#knuckles is head of demolition

[leyavo]

| I am my father’s daughter |

💖 Dad!price x Daughter!reader

PART THREE: John Price hasn’t seen or heard from his daughter in over a year, but that changes when she calls him one night asking for help. 2983words

TW: hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/complicated father-daughter relationship

🔈Readers view of John is different, he’s come and gone in her life etc so she thinks he’s not that great. So don’t send me hate

Previous parts > [series masterlist]

The repetitive beep echoing in your ear grew louder and louder, but you couldn't focus on the chatter around you. Your body heavy, the weight of your limbs not moving the way you wanted them to. The dull ache across your shoulder blades tingled, prickling sensation shooting down your arm and settling at the lump on your wrist.

A warmth spread over your hand, smooth and rough in places as the phantom touch traced your knuckles. Light and gentle, it'd been ages since someone had been so tender with you. You lifted your finger, a twitch against something soft beneath your palm.

Your lashes remained stuck, eyelids heavy, but you managed to force your eyes open. The piercing white light blurring everything in your vision, face burying into the pillow as you tried to get used to it.

Did you pass out on the sofa again? Why weren’t they turning their alarm off? You squeezed your eyes shut trying to make sense of where you were. Oddly, your mind was light, a little groggy from the sleep you’d just broke away from. 

No, it was too quiet to be on mum's sofa. The slow beep started to climb, doubling in speed until you realised it was your own heart beating. Where were you? No, you can’t be back there. 

A rough voice sounded beside you, the whooshing in your ear muffling their words. Throbbing pain pulsating in your head, you squeezed your eye's shut whining at the tight pull over the bridge of your nose. You must have gone down hard.

You just couldn't remember, head empty and you didn't care, all you wanted to do was close your eye's again. A hand pawed at your hair, you wanted to shrink away from their touch, but you were too tired to move.

You caught the edge of their words, your old man. 

“Captain.” Your words slurred, but you can hear your dad’s voice now that the beeping has disappeared. He's reassuring you about something, the weight of his hand on yours. You feel like you're being tucked into bed like a kid, something your dad only did for you when you stayed at his. That didn't happen often though.

You're in and out that haze for another few days, well thats what the kind nurse told you as she checked your vitals and sat with you whilst you ate breakfast. At first you thought she'd force the hospital food down your throat, but she observed you pushing the warm food around on the tray. She didn't push though, trading the plate for a pot of green jelly. The only thing you could stomach, you scraped the pot and she came back with two more, stayed by your side until you finished them.

Kyle and Johnny frequented the infirmary more than your own father. You hadn't seen him since your first dazed wake up and even then you weren't sure if you'd dreamt it or not.

The past two days Johnny accompanied you on a walk down the corridor, his hand hovering behind your elbow in case your legs gave out, like the first day you got out of bed. He'd caught you, your cheek smushed into his firm chest. You'd found out the reason for Johnny's light touch, the demolition specialist comparing the skill of disarming a bomb no different than dealing with you.

Johnny was quite the charmer too, every women that passed him seemed to fawn over him. You wasn't sure if it was the thick Scottish accent that made him stand out or the way he always seemed to have an answer for everything.

The days seemed to merge with each other, you couldn't keep track of the time either. Always waiting for something, someone.

After the Fifth day you refused to take your medication, Toff crumbling under the pressure and telling you that the Captain was at your bedside during the evening whilst you slept. His work keeping him away during the day.

So you did everything you could to stay awake, the nerves twisting your stomach as you thought of what your dad would say to you. What questions he'd ask you.

The worse of them all, you hoped he hadn't called your mum. You found yourself staring at the door, waiting for her to walk in.

What you didn't expect though was Simon Riley walking in and taking your dad’s seat. You slid down the headboard, fingers twisting in the blanket at your waist.

What the fuck was he doing here?

You rubbed your eyes, regretting the action as Simon pulled your arm away from you face.

“Mind that gash,” Simon said, voice muffled under his mask. He pointed to the cut on the bridge of your nose, the area swollen and tender where something had fallen on top of you in the bathroom.  

Apparently you’d caused quite the stir on base, word getting round of how a specialist agent a.k.a Kyle scaled the two story house and removed the window. All that just to get to you.

If you weren’t staying willingly, you’re sure the base would kick you out as soon as they could. The captain would probably drive you home, some half assed excuse about needing to go dark.

Home, you don’t know where that is anymore.

You wished it were Johnny or Kyle in his seat, at least Kyle read the latest trashy magazine articles out loud to you to fill the silence. Johnny asking you twenty one questions, more to check brain activity and memory loss. Not that you answered all of them. 

No Simon Riley stared at you, his muscular arms crossed over his chest making them look ten times bigger. The black hoody pulled up over his head, white skull sticking out against the dark mask covering lower part of his face. You wondered if he wore it everywhere outside.

"Bones?"

He raised a brow, shifting in his chair and widening his legs as he leant back against the seat. Not much of talker, that or he didn't want to entertain your curiosity.

“Your call sign. The skeleton mask isn’t a clue then?” you said, head sinking back into the pillow as you laid back down. Might as well the fill silence if he was just going to sit there and stare.

"Tell me his name and I'll tell you mine," He tilted his head to the side, his fingers digging in his biceps.

Your eyes followed the lines in the tiled ceiling, the whirring of a fan pushing cold air in your face. "What does it matter? It's not like I'm going back," you said, wanting to believe your words, no matter how much they trembled from your lips.

What did he care anyways? You'd only showed up last week, a stranger to him and your own dad. You wondered if that was why he hadn't been to visit during the day, couldn't look at your face and recognise the girl who he used to know.

"Tell ya' dad at least, eh."

"Sure," you mumbled, turning your back to him as you pulled the blanket over your shoulders.

As much as you hated to admit it, you and your dad were more alike than you thought.

In the presence of his task force and the other military personnel on the base, he was the no nonsense Captain, telling them exactly what he thought.

With you though he seemed to be holding back, you just didn’t know how or what he was going to say. You had plenty to say, but even more to keep to yourself. Tension building between your unsaid words, manifesting as silent brooding. If he wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to lay it all out and piss him off.

Was the Captain angry at you? You had no clue, but the knot in your stomach twisted as his gaze swept to you.

He shrugged off his jacket and helped guide your arms through the sleeves. “Here, couldn’t find a coat in your bag,” he said, tugging the collar forwards. You stumbled into him muttering an apology as he let go.

The brown cord jacket probably older than you were. Cream fleeced lining still holding his warmth, the sleeves rolled up at the cuffs so it’s not too long on you. It hung off your shoulders, swamping you. The Smokey scent clinging to the fabric, a mixture of tobacco and spice merging with it. Something you didn’t want to wash away as a kid after hugging him goodbye.

In your rush to get out of that place, you’d forgotten your coat. Even with months of planning you’d slipped up, calling your dad being one of them.

“Come on kiddo,” he said, nudging his head towards the old brown truck.

The same truck you used watch disappear down the street after every visit as a kid. Your mum threatening to shut you out if you let the cold into the house.

“You looked through my stuff,” you said, trailing after him as he opened the passenger door for you. You climbed into the seat, staring at the faded heart sticker still on the dashboard. A sparkly one you put there so he’d always think of you whilst he was saving the world.

He scratched his moustache, leaning one arm against the door. “Well, yeah. You needed clothes, doubt you’d wear your old man’s clobber,” he said, leaning across you and yanking the belt strap, he still hadn’t fixed the bloody thing.

His hands fumbled over the clasp, cursing under his breath as it caught halfway. You pressed your back into the seat, not quite sure why he was trying to clip you in like a child. The scar on his jawline sticking out against the stubble, you wondered how he'd got it.

“I got it, Captain,” you said, flinching as the belt sprung back over your shoulder and down the side of the seat. “Think it might be time to retire the old dear.” You tapped the glovebox, snatching your hand back as the compartment opened. Your dad slammed it shut, the only way to keep it there with force. The car shook with his movement.

The Captain hated buying new stuff. Preferred the old, originals that stood the test of time. “I’m the only thing that’ll be retiring.” He chuckled, shaking his head and closing your door.

Shifting in your seat, you winced. Eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunching as you tried not to groan in pain. The tight pull of your nose and the cut there drawing a trembling breath from your lips. The back of your shoulder felt like it was burning, you tried not to put all your weight on it and angled your body to the right, gaze on the now moving car.

“You okay kiddo?” He glanced at you, palm patting your knee. The low hum of the radio of some obscure band filtering through the speakers. You nodded, wondering why he was driving around the carpark.

Recruits marching in the distance, the check out booth coming into view. Why was he handing over your passes? Where were you going? You checked the back seats, expecting your bag to be there, but it was clear. Maybe it was in the boot.

His phone rang, your mother’s name on the screen. No, you asked him not to. You glanced to the door, locked. Not that you’d be tumbling out anyways.

The car was rolling out of the base, chain linked fence fading behind you. Your dad silenced his phone, letting the call go to his voicemail.

“I’m not going back.”

He glanced at you, fingers tapping the worn steering wheel. He turned his body to yours, red light giving him an opportunity to really look at you.

“You don’t wanna go back to base?” His gaze flitting between your face and the rearview mirror. “Where you going to go kid?” He’s back at the steering wheel, light green. Stepping on the pedal a little too hard that you jutted forward, seatbelt digging into your collarbone.

“You fucking called her, I’m not going back there. You can’t make me,” you spat, throat scratchy and dry. You folded your arms over your chest, twisting his jacket in your clenched fists.

If he’d called your mum, that meant she knew where you were. And you knew if she turned up, you’d go with her just to make things easier. Easier on the Captain, not you. You found it difficult to tell her no, she made it that way. Good at getting in your head, saying things you wanted to hear, then proving you that she’s exactly the same person she was before.

You’re still trying to figure out what kind of person your dad is.

“Hey, woah. We ain’t going anywhere. I just need to pick something up.” He won’t look at you though, his phone dropping into the cup holder. “Your mum deserves to know what’s happening with her kid. She’d be worried.” His face getting redder and redder, brows furrowed as he makes a sloppy right turn. Tyre hitting the kerb, old car groaning at the assault.

Yeah, worried about money. Worried that you'll tell the Captain what she's really like. Not worried about you.

“Well she didn’t think you deserved to know about a lot of things.” You say it before even thinking and wished you didn’t. The captain’s probably storing that piece of information away for his interrogation later.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pit me against your mother.” His words were firm and clear, a glimpse of the father you should have grown up with. The same words he used when you told him your mum had been seeing another man. If he’d have stayed it wouldn’t have been so bad, but then again it was your fault for him leaving. Maybe you shouldn’t have said a thing.

You can’t help, but laugh. “The woman cheats on you, multiple times and you still can’t say a bad word about her. Well I’ve got plenty.” You know you shouldn't be picking apart old wounds, but you want to see how far you can push. What he'll do when he's annoyed or angry.

He doesn't bite though, exhaling a controlled breath and taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “She’s your mother, I ain’t going to talk about her like that.” Ever the respectful man, your mother not so much when it came to him.

You wondered if what your mother said to you about your dad was true. Not that you wanted to find out.

The rest of the drive silent, the static radio buzzing every now and then when the signal dropped out. Your dad pulled up in a parking space, a small row of shops lining the high street. He didn’t even glance your way as he exited the car, a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

The click of the locks echoed through the car, door handle not budging as you pushed your shoulder against it. His phone rang again and you stared at your mother’s name, as if she could sense you there. You cancelled the call and silenced the ringtone, dropping it back into the cup holder.

What you didn’t expect to see was a small photo of you taped to the back of his phone case, little you sitting on your dads lap, clutching a teddy bear and one of his ridiculous army hats on your head. You must have been four, didn’t go anywhere without it. The teddy lost in one of the many moves growing up.

The picture creased and faded as if it’d been stuffed in a pocket. You don’t even remember the photo, never even seen it. Little things like this, make you second guess everything you thought you knew about your father. You don't even have many photo's, that wasn't an interest for your mother.

Another photo tucked away on the sun visor, one of his wife and your little brother, their smiles contagious that it makes your lips curve. So much love in one photo, the Captain's chin resting on the toddlers head and his gaze fixed on his wife. A unit, a family, something foreign to you.

Flicking up the visor, you fell back into your seat. Reminding yourself, that you're time there was temporary. You stared out at the lady pushing a pram along the high street, gaze lingering on the mother leaning over to smile at her baby.

The Captain climbed back into the drivers seat, passing you a paper bag and dumping it in your lap. He started the car, indicator ticking as he drove off.

"A phone, Kyle said that was a good one," he cleared his throat, scratching his moutache and pointing to the bag, encouraging you to peek inside. "The one in ya' bag's smashed to shit, need something you can use," he grumbled on like it was no big deal.

You slid the box out of the bag, a shiny new phone inside. Not just any phone, but the latest model in your favourite colour, lilac.

"I really don't need..." You turn the box over, scanning all the specs and the barcode. This was more than something you needed, any one would have done.

"Just take the damn phone, but do me favour..." The captain finally glanced in your direction, smokey scent mingling with the three dangling air fresheners dotted around. "Leave the location on, Kiddo."

Nodding, you put it back in the bag. You'd use the phone for now and leave it behind once you're gone, not wanting to be in his debt. "Uh, yeah thanks."

"When we get back, we'll have a little chat. Figure it all out."

And just like that, the knot in your stomach twists and twists. You wonder what kind of talk awaits you.

[PART FOUR]

Taglist: @unclearblur @enfppuff @reiluvr @elita1 @tired-writer04 (Some of the tags wouldn't work so sorry if I didn't tag you. If you would like to be added just let me know)

✨ Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it :) there might be some errors/mistakes as I'm dyslexic, I do check my work a couple times, but I do miss bits and pieces - Leya

[sandcobangevent]

By Dino (banabalizm) and Bird (@birdifulhuman) 

His heart plunged at the sudden overwhelming cacophony of sound, followed by lucid stillness enveloped in a ball of false warmth. His ears rang, splitting his head in two and sending him into a sweat, curled up and praying for the life he hasn’t yet lived. He hadn’t settled down, he hadn’t found where he belonged, he was still wandering in search of his place. He cried out for the man he had yet to become, unsure if he was making a sound at all. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see, his mind was overwhelmed and yet nothing made sense. Emptiness filled his senses, unsure where he was and what was going on, lost to the relentless onslaught of pain and confusion that seeped into his core and stabbed his gut. He felt himself gag, a burning sensation overtaking his lower body and corrupting his lungs. He couldn’t get enough air in, he was suffocating. He was going to die out here, lost in a field of longingness. 

He could feel the tears stinging his cheeks, corrupting the complete sensory deprivation he had experienced just moments before. He shook his head, forcing his eyes to open in the midst of clouds of demolition to see a soft light in front of him. He hiccuped a breath, tossing his head around in all directions to make sense of what was happening around him, before he heard it again. A deafening screech, followed by total silence, but this time he heard the gentle scratch of nails on a hardwood floor in succession. Archie? 

He reached out desperately, grasping at the first thing he found and squeezing it, white knuckled and rough, when he heard a sharp breath followed by a baritone grunt. ‘’Watson, can you please get your fingernails out of my leg?’’ 

‘’Shh, Sherlock. Give him a minute.’’ He heard the bite in response, a calming and familiar voice, laced with concern and a hint of desperation. 

‘’You wouldn’t be saying that if it was your leg.’’ The baritone voice snapped back, and John felt the object beneath him tense up. 

Shit. ‘’Shit!’’ John exclaimed, ceasing his hold on Sherlock’s leg and grasping his hand within his other palm, which he found to be exceptionally sweaty. ‘’Uh, sorry, Sherlock, mate.’’ He muttered, swallowing around his suddenly dry throat. 

Sherlock acknowledged him with a nod and a little, ‘’Quite alright, Watson.’’ His tone was softer than usual, lacking its harsh and rough edge. He looked unsure, glancing towards Mariana with a silent plea to bring up what just happened. 

Meeting Sherlock’s restless gaze, Mariana cleared her throat, brushing her hair behind her ear before shifting to face John more directly. ‘’Are you…are you okay, John?’’ She spoke with the same gentleness, the careful tone seemingly the only thing holding the shaken man steady.

They were both looking at him with such care, such admiration and genuine concern that he felt like crying again, but this time with a throaty devastation that only his favorite people could bring about. ‘’I, um, yeah. I’m fine. Just got caught off guard. By the storm, I mean, of course.’’ He chuckled dryly, a pathetic excuse for a laugh and insincere at its core. ‘’Yeah. No need to worry about me. Perfectly alright.’’ 

Sighing gently, Sherlock decided to address what the whole room knew but had yet to bring to light. ‘’The storm. It triggered your PTSD.’’ 

The air was heavy with the answer that sat on the tip of John’s tongue. Both Sherlock and Mariana were aware, all that was left was his own admittance. His lip twitched, anxiety coming in waves, his leg suddenly bursting in pain. He sucked in a breath before nodding ever so slightly, glancing between the two to gauge a reaction. ‘’Yeah. Yeah it did, mate.’’ 

In response, Sherlock briefly rested his palm atop of John’s knee, mumbling a quiet apology, one with a heavy tone, but a tinge of resistance and lackluster confidence. Mariana removed the weighted blanket from its place upon the couch, passing it over to John, who draped it over his legs and fisted it up to his chest, a silent gratitude casting through the room. 

Upon the next thunderous roar, John winced, a burst of pain shooting throughout his leg, up until his hip, and festering inside of his mind. Sherlock suddenly stood, denying a moment of hesitance as he ran off towards his room, swinging the door open and humming rhythmically as he began a search. 

‘’..What is he doing?’’ Mariana muttered with the slightest hint of a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood and the thick air that seemed to choke everyone involved. 

Before John could respond, Sherlock returned, outstretching his hand to reveal his personally customized ear defenders. ‘’My ear defenders, Watson. They won’t.. eliminate the thunder, but they’ll at least soften it.’’ He explained as John reached out, carefully putting them over his ears. 

‘’Thank you, Sherlock.’’ He offered a brief and content smile, one that expressed his gratitude for both of his friends. 

‘’Of course.’’ He paused, glancing towards Mariana. ‘’Tea?’’ 

Mariana’s expression softened, and she nodded. ‘’Yeah. I’ll go get some tea, stay here with John.’’ She replied, getting up and insisting on Sherlock sitting where she had previously been. 

Before she could get too far, she heard John stir, sniffling and rubbing his eyes carefully. ‘’..Thanks, guys.’’ He mumbled, his voice shaking and cracking as he spoke, his knees hoisted

up against his chest. ‘’I, um, I’m sorry about this.’’ He added, just the tiniest bit louder, on the edge of falling apart and running his hand through his hair. 

‘’No, no, don’t be!’’ Mariana, in a quick rush, responded, concern once again etching into her features. The last thing she wanted was for John to feel guilty. 

‘’I don’t mind, Watson. My ear defenders weren’t being utilized, you clearly needed them more than me.’’ 

‘’Not just that, mate. Just..I’m usually better about this stuff. I’ve gotten used to it, I can take care of myself. And I-’’ He sighed, sniffling once more and trying to prevent the inevitable, tears pushing the metaphorical dam. ‘’Thank you..for caring about me.’’ John specified, glancing over at the two of them, no longer able to resist the tears that dripped onto his knees. 

‘’Awh, John.. of course. We love you.’’ The concern seemed to drain from her face as John grew just a bit more comfortable than before, a smile replacing it. Sherlock hummed briefly in agreement, sitting back down next to the man, naked ankle resting alongside the other’s leg. It was a simple interaction, one with little significance, but John felt his heart squeeze. 

Mariana drifted off, preparing the promised tea, while John and Sherlock sat in a near peaceful silence, the two of them sharing a brief look, full of appreciation from both perspectives. Sherlock never thought he’d be this willing to comfort another soul, so used to living isolated and detached from the world around him. On the other hand, John never thought he’d find a person to comfort him when he needed it most, amazed at how he managed to find not just one, but two. 

Eventually, Mariana returned, placing down the cups in front of their respectful owners, ensuring coasters were also applied. She sat back down, stretching out her legs and joining the peaceful silence. 

Before John could process anything, the two of them were leaning in, wrapping their arms around him from each side and joining him in his own lonesome spot on the couch. In that moment, he couldn’t think of anything better.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. walked into his Senate confirmation hearing like a man stepping onto an ice rink wearing banana peels for shoes. He had one job: convince the world that he was not a bug-eyed conspiracy theorist who once hoarded a whale head and left a bear carcass in Central Park. Instead, he walked out as the leading cause of migraines among Democratic senators.

This was supposed to be his moment of redemption, his big I’m-not-actually-insane speech. Instead, it turned into a political demolition derby featuring protesters screaming that he was a liar and a killer, Bernie Sanders interrogating him about baby clothes, Elizabeth Warren asking if he planned to run HHS like a side hustle, and a surreal moment where Kennedy had to confirm that he probably said Lyme disease was a military bioweapon. By the end of the day, Capitol Police had forcibly removed more people from the chamber than a dive bar on St. Patrick’s Day.

Kennedy barely got through his opening statement before a woman exploded from the gallery like a jack-in-the-box filled with rage and science degrees.

“YOU LIE!” she screamed, holding up a sign that read VACCINES SAVE LIVES before being swiftly tackled and dragged out by Capitol Police.

Kennedy blinked rapidly, which is how you know he was hearing the voice of the worm that used to live in his brain whispering, Abort mission, Bobby. Abort mission.

A brief moment of peace settled over the room, and then it happened again.

“YOU'RE KILLING PEOPLE!” another protester howled, launching into a full-body rage spiral before security carried her out, legs kicking, like a screaming suitcase with opinions.

Kennedy took a deep breath and tried to regain his footing, but Senator Ron Wyden had been waiting for this moment like a prosecutor with a personal vendetta.

“Are you lying to us, Mr. Kennedy?” Wyden snapped, staring daggers at him.

Kennedy forced a nervous smile, but it came out looking like he’d just been told he had to fight a horse for a parking spot.

“That claim has been repeatedly debunked,” he said, attempting to sound reasonable despite an entire room full of people who were watching YouTube compilations of him saying the exact opposite.

Wyden wasn’t buying it.

“You signed a petition to restrict access to the COVID vaccine. Did you or did you not?”

Kennedy mumbled something about the petition being “misrepresented” as the air in the room thickened with sweat, bad decisions, and organic supplements.

Wyden was gearing up for a finishing blow when another protester detonated like a landmine.

“YOU’RE A FRAUD!” she shrieked as security dragged her away in a full-body lock.

Even the cops looked exhausted now.

Then came Bernie Sanders, a man who has not been in the mood for nonsense since 1972.

“Are you supportive of these baby onesies?” he demanded.

The room froze.

Kennedy’s brain crashed like a Windows 98 PC.

“Excuse me?”

Sanders lifted a printed-out photo of a baby bodysuit covered in anti-vaccine slogans.

“These are being sold by the Children’s Health Defense, the organization you founded.”

Kennedy looked like he had just accidentally eaten a ghost pepper and was trying to play it cool.

“I—I don’t have oversight over that organization anymore,” he mumbled.

Sanders cracked his knuckles like a man ready to fistfight a CEO and leaned in.

“Are you supportive of these onesies?”

Kennedy started sweating through his suit.

Laughter rippled through the room. A Republican senator actually covered his face.

Kennedy, now looking desperate for a fire alarm to pull, tried to pivot to his real passion: banning corn syrup.

Sanders wasn’t having it.

Then Elizabeth Warren took the mic, radiating pure prosecutorial energy.

“Will you commit to not taking money from pharmaceutical companies while serving as Secretary of Health?” she asked, in the tone of a woman who already knew the answer but was going to enjoy watching him squirm.

Kennedy grinned like a dog that just chewed up your furniture and is hoping you’ll laugh it off.

“I don’t think they’d want to give me money,” he chuckled.

Warren did not chuckle.

“Will you commit to not profiting from lawsuits against pharmaceutical companies while serving as HHS Secretary?”

Kennedy froze.

The color drained from his face.

“You’re asking me not to sue drug companies?” he said, voice rising.

“No, I’m not going to agree to that.”

Warren’s eyes gleamed like a hawk spotting a wounded rabbit.

“So you’ll be suing the same companies you’re supposed to regulate?”

Kennedy looked like he wanted to melt into his chair.

Then came Michael Bennet, a man who had been waiting patiently to drop a grenade into Kennedy’s lap.

"Did you say that Lyme disease was a militarily engineered bioweapon?” Bennet asked, deadpan.

Kennedy hesitated.

“I probably said that.”

The audience gasped.

Bennet cocked an eyebrow.

“Did you say that pesticides turn children transgender?”

Kennedy turned bone white.

“I don’t recall saying that.”

Bennet’s lip twitched.

“But you do recall saying Lyme disease was a bioweapon?”

Kennedy looked like he had been hit by a tranquilizer dart.

Even the Republican senators were staring at their desks, avoiding eye contact.

The hearing finally adjourned, but Kennedy is not in the clear yet.

His next grilling is scheduled for tomorrow, and there’s no telling how much worse it can get.

His opponents smell blood. His supporters are already crafting conspiracy theories about the deep state.

And if the vote ends in a deadlock, Vice President JD Vance will cast the deciding vote.

Yes, JD Vance—the political equivalent of a wet cardboard box—will determine if a man once partially controlled by a brain parasite will run America’s health system.

The nation waits in suspense. Pass the whiskey.

[Fear and Loathing]

[brightlotusmoon]

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. walked into his Senate confirmation hearing like a man stepping onto an ice rink wearing banana peels for shoes. He had one job: convince the world that he was not a bug-eyed conspiracy theorist who once hoarded a whale head and left a bear carcass in Central Park. Instead, he walked out as the leading cause of migraines among Democratic senators.

This was supposed to be his moment of redemption, his big I’m-not-actually-insane speech. Instead, it turned into a political demolition derby featuring protesters screaming that he was a liar and a killer, Bernie Sanders interrogating him about baby clothes, Elizabeth Warren asking if he planned to run HHS like a side hustle, and a surreal moment where Kennedy had to confirm that he probably said Lyme disease was a military bioweapon. By the end of the day, Capitol Police had forcibly removed more people from the chamber than a dive bar on St. Patrick’s Day.

Kennedy barely got through his opening statement before a woman exploded from the gallery like a jack-in-the-box filled with rage and science degrees.

“YOU LIE!” she screamed, holding up a sign that read VACCINES SAVE LIVES before being swiftly tackled and dragged out by Capitol Police.

Kennedy blinked rapidly, which is how you know he was hearing the voice of the worm that used to live in his brain whispering, Abort mission, Bobby. Abort mission.

A brief moment of peace settled over the room, and then it happened again.

“YOU'RE KILLING PEOPLE!” another protester howled, launching into a full-body rage spiral before security carried her out, legs kicking, like a screaming suitcase with opinions.

Kennedy took a deep breath and tried to regain his footing, but Senator Ron Wyden had been waiting for this moment like a prosecutor with a personal vendetta.

“Are you lying to us, Mr. Kennedy?” Wyden snapped, staring daggers at him.

Kennedy forced a nervous smile, but it came out looking like he’d just been told he had to fight a horse for a parking spot.

“That claim has been repeatedly debunked,” he said, attempting to sound reasonable despite an entire room full of people who were watching YouTube compilations of him saying the exact opposite.

Wyden wasn’t buying it.

“You signed a petition to restrict access to the COVID vaccine. Did you or did you not?”

Kennedy mumbled something about the petition being “misrepresented” as the air in the room thickened with sweat, bad decisions, and organic supplements.

Wyden was gearing up for a finishing blow when another protester detonated like a landmine.

“YOU’RE A FRAUD!” she shrieked as security dragged her away in a full-body lock.

Even the cops looked exhausted now.

Then came Bernie Sanders, a man who has not been in the mood for nonsense since 1972.

“Are you supportive of these baby onesies?” he demanded.

The room froze.

Kennedy’s brain crashed like a Windows 98 PC.

“Excuse me?”

Sanders lifted a printed-out photo of a baby bodysuit covered in anti-vaccine slogans.

“These are being sold by the Children’s Health Defense, the organization you founded.”

Kennedy looked like he had just accidentally eaten a ghost pepper and was trying to play it cool.

“I—I don’t have oversight over that organization anymore,” he mumbled.

Sanders cracked his knuckles like a man ready to fistfight a CEO and leaned in.

“Are you supportive of these onesies?”

Kennedy started sweating through his suit.

Laughter rippled through the room. A Republican senator actually covered his face.

Kennedy, now looking desperate for a fire alarm to pull, tried to pivot to his real passion: banning corn syrup.

Sanders wasn’t having it.

Then Elizabeth Warren took the mic, radiating pure prosecutorial energy.

“Will you commit to not taking money from pharmaceutical companies while serving as Secretary of Health?” she asked, in the tone of a woman who already knew the answer but was going to enjoy watching him squirm.

Kennedy grinned like a dog that just chewed up your furniture and is hoping you’ll laugh it off.

“I don’t think they’d want to give me money,” he chuckled.

Warren did not chuckle.

“Will you commit to not profiting from lawsuits against pharmaceutical companies while serving as HHS Secretary?”

Kennedy froze.

The color drained from his face.

“You’re asking me not to sue drug companies?” he said, voice rising.

“No, I’m not going to agree to that.”

Warren’s eyes gleamed like a hawk spotting a wounded rabbit.

“So you’ll be suing the same companies you’re supposed to regulate?”

Kennedy looked like he wanted to melt into his chair.

Then came Michael Bennet, a man who had been waiting patiently to drop a grenade into Kennedy’s lap.

"Did you say that Lyme disease was a militarily engineered bioweapon?” Bennet asked, deadpan.

Kennedy hesitated.

“I probably said that.”

The audience gasped.

Bennet cocked an eyebrow.

“Did you say that pesticides turn children transgender?”

Kennedy turned bone white.

“I don’t recall saying that.”

Bennet’s lip twitched.

“But you do recall saying Lyme disease was a bioweapon?”

Kennedy looked like he had been hit by a tranquilizer dart.

Even the Republican senators were staring at their desks, avoiding eye contact.

The hearing finally adjourned, but Kennedy is not in the clear yet.

His next grilling is scheduled for tomorrow, and there’s no telling how much worse it can get.

His opponents smell blood. His supporters are already crafting conspiracy theories about the deep state.

And if the vote ends in a deadlock, Vice President JD Vance will cast the deciding vote.

Yes, JD Vance—the political equivalent of a wet cardboard box—will determine if a man once partially controlled by a brain parasite will run America’s health system.

The nation waits in suspense. Pass the whiskey.

_

[fieldofdaisiies]

paring: Tamlin x OC | type: angst | words: ~900 words | warnings: violence, abuse, domestic abuse | masterlist | for @tamlinweek

There's blood on the side of the mountainT here's writing all over the wall Shadows of us are still dancin' In every room and every hall

The bright green has long faded, the spark has long extinguished, his eyes now empty, dull, dead. Deep, blue crescents underline them and tears glisten within them. Pits of brutal, endless cold stare back at him, and somewhere within the icy eternity there is only regret, remorse, and pain. 

He grips the sink firmly, knuckles bloody from punching the wall and white from how tightly he is holding on. His whole body trembles, shaking so fiercely he is surprised he hasn’t fallen to the ground yet.

A strangled sob crashes into his ragged breaths, head tipping back, only so the sob can turn into a wail of pure agony and misery. Destruction.

He destroyed it. Her. Feyre. He broke her. Made her leave solely through his actions. She is gone and he lost her. She will never return. And he destroyed himself along with her. His own heart. His own soul. She is gone, and within him there is nothing but agony. Agony and remorse. 

Tamlin pushes off the sink, wipes one bloody and wounded hand over his face, brushing back a few strands of damp hair. He leaves the bathroom to return to the place where it happened.

His knees hit the ground first, shards of glass and wood ripping into open wounds that had no chance to ever close, to ever heal.

A cold breeze, like frost and ice against his skin, creeps in through the broken windows, howling as it blows through the empty rooms and hallways. Apart from a few sentries, almost everyone is gone. He is alone. Alone, broken, around him, where there once used to be sunshine and lush, blooming flowers, nothing but endless vastness, demolition and darkness.

Just like within himself. Tamlin knows that there will never be a way back from this. He destroyed it, her and himself, and there will never be happiness within him again, nor within his court. He failed as High Lord, as lover, as male. He failed. 

And the consequences…it isn’t hard for him to admit it. He deserves the consequences. For what he has done. And for what happened back then. For what happened to his mate. Reverie. He deserves it all for not stopping what happened to her. For being the reason why she lost her life. He deserves it all. All that is coming for him now, he deserves it. Losing Feyre. He deserves that he lost her. She shouldn’t have ever been bound to him. 

He deserves every bad thing, Tamlin thinks, for not being able to protect the few people in his life that ever truly cared about him.

He cries out — not from the physical pain erupting in his knees where now new and old wounds meet, but from the kind of pain that hurts so much worse. The pain that lasts, stays with you, haunts you day and night. It’s emotional pain. 

What happened here this day, what happened with Feyre, what he did to Feyre, it all stemmed from panic, from the panic of losing the person he loves. And it brings him right back to that fateful night centuries ago when he lost his everything. When he lost his sense of life, the sole thing that brought him comfort and happiness.

The night that changed everything. The night that made him turn his heart into stone, and the night that wrenched his soul. 

“Are you happy now?” Spit drips from the High Lord’s mouth, almost like venomous poison from a viper. “Is this what you wanted?” The High Lord stalks forward, grabbing Tamlin by the collar of his shirt. “Look at me when I am talking to you.”

But Tamlin can’t. He can’t meet his father’s gaze. 

The bloody wings on the ground, in the midst of the shards, are the only thing he can focus on. And the light within his chest, or rather, the absence of it. The light that has been extinguished. The light that no longer is. The feeling is dead and what is left within his soul is nothing but a deep, endless void – cold and dark. The bond is gone. Dead. And will never return.

Tamlin knew the moment his heart was shredded into pieces. When he could feel her pain through the bond. When he could hear her wail in his mind. Her sobs. Her cries. His father, knowing about their mental bridge, had made him feel everything. Made him see it all. Everything he did to her. He knew she was going to die that night. He knew she was dead by the time he arrived.

Tamlin’s vision is blurry with old and new tears, his body shaking so hard he is no longer sure he is sitting. Maybe he is floating. Falling. Landing hard, but it doesn’t matter. No pain will ever compare to what it means when your mate dies. 

“You brought this upon her.” The High Lord smirks and grabs Tamlin’s chin. “Mingling with the rival court. Wasn’t your silly little friendship with Rhysand enough?” His thumb presses down on his son’s chin, adding just enough pressure to make it painful for Tamlin while their eyes stay locked. “No, you had to fuck his little sister as well. My son, the traitor. Scum.”

With a harsh shove to his shoulder, the High Lord steps away. “Clean that up. All of it.”

Tamlin doesn’t remember if he nodded. If he said something. There is only the flaring, hot pain deep within his chest, spreading like a rapid, burning fire, lava blazing through his veins. 

She is gone. Reverie is dead. His mate is gone. Was killed. Was murdered by his own father. 

And with her, the bond died as well, leaving him utterly empty. 

tags: @thesnugglingduck @sirenpearldust the song is by Olivia Rodrigo

[l-lend]

Creator Self-Promotion

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics you posted. If you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

"But K, I don't write but I still create can I still play?"

Post your last 10 pieces and give us a play by play. What was the inspiration? Any fun facts you can share with us?

Anyway let's get on with it

1. Fishing for Compliments - Merman!Crosshair x F!Reader

A sigh passed the young woman’s lips as the sun began to disappear beneath the waves. The waves rocked her quaint vessel as if it were a mother soothing her child. Her meal as well as a plate of identical food remained untouched as she kept her gaze to the depths. Every ripple of its surface a reminder of the mounting minutes that her company kept her waiting.

2. Drop Me a Line - Wrecker x F!Reader

The young woman stifled a yawn as she continued to work the mass of dough to her standards to be plopped into pans to bake. She continued working the dough sparing glances to the chrono on the wall as the sky outside began to lighten with the sunrise. Her pulse spiked when the chrono was checked again. She abandoned the lump of dough as she snatched up a pastry box. The bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

3. Budding Romance - Rex x F!Reader

“And you’re sure you’ll have them there.”

“A bit of faith would be nice, Anakin.”

4. Skin in the Game - Wrecker x OC (Rina) (18+ Please view responsibly)

Wrecker was on the hunt. Thankfully the Marauder held only a few spaces to hide away as he searched the ship. His target tucked away by the sensors. Vibroblade twirling between his fingers while his idle gaze stared at the screen. The demolitions expert took a breath, hoping to find answers.

5. Hair Support - Tup x Reader

The days of the Clone Wars tended to drag on in between assignments. Thankfully, the Republic saw it fit to dispatch your research team with a clone legion escort to ensure the lush jungle planet would not eat you and your colleagues alive. It was in the sweltering heat of the afternoon that one of your study binges was interrupted. You shook your head knowing who dared tread into your tent.

6. Interrogations - Echo x F!Reader (18+ Please view responsibly)

The former arc trooper sighed. Another fruitless attempt at slipping free of his bonds. The chair he was bound to chilled any amount of exposed skin. The room kept dark to prevent him from gathering his bearings. He bided his time, waiting for the tell-tale clicking of his keeper. It was a whisper at first but grew louder as the automatic doors parted.

7. Personal Tastes - Hunter x F!Reader

Strands of meat sizzled and spat as she flipped the tangled mass. Her work distracting from the pair of eyes watching you from the doorway. Her culinary tasks from the staccato chops of a knife to peppers to the accented clink of a mortar and pestle offered a calming tune.

8. Just This Once, Everyone Lives - Rex x Reader

Your bottom lip remained captured between your teeth as the speeder came to a stop. The building looming over the city streets twinkled in the night. A beacon for personnel to gather while dressed to the nines. A hand curled around yours, smoothing over your knuckles.

9. Keep Away - UniversityAU Wrecker x Reader

You filed out with your fellow undergrads as your last class for the afternoon let out. the professor's voice offering mention of the end of the first sprint. You traversed amongst the student body's current before veering off to a corridor. The current loosening its grasp the closer you ventured toward the sanctuary of paper and ink.

10. Nothing Fight - Crosshair x F!Reader

It could be easy to say Clone Force 99 had a culture separate from the sea of clones. Clone medics would be reassigned in the blink of an eye and nat born medics often assigned whoever pissed off the higher ups. This led to your current long term assignment. Having a medic on board being the main reason one of your patients was released to his squad early pending observations.

NPT - @photogirl894 @rain-on-kamino @tecker @techs-stitches @littlemissmanga @annwayne @fakegingerrights @merkitty49 @moodymisty @starrylothcat

Wanna promote your work here too? Do it!

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XX

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 6.1K

A Like without a Reblog will result in an automatic block.

24 Relona

A sprout, so pale in its orange it looked white, crested the soil of the pot—a burst of the sun before it began a new day. Sometime between this morning’s watering and this evening’s, the bud decided it was time to experience life outside the comforting coolness of its soil. 

Kazi thumbed the little sprout. “Hi, buddy.”

The sprout mushed, its fuzzy bulb tickling, and she slowly retracted her hand, not wanting to accidentally kill it. She watered the soil, mindful to hydrate the sprout without drowning it, and then leaned back on her haunches. 

A look through the sunroom’s windows revealed her sister on the wraparound porch. She wanted to show Daria her sprout. Out of anyone, her sister would understand the significance of this moment. 

However, Daria was enjoying the comfortable heat of the evening, peeling beans for tonight’s dinner. Matches sat beside her, helping. Based on Daria’s stained cheeks, the demolitions expert was telling her a crude story. Kazi decided not to interrupt. It was more amusing watching her sister’s strained smiles and encouraging nods as Matches laughed at something he said. 

Beyond the porch, seated among an elder tree’s roots, Nova and Hound talked. Tree foliage provided ample shade to hide their expressions. Based on the article she found Nova reading yesterday, she assumed he would be working with Hound for the foreseeable future.

A sharp command rang through the cracked-open windows. 

“Again,” Fox said. 

Wiping at her forehead, Neyti glared at Fox. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Fox crossed his arms over his chest. “You can do better—you will do better. Again.”

Huffing her frustration, Neyti faced Cody, lifted her balled fists, and lunged for the man’s hand. One jab with her left hand, a quick feint with the right, and a final punch with the left. Her knuckles collided with Cody’s palm. His smile was soft with encouragement. Neyti looked to Fox.

“Better,” Fox said. He assessed Neyti for a moment and then motioned to the table where Daria and Matches sat. “Get some water.”

With a satisfied nod, Neyti waltzed through the backyard’s ferns, plopping into an open chair and accepting a glass of water from Daria. Another glass went to Cody, who squeezed Daria’s shoulder. 

Kazi looked Neyti over once, confirmed the little girl was well, and then returned her attention to Fox. His black shirt clung to his skin, and sweat slicked his curls back. He’d spent the entire afternoon working on his project, the fallen tree finally taking shape.

Its shape bewildered Kazi, though. She didn’t understand why Fox was building a—

“You have a nice set up.”

Kazi flinched, glancing over her shoulder. Court stood beneath the sunroom’s partition, still dressed in the same black jumpsuit the men had found him in. At least it looked tighter and crisper, freshly washed.

“Thank you,” Kazi said, regaining her feet and dusting her hands together. Court regarded her, his head tilted in assessment. Nonplussed, she cleared her throat. “You know, you don’t have to stay inside, if you don’t want to. There’s a lake, and the jungle is full of hiking trails.”

A dismissive nod preceded his approach, and he surveyed those outside. “How often do you work?”

Studying his side-profile, the reddish hue of the setting sun set the whites of his eyes on fire, Kazi hedged, “I work a normal schedule.” 

He was silent, unblinking, and she glanced at the elder tree where Nova sat, wondering if Court needed to talk to someone. Needed…help. Then again, he held himself with a stable composure, seemingly collected and unaffected, rather than a man facing a potential mental collapse. 

“Are you interested in getting a job?” Kazi asked.

His lips twitched. “We’ll all need one. What do the former commanders do?”

She waved toward the windows. “They work these missions.”

“And their income? Where does their pay come from?”

“Most likely their contact.” Moving toward the game table, she pretended to tidy Wolffe’s puzzle, an attempt to create distance. Maybe she was being rude, too wary, but she couldn’t muster the shame to care. “But I don’t actually know. If you’re interested in joining them, I would talk to them about it. I can get Wolffe—”

“I’ll talk to him later.” Court twisted away from the windows. Those deadened eyes fell on her eyes, sharp and probing. “Wolffe said you work for the government. What do you do?”

“I’m an analyst.” Tension curled in her stomach, uncertain as a fog descending on a harbor. “I track military exports.” 

Court didn’t need to know about her private work for the magistrate: the intel she continued to analyze concerning the missing and deserted clones. With the men’s help, Fox’s expertise in slicing especially, the scrubbed and manipulated data had protected their missions. So far.

“You must have a high security clearance.”

“Somewhat.” Kazi shrugged. “The Security Institute was founded less than two years ago. It’s still rudimentary compared to Imperial governances in the Mid and Inner Rims.”

“You work with a band of rogue clones, yet you serve in Imperial forces.” Court took a step in her direction. “Why do they trust you?”

“I may work for the government,” she said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean I support it.”

A twitch overcame Court’s face and he opened his mouth. Soft footfalls interrupted, however, and a moment later, Wolffe appeared. A black work shirt replaced his usual white, the sleeves rolled to his forearms; his usual gray poncho was nestled in the crook of his elbow.  

Inclining his head to Court, Wolffe faced her. “We’re going, Ennari.”

Kazi frowned. “Where?”

“Out.” Wolffe extended his hand. “To dinner.”

“Neyti?”

“Daria said she’ll watch her. Cody is making dinner. And Nova’s setting up his telescope for Neyti to use tonight.” A satisfied smirk, similar to the one Neyti had sported a few minutes ago, completed his smug demeanor. “Any other questions?”

Smiling, she placed her hand in his palm. “Where are we going?”

The red sun burnished the wooden flattops of Hollow’s Town, the sky spired with brilliant orange and creeping navy blue.

Kazi and Wolffe wandered the Marketplace’s walkways, the colorful canopies withdrawn to allow the evening sunshine to warm the stalls. Small crowds loitered on the streets. Wolffe, with his hood drawn, blended in well. 

He was on edge, though, his tells noticeable only because she had studied him so closely for months. A rigid set to his shoulders. A forced casualness to his stroll. An occasional flex in his fingers, even though they were clasped behind his back. 

The Imperial presence was confined to Canopis, at the moment. But Kazi knew, from the blaster strapped to his thigh, Wolffe didn’t trust them to remain in the capital, and he wanted to be prepared. Since he was as obstinate as he was mistrustful, she didn’t suggest they return to the house. Instead, she reached for his hand. 

Warm fingers curled around hers, slow and tentative. A thumb smoothed a light circle to the back of her hand. 

Their stroll slowed and they rounded a corner. 

Strong spices wafted through the air, as palpable as the steam from roasting meat. The crowds here were louder, busier. Kazi leaned into Wolffe, resting her other palm against his bicep. His muscle bunched; his fingers twitched in her hand.

“Neyti spoke to me,” she said. They paused near a stall selling Elucan wine, and Wolffe looked down at her, his eyes widened in surprise. She’d spent the last few days debating whether or not to tell him, but his opinion mattered, and she needed to share it with someone. Someone who understood the importance of this moment without turning it into a lecture or demands for the future. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“She trusts you,” Wolffe said, eyeing an expensive bottle of white wine. “Has she said anything else?”

“No.” They moved to the next stall. “She was looking at my adventure book when she spoke. That’s how I knew she wanted to go flying the other day. She told me.”

A splinter of darkening sunlight lit Wolffe’s face and the slight curve of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed.

“You have an adventure book?” he asked. A hint of amusement softened his tone.

“Yes.” He huffed a quiet chuckle and she rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “My mother got it for me when I was young and I filled it with a bunch of photos from my trips at sea.” She paused. “My parents called me their ‘adventurous’ kid. Hence, the name of the book. Real original, I know.”

Ahead, the walkway ended and they exited the Marketplace, aiming for downtown. 

Wolffe kept their pace slower, more idle, as if trying to delay their arrival at the restaurant. “You don’t think you’re adventurous anymore?”

Kazi laughed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It happens when you get older—you lose interest in stuff like that,” she said. “You mature and realize life is different.”

“Would you think differently if you still lived on Ceaia?” Wolffe’s tone was inscrutable, assessing.

“No, and it doesn’t matter.” She gestured to their surroundings. “I live here now.”

“Do you want to live here?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.” His hand stiffened in hers, and she pursed her lips, sighing. “We’re safe, that’s what matters. And Daria’s medicine and healer are here, and getting Neyti adopted is easier—”

“What?” Halting in the middle of the empty walkway, Wolffe stared at her, brows furrowed and mouth parted. “You’re putting Neyti up for adoption?”

Kazi winced, releasing his arm. “It’s…been one of my goals since we first arrived here.” 

Bewilderment wrinkled his features as he searched her face, and she gritted her teeth, berating herself for being so careless.

“Her application has been processed,” she said. “Now it’s simply a matter of when a family shows interest.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Wolffe straightened, his jaw clenching. “You love that little girl, Ennari.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He started to protest and she cut him off. “It doesn’t. I was never meant to be a mother, and Neyti needs someone who is.”

“Why.” The word was flat, harsh like the press of his lips and the glint in his eyes. 

“Because.” Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, shrugging blasely. “I’m not the affectionate, loving type that Neyti needs—that any youngling needs.”

“You’re not…” Wolffe scoffed, his grip around her hand clammy and tight. His face lowered to hers. “Who told you that shit?”

“Wolffe—”

“Who.”

“Stop it.”

The things her mother told her—the things she knew were true—weren’t his concern. And she wasn’t in the mood to humiliate herself in front of him tonight. But Wolffe scowled at her, his demand unwavering. 

“You weren’t here those first two months,” Kazi said stiffly. “You didn’t see her. She lost her mother and that relationship isn’t replaceable.” 

“I’m not arguing it is,” he hissed. “But she needs a mother—”

“Yeah. She does. And I’m not that woman.”

“You can’t give her up—” 

“I’m her caretaker, and I decide what’s best—” 

“And if I want to step up?”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped. His nostrils flared and she gritted her teeth harder. “Neyti is my responsibility, and mine only. Not yours.” She swallowed. “Anyway, we haven’t even been together for a month—” 

“I’ve cared l—” Wolffe faltered. Working his jaw, he regarded her for a long, stilted minute, and then he shook his head. “Don’t be rash.” He clutched her hand harder. “That’s all I’m asking. Something comes up, we talk about it.”

For a pent breath, she considered him. “Fine.” 

Anger still clenched his jaw, and annoyance pinched his mouth, but Kazi refused to cave. 

She meant it, what she said. Wolffe might want to fill a role in Neyti’s life, a role that was needed, but his missions were his primary concern. They came first; she had learned that lesson the hard way. And she wouldn’t allow Neyti to form an attachment only to lose another parent. She wouldn’t allow another little girl to lose her papa. 

Kazi continued along the walkway, and Wolffe fell in step beside her, their hands still interlaced.

“Please don’t tell the others,” she said after a few paces. “Daria doesn’t know. Neyti doesn’t even know, and I don’t want it to get out. It’s possible nothing ever comes of it.”

A heavy sigh heaved from Wolffe. His thumb continued to circle the back of her palm. An instinct. Or afterthought. 

The sun had finally set, the dark blues and grays of a tumultuous sea bathing the horizon.

A group of males, loud and rowdy, strolled toward them. Wolffe tugged her closer and they crossed the street, evening’s shadows casting him as a more imposing figure. 

Stilted silence yawned between them, nearly physical in its discomfort. 

Surveying the darkening sky, Kazi broke the silence. “Why are your brothers teaching Neyti to spar?” 

Wolffe released a low chuckle; some of his tension ebbed away. “We all learned when we were young.”

“Your upbringing was quite different.”

“Learning how to protect yourself is a good skill for anyone to learn.” He gave her a pointed look. “You should learn too. You and Daria.”

“Daria? The one who’s getting weaker and weaker with each passing month?” Her smile lacked mirth, and Wolffe winced, a silent apology in his squeeze of her hand. “I agree it’s a good skill to have. But it’s ultimately pointless. A real soldier will always be able to overpower me.”

“You don’t learn self-defense to win a fight,” Wolffe said. “You learn it so you have a chance to escape and run. To survive.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Frustration roughened his voice, and they paused on the edge of a walkway, waiting for an aircar to pass. “You’re acting too flippant with your life. I don’t like it.”

She sniffed. “I understand what you’re saying. And I think it’s good that you guys are teaching Neyti.”

He observed her through narrowed eyes, as if debating whether to believe her. “Promise me you’ll fight. If it ever comes to it—promise me you’ll survive.”

“Wolffe—” 

“Kazi.”

The seriousness in his face, the tightness of his grip, told her he wouldn’t drop this. That he cared about this, and that she owed him a truthful answer. 

Holding his gaze, she said, “I promise.”

Signs flickered to life, buttery yellow and warm. People enjoying a meal or drink busied the restaurants and cantinas’ patios. 

They walked in silence. While Wolffe’s quiet was contemplative, Kazi was second-guessing their conversation about Neyti. 

And if I want to step up?

The words were a kindle to that soft glow within her. Dangerous, if she truly analyzed the situation. But she didn’t, avoiding the glow steadily escaping her control, and instead concentrated on tearing apart the question.

Because, really, he had no business suggesting it. They were friends, and they were trying this thing between them, and he didn’t even realize the hurt he would cause when he—

“Do you feel alive?” 

The question yanked her from her thoughts, and she blinked at Wolffe. He was staring straight ahead, the neutrality in his features forcibly apathetic. 

“Do you?” Kazi asked curiously.

Rolling his shoulders back, he shrugged. “Growing up, we were told we were soldiers. Nothing more. Nothing less. We were soldiers. That was it.” 

They paused outside the restaurant, its sign lucent white, and he faced her, his expression guarded. Vulnerable.

“I’m not convinced I’ve known what it feels like to be alive. Outside of basic instinct to survive. I didn’t know that feeling. Even as a boy,” he said, his voice lowering. Hoarsening. “But being here—seeing my brothers safe, the lot of us doing what we want…” His fingers flexed around hers. His gaze remained guarded, and yet it grew softer. Gentler. “I think I’m starting to.”

“You deserve it,” she said. Because he did, and sometimes, she wasn’t convinced he believed it. “To rest. To put yourself first. To go after what you want. You deserve it all, Wolffe.” The evening’s darkness enveloped his face, soft hands holding him, though the restaurant’s white light sharpened his scar. She brushed a finger across his cheek. Just beneath his scarred eye. “You deserve to live.”

He twisted, his lips grazing her palm. “You do too.”

Her smile was weary, similar to the exhaustion he couldn’t seem to shake. They were both trying. 

“Eluca was supposed to be safe,” Kazi muttered.

Setting aside her datapad, she lifted her face to Wolffe. He was hovering behind her, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other flattened to her desk, while he read over her shoulder.

Both the local news and her private comm line with Fehr and Carinthia lacked information. 

Dinner had been a quiet affair. An assortment of sauteed vegetables, steamed rice, and freshly baked bread filled their stomachs; a glass of whiskey and a mug of Elucan chocolate mush further emphasized the ease of the early night. Whatever tension had survived their conversation on the walkways soon winked out, replaced by blue-white stars winking into existence.

Their soft laughs and relaxed demeanors were ripped away, though, when a military vehicle arrived. Stormtroopers leapt from the vehicle. They stormed the cantina across the street. 

Within three minutes, it was over. Two bloodied males were dragged away.

Kazi had loosed a breath of relief, grateful the two males were the stormtroopers’ targets. Because the moment the black vehicle rumbled onto the street, she’d feared for Wolffe’s life. 

Thought a passerby or patron had reported him. 

Sat, trembling, as she tried to determine a plan of action so he could escape.

The dinner revealed one thing: if it came to it, she would sacrifice anyone to keep her family safe.

Leaning back in her seat, Kazi scowled at her ceiling. “Eluca was the safest option compared to other planets. It was never supposed to be like this.”

Gods, she sounded pathetic. Complaintive and whiny, ungrateful. At least they didn’t live in Canopis; at least Hollow’s Town remained relatively safe and free of Imperial oversight.

Wolffe perched himself on the edge of her desk, folding his arms over his chest. He regarded her with a carefully even expression.

“Do you think it’ll get worse?” she asked.

“Can’t say.” He frowned at the files on her ‘pad. “But things can change quick. I know that firsthand.”

She dropped her gaze to the hands wringing in her lap. “I just want to feel safe. And I know how ignorant and unfair that sounds coming from me when you—”

“You deserve to feel safe, Ennari.” A firm steadiness hardened his voice, a mountain weathering the strongest of winds, unmoved. Quietly, Wolffe added, “We all do.”

Deciding it was too late to dwell on the increasing danger of their situation, Kazi started to untie her braids, a necessary distraction from the thoughts whirling inside, and instead, chose to watch Wolffe.

He was studying her room: the gray, folded sheets of her bed and the matching quilt; the bookshelves along the opposite wall housing her adventure book, a cactus from Daria, and a charcoal sketch Neyti had drawn of the ocean; the white curtains tucked aside, revealing the jungle’s rolling hills. 

“Your shelves could use some personality,” Wolffe commented.

Judgment underscored his tone, and she frowned. “I didn’t know you’re an interior decorator.” 

He threw her a bored look and pushed away from her desk, approaching the shelves. “Why’s your dragon downstairs?”

“She doesn’t match my aesthetic.” At the roll of his eyes, she chuckled, glancing at her closed door. Though her dragon remained downstairs, she swore she could feel its unblinking gaze, observing her in its uncanny way. Sobering, Kazi said, “She’s too much of a reminder of life before.”

Wolffe wandered to her bed. “Before what?” 

“Before everything.” Setting aside her hair ties, she combed her fingers through her hair. “Before my father died. Before Daria and I stopped liking each other. Before the Purge. Before all of this.” Her voice had grown colder, bitter, and she cleared her throat. “I tried to get rid of her but I couldn’t. So she sits downstairs. It was a compromise.”

Reassessing her room, as if she was looking through Wolffe’s eyes, Kazi grimaced. Her bedroom was nothing more than utilitarian: bare, clean, tidy. Lifeless. The only sign someone had recently lived here was the lack of dust. Even her cactus could survive without her. 

The rustle of dried paper interrupted her musings as Wolffe lifted a seed packet from her nightstand. He arched a brow at her.

Her cheeks warmed. “It was a thoughtful gift.”

“This is trash,” he deadpanned. It was her turn to roll her eyes, and Wolffe shook his head, replacing the seed packet back where it belonged. Another slow survey of her room commenced, and then he straightened. His head angled toward her refresher. “Can I use your shower?”

Kazi blinked, momentarily rendered speechless. It was such a random request. And yet there was something bedded into his words, scrupulously layered, guarded: a question, no, a suggestion.  

Perplexed, she gestured to the ‘fresher in acquiescence, and, after a prolonged search of her face, Wolffe disappeared. A few seconds later and the spray of water, a gentle patter, spilled through the cracked door.

Kazi returned her attention to her ‘pad. 

Keying into the datafolders Fehr passed along every month or so, she searched for Ceaia. 

A foolish idea, really. Ever since her arrival on Eluca, she’d avoided the network’s reports on Ceaia. To her knowledge, they were mere assessments of Imperial presence in the Outer Rim. Simply a means to remain informed. Anyway, she would never return to her home planet, so updates were pointless, a dull fingernail reopening a flesh wound. 

But tonight…

The first datafile inside the Ceaian ‘folder presented an overview of the planet: Most of the information detailed the small Imperial force in the capital and the Empire’s disinterest in the planet. Imps bolstered the central government on the eastern continent. Rebellion was nonexistent. Kazi knew all this.

However, the further she read, the more bemused she became.

The rebel network had suggested planet-level analyses of Ceaia’s continents, major cities, and even certain harbors. For some reason, the network was interested in Ceaia.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Kazi scanned the report closer, but any mentions of the network’s plans were properly redacted. Still, she skimmed the analyses.

Searching…

There were individual files on specific cities and harbors. 

She scanned the list. 

Familiar names flitted past.

She scrolled further, searching for—

Outlook Harbor. 

Her heart stumbled at the familiar name; a cold sweat clammed her palms. 

The rebel network had investigated her harbor—a harbor in the northern continent lacking any connection to Imperial accusations and the Purge. Opening Outlook’s file, she read through it.

Sensitive information redacted—information that clearly detailed the network’s plans—Kazi could only theorize the network’s goals. But there was one line that caught her attention. One line, in the Overview section, that demanded her attention.

Empire rumored to abandon shortly.

The sentence replayed in her mind, a broken holofilm repeating over and over. 

Because, if the Empire abandoned Ceaia, Outlook Harbor would be safe and maybe—

Shoving away from her desk, Kazi massaged her temples, pacing the length of her room. 

It was too late. Things were in motion here, and finding hope within a rumor, a fucking rumor, was asinine.

She had chosen to run, and Ceaia was in the past, and she couldn’t dwell on it any longer. She wouldn’t.

A sudden quiet seeped into her room; a creak told her that Wolffe had exited the shower, and she stilled. 

Everything within her went silent.

A distraction, she wanted a distraction. No, she wanted comfort: She was still running, and she was tired, and her soul was so sore, and she wanted to pause for just a moment to feel something. 

Alive, she wanted to feel alive, and she wanted to feel it with Wolffe. 

Fingers trembling, Kazi removed her sweater, untied her trousers, tossed her clothes and underthings into her hamper. She moved across the bedroom; the resolved beat of her heart, steady, unflappable, complimented her soft rap on the ‘fresher door.

Steam warmed her face, licked her bare skin.

“You’re late.” One of her white towels covered Wolffe’s lower half—tiny around his waist—and he looked down at her, amusement breaking through his practiced composure.

“You showered too fast,” Kazi said.

“Yeah.” His hands bracketed her jaw; his face lowered to hers. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Soft lips were on hers, and Kazi ran her hands up his chest, still damp, delectably warm, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wolffe groaned against her mouth. Tangled his fingers in her hair. Gripped her waist and stroked her spine. 

The heat of his hand to her bare skin, the softness of his touches compared to the desperation in his kiss, the way he held her and touched her, sparked her body to life. Need throbbed in her clit, and gods, she needed something—needed him.

Mouthing beneath her jawline, Wolffe rasped, “Tell me what you want.”

Her thighs hit her bed and she didn’t resist as Wolffe lowered her. As his forearms surrounded her head and his toweled lower half settled between her legs.

“To feel something,” Kazi said. Water dewed his curls and she rested a palm against his chest, basked in the hard, rapid beat of his heart.

He leaned back, just slightly, and let his gaze wander the length of her body. His pupils dilated, the dark brown of his eye and silver of his cybernetic giving way to black. A shiver breathed down her spine, tightened in her nipples, and she could only lie there, appreciating the way he took her in, the same way she had seen him study the bioluminescent flora during their night swims: admiring.

One moment Wolffe was perusing her body, and the next, his mouth was on her breast. 

Gasping, Kazi arched into him, clinging to his bicep. His mouth was hot and wet to her sensitive skin, and she ground her hips against him, desperate for any stimulation. Wolffe choked at the contact. His teeth grazed her nipple and—

“Oh gods,” she whimpered.

“This?” Wolffe flattened his tongue along the underside of her breast and licked to her nipple. “This good with you?”

She released a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

A large hand cupped her breast, and a calloused thumb scraped her nipple. She started to tremble. The clench in her cunt was hard, demanding, and she could only stare at her ceiling, trying to quiet her breathing, calm the racing beat of her heart. 

And, fuck, she thought she might actually come from this—from him caressing her nipples, biting gently into her breasts. Her cunt fluttered at a particular scrape of his thumb, and she bit back a whimper. 

A dazed look darkened his features as Wolffe focused on her breasts. She didn’t understand the appeal: Her breasts were small, small enough his hands easily engulfed them, and yet he seemed unable to look away. Unwilling to abandon them as he dragged a long lick across her nipple and sucked on it. 

Panting, she gripped his shoulder, dug her fingernails into his skin, wavering between pushing him away because the sensation was overstimulating, or holding him closer, giving into the pleasure humming through her nerves and tightening her insides.

A finger brushed through her labia and she tensed, glancing between their bodies. Wolffe circled his finger around her cunt. Light, unhurried circles. 

“This?” Wolffe asked. His eyes were on hers, and the dark brown swirled, drunken with desire. “This good with you?”

“No sex,” she whispered hoarsely. Her labia were so sensitive from his circling, and she swallowed a rising moan. “I can’t—” 

“I understand.” Wolffe tapped her cunt and she could feel her arousal slickening him. “But this? Can I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“What about my tongue?” He licked along her breast again, nipping at her nipple. She shuddered beneath him. “Can I taste you?”

“Wolffe.” Need buzzed beneath her skin, burned in her blood, and she was so fucking sensitive, so desperate for any touch between her legs or her nipples, but he needed to know, first: “I take so long—”

“Good.” He removed his hand, and her hips jerked their protest, her legs trembling with restraint. Satisfaction carved a smile on his face. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Kazi. Take your time. I’ll enjoy it.”

Before she could dissuade him, Wolffe was kneeling between her thighs, and he was propping one of her legs on his shoulder; and all she could do was watch, her nipples tingling and her clit aching, shaking with want as Wolffe breathed her in. As he flattened the head of his tongue to her cunt. He licked her.

Pleasure swelled deep inside her and her head fell back. Another slow lick followed and Wolffe groaned against her. The noise was low, guttural, and she gasped, bucking against his mouth. His hands flexed around her thighs, holding her open, restraining her against the bed. 

Sweat thickened the heat beneath her skin and she panted harder; her blood ran fast and hot. Wolffe traced her labia, the tip of his tongue so light it tickled, and then he was sucking her clit, his pleased groans rumbling against her.

Breathy, uncontrollable moans hissed between her teeth. A finger circled her cunt once. Twice. It pushed into her and her hips jerked.

“Wolffe.” Kazi lifted her hips, a silent demand for more, but Wolffe kept his strokes languid, his finger curling upwards and massaging such a sensitive spot she fisted her sheets harder and groaned. 

A second finger slid inside, and she whimpered at the pressure, at the stretch of his fingers. It was so much; more than her own fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Wolffe hissed, stilling his fingers inside her. His eyes snapped to her face. “Am I hurting you?”

Breathing through her nose, she shook her head, blinking dazedly at the ceiling. “It’s just…a lot.”

Wet heat encased her clit the moment Wolffe’s two fingers massaged her upper wall. Massaged a spot that had her panting “More, please more” and her hips gyrating against his face.

Tightness coiled in her lower stomach, and the muscles in her legs bunched. She was shaking; her fingers were curled desperately in her sheets. Her breathy exhales were moans, and the pressure inside her bordered pain. 

Wolffe sucked on her clit harder; he curled his fingers and rubbed that spot over and over and over. All of her tightened, and her legs stiffened, and she felt as fragile as thin glass—

She shattered. 

Honeyed pleasure oozed through her blood, seeping into the cracks of her coiled muscles and soothing them. She was trembling, and she couldn’t move, left to blink at her ceiling as a wet tongue lapped at her, its strokes long, slow. 

A sharp flare in her labia made her pull away. Wolffe gripped her thighs harder, his scowl displeased, but at her sharp look, he released her, gently lowering her leg from his shoulder. 

A little tired, a little sore, Kazi lowered herself to the floor, leaned into Wolffe, and kissed him. He grunted against her mouth, seemingly surprised, but she didn’t bother to stop, pressing lackadaisical kisses to his jaw. Licking the muscled length of his neck. Basking in the way he held her weight as he panted against her ear.

It took her too long to realize he was fisting himself. Fisting and stroking his cock. She leaned back to watch him, beads of cum glistening his tip. It took her even longer to realize the wetness he was using to stroke himself was her own arousal—her own release. Wolffe met her gaze, his eyelids hooded. 

Grazing her palm along his thigh, the muscles shivered beneath her touch, Kazi smiled, cupping his balls and squeezing.

“Fuck.” Wolffe’s forehead fell to her shoulder. His breaths grew ragged, pained.

“Show me,” she said, massaging his balls. “Show me how you like it.” 

Roughly, he guided her hand to his base and fisted himself; the heat of his cock burned and her eyes widened in surprise. He tightened her grip and stroked. A groan warmed her neck.

“That’s it,” Wolffe rasped, using her hand to stroke himself faster. Harder. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Bracing a palm on the bed behind her, Wolffe hissed between his teeth, his hips jerking uncontrollably. 

Kazi traced light, teasing circles to his inner thigh, kissed behind his ear and nipped at his earlobe. Wolffe choked. His body stilled. He bit into her shoulder, and then he was spilling onto their hands, onto his stomach. He rutted into her hand, his semen hot and thick, his moans low and hoarse. 

As his thrusts eased and then stopped, Wolffe released her, his fingers trembling as they ran along her ribcage, like he was reassuring himself she was here. She was with him. Indolent kisses warmed her shoulder, soon followed by gentle licks to the mark he must have left.

Eventually they cleaned themselves and returned to her bed, still naked: soft brushes of fingers to skin, languid kisses to knotted muscles. At one point, Kazi laid atop Wolffe, her cheek nestled to his chest, his hands slowly tracing the knots of her spine.

“This,” he murmured, grazing the center of her back, “I’ve been thinking about.”

Trailing a finger along his own scars, she smiled. The line-drawn dragon tattoo was tiny and simple, her sole tattoo.

“Any significance?” he asked.

“I got it as a reminder,” she said. “That the only person whose got my back is myself.”

Pensive silence enveloped Wolffe as he continued stroking her spine, like he was counting each dent. Soon, though, those wandering hands shifted to her hips, her ass, her ribcage. Curious, lackadaisical touches ensued. Kazi wasn’t any better: feeling his scars, the tightness in his muscles, the fat toning his body. 

They were clay, formed from stardust and molded into individuals: to be appreciated, revered.

Later, the moons casting her bedroom in a bluish tinge, Kazi scanned Wolffe’s side-profile. 

“You can smell my soap? From feet away?” she said, disbelievingly. “Even after a couple of hours?”

“Yeah. And when I’m close to you, like this”—he gestured between their bodies—“I can smell you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I can smell when you’re bleeding.” A nonchalant shrug succeeded her appalled blink. “And when you’re aroused.”

“No, you can’t,” she whispered.

“I can.” Amusement was woven into his frankness. “We were engineered to be exceptional.”

“Huh. I don’t know if I’m impressed or mortified,” she said. Wolffe chuckled, and she smiled, brushing her nose to his shoulder. “So, enhanced smell, sight, and hearing. What about taste?”

A devious glint darkened his eyes, and he edged closer, playing with a strand of her hair.

“You taste”—a wet tongue licked the length of her throat and Kazi gasped; Wolffe pulled back—“divine.”

Laughing, she tried to shove him away, but he resisted, grinning down at her.

“Divine?” she said, scoffing. “All you tasted was my body oil.”

“I was talking about your cunt,” he drawled, smirking at her exasperated shake of her head. Returning his face to her neck, he kissed just beneath her jaw and murmured, so quietly she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it, “I won’t ever get enough of you.”

Minutes later, with Wolffe sucking on her collarbone in a way she knew he had no intention of stopping anytime soon, Kazi glanced at the chrono on her nightstand. She grimaced.

“Wolffe.” He grunted his acknowledgement. “I’m tired.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He lifted his head. “You kicking me out, Ennari?”

A tiny, glowing fist pounded against her chest but she ignored it. If she asked him to stay, then she would grow accustomed to his presence. Rely on it. On him. And what if…

Rubbing her chest, she offered him an apologetic wince. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

Understanding gentled his expression, and he inclined his head, reaching for his trousers, forgoing his long-sleeve. 

At her door, Kazi pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for dinner and for…”

“The orgasm?” he supplied.

“Good night,” she said, unable to stifle her smile. 

Amusement crinkled his eyes and he tapped the underside of her chin. “Sleep well, Kazi.”

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 21

A/N: To see how I imagine Wolffe going down on Kazi, check out this artwork (18+/nsfw). If you take a look, please show love to the artist by reblogging. The artist deserves it. The artwork has no relation to Star Wars, but I stumbled across it one day and it reminded me of the scene in this chapter. Please enjoy. (Again, if you view it, please reblog it. Liking a post on Tumblr without reblogging does nothing to support the artist.)

[jazzythursday]

Careless (667 words)

He’d gotten careless.

It was a simple mistake, but a careless one all the same. He’d gotten distracted, and the ratio of one chemical to another was just a bit not right, just enough to—

It was carelessness, is all it was. Stupid. Idiotic. He can’t afford to call himself a demolitions expert if he can’t even handle semi-compustables without fucking it all up.

He’s still staring at the remnants of the exploded vile in his hand, tiny rivulets of blood running from the bits of broken glass embedded in his skin. He’s never liked being hurt, he’s never liked blood. It makes him feel fragile, and a bit like the times he was a child getting rapped on the knuckles for not trying hard enough in lessons, even though he was trying so hard. He flexes his hand. It burns, but not much, not as much as it probably should, and he should really get something to clean up the mess, but he’s just staring, staring and staring and wondering why he hadn’t thought to measure twice, why he hadn’t—

Jesper finds him like that, hunched over his work table, staring.

He’s very gentle as he handles Wylan into a chair and cradles his arm, brow furrowed and lips pursed as he inspects his hurt hand to look over the injury. Wylan feels frozen, like he’s stuck somewhere he doesn’t know how to find his way back from. Bracing for some kind of punishment—from who, he isn’t sure. Berating himself for being stupid enough to make a mistake he knows he’s better than and caught between the past and the present, in some cold and numb place in the middle.

Jesper catches his eyes. “Well, it looks like you’ll get to keep all your fingers.”

It draws a rough laugh out of Wylan, and he feels himself start to thaw. “Is that your professional opinion, Jesper Fahey?”

“Yes, and that’s Medik Fahey to you. Sit tight, love, and if you’re a good patient, I’ll even throw in a prize.”

Wylan snorts, then winces, because being out of his head means he can properly feel how much his hand actually hurts, and he finds that it does. Ouch.

Jesper gets out a pair of tweezers and pulls out every piece of glass, cleaning the cuts and wrapping them until Wylan has a bandage that runs from his fingertips up halfway to his elbow.

Jesper drops a kiss into the palm of Wylan’s hand when he’s done, soft and infinitely sweet in ways that Wylan cannot begin to define, in ways until recently he did not know he could have.

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it.

Jesper shrugs one shoulder and tilts his head, “Anytime. Well—not any time, please don’t make a habit of demo-disasters, not that this was a disaster, but—you know what I mean—”

Wylan cuts off the ramble with a kiss, marvelling at the way it never fails to make Jesper release a short little swallowed gasp into his mouth as his hands immediately pull Wylan closer. “I know,” Wylan says. “Thanks.”

“Right,” Jesper says, a little breathless. “Right,” he says again, dropping a kiss to the top of Wylan’s head and then flashing the grin that Wylan knows he uses when he wants to be charming. “First things first, I did say you’d get a prize, and I have it on good authority from Nina that waffles make the best medicine. Feel up to getting out of here?”

Wylan let’s Jesper pull him up by his uninjured hand and lead him out of the warehouse and into town. He’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made of his workstation tomorrow, remake the whole batch of flash bombs. But for now, as Jesper fills the silence with easy conversation about what he’d missed at the Crow Cub, the reassuring weight of his arm wrapped around his shoulders, Wylan thinks it can wait.

Maybe he can afford to be a little careless about some things.

[msweebyness]

Mirrorverse Crossover- Aurore

Hey hey hey, it’s Weeby with the next installment of Mirrorverse! Things are getting tense between the well/mannered fairy and the wacky witch! Enjoy! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Sitting ramrod straight and feeling supremely out of sorts, BluRore looked with trepidation at her counterpart, the witch giggling like a madwoman as she swung her legs back and forth. Every so often, she would sneak a glance at the fairy, before descending into another fit of laughter.

“Is there a reason you’re somehow acting even more disturbed than usual?”, BlueRore asked tersely, folding her hands as she looked at MimRore with uneasy irritation. What was with her?

The mad mage let out another fanatical laugh before answering her counterpart.

“I’m just excited to talk to a version of myself that thinks ‘goodness’ is the way to go in life, dearie!”, she tittered, gagging at the word ‘goodness, “It fascinates me how someone with my face could be so dull and dense!”, she went on to taunt, giving the fairy a twitching grin.

BluRore took in a deep breath at these words, her entire body going tense. If she wasn’t so well-trained in holding her composure…

“Oh, no…”, Sabrinocchio murmured nervously, her fingers making hollow clicking sounds as she twiddled them anxiously. If there was one thing her fairy godsister hated, it was having her intelligence called into question.

“I wouldn’t say that I’M the dense one here, my dear. Your head is barely attached to your shoulders on a good day.”, BlueRore said tersely, her wand gripped tightly in her hands. MimRore only smirked in response.

“Well, if you were smarter, you'd notice that something isn't quite right. But it seems...”, she taunted cheerily, before a sudden poof changed her physical form into that of a small purple bat!, “You're blind as a bat!”

Promptly changing the other blonde back to normal with a flick of her wand, BlueRore said in slight irritation, “I would ask what you mean by that, but I know I won’t get a straight answer.”

“Would you like a curved one?”, MimRore asked teasingly before she cackled like mad at her own joke.

The fairy’s eyes narrowed as she sensed that something was indeed different. Something felt…wrong.

“Enough with the games. What do you mean by ‘not quite right’?”, she demanded sharply, only getting a devious grin in response. It was then that one of the heroes seemed to figure out just what was missing from the picture.

“Uhhh, guys? Where’s Mireille?”, Demolition Denise piped up with a nervous edge to their voice, shooting a hard glare at Mireides as the goddess snarkily raised a hand and waved, “OUR Mireille.”

With rising horror and fury, BluRore noticed that MimRore's giggles had turned sinister, and became louder by the second. Shooting to her feet, she shot her counterpart a piercing death glare.

“What have you done, you vile witch?”, she snarled, clenching her wand so tightly her knuckles were white. MimRore only stuck her tongue out.

“Wouldn't you like to kno-“, she had begun to taunt only to cut off with a squeak.

Holding her glowing wand to the manic girl’s throat, BlueRore demanded, “ANSWER!”

“Okay, cool your blue tits, I just hid her somewhere!”, the loony sorceress said shakily, before regaining her ‘composure’ and smiling deviously once again, “But I won’t tell you where...unless...”

“Unless. What?”

“Unless you can defeat me...”, the wacky weather witch began dramatically before she jumped on the table and struck a dramatic pose with her arms raised, “IN A MAGIC DUEL!”, she thundered

BluRore looked wary as she ventured to ask, “That's it? A duel? There has to be a catch.”

“No catch, fairy! If you win, your little kitty goes free as a bird, no harm done!”, Mimrore said cheerily, before she added with a wicked glee, “But if you lose...”, before she paused ominously.

“Out with it!”

“YOU’LL HAVE THE CHICKENPOX FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!”, Mimrore shrieked, letting out a shrill evil laugh. BluRore looked unimpressed. As did the rest of the villains.

“Really, Rorie?”, IsmaScar asked in clear disappointment, “That’s it?”

“Oh, and one more thing!”, MimRore then went on to say as her smile turned eerie and dark, “Your precious pussycat princess will remain trapped, and what becomes of her will be up to me and my friends!”

This was met with roaring approval from the villains, who already began to plan what they could do with the lioness.

“Just do what she says, 'Rore. She clearly can't be reasoned with.”, Reshmabela piped up through the bubble, hollyhock beginning to grow around her feet, a sign that she was nervous.

“Fine. But Nino, Lacey and Ismael, the ones from MY world, will judge this match. I don’t trust your three witch friends to remain impartial...or not to intervene on your behalf.”, BlueRore said firmly as the three witches in question glared and muttered curses at her, “You’ve laid your terms, and those are mine.”

MimRore pouted but decided to play along, “Oh all right.”, as she secretly held her fingers crossed behind her back.

“I see that.”, BlueRore said sharply.

“Fine.”, MimRore huffed, irritated at the fairy’s vigilance, “But my friends at least get to watch! It’s not fair for you to have cheerleaders while I don’t!”, the witch insisted, the other villains piping up in agreement. No way did they want to miss this!

“You're the one who decided to kidnap my girlfriend!”, BlueRore snarled, only a couple seconds away from strangling this lunatic.

“Whatever, busybody!”, the witch said, sticking her tongue out, before she grinned malevolently and began to bounce on the spot, “Let’s assemble our spectators...and LET THE DUEL COMMENCE!”

—————

A few minutes later, everyone was in the main courtyard, villains seated on one side and heroes on the other. The blue-clad fairy and cackling witch were standing face to face as the two other fairies and genie prepared to judge the match. Snapping to gain everyone’s attention, IsmaGenie began to review the rules.

“Alright, here’s the lowdown: basic junior magic duel standards apply. No turning invisible, no targeting the spectators or judges, no fatal magic attacks. Got it?”, the genie said, BlueRore nodded solemnly. MimRore giggled maniacally and nodded as well…hiding crossed fingers behind her back.

“Okay. Turn back to back, ten paces outwards, then the duel begins.”, Fairy Godbro then instructed, before backing away with the other judges. Everyone watches with rapt attention as the two took their paces…only for MimRore to slowly fade from visibility as she passed behind a tree, making the heroes scowl, and the villains snicker. Their wacky witch had this in the bag…or did she?

The judges were about to intervene, but it seemed BluRore was a step ahead of them. Narrowing her eyes, she aimed her wand upward, deflecting the rays of the sun intensely in the direction where MimRore had gone, causing the witch to let out a yelp.

Following the sound, BlueRore cast her magic towards the witch, forcing her to turn visible again. MimRore scowled and stamped her foot, glaring daggers at the smirking fairy.

“Come on, babe! You can still kick her ass!”, Mireides cheered, with a few of the other villains adding their own encouragement. MimRore straightened up and prepared her next trick.

Gaining a wild and sadistic grin, her hands beginning to thrum with magic. BlueRore’s eyes widened as MimRore suddenly turned towards her friends, aiming some manner of curse. The heroes’ eyes widened as they realized the intent, while the villains watched eagerly to see some carnage.

Acting quickly, she created a glimmering blue disk of magic and flung it in the direction of her friends, just in time for MimRore’s hex to hit it head on and bounce right back at the witch. MimRore was flung several feet before falling back on the ground, her clothes and hair smoking.

“Nice one, Blue!”, Simon Pan yelled, “You’ve got this in the bag!”, earning him glares and scowls from the villains, and a small fireball flung in his direction by the goddess of death.

As Demolition Denise was talked down by their friends from sending the (slightly nervous) goddess flying, MimRore was absolutely seething. How was this fairy so ahead of all of her tricks?!

Having enough, she decided to pull out her trump card! Glowing with a malevolent purple aura, her body began to change as BlueRore watched in fascinated horror. The sorceress morphed into a giant, purple misshapen creature that vaguely resembled a dragon, breathing a spurt of pink flames and sparks.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW, PIXIE PUNK?! EVERYONE KNOWS THAT FAIRIES CAN’T SHAPESHIFT!”, MimRore shrieked, more sparks flying from her lips as she laughed in frantic glee.

To her credit, BlueRore did look nervous for a brief moment, before her eyes sparked with an idea and her demeanor turned steely.

“Perhaps not.”, she said ominously as she aimed her wand, “But we can change others.”

With that, she sent a bright bolt of blue magic at MimRore, and when the flash cleared…a small wooden puppet version of the ghastly creature sat on the ground. A tiny squeal of fury emerged from the toy, as the heroes laughed and cheered with glee. The villains were far less enthusiastic.

To add insult to injury and secure herself the win, BlueRore conjured a small gilded cage around the witch-turned-puppet, that thwarted her efforts to change back, enraging her even further.

“Now, this cage prevents you from using any magic that I don’t permit you to! And if you want me to set you free and allow you to change back…return my kitten to me, now.”, the fairy said firmly.

Seeing she had no real other options in the moment, MimRore hissed, and the dazed lioness appeared in the midst of the makeshift battleground, immediately being tackled in a hug by BlueRore.

“Mir, I was so worried! Are you alright? Did she hurt you at all?”, the blonde fairy babbled, pulling back to check her partner for any injuries. Laughing softly, Miremba grasped her girlfriend’s hands and rested their forehead against hers.

“I’m fine, Baby Blue. Thanks to you.”, before the two shared another hug as the other heroes came to check on their friend. In the fluster of conversation that followed, BlueRore dissolved the cage and MimRore changed back to normal. Pulling her knees to her chest, she sulked over her loss to that prissy pixie.

She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her girlfriend, giving her an encouraging smile as their hair flickered in the sunlight.

“Don’t worry, Cuckoo Bird. We’ll get ‘em next time!”, Mireides said resolutely, turning and give the heroes a stony glare. No one got away with humiliating her ‘Rore.

And there you have it folks! BlueRore may be proper, but when it’s time to kick ass, she doesn’t mess around! Thanks to Sparky for his help with the opening conversation, and Artzy for the idea of how to end the duel! Keep an eye out for Artzy to release Zoe! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Meddling Mar Monday

About time we checked in on the Demolition Brothers! The chapter index can be found HERE

Alma's kitchen was full of spices and vegetables that Jak had never seen before -- or maybe he had, but they'd been pickled and preserved beyond recognition in Haven. These were fresh, filling the room with vibrant reds and yellows and greens, and Jak couldn't help wondering what they tasted like raw. He gave his hands a perfunctory rinse at the sink and stood awkwardly beside a long strand of hanging peppers, waiting to be given some kind of direction. Daxter seemed far more comfortable, cracking his knuckles and opening cabinets without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Alrighty, where's your measuring cups?" he asked.

Alma snorted. "Measuring cups? I use the scale! Go get my pot of salt off the table -- black lid -- and don't you dare drop it, Pequeño! That stuff is expensive!"

She glanced down at Mar. "You gonna wash your hands or what?" she asked.

Mar unwrapped his arms from around the caprid fawn's neck and signed, "Or what."

Behind Alma, Jak groaned. Was this what it was like to be Torn? In sharp gestures he warned Mar, "Don't push her buttons, we need this to work out. Do you want to go back to the tower?"

"No!"

"Then be nice! Treat her like she's the Bird Lady or something!"

Mar pouted and wrapped his arms around Cabbie again. Jak noted the disapproval on Alma's face and grimaced at Daxter. They weren't off to a great start. Daxter grimaced back, but held up a hand as if to calm Jak.

Jak might not have remembered a lot of what he'd been like at Mar's age, but Daxter did. And Daxter could hazard a guess as to the root of Mar’s contrariness.

"Sorry about Junior," he piped up in a lighthearted tone, "He has trouble transitioning between activities, especially in a new environment. In my experience, you gotta set a clear expectation and timeline, and then stick to it."

Jak blinked. "Wait, really?"

His best friend gave him a wry look. "You were exactly the same, pal. I have experience."

Alma appeared to be considering this for a moment. At first, Jak thought she would agree to give Mar a few more minutes to switch between tasks. But then she pointed a skinny finger towards a low door at the back of the kitchen.

"If you aren't gonna help make bread, you can take Cabbie and go help with the caprids," she said, shrugging the shoulder that sat lower.

"Don't have to wash your hands for that."

Mar frowned thoughtfully and considered his options. If he helped outside, that would mean he was still playing with Cabbie, right? And then he'd get to see more caprids! So far they weren't much like crocadogs, but they weren't boring like yakkows, either. Mar liked animals, especially the ones that could play with him.

He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he asked, "Can I feed them?"

"They've already been fed today," Alma answered, "Don't believe them if they act hungry. They'd eat the house if they could. Just fill the water trough alright?"

Mar let himself out the back, and almost immediately came back in.

"Where's the water?"

As Alma had her back to him, Jak quickly relayed Mar's question. The woman didn't look up from tossing flour and water into a bowl.

"See those big meshes out there? They harvest fog. The barrels underneath catch the water. Use the tap to fill up a bucket -- turn it off before you walk away!"

"Okay!" Mar hopped back down off the step and into some kind of courtyard between buildings. Metallic jangling and caprids bleating nearly drowned him out.

Alma turned her head. "Close the door!" she called, "Don't let the little criminals in here!"

Upon hearing Jak's snicker, she scooted the bowl towards him. "Here, young-arms. Mix that until it's evenly goopy."

Well, that couldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong.

Jak's first attempt sent watery flour splattering across the counter, Daxter, and anything in range. His dismay must have shown on his face, because Alma didn't berate him. She grumbled about wasted dough, but it was under her breath.

"Not so hard, boy! You aren't trying to kill it!"

Being told not to kill something was a bit of a reversal from what people normally demanded of him. It was all destroy, destroy, destroy. And while Jak could admit -- and would admit freely -- to taking pleasure in the destruction of things, like mining platforms and KG bases, he'd always hated being ordered to destroy people. It was much too close to what Praxis had wanted to make him into. A soldier; an executioner. Made to destroy and good for nothing else.

I can do more than destroy, he insisted to himself, I'm gonna have to if I want to survive out here. How am I supposed to take care of Dax and Mar if I can't even make dough without ruining it?

But he couldn't ask for help. He'd look like some useless city-slicker who didn't know how to work! Gingerly, he pushed his fist into the gooey mixture again. It wasn't a very nice texture, all sloppy and wet. Gritting his teeth, he mixed and pushed until it clung to his hand from every side of the bowl. The texture was awful. He closed his eyes and told himself to ignore his skin screaming at him.

"Is...is this right?" He lowered the bowl to show Alma.

The landlady eyed it critically, rubbing her chin. "Good enough. Now we add the yeast."

Daxter hopped up onto the counter and nudged Jak sympathetically. "I got this. You get that gunk off your hands before you blow a gasket."

Gratefully, Jak ceded the bowl and did his best to scrape his hands off on the rim. The landlady probably wouldn't want him washing this stuff down the drain, he guessed. He suppressed a shudder and rubbed his fingers together under the pump water until the stickiness dissipated. Felt too much like metalhead guts.

"City boy," Alma scoffed.

Jak bristled. "Stick your hands in metalhead entrails a couple hundred times," he shot back, "and maybe you won't like the texture anymore either."

Alma lowered her brows at him. "Don't take that tone with me, chico," she warned.

"Then don't make assumptions about me," Jak retorted through gritted teeth.

Don't snap. Lower your voice. Hands where she can see them. If you're dangerous where people can see you, you'll get yourself and the guys kicked out.

For a moment they held each other's gaze, neither willing to back down in a silent standoff. Then Alma thumped her cane against the floor and scoffed.

"You've got some fire to you, boy. Good. I don't want any mealy-mouthed suckups in my house -- but you still better watch your mouth, eh?"

Jak grumbled an assent and flicked the last of the flour mixture off his fingers with a shudder. Dark eco hypersensitivity was a special kind of hell. It had been mercifully absent during their time in the convalescence ward, but the heat of the day seemed to be drawing it out again.

"I'm gonna check on M-" Jak caught himself at the last second- "My brother."

"Don't let any caprids in the house," Alma warned dismissively.

"And get your things up to your room! We don't have bellhop service here."

Daxter checked the yeast and tossed some flour onto the counter. "Uh...about that. Yeah, what you see is what you get. We don't have any stuff."

Alma half turned and looked around her kitchen skeptically, as if expecting to see a hidden pile of luggage. When no such baggage appeared, she shook her head -- whether it was in judgement or sympathy wasn't clear.

"When they come get you this evening to show you how to get groceries," she said to Jak, "Tell 'em Alma said you need a clothing allowance."

The room the boys would be renting wasn't particularly large. There was a sink, a tiny cook top, and a low table in one corner, a bathroom in another, and everything else was open space. Some hooks on the rafters suggested that previous tenants had divided the room with curtains for a while. That was probably the most privacy Jak was going to get in a place like this.

At least I don't have any extra clothes to worry about changing into. That definitely lowers the chances of Mar seeing my scars.

Pushed against the far wall, opposite the bathroom, was a low, wide, bed. There were no blankets on it, and the pallet was old and worn. But it was better than most places Jak had slept in Haven, and he wasn't going to complain as long as there was room for all three of them. He sank down onto a corner of the pallet and unlaced his boots with a sigh. As much as everyone kept repeating that he wouldn't be put to work, Jak knew it would only last until they saw what he was capable of. Which would mean he'd be able to keep them fed, but in this kind of heat it would probably be exhausting. Better to take it easy while he could.

[leyavo]

| Cedere Nescio | 1

- “I know not how to yield”

Summary: You’re forced into a union with another Beta, a way to strengthen the connection to another pack and task force. But you do not yield until you get what you want. Can you deny your mate for the rest of your life though?

Beta!reader x Beta!Soap. Angst/hurt comfort/codependency. Fake relationship. Religious symbol with the moon goddess. Loosely based on my previous Drabble. [Masterlist]

[18+] MDNI (eventual smut later on in this part) 4k+words

One year, your Alpha gave you the twelve months to sever your ties with your fated mate. And after everything, you couldn’t seem to break the bond. You’d harmed yourself more than anything, took herbal remedies and fucked other males, but nothing worked.

Not even a day after you’re sitting in the passenger seat of your mates car. The gold moon charm dangling from the rearview mirror, mocking you as he drove in silence. You daren’t look at him, couldn’t stomach the life you’d left behind. Hated that the females were forced to follow the male and insert themselves into a their lives.

Another pack. New traditions, rules and expectations to be learnt. Your mate might be handsome, that or it’s the damned fated tether blinding you and convincing you some ugly bastard’s a looker. He doesn’t say much, knowing that you aren’t exactly fond of the idea of him and you.

Smart, you’ll give him that. Least he’s kept his hands on the steering wheel and away from you. Every now and then his fingers twitched, head angled ever so slightly as he stole a glance at you. There’s no way you’re initiating anything with him, he can fuck all the females he wanted if it means he doesn’t get you. Oh, he has you just not in the traditional sense.

He agreed to your terms. Faking the union and acting like there’s a connection to keep the relationship between your two packs and task force safe. No mating, no ceremony and nothing more than acquaintances.

The base is like any other, a little larger than the one you grew up on. You watched the rolling chain link fence close behind the car as he drove through the check point.

Johnny Mactavish, task force 141. An hour away from your previous home and your childhood friend. The one person you wanted to talk to, but you had to give up in order to be with your mate. You bit back the growl, swallowing the burn at the back of your throat.

You pinched your nose, trying not to let his scent invade your senses. Better not look at him as you climb out of the car, his biceps flexing as he carried your two bags with ease. It’s just the mating bond, you reminded yourself. You hope he can’t hear the increase of your heartbeat.

The residential house’s air stale as you walked over the threshold, particles of dust floating in the air in the morning sun. It’s modest, an open plan living area and kitchen. Stairs leading to two bedrooms and shower room, no bath.

“Ye’ can have the double room,” he said, dumping your bags at the foot of the bed. He doesn’t glance at you, his jaw set in a tight line. It reeked of him, even if he’d tried masking it with an air freshener and new sheets.

“Small will be fine.” You shrugged, brushing off his murmured complaints. He picked up your bags, knuckles red as he grasped the straps tightly. Short fuse, noted. Very on brand for a demolition expert.

You followed, squeezing past him in the hallway and entering the room. A single bed against the wall, desk beside it looking out the square window and a built in wardrobe to the right. Standard military box room for guests, if only you weren’t so permanent. You turned to Johnny lingering in the doorway, but your gaze zeroed in at the crescent moon nailed to the door. Good goddess he must be some religious nut, pinning the moon up and worshiping the goddess. The third one you’d seen since he’d picked you up.

“Thanks, Mactavish.”

You don’t miss the subtle flinch, his last name like a slap in the face. “Sure,” he snapped, disappearing out of sight in a blink of an eye.

The bond twisted your chest, your fist knocking the pesky pang away. You would not feel sorry for him, not when he made you give up everything that you are.

You busied yourself with unpacking your clothes and organising the wardrobe. Placing a framed photo on the desk beside your bed, laptop and books neatly tucked away in the drawer. You stilled as you saw the small blanket at the bottom of your bag, not yours though, your best friends. Your nose trailed the soft fabric, her scent calming your racing heart.

How did you not know she’d snuck it into your bag? You fluffed it up on your bed, placing it over your pillow. The only reminder of your little omega, your one friend. A high pitched whine slipped from your lips and you buried your head into the blanket once again.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose, no noise moving around the house. Johnny no doubt standing still and trying to listen like you are now. Hopefully he didn’t hear your whines, he probably felt the sadness travel down the bond like the snap of a rubber band.

What you’d do to snap at him, but you weren’t sure what hand he’d give you. So you thought better not to.

Your stomach rumbled as you sat up on the bed. The sweet aromas travelling upstairs drawing a groan out of you. Padding down the hallway, you hesitated at the top of the stairs. Johnny would still be down there, but you were too hungry to care. Didn’t get a chance to have breakfast, using most of your time left with your omega.

The closer you get to the kitchen, the more your mouth watered. Johnny’s back is facing you as he dished up the food from the stove. Muscles shifting beneath the stretched fabric of T-shirt. Do not look at his arms, good goddess.

Some sort of lunch, meat which you don’t eat anymore. Anything to keep you out of the canteen and away from the males.

Your nose turning up as you spot the crescent moon tattoo on his forearm, he’s probably thinking you’re judging his cooking. The damned moon is enough to put you off.

“Eat, starve. I don’ care,” he snarled, the bowl clinking on the kitchen side. Whatever he’d prepared for dinner, he looked a good cook.

Lies, of course he cared. You were trying hard not to. Every part of you wanted to, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of giving into the bond. If you crumbled now, you’d snowball into his bed by dinner time.

No you’d leave that for your dreams.

Those same dreams that drench you in sweat each night, your muffled whimpers pressed into the mattress in hopes Johnny doesn’t hear. He doesn’t say anything the next morning, thankfully he got the message on not making you any food. You’ve gone a year without wanting him? What’s the rest of your life? Deny him like he denies you.

Johnny sat opposite you, “meeting the guys for lunch today, remember?” He said, sipping his coffee and glancing up at you from his newspaper. The page hadn’t been turned since you’d slid into the seat.

How could you forget? You grunted in response, pushing the scrambled eggs around your plate.

“Ye’ know you’re gonna have to try harder than that,” he said, cup slamming against the table and coffee sloshing over the side. His restraint is noble, you’ll give him that.

Your previous Alpha would have grabbed the scruff of your neck long before now if you were to treat a male like this. Johnny hadn’t so much lifted a hand or demanded you obey him.

“I know,” you said between a mouthful of food, nodding as you swallowed before continuing. “One kiss,” you raised your pointer finger. “We can touch briefly, but only hand in hand or touching the thigh…lower down Mactavish before you get any ideas.”

If you’re going to keep up the charade, you’d have to allow some sort of fleeting touch.

“Fine,” he grumbled, flicking through the newspaper and tearing the edge. “Just try to keep up with me.”

You don’t bother questioning him, standing from the table and washing your plate. He remained at the table, you could feel his gaze trailing after you as you walked up the stairs.

The small bedroom reminded you of home, of a childhood that moulded you into something you are not. You still struggled to think before acting. Doesn’t matter how hard you tried, you’re hardwired to bite first and beg for forgiveness later. Forever hurting the hand that feeds you for a splinter of control. Your omega the only one that truly saw you.

You eyed yourself in the mirror on the back of the door, palms smoothing down the thin cotton of your dress. Navy bodice and long panel skimming the back of your calves. A dainty floral print decorating the fabric. You could be beautiful, but you feel like a wolf in sheep’s lining.

Nothing could make you something you are not. You glanced at your nails, a habit of checking if there was dirt beneath them. The braid you’d tied swept across your shoulder blades, the only style you bothered to learn growing up.

Shaking yourself out of those memories, you exited the comfort of your own room. The first one you ever called your own. You descended the stairs, pausing on the bottom step as Johnny’s gaze connected with yours.

Goddess, you wicked, cruel thing. He’d swapped his T-shirt for a black button down shirt, the top few open and showing the curls of dark hair on his chest. Long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, straining against the muscle and displaying the moon tattoo. He was breathtaking your mate, minus the ink.

He seemed to share the same sentiment as you, blue eyes trailing down your neck and shoulders, the bare skin he’d not seen before.

“What should I call you?” You asked breaking him out of his thoughts. It’s a simple question, one you never thought you’d ask in your lifetime. Let alone be accepted by a mate.

“Johnny’s ok, wouldn’t want to send you over tha’ edge,” he said, smirk playing on his lips as if he knew you’d refuse any term of endearment.

“Jimmy, right,” you teased, squeezing through the gap of the open door, but Johnny’s hand circled your elbow and yanked you back in. Short fuse, remember.

You raised a brow, gaze darting to his fingers digging into your skin. He removed it, pulling a gold chain from the pocket of his dress pants.

“I am not wearing that.” That bloody crescent moon might as well have been scored into your eyes, the amount of times you’d seen it.

“They won’t believe us if you don’t wear it. My families tradition, to give it to our mate. It’s an honour. Charged it on the last full moon…”

“Bloody hells, give it ‘ere. Don’t need the whole fucking scripture read out to me.” You reached to snatch it from his grasp, but he dodged your attempt. Gesturing for you to turn around so he could put it on for you.

He might as well be collaring you. The chain and crescent moon pendant cool against your chest. His knuckles brushed the nape of your neck, your braid draped over one shoulder and you shivered. As soon as you heard the clip of the clasp you stepped away from him. His touch dizzying, no one told you about the tingles that still danced across your skin in his wake.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mumbled, taking his hand as reached for yours.

You’d met Alpha Price more times than you had Johnny. Still not used to calling him John now though. He wasn’t like the usual alpha’s only asked to be referred to his rank at work and not all the time. Simon Riley was the one to watch, his dark observing gaze narrowed at you and Johnny the entire afternoon. He’d be the one that’d need convincing.

Johnny’s palm rested on your knee under the table, weight keeping your body angled to his. Apparently a good sign that you’re interested in the male. Your jaw ached from smiling so much, head throbbing and voice scratchy as you tried to keep up with their merging conversations.

Kyle seemed the most welcoming, warm hazel eyes holding yours as you spoke to him. You mirrored the softness of his voice back to him. There was something haunting though about his gaze. You could tell something wasn’t right, like part of him wasn’t truly there. Kyle smiled as his mate sat on his lap, the light flitting back to his eyes as she introduced herself. An alpha just as magnetic as him, but she did not have the usual commanding energy surrounding her.

“So what about your parents?” Kyle asked, his hand grasped the back of Johnny’s neck and shook him. “They approve of this one, eh?”

The chatter around the table dwindling to nothing. Your vision blurred, but the squeeze on your knee drew your attention back to room.

“I don’t know my parents, I had a few different guardians here and there till I came of age at sixteen,” you rushed the words out, your finger tracing the stem of your wine glass. Johnny’s hand slid from your knee to your hand in your lap, warmth spreading across your knuckles. His touch soothing the ache in your chest, you didn’t fight it.

“I suppose the moon will decide if he’s good enough,” Price said, winking at you across the table. He turned to Johnny, “suppose we won’t be seeing you tomorrow, since it’s a full moon.”

“You say tha’ like I’m the only one. Kyle still respects tradition,” Johnny chuckled, flinging a hand towards him. “You need to find your mates, goddess knows you might find one if you actually look.”

You don’t keep up with their discussions, all you could focus on was the back of Johnny’s hand brushing the inside of your thigh and his thumb rubbing your knuckles. You fought the urge to move, the heat of your skin burning. Why didn’t anyone tell you how good it felt to be touched by your mate?

No male had ever had this effect on you. How could he sit beside you and not feel the lightning surging through your veins? He turned to you, lips moving and voiced muffled by the blood rushing to your ears.

He leant into you, hot breath fanning against the shell of your ear and whispered. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, tongue heavy and mouth dry that you didn’t bother to speak. Is his head spinning too? Nothing else mattered around you as if you only saw him. You’ve already waved goodbye to his friends, allowing him to guide you home.

As soon you stepped through the front door, your fingers twisted his shirt ripping a button off with it. You pushed him against the wall, his head dipping as his lips met yours. Teeth clinking and noses nudging as you tried to chase his movements.

Johnny’s fingers bunched your dress up to your hips and lifted you from the ground, wrapping your legs around him. He turned, pressing your back to the wall, his palms at the back of your thighs. Your head dropped to his neck, teeth grazing his scenting gland and you bumped your nose into the familiar smell. Like burning cedar and pinewood, the type you used too…snap.

You trailed your canines down to his shoulder and sunk them in to his skin. Blood pooled in your mouth and trickled down your jaw. Johnny stilled, one of his hands cupping the back of your head as his over slid between your bodies and squeezed your locked jaw.

Johnny set you back on your feet, palm covering the wound on his shoulder, but he still stared at you. Silence, his hand shot to the side of your head before you could get away.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low and soft. Something you were not used to.

Your whole body trembled, the blood on your jaw running down your throat. All you could stare at was his red stained shoulder. “I…” you stuttered, “your scent it…I.”

His finger hooked under your chin and tilted your head up. “Come on now, look at me,” he said, tapping your chin for you to comply. “Not in trouble, know what ya’ are.”

What you are, not the best of choice of words. You spat at him, shoving him away and ducked under his arm. “Fuck you, Mactavish!”

“You’re the one that bit me!” He called after you, “we’re all a bit feral.”

Feral, the label slapped on you whenever you did something they didn’t like. Granted, you had just bit him which was frowned upon, but you didn’t appreciate the way that word made you feel. How it alienated you from the pack and kept you in place at the very bottom. Below everyone else, even if you were a beta it didn’t make a different. You were an animal in their eyes. How they used it against you, used you.

"Just a scratch, not like I wont heal by the morning," he said, as if sensing your deep inner turmoil. Maybe the mating bond made him softer and more understanding, because he hasn't made a move since.

So you nod, whispering a goodnight to him as you retreated to your room.

—☽◯☾—

Johnny woke with a start, the weight dropping off his chest and thumping to the mattress beside him. His mouth hung open as his eyes fell on your bare shoulders peaking out of the bedsheets.

You’re sound asleep, now that he thought of it he hadn’t slept the whole night through since he’d joined the military. His knees sunk into the mattress as he leant forward and swept your hair out of your face. He nearly leapt back on closer inspection.

A sheen of sweat covered your forehead, his sheets sticking to you like a second skin. Your honeyed scent both sweet and sickly, a wave of nausea rolling his stomach all thanks to the first phase of your heat.

No wonder you bit him last night.

He’s hoping you’ll sleep for the first day, most females he’d spent heat with normally do. But you’re his mate, so he should be able to soothe the aches and fulfil your needs easily.

Johnny savours the close proximity, lying back down next to you and watching your shoulders move with each breath you took. He doesn’t touch you, no, only if you ask and even he thinks that won’t happen.

He’s glad you sought him out though. That little tiny spec of hope that you’ll warm to him and trust him.

For most of the first day you’re asleep, humming as Johnny dabbed a wet cloth over your forehead. He doesn’t leave your side, knowing his scent grounds you and soothes the headache scrunching between your brows.

He forgets about the full moon ritual, worshipping you instead. Helping you eat some food in the morning on the second day, you’re more clued in. Pushing him away and snapping, nothing out of the ordinary then. It’s the third day he’s waiting for the most, when you’re on last thread and desperate for some sort of release.

Again he’ll only do it if you ask. Part of him thinks you’ll suffer and not even entertain the idea. Not that he’d bring it up either.

So when the third day arrives, he doesn’t stand too close. You daren’t glance at him, nose buried into his pillow and hands twisted in the sheets as you tried to fight that fated pull. Even Johnny can feel the tug against his chest.

“Why’s it hurt so much,” you winced, pawing at your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as the heat burnt yours legs. His necklace still clasped round your neck, he doesn’t let his eyes linger too long in case you remove it.

Johnny doesn’t say the obvious. How fighting the bond just causes the pain to be stronger. If only you’d just give in and let him ease your suffering.

“Need…” you murmured, gasp leaving your lips as your fingers traced your clothed cunt beneath the sheets. It’s a wonder you’ve lasted two day without sex, especially during your heat and Johnny commends you. Praise is probably the last thing on your mind though.

His ears are ringing, bells echoing as your sentence falls a little too short.

“What do ye’ need?” He almost sings.

“Please just for tonight,” you whispered, you didn’t need to ask him twice. That sweet, sweet voice of yours oh so similar to your honeyed scent.

Foreplays out of the window, he can smell your arousal from here. See that you’ve tried to satisfy yourself whilst he was out of the room, but nothings as good as your mate.

He mirrored you, pulling his boxers down as you wriggled out of your underwear. You sat up, tugging him onto the bed by his wrist. His heart is hammering against his chest, fingers shaking as you welcomed him into his bed.

You guided him to lean against the headboard, finger pressing his chest to keep in place as you climbed on top of him and sunk down on his cock.

Johnny’s head fell back and hit the wall, his fingers running up and down your hips as you bounced up and down. Chasing your own high, taking control of your own needs instead waiting for him to see to it.

Your breath is hot on his skin, touch sending tingles in their wake. He doesn’t want you to stop the soft trail of your fingers tracing the curls of his hair on his chest.

“No biting,” you said, grabbing the scruff of his Mohawk before his head could dip to your collar bone.

“No biting,” he said, lips crashing into yours. He moved in sync with you, rolling his hips and driving his cock deeper into your cunt. Your slick coating your legs and sticking to his.

You traced the faint mark of your teeth on his shoulder, but he’s too focused on your trembling legs and the way you slump into his hold. Your release running down his thigh. He didn’t expect you to last long, not when you’ve denied yourself for two whole days and tortured yourself with him in the room. His mere presence sending you off the edge.

“I got ye,” he whispered, hands cradling you in his lap as he slid down the head board and laid you both on the bed on your sides. His cock still buried inside you, chest flush against your back.

Johnny wedged his leg in between yours, one hand massaging your breast and the over trailing down your stomach, towards the nub between your legs. He circles it slowly, pinching the nub as you grind your ass against his hips.

“There we go.” He’s sweet and soft with you, knowing this is for your need and not his. So he keeps it light and doesn’t draw it out. Knows you want the act and not him.

Fucking into you until you’re too tired to move, till you’re fast asleep. Johnny held you, waking only when he’s feels the cold seep back into your flesh. He slipped his T-shirt over you and tucked you back into bed.

Johnny doesn’t linger, no he stood under the cold shower for twenty minutes. His palm against the cold tiles, his head hung low as he looked at his hard dick and waited for it grow soft. He’d be dreaming of last night til the end of time.

He returned to his bedroom, fully clothed and nose turned up at your scent burning his nose. The overpowering stench giving him a headache.

You shifted in the sheets, sending another potent wave of honey over to Johnny. He yanked the sheets off you and nearly came in his boxers as you groaned in response.

He grabbed your upper arm, hoisting you out of his bed and pushing you to the door. “Have a shower or I’ll be the one biting next,” he snapped pointing down the hallway.

Thanks for reading :) this is part one and I’ll be posting the second one after I’ve done the other 141 guys. There might be some mistakes/errors as I’m dyslexic, I do edit a few time but you do miss stuff out - Leya 💋

[vinnylignes]

The Chicago House Scene

How House Music was Born

I recently became a fan of house music and always wondered how it was created. After doing further research I stumbled upon a video called "How House Music Was Born" it was one of the most informational and interesting videos I have watched and talked about how the House music scene in Chicago started.

As disco started to lose its cultural hegemony in the late 1970s and early 1980s, house music's history began. This created a gap that Chicago DJs immediately filled by incorporating funk, soul, and the electronic sounds coming out of Europe. One DJ, Frankie Knuckles, who is frequently referred to as the "Godfather of House," began experimenting with synthesizers and drum machines in the Warehouse, a club located on the west side of the city. He created a new genre that quickly became known as "house" music thanks to his inventive mixing and catchy compositions, which also drew a devoted fan base. It originated as a new version of music for dancing and partying. It emerged during one of the darkest times in the US which was the great depression. The rise in house music was drastic and people would line up outside of clubs just to hear house music for the first time. No one has ever head of this type of music before. Frankie Knuckles a notorious DJ who performed at the warehouse was one of the most popular DJ's for house music at the time.

It was considered as the "coolest underground dance music." They also referred it to a "sound scape". Frankie Knuckles brought in a whole new style of music. Eventually people began to rebel against disco music because they said considered for "Blacks or Gays". On July 12, 1979 There was a night called Disco Demolition Night during an MLB game which resulted in a riot.

Disco sparked a major backlash among the Rock fans at the time. At the climax of the event disco records were being blown up and fans stormed the field in an effort to end disco music. Eventually there was a rise in popularity of house Dj's in Chicago and it all originated from Freddie knuckles. They started learning how to sample music and how to play a smooth DJ set as well as transitioning between songs. Without a question, Chicago has had a lasting impression on the world of music. The city has created an atmosphere that allows house music to flourish, change, and expand its audience, thanks to the contributions of musicians like Frankie Knuckles, Marshall Jefferson, and DJ Pierre as well as current DJs and producers. Chicago's status as the birthplace of house music is still honored and cherished in light of the genre's worldwide renaissance and the emergence of a new generation of house fans and musicians. This was the underground music before underground music was a thing. After doing all this research I think the history behind how House music was made and the House scene is so interesting because of how popular it is today, that it once used to be considered underground and frowned upon. House music provides a beat and soul unlike any other for anyone seeking to experience the real essence of house music. Every dance floor is a haven for those who share a passion for the groove, every beat tells a tale, and every track is a journey. House music is more than simply a genre in the city where it all started; it's a way of life. Here are some of my favorite house songs at this moment.

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Jessica Jones: Following the destruction of Murderworld, Jessica and Arthur look through the debris, finding no lead on the kidnapper, but taking the moment to discuss more sensitive topics.

A flash of gold light faded from the car interior, leaving the man before Jess looking deflated.

Arthur Centino sighed from the middle of their assorted collection of debris. The robotic hand had been the best find, but the rest was a scattering of battered and pulverized office equipment. A burned and bent USB. What must have once been a coffee cup handle. The ripped remnants of some sort of high end fabric. A crushed taser with teeth marks. What might have been pink parasol made of steel. Everything coated in a sickly looking layer of concrete dust.

The man shook his head and clenched the one leather glove he had removed in a white knuckled grip. He'd offered very little explanation to his conspirator, so Jess had the lunchtime entertainment of watching the blond cautiously touch all of their finds one by one. He'd been hesitant, almost reluctant, at first, but had increased in speed and resolve with each new item.

Whatever had happened, it wasn't a victory.

Jessica, somewhat bemused, watched Arthur, her eyebrows coming together as he clutched the glove. She finally broke the silence they'd been sitting in. "Listen, I know you're into some hippie shit because I have literally seen you drink kombucha, but what the fuck are you doing?" Despite the actual words, this was offered almost gently, perhaps to interrupt something she felt was becoming too intense.

Arthur responded with a slow blink, as if clearing clouds from his mind. It took him a moment to refocus. Jess received a soft laugh as Arthur visibly unclenched, coming back to his usual ease. "You know, I'd never thought about what this all looks like from the outside." Another laugh.

Watching Arthur reorient himself had deepened Jessica's frown to something more along the lines of concerned and dubious. "What what looks like?" she asked, a little pointedly - a person who did not enjoy feeling like she was missing the point.

"Oh," he said with a self-critical shake of his head. "Right. I've got psychometry plus the luck."

Jessica closed her eyes and vented a breath through her nose. "Please pretend some of us don't have every mutant power indexed in our heads."

Arthur wiggled his fingers. "I can see memories on objects," his look drifted to somewhere else as he explained, "the past, sometimes the future. Just the strong stuff, really, like how I now know what it feels like to be attacked by a cougar."

"Fucking Sharon," Jessica muttered as her brain processed - the other thing. "Memories on objects. That sounds - inconvenient." She slid a glance toward him, down to the glove in his hands, her expression shuttered. "See anything useful?"

Another sigh through clenched teeth. "Just panic and fear, and only a handful of imprints. I was hoping for more."

"I figured." Jess lifted a shoulder, but her disappointment showed anyway, in the twist of her mouth and the way she looked back down at her own hands. "I figured. Considering the level of that demolition and the organization it'd take to kidnap more than a dozen kids."

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.119 - Pecking Order

Previous Chapter - Masterlist 1; Masterlist 2 - Next Chapter

Simon fires a hostile wrangler from the ranch; Kiera finds the building plans for the building project.

“Blue is proposed water, green is sewer, pink is for driveways, corner buildings are in red, and yellow is for gas. If they were to dam the river, my guess is that it would be up there at that bend.” Tony pointed out while Kiera walked alongside him to view the property for herself.

“That’s exactly where they’re doing it, love.” Simon chimed in as he was holding the copy of the blueprint she had given him to hold on to.

“Is that your property at the bend?”

“It is.”

“Mrs. Riley, I won’t lie to you, but this will have a major impact on your land. Erosion is my biggest concern at this point.”

“My biggest concern is a valley of condos sucking up our river.” Kiera scoffed, a frown decorating her face.

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing that we can do here. On their land, it’s their river.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Tony,” She tilted her head. “That bend as well as the half mile in front of it and behind it runs through our land. 70% of it if I remember right. They only chose the bend because it’s the widest part of the river for the last twenty miles. Guarantee it’s because it’s where it doesn’t freeze in the winter and they can keep sucking on it year-round.”

“You’re probably right, Mrs. Riley, but you can take it to civil court if they propose they operate their mill on that bend if it goes through your land like you say. That’s higher up than what I know, unfortunately, but until then, I can’t stop the river from flowing.”

“I’m not telling you to stop it. We’re going to move it.”

“Wh-? Do you have legal authority to do that?” He asked with genuine concern.

“It’s my land,” She arched her brow. “So since that bend goes through my land, it’s my river.”

“Don’t kill the messenger,” He breathed a chuckle. “You do as you please.”

“I could’ve told you that,” She smirked. “I’ll keep in touch. Thank you for your time.”

Tony nodded, sighing heavily through his nostrils as he watched Kiera and Simon walk towards her truck, Simon opening the passenger side door for her before putting himself into the driver’s seat. “What’re you thinking, love?”

She breathed heavily before looking back at her curious twins in search of her daily reminder to fight for them, smiling at them when Evie flashed a warm smile. “I’m thinking that we’re going to need the help of your demolitions expert.”

“You’re planning on moving the river, aren’t you?”

“Damn right I am. I’m going to ruin his fucking career.”

Simon couldn’t help but chuckle, hearing a scoff come from Kiera’s lips, “I suppose you need to apologize to Baler.”

“Why?”

“You broke the cursing rule.”

“I can break the rule I established, but I can also say it slipped.”

“Mhm, sure you did,” He smirked, reaching over to grasp her hand to bring to his lips, placing a kiss to her knuckles. “What’re our plans for today?”

“Well, it is Saturday. How about we take mom out into town for dinner after Baler gets done with his chores?”

“Sounds good to me. Whatever you want to do, love.”

“Mom needs to spend some time with Baler. She hasn’t seen him all week because of school and his chores. I’m sure she’s dying to get out of the house and do something that doesn’t involve having brunch with Suzanne from work.”

“It’ll be good for her,” Simon nodded. “I’m sure she’s dying to watch the twins.”

“I won’t ask her to unless I really needed to,” Kiera sighed. “I feel so bad for asking her at all. I don’t want to feel like I’m pressuring her—”

“Love, one thing she always told me that she never saw it as a problem to watch them. I’m sure she misses raising her own. I know you’d feel the exact same way when our children are grown – you’ll wish ours will have children of their own so you can spoil theirs.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” She chuckled. “Luckily, we have plenty of time – years – before that happens. I’m not ready to see that yet.”

“You and me both.”

They shared a glance at each other before Simon turned onto the road that led to the ranch’s driveway.

“You think Baler is still at the barn?”

“He should be,” Simon breathed a chuckle. “It’s Saturday, so I’m expecting him to finish his chores early and go to the house to play those bloody video games, knowing him.”

“He still needs to be a kid, babe. Besides, Soap got an Xbox too and he and Baler have been playing online together on Battlefield.”

“Of course, he did.” Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “So when we go down there to check and see if he’s there, if Johnny is nowhere to be found too, well, we’ll know what’s going on.”

“I guess Johnny needs to be a kid sometimes, too.” Kiera snickered, gazing out the window as Simon turned the truck to take the narrow path towards the barn, seeing a few of the wranglers standing in the circle while two others were in the middle, brawling it out as if their lives depended on it.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Simon scoffed, putting the truck in park before opening the door. “Stay here.”

“Simon, that’s Johnny in the middle of that fight!” She pointed, gasping.

“Goddammit,” He grumbled. “He knows better than that shite! Stay here.”

Once Simon got closer to the fight, the wranglers that were just standing there and letting it happen turned to look at him, fear dressing their faces as they stepped aside. As if his anger couldn’t reach much higher, it was when he saw Baler with a busted lip and eyebrow look back at him. Either he started the fight or got in the middle, Simon didn’t care at that moment. The only thing he cared about was that Baler had gotten hurt and Simon wasn’t there to prevent it.

The same went for Johnny. Regardless of if he started it or not, he was easily smaller than the wrangler that was beating him to a pulp and it was Simon’s job to protect him.

Just like Johnny would do for Simon.

Grasping Brady, the larger wrangler’s waist, Simon effortlessly picked him up and threw him into the dirt, kneeling over him before grasping his collar and forcefully shoving him into the wall of the barn, using his left hand to grasp his collar while his right hand balled into a fist before delivering two hard punches into his nose before he pulled him from the wall and shoved him back into the dirt, using his foot to press against the other man’s neck, “What made you think you could put your hands on someone else, huh?” Simon shouted. “Especially another member of your unit?”

“This ain’t the fucking army no more, man!” Brady panted.

“You better be glad this isn’t the army, you wouldn’t make it the first day,” Simon scoffed.

“Bullshit!”

“Prove it to me, then. Get up and show me how you’d fight another man.”

“I already did.”

“Really? Last I saw, you got your nose busted by Johnny over there before I threw your arse in the dirt. Now get up!” He shouted.

Brady huffed before Simon removed his foot from his neck, letting the man stand up while he slowly got his bearings, balling his fist before lunging at the Lieutenant, groaning as Simon grasped the same fist that lunged for him and pushed him back into the side of the barn after delivering a powerful blow to Brady’s gut, punching him in the jaw again before he fell back into the dirt. “Looks like you don’t have much to prove unless it’s running your mouth, lad.”

“Simon, stop!” Kiera intervened, clutching Baler close to her as she cupped his head. “I think you proved your point.”

Simon shook his head as he shook his fist as a last ditch effort to rid the throbbing pain in his knuckles. Panting, he then turned to Johnny, who wiped the blood from his lip on the back of his hand. “Who started it, Soap?”

“Brady did,” Johnny answered. “He tried to push around the kid.”

“What happened?”

“He-He started taunting him and tried to trip him when we were walking back from the arena after putting the horses up. The kid fought back and Brady punched him and then I stepped in and well… You see how that worked out.”

Simon nodded, his anger peaking once more before moving to rough Brady up even more, satisfied by the amount of painful groans to leave his cracked lips, grasping his collar before pushing him up against the nearby fence, “You’re lucky my wife is standing right there or I’d blow your bloody brains out.”

“You wouldn’t do it anyway.” He taunted.

“Don’t make him prove it, Brady,” Frankie commented, crossing his arms over his chest. “He already beat your ass once, don’t make him blow your brains out.”

“Dirk, get this bastard off of this ranch.”

“No, I-I’ll clean stalls or something I—”

“Your last chance was when you decided to push around my son. I’m not having that. Get your shite and fucking leave.” Simon growled, pushing him towards the bunkhouse with a hard shove, nearly making him fall on his knees.

Brady huffed, stumbling towards Baler, who was still being held by Kiera as she wiped away his tears. Scoffing, he then stopped, “You’re lucky your mommy is here to wipe your tears away.” He taunted.

“You leave him alone.” Kiera warned.

“Yeah? What’re you going to do about it?”

Her heartrate sped up when he spoke, the man towering over her in a last-minute attempt to look as dominant as he could after getting beaten into the dirt by Simon himself. “Won’t you put a finger on me and watch me rip your hand off?” She snarled.

Brady scoffed, “I bet you talking back like that is how you got that scar on your face, huh? A lost fight.”

“Hey, don’t talk to my mom like that!” Baler shouted, quickly getting Simon’s attention when he heard Baler’s distress, quickly making his way towards Brady with silent steps, knowing that the man was too stupid to hear him coming.

“What’re you going to do, little lad? Go crying to your daddy?” He taunted.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Simon spoke from behind the man just as tall as him, except Simon was far more broad and damn far more intimidating. Without giving Brady the option to reply, he firmly grasped Brady’s jacket and shoved him so hard towards the bunkhouse that he fell onto his knees, Simon using his boot to push him down again as he tried to get up. “Take Baler to the house.”

“What’re you going to do with him?” Kiera asked, referring to Brady.

“Making sure the bastard leaves and never comes back. That’s what. Take him to the house. I’ll see you in a while.”

She sighed before she nodded, escorting him to the truck before ensuring that he was comfortable enough to walk on his own. Even though he had only gotten punched, a punch from a man twice the size of him directly to his face was enough to stun the teen’s system. “I’m sorry, momma.” Baler admitted, waiting until she began driving before he even said anything.

“Don’t be sorry, baby. You defended yourself and Johnny was going to die trying to defend you. You let those wranglers see what you stood up for and that speaks volumes,” She assured him. “I’ll help you get cleaned up and you can accompany me in the kitchen while I make dinner. I’ll even make dessert first. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good as long as red velvet cookies are what you have planned for dessert.” Baler breathed a laugh.

“I can do that.”

“So… Is dad going to kill him? I heard him say—”

“No, he’s not. He will if he has a reason to, but he’s just going to make sure he leaves the ranch and never puts us on a resume for his next job.”

“But… He did have a reason to, Momma.”

“Yeah, he did, but he knows better.”

“Mom, he would’ve killed him for talking to you the way he did. He roughed him up because he found out he hurt me and Johnny, but he would’ve killed him if I wouldn’t have been there to see it.”

Kiera’s heart fluttered at the thought, knowing that Baler was right with his assumption. “Well, I guess we’re just glad we left when we did then, huh?”

“When we hear a gunshot go off, I think we’ll have our answer.” Baler shrugged.

“Probably. You think you can help me by taking one of the kids in so I don’t have to make two trips?”

“Sure, but can I carry Evie? Jacob drools on me every time.”

“Of course,” Kiera giggled. “Come on, let’s get inside. Looks like a storm coming over those mountains.”

“Thank God I got my chores done…”

*

“Hurry up, bastard, I don’t have all day.” Simon barked from the door of the bunkhouse, watching Brady lazily pack his only duffel bag.

He was waiting for Brady to give Simon another reason to punch to his gut, but much to Simon’s disappointment, the remark never came.

“Where are you taking him?” Dirk spoke lowly as he approached Simon, Johnny sitting on the couch while Teeter tended to his wounds.

“I don’t know yet. Anywhere far from here.”

“You can take him to the bus station in town, but he’s been here for a few years and has seen a lot,” Dirk shook his head. “With as mad as he is, I’m afraid he’ll talk.”

“Talk about what exactly?” Simon scoffed. “It’s not like we’ve killed people on this ranch.”

“You haven’t, sir,” Dirk corrected. “But before you came along, he did a lot of things for Bud. He got his hands dirty if you know what I mean.”

“Well, would you rather handle it, then?” He asked.

“Of course I can, sir,” Dirk nodded, patting Simon on the shoulder. “I’ll get it taken care of. Get back home to your wife.”

Simon nodded, putting his foot behind him to turn towards the door before he spoke to Johnny, “You need anything, mate?”

“N-No, I’ll be alright, L.T,” He nodded. “You did more damage than what he did to me, I can assure you.”

“Alright, then. Well, thank you, sir.” He said to Dirk, reaching out to shake his hand before Dirk smiled through his mustache.

“Dirk. Sir is too formal for me,” He chuckled. “I’m at your service.”

“Dirk,” He nodded in correction. “Thank you.”

“Ow! Momma!” Baler shouted in pain as he sat on the arm of the couch while Kiera stood at his knees, cupping his chin as she dabbed a cotton swab of alcohol against his busted lip.

“It’s going to hurt, baby,” Kiera cooed. “I can assure you that a busted lip isn’t that bad. It’ll be numb for a bit but you’ll be as good as new after a week.”

“Doesn’t fucking feel like it!”

Kiera pressed the alcohol-soaked swab against his lip again, making him wince at his vulgar language, “Language.”

“I think I remember telling you that you owed the lad an apology, love.” Simon snickered from the door, hanging his jacket up on the hanger before ridding his feet of his boots at the door before meeting her in the living room as she tended to Baler.

“What did you do?” The teen questioned.

“Nothing—”

“Your mum dropped the f-bomb this morning in front of the twins.” Simon answered.

“Ah, ah, ahh!” Baler taunted. “Breaking your own rules, I see!”

“It slipped—”

“Yeah, well so did I just now!”

“Alright, you know what? Simon, hold this q-tip against his lip while I go get some whiskey and a towel for him to bite on—”

“What?!”

“Extra measure. Whiskey will hurt more.”

“N-No, I’ll man up and deal with the rubbing alcohol.” Baler nodded.

“That’s what I thought,” Kiera hummed. “Besides, you’d rather me dress your wounds instead of your dad here. He’d hold you down and not give you a choice.”

“I don’t doubt it…”

“Where are the twins, love?”

“They’re in their crib for the night. I fed them while Baler took a shower. After I get him cleaned up, I promised to make dessert before dinner.”

“I think he’s earned dessert before dinner.”

“I sure did. I may have not been able to take a punch like a man, but I sure did get up.”

“That’s what’s important, lad. You defended yourself and risked it again just to protect your mum.”

“If you can’t, then someone needs to when she can’t defend herself.”

Simon smirked, watching Baler close his eyes as Kiera’s delicate fingers cleaned the scuffs on his face, putting the unused medical utensils away before removing her latex gloves. “You can go to your room to play your Xbox if you want, baby. I have Simon here to keep me company while I make dinner.”

“Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered,” She smiled. “I’ll come and get you when the cookies are ready. In fact, I’ll even bring you the first one.”

“Cream cheese icing?”

“I’ll bring the fucking bowl.” She whispered, winning a laugh from him before he excused himself towards his bedroom.

“Does that mean I get my dessert before dinner?” Simon whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder.

She hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder as his warmth pressed against her back, keeping her secure. “Of course. After dinner.”

“Always a bloody tease.”

“Gotta keep it fresh, babe.”

“It’s like that even without you testing me, love.”

[writingbylee]

*cracks knuckles while sitting at my work desk*

i’m going in boys

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH spoilers and rambles and more under the cut!

okay okay okay I KNOW THIS IS LATE AND I’M SORRY FOR THAT BUT HERE WE GOOOOOOOO

first things first, actual quotes that i pulled

Life was good. As good as it had ever been in all the time Chuckles could remember.

LISTEN i read the tags and the warnings but EVEN IF I DIDN’T this right here makes me so goddamn nervous. i don’t trust ANYTHING

Chuckles huffed a laugh before leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

how dare this man be so goddamn soft and so goddamn filthy in the same two seconds

“Not a bad decorations job for a demolitions expert,” Chuckles joked, nudging Lu with a shoulder. 

AHHHHH i totally did NOT catch this foreshadowing on my first read!! KARRDE YOU SNEAKY TALENTED BITCH I LOVE YOU

and then unhinged ramblings

CHUCKLES AGG

that’s all

FUCKING EMPIRE DAY?????? first of all— holy shit i cannot believe that it’s been a whole year for them! so much has happened and those poor kids have gone through so much and now i’m thinking about Nita and Arni having to watch people celebrate the death of their culture and MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

i’m stressed

hehehehhehhehe Chuckles got CAUGHT. catch me playing a rendition of “Hot for Teacher” in my head during that section.

i love reading about how Chuckles redid the cargo hold!! all the little details about how the two sides are similar but different depending on which kid’s side it is!! all the thought behind it from the other adults!!! the whole thing is amazing, and an honest pleasure to read

GOD reading that conversation between Chuckles and Arni HURT ME. Arni is so wise for their young age and they are clearly worried about how Endi fits into their family and how that changes the way Chuckles sees things.

BRIENNA MENTION. BOLTS. MY BELOVED.

listen i love him and Endi, i really do. i think she’s really good for him, apart from the whole she’s teaching his kids thing. with that said!!! i miss Bolts. where is she? is she alright? is she safe?

Nita hugging Chuckles after he talks about how he’s happy that he found them and kept them safe— MY HEART.

oooooo i see you, Arni, the anger is getting to them. hopefully Chuckles can help them find a healthy way the channel it, rather than them stewing in it and it leading to… other things.

OKAY WAIT HEY NO NOPE THAT IS A BAD IDEA NO NO DARK SIDE FOR ARNI

the hide and seek memory??? that’s literally amazing— Nita you little sneaky sneak

i don’t LIKE IT. What do Anj and Helly know? what’s up with Lu? family stuff? why do i not believe that? WHAT IS HAPPENING???

why are the imperial inspectors early?????? why don’t they like jokes??????? WHY AM I SO CONCERNED?????

did Lu just slip something into Chuckles’ pocket? why is he being so weird?? why is he saying all these things???

OH SHIT OH NO OH FUCK

i just remembered the tags for this chapter

ANJ NO!!

OH GOD OH SHIT OH FUCK

omg omg omg okay okay okay i am gonna lose my SHIT

Chuckles shielding Anj and Helly with his body makes me want to CRY

Chuckles recognizing the tone of Lu’s voice because it reminded him of Crater????? i’m dead on the FLOOR

a wrap up note? kinda?

i literally have no more words holy SHIT KARRDE. honestly very happy that i can go read the next chapter right now because I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AHHHHHHHH

One Step at a Time - Part 13

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: ALRIGHT STRAP IN KIDS. Please heed the warnings on this one if you have any material you find triggering. This one is QUITE a ride. As always, thank you to the STUPENDOUS @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta reading this for me!

Chapter Rating: E (you can read the M version of this chapter on AO3 when I get it posted)

Warnings: PiV sex, language, canon-typical violence, suicide, character death

Word Count: 8.8k words

Life was good. As good as it had ever been in all the time Chuckles could remember. 

There was a comfort that came with falling into a routine. Chuckles would drop the kids off at school in the mornings, go to work in the mine, and then return in the evening to walk Arni and Nita home from school. Sometimes they’d stop by Grinz’s to stock up, sometimes Helly, Anj, and occasionally Lu would come over for dinner, and sometimes it would be just the three of them before the kids would go to bed. 

Then, Chuckles would head to Endi’s apartment. 

Those visits varied in how they started, but always ended the same: with Chuckles fucking Endi like it was what he’d looked forward to all day. Everything still felt so new and exciting, and the two of them could hardly keep their hands off one another. They did their best to fit some casual conversation in, asking one another about their day and talking about mundane things like the weather, allowing the tension to grow and blossom until it snapped. 

Tonight, Endi had invited Chuckles over under the pretense of sharing a pie she’d baked that day after school. He’d appeared on her doorstep in the dark, and she’d answered the door in a short, satiny robe that didn’t appear to have anything underneath. Chuckles had waited patiently, sitting across from her in her kitchen as she set a plate in front of him, carefully placing a dollop of fresh cream on the flaky crust. He’d eaten slowly as she watched and made idle conversation, never breaking eye contact as he licked his fork clean. 

As soon as the last crumb had disappeared and the plates had been cleared away, Chuckles had grabbed Endi with a playful growl and pulled her robe open, confirming his suspicions that she was wearing nothing underneath. She’d giggled breathlessly and he’d groaned as his hands squeezed her breasts, his lips finding the curve of her shoulder and sucking a bruise into her skin before he bent her over the table and buried himself inside of her in one stroke. The table creaked underneath them as he set a frantic pace, the legs scraping against the hard floor until the tabletop was bumping against the wall with every snap of Chuckles’s hips. He stared down at where they were joined and smirked. 

“Fuck, your pussy’s creamy tonight, Endoline,” he growled, admiring the white coating her cunt was leaving on his shaft between strokes. “Could have dipped my fingers in you and topped my pie with this instead.” His cock glistened in the kitchen light as he withdrew for a moment before slamming back into her with an echoing slap that drew a moan from her. “You think about me today, sweetheart?”

“All… all day,” she stuttered out. 

“Did you touch yourself?”

“N-no. Wanted t-to wait for you.” 

He leaned over her, caging her in as he planted his palms on either side of her on the tabletop. Some sweat trickled down the tip of his nose, dripping onto the skin between her shoulder blades. Chuckles ran his tongue along her spine, swiping away the moisture as he tasted the salt of her sweat-slicked skin. 

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Was it worth the wait?”

She shuddered underneath him. “Gods above, yes.” 

Chuckles grinned as he gripped her hips and readjusted his angle, easily finding the place inside of her that he’d become well-acquainted with over the last month and a half, and within moments, he had her coming undone beneath him. Endi collapsed on the table as he finished inside of her, barely managing to brace his palms against the wooden surface again as his cock slipped from her. Some of his spend dribbled back out from between the swollen lips of her cunt, spattering on the floor. 

“Looks… looks like we made a mess,” Endi panted with a dopey grin on her face, turning her head to meet his gaze over her shoulder. 

Chuckles huffed a laugh before leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. 

“Well then we’d better get ourselves cleaned up, huh?”

He wiped the evidence of their activities off of the floor quickly before scooping Endi into his arms and carrying her to her small refresher. It was only slightly larger than the one on the Starlight, but it did have a decent-sized bathtub pushed into one corner, which Chuckles filled with hot water before helping Endi in. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped in behind her, settling down and pulling her back against his chest. He pressed his hands to her stomach under the water, pulling her close and inhaling deeply into her hair. 

“Missed you today,” he whispered. 

This had become part of his routine too, and he enjoyed it almost as much as the sex. Almost.

“You just saw me last night,” she teased, reaching for a hair tie and starting to pile her hair on top of her head. 

“Let me,” Chuckles said, taking the thin band from her hand. Gently, he gathered her dark curls, combing through them carefully with his fingers until he had managed to smooth out the bumps and ridges in her hair. 

“You’ve been practicing,” she hummed. 

“What do you mean been practicing?” Chuckles giggled. “This is the practice. You’re far more patient than Nita will ever be. But I’ve at least gotten alright at doing buns.” 

“Are they even when you do two of them?”

“Still working on that,” he muttered, and Endi laughed in response. 

“You’ll get it.”

“And until then, I have Arni.”

Chuckles tied her hair up before leaning forward to kiss the back of her neck, squeezing her tightly again. Endi leaned back against him, sinking lower into the water so she could rest her head against his shoulder. She took his hand between hers, rubbing at some of the dust and grime that had settled into his callouses from the mine. 

“Something’s bothering you,” she noted quietly. 

Chuckles sighed. A lot of things were bothering him, but he wasn’t certain how many he wanted to burden her with. Everything had been easy so far, with the two of them still figuring one another out and how they fit together. There’d be time to talk about all of the secrets he kept locked away and the deeper topics, but at least for now, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement to just have fun with one another. He picked through his long list of concerns, choosing a more trivial one to reveal. 

“Nita’s birthday is next week,” he sighed. 

“And you’ve got it all planned well in advance,” Endi countered. “You’ve met all of her demands, and I think she’s going to be terribly excited to get her own bed.” 

After some debate, Chuckles had decided to reveal the decorated and furnished cargo hold to the younglings for Nita’s birthday. The deliveries had lined up almost perfectly with the date, and as long as Grinz could track down some bedding this week, everything would be in order. He knew the little Pantoran was going to love it, on top of all of the other gifts she was getting. A surprise would have been impossible; Nita had practically been counting the days since Arni’s birthday party, and she had very specific expectations for her own celebration. Luckily, none of them had been too far-fetched, and the only one Chuckles had said ‘no’ to was a pet tooka. Nita had been disappointed, but that had been short-lived as she’d moved on to planning the types of snacks she’d wanted, and Grinz had promised to deliver on every item. Endi had even promised to make the cream puffs Nita has become enamored with in the last few months, which may have been the real achievement that overshadowed the tooka debacle.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “As always.” He gripped her hand, pulling it to his lips and brushing a kiss over her knuckles.

“Are you nervous about telling them about us then?” 

They still hadn’t disclosed their relationship to Arni and Nita, but Chuckles knew the time for that discussion was fast approaching. Arni was starting to question where he went at night, and had even caught him sneaking home once just before dawn. They hadn’t directly asked him about it, but he didn’t want to feel like he was lying to them. He and Endi had talked about the right time to tell them, and they’d decided to do it after Nita’s birthday so as not to take away from the day. Deep down, Chuckles had also wanted to wait until after just in case the kids didn’t take it well. There was no reason to think they wouldn’t; by all accounts, they enjoyed school and liked their teacher. But he still couldn’t shake off all the nerves. 

“Not as nervous as I was, but not completely settled,” he admitted. 

“So what’s got you wound so tightly?” Endi asked, switching to his other hand and massaging his joints with her thumbs. “You feel as though you’ve got something on your mind.”

A twinge of guilt twisted his gut. 

Am I ruining my time with her? 

He rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Or talk about it if you don’t want to. I just want to be supportive if I can.” 

Chuckles flushed with heat that made the water feel cool. Slipping his finger under her chin, he gently tilted her head towards him, raising her lips to his and pecking them lightly. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” 

“You’re deflecting with flattery.”

“You’re not supposed to notice that.”

“Chuckles.” 

He sighed, unsure of how to broach the topic. As well as things were going, he still wasn’t ready to tell Endi everything. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, it just didn’t feel like the right time yet. He wanted to wait until he was more certain of how she’d react. Finding out you were sleeping with a traitor to the Empire who happened to be harboring two Jedi youngling fugitives wasn’t exactly something that could be taken lightly. In fact, chances were good it would completely upend her life. 

The time would come where he’d be ready to tell her, he was sure of it. He felt that he owed her that honesty if things got serious enough, to the point where they were building a life together. He’d told Ry and Oks after all. But that was definitely a discussion for another day, even if that secret was connected to what was bothering him right now. 

“The one year anniversary of the end of the war is coming up,” he said quietly, choosing his words carefully. There had been rumors that the Imperials were planning a galaxy-wide holiday to commemorate the day, and the thought of celebrating at all turned Chuckles’s stomach. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how the kids felt about it. 

Endi nodded, seemingly choosing her words cautiously as well. “I imagine that was quite a day for you, even being discharged.” 

You have no idea.

“It was,” he agreed. “There’s…a lot of memories there. And for the kids, it’ll be a reminder of them losing their family.” 

“And them gaining a new one in you,” Endi said softly. “Maybe you choose to celebrate that rather than dwell on the bad memories. Celebrate the brothers that you lost and all they fought for. And celebrate your family coming together.” 

Chuckles mulled through it in his mind. It was an approach he hadn’t considered. “That’s not a half-bad idea,” he said. “I think the kids will like that.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, and he felt her quiver slightly as he pulled her close. “Thank you,” he mumbled against her lips. 

“That’s what partners are for,” she replied. 

“Is that what we are?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re my only suitor.” 

“Not the only suitor,” he countered. “There are plenty in this town that make eyes at you, whether or not you know it. And I can’t say that I blame them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, then you’re the only suitor I’m interested in. And the only one I’ve shared a bed with.” She turned, straddling his lap, and he felt his cock brush her core. His hands rested on her hips as he hardened underneath her. The water lapped at the sides of the tub, disturbed from the rocking of Endi’s hips as she rubbed against his length. “You’re the only suitor that’s ever been in this tub with me, and you’re the only one I’m asking to fuck me.”

“Are you asking, Endoline?” The head of his cock caught at her entrance, and he held her still, gently flexing his hips so that the tip breached her cunt just enough to make her mouth fall open. 

“Please,” she whined. “Please take me again.”

He pulled her down onto him, spearing her on his length. Some of the water splashed over the edge of the tub, and she tipped her head back with a moan. 

“We’re going to make another mess,” she teased breathlessly. 

He leaned forward, cradling her ass as his tongue flicked against her nipple, sending another rippling shudder through her. 

“Good.”

—

“It’s PERFECT!” 

Chuckles released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as Nita squealed with delight, her golden eyes sparkling as she took in the party decorations. He, Endi, Anj, Helly, and Lu had gotten up incredibly early to decorate the outside of the Starlight and set up for Nita’s birthday celebration. While Chuck and Lu had strung streamers and decorations from the side of the ship, creating a sort of outdoor canopy, Endi had put the finishing touches on the baked goods she’d pulled together the night before. At the same time, Helly and Anj had snuck down to the hold to put the finishing touches on the younglings’ new bedroom. They’d managed to sneak back up to the kitchenette and brew some caf just before Nita came marching in, clearly ready to face the day. She was so excited, they’d immediately taken her outside for an inspection, which she conducted thoroughly before clapping her hands excitedly, dancing around in the dirt and giggling. 

She hadn’t wanted anything large in terms of attendance; just a few of her friends from school, Arni, and the sleepy adults that were now sipping caf with relieved smiles. Nita ran to each of them, hugging them hard and shouting her thanks. She slammed into Lu with such a force that she almost knocked the mug of caf from his hand, but he recovered, giving her one of his rare, quiet smiles. 

“Not a bad decorations job for a demolitions expert,” Chuckles joked, nudging Lu with a shoulder. 

Lu smiled quietly, shrugging his shoulders as Nita released him. Anj was more prepared for Nita’s embrace, squatting down and bracing herself as the little Pantoran flew into her arms. 

“Glad you like it, Little Star,” she chuckled, tousling Nita’s silver curls. “Now let’s go get Hells to braid your hair the way you like before everyone gets here.” 

Helly had been experimenting with different styles for Nita’s hair, and the little Pantoran seemed to love sitting while Helly’s nimble and gentle fingers wove intricate braids and patterns into her silver tresses. Today, Helly had brought some fresh flowers to weave into the braids, and Nita sat on a stool, swinging her legs as Helly worked. Arni was watching carefully, asking questions so they could try to recreate it later. Chuckles leaned against the wall, smiling into his cup as he watched his family. 

Settled. Finally.

A warm hand pressed against the small of his back. 

“Want a top off?” Endi asked quietly. 

Chuckles offered her his cup, and she emptied the rest of the caf press into it. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

“You did great pulling this together,” she said softly. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you all,” he replied. “And now, I might have a real bed to sleep in tonight for the first time in a year.” 

“That reminds me. I’ve got something for you.”

Chuckles raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but Endi beckoned him back to the kitchenette. He followed, setting his mug on the small countertop. Endi crouched down, digging in her bag until she pulled out a parcel that was wrapped with ribbons. She handed it to him with a small smile.

“For you.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

She shrugged, and he smirked before opening it. Inside, there were two sets of sheets, and when he ran his thumb over the fabric, Chuckles knew it would be the softest thing he’d ever slept on. One set was a dark red and one a light blue, and he glanced up at her. She ducked her head shyly.

“Consider it a housewarming gift. Well, I guess a bedwarming…” her voice drifted off, and she flushed as she realized what she’d said. 

Chuck glanced out the door for a moment, confirming no one was paying attention before he closed the distance between them, pinning her against the table she was leaning against. His knuckle slipped under her chin, and he grinned as the purple flush in her cheeks grew deeper, highlighting her freckles. 

“I’ve got a better idea of how you can warm my bed, Endoline. Not that I don’t appreciate the sheets.” 

“Chuckles,” she gasped, her voice hitching slightly as he nuzzled against her throat. 

“I may save these until the first time you sleep over, so we can break them in together,” he rasped into her ear, her curls tickling his nose. He felt her shudder as his hand slid around the back of her neck. He pressed his lips against her pulsepoint and felt it hammering. He grinned. 

“Endoline, I-”

“Nita’s asking if you’re ready to go outside and play games.”

Endi and Chuckles flew apart. Endi turned her back, straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair, trying to hide her face. Chuckles met Arni’s gaze, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks as he hurriedly wiped his mouth. The young Twi’lek’s gaze flicked between the two of them, and they ducked their head. 

“Yeah. That’s great. We���ll be right there, kid,” Chuck managed, suddenly feeling winded. 

Arni nodded, turning and hurriedly making their exit. Chuckles could hear everyone else exiting the ship, and when the noise faded with their departure, he turned and met Endi’s eyes. The two of them burst into nervous giggles at the same time, Chuckles rubbing his neck as Endi covered her face to muffle her laughter. 

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve been found out,” she said, her voice muffled behind her hands. 

Chuckles smiled, pulling her hands from her flushed face and resting his forehead against hers. 

“If anyone was going to figure it out, it was going to be Arni anyway.” He sighed, letting out a nervous giggle of his own. “Seems like it might be time to let them both in on the secret.” 

Her golden eyes searched his. “Are you alright with that?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. He brought her hands up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “No more hiding?”

“No more hiding,” she agreed. “But let’s wait until after the party. I don’t want anything to take away from Nita’s day.”

Chuckles grinned, but something about the way Arni had looked at the two of them was nagging at him. He buried it quickly, taking Endi’s hand and leading her outside. 

—

The party went off without a hitch. By the end of it, Chuckles was almost worried Nita wouldn’t stay awake long enough to see the new bedroom. Her eyelids were drooping as she bid her guests farewell, but she wore a satisfied smile. His heart warmed as she made the rounds again to thank everyone that had helped set things up, and he could see her confusion when they didn’t leave along with her friends.

“Better move fast or she won’t be awake to appreciate it,” Anj teased him with a nudge. 

“You’re right,” he agreed. He roared playfully, scooping Nita into his arms, and she squealed with surprise, breaking into a fit of giggles. 

“Can’t go to sleep yet, Honey. We’ve got one more surprise for you. Arni too.” 

The Twi’lek paused mid-bite of a creampuff, eyes widening in curiosity. 

“Come on,” Chuck said, reaching an arm out for them. “Let’s go show you before little one nods off.” Arni slipped under his arm, and the three of them headed back into the ship, followed by Lu, Anj, Helly, and Endi. 

Chuckles felt Nita stiffen when she figured out where they were going. 

“That place is scary, Chuckles,” she murmured. 

“It’s not as scary anymore,” he replied, keying the unlock code to the door. “Chased out all the ghosts with Anj.” 

“You promise?”

He offered her his pinky, and she took it, interlocking it with hers. Chuckles set her on the floor, and he could see her steeling herself as the door hissed open. He nudged her inside, pulling Arni in behind them before slapping on the lights. 

All of Nita and Arni’s nerves evaporated, immediately replaced with wonder as the glass decorations glinted in the light cast by the strings that were woven back and forth over the ceiling of the hold. Nita ran to the edge of the railing, looking down into the new bedroom. Two bed were pushed against the opposite walls with their own sets of sheets and pillows. The middle had a large rug, already covered with the gifts Nita had received at her party. Lu and Helly had quietly whisked them away and set them up while Nita was distracted. 

It was apparent which side was meant for which youngling. One had a small desk with Arni’s colored pencils, journals, and datapad neatly placed on its surface. On the shelves above their bed sat several specimens Helly had donated after noting Arni’s interest in them. The stone Endi had given them was placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Nita’s side was decorated with flowers and stars that hung over her bed in an array. A small cupboard that Lu had built sat against the wall, the inside stocked with some of her favorite snacks. Her trooper doll laid against the pillow. Lu had also built matching sets of drawers, which contained the sets of clothing that they’d accrued during their time together. Chuckles had worried that the large space would seem sparse, but the sheer joy on the two younglings’ faces put his face at ease. He owed more favors than he could count and would be paying Grinz back through odd jobs for a while, but it was all worth it. 

“Is… is this ours?” Arni asked hesitantly. 

“All yours,” Chuckles confirmed. “Room for you two to grow into. And no one will be elbowing anyone else or leaving crumbs in the other’s sleeping space.” 

Arni’s arms were around him in an instant, their face buried in his chest as they hugged him hard. Nita wrapped herself around his right leg, stepping on his toes in the process, but he couldn’t be bothered to care as he hugged them both back. 

“Anj, Helly, Lu, and Endi all helped with this. Grinz too,” he said. “Couldn’t have done it without them.” 

The two younglings immediately flew to the other adults, thanking them and hugging them. Chuckles watched Arni and noted they were a little stiff when they hugged Endi. 

Probably just because they caught us earlier. Maybe telling them both will ease that tension so Arni doesn’t feel like they need to keep it a secret.

“Well, let’s not all stand here gawking. Let’s go get your stuff out of the old bed so you can put it in your new room!” Anj crowed, and the two younglings were off like a shot, squealing as they raced back down the hallway. 

They spent the next hour moving the children into their new room, Anj and Lu helping while Helly and Endi put things away and Chuck showed them all the new items with pride. The adrenaline was short-lived for Nita, and Chuck could see her eyeing her new bed. The other adults took their cue, bidding the kids one last good night before filing out. Chuckles caught Endi’s eye from across the room, and she nodded, giving him a wink. 

Now’s as good a time as any I suppose.

Chuckles waited until it was just him, Endi, and the younglings. He could see Arni glance between the two of them nervously. Nita was too busy cataloging her snacks to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

Chuckles cleared his throat. 

“I… I’ve got something I’d like to tell the two of you, if that’s alright.”

Nita turned to look at him, her hand already in a bag of Cinnamon Poppers. Arni straightened.

“I know at least one of you has already pieced this together, but I wanted to be upfront about it. Now that it… well, it seems to be going well.” He was suddenly nervous, and Endi came to his side. Her presence calmed him, and he felt her hand on his back again. He wet his lips and continued. “You two are my family, and it’s important to me that we’re honest with each other about things, so I want you to know if there’s another person that’s important to me.” He let his hand slide down and find Endi’s as he turned to meet her gaze. “And in the last few months, Teacher Endi has become pretty important to me. We’ve been spending some time together, and I’d like to spend more with her around the two of you. If that’s alright.” 

Nita’s eyes were wide as she chewed her snacks. Arni was still watching the two of them carefully. 

“Are you in love?” Nita finally asked. 

Chuck’s face felt hot as he fumbled for words. “I… we… well…”

“Your father and I are still figuring out how we feel about one another,” Endi cut in. “It’s still early, but we care very much for one another. I like him quite a bit.” 

Chuckles shot her a grateful look, and she winked at him, squeezing his hand gently in reassurance.

He turned to face the younglings, his family. His palms were sweating. “So?”

Nita stared for a moment before breaking into a fit of excited giggles. She ran forward, hugging Endi tightly around the waist. Endi didn’t hesitate for a moment, hugging her back. Chuck turned to Arni. When they saw him looking at them, they hurriedly stepped forward and hugged Endi as well, just as stiffly as earlier. Chuckles’s brow furrowed in concern. 

If Endi noticed, she didn’t say anything. As the younglings shuffled off to get ready for bed, she turned to Chuckles. 

“Thank you for a lovely time. And for this.” 

“You’re not staying?”

She smiled, resting her hand against his cheek. “You’ve just dropped a lot on them. I think seeing me at breakfast would be rather jarring, don’t you?” 

He huffed, resting his forehead against hers. 

“You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

“It’s a requirement for the job,” she teased. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Good night, Chuckles.”

“Good night, Endoline.” 

The two younglings returned as Endi slipped out the door, and Chuckles tucked them both in. Nita was asleep before her head could even warm the pillow, her trooper doll tucked under one arm. Chuckles waited until she was snoring to sit next to Arni on their bed. They had their light still on, their latest sketchbook balanced on their knees. As Chuckles sat down beside them, he caught a glimpse of Anj’s sharp teeth and Helly’s bright eyes, easily recognizable as Arni depicted them, carefully shading each of Anj’s tendrils. 

“That from today?” 

They nodded. “They seemed really happy. Like you and Endi.” 

Chuckles scooted closer until their shoulders were touching. “I think they are. But that’s still a secret.” 

Arni nodded again but didn’t say anything. Chuckles felt himself grow nervous again. “Are… are you happy about this kid? You seem like something’s on your mind.” 

Their pencil paused on the page, and he could practically hear the gears turning in their head. “It was just… I didn’t expect it, I guess. And I don’t think I ever considered what it would be like if you had someone. Not th-that you can’t. I want you to be happy. I just never thought about what it would feel like.”

“How does it feel?”

They finally looked up at him. “Just… different. Something to get used to.” 

There was something that they weren’t saying. Chuckles wasn’t sure if they just couldn’t articulate it correctly or if they didn’t want to, but either way, he knew better than to push. Arni would come around in time if they felt it was important enough to share. His heart fell slightly, his worries not really assuaged. 

Endi was right to go home. The kid needs some time to adjust. Maybe we all do.

“Are you happy?” 

Arni’s question surprised him, and when he looked at them again, their brown eyes were wide, expectant, watching him carefully. 

“I am,” he replied. “And not just because of Endi. But she is a factor in that.” 

Arni nodded, clearly turning the information over in their mind before reaching a conclusion.“Then I’m happy for you, Chuckles. You deserve to be happy.”

“Are you happy, Arni?”

They gave him a small smile. “Of course.” 

The way they said it, as if it were a given, unsettled Chuckles slightly. It felt like they were satisfying an expectation rather than being honest, but the young Twi’lek had already turned back to their sketchbook, their pencil scraping across the drawing once more, clearly considering the matter settled. 

The won’t want you to push. Something to keep an eye on. Another conversation for a different time.

Chuckles ruffled their lekku before pulling them into a hug. “G’night, kid. Don’t stay up too late.” 

“Night,” they replied. 

Chuckles shuffled up the stairs and to the bunk, unwrapping the light blue set of sheets. As he shook them out, he was immediately inundated with the familiar, gentle scent of vanilla and perfume. Bringing the sheets to his nose, he inhaled deeply, grinning into the fabric. 

They smelled like her. 

A scrap of flimsi fluttered to the floor from where it had been tucked into the folded sheet. He picked it up, his smile widening as he read the words. 

When they stop smelling like me, let me know. I’ll come over and renew it so you don’t miss me. 

- Endi

—-

The one year anniversary of the Republic’s fall, or Empire Day as it was apparently being called, approached faster than Chuckles could have anticipated. As predicted, the galaxy was preparing celebrations to mark the day. Many of the miners and their families were planning to head into the nearby capital city to observe the celebrations. Endi had tried to get Chuckles to go, thinking that the ceremonies and parades would give the children better memories, but when he’d still declined, she’d been understanding. He’d pushed her to go on her own, not wanting to weigh her down or make her feel like she had to stay behind because of him, and he was relieved when she finally relented. 

“Just don’t let any of your other suitors charm you while you’re up there,” he teased in bed one night as they lay snuggled together. It was the third time she’d slept on the Starlight and the first night they’d had the ship to themselves, Arni and Nita being out stargazing and camping with one of their classmate’s family. Chuckles and Endi had taken full advantage of the quiet, and now lay curled around one another as the sheets stuck to their sweaty skin. 

Endi pushed her curls out of her eyes to poke him in the ribs. “How many times do I have to assure you that you’re the only one I’m interested in?” she teased. 

“Yeah, but I’m also the one being the downer about the celebration.”

“I told you already; I understand. Take care of Arni and Nita. We’ll have time when I get back.”

His chest had bloomed with warmth before he’d rolled Endi underneath him and taken her again. 

How did I get so lucky?

He prayed to whatever deities were listening that luck would be on his side again today, the one year anniversary of his world and Arni and Nita’s being turned on its head. Chuckles was terrified of saying the wrong thing, of mentioning something that would rip old wounds open. The kids hadn’t said anything to him, but he had noted a slight stoop to Arni’s shoulders, as if the weight of the day had slowly grown as it approached. Nita still bubbled about, but there was something that seemed forced about it, as if keeping a smile on her face would keep everything else she was feeling at bay.

It would clearly be impossible to just pretend it was a normal day. The town was mostly empty, school canceled in observance of the “holiday”. Most of their friends had disappeared with their parents to the city to watch the parades. The mine was closed as well, and most of the miners had left to join the celebrations as well. 

The kids woke, ate breakfast, and then went outside to play. Chuck felt as though he was going through the motions, showering, making caf, and settling into the seat to watch the kids out of the front viewport. 

I can’t believe it’s been a year.

The younglings both looked as though they were putting up a good front for one another, but after all of their time together, Chuckles could easily see the weight on their shoulders. Nita’s smiles were half-hearted at best, and Arni seemed so weighed down, it looked like they might topple over at any moment. He thought about what Endi had said about how to frame the events surrounding that day. It wasn’t a bad idea, but he felt that he should save it for if things got dire, the eject handle if emotions ran high. He wasn’t certain how the two younglings marked the anniversary in their minds. He’d tried to remember how he’d thought of major changes as a cadet, but everything had been a milestone, another step towards becoming a soldier. Life on Kamino had been controlled, no days truly unpredictable.

Well, at least until a Jedi had shown up looking like a drowned tooka in his soaked robes and sopping hair, asking questions that had sent rumors rippling through the ranks. 

But even then, it was noteworthy because of its strangeness, not due to anything traumatic. All of that would come during the war, but when the fighting started, every moment of note felt like one of grief. 

Except for TP winning that homebrew contest in the barracks. Except for that time Crater told me he considered me his second in command. Except for when Howzer got promoted. 

Except for when Brienna kissed me for the first time in the cockpit of my Headhunter. 

He huffed into his caf. 

More than enough bad, but plenty of good sprinkled in too. 

He realized that was what had kept him going, the little bits of good in all of the bad. And he knew then that the conversation with Arni and Nita couldn’t wait. 

That day was simultaneously terrible and great because I found them. And I need them to focus on the good rather than wallowing in the bad memories and letting them weight them down. We can grieve, but I also don’t want them to get stuck in it. 

Like I did after I lost Crater and most of my squad. 

Tipping the last dregs of his caf into his mouth, he went to place the empty cup in the kitchenette. When he turned, he found the two younglings trudging inside. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Too cold,” Nita muttered. Arni was silent, clutching their journal. 

“Alright, family meeting,” Chuckles declared, sitting at the small table. The two younglings stared at him for a moment before shuffling onto the bench across from him. Brown and golden eyes watched him expectantly. He could see the sadness there, and it made his heart clench and strengthened his determination to take some of their weight.

“I figure let’s talk about the bantha in the room. We’re all thinking it. And I don’t want us moping around all day because of it. Today’s hard.” 

He internally cringed, feeling like he was a captain giving a pep talk to his ranks. That wasn’t how he wanted to do this. Leaning forward, he reached his hands across the table, palms up. It took a moment, but Nita and Arni both reached out and gripped his hands. 

“It’s hard, remembering what happened to us a year ago. It was awful, and every day I wish I could take that burden from you two. But I want you to know that I’m also grateful for some things that happened that day.”

“Like what?” Nita asked.

“Well, I’m glad Arni didn’t stab me with their lightsaber,” he started, and a hint of a smile tugged at the young Twi’lek’s lips. “I’m glad you both trusted me enough to come with me. I’m glad my chip didn’t activate and I was able to get the two of you out.” He squeezed their hands. “But above all, I’m grateful that I survived long enough to find the two of you. That we became a family. That we chose a name and have survived together. We’ve made a life for ourselves.” His voice cracked unexpectedly. “I had a family, but I always wondered what it would look like after the war, if all of my brothers would go their separate ways and I’d be left alone. I’m glad I’m not. I’m glad I have the two of you.” 

Nita sniffled, hopping off the bench and coming around to climb into Chuckles’s lap and throw her arms around his neck. 

“There was so much scary stuff that day. And I’m glad you found us too. And that Arni didn’t kill you.” 

Chuckles looked over the top of Nita’s head at Arni. They had tears running down their cheeks. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s ok to feel sad. Or angry.”

“It’s just… how can they celebrate?” Arni whispered. It was the angriest he’d ever heard them. “Our friends were killed. For nothing. The Empire is tearing down everything the Republic built. How can we celebrate that?”

“Come here, kid,” Chuckles said quietly, scooting to the end of the bench. Arni came around the table, close enough to where Chuckles could awkwardly get an arm around them as well. He touched his forehead to theirs and then Nita’s. “There’s a lot of bad, but I want today to be a day for us. So, we’re not celebrating the Empire, we’re celebrating the day we became a family. I think that’s worth commemorating. What do you think?” 

Arni wrapped their arms around his chest, resting their head on his shoulder. “I think I’d like that.” 

“How do we do that?” Nita asked. 

“Well, we play games together. We eat good snacks. We talk about the good things that have happened as a family. Our favorite memories. And, if you feel like it, we talk about your friends and my brothers and keep their memories alive. Can we do that?” 

“I’d like that,” Arni said, wiping at their cheeks. 

“I’LL GET THE SNACKS!” Nita yelled, squirming out of Chuckles’s grip and sprinting off to retrieve her bags from her stash in their bedroom.

Arni leaned against Chuckles’s arm. “I’m glad you’re our family. I know people call you our dad, but how do you feel about that?”

Chuckles thought about it for a moment. It was something he’d been kicking around in his mind a lot as well. “I think that whatever feels right to you is what we can use. Whatever happens, you’re my kids, even if we don’t share any DNA. And that doesn’t have to be in a fatherly way if you don’t want it to be. I can be a weird uncle or just the guy that’s the oldest here. Whatever feels right.” 

Arni nodded. “I don’t remember what it was like to have parents, not really. I came to the temple when I was really little.” They chewed their lip. “I don’t know if I’ll ever call you ‘dad’, but I think you do feel like one, if that makes sense.” 

Chuckles smiled. “That works for me.”

Nita returned, tossing about five bags and boxes of snacks on the table. 

“Ok, so what’s your favorite memory?” she demanded, scooting back onto the bench and reaching for the Spice Snappers. 

Chuckles glanced at Arni, who thought for a second before breaking into a wide grin. “I’ve got a few, but one of them has to be when Nita beat you at hide and seek.”

The memory made Chuckles laugh out loud. When they’d been flying to Lothal, Nita had gotten bored and demanded they play hide and seek in the Starlight. Chuckles had felt confident, knowing there were only about three places in the ship that she could hide on her own. 

Apparently, she’d found a fourth. In the ceiling panels. 

Chuckles had been frantic, knowing there was no way she could have disappeared off a starship mid-hyperspace, and yet, she was nowhere to be found. He’d grabbed Arni by the shoulders, trying not to let his fear force him into yelling. 

“Ok, so, there are only a handful of places she could be on this ship, and she’s in none of them. I know you know where she is. You have GOT TO TELL ME WHERE SHE IS, ARNI.”

A giggle had erupted from the ceiling, and Chuckles’s eyes had snapped up to a grate where two golden eyes were peering down at him. 

“Kriff.”

“That’s a bad word,” she’d giggled. By the time they fished her out of the duct, she was covered in dust and cobwebs, but triumphant, declaring herself the galaxy’s greatest hider. 

Chuck didn’t disagree. 

That seemed so long ago, but Arni’s guffaws still rang fresh in his ears. Now, they were smiling and suppressing more giggles as they did an imitation of him. 

“You have GOT TO TELL ME WHERE SHE IS, ARNI,” they mocked playfully.

“That’s a good memory,” Chuckles agreed. “But I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do,” Nita argued. 

“Agree to disagree. Ok, what’s yours Nita?”

She pondered for a moment. “Swimming with you. And finding my crystal. I was glad you all were there. It made it feel more special.” She popped a snack into her mouth, which crunched loudly. “What about you?” 

Chuckles smiled. “I’ve got a few. Picking a name. Seeing you guys have your birthdays and get older. The looks on your faces when you saw your new room. Watching you run after that tooka the first day we were here.” He paused, realizing he’d cataloged more memories than he initially thought. 

Because they all feel special. 

Because they’re your kids and you love them.

His throat felt tight suddenly, and he reached into the Spice Snapper bag, popping one into his mouth. Nita was gleeful, Arni looked concerned. Chuck felt the heat overwhelm him and let the tears that were already there leak out of his eyes. 

“Woooo. Still hot. Thought I might have a tolerance for those.” 

“Maybe if you eat more,” Nita offered. 

Chuckles coughed hard, fanning his face. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

—

After Empire Day, it felt as if things settled even more for Chuckles. Sure, Endi was a new component of his life that he was sharing with the kids, but they adapted quickly. Arni still seemed stiff around her, but they were polite and engaging, and he appreciated that. He still hoped that they’d come around, but he wasn’t going to push them. 

It took them time to come around to you. They deserve that time to adjust to having her around.

The air chilled as the days shortened, and the weeks moved along at a steady pace, every day predictable to the point where any deviations from what was expected were noticeable, no matter how small. So when Chuckles arrived at the mine one afternoon, it was immediately apparent to him that someone was missing from their crew. 

“Where’s Lu?”

In all the time Chuckles had worked at the mine, he’d never known the Nikto to be so much as a minute late. Having him be completely absent was nearly unthinkable.

Helly fidgeted nervously at her locker, as Anj replied stiffly. “Took today off. He’s uh… having some family issues.” 

Chuckles nodded, pulling his gloves on. “That sounds…not good.”

Anj shrugged, but he could see the tension in her spine and an exhausted slump in her shoulders. It looked as though she hadn’t really slept. “Just needs some time to address it. Told him to take as long as he needs,” she said quietly. Finishing strapping the sensor on her ankle, she straightened, brushing off her coveralls and reaching into her locker for her tendril wrap, clearly considering the matter settled. 

She seemed off. Helly seemed worried. Something was bothering them, and Chuckles couldn’t tell if he was just looking for problems or if there actually was one. In the weeks since Empire Day, things had chugged on quietly. Too quietly. 

You’re just trying to find problems when there are none. You need to relax. The war is over, he tried to tell himself. But he still couldn’t fight that nagging feeling that something more was going on today. 

The lift appeared inside the gate at the far end of the tunnel with a metallic shriek that made Chuckles wince slightly, the doors grinding open to release the previous shift. Chuckles spotted Teef among them, making notes on his datapad and chuckling at something the man next to him was saying. They stopped by the lockers, some chatting with Anj or Helly before moving on. Chuckles nodded at a few of them as they went by. He’d come to know some of the other miners in these brief interactions where they passed each other, but most days, they never had time for more than a quick exchange before he headed down and they headed home. 

Anj slammed her locker shut, jogging to catch up with Teef to chat with him about something just as a heavy hand landed on Chuck’s shoulder. “Made sure to save the hard work for you,” a gruff voice snickered. Chuckles turned and grinned at the Devaronian that had appeared. 

“Sounds like Teef is paying you too much, Gornar,” he replied with a grin.

The Devaronian tipped his head back and cackled loudly. “I’m sure he’d agree with you.” He squeezed Chuck’s shoulder. “Been a while since we’ve crossed paths. Kids good? The little one like her party?”

“She loved it, but not as much as the new room she got out of it. Both of them have spent every spare second down there decorating it with whatever they can find. Arni’s going to have one of every specimen down there before the year is out.” 

Gornar chuckled. “I’m glad.” He leaned closer, glancing around before speaking quietly. “You’ve got some Imp inspectors down there today.”

“Inspectors? Didn’t think we were due for them for a while,” Chuckles noted with a raised eyebrow.

“We aren’t, but they’re here regardless. They don’t seem to be ones for humor either, so I’d stow the jokes and just keep your head down today.”

Chuckles feined offense. “Me? Joke? At work? Never.” 

Gornar’s smile faded, his expression growing more stoic. “I’m serious, Chuck. Not sure what’s afoot, but they took a lot of notes in their little datapads. Just don’t get yourself on anyone’s shit list if you can help it.”

“No promises,” Chuckles grinned. “But thanks for the heads up. I shall endeavor to behave.”

The Devaronian appeared to find that acceptable, grinning with sharp teeth. “Good man. I’ve got to get going. Promised Zeex I’d cook tonight. Stay safe down there today.” 

“Always,” Chuckles grinned, watching as the Devaronian jogged off, catching up with the rest of his crew as they made their way out of the shaft. Turning back to his locker, he reached for his helmet. 

“Is… isn’t that Lu?” Helly said quietly from next to him. 

Chuckles leaned out, and sure enough, he saw the Nikto walking towards them. 

“It is.”

Lu had his head down, not meeting anyone’s gaze, but his pace was hurried. He wore a heavy coat that reached to his ankles, one Chuckles hadn’t seen before. It struck him as slightly odd since the week had been uncharacteristically warm.

“Thought you weren’t gonna join us today!” Chuckles called, thinking of Anj’s words and trying to make it sound light. Lu slowed, finally raising his head to meet Chuck’s gaze.

“Felt like I should be here,” he said evenly.

Chuckles stepped closer. “Anj said you’ve got some family stuff you’re dealing with. If you need to take time, we can handle it.” He rested his hand on Lu’s shoulder, and the Nikto flinched away. 

Anj had paused her conversation with Teef and was looking over at them with a concerned expression. 

“Lu?” she asked, her confusion evident.

Lu glanced at her but did nothing else to acknowledge her remark. 

“I needed to be here,” he repeated quietly. 

Chuckles nodded. “If work’ll help, I get that.” He knew as well as anyone that sometimes throwing yourself back into a task could help distract from worries or grief. “Glad to have you, then.” 

Lu met his gaze again, and his eyes were sad, but something else was lurking in them that sent a shiver down Chuck’s spine. “You’re a lot of the good in the galaxy, Chuckles. You take care of people, even if you owe them nothin’. That’s hard to find nowadays.” His voice was odd, but Chuckles couldn’t pinpoint why. Lu reached out and patted him on the chest just above his breast pocket. It was strange, but everything about this encounter was, and Chuckles had no idea how to react.

“And Hells,” the Nikto continued, turning to the Rodian standing next to them,“if I could bottle your exuberance, I would. Don’t ever lose that, you know?” 

Helly stared at him for a moment before nodding. “I won’t. Are you sure you’re alright, Lu?” 

“Good. That’s good,” he replied, ignoring her question. Seemingly satisfied with the exchange, he dipped his head. “I’ll be seeing you.”

With that, he turned and strode off directly towards the lift, his pace somehow faster now, more determined. Chuckles watched him warily. There was something about his tone of voice that was irregular for the Nikto, yet oddly familiar, something that caused the hairs on the back Chuck’s neck to stand straight up. 

“Wait, Lu! You need your helmet at least!” Helly called after him.

Lu ignored her, continuing past the checkpoint and striding towards the lift. It was then that Chuck realized what was familiar about the tone of his voice. 

It was the resignation, the consignment to defeat, the finality. He’d heard it in Crater’s voice, just before he’d ordered him to run, knowing the fight was lost, knowing it was the end. 

Knowing he was about to die. 

He whipped his head around to look at Anj. Teef was leaving the shaft, and the Nautolan was making her way towards him with long, quick strides. Her dark eyes were focused on Lu’s back, confusion and concern clear in them.

“Anj?” Chuckles’s voice sounded small. He wanted to be wrong, but when he looked at Anj, he could see she was scared. Something had shaken her. Knowing everything he did about Anj, everything she'd survived, the understanding that she was rattled sent a cold spike of fear shooting through him. 

Something was very wrong. 

A flash of understanding dawned on Anj’s features. Her dark eyes widened in horror. 

“Oh, kriff,” she breathed, breaking into a sprint. 

“What’s going on?” Helly asked. 

Lu turned to face them, and Chuckles’s heart pounded in his ears as the Nikto pulled back his long, heavy coat, revealing a glittering array of thermal detonators strapped to his chest. His expression was sad, but determined as he raised a detonator in his hand, his thumb poised on the trigger.

“ANJ! STOP!” Chuckles screamed. He lunged towards her, just managing to grab her by her arm as she passed him and wrenching her back towards him. “FUCK! LU! NO!” Anj shouted, her voice breaking as she struggled in Chuckles’s grip, still trying to get to her friend. Chuck managed to keep his hold on her and tackle Helly to the ground, doing his best to shield them both underneath his body as the mine erupted in a roar of flames and smoke.

A/N: Sorry. You all called it that I'd let things be chill for too long. Also, TP (aka Two-Pint) is one of @teletraan-meets-jarvis's OCs, which you can learn more about in her fic "Pieces."

Tag List: @redheadgirl @cyarbika @witchklng @djarrex @arctrooper69 @sleepingsun501 @ladytano420 @rexxdjarin @echos-girlfriend @zoeykallus @leftealeaf @galacticgraffiti @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @ariadnes-red-thread @goblininawig @merkitty49 @ladykatakuri @runforrestr @baba-fett @daimyosprincess

[spiderchao]

Game idea:

Sonic the Hedgehog meets Animal Crossing