#starting to learn how to draw the mercs more as well so be warned

[msmoon-and-the-cyberdemon]

Some more

The second one was just something I wanted to add for Valentine’s day but forgor

[thetriggeredhappy]

yo whats good @engiespyweek this is a day late but like dont worry abt it

day 2: hurt / comfort

(warnings for injury, specifically from burns. takes place around Robots Time)

-

Back before the robots, they were expected to work regular hours. Normal days. Practically a nine-to-five, plus a couple of hours most days, but never too long after sundown—and unless they had a mission off-base, they’d get weekends off. It was the most organized war any of them had ever been a part of, to be honest. And it was taxing, sure, the pain and bloodshed, but at least according to Scout it still beat working in food service.

And it wasn’t even all that scary half the time—before the robots, the team was invincible in most senses of the word. It would take some extremely particular situations to kill them, situations they were rarely anywhere near. A doctor on staff, bars in town and a full liquor cabinet on base, a pay grade that few of them even dreamed of, it was a good place to be in their lives. They considered themselves lucky, most days.

But that was before the robots.

The sun was setting over wherever the hell they were. They were going on their second day here, which was usually about how long they spent in one place before they had to move again, following some fickle change of the wind to intercept the next few waves of automatons.

They were exhausted. They didn’t have breaks, truth be told, and only sometimes got to sleep—mostly on the drive to their next destination, sometimes woken up during the night by the distant metallic clanging that functioned as the trumpets of war. Modern era, and all.

Medic was truly running on his last legs. He half operated his infirmary out of the back of one of the trucks they used to transport their equipment, not seeing reason to bother unpacking most days. Soldier was in a tizzy himself, constantly checking and rechecking their supplies, inventory being the only job left out of the multitude he’d had on base before and therefore being one he did near-constantly, and his consensus seemed to be that they were running low on... well, everything. Raiding abandoned warehouses for ammunition and guns just wasn’t cutting it anymore. They’d started to send some of the mercs out hunting for scrap metal when they had the time, and the Engineer was left to work practically around the clock trying to feed it to dispensers and restock to have at least enough to be prepared for battle, and Heavy tended to take over when he absolutely needed to sleep.

But then there were the mercenaries who didn’t have much to do but sit and stew. Sniper mostly took to perching alone somewhere he could watch for the distant dust clouds kicked up by the tanks. Scout ran laps around the perimeter of wherever they were posted up, and on a couple of occasions the two of them were the only warning the team got before the robots showed up. Pyro fretted, for the most part, would sweep by the busy members of the team with something to eat and a supportive pat on the arm. But even then, it was obvious the rest were going stir-crazy. Wanted to help, to take some of the weight back, to help share the load if they could.

This was about the only way Spy could help.

Engineer was having trouble keeping his eyes open, but the fatigue fought against his need to eat the tin full of... something. Meat, some kind of sauce. Spy had cooked it, since they apparently had a stove squirreled away somewhere in this particular warehouse, rations, and the team needed something ‘real’ to eat by his measure. The Engineer managed to keep awake, keep shoveling food into his mouth. Distantly, he understood that it tasted very good, and it overcame the nausea he’d been increasingly plagued with ever since all of this started.

The food was one comfort. The warm weight of Spy leaned against his back was another, the man leaned against him as he ate. Outside there was a particularly vibrant sunset happening, that was a third one, the way the light poured through the window briefly driving away a sort of bone-deep paranoia about darkness. About fear. Apparently that was one reason his father always tried to work with the big garage door of the shop open—being in the sun from time to time was important for all types of health. Or, as Spy put it, he needed to get out of his terrible little machinery lair from time to time or else one day the team would find he’d begun transforming into some sort of mole man.

It made him laugh. He missed laughing, he realized.

Once he had some food in his system, some calm, some time to sit in a position other than bent over a drafting table—and, hell, maybe the sun helped too—he started feeling remarkably more like a human being, started relaxing in increments. Started noticing little things. Dust mites lingering in the last light up above their heads. Distant talking, the distinctive laugh of Demo, Soldier barking something in reply. The sound of Spy taking a pull from his cigarette, quiet enough that he’d only really hear it this close. Quiet motion, like fiddling almost, which struck him as odd. Spy wasn’t much for fiddling and fidgeting. Broad, sweeping, dramatic gestures, those he did every time he got a good excuse—but not fidgeting. It was enough to draw his head up from where it was hanging, casting eyes back over his shoulder.

Spy wasn’t looking at him, apparently focused. “What’re you up to, there?” he asked, suddenly made aware of how rough his throat was. Probably from the near-constant full-volume shouting followed by stretches of silence he got up to these days.

“Simple first aid,” Spy said entirely too casually. So casually, in fact, that it took the Engineer a few seconds to realize what he’d even said.

“What?” he asked, turning more fully to look at Spy, at which point he blanched.

Spy had shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up neatly a short way past his elbows and taken off his gloves and watch, and appeared to be almost done cleaning up and bandaging his left arm, having not started yet on the right one. All up and down his visible skin, and in particular across his palms and wrist, there were a series of mild to severe burns, speckles of dark red and black patching up his forearms, and the Engineer could immediately identify them as being electrical burns, not heat ones.

“How the hell did that happen?” he asked, deeply startled.

A huff of a laugh from Spy. “Mon ami, I go onto the battlefield and am expected to attack mechanical men with a metal blade,” he said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Electrocution is par for the course, I’m afraid.”

“You really oughta... find some way around that,” the Engineer said carefully. “Rubber hilt, or...”

“Most often I can only even tell I’ve caused enough damage to take down any given robot when the shock happens,” Spy shrugged. “It is not terribly painful, especially compared to gunfire. They simply begin to stack up after a while.”

A careful nod from the Engineer, even if it didn’t quite sit right with him. “Want me to help treat those?” he asked, nodding at where Spy was clearly having a bit of difficulty with bandaging his wrist one-handed.

“Our medical supplies are being too regularly depleted even besides superfluous healing of minor injuries, and as much as I would appreciate a moment sat beside one of your dispensers, I’m afraid it would not be very much in the spirit of teamwork to accept your offer, Laborer. If the remainder of our dreary little group is not allowed to accost the dispenser unnecessarily, neither am I, oui?” Spy asked, tone light.

That was one thing he’d started to learn about Spy, especially as of late. Lying and stealing were things he was well acquainted with, but never for something he considered important. To get on other people’s nerves, to get information maybe, but not something important on a whim. Getting on everyone’s nerves was a different beast than intentionally sabotaging them.

“Well,” the Engineer said, still not quite feeling right about it all. “If not that, I can at least lend a hand with wrapping those up. I know a thing or two about getting shocked. Ain’t a fun predicament to be in.”

Only a moment’s hesitation before Spy shrugged, turning to face him, and the Engineer picked up the salve and bandaging and set to work.

This was more his element. Practical problems. Practical solutions. None of the overarching dread, the waiting for the next disaster, the not quite knowing what to do with himself in the miliseconds before the next chore, the next job, the next drive. Just wrapping a wound. Just fixing a problem.

Distantly, there was the sound of something clattering, Demo cheering. The sun was now out of view, and he heard the sound of lights buzzing to life across the area. The light was getting low, and cold was starting to settle into place, more than welcome after yet another sweltering desert day. The smell of hot metal and sweat faded with each breeze that passed through, leaving only the smell of chilly night air, fresh and welcome. By the time it got dim enough to start making him squint to see properly, and he started to wonder whether he should just push through or get a light from somewhere, he realized he was done.

But instead of a twitchiness, an itch to find something else, the urge to keep moving and to find the next thing he needed to work on, he just felt satisfied. Clean bandages, neat wrappings. A vast improvement over before. And when he looked up to see how Spy felt about it all, the man was smiling, just a little, just enough to see even in how dim the room was.

“...What’s the smirk about?” he asked, feeling a bit embarrassed, as if he was missing something.

“Nothing,” Spy said easily, “I suppose I’m just glad you seem to be feeling better.”

A pause, during which the Engineer realized Spy was right. The tension was gone, the ache in his head was fading into a simple weight, and the nausea had settled into nothingness, leaving him relaxed, steady. He blinked.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped my boundaries,” Spy said after a few moments of that stunned silence, searching his face. “It’s just that for the last several weeks you’ve been stomping around with the third most sour expression I’ve ever seen on you, and it seemed as though nobody else was going to bother stepping in any time soon. I thought that perhaps food and fresh air and polite company may remedy things somewhat, and you seemed determined to only interact with us when you deem it productive.”

“You burned yourself just to get me to sit in one place for a while?” he asked, taken aback.

“Oh, no, non, these burns are truly fairly standard by now,” Spy waved off easily, carefully pulling back on his gloves and watch over the bandages, “I simply prefer to tend to them on my own, the majority of the time. Non, simply a convenient excuse to need your help.”

A pause. “Of all the ridiculous things,” he marveled, blinking at Spy.

In the darkness, he could only barely make out the way Spy’s mouth ticked up into a smirk, watching as he rolled his sleeves back down neatly and reached for his suit jacket. “Well, believe it or not, Laborer, I have been known to stoop to such lows as doing what you call ‘ridiculous things’,” he said, doing his jacket up in an easy motion in the same moment that he rose to his feet, “when I find them to be the only way I can possibly break through to ridiculous men.”

He only had time to sputter over the comment for a second before a gloved hand found his chin, tilting his head up just enough for Spy to lay a kiss soundly to either cheek, and only had time to sputter over that for a second before Spy was snickering and cloaking, a puff of smoke in his wake as he disappeared into the increasing night.

His face felt hot, and he felt that restless energy again, but for an entirely different reason than before, because he wasn’t positive, but he was fairly sure cheek kissing was the sort of thing you greeted someone with when you only meant it in a friendly sort of way, and his brain was far too scrambled to remember it properly just then.

Well. Now he had something to think about besides the robots, at least. Damn shame it couldn’t be a nice, neat, practical problem, but despite his best efforts, he really couldn’t find it in him to mind.

Oh, damn it all.

[itskatastrophe-x]

Unhealthy Competition (CH1) c!Punz x Reader

The enemies to lovers fic has turned into more than one chapter so fuck it more than one chapter!!! Here’s the first one :3

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!! : Blood, death, suicide, swearing

Word count : 1,540

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Competition was always your favorite thing about your job. There were two other people you had to fight with for power in the SMP constantly, and somehow you always came out on top. There were few occasions where one of the others would beat you to a kill, and you took pride in that. You had travelled to the SMP a handful of months back on a mission, and decided to stay since a lot of these people seemed wealthy, and you were right. The payout for jobs was astronomical compared to your homeland, so you stayed. You honed your skills and became the best damn mercenary they had ever had here. You had jobs to kill kings in far off kingdoms, regular townsfolk, and even take out towns. You had quickly climbed the ranks and hoarded your wealth, making a base deep in the woods away from everyone else to keep the illusion of being bottom rung. There were moments where you would come in contact with the other two mercs, sparring on those rare meetings. Other times, you would meet at a kill and have to fight for the right to take the kill. Those moments were terrifying, but almost every time you won. Most of the time it would be against the kid that went by the name Purpled. He was agile and quiet, good in the shadows and dark areas. He was a silent killer, made perfect to be an assassin. 

Even more rarely, you would have to fight the other man, Punz. He was just below you in rank, and he was more likely to steal kills. He flaunted his wealth and power and had a large plot of land in the main lands of the SMP, surrounded by tall, dark walls. He was arrogant and selfish and all he cared about was money and bragging. He loved the praise that came with the power, and that annoyed the hell out of you, so each time you beat him, you couldn’t help but to be as cocky as him, wearing a smug smirk with your axe pressed against his throat. There was one day where you were sparring with him, both covered in blood and bruises, swearing back and forth at each other, and you ended up pushing him against a tree. His head flew back against the sturdy bark, making him see stars as he went down. You took that opportunity to snatch the dumb gold chain he always wore, and before he had the chance to even stand up, you stashed it away in an ender chest and took off. You felt like that knocked him down a few pegs, but now you couldn’t sleep.

So here you are, sitting at the edge of your bed, eyes wide open in the dead of night listening to the sounds of crackling and the smell of smoke. The forest around you had been set on fire while you were asleep, and you knew it had to be Punz. Who else knew where you lived? Him, and only because he stumbled across your little lodge once trying to escape a really bad storm. It was awkward and he was angry the whole time that you had been so hospitable. And now your lodge was in danger. You packed as much as you could before the fire reached you, opened a hatch under your small house, and jumped in. You had hoped you wouldn’t have to use your escape, seeing as it went all the way to bedrock and was a dangerous route, but it had to be done. You were surrounded by fire and you knew there was no way through it. The fall lasted about ten seconds before you hit a pool of water and swam back up. The area around you was small and cramped. There were a couple chests lining the walls, brewing stands, a small emergency farm, and tunnels leading in every direction. You had spent almost every waking second to dig under everything possible. A tunnel leading to every major destination in the SMP possible. What you didn’t expect to see, though, was Punz sprinting full speed at you from the direction of L’Manburg. It took you a second to gather what was happening, but when it hit you, you climbed out of the pool and ran to a chest, pulling out a potion of invisibility, and chugging the bitter liquid. Seconds later, you were completely invisible, eliciting swearing from the man halfway to you now. 

“You pussy, get out here and fight me,” he yelled, still sprinting towards you. You snuck to the tunnel heading west, making sure to press yourself as far against the wall as you could, hoping you could just melt with the cool deepslate behind you. “I did my research, bitch,” he spat as he made it to the main room. “While you were hiding away, I was learning everything about you. You really shouldn’t have pissed me off. Do you not know how I was the top dog before you even got here? I helped put that powerful, green bastard in prison. I killed some of the most wealthy, powerful people you couldn’t even touch.” He stood there, listening, so you stopped your movement, hoping he wouldn’t hear your shallow breaths. To your surprise, he started off in the opposite direction, still yelling. “Two can play at that game,” he yelled, pulling out a potion of his own. Fear finally sank in as he disappeared. The last thing to fade was his face as he turned around and smirked. He knew. And now you were fucked. 

You took off running, weaving through the hundreds of tunnels you had dug. You had every path memorized down to the pebble just in case something like this happened, but he said about research so he must know too. You stopped at another small room and stood there for a second. “I know every movement,” his voice echoed to you. You were surrounded by his voice and it sent chills down your spine. “I told you I did research,” he said. “You fucked with the wrong merc,” his voice came from behind you. You could feel his breath against your neck and slowly, the freezing metal of a weapon came to your throat. He had you pinned and there was nothing you could do about it. You shivered at the touch of netherite and the warmth of another person behind you, unable to see anything. 

“Yknow, at first I thought it would be fun to let you keep running, but killing you right now would be a lot more fun. Sending you back to spawn while you lose everything you own. Now, give it back.” His voice was laced with anger, but somehow it was playful. You couldn’t lie to yourself, the man was hot. But you were competitors and merc life wasn’t easy. But the thought crossed your mind relentlessly about a life you could have with him. You wouldn’t dare admit it out loud. “What if I didn’t,” you retorted, keeping up the playful atmosphere. The blade dug farther into your throat, now drawing blood and bringing tears to your eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you really aren’t in the position to deny me what you stole.” Slowly, your body came back into view, the potion finally wearing off. You smirked and scoffed at him, relaxing against the blade. “Now, what kind of mercenary would I be if I admit that I lost? Why would I give up right here?” You slipped your hand into your pocket carefully, the smooth surface of gold hitting your fingers. He slowly came to your vision. His potion wearing off as well. The large netherite axe in front of you held to your throat was intimidating. The surface was scratched and chipped from years of use. It dug farther, making it hard to breathe. 

In one swift move, you wrapped your hand around the totem in your pocket and pushed against the sharp blade, effectively killing yourself. The shock on his face was the last thing you saw before things went black. Seconds later, on the floor, light rushed back and you saw the man standing over you in complete horror. You had taken him off guard and that gave you enough time to get up, set tnt down, and run off. The explosion was deafening but you kept running, zigzagging. You pulled out a lever and placed it against the wall, flipping it to reveal a secret door that blended in perfectly with the rest of the stone. You took the lever, entered the door, placed it on the other side, and closed it all in ten seconds. You ran down the hall. Up some stairs, and to a small pool of water. You pulled out your trident from your inventory and positioned yourself to fly up the small tunnel up. It took you multiple times and multiple stops to get to the surface, and the full moon greeted you happily. The woods in the distance gave off an eerie glow as they burned. You smiled, pleased with yourself, and ran off in the direction of your secret hideaway through the nether.

[bobathirstaccount]

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut, some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

Translations - Mando’a

Cyar’ika - sweetheart/ darling

Riduur - spouse

Transalation - Twi’lek

keella - sweetheart

TW: unprotected sex

— 2 more chapters —

***

CHAPTER SEVEN

Getting used to your new position at the palace was an ongoing process. The more time you spent standing to Boba’s left, the more people bothered you, looking for favors. Some of the dancers even started to treat you differently. This made you upset; you talked it over with Ayy. “You can’t blame them. You’re a direct line to Boba Fett. And by far the least scary, between you and Fennec.” You considered that. “But I’m a merc in my own right!”

“Not nearly as infamous as Fennec Shand and Boba Fett. You’re the friendly, safe face of the Great Fett.” You glared at her. Dammit. “You can just start giving them ‘the eyes,’ like Fennec does.” You considered, and tried it on Ayy. She smiled, “Keep working on it, keella.” You huffed. “Aside from you pouting over your growing influence, how are things?” She leaned forward, licking her lips. “Girl talk me, keella.” You smiled. She was the only one you tolerated being questioned by. “Good. He... said he was fond of me.”

Ayy spit her drink all over you. You raised both eyebrows, ”Bitch.” She dabbed you with some napkins, “Well don’t do that to me. He’s ‘fond’ of you? I told you he had feelings for you. Can I be at your wedding?”

“Not funny.”

“Just saying... he is pussy whipped,” she pinched your cheeks. “Guess the tales of my escapades came in handy.” You blushed, “Honestly yes. Glad I was half paying attention.” She pinched you. “Well, I should get back to it.” She retreated back to her stage, leaving you with your thoughts.

***

“We’re leaving in 15 minutes, be on the Slave 1,” Fett had burst into the throne room and cornered you and Fennec off to the side. “Din is in trouble.” Fennec’s eyes lit up in recognition. So did yours; you remembered your conversation with the ruler of Mandalore. “I’ll be there.” Fennec dashed off to get ready. You looked up into Boba’s visor. “Is it bad?” He tilted his head towards you and said in a low voice, “Bo-Katan is making a move for power. We will be there to back him up.” You nodded, “I’ll get my supplies off Daesha.” Boba shook his head. “I’m leaving you here, in charge. You are my left hand; if Fennec is with me then you are on the throne.”

Your mouth hung open. Then your eyes narrowed, “Leave her here and take me. She’s better suited to take over for you in your absence.” He shook his head, “You have to learn, ad’ika. It will be fine.” You stared up at him in horror, letting it show plainly on your face. He laughed softly under his helmet, “We will be gone for less than a week. Nothing is scheduled to be going on. All you have to do is sit up there and represent me.” You gulped, “That’s what worries me.” He shrugged, “Your reputation will do more than you think. You are my number 2. No one will question you, as no one questions Fennec. And if they do,” he shifted his weight, “they will have to deal with me directly.” He seemed to grow in size. You smiled, but then became serious again.


He turned towards the throne, indicating you should follow him. He led you to the throne, and watched you step up and turn around. You sat down very slowly, disbelief flowing through you. Your ass touched the seat. You widened your stance a bit, trying to fill up the throne like Boba and Fennec. “Good,” Boba said, looking up at you. “I’m leaving now. You will rule in my stead,” he said this slightly more loudly so everyone in the room heard. With that he turned and left. You faced your court and swallowed.

***

One day turned into two. Three. There was no communication from Slave 1. This was expected; the only time you would hear something was if they were in trouble. But still you wanted to hear from Boba. You stayed in his suites in his absence, and occupied the throne room during the day. You settled some small disputes you thought were straight forward, hoping Boba would be proud of you. In the evenings you held a different type of court in the third floor club. More people started coming to the club because they knew that Fett’s Second would be there. The club was popping by the fourth night of Fett’s absence. You wondered what he’d think about it.

The dancers acted as a wall, and would pull off people who were trying to get to you. Ayy bossed them around for you. You were thankful.

On the sixth day, you received a transmission in the middle of the night. It was Fennec. Your heart sank a bit, but you pressed play.

“Y/N, there was treachery here. We’re on the run back to the Palace. Strengthen defenses immediately and wait for more instructions.”

You shot out of Fett’s suites in a panic, raising your head of security and several others. You carried out Fennec’s orders, and sat on the throne, anxiously waiting for word. Midmorning word came that Slave 1 had landed. You wanted to bound to the hanger, but knew your place. You sent Ayy instead.

Ayy returned shortly, “There’s a lot of people with Fett’s armor. They went to a conference room.” “Fett told me,” she gulped, “he actually spoke to me and told me to tell you to meet them at the conference room.” You jumped up at this, startling her. You ran out of the room without saying anything.

You caught your breath before you entered the conference room. No need to look like a fool. You stepped inside. Seven Mandalorians turned to face you, hands on their weapons.

“This is Y/N, “Fennec said, and they relaxed. She nodded at you, “Fett and Din are having a private meeting.” You nodded and took a relaxed stance. Warning klaxons went off. “Kriff, they’re here!” One of the Mandalorians yelled out.

“To the Daesha, Y/N!” Fennec yelled. Without a second thought you took off, racing towards your ship, the klaxons urging you on.

***

You slammed the take off sequence into Daesha, seeing the ships entering the atmosphere. You took off towards them, incensed. No one would come for Boba.

You were good in a dog fight, and you knew it. You prepared your weapons and increased your speed, intending to engage them as far away from the palace as possible.

Suddenly your comms came to life, “Daesha, wait for us.” It was Boba. Not a chance in hell, you thought. You engaged the enemy Mandalorians, guns blazing. Daesha took a few hits, but you knew she could take it. You targeted one of the ships and merilessly went after it. You quickly overtook it with Daesha’s speed. You targeted. It exploded just in time, Daesha flying through the debris. Your comms crackled to life again, something about pulling back. You turned them off.

You chased the larger ship that had come with the small group of invading ships. Firing at it, you took damage to one of Daesha’s engines. Black smoke trailed behind you. You grit your teeth; she would hold together. Suddenly Slave 1 filled your view screen. You had been cut off. Missiles flew and the invading ship exploded. Other ships from your side were now swarming the area, mopping up the remaining ships. Some fled, but most were destroyed. You started to chase one out of the atmosphere. “Daesha, return to the hanger,” someone was pinging you on the emergency channel. It sounded like Fennec. “I can get it,” you retorted, finally responding to someone.

“Fett says to turn around.” You snorted angrily, watching the ship grow larger in your view screen. There was no way it could outrun you. It was already dead. Frustrated, you pulled back and headed towards home.

***

You had gone to the throne room upon your return to find it empty. You then checked the conference room. There were some Mandalorians, but Fennec had just left for the throne room and Din and Boba were missing. You sighed and headed back to the throne room, where you met up with Fennec.


“He’s pissed at you,” she calmly stated, fixing your hair. You rolled your eyes.

“Daesha and I were fine.”

“I don’t think he saw it that way. In fact, most of us didn’t. You are too aggressive.”

You shrugged, annoyance growing in you.

“He wants you to meet him in his suites in a little while,” she drawled on. “In the meantime, catch me up to speed.”

***

You had caught Fennec up quickly, anxious to get to Boba’s rooms. You wanted to be there before him. Finally you were dismissed. You tried to casually jog to your destination, feeling vaguely idiotic.

He was already waiting, looking out a window. His back was to you. You ran up to him happily. When he didn’t turn around immediately, you stopped next to him, uncertain.

“You could have died today.”

“I was fine,” you shot back.

“I already have the report on Daesha. She barely held together.”

You shrugged, “I knew she would. She’s tough.”

Suddenly you were being shaken by two strong hands. “You could have died!” He roared. You were shocked; in all the time you had known him he had never raised his voice. In fact, when he became angry it usually got softer. You looked at him wide eyed. He gave you a nasty glare. “You are to stay behind the next time something like this happens.” You tried to object, but he squeezed your arms tightly. “Cyar’ika, you are forbidden.” You stared, stunned. “You can’t do that,” you quietly said. “I can, and I did,” he seethed, staring you down. You stared him down right back. “I’m not your pet! You can’t keep me locked up.”

He blinked, surprise showing on his face. His hands dropped. “Cyar’ika, I.. can’t have anything happen to you.” His eyes had changed, from sharp and dangerous to soft and pleading. You stared at each other. His eyes were soft and open. You reached up, putting your hands on either side of his face. You slowly reached up to kiss him. He allowed you, drawing you closer with two hands around your waist. You tried to deepen the kiss, both wondering if you could and just wanting to be devoured by him. Your tongue slipped past his lips and teeth to explore his mouth. He reciprocated, pulling you into a crushing kiss. You didn’t want to come up for air, but eventually you had to. He looked at you darkly. “You’re right, but I can’t reconcile that with my desire to protect you.”

You smiled, “Just let me fight with the boys.”

He dropped his gaze, “But you aren’t.”


“Yes I am. We just also fuck.” You smiled wryly at your snappy comment. He didn’t meet your gaze. Silence stretched. You began to realize you had said the wrong thing. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I mean... you know what I mean...” He remained silent, looking out the window. “I just wanted to kill all of them, coming for you,” you whispered softly. His eyes flicked back to you, “Technically, they were coming for Din.” You snorted, “And his allies. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“Do you know what it did to me to see your ship taking damage?” He said quietly, hugging you to himself.

Your breath caught for a moment, “No.”

“I would go back to the Sarlacc before I let anything happen to you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, surprising you. You sniffled. “Please don’t say that.”


“It’s true.” He put his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, “Let me take care of you.”

Your inhale caught in your lungs, “You do.”

”I mean really take care of you. I want you to be mine.”

“I am yours already,” you slid your hands around to hold his face. The two of you looked at each other. The air held something electrical in it. He drew you into a deep kiss. His hands started to move over your body. “You’re mine,” he breathed, coming up for air before kissing you again. You moaned softly; he was making you melt into a puddle of desire.

“I am yours, but I’m also my own person,” you whimpered into his mouth. He kissed you again. “You’re mine,” he reaffirmed. He was intoxicating. You didn’t argue anymore. He started to disrobe you, and you worked on his clothes frantically. The two of you fell into bed, a tangle of half-disrobed clothing and limbs. He lifted you up and tossed you into the center of the bed.

“Let me eat that pussy. Let me show you how much I missed you,” he said, pulling at your clothing. You smiled naughtily and finished pulling off your pants. He crawled up to you, an animalistic look on his face. You watched him, anticipating. He roughly spread your legs and grabbed one ass cheek with each hand. He licked from the back of your pussy all the way up to your clit, applying pressure. He rubbed his tongue back and forth on your clit. You threw your head back, moaning.

Two fingers slipped into your pussy as he continued to work your clit with his tongue. You started to see stars already, and grabbing his head you let out a loud, high pitched noise. He laughed into your pussy, and removed his fingers, replacing them with his tongue. He swirled it at your entrance and through your slick folds. You squirmed under him, and he held you still. “Baby I want you inside of me,” you panted. “Which part of me?” He slipped two fingers in and out of your pussy, and returned his tongue to your clit. You writhed, “Your cock. I want your cock.”


“Hmmm,” he considered, mmmming into your clit. You almost screamed. “How bad you want it though? I’m having fun tasting you.”

“Please, please I want your cock so badly. I missed you,” you looked down at him. “I missed your cock in my pussy, baby.” He looked up at you. “Well, if that’s the case.” He crawled up your body until you were making eye contact. He let his cock drag against the inside of your thigh. “Baby, please,” you said. He eyed you darkly, then kissed you softly, penetrating you simultaneously. You moaned into his mouth. He lightly bit your upper lip, then licked up your neck. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting all of him. He fucked you savagely, gripping you tightly. With each stroke he stretched you deliciously. You held on to him and moaned his name to him like a sacred chant. He panted into your ear, “You are all that matters to me, riduur.” You didn’t know what that meant, but took it as a term of endearment you would ask Ayy about later.

You ran your hands down his spine, crying out as you came, pussy clutching around him. “Mmmmm Boba,” you sighed. He gave a few more thrusts and came in you, cock spasming pleasantly. He stilled, then rolled off you. You snuggled into his side, sighing happily. He sighed deeply, and a silence fell over the room. Sleep overtook you

[veralovemail]

Hi! I would love myself a matchup if it's ok 👉👈

I'm female and pan, I'd prefer one of the males tho, Survivors please!

So uhhhh I differ in my personality a lot depending on the situation! I'm more of a loner around strangers IRL— shy, quiet, I don't like interacting and prefer to stay by the sidelines since being in the middle makes me uncomfy.

I try to be as polite as I can, even keeping in my opinions and pain a lot as to not Hurt anyone. I also tend to blame myself a lot for bad situations I'm a part in unless I know I absolutely didn't do anything!

Also I'm quite hot headed and have a bad temper, though I'm working on it! I have quite the problem with guilt and it comes to me fairly quickly when I do something bad.

Ah yeah I'm really forgetful and also really impatient KNRKS

Now- online!!

I'm a lot more open and chaotic. I like to tease my friends and jokingly make fun of them, etc. I try and stop when they tell me to, but I might understand it as them just joking too if they write it that way in my eyes-

I try to look on the positive side for them and their situations and am always willing to make someone happy even without words since it makes me happy too. I'd say I'm caring to a fault- I don't let loose until they finally do something healthy that they've been avoiding and I do get rather angry if I'm not taken seriously with that, causing me to maybe lash out at someone unwillingly,,- and then guilt pops in like "hi there 😍" KDHDJDJ

Anyway,

I encourage anyone to vent, though I'm not the best at giving advice. I'm more of a person who likes to listen and give support if they need it. Oh yeah- my attention span is REALLY short (as short as me good ol' 5'1 me aNENSJJSJD) so I get distracted pretty easily and procrastinate then.

As for hobbies: I love to draw! (As you might know-)Music is my life (especially Jazz) and video games are, too. Though mostly singleplayer Games since I only really like multiplayer with friends-

What else can I write..

Maybe like- I'm an ISFP-T And I think it was 5w6 that I was given by another test

I also got Philophobia, the fear of falling in love because of bad experiences but I'm tryna work on it!!

I guess I can also write about my appearance? I've got short, curly but chaotic black hair that's p much swept to the side- I'm definitely not that skinny lmao- and as I've said before, I'm 5'1! I usually wear casual clothes (hoodies, e.g!! They're so comfy...) I also got brown eyes and glasses!

I think that should be it.. ah yeah! In your introduction, you should prolly add your ID for others to add you because name search doesn't work! :0

Ok that's really it now- take your time, don't rush yourself and stay safe and hydrated!! 💕💕 Hope your blog takes off!

Sorry for my English by the way- I'm German so I might've messed up on a few things!

OH MY LORD I DID NOT KNOW THAT I HAD TO PUT IN MY ID... oml... thank u for telling me that. and don't worry about it, i can see how it'd be difficult (i actually studied german for my gcses :], it was very fun) but anyways! tysm for sending in btw!! i loved writing this, i hope u enjoy - mod vera ♡

i match you with ... naib subedar!

he kinda takes on to your quiet personality, unlike some of the other people around the manor. it's relaxing to be around somebody who doesn't talk much.

you two most likely met when robbie came over to the survivors' side of the mansion, jokingly demanding sweets... but it most likely sounded authentic. and oh god, is that an axe-

you two accidentally locked eyes but you both had a " ah shit, here we go again " face. it just kinda went from there.

at first, he's a tough nut to crack, but if you try hard enough, within a month or so you gain his trust and he .. deems you a friend?

you both kinda start falling for eachother after a period of time, but naib is great at hiding it BUT SIKE, so are you! it's like a game of who can pine for the other in the most subtle way possible.

however, if you tell him about your own troubles with falling in love, he may just open up a little too about his own troubles.

it's takes a while for you two to build a relationship, but eventually (after a lot of rescues, late night hangouts and just being near eachother) you make it!

when he learns about your more chaotic side, naib tries to keep up with you as best he can, he may just need a little tug to do so.

he loves your smile, especially the one you have when you're talking about your passions.

he also tries to help with your temper, but he's just as bad as you are.

however, he's there whenever you have a bad day - he can almost instantly tell, even if you try keep it to yourself. it could be the way you look at him, try to smile or talk, he does notice the change in your aura.

since your shorter than him, he likes holding you. it makes him feel like he's just protecting you from anything and anything, especially on one of your bad days.

he likes your optimism, looking on the good side of every situation. he once saw you trying to comfort robbie when he started crying about not finding any sweets around and you told him "look on a brightside robbie! now we know for next time to stash some away for you before we eat it all!" AND OH GOD, IS THAT AN AXE?

naib gets frequent nightmares about his time being a hired merc, so sometimes you may get woken up at 3 am because he's a bit distressed and needs a bit of comfort.

other times, he just finds holding you while you're fast asleep enough to put him back in a coma for the next 2 hours.

naib also encourages you to talk to him about stuff. whether it be what made you mad, how much of a bitch vera can be, ect. he's there for you and that man is never gonna let you carry your burdens alone.

saying that, you also have to remind him that he can't carry his own burdens sometimes and when you encourage him to talk to you about what's upsetting him, he'll most likely tell, depending on how bad it is.

he also grounds you a lot!! if you tell him about your forgetfulness, he's most likely going to try and remind you.

" hey, [ name ], you did bring [ item ] into the match, right? "

" um... "

" goddamnit [ name ], i thought i reminded you "

naib takes it upon himself to rescue you, or keep you within his general vicinity if you're in a match with him. he does know you can kite very well though! he just wants you near him for a bit of reassurance.

he can be mean sometimes, but he means it in the most endearing way possible since most of it is sarcasm.

you two kinda have " stab as a warning " vibes so nobody really opposes the two of you. even norton. not even freddy dares to oppose you because the last time he did, aesop almost had to prepare his equipment to embalm the poor fella.

when you lash out at someone, naib is there almost immediately to take you away to calm down and comfort you when your guilt kicks the door down and goes " Hey girlie! Hold still 😎 "

sometimes you have to do the same for him because you both have a tendency to lash out.. but.. never at eachother? you two kinda agree on the same things, there isn't much to exactly disagree on.

please draw him!! watch him while he's training in the garden and draw him, or just a few silly doodles of him.

he likes looking at your drawings, it kinds boosts his ego knowing that he's worthy enough to be drawn.

if he finds out that you like music, he'll tell you about nepalese music, or at least what he knew of it - if you both get engrossed in it, he may try and get you some records to play.

teach him how to dance, if you can. it'd make listening to music together way more fun.

he's very content with you!! he likes kissing you out of nowhere, too. you could just be chilling and naib would come up to you, turn you around and give you a smooch outta nowhere. but only in private.

i feel like neither of you would be big on pda, you just stick to holding hands around the manor.

if this were in a modern setting, you two could probably play a game like phasmaphobia together just for funsies.

all in all, your relationship with naib is mutually beneficial and robbie has learned to never ask for sweets again.

i hope you enjoy this <3 it's my first time writing naib too so i apologise if it's not very good </3

[bloodfromthethorn]

The Usual Runaround

"You know, this is your fault."

"Oh yeah? How's that exactly?"

"I told you to run."

Limited as his range of movement was, what with being tied to a chair, Jack still took the opportunity to twist in place and shoot a venomous look at his partner. "Oh, yeah," He said sarcastically, "I remember now. You started screaming some nonsense about me leaving your skinny ass behind, right?" He huffed sharply, letting some of his genuine annoyance show through for just a moment. Even after all these years, the kid still hadn't fucking learned. "As if that option was ever on the table."

"You had a clear exit," Mac argued instantly, not for the first time. "I didn't. You could have got out of the warehouse and rounded up some help so we wouldn't both be stuck in this pit without any back up on the way."

"You're leaving out the part where those mercs would have put you down in an instant if I wasn't there to stop them."

Mac hummed, choosing to ignore the entirely valid point laid out before him. Jack was right - the only reason the mercenaries hadn't shot him on sight was Jack shooting back at them and piquing their interest enough to opt for capture rather than kill. Regardless, that reasoning still left the both of them high and dry, injured, and without any rescue on the horizon. "I would have thought of something."

"You wouldn't have had a chance to with a bullet in your brain. Damn it Mac-" Jack cut himself off, taking firm hold of the anger threatening to bubble up his throat and drowning it calmly in the depths of his gut. Mac was just working off adrenaline and Jack knew that. It wasn't the kid's fault that Jack kept replaying the sight of him on his knees with a gun barrel pressing harshly against his temple over and over again; the resulting nausea was enough to make him green. He sucked in a heavy, shaking breath and held it for as long as he could.

"Sorry," Mac said quietly after several moments of stilted silence, his voice soft and regretful. Apparently he'd finally twigged that Jack was genuinely upset with him. "I know you wouldn't leave me behind. I appreciate that, I really do. I just wish you weren't trapped here with me."

Jack sighed roughly, twinging the maybe-possibly-almost-certainly broken ribs on his right side in the process, and tried very hard not to feel guilty about drawing that hesitant, injured tone out of his partner. "It's okay, I know you don't mean nothing by it. Just wish you had any self-preservation instincts at all, hoss."

"I manage."

"You do not. I'll never understand how you made it as long as you did without me watching your back."

Mac huffed, amused rather than offended. They'd had this conversation before. "Ye of little faith."

"I got all the faith in the world in your skills, hoss, just not always in your survival instincts."

"Well, I appreciate that- I think. Now let's just hope that I can get us out of here before those guys come back and put those instincts to the test, yeah?"

Jack craned his head to try to see what Mac was doing with his hands, but the angle was too sharp and he gave up the attempt when his ribs protested. "How's it going?"

"Getting there," Mac reported, trying to feel along the rope around his wrists to ascertain how much further he had to go before the nail he'd dug out of his chair would sever the bond entirely. "More than half way."

That was good news, but Jack wasn’t entirely thrilled with the strained, breathless way in which Mac said it. He wiggled again in a desperate attempt to get a good look at the man behind him. “And how about you? You hanging in there?”

Mac scoffed. “I’m fine. You’re the one they had to pummel into submission.” A brief pause, then, “Are you hurt?”

“Ah, y’know me. Day’s not complete before I’ve earned a couple of bruises. Got nothing serious going on. And don’t think for a second I didn’t see those guys knocking you around too. Talk to me man, what’s going on with you?”

“You were barely conscious, how on Earth were you paying attention to what was happening with me?”

“Always paying attention to you. Never know the trouble you’ll get yourself into if I’m not watching. Stop dodging the question Mac.”

He sighed, momentarily pausing in his efforts to hack through the rope to take stock of himself and bring everything back into balance. Jack was right - he was hurting, but truthfully he didn’t think it was anything too serious. A black eye, some pretty heavy bruising, and something that he hoped was a sprained ankle but was in all likelihood a small fracture. Nothing that was going to kill him, and probably not enough to seriously slow him down, which was all that really mattered while they were still trapped down here. Still, Jack wasn’t about to let it go without an honest answer.

“Bruised. Sore. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Anything serious I need to know about?”

“Don’t think so. Ankle might be a problem if we have to run though.”

Jack’s expression twisted in frustration even though there was no one there to see it. “Broken?”

Mac hummed noncommittally, offering a shrug that Jack couldn’t see. “Not sure. Let’s hope it’s not. This day is going badly enough as it is.”

“No arguments here.” Jack twisted his hands for the hundredth time, ignoring the quiet blaze of rope burn with practiced ease. No matter what he did, he remained stuck tight. “You know, when we get out of here, I think I’m going to ask Matty for a holiday. Think she’d go for it?”

Mac huffed a soft laugh. “I’m sure she’d agree, but when was the last time either of us managed to go a week without getting dragged back in for something apocalyptic?”

“A guy can dream, can’t he?”

“Well, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you. Besides, with the way you’re wheezing, I’m pretty sure you’re getting bounced to medical leave the moment we get back. They break your ribs?”

“Not rightly sure. Certainly didn’t feel pretty.” There was a loaded pause. “Ey now, I can hear you thinking over there. I’m doing just fine, don’t you worry about me.”

Mac hummed, low and distantly annoyed. “You should have run.”

“Man, we’ve been over this, it was never going to happen.” Despite the warning bell in the back of his head that usually sounded when something was off with Mac, Jack couldn’t help but let frustration leak into his voice. “How many years have we been running together? You’ve gotta know by now that anyone shooting in your direction is going to have a problem with me. And that ain’t ever going to change Mac. We have each other’s backs, remember?”

There was no response, Mac evidently unwilling to share whatever twisted mentality had crawled into his head and made him believe that Jack’s life was somehow more valuable than his own. It was an old problem, one that Jack had long since grown adept at dealing with, and while he was proud to say that over the last few years Mac’s self-sacrificing nonsense had lessened dramatically, he had a feeling that the kid would never quite manage to shake it. That didn’t mean that Jack didn’t have every intention of trying to convince him of his worth for as long as he was physically able.

“‘Sides which, Matty would have had my head if I told her I’d let you get kidnapped. There’s nothing these guys can do to me that’s scarier than that woman when she’s on the warpath.”

That, at least, drew a snort of laughter out of Mac. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But you do know that she’s going to be just as mad at us later when we have to tell her about all of this.”

“We could just not mention it. Maybe she hasn’t noticed we’re gone.”

“Yeah, because dropping off comms in the middle of an active mission is definitely not cause for concern.”

“It was barely a mission. All we had to do was scout the warehouse.”

Mac huffed with laughter again, deciding that it was better to be amused by the ridiculous extent of their failure rather than upset. “I’m almost through,” he said instead of pressing the matter, carefully working the blunted nail between the final few threads of rope holding him down. His fingers felt tacky with blood where he had managed to slice into himself with the sharp edges of the metal, and both of his wrists had been chafed raw by the bindings, but those were all problems to be dealt with later. For now, all that mattered was getting free.

It took another few minutes of sawing - and a fretful moment when Mac nearly dropped the nail in his eagerness to get the job done, finally - but eventually the rope snapped apart, and Mac was able to roll his shoulders for the first time in hours. After the chore that had been, it was but the work of a moment to untie his feet and cross to Jack’s side to release him too, getting his first good look at the man’s injuries in the process.

“You look rough,” he said as lightly as he could while he worked at the ropes around Jack’s hands. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m peachy. Just get me out of here man.”

Fortunately for them both, it was substantially easier to untie Jack’s ropes than it had been to painstakingly saw through Mac’s, and in an instant they were both on their feet and more or less ready to move.

“That ankle holding up?”

Mac shook his foot out, glancing at it curiously as though he’d be able to see any possible damage. “It’ll do for now. Ribs?”

“Still breathing. Okay, c’mon. I think I remember the way they brought us in. It’s not far. You stick behind me, you hear?”

“Always.”

Jack paused for a second, taking in the weight of that promise and letting it settle lightly in his chest like a warm glow, before he shot a sharp grin at his companion, and headed for the door.

Also on AO3

[peculiarnation4u]

Wood's wisdom| Round 1

Saying Kanri was excited would be an understatement. Afterall, she came here to be a hero, to learn to fight, and that’s what she was doing. Granted, her team was the villains, that didn’t change her attitude. It was a simple task, stop an escort mission. Keep the heroes from getting their “dog” to the end of the forest. To make it even easier, she got a partner! The heroes did as well. Kanri glanced over to said partner. He had long turquoise hair, similar in color to hers but heavier on the green. It was tied up in a low, thin ponytail. He had a serious look in his eyes and a steady posture but what really stood out to Kanri were the odd glasses he wore. They were rhombus shaped and small, barely covering his eyes. She decided not to judge since her own outfit wasn’t really stellar.

He noticed her staring and turned to her with a perplexed look. She smiled back.

“This is crazy! To think that we’ll be heroes in a couple of years, and it all starts with pretending to be villains.” she spoke. Her partner, Merce as she learned, only hummed in response. Studious type, she could vibe with that. Once their quaint introductions were out, Kanri surveyed the area where they’d all be fighting. It was a forest arena except it didn’t really look like one. In the trees she could make out a path, though slightly hidden. That was on one side while the other side looked to be like much denser and taller wood.

“I’m guessing that the path is the faster but more dangerous way.” Kiko spoke without warning.

“How are you sure?” Merce asked in response.

“because we can see it. That makes it easier to attack them. The safer path would be the one with dense trees since it is harder to see through.” Kiko answered.

Merce nodded at her insight. Within a moments notice, the alarm sounded, stating that the round had started. Merce and Kanri jumped at the signal, heading off into the forest.

“so which path do you think they took?” Merce asked running alongside kanri.

“Not sure, since we don’t know each other quirks, it’d be smarter to take the safe route and avoid detection.” She started “On the other hand, if they’re cocky enough to believe that they could win in a fight, they would take the fast route.”

Merce pondered her explanation.

“however, all they have to do is get the lumin to the end, they know their route, but we don’t. we’d have to split up to avoid the risk that they went the other way.” Kanri continued in her explanation of the situation.

“So, either way, we’re at a disadvantage” Merce said.

“Pretty much.” Kanri whined once she heard the rhombus man’s words.

Before they could decide on where to go, they heard a giant crash from the fast route. The two looked at each other with confusion before rushing in that direction. The fast route was not only dangerous because of the visibility to the opposing team, but also a number of traps and various dangers. The heroes must’ve set one off. This meant that she and Merce wouldn’t have to split up, they had their target’s locations. Merce must’ve came to the same conclusion since he had a grin on his face.

They both headed off into the narrow path, avoiding traps here and there. As Kanri was running, she noticed a beam coming towards her. Before she could process what it was, Merce quickly tackled her, pushing out of the way. The beam hit the ground, destroying the area around it. They both turned to look up at the source. There stood, or flew, one of their opponents.

“Yikes, that was a little stronger than I intended.” Said the floating “hero”. The boy had brown hair with a black and orange attire on. All rounding down to some red sneakers which didn’t fit the outfit. What was even more strange was that he seemed somewhat translucent. Right next to her Merce seemed to grab a rock and held it in his hand behind his back. Like magic, the rock created two more copies of itself. Merce grabbed on of the copies and chucked it at the brunet. In a split second, he swapped places with it, effectively transporting himself to the boy. The brunet was caught off guard and Merce got a hold of him, dragging him down to the ground. They hit the floor with a loud thud. The boy pulled his hand to shoot another beam, but Merce quickly returned to the location of the other duplicated rock next to Kanri. When they both looked back to the location of the boy, they noticed he was gone?

“Beam boy is gone!” Merce exclaimed.

“Actually, it’s Yurei” said a voice from no particular direction. Both Merce and Kanri tensed up at the voice.

“Great, a ghost.” Kanri sighed. Just then, another beam came at her, which she narrowly dodged. Another at Merce. This went on for a bit until Kanri noticed the slowed down pace of the beams. She then remembered what Yurei said earlier after he first shot at them. She rushed along to Merce’s side and bent over to his ear.

“look Merce, earlier Yurei said that the beam came out stronger than he intended. And just now, their firing rate has heavily decreased. What I’m guessing is that he can’t control it. We can use that.” She whispered.

Merce looked at her and nodded, an idea forming in his head. Kanri ran off onto the side of the path, hiding in the trees.

“where’s your little friend?” Yurei asked, his invisibility fading.

“I’d ask you the same.” Merce said, splitting himself in three. Yurei eyes went wide at the now, three Merces. They each ran around in circles, drawing in Yurei’s attention. So focused on the “three merce-eteers”, Yurei didn’t notice Kanri sneaking up on him. With a quick leap, she pounced on him, placing a rewind symbol on his back. She then let go, falling back to the ground. Merce combined with his duplicates and witnessed the rewinding yurei. He redid all of his actions ranging from the constant shooting to even before he turned invisible.

“I can only send someone back two minutes. I hope this works.” Kiko explained to Merce.

True to her theory, Yurei started returning to a point before they started fighting him, except it was odd. He was just standing there, it looked as though he was talking to someone. But no one was there, he was just mouthing words to no one? Kanri’s eyes went wide as a thought hit her.

The lumin was also nowhere to be found.

“Merce! You handle this guy! I gotta go somewhere!” she directed her partner as she bent down to put a fast forward symbol on her legs.

“Ok!” he yelled back, getting in a fighting stance to prepare for the “about to be unrewound” Yurei. Kanri took a running sprint towards the safe route. She cut through the trees in the blink of an eye. Running and running until she spotted the culprits, nearing the end of the dense forest. She cut in front of them, bringing her feet to a sharp stop. What she saw was a purple haired kid calmly leading the lumin through the safe route without a care in the world.

“I figured out your plan.” Kanri said with a smirk.

“It was more of Yurei’s plan, but I appreciate the credit.” The purple teen spoke. He looked back at the dog and told it to stay. They then took a look at Kanri, tilting their head.

“You look tired, why not go to sleep?” the teen asked before lunging at her with some weird dust forming in their hand. Kiko dodged it, only to have the teen lunge at her again. Kiko wasn’t really good at fighting on her own, more of a support. And she wasn’t sure what that sand did but she knew she had to avoid it and she was getting tired by the minute. Kiko noticed the lumin in the back and started creating a symbol to throw at it. With a flick of her wrist, another rewind symbol shot out and hit the dog, effectively making it walk backwards. The purple haired teen noticed and shot a wave of sand at Kanri. At the same time, she shot a pause icon at the teen. The purple haired teen was frozen in place while Kanri’s eye lids became too heavy to bare. The lumin out of sight, hero stuck, and Makiko hoping that Merce could finish the job without her as the world went dark. @taiyuu-oct@

[elmidol]

There is a Necessity in Balance (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: oral, vaginal sex

Three Blind Tooke

 Part Two: Precarious Harmony

 Chapter Thirty-Nine: There is a Necessity in Balance

 Urvno entered your bedroom shortly after you had finished the cocoa and cookies. Kylo had left with Rey to address the Knights of Ren. A part of you suspected that their absence was also to ensure you were more forthcoming with the physician than you may have been when in their presence. He would not yet draw your blood for testing. Urvno informed you that you would fast that night to ensure that he could do so the following morning. In the meantime, he seated himself on a stool that he had brought with him. The datapad he carried was tilted your way, and you glanced over the information displayed. He had outlined what sort of dietary changes he wanted for you. These would assist in boosting your metabolism; it was a reminder that your uterus was not the only organ damaged by the lightsaber.

 The First Order physician was someone you trusted with your health. He had always excelled at keeping you alive. You had harbored so much hatred, resentment and, yes, fear during your time on the Finalizer and Starkiller Base. Urvno has been the only individual—aside from Kylo Ren and General Hux—with whom you had let down even a fraction of your guard. You found your body readily relaxing in his presence. This contrasted with your unsteady relationship with General Hux. With the red head, you always had walls up. His cold eyes constantly searched for weaknesses in your armor. Tooka. A pet, which the man clearly viewed as being replacable.

 One of the sweets that your mother had baked remained on the plate that was set on your bedside table. This you grabbed whilst the physician scrolled past the data outlining the dietary changes in favor of bringing up information regarding the exercise regime you would start with. It included images—scans, to be exact—of the weak points in your anatomy. Your upper body strength had not suffered quite so much as your lower extremities. You bit down on the cookie.

 A second instance of Urvno scrolling revealed the first weapon that you would learn to wield. You fought to control your facial features. At any moment, until they left, either Captain Phasma or General Hux could walk into your room. They could see your expression and become suspicious. You clenched your jaw to prevent yourself from mouthing its name. That would be a huge mistake for the aforementioned reasons.

 This was a projectile weapon, although you would not equate it with a blaster. A lanvarok. You had never wielded this, much less could not remember having any personal experience seeing it. It was a weapon used by the Sith if your memory served correct. The projectiles were controlled via the Force...which you did not have.

 Rey, you realized. Kylo Ren was leaving you with Rey in part for missions like this first one. The target that would be killed by the lanvarok was a known collector of Sith artifacts. That meant black market. Deals went sour all the time. It made perfect sense to you. You only hoped that Rey could bring herself to assist you. Your Force bond would help guide her hand despite the distance that would be between the pair of you and the target. There were Force sensitive beings throughout the galaxy, ones that kept their powers a secret.

 Your skills as an LDS and Rey’s capabilities as a Force user.

 Initially you did not realize that you had started to hold your breath. Only the building discomfort alerted you to the manner in which you were agitating your lungs. A steady exhale followed by a slow inhale. You drew the tips of three fingers back and forth along your forehead. The training that you would undergo involved strengthening the connection you had with Rey. When it came to the first target alone, it was an individual with plenty of credits to toss around for protection. The Knights and Rey, or maybe Rey alone, would focus on them while you placed yourself into a position to fire upon the target. You would observe through a scope, your bond alerting her to the moment you pulled the trigger, and from there she would take control of the projectile.

 It only made sense for at least one of the Knights to be present on this upcoming mission. Otherwise one of the bodyguards could overtake Rey, if not prevent her from fulfilling her part in the assassination.

 The weapon’s capabilities in hand-to-hand combat would prove useful when you were confronted with the hired guards and mercs that protected the perimeter.

 Of course, the new Supreme Leader of the First Order wished to keep his name out of the mission. He would not be involved in arranging a meeting. That’s my job as well, you thought. Not that you were surprised. When working with the splinter cell of the Resistance, there had been one mission wherein you had been responsible for a similar act. At that time, though, your target had been a First Order officer.

 A tap by Urvno’s middle digit eliminated the data on the screen. You reeled back a fraction, startled by the suddenness of the action. Your eyes darted to the door to your bedroom. No one there. No sounds of footsteps. You supposed that there was no true reason for the physician to risk being caught regardless. It wasn’t as though you were physically ready to work with the weapon. Nor did you know if it was already on-planet. It was your target that you would be researching. Learning their routine, how they arranged meetings. That information would take some digging.

 You settled back against your pillow and stared at the familiar patterns on the ceiling that had long ago been traced by your mind. This room was so small compared with your memory of it. Large when contrasted with the bunks and shared quarters that had been your life since leaving home.

 Urvno did not rise from his position. He was content to observe you, the man likely assessing how your behavior altered now that you were not in enemy territory. He was the one out of place this time. That was...nice. Relieving.

 “What do you think?” you asked. Receiving no answer, which you attributed to the vagueness of the inquiry, you elaborated. “You once tried to prevent us from meeting together. After Starkiller… Now we’re married. Does it terrify you that I may not survive? Or do you have more hope that it will be possible?”

 He drew a hand down the length of his face. There were exhaust lines on his features. How had you missed those? Or had you conditioned yourself to ignore whatever glimpses of morality there were on the faces of those in the First Order?

 You could hate so strongly. Hate blinds people. It was a lesson your parents had taught you, and that Ip had reminded you of on more than a single occasion.

 “Don’t be afraid,” you told the man, the gentleness in your voice half faked and half genuine. An echo in the mind: that line, by countless voices. Your father. Kylo. Ip. Kylo. Yolo Ziff at one point. Kylo. Your stomach clenched. How was your former enemy, your current husband, among those names? That part of his humanity that complicated things. The phrase spoken as a manipulation tactic then more softly, earnest. “I guess that isn’t fair to say.”

 For the first time since you had met the man, the final sliver of coldness melted away from the man’s gaze. There had always been a sort of wall in place before. A barrier that stated you were Resistance and he was First Order. Urvno reached for your hand, enclosing his around it. Something a parental figure might do. Your eyes stung. There was a tightness in your chest that clenched, unclenched, clenched again. You dared not lean too much on this man, not physically nor emotionally. But you kept your hand in his, and drew comfort from the contact.

 “We were all told that Snoke was overthrown due to a betrayal he had dealt the First Order. I signed up to serve the cause, not a single being.” You had done that as well, which was why when Kylo Ren and General Hux had mocked singular beings you had been able to ignore their jabs. But whenever they ventured to curse your beliefs, you had lashed out in retaliation. “The galaxy is far from what it could be.” This view you shared.

 By pushing for the galaxy to demilitarize, the New Republic had crippled those in need. They had allowed attacks on Outer Rim planets, and they had allowed the First Order to grow in the shadows. The military did not exist solely for war. That was something your father had taught you. Protecting the weak, similar to how the Jedi functioned, that was the role of the military as well. It was what General Organa had tried to remind the New Republic of. And she had been deemed a warmonger.

 Deciding that enough time had elapsed, that it was becoming too familiar, you withdrew your hand from Urvno’s. The physician stood. He verbally repeated the dietary changes that would be implemented, as well as reminded you that fasting was imperative for accurate results. There were several things he wished to test for. A mini exercise routine would be copied to a basic datapad that he would bring. You took basic to mean childlocked. No extra features. No means of giving into temptation to contact the Resistance. That was fine. You were committed to the mission. Most important, to staying by Rey. She was the Light, along with Luke Skywalker. A beacon of hope that the Resistance and its allies would fight alongside. That was your duty. You didn’t need anyone else to tell you as much.

 I need to find a way to read up more on Sith lore. This could be a trick. A way to manipulate Rey to give into the Dark side of the Force.

 “I’ll follow your orders,” you said. There was wiggle room in your words. You did not promise the extent of your loyalty nor its duration.

 As soon as he left and you were alone in your room, you rose from the bed and walked over to the window. There was life, vivid and brilliant. You had missed Naboo and its sights. Space was gorgeous in its own right, but it could not compare with home. On this planet were the people you had known while you had grown. Some of them had pretended there was no looming war. That had been your mother. Misguided. Hopeful.

 Hope was that double-edged blade you had never mastered. One day you would, this you swore to yourself.

 On the other side of the window pane, Rey and Kylo stood opposite one another. Their postures were different from what you had observed when they sparred. A lingering sense of peace buzzing in the back of your mind; the impression via your Force bond that the young woman was calling upon the Light. She was looking to your husband for guidance on...you did not know what. There were countless things she could be asking. A former scavenger. A young woman who had been waiting on Jakku, some backwater planet, for her family to come back for her. Now thrust into this war, into the position of symbolizing hope for many. She, like all living beings, had her doubts. There were vulnerabilities that she had to be hiding.

 I had many teachers, even those beyond Ip, you thought. She’s had to be on her own. And now that she has both Skywalker and Kylo… You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and lightly bit down on it. But Kylo can’t learn about Luke’s connection with Rey.

 “Tooka.” You startled at the voice that broke through your internal musings. The muscles in your legs tightened, though your torso remained more limber, allowing you to twist around with a certain amount of ease. You met the man’s gaze for but a moment prior to staring at the ground.

 The eyes were the key to the soul. At that moment, you were guarding a secret: that your mother still lived. General Armitage Hux was skilled when it came to reading others. You knew that he could read your moods. Always searching for your weaknesses. Avoiding his gaze could prove a fatal act if it was for a prolonged period. As soon as you gathered your bearings and successfully placed your mental defenses, you took a deep breath and looked his way. Acted for all the world that exhaustion had been the reasoning for your behavior.

 “General.”

 “Grand Marshal, actually.” Oh, how he loved his titles. This one caused you pause. Kylo Ren could very well be weaponizing the promotion; it would assure that Hux failed to act on plans to overthrow the new Supreme Leader until for a time. Stroke the man’s ego and he would remain content until other obstacles in his quest to obtain power were eliminated. The Resistance first of all. Unless Luke Skywalker was the foe he feared most. “And you, his wife. New names that place us under him.” Unspoken: I shan’t remain under him for very long. The Supreme Leader is dead; long live the Supreme Leader.

 You cautiously stepped forward, your eyes searching his face. His flesh was tight near his eyes. Mouth pulled into a frown. This was not gloating. Now that you were paying attention, you saw the underlying resentment that contrasted the victory such a promotion granted him over others. Others who were, ultimately, already beneath him even before Snoke had been overthrown. Grand Marshal Hux walked into the room only to pause in his steps one stride later. You wrapped your arms around your midsection, cupping your hands around the limbs to keep them busy.

 “Is the rank official yet?” you asked when silence had stretched on another fifteen seconds. He quirked an eyebrow. “You seem the sort of person who’d want a whole ceremony and parade.” The redhead barked out a laugh filled with amusement. His shoulders were still shaking when he brushed past you to peer out the window. The thoughtful hum prompted you to twist around and return to your former position, albeit this time beside the Grand Marshal.

 There would be no parade in his favor; and whether or not he wished for one, it did not matter. You observed him via your peripheral and his reflection. This took some time and effort on your part. Any time Rey or Kylo would shift, your eyes refocused, eliminating the opaque version of Hux. His attention shifted to the former Jakku scavenger on occasion, however he was predominately fixated on Kylo Ren. Armitage’s upper lip curled in unconcealed disgust and frustration. Hatred. A slight blessing for the Resistance. The newly deceased Supreme Leader Snoke had been wise to create that wedge; the pair would have overthrown him sooner. And now? Now it gave the fragmented Resistance a fighting chance to regroup.

 “It must kill you to be cooped up here.” This was not a jab at you. His voice and tone were both too soft for that. You side-eyed the man, attempting to learn his motivations. “I’m no fool, tooka. I know you are always plotting.” He gave you a once-over. “That may explain things. A subconscious realization that you needed to be kept weakened. Never enough power to overthrow him. Perhaps he was not quite so blinded by his personal interests as I had allowed myself to believe.” His chest puffed out, his nostrils flaring. Grand Marshal Hux crossed his arms behind his back and tilted his head to the side—towards you, as though you were some co-conspirator. “That won’t last once he leaves this planet, will it? You are a stubborn woman. Not that stubbornness always stems from wisdom.”

 There was the jab you had been anticipating. A weak attempt; it attacked your views without becoming too personal. His plans to overthrow Kylo Ren had a place for you. “So… We both know I’ll never give up—something I’ve said since I was first captured.” A deflection that lacked a proper closure to the conversation. Here the Grand Marshal turned his head to stare directly at you. You, on the other hand, started to watch Rey. You could see the side of her face. Her jaw tight, her eyebrow pulling inward, an indication that she was glowering in agitation at the older Force user.

 The pair outside had their similarities, but they were ultimately, drastically different from one another in key ways. Kylo possessed a selfishness that Rey did not. He had grown up with so much only to decide it wasn’t enough. Rey had owned almost nothing but made the best of it. They were bound to clash from time to time.

 Hux is witnessing this as well. He’ll want to use Rey.

 You cleared your throat, noticed the subsequent twitch that came from your companion, and confirmed the young woman had caught his attention as well. Grand Marshal Hux smirked instead of becoming flustered. He did not utter another word to you. You clenched your jaw whilst the redhead exited your room. Everyone believed they were in control. So delusional. You wanted to be in control, however that did not mean that you deluded yourself into believing that you were. You did what you could. Fought against your restraints. Made progress. It was why you did not ignore Rey.

 She had not altered her expression. It was that frustration with Ren that Hux would play upon, the same way Snoke had done to him and Kylo. In some ways, you might be forced to utilize that frustration. If that was what it took for her to correctly assist you with the lanvarok. The difference being that you would be working with her.

 Hoping that the calmness you sometimes felt from Rey worked in the reverse, you closed your eyes and tried to think of happier times. In solitary confinement, such things had helped to keep you sane.

 Instead you felt a spike of irritation that rushed through you, stabbing at the back of your head. You reeled forward. Hands shooting out, you caught yourself on the edge of the window, tough your forehead hit the glass all the same. You dropped down to your knees. Out of sight should Kylo or Rey look up in your direction. It hadn’t been a soft thud. A roll of your eyes. Inward curses. The Force was not your friend even if it existed inside of you.

 Even from your room, you could hear the front door open. It hit the wall hard enough that it was obvious it bounced back towards the individual entering. Wood meeting flesh. They caught it with their hand. Either Rey or Kylo; you were unsure which you preferred to see. As long as they separated from one another, you did not care. Light could consume darkness. Darkness could consume light. Both were difficult for you to handle. That was when you didn’t have a headache. You growled low in your throat whilst running a hand along the point of impact. Flinched at the spike of pain. Another swear left your lips, this one different from the one you had uttered when first you had injured yourself.

 Footfalls on the stairs. You held your breath to better hear their sounds. At last you identified the owner. You twisted around without rising from your spot. This allowed you to greet the young woman the moment she entered your room. Your eyes tracked her movements all the way to the bed, upon which she sat. Thankfully it was on the edge and facing you. Her lips were set in a frown that bespoke of a previous pout or snarl.

 “Are you okay?” Your inquiry was not immediately paid much heed.

 She blinked, knit her brow, and visibly thought of what you had asked her. Once the question registered, Rey drew her legs up off of the floor and crossed them while she answered. “Kylo is able to sense Master Skywalker to an extent. He knows we’ve had contact...and lying to him doesn’t completely work.” Oh how well you knew that to be true. “He said he will speak with the Knights of Ren so that they can help me… Help me while I distance myself from Skywalker. He sounded sympathetic.” So did she as she spoke. Rey did not yet want to relinquish the idea that one day Kylo Ren could turn back to the Light, however you could tell that she was realizing it was something he would have to choose to do. No one could force him.

 What were you supposed to say to that? You wished to comfort her without lying to do so. You chewed on your bottom lip while ruminating on which approach, what words, were best suited in these circumstances.

 It took you but a minute to realize you had an answer for her.

 “A grudge like what he has doesn’t fade. And… You want the Knights to trust you, to feel comfortable, I know that. I don’t know their history with Skywalker—if they have one.” Rey nodded in thought, her facial features relaxing. “Hate helps him. The Dark side feeds on it, and he’s allowed it to consume him for years. You don’t have to give up hope, Rey. We do what we can. We’ll do it together. Actions can speak louder than words. The bond you share with him might help him feel how it is to choose the Light every time that you do.”

 Just then, you were allowed to feel it. The warmth as more of Rey’s agitation faded away. She gave you a small smile. It brought to mind the question, or repetition of the question, of her capabilities with a lanvarok. How adept would she be with the weapon? Furthermore, how skilled would you be? The warmth rushed through you in waves. Just as the fears and doubt coursed through you, that sense of contentment from her helped to ease the worries.

 “Kylo wants me to train with a lanvarok,” the former scavenger said. She knew how to play ball in this court. Grand Marshal Hux and Captain Phasma would not be surprised to hear this information if they were eavesdropping. You nodded, locking gazes with the brunette. “As a polearm, I shouldn’t have much trouble. I used a staff on Jakku. And it’s impervious to lightsaber blows, which may come in handy.” Rey cupped her hands together on her lap. “There is a distance of only five meters if I practice with a different model.” The model that you would use. A frown tugged at your mouth. That wasn’t enough distance, not for your comfort. “One of the Knights has been tinkering with it, finding a way to make a hybrid so that it can be fired from a further distance.”

 The unspoken portion: there was a chance that this hybrid would never see the light of day. And where would that leave your mission? You could do it, technically speaking. They would be watching Rey’s lanvarok. Your smaller model could be concealed. Once you pulled the trigger and she took control of the projectile...no one would see it coming.

 “You have your work cut out for you.” Translation being we have our work cut out for us. She understood what you meant and nodded.

 Once you were able to study more about the target, you would grow comfortable with the task. You looked in the direction of the space heater. You had turned down the temperature, neglecting to shutdown the device until some of the tenseness in your muscles went away. That tension had lessened after your time with Urvno, and again now that you were with Rey. If only your mother could be there; you wouldn’t need the space heater at that point. The differences in opinion that you and she had did not negate the fact that it was such a relief to see her in person. To know that she was alive, that she loved you—or part of you, the part of yourself that you sometimes missed. Even with the hurt that she felt, she had made you cookies. This was proof enough that she cared. She was, in her own way, accepting the differences.

 At night, when all becomes quiet in the house and darkness surrounds the building in which you had spent your childhood, you laid in bed with your back to Kylo Ren. It was not to snub him. The man was watching you in that familiar manner. Studying not your behavior but your very existence. As though you might disappear if he blinked. A small part of you had wanted to sleep with Rey instead, to whisper and hope that no one overheard your discussion of how to handle the future mission. You were tired of being out of the game. As soon as you had settled down in bed with your husband, however, it had been easy to relax. It served as a reminder that you were smarter than that; taking needless risks would ruin everything.

 You turned around to lie on the opposite side and stare back at the Supreme Leader. This was not how you had expected your life to go. That thought reminded you of conversations you had had with him in the past. There was no fading away into reminiscing. You clung onto the present by scooting nearer to him. Kylo dipped his chin; you had slipped further underneath the covers, and your face was more in line with his neck.

 With the lights out, there was much of him that you couldn’t see. That would play in the reverse. You reached a hand out to touch the side of his face. This tangible connection that he refused to make himself. A contrast to your history with him, although you were aware of the reasoning. Reasonings, actually. He did not wish for the Grand Marshal to hear you in the throes of pleasure. Nor did he want to exacerbate the genuine exhaustion that plagued your body. Lastly, he was silently pouting over your fondness for the female Force user.

 She missed Finn. Kylo had informed you of this, substituting Finn’s name with the label of traitor. Guilt was drowned by hope, which was a relief for you. There were already far too many anchors holding you down. You would break each and every one of those chains in time.

 The flesh underneath your fingertips was harder when you touched his scar. Smooth in its own way. “I miss bedtime stories.” Back when monsters weren’t quite so real.

 Kylo embraced you with a single arm then drew you more tightly to him. You did not struggle. Closed your eyes and breathed in his scent. He smelled clean. And suddenly you thought of the ashes, the ones he had smeared across you on the day, or perhaps night, you had been reborn as his prisoner, his guest...as Tooke. What had happened to those ashes? The electronic tooke pet was on the bedside table, its settings on silent mode so that it wouldn’t keep either of you up all night. Things. Symbols. You did not want to be materialistic, that wasn’t you. It hadn’t been you, your mind corrected. Now there would always be a part of you that craved the feel of something tangible.

 He asked you why you missed the bedtime stories that you had heard growing up, and you found yourself unable to articulate your reasonings. There were countless. The few that made any sense sounded immature, childish, whimsical, foolish. You were too jaded to speak them aloud.

 “It doesn’t matter. I just do.” A soft sigh escaped him. You felt the heat of his breath on your eyelids as your lashes fluttered. His hand slipped up underneath your shirt, its palm meeting the small of your back. You rested your forehead against him, closed your eyes, and let yourself drift off to sleep.

 Morning began early for you. Urvno drew your blood for testing, and you followed both Rey and your husband to the front yard where they planned on training. Captain Phasma stood off to the side. Her helmet on as usual. The Grand Marshal, on the other hand, had his facial features exposed. The distaste in his expression when his eyes drifted to Kylo; the passing interest whenever he considered Rey. So long as Luke Skywalker remained alive, Hux knew that it was wise to keep a Force user nearby. Phasma would go along with him if it meant surviving. Together, these two could potentially eliminate Kylo Ren—and the galaxy would be all the worse for it. A First Order run by two merciless individuals. Perhaps together they had dealt with the senior Hux. Such thoughts made you sick to your stomach.

 Two Knights of Ren, one of which handed Rey a staff, joined the Supreme Leader. She would be facing multiple foes. Later on, in the absence of the triumvirate, Rey would wield the lanvarok. It was here on the planet somewhere, the polearm version that she would be in charge of.

 They started slow. Rey ducked under the swing of the taller Knight’s blade. A moment for breath then the second Knight charged her and aimed for her feet. She used the staff to give herself leverage, landed on her feet behind the Knight, and knocked one end against his back so that he stumbled. Another breath. Kylo Ren came at her with his lightsaber ignited. Having observed him on the battlefield, you instantly saw that he was holding back. There was no aggression. His movements were slow, allowing Rey to see where the blow would land so that she could catch it. Had she been wielding the lanvarok, there would have been different angles for her to use. You noticed her eyes dart to those points on the staff. It was mental work as much as it was physical.

 The training was for your benefit as well. If you were unfamiliar with how Rey handled the weapon, you would fail the mission. Maker, you wished that the Grand Marshal and chrome armored woman would leave Naboo, that they hadn’t arrived at all. It would have been easier to train. These limitations were irritants.

 But, father, you taught me patience. You relaxed where you sat. All tension in your body faded away, melting in a similar manner from back during your training with the splinter cell. Those days in solitary confinement that would have otherwise driven you insane. You taught me how to live. I’ll succeed. I won’t—I can’t disappoint you.

 Kylo Ren told Rey to use the Force on a stone that he handed to her. He wanted her to balance it in the air, to keep it afloat, as she maneuvered through another staged attack. That was a trick. Balancing one’s focus on the polearm and the disc; a staff and a rock.

 Captain Phasma remained off to the side for the duration of the training session. Grand Marshal Hux disappeared into the house three quarters of the way through. It wasn’t arrogance that made Armitage leave. He trusted Phasma to take care of whichever Force user would be of less use to them. Or to find the weaknesses of both. You were glad that the Knights did not leave Rey’s side when Kylo did.

 The man you had recently married made a gesture with his hand as he walked past you. You rose, heeding and accepting the invitation. He entered the room that he had been frequenting. Your father’s study. “He told you.” You murmured a timid response of I finally asked. There was no need to state that the First Order officer had baited you into asking. Kylo knew the redhead well enough to already know this. “How much?” Hinting at an illness, that’s all. A snort from him. Kylo twisted around, his eyes pinching in the corners. Mouth twitching into an expression of annoyance. “Would you like to know more?”

 “Yes.” You were breathless, desperate. Your husband nodded, raised a hand, and called upon the Force. There was a hidden compartment in the wall to the study. You took a step backwards when it slid open. Secrets. Kylo allowed his compassion to bleed through, stating that children were often oblivious to things they did not wish to see. Signs of illnesses. Focusing instead on the times when your father was in remission. Kylo gifted you with the comfort of privacy. You sat on the floor of the study with the files that told you your father’s true medical history, and you cried in despair and awe. Your father had been stronger than you have ever known.

 Eighty-five minutes passed before you left the solitude offered by the study. You did not want to be alone anymore, and it was not Rey that you sought. Kylo Ren was seated on the end of your bed. His elbows rested on his knees. His hands cupped together with something in his palms. His jaw was moving, though his lips remained pressed together. No sound from him until you were inside of your room with the door closed. Only then did he look up and inform you that the electronic tooke had died.

 “The battery?” you asked without pausing in your steps. Kylo shook his head. “Oh.” You did not know how you felt about that. It seemed such a small thing. Miniscule. Unimportant. It was a game that could be started over. You withdrew the device from the leather-clad hands, bent down to place the object on the floor, and rose back to your full height. Kylo Ren remained watching you. “It’s okay.” You had taken a second to assess the way your muscles felt, how strong your fatigue was. “It’s okay,” you repeated just as you sank down to your knees. His parted to make room for you. One hand immediately went to the back of your head. Its twin had met yours with freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing. He did not ask you why you wanted this. The truth? It had become a familiar sort of release that you craved whenever you experienced intense emotions. It was a connection with Kylo, who had seen your father through your eyes. You could not experience this with anyone else. Even your mother, whom you would speak with as soon as possible, couldn’t do this for you—allow you to feel as though you were floating beyond your body.

 Your mouth was wet with saliva, which instantly slicked up his length as you took him into your mouth. Ren snapped his hips forward. You shoved him back towards the bed, the hand on the back of your head bringing you along. He groaned. The sound so hungry that it sent heat through your body, down to the tips of your toes. You felt your inner walls clenching, felt the wetness of your juices in your panties. The sensation of arousal was something you wanted more than an orgasm, at least right then. That buzzing in the back of your head. It would become louder as you came then fade away. You wanted to hold onto it. Which was why you let him rise on his second attempt. Kylo fucked into your mouth, and you set your hands on his thighs while letting him control the movements of your head.

 His heavy breaths were loud, they had to be for you to hear them over the pulse in your ears. Your eyelashes fluttered. Through tears that formed as his cock slid along your tongue and towards the back of your throat, you stared up at his face. Kylo had been watching you for as long as he could before he let his head fall back. His breath hitching between gulps. He was close. Your throat bobbed each time you swallowed his cum. Only when he softened, as your tongue continued to tease his sensitive length, did he pull away.

 Kylo Ren tucked his cock away, walked around you, and helped you onto your feet long enough that he was able to get you onto your hands and knees on the bed. You delighted in the sensation of teeth nipping at your shoulder through your clothing. “I don’t want to cum,” you whispered. Tried to whisper. It was not a scream, was less than a conversational tone even, but it wasn’t a whisper.

 You knew that he understood your meaning without further explanations. One hand toyed with your breast. A gentle massage. Just enough to tease you. The other hand finding its way between your legs. Three fingers rocking back and forth, bringing you close to the edge. Then the contact was broken. Your inner walls spasmed. So close. Your body screamed at you that it was so kriffing close to release. That delicious buzz.

 “Oh...kriff...yes….” A shudder ran through your body. Arousal ebbed—and he knew it. Kylo hooked only two fingers between your legs this time, wedging them between your outer lips with ease. He manipulated the wetness in your underwear and used it to slide his fingers back and forth against your clitoris. You rocked into his touch. “Please.” Please keep prolonging this moment. Don’t let release come. Don’t let this moment end then fade away.

 He whispered your name. Your body reacted to that as well. It was almost too much. “I can give you what you want,” he purred. Air felt so thick. How could you breathe? You were panting, that was how. Panting and nodding, because he could. He could and he was. “There is no resistance.” Or was it capitalized in his statement? Was he denying your association with the Resistance? Did it matter?

 It should, a quiet voice said.

 Should did not equate to does. The name of an organization should never define its existence, shouldn’t claim to own a set of morals or views. Your mother somehow opposed both the First Order and Resistance. Two extremes?

 “I need more,” you whimpered, wanting the buzzing to return. Craving it. Needing it—it needed to drown out those thoughts. Those thoughts would otherwise make you wonder what your father would have wanted. You would never know, and you could never know. All that you knew was that he had wanted you to live, that he might have been afraid to die but he did it with a brave face. And that was what you wanted to do. You wanted to do what was right, but suddenly the galaxy wasn’t black and white with the First Order representing evil and the Resistance representing good.

 There needed to be a gray area, otherwise the war would never end.

 “More,” you cried out when Kylo did not immediately respond. He chuckled, albeit not cruelly, and kissed the side of your neck. His tongue swiped along the shell of your ear. Body pressed tightly against yours, pinning you to the mattress and toying with you. Then he showed you, once more, how skilled he was with words. Dirty whispers that brought out a: “Slow down, I’m not ready to cum.”

 “Shh, I got you,” he said, easing off. Holding onto you. Not breaking the contact, and following your lead, your needs. “We’ll do this together.”

 He may have been talking about sex, or the, or both. There had to be more than just light or just darkness. Gray. A balance. Sometimes the light was blinding. Sometimes you needed that darkness. Sometimes, you felt, you really did need him.

 “Yes...please… Please…”

[master-sass-blast]

THIS IS HALLOWEEN!

Alright... twenty four likes... plus twenty-one kudos... plus two votes in the comments...

Forty-seven votes for the trick or treat fic. Guess you guys liked the idea, huh?

*grins* I liked it, too. So much that I wrote it.

Rated T. Minor sensual content. Basically no other warnings.

It’s fluff. That’s it.

Set after “Dig the Needle In.”

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Ellie Phimister x Yukio, and minor Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned during your stay at the X-Mansion, it’s that if a day seemed to be proceeding normally, Wade Wilson would undoubtedly pop in and make it delightfully weird. It’s like he has a sixth sense for it. Ah, everything’s calm and not chaotic. Guess I gotta fix that.

Take right now, for instance. There’s a temporary air of calm in the X-Mansion. Students are done with their classes for the day, there aren’t any emergencies or missions to tend to, and all the chores are done for the day.

You’re currently on the couch in the rec room, snuggled up in the arms of your beefy boyfriend, Piotr Rasputin. He’s finally off for the day, and you managed to coax him into taking a bit of free time to do nothing with you.

It’s delightful. Heavenly, even. Absolutely nothing compares to being snuggled against your boyfriend’s massive, muscular chest. He’s not in defense mode right now, either, which means he’s warm and infinitely more comfortable.

Piotr sighs and tips his head back against the arm of the couch. “This is wonderful, myshka.”

You hum your agreement as you nestle yourself against him. The peaceful silence of the mansion, the warmth seeping off your boyfriend, the way you feel safe and loved in his arms... it’s perfect.

Cue Wade Wilson.

“Emo Christmas came early!” Wade shatters the silence with a gleeful scream as the back door smacks open with a bang. “Who wants presents?”

Piotr lets out an annoyed growl. “Wade--”

He doesn’t have time to get anything else out, because Wade picks that moment to chuck a bag of Halloween candy straight at your boyfriend’s head. “Sugar Santa came early --and came early, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ve been babysitting for the past two hours,” Nathan growls as he shoves Wade out of the way so he can step in the house. “He’s all yours now.”

“Okay, hey, no! You said you were going to help!” Wade whines as he pelts you and Piotr with bag after bag of Halloween themed candy.

“I did. I didn’t throw you out on the highway while you were screaming along to ‘Hamster Dance.’”

“Okay, I have several questions, the first of which is: ‘Emo Christmas?’” You ask.

“Halloween! Okay, I swear to the International House of Beese-Churgers that if you don’t know what Halloween is--”

“I know what Halloween is, idiot,” You interject before Wade can gain any real momentum. “I just didn’t catch why you were calling it ‘Emo Christmas.’ And why do you need this much candy? You can’t eat it all by yourself.”

“It’s for the kids! For trick or treating! Duh.” At your blank look, Wade stills. “Oh my Francis. Do you know what trick or treating is?”

You look at Wade, then Piotr. “What’s trick or treating?”

“Holy shit. You don’t know what fucking trick or treating is!”

“What part of ‘locked in my room for the better part of a duration’ seems conducive to ‘allowed to normal childhood things?’” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Whoa! Pump the hate brakes, Zaheer! I wasn’t mocking, just commiserating,” Wade explains as he taps at his phone. “This is a serious tragedy, and I’m going to treat it as such. Now, trick or treating was a tradition started by the pagan elder gods in the year of--”

“Children dress up in costumes and go from door to door in neighborhood to ask for candy,” Piotr interjects before Wade can build up too much speed.

“Hey! You ruined my dramatic story-telling!”

“It would’ve been bullshit anyway,” Nathan grumbles, still looming in the kitchen despite his threats to dump Wade into your hands and disappear.

“So, wait, hang on a second. Kids dress up in costumes? What kind of costumes?”

“Anything. Depends on preference,” Piotr says.

You nod, then slump slightly. “But you said it’s for kids. That means I can’t do it, doesn’t it.”

To your surprise, Piotr shakes his head. “The X-Men take students to Halloween theme park each year to get them out of house, let them experience normal childhood activities. Most of teachers dress up. I went as Dracula last year.”

You gape, delighted. “You went trick or treating?”

��Well, not specifically. I went to act as chaperone. But many of older students trick or treat, so I say you could too, if you want.”

“Wait.” Ellie walks into the room, holding Yukio’s hand. “That’s your ‘life or death emergency’ you texted us about? Fucking Halloween and trick or treating?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good friend, Wednesday Addams! Hi, Yukio!”

“Hi, Wade!”

“Finally, some decent treatment! About time; this is my fucking franchise, after all! Okay, show of hands,” Wade says as Neena and Russell walk into the room. “How many of you have been trick or treating before?” When only Ellie and Piotr raise their hands, Wade gasps and presses his hands against his face. “Oh. My. Francis. How is this possible? This is a travesty! Even for ‘murder-pedophilia-orphanages’ and ‘A Series of Unfortunate Events’ levels of abusive guardianship! That tears it! We’re going trick or treating!”

“I’m diabetic, asshole,” Russell says. “I can’t eat the candy!”

“Oh, whatever the fuck! Give it to the younger mutants! Eat it anyway and spend the night in the infirmary! Stick it in Cyclops’s shoes and film his reaction when he realizes all his footwear is ruined! This about the group experience, the camaraderie! Work with me, Zuko!”

“Only do the first one,” Piotr adds while Wade catches his breath from his rant. “Do not do the other two. And we can get sugar-free candy for you, Russell.”

That smooths the pyrokinetic teen’s ruffled feathers. He nods with a grin. “Cool. I’m in.”

“Count me in, too,” Neena says. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“It sounds like fun.” Yukio flashes a sweet grin at her girlfriend. “Can we join too?”

“Sure. I was already going for the haunted house.”

“Excellent! Y/N and Metallica are already going, and Cable doesn’t get a say because I’m forcibly abducting him!”

Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something that vaguely sounds like a death threat.

You grin. This is gonna be fun!

Fun --and overwhelming.

Piotr had excused himself shortly after Wade’s none too tasteful victory dance, citing ungraded essays as an excuse. Most of the X-Force followed, offering various explanations --or, in Ellie’s case, saying she needed to bleach her brain after watching Wilson’s ‘ungodly, idiotic flailing.’

Before you could think to follow your boyfriend to safety, Wade had grabbed your and Nathan’s arms and sat the two of you down at the kitchen table for an official crash course on all things Halloween.

Movies. Costumes. Decorations. Themed treats. Official candy rankings. Pranks. Wade was an enthusiastic fire hydrant of knowledge, and he was using his healing factor as much as possible to limit his need for oxygen so he could spew out information to keep Cable from interrupting him.

Two hours in, and you’re well past your limit. While Wade’s back is turned, you fire off a quick text to your boyfriend.

It’s been two hours. Wade’s still talking. Save me.

I’m in my art studio. Come see me?

“Hey!” Wade smacked his hand on the table, making you jump. “Pay attention! I don’t want to go through my discourse on jack-o-lanterns twice!”

Next to you, Nathan rolls his eyes. “Get on with it, dildo rack.”

You wait until Wade’s back is turned again --he’s rummaging through the fridge, which is just extra points in your favor--then nudge Nathan’s leg with your foot. “If you help me escape, I’ll owe you.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “What’s it worth to ya?”

You wait until Wade’s sufficiently distracted again, then make the best offer you can think of. “Next April Fool’s. I’ll help you prank the shit out of Wade. All my best ideas and deep, dark knowledge from being his best friend. At your disposal. Plus twenty bucks.”

He smirks, then nods. “Deal. I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“Then you better make my escape good, dude.”

Nathan leans back in his seat for a moment, eyeing Wade as the merc flails around the kitchen, gesticulating as he starts ranting about how Mounds aren’t actual candy --again. Then, he shoves his seat back, grabs Wade by the collar of his shirt, and drags him off to the rec room.

You blink --then bolt out of the kitchen.

An exit is an exit, after all.

Piotr’s seated at his special angled table in his art studio, carefully lining a new drawing with a fine tipped pen. Even when he’s in his human form, he’s still so unbelievably delicate with everything he does. The light attached to his drawing table is on to help compensate for the quickly falling night, and his reading glasses are perched halfway down his nose --because, yes, he draws with glasses so his eyes are protected.

You enter carefully, making sure to announce your presence with noise so you don’t startle him and make him smudge his lines (he doesn’t get mad at you when it happens, but you can see the resigned frustration in does happen, and you always feel so awful for it). “I think I might’ve sold my soul to the devil on accident.”

“And how did you do that?”

“I agreed to help Cable prank Wade for April Fool’s if he helped me escape the kitchen.”

“I’m not sure which is worse: you made deal with Cable, or you made deal with Cable against Wade. For April Fool’s.”

“Hey, you never know. It could turn out amazing.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he takes his glasses off. “What’cha doin’?”

“Oh, I was --uh--working on some... designs.”

You peer around his burly shoulders to get a good look at the paper on his desk.

There’s two figures sketched out on the page --a male one and a female one. The male figure is tall, with broad shoulders and thick legs. The female figure is considerably shorter than her male counterpart, with an oddly familiar silhouette...

“Is that me? Wait, that’s you, too. Did you draw us?”

The tips of Piotr’s ears turn red. “Da. I... I thought we could dress up in couple’s costumes. I decided to work on some designs.”

You realize, for the first time since you entered his art studio, that there’s a small stack of papers on the arm of his arm chair. Beyond curious, you flash him a begging, purposefully adorable smile. “Can I look? Please?”

He consents with a nod, and goes back to working on the sketches in front of him.

You flip through the pages he’s already finished. Each design is meticulously crafted, detailed with delicate lines and sumptuous colors. There’s a wide array of choices, ranging from airy fantasy designs to terrifying horror choices.

It takes your breath away --first, because Piotr’s an incredible artist with a vast set of skills, and second because his efforts to making your first real Halloween so memorable and wonderful are making your heart melt.

The designs he’s already finished are all perfect and excellent choices in their own right, but you keep coming back to the page he’s working on. Something about it --maybe the color choices, maybe the way he’s interpreted the source material--keeps drawing you back in.

Eventually, you give in to your instincts and carefully tap the page he’s working on. “This one. I like this one.”

You’re in the library, curled up on one of the plush couches while you work on grading a set of essays for Logan’s history course. You’re partially tucked under a blanket --a perfect cozy counterpart to the steady drizzle of fall rain outside.

You let out a sigh of relief as you finish the last essay --Logan’s classes were either filled with half-assers or over-killers, no middle ground to speak of--and relax against the couch. You let your eyes close, just for a moment, as the aches of sitting in the same position for so long slowly work their way out of your body. You stretch your legs out and readjust your position so that you’re laying on the couch, instead of half-sitting, half reclining.

Just for a moment. Or so you tell yourself.

Unsurprisingly, a moment turns into several moments, which turns into you slowly dozing off on the couch. You’re almost out, just barely floating on the edge of consciousness, when your blanket tugging up around you brings you back to the surface.

You inhale sharply as you wake back up and let out a little squeaking noise.

“Sorry.” Piotr smiles apologetically as he brushes a few wayward strands of hair away from your face. “I wasn’t trying to wake you.”

“Oh. Hi, Pete.” You smile sleepily and stretch. “What’s up?”

“It can wait. I don’t want to disturb your rest.”

“No, it’s fine. ‘m awake.” You lurch into a sitting position and crane your head up so you can see his face --because even when he’s in his human form, he’s an utter giant. “How can I help you?”

“I need to take your measurements for costumes. I figured we’d go to my studio to avoid interruptions.”

You grin and lift your arms up. “By all means. Take me away, big guy.”

The measurements go smoother than you expected. Piotr’s surprisingly adept with the measuring tape, and he whisks through the sets of measurements like a pro.

You do manage to make him blush when he measures your chest, though, so it’s a victory, all in all.

When he starts talking fabric lengths and types, you realize that he wasn’t thinking about buying costume pieces from a party store. “Hang on --you can sew?”

“Not many clothes come in my size. For special occasions, it’s easier to make for myself than try to shop in store or online. It’s also handy for when I tear my clothes --more cost efficient to repair than replace.”

Well, that makes sense. Besides, it’s not like Piotr’s ever been the beacon of stereotypical, ‘kill-something-and-eat-it’ masculinity.

You suppose it’s the size. Trying to imagine someone as big as your boyfriend handling something as delicate as sewing is almost impossible.

He gives you a confused look when you start giggling. “What? What’s so funny?”

“It’s just --your hands! They’re so big!” You hold your hands up to his, as if to prove your point. “How do you not sew over your own fingers?”

He favors you with a soft, amused grin. “I am very careful.”

“I suppose that would do it.” You laugh again. “I mean, if that’s what would take, I’d have multiple holes through my fingers before I even turned the machine on.”

“Which is why I am sewing and you are not.”

You giggle again as you wrap your arms around his waist. “So. What’s next?”

“Next, we go to fabric store.”

The trip to the fabric store is surprisingly less disastrous than you thought it’d be --though that probably has more to do with your boyfriend’s focus and organization and less to do with your penchant for being an unhelpful, if adorable, nuisance. You amuse yourself with pointing to various bolts of fabric --none of which actually fit the look you’re going for--and taking weird selfies while Piotr finds what the two of you actually need. Eventually --specifically, after your third attempt to drape a length of neon green spandex over his head--he’d gently plopped you in the cart, set the materials he’d already found in your lap, and designated you the ‘official holder.’

You’d pouted, but it also got you out of standing around while he mulled over different shades of black and gray, so you weren’t complaining too much.

After you’d spent a good three minutes heckling him for being so obsessive with the colors, he’d relented with a laugh, settled on a choice, and wheeled the cart --and you--to the cutting table before heading to the check out.

The two of you had headed home --after he’d denied you a trip to McDonald’s for a milkshake, citing you ‘already being wound up enough,’ whatever that meant--with your costume supplies in tow. You’d manned the radio the whole way back to Xavier’s, singing and dancing in your seat.

Somewhere, in the chaos of trying to get everything inside while the sky unleashed buckets of rain at you and placating a very offended Wade, who was upset that he wasn’t invited along for the store run, you were hit by a sudden rush of emotion.

Maybe it was Piotr’s amazingly unfailing patience as he dealt with Wade, maybe it was the way his damp hair spiked and held together when he ran his fingers through it, or maybe it was his continuing dedication in supporting your effort to reclaim your lost childhood, but you suddenly realized that you loved him.

Not like the “I love you” love --you’d already come to terms with that, you told him “I love you” on a regular basis. No, like “long term” love. “Marriage” love. “Raising kids and growing old” love.

You’d mentioned the idea of marrying him after rescuing him from Harmony --the tale of ‘Cassidy Rasputin’ lives on, much to your chagrin--but you hadn’t really processed it. You hadn’t lied --because who wouldn’t want to marry the literal domestic and explicit wet dream that can also turn into metal--but it’d just... sort of been a ‘in the moment, holy shit you almost died’ sort of thing. Neither of you had mentioned it afterwards.

But now? Now you want it. This isn’t a ‘you almost died and I’m overly emotional but not misleading you’ sort of feeling. This is a ‘fuck, I want this to be the rest of my life’ feeling.

You swallow hard as you watch your boyfriend disentangle himself from another ‘hug’ attempt by Wade. Fuck. How am I going to deal with this?

“Neena!” You skip down the stairs, careful to not trip over the hem of your dress. “Neen-er Wiener!”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Hey, this is an emergency situation! I had to break out the big guns!”

You’re done up in your costume --Persephone, Greek goddess of Spring and the Underworld. Your light green, floaty dress --which is surprisingly warmer than it looks, because Piotr one hundred percent looked up the weather forecast for Halloween to make sure you were insulated properly--is decorated with various fake flowers and an ombre effect from the green of the fabric to black along the bottom of the skirt. Your hair is piled on the top of your head in the most elaborate style you can manage, and a crown made out of flowers and costume jewels sits on top of your head.

Neena --dressed as Michonne from ‘The Walking Dead’--grins at you. “Damn. You look good. What’s the emergency?”

You hold out an eyeliner pen to her. “I need you to wing my liner. My makeup took forever, and I don’t want to mess up. I need Lady Luck on my side.”

She laughs and nods at the kitchen. “Come on.”

Piotr’s already in the kitchen, dressed as an impressive Hades in a floor length black toga and cloak, head tipped back as Ellie traces a ring of eyeliner around his eyes.

“Looks like I’m not the only who needs help with their eyeliner. Looking good, babe.”

Ellie steps back so he can sit up. “Damn. Your costume looks good.” She nudges her mentor’s shoulder. “You really went all out, huh?”

Piotr grins bashfully and shrugs. “I don’t get to do this very often. It was fun.”

You smile at him. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I can’t remember the last time I looked this fabulous.”

“You always look fabulous.” Neena taps your shoulder. “Sit down. Let’s do this.”

“What are you supposed to be, Neg?” You ask while Neena starts applying your eyeliner.

“Yukio and I are going as different representations of goth culture. She’s going as Lolita goth, I’m going as American goth.”

“So, you basically get to go in your clothes,” You say as you try to hold as still as possible. “That was smart.”

“Well, not all of us are on the X-Men payroll and can afford to make really elaborate costumes.”

“I would’ve made you something if you had asked,” Piotr mumbles sheepishly.

Ellie shakes her head. “Nah. We’re having fun. We’re getting to learn more about each other’s culture this way.”

“That’s cool.” Neena steps back and caps the pen. “Two even wings. Lady Luck is on our side.”

You examine your perfectly pointy eyeliner wings in the mirror, and--

And it’s a good thing Neena got them done so fast, because holy fucking shitballs.

“Looks like I’m fashionably late. Perfect.”

You gape. Your brain stops. You can’t breathe.

Across the table, Ellie just looks traumatized. “What the actual shit, Douche-Pool?!”

Wade --resplendent in a red and black, long sleeved leotard patterned like his suit, black fishnet stockings, a pair of black, spike heel thigh highs, and his mask--leans against the door frame in what would’ve been a seductive pose if he hadn’t been the one doing it. “Like it? I’m ‘Sexy Deadpool.’”

“Oh god, I need brain bleach,” Ellie manages. “Lots of it. Right now.”

“I think you look nice, Wade,” Yukio chimes in. “I like your shoes.”

“Thank you. Finally, I get some decent treatment around here! I mean--”

Whatever Wade says next --you suspect it’s another ‘franchise’ comment--sails over your head when the final two members of your team walk into the kitchen.

Russell, who looks beyond cool dressed as a the Joker, and--

“Holy shit!” You start laughing, stunned out of your ‘I saw way more of Wade than ever wanted to’ induced shock.

Nathan, looking world-weary and mildly pissed off, is dressed as Terminator.

“That’s awesome,” you say as you clap your hands. “How did Wade get you in that?”

“I can be persuasive! You’d be surprised what people will agree to while under the influence of cocaine.”

“Shut up, dipshit. You didn’t drug me. I chose this on my own.”

“No.” You feel like you’re about to have an aneurysm, it’s so amazing. “No way.”

“There’s not many options for a cyborg, believe it or not,” Wade says with a sigh. “Discrimination. It knows no limits.”

“Christ, I chose it because it was practical, you fucking butt plug.”

“Mm, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Wade.” Piotr presses the heel of his hand against his forehead, careful not to smudge Ellie’s efforts with his eye makeup. “First, just stop. Please. Second, your costume is not... appropriate. There are children going with us.”

“Relax, discount Silver Surfer. I have a coat. It goes halfway down my thighs. No unnecessary scarring tonight, okay?”

“You’re not going to get anything better out of him,” You murmur in Piotr’s ear. You pat his shoulder when he relents with a sigh.

“Fine. Coat stays on while children are present. No arguing.”

“Damn. Are you that good with commands in the bedroom? Hey, Y/N, is he secretly a dom?”

“You should know I’m not answering that question,” You fire back.

“We should go,” Piotr says as he stands. “It is lengthy drive to destination.”

You’re halfway to the door when you realize you left your candy bag upstairs. “Ah, shit snacks. I mean crud. I’ll be right back. I forgot something.” You dart upstairs and into your room. “Alright, where did I leave that fucker?”

You find the bag tucked under your pillow --you’re not sure how it got there, but you don’t have time to question it. You shake it out, smile, then freeze.

This is your first big event out since your stay at your uncle’s. You’re getting better, but you don’t have any serum to tuck in your bag in case an emergency strikes --and you’ll also be a couple hours away from the safe rooms designed to handle lapses in control like yours.

Nervousness coils in the pit of your stomach. You haven’t had an episode for a couple weeks, but you don’t want to push your luck.

A gentle knock on the door frame pulls you out of your spiraling panic. You glance over your shoulder and see Piotr watching you. You hold up your bag with a weak smile. “Found it.”

He smiles softly, but his eyes are knowing. “What’s wrong, myshka?”

You gulp. “I’m scared. I don’t want to have an episode while we’re out.”

He lets out a gentle sigh and holds his arms out to you. “Come here, lyublyu.”

You eagerly step into his arms. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know. And I don’t think you will. You’ve been doing so much better.”

You frown down at your shoes. “I just wish I had some of the serum with me. Just in case.”

“No, myshka. It’s not good for you.”

“I know, I know! I’m just scared!”

He hugs you against his chest and kisses the top of your head. “It’s going to be okay. And, if you start feeling bad, I’ll drive you back. Khorosho?”

The terrified part of you knows that once you start going, there’s no transport fast enough to get you to a safe place.

The rational part of you, the part of you that’s been dutifully working with your therapist to reach a healthier mindset, knows that you’re going to be alright. Your stress has been significantly lower over the past few weeks. You’ve been meditating and journaling diligently. You’re going out to do something fun, with your friends and your boyfriend. All the factors are in your favor.

You take a deep breath, then nod. “Yeah. Come on.” You yank Piotr down the hall and towards the stairs, as though he were the one causing the delay. “I’ve got candy to score.”

The Halloween park is amazing. Hands down, one of the top five coolest places you’ve ever been.

There’s a trick or treating run that the kids and teens --and you; you pair up with some of the shyer kids--do, loading your bags up with as much candy as you can bear to carry. Piotr comes with, acting as a translator for Sasha and Katya and generally looking amused by and smitten with you.

There are also “haunted hayrides” that run through the woods that sit behind the park. It’s pretty cheesy --plastic skeletons and pop up mummies--but you still beam from ear to ear while the students gasp and shriek.

On Piotr’s advice, you steer clear of the haunted house. It looks interesting --and definitely less campy than the hayrides--but according to him it’s an intense run.

“Not that I don’t trust your control, dorogaya moya, but I’m not sure you’re ready for this.”

When Russell emerges twenty minutes later looking somewhat traumatized, you’re happy with your choice to stay with your boyfriend and help him manage the gaggle of sugared-up kids.

There’s more mutant groups than just Xavier’s, and you wind up running into a bunch of people who want to take yours and his picture. The two of you make for quite a striking pair, with you in you sweet, almost angelic Spring costume as Persephone and him in layers of flowing black --completed by a pair of red contacts that he put in once he was done driving.

Wade and Nathan are also stopped for countless pictures, mostly by teens who think Nathan’s costume is hilarious and that Wade, for reasons the merc can’t completely fathom, looks fabulous.

“I mean, I get the costume looks good, but they’re saying I look good. Are they blind? Are they fucking with me?”

“What do I keep telling you, gorgeous?” Somehow, Nathan manages to make the line sound borderline insulting. The small smile he follows it with, however, is anything but.

The festivities conclude with an announcement that Neena won the raffle for the two hundred dollar value candy bag, complete with gourmet chocolate.

Wade whines, furious at losing, before he does a double take when Russell walks past. “Hang on,” he says. “That character’s not in the Marvel franchise! This is a fanfic, isn’t it?”

In short, it’s a perfect night.

As you head back to the car, walking hand in hand with Piotr, you can’t help but feel that you’re going to have a lot more of these.

You’re sitting on Piotr’s bed, sorting your massive load of candy to see what you managed to pick up. You’re in your pajamas and your hair is damp from your shower, make-up and hairspray long since washed away.

It’s been an amazing night. A magical night.

You tear open a fun size bag of M&Ms --right when Piotr walks out of the bathroom.

“It’s midnight, moya lyubov’. You don’t need sugar.”

You look him right in the eye as you pour the whole bag into your mouth. “Fight me.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh and eyes the spread of candy currently dominating his bed. “Are we sleeping on the floor tonight?”

“Hey, Wade said that sorting out your candy was a vital component to Halloween. I’m about halfway through; I’ll put it all back when I’m done, but I need to take stock of my spoils, Piotr. These are hard earned prizes!”

He chuckles and favors you with a soft look that you know means he’s feeling a little sappy for some reason. “Do you mind if I draw you while you ‘take inventory?’”

Ah. There it is.

Your face flushes, but you nod anyway. “Sure --as long as you don’t want me to hold still.” You resume sorting out your candy while he sits down in his desk chair, but you’re highly aware of him watching you now, of the way his gaze studies you while you place fun-sized candies into neat piles.

You’re not sure what, exactly, makes this a ‘draw-able’ moment to him. It’s mundane, almost silly. You’re just sorting out candy like a kid, without any real rhyme or reason --even though Wade gave you a formal list ranking all the popular Halloween candies, you’re pretty sure most of it’s bullshit anyway.

You suppose, though, that sentiment means different things to different people. Kind of how some people --Wade--thought that the Transformers saga was the pinnacle of cinematic beauty while other people --literally anyone else--thought it was hot, shitty, explosion-laden garbage.

Besides, it could jut be a case of the potential nostalgia of the moment being lost on you. You lack the perspective required to tell whether this is going to be a highly sentimental moment for you years down the road. Piotr, on the other hand, has probably seen the kids at the mansion do this enough times to know that it’s objectively adorable and worth committing to physical memory in some fashion.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s your first time doing any of this ever. Which, yeah, first times of anything do warrant some special treatment --and, god, you’re glad Wade’s not here right now. You’re glad that he manages to miss your unintentional innuendo moments ninety percent of the time, because holy shit he can be insufferable if he thinks --knows--he’s witnessed some comedy gold.

And, back to the main point, you suppose that different people just flat out label different memories as ‘golden hued.’ This moment might not be it for you, but there were plenty of instances over the course of the night. Namely, getting to wear a costume for the first time, going on the hayrides and enjoying the campy horror, watching Piotr work with the kids --and those moments had been particularly entrancing. You’d had to snap yourself out of a giddy daze several times and remind yourself that those weren’t your kids he was interacting with, and that the two of you weren’t actually married the way you’d envisioned in your head, and that you didn’t have a family of hyperactive munchkins, and--

“--and I’ve just been talking out loud the entire time, haven’t I?”

You have. If the dryness of your mouth and throat weren’t telling enough, Piotr’s bright red cheeks and shocked expression definitely are.

He’s sitting in his chair, pencil poised a few inches above his drawing pad. His blue eyes are impossibly wide, and he looks like he’s seen the face of God.

Oops. This wasn’t how you’d planned to tell your boyfriend that you wanted to marry him and make a family with him. No, that was definitely a Valentine’s Day or anniversary sort of thing --you know, go all out, expensive date and hotel, confess post a couple rounds of love making. Definitely not a mindless ramble while sorting out candy like a fourth grader after trick or treating--

“--and I’m talking out loud again. Dammit.”

“Language, dorogaya moya,” Piotr murmurs, broken out of his shock by your profanity. He sets his pencil and drawing pad on his desk, then crosses his bedroom and sits down next you, careful to not disturb your hard work. He takes your hands in his and gives you a shy, impossibly hopeful look. “You... want to get married? To have family? With me?”

“Well, like, eventually. Yeah. I mean, I think I’ve got some shit to work out first --and I say ‘shit’ because it is exactly that--but once I’m... better... yeah.” Your face feels like it’s on fire, but you don’t look away from him. “I love you, Piotr. I thought that was obvious.”

“I love you too, Y/N. I just...” He pauses to smile, and he looks so thrilled and awestruck that it makes your heart melt. “I know you mentioned it after Harmony, but then you didn’t say anything else. I thought it was... ‘we almost died’ sort of thing.”

“Well, it sort of was, but it wasn’t. I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it, Pete. And, I mean, after Harmony I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t really think about...”

He kisses the top of your head when your voice trails off. “It’s okay, myshka. I understand.”

You swallow hard, but soldier on, determined to finish the point you were trying to make. “And I mean it now. But not in a ‘we almost died’ sort of way. I mean it in a... in a ‘I love you so much it hurts and I really, really, really want this’ way. In a ‘yes, I want this to be my future, just give me time to get better’ way. What I’m trying to say is--” You stop to wet your lips, even though your mouth’s gone dry “--I love you, Piotr Rasputin, and I know I want to marry you someday. I know I want to do that, and I know I want to have a family with you. The fact that I’m not there yet doesn’t change that I know and want it.”

Piotr’s eyes are shining with happy tears, and he gives you the biggest, most wonderful smile you’ve ever seen. “I love you too, myshka. And I want that too. Everything you’ve said. Bozhe moi, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be better enough to do all that--”

He kisses each of your cheeks softly. “I know it will take time. You’re in driver’s seat, okay? You decide when you’re ready. Whenever that happens. I’m happy to wait.”

Okay, and now your eyes are stinging with happy, mushy tears because, fuck, he’s so wonderful and kind and--

“--And I’m talking out loud again. Motherfu-- just come here.” You loop your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

“You should finish sorting candy,” he says when the two of you part. “Otherwise, we will never sleep.”

“Nope.” You begin shoveling your candy back into your bag. “This can wait until tomorrow. I’ve got more important things to do right now.” You drop your refilled bag onto the floor by his bed and clamber into his lap. “C’mere, you.”

The kiss, which starts sweet and gentle, quickly turns into unabashed making out. You moan into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around yours, and he groans as your hands tug at his hair. You let out a sharp gasp when his hands slide down your back and squeeze your ass, and push him onto his back --which only works because he’s happy to humor you; if he actually felt like resisting, you’d never be able to move him.

You let out a soft, happy sigh as his hands skim up your back and under your shirt, smoothing over your soft skin.

You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know how long it’ll take to get your episodes under control.

But you do know that you love Piotr with all your heart, and that he loves you with all of his.

For now, that’s more than enough.

[tinybit92]

RWBY 5:11 thoughts under the cut.

In order of events:

I like the noticeable difference in Qrow’s posture before and after he enters the building. When he’s with the kids he’s slouching, hands in his pockets, hunched forward, looking grumpy and irritable. Then he gets in the school and he’s all business. Straightens out his back, shoulders squared, hands at his sides, and a focused gaze. Good show-don’t-tell moment of character development.

Ha, bet Raven’s regretting letting Yang in on her secret for a second there. Qrow was so focused on Lionheart he probably wouldn’t have noticed her for a while.

I like how intense Ruby is about Raven, little bit of subtle character insight on our poor, underdeveloped protagonist.

Nora legit didn’t believe the magic shit until right then.

Raven mocking her brother’s half-assed shot. Love them sibling dynamics.

Little brother? Guess we know which twin was born first.

Yang’s posture: Fucking fight me, mom!

Ruby Rose, precious innocent puppy talking about the power of friendship.

Yang’s dirty look at Raven when Ruby offers her hand, nonverbal warning that she better not fuck with her sister.

“You sound just like your mother.” YES HELLO, FAVORITE LINE OF THE EPISODE. MORE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FOR RUBY BY TALKING ABOUT SUMMER PLEASE.

Cinder doesn’t even wait to get there before blasting Ruby’s ass. Girl’s got some issues to settle.

Interested to see more of Hazel in these upcoming episodes. Oscar is exceptionally concerned by his presence.

No, bad kitty, no setting bombs! Where is my spray bottle?

Little bird, Cinder could not be more condescending today.

Qrow looks like an angry parent talking to Leo. “I am disappoint, son.”

Jaune is a poor, sad noodle.

Sick burn, Cinder.

Angry noodle is angry.

I almost feel like Emerald pulling Ruby away from Cinder is less about letting Cinder fuck with Jaune, and more about protecting Ruby from Cinder, because that is not a fight she’s ready for yet.

Merc still letting Yang think she broke his leg. What a prick.

Excuse you Raven? Weiss is worth the world, thank you very much.

Damn, that whole Qrow and Raven exchange. I still want to believe that Raven can be good and this is just a way to ramp up the tension, but it’s pretty clear this shit with the twins has been building for years. Probably about 17 years, to be exact. *side eyes Yang*

You tell that bitch, baby girl. You might not be able to beat her, but at least make it clear that this isn’t about being a Schnee.

Ren and Nora, the only kids from Beacon who actually learned the lesson Ozpin was trying to teach them about teamwork.

Oscar’s already a fucking beast at like five foot nothing.

Hey, proper shot of that lion tail. Good to see a faunus in a position of power. Also explains why he was so vulnerable to Salem’s manipulations with the way we know the faunus are generally treated.

“Fight.” Ozpin’s like, why you even need to ask, kid?

Even though she’s mastered summoning now, it still takes time. Good to show those limitations. Also emphasizes once again the importance of teamwork in this show. Weiss is a support unit, and she needs her teammates to distract her opponents in order to best use her moves.

“You’re the little bitch who was supposed to be guarding the door.”...sorry, couldn’t resist.

More fuel for the Emerald is possibly redeemable fire.

Weiss has no trouble avoiding that stray bullet. She knows what Ruby’s gun sounds like.

Damn, those ballet moves on the glyphs.

Oh shit, aura break!

Wow, fuck you, Cinder. That one was low.

I have deep concerns any time Jaune is around fire. Fire was not a friend to Joan of Arc.

Ruby having legit war flashbacks. Poor baby. :(

Good job showing those limitations again. These kids have some crazy moves, but even silver eyes ain’t worth shit if you turn your back on your opponent and get your ass knocked unconscious.

Good job taking that opening Jaune.

Not so good on the landing there, you little wet noodle. Tripping over his own feet is not very huntsman-like.

Cinder’s like, bitch you dare?

Oh my god, Jaune, stop being so self loathing. Your life mattered to Pyrrha, so don’t you go throwing it away.

Bitch, do not.

BITCH NO.

(Making it look suspiciously like Pyrrha’s spear to rub salt in the wound.)

Jesus, can we please stop stabbing women for Jaune’s character development? WEISS HAS BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH, THANK YOU.

That wound is very deliberately off to one side in a non-vital area. Roughly parallel to where Blake got stabbed, actually. She’ll be fine.

Wonder if that self-cauterizing weapon is better or worse for the injury?

I can’t believe they stabbed Ruby’s best friend while she was unconscious. I know why narratively, silver eyes would have ended the fight right there, but way to rob Ruby of development opportunities yet again.

Also, I have some problems with it being Weiss who got hurt. Her only real connection to Jaune is his unrequited crush on her, so it doesn’t serve much purpose for him other than to parallel Pyrrha. It would have been far more effective to have it be Ren who got hurt. That’s his best friend and an important member of his ragtag family. Not to mention Nora would be flipping the fuck out, which would further spur on the inevitable conclusion to this, which is Jaune discovering his semblance is healing.

Like, legit we’ve known this since season one. The only reason they’ve been drawing out his semblance reveal is so they could have him dramatically use it to save someone. Like right now.

Okay, so that’s it for play by play, here’s a few more stray thoughts:

Like I said, Weiss will be fine. Not even a little bit worried she’s gonna die. This is so obviously about Jaune’s semblance. That’s why they brought it up again a few episodes ago. Still wish it was one of Jaune’s actual teammates though instead of Weiss. Please just let the poor girl be.

If they use this as a reason to have Weiss start falling for Jaune I will fucking riot. They’ve spent too much time making him obnoxiously ignore the fact that no means no. I love Jaune, but if you let him “get the girl” after setting such a poor example, you are sending a bad message. Please let him have a more natural romance down the line. They both deserve better than this potential plot line.

Ruby is gonna be so upset when she wakes up. Even if Weiss has been healed already by then, she’s gonna be on a freaking vendetta. That is her BFF, and Cinder just did it for funsies to fuck with Jaune.

On a related note, Yang’s been really good about reigning in her temper up until now, but given the way she exploded last time Weiss got hurt, this is not going to end well for any of the bad guys in that room. I hope she goes after Raven while in a full on rage and Raven doesn’t even know what to do about it.

Seriously though, can we maybe capture Raven or something and have her talk about Summer and the ways Ruby is similar to her? Pretty please? Or have Ruby talk to Qrow later and ask him to tell her more about what her mom was like as a leader?Just give me character development for Ruby and Summer, please, I beg of you.

Blake and her crew need to hurry their asses up. Given that they’re not there yet, I’m guess they’ll get a Big Damn Heroes moment in the next couple episodes.

I appreciate Adam’s minimal screentime. Don’t let me see him unless Yang and Blake are knocking his teeth in.

As awful as the outcome of this fight was in universe, I really love the way the limitations were presented. They are all still kids, and no matter how powerful they get, they still don’t know how to properly utilize their abilities. Weiss may be able to summon now, but she does’t know how to set up a situation where she’s got the time to do it. Ruby has her silver eyes, but nobody has taught her how to use them, and they’re so reliant on her emotions right now that she can’t keep a straight head to use them without making herself vulnerable.

I fully understand where Jaune is coming from emotionally, but he is being so reckless right now. Pyrrha did not send him away in that locker just so he could get himself killed doing something stupid. If nothing else, I hope this situation teaches him to value her sacrifice and take care of himself as well as his friends.

Blake and Weiss are gonna have matching abdominal scars.

Cinder is gonna need to do something really fucked up in order for Emerald to to turn on her, but she already looks so uncomfortable all the time, and Cinder is cracking so hard, I don’t think it’s that far off honestly.

Really glad this season has been extended to 14 episodes, or that would have been the second to last one. We’ve still got three more episodes for this battle to go down.

[radiantxhero-moved-blog]

He hadn’t left Ike’s side for most of the day, although they each had plenty to keep busy with, it was rarely without the other’s company.

Things were quite different from what they’d been a year prior; both of them were less involved in the tournament that had brought them together and spent more time with theirs and the other’s family. Their relationship had evolved, too; they were effectively past the stage of infatuation and had somewhat learned to simply love one another, for better or worse. Things were never absolutely easy - in the past few weeks only, many sets of doubts and issues had surfaced, but they dealt with it. And what came of it all in the end was a simple idea of what Marth might offer his fiance for his birthday this time around.

Well… maybe simple was a bit of a stretch.

It had started with a subtle conversation with Mist, who had revealed Ike was in possession of a stuffed animal for most of his childhood, one that was very dear to him. The cleric then joked about being certain Ike was still deeply attached to it long after he stopped carrying it around everywhere.

Pulling a few more strings whenever he was at the fort gave him a very interesting lead; while looking to know more about this childhood plush, Marth learned one of the mercs had actually found it upon returning to their home-base years later; it was apparently one of the few objects that had somewhat survived the blaze Greil had ordered right before their departure. Then, supposedly, someone had chosen to bury it somewhere, rather than risk Ike finding it in its horrifying state and be further unsettled by their return to a home that no longer felt like one.

Therefore Marth had asked, and dug. It was a delicate operation, something he could only do when Ike was away and he wasn’t, which was a rare occurrence given that went against the point of his visit. And he had to set aside twice as much time just to put the ground back in place before the commander came back.

But he found it eventually; something that must have been a stuffed toy in a past life, although now ravaged by flames, soil, insects and time. Cleaning it up was not a task Marth enjoyed whatsoever, for he was disgusted from merely holding it in that state, but it turned out to be worth it. By the time he was done with it, Marth could almost guess what kind of animal it was supposed to represent.

The final bit had been the hardest: to find a way to spend a few days in the big towns of Daein - for Marth came to the conclusion that it was likely where the toy had been made in the first place - while still going under Ike’s radar. Soren’s help with it had been crucial, for he knew the land much better than Marth did and figured out how to proceed without waking suspicions.

And so within many hours within many days of searching, asking, and showing, the prince finally found the daughter of the artisan who had made the stuffed animal. She had taken over his business since, and agreed to restore it nearly to perfection - or at least, as well as she could remember the original. 

And there it laid, today, in a carefully wrapped box Marth had gone out of his way to fetch for his beloved as this special day was drawing to an end. Nothing nearly as stressful as the gift he’d offered a year prior, but he was admittedly still nervous Ike might not want to see it or even remember it. “It’s not… quite as significant as my last present,” he warned, for a lack of better word, handing Ike the box with hands as steady as he could get them. And settle for a soft kiss to his cheek, before pulling away to give him a bit of space. ”But I do hope it holds some meaning still. Happy birthday, love.”

The day had gone by like most others, with chores and errands to be had between everybody, but the others in the company still took the time to tell Ike happy birthday or to pass on a small gift. It was a nice, calm birthday, spent with his family – including Marth, who was able to join them in Crimea for a while to relax and celebrate with them.

There was one last gift to be had, apparently, as Marth offered him a box and a few words that made Ike really question what it could be. He took the gift carefully, feeling some of the tension in Marth’s body in the brief exchange.

“You did set the bar pretty high for yourself last year,” Ike remarked, the mercenary just able to return the soft kiss Marth gave him, his lips catching the corner of the other swordsman’s mouth before he could completely pull away. “But I’m sure this one will be just fine, Marth. You know me well, I doubt you could give me a bad gift if you tried,” he tried reassure his person, fingers working at the knotted twine that helped to keep the box’s lid secured.

The box itself felt pretty light, and Ike’s first guess was that it was clothing of some kind – perhaps a new cape? Whatever it was, he would appreciate the thought and effort Marth put into it; he didn’t have to give Ike anything just because it was birthday, but he always put so much into it.

Pulling the string free, Ike lifted the lid and set it down, reaching into the box and blinking a bit when his fingers brushed against something soft and fur-like in texture. Withdrawing the gift, Ike’s mouth parted in a slight O shape.

“Oh, wow...Marth, did someone..tell you I used to have a bear like this, or...?” his words trailed off when he brought the stout little stuffed closer for inspection, and the familiar scent of home hit him all of a sudden.

All words deserted him at that, his grip tightening on the bear as he stared into shiny button eyes.

The material was new, here and there. Some features, like the eyes, had obviously been replaced, but they looked no different than what he remembered of the treasured toy from his childhood.

Ike had had this little bear for as long as he could remember -- he remembered this toy, even when he couldn’t recall things about his own mother. It had always been by his side, even when he grew too old to tote it around anymore; the worn out stuffed toy had a place of honor at the small table just beside his bed. When Daein troops had surrounded the fort looking for Elincia all those years ago now, Ike had meant to grab it and stuff it into his pack, but ended up not having the time to go back to his room before Greil ordered them to leave, and set the fort aflame.

“I...I thought it had...burned with most everything else back then,” he eventually managed to stammer out, still in a bit of shock that this was that same bear, his bear.

Ike brought the toy close and buried his face into its soft, fluffed stomach, taking a slow, deep breath through his nose.

Smells like home...Like father, and...and home...

The corners of his mouth pulled down, but not in a frown or a scowl. The emotion of the gift hitting him almost like a punch to the gut.

Marth was right, this didn’t have the same feel or maybe even significance that Marth proposing -- offering himself -- had, but it was still a deeply meaningful gift, and one Ike knew must not have been easy to procure.

“How did...How did you...,” Ike faltered several times, his voice failing him; a chuckle mixed with embarrassment and sheer emotion escaping him instead of his questions of how Marth found out about the stuffed bear or how he even repaired it like this. “S-Sorry, this is...It’s...Getting like this over a toy, but...,” he cleared his throat, peeking up from the bear’s soft brown fur.

“Thank you, Marth...”

[mercenarypark]

“ hotaliens said: WHEN U CAN talk about medic and his birds, red scout and blu scout mayhaps, ANDdddddddddddddddd what the mercs do on the weekend “ hey guys remember how i said i was gonna talk about hcs well let me finally get around to that hours late here we go

[Medic and Birds]

[these go for RED and BLU medic]

-Medic’s mother had a cockatoo, she absolutely ADORED him even when he was a baby, though ofc his mother made sure to monitor their interactions together; and even as an infant he always treated that bird with surprising gentleness, never pulling or prodding hard. that cockatoo never bit him harder than a warning nip, and she would somehow always know how to calm him down from a tantrum.

the bird died of illness right around the time the war started, and to this day he believes that somehow, those were connected. 

-medic stole his flock of doves[technically homing pigeons] from a wedding in England, not realizing that the catering van he’d stolen had an entire flock of birds and a makeshift aviary inside. the method with which he retrained them is,,,,,,, unconventional and spoiler-y for some things i have written but not published

-he holds full conversations with birds, often- not just his own, but birds in the trees, on the street, in pet stores and houses.

-the flock is mostly his homing pigeons from his stolen wedding flock, and their children; with a couple of fancy pigeons stolen from pigeon shows[because lord knows the poor things need some help, esp the ones who’ve been bred to fit a certain standard at the cost of their health and ability to function], and a few feral street pigeons he’s adopted

-the flock mostly refers to him as “papa”, “Vati” or “Opa”

-he speaks to them in German, Yiddish, and English- they understand all three

-he cries every single time an egg hatches. every time. sadly he cant let EVERY egg that they lay, hatch, because he’d never be able to care for them all, but the flock understands this and lets him remove eggs as he pleases, and in return he gives them all as much love and attention as he can

-medic’s office is his makeshift aviary, though he very rarely keeps them cooped in there- for the majority of the day they have free roam of the base. they all know where home is

-heavy, pyro, and scout all are allowed to play w/ medic’s birds whenever they want, heavy and pyro both have a key to medic’s office so they can get into the aviary without having to ask [scout WOULD have one but she’s notorious for losing keys]

-----

[RED Scout BLU Scout]

-for clarities sake, again, there are a lot of things i[and gabby+em]’ve written but not published that i dont want 2 spoil, and the reason that theres two of every merc is one of them; but i will say that yes, there are two versions of scout who mostly have the same backstory shit, but things differ when theyre hired as mercs

-[also, both scouts use she/her and occasionally they/them]

-both scouts have a long standing hatred for the other, and absolutely target each other on the battlefield

-this is at least a LITTLE BIT because of self loathing, IE “im gonna beat the shit out of the person who looks exactly like me”, though neither of them realize that

-RED scout is the one who comes to terms with the fact that she’s trans first and that just amplifies how much she HAAATES the BLU scout

-but RED scout is also the first of the two to go through character growth and become a genuinely better person, as she slowly comes out to her family and friends, finds support in her teammates, accidentally adopts medic as her unofficial dad, unlearns a lot of internalized bullshit,

-which infuriates BLU scout because suddenly RED scout doesnt seem to really care about fighting her anymore 

-and then BLU scout overhears one of RED mercs refer to RED scout w/ she/her pronouns and has a fucking crisis of confusion [but also validation]

-and after a lot of internal turmoil brought on by the UNBELIEVABLE Mental Fuckery that has got to come with realizing that the alternate version of yourself is openly trans while you’re still confused and closeted,

-BLU scout decides yea u know what. im trans and im not gonna hide it anymore, esp since apparently all the RED versions of my teammates are accepting so like, the BLUs should be too right???

-and they are

-BLU scout and BLU medic aren’t as close as RED scout + RED medic, for multiple reasons, but in both cases the scouts came out to the medics first [because, Hes Doctor] 

-after BLU scout starts going through her own Character Development[tm] and mellows out, both scouts are pretty chilled on the battlefield towards each other, even joking with each other about their teammates, nowhere near as violent and vicious as they were before

-most of the time that they DO fight its more casual and more like rough-housing, with bullets and also spiked baseball bats

-sorry this mostly turned into Gender Stuff hdfjghh but i took that prompt to mean “both scout’s relationships 2 the other” and the answer to that is, well, “fight” ----

[weekend]

[some of these are specific to the RED versions of everyone, sorry, though most are more general]

-demo is usually working one of his other jobs- piano gigs at fancy establishments, art commissions[hes a pretty fantastic painter, he prefers more abstract pieces and he has a very distinct style with a strong sense of movement and fluidity], and some volunteer work at the ol’ kitten orphanage [he’d work at the regular human orphanage next door, but, well. he’s got bad experiences with those. and hes scared of messing up around children]

basically even when hes technically off duty, hes still always working- its the degroot way, whether he likes it or not

but when he can relax, he usually spends as much time as he can with his parrot, keeping her entertained and socialized and happy; he also spends a lot of time in engies workspace watching him build and repair stuff while they drink together, with pyro playing whatever game they’re hyperfocused on at the moment, and, in the old days, he would spend a lot of time sneaking out to be with BLU soldier... Those days are gone in the times of WAR, of course

-engie, of course, is usually still working as well. honestly he doesnt even notice the fact that its the weekend half the time unless someone tells him, he’ll just keep pouring over blueprints and fine tuning designs. 

if you do pry him away from his work table long enough, though, he will crash on the nearest soft surface and sleep for 15 hours. rancho relaxo time motherfucker

-medic becomes a cryptid every goddamn weekend, unless you check one of four places: his bedroom, heavy’s bedroom, his office/aviary, and the morgue. you will not see him literally anywhere else. he is also only seen with at least 5-6 birds on his person at all times, as opposed to his usual 1 or 2.

he spends most of the time on the weekends being v overaffectionate with both his birds and heavy; and the rest of the time cutting open dead bodies in the morgue and injecting them with weird shit

-heavy spends a lot of time reading and writing on the weekends- editing older drafts of books he’s written, translating things to and from English to practice his skills with the language, and just, reading books he’s had recommended to him or old favorites. sometimes he reads out loud to medic while medic is busy with other things [IE he’s distracted by birds or corpses]

-spy? literally just this textpost by gabby.

http://thefrenchiestfrytisi.tumblr.com/post/161502800096/ok-before-i-go-to-sleep-though-this-image-from

 you dont need any more info than that. this is perfect. spy spends like 5 hours in the bath every saturday and 6 every sunday and its always like this

-pyro is the other cryptid at the base, no one can ever find them unless pyro WANTS to be found so they can show off a drawing they did, or a card trick they learned, or just so they can hang out w/ someone for a while

-scout is either playing Video Games[tm] from the moment she wakes up until she passes out, or she is outside jogging for 3 hours straight and then she impulse steals a golf cart, there is no middle ground here -every single saturday, soldier doesnt realize its the weekend, gets completely ready for battle, runs outside, and only sees the other soldier. and they just both fight each other for the next couple hours until someone gets them both to come inside. the rest of the weekend she’s “taming” her raccoons and planning for the next fight

-i dont care about sniper