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nightlyrequiem · 15 days ago

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I just got an idea, what if Valeria was at a club celebrating a deal or just treating her workers until the reader catches her eyes… but the reader also caught the eye of another one of her workers a guy who was kinda low in the chain of command or whatever. The reader wasn’t interested until the guys offered to buy her a drink which didn’t bother Valeria until the guys spiked her drink. The reader didn’t notice and was about to drink it until Valeria stopped her. You can decide what happens from there :p

P.S., Idk if this sounds as great as it does in my head. Love ur content tho 🥰😼

I wish I could go to a bar and have a pretty, evil older woman save me and buy me a drink...

Love this idea. I didn't know if you wanted smut so I didn't include any. If you want a part 2 with smut just let me know! I had fun writing this. It helped me get out of a little mental rut <3

Tags/Warnings: Attempted Drugging, WLW, Drinking

In Celebration

Every success no matter how small is worthy of celebration because it signifies progress. Valeria has just secured a small sector of Puerto Rico for herself. Just another expansion within her ever-growing empire. El Sin Nombre will be a name known across Latin America. Its personal boogeyman. This is an achievement worthy of drinks, drugs, and women. The nightclub Valeria chose is higher end. Higher budget, expensive booze, V.I.P corners, and Valeria's favourite part; a buffet of lovely women for her to take her pick from. Valeria and her lackeys walk through the crowded club towards their purchased booth. The music is loud, and the lights are low. Sweaty bodies writhe and bump up against each other as people forget their responsibilities and commitments, just for tonight.

Her workers laugh and jostle each other as they sit down. A scantily clad waitress scurries over and gets to work in taking orders for food and drinks. She intelligently pretends not to see a little baggie filled with fine white powder being passed between rough hands. Shots are brought to the table, and the night is officially at its start. Cards are brought out and Valeria joins in this time. Placing a bet of 36,126 pesos. She drinks and gambles, believing this to be the peak of the human experience. Valeria spares only a small glance, surveying the room for potential threats out of habit when she spots you. Her gaze gravitating to you like a wasp to sugar. She's transfixed by the way you move your hips and how short that little dress is. Valeria finds herself interested in the shadows between your legs.

A jittery man - one of her own - sidles up to you before she gets the chance. Valeria scoffs to herself at the sight. Where he gets the confidence to try his luck with someone so far out of his league escapes her, but maybe he's hoping you'll be drunk enough to gloss over his greasy appearance. She doesn't like that he approached first but she doubts you'll be into him. He's the personification of mange. he says something to you, leaning in and fanning his alcoholic breathe over your soft cheek. To her displeasure you nod and follow him through the crowd to the bar.

Occasionally Valeria glances over at the two of you. Sharp eyes quickly homing in on you. She doesn't trust him to not be a complete degenerate and she's also hoping that you simply lose interest. Leaving her room to slide in. For only a second you have your back turned. For only a second his hand is over your drink. Valeria scowls and stands, ignoring the confused looks from her men. Valeria pushes through the crowd towards you.

You raise your cup to your lips, but she quickly snatches it from you. Almost not hearing the indignant 'hey!' leaving your mouth. The man knows he's messed up. Bloodshot eyes widening before she shoves the cup in his hands.

"Drink it." She commands, glowering at him. You throw your arms up, upset at having your drink stolen.

"... Patrona-"

"Drink. It."

Valeria can glimpse you frowning at her in the corner of her eye, but she keeps her gaze on this worthless sack of meat. He reluctantly brings the cup to his lips and takes a small sip. She scowls and he relents. Downing the spiked drink.

He turns and retreats back into the crowd. She shakes her head in disgust.

"What the hell?" You exclaim angrily.

Valeria's expression relaxes as she turns to look at you. Her eyes running over you quickly. She raises an arm and hovers it over your shoulders, turning you back to the bar. "He's no good, sweetheart." She shakes her head, head lowered to murmur into your ear. "I'll buy you a new drink."

You give her an agitated look. "Why did you do that?" You ask firmly. She gently ushers you closer to the bar.

"He put something in your drink. I'll get you a new one."

Valeria lets you order whatever you want under her tab. Which you do so with reluctance. Throwing her wary glances. Your eyes drifting over her arms. The tattoos. The scars.

You sip your drink, mood dampened. Valeria leans against the bar.

"What's your name, guapa?" Valeria asks.

You tell her with narrowed eyes. "And you?"

"Valeria. Why don't you come sit with me?" She offers. "I'm playing poker and could use a good luck charm."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "No, thanks."

Valeria isn't perturbed by your rejection. She moves closer but keeps enough distance that you could still move away from her if you wanted to. "No? Come on," Valeria says. Lips curling into an easy grin.

"Why would I want to watch you and a bunch of men play poker?"

"You get to sit around in good company and enjoy free drinks." She replies. She can feel your resolve faltering.

"I don't know about good company..." You sniff. "You look like trouble."

Valeria inches closer.

"I'm an angel." She says mockingly. Pleased to see a smile break out on your face.

"Angels are allowed tattoos?"

She feels confident enough to ghost her fingers down your bare arm. "This one is. Come sit with me."

You consider her words. Consider her. "Only for a little bit." You concede.

Valeria has you perched in her lap. Only a little bit turned into the better part of an hour. A few drinks completely dissolved any reservations about her. Your arm is slung over her shoulder, fingers stroking her skin.

"Fuck." Her opponent growls. Throwing his cards down at yet another loss.

"Gambling isn't your calling, pendejo." She sneers at him. Valeria collects her earnings and gives your thigh a tap, turning to face you, nose almost touching yours. "I'm going to call it a night, want to come back to mine?" She murmurs quietly.

"You won't be calling it a night for a while." You promise coyly.

#cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #modern warefare ii #cod mwii #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare

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perlelune · 1 year ago

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Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | iv.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"Put the phone down. On speaker," Ghostface orders.

The device almost slides right out of your clammy palm when you place it by your sock-covered foot.

"Now…"

His voice dips, its intimate echo rippling across your skin.

Tension clogs your throat as you await his next command, a mess of shivering limbs on your bed.

Whatever he asks you to do, you know you’ll hate it, and yourself.

But there’s no other option when your friends’ lives hang in the balance.

No choice besides yielding to the killer’s whims, however sick and twisted.

"I want you to touch yourself, princess."

Puzzled by his request, you blink and parrot his words back to him,"Touch myself?"

He unleashes a dark laugh, a chill dancing on your spine at the sound.

"Let me explain it in terms even my airheaded little princess can understand," he rasps, blatantly condescending. I want you to shove your fingers in that tight pussy while I watch you do it…and make yourself come." Your eyes widen in shock. "If you don’t come…" Your open thighs tremble as an air of malevolence saturates the air. "Goodbye Mindy and Anika."

The heavy, searing weight of his threat sits in your gut like hot coals.

Your lip wobbles, a tear escaping the confine of your lids.

"I’ll do it," you mutter, your quivering hand already inching to your exposed center.

"Hey, no need to rush," he chuckles. "Take your time, princess. After all…I want to enjoy the show."

He sighs and a zipping sound followed by a muffled rustle reaches you. Relief flows from his inflection as he instructs, "Why don’t you start with rubbing your hand up and down your pussy?"

Sticky wetness coats your fingers as you glide them over your folds.

Heat flares in your cheeks as Ghostface’s gruff moans rise from the phone.

Though you can’t know for sure, you suspect from how breathless and hoarse he sounds, he may be touching himself too.

You grow more embarrassed at the thought.

"Unbutton your shirt and grab your tit." He lets out a throaty purr as you undo the buttons of your blouse. You palm your breast and rub your thumb over your pebbled peak. A hiss floats from your lips at the sensation, your core clenching.

"Fuck…you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. You know that, princess?" He pauses, seeming to choke on his own breath before chiming, "Bet they’d look even better covered with my cum."

A shuddering breath escapes your mouth.

"Put one finger inside. Tell me how it feels."

As you keep fondling your breast, you sink one digit inside your wet heat. You gasp as you graze a sensitive, spongy spot that makes your breath falter.

"Wet. Tight…" Reflexively, as you rock inside your walls, they squeeze around your fingers. Ragged moans climb up your throat.

Pleasure builds in your belly as it tenses.

"Put a second one," he urges, his words punctuated by a gravelly whine and the faint, sloppy friction of skin against skin on the other side of the phone.

Your face ignites. While you’re not the brightest bulb, it’s not hard figuring out what he’s doing while talking to you.

A wave of sickness threatens to overwhelm you but you quell it.

You add a second digit to the first. Your lids quake, a sharp pain rippling through your core at the burning stretch.

You hardly ever touch yourself there, much less with more than one finger.

"It hurts," you sob. "Please…"

Your whimpers only appear to arouse him more, a moan following your admission.

"Oh…Fuck." You hear him swallow and exhale rapidly. "Keep going. Don’t you dare stop. Play with your clit at the same time."

Letting go of your chest, your other hand creeps between your thighs. Cheeks aflame, you start rubbing your swollen, sensitive nub in circles.

Your breath stutters. Your hips wiggle as your stomach tightens.

"Rub it harder." You chew on your bottom lip as the lustful pants leaving your throat swell in volume. Disapproval vibrates in Ghostface’s distorted, gravelly voice. "Don’t keep it in. I want to hear you loud and clear, princess."

Reluctantly, you free your lip, allowing every moan and whimper to spill out unchecked.

Your fingers pump in and out at a faster pace and the wet squelching of your cunt mingles with the shameful sounds rising from your mouth.

You massage your clit, growing slicker as your vision gets hazy.

"Remember what I said. What happens if you don’t come, pretty girl."

This incentivizes you to try even harder.

You play with your pussy with more fervor than before, teasing that tender spot inside you that has your vision sway.

You can tell how close you are to your pinnacle, the coils in your belly tight and warm tingles swirling at the apex of your thighs.

The patterns your fingers trace over your sensitive parts turn hectic and desperate.

"Tell me you can’t wait for my fat cock to ruin your tight little pussy," Ghostface rumbles through the staccato of his uneven, raspy moans.

Tears adorning your lashes, you repeat his words between strained lungfuls. "I c-can’t wait for your f…fat cock to ruin my little p-pussy, Mr. Ghostface."

His elated laugh cascades across your flesh.

"Come for me, princess."

The air dwindles in your lungs as your eyes roll back. The dam shatters at once, your legs quaking as waves of pleasure scatter through your lower body. Your body jolts and falls limply on the sheets, your back arching as your climax hits you.

"Ah, shit," he says.

The killer’s long, throaty sigh lands in your ears, the sound of him relieving himself strangely making your bundle of nerves pulse.

"Good girl," he lauds, mirth and lust radiating from his deep timbre.

His choppy breaths mingle with yours through the phone.

As you lie on your side on the bed, the haze clears and a vast well of shame blooms inside you.

After a few minutes of silence, he laughs again.

Satisfaction drips from his tone.

"I’m proud of you for playing my little game," he says. "And now, we have our first souvenir together, in 4K."

Your brows knit as you shakily pick up the phone.

"What do you m-mean?"

He doesn’t reply, instead humming softly, "Goodnight, princess."

The call ends as he hangs up.

Quivering lips bound shut by stupor, you quickly grab your bear and hold him against your chest. You bury yourself under the covers as quiet tears roll down your face.

You don’t get much sleep if any that night, tossing and turning when you’re not drenching the sheets with the salty streams pouring from your eyes.

Despite him never entering the room, terror paralyzes you.

He might as well have, his sinister presence coiled around you and the power he held over you tattooed into your very bones.

You bolt awake in the morning, the wild drumming of your heart blaring in your ears.

The first thing you do is rush to collect your phone. But frustration roars inside you when you realize it died during your fitful sleep.

Heart in your throat, you scramble in search of your charger. Once you find it in a forgotten corner of your bed, a relieved exhale ripples through your lips.

Impatient, you groan as you wait for the lightning bolt icon to shift to one percent. The painful sluggishness of it escalates your blood pressure even more.

You bounce on your bed as your phone takes what seems like eternity and beyond to turn itself on.

When it finally does, you don't even have to look through your contacts to find Mindy, your best friend appearing in your most recent calls.

You punch the number and chew your nails anxiously.

Ghastly thoughts lurk about your mind with each lingering, torturous second.

What if he lied?

What if he toyed with you for no reason?

Of course, your roommate picks this opportune moment to knock on the door.

"Hey! Did you lock me out? Open the fucking door!"

Startled, your head snaps up.

"Not now, Vanessa," you yell, herding your focus back to your phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

You hear your roommate mutter 'bitch' on the other side of the door and kick it one last time before walking away.

All your calls go to voicemail after a few rings. You lose hope, already picturing the worse. In your sleep-deprived, frazzled brain, the image of your friends’ lifeless forms lying sprawled on the floor is conjured.

Your gaze fills with tears as you plummet at the end of your bed.

While the sun’s basking your room in light, your world has never been this dark.

It’s the pathetic state you remain in as you amble across the hallways later, no cheer in your step as you drag your feet to class.

Each of your thoughts is asieged by your friends’ fate. Who knows if they even made it through the night, despite your best efforts to comply with Ghostface’s sick demands.

Your dispirited trek comes to a sudden halt as you catch sight of them, strolling to your first class with their arms linked.

You all but tackle Mindy into a hug after racing down the hallway.

"Mindy!" you shriek, overwhelmed with emotion at having her in your arms, safe, whole and - most importantly - alive.

She laughs, both she and Anika casting you a puzzled stare.

"Wow, is something wrong? Not that I mind random hugs but…"

You punch her in the rib and rear back with a scowl.

"You didn't answer your phone, dingus! I was worried sick."

Mindy winces in response to your outburst.

"Ouch. Sorry, mom," she jests, but when she notes the way your eyes fill with tears again, concern invades her features. Her tone softens as she elaborates, "Anika and I were…busy last night, so our phones were on silent."

They share a secret smile, hands twining. Your cheeks warm as understanding dawns over you.

You approach them and give them a tight hug.

"I…I’m just happy to see you both, that’s all," you mumble between quivering sobs. You take a minute to soak in the fact that they’re okay, that you can feel their beating hearts against your own.

Your friends are okay. Ghostface kept his promise.

Despite how humiliated and violated last night made you feel, at least there is one perk…your friends lived through it.

Anika rubs soothing circles on your back.

"Well, we’re happy to see you too. Always." She tilts her head and studies you. "Wanna grab lunch later? Talk about what’s really going on with you?"

Gulping a pacifying breath, you fall back. You look at both their faces, scrunched in worry. You’re thankful for them…but you can’t talk about last night to anyone.

In fact, you’d rather toss the whole ordeal into a well of oblivion. You feel dirty enough as it is. Tainted.

Still, spending time with them is just what you need.

"I’d love that," you chime, swallowing your tears long enough for them to disappear from view.

But as soon as they’ve vacated the hallway, the ephemeral mask of cheerfulness you donned before crumbles.

You shrink into a mess of tears in a dusky corner of the faculty, hiding behind a set of stairs no one ever uses.

"I have tissues if you want. I have t-three tissues."

"Ethan?" Your mouth parts as Ethan’s staggering presence crowds your vision. He’s crouched in front of you, that same lopsided, bashful smile he had at the party decorating his lips. Sun beams hit his dark curls, highlighting the russet and chestnut hues of his thick mane.

You slowly blink, noticing his outstretched hand and the tissues in it.

You accept them gracefully and dab your eyes with one.

"Hey." He sits next to you under the stairs and leans against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?"

You sniffle and shake your head in response.

Ethan nods in acknoledgement. You appreciate that he doesn’t push, settling for sitting with you as you cry in your hand.

"Okay," he says when your weeping alleviates. "Then, maybe we can go to a café and study? Since you’ve missed our first session anyway."

Embarrassment surges inside you. Right. You and Ethan agreed to meet at the library two days ago.

You were caught amidst your guilt spiral regarding Connor’s death at the time.

You squeeze his arm and bunch your lips apologetically.

"I’m so sorry, Ethan. It totally slipped my mind."

He waves a dismissive hand in the air.

"It’s okay. You were dealing with a lot. I get it."

Deflating, you release his bicep and sigh.

"Still, that’s not okay. You were so nice to offer."

"Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve got time now," he informs.

Hugging your knees, you flash him a hollow smile.

"Thank you. You're a really good friend." You grimace. "I'm sorry Chad and Mindy gave you such a hard time the other day."

He gives a nonchalant shrug.

"It's okay. Could be anyone, right?" He pauses, scrutinizing your face. "Even me."

This draws the first genuine laugh of the week from you.

Ethan being Ghostface? The mere idea is ludicrous.

There is an ocean of differences between the monster who coerced you into doing dirty things last night and the sweet boy who handed you tissues today.

They could never be the same person. That’s silly.

"I’d find that very hard to believe," you say between watery chuckles.

The only reply you get from Ethan is a wide, tight-lipped smile as he slants his head sideways, his gaze lighting up as it runs over you.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #scream vi #ethan landry x you #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

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yan-snowcave · 7 months ago

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Marriage Imagine with the Milo's;

🐇 Pre-Milo 🐇

• Thanks to his job as a Chiropractor he sometimes will teasingly offer you a massage, mentioning how skilled he became with his hands

• If you do accept his offer be ready to have a blushing mess on your hand but you will get a very good massage (if you return the teasing during this he will take a break to hide his face)

• Brings you little a little gift every week this ranges from flowers to your favorite snacks, merch of of anime/bands/ect you like and ittle nick nacks that just reminded him of you

• He taught himself flower language to show his love and affectionate when he feels like his words aren’t enough

• When you have a bad day he will order some take out and put in your favourite movie while showering you in kisses. He will even put on some fake bunny ears if it would make you smile or laugh

• Wears his wedding ring on a chain so he doesn't lose it, he will also fidget with it when nervous or just really misses you

• Both of the rings have a message on the inside, your ring has the message “Forever yours, even if we change” carved into it

• His Yandere tendencies will start showing more freely now that you can’t escape him, one of these includes having cameras in every plushy he made so he can watch you when he isn't home

• Will hide Sticky notes with reminders how much he loves you around the house and in your pockets

• Has grown a bit of a backbone but the second you call him the nickname you gave him or anything sweet really he returns to his old state of flustered bunny

🐺 V-Milo 🐺

• One word; Househusband. He will stay at home and do all the chores; cooking, cleaning, taking care of the garden if you have one, guarding the home, ect

• Will run to the door when he hears footsteps in hope it's you, if he was right and its you he will pull you into a hug and give you a bunxh of welcome back kisses. If you playfully refuse or dodge his kisses he will let out some dog whines and follow you around

• But if it wasn’t you then he will growl at the door and if anyone dares to knock at the door they will be met with a pissed off 6ft tall guy who’s already getting his loyal metal bat ready for a swing

• Makes you lunch for work and similar to Pre!Milo he will leave sticky notes on them with reminders of his love, if you had a rough morning he will also add an extra sweet treat

• He sometimes adds a cute lil’ doddle on the back of it

• Instead of a wedding ring he has a dog tag on his collar with ‘Married to Y/N’ engraved on it and your wedding date

• He lets you choose between a normal ring and a specially made armband that has a tracker built in it & a hidden knife for self defense of course. If you choose the ring he will implant a tracker on the back of your neck, otherwise he won't allow you to leave house unless he’s with you

• If you two need it he will work as a Personal Coach, he will only meet up with his clients when you are at work though

• Took a stray dog in once and now you have a dog, he sometimes gets annoyed at it for taking your attention away from him

🐈‍⬛ M-Milo 🐈‍⬛

• Asks for (demands) good morning & goodbye kisses and if he doesn't get them he will whine, act bratty and generally be more clingy then he usally is. You can easily fix this by simply giving in or pulling on his collar though that might just make him sweat in excitment…

• Background checked the place you work at and got some blackmail on the higher ups in case they dare to try and mess with you

• Proudly tells everyone that you guys are married and shows off his wedding ring. He also branded a heart with your Initials right on top where his actual heart is to prove his devotion

• If you introduce him as your husband first though, he will be bouncing on the spot, he will also loudly purr loudly and sweat a bit

• On nights where you need a distraction, can’t sleep or anxiety is getting to you. He will make up stories and fairy tales, he changes them up to whatever you need it to be; Comedy, Action, Romance, ect

• Loves to serenade to you and during especially soft moments he will grab your hand and lead you into a dance throughout whatever room you two are in

• Feeding you is his favourite thing to do and he will literally beg you to let him feed you, even if it's just desert. When you return the favor he just smiles back at you and says; “As sweet as this is, you’re still sweeter~”

• Boop his nose to “restart” him, one boop will make him drop down into your lap and a second boop will habe him slowly get up with a ‘mrrp?~’

• Will wear Cat Ears and a Tail at home ifnyou ask him to. Just be warned that if you play/fidget with them he will act as if they were real and tease you

• “Oh do you like them that much, love? Do you like the feeling of ears and how my tail curls around your fingers? Should I meow for you?~”

• Makes every anniversary special by planning it all out, it starts with breakfast in bed and some kisses before he brings you to fancy restaurants or a day trips to a place you always wanted to go to. And to top it all off when you come home he will bride carry you to the bathroom for a relaxing bath and a massage. You won’t have to lift a finger on this day, he will take care of everything

#perfect love vn #perfect love #pl milo #pl manipulation milo #pl violence milo #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #it was fun writing V & M Milo :3 #But I think I gonna focus more on writing my hell trio or those two xD Vanilla Milo.is hard #or maybe draw more xD #my writing

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rindough · 7 months ago

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that first anon again: oh my god losing my religion by r.e.m. for boothill. this man is SO full of teenage angst, sitting in the corner of one of those old timey country bars all veiled in shadow looking at the person he has feelings for laughing and dancing in the crowd, completely mesmerised as he rests his chin on a hand with a focused expression, mouth slightly open, and absent-mindedly traces the rim of his glass with a finger from the other, almost without realising. You ain't slick, dude. Go talk to them.

God, I am so fucking normal about him.

OH YA i forgot to reply to a question from ur prev ask, sure! u can give me indie songs as well heheeee, and ngl i wasnt expecting this song but its one of my fav songs to vibe to!!!!

OKOK I GOT THE IDEA AND I FIND IT CUTE buttt i kinda put a twist to it if thats okay!

--;

so lets say you're a regular at this diner in town, you had your fair amount of visits here with your friends, your family, even alone. boothill has seen it all, but god at each time he tries to strike up a conversation with you, it either comes off awkward or him just flying off his seat from trying to 'smoothly' whoosh onto the stool.

he doesn't know what made him this... intrigued by your presence, why is it that everytime the door bell chimes, he glances by the door to see if it was you, the way your voice echo in the quiet diner, the way you spun around after you got your order and straight out the door you walked. he wants to know why and how has he suddenly had the balls to walk up to you, and just start some small talk.

unfortunately on his side, it got to the point where it only ends in 'hi's or 'i see's. he thought he could do it, he thought he could whoosh his way in n perhaps whoosh his way out out this diner with u tagging along. but look at where he is now, it's not that you don't get along, but with the way he looks into your eyes and stutter whatever he wants to say, fumbling over words and fall into silence while you wait, while you search his eyes, his body languages. Waiting for something more, as the man himself got you to become a nervous mess too.

but overtime, he gradually became standoffish, he no longer sits beside you at most of your visits, he doesn't look high up above the diner booth to check if its you (he observes from the window instead 🙄), he just waves, he just stands up to go at your presence, he just-

he no longer visits the diner.

in fear and perhaps shame, he and his cyborg body, you would prefer someone much more... human, right? what does it take for a cyborg like him to woo someone he fancies?

it's impossible, he thought. at this point, he'll just give up and not think about the thing people call, the thing he once dreamt of having, love. he'll just give up the act and focus on some... commission he has or whatever...

but does he really though?

"dude, since day 1, are you still gonna mess this right up?"

the voice behind him pulls him out of his trance, the spunk haired man stays put in his seat, the fold of his index rubbing his bottom lips while a thumb rests on his his sharp jawline. choosing to ignore the blond waiter by his side. the waiter throws his tablecloth aside.

"hello?" he snaps his fingers at him, earning a 'tsk' from the man.

"whaddaya want? can't ya see i'm busy?"

"busy doing what? staring at them from this corner of the bar? i know that look of yours, i saw what happened last time-"

"and what? what makes you think i stand a chance with them, best believe 'm gonna look after them from far away. they don't needa see me here, they don't gotta see me at all."

the waiter groans, as if the man in front of him is being blind or feigning ignorance to escape falling in love, to just... dwell in his insecurities. "bro, look at the way they look at you!"

boothill stays put, eyes blinking at your swaying form, your head shaking side to side at the music. the way you jump, throw your hands up, his mouth falls slightly ajar at the way you move. his throat runs a little dry at the way beauty could exist in many forms and at anytime, and this was one of the many times he had found beauty in you. he had found himself longing for you.

it's agonizing honestly.

both on your end and on his.

you're here swaying to the music from the speakers, mingling with other youngsters in your town, hoping that when you turn around to start talking, it'd be the one you've been looking for this whole time, the one whose clumsy way of flirting leaves you wanting more and more. the night was young and there's ample time for him to visit the diner, but... would he?

for him, he wishes he was the only one under your spotlight, the one making you laugh, oh how he loves the way your lips curl into a smile, the way your eyes twinkle.

if he was out there in the crowd with you, best believe he'll twirl and dip you down on the dancefloor and make you have the best night and dance of your whole life.

he turns his head sideways, looking at the blond. "what's with the way they look at me?"

then he turns back to observe you. maybe, just maybe, you would turn around at a certain degree and meet his yearning gaze. wondering if he can make you feel his presences by drilling holes into your skull.

"..." at this point he's defeated, he can't be bothered to explain all these lovey-dovey pre-dating crush nonsense to this sulking cowboy.

"y'kno mister, they've been looking for you every time when you're not around the diner. do i gotta explain more? do i gotta explain the 'where's boothill? have you seen him? has he visited today?'" he mocks, "ya wanna know what happened when i told them no every single time? they just left the diner- not ordering anything!"

the spunk haired man hums, now no longer focused on you, but instead, his back facing the crowd as he stares into the prepared drink before him, finger circling the rim of the glass as the complaints of the waiter goes unheard.

if what the man was saying is true, then... but... why? what made him special enough for you to promptly ask for him at every visit. and he bet it was every visit, since he's not even in the diner every day for months. so, why did he have to leave?

was it the fear of judgement?

was it fear of rejection?

or was it the fear of losing you?

so-

"so?" the waiter quirks an eyebrow, "what do you plan to do with that information-"

he can't back down now, the aftertaste of soulglad lingers the back of his mouth, he's walking, walking towards the crowd, thank god your back was facing him... otherwise he wouldn't be doing what he was doing now, otherwise he'd instantly run away again. and he does not plan to let you search for him again.

"hey." he whispers, smiling gently at the way you suck in your breath at the sight of him.

he never thought he'd feel his heart melt much more than before the moment your soft lips mellow into a smile, the twinkle of your eyes refreshing his past, yet brief memories with you.

"hi."

--;

#💫 anon!!#boothill x reader #boothill hsr #boothill #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill honkai star rail #I LOVE THIS SCENARIO #💌 — letters!!#hsr #honkai star rail #📝 — works!!

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sugar-omi · 1 year ago

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Could I please request hc or a drabble about Cove as a new parent with a female MC? Thank you! ❤️

its your lucky day (aka you've asked smth ive been thinking abt for days LOL) bc ive written hc's and drabbles <333 although mostly messy hc's that are in no coherent order also I think I will come back n write more coherent n specific scenarios bc I have sm thoughts on cove through parenthood.... pls tysm for this ask I hope it's satisfactory bc i wrote in order of my thoughts LOL

tags : fluff, AFAB reader, after step 3/wedding dlc, "options" for 1 or 2 babes (if you hc triplets im praying for u🙏), no gender mention of the babe/s, birth surrogacy n adoption are up for imagination but pregnancy/surrogacy is most implied altho i think you could imagine adopting a baby before they're born bc ik some ppl do that

synopsis : how cove acts when you have your first kid & a bit on how he is raising them with you <3

many many candid shots of cove holding the baby

PLEASE tell me someone recorded near the end of the birth/when they brought you the babe

he's crying. no matter what he's crying his fuckin eyes out

if you're giving birth please either have him wait outside n come in to cut the cord at the end bc he might faint

if you do have him in the room he'll be on his best behavior. will try his best not to worry too much bc he knows it could stress you out

(I'm thinking abt this video I saw where the wife said her husband fainted n fell back into this rolly office chair n just rolled to the back of the room into the dark side (it was apparently a long room lollll))

if you're in for a long labor or it's pretty short he's more calm bc either it's over before he can freak out or it's so fuckin long he's over it LOL

he's more of a solid, physical support than anything else because he's not too good with words but also he dosn't want you to feel pressured, annoyed, or smth with constant "you got this!" "its okay!" as you're pushing out a whole human, its not a simple task

[video 1]

COVE: so little... COVE: (looks at his mom/dad) are they supposed to be this small? (watery laugh)

is very scared to hold the babe, he's a big guy, with or without the muscles so he's always gentle with them even once they get bigger

definitely texts his dad during the pregnancy/surrogacy/adoption process "I hope i can be a good dad like you"

cliff getting a text from cove at 3am: "ty for raising me idk how you did it omg"

cliff is crying n flying over there immediately

!!!! if you need someone to help you adjust cliff is on the fuckin way!!! you can't even finish asking bc he's alrdy here, whatever you need guys!!!!

but if you want to be alone to bond w the babe or you hire a professional to help with the transition then he or your moms will come over and clean up, prepare food, and allows you to come home and not worry about getting things done.

dies if the kid has his hair color or eyes, like at first he just finds it crazy that he's a dad n that he has a lil spawn of his own

also lots of pictures of cliff playing w the babe/s

we all know cove can be lazy with his hair, but he doesn't want his kid going to school w crazy hair so he learns

at first it looks like a mess

n if you keep your hair short or can only do smth simple, its time to call your ma or lee for help LOL

imagine cove standing by your ma as she's showing him how to braid... so sweet

cove is tip-toeing through the house, trying to shake off his outside clothes quietly and when he walks back into the room after brushing his teeth he's greeted with the sweet sound of his baby's giggle

you are sound asleep.

you and the other babe are sound asleep.

he shushes the baby, easing himself into the bed. suddenly he thinks that spending all that money on this big bed was worth it, especially with the way his achy body sinks into it.

"cove?..."

he reaches over the babe/s. "sorry.. did I wake you?"

you hum, it's not a yes or a no, just a sleepy sound and he laughs at how out of it you are even though you're trying to fight it, stroking your face and carding his fingers through your hair.

"I love you.. thank you." he whispers. this moment is so delicate. he worries a bit that if he speaks too loud it'll be gone and he'll wake up in his teenage bedroom, staring at the bottom of his scratched up bunk bed.

"f'what?" you blink slowly.

"for everything..." he grins softly, thinking about that night

of your wedding, when you told him you wanted kids with him.

after the ORCA fundraiser dinner, when you asked him if he imagined having kids with you.

"we made it. that future we talked about..."

you smile softly, more awake now. "thanks for making it with me."

he laughs, muffins his face in the pillow and resting a hand on the baby, willing them not to wake. "how can you thank me for that?"

you grin, more sleepy than anything but still full of mischief.

"how can you thank me for getting me pregnant?" you giggle at your husband's flustered face.

"how can you thank me for being here like I promised years later?" you tease, bringing up night of the fundraiser.

cove flushes, burying his face in the babies hair instead of answering you.

he puts an arm around you, careful of the little one/s between you. "just go to bed..."

gb lady said cove is sahd material.....

omg he makes them lunch always, or he at least helps you make lunch because his cooking skills are a bit limited and they'd prbly have star shaped sandwiches and applesauce everyday

HE HAS A THING TO PUT THE BABE IN WHILE HE DOES HOUSE SHIT

your kids are definitely cuddles bc of him, he always picks em up, and if he doesn't have a carrier than he'll make a makeshift one out of a blanket.

omg imagine him and the kid/s at the dining table crying tryna figure out the homework

"its getting worse y/n!!!" "what the fuck is common core math?!" "babe call the teacher, something is missing here..."

if you're bad at math or smth too than you're all fucked n your kid/s AND COVE are facetiming his dad for a long distance tutoring lesson

he's reading them books every night

HE gets upset when it doesn't happen

"babe we gotta turn around, I only read them 5 books we're gonna be gone 6 nights."

FaceTime them every night you're away just the two of u

falls asleep w the kids in the weirdest positions

why is there a princess crown on his head and where did the face paint come from????

spoils the kid/kids. you're gonna go bankrupt please stop!!!

when your kid/s finally graduate n move out on their own, he thanks his dad for raising him and teaching him how to be the best dad.

also thanks you for just being amazing n reassuring him whenever he worried abt doing something wrong

if you have more than 1, he's a master by baby 2/3

COVE: (holding fresh baby, whispering) ....why is it so red

raising you kid/s w cove is tough at first, cove worries about doing some wrong or failing as a parent.

and he did eventually admit he was worried about raising his kid/s in a "broken" home. his parents did their best! and he loves them, but the split was hard for him and he doesn't want them to go through the same feelings.

every day is a new experience in your house to say the least

I imagine it's filled w lots of worry, love, and tears

COVE N HIS KID/S HAVE A CRY COUNT

(cove is losing somehow?! he's been out crybaby-ed)

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x mc #cove x reader #cove our life #our life cove #cove holden fluff #cove holden x mc

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victimsofyaoipoll · 1 year ago

Text

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Yona

She’s the fiancé of prince Sidon, (arranged marriage) and since Sidon is almost always shipped with link, people went feral the second they saw her. She’s genuinely very kind and cares about her people and wants Sidon to be happy! She is NOT jealous, she wants him to hang out with his Best Friend. I have seen firsthand in real-time, people being SO misogynistic and cruel, and saying she’s ugly. She’s good in a crisis, very friendly, has a great design, and she doesn’t deserve the hate in the slightest!

I'M DESPERATELY TRYING TO FIND CUTE ART OF HER AND SIDON AND QUITE LITERALLY EVERYTHING REGARDING HER IS JUST STRAIGHT UP BLATANT HATE AND DENOUNCING HER AS SOME LAST MINUTE ADDITION TO THE STORY AS ORCHESTRATED BY JOHN NINTENDO TO STOP SIDLINK FROM BEING CANON LIKE THIS IS THE THE JOHNLOCK CONSPIRACY OR SOME MESS... i just want to see cute art of a green shark woman with a lovely smile :((((

so the breath of the wild fandom is pretty well known for REALLY liking prince sidon aka that one really tall fish guy. and they're also really well known for shipping him with link because every fandom needs a gay ship right. so then the sequel (totk) comes around and it's revealed that sidon has a fiance now and it's not link it's some zora girl from another domain. the game hasn't even been out for a month but i've seen people act so vile towards her like yona get behind me!!!!

Zelda

She spent 100 years in a metaphysical wrestling match with an ancient and primal evil after seeing it destroy almost everyone and everything she held dear in the hopes of saving the few that remained and Link's main goal after HIYAHing his way out of a amnesia-inducing coma was to come in and tag team said evil in order to save her and like 90% of the memories he can regain focus on their relationship with each other and its gradual improvement up to the point where Link fucking dies protecting her and it's the push she needs to awaken the power to push back the blight and PEOPLE ARE STILL OUT THERE IN THEIR POST-CANON FANWORKS TRYING TO TELL ME THAT LINK FUCKS OFF AND LEAVES HER ALONE TO GO SMOOCH THE HOT FISH PRINCE BECAUSE ZELDA WAS BEING TOO OVERBEARING OR WHATEVER AND HE COULDN'T DEAL WITH THE EXPECTATION??? LIKE ZELDA'S WHOLE FUCKING ARC WASNT ALSO ABOUT HER STRUGGLING WITH EXPECTATION AND FAILING TO LIVE UP TO IT AND YOU WANT ME TO BELIEVE THIS WUALITY THEY BOTH OSTENSIBLY HAVE IN COMMON WOULD DRIVE A WEDGE BETWEEN THEM?? WHERE'S ZELDA YOU COWARDS?? I DON'T EVEN CARE IF YOU DON'T WANT HER AND LINK TO BE TOGETHER, JUST STOP DIMINISHING THE GRAVITY OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND MAKING ZELDA SUCK FOR NO REASON. SHE'S A BIG NERD! SHE GETS TOO IN HER OWN HEAD! SHE'D DO ANYTHING TO HELP THE PEOPLE SHE CARES ABOUT! SHE UNASHAMEDLY AND EXCITEDLY TRIED TO FEED HER PERSONAL KNIGHT A LIVE FROG IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE! HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE HER

Im specifically saying botw Zelda here because oh my gOSH this poor girl can get made out to be like a horrible bitch when people. want link to get that shark dick. on average she doesnt get thattttt badly treated compared to some others but goddamn.

title character but people hate her because they want link to get w sidon. so she gets fridged or entirely forgotten even though shes literally his canonical soulmate and they have been reincarnated together hundreds of times (w ganon but whether u make em poly or make him the long suffering third wheel is up to you). people will be like oh but zelda was mean to him that one time (??). be serious w me rn. she just got removed from fandom entirely and if that isnt the epitome of victim of yaoi idk what is.

#poll #round 1 #princess yona #totk yona #princess zelda #botw zelda #totk zelda #botw tears of the kingdom #botw #totk #legend of zelda

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viktor-leagueoflegends · 3 days ago

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Hi, recently found this page in these trying times and I'm so grateful for it. I love league Viktor, specifically 2016 but I'm finding 2011 Viktor just as enjoyable. With Arcane season 2 now fully out and the whole arcane is canon thing , I got so worried everything would just be gone for the league versions of Viktor that I physically summarized (it was still seven full pages) both 2011 and 2016 biographys for Viktor. So finding this has been really cool! And if you wouldn't mind, how do you think one should go about tagging say fics or fanart with 2011/2016 Viktor? I'm planning on using the year and then clarifying that its not arcane Viktor but I overthink and my brain has convinced me that's not going to cut it. BUT ANYWAY I LOVE JUST SCROLLING AND SEEING ALL THE VIKTORS HERE THANK YOU <3

Hey, thanks for stopping by! Like you, I threw myself into a project to ease my own worry of losing everything in the post-arcane depths lol. It’s really interesting how most game viktor fans I've seen do not care for arcane but the arcane merger is going through for the sake of …? appealing to tv show fans who are never gonna touch the game because they think we’re sweaty? idk. but i digress.

In terms of tagging I really don’t have a clear cut answer for you, unfortunately. I’m being 100% here when I say the worst part about arcane viktor in terms of his impact on the fan ecosystem is that he doesn’t have a last name — at least with Jayce, one could tag Jayce Talis vs Jayce “”Giopara”” in order to differentiate their arcane/2016 iterations, and the fandom more-or-less stuck to that etiquette. Viktor is a mess however because you can’t even try and tag “league of legends” because arcane fans will also use the league tag because arcane is a league show. and can’t use “the machine herald” because that’s his title, and they’re posting about viktor, aren’t they? not to mention…. whatever that was we just got. so viktor is especially difficult in terms of finding a tagging system that everyone will intuitively pick up and continue to use properly so that our spaces can be separate.

Sorry that ended up being more of a complaint tangent than an answer, but I think the year and the “not arcane viktor” addendum is good and clear to communicate your intentions. In terms of other lore fans being able to find it, i think the best thing we can do as a fancommunity is to build these strong mutual chains and amplify each others’ creations. you know, blaze it the old fashioned way. despite not having a strong tagging system, the viktorsphere on twitter was able to survive (pre-arcane at least) just by rt-ing each other’s stuff and replying to each other so I hope we can find a way to maintain something like that in the aftermath... and of course, you can always tag me and i'll bump the new stuff to the top of the queue 👍

and i'm glad you're enjoying the archive! ty for the ask :)

#mod post #anon #reply

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knuxtiger4 · 2 months ago

Text

Finally got the Zullux children's human form all drawn out! Now I just need to do their hybrid forms and true forms like I did with Renya and Tenno.

Below is some lore for everyone!

Queen Renya (68)- Gentle, motherly, curious. One of the last surviving children of Queen Basilia. She has a much different opinion on how the Zullux should be as she spent time in the Uma Research Facility. This helped shape that the Zullux are not as aggressive and trying to find a balance of lycans to Zullux. She seems to almost have a soft spot for the lycanthropes in the city. She is in an interesting relationship with King Tenno.

King Tenno (64)- Stoic, serious and straight to the point. Tenno was created by the Uma Research Facility in order to protect the future of the Zullux, Queen Renya. Tenno is not the type to joke around or mess with. She views the Zullux as the apex predator and needs to make sure to uphold the Queen’s orders and to keep the Zullux hidden. She is not against throwing hands or eating people.

Female Zullux Children

Sultana (45)- Aggressive, mean, loud. Believe Lycans are nothing more than cattle and has been experimenting keeping lycan as “cattle” because she believes its the right way versus her mother’s viewpoint. Works as the mayor’s assistant in Uma in order to keep an eye on her and make sure Elienor doesn’t do anything rash.

Lareina (45)- Gentle and soft-spoken. Polite and shows interest in the people. Oversees the Zullux, keeps tabs on everything going on within Versteck. Wants her mother dead as well secretly. Wants to kill the queen off because she wants to uplift the lycan to be just as strong as the Zullux and give both sides to be free to show themselves in the public eye. She works as a councilwomen in Victoria.

Mair (36)- Full of herself and has an ego the size of Versteck itself! She is a supermodel that can get whatever she wants and uses that to her advantage. She doesn’t really associate with her siblings and she doesn’t hunt when she can just feed off her fans. She definitely has a smoking hot body!

Xuxa (31)- Owns the Full Moon Diner in the Fenris district. She is a hard worker that puts on a front at the diner to hide herself. She has been eyeing up Freya and the Black Wolves as she gathered intel on them being Zullux hunters.

Sirikit (31)- Flirty and cunning. Loves to talk to people as a way to get to them and find out personal details. Goes by the name of “Kit” for short. Works as a bartender in the Fenris district at the Full Moon Saloon.

Zhenga (28)- Quiet and shy. She usually stays back at the nest to care for her younger siblings and zullux. When outside she works as a gardener in the Lionel district. She works with Wolfsbane which has plants in some areas in the nest to avoid lycans from entering the nest.

Averna (28)- Manipulative, studies people, does what people do to the point she can mimic people. Smart. Sleeps around with people. Singer of “Rage Against Humanity”, a rock band that plays in Victoria.

Elissa (22)- Straightlaced. Keeps her wits about her and knows when the fight might be too much. Keep her sister Averna in check constantly. Tactical. Guitarist of “Rage Against Humanity”.

Khari (22)- Curious about the world. Gentle, kind and polite. Has the goal of trying to find a way that the zullux and lycans can co-exist. Gained freedom from the zullux entirely, she doesn’t know why or how. She works at the White Wolf Diner in Uma by the university.

Ina (16)- Outgoing and curious of the world. She stays back at the nest with the queen as she feels she is not ready for the world just yet. She has snuck out quite a few times due to her curiosity. Her and Ada are never apart.

Ada (16)- Very reserved and keeps to herself. She stays back at the nest with the Queen due to her being too young. She’s a little more nervous on the outside but has tagged along with Ina when she has explored. Her and Ina are never apart.

Male Zullux Children

Moloch (42)-Aggressive and serious. Works as a police chief for the Versteck Police and uses pure intimidation to stop people. Actually a good cop though and understands fighting lycans is a handful. Very much supports Sultana’s endeavors with her plans and her goals.

Qaiser (42)- Book smart and clever. He is very interested in the cultures of the lycan and because of this sided with Lareina with her goals. Works as a doctor in Basilia, he actually helps a lot of people there have access to a doctor for low cost.

Kiros (36)- Arrogant and smooth talking. He runs a fight club hidden in the sewers called “The Queen’s Gauntlet” where lycan comes to fight below. The lycan there know what he is but follow the code of fight club to not speak about fight club.

Xerxes (36)-Full of himself and is best described as cocky. Has deep scars running on him due to fighting. He owns a strip club in the Basilia district by the name of Skin Deep.

Shoa (28)- Serious in nature and a skilled tracker. He does a lot of odd jobs around the city to help in keeping tabs of events in Versteck. Doesn’t currently have a job he’s settled in with.

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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I’m back baby, what’s cookin??

I don’t even know what to request as a follow up to the masterpiece you created. But I was just thinking Elrond x reader again (we love the man whose as kind as summer 😩) Anyways what about a fic-let inspired by “Francesca” by Hozier. Like there doesn’t have to be direct quotes or anything! Its just the angst but also the un-ending love that pours and pours like a summer thunderstorm.(we are back with the ripples but this time it’s tidal wave) please feel free to create what you think would be best with whatever the mess my brain conjured. I’m so thankful and incredibly excited to read!! Have an absolutely fab nights/days and I’m looking forward to reading it!!

So I didn't know this song, but looked up the lyrics, got a sorta vibe and this is what I've got for ya! I hope you enjoy!!!!

Purity in the Hurricane

You had tried so desperately to keep your secrets, to hide your past from him, what you had done in the name of order, and peace. Elrond was good, pure, kind, loving, a diplomat, and healer, but you… You were ruined, the blood of elves, orcs, and man alike staining your hands, your mind haunted by the memories of war. Had it been worth it? The bloodshed, the deceit? For so long you believed it had, believed the words of Sauron, but now?

You sat across from him, watching, waiting, fingers tapping against your knee as he scanned the detailed documents, the reports that listed in faded black ink all that you had done in your youth.

Elrond set them aside, his brow furrowed, the corners of his lips pulled down as he mulled over the information given to him.

“Elrond I…I am not asking for forgiveness, I merely wished for you to know my crimes, know me before entrusting me with your heart. It is a precious thing, and I would be callous—no cruel, to take such a gift with no regard for he whom it truly belongs to.” You whispered, one hand resting over your own heart.

That traitorous thing within your chest that you found bled only for Elrond, a bleeding you were unable to staunch, flowed over you, seeking his presence, his touch, his very being, even at the mere thought of him.

“Y/N, I…” His eyes met yours, his hands reaching for you. He was so gentle with his movements as if you were still the noblewoman he met, returning home from a long journey, and not a weapon forged on the wrong side of the war centuries ago.

There it was, the distance he put between you with the simple action of calling you only by your name. It was staggering, a blade in your already bleeding heart, twisting and turning, a hurricane within you, threatening to drown you in grief.

“You need not speak; I understand if this means the end of our courtship.” You kept your head high, blinking back the tears. You would not cause him to feel guilt, he was not the aggressor, he had committed no sins.

Elrond shook his head then surged forward, lips crashing to yours with a desperate need.

You returned it in fervor, allowing him to devour you, clinging to him, desperate to memorize this moment.

“You are my starlight, my love, did you truly think I would give up? That this could shake the love from me? No sweet starlight, given any life, any moment I would find a way to your side once more.” He said, his lips brushing yours with each word.

“But I have—”

“There is not one thing I would change, my heart, my mind, knows no peace, there is nothing you could do that would cause my love to cease. Sweet starlight, I am yours.” Elrond professed, his hands cupping your face, his tone warm and earnest, banishing the guilt and chill from your bones.

You rested your forehead against his, “and I am yours.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace

#meg's writing #elrond rop #rop elrond #young elrond #elrond x reader #elrond peredhel #elrond x y/n #elrond x you #request from blah

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grandmother-goblin · 11 months ago

Text

Field Study - Chapter 4

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In an attempt to fight off the feelings that stir within him whenever he was around Cas, Astarion wanders off into Ethel's swamp alone and nearly loses his newfound freedom.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Chapter Tags: Canon-typical violence, Astarion has something like a panic attack, hand holding, kissing.

Mercifully, mosquitoes seemed to have little interest in vampire blood. They were far more interested in Wyll than anyone one else, which eventually resulted in the warlock simply applying frost armor to himself and watching the bloodsuckers fly happily to their icy graves. Astarion wished he could do the same, given how the tiny pests kept buzzing around his ears like a jewelry merchant working on commission, their sales pitch to those with sensitive ears was almost as bad as their bite.

They weren’t even in Auntie Ethel’s magically beautified swamp anymore; the illusion wore off the second Shadowheart took one look at those bloody sheep. Perhaps if the illusion had stayed, the mosquitos would stop harassing them. Leave it to a hag to disguise a fetid bog as some idyllic wetland.

Oh. That was another fun revelation: Auntie Ethel was a hag.

Not in the withered-old-crone-who-fights-pigeons-over-breadcrumbs way (though that may have been true as well), but in the way she was a dangerous Fey creature that no one in their right mind should mess with. Especially not on the hag’s own turf.

Apparently, Cas did not get that memo.

Either that or she was quite out of her mind.

The discovery of Ethel’s true nature did not seem to bother Cas even the slightest. It was almost like she already knew. Just like she did when Astarion confirmed her suspicions about his condition those nights ago. Suspicions even the Blade of Frontiers did not voice aloud. Though no one said a word, Astarion knew Shadowheart and Wyll thinking the same thing he was: Cas was hiding something.

As for what that something was, he had no idea. Whatever it was, Astarion became more and more convinced that Cas was not just some ranger from Neverwinter like she had claimed. Even if the others thought she was lacking in general intelligence, there was an undeniable, quiet wisdom in which she carried herself. Calm and experienced. The kind of knowledge that couldn’t come from books or a classroom.

An hour had passed since Astarion and Cas took over night watch. In order to keep two people on guard in their temporary camp, Astarion and Cas took their meditation early so Shadowheart and Wyll could get at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was a long night shift, but it seemed like the best option. They all needed to be well rested in case their meeting with Auntie Ethel went sideways.

Plus, it meant Astarion got some alone time with Cas.

Moonlight seeped through the canopy of leaves above where they rested, providing their sole source of light. A campfire was too risky. Although they chose their temporary camping ground wisely, they simply did not know the area well enough to forgo any extra precautions. Hence the double guard duty.

Though it would have been far more effective for Cas and Astarion to stand watch on opposite ends of the camp, they found themselves drawn together before long. Long conversations under the moon and stars had started to become their thing. They did not have any wine with them, but he could think of more than a few ways to make up for that.

With his chin resting on her shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her and traced tantalizing circles around her hip with his thumb, watching with quiet fascination as she worked on her field journal. A pencil drawing of the tadpole, almost exactly as he remembered it, emerged from the page with all its horrifying glory. By all accounts, it was beautiful artwork despite the subject matter. The colors she chose were ones he wouldn’t have expected, but they worked in harmony to bring out a lifelike quality in the work. Each line was precise, purposeful, and Astarion found himself deeply enthralled in the process.

Astarion brought a finger to the corner of the page, far from the bulk of the artwork. “You draw stuff like this for a living, right?” he asked. “For your vampire friend’s research.”

Cas gave an affirmative hum. “Whenever Eroc or my brother need illustrations for their work.”

“And their work involves creatures like this?” He tapped the drawing of the tadpole in the center of its razorsharp maw.

A shiver went down his spine. That thing, and its teeth, still lurked in his skull. Waiting. If it could see the drawing, perhaps it would be flattered enough to let them live. Unlikely, but the idea of the tadpole having a thimble of vanity almost made him smile.

“This is the sort of stuff they’d be interested in.” Cas swiped her palm lightly over the page, dusting away any debris her pencils might have left behind. “But no. Not this specifically.”

Deciding he no longer wanted to dwell on the beast, Astarion averted his gaze to Cas’s neck where his twin puncture wounds were still proudly on display. All purple and red against her rich copper skin. The sight of it filled him with a surge of primitive pride. Marking his territory, as it were. Any man, woman, or vampire would think twice before encroaching on her.

His lips skated carefully over the bruise, earning a soft but surprised gasp and a trail of goosebumps in his wake. The hand on her hip slipped just beneath her tunic, where soft skin pressed into his touch. With a rakish grin he asked, “Do you ever draw nudes?”

A puff of laughter escaped her lips. A delightful sound that made his stomach flutter for reasons he did not want to think about. “Are you volunteering?” She set the journal aside and leaned further into his touch. Their bodies melded together from shoulder to thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Only if you’re naked too, my dear,” he teased, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Cas smiled as she let her head rest against his shoulder and he could smell the faintest hint of lavender in her hair. Quietly, she picked up his hand in hers, her thumb tickling the center of his palm as she studied it.

Astarion furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”

“You have nice hands,” she said and then she laughed. “Is it terribly dull of me that I would rather draw your hands than a nude?”

No. Not at all. He actually found himself rather curious about what those drawings would look like. Not that he would admit it. “You know, there are plenty of people who’d die for the opportunity to get me naked,” he said instead.

In fact, plenty of people had. Gods. He didn’t even want to think about it more than he had to.

She bumped him good-naturedly and said with a little laugh, “I’m not that desperate.”

Part of him thought to bring up how eager she had been the other night in his tent, but he didn’t want to risk embarrassing her. Not only that, but he had just realized something: he and Cas had been sitting together for almost an hour. Touching. Yet she didn’t make any move on him save for touching his hand.

In fact, when he listened for her heartbeat he found that it was calm. Cas was entirely relaxed sitting next to him. No flutters of anticipation, no changes to her breathing. Hells, she barely reacted when he had kissed her neck.

Most people he seduced would have taken that opportunity and run with it.

But Cas seemed perfectly happy just chatting with him.

He swallowed as a pang of something rattled in his chest. Something warm, pleasant, and safe that his body desperately tried to shut down with every bit of coldness it could muster. When the warmth dissipated, so did the icy fear, leaving behind that comfortable and familiar numbness.

Perhaps he needed a bit of space. Just a bit of time to himself so the feeling didn’t threaten to come back.

Astarion cleared his throat and sat Cas upright so he didn’t topple her over when he stood. “It’s been a while since we last did a patrol,” he said, just to give himself an excuse. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no,” he said before she could get to her feet. “You did the last one. It’s my turn.”

Cas frowned, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face. “Okay.” She drew out the word and averted her gaze, seeming almost embarrassed. “Just don’t stray too far. There might be worse than redcaps out there.”

He brushed off her concern and excused himself, leaving her looking a bit like a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it. He had to get a bit of air. Just a moment to himself to get his emotions under control.

What in the Hells was wrong with him? Cas was nothing more than a pretty face. He had spent time with hundreds of beautiful people over the centuries. Those people, however, did not cause damn butterflies in his stomach.

It almost felt like he had an actual friend in Cas. Like she didn’t see him as something to be used. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. Chances were that Cas was just like everyone else. She just hadn’t revealed her true colors yet.

He needed to get a grip and focus on the task at hand: patrolling the outskirts of their secluded campsite.

Before they went to sleep, Shadowheart and Wyll mentioned that the campground seemed quiet and secure. So far, nothing proved them wrong. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Active animals were always a good sign. It was when things got quiet that there was reason to worry. About a hundred meters away from the campsite he started again on the path he walked at the beginning of his shift, listening for any suspicious noises and watching for shadows. The night was blissfully calm and gave him some space to think.

Astarion ran his hands through his hair and laced them behind his neck, releasing a long breath between his lips. From the first time he laid eyes on Cas, he was physically attracted to her. That much was undeniable. He’d been with plenty of gorgeous people. Most of which he never had the luxury of getting to know. The chance of any of his relationships (if one could even call them that) turning into something more was always an impossibility.

Cazador would end it, one way or another.

With a grimace, Astarion recalled a sweet young man he had tried to spare and how Cazador punished him for it. Any sort of attachment always came at a cost higher than Astarion was willing to pay.

It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

But for the first time in centuries, Astarion had the chance at something real. An actual relationship that meant something more than a meal for his master. A relationship he could damage so easily if he wasn’t careful.

Astarion didn’t want to lose Cas’s trust or, dare he say, friendship. He didn’t want to hurt the first person in centuries who actually seemed to give a damn about him. Who asked about his day, who cared about his thoughts, wanted to know his feelings, and took extra steps to ensure he was okay. He liked having someone care about him. But it scared the shit out of him. It was only a matter of time before Cazador ripped it away just like he did everything else.

Dousing the fire that ignited in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw Cas was the smart thing to do. But as much as he tried, he didn’t think he could do that. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. After tasting her blood, tasting her lips and the salt of her skin, he was fairly certain that fire in him would implode before burning out.

Astarion stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to focus on his surroundings, but that focus quickly returned to the muddled mess in his mind. Cas was supposed to be just like any other target he had seduced. She just had to fall for him, and he had to somehow stop whatever feelings she stirred within him.

Had he not been so caught up in his own head, he might have heard it. The whisper of a spell, or the shuffling of dirt beneath the caster’s feet. A chilling sensation struck him in the middle of his chest, spreading through each and every vein from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes.

The ice in his stomach wasn’t just the result of magic. It was from the cold realization that he could not move.

Fear crept and coiled around him like a venomous snake. With every ounce of willpower he had, he begged his body to move, to do something, before it could strike. But it was as if his body had betrayed him, under the command of another. Panic seized his heart.

No.

No, it couldn’t be Cazador. Cazador would never trek so far from Baldur’s Gate. And his control felt nothing like the magic that enveloped him now.

Footsteps approached from his right and a stocky, disheveled, man appeared in his periphery.

A Gur.

Of course it was a fucking Gur.

“With how smoothly that went, you’d think I was the Huntsman of Neverwinter,” the Gur said, his voice deep and jovial. “Old man Gandrel could take a few pointers, eh?”

If Astarion could use his tongue, he’d make some comment about how adorable it was that the Gur thought he was even a speck of dirt compared to the greatest monster hunter in recent history. Still, he tucked the nugget of knowledge away. The Gur was overconfident, that much was clear, and overconfident people tended to make mistakes.

The Gur pulled out a length of rope and manipulated Astarion’s hands behind his back. “Holding spell always makes this part a bit easier,” he said conversationally as the rough rope bit into Astarion’s skin. “Unfortunately, it won’t hold long enough to get you back to Baldur’s Gate, but that’s what old fashioned rope is for.” With a grunt, the Gur tied off the rope and somehow made the binding impossibly tighter.

The feeling in Astarion’s fingers was already fading when the Gur came around to his front, finally looking his prey in the eyes. Astarion willed his body to do something, to spit in his face or throw a punch. The holding spell held firm. Heat built behind his eyes and white-hot rage dripped from his throat to his stomach.

Not like this.

Not again.

With a sympathetic tilt of his head, the Gur produced a wooden dowel with leather straps on either side. A bit. To keep him from screaming. “It’s nothing personal, Astarion. Almost feel bad taking you away from your friends because you won’t find such pleasant company where we—”

An arrow ripped away the rest of the sentence as it tore through the Gur’s cheeks clear to the other side. Then a second arrow pierced the man’s skull in silent fury.

The holding spell released so suddenly that Astarion fell to his knees like a child’s discarded rag doll. Mere feet away from him, the Gur collapsed, eyes open and unblinking as blood dripped from the metal arrowheads.

Cas called his name breathlessly. Her bow clacked against the arrows in her hands as she rushed to his side, practically skidding to a stop in front of him. She pulled the dagger from her hip and sliced through the rope like she had done it a dozen times before. When the ropes fell away, she checked him over with careful yet efficient hands, feeling for injuries in his vital areas. Then she knelt in front of him with her eyes wide and wet.

Words were tumbling out of her mouth, question after question, but Astarion could not bring himself to focus on them. Nor could he bring himself to answer.

Just like that, he was almost captured. No warning, no time to prepare. His freedom, gone in the blink of an eye. Not just a reminder but a remembrance of his past life, like his mortality stolen once more with false promises. Images of blood, the face of a wicked devil…

No, things were different from before.

Cas had come to his rescue. And she was the furthest thing from a devil.

There was a ringing somewhere in the depths of his ears so loud it was nauseating. The cruel smiles from his longtime sadistic master did not rule over him at this very moment, though the scars from years of abuse and neglect screamed as if ripped anew.

The worry in Cas’s deep brown eyes quieted his internal storm. He began to take calming breaths, trying to make sense of these swirling emotions that felt vaster than any damnable ocean. He couldn’t make sense of the movement of her mouth as he focused on the light freckles dusting her cheeks.

Like the blood spattered across the ground, small specks of himself were all that were left from his last encounter with a Gur. Nothing could truly compare to the night Cazador “rescued” him. Yet it was the only comparison he had to draw from. For better or worse, the only reason Astarion walked the mortal planes was due to Cazador.

Cazador was the only person who had ever tried to “save” him.

Until Cas.

He felt her trembling fingers, ghosting over his cheekbones, as the warmth from her palms settled into either side of his face. Gentle. Caring. Greater concern welled in the depths of her pupils as she brushed the pad of her thumb across his clammy skin.

“What can I do to help?” Cas asked, the stark calm in her voice reducing the deafening alarm in his ear to a niggling warble. She repeated the question but her words drowned in the torrent of emotions cascading through his mind.

If Cas hadn’t shown up when she had… Astarion pushed the bombardment of dark memories aside that had tormented him for decades, drowning them out with Cas’s light. Based on what the Gur had confided, bringing him back to Baldur’s Gate alive meant the only thing awaiting him was a fate worse than death. Numbly, Astarion wrapped his fingers around Cas’s wrist, feeling her steady pulse beneath his fingertips, willing his own heart to fall in beat with her metronome.

“Please say something?” Cas laced her fingers with his. “Just so I know that whatever spell he used is completely worn off.”

Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. “Thank you,” he said. And for the first time in centuries, he truly meant it. Words would never be enough for what she just did for him, but at the moment, they were the only thing he could give.

A small smile spread across her pretty lips and she threw her arms around him. The scent of her leathers couldn’t completely mask the metallic smell of blood, but it helped ground him. With Cas’s arms around him, he felt… almost safe. But feeling something and knowing something were different things entirely.

As long as Cazador was around, he would never be safe. And neither would she.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she said, her voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “If you had just disappeared like that I— I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Look for me, I hope.” He tried to make the words sound lighthearted, like the past ten minutes were nothing more than dust in the wind, but his voice betrayed him with a crack.

Damn it.

Without even thinking, Astarion wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. The warmth of her body and her even breaths provided comfort he never would admit to needing.

Astarion wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It could have been a few seconds or maybe even a minute before he forced himself to let go. Hugging wasn’t something he normally did. At least, not without a goal in mind. Certainly never for comfort.

A bloom of unfamiliar warmth grew in his chest. It felt… nice to be cared for. It wasn’t a feeling he could ever allow himself to get used to. It was temporary. Just like Cas.

He had to remember that.

Cas gave his shoulders a friendly squeeze before she let him go and said, “We should search the body and head back to camp.”

Instead of saying anything, he just nodded numbly.

They didn’t find much on the body besides hunting supplies. No note. Nothing to identify the man by and nothing to give them any clue who had sent him after Astarion. Though deep in his gut, Astarion suspected he knew exactly who would have sent a Gur after him. Cazador probably found the idea hilarious, given his history.

He and Cas patrolled the remainder of the perimeter together in silence. Astarion simply didn’t know what to say. What words could possibly suffice for what Cas did for him that night? Protecting him without a hint of hesitation, killing a man for him. It wasn’t something anyone had done for him before.

Even with a bit of time and distance from his encounter with the Gur, adrenaline pounded in his veins with nowhere to go. Fight or flight, he did not get either option. However, his body did not seem to get the memo. It was as if it was still waiting for something else to happen. Another monster hunter, a mind flayer, some threat bigger than an owl hooting away in a nearby tree. But the night was calm once again, even if Astarion wasn’t.

When Cas turned to go back to the campsite, he found himself reaching for her hand. For whatever reason, he wasn’t ready to go back. Wasn’t ready to sit at camp with nothing but his thoughts and quiet conversation. Not when everything in his head was still so loud. Not when his body still did not feel like his own. He didn’t want to be around people who were just waiting for a reason to turn on him just for what he was.

Cas raised a brow at him, but did not retreat from his touch. “Is everything okay?”

He owed her. He owed her more than she could ever possibly comprehend. And he didn’t like to be indebted to people. Especially when he didn’t know what the payment would be when it came due.

Yet the last time he had offered to repay her, she told him that he didn’t owe her anything. Past experiences told him not to believe her, but he certainly couldn’t let her know that. He also knew better than to put the offer out there again. It would not do him any good considering how she had rebuffed the suggestion of a quid pro quo before. In fact, she might even find the idea insulting.

Most polite people didn’t like the idea of exchanging favors for sex. Or at the very least, they didn’t like it when it was stated so plainly.

Astarion placed his hands on her hips and turned her towards him. “I don’t want to go back to camp just yet, darling,” he said and stepped in close to her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I just want to be alone with you for a little while longer.”

Cas rolled her lips and glanced towards the tents in the distance. “We’d be alone at camp,” she said. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

The response was so innocent, it almost made him laugh. “No, my sweet.” His hand drifted from her hip down to the swell of her backside and his lips brushed over hers when he spoke. “I just want a moment with you.”

Just with Cas. Cas had somehow become a calming presence in his life. Someone who accepted him completely for what he was. Maybe even for who he was.

Whatever he had with Cas wasn’t something he wanted to just let slip away. He wanted her reasons that went beyond wanting to pay a debt, perhaps even beyond the protection she could provide him.

He was actually kind of fond of her.

And he was beginning to believe that she might be fond of him as well.

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face close to his, her breath was warm against his lips and the inches between their mouths was reduced to a paper-thin sliver. “Stay with me.”

Just a moment for the two of them. With the woman who stirred some long dormant feelings back to life. With the woman who saved him. The woman he couldn’t dare let himself fall for; no matter how she made his heart pound against its cage.

Slowly, he closed the distance between them as he covered her lips with his own. A soft groan filled the air as her hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, her smaller frame pressed tightly along his front. Each breath they shared quieted the mess within his mind, and he found himself lost in the sweetness of her mouth.

Overcome with the need to get closer, to feel more of her, he lifted her against him just long enough to walk her backwards to a nearby tree. The sounds of night that enveloped them, crickets chirping and the cool breeze rustling leaves, faded as he claimed her mouth with his.

Kissing her was as sinful as it was saccharine. Her lips were lush, indulgent, and demanding all at once. His fingers tightened in her hair as her tongue licked into his mouth, igniting a fire low in his belly. A fire that had been present ever since their first kiss but laid waiting to be coaxed to a blaze.

More than anything, the kiss was pure. Honest. Like nothing he had experienced before, yet the solace brought by her lips overpowered the fear that accompanied every good feeling he had. Her arms wrapped around him, pressing their bodies so close he could feel her pulse, her every breath, the swell of her breasts and the sensual heat gathering between their bodies.

The need to get closer turned desperate, but the comfort she provided never abated. His teeth, his fangs, grazed her lower lip, careful enough not to break the skin but by no means gentle. The soft moan in her throat told him all he needed to know. She trusted him. Even with his fangs against her skin, playing on the edge of biting her, she trusted him.

It was too much.

Cas rolled her hips, the delicious friction against his hardened length teasing him. Just a few layers of clothing were all that stood between him pressing inside her, and she knew it. Her slender, demanding, fingers slipped into the waistband of his trousers and tried to pull him impossibly closer. Like being pressed up against a tree beneath him didn’t quite satisfy her.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and it was too much all at once. The pounding of that pesky organ in his chest, the hot flush on his cheeks, the fire in his belly… he actually wanted this.

When was the last time he had wanted to take someone to bed? He had been on his back thousands of times, faces and names a blur, just forcing himself to get the job done. To do Cazador’s bidding in whatever way the bastard wanted.

His own wants, his enjoyment, never even factored into it. Sex was just one of the few weapons he had at his disposal. It was about doing what he had to to survive.

But with Cas, it wasn’t about survival. It was something else entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Cas’s voice broke through his thoughts and her hand cupped his face. “Do you want to stop?”

It was only then he realized that his hands had frozen where they had gripped her thighs. In fact, he didn’t even remember wrapping her legs around his hips. Or did she do that?

Normally when his mind drifted off someplace else similar situations, he body went on autopilot. It was all muscle memory. But he never froze.

What in the Hells was wrong with him?

Astarion shook his head. Under most circumstances, he would have been relieved to stop. But at that moment, stopping was the very last thing he wanted to do. Instead, his traitorous mouth said, “We probably should.”

Not because of her, yet it was completely because of her. Out of all the people he had been with over the centuries, none brought anything other than a sense of self-loathing and disgust. But it was different with Cas and it scared the shit out of him.

Of course, he would never tell her that.

“If we continue, I’ll have a hard time stopping myself from getting another taste,” he mumbled the lie into the crook of her neck, inhaling that scent that was uniquely Cas. Like leather and lavender, feral and feminine. He covered a pulse point on her neck with his lips and nipped the skin. Just hard enough that it would leave a little bruise and he couldn’t help but laugh when she returned the favor.

With one more kiss, she detached herself from him. No insistence to continue. No shame. No insults to his masculinity. “I understand,” she said with a sweet and sincere smile. “You do what you need to do.”

Astarion took a step back lest he act on his sudden impulse to kiss her again. It wasn’t the right time. As much as his body craved to feel every last inch of her, he couldn’t with his current state of mind.

Stopping was the right thing to do.

“I should probably find something to sink my fangs into,” he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out to her again. “Will you be alright watching the camp while I hunt? It shouldn’t take long.”

The idea of going off by himself after everything that happened that night didn’t appeal to him, but being alone was far less frightening than confronting whatever feelings being around Cas stirred up.

Cas didn’t seem to like the idea either judging by the crease that appeared between her brows. But she nodded. “Be careful,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you back at camp.”

Resisting the urge to pull her into another kiss, Astarion stalked off into the woods, halfway convinced the only way he could get Cas off his mind was to do something reckless.

Fighting a bear would likely do the trick.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gale 3

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letitrainathousandflames · 8 months ago

Text

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.9 K

Character: CC-2224 | Cody, CC-5052 | Bly, Aayla Secura (mentioned)

Warnings: Major Character Death

Additional Tags: angst, drinking, suicide, grief, order 66 aftermath, major character death, post traumatic stress disorder - ptsd, canon divergence

Section Nine, Paragraph Twelve of the Clone Army’s Code of Conduct:

Should a unit, hereby referred to as “Clone”, suffer malfunction and self-destruct, their superior officer, preferably their Commander, must carry out cleanup of the remains and have your medic issue the following report:

“Clone trooper [insert number identification] has suffered a sudden illness and the medical team onsite was unable to resurrect him. The Clone Trooper’s time of death was [appropriate designation of time and date of the occurrence]”

Mental malfunctions are a non-standard deviancy from the norm, as all clones are design to withstand any amount of stress. Therefore, the body of a clone deceased in such manner must be immediately removed from the scene and shipped back to Kamino for further analysis of its anomalies.

Cody wakes up at what he is certain to be three, maybe four in the morning, which means he has only two or one more hour to sleep before he has to wake up, cranky and exhausted, only to then force his equally cranky and exhausted men to get up themselves as well.

Something feels weird. A buzz in the back of his brain. General Kenobi had once mentioned that, while not all beings could wield the Force like Jedi and Sith did, it did surround every living creature, even those as unusual as clones.

He would often say, too, that the creeping shiver Cody would feel up his spine whenever they set foot in a dangerous place could very well be a manifestation of the Force itself. A warning that reached the very core of his being.

Cody finds himself in the mess hall minutes later, dressed only in his blacks and boots, too tired to care for the proper use of uniform attire even though he was the Marshall commander and should lead by example. His commlink is still in his pocket, just in case any kind of emergency pops up. It’s not like anyone would be awake at this time anyway, not after that endless campaign in Cato Nemodia from which the 2224 had finally returned.

He realizes he’s wrong when he sets foot in the mess, only to see captain Rex sitting at one of the tables with a steaming cup between his hands. Rex is as careless as Cody himself, dressed in his Blacks and boots, his cropped blond hair a couple of inches longer than the Captain would usually keep it.

“Codes.” It’s murmured at him with a nod, and Cody takes a moment to fill his own cup before sitting in front of Rex “Sleepless?”

Cody nods, taking in Rex’s features. He looks positively shitty, bags under his eyes, five ‘o’clock shadow darkening his features and a gaze that said Rex was more sleep than awake at the moment.

Cody is pleased that he hadn’t seen a mirror in a long while, because he can’t be really sure he’s looking any better than that. Odds are that he’s looking even worse. He nods instead of answering, and Rex sighs.

“Heard you got captured. Are you alright, brother?”

A quick memory flashes through Cody’s head. The crack of a whip, screamed threats. Two of his fingers being pulled too far back until a nauseating crack came, followed by Cody’s own ragged yelling.

“Had worse.” He shrugs, downing a big gulp of too-bitter caf “General Kenobi got to me before they could quite get started.”

A troubled look passes through Rex’s expression, a slight tremor of his right cheek. Cody had seen the scars on Rex’s back in the showers, and he was honestly relieved that the men who captured him had only a bantha leather whip. Whatever those Zyguerrians had used on Rex had cut him almost all the way down to muscle tissue.

“Want me to fill in on anything for you tomorrow?” Rex offers, looking down to his cup “My general will be busy with, uh... some security detail duty for a senator so I’m mostly free.”

Cody shakes his head, drinking another sip with a grimace.

“Nah, I’m good. Life goes on, vod’ika.”

That was the last conversation he had with Rex before he got shipped away along with Commander Tano.

Before Order Sixty-Six happened.

Cody sits on that very same chair, looking at the empty space where Rex had been sitting on that very night one year ago. So much had changed since then. The Republic, now the Empire. The Chancellor, now his Emperor. His targets, now the men that had once been the generals leading his army.

It’s a sleepless night once more, this time due to the recurring dreams of his first – presumably dead – Jedi target. Obi-Wan Kenobi, falling from an incredible height, crashing into the waters below, disappearing in its depths…

Why does he keep thinking about it? He’s starting to look like-

Cody’s commlink rings, and he picks up the call.

“CC-2224…” he starts, trailing off once he recognizes one of his brothers’ voice; one that would often call him with questions they were never meant to ask themselves, or anyone else “Ah, it’s you.”

“Hey Cod- CC-2224.” Says CC-5052, sounding just as tired as the time demands one to be “Can you do me a favor? I won’t be able to take the men to that incursion on Dantooine.”

“I can’t keep covering for you, CC-5052. Get your act together for once. I don’t need more slacking clones now, with all this talking of phasing us out of active duty. Nothing’s stopping the brass from just kicking us all out in the street and replace us with those volunteers, and we need to show that we are still as useful as we were back in the clone wars.”

There is a pause, so long that Cody wonders if 5052 is still on the line. Then…

“Cody…” another drawn out pause “Don’t you ever think that what we did was…?“

“Silence!” Cody hisses, face tightening in anger “Kriff, 5052, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk about your- your deviant thoughts over the comms?! Just- Just hang up, get to your bunk, go to sleep…”

“I’m not at the base.” The drawl on the clone’s voice is much clearer to Cody now. he isn’t sleepy, he is drunk “I’m not coming back.”

Cody is aboard a transport headed to the location pinged from the other clone’s commlink within minutes, knowing that the missed sleeping hours are gonna be sorely missed at the meeting later that day.

He walks into the cheap hotel, places a hand on the grip of the blaster on his holster to get the flustered desk worker to let him in without a warning, climbs the creaky stairs and tests the old mechanical lock on the door, noticing it is unlocked.

He can hear the voice of a woman inside the room. His hand goes to his blaster, unfastening his holster. He slowly pushes the door open as its hinges whine in protest, and then he realizes that the voice isn’t clear enough to be a person’s. It is a recording.

“fifty-two?” he calls out, stepping in the room “Don’t waste my time, I have a meeting in three hours and I should be asleep.”

His eyes quickly assess the small room, his gaze being drawn to the small holoprojector placed on top of the desk in front of the opposite wall where an armored clone sits. The desk is pretty much covered in over a dozen bottles of different cheap alcoholic drinks, some of them tipped on their side, almost all of them either empty or half-empty. The shards of a bottle that must have rolled over are littered by the left side of the desk.

The old blinds are drawn on the window at the end of the room, shrouding the place in darkness. The only sources of light are the semitransparent blue hue of the holoprojection, and the rectangles of light cutting into the room through the broken horizontal blinds.

Cody walks further in, now recognizing the woman in the recording, a tall, blue-skinned twi’lek dressed in a brown headpiece, pants, a short top, and an open cloak. The recording seems to have been made with the camera of a trooper’s helmet, judging for the medium quality of the projection.

Cody knows the woman. She had been a Jedi General during the Clone Wars, and became a traitor to the empire near its very end. Her assigned clone battalion as successfully carried out her elimination in Felucia exactly one year ago.

“Alright, so we have Korin, Mar’eti or T’aleh. Which one do you like best?”

The twi’lek is grinning at the person filming her, and a clone’s laugh comes in response.

“Any name you pick will be good.”

The Twi’lek laughs at that, shaking her head and reaching her hands towards the camera. The image shakes, and the camera is moved until it is placed at their bodies’ height, most likely a crate, given the background that seems to be the weapons’ depot of a Venator-class Star Destroyer.

“Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

The clone, now helmetless and in view of the camera smiles brightly. His cheeks have yellow-colored tattoos and his hair is shaven close to his scalp.

“I’m still getting used to the thought that I’m going to be a father. It’s… it’s incredible.”

The twi’lek laughs again, this time nervously, her hands dropping to her stomach.

“I don’t know what we are going to do.” Her smile falters, vanishes “How are we going to raise a child in this war?”

The trooper gently cups her face in his hands, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips.

“Don’t worry about that. The war will be over before our kid arrives. We’re closing in on the Seppies, this whole mess is almost over, and our baby will grow up in a peaceful galaxy.”

There is a small beat of silence, and the twi’lek raises her arms to hug the clone, huffing out a long sigh.

“I won’t abandon my duty as a Jedi. I can’t. Even after the war is over, I will still be a Jedi. You understand that, don’t you, Bly?”

The clone pulls back just about enough to look down at the Twi’lek’s face and nod.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I might be called to aid others all the way across the galaxy, and I can’t refuse.”

“We will follow you wherever you go. Me and our ad’ika. We’ll make this work. Haven’t we made this work so far?”

“Commander?” another clone’s voice pipes up from afar, and the clone hastily grabs his helmet, placing it back on his head and cutting off the recording

“Just a moment, trooper!”

The recording stops there, and a different one starts. The background is different this time – colorful trees and leaves all around the Commander’s vision of the same commander.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” The Twi’lek says, looking around warily

Hundreds of clones seem to be lining in formations, preparing to an attack. AT-STs are being prepped and yelled orders fly through the air.

“We’ll be fine.” The Commander says, placing a gloved hand on the Jedi’s shoulder, his voice then dropping to a whisper that crackles on its way out of his vocoder “Aayla. Cyare. Please let me lead this time—”

“No.” the answer is firm, the Jedi’s eyes sharp and her posture commanding “I will lead.” Her voice then drops to the same whisper, barely audible among all the noise muddling the recording “There is no one else I’d trust to have my back, Bly. I know you’ll always keep me safe.”

“All set here, General!” An ARC Trooper yells somewhere from behind them

The Jedi places a hand on the Commander’s chest, smiling softly.

“May the force be with you.” before he can reply, she is turning around to march ahead “Alright, troopers, follow my lead!”

The commander sighs heavily.

The recording stops once more. A new recording starts, at a clearing of the same colorful woods, the commander and his men slowly trailing behind their general.

“It’s so quiet.” Bly mutters “Where have they run off to?”

Their general stops, gesturing at her men to do the same.

“Be careful. There’s something wrong here. I can feel it.”

A commlink rings, and the commander presses the blinking button on his gauntlet. A voice, raspy and all too familiar to Cody pours from the speakers over the ears of the Commander in his helmet.

“Execute Order Sixty-six.”

With trained muscle memory, the Commander raised his DC-15 rifle, the gesture echoed by the other six troopers of their assault squad as they moved in sync to form a semicircle behind the Jedi General.

“Good soldiers follow orders” he whispers almost too quietly for the recording to pick up

A large flying alien creature cawed from somewhere behind them as it crossed the gold-tinted skies, and the Jedi turned around with a startle, he eyes going wide at the sight of her men and the aim of their weapons on her.

The general attempts to raise her lightsaber despite the horrified shock taking over her features.

She doesn’t have enough time to power on the weapon on before something bright and blue flashes out of her own clone commander’s rifle, whistling through the air to strike her right between her shoulder blades at her heart’s height.

Her body is jerked forwards, her arms flying up as the second bolt hits her on the ribcage, the lightsaber slipping off her grip as a pained scream is punched out of her.

Two more bolts strike her on the back and shoulder, and Bly fires another just as she stumbles forward, her protective shirt smoldering brightly over her back as the fourth bolt hits her there.

She falls down on her chest, one hand shakily and uselessly trying to reach for her lightsaber, and the men keep firing over and over, blaster shots hitting her middle. Her arms. Her legs. Her lekku, which slowly cease all movement. They keep firing until the only movement from the fallen Jedi are the occasional twitches caused by the electricity charges from the blaster bolts.

“T-Target eliminated” the Commander says with an almost unnoticeable stutter “All of you, let’s rendezvous at the alpha location, we must assist the other troops. We can’t stop until every jedi is dead and accounted for.”

Nodding, the men turn away, leaving the ground of their massacre behind. The commander lingers for a moment, his breath catching and coming out in a stuttered, heavy exhale.

Then he leaves.

The recording loops back to the first video, where Aayla Secura is trying to get Commander Bly to choose a name for their unborn child. Cody walks closer to the desk, his gaze now looking past the blue light of the projecting and further to the man sitting at the desk.

CC-5052, known as “Bly” during the Clone Wars, watches Cody with weary eyes, the semitransparent projection floating between them from the small device placed on the table between several empty bottles of various alcoholic drinks. Cody stops in front of it, removing his helmet and placing it by a cluster of purple-tinted bottles. He, too, is fully dressed in his kit except for his gloves and helmet.

Bly’s elbow is resting on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his chin, while his other hand rests on his lap somewhere out of Cody’s view. He gives him a drunken smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are reddened and swollen.

His eyelashes are wet and there are dried trails of tears down his tattooed cheeks.

“Hey there, Codes.”

“You need to come back to base.” Cody oders dryly.

“Told you I’m not coming back. I can’t.”

The recording has reached the moment where the troops are about to move out, and Cody ignores the audio overlapping over CC-5052’s words, pretending he cannot hear the trembling that underlines his own voice.

“You are a Commando clone, CC-5052, same as myself.” Cody says the words he had been told since his infancy back at the sterile white walls of the Kaminoan laboratories in Tipoca City “We can endure anything, and we do not deviate from our duty.”

He swallows down thickly, the sound of the blaster that had killed Aayla Secura along with the life growing inside of her echoing through the speakers of the projector on top of the table.

He had heard Bly’s confession of his anguish over having killed her during the issuing of order sixty-six multiple times. He had always told Bly to keep those thoughts to himself, and to never let their superiors hear these treacherous words.

But only today he truly understands the whole picture. There was more to his relationship with the deceased Jedi than that of a duty-bound trooper and their general.

Still…

“We will not have this conversation again – the Jedi were traitors” Cody presses on “and a threat to everything we fought for. They had to die.”

Good soldiers follow orders, whispers the Bly in the recording.

“I loved her.” Says the CC-5052 in front of him, and under the faint blue glow of the projection, Cody sees the glistening of the tears brimming in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks “I- I loved her, and we were gonna-- She was—”

An ugly, anguished sound comes through CC-5052’s - Bly's - gritted teeth, and suddenly the stoic mask of numb exhaustion drops, being replaced by an expression that is so twisted in agony, it reminds Cody of those he had seen in the battlefield on the faces of men whose limbs had been torn off by landmines and no amount of anesthesia could put an end to their pain.

Bly sobs, bringing to his eyes a hand that rattles against his brow with how hard it shakes. The pained noises being punched out of the clone between every sharp intake of air begin to die out as his breathing becomes more and more ragged.

A stuttered breath hisses out of him as he drops his hand, and he raises his swollen eyes to Cody again.

“I c-can’t do this anymore.”

Cody stares at him, at the hollow eyes and broken expression in that face that is a mirror of his own, and the two sentences that keep haunting his dreams.

Thank you Cody.

Blast him!

“You have to.” Cody says, the commanding tone slipping from his voice and giving place to a plea instead “You need to.”

Because a clone commander can withstand any kind of stress.

Even the horror of carrying out orders that changed the entire galaxy and the structure of their army and robbed them of the generals that would actually put themselves in the line of fire to protect them, even though they were nothing but expendable clones.

“I have nothing left, Cody. Nothing.” it’s like the words are being pulled out of Bly like shrapnel, fresh wounds being opened with every tug “I’ve served my purpose…”

The hand he’d kept resting over his lap, out of view from Cody’s gaze because of the desk between them is raised into view, along with a blaster in its grip.

“…and I hope you can find yours, brother.”

Slowly and without a hint of hesitation, Bly brings the muzzle of the weapon to the underside of his chin. Cody’s eyes widen, icy dread pooling in his core and sending a shiver up his spine, his entire body stiffening in tension as he understands what is about to happen.

“Bly— Hey, listen to me!” he tries to think through the distinct click of the blaster being cocked; he has to stop this, has to do something, anything “Bly, put the blaster down, now--”

“Never gone, only marching away…” Bly whispers with the faintest hint of a smile

“DON’T--”

The sharp whistle of blaster fire echoes in the room as a flash of bright blue illuminates the scene for an instant, Cody’s unprotected ears ringing loudly over the thudding of his own spiking pulse.

Bly’s head whips back with the blaster’s shock, a smoldering, perfect circle letting out smoke on the wound under his chin. His hand drops, the weapon slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor with a dull thud.

Cody stands there, breath shallow and cut off by small gasps as he tries to fight the instinct to just turn around and run away from this nightmare. His stomach clenches in nausea, and he covers his mouth with his hand.

He stares at the lifeless body of a brother with whom he had shared many battles and down times with, a man he had trusted with his life and who trusted Cody with his. A man who had been birthed from a tube like him, had blasters instead of toys since he was five like him, scientists instead of a family like him.

A good soldier who had followed every order. And that had killed him.

Cody doesn’t know how long he stands there, petrified, the recording of General Aayla Secura’s short-lived dream of having a child with the man she loved looping so many times that Cody could recite it from memory, and then looping enough for Bly’s words to dissolve into a cadence of joy, tension, and resignation, joy, tension and resignation, joy, tension and—

Cody walks carefully around the desk, standing close by Bly’s side. He is supposed to report the self-termination immediately and wait for the Kaminoan staff in Coruscant to retrieve the body. He is not supposed to interfere in any way.

Bly’s eyes stare vacantly into nothing, brown and formerly full of life, shaped exactly like Cody’s. After a small moment of hesitation Cody reaches up to close them, his gloved hand lingering for an instant on Bly’s face.

He had failed him. He had failed his brother.

He thinks of Rex, whose helmet was the only one not found in the mass grave of former 501st clones in a distant moon. Could he be out there, still alive? His own words to Crosshair in front of the memorial of the clone troopers who had died in service of the Republic - and later the Empire - come back to him.

Do you know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions. Our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

Cody moves his hand to rest over Bly’s chest, on the stillness of his heart.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Bly, ner’vod.”

He straightens himself up, finally stopping the recording and removing the memory chip from the device, placing it in one of his belt pouches. Someone should keep Bly’s story and keep it from being forgotten.

Swallowing thickly around the lump forming in his throat, Cody picks his helmet up from the desk, placing it over his face with its expressionless mask of carved white and turning his back on the scene.

The armor would help him up until some point, and then he would do well to change out of it. The outline of a plan begins to take form in his mind. Safe locations, away from the Empire’s ever-watchful gaze. Old friends that might show mercy on him in spite of what he had become.

A hope, faint and delirious, that his former general might still be alive and willing to forgive him for what he had done.

Bly was right. Cody had to find his purpose. And he had to start now.

#all the goblins in my brain ceased all activity until I bled out this fic #pls comment uwu??#goodnight its three am #fuck #my fics #tcw

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stardustandash · 9 months ago

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Last of the Febuwhump fics is here! Prompt is Killing in Self-Defense. Pre-Jedi Fallen Order & kinda dark, I hope u like it!!

Words: 2000

Tags: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Emetophobia, Child Death

ao3 Link

Is It Justified?

The village is dusty, dirty, and silent. It feels lonely through the Force. Cal doesn’t like it. Every whisper of the wind, every creak of a door in its frame, puts Cal on edge. He drifts father and father behind his men. Twitch and Sunny are bickering back and forth in front, and Arson, Nix and Patch flanking them on parallel streets. They were droid hunting after the big battle, or they were supposed to be. Cal suspected Master Tapal had assigned Cal and his squad this task since it was so far from the battlefield and gave them little opportunity to get into trouble. The village, though on a Separatist planet, had been abandoned before the battle started, and Cal didn’t know what use droids would have for it, aside from some cover. But it wasn’t as if they needed to stop for healing or rest. Any droids would be long gone back to the Separatist stronghold Master Tapal had gone to investigate.

Still, Cal can’t help but be on edge. There’s something he’s missing. His hand drifts towards the hilt of his lightsaber, the cool metal of the grip a comfort. At least he isn’t hanging off of Sunny’s arm on missions anymore. He’s twelve, almost thirteen. Too old to be scared by empty villages and the wind. Master Tapal had even said that he was thinking of letting him lead his squad on his own mission on the next campaign. If he got scared now, then he’d never get to prove himself.

The Force pulls at Cal. A stinging wrongness that adds to the unease. Neither Twitch or Sunny seem to feel the same as their blasters hang loose in their grips to the point that Cal should say something about attention or duty, but finds the words stuck in his throat and taken by the wind.

Cal feels the Force nudging him towards a narrow path between the houses. There’s something there. He glances ahead to Twitch and Sunny and debates whether he should say something. Even before the thought finishes forming his ears turn red with embarrassment. He can handle whatever it is. He has to. It’s probably just some kind of rodent or a pet left behind. He creeps towards the space, one hand on his lightsaber and halfway to unhooking it. There’s a small sound of something rustling or shifting and Cal swallows down his fear and jumps out of the space into the street beyond.

A girl stares back at him. She only comes up to his shoulder and her head is a mess of dirty blonde hair. A battered brown stuffed toy dangles from her hand, so ragged at this point Cal can’t tell what it is supposed to be. She looks up at him with fear in her eyes and Cal is so taken aback he almost ignores the warning in the Force.

The Force screams, and Cal turns with his lightsaber in hand to meet the threat. A man stands towering over him with a knife in hand. Cal doesn’t think, he just reacts. The green blade of his lightsaber appears on the other side of the man before Cal even realizes he’s run him through.

The girl screams. It’s wordless at first but it eventually forms into anword Cal can recognize: “Papa!”

Cal’s stomach drops. His lightsaber falls from his grasp. The man lets out one last, groaning breath as he collapses, still and unmoving.

The girl rushes to her father’s side with tears running down her face. Cal’s mind is both blank and chaotic. He steps forward, wanting to offer apologies or comfort or something to the girl. He’s so off guard he doesn’t see the glint of metal nor feel the warning through the Force. He only sees the girl’s face harden as she throws herself at him. She tackles him around the middle, and Cal is taken aback at the movement. She’s wrapped him in an odd sort of hug, except her fist is uncomfortably trapped between them. When she staggers back Cal can see the blood on her hands. Her father’s blood. Guilt settles uncomfortably in his stomach. He killed someone. He killed a girl’s father right in front of her. The guilt burns in his stomach. Cal presses a hand against it and tries to take a shaky step forward.

“I’m sorry,” says Cal, voice weak and wet. “I’m sorry.”

The girl raises her bloody fist and Cal sees the glint of metal. At the same time he becomes aware of the wetness on his fingers where they are pressed against his stomach. It takes his mind a minute to connect those two things. Cal’s knees go weak and he stumbles, not quite sure where he’s trying to go. It doesn’t matter, as he doesn’t get more than one shaky step before he’s falling to his hands and knees. Distantly he registers the sound of blaster fire and a soft thump just as his arms give out and he faceplants onto the dirt.

There’s the sound of duraplast boots running towards him and then there are hands flipping him over and Cal’s looking up at Sunny. His helmet is off, Commander Gamut would yell at him, but Cal is glad that can see Sunny’s face, even if it’s twisted in worry. The others stand around them with blasters ready. Arson has one hand on the side of his helmet and Cal can hear him faintly as he comms out.

“General, Commander Gamut. We have a situation in sector two-three-five. Commander Kestis is down, we need a medic immediately.”

Cal can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he feels the clones around him tense.

“I don’t know if we have that kind of time, Sir,” says Arson in a tight voice.

“Don’t pay attention to them Cal, you’ll be fine,” says Sunny as he pats Cal’s face. “You didn’t get stabbed anywhere important, so you’ll last long enough to get medical attention.”

“Sunny, not helpful,” growls Twitch.

“What?”

Cal blinks. Sunny is getting a little blurry and his eyes slide past him as his neck goes limp. There are two unmoving lumps in his vision. One is small, with a smudge of blonde hair. The girl. Cal remembers the sound of blaster fire and a sick feeling rises in the back of his throat.

“Hey, hey, eyes on me, kid,” says Sunny. His hand cups Cal’s face and turns him away from the unmoving bodies.

“I got a stim,” offers Patch. “Won’t do much but it’ll keep him going until a medic can make it to us.”

“It won’t hurt,” says Nix.

There’s a pinch, then a cool sensation slides over Cal. Everything snaps into clarity and Cal’s thoughts start screaming as his stomach starts burning worse than anything he’s ever felt. He groans and tries to roll, but hands stop him. Twitch and Sunny are holding him, their hands burn against his cheeks and his stomach.

“Let me up,” Cal begs. “Let me up.”

“Not a chance, Commander,” says Twitch.

“The General and Gamut are on their way to our position,” adds Arson. “You just focus on staying alive for now.”

Cal feels the dampness in the corner of his eyes and tries to blink it away. His stomach is burning and all he wants is his room on the Brave, with his soft, non-regulation blanket and his stuffed tooka and the feeling of a thousand lives around him in the Force.

“Oh, you’re alright kid. Don’t worry. We’ll get you patched up in no time. And if not, well, it’s not like you’ll have to worry about it,” says Sunny as he thumbs a tear from Cal’s cheek.

“Not helping!” says a chorus of similar voices.

Cal almost smiles through the pain, but his eyes once again fall on the still bodies next to them. With the stim in his system Cal can see the blackened holes in the girl. Blaster bolts. They’d killed her. To save him, yes, but they killed her. Revulsion burns in his throat and his stomach heaves. Twitch barely manages to get Cal onto his side before he vomits up what rations he’d had for breakfast and a spattering of blood. He coughs, then gags again as the movement tears at the bloody hole in his stomach. Tears are streaming down his face in earnest now, whether from the pain or the sorrow at being the cause of two needless deaths, Cal can’t tell. The brief bout of clarity from the stim is wearing off and his thoughts are starting to go fuzzy around the edges again.

He can hear Twitch and Sunny murmuring platitudes to him but he can’t focus on the words. Everything is too much. Too loud, too painful, too sad. Even the hand rubbing his back feels like its grating his skin, yet he doesn’t want it to stop. The smell of bile burns in his nose from his own sick and Cal wiggles as far back as he can from it while trapped in place by the two clones.

Cal tries to collapse into himself, to try sinking into that meditative state where the world feels far away. What he probably does is pass out for a while as he comes back to reality with tears staining his face and a familiar comforting presence in the Force blocking out everything but the feeling of safety. Cal reaches out blindly until his hands feel the soft, worn fabric of Master Tapal’s robes and he clings to them with all the strength he has left. Master Tapal pulls him into his arms, and when Cal’s brain catches up to his body being maneuvered, he is held tight against his Master’s chest where he can hear his heartbeat and feel his Master’s support through the Force.

“It is faster if I take him to the medics than wait for them to arrive,” says Master Tapal. Cal feels the words rumbling through his chest rather than hearing them with his ears.

“Sir!” a chorus echoes around him.

Then they are moving. The motion doesn’t hurt or make Cal sick. Instead it soothes him like the rocking of a boat. He turns and tucks his head into Master Tapal’s chest. The guilt is still eating at his stomach, as if the knife pressed it into him and it’s spreading from the hole it left behind.

“Peace, Padawan,” Master Tapal murmurs.

“I killed them Master, and they didn’t have to die,” mumbles Cal. The words are no doubt muffled by the fact that Cal’s face is pressed into his Master’s robes and thick with emotion, but he knows Master Tapal understands anyway.

Master Tapal walks on silently for a minute. Cal frets internally in the silence. What if Master Tapal doesn’t want him anymore because of what he’s done. What if he’s done so much wrong he can’t be a Jedi anymore.

“They are dead because of you, yes,” says Master Tapal slowly. “They did not have to die, and their deaths are a tragedy. It is good that you feel this way. However, they attacked you, they hurt you. If it is a choice between you and them, I want you to pick you every time, Padawan. The only way to hold the line against the darkness is to be the line. If you die, the darkness wins.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I will give the same talk to your men as well. When you are better, we will also meditate on this topic.”

Cal nods against Master Tapal’s shoulder. The words haven’t done much to ease the sick feeling in his stomach, but he’s also too tired to focus much anymore. The arms holding him tighten around him and the swaying cadence of Master Tapal’s steps increases. He sinks into their warmth and the comfort offered. He doesn’t feel better about anything, but at least his Master is here, and Master Tapal always knows what to do.

#jedi fallen order #cal kestis #jaro tapal #fanfic #fanfiction #febuwhump #j:fo

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atonalginger · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Howdy y'all! @fangbangerghoul reminded me it was Wednesday and also tagged me in a wonderful fic rec list for Delgado content that you can find HERE with lots of of great recs as well as a peek of her latest Delgado fic, Heavy Metal Lover. If you like great action and fight sequences and have a hankering for quiet, snarky assassins and grumpy Delgado, give their ao3 a look. They also write for My Time At Sandrock and Baldur's Gate 3!

As far as tagging others, today I'm openly tagging anyone who sees this and feels they have something to share. I know a lot of us are going through it atm and so no pressure.

For my WIP sneak peek I have some more from a currently unnamed fic that follows Rokov through the back half of Work-Life Balance and afterward, giving a glimpse at what was going on with Della's other half during the chaos. The WIP is a little slower paced with lots of hurt and comfort going on and a better look into Del and Rokov's dynamic in their little triad.

Del sat with Rokov near the pool, failing to keep the icepack on his swollen left eye as they waited for word. He refused to be looked at by any of their trained medics despite looking like he’d been through hell himself. Every time someone approached he ordered them to make themselves useful for Samina.

“At least lay down,” Rokov motioned at the rest of Del’s chair, “so they think you’re taken care of?”

“I don’t need to lay down,” Del snapped, looking back at the medbay as the ice pack slipped out of his hand, “I need to know that she’s alright.”

“Da,” Rokov reached down and picked up the pack. He carefully dragged his chair closer and gently placed the ice on Del’s face, causing the man to jump and curse at him in Spanish.

Delgado raised his hand to backhand Rokov’s hand away but stopped himself, shuddering as he stifled a sob. He relaxed his shoulders as he fought to keep himself together, “I thought I could keep Naeva’s focus. I thought we had it covered. If I’d hidden we might have…”

“It could have been a lot worse too,” Rokov said softly as he leaned in, “the whole thing was a gamble from the start.”

“I thought I knew her,” Delgado let the words fall out of his mouth in a whisper as a tear escaped his uncovered eye, “I used to count on her to have my back. I trusted her. But when she walked in…it was like looking at a stranger.”

“She’s been on this path for a while,” Rokov said while studying Del’s bloodied lip. It was split down the center of his lower lip, swollen enough to create a slight lisp when he spoke. Rokov wiped the drop of dried blood from above the patch of hair on Del’s chin, drawing his leaders focus away from the medbay and to him.

“I didn’t think she’d go this far,” Delgado admitted, “I knew she was intense, I knew she didn’t like Bella, but I thought I things under control. Sure, she pushed back but I was always able to…no that’s a lie I’ve been telling myself. That’s clear now.”

“She had a way of getting in people’s heads,” Rokov pulled the icepack back to look over the bruise, “and under people’s skin. She knew what to say and do to gain favor and how far she could push back without losing standing. After the shit with Rake happened she lost face with a lot of people around the Key, including you.

“Then she brought in this unknown to her rook only to learn the blonde nobody is actually very well known and skilled. That would be embarrassing on its own but then you took a shine to the beautiful blonde. Bella got more and more of your time and attention and had better ideas with less mess than anything Naeva could come up with. She felt threatened and did everything she could think of to threaten and discredit Bella and failed every time, likely pissing her off further. You were looking at a stranger because she took the mask off she’d worn around you for so long; she could no longer control the narrative so she no longer had a need to be whatever passed as nice with her.”

Delgado sighed, his shoulders and back slumping as he leaned forward to rest his face in his hands, elbows on his thighs, “we talked about it so many times. How Bella wasn’t interested in that sort of position, she was content as a rook and then later as a captain. Naeva’s position was never at risk. Bella would have gladly buried the hatchet with her if the dumb bitch would have given her a chance.”

“Naeva was a survivor,” Rokov leaned in and rested the side of his temple against Del’s.

“So is Bella, so are you,” Del leaned into him, one hand dropping to reach over and touch Rokov’s arm, “same as me.”

“And you know how easy self-doubt and paranoia can worm its way in if you aren’t careful,” Rokov whispered, “it didn’t matter how many times you told her she was safe when Bella continually made her look inept in front of you and the crew in command. What would normally be playful jabs turned into venom tipped fangs.”

“I could have ended this weeks ago,” Del mumbled.

“You had no reason to think it was going to get this bad,” Rokov looked in and nuzzled Delgado’s cheek, “Bella will pull through and we’ll be back to taking what’s ours in no time.”

Delgado snorted, “That’s if her friend doesn’t kill me first.”

#atonalginger writes #wip wednesday #the coemancer crew #starfield fanfiction #crimson fleet #starfield #Starfield Delgado #Evgeny Rokov #Dellarov #Bella Cherise

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auxxrat · 5 months ago

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It's sooner than later that I'll be six feet under/sooner than later that you'll be alone

• one shot • Jango/Shaak

Tags - Angst, Jango's past (comic based) Other Tags - Boba Fett(mention), Clone Troopers + Omega, once again based on my own lore because I'm predictable

Summary :

“I love you, Jedi Master Shaak Ti." The declaration took Shaak’s ability to think, but Jango had more to say; he couldn't leave just yet. “Whatever I do, please forgive me. Whatever I leave behind, promise me you’ll finish it.” “Jango…” Shaak, utterly and truly, was at a loss for words. Jango had been set on living, especially for his son, but it sounded to her as if this was his deathbed confession. “Listen to me, Shaak; promise me you’ll forgive me, and that when it’s all over, you’ll understand. You're the only one who understands; we’ve always been on each other’s sides. Shaak, promise me you’ll love them. Promise me you won’t let them suffer because of my sins.”

The only notice Shaak ever got of his arrival was how loud he could be.

Jango had never been quiet; his feet were heavy, and his voice was loud. His armor was even more deafening. He wasn't one to waste time either, which didn't help his cause. But Coruscant was even louder than his laugh or arrival at places he had no business in. The city made for a perfect hiding spot for such a noisy man.

The soft clinking of armored boots against marble excited Shaak more than anything; it made her heart race and her chest feel tight. It was a nauseous feeling. The sight of him standing in the balcony doorway felt too unreal—like a living myth was standing in front of her, years of searching finally at an end. He returned ever so often, like an anxious animal coming home with a bird in its mouth. No amount of gifts could make up for his leaving, but it was never worth mentioning—Shaak knew he’d only do it again.

Every year he came back to her, he looked different. The soft eyes of a boy turned into the tired ones of an overworked man, and the slender arms of a teenage boy turned into muscles with scars to last a lifetime. The curly hair was long forgotten, forced into a military-type cut. It was unnatural for a man whose hair was just as unruly as he was. Jango once had a bright smile, Shaak remembered, so wide that it stretched across his face and made his eyes almost invisible. That charming smile was never present, only saved for times like this. but even then, it wasn't as it was.

“Welcome home, Jango,” Shaak said, as he’d only gone out for the day, just coming home from a long day at work.

There had been a time, in Shaak’s youth, when she would have run to him. He jumped into his arms and exclaimed how much he was missed, complaining about his leaving. But she was older now, having grown into a woman Jango had not yet seen.

If Jango was changing with age, Shaak was even more so. Her head-tails had gotten longer and taller, and her face had morphed into a woman. Her youth was all but left behind; there was no sign of the young girl she once was. She felt no more of that childlike confusion or anger, but her feelings for Jango always remained. It was an emotion that Shaak did fairly well at suppressing, hiding it easily from the Jedi Order.

But then he comes back and messes it all up again.

“I can’t be long” is the talk of a man who never stays in one place.

"You have never been here long; maybe that’s why this place gathers so many shadows.”

Shaak was a Jedi; she wasn't here in this apartment often, hidden at the very peaks of Coruscant, but Jango had gotten this place for them. Slowly, it became a place for her. It was true that Jango never stayed put in one place for long; he only found good hiding places for his most precious items, so he could come and go as he pleased.

Maybe there was a time when they would have embraced each other, but they only moved to the front living room in silence. It was a quiet home, where the love never really died but was beaten into a corner. Jango never talked anymore, never sought out her touch, and right now he looked like there was something serious on his tail.

There was nothing to speak of, not when their lives had grown so far apart, so they sat there saying nothing. But there was so much to be said by the both of them that Jango simply didn't have enough time.

He was going to speak, but Shaak beat him to it.

“You never reach out.”

“What?’, The confusion was pitiful; even he knew what Shaak was talking about.

“Even when you’re gone, you never send anything, not even a letter. And this time, you were gone longer than the last,” Shaak knew. Jango was a criminal, completely fallen from honor; she made it her business to never know his.

“You don’t want to know, Ti," Jango stated. And she didn't want to know, because she knew it was only something terrible.

She felt it in the Force. She felt it between them now; she could feel it in her heart that there was something vastly bigger than the Jedi could even comprehend. She could feel the many lives and the many hearts beating, but the question was where they were coming from. There was this other feeling—the feeling of fear—on the horizon of something. Shaak couldn't bring herself to think of it. She knew that whatever this was, Jango had a hand in it.

She knew it, yet at the sight of him and everything she’d missed, it was easy to deny. Even after all the heartache,

And that was only the beginning of her many regrets.

“It’ll all be done soon." He didn’t sound too reassuring. “Then I won’t leave you.”

It only took those little words to finally make Shaak soft and formable, like putty in his work-beaten hands. She sighed, turning her head to the side so that the soft blush that did appear would dissipate quickly. Her face was brighter when she turned back, inching closer to Jango. When they were younger, she used to be so curious about the stories he had to tell, about the things he saw and places he’d been. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to wonder now.

“So? What has the infamous Jango Fett done this time? What adventure did you seek this time around?”

“I have a son.”

Shaak stumbled, feeling nauseous as if all the unfairness in the world had fallen upon her. She, a Jedi, and he, a Mandalorian, were too far apart. Even in a normal world, Jango would have been a Mandalorian prince, and Shaak would be just a girl back on Shili. Regardless of the universe, timeline, or the will of the Force, Shaak and Jango would never be able to be together. Yet she couldn't help but think that he still held onto that fantasy—to be with her.

It was the highest number of betrayals.

“What is his name?” Shaak swallowed the bile.

Jango hesitantly moved to the armor surrounding his wrist, messing with the gauntlet buttons until a picture lit up. It was of Jango and a small boy, no more than ten or nine years old.

“His name is Boba.”

The boy was quite the spitting image of his father, so much so that it scared Shaak. He had the same nose, eyes, and smile with the sharp side tooth. Even down to the very curls on his head. Shaak felt bad for whoever the mother was. Mostly because Boba showed no sign of having any of her genes, but also because Jango’s heart still so painfully belonged to Shaak.

“An heir for the Fett line, the exact image of his father. What you wanted, right?” There was an obvious attitude behind Shaak’s words, but Jango was blinded by love—love only a father could experience.

“He’s perfect… He’s nothing like me." The statement was full of relief.

“He likes to read." Jango added, pressing a button that consumed the photo back into his gauntlet, “He doesn't know fear; he doesn't need to. He learns so fast, quicker than I ever could. He’ll survive in this universe. I won’t bind him to Mandalore as I was; he doesn't need to win back anything; he’s already so special.”

Shaak’s heart wanted to scream; it wanted to grow its own pair of arms and throttle Jango right where he sat. She felt cheated, and her stomach couldn't stop turning. Tears must have slipped because, in the next moment, Shaak felt the tip of his thumb at her waterline—he wasn't giving her the chance to cry.

“I got you something," Jango whispered, her thumb leaving her waterline and tracing the line of her cheek. “But you can’t open it until the time is right.”

Shaak wanted to spit at him; his face was close enough, but she wouldn't. She knew she could never hurt him, even if it was life or death. She wouldn't be the one to do it. Through anger, confusion, and sadness, Shaak spoke

“And how will I know when the time is right, Jango Fett?”

“If I know, then you’ll know soon enough.”

Jango slid a small metal case into her hand. She looked down and ran her fingers along the skillfully crafted box. The design was Mandalorian, but it wasn't native to this box; it was carved on. By the time she was able to pay attention to the world around her once more, Jango was already up and leaving, causing that old panic reflex that came whenever she saw and knew he was going to disappear again. The box was forgotten on the plush cushions of the couch where they once sat, and Shaak was up chasing Jango once more.

She found herself ensnared in his tight grip, her heart aching to plead with him to linger and explain these cryptic messages that left her feeling scared and uneasy. However, before she could utter a word, her voice was stifled by a tender and longing kiss—a kiss that would ultimately be their first and last. This kiss was the only true, solid evidence of his love. One she could be sure of.

“Jango…” Shaak, utterly and truly, was at a loss for words. Jango had been set on living, especially for his son, but it sounded to her as if this was his deathbed confession.

“Listen to me, Shaak; promise me you’ll forgive me, and that when it’s all over, you’ll understand. You're the only one who understands; we’ve always been on each other’s sides. Shaak, promise me you’ll love them. Promise me you won’t let them suffer because of my sins.”

Shaak’s breathing was labored, and her eyes shot so wide that one might think she turned to stone. There was always an underlying method to what Jango was doing; was the kiss a distraction? Was this all for a confession of guilt?

“Remember that I love you, if nothing else.”

And like that, he was gone.

—

“It’s a transmission from Master Kenobi.”

Shaak’s heart dropped to her stomach the moment Obi-Wan’s static image came through; he looked like a cold, soaked rat standing out on Kamino. He came bearing information that she had been dreading.

It was all too coincidental—Jango showing up and then the news of Padme’s failed assassination the next morning. There was no direct link to Jango until now, but Shaak still knew it was all him. She knew him too well, and it made her sick. Shaak was also assigned to look into whoever this bounty hunter might be, at the same time as Obi-Wan; the difference between them is that he tried. Shaak would have covered up his tracks so that it was harder to find him, had she been crazy enough, but even if, all records of him were wiped clean. Whether it was the Mandalorian’s shaming him or it was the Republic forgetting his existence, all of it was gone.

It seemed the only person who knew Jango was Shaak. But even Obi-Wan found him quicker than she did. Maybe she knew nothing about him at all.

Time seemed to have stopped the moment Kenobi unveiled the secret of Jango. Shaak was given little time to prepare herself for the war ahead. Kenbobi was going after him in the hopes of catching him and bringing him to the Jedi Temple for questioning. If he could be brought here, she could keep him safe and close.

Before leaving, the silver box caught her eye, tucked away on a desk in her room, practically calling her name. Shaak figured this was what Jango meant by “right time." She ran her hand down the front of the carved box one last time, recalling every sweet memory of Jango. When she opened it, she was greeted with a Togruta-Mandalorian-styled headdress. It was a beautifully carved piece of gold that was adorned with beads and different wrapped metals, with two strings that hung down on either side. The circle sat in the middle of her forehead, circled with small blue crystals. The top was lined with teeth from a beast she killed long ago, keeping its teeth as a trophy as per Togruta tradition, but... she had thought she lost those teeth a long time ago.

The blue was to represent Jango; she knew that much about the cocky man that he was.

It was beautiful. A true piece of art. A mix of both their cultures.

Maybe it was a symbol of what could have been, but Shaak didn't dwell on it now; she left the contents of the note he left behind in the box—far far in the back of her mind. For now, she had to forget about him and focus on going with Master Yoda to assess the mess he left behind.

—

Kamino was filled with thousands upon thousands of boys and men who looked exactly like Jango. Suddenly, Shaak understood why Boba looked the way he did.

They all looked like him, save for some DNA mutations, but even then, they were still noticeable. It was a horrific scene. The past years all made sense now; Jango must have gone crazy here. Shaak could only imagine the mental perils it put him through. Her poor boy...

The Prime Minister, Lama Su, told Master Yoda that they were an army. Specially made, bred for combat, and more docile and gentle than Jango could ever be after all the horrors he’d seen. But they weren't spared from that. They weren't men; they were children being bred for a battlefield; they were all the possibilities that could have been... Now Jango had put their heads on the chopping block—the same way he had been. Shaak’s lower stomach began to hurt. She looked at all their faces, looking straight back at her. Every version of Jango was staring her dead in the face, searching for some sort of kind hand. Searching for a father or a mother.

This is what mothers felt when they watched their sons be sent off to war. She understood why parents were so fearful and sad about giving up their children to be raised by the Jedi. She understood what Jango had felt at that moment, looking at the picture of Boba.

It wasn't fair. None of it. From the moment Jango’s life was ripped apart to the moment he sentenced his children to die, Children will always die in war, and Jango chose not to break that cycle. Instead, he left the responsibility of thousands of children—children that could have been theirs—and cursed her to watch them file out and die. To never come home. For their bodies to be littered around the galaxy.

Shaak’s body cramped, her hand gripping her stomach, but still she stood tall.

“Hello!” A small voice piped up behind her, causing her to turn away from the balcony that overlooked the clones. Now starting to file in at Master Yoda’s order.

She turned only to see a small girl with a mass of blond, curly hair. Now Shaak understood why Jango looked so tormented. Arla had come back to haunt him.

“My name’s Omega,” she waved awkwardly, giving a small wave. “I heard you're a Jedi and that you’ve come to start working with my brothers.”

Shaak’s throat clenched, and she choked back a sob. The girl, Omega, brought Shaak to her knees, her eyes and heart growing softer and more forgiving. She must have been the same age as Boba, perhaps a twin. Shaak could only sigh and try not to cry.

“My name is Jedi Master Shaak Ti, and you are the correct little one. The Jedi have arrived.” Shaak tried her best to sound calm and noble, but there was nothing noble about the act to follow.

She turned around to face the large crowd of sons; there had to be at least millions in this facility alone, and more being made. This was her responsibility; this is what Jango had meant; it was why he had to be cryptic. He’s created an army, and he’s made sure that his face haunts the galaxy long after his death. A curse she also shares now. Shaak watched as they marched, saluted, gathered their armor, and filed away for war. There was an ominous feeling in the air—something heavy and evil, but just on the outside of it all. Either way, these are her children now. They shared a common sadness as well; Jango abandoned her too.

Now it was time to confront him.

—

Shaak landed as soon as the fighting started. They hadn’t even touched the sandy ground, and her squad of clones were already fiercely loyal, maybe... It was just something in their blood.

From the moment she stepped out of the gunship, Shaak was closed off from her feelings. There was only the force. This was the first battle, and the clones were bred for this battle. Not only by the Kaminoans, but she made it known to them that they were Mandalorians, humans, and warriors. Not science experiments, not clones.

“You have the blood of conquerors in your veins; even if you can’t be proud of Jango, be proud of the Fett name.”

War speech couldn’t stop the first son from falling or the second, but they continued to move. Like true Mandalorians. They deserved every title and every ownership of their culture; Shaak would make sure of it. It inspired Shaak enough to move through the battle droids like they were nothing, but even zoning in on battle could not stop her eyes from locking in on Mace Windu’s lightsaber. The purple was visa versa from across the battlefield.

It was obvious that Mace Windu should be the one to do it; Shaak couldn’t. She would not be able to even raise her lightsaber to him, never mind strike him down. Mace would be the one to do it; that way, Jango would die for good.

Shaak heard his jetpack over his head; the roar of it was loud and sent a shiver down Shaak’s back. She knew what was to come. Mace is going to kill him. Mace is going to kill Jango, and Shaak can do nothing about it.

‘I know he deserves it, but please, save the boy that was... please give him a break.’ Shaak lay on her knees, her forehead pressed against the floor, tears pooling on the marble below her. She’s been praying to the Force for so long that she doesn't even know if it's worth it anymore.

‘He’s not lost yet; I know it; he’s just confused... He’s fought for too long; he’s seen too much to forgive... Just give him to me; I will keep him in one place, please.”

She watched one blaster bullet go, then the next. He always thought he could face Jedi head-on alone.

“Shaak,

I don’t write letters. I thought you knew that. But I know physical means more to you, and after this, maybe you would want a copy of my writing. One last keepsake.

I know you’ll be mad at me about the clones, but you’ll understand. Soon. You’re the only one who will, and you are the only one who can justify my actions. That is, if you can forgive me. When the end nears, remember how I taught you to survive.

I know what you thought when I told you about Boba. But, in truth, I don’t think I could have done it with anyone else. Not anyone but you. I’d make a joke about weird alien children, but you never liked those. You never liked a lot of my jokes, but I guess I was a jackass back then. Please watch over Boba. If he’s anything like me, he’s going to be so angry that you won’t be able to get through to him. Please don’t hold it against them; he’s a sweet boy.

The clones are yours now. I expect you adopted them the moment you saw them. I’m sorry.

I love you. In my own twisted way, I wanted to. I was scared. I’ve never been scared. I don’t know if we’ll be in the same afterlife, but I will find you. Over and over again, I will show up.

You always talked about a normal world. Where you would be, there would be no one, and I’d still be a prince. I still would have found you.

You would have made a fair queen.

With Love,

Jango”

He died quickly.

Shaak watched Mace raise his saber and slice his head right off.

Jango always thought he could defeat them head-on.

“You’re so stupid... you stupid kid.”

Shaak buried his body with Boba. She held his strong hand one last time, laid her head on his chest, and listened for a heartbeat that wasn't there. She still denied the fact that his head was no longer attached to his body.

She couldn't look at his face.

His once handsome face, now stone cold, has been sunken in with death. It didn't look good on him, Shaak cried. He was meant to be in the sun; he was meant to be back on his farm—a King of Mandalore—anything but this. Everything he was, every experience he fought so hard to love through, ended with a quick lightsaber to the neck. Everything Shaak had loved was gone in mere seconds.

Their time together flashed through her eyes as she lay there with her head on his still chest, crying. He had saved her, and she had done everything in her power to always be there to save him—but not this time. She knew he was up for the slaughter this time and did nothing. She watched. Shaak could feel her heart dying. If this is what love was, if this is what the Jedi meant, then she did not want it. The man who had cursed her to forever watch her sons die in war has died himself.

The two buried him, an unofficial mother and son, burying the father. It was over. The storm has calmed, and his rage is over.

“Boba–” Shaak tried to embrace the boy, but he only smacked her hands away.

He ran. Angry, tears in his eyes, Boba ran. Just like his father.

#star wars #jango fett #shaak ti #star wars tcw #star wars fic #ao3fic #auxxrat fics

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campbells-content · 1 year ago

Text

Unedited, not spell checked un proofed au that I've randomly been adding to this past week. It is a big mess but its my mess.

I now present to you, road trip au.

It all started with Chloe wanting to confront her mother in new york. They are like 17ish in this. She asks Adrien to come for moral/emotional support he says yeah because he is all for Chloe redemption. This is partially through a redemption arc with Chloe. She's trying to do better but it's still and effort she has to make, it doesn't come naturally. Marinette, Adrien's girlfriend, accidentally invites herself but everyone is cool with it. It gets a little stressful when Nino and Alya also end up tagging along. Chloe is kind of worried about them getting in the way but keeps quite as to not hurt their feelings. She has yet to reach the forming her own boundaries in her arc, but we'll get there. When they get to new york things don't go too great. Her mom shuts her down instantly, claiming she is a failed legacy and that she'd never fulfill the potential being her daughter allowed her to have. Chloe wants to be mad. She wants to scream, but all she can do is tear up and run out the building.

Adrien McMoney is leaning against a very soccer mom-esk van, twirling the keys around his fingers. He asks how it went, already frowning at her expression but wanting to remain optimistic. She just passed him, mumbling "lets go" and, getting it the passenger side. He picks up and hurries to his seat. "So..." "No, I don't want to talk about it." "Okay, we don't have to yet." "Good." "Do you wanna go get food? Or we can pick up the gang and go out somewhere?" "Just do whatever." Chloe just stared out the window, watching buildings pass as Adrien drove to the hotel. Their friends came down and hopped in the back, Marinette leaning up to kiss her boyfriend's cheek. She also said hi to chloe but got no response. "So..." Adrien continued driving as he spoke. "Anyone up for apple beez?" Nino and Alya cheered from the back seats. Chloe hummed and Marinette said "that sounds great." They got there, Djwifi leading the way and Chloe trailing behind.

They got the big corner booth that wraps around and Adrien made sure Chloe was next to him but she also ended up sandwiched between him and Marinette. "You guys can order whatever, I'll pay." There were some protests, mostly from his girlfriend but he insisted. Chloe had been on a downward spiral and was almost unresponsive so Adrien ordered for her. While they wait for their food the class gc pinged.

Juleka: 'Tsunami, anyone in America?'

It was realnames, so they know its the serious gc.

Adrien: 'knda sme boat but we her'

Nino: 'wer u at goth gril'

Juleka: 'Arizona, my step mom is gonna push me to murder, who else is tsunami?'

Alya: 'Chloe'

Juleka: 'Oof'

Marinette: 'yep'

Adrien looked up. "Yall wanna go get her?" Everyone agreed except chloe who continued to lay her forehead on the table.

Adrien: "think u can hld up 4 2 dys"

Juleka: "I'll try not to kill someone."

There was a string of gl's and the crew got their food, ate, paid, and skedadled. Marinette was now in the front, djwifi in the back and Chloe in the middle alone. After about six hours they pulled into a gas station cause Nino had to use the restroom again. Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Marinette knew he couldn’t go much longer, but they wanted to get there as long as possible. "Chloe?"

Adrien looked at his girlfriend as she turned to the middle back of the van. "Hmm?" She looked up from her hands, still looking stressed as before but not in the middle of a break down. "Do you think you can drive for a little? No one else has their temporary license." "You don't have to-" Adrien tried to cut in but the other blonde just nodded and got out the van to take Adrien's place. He reluctantly swaped, taking Nino's seat in the back next to a almost passed out Alya. It didn't take long for either of them to fall asleep leaving Nino confused when he returned to the van after a potty break. Chloe drove silently while Marinette tried to make small talk but she was ignored by everyone but Nino.

After about 8 hours Adrien woke up, saying he'll take over. Everyone else was still asleep but they swaped out and Chloe sat in the middle next to Nino. Adrien drove for the next 12 hours and Chloe seemed to stay asleep for most of it, not even waking up when they stopped for food. They stopped for dinner and Adrien woke her up so she could eat something. 2 more hours and Chloe took over, now with Nino in the passenger seat and everyone in the back. Nino took a nap and woke up to Chloe stopped in a gas station on her phone. "Chlo?" "Yeah?" "Why are we here?" "I'm trying to pull up maps, I don't know how to get to her apartment from here." "Why didn't you just call her?" "...I can do that?" "Why wouldn't you?" "We're not really friends?" "Chloe, you just drove half way across the country to pick her up. I'm sure she wouldn't mind a call." He pulled out his phone and called Juleka, putting it on speaker when she picked up. "Hey, Jules, we're almost there but we're a little lost." He described where they were, and Juleka told them how to get there. When they got there, Nino woke everyone up and they got out to stretch their legs. The girls all hugged while Chloe leaned against the van. When they got in the van, Chloe went to the back, adrino got in the front and Juleka followed to the back while alynette sat in the middle. The four in the front talked, sometimes with Juleka, sometimes just among their seat partner or eachother. After awhile Juleka tried to talk to Chloe. "So, family, right?" "Yep." The blonde turned toward the window. "Sorry." "'S fine." Juleka ended up falling asleep as Adrien drove around, looking for a hotel. They found one and had to decide sleeping arrangements. "Chloe, Juleka, yall are kind of the deciding factor here." "Yeah, yall wanna share a room or a bed or what?" "I'm fine with whatever." Chloe looked out the window, only half listening. "Just do whatever is easiest."

"How about 3 singles. I don't think I can wait for anyone else to shower." Alya joked, already grabbing her and nino's bags from the trunk. Juleka and Chloe climbed out the back, taking their own bags and following the group inside. Adrien paid and they went to their rooms. Chloleka in one, Adrinette in the next, and djwifi in the last. Juleka got the first shower and stepped out of the room to go look for a vending machine. Instead she found ninette hanging out outside their rooms. "Hey dude!" "Hey Jules!" "Hi." Both Alya and Adrien got the first shower and hadn't gotten out yet. They talk for half an hour before Adrien and Chloe come out, looking for their room partners. Adrien is ready for bed but Marinette still had to shower so he hung out with them as the sun set. Alya came out, Nino went in, and Marinette and Nino came out at about the same time. Nino and Alya wanted food and Juleka had yet to fine a vending machine so they convinced Chloe to drive them to jack in the box. Juleka's had it, no one else has. Juleka sat in the passenger seat while djwifi watched jack in the box commercials on youtube. "I can drive, ya'know?" Chloe stopped in the middle of the parking lot, turning to Juleka. "I could be sleeping."

"Sorry." Chloe pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. "Where already here..." She drove forward and into the drive through. Djwifi gave their orders, Juleka got nervous so Chloe had to order for her and Adrinette. She pulled forward and paid then pulled forward again to wait for food. They got back, putting Adrinette's food in one of their minifridges because no one answered when they knocked. Chloe went to lay down, almost forgetting that Juleka was following behind her. She collapsed and laid there for a few minutes before turning to Juleka awkwardly standing next to microwave. "You okay?" "Hmm..? Yeah, I'm fine." "Not tired?" "I.. dunno." "I'm not gonna stop you from sleeping." "I know." "Then whatsup?"

She sat up, already missing the warmth of the bed. The broken expression on Juleka's face was one she knew too well. "You wanna talk about it?" "Do you?" Juleka sat at the foot of the bed. "Not really." "Yeah." They sat in silence for a minute. "She told me no matter how much potential I had, I would never amount to anything worthwhile." "Damn." "Yeah." "My step mom just preached that I was a going to hell for liking girls." "Shit, sorry." "It's nowhere near as bad as yours." "Is it? If anyone told me that I think I'd lose it. Its 202X for christ's sake." "... So... you like girls?" "Yeah..." "Thats cool." "Yep." Another beat of silence. "So... how about some sleep." "Yep." They laid down and tried to get some sleep. Chloe got to sleep pretty easily but woke up half way through the night and got up cause she couldn't get back to sleep. Juleka didn't get to sleep until after Chloe left, pretending to be asleep until Chloe left the room. Chloe just vibed outside the hotel, drinking a cup of coffee. Eventually Adrien came out with his own cup of coffee. She asked for a sip and then spat it out. "Thats just sugar milk." "I am but a simple man." "Your teeth will rot before you're 40." "Denchers are a thing." They laughed and enjoyed the morning, the air slightly lighter than its been these past few days. By the time Alya woke up they decided it was probably a good time to wake everyone up. They worked together to wake up Marinette before splitting up to their own rooms. Chloe didn't know the kindest way to wake Juleka up. She tried calling her name, tapping her shoulder, even shaking her. The goth was dead asleep. Chloe went to ask Adrinette for help but they were in the middle of getting ready. Then she went to ask djwifi and nino said to just throw water on her. She and Alya both said not to do that. They all got ready, agreeing to give Juleka 30 more minutes because they couldn't think of a humane way to wake her up.

Chloe got dressed and then went to Adrinette's room to hang out with the group. They talked and messed around, occasionally trying to wake up Juleka untill time came that they had to check out. Alyninette took the bags to the van, Adrien went to go check out and Chloe went to wake Juleka up. She tried everything sane again then decided to kindof listen to nino. She went and got ice from the ice machine and put it in a bag then on Juleka's neck. A couple minutes later Juleka woke up, a little discombobulated. Chloe told her they were leaving and then waited outside the room. When she finished getting ready they did a once over of the room and went out to the van. Adrinette in the front, djwifi in the back and chloleka in the middle. "Sooo, where we going?" "I have absolutely no idea." "Wanna go to skyzone?" Everyone turned to Juleka with stars in their eyes. They went there and ended up spending most the day there. Then they went to a nearby mall to eat and walk around until closing, just being kids. They got to another hotel only to realize Adrien lost his wallet somewhere so Chloe says she'll pay and somehow the hotel is out of almost all rooms but a couple doubles. A family came in behind them asking for a double so the group just got one room and crammed in there. "So..." "Anyone wanna play a game?" They agreed and they played some party games for awhile. Go fish, uno, truth or dare, spin the bottle. After a few hours Adrien was knocked out and alynette were close behind. Alya convinced mari and her boyfriend to carry Adrien to bed and then cuddle to sleep, leaving chloleka to talk or sleep in the other bed. Neither could sleep so they laid down face to face and whispered to each other. "When did you know?" "Know what?" "That you liked girls?" "I guess I've always known. What about you?" "Ladybug." "Makes sense." They tried to muffle their laughs. They talked for awhile and then fell asleep. They woke up with and made a game plan.

They went and got Adrien's wallet, but they couldn't get a flight for everyone for a week so they planned to mess around while driving to new york, now rotating Adrien Chloe and Juleka in driving shifts. They just be kids and enjoy themselves. When they make it back to Paris, Chloe offers a ride to drop Juleka off at the boat and Aladrininette go to Adrien's. Juleka asks if Chloe wants to hang out and they end up spending the next few days together. I have been working on this for too long so this is where it ends for now.

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