#never ever going back but i do miss them. what if we were makeshift soldiers in a war far greater than us what if i knew you were always

[heatwa-ves]

I miss kzgr they were my world

[eliciana]

SAGAU SERIES: Misunderstandings

-> Chapter 1| Chapter 2(Here)| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5 |...

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Tw: Sagau, Cult!Au

Reader: Gn!Reader, Creator!Reader, God!Reader, Reader is very curious of everything,

Characters: Archons,Reader, Aranaras, Random soldier, Cryo Slime: Aquilo

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At the Jade Chamber Palace, The Archons were having meeting regarding your disappearance and whereabouts. Everything was going quite fine until Beelzebub had reprimanded the Anemo Archon, Barbatos.

"If it weren't for your soldiers frightening our Beloved Creator, then we would not have this meeting and they wouldn't be missing. This lies on your fault." She looked at him dead in the eye.

The entire meeting room went cold and quiet. Other Archons stayed silent and others agreed at her statement.

Barbatos's eye twitched as he still kept his smile.

"Yes, it would lie on my fault but who asked for your opinion may I say. I even never knew that Their Eminence had descended. After all, wouldn't we all act the same if we ever do see them? Especially if they appeared first at the land of your nation. Beelzebub." His look went dark as he talked.

Sparks of rivalry could be sensed in the air and adding more was their elements deflecting each other which could be worse. Morax sipped his tea calmly and looked at the map in front of them, red cross marks littered across, showing places where you could be hiding.

"Quiet. You shouldn't be focusing on fighting uselessly and instead use your brain to find the whereabouts of our Dearest Creator." The Tsaritsa spat as cold as her element.

The two Archons scoffed, the sparks of rivalry and their elements disappearing slowly but surely.

Rushed footsteps reverberate across the large wall of the Jade Palace. It came to a stop as three knocks was heard along with occasional deep breathings.

"Come in." Lesser Lord Kusanali said on behalf of the others. Curiously looking at the soldier who went inside.

"Pardon for the intrusion, but this is an important matter regarding the whereabouts of Their Grace." A soldier told without stuttering as he calmed down his previous adrenaline.

The heads of the Archons looked at him as fast as they could. Eyes widening at the mere utter of your title.

_________________________________________

"HAHAHA! I should say, I did such a good job despite having no expertise in making a house." You boastfully said to yourself as you cuddle Aquilo who was admiring the makeshift cottage you made while you were patting your back and praising yourself in your mind.

"But of course, it wouldn't be finished without you guys. I, thank you, for helping me with this humble house of mine." You bowed thankfully at the Hilichurls and Abyss mages. The Hilichurls danced happily at your words while the Abyss mages rejoiced.

'Ahhh, I'm so happy that the monsters of Teyvat are on my side. If they are not then I would have been perfectly dead.' you sighed and shook your head. You giggled at your thought.

They looked at your giggling figure and a blissfulness took over them. They thought your laugh was melodious as choirs of angels. Heck, it might be even better than that. As long as you are happy then they are also happy. They will make sure that no one will be able to interrupt this ecstatic moment.

Variants of flowers bloom beautifully near your cottage. Vines stuck themselves at the wall of the cottage to add more aestheticness and for the cottage to blend in the vast forest. Butterflies, little critters, and such stumble to get near, taking a look at the place and getting near yourself.

You watched the scene in amazement. You have never truly seen something like this, only in fairy tales and now it is happening right before your eyes.

But the moment could not last. The wind whispered the plans of the Archons planning to come near the place where you are staying. You went pale at the words. 'What if they caught me? Will I die? After all I've come so far, this will be the end of me?' You were shaking and biting your thumb nail.

The Hilichurls looked at you concerned and confused. Abyss mages flock near to you to look at your condition, whether you are ill or not.

"Your Grace! Are you alright? Are not feeling well? Please tell us how we can help!" One spoke. You had no idea but you could understand what they say.

"No...no I.... I'm fine." You sighed and put and hand on your hand. This is not the time to act all scared, you have to immediately find a way to hide once more from them or it will be your end. You slapped your cheeks earning high pitched screams from the monsters, and critters near you.

"Y-YOUR GRACE!" "OUR DEAREST CREATOR!" "YOUR EMINENCE!"

They shouted frantically. Some were panicking and some passed out. Your faced looked determined as you looked at them with a plan in mind.

"Will you guys help me?" You asked them seriously making them gulp and look at you astonished. "Y-yes. Of course. We are glad to help. But if it is possible Your Grace, may we ask what might be troubling you?" An Abyss mage peered at you. Unsure and scared if he/she/they/it(?) had said something atrocious and disgraceful at you.

"Well... Teyvat had whispered to me that the Archons may have found a clue to where I might be and even though they are unsure, it's still better to be prepare and to hide from them than waiting for them to find me. That is why I need your help. I need you guys to help me find somewhere more hidden and unnoticeable." You carefully explained. It pained you that you have to immediately have to leave your newly built cottage- wait. 'Can I... also move my house? I have to ask Teyvat.'

"Teyvat, can you help me move my cottage too?" You asked, looking at any sign that Teyvat agrees with you.

A vine uprooted itself and nodded, you think. Joy filled you entire body. Maybe you were going to be able to bring it with you too.

_________________________________________

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi! your writing is so amazing and I always come back to the Geto x reader works you did. I’d love to request a strong female reader whos a warrior that catches Geto’s eye. I know this is vague but I hope it can give you some ideas. Again thank you for your amazing writing its so entertaining 💗💗

The Commander: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Suguru knew what might happen if he began allowing females into the King's Guard.

He knew what circumstances he would be putting his men - and himself - in if he did this.

But his troops were so few... and the King himself even had the grand idea that it would be best if they had women in the Gaurd to boost morale in his regime.

He caved the day Satoru - with his glassy blue eyes and somber expression - told him that he had to fix public opinion in his favor - or else. Suguru knew this threat was hollow, but the fact that Satoru - his best friend since childhood - thought it was time, well... that was enough to persuade him.

As announcements went out around the country, Suguru didn't really expect anyone to show up for training. Training as a King's Guard was brutal, and the regiment would include fasting, staying awake for three nights in a row, and building rapport with the others in order to complete the final task - a trek up the highest peak in the middle of winter.

And at first, no one did. Suguru smirked to himself every day that passed, bringing forth no new women into the fold. Perhaps things could be kept as they were. Things could remain as they always had been, and no one would get hurt.

But on the third day of recruitment, you came swaggering in through the gates of the training grounds, pack loaded up on your back and eyes determined.

Everyone held their breath - that's something that Suguru remembered quite well - until you stated your name loudly for all to hear, and dumped your pack onto the ground with a thud.

"I'm y/n from the Whispering Hills," you stated, hands resting on your hips. "And I've come to join the King's Guard."

____________________________________________________________

Everyone knows better than to laugh at a child of the Whispering Hills. The people from that area of the country are famed for their ruthlessness, unwavering loyalty, and quick tempers. They also believe in the Old Gods, which were banned from being worshipped long ago by the king before Satoru's father.

But no one seems to care that you wake up at the crack of dawn, walk out into the field with your nightclothes still on, and kneel in the direction of the hills with your eyes closed and hands folded in prayer.

No one says a word when you stay behind to eat and the others go off to pay tribute to the New Gods with offerings of wheat, grains, and fruits.

No one, not even Suguru, bothers you when you slay an animal and burn it on a makeshift altar (animal sacrifices are also forbidden) because they know you will cut them to pieces without even blinking an eye. And you'd be fully justified in doing so.

Suguru watches you do all of this, his eyes assessing you carefully as you train with the other men without missing a beat, without being injured or tapping out.

And for some reason, the deepest fear he had begins to blossom in his chest like an unbidden guest taking residence in his space. He's watched you for a few weeks now, just being yourself - but has never spoken to you one-on-one. Why hasn't he just--

"Commander."

The voice belongs to you, and you stand above him, looking just as you did on the first day you arrived. Suguru's eyes dilate and he swallows hard past the lump in his throat.

"Yes, y/n?"

"I must request a short leave of absence to meet with my people at the foot of the hills. It is festival season."

"I cannot permit you to leave training for your festivals," Suguru looks back down at his papers, shrugging. "You made a commitment to remain here with us during your training. You must keep that promise or be kicked out of this year's recruits."

Suguru doesn't see the shift in your stance, but he can feel the air around him shift from respectful to hostile. When he looks up at your expression, though, you look perfectly fine.

"Understood."

_____________________________________________________________

But things were not fine.

"Sir! She's refusing to do anything, and we can't complete the trek up the mountain without her in our group."

Suguru's had enough of your non-compliance. Ever since he said "no" to you going back to your hometown, you'd been unmoved from your station in your tent. Festival season was long over, but you'd remained in your tent, alone, and unwilling to reemerge.

The flaps on the tent swing open as Suguru storms in, his hair and eyes wild with disdain.

"Get up," he mutters, and you rise from your bed, looking over at him with bleary eyes. "You made a commitment."

"You do not honor my gods," you begin, wiping your eyes. "I will not come out until the moon has completed its course."

"I said, get up." Against his better judgment, Suguru pulls you up out of your bed by your arm and drags you to your feet. You sneer at him and bark the command to let you go, but Suguru ignores you - again, a poor move on his part. Because then, without speaking, you launch into an attack.

Suguru's been studying you carefully, and he knows your go-to moves, dodging them with ease and skill. You can hardly catch him off guard as your fight spills out into the open, calling the attention of all of the guards-in-training around you.

Suguru's long hair flies in the wind as he ducks, avoids, swiftly blocks, all while you're on the offensive, face turning a deep shade of red as you try to land a single blow on his body. If you could just get him once... then you'd have a personal achievement and a justified temper.

"Your temper is unyielding," Suguru pants, face splitting into a wild grin. "But your body cannot last as long as mine."

"We'll see about that," you reply, hands and fists flying with precision. After a few more moments of this back-and-forth, Geto stops you with two well-timed punches; one to the stomach, and one to the chest. You stumble back to catch your breath, vision blurring, but his hands grip yours behind your back, twisting them painfully.

"Yield."

"I will not yield," you grit out, pain shooting up your arms.

"Yield and I will spare you the punishment that follows."

"I will not yield!" you scream, bucking against the brute strength of the man.

"Your pride will cost you, then."

_____________________________________________________________

Your pride cost you more than just discomfort.

As you lay at the foot of Suguru's bed, your mouth whispers silent curses upon the Commander.

"Hush," Suguru gripes from his perch at his desk. "Your cursing is much too loud for my ears. I must focus."

"I hope you're never able to focus again," you snap, hands tied behind you.

"Such a sweet thing to say to your commander, soldier."

"I hope you choke on it." Suguru looks up from his book, but not at you, contemplating taming that snarky mouth of yours. But he decides against it, returning to his scribing.

Why are his hands shaking so bad, though? Had it really been so long since he felt challenged in a fight? And not only challenged but terribly aroused?

Suguru tries to fight these feelings day in and day out, looking at you with some terrible form of lust in his mind circling around him and making him go insane.

What could he do?

What should he do?

When he sees you laying on the floor with a death glare, he wants to break out into laughter and tell you to lighten up, but he knows if he does, he'll be ruined as a commander in your eyes. He must be stern, tough, unyielding, unshaken. All the things he's always been.

"You take yourself too seriously," you whisper, and Suguru looks over at you again, his brow raised.

"And you don't?"

"This isn't about me," you mutter, looking over your shoulder at your tied hands. "This is about your appearance." She's not wrong. "You want to seem strong. I've been eyeing you, Commander. I know how you work."

"Then you know I'm not going to let you get away with anything because you're a woman."

"But you do have a soft spot for me." Suguru rolls his eyes, despite you being absolutely right. "That's why I thought you'd let me go home for a few days. I see the way you look at me. Have you seen the way I look at you?"

"Don't," Suguru bites out, trying his best to avoid looking you in the eye. "Don't do that."

"Have you thought about me in your bed, Commander?" Suguru's breath hitches and he wonders if you'd snuck into his mind at some point, watching him watching you. "Or should I call you Suguru?"

The alarm bells in his mind are ringing, but something in Suguru lurches anyway, wanting you to say his name like that again.

"Y/n, this is neither the time, nor the place, nor the man you want to test you womanly wiles on."

"Oh?" You produce both of your hands, now untied, for him to see. "Or is it the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect man who has me all alone in his tent for the evening?" Suguru stiffens as you walk around to where he's seated, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "You going to show me who the strongest is, Commander? Or are you going to sit there and let yourself be taken by a woman, again?"

The answer is clear by the third hour of the morning.

Your hips smack backward, and Suguru hisses, hand coming down on your asscheek again.

"Tell me who the strongest is," Suguru huffs above you, one hand holding both of your wrists on the bed.

"You are," you breathe, looking over your shoulder at his pleased expression, dark eyes drinking in your features with the lust you'd preyed on earlier. "You're the strongest."

"That's right," Suguru exhales, leaning over your back and whispering in your ear. "I'll always be the strongest between the two of us. Don't forget that, y/n."

[blueberry-sunshines]

Small Surpises— Big Brother Shiro x Little Sister Reader

Summary:

You are Shiro's younger sister waiting on him to return from a mission while you reminisce about your life with your big brother which then gets interrupted when he brings you back an unexpected surprise...

Word Count: ~2K

Childhood memories | Brotherly Love

Requested by: @white_skittle on Wattpad

{Your POV}

Honestly, you had never really thought that it would be so boring to be in a half-castle half-spaceship until you were actually in one. It sounds crazy to even think you'd be in one let alone that one exists! One moment you were on earth with Keith trying to figure out these weird radio signals and then the next your brother who'd been missing for a year had crash landed onto earth in an alien pod! And just when you didn't think anything could get any crazier, you found a giant blue lion that whisked you all away into space! That was just the beginning of all the adventures you'd have traveling the universe with your new found family. But as of now, the only thing you could do is wait around the Castle of Lions until the Paladins are back from their mission. To keep your mind off of your boredom and anxiety you tried your best to distract yourself with useless things like wondering the castle and getting lost in your own thoughts.

You were significantly younger than your brother, Shiro. While he was 25, you were only a teenager. You two were always rather close despite your age difference. Shiro was always so cool, you and all of your friends thought he was the most amazing person in the whole world. And if you were being honest with yourself, he still was. I mean, being the paladin of the Black Lion and the leader of Voltron was the coolest thing you could think of! As kids you and Shiro loved playing together, you would play with his soldiers and planes or he'd play dolls with you. You two would spend hours playing little games like hide and seek or just playing pretend.

You would be the princess and Shiro would always be the courageous knight there to protect and save you from evil villains and mystical dragons. Using sticks and pool noodles as swords he would slay any foes that even dared to hurt his little sister. Shiro has always been your hero in more ways than you'd ever realize.

"Fear not, Princess (Y/N)!" He would cry, holding his makeshift sword in the air. "I will slay this dragon to protect you and your kingdom from his evil!" He would then jab at one of your stuffed animals or sometimes even trees, pretending they were the villain.

     As you got older, you two were still super close. Shiro was then entering his teens, going to the Galaxy Garrison to be a pilot. He was so smart and so talented and all you ever wanted to do was impress him. When you didn't think he could get any cooler he always did. But even though he was at the Garrison, he still had never let you down. You have many memories of Shiro picking you up after school and taking you out to your favorite diner. Sitting in a booth across from each other he would ask you about your day while drinking a milkshake in his bright orange Cadet uniform.

"You look silly in your uniform, Takashi." Little you giggled in your memory. You could still see Shiro's face as he pulled away from his Oreo milkshake's straw, as well as the smile that formed on his face as he let out a small chuckle.

"I guess I do look kind of silly, huh?" He agreed, setting down his milkshake softly.

These couple times a week visits made it feel like Shiro had never really left at all. Soon you were able to transfer into the Garrison Cadet program and next thing you remember is staying up late into the night studying with Shiro and practicing your techniques. Shiro was the star of the Garrison and he still remained the star of your life. Sure you had made many friends, but Shiro was still your best friend above all else. You still remember when Shiro had introduced you to Keith and how you two got off to a rocky start. But eventually, it didn't feel like it was just you and Shiro against the world anymore. Soon you had a new honorary brother in Keith. You would all ride around together on Hoverbikes and Landspeeders and you even would take Keith for milkshakes at your diner.

"Hah!" You beamed triumphantly as you swung to a halt on your hoverbike. You looked behind you now as your brother came up to a stop behind you. You laughed triumphantly as you had just beaten Shiro to your designated finish line. "I told you I could beat you!"

"I never doubted you for a second." Shiro told you proudly as he whipped the sweat from his forehead.

You looked now on the other side of you over the edge of the large cliff next to you. "So can I learn the dive now?" You blurted out quickly.

Shiro laughed warmly, "Absolutely not." He said quickly and gave you a teasing smile. "Not until I'm sure you and Keith are both ready." He explained, watching you pout in amusement.

As you were entering your teenage years and Shiro was leaving his, you two had somehow managed to grow even closer. He had come out to you over the course of your time at the Garrison. You still remember him gushing to you all about his, then crush, Adam. You were there for him when coming to terms with his feelings and there when he brought Adam home to your parents for the first time. In return he was always there for you, helping you when you were sick, giving you advice when you were down in the dumps, and he helped you through your first ever breakup.

Time was flying by so quickly and soon, you were an accomplished pilot just like your big brother, and Shiro had asked Adam to marry him. Life was just the way you liked it and you didn't think anything could ruin your wonderful relationship with Shiro. If none of the petty sibling fights you got into or even any of the serious ones could have ruined it, you didn't know what could. But, you could never forget Kerberos...

"We're back!!!" You heard a voice shout from a room over. It was the cherry voice of Lance McClain exclaiming their arrival in the castle. You began running back down the corridor to return to the lounge where you heard the voices coming from.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" Hunk smiled seeing you enter the room. You saw Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Keith, and Allura all standing in the room.

"How did it go out there today?" You asked them all, subconsciously looking around for your brother. The Paladins went to a freed planet to collect some tech that was needed to help the fight against the Galra.

"We collected all the samples we needed." Pidge told you before gesturing behind her, "Coran and Shiro are unloading as we speak." She was unusually smiley, but you brushed it off as her just being happy to have new tech to work with. You were about to leave to go find Shiro when,

"(Y/N)," Keith said your name now, walking over to you, also dawning a small smile. "There's also something we brought back for you, too."

"Hey!" You heard Lance complain, "I wanted to be the one to tell (Y/N)!"

"Too bad." Keith smirked at him and the two began a small, signature squabble as they walked past towards the direction of the showers.

You looked over at Pidge and Hunk now curiously, "What are they talking about?" You asked them, furrowing your brow in thought trying to guess what on earth they could have brought you. You heard them both giggle as they refused to give you any clue before heading towards the showers as well. Your last hope was Allura.

She just looked as confused as you, "I do wonder what they had brought you as well." She said warmly before following you towards the other door the four Paladins had come from originally. As you and Allura made your way down the hallway she tried to offer you ideas as to what they could've brought you, but half the things she said you had no idea what she was talking about.

Once you reached the hangar where the Paladins had come from, you sprinted towards the Black Lion. Coran was placing small metal crates onto a floating cart and Shiro was helping him.

"Shiro, Hey!" You yelled as you got closer, Allura still following suit.

"(Y/N)!" Shiro called your name happily placing down a crate and turning towards you. You laughed as you ran into his arms, you felt him stumble a bit upon impact and you heard him chuckle.

"You really missed me that much?" He teased you as he gave you a tight squeeze before putting you back safely balanced onto your feet.

"Always do." You smiled up at him affectionately. You then cut right to the chase, "Keith said you guys brought me something!"

Shiro raised an eyebrow at you, "He did, did he?" You nodded in response and he let out another laugh. "Alright, you got me." He admitted humbly.

"Is it another crystal?" You asked excitedly. Shiro had brought you small trinkets before from the missions you didn't get to go on. The Paladins often needed your help, but sometimes when there wasn't any risk you'd just stay behind.

"It's better than that." He said mysteriously as he lead you back towards his lion.

"Is it a bigger crystal?" You asked which earned you a laugh in return.

"No... now stop guessing!" He shook his head in amusement. "Wait here, I'll be right back." Shiro instructed you, turning snd disappearing into the lion.

You looked back over to where Allura and Coran were conversing about something while you waited. Once your brother reemerged from Black, he was holding a small box that had some kind of cloth or blanket sticking out from it. You stared at the box in pure curiosity as Shiro grew closer.

"Keep your voice down," he advised as the contents of the box were nearly in full sight. "You don't want to startle him."

You were still not understanding what this could be but now you were thinking it may be alive. Despite not knowing, you listened to your brother and kept quiet. Shiro held the box further down and you saw him.

      You had to hold in a squeal as you saw what Shiro had brought you. It was a small light gray ball of fluff. The creature had long droopy ears, four legs with five tiny toes on his paws. It had four small horns above his closed eyes, a pink nose and cute little pouting mouth. His chest and his face were white and he was all curled up in his long, white, fluffy tail. He sort of reminded you of a chinchilla but much more alien like.

        Gasping you looked back up to Shiro, "No way..." you breathed out finally. Shiro had a large smile on his face.

        "Do you like him?" He asked now, "His breed is concerned to be a loyal partner on Ormaphu. He's a traditional Ormanphian pet called a Bentorm."

         "Shiro I love him!" You gushed looking back down as your sweet, little baby Bentorm.

          "I'm glad, I thought you would."

      When you were kids, you would always beg your parents for a pet but they never let you or Shiro get anything besides fish. Your new Bentorm was the most amazing pet you could think of! Your attention was turned back to the box when you heard him let out a soft yawn as he stretched and uncurled himself. You let out a soft aww, as he sat upright and looked up at you with big, black eyes. He looked as if he was smiling as he looked up at you, he began making a sweet chirping noise and you looked up at Shiro in amazement.

        "You can pick him up." Shiro told you softly, smile still prominent on his face. You reached down and picked him up softly from his tummy, under his arms. You pulled him close to your chest and he quickly snuggled into you, smile on his cute, Bentorm face.

         "From what his breeder told me, they don't get much bigger and they love riding on their owners shoulders as they get older."

       "Allura!" You exclaimed, "Look what Shiro brought me!!"

       

        Allura came over then, in the same awe that you were upon seeing him for the first time. "Is that a Bentorm?" Allura asked looking up at Shiro.

      Shiro nodded and moved the box onto his hip you free one of his hands to pet the Bentorms head.

       "What are you gonna call him?" Shiro asked looking back up to you.

         "Hmmm, I'm not sure..."

_________________

Hi everyone! Thanks for reading this Brother Shiro one shot! It wasn't super long but I think it's pretty cute. Shiro would be the best big brother and I hope I captured that!

Have a great day! Keep requesting please!

[keouil]

how you forget to be human

“so is she like,” scott hesitates. “cap’s first lady or something?” rated t. 2k+. steve/nat. also on ao3 / twitter / cc

Scott hasn’t been with the team for a long time, but he thinks he at least has enough working knowledge of how everyone operates.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky to Steve,  James to anyone who dared—quite frankly still scares the living shit out of him, and that’s Magneto on a good day. It didn’t take much to deduce he seemed wholly uncomfortable in his own skin, his jaw coiled perpetually tight and the rigid set of his shoulders always in alert. It was uneasy just being around him, his discomfort bleeding over others and charging the air around his space with its own brand of disquieting; but always, without fail, Steve cushioned whatever apprehension anyone aimed toward his bestfriend.

Most of it came from Sam, and almost always in good nature as if to ease the brainwashed supersoldier into some semblance of normality; and Scott would fear for Sam’s life every time he opened his mouth, were it not for the also very obvious fact the Falcon held his own and didn’t appreciate handouts and the three of them seemed to be getting along uniquely (if not a little oddly) well enough.

The witch was a small problem, however. Simply for the fact she was a witch and Scott is wary because history taught him they burned all of them down in Salem. 

He sees her wiggling those voodoo fingers around sometimes, almost unconsciously, and feels the hairs on his arms rise with every flick of her wrist. The energy around her isn’t suffocating the same way Bucky’s is. It was more a subtle nervous tingling; like she herself was afraid of the gravity of her own powers she had yet to have complete reigns on. Scott is oddly humbled by the fact and even empathises with her a little.

Steve keeps an eye on her and doesn’t bother hiding it, but it’s the archer who gets past her when it really counts. Clint Barton, who, surprisingly is the one he’s on the most similar wavelength with out of all of them: family man and all.

Clint Barton whose also friends with Natasha Romanoff.

.

.

.

Hawkeye who has simultaneously the most complex and impossibly simple relationship with Black Widow.

“I swear to god if you ring me up next time you’re out of goddamn Fruit Loops,” Natasha warns, digging through one of the five grocery bags on the kitchen island. She fishes for a few more seconds, before popping a colourful cartoon box out from under the bag and tossing it to Barton. “I’m bringing you in for real.”

Clint scoffs, placing the carton on the top shelf. “How many times have I heard that before?”

“Apparently not enough,” Natasha glares at him from her peripheral, scooping out Nutella and a pack of store-bought pryanik to lay on the table. Russian biscuits. For Wanda. “If I’m still stopping by an abandoned boarding house in the slums of Siberia every other week. Y’all grown men can’t do grocery shopping by yourselves?”

Scott blinks from his spot by one of the stools. 

Of all the things he expected to wake up to in hiding from 117 countries from possible charges of aiding and abetting a war criminal, Black Widow casually arranging and organising their weekly rationale was nowhere near the top of the list. She did this all the while supposedly fighting for the other team.

This one needs no introduction.

Scott knows who Black Widow is. Scott knows Captain America, after all. 

You don’t grow up in the land of the free without knowing his legacy even in minute passing. The man has been plastered on nearly every surface of the continent since the dawn of America. Scott has seen the news footages, read the official accounts, willingly devoured every single documentary or biopic helmed in honour of their nation’s greatest hero: he knows, down to the bone, the star-spangled man with a plan. 

A forgotten and revered and rebirthed war hero. 

How he came to know of her, however, is an entirely different story: because come the news footages, zoom in close enough you’ll see the infamous shield covering a much smaller and daintier figure; go over the accounts with a fine-toothed comb, they speak of a levelled dynamic between a commanding officer and a shadow leader; and, lest history not forget, the documentaries: Peggy, because behind every great man is a woman, Natasha.

“Now why would we do that if we got you?” Sam. He comes up from behind the hallway to playfully grin at Natasha before enveloping her in a small hug. She returns it easily.

Scott braces himself for what’s to come, because they came in a pair, and so: “Nat,” Steven Grant Rogers, in the flesh himself, pokes his head in not a moment later with a barely indisputable frown on his face. “You came here again?”

Natasha clicks her tongue at him. “Someone had to make sure you boys were fed.”

“That’s not— We can—” Steve stutters as he strides in, and Scott has to very carefully school his features into nonchalance because Captain America does not stammer. He sighs deeply before settling next to her, nudging her with his hip. “Tony atleast know you're here?”

Natasha gives him a pointed look. “Who do you think paid for all this?”

.

.

.

Scott watches their silhouettes grow smaller and smaller by the distance.

Even from afar, he can make out Steve’s absolute hulk of a frame: back impossibly straight in a way that bespoke authenticity, years of rigid military training drilled into his bones; only he seemed to mellow, somehow and very slightly, the fine lines of his shoulders angled in the direction of her voice. And Natasha: brave and lithe, nearly a head shorter and so much more smaller, facing forward in full confidence and a leisurely stride in her steps.

Siberia has a biting night air that seeps deep into the bone. But it’s also comforting somehow; all of them knowing, in one way or another, what it was like to be iced out from society. 

They were all huddled by the makeshift campfire Barton fashioned out of some wooden logs and a matchstick. Sam, in charge of roasting marshmallows, was gently coaxing Bucky into eating one and promising him it’s not poisoned. Wanda was handing out steaming cups of hot chocolate brewed from the pack Natasha brought in a few hours ago, a staple in her weekly grocery runs because apparently the kid witch liked sweets. 

Scott gingerly takes a sip from his mug, some of the warmth seeping into liquid courage he was building up for weeks now. He takes a deep breath before plunging himself into the waves.

“I can’t be the only one worried that the enemy has infiltrated our territory, right?”

To their credit, neither of them kill him on sight. 

Wanda pauses in levitating one of the wooden logs above the hearth, a single bark of kindling hovering uncertainly over the air. Bucky has an unreadable expression on his face when he regards him. A look passes between Sam and Clint, betraying nothing of their inner thoughts at his outburst.

The fire is nice and toasty, but the air is stifling now and Scott has never felt more the outsider than at that very moment.

Until Sam breaks into a hearty laugh. “Widow?” he shakes his head amusedly. “No, man, Steve and Nat are tight. They’re past stuff like that.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows in concern. “But isn’t she—”

“On Tony’s side?” Clint quips, poking at one of the planks. Wanda finally drops the floating bark, and Scott doesn’t miss the flash of something in her eyes when she glances at him from the other side of the fire. He thinks he saw a spark of red for a second. “Sure, I guess. Technically she’s Team Iron Man or whatever that means. But Natasha is also fiercely loyal, especially when it comes to Steve.”

“What does that  mean?” Scott asks in genuine confusion.

Sam opens his mouth to elaborate, words already forming on his mouth; before he seems to come to a belated realisation, blinks, and manages a nonchalant shrug. "Damn if I know,” he admits, turning over a puffy mallow and watching the crackles of fire burn its edges. “But she’s good for him. That’s all I care about.”

“And he’s good for her,” Clint returns easily, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. “Maybe sometimes it’s just that easy.”

They hear the crunching of footsteps on snow creeping up behind them, and Scott takes this as his cue to stash the conversation for another time. 

He watches them stroll in together carefully.

Steve holds the gate open for her and places a small hand on her back as they advance in the small patch of woods by the backyard. Natasha settles next to Wanda, hands going up and down her arms to warm the younger girl despite being the one having only just gone out for a walk in the middle of Russian winter: because, and at this Scott is now confident, the jacket resting on her shoulders three times her size was keeping her warm enough.

.

.

.

The quinjet doesn’t start up right away.

Scott is slowly panicking, because the realisation that he was truly out of his depth at fighting in the next greatest civil war of the century notches above his pay grade only viscerally begins to take hold. 

He has a family back home, pets to feed, a little life saving every now and then; but never this colossal of a scale, never with the stakes stacked up so high against them, that it really could only ever be toppled down by the likes of fucking Iron Man and Captain America.

But Steve is still confident.

It’s so bloody obvious he was always going to keep at it, gunned down the concrete walls of the airport and clawed his way out of it brick by brick if need be. He was really and truly the good man underneath it all, and at the back of his mind, Scott still finds himself awed at the fact.

But he doesn’t know how on  earth  the man came out of that airport not visibly rattled, not at all unlike how Scott was currently feeling; and, as he processes the rest of their wayward expressions, he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so.

“Cap,” Sam wheezes by the floor, fighting to labor his breathing with a hand clutched on his dislocated shoulder. “I still got the jeep parked outside. It’s not too late. We can hike the rest of the way.”

“No,” Steve replies, an edge of conviction in his voice. There is not a single tremor in his stubborn hands gripping the wheel. “That’s gonna hold us back days. We just need to be up in the air for now. We need—”

“A woman to come to your rescue again?”

This time, it’s Scott who sighs in deep relief at her voice. This time, Scott doesn’t fight the churn in his stomach at the prospect of having someone who nearly nicked him lifeless not even hours ago this close a range with them again. This time, she is not Black Widow, but simply Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers’ friend.

This time, Scott thinks, he will let them be easy just like that.

There was no more a sign of tremble in his voice or hands the entire battle, but at the lilt of her voice, he just crumbles. 

“Nat,” Steve breathes out when he turns to her, hands fisting at his sides in an attempt to regain control. Just like that, he unravels; so easily and without preamble in the face of her steeled strength. “I can’t get it to turn on— And I— We have to get Bucky—”

“Work through it, Steve,” she cooes in probably the most placating voice he’s heard of her, but she doesn’t move to touch him when she comes close. Her hands are going a mile a minute over the control panel, pushing buttons and lifting levers. Steve is hovering by her side like it's the only thing holding him together. “You know how to fly this thing, right?”

Steve is visibly taken aback and angles his body to face her. “You’re not coming with us?”

The question hangs in the air.

It charges the silence around them and quells any of their growing uncertainty, because, clear as it was of Steve’s well-founded and undeniable leadership skills: they also knew, intimately, she anchored him through it all.

Sam was putting pressure around Bucky’s human arm as he looked back and forth at them tensely. He could feel Wanda hitch her breath behind him.

Natasha’s fingers keep flying away at the keyboard, until they feel the telling signs of an engine rumbling underneath and the overhead lights spurting back to light. The whole jet roars to life in the next second, heating fans whizzing and technical sounds beeping. She shifts some gears around and locks in a destination with the GPS navigation.

When she turns to look at Steve, it is then Scott forces himself to pry his eyes away and not bear witness to this part of his already over documented life. In that single moment of uncertainty, the what does that mean is meant like this: an intimate baring of a soul, heart, trust: in a way no words could ever begin describing or should even attempt to put to paper. 

It is friendship at the most intimate level, it is soulmates on the most soul-crushing departure, and it is the everything else that comes after.

“Not this time, Rogers,” he hears her say, and Scott doesn’t have to imagine the slight fracturing of his iron-clad footing in the world swaying ever so slightly, when he replies with: “Then I guess I’ll see you around, Romanoff.” .

.

.

“So is she like,” Scott hesitates. “Cap’s first lady or something?”

They’re some seventy feet off the air above the Pacific Ocean, the moisture from the ocean drifting up to the open barracks and making the air glisten around them. Bucky is fast asleep somewhere down the lower levels with Wanda keeping watch over him, upon the fervent insistence of Steve arguing he needed rest. It came as no surprise that he also self-assigned himself the first watch of the night. 

Sam is sharpening his knives, the grating sound of sandpaper slicing over iron piercing through the silent hum and drum of the night. 

“Please,” he scoffs, looking over at him. “If anything, Steve is her first lady.”

[ahsokasleftbicep]

Name and Soul: Chapter 6

It's finally here! I am SO SO sorry for the delay. This weekend has been insane. But anyway, let's go.

@mqgriett @darkangel4121 @thelambandthewolffe @maulscrosshair @trash-dino-5000 @lightning-wolffe @killtherandomness @shadowwing1324 @sydnubabu @lafy-taffy @photowizard17

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 2042

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 6, Rampart being a *ahem* douchebag, super conflicted Crosshair, internal conflict, Tech being amazing, Wrecker kicking ass, there are a few curse words but nothing too bad, I think

“Y/N… Y/N!” Omega tugs on your hand.

You shake your head and look down at her. “Huh?... What?” The girl points at the makeshift target painted on the far wall.

“Good job, Omega! You’re getting there!” You ruffle her hair and she smiles. “How about you try again?”

Omega nods and readies herself with the Zygerrian bow. You look out the door and tune everything out. After you saw, well thought you saw him, you stood in the middle of the streets until someone bumped your shoulder. It couldn’t have been him. That’s impossible, he would be on Kamino. And he didn’t have any weapons besides his knife, he never brings only one weapon. And his eyes… It had to be him.

You refocus when Omega lets out a frustrated groan.

“But I’ve already hit the target three times.”

Echo rests his hand on her shoulder. “Out of 12. That’s luck, Omega, not skill.”

“He’s right.” You hop off the gambling table and nod at the target. “Soldiers need to be consistent and that comes with time.”

Omega tries again but misses, glaring at the Weequay and Ithorian. “I was doing better until those two showed up.”

Echo glances at you before looking back to Omega. “You have to learn to tune out distractions, which comes with practice.”

“Try again, Omega. You can do it.” You smiled at the girl and winced when she missed again.

“Not exactly a natural, is she.” Cid walks up and nudges Wrecker off of his seat. “Playtime’s over, I got a job for you.”

You all gather around the table, making yourselves comfortable. Omega reaches up to you and you pick her up so she can see.

“I assume you guys know what a tactical droid is?... They were the opera…”

“The operational brains of the Separatist military-” Tech butts in.

“Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba.” This is my briefing, Goggles.”

Tech steps back offended while you and Echo try to muffle your laughter. Tech elbows you with a small smile before refocusing on Cid’s briefing. This is going to be a fun mission.

--

He was tired. God, he was so tired. Crosshair lied on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite his exhaustion, he had been trying to go to sleep for hours.

Why did I run? Why did I leave her there? Why did you go in the first place, you should’ve killed her. I love her. She betrayed the Empire, tried to kill you. I tried to kill her first.

Crosshair sat up from his bed and removed his necklace. He turned the ring over in his hand, looking at the engraving. O'r gai bal runi…

Y/N… I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

“CT-9904, report to my office immediately.”

….“Yes, sir.”

--

“We’re approaching the decommissioning site. We can land at the dockyard and go in on foot.” Tech turns his head to look back before landing the ship.

You put on your helmet and look down at Omega. “You ready kid?”

“Definitely!” The girl runs ahead before Hunter holds her shoulder. You all crouch behind a wall. You raise your brow at Tech and poke his shoulder.

“What’s with the police droids? Cid never mentioned those.”

The man rolls his eyes and looks at his vambrace. “They operate on a rotating quadrant scan. If we time it correctly, they have a blind spot.”

“That’s our way in then.”

“Precisely.”

When the time is right, you make your way to the site, going up a ladder.

“It’s okay, Wrecker. Don’t look down, just like Skako Minor.” You glance down at the man and he nods.

“You say that like it’s easy, Y/N.”

You all enter the facility and huddle together.

“Wrecker, cover us up top.”

“But being the lookout was Crosshair’s job.”

“That’s why Y/N is going with you.” Hunter nods at you.

“Sounds good to me… C’mon big guy, let's get up there.”

--

This really could be going better. You dodge a few shots from the police droids, firing something back.

“Wrecker, Y/N. Get to the main control panel.” Echo’s voice comes through the comms

You and the man run up but stop when you reach the panel… on the other side of a river of molten droid parts. Lovely. Crosshair would’ve loved this.

“Echo, we can’t reach the platform. Unless you want us to fall into a molten river.”

“It’s the only way to reboot the whole facility. Figure it out!”

Wrecker looks at you, “That’s easy for you to say.” The man paces erratically and grips his head.

“Wrecker, we need to hurry. You can do this.” You stop the man and hold his shoulders. “I’ll cover you.”

The man groans and mumbles to himself.

“Wrecker, what are you waiting for?”

“Wrecker, you need to hurry!” A blaster shot flies over your head, and more police droids surround you both.

Wrecker jumps to a claw and swings to the platform, hitting his head in the process.

“Wrecker! Get the system online, we’re running out of time!” Police droids gather together, converging on your position. The man flips the switch before collapsing.

“Wrecker!” You fire off a few rounds and use the claw to get to the platform. “C’mon Wrecker! We gotta get out of here!”

You grab Wreckers blaster and fire at the closer droids. “Dammit, Wrecker!”

“H-Hunter, Y/N… I’m stuck on the conveyor. I need help.”

“I’m surrounded by police droids and Wrecker is incapacitated at the moment. Hunter?”

“I’ll get Omega. Just get down here as soon as you can.”

You fire off more rounds, then kneel down. “Wrecker… Wrecker! You couldn’t have hit your head that hard. C’mon.” You push his shoulder.

More droids converge and you move around the platform. Wrecker mumbles but you can’t make out anything. Good soldiers follow orders.

--

Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers...good soldiers.

“CT-9904? A moment?” Rampart approached the grey-haired man, who placed a toothpick between his lips.

“Sir.”

“I believe we have gotten off on the wrong… foot.” Rampart stands, looking out the window. “You see, Private L/N and her skills will be very useful for my current project. I understand that your relationship with the soldier-”

Crosshair shoves the man against the window, holding the sharpened point of his toothpick at Rampart’s neck. “I am holding this right over your carotid artery. If I slip just enough, you will bleed out in minutes, possibly less. Now I don’t know who you think I was to that woman, but if you keep pushing it...” Crosshair presses his toothpick harder. “...then I suggest you watch your back.” Crosshair lets go of his collar and Rampart falls to the floor, gripping his neck. “Oh and Admiral. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll still have enough time to find you.” The sniper narrows his eyes and disappears down the hallway.

--

“Y/N, Wrecker, get down here now!”

“I’m working on it, Echo! Wrecker’s still-”

“We’re on our way.” The man grabs his weapon from you and nudges your shoulder.

“Oh, so glad you could join us! How was your beauty sleep?” You punch his shoulder. “We need to get to the others.”

The man walks up to a chain and crouches down. “You remember that mission on Tatooine?”

“How could I ever forget?” You smile and get up on Wrecker’s shoulders. “Let’s do some damage.”

Wrecker jumps down the chain, the two of you firing off. “Sorry, we took so long!”

“We got tired of you guys having all the fun!” Wrecker lands with you still on his shoulders. You hop off and start covering the rest of the group.

“Y/N!” Omega runs up next to you, a few smudges on her face.

“Omega! You got a little something on your cheek, nothing a rag and water can’t take care of.” You pat her on the head for a moment before returning more fire.

A moment later, old battle droids begin to stand up and fire on the police droids.

“Well, that’s new… I take it, that’s our cue to get the hell out of here.”

Tech runs next to you, “Yes, it is indeed.”

“Good shot, Omega!”

“Thank you! You and Echo were right about those distractions.”

“We’ve dealt with this our whole lives, you learn to forget about them over time.” You kneel behind her and provide cover. “Let’s get going… I’m starving.”

“You and me both!” Wrecker runs past you, knocking the remaining droids to the ground.

--

“Trace, right?”

“Yes! And you’re Y/N.” The girl smiles at you.

You place your hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for going back to Omega.”

“She’s a good kid… And a good shot.” Trace chuckles.

“Well, she’s getting there…”

“Y/N! Let’s go! I thought you were starving!” Omega sticks her head out of the ship, waving her arms.

“Okay, jeez. I’m coming!” You wave to the sisters and run to the ship, sitting in the cockpit. Omega comes up and tugs on your arm. “Y/N… Uhm, can you help me train for a bit?”

“Yeah sure, but no target practice. Let’s do strength instead! Then you need to rest, you’ve had a big day.”

“Okay! Now c’mon let’s go!” The girl grabs your hand and drags you to the back.

--

Crosshair stood in the shower, staring at his necklace. He hadn’t moved in minutes, just letting the water run down his body. He was thinking… about everything. Sleep is unknown to him, his brain won’t shut up. He won’t shut up.

You should’ve gone back for her. You should’ve killed her. I love her. No, you don’t. What do you know...You’re not me. I love Y/N, and I always will, I promised her. Ha, with what? That stupid necklace, that ring? You tried to kill her and you think she still loves you? You betrayed everything you promised. You don’t know Y/N like I do. She knows, they all do. She saw me that day, she knows that I’m still here. And she knows you’re here too. She’s not stupid. Oh, I’m sure. Just shut up and let me sleep, please. Hm, I’ll think about it. No, I don’t think I will.

--

“Y/N? Why are you up?” Tech walks into the cockpit, devoid of his eyewear.

“I- couldn’t sleep. Haven’t been since…”

“Since the day we left Kamino… Am I correct?”

“Yes… It’s so odd. It’s like I can feel him.”

“Crosshair?”

“Yes, it’s like I can feel his presence. Like when someone stands behind you, but you can feel them there before they speak. And I keep thinking I hear him, and I see things. Like nightmares...horrible nightmares.” Tears gather in your eyes and they fall down your cheeks. “I- I must be losing my mind, right?”

Tech places his hand on your shoulder and kneels in front of you. “Y/N, you are most definitely not going crazy. But what you’re experiencing does sound very strange. I know how much this… has affected you and I don’t- I don’t have all the answers. I do wish I did, but circumstances have prevented me from fully dedicating-”

“Tech, you’re rambling again.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “I know you are doing everything you can, and you have a great assistant.”

The man chuckles, “Apologies. Yes, Omega is a very nice assistant. She is quite intelligent.” Tech stands up and yawns, “I believe some sleep is necessary, for both of us.”

“I’ll go in a moment, I promise.”

“Very well, I would hate to drag you back.” Tech nods before heading back to his room.

You turn your head, looking out into hyperspace. Crosshair… I don’t know if you can hear me. I was looking at the stars… I miss you. Maybe you’re looking at the stars too if you can even see them, but I hope you are. They look so pretty tonight.

--

Crosshair turned his head to the window, looking through the clouds of Kamino. He finds a small opening in the clouds, revealing a dark, clear sky above. I found the stars… You’re right. They do look pretty….

I love you, Y/N.

… I love you, Crosshair.

[modern-vellichor]

Helloo :) I hope it's okay to request an imagine 🙈 maybe a bucky one where you're both in love with each other but didn't talk about it. Then maybe at the party (at the beginning of age of ultron) you both spend a great and fun time together until ultron breaks in and the fight begins. You get hit and hurt terribly and Bucky freaks out when he sees your broken body. Then he stays by your bedside until you wake up and you both finally confess your feelings. Later then he cares for you and all fluff ❤️ I hope it's okay

hey there! I would just like to say: I have seen most of the marvel films. I was a child of marvel, but I cannot remember anything that happens before like Ragnarok so I’m sorry :) I did rewatch the scenes and i took some lines directly from them so spoiler alert ig. it also took me a fat minute to realise that Bucky isn’t in the scene lol but enjoy doll xx Warnings; graphic description of injury, blood, Bucky fluff :), minor age of Ultron spoilers soz

The dress hugged your form perfectly. It glittered in the dim light of the party. You had found home next to Bucky. He kept a hand loosely on the small of your back, and you leaned into his side. A sparkling smile graced your features for the duration of the party. 

You loved Bucky with your whole heart, as a friend and more. You wanted him to grab your hips and pull you in for a searing kiss. You wanted to feel his teeth against your skin. you wanted your touch to roam the vast expanse of his chest.

You had a wonderful evening. You spent the night attached to Bucky’s hip. You danced and laughed and drank. You were drunk on each other’s presence. The night began to quiet down and you settled next to Maria. Bucky on your other side. Your smile was wiped from your face as you brought your attention away from Bucky and to Maria. A deep frown suddenly landed on your features. Bucky watched as you listened, whispering for Maria.

You heard a metallic thunk, and then mechanic whirring. You pulled a gun from a holster on your thigh, silently cocking the gun and turning the safety off. You were ready to attack. The thuds and the whirring grew louder, you stood up, alerting the team of your anxiousness. They saw the gun hidden behind your back and readied themselves.

The disembodied robot rounded the corner, your breath caught in your throat. It was mumbling cohesively under its breath. You studied the beast, worry growing as you assessed the situation, and it didn’t look good.

“No,” it grumbled. You took a defensive step forward, it was small as you tried to quell your shaking. “How could you be worthy?” Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to respond, but stopped yourself. Perhaps it was a simple malfunction. “You’re all killers.” It pointed at the group, but its wired finger lands on you, it lingers. It stays on your person, almost as if the thing had a grudge against you.

Steve and Stark mumbled quietly behind you, but it was frantic. Words fell from your lips before you could stop them. “Its justified, is it not?” It gazed upon you with a broken smile, it ignored your question. Maybe it was a malfunction, a simple prototype acting up. It didn’t respond to you, it wasn’t coherent.

“Sorry, I was asleep,” it said. It turned its head away from you, as if in thought. Was it confused? “Or, I was a dream.” It shook its head. Parts of it were missing. Wires were exposed in all its joints, the voice box was breaking. Fluid dripped from its arm as it swung about. Surely, it was about to fall apart. One bullet in the right place and this would all be over.

“I had to kill the other guy, he was a good guy” it said, hunched over. It acted like it was in pain.

“Who?” You asked. It ignored you once again, but when Steve spoke to it, it responded. It stood up, towering over you as you gripped the handle of your gun even harder. You took another small step forward. You were looking for a weak spot. 

“Ultron,” Bruce mumbled.

“In the flesh,” it confirmed. An idea dawned upon you, you scrambled away from the being, desperate to put as much space between you and it as possible. It laughed at your feeble attempt to flee, unaware of the plan being formulated. It finally addressed you.

“Scared, little one?”

“Not of you,” you said coolly, a small smirk on your lips. Maria stood up, and so did Bucky,

“You should be.”

Suddenly, two other robots came flying through the drywall. You launched your attack. You used the couch, using its projectile to fling you towards the bot. Ultron grunted as you landed on its back, your thighs tightened around the makeshift neck. You began to frantically cut any wires you could, but it was no use. It grabbed you with one hand and flung you across the room. You hit the wall, crumpling to the ground in a pathetic manner.

Bucky shouted for you, but you ignored him. You grabbed your gun from where it lay a few feet away from you. You began to shoot at Ultron, but it seemed invincible. You continued to launch your attack. You tried to escape, tried to find a control panel, or an override button. But one of Ultron’s sidekicks kicked you square in the chest, sending you stumbling backwards.

Bucky called out for you, tried to help you, but it was to no avail. You were immersed in the fight, there was no distracting you now.

No matter how many hits you took, you never stayed on the ground for long, Blood was soaking your dress and dripping from your face. It was matting in your hair and dripping into your mouth. You walked with a limp and your breath came wheezing out, your chest was heavy. You didn’t relent in your ruthless attack on the enemy.

Some of the team ran, others were flung from the building. But you stayed and fought. While Tony had gotten his hands on one, Thor had stunned another. It lay on the floor. You quickly jumped into action, removing plates and fumbling with wires as you tried to rewrite its code in such a small time frame. But the light in its eyes sparked again and it flung you off its back. With the help of Steve and Thor, you successfully managed to ‘kill’ it. You were probably going to use it for parts.

Three robots had fallen, and you were injured the worst. You weren’t superhuman, and you weren’t a god. You had been the first to launch yourself at Ultron without any protection, you had been the only one to get near Ultron. The other bots had thrown you around like a ragdoll, but you were stubborn and refused to give up the fight. 

“That was dramatic,” Ultron wheezed. He paced back and forth. He gazed at you as you stalked slowly towards him. “You don’t know when to stop, that’ll get you killed.” He stated nonchalantly to you, but you ignored him. He continued his monologue. “I’m sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through... There’s only one path to peace,” he grunted, discarding the body of one of his own, it sparked on the ground. Thor threw his hammer at the villain, he hit him square in the chest. Ultron fell apart as if he were nothing.

You breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed. You fell onto ground covered in shards of glass that tore open your skin. Shards of metal and live wires sparked dangerously close to you. You panted as you let out a strained and pained groan. Bucky was quick to your side, helping you off the floor. Your vision was going, you had lost a lot of blood and your veins were still oozing.

“Hey, Bucky,” you grinned, your voice breaking as your eyes began to shut.

“Yes, doll?” He asked, frantically trying to keep you awake as he dragged you away from the scene, with Steve’s help. 

“I think its time for bed.”

Bucky opposes your proposal, but Bruce insists that sleep is the best thing for you right now. And Steve says that Bruce can be trusted, and that Bruce knows what he’s doing. So Bucky allows you to slip into a deep slumber while he slumps into a chair next to your bed.

You woke up after a few hours. Your body was stiff and bruised but the bleeding had stopped and Bruce had reset your ribs.

“Good morning, soldier,” you smiled at Bucky as he crawled gently into bed next to you. 

“Good morning,” he mumbled back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re an idiot.”

“We won, didn’t we?”

“You nearly died.”

“So, what? I signed up for this, you’re gonna break a couple ribs fighting killer robots. Haven’t you ever seen terminator?”

“What would I do without you?” He scolds. “You were just prepared to leave me? Without a proper goodbye?”

“You would have moved on,” you scoff, attempting to roll away, but his grip on you tightened and you winced. “Its not like we’re married, Barnes.”

“What if I want to marry you?” He interrogated. He raised his voice, and you lost yours completely.

“Do you want to marry me?” You asked slowly, gazing into his tired eyes.

“Not yet, i mean. I’d like to-”

You cut him off by pulling him into a heated kiss. He was gentle with you, wary of your broken body, but sparks flew, and you weren’t worried about anything else.

[silenceofthecookies]

Gin Ichimaru x reader(F) - perspective

Okay so, story time, several years ago I promised @nakunakunomi​ I’d write her a Gin fanfic for her birthday. Time passed, I started writing in character, and I found out Gin is ridiculously hard to write for. I’ve started about 4 stories, all of which I ended up deleting because they didn’t fit Gin well enough to my liking. About 4 hours ago I got this idea, and I’ve been writing it non-stop since to just finish and publish this before I decided it was no good as well and deleted this as well.

Hazel, I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you like it! 

Word count: 3344 Warnings: none

A young man had entered the castle. A commoner. Apparently he had helped out some soldiers capture an enemy spy. There was a war going on with the neighbouring country, and the situation had been tense lately. Spies were not uncommon, though they were hard to catch. This man had not only discovered one, he had also worked with the soldiers to apprehend the spy. The soldiers took him to the king so he could receive a reward for his deeds.

The man was long and slender, certainly not the kind of man you’d think of when you thought of a man who captured an enemy spy. If anything, he was exactly the kind of person you’d think of when imagining an enemy spy. His white hair hung partly over his face, hiding his eyes just a little from sight. But that was not what unnerved you about this man. It was the man’s smile. It was an eerie, long, stretched smile that almost made it seem like he was guarding a secret he would soon reveal. One that would lead to very negative consequences. You did not take your eyes off the man for as long as he was in the throne room.

Against your expectations, he did nothing that would worry you. The man simply accepted the reward from the king for his services and left. Your father had offered him to join the army, saying that surely with his abilities and intelligence he would quickly rise up the ranks, but the man had declined, saying that the life of a soldier was not one suited for him. You were glad when he was gone and let out a breath you were not aware you had been holding. The king laughed at your reaction, having been aware of your caution from the start, and warned you that men could not be judged on looks. You agreed with him and quickly composed yourself before the next person entered the throne room.

After the audiences were done, you went to the library to read a book while you waited for dinnertime. One of your personal maids, Rangiku, went with you.

“Shall I bring your tea to the library, your highness? Or will you be reading in your room?” “In the library is fine, thank you, Rangiku.”

The young woman bowed and left your side to go to the kitchen. You entered the library and took the same book you had been reading for a few days now. It was a romance novel. The protagonist was the daughter and second child of a merchant. Though she was not extremely wealthy, she was smart and beautiful, and she attracted many suitors from higher standing, who offered her father financial support for his company in return for his daughters hand in marriage. Her father refused them all, saying his daughter would marry out of love. After many hardships, she fell in love with a blacksmith’s assistant. He had little to no money to his name, but he was kind, respectful and romantic, and they were going to get married.

The thought seemed almost absurd to you. Didn’t commoners live a very hard life? Why would she turn down all those well-off suitors to go live with a blacksmiths boy? As she was the second child, her father’s company would go to her older brother. Why not marry a well-off man and live comfortably? It confused you so, that you decided to ask Rangiku about it when she arrived with your tea.

“Excuse me, your highness?” she asked, a little shocked as she heard your question. “I asked if it was hard living as a commoner. You once told me you were an orphan and you lived on the street for a while, right?” “That’s true but… your highness, if I might ask, where does this sudden question come from?”

You explained the story you were reading to her, and Rangiku’s eyes softened.

“To answer your question, yes, it was hard. However, it was not all bad. I lived together with another group of orphans. Sure, living wasn’t easy, but we were happy together. Having the right people around you can bring you more happiness than money ever could.” “I see… if they made you so happy, Rangiku, don’t you miss them now you work here?” “Of course I do, your highness. But I visit them regularly on my days off.” “I see… what are they like?”

Rangiku happily told you about the people she grew up with, people who were all like brothers and sisters to her. There were two people who she spoke of more than others though. They were Gin and Toshiro, her older and younger brother respectively. According to Rangiku Gin had a weird sense of humour, but he was very reliable. Toshiro on the other hand was way too serious, but he was always thinking about others. Seeing her face light up as she spoke about her little makeshift family made you think that maybe, the book that now lied neglected on the couch next to you was not just pretty words.

“They all sound so wonderful.” You told Rangiku as she finished talking. “They really are.” She agreed with a gentle smile on her face. “Do you think I could meet them?” you asked carefully, in a small voice. “Of course! If that is your highnesses’ wish, you could invite them here at any time, I’m sure they’d be honoured to-“ “Actually, I’d rather meet them at their home. And maybe without them knowing I’m the princess. I feel like… I don’t know… it would give me a better understanding of commoners and their life? Listening to you just made me realise that I have no idea how commoners live… but this country will be mine to rule one day…”

Rangiku’s eyes widened in surprise before an excited smile appeared on her face.

“Your highness, that is a fantastic idea! In that case, how about I bring you with me on my next day off? We’ll put you in one of the maid’s dresses and tell them that you’re another maid who grew up in the castle.” “Would that really be alright?” “Of course!”

You and Rangiku worked out all the details, how to sneak you out, how to make sure nobody would realise you were gone,… and then agreed that next Sunday, you’d head to the kitchen after breakfast and that you’d leave with Rangiku.

---

You adjusted the hood of your cloak as you walked through the gates of the castle. As the princess of this country, you had never been allowed to leave the castle without a guard and yet here you were, leaving the castle with a maid. You briefly wondered if this truly was a good idea, wondering what the consequences would be for both you and Rangiku in case you got caught, but these thoughts were soon banished from your mind when you came across a market in the castle town. Rangiku bought a pie from the baker. The baker happily chatted with Rangiku as she did so, and from their conversation it was clear that Rangiku did this every time she went home. After a while of walking, the two of you left the walls of the castle town and walked in between the fields that surrounded it. There were a lot of farmers out on the fields, watering their crops and milking their cows. Most of them waved at Rangiku as she passed by, and Rangiku happily waved back. Several of them yelled ‘good morning’ and ‘have a safe trip’ as well from across their fields, and the happy atmosphere caught hold of you. You had always thought that commoners were unhappy because they did not have a lot of money, but perhaps Rangiku was right. Maybe happiness required the right people around you instead of a lot of money.

Not too long after the two of you left the castle walls, a small house came into sight. It looked a bit old and worn-out and it was clear that there had been work done to patch it up here and there. In fact, as you approached, you noticed a small figure sitting on the roof, attaching a few new planks to the roof.

“Toshiro!” Rangiku called out. The young man jumped at the sound a little and turned around. You immediately recognised the name. “Welcome back Rangiku. I’ll be down after I’ve fixed this. There’s a small leak in the roof.” “Take your time~” “Who’s that with you?” “This is Shiori, we work together at the castle.”

You resisted the urge to curtsy at the introduction. Shiori had been the name you to picked to cover up your identity, but Shiori was an attendant of the princess, not the princess herself.

“Nice to meet you, Shiori, I’m Toshiro.” The young man showed a small smile as he addressed you. “Nice to meet you, Toshiro.” You answered with a smile of your own. “Toshiro! Where is Gin?” Rangiku asked once introductions were over. “He’s out helping the old man next door with milking the cows, his son is sick. He should be back any time now.” “Alright~ Come in, Shiori, I’ll make us some time. Toshiro, come down soon too, I’ve got pie~”

Toshiro did not reply, instead the sound of hammering was soon heard again. Once you entered the house, it sounded extra loud, but you would bear it for a little. For now though, you were more distracted by the interior of the house. You had never been in a commoner’s house before. Everything was dark because the windows were small, there was very little furniture, and most of what was visible seemed older than you. It was truly a culture shock. Rangiku started boiling a big pot of tea.

“It’s not much, but make yourself at home. I’ll prepare some tea and cut the pie already.”

You somewhat carefully sat down on a chair, wondering if it would give out under your weight. It didn’t take long for Toshiro to come back in. Rangiku put down cups of tea and handed out plates with pie, both were made of simply, unpainted clay. They were very different from the cups and plates you had back in the castle.

As you were enjoying the refreshments, you found out that most of the people Rangiku had mentioned no longer lived with them. Most had taken up trades and were living with their masters. Some others had moved town, hoping to find happiness somewhere else. Only Gin and Toshiro had remained in the house. They made a living by tending to a patch of land that as attached to their house and by helping the farmer, who was also their landlord.

Just when you were starting to relax and enjoy the company, a fourth person entered the small home. As you looked up, your heart sank. It was the man you had seen at the castle, the one with the unnerving smile. Certainly he would recognise you. His eyes lingered a second on you before he turned to Rangiku, his smile never wavering.

“Rangiku, who did you bring with you?” “This is Shiori, she works at the castle too. I talk about you two all the time so she wanted to come with me. Shiori, this is Gin.” “Nice to meet you” Your voice came out shaky, partially because of the fear of being recognised, partially because of his face. “Nice to meet you, Shiori. Oh by the way, Rangiku, did you know I went by the castle last week?” “What? No way! And you didn’t come say hi to me?!”

As Rangiku got the details from Gin about his business in the castle, you let out a shaky breath. Did he not recognise you? Certainly not, otherwise he would have treated you differently, right? This was good, your cover was safe.

“Wait, Gin, you refused the king’s offer to join the army despite him offering you a higher position from the start?!” “Yeah.” “Are you mad?! Those guys earn good money!” “Aw come on, Rangiku. Then Toshiro would’ve been lonely.” “I would definitely be happier without you around!” Toshiro yelled. He had been silent ever since Gin had entered and he had seemed more tense too. “Of course he would have been! Then he and Momo could’ve lived here together~!” Rangiku quipped in. “Wha-?! Rangiku!” Toshiro yelled, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Rangiku and Gin laughed. “Yeah, maybe I should have thought about that earlier~” Gin joked. “As if, you just don’t want to work for the king because you hate that guys guts, right?” Toshiro asked. “Toshiro!” Rangiku lightly slapped his arm. “What?! I know you work in the castle, but that’s not changing the situation!” Toshiro yelled.

You looked in confusion between the three. Your father was a beloved king, right? Why did they act this way? Rangiku noticed and immediately tried to steer away from the subject.

“Oh I’m so sorry you have to see this, Shiori. Toshiro, Gin, we have a guest. Let’s not do this now.” She said. “Oh come on, Rangiku. Certainly she’s just as fed-up with the king as we are. Aren’t you, Shiori?” Gin asked, his attention, and grin, now directed at you. “I…I think he’s a fair king.” You said. “Let me guess, you were born in the castle?” “Yes…I was. What does that have to do with it?” “It means you lack perspective. The king wanted more power, so he started a war with the neighbouring country. To pay for said war, he’s raising taxes.” “Yes, but when he wins the spoils from the war will certainly be plentiful.” “When? You’re naïve, aren’t you? If. If he wins. And on top of that, those spoils will go into his pocket, not ours. And then we’re not even talking about the people who have died fighting this stupid war. Do you know how many have already died? How many more need to die for that bastard to fill his pockets? The king is a greedy son of a bitch, that’s what he is.” Gin spoke calmly, as if reading a line from a book. And yet, there was something menacing about his tone. There was a certain edge to it. One that made you very nervous. “I…I think the king is doing what he thinks is best for the kingdom.” “By killing his people and robbing them blind with taxes?” “I… I cannot deny that that’s happening, but I truly believe the king means well. Maybe… he’s lacking perspective.”

Gin’s grin grew and Rangiku was about to get up and drag you away before Gin got up and got closer to you.

“Let’s say you’re right. He’s still doing bad stuff. He only has people advising him who will also fill their pockets after the war. His perspective will never expand. He has no-one around who has the guts to point out his mistakes.” “The why don’t you join the army and become that person?” “Because the moment I speak up, I will be branded a rebel and executed, that’s why. Life is not that fair, young lady. Usually when you point out mistakes to nobles and royals, they’ll have you hung.”

Your head dropped. He was right, whenever someone was rude to a royal, said royal needed but say the word and the offender was executed. Nobles had the same power to a certain extent. In the past, it has been used to repress rebellions by your ancestors. And you had never thought anything of it, you had seen it as normal.

“Gin! That’s enough!” Rangiku huffed, pushing Gin out of your face. “Aww don’t be so serious, Rangiku. I was only playing teasing her~” “You were harassing her, Gin.” “Oh, was I? I’m sorry, Shiori~”

His apology was light-hearted and sounded as a joke. As if he did something funny. Rangiku continued to scold him for a little longer, before stepping back and grabbing your cloaks.

“I think we should leave, Shiori. I’m sorry about my brother.” “It’s alright, Rangiku. He… he had a point.” Rangiku stared at you in shock as you put your cloak on. “Despite the topic just now, I had fun while I was here. Would it be alright if I came with you more often?” “O-of course. If that’s what you want…”

You thanked Toshiro and Gin for their hospitality and left their home, Rangiku following behind you in a daze. The sound of the door closing behind her seemed to snap her out of it, and she quickly ran up to walk besides you.

“Your highness, I am so sorry for Gin’s behaviour. He was out of line, talking about your father like that.” “No, Rangiku, he wasn’t. He voiced his a opinion. Gave me a perspective I never even thought about. As the future queen of this country, I need to hear things like this. The rich are only a small portion of this country, yet it’s the only view I know. Sure, it hurt to hear him speak about my father like that… but I want to be a good queen. I want to make the people happy. All of them, not just the rich. I can’t keep walking with my eyes shielded from the ugly truth.”

Rangiku was unsure of what to say to you as she continued walking besides you on your way back to the castle. Unknown to you, Gin, who had been listening to the conversation from next to a window that was open, grinned and walked back to the kitchen, where Toshiro was still drinking his tea.

---

Your little escapade had gone by without a problem. Nobody every knew you were gone, so nobody got in trouble. That had been a few days ago now, but Gin’s words were still etched into your mind. You pondered over them as you read several books about history and politics, trying to think about them from a commoners perspective as much as you could, the romance novel you were reading long forgotten.

You tucked the books you wanted to read under your arm, ready to bring them to your room with you to enjoy them in the safety of your room. As you walked though a hallway, a man in light armour walked by. It wasn’t uncommon, as the strategy room was close to the library. What was uncommon though, was the man’s white hair. As you got closer, you realised exactly who that was.

“Gin?” you gasped. “Good evening, your highness. Or can I call you Shiori? Wait, your real name was Y/N, right? Can’t I just call you that? I do hate formalities, certainly when you’ve visited my house already.” “I- Wha- You knew?” “Oh yes, all along. You’re not very subtle, you know that?” “But, I thought you hated my father? Did you change your mind?” “Oh no, not at all. I still can’t stand the guy. But I heard the princess needed to hear the opinions of the commoners.” “You overheard that?!” “The walls of our house aren’t nearly as thick as the castle walls, my lady.” “So… you came here to help me?” “I had three reasons for doing this. That is one of them.” “What are the other two?” “Easy. Toshiro has a girlfriend and I’m pretty sure he wants to marry her, but as long as I live at home nothing is going to happen.” “And the last?” “Oh, the third reason?”

Gin stepped closer to you, which in turn made you step back. You continued retreating as he kept advancing until your back was against the wall. He stared at you, that unnerving smile of his present as always.

“Because you caught my eye, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks heat up. Before you could even process the words, Gin was already continuing down the hallway.

“Anyway, I have a meeting with the king. Have a nice day, your highness~”

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

What We Want and What We Can Have

Part Two- My Love, Don’t Fade Away

WHOOPS IT’S A PART TWO THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR (part one lives hither)!

Warnings: cannon-typical violence, angst, unresolved tension encroaching resolution, more of Ron and his big beautiful brain, Ron has like three feelings and you take up two of them, non-edited nonsense bc feelings don’t wait for approval

I listened to Reminder by Mumford and Sons as well as I Don’t Feel It Anymore by William Fitzsimmons. Let me know if any of you crazy kids are interested in my BoB heavy-feels writing playlist bc ya know i’ve got one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The grey smoke from the burning church stung your eyes, and as you feel your tears trickle down your cheeks you wonder if they are soot-stained as well. 

 Around you, you can hear the screams of bombs whistling through the air- the harmonizing shrieks of the wounded and dying ringing in your ears as you watch Gene running towards the smoldering building, but you can’t seem to do anything other than watch. You know you need to do something, anything to help the medic save the handful of people bursting through the smoke like ashen fireworks.  

Yet all you seem capable of doing is dumbly stare at the ruins of the makeshift hospital you’d just watched explode. 

 The makeshift hospital you had been tasked to watch over.

For weeks, you’d been monitoring intel reports for any sign that the Luftwaffe had been intending to bomb the town of Bastogne. Weeks of pouring over intercepted and forwarded information and maps and citizen chatter that you’d been so sure indicated that the town was safe from harm, that the air attacks would be solely focused on the woods. 

Yet here you were, standing in the heart of a bomb-pocked town with ice in your veins and a terrible hollow in your heart.

 You’d failed. You couldn’t have been more spectacularly wrong.

 The irony of your mistake ending in fire was not lost on you, and as your eyes danced up with the flames and plumes of smoke you were filled with the same helpless feeling that had found you after learning of the fate of your mother, sister, and brother-in-law all those months ago. Only this time, you had no one to blame but yourself.

 You had done this. You’d missed something and now all of those wounded soldiers and brave nurses and innocent people were dead and trapped.

 When Gene grabs your shoulders you nearly jump out of your skin, blinking for the first time in what felt like hours and forcing yourself to focus on the drawn face of your friend. Something in his eyes gives you the impression that he’s been trying to get your attention for a long time.

 “Y/N!” he shouts, using his grip on you to pull you back towards the jeep. “We have to go, we’ve gotta go back—”

 “I-I should stay,” you stammer, limbs feeling like lead as you stumble along stiffly. “I don’t think…”

 Gene, ignoring your quiet mumbling, all but shoves you into the car and takes your previous seat as driver.

 Eyes having drifted back to the smoldering church, you try again to get your fumbling mouth to work enough to speak.

 “Gene, I think—”

 “You’re not staying here, Y/N.”

The way he says it leaves no room for argument.

“Bet you don’t even realize that your face is bleeding like a stuck pig….”

 When you raise your hand to touch your cheek you feel that he’s right, you are bleeding- most likely from the initial blast of debris that had hit you when the bomb hit.

As Gene whips the jeep around to take off down the road, you feel the cool wind sting at your eyes, the air so drastically different from the smoke you’d just been breathing that it makes you lightheaded.

 “I killed them,” you murmur, despite the fact that you know Gene can’t hear you. “I killed them.”

 Gene is crying when you look over at him but you can’t find it in you to offer him any comfort. What would the point be? What could you possibly say when everything you’d just witnessed was a direct consequence of something you’d missed?

 Ron was wrong, you think to yourself as you look back to the rapidly approaching forest. It is better to feel nothing. I want to feel nothing.

 Almost as if all you had to do was think about it- a strange calm settles bitterly in your chest, joining the hollow that had been deepening each day since you’d seen Blithe get shot through the throat.

 Just as you’d wished, you slipped into the numbness of nothing.

 ~

 Ron was worried about you.

 No, he was more than worried. He was concerned...deeply concerned.

He had been for a while now- ever since you’d come back from a scouting mission with Blithe’s blood on your hands and a grim look of defeat marring your pretty face. He’d tried to talk to you about it, going as far as to pull you aside and wash the blood from your hands in hopes of getting you to open up privately- ignoring the confused looks of your superiors and his colleagues as he did so.

You had been, were worth any rumors that could come from his intentionally infrequent sign of humanity.

 But you’d given him nothing more than a weak smile and whisper of thanks before slipping away to find Nixon. It was like that moment in the attic had never happened.

 Seeing you come back from the town of Bastogne had shocked him, too. Not as much in terms of the blood pouring from the cut on your cheek, but in the absolutely dead look in your eyes he’d found when he had begun questioning you as to what had happened.

 “I was wrong,” you’d said emotionlessly, barely flinching when Spina had brought an alcohol-drenched rag to your wound. “I missed something, and now the town is gone.”

 Before he could even begin to think of a reply, Spina had asked him to help get you to CP so the other officers could figure out the next course of action. And once he had, you’d had no more to say.

 That night, Ron had poured over the information you’d been given concerning Bastogne, glaring at Nixon until the other man had relented and reluctantly given him the small wooden box you kept your reports in. You hadn’t ‘missed’ anything- there had been nothing to indicate any sort of attack to the town for you to miss. You had done nothing wrong.

 Not that he’d be able to convince you of that. Ron knew you well enough by now to know that your stubbornness could rival his own if you indulge yourself in it enough. He’d learned that long ago in Georgia upon meeting you, that you had not gotten here by accident or through any sort of familial connection- but rather by sheer determination and steadfastness and unapologetic bullheadedness, not to mention a natural gift for finding patterns in behaviors and translating them into strategy.

Watching you work, then and now, had been nothing short of marvelous. 

 But this wasn’t you. This heartbroken husk of you that he had been seeing now made his already frozen body feel even colder.

 Ron needed you back.

 Unbeknownst to you (and initially to him as well), you’d become the reason he fought. At first, it had been a more practical explanation: you worked tirelessly to secure the information needed to build strategies and he felt the need to reward that hard work with his own successful execution of the plans you’d made. Then, upon completing the task, you would come in and use any of the information you found to build the next strategy. It had been transactional, an exchange of services that helped the both of you work towards the mutual goal of winning the war.

It was simple.

 There was no real event to precede his shift in perspective. One day you’d been Y/N and the next you were Y/N. He’d nearly said as much in the attic, when your eyes had burned him alive with their curious sincerity and your heart had called to him so sweetly he’d nearly kissed you. 

 Seeing you now, blinking slowly in the warm candlelight while the voices of the choir wrapped around everyone like a thick blanket, Ron wondered if he should’ve kissed you.

He wonders if, by doing so, he could’ve somehow stopped you from getting to this point.

 You hadn’t been at the frontlines earlier that day for the siege of Foy, yet you looked just as drained as every other man in the company who had. Even with his heavy jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers still trembled as you picked at the dirt beneath your nails, making him wonder if you were shaking from something else other than the cold.

 You startle slightly as he reaches over and places his hand over yours, head quickly turning to look at him and the tiniest dust of pink coloring your cheeks when you realized how close your face was to his. Almost as if you’d forgotten that he was sitting beside you in the pew, that only an hour ago he’d forced you to accept his coat while he scribbled out the names of the men now under his command onto some paper he’d asked one of the sisters for earlier. He hadn’t bothered writing your name- you were not like all of the others, you weren’t something to oversee and keep in order.

And as far as Ron was concerned, you’d been connected to him since D-Day. 

 He didn’t need a note to remember that.

 A shy, small smile turns your lips up at the corners- the action not seeming to quite reach your eyes but Ron felt the sincerity in it all the same. Flickering your gaze back down to his hand resting over yours, he watches as you hook your thumb over his small finger, pleased at the warmth he feels as you momentarily play with the silver ring he always wore there.  Watching your profile, he only takes his hand away when you return your attention to the young girls in front of the altar, allowing his gaze to linger on you for a few moments before turning back to his list.

 Feeling another set of eyes on him, he looks up and catches Lipton looking over his shoulder at the exchange. The other man quickly turns back upon being caught, and Ron studies the back of the other man’s head for a few moments before making up his mind.

 “Y/N,” Ron says quietly, tilting his head towards the door of the church once your eyes find his again, standing and rolling his sore shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at your billet on my way to Battalion.”

 The offer seemed to surprise Lipton, but you take a deep breath and nod shortly.

 “Alright,” you say softly, “let me go return Luz’s lighter and I’ll meet you at the door?”

As he nods, you stand up carefully and side-step in front of Ron out of the pew, meeting Lipton’s smile with a weak one of your own as you give the man’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

 “Night, Car.”

 Lipton pats her hand affectionately and then you’re striding over to the pews where Luz, Liebgott, Randleman, and Heffron have set up camp.

Ron watches you go as he loads his gear back on, once again feeling Lipton staring at him. There’s a familiarity in the way Lipton is looking at him- it’s a look everyone seems to send his way, ever since Donald Malarkey started the rumor on D-Day.

 “You wanna ask me, don’t you?” Ron asks, watching the other man fidget.

 “Ask you what, sir?”

 “You wanna know if they’re true or not,” he clarifies, sizing the other man up. “The stories about me?”

 Lip said nothing, and when Ron looked over his shoulder at the man he saw that Lip was looking away. The man amused him, to say the least. The man’s bravery was starting to show in ways that filled Ron with every confidence in him- glad to have a Lieutenant with a backbone in his newly appointed Company.

 “Ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they hear it from someone who was there, and then when you ask that person they say they heard it from someone who was there?” Ron steps from the pew to stand before Lipton. 

“There’s nothing to ‘em, really. I bet if you went back 2000 years you’d hear a couple Centurions standing around yacking about how Tertius lopped off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners.”

 Lipton seemed to consider that for a moment before replying. 

“Well, maybe they kept talking about it because they never heard Tertius deny it.”

 Slinging his gun over his shoulder, Ron lets a smirk show on his face and squares his shoulders. “Well, maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value in the men thinking he was the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole Roman Legion.” 

 When Ron looks over to where you are, he is glad to see that some of the tension in your posture has lessened. He can hear you mumble something that amuses Luz and Bull to no end, unable to help but feel a tinge of sadness at the fact that you’ve still got that hollow look in your eyes.

 “If I may speak freely, Sir?” Lipton says, breaking Ron from his trance and allowing him to look back to the other man. When he nods, the new Lieutenant dips his head indicatively in your direction.

“I’m worried about her….a lot of us are, Sir.”

 Ron keeps his expression neutral, nodding at the comment.

“Is there a question in there, Lipton?”

 A grimace crosses Lip’s face as he seems to ponder his words carefully. 

“No, Sir. It’s more of an observation, if anything.”

 “Go ahead.”

 “I know that, technically, Captain Nixon is meant to be her immediate supervisor,” Lipton says with a bit more confidence. “But I worry that he’s been, er….neglecting some of his responsibilities in favor of more cathartic activities….”

He cuts himself off, looking from side to side quickly before lowering his voice.

“Captain Nixon has been passing the brunt of the analysis work to Captain Y/L/N, if not ignoring it entirely. And, as great an officer as Y/N is, Sir—”

 “I understand, Lieutenant,” Ron interrupts Lipton just shy of insubordination, giving the confused man a nod before realizing that he’s unintentionally called the other man by his new title. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. You were right to do so.”

 After informing Lipton of his promotion, Ron quickly turns on his heel and makes eye contact with you once more. As you fall in to step with him through the doorway of the church, Ron processes the new information he’s been given.

 While he’d never really liked Lewis Nixon, this revelation has only solidified his stance on the man. It was one thing to drink on the job and still be productive- whatever arrangement this was was unacceptable. 

 Your hand is soft in his as he takes it, the fumble in your stride telling him that you hadn’t been expecting him to do so. But you still don’t let go, you still follow him past Battalion and you offer no resistance when he guides you inside of the small cottage you’d been assigned to.

 When Ron gently takes your face in his hands, your eyes flicker down to his mouth before he even begins to speak.

 “Do you remember what you asked me in the attic, a few months ago? About what I cared about?”

 You nod slowly, and as your gaze meets his he could swear that you’re about to burn him to ask once more. You seem to lean into his touch, and while there is still caution in your eyes he thinks he may also see a flicker of intrigue in your irises as well.

 “Things you can’t have. Things you shouldn’t care about.”

 You say it as if you didn’t need to think about it very hard to remember- something that makes his heart stutter in his chest.

 “You, you know that I was talking about you.”

 Then, you do something that Ron will never forget.

 You smile.

And this time, it reaches your eyes.

~ ~ ~ (*looks over at all the homework/chores I’ve neglected in favor of writing this* WHOOPS

BUT FOR REAL HERE WE BE AGAIN. HOPE I DIDN’T DEPRESS Y’ALL TOO MUCH BC I KEEP DOING THAT WITHOUT INTENDING TO OK LOVE YOU BYE )

taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[hearts-hunger]

ciryc ca'tra (cold night sky): chapter two || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one

Series Summary: When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe under the cold night sky. || Part One of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Despite your worries and the work to be done, you and Din take a breather to lean on each other. But on this frozen planet, you quickly realize that neither of you can afford to let your guard down. 

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None!

A/N: I have to say I’m jut as flattered as can be by the generous and kind responses that chapter one of this series received. I’m so happy you guys are enjoying it! I’m planning around two or three more chapters for this fic, and if there’s any interest, maybe another episode rewrite with our sweet wife!reader character. I hope you enjoy this chapter! ♡

You ate with little regard for what you were actually tasting - it was nearly frozen anyways, and the things in the very back of your storage shelves were always the highly nutritive but relatively tasteless rations. They worked in a pinch, and you and Din had had your fair share of them in his bounty hunter days, but since then you’d made it a point to provide your family with balanced, flavorful meals with as much fresh produce as you could get your hands on. You felt that your husband’s current mood could be significantly improved by something warm and hearty to eat, and wished there was something you could do to ease his frustration.

As it was, Din took his dinner upstairs so he could take off his helmet and look for a missing tool while he was at it. You collected the empty plates when the baby and the frog lady had finished, and bumped into your husband on your way to put them back in storage.

“Just me,” you called before you rounded the corner, not wanting him to have to go through the trouble of quickly putting his helm back on. You saw he had been about to, but set the helmet back down on the shelf he was leaning against.

“Did you find what you needed?” you asked, unconsciously avoiding looking in his direction. Even after all this time, you still had to overcome the tiniest bit of awkwardness to look at him without his mask, especially if you weren’t there when he took it off. It felt a bit like walking in on him undressing - not unwelcome, but perhaps a moment where he had wanted privacy even from his wife and one that made you want to ask for permission to look.

“No,” he said. “It was a long shot anyways. I haven’t used it in ages, and it’s probably either stuck somewhere I’d never find it or long gone.”

He watched you put the dishes in the sink, running a little bit of water over them - the pipes were nearly frozen, and only a small stream of water came from the faucet.

“We should keep it running a little,” you said, setting the dishes to dry. “That way, maybe the pipes won’t freeze over completely.”

He hummed in agreement. Then, “Cyar’ika. Look at me.”

You did as he said, turning from the sink to meet his eyes. He gave you a smile, gentle and amused.

“Still gets you sometimes, hm?”

You blushed. “Sometimes.”

He brought his plate over to the sink and stood close to you, studying you with those warm brown eyes always so full of kindness. 

“I remember how you could barely look at me on our wedding night,” he said, his voice fond at the memory. “You were so embarrassed; you kept apologizing, stammering and blushing like you’d done something wrong.”

You smiled too, recalling how patient he’d been with you. “I felt like I had,” you said, in defense of your younger self. “As much as I wanted to see you, I had spent so long looking away if you needed to take your helmet off that I felt guilty for looking that night.”

You reached up to brush back his curls. “I’d spent our entire courtship wondering what you looked like,” you said, now freely looking over his beloved features. They had been so beautiful but so new to you that night, like a gift you’d been admonished not to open and suddenly had given to you, and you hadn’t quite known if you were allowed to have it yet.

“And you were so horrified by what you saw that you couldn’t stand the sight of me,” Din teased, his smile on your cheek as he kissed it gently. “Tried to figure out a way to get out of marrying me.”

You laughed at the utter absurdity of it, putting your arms around his neck and letting him hold you close. He had been the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, with those dark eyes and his messy curls and his gentle smile. Every time he took off his helmet, you remembered how enchanted and lovesick you’d been on your wedding night and felt like you were a new bride all over again, seeing your husband for the first time.

“Too bad I’ve been stuck with you all this time,” you teased. “And now we have a baby... I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

He chuckled as he nosed against your jaw. “Not even if you tried, riduur.”

You loved it when he called you that - wife, in his native tongue, a remembrance of your love-bond, your marriage vows. You let him hold you for a moment, comforted by how solid and steady his beskar felt and warmed by his kisses on your face.

“Come down when you can,” you said softly. “It’s lonely without you.”

He smiled. “You have the baby.”

“And he’s much too busy looking at those eggs to care about his mother.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, we need to keep an eye on that.” He pulled away from you, but not before giving you one last kiss.

“I’m going to try one more place to find that tool,” he said. “If it’s not there, it’d probably best that we all just... try and get some rest.”

You could hear the weight of your predicament bleed back into his voice, but you tried to be cheerful.

“Go look and see,” you said. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find it.”

He started to smile before he put the helmet back on, and you knew he still had a wry quirk to his mouth under the beskar.

“Maybe,” he agreed.

You came back down to the first level to see your foundling happily babbling away to the frog lady, who was returning his chatter with gentle croaks you could only describe as motherly. You smiled to yourself as you set about trying to make comfortable sleeping arrangements; Din had said he wanted to sleep outside of your bunk just as a precaution, in case the patching came undone or there was some unwelcome intrusion. You thought any sort of creature who lived on such an inhospitable planet would not be one you wanted to meet, and you appreciated your husband’s foresight in being where he could most readily protect those in his care.

As warm as your bunk would be, you didn’t really like the idea of sleeping without your husband beside you - it had been a long time since you’d slept alone. But you knew he would insist, and so you made up the bunk with as little as you could in order to give Din the extra blankets.

He came down without the tool he’d been searching for, as both of you had guessed he would, and made a quick check of the space before turning to the three of you.

“If you hadn’t guessed, we’re in a tight spot,” he said, mostly to the frog lady. He sounded discouraged and tired. “The main power drive is not responding, and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls.”

He paused and looked around the ship, the one he’d called home long before you and the baby had, and you felt a wave of grief on his behalf.

“In the morning, I can have a better look at the outside of the ship,” he continued. “I’ll have a better idea of our prospects at that time.”

You saw the baby give a great big yawn for such a little thing, and picked him up to take him to bed. Din leaned down to touch his helm to your head and brush a gloved hand over the baby’s ear, a silent wish for good sleep and pleasant dreams for both of you, and hunkered down onto the makeshift pallet on the ship’s floor.

The frog lady started to croak a little frantically, and you looked over as you tucked the baby in. You could read the exhaustion and confusion in Din’s body language as he tried to parse what she was saying, but eventually he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, lady, I don’t understand frog,” he said tiredly. “Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep.”

Din crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, looking far from comfortable, but you knew he’d fallen asleep in a soldier’s slump like that more times than he could count. You climbed into bed and tucked the baby against your side, singing a very soft lullaby to him that Din had taught you.

“Ka’ra laararir gar jate ca,” you sang. The stars sing you goodnight. You brushed a finger over his ear and he curled close to you, giving a sleepy coo as he closed his eyes and listened to your voice. You kissed his head before you laid your own head down. You listened to the faint sound of Din’s gentle snores through his modulator, and your own exhaustion quickly caught up to you as you lay with your baby in your arms.

-

“Wake up, Mandalorian.”

You jolted awake at the horrible voice, immediately moving your body to shield the baby before you even knew what the danger was. You saw Din with his blaster drawn, aimed across at the droid slung up in parts on the wall; his whole body was tense, fearful, angry. Your heart raced in your chest as you waited in silence for him to tell you what to do, explain what was going on.

“This cannot wait until morning,” the droid said, its lifeless, metallic voice filling the ship. You hated that droid, and had begged Din countless times to get rid of it. You had thought he would be even more keen than you to be rid of it, considering his distrust of droids, but it had stayed hung up on the wall in a tangle of broken parts and frayed wires. In the past you had mitigated the unease it brought you by reminding yourself that it was basically scrap metal, and you were filled with horror at the thought that it had now somehow come to life and started speaking.

“Do not be alarmed,” it continued, though it had the opposite effect. “I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.”

Only then did you notice the frog lady, who was standing by the droid holding a comlink that connected to the droid’s head through a long, snaking wire. Was she speaking through the droid?

Your husband seemed to come to the same realization, and after a glance your way to make sure you were alright, he put his blaster away. His shoulders retained their tense wariness, and his voice was strained with a panicked sort of ire.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. His chest plate rose and fell with his deep, unsteady breaths, and you knew he was still shaken up by the fright of being woken by the droid’s voice.

“That droid is a killer,” he said, and you could not mistake the bitterness and hatred in his voice. You wished you could comfort him, somehow, but knew he would feel more at ease with you and the baby at a safe distance from the droid, even if it was only the frog lady speaking through it.

“These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle,” the droid - or the frog lady - said. You could hear her croaking under the ringing sound of the droid’s voice. “My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to.”

She fell silent and waited for Din to speak, as did you. You understood her fears and empathized with her need to insist upon help - you’d challenge a Mandalorian too, if your baby’s life depended on it. But you also understood how very slim your chances truly were on this frozen planet, and you didn’t know what could be done that hadn’t been done already, unless Din was willing to put himself and the ship at even greater risk for the chance of repair.

Din sighed. “Look, lady, the deal is off,” he said, and you were reminded of how brusque he’d been before you really got to know him, and how that same bluntness tended to resurface when he was stressed. “We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives.”

The frog lady stood her ground. “I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code,” the droid said for her. “I guess those are just stories for children.”

You bit your lip, feeling her words like a wound, and you were sure Din felt it even more than you did. Din was trying - he wouldn’t break a promise if he could help it. His honor as a Mandalorian, as a man, meant everything to him. You knew Din had been wrestling with feelings of uselessness and incompetence since the checkpoint with the New Republic pilots had gone bad, and you knew how much he hated not being able to fix everything and protect everyone and make good on every single one of his promises. He was a Mandalorian, and if couldn’t fix things, he didn’t deserve the beskar he wore. 

At least, that was his thinking, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that the frog lady’s accusations were only making that clearer to him. You wanted to defend him, but you didn’t know what you’d say; you also knew that even if Din would have appreciated your support, he was perfectly capable of fighting his own battles. So, out of respect for his dignity and with confidence in his good sense, you waited for him to act.

He stood and grabbed his toolbox.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” he said, though you knew his voice better than anyone and could tell it was more tiredness and frustration with himself than any malice directed at her. He cast a glance your way, and you nodded to tell him you and the baby were alright, that he didn’t need to worry about you on top of everything else. He gave a brief nod back and lifted the tarp to head out into the unforgiving cold.

Read chapter three!

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[gayskywalkcrs]

56. “I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.” - Fox and Cody

HELLO yes absolutely!! here you go, my love.

(prompts)

words: 3431

notes: stitch, sketch, and zaisam are my ocs. other random clones you don’t recognise are probably some that i made up on the spot, just to avoid killing anyone else you guys are emotionally attached to.

Fox is dreaming. He has to be, because he feels safe, and he's never felt safe on Coruscant before. There's always a creeping feeling of something wrong, like a hand on the back of his neck, or of fingers digging into his mind. For the first time since leaving Kamino as a child, he feels genuinely safe.

It scares him.

He's dreaming that he's back in the Guard barracks, strangely comforting, though sparse as they are. There's a makeshift rug by the beds, made out of old blacks that were too worn out to wear anymore. Fox is lying on his bed, head in Thire's lap as his brother rests his back on the wall. He's running his ungloved hands through Fox's curls, gently untangling the knots that have accumulated under his helmet. Fox has never felt so relaxed in his life, and even in his dreaming state he is close to tears.

"I'm tired," Fox whispers, and Thire hums in agreement.

"You don't sleep enough, ori'vod," Thire laughs quietly, working his fingers through a particularly stubborn knot that's gathered itself in the grey at Fox's temples. "Lean on the rest of us. We can take some of your work."

"It's not just that," Fox says, stretching his arms in the air. He nearly hits Thire in the face, and they both giggle. "I'm so bone-tired all the goddamn time, vod. When we took leave the other month I couldn't remember any of it. I found bruises I don't remember getting. The medics say it's stress, but this is... this is different."

"You've had memory problems?" Thire asks, hands stilling.

Fox tenses as the atmosphere of the dream shifts. "Small lapses," he backtracks. "Just headaches. I'm not defective." His voice is more harsh than it has any right to be with Thire.

"I never said you were," Thire says carefully. "I've had them too."

"You have?" Fox is surprised - Thire is so capable, so reliable, it'd never even occurred to him that his own problems might be shared. "How much?"

"Rarely," Thire says, gently pushing Fox's head back down into his lap. "I'll be missing a couple of hours of a shift sometimes. It's usually whenever I pull doubles."

"Maybe the medics are right," Fox sighs, rubbing his eyes. "We're all kriffing overworked."

Thire laughs again, but this is a deep, rumbling sound. "You can say that again," he quips, and Fox grins. He opens his mouth to actually say it again, but Thire swats at his forehead. The grin on his brother's face is so genuinely happy that it makes Fox's heart clench, even as he's dreaming. His face falls.

"What's wrong, ori'vod?" Thire asks, looking concerned. "Fox?"

Fox's throat closes up, and he swallows his grief down. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking, and Thire frowns.

"Why?" He asks. "I'm right here."

"No you're not," Fox says, certain as anything, and closes his eyes. When he opens them, Thire's face has shifted: his hair is shorter, his face younger, yet edged with more grief than Thire had ever carried. Fives stares down at him, face contorted in fear. His hands are clenched tight in Fox's hair, and he lets out a high whine of terror, like a wounded animal.

"Fives," Fox gasps, staring into the face of the brother he'd never really known.

"Fox," gasps Fives, hunched over. Fox sits up, heedless of the hands in his hair, and Fives lets go. He brings his hands to his chest and Fox stares in horror as Fives' cuirass starts to smoke. "Why didn't you set it to stun?"

"Wh - Fives, what's happening?" Fox panics, hands frantically trying to hold his brother's chest together.

"Don't you remember?" Fives wheezes, collapsing slowly onto the floor. The bed is gone, and they're in the underbelly of Coruscant. "You shot me."

"Fives!" Comes Rex's anguished shout from behind General Skywalker's stubborn arm. "Force, Fives! Stay with me, brother!"

"Rex," Fives whispers, but Skywalker doesn't let Rex past. Fives is coughing and mumbling and dying in Fox's arms, and Fox comes to a horrible realisation this this dream seems familiar. He's played this out before, the blaster smoking in his hands, Fives dead on the floor, Rex crying as the final Domino falls, face blotchy and red, and then it's Fox's head in Rex's lap, and Rex is calling his name -

"Fox!"

Fox tries to move his arms, hoping he can somehow comfort Rex, but his arms are tied to the bed, and - since when was he in a bed?

Fox opens his eyes.

A brother's face comes into view, fading slowly into focus like a rock in a river. Fox thinks it's Rex, only for a second, but this brother's hair is dark, and there's a scar wrapped around his eye.

"Cody," Fox says, relieved.

"Fox," Cody says, furious.

Ah, shit.

Cody, clad in full armour, helmet held dutifully under one arm, stands up and grabs the first medic he can see - a tired clone, clearly awake entirely on caf at this point, and drags him to Fox's bedside.

"Good morning, Commander," says the medic. Fox notes his dreadlocks, tied back into a style that suits him quite well, actually, and nods in acknowledgement. "I'm Stitch, and I'm just gonna check you for a concussion, okay?"

"He's fucking fine," Cody snaps. "Discharge him already."

Stitch turns, frown deepening. "Marshall Commander or not, this is my medbay," he snaps. "I decide when the patients are released, and Commander Fox is not going anywhere yet."

Cody folds his arms, his Commander glare strong enough to kill a man, but Stitch isn't having any of it. Fox heard a brother say once that Hell hath no fury like a medic ignored, and looking at Stitch he's inclined to agree.

"If you hate it here so much you can either go and do some paperwork or whatever it is you soldiers do, or you can go grab us both some caf. Sir," he adds, seeming to remember he's talking to Marshall Commander Cody, not one of those idiot shinies he's obviously so used to dealing with.

There's a small laugh from further down the ward, and Stitch and Cody send matching glares in the general direction of the culprit. Fox feels sorry for whichever brother is currently in that bed, but before he can think too much about it Stitch is handing Cody an ID card.

"Use this to get the caf," Stitch says. "The Generals get the good stuff."

"Does General... Zaisam know  you've got his card?" Cody asks, peering at the writing.

"Absolutely," Stitch nods, grabbing a rather intimidating-looking little torch. "Gave it to me himself."

Cody looks unconvinced, but holds it in his fist like it's the key to eternal salvation. Fox looks hopefully up at Stitch, who shakes his head.

"Sorry, Sir," the medic says, shaking his head. "You're on water only, at least until you've slept for a solid eight hours."

Fox doesn't think he's slept for a solid eight hours in his entire life.

Cody sends one last glare to Fox, then stands up and walks stiffly out the door. Stitch stares after him, eyes glazing over for a second.

"That man controls two-thirds of the Grand Army of the Republic," he says slowly, "and I've just sent him to get coffee."

The voice from earlier laughs again, and Stitch turns around, brandishing the torch like a weapon. Fox almost considers laughing too, but Stitch does not seem like a man he'd want to cross.

"Shut your di'kut mouth, Sketch, or I'll sedate you," Stitch snaps. Fox winces, but this makes the other clone laugh harder.

"I literally outrank you," says the voice, presumably Sketch.

"Not in my medbay you don't," Stitch shoots back. "Now shut up and go to sleep. Your blaster wound isn't gonna heal itself."

"Yessir," Sketch calls, and Fox can imagine the half-assed, sarcastic salute the man is pulling off. Stitch shakes his head, glowering, then shines his torch directly into Fox's eyes.

"Bloody snipers," Stitch mutters. "Think they know everything." Fox hums in agreement, wincing at the brightness of the torch. Stitch gently tilts his chin, looking at his eyes again. The medic carries an air of softness that doesn't quite seem to fit with how much he glares and snaps at the others, but Fox isn't complaining.

"You don't look concussed," Stitch concludes. "What's your name?"

"Commander Fox," Fox parrots dutifully. "CC-1010."

"Correct," Stitch says, tapping at his Padd. "Next question. What day is it?"

"Ah," Fox says. "Last time I checked it was... Primeday, I think."

Stitch lets out a hiss of air. He nods, and taps something else into his Padd. He mouths the words "memory loss", and Fox sighs internally. "It's Benduday now," he informs the Commander. "Last question for now. How's your head feeling?"

Fox tries to bring a hand up to feel it, but they don't lift more than a centimetre off the bed. He'd assumed that the restraints he'd felt in his dream were just that - a dream - but apparently he has no such luck.

"Fine," he says warily. "I don't think I'm concussed, trooper. Why, should I be?"

Stitch shrugs. "You've just had brain surgery," he points out. "And you took a pretty nasty knock to the head just before that. Concussions can last for up to about a tenday, so I thought I'd check."

Fox stiffens.

"I've had what?"

"Brain surgery, Sir," Stitch repeats, fiddling with a handheld scanner. He points it at Fox's forehead and pulls some kind of trigger, then blinks at the readings. "Performed it myself. You've got a lovely brain, if I may say so. Very wrinkly."

Fox stares at him, then decides to focus on the last piece of information. It seems easiest to deal with.

"Is that... good?" He asks weakly. “Having a wrinkly brain?”

Stitch nods, then thumps the scanner against his hand a couple of times. "A wrinkly brain means you're smarter," he says. "Unlike the good Lieutenant down there, whose brain is smooth as a kriffing pebble."

"Smooth as the hull of the Resolute," Sketch calls cheerfully, and Stitch shakes his head.

"Stop eavesdropping on my patients!" He calls, then turns back to Fox. "As for who authorised the surgery... You'd better wait for Commander Cody to come back. I'm not supposed to talk to you about it."

"It's my kriffing brain!" Fox cries, straining against the restraints. "Why the hell would you just give me brain surgery?"

"You have to wait for the Commander," Stitch repeats, and Fox thinks he looks a little nervous. "Please calm down, Sir. You're okay. We didn't harm you."

"I don't kriffing care about that, I want to know why you peeled my skull open without my permission!"

"Wait for the Commander," Stitch says for the third time, and Fox is just about ready to scream. "He's the one who you need to talk to about this. I'm just the poor bastard with the scalpel. If it helps, you have a wonderful prefrontal cortex."

Fox raises his eyebrows at the last comment, but sits back down on the bed. "Fine," he relents. "Where the kriffing hell is Cody, anyway?"

"Right here," Cody calls, rounding the corner. His helmet is on his head, and he carries a cup of caf in each hand. He reaches the bedside and gives one to Stitch, who looks down at it and sniffs. Stitch winces, then downs half of it in one go. Cody stares in what is, to Fox, an obvious combination of awe, disgust, and admiration.

Stitch shrugs, then raises an eyebrow. "I don't fear God," he says.

"Seven Sith Hells," Cody mutters, then sits back down in the chair he'd been in when Fox first woke up. He takes his helmet off and sips at his caf. "What's the verdict?"

"No concussion," Stitch confirms. "A little memory loss, not to do with the anaesthesia or the surgery. His skull's recovering alright, brain all seems good. Like I said, he's got a lovely prefrontal cortex. His amygdala is even better, but the hippocampus could do with some work."

"I'll take that under advisement," Fox snarks, and Cody glares, folding his arms.

"Stay focused, trooper," he orders. "What else?"

"Memory problems," Stitch says again. "He woke up thinking it was Primeday, which means he's lost two days before the surgery. It was yesterday," he adds, for Fox's benefit. "I'm not letting him out until Centaxday at the very least, Sir, so anything you want to say you'll have to say in here. I can give you a little privacy, but he's my patient and by the Force I am going to make sure he's okay." The look of absolute determination on the medic's tired face makes Fox feel strangely cared for. Cody glares.

"Fine," he spits. "But you make sure that trooper down the hall doesn't hear us."

"Got it," Stitch nods. "I've been looking for an excuse to sedate him."

Fox can't quite tell if he's joking.

Stitch downs the rest of his caf, raising the cup to Cody as a thank you. Cody gives him General Zaisam's ID card back, and Stitch produces a cup of water for Fox from Force knows where. "Drink it slowly," he instructs. "You'll make yourself sick if you don't, and the less vomit I have to clean up today the better."

Fox nods, and he and Cody watch Stitch leave. He draws the curtain behind him, and Fox turns to look at his brother.

Cody looks more tired than Fox has ever seen him. More tired than he had after Kenobi's pretend death at the hands of Hardeen, and Fox is more than aware of how badly that affected him. He looks like a tempest, hands clenching and relaxing with barely-contained fury.

"What have I done?" Fox asks softly, and there's no emotion behind it.

Cody's head shoots up. "How'd you - how?"

Fox shrugs as best he can. "I woke up to find my hands tied to the bed. I can't remember anything for the past week. You keep looking at me like you want to tear my throat out with your bare hands. I've had brain surgery, for fuck's sake. It's not a hard conclusion to come to."

"You really remember nothing?" Cody asks, and he can't quite meet Fox's eyes.

With a thrill of fear, Fox shakes his head. "Last I remember was pulling a double when one of my Guard was sick. I always get tired on doubles."

Cody nods, then puts his head in his hands. He breathes deeply, and sighs. "You... Force, I'm sorry, there's no easy way to say this - Fox, you're under arrest for treason against the Republic. You're also under arrest on suspicion of murdering the Chancellor, four members of the Coruscant Guard, and ARC Trooper Fives."

The bottom of Fox's stomach falls out, and he gasps, breathing heavily.

"I - shit, I killed six people?" He whispers. "I killed the Chancellor?"

"Nearly seven," Cody says, and brings a hand up to pull down the collar of his blacks. There's an awful looking cut across his throat, obviously made by a vibroblade. "Four others are in bacta tanks. What the hell happened to you?"

Fox bites his lip and stares at the sheet covering his legs. He killed the Chancellor. The very man he was created to protect. His whole existence, his duty, his entire life, is centred around keeping the Chancellor alive, and he killed him?

Fox doesn't know what to do.

He looks up at Cody, face pale. "I don't remember," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

""Sorry" is not going to bring Thire back," Cody snaps, and Fox goes dizzy.

When he comes back to himself, he's hyperventilating. Cody is glaring at him, the cut on his neck still exposed. Fox is crying, trying to gasp in deep, shuddering breaths, hands wrenching at the bindings that the him to the bed. "Please tell me you're joking," he whimpers through his tears. "Please. Not Thire."

Cody shakes his head, making no move to try to calm Fox down. "Stone and Hound are in bacta tanks," he continues relentlessly. "Stone has six blaster bolts to the chest. They don't think he's going to make it. Hound took a vibroblade to the thigh and very nearly bled out."

Fox flinches. "Who... who else did I... who else did I..." He can't bring himself to say it, as if saying the words would make it more true than it already is.

"Who else did you kill?" Cody spits. "Crow, Spanner, and one of those shinies that got assigned here a tenday ago. He didn't even have a name!"

That hurts almost as badly as Thire. Fox knows exactly which group of shinies Cody is talking about. A group of eight year olds, fresh from Kamino, all of them just a little too small to fit into their standard armour. Only one of them had a name, and he'd chosen it on the way to Coruscant.

"Parallel, Sir!" He'd introduced himself, saluting smartly.

"Parallel?" Fox had asked.

"I copy noises sometimes. Helps keep me calm. The others wanted to call me Copy, but that got a bit difficult on comms. General Ti suggested Parallel."

Fox had nodded, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Good luck to the rest of you," he'd said, receiving a small sea of determined smiles in return.

"He was just a kid," Fox whispers. "Fuck, Cody, and I killed him?"

Cody nods. There's not even a trace of sympathy in his eyes. "You were insane," he says. "Covered in the Chancellor's blood, face blank - you didn't recognise any of us."

Fox shakes his head, feeling the tears trickle under his chin. It feels bad. He's not sure what to say - anything he says, or anything he doesn't say, will make Cody angry. The anger is inevitable. And fuck if Fox doesn't deserve it.

He keeps pulling at his restraints, not trying to escape, but trying to ground himself. He can't focus: all his thoughts are on Thire. Thire, who he'd dreamed of, who'd had his hands in Fox's hair. Thire who had looked at him with so much love in his eyes, who'd never been anything less than steadfast and loyal, and Fox had killed him. Worst of all, he thinks, is that he didn't even remember doing it.

"Tell me what I did," Fox begs, voice cracking around the lump in his throat. "Please."

Cody leans forward in his chair, settling his elbows on his knees. "Two days ago," he starts, anger colouring his voice, "you disappeared in the middle of a shift. Security footage shows you took a comm, then made a beeline for the Chancellor's office. He wasn't expecting you, and he turned to kick you out, and - and you pulled a slugthrower on him and shot him six times in the chest, then four more in the head. Then you just... stood there.

"Thire was first to respond. He heard the shots and came to see what was happening. He saw you with the 'thrower, standing over the Chancellor's body, and called for backup. You took him out without even a second glance. When Stone and Hound got there you took them both out almost as quickly as Thire. Stone first, with your blaster, and Hound managed to get that and the 'thrower away from you, and you stabbed him in response.

“I came in with the rest. You weren't responding to any of us. You just attacked us, crushed that shiny's head into the wall like he was made of paper. Crow was next, then Spanner. Both were quick, at least. The rest of us were all pretty badly hurt. You slit my throat, Fox."

Fox is numb and unresponsive. So much death, so much destruction, and he doesn't remember any -

"Order 65," he whispers. "Cody, Cody, I remember. Order 65 states that should the Chancellor be declared unfit to rule, any available troops should detain the new Chancellor by any means necessary, including with lethal force. It got mixed up somehow."

""Mixed up"?" Cody snaps, disgusted. "Fox, you could've killed me! I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Of course I care,” Fox shoots back, eyes locked on Cody’s throat, but there’s not enough truth behind the words. If what Cody says is true, then Fox wouldn’t have cared. “Fives was right,” Fox realises. “Fives was right.”

Cody wipes tears from his own eyes, standing up fast. He downs his own coffee, slams his bucket on his head and walks out. Fox is left staring at the door, and he’s sure he can feel the blood on his hands.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Guns Ain’t a Plague

I wrote some version of this story over and over. This is the version I apparently emailed to a friend in 2013 and just rediscovered in my inbox. I am staring at this and realizing how long ago 2013 was now. Oh my gosh.

Background: I was already very much all about post-apocalyptic stuff, but this takes place in a world entirely unlike - and yet strikingly like - our own. In a world where war and disease once tore the land apart, an isolated, caged city of children struggles to survive.

Until one decides to leave.

Oh man somewhere in my stuff I have all my old maps and descriptions of the different countries and the war and... I wrote so much stuff for this universe/storyline...

-

The young woman crouched where the last of the road crumbled into broken stone. It had been crushed when they exited the city, taking their horses and carriages, doctors and soldiers and history, with them. Her feet were bare and she dug her toes into the warm red earth between the cracked rock. The muscles in her legs tensed, she placed one hand for balance on the ground.

She would have to run like wind if she was going to survive this.

“Don’t,” came Tor’s familiar voice behind her. She jumped up, wondering why she was even surprised he had followed her. She had, after all, been the one to teach him how to do it. She turned around, to look him in the eye, heart aching at the idea that if she didn’t time this just right, she would never see him again.

“Ed,” The boy said in the same pleading tone, hands held out to grab her, “don’t. You can’t even think it. You’ll die, same as they all do!”

Ed rolled her eyes and shot him a baleful glare, but she was bluffing and they both knew it. The toughness fell off of her face almost immediately, and she grabbed the much younger boy, pulling him into a fierce hug.

The two of them looked so alike that they seemed mirrored, almost, the teenager and the adult just barely ten years older than him. Ed’s skin was the same dusky red-brown as Tor’s, their hair the same rich black. It even hung in the same small twists, cut short and close to their heads, although Tor’s was cut a little longer. The only difference was in their ages and in their eyes. Ed’s eyes were a deep, rich pure brown, but Tor’s were green.

Ed thought she was somewhere near twenty-five; no one was completely sure on ages here. She knew Tor had been something like two when she’d found him; herself a ragged orphan, hearing him crying from two buildings over and simply taking him home. It was better than letting him die.

“I should’ve known you’d follow me,” She said, shaking her head. “And if you’re here… Jedder came too, didn’t he?”

“I run faster’n Jedder,” Tor said, clinging to her even harder. His arms around her waist felt like they were crushing her organs and she attempted to try and loosen his grip, with no luck. “Don’t die, Ed!”

“Won’t die, Tor,” she replied. “Don’t think I will anyway. How long they been standin’ there, those towers? Ten years now? Every gun’s got to run out of bullets sometime, right?”

“Not those guns.” Torrin gestured at the small turret towers stationed every twenty feet or so as far as they both could see around the place designated as the ‘edge’ of the city. Wherever roads had gone any farther, they had been smashed to bits until the towers were up. It felt like a river of grass, weeds, broken rock and bone surrounded them, surrounded this whole ruined city, a city that no living person had ever seen before it was a pile of ghosts and disease.

Ed, for a moment, allowed her grip on Tor to be as tight as his grip on her.

“Besides,” he continued with his face still pushed against her shoulder, head still tucked just under her chin. “who’s gonna feed us if you’re dead? Who’s gonna take care of us? You always take care of us, Eddi! Always. Since everybody died you take care of us. You can’t just stop ‘cause your feet got itchy.”

“Tor, you know damn well that ain’t why I want to try this time. We can’t stay here forever. This place is full of us, we can’t keep enough food to go on livin’ like this.  It’s been over a hundred years since this city fell, by my parents’ reckoning, since they just left everyone to die. Left a city full of kids with a bunch of dead bodies and bullets, fat lot of good it’s doin’ us now. The Oracle and her folk may like this place, an’ the Keepers may think we’re stuck here carin’ for the dead, but I think… I think somebody needs to get out and prove we still exist.”

There were footsteps behind them and they turned, almost as one, with Tor’s hand still twisted in Ed’s shirt.

The sweaty, fast-breathing young man who came running up to them was not like them in the slightest. His skin and hair were the same flat and dull gray-white. Compared to Tor and Ed, his arms seemed too long, he was too skinny, his hands and feet just a mite too big to be human. His eyes were unsettling to everyone but his little chosen family; wide and far apart, set on a diagonal line in his face, they were black. He broke into a relieved smile at seeing them both standing there. “Eddi! Tor caught up with you then. He runs faster’n me!”

“That’s what I said!” Tor was entirely too proud of himself. Ed bit her lip to stop from chiding him for it.

Jedder stopped, leaning over to lean his hands flat on his thighs to try and stop gasping quite so much.

“’Course he does. Plesalka never could run to save your lives,” Ed said with a responding smile and managed to extricate her shirt from Tor’s grasp. She turned back to survey the turrets again. Old and rusting over time, evidence of Plesalka scientific genius, the kind of machines and creations that neither Letenje like Ed and Tor or the Teci had ever been able to match. Their last apology for their part in this before the Exile began.

She knew about the reason those turrets existed only her parents had hoarded the scribble writings of their own ancestors; her great-great grandmother had been alive to witness the Plague and the death, had survived long enough to make sure her children were as protected as possible.

In the end, there was only so much protection to give; scarcity of food and resources meant that no one had a very long life span here.

It was one of the reasons she was so aware of her need to leave.

“I’m going to try whether you two like it or not. I’m going to try on my own, got it? And if I make it over that rise to the other side, I will shut those turrets down somehow. I’ll bash ‘em in with one of those twisted hunks of metal lyin’ all over the damn place. Once they’re broken, you two can get over and we can leave together. We’re not gonna die here where they left all of us, thinkin’ we’d be gone eventually.” Old grief twisted in her heart; she’d lost both her parents when she was 12, when they had gone out scavenging and been caught in the middle of a battle between the old Oracle’s gang and other Scavs like them. It had been a long, lonely, horrible year before she’d found Jedder.

She crouched down again, curling her fingers around one of the broken pieces of the road here at the edge. It was heavier than it looked, warm from the constant rays of the sun. Even with the lean muscle she’d picked up in ten years of scavenging everything she ate she left out a small grunt of effort as she threw it straight at the closest turret. She missed by a long arc. The gun did not respond or move to follow the stone’s movement. “They’re gettin’ worse. They used to shoot the rocks, too.”

Jedder and Tor shared a look behind her back, unsure of what to do. Jedder, at fifteen, was still nine years Ed’s junior and Tor at twelve was a full twelve years younger. She had been as much a mother to them as a teenage girl could be when she’d found them. Jedder had been found first, a little Scav just barely staying alive by stealing from the gangs, unwelcome like all Plesalka were… Tor just two years old, crying inside a makeshift nursery, his parents dead on the floor and all their food stores stolen. She had taken them in, even knowing Jedder being Plesalka would make it harder on them.        

No one ever stopped being angry, especially since in a century the stories to explain what had happened had gotten weirder and more elaborate as told by the remaining survivors. Even the truth made it hard to forgive either the Plesalka or the Teci for what they had created, what they had done in their war on each other… even if kids like Jedder were so far removed from those events as to be a whole separate people by now.

“Eddi,” Tor said, and now his voice was starting to take on a edge of nagging worry, “Eddi, what if this doesn’t work and you die?”

“Then you and Jedder go on livin’,” Ed replied without looking back at them.

She was surveying all possible obstacles between her and the turrets. Rocks. Weeds.

Bodies.

The last made her shudder, made the already roiling pit of nervousness that was her stomach threaten to riot up her meager lunch. Some of the bodies out here weren’t even bodies anymore. It was mostly bones left for her to look at, though now and then she could see evidence of newer deaths. Some kids still went crazy and made a run for it. She herself probably counted as crazy, just to be thinking about it. Still. There was a lot of bone out here. A lot of dead people dumped here at the edge to warn away anyone who might see them, to keep visitors out, to keep the descendents of Pohroma citizens in.

Barefoot, you want to run through a burial ground, she thought, wondering if it would be the last thing she did. “I’ve taught you both how to live if you lost me. If you think you can’t stick it out just the two of you, well, the other Plesalka that’re still alive would take Jedder in, if he went to them. Tor, you know the Oracle or the Keepers would have you. They could keep you safe. Don’t you dare join up with any of the Scav gangs, though.”

“We want you,” Jedder said stubbornly. “Besides, even if you died we’d just stick together. We don’t know any other way to be but the three of us.”

“Then you better be prayin’ to somebody’s god I don’t die now, because I’m going to do this.” She didn’t wait for their response but just launched herself forward with all the speed her legs could give her.  Not being able to crouch down and prepare first had only cost her half a second, but nonetheless she felt a rush of fear that it would be a half-second too many.

She felt Tor’s fingers clutch the back of her shirt, but he couldn’t get a grip and she twisted away from him easily, running like the devil was at her heels.

There was a rusty shrieking coming from turrets that had been left abandoned, not repaired or even touched in almost twenty years. The sound filled the air, coming from nearly ten turrets who were all slowly, inexorably pointing in her direction as she ran. Birds, having made nests in the openings, took to the air in a sudden frenzy of wings and shrieking birdcalls. For a moment, the sky was dark with them.

Ed ran.

She dodged larger rocks and the corpses of both people and animals shot dead by the turrets. Dogs, rats, foxes, cats, people… all just empty bones, she told herself, trying not to let her feet even brush them as she went past.

She ran.

She caught a glint and looked up, realizing that she could see the sun shining off all the metal casing on the ground for every bullet these huge guns had ever fired. She was caught by the shine of them just long enough to distract her.

And she tripped.

She had to have tripped on a rock, she could feel the rough of it scrape all the way down from mid-calf to her ankle as she fell and went rolling, coming to a halt only when she hit another big chunk of rock a few feet away. The breath was knocked out of her and she could only gasp, frozen, realizing that the horrible groaning of the moving metal had finally come to an end.

She looked up, and was looking directly up the barrel of one of the turrets, and it was aiming at her. She could not move. She thought of her parents, long dead from the violence in this city. She thought of finding Tor at two years old, Jedder at the time the only one who keep the little toddler from crying all the time. She thought of how they had lived the last ten years as a family, kept each other safe. She thought of every time she had ever seen a wild animal gunned down by these turrets, ripped to absolute shreds by the bullets.

She flinched at the sudden click of the gun.

Click?

It echoed, bouncing off against the walls and back again and at least twenty of the turrets were clicking in a chorus and Ed began, despite the aftermath of adrenaline still pumping, to laugh.

The sound of her laughter was something just below a scream, hysterical and echoing, bouncing off against the old stone walls behind Tor and Jedder, making them jump.

It took some effort and her ankle ached in a way that told her this victory wasn’t coming to her without some price to pay, but she began to hobble back to Jedder and Tor, arms out to them, spread as wide as her smile.

“They’re empty!” She called out above the noise. “Every single one!”

Only a moment of hesitation, a look of pure relief shared between the two boys, and then they came pounding across the earth until they could throw their arms around her, the both of them at once.

“They’re empty,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Tor’s head, to the fuzzy twists of his hair, before turning to lean her forehead against Jedder’s cheek. “I knew it. They never did come back to replace ‘em, not since before I was born, at least my da said. They had to run out sooner or later.” She squeezed the two of them even tighter, then finally let them go. Reluctantly, they let go of her as well.

“Empty,” she said one more time, savoring the taste of the word.

“So we can go,” Jedder breathed out. “We can leave. I don’t. I’ve never been outside the city. No one has. We don’t even know if there’s other people out there or if everyone died in the Plague, if it hit other places, too.”

 “I don’t think it did,” Tor said, thoughtfully. “Cause otherwise why would they have had to send people to keep us locked in by replacin’ bullets, ever?” Curling his fingers in Ed’s patched and worn shirt, he shook his head. “Bet there’s a whole world full of people out there. Maybe they don’t even know about us.”

Ed smiled, but it was a smile entirely without humor.

“Let’s go show the bastards we’re still alive.”

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Invitations (Hugo x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

A/N: Ok so it's technically Reader x Hugo, BUT there's a lot of focus on Hirschberg :')

_____________ It was 1942. You were flying over the English Channel, through the night, through a storm, through gunfire, all while listening to the southern absurdities of your lieutenant, and what sounded like every bolt and screw in the plane rattling. You looked around at your brand new team, who in a matter of days would make a name for themselves as the Basterds. The soldier next to you was visibly scared, unable to even catch his breath. His name was Gerold Hirschberg, he was mean with a knife, and he was terrified of heights. "Hey kid," You nudged him, though you weren't much older than him, if at all. He looked to you with wide, terrified eyes. "Stay cool," you smiled, trying to give him some courage, though you hadn't been this nervous in your life. "Y..yeah..." He smiled and nodded, drawing a breath in. It wasn't long before you'd reached your destination. "WE'RE BEHIND ENEMY LINES. THEY KNOW WE'RE FUCKING HERE. THIS DUMP IS FALLING APART. AND ON TOP OF THAT, IT'S FUCKING RAINING." Donny marched to the exit, pulling open the rusty door,  "HARNESSES TIGHT, DON'T BREAK YOUR FUCKING LEGS. MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" Your sergeant called out, directing each of you as you put on your parachutes and formed a line. You and Hirschberg were the last two basterds on board. You called out over the roaring engine, winds, and war, "YOU COMING OR WHAT?" "HELL YEAH." He jumped out with you entangled in parachutes, with rain dripping over you, lightning and signals all around you. You didn’t know  that Hirschberg from then on would have followed you to the ends of the earth and back. But he never told you that.

"Hey." You looked over him, as he struggled against the parachute after falling into a patch of mud. "Come on," you held your hand out, pulling him up, and guided him to the rest of the basterds. It wasn't long before he realized you were just that kind with all of them, not just him. After some time, he knew you'd never love him the way he loved you. As time went on, he only wondered what could have been from a distance. *********** After some time, new basterd had joined the team. And, he'd had more luck than Hirschberg ever would. Much like with Hirschberg, you coaxed Hugo out of his shell. You were the only one who could keep him talking, and make him smile and laugh on the spot. The happier you seemed with Hugo, the more withdrawn Hirschberg became, which was odd, considering he rivaled Donny for the 'loudest basterd' title. It was 1944, Aldo, Wicki, Omar, Donny, and Hirschberg went to the nearest town to split up and gatehr supplies. Food, bandages, maybe some alcohol to mae nights warmer. You, Hugo, and Smitty stayed behind, catching up on your debts to Aldo. Three minutes into the two day journey, Donny asked, "Fuck a duck, kid. What's the matter?" Hirschberg shrugged him off, "What the hell are you talkin' about?" "Well, normally, you'd be complaining by now." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "Would not." Omar smirked a little, "Would too." Hirschberg sighed, "Man I just....Y/n and Hugo are-" Aldo chuckled, "I knew it, boy. I damn sure knew it. Di'n't I tell ya, Wicki?" Wicki laughed with a nod, "Yup." "What?! How?!" Donny shrugged, "Why else would you try to fight Hugo Stiglitz?" "I was drunk, ok?!" Omar nodded, "Uh huh, and why else would you try to drunk-fight Hugo Stiglitz?" "I just..." Hirschberg muttered as he kicked some dirt, and pushed his hands into his pockets, "What the hell's that guy got that I don't got?!" "Bout five fucken feet taller than you," Donny shrugged and Hirschberg glared at him. Wicki laughed a little, shaking his head. "So you got a broken heart? That it?" Hirschberg didn't say anything, and Aldo sighed, "Oh boy. Look here, son. This aint what'cha want. You're too damn young." "Have you seen Hirschberg? He ain't got many options, sir" Omar laughed and took a bite of a sandwhich. Aldo chuckled a little and went on, "Well... You's just in the thrill of the war 'n all, think you love y/n cause you think you'll die without her. Wait till you get home, get a little older." Donny grinned a little, "Sure, kid. Once you go to a USO dance with all the medals and ribbons, they'll forget about...that," he signaled at Hirschberg's stature. Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "Oh very fucken funny, sarge." Wicki sighed, though he was a little amused. "She's a basterd, kid. Can't let what you feel change anything. It's dangerous out here enough. The only thing more dangerous than going after a woman who loves someone else, is doing it in the middle of a war." Hirschberg only nodded slightly, and followed quietly. He heard them. He understood every word. He listened, he really did. They were his closest friends, after all. But he loved you. No amount of words could change that. ***** Days passed. Winter was coming. Exhausted, blistered feet, freezing fingers, and hazy minds, they came back to camp, expecting a warm fire. Instead they found a raging firefight. It was you, Hugo, and Smitty, and you were outnumbered. Hirschberg wasn't thinking straight. His heart dropped, seeing you dash across the forest floor, searching for cover, almost reaching Smitty. "Y/N!" Hirschberg called out so loudly, he gave away your position. Smitty, who was his best friend, was shot on sight. Hugo dove in front of both you and Smitty, trying to save you both from any more harm. Hugo was shot right in front of your eyes. Hugo was shot in his left arm, and stood strong, covering Smitty. It took nearly an hour to get rid of all the nazis, and get Smitty a clear path to safety. Hirschberg's conscience was heavy with guilt, as he helped you pick up Smitty. He spotted a battered, scratched up band around your left ring finger. He'd seen that ring before. It was Hugo's. He often wore it around his pinky. "Y/n..." Hirschberg's heart sank. Somehow, he missed you, though you were right in front of his eyes. You'd never know how much he loved you, and it broke his heart.  As you both set Smitty down, you pushed him out of the tent, rolling up your sleeves, as Wicki pushed past Hirschberg with some medical supplies. Hugo lowered himself into a chair, having lost more than enough blood, though not willing to show any signs of it around anyone but you. Hirschberg wanted nothing more but to ask you to forgive him, but there was no time. You and Wicki were the only ones with some medical training, and worked together to save Smitty. You quickly did your best to help Hugo before focusing all your attention on Smitty. You stood at the entrance of the tent taking a breath before diving into what would inevitably be an endless night. Hugo stood by you, with a smile of gratitude, and in a rare moment, he showed his love for you in front of all the basterds. He rested his right hand against your left cheek, softly and briefly pressed his lips against your right cheek, whispering something to make you both sigh, and hope Wicki was not close enough to understand. Seeing your reaction, he whispered "Ich liebe dich." You smiled softly, and responded in your own language, making Hugo forget you were all far from home, beneath an unknown sky, surrounded by the enemy. Hugo reluctantly left you, after you insisted he rest and promised you and Wicki would be fine. He joined the basterds around the fire, who dared not comment on his rare PDA, though they did smile a little. You looked at them, and spotted Hirschberg, who looked at you blankly, half guilty, half ashamed,  "Y/n." You shook your head a little. You were expressionless, far from the comforting grin that he met years before. You hadn't said  anything to him, and that was what was worst of all to him. It broke his heart. You turned away, and went into the tent to help Smitty. When it was all said and done, Smitty would be ok. You left the makeshift medical tent. It was the middle of the night, around 2 or 3 AM.

Hirschberg was leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. "Y/n..." "Not now, Gerold." "Y/n, come on." He caught your arm, "I'm sorry." You sighed, taking what felt as your first breath all night. "Smitty's your best friend. Go sit with him for a while, would ya?" You stuck a cigarette between your lips, and clicked your lighter on. "Y/n, I just..." You sighed, "What, Gerold?" You looked at him, finally, and even that was a relief to him. "I just...I saw the ring, and I...." He was upset, knowing he really never would have a chance. But, he saw just how happy you were with Hugo in that one single moment outside of the tent. Anyone could see it. And, maybe, the boys were right. You sighed with a little smirk, "So you wanted to get rid of him?" He just had to laugh a little, "No, I just..." realizing it all with a shrug and a resigned sigh. "Mazel tov," he smiled. By the dim glow of your cigarettes and the distant moon, you could see his sincerity. "Thank you," you smiled with a nod, though you were not inviting any more conversation. You could have lost Hugo and Smitty over Hirschberg's emotions, and he knew though you were wearing a kind smile, you were not quick to forgive. Hirschberg hugged you for a moment, in a way saying goodbye without saying a word. You didn't hug him back. He just wished you the best, with or without him. "I ain't expecting an invitation to the wedding after this," He cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck, "But...I just hope we all make it to then, huh?" When you and Wicki were in the tent with Smitty, the rest of the basterds were informed of a new mission they'd have to prepare for. They had a few months, but they were going to need them. The mission would be known as Operation Kino. From what Hirschberg could tell, it was unlikely everyone would make it to the end of the war. He only hoped now to make it to see the day you forgave him. ***** Months passed. Operation Kino came and went. The basterds all went home. The war was over at last. Gerold Hirschberg had been home for a while, now. He loved it. He loved his family his old friends, his neighborhood, the city. But he missed the basterds. He missed Wicki's advice, Aldo's southern puzzles of words, Donny's distinct Bostonian way of cursing. Sometimes, he even missed Hugo's silence. But most of all, he missed you. It wasn't all bad. Smitty lived just on the other side of town. Omar lived about an hour away or so. All of you had agreed to meet at least once or twice a year after you got your medals of honor. But...that was easier said than done. Hugo hadn't shown up to a single thing after the medal of honor ceremony. He was in Switzerland, last Hirschberg heard, trying to figure out where to move to in America. He was even contemplating Canada. Aldo was all the way down south in Maynardville, Tennessee. Sometimes he couldn't make it because he was coaching his newly-adopted son’s football team. Donny was of course in Boston, and now engaged, and date night was of the essence. Wicki's wife was expecting, and had a two year old running around, so he couldn't get out very often to begin with, let alone travel.   When the basterds did manage to pick a time and place, quite a few still couldn't make it. He was looking out the window, due east, wondering how to leave behind the adventure, the echoes of the war planes, and the memory of you. "GEROLD!" He poked his head out the door of his bedroom, "Yeah ma?!" "Mail!" He trotted down the stairs, spotting his mother at the table going through a stack of envelopes. She held one out for him, saying "Postage's from Connecticut." "Connecticut?" He furrowed his brows, digging through his memory, not recalling who he knew from there. He took the envelope. It was creme colored, with a gold seal. Perplexed, he flipped it around, and saw handwriting he recognized, and immediately opened it. It was an invitation to a wedding. Y/N L/N & Hugo Stiglitz January 20th, 1947. You weren't from Connecticut...but he figured that's where Hugo moved to after the war. It was quiet, and calm, and suited you and Hugo. Hirschberg smiled with a sigh as he read it. He questioned himself, wondering if you'd only invited him because it was only fair to invite all of the basterds. Maybe Hugo was the one in charge of the invitations? Maybe...you didn't really want him there... Maybe... He put the invitation back in the envelope, spotting another slip of paper. He recognized your handwriting again. "Hey kid, stay cool!" He smiled, putting the paper in his pocket, as he found a pen. Maybe things really were alright. "What is it, Gerold?" "An old friend from the army's gettin' married, ma." He smiled, flipping a few months ahead in his calendar, and marking down the date. "My friends," He sighed softly, somehow finally at peace with that. He straightened out  a few medals on his lapel, on his way out for a dance, and a drink or two. Smitty and Omar would be there, as would other former soldiers, looking for someone to share it all with.   The piece of paper with a simple message and memory in his pocket was an invitation to leave behind the things he carried in his mind. And for the first time in years, he danced, and smiled, and lived without missing something that never could have been.

[bowieandqueen11]

Smitten / Bilbo Baggins Imagine

Request: Ello love, i was wondering if you could write a Bilbo Baggins x reader where the reader is travelling with the company and one night after dinner she starts to sing the song “soldier, poet, king - the oh hellos”. Like his reaction and thoughts as she sung and stuff like that and maybe after she has finished she gets up and walks away and Bilbo follows her to talk and stuff and it’s super fluffy and cute. Rirndjek, thank you. 💕💕

Thank you thank you thank you the whole LOTR universe is my life <3

Comments are always appreciated!

Content, Bilbo thought. Surprisingly, a week into his great adventure, he was content, mainly due to the company he kept.

Pristine and exquisite, the wild was full of such beauty Bilbo never knew a Baggins would be able to find past their front door. In the distance from where the Company had decided to pitch camp for the night, he could hear a stream flitter through untouched and rich soil, babbling over the mountains of smooth stone and deeper into the tightly knit trees that lined his vision from up on this mountain perch. 

Ignoring the slight chill that runs down his spine despite the red coat he had pulled tight around himself, Bilbo lies down on the log, admiring the thin wisps of cloud that dissipate with the final rays of the falling sun.

‘He’s a wizard, he does what he chooses. He’ll come when he comes. Now sit down, Y/n, and have some seconds.’

Watching as you take a seat down next to Kili, Bilbo feels a pang of jealousy as he places an arm around your shoulder, squeezing it in a brash sign of comfort. The small smile he gives doesn’t go unnoticed by the hobbit either, and although he had tried his best to get used to the outdoors, and the company of dwarves, and the horses, he still hadn’t mustered up the courage to have a proper conversation with you yet. I might as well, he thinks, as Fili takes a seat on your other side with a loud burp, do it soon before Smaug burns us all to a crisp. 

What’s the worst that can happen?

‘Come, Y/n, you know I can’t sleep properly without hearing you sing at least once after supper,’ Ori adds into the chattering mix.

Silence seemed to fall over the makeshift campsite, and even Thorin turns his head slightly towards you, from where he sat facing the fields at the edge of the group. The fire seemed to brighten as you nodded, projecting long shadows over the faces of those who leaned closer in wonderment and eagerness, twisting and curling obscure shapes into the dark trunks of the trees. 

As you started, the fire itself seemed to pulsate in time with your voice, and Bilbo couldn’t help but freeze as if trapped under some spell you had placed on him. It was mesmerizing, the fire’s orange and reds giving way to yellow and white near the centre, where the emanating heat was the greatest, echoing the honey homeyness of your voice.

‘There will come a soldier

Who carries a mighty sword

He will tear your city down, oh lei oh lai oh Lord’

Bilbo turned his attention back to the fire, blowing slowly into the red ashes and watched as they fell, dancing around your face. He did this only to try and mask the heat that rose onto his cheeks, from either fear or awe, and the way his hand shook as it grabbed onto his handkerchief, the only piece of home he had left.

‘There will come a poet

Whose weapon is His word

He will slay you with His tongue, oh lei oh lai oh Lord’

Really, Bilbo had thought that he was well mannered enough not to gawk at others. Yet he found himself doing just that, ignoring the curls of hair that fell over his eyes as he turned to watch you, watching you radiate nothing but grace, him completely enthralled. You had managed to mesmerise him in every way. And when those very eyes shifted and finally acknowledged his presence in what seemed to be this timeless moment, a surge of understanding had calmed and further mystified him at the same time. 

‘So this’, he thought, ‘is what I’ve been missing. Gandalf was right, my heart was not to be found in books, or in my mother’s dishes. It was right here, all along.’

Bilbo turned away from his new companions again, sniffling as he settled. Placing his hands behind his head, he looked up, struckeyed at those bright, distant friends of the moon and the stars, their pattern ever changing, distant, and yet able to be the backdrop to such desires of the heart, the inspirations of songs. Your voice was smooth as it floated into his ears and he squeezes his eyes shut in relative bliss, no longer afraid of what lay on the road ahead. He felt, in his heart, that your heart was heavy but there was a promise of tomorrow in your song.

It was beautiful, and he wished that it would never stop. 

‘There will come a ruler

Whose brow is laid in thorn

Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord’

He had lived long enough to know that this feeling was rare. This bond. He could travel the world, and still he would choose to stay right here.

When you finished your song, you didn’t give any of your friend time to react before you were up and setting off away from the camp and back down the stony path to the horse’s clearing. Coming out of their daze, the dwarves hardly noticed the small hop and run of a hobbit tripping past their dirty dishes and running past their cups of ale. A few of them slowly began to clap, as Bilbo ran down the mountain edge, and as he reached the bottom, his clumsy feet sending stones skipping across the shallow moonlight, he could hear Dwalin begin to lead them in another raucous song.

‘Where in Bag End have they gone?’, Bilbo mutters to himself as he skids to a stop by his pony, his feet dewy from the slightly damp dusk grass. Listening to the wind whistling through the trees floating high above his head, he began to feel nervous, and so he began to pet the animal he had yet to name as it dipped its head and drank from a shallow puddle next to a few scattered rocks.

Jumping, a few of the horses broke out from the tree line, and he began to hear the soft humming of you from behind them.

‘Hello! Hello? Sorry to disturb you, but you ran off rather fast, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you how wonderful your singing was. Really, really, wonderful, honest.’

Your cheeks blushed as you patted the back of one of the chestnut stallions and took in the set of the hobbit before you. The cheeky, but half-nervous grin, the dishevelled sandy hair that fell in waves across his cheeks, and the way he looped his thumbs behind his suspenders as if trying to pretend he was a larger presence than he felt in that moment.

‘I thank you for your compliments, Master Burglar, but I never do well with praise. Or company, for that fact.’

‘Ah, well you and me alike! All I ever had were my books and my armchairs, and my...nice...warm...cups of tea.’

The laugh was in your eyes, in the way your face changed into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth at the far away look in his eyes.

‘I hope, one day, when all this is over and we somehow manage to escape this alive, you might, hm, you might join me. For tea. In the Shire. Only if you’d like, of course.’

As you nodded your head, giving a shy smile at Bilbo Baggins, neither of you realised it, but from that moment on, he was smitten with you.

[missturtleduck]

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt. 4

Part Three│Part Five

“It was more of a ‘I’m on the verge of going ballistic at you too, Sokka, so watch your mouth’ sort of smile.”

The moon was a liar.

Now that was a sentiment that Y/N wouldn’t agree with lightly, and yet she was. Sure, her journey so far had been blessed with good weather and better friends, but screwing around with her sleep? That was evil. It wasn’t necessarily the moon’s fault, but it was easy to blame spirits and celestials for real world problems.

At first, the day seemed normal. They had set up camp in a lovely wooded area, laughing about Appa’s shedding problem as they went about their usual chores. Aang and Sokka made sure Appa was comfortable, Momo and Y/N went out looking for food – though she didn’t realise she had a lemur shaped shadow until he landed on her shoulder, making her yelp – and the Katara tended to the main camp with Toph. Sure, the girls managed to butt heads over the division of labour, but all in all it was an okay start to an evening of rest.

Y/N took her place on the floor, Momo curled up in the crook of her stomach; with no time to collect her belongings, she didn’t have a blanket or pillow, but her new friends were astounding at her abilities of staying warm regardless, and falling asleep anywhere. Sokka had offered his furs to her in the beginning and she managed to decline without her face changing to a deep shade of red. For an hour or so, she had managed to drift into a dreamless slumber.

“There’s something coming towards us!”

Momo screeched as Y/N shot up, eyes half shut, hand on her staff. “What is it?”

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she saw Toph with both hands pressed to the ground, her face scrunching up. “It’s like an avalanche, only it’s not an avalanche.”

“Your powers of perception are frightening.”

Biting back a grin, Y/N got to her feet, nudging Sokka with her bō. He groaned, rolling onto his other side and burying his face in his arms. She continued to prod him until he eventually got up, muttering something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch.

Under the orders of the Avatar – or suggestion, rather; he wasn’t very commanding – the group packed their stuff, climbing onto Appa ready to move away from whatever was coming their way. Squinting at the horizon, Y/N realised the scale of the thing pursuing them.

“Tank train,” She said, her voice low and dangerous. “Fire Nation. We need to move now.”

With confirmation of what was chasing them, urgency in the group picked up slightly. Y/N watched and watched until she saw the plumes of mechanical smoke disappear into the inky night, no longer visible over the ocean of trees. For a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief. Opening her mouth to say something, she realised no one was in the mood for talking. Sokka, head in his hands, was managing to catch some sleep despite being high in the air. Even Aang, who seemed to be constantly chipper, rubbed at his eyes, dark circles beginning to form under them. Y/N by no means necessary disliked sleep, but she could cope with missing it – more than these it seemed.

As Appa let out a rumbling yawn, he came to land in a clearing within the woods. Clambering from the bison, Toph seemed far happier with her feet on the ground, ready to sleep once more.

“See you guys in the morning!”

“Actually,” Katara said, her voice polite, her face annoyed, “Can you help us unload?”

Toph snorted, crossing her arms. “Really? You need me to help unload Sokka’s stinky sleeping bag?”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to her lips; Aang, as animated as ever, pulled a face as he held the bag between two fingers, practically throwing it at Sokka. The non-bender proceeded to grow very red as he hopped into it, hitting the ground and nearly falling right back to sleep as soon as it happened.

“That, and everything else. You’re part of our team now, and- “

Toph pointed her finger, cutting her off. “Look! I didn’t ask you to help unload my stuff! I can carry my own weight.”

“Toph,” Y/N said gently, erring on the side of caution, “I only have my bō staff and I’m still helping. It’s not hard.”

“Well, you’ll get along so well with the Sugar Queen then, won’t you Little Miss Perfect?”

Her jaw dropped as she looked at the girl. Katara seemed to boil with rage, ready to go ballistic with her words. And go ballistic she did. It possibly didn’t help that Y/N also had the exact same idea, so the overlapping shouting at Toph may not have been constructive. Words like rude, selfish, and maybe even vulgar were thrown about. The argument ended with Toph slamming a rock up between them, closing herself into a makeshift tent.

“Should we do something?” Aang asked quietly, nudging a serene looking Sokka.

“Hey, I’m just enjoying the show.”

Y/N whipped around the smile at him, although it wasn’t the sweet smile that she often saved for him at the moment. It was more of a ‘I’m on the verge of going ballistic at you too, Sokka, so watch your mouth’ sort of smile. The grin fell off his face very quickly after that, and she felt some satisfaction watching him swallow his nerves down.

“I think,” Aang said, which was never a good way to start a sentence in this sort of situation, Y/N thought, “That you all need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Katara exclaimed, not calm.

With that, she walked away, and Y/N had the comical thought of steam rising from her head in anger. Sighing, she slumped to the ground, Momo taking his usual spot right by her stomach, curling into a ball on her lap. In his tiny hand he clutched her index finger. She might try to sleep, she reasoned with herself, but something about the course that tank train was on made her feel sick in her stomach. It felt wrong.

“Go to sleep,” A voice slurred next to her, Sokka’s voice.

“Can’t,” Y/N responded quickly, staring down at Momo.

His sleeping bag rustled. “Can’t or won’t?”

She smiled, softer than the earlier one she gave him. “Go to sleep, Sokka.”

Y/N didn’t have to tell him twice as he relented to her order, eyes closing as he began to drift. As he did, she spotted Katara coming back from her walk, hopefully calmer than she had been previously. She was not.

“The stars sure are beautiful tonight,” She said in a tone that rubbed Y/N the wrong way. “Too bad you can’t see them, Toph!”

Grimacing, Y/N watched the drama unfold. With a flick of the wrist, Toph sent a tremor through the earth, so strong it sent Katara flying – right into Sokka. So much for sleep.

Pushing his sister off, he glared at the two girls. “How’s a guy supposed to get any sleep around here with all this shouting and earthquaking?”

Unfortunately, something worse was on the horizon. Toph announced it as soon as Y/N spotted those smoke plumes again, far too close for comfort. This was not a usual route for a tank train to take. They were being followed, specifically hunted. But what was giving away their position? Surely it wasn’t the arguing.

“A few more minutes,” Sokka whined, pulling his sleeping bag over his face.

“Don’t make me carry you,” Y/N warned, moving Momo so that he could curl up under her shirt undisturbed as they moved.

He stared up at her as she offered her hand, something on his face that was more than bashfulness. Y/N didn’t ponder on it for long. Hoisting him up with strength that surprised him, they got back onto Appa as swiftly as possible, Y/N making sure to smother the camp fire and hide the ashes under dust.

She could feel Appa struggle as he descended over the peaks of a mountain range, coming to land on hard rock. Well, land was one word for it. Y/N was sent tumbling off of Appa’s back, clutching her stomach so she didn’t crush Momo and have to serve up Lemur pancakes for breakfast. The bison immediately fell asleep, unbothered by the luggage that had fell off of his back in the process. Even the animals were tired, Y/N realised, a gnawing feeling of anxiety growing inside her. They were being hunted, not only hunted, but driven to defeat in a psychological and personal way.

It couldn’t be.

Sokka brushed himself off from the tumble. “Okay, forget about setting up camp- “

“Well, Toph wouldn’t have helped anyway.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise that the baby still needed tucking in!”

“Will you two pack it in!” Y/N snapped, too angry and anxious to feel extremely conscious of the fact she was being stared at. “We are being hunted down by the Fire Nation, and you two are busy bickering! Stop it! There is no need, and you’ll realise that when we have soldiers, or worse, right at our doorstep!”

The silence was deafening, so jarring that it caused Momo to stir from his sleep and clamber up onto Y/N’s head – absolutely not helping her case in that moment.

“It could be Zuko,” Aang said, ending the long silence.

“Who’s Zuko?” Toph asked, the first calm thing she had said all evening.

Sokka rubbed his temples, face looking down into the dirt. “Oh, just some angry freak with a ponytail who won’t stop stalking us.”

“Sokka,” Y/N said, faux confused, “You have a ponytail. Why so offended by Prince Zuko’s?”

“This,” He interjected, looking vaguely offended, “Is a warrior’s wolf tail.”

“Aw, and I’m sure all the other warriors know how cute and perky you are,” She teased, pouting her lip.

He grumbled at her, sliding to the ground. “Go to sleep, Lady Y/N.”

With a scoff, Y/N began to sit, ready to join him in rest. However, Momo went from pulling her ears – ouch, by the way – to jumping on Sokka’s chest, chittering frantically. Alert, the lemur raised his ears, gliding to a ledge of rock, hopping on the spot animatedly. For her own peace of mind, Y/N followed the little creature to the ledge.

“Up,” She said, her voice panicked, “Everybody up now.”

She never thought they’d send Azula.

TAGLIST: @lunariasilver​

[secret-engima]

Little Nox in FF7???

Pfffft. I assume you mean he trips into FF7 by accident for a while so sure!

Setting this in like- just Pre-Crisis Core because it’s funny to me.

Also I make no attempts to be serious with this it’s just going to be as much fluff and humor as I can fit in it.

-There is a child hiding under his desk.

-Sephiroth blinks down at the small child, the child blinks tearfully back up at him. Sephiroth is still trying to figure out how a child got all the way up here, let alone into his office to hide under his desk, then the child crawls out from under the desk and-.

-Hugs him.

-“M scared.” Whispers the child into Sephiroth’s pant leg as he stands there stunned, “Wan’ Uncle. Wan’ frien’.” Big, big blue eyes (truly big, how do children make their eyes that large is this normal) look up at him and Sephiroth feels something ... small and fragile and trusting brushing against his senses, like a materia but alive and scared and seeking comfort, “Seph friend?”

-....Oh dear.

-Angeal comes to Sephiroth’s apartment several hours later, concerned because Sephiroth took a sick day? Just- out of nowhere, he called in a sick day to Lazard and retreated to his apartment. Lazard had called Angeal about the issues because this behavior was Concerning™. Angeal agrees. Angeal has known Sephiroth for YEARS. The man does NOT get sick from anything and he never tries to use sick days to get out of work, so what in the world is going on?

-He knocks twice, then enters without waiting because he has the spare key and comes face to face with-.

-“Seph,” Angeal manages in a strangled voice, “What is a child doing in your apartment?”

-Sephiroth turns his head to look at Angeal, then looks away again when the child busily braiding his hair makes a noise of protest, “I found him,” Sephiroth answers with all the serenity of a man who found a stray kitten rather than an Actual Human Being, “he didn’t know where his uncle was or how to contact him. I did not think the offices were an appropriate place for a child, so I brought him here.”

-Angeal stares, the child looks up briefly from braiding and stares back with solemn but content blue eyes. The boy can’t be more than seven, probably closer to six, and Angeal is Professionally Concerned as he steps further into the apartment, “You didn’t think to call Lost and Found? Or security? Sephiroth, his parents are probably worried sick about him.”

-Sephiroth, if anything, looks politely baffled, “I was unaware Lost and Found dealt in children. And Security would just frighten him, they have guns.” Angeal takes a moment to pointedly look at the swords adorning Sephiroth’s apartment walls, the only decorations the man seems to care about, then back at Sephiroth. It’s clear that Sephiroth misses the point.

-Angeal sighs and steps toward the boy, “I’m going to take him to-.” The boy cringes away from Angeal’s approach and a moment later is possessively cradled in Sephiroth’s arms as the Silver General backs away with a frown.

-Sephiroth scowls, “No.”

-“Sephiroth-”

-“No.”

-“You can’t just keep him!” The responding silence is telling and Angeal flings his hands in the air, “Sephiroth, he’s a human being! A child! You don’t know the first thing about children!”

-Sephiroth looks down at the boy, who seems oddly content to curl up in the arms of a near stranger and play with long silver hair, then looks back up, “He appears to be very well trained.”

-Angeal facepalms, “Human. Being. Sephiroth. You can’t just keep him like a stray puppy. We need to contact someone so they can find his parents.”

-“And if he has none?” Sephiroth sounds almost hopeful and Angeal is a Dread™. It’s rare that Sephiroth gets into one of his possessive modes (Genesis jokingly calls it Dragon Mode for the sudden onset of hoarding tendencies), and he’s never done this over a person before and Angeal can already see this becoming a disaster.

-Angeal insists on calling Security, even if he grudgingly lets Sephiroth keep the boy “until his guardians are found”.

-There is no one in Shinra’s citizen registry that goes by the name Izunia. They assume that either the boy said it wrong (he is young after all) or that he’s possibly foreign-born, since “Izunia” is a Wutaian name. The Turks want to know how he got into the building, let alone to Sephiroth’s office, but the boy’s only response to these questions is a shy blink and a mumble into Sephiroth’s shoulder of “I tripped.” which makes absolutely no sense to anyone.

-While Security looks for this “Izunia” person anyway, Sephiroth hoards the boy (who’s name is Nox) with all the possessive fervor of a dragon. Rumors abound and spiral out of control among first the SOLDIER’s, then the regular employees, then all of Midgar over the sight (and few grainy pictures the Turks didn’t censor in time from the public) of their famed Silver General doing his paperwork with a child in his lap, or inspecting the SOLDIER recruits with said same child riding in a makeshift sling on his back.

-The rest of SOLDIER (including Angeal and even Genesis) is enamored with him by the end of the week, but it’s clear that Nox’s favorite person is Sephiroth. Genesis is jealous and tries to bribe Nox with poetry and candy, but Nox will always wander back to Sephiroth as soon as Sephiroth calls for him.

-No one can explain why they’re so attached, other than the fact that Nox is sweet and polite and adorable (and also his magic is curling around their souls in hopes of finding friends-protectors and though they don’t know what they’re feeling, it makes the Mako-sensitive SOLDIERS parental instincts kick into overdrive.

-Hojo takes an interest in this boy who can sway all of Soldier and who gives off odd mako readings.

-Hojo is mysteriously found shanked to death in his lab a day after expressing his creepy interest and making noises about “examining” Nox.

-Nox helpfully holds out a polishing cloth for Sephiroth once the man is finished wiping blood off one of his wall-decoration daggers (he wasn’t stupid enough to use Masamune, the wounds the blade left were too distinctive, but no one ever expected his wall decorations to be combat-ready sharp).

-Nox “helps” Genesis make tea at one point, as much as a small child can anyway. Genesis thinks it’s his imagination that the tea is faintly glowing until he, Angeal, and Sephiroth drink it and then promptly spend the day vomiting black sludge while Nox cries in concern from Zack’s arms.

-Surprisingly, the three feel better than they have in years once the vomiting fit is over. They still never let Nox help make tea again though. Just in case.

-About three weeks after Sephiroth first finds a child under his desk, Shinra tower is summarily invaded by one Very Agitated Hat Man looking for his nephew and not afraid to wreak havoc to do it. The Turks get rings run around them and all of SOLDIER gets slapped over the head repeatedly until Sephiroth enters the scene with Nox and the boy’s face lights up in joy and a cry of “Uncle!!”

-Sephiroth is honestly sad to turn the child over to his Uncle, but the boy looks so happy to be reunited he reluctantly lets go. Izunia blows out of Shinra Tower as quickly as he came and before the Turks can catch him and then immediately disappears off the face of Gaia. No one knows what to make of it. Sephiroth and SOLDIER are a Sad™ that their little mascot person is gone.

-Years later, Sephiroth is summoned to another world on the opposite side of his apprentice Cloud Strife and is overjoyed (and also concerned) when a young child of around ten or twelve runs up and cannons into his waist with a gleeful shout of “Seph!” while a similar-looking teenager follows behind looking agitated and harried.