice chimed in.

"What's the point of our efforts if we'll just be crushed? Maybe we should head south, follow the sun," another member suggested.

You listened attentively to the concerns of everyone. You understood each person's perspective, as they talked among themselves, fueling each other's fears with questions and doubts.

"I know things aren't going as planned," you began, your voice cutting through the chatter, "but we can't let them win. Whoever they are. If they slap us, we offer them the other cheek. We're not afraid of wolves, we're not afraid of bears, so why should we fear them?" you spoke, capturing everyone's attention. "We're fine, we have food, and we have a decent stash of money to fall back on if needed. You don’t have to worry about that, let me worry about that. We'll resume our lives as if nothing happened, because this is just another obstacle in our path. In the meantime, we keep learning how to use the machines, we need to learn how to make clothes to start selling them. We can sell them on the streets or at fairs like before. We'll find a way. What we can't do is let fear guide us, never."

"The city council is going to inspect the shop tomorrow," your brother spoke at your side, "as soon as they give us the green light for construction and repairs, we'll start taking action."

“The Shelbys are helping us to find the one responsible for this, and trust me, they will” you added

Your words had a soothing effect on your people, calming their nerves. To shift the focus and lighten the atmosphere, you asked about one of your cousin's upcoming marriage plans. The topic transitioned smoothly, and you spent the next few minutes discussing and excitedly planning for the future.

As the conversation shifted towards happier subjects, the worries and fears that had been hanging in the air slowly dissipated. Laughter and smiles replaced the tension.

"Good save there," your brother said as you two found yourselves alone. "You always know how to handle things well."

"It's always good to remember that bad moments aren't just bad.Hey, did you see Dad?" you asked, noticing his absence.

“No, he left right after breakfast” he answered making you frown

Where the hell is he? you wondered

Duke went to the Garrison in search of Thomas, but he stumbled upon someone even more suitable – Arthur Shelby Sr. He took a seat beside the family patriarch, and they started to drink. Well, Arthur started to drink. Duke, on the other hand, discreetly discarded his drink whenever he had the chance.

Duke attempted to steer the conversation towards the guns, asking Arthur about them. As anticipated, the old man was clueless about it all. Instead, he rambled on about his plans and investment ideas – a bunch of nonsense that Duke paid little attention to.

The situation became more intriguing when Arthur Shelby, the eldest son, joined them at the table after a bit of convincing from his father.

Duke waited for the right moment to bring up the subject. In the meantime, he allowed the Shelbys to drink themselves into a stupor. He took the time to observe the atmosphere at the Garrison, taking note of the young bartender who seemed a bit too engrossed in the conversation at their table. Nosy one, he thought.

"You know what I'm sick of?" Duke finally spoke up, seeing that the two Shelbys were already stumbling over their words.

"Tell us, Duke, what's bothering you?" Arthur Sr. asked with a grin.

"I can't stand this whole gun business anymore. It's all the newspapers talk about, it's all people discuss on the streets. Today, I went to the restroom, and the guy next to me was blabbering about it while he was taking a piss!" Duke exclaimed, pretending to be agitated. Both Arthurs burst into laughter.

"Don't even get me started on those damn guns," Arthur said, downing the contents of his glass in one gulp. "I got beaten up over this bloody mess, and I didn't even do a damn thing!" He shook his head, frustration evident on his face. "All because of Tommy," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Duke to hear. "I got a thrashing for nothing!" Arthur's voice grew louder.

"Hey, but you're tough, huh?" Arthur Sr. chimed in, putting his arm around his son. Arthur grinned, pleased with his father's recognition.

"Tommy?" Duke questioned, not attaching much importance to what had just been said. "His fault for what?"

"Oh, nothing. He's just a pain, that's all," Arthur said, deflecting the topic. Duke leaned back in his chair as the Arthurs began discussing boxing matches.

He realized that he wouldn't be able to extract any more information from the two Arthurs and decided to go straight to the source for answers.

Thomas lifted his gaze from the documents in front of him to see your father standing at the doorway of his office.

“Duke? What are you doing here?” Thomas asked, surprised.

"We need to have a serious talk," Duke replied firmly, walking inside and closing the door behind him.

Thomas stood up and poured two glasses of whisky, handing one to Duke. Despite the gesture, Duke didn't show much interest in the drink. He got straight to the point. "I know you have the guns, kid."

Thomas's face remained composed, but his eyes gave away a flicker of surprise. He took a slow sip from his own glass, buying himself a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You do now, eh?” he asked, voice firm. as he sat down

Duke leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Don't play games with me, Thomas”

Thomas leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "And what exactly do you want from me, Duke? You want me to admit to something I didn't do? You want a confession?"

Duke's jaw clenched. "I want the truth”, he said sitting on the chair in front of Thoma's desk

"And what will you do with it?" Thomas asked, his gaze locked firmly onto Duke's eyes.

Duke's expression remained stern as he leaned back in his chair. "Depends on what the truth is."

Thomas took another sip of his whisky, his mind racing. He had to choose his words carefully, weighing the risks and benefits of revealing any information.

He wondered if you knew that your father was here, if you knew what he was doing. But he assumed you didn’t.

Thomas held his gaze steadily, his own thoughts working overtime behind his calm facade. What would he do if he found out? Thomas wondered, thinking the events that would follow.

“You don’t want the truth, Duke,” Thomas finally spoke, his tone measured and deliberate. Duke's reaction was immediate and explosive.

"You stupid child!" Duke's voice thundered through the room, his frustration and anger exploding as he stood and paced the room. Thomas remained composed despite the outburst, his demeanor unflinching. “i need those guns”

“Why?” Thomas asked, lighting himself a cigarette.

Duke didn’t answer, he just watched Thomas, considering his moves. He couldn't hurt Thomas, no… you would never forgive him. but he couldn't risk you as well. Kimber was threatening you and he couldn't have you hurt.

“What does Kimber have on you, Duke?” Thomas finally mustered the courage to ask, catching the man off guard. The question hung heavy in the air, the tension palpable between them.

He took a deep breath and sank back into the chair across from Thomas. He felt defeated, realizing that either way, he would come out on the losing end, and you would be harmed in the process. In that moment, he considered that Thomas might be his only way out.

"Helena’s death was me fault," he replied, rubbing his face wearily.

"Who's Helena?" Tommy frowned, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Y/n's mom," Duke answered, his voice low and filled with regret

"I remember you mentioning that she was poisoned," Thomas spoke, trying to piece together the puzzle as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"Yeah, by Kimber himself. You know, I didn't think he would actually do it," Duke shrugged. "I worked for that fucker for a very long time. When he threatened her, I thought he was just talking. Empty words. And then he gave me a bracelet, told me to give it to her, a wedding gift. There was something in that bracelet that poisoned her. Day by day, she got sick. I gave her the bracelet. Me. When she passed, he told me what he did"

Thomas's face hardened as he processed the revelation. He understood the weight of Duke's guilt and the complexity of the situation.

Hearing that information about your mother would undoubtedly be a shock to you. The revelation that she was deliberately poisoned, and that your father had inadvertently played a role in her death, would stir up a mix of emotions within you.

“Y/n can’t know,” Duke said, his voice carrying a warning tone.

“Duke, you didn’t do anything willingly. It's not your fault,” Thomas stated, trying to ease the heavy burden of guilt that Duke carried.

Duke shook his head, his eyes filled with remorse. “I was fooled, Thomas. I should have seen through his games. I should have protected her. It's on me. I will carry that guilt into me grave” he breathed heavily “and now... he’s threatening y/n, i won’t make the same mistake and assume his words are empty”

“What?” Thomas asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward, immediately concerned for your safety. He couldn't bear the thought of you being in danger.

“He was the one who burned the shop. He thinks I'm not doing a good enough job searching for the guns,” Duke explained.

“What does he want with those bloody guns, anyway?” Thomas asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“He said something about going after the Sabinis”

“The Sabinis? That's a big step” Thomas said, connecting the dots.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, his mind racing as he considered the implications of this new information. He took a contemplative sip of his whisky, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid.

Duke wondered if what he was doing was the right thing or the worst mistake he could have ever made. But the thing is, Thomas cared for you and well, maybe that was enough.

“I’ll keep y/n safe. I’ll do me best, I promise you” Thomas said after a while of thinking. “We need to be smart. Kimber is a greedy man, maybe we can use that to our advantage. I’ll think of something and I’ll let you know as soon as possible”

Duke nodded and held his hand for Thomas to shake, Thomas reached out and firmly shook Duke's hand, their grip a silent agreement to work together. No more words were needed.

Duke left Thomas' office, headed home.

“Fuck” thomas whispered feeling stressed, he downed the whisky in front of him and begin to work some sort of plan in his head. Your safety being his biggest concern.

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