#we just got past the hangar scene

[dangerpronebuddie]

Dad is watching 7x04 for the first time and I am trying so hard to keep my mouth shut. Save me 😅

[justchillandshipit]

More thoughts:

I linked a post below that has me thinking about Tommy's actions & Eddie's place in the narrative. In retrospect, I 100% believe Tommy knows and understands that Eddie is likely going to be Buck's last. (as much as anybody can know this sort of thing.) I know Tim and Oliver said Eddie had nothing to do with the obstacles in Buck's relationship, but I think that was a partial truth on their part. Technically, Buck does spiral because of Abby and #stagefoureddiediaz has talked about the way Buck is still stuck on the hamster wheel. I think both of these things are part of the obstacles mentioned in one of Oliver's interviews. However, if you look only at those things, you overlook the Pink Eddie in the room. While I agree that Eddie didn't interfere or try to stop Buck & Tommy from being together, his friendship with Buck has remained a constant. (see the link at the very bottom for more about Eddie in the narrative.) If you check out Buddielifer's post, several good points demonstrate the breakup was about Eddie. I'll try to avoid repeating what was said there as I explain. My opinion does differ on a few small points, but I'll get to that later.

Ok. I'm going to talk about Tommy a little but stick with me. This is a Buddie post. I promise, and I do have a point. I do believe Buck was attracted to Tommy, not because he had some great destiny to be the love of Buck's life, but because he did a few really cool things while helping to save Bobby & Athena's lives. Plus, Tommy did it in the coolest way possible. Helicopter pilots are cool, or they would be if they weren't dating one-half of your favorite ship. lol. Before the kiss, Buck wasn't self-aware enough to fully engage with his sexuality, I suspect that he handled his attraction to Tommy the way he handled it with other men before we knew him as a firefighter.

As we saw in a flashback, when Buck met a man he felt attracted to, he processed those feelings by befriending him. It was the same with Tommy. That is why he was at the hangar that day. When he offered to buy Tommy a beer, I truly think Buck thought he was making a new friend. If you think about it, you can see this was a pattern for Buck. He did have a meltdown over Eddie when they first met (but with Eddie, bigger things were and are still in play) It doesn't change the fact that once Buck got past his initial jealousy or whatever that was, he threw himself all in with Eddie. It was part of his pattern and part of #stagefour's hamster wheel. (Endgame will have Buck get off the wheel and look around. The person standing there was never part of the wheel, but the person waiting for him to stop and get off of it.)

The situation with Tommy is probably closer to how Buck reacted to his friend who wanted Buck as a sperm donor. Buck actually followed that 'friend' to Peru. I have a post from a while back where I discuss Buck sending mixed signals. In his mind, he is making a friend, but he is also unconsciously flirting. Tommy was the first to push through and just kiss Buck. I don't think this was nefarious so much as an attempt to interpret the signals Buck was sending. (I'm sure many see Tommy as having bad intentions but stick with me. I'm trying to put him into the context where Tim claimed he wanted him to be seen. Tommy was supposed to be a mentor or a more experienced man helping Buck navigate this side of himself.) As a teacher, Tommy did help him navigate, but he also let Buck set the pace. Although never shown, we know Buck is a very sexual being, and the deleted scene with Tommy, Hen, and Karen confirmed that Tommy was just trying to keep up with him.

But I digress. Buck's intention to befriend Tommy ended the exact moment that Eddie showed up at the hangar with a huge smile on his face. Stoic Eddie who does not show his emotions was smiling hugely. Even though this is from Buck's perspective and he is an unreliable narrator, it is plausible to me that Eddie would be excited to go to a live fight in Vegas. Oliver and Tim have talked a lot over the past few weeks about how Buck spirals. When Eddie left with Tommy, Buck began to spiral in a way that we have never seen before or since. He was absolutely unhinged with jealousy. There is no way that Buck, who didn't even ask about Tommy's dating history until six months into the relationship, was that insane to get the attention of a man he has known for a few days or weeks. Now that we are pulling in new material from the current season, it isn't even remotely believable that Buck's reaction was about Tommy.

If Buck had experienced some sort of love-at-first-sight moment with Tommy, then he would have asked Tommy about his past at the beginning of the relationship. In fact, people entering into something serious generally ask about past partners in the first few weeks of getting to know each other or before sex. The fact that Buck didn't, is a change in pattern for him. Buck typically throws himself all in and then when things go wrong, he doesn't know how he got there. (Also part of the hamster wheel.) However, I attribute the difference this time to the fact that, subconsciously, Buck knows what he's feeling. He can use his body. (borderline sex addict). However, he can't bring himself to share with Tommy what he already shares with Eddie, but you know our unaware cowboy can't see it yet.

At the hangar, Tommy didn't have a feel for Buck yet. However, by the end of the Vegas trip, I think he had picked up a good idea from Eddie that there was something there. (not because Eddie has made some sort of confession, but because I'm confident that Eddie talked about Buck nonstop. I'm hoping that we get some sort of confirmation of this in the current season. I don't want it to be forgotten.) At any rate, whatever conclusions Tommy drew from his time in Vegas with Eddie and the time they spent hanging out afterward didn't bother him enough to refuse to date Buck. I do think Tommy was longing for the family and support he could see Buck has with the 118, but I don't think he was ever planning a wedding in his head. In fact, I know he wasn't. That's part of why he broke up with Buck.

Sidenote: (Thanks to StageFourEddieDiaz, for pointing out how Buck failed to understand the mission from Josh's speech because this is what caused Buck to shift from not letting Tommy get too close to asking Tommy to move in with him.) Until the conversation with Josh, Buck was actively shutting Tommy out of anything other than sex and possibly learning the ins and outs of the LGBTQ community.

Again, in the beginning, this didn't bother Tommy. He knew what Buck needed, and as he stated a few times during the sixth episode, Buck was hot and fun. If you need examples of Buck shutting Tommy out, I point you to anything that happened in the Halloween episode. I'm not saying Buck didn't care about Tommy at all, but he was holding back. The look on Buck's face as Josh asked about his feelings really said it all. I think this is probably why Josh was a little shy of the mark when giving his speech about comphet. Josh had to give a long list of, "Do you feel "this or that" for your boyfriend of six months," before he finally hit on something that Buck did feel. I don't want to get off topic or repeat too much from the linked post, I just wanted to illustrate that the jealousy from Buck's coming out episode was 100% for Eddie and that it was something that Tommy realized before entering the relationship.

I know there will be some disagreement here, but I also feel like Tommy's feelings for Buck actually were on the verge of changing, and he hadn't expected that. When they were standing at the grave, Buck gave his eulogy directed to Billy Boils. Tommy's face went through a series of changes. First, he seemed annoyed or concerned. I couldn't quite tell, but the more Buck talked, the more you could see of our Buck. The guy with a huge heart who can empathize with the skeletal remains of a criminal. I'll link the clip for you to judge. What Buck had to say to Billy was more open and revealed more about Buck's character than anything he had been saying to Tommy over the past six months. It was a small scene, but one that probably came back to Tommy when Buck suggested moving in together.

It was scenes like this one combined with Tommy's exclusion from group chat, etc., that probably helped to remind him that Buck's feelings six months ago were not about him and nothing had changed despite Buck's suggestion that he move in. Tommy's insecurities took over and reminded him what the inevitable end was going to be for them. He was the first not the last.

For the past six months, he's known that Eddie was between them, but you could see how comfortable he was with it. He didn't seem annoyed by Eddie's presence at all. I disagree with either Tim or Oliver when they try to play up that Tommy was Eddie's friend and this was natural. Eddie and Buck met Tommy at the same time, and Tommy was trying to shoot his shot by taking Eddie to Vegas. I don't know what was discussed between Eddie & Tommy during those few weeks where Buck was being left out, but it is clear that whatever conclusion he had drawn from the Vegas trip had been solidified by what happened on the basketball court, so much so that he wanted to apologize to Buck in person. We all know how that went, and I still think that was a good scene.

This brings me to the breakup scene itself. In the end, when Tommy talks about how he didn't see it coming. I don't think he was referring to the breakup. I think he was referring to the feelings he caught close to the end. He thought he would help Buck, provide a safe space for Buck to explore that he personally didn't have, and have some fun with a hot young thing, but he let it go too far. (His reasons are pretty much part of what Tim has said in interviews.) I don't think Tommy realized how much he had gotten caught up in the fantasy of Buck until Buck asked him to move in with him. I do think he's sincere when he says his heart would end up broken because, despite his feelings, he still understands there is something between Buck and Eddie even if they don't.

(One side note. I agree with Buck that first and last can be the same thing. I don't buy into the belief that you have to be with dozens of sexual partners, but I also don't think that would have been the case with Buck. He is a sexual character, and he's openly curious. I know people were mad about the interview where Oliver talked about letting Buck F#ck, but I think that would be in character for an upset Buck who was just dumped. It is less about his sexuality than it is about his abandonment issues and neglect trauma. That's my take anyway. We'll see what Tim does with it. I do think the part of Buck that craves monogamy already belongs to someone else, and the di was cast before Tommy came into his life, and we are back again to the hamster wheel.)

If you stuck with me this long, thank you. I know there are few, if any, fans of Tommy around here so I appreciate that you were willing to objectively view him the way Tim kept trying to present him. I'm tired and I'm pretty sure I rambled a couple of times, but I do understand Tommy is a problematic character. I consider that to be a writing issue that never got a satisfying resolution. I'm equally aware some people hate him simply because he was with Buck. I'm not doing a lot of judging these days because I already know how unreasonable I'm going to be over Eddie being with another man. After seven seasons of subtext, they are already in love. These other relationships are like cheating. lol I'm not so secretly hoping that if Eddie needed a "first" he got it when he was a teenager or when he was in Afghanistan.

I can tell I'm going to be bad because when I see posts about Eddie sleeping with a priest, I want to scream into a pillow and pretend that I'm flipping over furniture and tossing chairs across the room. I just can't be reasonable. I would never attack the actors or writers though. That's not me. My jealousy is on Buck's behalf, and my bad behavior remains entirely inside my head. I don't know what they'll do with Eddie, but they are going to need a chat group to make sure Eddie's boyfriends do not meet with Buck's subconscious mind.

Click here to see the meta on Eddie Haunting the Narrative from #buddielifers.

[garbinge]

EVERYTHING (2/?)

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!Reader // Word Count: 2.1k Summary: Part 2 to One in a Million. Your reminisce about your past while your brother walks you home from The Hard Deck, all while you figure out what your future holds. When you head to base the next day, you run into a new friend, a few times and you get familiar really quickly. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Fluff. Mentions of parental death (both characters), mentions of reader being adopted, small mention of saying goodbye to a pet, no use of Y/N. Falling for someone, quickly. Insinuates at sexual situations between scenes. Reader is Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia's sister. Took some liberties like giving Rooster a tattoo lol. A/N: These two live in my brain rent free.

“How do you know Rooster?” Mickey was asking you as you strolled on the sidewalk. The sun had gone down, you were buzzed from the handful of beers you shared with Rooster, then Rooster and your brother, and then just your brother through the night. Your walk home was only minutes from the bar, but you both were taking your time walking. The sounds of the waves behind you, muffled by the bar patrons, by the cars driving by, tourists on bikes. It all felt like home and you wanted to soak in every second of it. 

“Apparently he’s my boyfriend.” With a chuckle you looked down and kicked a rock, passing it to your brother who stopped it with his foot as he also stopped in his steps. 

“Come again?” His eyebrows were raised, a mix of confusion and concern in his tone and also plastered on his face. 

“Relax. It’s a joke. I just met ‘em tonight. He saved me from some egotistical asshole.” 

“So you met Hangman.” A smile grew on his face and he tossed the rock back to you. It was something the two of you did growing up, finding something to do when there was nothing to do. 

“Man with a track record I see.” You tossed the rock a few more times yourself before passing it back to Mickey, all while you both kept walking home. “Bradley pretended to be my boyfriend, then when Hangman left, we just started talking.” You shrugged. 

Mickey nodded, he wasn’t the type to tell you what to do, not only because it wasn’t his style but also because he knew you wouldn’t listen. He just liked having the information, all the pieces to the puzzle, that’s how he always was. It was how he got the call sign Fanboy. He knew anything and everything about fighter pilots, about Top Gun, about F-18s and honestly any other plane in the naval aviation hangars. He learned from your father, but the interest to keep learning was all him. 

“How long you staying for?” Now he was kicking the rock back and forth with his feet before he bent down and picked it up, tossing up and down into his palm. 

“Not sure. I wrapped up my last article for The Post and now I’m focusing on the book.” 

“And home is where you can write the book.” Mickey understood, and if anything he would have done anything to help you out and support you, especially with this. “You still planning to write about Dad?” 

“Yea, but I don’t know. I might write more about my journey, you know? I’ve been thinking about a lot of it lately.” With a deep breath, you felt the alcohol starting to fade as the topic got a bit more serious between you two. 

“About being adopted?” He tossed the rock over so it was now your turn to catch it. 

“Yea, but also just all the resilience and love I’ve seen throughout my life.” You started to think through how you wanted to tell this story, was it fiction, was it a memoir, was it a mix of it all? “Our lives were so unique, you know?” 

“Oh trust me, I know.” He laughed as you both stepped in front of your house, turning to look at it as you stood in the driveway. 

Memories of you as kids in the front yard chasing each other with water guns, sitting in the driveway with two of your dogs standing guard over the three of you, your dad picking each one of you up and flying you through the yard. Images of your eldest brother climbing down the trellis as he snuck out to some party with some girl, your younger brother laying in his bed pretending to be him until he was back. One of your favorite memories was the block parties that were always held here, hundreds of military officers would show up, you’d get lost in the crowd but then found by a kicking rock from one of your brothers, or a dog guiding you through the crowds. They all weren’t good memories though, as you looked at the front door, you remember taking Shadow out for the last time, draping the blanket over him in the trunk wishing him to get better. The black town car pulling up on the street and the uniform men informing you of your father’s death. Leaving through that same door for the funeral, your brother in his own uniform, your youngest brother in a suit for probably the first and only time. Your mind flashed back to the first time you stood where you are now. A child services agent, helping you out of the car at 5 years old, your teddy bear in one hand and pretty empty backpack in the other as you stared at what was about to be your life, your father was the first one to come out and greet you. He had his uniform on and you remember being terrified, but he knelt down in front of you and smiled, offering you his hand to shake and it was like every fiber of fear vanished in seconds. 20 years later, you remember that same feeling of fear reentering your body when they said he had died.   

“Everytime I’m here it’s so…much.” 

Mickey let out a sigh, as he nodded in agreement. “It’s why I stay on base when I’m here. Only come here when I’m too lit to drive back.” 

“So every night?” You felt his hand reach up and push you slightly before you used his arm as a way to balance yourself and then brought yourself closer to him in a sideways hug. “I miss him.” 

“Me too.” He tossed his arm over your shoulder and rested his head over yours. 

____________

You should’ve seen if your brother could have brought you on base, now you were trying to search your bag for some credentials that could get you through the gates. You had plenty, being a writer and journalist you collected them like someone would stamps or coins. 

“Fuck.” You mumbled as you searched your bag coming up with event passes and useless press badges. “Really could’ve used that white house press pass right about now.” 

“Need help?” The familiar voice came up from behind you and startled you. 

“Was looking for my badge, trying to get on base.” 

“Badge?” Rooster was extending his hand to help bring you into a standing position, you had made the patch of grass right outside the gate your own bag search area. 

“Uhm, yea.” You were knocking grass off your clothes and grabbing the couple things on the ground before you looked up and realized who you were talking to. Part of you knew, even though you had only met him once but now you were really taking him in. He had on his flight suit, sunglasses perched on his nose and a large smile as he tried to understand what was going on. 

After tossing your bag over your shoulder, you exhaled and laughed. “I’m uh, journalist–a writer. I have press badges.” 

“What do you write?” His arms crossed curious to learn more about you. 

“A column in the post. It was called Life in Brief. It was sort of memoirs–briefings on people I’d meet traveling around the world.” 

“And now you’re going to write one about one of us.” Rooster was bending down and picking up your notebook which was still on the ground. 

As he handed it back to you, you smiled curtly to thank him before tossing it back in your bag, “I, uh, don’t write them anymore. My last one got printed a month ago, I’m working on something new.” 

“Something new, huh?” His arms were crossed and he separated his feet slightly as he questioned you. Moving his left hand up to push his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, he waited for your reply. 

“Yep. Something new. But I don’t think I’ll be getting on base today. I meant to ask Mickey last night but I forgot and I don’t have my white house badge to get me through.” 

“White house badge? Fancy!” He called out as he grabbed your bag from your shoulder and started walking past the gate with it. “Hey Lance, bring a friend for free day, alright?” He pointed back to you. With a light jog, you were trying to catch up to him, stopping at the gate where the guard just buzzed you in and waved his hand for you to enter. 

When you thanked him, you continued to catch up to Rooster. “Bag please?” He had it raised above his head and lowered it at your words. “Thank you.” 

“Who's on your list to talk to?” He asked as you were looking around at the hangars around you, the buildings, it had been years since you set foot on this base. 

“Don’t have a list.” You answered, distracted by it all. 

“Mission without a plan. That’s like the first rule: all missions have plans, multiple plans if anything.” 

“I’m not really a girl with a mission, Rooster. Never have been.” It was then that your head bounced off his chest, he had turned around and stopped walking while you were looking around, causing you to have run into him. 

“Maybe I can help with that?” 

“Plan to be my ghostwriter, Rooster?” You rubbed your head where you ran into him. 

“Could be one of the plans.” He teased you, it was then that you saw Hondo starting to walk on the concrete out of one of the hangars. 

“Let’s keep that on the back burner, Bradley.” You tapped his chest as you started to take a couple steps towards Hondo. “Hey, uh, thanks for getting me in, I owe you!” You were now yelling as you said it, your hand pointing at him but your mind focused on catching the man who was best friends with your father. 

_________

Before you knew it the day was over and the stars had filled the sky. Ending your day of research, if you could even call it that,  on the beach was your way of trying to gather your thoughts. You were still trying to figure out what you were going to write, how you were going to write it. Spending the day talking to people you grew up with, friends of your father, being back in a groove of things you haven’t been in so long was giving you a lot of ideas, but nothing felt right. You had spent the last few years of your career writing about other people, their stories, their grief, their happiness, their accomplishments, their regrets. Writing about your father’s, your brother’s, this life, should have been just like that. 

“Talk to me, Dad.” You whispered as your toes dug into the sand and your head looked up to the sky. Searching for any sign of what to do. It felt like you were in a new chapter of your life, and this was one that had no ties to your previous one, which bothered you. It was the first time you were doing something that your dad wasn’t involved in. He had been there when you graduated college with your degree in journalism, started your internship which led to your column, but now, this was new. You felt alone. 

There was commotion behind you, you were sitting on the beach in front of The Hard Deck so it wasn’t unusual. But this time, unbeknownst to you the commotion was Rooster with a few of his friends. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.” He was tapping his friends backs and he caught you sitting on the beach, a smile growing on his face. Before he even knew it, he was heading over to you and plopping down next to you in the sand. “So you gonna tell me about this project you’re working on?” 

“That would require me actually knowing what the project is myself.” Your hands were wrapped around your knees. 

Rooster mimicked your position, but his arms resting on his knees versus being wrapped around them. “That what you’re doing out here, figuring it out?” 

“Thinking about figuring it out.” You corrected him with a smirk. 

“Maybe if you don’t think it’ll come to you.” He offered a suggestion, his shoulders and arms raising slightly as he said it, his mustache moving downward as he frowned. 

“Don’t think. Brilliant advice, Bradley.” 

“Do I still have more questions?” 

“Why?” You were wondering what he wanted to know. 

“Just wanna know more about you.” Another shrug came from his shoulders. 

Your lips curved at his sentence and you looked over at him, resting your head on your knees and the tops of your arms. “It’s a book.” 

He was about to question you, the words what’s a book were about to come back from his mouth when it hit him. 

“So there is a plan.”

“That’s all I got. Don’t think I’d call it a plan yet.” 

“I read some of your columns.” It was blunt coming out of his mouth, like he almost wasn’t in control of saying it or planned of saying it himself.

That got your attention, your eyes were glued on his waiting for him to continue that thought with something more. 

“Before I knew they were yours, I’d read them back when I was in the Academy, when we weren’t allowed to have phones, a lot of us started reading the papers every morning.” 

“It got published digitally, too.” You weren’t living under a rock to know that the papers were a dying form of journalism.

You were not expecting the next thing he said. “Snippets on instagram, too.” When you looked at him with wide eyes, he laughed. “I enjoyed them, followed The Post to keep up with them when I got my phone back. “The one about the painter from Times Square, that’s the one that I read first and remember. Where the guy started painting the rocks in Central Park they were all covered in sunlight and by the time he was finishing up they were all shadowy.” 

“He had to decide how he wanted to remember them.” You knew exactly which memoir he was talking about. “Travis.” You kept your head on your knees and closed your eyes. 

“It was really powerful stuff, the idea that even with the things we can’t control– time passing, the sun setting, we still have the power of choice.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about you, Bradley?” Your eyes opened and you looked into his eyes. 

“What do you wanna know?” He dropped his head down similarly to yours but in a bit of a teasing way. 

“Everything.” It was insane that you had known this man for barely two days and your conversation yesterday of getting to know each other was flirtatious and now it was borderline pining. 

______

The pining didn’t last long. You were now naked in bed with him. His arm was around your shoulder and resting on your back as you head laid on his bare chest. 

“Is this how you get the scoop on all your features?” He joked and pulled you back in closer to him when you pushed him away teasingly. 

“You barely told me anything. I specifically asked for everything.” Your hand started to play with the tattoo on his chest, outlining it with your finger. 

“Tribute for my dad.” He was looking at the ceiling as he said it, feeling your light touch outline the goose silhouette that was next to the F-18 fighter jet silhouette. 

You nodded, having figured so much. “Tell me about him.” 

“I was young when he passed. Don’t remember much.” It was obvious he was lying, but you weren’t going to pry or try and pull it out of him. And you didn’t need to because he was closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Sorry, reflex.” 

“You don’t have to share. I know how hard it can be thinking about them.” 

“He was funny, always knew how to lighten the mood. He played piano, pretty fucking good too.” He laughed almost like he still was shocked at the thought. “He loved my mom fiercely. Loved me fiercely.” 

You knew that well, your dad was the same exact way. “When did you decide you were going to enlist?” 

“I couldn’t tell you, it just was something that I feel like I always knew.” His fingers were caressing your collar bone. 

“Mickey was the same way.” You let out a chuckle remembering no time where your eldest brother wasn’t obsessed with aviation. 

“They don’t call him Fanboy for nothing.” Rooster was laughing along with you. “This your room?” He was looking around but there was a lack of personality in the space. 

“Yea.” You agreed with him.

“Whole lot of nothing.” His eyes looked over the bare walls, just the old light yellow paint on the walls, there were nail holes, furniture scuffs, but nothing besides the bed, sheets, dresser and walls. 

“I took it all down when my dad died.” 

“Does it feel lighter?” He was staring at the ceiling as the question was asked. 

You frowned and looked over at him. Feeling the shift in your position he looked back down at you and gave you a seeing smile. “I know what it’s like to live with the weight of their memory.” 

“Doesn’t feel lighter.” You settled back into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Damn.” It was whispered just above your head. “Was hoping this might’ve been the secret.” 

You let out a little chuckle. “You hungry?” Rolling over you went to grab your clothes to put them back on, all while Rooster let out a groan in complaint as you moved away from him. “Come on,” you threw his jeans over at him, “kitchen.” 

As you both moved down the stairs together, he saw the frames of your family on the wall and stopped when he saw some of your columns framed. 

“This is the Travis column.” He was stopped on the landing and you were already on the ground level. His face was turning in a smile as he pointed to the frame. 

“It was one of my dad’s favorites.” You remembered when he called you to tell you he was framing it and putting it on the wall, your eyes smiling at the memory. “Come on, Rooster. Let me cook you breakfast.” 

“It’s 10:30?” He questioned as he skipped down the steps to catch up to you. 

______

Sitting on the island, you stared at Rooster who was using his fork as a knife to cut a piece of the pancake off. “Good, right?” Your eyebrows raised and you went back to picking off your plate. 

“Phenomenal.” He spoke with his mouth full. 

“So what haven’t you told me, Rooster?” You picked up a few scrambled egg pieces and plopped them in your mouth. 

“Hmm, I’m a Cancer, my favorite color’s yellow, I play piano, I own a lot of movies–bootlegs to be honest, I guess you could say I’ve collected them over the years, my favorite food is Pho, but I’m strongly considering changing that to these pancakes.” His mouth was full as he spoke so his words were muffled but you understood them perfectly. “Your turn.” 

You gave him your zodiac sign, a few interesting skills of yours and then looked at him and gave him a new fact. “I think these have been some of the best days I’ve had in a really long time.” 

At that sentence he looked up from his plate and into your eyes. He was across from you, probably 3 feet away, standing, but leaning against the counter his leg crossed over the other. Within an instant he was pushing off the counter and taking two steps towards you until your face was cupped in his hands and he was placing a kiss on your lips. 

“Glad you agree.” You whispered when he pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath. 

“What else?” He asked you, his forehead on yours as he asked the question. “Ask away.” His voice was so soft if he wasn’t this close to you, you never would have heard him. 

“I think it’s your turn.” Whispering it back, your hand started playing with his button up shirt. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” 

“I love watching antique roadshows.” 

He let out a bellow of a laugh, and brought you closer to him at the statement, placing a haste kiss to the side of your head in between chuckles. “What are you doing tomorrow?” 

“Are you asking me on a date, Bradley?” Your eyes squinted as you looked up at him. 

He started fumbling on his words, wondering if he got the vibe mixed up. Maybe this was a one time thing for you. For him, he liked you. He knew it was quick but on base situations like this were always quick. Time went by differently on base. 

Interrupting his thoughts, you spoke. “If it’s a date, I want flowers.” 

Relief fell on his face and he nodded in agreement. “Roses or lilies? 

“Sunflowers, yellow’s my favorite color, too.”

Part 3 Dividers by: @mikeykuns 🛫Top Gun Maverick Taglist:  @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!) CHAPTER INDEX <- where you can find previous chapters to this fic!

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong Part Three

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of family member deaths, cancer, some to-be-expected cursing, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: This was a pain to finish—you know the feeling when you know what you have to do, but you don’t know how to do it?

(Insert Ben Solo/Kylo Ren/Adam Driver gif here)

Yeah, that was this.

So many parts of this were so stubborn, even when I knew what the next story beat was; combine that with the inner critic being a bitch and the imposter syndrome impostoring, this was a labor of love.

Obviously, I pushed through, and here we have the final chapter of “Up Where We Belong”, which I am very proud of.

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Even while her phone was telling her she was on the right path, she briefly wondered if she was, in fact, lost.

It couldn’t be more obvious that she was in the middle of nowhere, lonely desert stretching out before her for miles and miles, with nary another car in sight, much less a building that could conceivably be a hangar.

It comforted her to see a blue Bronco pass her by at a brisk pace as she continued down the route indicated by her phone, having not seen another car for the past fifteen or so minutes.

She eventually turned when her phone instructed her, the hills along the road she’d been driving next to giving way to an enormous desert plain, and the slightly heat-distorted sight of a building in the distance, probably a mile off.

A smile crossed her face, that had to be it.

As she drew closer, the nerves she’d been tamping down started to bubble up again, and she cursed herself. “Get a grip, woman, you’re here to review a scene, not to go on a date.”

Despite that, the fact that she’d spent nearly half an hour planning what she’d wear today felt like a Freudian slip—a loose orange tunic with small blue embroidered flowers on the hem and sleeves, dark wash skinny jeans and brown ankle boots—eventually deeming it not too much, but not like she didn’t care.

As she got closer, the building became more impressive, despite its rather homely outward appearance—from the white-painted wood panels worn down to their natural color here and there, the fading “United States Navy” emblazoned at the top, to the faint, sun-bleached squadron insignia on the open bay doors—it just felt beautiful in a wild way.

She parked about several yards away from the hangar doors and shut off the engine. “Okay, what’s going to happen will happen,” she muttered, “you’re going to survive it hook or by crook.

And besides, you don’t even know if he’s married or in a relationship.”

And with that rousing Crispin Crispianish speech, she picked up her messenger bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she got out of the car.

The desert heat and silence washed over her as she moved towards the doors, calling out, “Hello?”

“In here,” came the reply.

She stepped inside the hangar, the shift to relative darkness briefly obscuring her vision, causing her to blink as her eyes adjusted, to see Pete standing by Bianca, looking somehow even better than she remembered, like something out of a movie.

His gaze was fixed intently on her, the slightest smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but match his expression, a “Hey there, sailor,” thoughtlessly slipping from her lips, which she immediately mentally kicked herself for saying; “Damn it, woman, how awkward can you be?” flashed through her mind like a neon sign.

Thankfully, he only brightly replied, “Hey, glad you could make it.”

Her smile widened. “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one-time opportunity,” she truthfully replied, determined to make the most of this opportunity in regard to her novel—other… hypothetical motivations notwithstanding.

He shrugged, eyes sparkling, his movie star smile as devastating as a whole volume of honeyed poetry. “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, wrenching her gaze away from him before she said or did something stupid, settling for the sting of her teeth on her lip to knock her back to her senses.

Her eyes flit about the hangar, eventually landing on Bianca, the frontispiece of the whole room. “Great place you’ve got here, must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’ve got friends in high places,” he replied.

The sentence itself was vaguely humorous, something wry, an inside joke, but there was a weight to his tone, like the joke had lost its humor, and instead turned into something to grieve.

She tilted her head slightly, another enigma comprising Pete “Maverick” Mitchell revealing itself.

But before she could think too much, he broke the sudden silence. “Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

He gestured grandly to his couch, and as they moved towards it, she surreptitiously wiped her hands on her thighs, perspiration disappearing in the dark wash of her jeans, then busied herself with opening her laptop, finger fumbling on the start screen as she felt him settle in the seat next to her—realistically, she knew he’d likely sit next to her, but just because one knew something didn’t prepare one for experiencing it.

Again, the blinking cursor on her MacBook’s screen seemed to cackle at her, but she ignored it in favor of typing in her password, opening the laptop to the dreaded dogfight scene. “Here it is in all its misery,” she half-joked.

“May I?” he gestured to the device.

“Go ahead,” she sighed.

Pete picked up the device, leaning back with it in his lap, eyes darting about the screen, mouth moving slightly as he read, and in a matter of moments, his hands came up, mimicking the movements she’d written, while his face alternately made skeptical, approving, and a few amused expressions.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she plaintively asked, bracing for the worst, when he carefully placed the MacBook on his coffee table what seemed like an eternity later.

“It’s not bad at all,” he shook his head, an earnest expression lighting his features. “There are some maneuvers there that are only plausible for the P-51 in a rare set of conditions, and a… couple that I’d say are more in line with the capabilities of the F-35–or the 18 in my hands—but overall, it’s pretty damn good for a self-professed newbie to writing a dogfight scene.”

Her jaw fell open. “You’re kidding me.”

“Swear on my wings,” he laughed, the sound so musical, it was almost annoying how perfect and beautiful this man was.

“How would you fix it?”

He pointed, “Do you have a pen and notebook?”

“Never go anywhere without one.”

That beautiful smile of his spread his lips. “Well, let’s turn and burn, then.”

They worked for a couple or so hours, Pete writing out more plausible maneuvers to replace the impossible ones, demonstrating them with some models he’d run off to another corner of the hangar to retrieve, both of them mutually deciding to leave most of the only slightly implausible ones in, save for the ones where the bounds of reality were a little too stretched for the aerial conditions she’d already committed to, while she elaborated on what he’d written, fitting it into the novel’s style.

Eventually, she released a breath of victory, and proffered the laptop to Pete again, now actually proud of the dogfight scene. “You want to read it again?”

“Alright,” he easily agreed.

He read it again, the scene before her the same as over two hours ago, but this time, the skeptical and amused looks were replaced with a captivated and admiring expression.

“Well?” she prompted.

He blew out a breath. “It reads even better than I thought it would, you’re really good at this.”

She leaned forward, needing to be sure she hadn’t imagined him saying that. “It’s good?”

Pete leaned forward, into her personal space, matching her, as he fervently said, “It’s amazing.”

Her breath caught as the moment stretched taut around them, the two of them close enough for her to see the light reflecting off the peridot and aquamarine flecks in the brilliant jade of his eyes.

She looked around the hangar again at his earnest gaze, the itch to do something stupid scratching at her skin once more—she had a feeling that that would be a pattern for her with Pete Mitchell. “So, tell me, what exactly is it you do for the Navy, Captain Mitchell?”

He froze minutely at the end of her sentence, swallowing thickly as he processed the question.

“If you’ll have to kill me, there’s no need to tell me,” she joked, as she literally saw his brain reboot.

He blinked and chuckled softly, coming back to himself. “No, no, nothing as secretive as all that; I’m an instructor at TOPGUN—basically, I teach the Navy’s best aviators how to be better.

That’s why I talked about students during our phone call.”

“We’ll have to compare notes sometime to see who got it worse—I used to be a high school English teacher.”

Pete winced. “Ooh, teenagers, I don’t envy you.

But imagine taking hotshot twenty-somethings who fly multi-million dollar weapons as a career, who think they’re the best and know everything, shoving them into one room, and having to show them quite vividly that they don’t know everything.”

She gave her own wince. “Ooh.

But come on, you can’t have it that bad—especially if you fly an F-18 anything like how you flew Bianca at Apple Valley.

You’re telling me they’d still act up after getting so thoroughly schooled?”

He tilted his head from side to side, amused. “You’d be surprised, but uh… well, let’s just say that most of the “old man” comments typically tend to lose their bite by the end of the first hop.”

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back, just imagining the reactions of those hotshot kids. “As they should—I’d pay to see their reactions, come to think of it.”

She looked back at him to see his gaze was intently focused on her, but it didn’t send a shiver down her spine—at least not in the unsettling way it usually did when men stared at her. “Maybe my next class cycle, you’d like to come down to North Island, sit in the control tower, listen in on the first hop or two,” he said.

“An opportunity to see an experienced naval aviator in his element; I must say that’s an appealing offer.”

“You just let me know if you want to take me up on it.”

It was sheer instinct to say, “You know, I just might.”

Lowly, he replied, “I’d like that.”

The honestly there was breathtaking.

A glance out the bay doors showed that the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting a yellow-orange glow on everything, and caution nipped at her heels. “It’s kind of getting late, and I don’t want to bother you into the evening, I should go.”

Pete’s face fell ever so slightly. “You’re no bother, but I understand if you need to go.”

The slight drop of his features felt like a fall from a high precipice, sinking like a stone in her stomach. “Thank you so much again for your help, I really can’t thank you enough for everything,” she reassured.

“It’s no problem,” he said, almost resignedly.

She felt an intense yearning in her soul to strip that lonely note from his voice, to lift the sadness from him which came in like a squall, so she said the first thing that came to mind, her heretofore carefully-maintained caution getting unceremoniously kicked to the curb. “Uh, this might be stupid, and I’m so sorry if I’m being a nuisance, so feel free to tell me off, but… would you mind if I called you again?

Honestly—I, I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this in much detail with, and—and I’d love to talk with someone who understands the perspective my granduncle might’ve had.”

To her happiness, he brightened. “Not at all, I’d li—it’d be ni—” he sighed, a little wry smile playing on his lips, “feel free to call.”

She resisted the urge to giggle at his fumbling for words. “Okay, I’ll do that.

Thank you.

I promise not to call at like, 2:00 in the morning, when you’re asleep.”

He laughed, but pulled a face that had her mentally frowning as they both stood; however, she didn’t mention it, and instead gathered her things before Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her. “I’ll uh, expect your call?”

If the former sadness in his tone tugged at her heart, the thinly veiled hope now there positively wrenched it, and caution was nowhere to be seen. “It might come sooner than you think.”

The boyish, excited expression on his face was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “I look forward to it.”

By the time she reached home, while eating some ramen on her couch for dinner, she found herself picking up her phone and going to Pete’s message thread.

She typed and retyped her message again and again, debating whether or not to send anything at all, but eventually settled on “Just thought I’d let you know that I survived the drive home to bug you another day 🤣”, and sent it off before she could think too much.

Her finger was on the verge of clicking her phone off, but then she caught sight of the typing bubble, and she absentmindedly chewed her lip as she waited for his reply.

Eventually, after about a minute of the typing bubble popping up and disappearing, a message finally came in. “I had every confidence that you would. 😉”

She leaned back, setting into her cushions as she figured out her next message.

The week passed by, and she didn’t pass a day without messaging Pete at least once—he was so easy to talk to about pretty much everything, and it was so comfortable, to just pick up her phone and ask a question or say something non sequitur, his reply coming within the hour, if not within the next ten minutes, starting a conversation by text or a subsequent call, either of which could last hours.

However, this had a drawback.

It meant she didn’t work on the novel nearly as much as she should, and she eventually found herself staring again at her cruel, blinking cursor as her mind stubbornly remained blank.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as her first block, or the block regarding the dogfight scene, but she was starting to get a little frustrated.

Deciding to take a little break from blinking at her laptop’s screen, she traded it for her phone, open, as usual, to Pete’s message thread. “Feeling a little frustrated right now…” she shot off.

Forty-five minutes or so later, she got his reply. “Sorry to hear that.

You want to talk?”

“You free?”

A beat later, her phone rang. “So—frustrated, huh?”

Just hearing his voice had some of the frustration draining from her. “Yes.

It’s absolutely infuriating; I know what happens next, it just doesn’t want to—” she gestured sharply even though he wouldn’t see it, “you know?”

He hummed, “I know the feeling, the same thing happened to me a couple of times when I was writing my paper for my Master’s.”

“You have a Master’s.” she restated, shocked.

“Two, actually—Aerospace Engineering and Physics.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that she simply blinked for several seconds, impressed. “Another layer to Pete Mitchell,” she said, once she found words again.

“Like an onion.”

His joke made her snort while he continued, “I’ll let you in on a little secret—you’d be surprised how many naval aviators are actually nerds.

Don’t let the flight suits and Ray-Bans fool you.”

She laughed, but soon grew serious. “Oh God, Pete, I don’t know what to do—I mean, the last time I productively wrote anything was last week, at your hangar.”

There was a long pause, so much so that she thought the call had dropped, but when she looked at her screen, the line was still connected. “Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” He sounded tentative. “Uh, if, if you wanted, you could—could come down to the hangar this weekend—you never know, being where you were last productive might shake something loose.”

“Sure, I’d love to—I mean—anything to make any progress, and—and the company’s pretty good too.”

She tried not to sound too eager to see him again, but she knew she probably failed at that.

“…Is there anything I can do to turn that ‘pretty good’ to good?” the now-familiar smile could be heard in his voice.

“We’ll see what happens this weekend, Captain.”

This time, when she stepped into the hangar, Pete was kneeling next to one of his numerous motorcycles, hands buried somewhere in its engine, dressed again in a white t-shirt and jeans. “You know, I’m starting to think you live in a white t-shirt and jeans,” she joked, though it was undeniable how good he looked in them.

He looked up, a warm chuckle escaping him, “That’s not true; once in a blue moon, the shirt’s black, and you’re forgetting my flight suit.”

She grinned, “Oh, we have a comedian here, yet another layer!”

“I’ll be here all weekend,” he bowed and swept his arm out to the side before standing and wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable in the living area, can I get you any coffee or anything?”

“Uh, maybe a coffee?”

“Sure thing; how do you take it?”

“Two teaspoons of sugar, splash of cream if you have it.”

With a nod, he strode to the trailer further in the hangar, and soon emerged from the silver Airstream, steaming cup in hand, which he set on the small table beside the couch, where she had settled. “Just ignore me and do what you have to do.”

“Thank you for letting me intrude on your space.”

“No problem, you’re a very welcome change from my usual routine and company.”

She placed a hand on her heart, “Gee, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

A mischievous light entered those beautiful eyes of his, and he leaned down, placing a hand on the back of the couch, making her crane her head up to look at him. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

She swallowed thickly, and he glanced down, tracking the movement, but her “Is that so, Captain?” had his eyes meeting hers in a flash.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s so.” The slight rasp in his voice could have been a trick of her imagination, but before she could think about it, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll let you get to work.

Like I said, just ignore me,” he said, tone light once more.

She wasn’t sure if ignoring him was completely possible, but she replied, “I’ll call you if I need your opinion on anything.”

He threw her an insouciant salute, before heading off into the depths of his hangar.

The blinking cursor of her laptop was just as evil as it always was, but it didn’t seem so daunting here, so she buckled down, beginning to shave out some progress with the soft sounds of tools in the background—it wasn’t as much as she’d like, but anything was better than what she’d been doing, or rather, not been doing the last few days.

After an hour of sitting and writing, she stretched and stood, looking for Pete, curious as to what he was up to.

“Pete?” she called out.

“I’m back here!”

She followed the sound of his voice to a workbench near a sink in the recesses of the hangar; he was looking through a jar of screws, placing the contents into several smaller jars. “You make any progress with the writing?”

“Mm-hmm—not as much as I’d like, but it’s something; I just wanted to stand and stretch for a bit, take a little break from my screen.

What are you doing?”

“I’m working on some upgrades to one of my bikes, but I, uh, got a little sidetracked and I am currently sorting my screw collection,” he sheepishly said.

“Ah,” she nodded, “I know the feeling, the side quest that you absolutely have to complete before you can do anything else.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “it’s crazy, isn’t it?”

She laughed, a frown soon creasing her brow as she happened to look off to the side.

Involuntarily, she stepped closer to the photo-covered cork board on the wall, gaze fixed on a photo of a young, flight suit-clad Pete, helmet in hand, standing in front of a jet, a tall, familiar-looking man next to him.

The other man was the spitting image of Pete’s son, the only difference perhaps being perhaps ever-so-slightly lighter and straighter hair.

“Bradley looks exactly like him, doesn’t he?” Pete’s voice intruded on her confusion.

She looked to her left to see him standing beside her, an old grief shining in his eyes.

“Yes, he does,” she breathed carefully, knowing somehow that she was in different waters. “Who was he?”

“Nick Bradshaw—Goose—my backseater, back in the eighties, when I flew F-14s.

My brother in all but blood… Bradley’s father.”

The story he proceeded to tell was tragic and heartbreaking; she didn’t even have to see the muted grief in his eyes as he spoke to imagine the anguish he must have endured that day, having to hold Nick’s lifeless body in his arms for what undoubtedly felt like an eternity.

“I became Bradley’s legal guardian after his mother died of cancer, and… while there were a lot of rough years where we didn’t talk to each other, we made up late last year; came out stronger for it, I think.”

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” she breathed.

He smiled ruefully. “Wasn’t all bad, though; got some pretty good brothers out of all that, though I can’t say they’re all still here.”

The dots connected in her head. “The friends in high places?”

He nodded sadly. “My best friend—he was my wingman for decades until he became an Admiral, ended up the highest ranking one this side of the country, in fact.

He died shortly before Bradley and I made up; cancer.”

She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

His breath hitched, and he looked down at their linked hands, before turning glassy eyes to her.

She was caught in that piercing gaze, which seemed to look right into her soul, and something told her that she was incredibly lucky to be seeing this vulnerability.

The weight of that was almost enough to bring her to her knees, but she pushed that aside in favor trying to ease the sadness in his eyes. “Cancer really fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

He burst into a watery laugh. “Yes, it fucking does.”

She laughed along with him, squeezing his hand, making the callouses on his palm press against the soft skin of hers. “You want some help with your screw sorting?”

He sniffled, chuckling, “I feel like you’re using me as a distraction.”

“Yes, I absolutely am; are you complaining?”

Pete looked down at the floor, shaking his head with a soft smile. “Not at all, but I’m giving you five minutes before I make you write again, I’m not about to be blamed for any lack of progress.”

True to his word, after the five minutes were up, he shuffled her off to the couch, and she was glad that he wasn’t enabling her procrastination, thankfully able to make a fair bit of progress from there.

Some time later, while in the middle of spell checking what she’d written, she looked up to see Pete place a fresh cup of coffee next to her before sitting in a chair opposite her, picking up a small stack of paperwork and a pen from the coffee table. “Just pretend I’m not here,” he whispered.

For a while, they worked together in silence, as the California sun set, but soon, curiosity began dogging her thoughts. “Doesn’t your wife mind that you’re here late?” she asked.

His gaze almost audibly snapped to hers, his jaw working as he seemed to carefully consider his answer. “…I’m not married.”

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one of those either,” he casually replied. “How about you?

Anyone waiting for you back in San Bernardino?”

She took a deep breath. “Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Moscovitz.

She gets worried when I don’t come home before ten.”

A faint smile crossed his lips. “Good neighbors are hard to come by.”

“That they are.”

They worked in silence for another half hour before she stood and stretched; it was beginning to get dark, and while she was a little more confident driving the desert roads, she wanted to hit the highway before the sun fully set.

“Going now?” Pete asked.

“I want to hit the highway before it gets really dark.”

He smiled ruefully, “I understand, we got to get you back safe, I don’t want Mrs. Moscovitz to kick my ass.”

“And she could, believe me,” she laughed, gathering her things, and exactly like last time, Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her.

It was when she turned to face him that a thought body-slammed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been writing a lot here, and I’ve thought of some of the best moments here, actually.

Um… I guess what I’m trying to ask is… would you mind if we made this—me coming over to write—a regular thing?”

He blinked, seemingly taken aback.

“If I’ve overstepped, please pretend I never—”

“I’m here every weekend, from Friday night until Sunday morning,” he interrupted.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

“Okay,” she breathed, grinning. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

He matched her grin, “I look forward to it.”

Over the next three months, she made regular weekend visits to the hangar, the two of them learning each other, slowly growing closer as she told him about her life growing up in a family of pilots, her years as a teacher, leaving more and more of her heart behind in the desert each time.

Her heart panged remembering the day he told her why the P-51 was named Bianca.

“Uh, __?

I, er, kind of need some help,” Pete called.

Immediately rising from the couch, she walked over to where he was standing next to Bianca, hands deep in her engine. “What do you need?”

“Could you hand me that wrench there that’s out on the cart?”

After handing it off, a few turns of the wrench later, he stepped back, admiring the old girl while wiping his hands with a rag. “There we go, sweetheart, that’s more like it.”

“You spoil her, you know?” she shook her head.

“How can I not spoil her—look at her!” he replied, with a mock-affronted expression.

“Yeah, she is gorgeous, isn’t she?” she said, turning to look at the marvel of engineering Bianca was.

“She is,” he murmured, and something in his tone made her look back at him, only to see he also had turned to look at Bianca.

“Why’d you name her Bianca?” she asked, wanting to draw out the conversation before he would undoubtedly shoo her back to writing.

He sighed wistfully, “I named her after my mother.

Her name was Bianca Rivelli; Mitchell after she married my dad, of course.

She was from South Philadelphia—Little Italy in that part of town—and she met my dad when she was visiting friends in New York City during Fleet Week; it was love at first sight, she always said.” He hesitated, and a pit sank in her stomach. “She uh, passed from a heart attack when I was seven, but I know that it was heartbreak that really took her, after my dad was shot down and killed in Vietnam and branded a traitor, all because he died during an off-the-books mission.

She tried so hard to hang on for me, I know, and I don’t blame her for leaving—not anymore, not for decades—and when I got the P-51, I wanted to commemorate her somehow.

So I named her Bianca.”

She didn’t even think twice before lunging and pulling Pete into a hug.

He stood stiffly for a moment, and she was just about to pull away, but then he positively sank into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” she sniffled after a long while.

“I can still be an asshole sometimes, you know?” he said, voice wavering.

“Maybe, but you’re still unbelievably kind.”

Now, as she was once again driving to the hangar, trepidation settled at the forefront of her mind; she was nearing the end of the novel, and in fact, she was sure she’d finish it today; but what would happen without a reason to visit Pete?

This was the twenty-first century, a woman had the right to tell a man if she was interested in him, but if he didn’t feel the same, she might just torpedo the best friendship she’d had in a long time; she loved to talk to him, spending time with him was the easiest thing in the world, and not having that anymore seemed incomprehensible.

The hangar drew closer and closer, but she was getting more and more confused, and so decided to engage in the oldest, most revered of writerly traditions: procrastination.

She’d just hope that she’d find the opportunity, the thoughts, and more importantly, the courage, to say something to him.

Fear and nervousness dominated her emotions as she walked into the quiet hangar—much too quiet for a space inhabited by someone like Pete Mitchell.

“Pete?”

“You’re right on time,” he breezily said, coming out of the Airstream, cup of coffee in hand, “something told me to make your coffee already, and here you are!”

“Seems like you’re getting ESP,” she lightly replied, trying to belie the mess of emotions she was feeling.

“I don’t know about all that—maybe just for you,” he softly laughed, his eyes endearingly crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was genuinely happy.

And if that didn’t make her heart absolutely melt—truly, how this man was not married or in a relationship at this point, she didn’t know.

She settled into what she had dared to start thinking of as her “spot” on the couch, the coffee cup he was holding clinking onto the table beside her the next second.

“I’ll let you get to it,” he nodded, squirreling off to a corner of the hangar before she could get a word in edgewise.

With nothing else for it, she reluctantly began writing, and in a sick twist of fate, the words came easily, when she most wanted them not to come, in hopes of drawing this status quo out for just one more week.

One more week of driving to this lonely desert hangar, one more week of seeing those ubiquitous white t-shirts and Levi’s, one more week of hearing his voice, seeing his smile when he caught sight of her.

But fate was cold and cruel, and after roughly two hours, the draft was finished.

Tears welled in her eyes, but for completely different reasons than she would have said when she first began rewriting her Uncle Joe’s story.

“Hey, what’s wrong?

What happened?”

She looked up into Pete’s warm, concerned gaze, and didn’t that just make things worse? “I—I finished the draft.

It’s done,” she croaked.

“Hey, congratulations!

That’s great!” he encouraged, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.

I… I can’t believe it’s over… and I’m really feeling sad right now,” she numbly breathed, deciding for a little honesty.

He moved to sit beside her, his leg pressed against hers, and her breath caught at the proximity.

“Well, that’s understandable, you’ve devoted a lot of time to this, and it’s something very important to you,” he softly replied. “But hey, I have every confidence that this is going to be a bestseller—every publisher is going to want you, and won’t that make everything you went through to get to this point worth it?”

His words made her remember her PopPop, when he encouraged her to write about Uncle Joe and Céline, shortly before he died, and it made her smile despite herself. “It will.”

“That’s the spirit.” He reached up, cupping her cheek, thumb delicately brushing away a tear she didn’t even know had fallen, and almost subconsciously, she leaned into his touch.

He seemed to swallow reflexively, eyes quickly darting down before he met her gaze again and lowered his hand from her cheek, leaving her feeling bereft. “Uh, since it’s not every day one finishes a first draft and all,” Pete gestured, “how—how would you feel about taking a little celebratory flight?”

Her eyes widened. “In—in the—in Bianca?”

A smile she would venture to call sad inexplicably crossed his face. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’d love that.”

What better way to celebrate finishing her granduncle’s story than a flight in the same plane he flew?

At the very least, if she crashed and burned her friendship with Pete because she happened to find some heretofore unknown reservoir of courage, she’d have something shining and beautiful to remember him by.

It felt absolutely surreal to sit in Bianca’s backseat, and it didn’t feel any less surreal as they cruised through the air.

Sitting up here, over two thousand feet above the ground, while she was happy with the direction she’d taken in her life, she felt she now truly understood why the better part of her family had dedicated themselves to the skies.

It was breathtaking and awe inspiring; with the mountainous desert vista out below, the clear blue sky above, she thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

To get to see this every day, and to have the controls of a marvel of engineering beneath your hands as a pilot… the feeling was surely beyond exhilarating.

“How you doing back there?” Pete asked, voice tinny through the headphones.

“Just perfect—I can really understand now why you and my family do this for a living, it’s amazing up here.”

“I know, right?

There’s nothing like it,” he breathed, and she could almost feel the joy in his voice.

They flew on in easy silence for a while before he broke it again. “So, I have a question for you; we can keep flying nice and easy like this until you want to land or until we have to, or… we can have some fun—nothing like what I did at Apple Valley, but uh, it’ll definitely be a little bit more exciting than nice and easy.”

As much as she wanted to immediately say yes, she was still a little apprehensive. “You promise not to make me throw up?”

“Swear on my wings,” he solemnly promised, “and if you feel uncomfortable during anything, all you have to do is let me know, and I’ll immediately level off.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “…Alright, go for it.”

“Okay, here we go!” Gently, he brought Bianca into a sweeping banked descent, and from there, while she was sure it was nothing for Pete, who’d done far more daring things in Bianca, and surely in his career as a naval aviator, this was the most thrilling thing she’d ever experienced in her life.

Before she knew it, Pete said, “We’ll have to land in fifteen minutes, so I’ll bring us back around, okay?”

Her heart sank. “So soon?”

He laughed, “We’ve been up here for almost an hour and a half.”

It felt like they just got up here. “What?!”

“Time flies when you’re having fun!”

“You’re corny, Pete Mitchell,” she chuckled.

“Guilty as charged!”

But the joyful mood didn’t last long—soon, the hangar and runway were in sight, and sadness suddenly overwhelmed her; she breathed mournfully, “How can I ever thank you for everything?”

“No need to thank me,” he replied, seemingly overtaken by the same sadness she was, though it didn’t have any bearing on how smoothly he brought Bianca onto the tarmac, and how he brought her back into the hangar.

The leaden pit in her heart and stomach seemed to grow even heavier; she’d been waiting the whole day for the time and courage to tell him how she felt, but she wasn’t able to find a moment or the courage to speak, and now her chances were slipping away, the sudden sound of silence as the engine cut and the canopy slid back feeling like the first handful of earth dropped on a casket.

“You need any help?” Pete’s voice intruded on her thoughts.

“No, I got it.” It wasn’t completely the truth, but anything to draw out the moments she had left.

With a nod, Pete eased himself up out of the cockpit and slid down the wing.

Finally, she was able to unclip herself from her harness and stand up, easing herself onto the wing—

“Ahhh!” she yelped, having lost her foothold on the wing, abruptly sliding down the warm metal, and then—

She suddenly stopped, toes just touching the ground, pressed against a firm chest, her hands fisting in white cotton, warm arms wrapped around her waist.

It was almost a replay of the day she met Pete, and it felt like fate was giving her one final chance.

She looked up into his eyes, knowing that if she didn’t say anything now, she never would. “Pete, I—”

The words died in her throat as he moved his hand to cup her cheek like he had two hours ago, and just like two hours ago, she leaned into the warmth of his touch, her breath hitching as she felt the gentleness with which his rough, calloused palm caressed her cheek.

He scanned her face, searching for something, and seemingly finding it, his viridescent gaze lighted on her lips, which had her heart stuttering in her chest and the air shuddering from her lungs.

“Don’t think, just do,” he muttered, leaning in, and like lightning, her mind sharpened; she leaned forward, pulling him the minuscule distance to her with a hand on his neck.

Suddenly, she found herself taking flight in a completely different way from five minutes ago.

Pete kissed her like he flew; with complete dedication, and like this was the last moment of pure, unrivaled, unfettered joy he’d ever have again, and her knees went weak, an entirely different thrill rushing through her, as she felt him push her up against Bianca’s fuselage.

She was breathless, she was taking the first breath of air she’d ever had—it was fire, it was light, it was incandescent.

She only realized the burn in her lungs when he drew back, both of them gasping for breath.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed, voice deep and rough, eyes dark.

An actual whimper fell from her lips, and she replied, “Holy shit, I don’t care if it’s done, that’s definitely going in the book.”

He huffed a low chuckle, that devastating smirk on his face. “In that case, you want a little more inspiration?”

“Oh hell, yes,” she breathed, and pulled him back into her.

The End

Previous Part

I very much had an inner debate as to whether the ending of this story was too similar to that of TG:M, but after a lot of soul searching, I decided that this was the only conceivable way to end this.

It starts with the P-51, and it ends with her.

You could call her Mav’s wingwoman, I suppose.

The Hangar, as I learned from an interview I will not be able to dig up from my YouTube history, is actually owned by Tom himself.

He said it in the aforementioned interview, and I honestly should have seen it coming.

The hangar was even featured in the background of the iconic video where Tom took James Corden flying in the P-51, and I am somewhat ashamed to say that I recognized it from shots where you only saw the corner of the building.

Yeah, do me a favor and please don’t bring that up.

“Crispin Crispianish” is a reference to the St. Crispin’s Day speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry V”, from which the title of the WWII book and series “Band of Brothers” is taken.

“Turn and burn” is a colloquial aviation saying which describes being cleared to takeoff from the runway generally without having to hold short of it for any duration of time, which leads to the aircraft immediately turning onto the runway from the taxiway shortly before the pilots push the engine thrust levers to Take Off/Go Around, which produces maximum thrust, and presto change-o, you have a generally expedited takeoff.

“You’d be surprised,” is absolutely a reference to Bradley almost punching Jake’s lights out in TG:M.

Yes, I am aware of the amount of art imitating life here; my writer and myself were very much twinning in our frustration with what we were writing.

You can pry ADHD/Neurodivergent/Genius IQ Mav from my cold, dead hands.

Here we have the answer to why the P-51 is named “Bianca” in my story.

I headcanon Mav has Italian heritage, and I thought this would be a nice way to put it in here.

I also made his mom from Philadelphia, because there’s a Top Gun ‘86 costume test shot of Tom wearing an Eagles sweatshirt, and as a Philly-adjacent girl, I had to somehow reference that even obliquely.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” is an adaptation of a line from “Doctor Who”, which I thought perfectly describes Mav.

Taglist

@ohtobemare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[ersatz-ostrich]

See You Again

Chapter 3: Ten Years

Jason Todd x f!reader

Red Hood takes you to the Cave for treatment.

[A/N]: I'm so glad I gave this chapter a once-over before publishing it. I think I hammered out all 3,900-ish words of this chapter almost exclusively between the hours of 11 PM and 2 AM. I swear, this fic has me in a chokehold. Anyways, the plot thickens...and we uncover more of Jason and MC's shared history! Happy reading :)

Warnings: none

read here on ao3

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masterlist

Somewhere over Missouri

1:21:44 AM CT

“Red Hood, do you wanna tell me why you requested access to a Wayne Enterprises hangar at an R&D facility outside of San Diego?”

“Oracle, I’m in a hurry to get back to the Batcave. I need Alfred or whoever’s in the Cave to prepare the medbay for a patient with a potentially infectious virus.” 

“Hood, what’s your status?” Batman’s voice replaced Oracle’s. His voice, stern as always, carried a twinge of worry.

“I have a civilian patient with me right now. They're a target; they need to be treated under the radar.”

“I’ll have Alfred prepare a bed.” 

“Tell him that Y/N L/N’s coming back.”

A pause.

“Will do, Hood.” This time it was Oracle’s voice. “And try not to crash the experimental supersonic shuttle you just commandeered.”

“No promises.”

Red Hood turned his seat to face where you lay unconscious, strapped to one of the benches in the hold meant for military personnel. The shuttle wasn’t built for transporting incapacitated patients like yourself, so he had to improvise—something that he wished he didn’t have to do. Hell, he wished more than anything that he could have reunited with you in a different situation, one where your life wasn’t on the line, one where he didn’t have to hide behind a mask. He simply wasn’t ready for you to see him like this, not after you had gone about your life thinking that Jason Todd had died in a warehouse in the snowy outskirts of Sarajevo.

After you had passed out, he had rushed you away from the scene of the break-in, which was swarming with LAPD and government personnel, and driven out of the city with you in the backseat of the car he’d borrowed from Roy for the operation, probably breaking a few traffic laws in the process. Once he’d driven out of city limits and reached the open road, he pulled over and all but flung the backseat door open, your Styrofoam case full of vaccines and samples in his hands. He opened the case and found a mess of ice, vials, and sterile packs of syringes inside, jumbled from all of the rooftop grappling and swinging the two of you had done. 

“Vaccines are pink, viruses are clear…” He muttered to himself, picking up one of the vials and examining them under the lone streetlamp he had parked under. The vial had been labeled with the total volume and the correct dosage of the vaccine. Your penmanship, he noticed, was unmistakable, even after all of the years that had passed. Unpackaging the syringe, he dispensed the correct volume of the vaccine, flicking the syringe to dispel any air bubbles, and gingerly parted the collar of your PPE. “Shit…” The blackened, distended veins had extended further across your clavicle, tendrils crawling up your neck and around your shoulders. Grimacing, he injected the vaccine into your shoulder, packed up, and kept driving, racking his brain for the fastest way to get to the one place where he knew you could be treated. 

Now, he watched you, caught in a fever dream. You were so close to slipping away from him just as your trajectories had crossed.

“I won’t let you die, Y/N.” He whispered. “Fight it. Please. ” I can’t lose you. Not when I just got you back.

Gotham Academy

Ten Years Ago

You tapped your pencil against the thick textbook as you contemplated your last practice problem. The clock beside your dorm room bed read half past eleven, and the only light in your room came from your desk lamp, which bathed everything in a warm glow.

You were about to reach for your calculator when you heard a knock against the windowpane. You turned your head towards the sound and nearly fell out of your chair at the sight of Jason Todd waving at you through the glass. 

“What—Jason?” You hissed, rushing to open the window. “Do you know what time it is?!” Outside your window, Jason was perched atop the slanted roof, lounging as if he were sitting on a sofa rather than aging shingles. “How the hell did you get up here? You know this is the top floor, right?”

“I know. Whatcha studying for?” He replied coolly, unfazed by your scolding.

“Physics,” You answered begrudgingly, keeping your voice low. “I have a test tomorrow.”

“Physics?” Jason echoed. “So, all you gotta know is F equals MA and that’s it, right?”

“Yeah, right.” You replied jokingly. “Seriously, how did you slip away from Mr. Wayne this time?”

“He’s out of state on some business trip. Right now, it’s just me and Alfred.” 

“And does Alfred know what you’re up to?”

“...maybe.” Jason chuckled quietly. “Man, if he knows I ran off, I’m a dead man.”

“Chances are, he already knows. Guess this is the last time I’ll see you, Jailbird. Better start planning your funeral.” Jason’s grin grew wider at the nickname.

“Jailbird?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ll be grounded the instant you get back to Wayne Manor.” You made a show of turning away from the window, only looking back to whisper, “Farewell, Jason. I fear I may never see you again.” A beat of silence passed, and then you both collapsed into laughter, which you quickly muffled lest you both be caught by a nosy roommate or RA. After your fit had abated, Jason grasped your wrist through the open window with a warm smile.

“Seriously, though. I just wanted to see you again.” You couldn’t see the pink tint that crept onto his cheeks in the low light. You laughed softly, placing your other hand on his.

“You are one weird kid, Jason Todd.”

“Says the person who’s taking college-level physics as a sophomore.” He fired back.

“Says the person who climbed onto the roof of the girls’ dorm just to see me. You’re lucky I didn’t holler the second I saw you.” You looked past him to peer down at the scenery below. “How are you gonna get down?”

“Dunno. Same way I came up.” He answered with a shrug. “If I fall and die, I want white roses at my funeral.”

“Don’t you dare, Jason.”

Eight months. 

Eight months later, you were standing before a freshly turned plot in the Wayne family cemetery, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m very sorry, Miss L/N.” Soothed Alfred, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you collapsed upon the grass before Jason’s headstone.

“You meant the world to him, Y/N. I’m sorry.” From your blurred periphery, you saw Mr. Wayne, who was always so tall, so imposing, so confident , kneeling beside you. With his drawn expression and hunched posture, he looked defeated. He looked like the weight of Jason’s death had crushed his soul into the ground.

“White roses,” was all you could choke out in between hiccups. “He said he wanted white roses.” 

You were only fourteen when he died, already a sophomore at Gotham Academy. It was the peak of exam season. Finals, projects, and presentations crept nearer and you were constantly bombarded with the pressure to perform—the ‘gifted kid’, the star student, Gotham Academy’s promising STEM scholarship recipient—but you couldn’t ignore the hole that Jason Todd left. The feeling seemed to burrow into you, eat away at you, until there was nothing left but you and your thoughts and the shoebox of a dorm room that Jason used to sneak out of Wayne Manor to visit. Staring up at the ceiling from where you lay in your bed, you wished more than anything to hear the sound of Jason gently rapping his bruised knuckles against your windowpane and to see his grinning face again. 

Now, you were ensnared in the memory of that September night when he first appeared outside of your dorm window. You were staring at the same physics problems again, eyes swimming. The clock still read half past eleven. But this body was yours, ten years older than you were that night. 

You heard tapping on the windowpane. 

“Jason…?” You whispered, inching closer to the window. Your heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t aged a day. Your fingers quickly found the latch, but when you hoisted up the windowpane, you didn’t see fifteen-year-old Jason reaching for your hand. 

“Y/N.” Jason’s voice had become deeper and rougher, and the sound sent shocks down your spine. He was taller and stronger now; his teenage body had filled out to create a solid, muscular physique. His facial features, now decorated with scars, were more angular and weathered, and his jet-black hair bore a shock of white. And yet, he was still Jason; you could not deny it. You saw it in his smile, in the crease of his eyes. “Time to wake up.”

The Batcave

3:08:16 AM ET

The beep of the bedside monitor pierced the tense silence of the Batcave medbay. 

“How long does she have left, Alfred?”

“We’re not sure, Master Jason. The vaccine seems to have stopped the progression of the disease, but there may be some unforeseen side effects.” Jason sucked in a breath. 

“We’re looking into the documents from the Polestar program,” Bruce supplied. “Oracle was able to access CDC and STAR Labs databases to extract any relevant knowledge they might have.”

“If it helps, Y/N and her team were very thorough with their documentation of the behavior of the virus in their test subjects,” Oracle remarked through the comms. “From what I can tell, they believe the virus to have extraterrestrial origins. The most recent version of the vaccine to go through animal trials seems to function primarily by genetically modifying the vaccine to stop attacking host tissue and coexist in the body without causing further harm.” Upon hearing Oracle’s analysis, Bruce hummed.

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Trials have shown that a side effect of the vaccine is that test subjects maintain some kind of ferromagnetic property. The animals they were testing were fairly small, so the magnetism wasn’t strong, but the researchers at STAR Labs believe that the strength of magnetism is proportional to the bodily volume of the subject.”

“Magnetic, huh?” Bruce and Alfred left for the Batcomputer while Jason remained by your bedside. Your breathing was unhurried and uninterrupted, and your expression was peaceful. Your respirator was forgotten somewhere in Jason’s borrowed car, and he had helped Alfred peel you out of your coveralls and secure you in one of the beds in the Batcave’s medbay. Watching over you, he noticed how much you had changed in the ten years that you were apart—you had changed your hairstyle, which had become disheveled from your escape in LA, and it made you look more mature. The circles under your eyes had darkened over the years, no doubt from all of the late nights you had studied until exhaustion. He felt a pang of something deep and sentimental—was it nostalgia?—when he caught sight of your beauty marks, right where he remembered them.

Knowing that you were stable reassured him slightly. Still, he couldn’t imagine the battle your body was fighting against the Polestar virus.

Then, you stirred. The tempo of the bedside monitor’s beeps started to climb.

“No, wait—” Bruce and Alfred rushed through the sliding doors of the medbay. Your heart rate continued to climb. Jason stared in shock as he saw the blackened veins underneath your skin begin to recede. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll run a diagnostic. Oracle—” Bruce was tapping away at a terminal in the medbay, attempting to analyze your vitals. 

“Cave, there seems to be an unusual reading coming from your location.” Bewildered, Jason glanced around. His gaze settled on some medical instrument—a handheld scanner of some kind—quivering atop the medbay counter. 

“Could it be…magnetism?” He picked up the scanner and examined it. The body of the tool seemed to be made primarily of steel. He stepped closer to your bedside and felt the tug of magnetism in his hand as he held the scanner closer to you. 

“Oracle, you were right. I think this virus is turning Y/N magnetic.” Bruce muttered. More and more of the steel equipment in the medbay seemed to be experiencing your magnetic pull. Meanwhile, your heart rate kept rising; one hundred and twenty, one hundred and thirty, one hundred and forty—

“We have to wake her up somehow!” Jason exclaimed. The metal machinery and structures around you groaned, straining under the pull of your magnetic field. Jason himself, covered in armor and weaponry made with magnetic alloys, felt himself being dragged towards you until the railings of the bed dug into his stomach. “She’s gonna die if this doesn’t stop!” 

“I’m searching for a way, Hood, stand by.” One hundred and fifty, one hundred and sixty beats per minute—

“Jason…” The very room seemed to shake. Then, as if an invisible fist had just released its crushing grip on the room, everything shuddered to a stop. The magnetic pull on Jason was released and he stumbled away from the hospital bed, stunned. The beep of the bedside heart monitor began to slow. “Jason, is that you?” Jason’s helmet clattered to the ground.

“It’s me, Y/N. It’s really me.” Your eyes fluttered open, and they were wet with tears. Jason tore off his domino mask and reached out to caress your face, wiping the tears that rolled down your cheeks. “I’ve got you.”

“Jason!” You cried out, shooting up to throw your arms around his neck. “Jason, I thought you were dead!” 

“Y/N…” 

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” You shouted, pushing him back suddenly. “Jason Peter Todd, where the FUCK have you been? I spent YEARS mourning you, grieving for a part of me that I would never get back, and—” Your words dissolved into sobs, and you let Jason take you into his arms. “A-and now you’re back…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I have a lot to explain.” 

“No, we have a lot to explain.” Bruce chimed in. “Y/N, I think you should know the truth about how Jason died.”

Wayne Manor

3:33:24 AM ET

Before he let Bruce and Jason explain everything to you, Alfred insisted on taking you up to the Manor to help you decompress and process events of the past few hours. When Alfred first pushed you out of the medbay in a wheelchair, you were astonished by the majestic sight of the Batcave—a place you thought to have existed only in urban myth. The very air seemed to hum with activity; you heard the distant chatter of various radio feeds; your skin was bathed in the cold glow of dozens of screens and electronics. The Bats’ job, it seemed, was never done. Twenty-four seven, there was always a threat to be addressed or a case to be investigated, and the Batcave was the beating heart, the nerve center, from which the Bats’ network emanated. You watched on with amazement, pride even, for the protectors of Gotham City—then, your blood ran cold as you considered what your presence in the Batcave implied about Jason and Bruce.

Sitting on the bed in a guest room on one of the upper floors of Wayne Manor, you rubbed your thumb along the rim of the glass of water in your hand. Your hands had become blackened by the virus, giving them a metallic sheen and feel. Thankfully, the vaccine seemed to have neutralized the virus; you no longer felt as if the virus was leaching out your vigor and the distended veins it had once pulsed through had just about returned to normal. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the nature of your extremities—your hands and legs were utterly transformed up until your elbows and knees. You flexed your fingers experimentally and rubbed the pads of your fingers together. Your skin wasn’t quite like quicksilver—rather, it was a mysterious fabric, maintaining the flexibility, elasticity, and grippiness of normal human skin while glittering with the strength and resilience of metal. You clapped your hands; they sounded normal. You set your glass on the bedside table and swiftly knocked your knuckles on your glass, and it sang as if you had struck it with the handle of a spoon. 

The sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door drew you away from your experiments. You sat up, gathering the covers over yourself. Alfred had kindly offered you a change of comfortable sleepwear in exchange for the clothes you had been wearing under your PPE. 

“Come in,” You called out. Bruce entered, Jason trailing him. He had showered and changed out of his Red Hood armor. To you, he looked more youthful, dressed in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. He was beginning to remind you more and more of his teenage self. 

“Y/N. Are you comfortable?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” You replied calmly.

“Are your…hands bothering you at all?”

“Not at all, actually. I was trying some things out, and—” You repeated your tests for the two, clapping your hands and then rapping your knuckles on your glass. “—I’ve had some interesting results.”

“Fascinating,” Bruce replied. “We’ll have to examine those further in the morning.” He took a seat in the armchair next to your bed, while Jason sat down on the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress and pulling the sheets with him. 

“I understand if it’s difficult for you to accept that after all of these years, Jason is alive,” Bruce began. “But there are some things we didn’t tell you.” 

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I was Robin,” Jason answered. 

“It’s true,” Bruce affirmed. “I was—I am Batman. And he was Robin, my protégé. It’s one of the reasons why I adopted him.” He and Jason watched your expression as it turned from surprise to quiet acceptance.

“I see,” You murmured. “And Jason was in Sarajevo that night because…”

“The Joker captured my birth mother. He coerced her into baiting me into this warehouse, and—” Seeing Jason tense up, you reached out tentatively to run your fingers over his clenched fist. His shoulders relaxed, and he covered your hand with his.

“I’m sorry, Jason. You didn’t deserve to be deceived like that.”

“The Joker beat Jason to death and detonated the warehouse with him in it,” Bruce continued, his voice taut. His expression shadowed the one you saw on him the first day you visited Jason’s grave. “Jason died that night; that much is true. But something happened. Somebody stole Jason’s body and replaced it with a double when I went to recover his remains from Bosnia. They resurrected him, and he found his way back to Gotham.”

“Who was it?” You inquired.

“Ra’s Al Ghul, the Demon’s Head. I spent a few years training under his daughter, Talia Al Ghul, before returning to Gotham.” Jason’s expression darkened. “I was a different person then. I did despicable things…I hurt people.” Your metallic skin felt cool under his hands as his grasp tightened. “Back at Gotham Academy, we used to talk about the ways we could help people when we grew up. I…I feel like I broke that promise, Y/N. I’m a criminal and a vigilante. There’s so much blood on my hands.” You opened your mouth but made no motion to speak as you processed Jason’s words.

“I don’t know what Ra’s and Talia did to you. But the fact that you’re still here, still you , still healing after everything that has happened…I know I’m still struggling to come to terms with you coming back and everything you did after the fact. But I want to make up for all of the time we’ve lost. I want to be here with you, now.” Your voice quivered a little as you fought back tears. Impulsively, you slipped your hands from his and put your arms around him. You felt him tense up for a moment before relaxing into your touch—you figured he wasn’t used to your arms around him after all this time.

“I’m going to give you two some space,” Bruce announced. “You both should get some sleep.” After Bruce had shut the door behind him, you met Jason’s gaze. 

“After you came back…did you ever look for me?” You asked him, wiping stray tears from your face with the back of your hand. The texture of your skin felt odd against your cheek.

“It wasn’t hard to find your name in the scientific journals.” Jason responded with a sigh. “After Bruce took me back, he told me what you’d done after I died.”

“He funded my education. I attended Yale on his foundation’s scholarship. He supported me through grad school, too.” 

“I guess I never got to say how proud of you I am.” A small smile made its way onto Jason’s face. “I’ve met so many so-called geniuses, heroes and villains and otherwise, but the truly brilliant ones didn’t settle for their perceived intelligence. I’ll always respect you for working so hard to prove that you were more than just your intellect.”

“You know, we never got to graduate high school together,” You murmured. “I wish we could’ve. I would’ve settled for the Yale commencement, or even UCLA. Graduating from Gotham Academy felt so different without you there with me.” You shook your head. “Well, I know it would’ve been a long shot, anyways.”

“I wanted to be there for all of your achievements, but…”

“But you were an internationally wanted criminal,” You finished.

“Y’know, I tried.” Jason chuckled. “I don’t think you noticed me, though.”

“Wait.” Your eyes widened. “Brussels. You were there?” Jason’s expression turned sheepish.

“Yeah. I dyed the white streak out of my hair and got a fake ID and everything. I wasn’t expecting you to recognize me.”

“I had no idea…” You breathed. “That was my first ever biotech conference. You went to see my presentation?”

“Yeah,” Jason grinned. “You were amazing.” 

“And to think I didn’t even realize it was you…” And to think I went back to my hotel room and cried myself to sleep, thinking that your image had never stopped haunting me. You yawned, feeling your energy waning after your eventful night. “It’s late…I’m tired.” You reclined back on the bed. Your exhausted body seemed to melt into the expensive mattress.

“Get some rest, Y/N. You’ve had a long night.” Jason stood, but in a flash of panic and desperation, you caught his wrist and held on as if he was about to disappear into smoke.

“How about…could you just stay with me? Please?” Jason flushed an unexpected hue of pink. You quickly let go of him, feeling your face heat up to an equivalent shade. “I–I mean…you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“No, I, uh—” Jason fumbled with his words. “It’s okay. I’ll stay.” He flicked off the overhead light and returned to your bedside. Sighing contentedly, you sunk further into the mattress, which dipped under Jason’s weight as he climbed onto the bed beside you.

“The last time we did this we were in tenth grade,” You whispered. “We went ice skating in downtown Gotham and then I slept over at the Manor.”

“Y’know, Bruce let me skip patrol that night so I could go ice skating with you.”

“Oh, yeah? We were out until the skating rink closed. And we were in separate rooms in the Manor, but I came over to yours because I said mine was cold,” You added. “I lied about it being drafty.”

“I knew it. You were just bored.”

“I knew you knew, Jason. If you hadn’t wanted me there, you would have called for Alfred.”

“Okay, you got me. Just go to sleep.”

“Right away, sir.” You giggled into your pillow. “Goodnight, Jason Todd.” He chuckled softly, a low rumble that struck you right in your aching, mending heart.

“Goodnight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: aaaa hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter! I'm a little worried that it's too OC-ish for a reader insert - I had a lot of fun designing the MC's backstory since it's such a big part of her relationship with Jason. Yes, MC is a sort of STEM prodigy (which can mean a lot in the DC sense, but in this case, she's just really good at science trust me bro). I fussed a lot over continuity and age gaps (eek!) and ended up settling with Jason having skipped a grade and MC having skipped two so that they were 15 and 14 respectively and in their sophomore year when Jason died. That way, MC would graduate high school at 16 and college at 20 (I originally wrote her going to Gotham U but then switched it to Yale, which in certain comic continuities, is Bruce's alma mater, and also because I worried that Gotham U or another Gotham university would have too much of a reputation for producing PhDs who became deranged Batman rogues) and earn her UCLA doctorate (bc STAR Labs' infectious diseases lab is in LA for some reason, thanks fandom wiki) at the astonishing age of 24 (or 25). That leaves time for a few months of work on the Polestar program straight out of grad school and for Jason to train/be brainwashed by the League of Shadows, become Red Hood, and do a bunch of other stuff first (like form the Outlaws). I worried that Jason and MC being 27-28 or older just wouldn't jive with the story or the relative ages of other characters, like Bruce or Dick. It doesn't help that Jason is apparently canonically 19 in the Wayne Family Adventures webcomic (have you even seen him in that comic?! That man is 21 at least. No way he's under twenty years of age...or maybe I'm just a terrible judge of biological age). Thanks for putting up with my deranged rambling! This was a pretty dialogue heavy chapter, which I'm not really used to writing. That being said, I hope you enjoyed reading, until next time! x

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See You Again taglist:

@witchymomfrien

If you would like to join the taglist for this fic, @ me in the replies!

[undertale-anomaly20]

Mortal Kombat 11 x reader: Chapter 6 War on the homefront

The scene cuts to the command center. Cassie is with Sonya, using one of the holographic interfaces at a desk. 　

"Here's how you access incoming reports. Swipe here to crosscheck them with past reports. The software can suss out the deltas" Cassie explained as she showed Sonya how it works "Now that's progress" Sonya said impressed. Cassie smiles and leaves her to it. Sonya pulls the chair she's seated in closer and starts looking over the data. Across the command centre, both of the Johnny Cages look over at her with adoration, with past Johnny flashing a cheesy smile. Sonya briefly looks over at them, trying her hardest to smile back as non-flirtatiously as possible. past Johnny leans over to his older counterpart. 　

"So... I marry Lieutenant Princess over there?" past Johnny asks as present Johnny looks in her direction, also cracking a smile "I always have had a thing for blondes. Ever since Suzie-- " past Johnny say as the present Johnny catches the thought and speaks at the same time as his younger self "--Donardo Junior year" "Take it from me, heh, you didn't miss much" present Johnny says then points over to Sonya "That woman over there? She's the real deal" past Johnny tilts down his sunglasses "Oh, I got eyes, brother. As Younger You, I solemnly swear to tap that at the earliest opportunity" 　

His words instantly cause present Johnny's smile to drop from his face. Around them, the other soldiers in the command centre gasp and look at past Johnny in disapproval. Sonya looks particularly upset, while Cassie shoots a look of disgust in his direction. As present Johnny hangs his head in disbelief, past Johnny turns to him "What? It's our destiny!" present Johnny stands up from his chair and grabs his younger self by the ear, dragging him up amidst protests of pain "Out" He says as he forcibly drags past Johnny out of the command centre. 　

"How the hell do I ever sleep with that guy?" She looks to Cassie, who walks over to her. "Who's... your father. I can't believe I just said that" "Look, my dad isn't the Johnny you know. He... grew up. I like to think you rubbed off on him. As a kid, I looked up to both of you" Casssie said as Sonya smiled "My dad - your grandfather - was my hero. Called me Private Pun'kin" "Huh. That's what you called me" There's a moment of awkward silence between them "We should get back to work"Cassie said as Sonya nods and Cassie takes her leave. Sonya looks back to the interface "Biometric verification required" The interface says then scans her eyes "ID verified - General Sonya Blade" Sonya is impressed "General Blade? Dad would be proud" The screen brings up a picture of Sonya saluting in her combat gear, alongside her biography which lists her as deceased. Sonya looks around for a moment, seeing that Cassie is currently in discussions with a couple of her subordinates. She turns back to the screen and begins to type in some commands. 　

The scene cuts to the Special Forces' hangar. past Johnny is walking away from his older self "Untwist your panties, Older Me. I'm a star" he says not caring. Present Johnny grabs his past self by the shoulder and pulls him back, getting in front of him at the same time and staring him down "This is a military operation, not a movie set!" he sternly said but having no effect on his pastself "I'm only the best fighter here. But YOUR--" He prods his older self "--daughter's got me sitting at the kids table" fed up with his attitude present Johnny slaps past Johnny on the side of his head, causing his sunglasses to dislodge. After a moment of shock, he hastens to put them back on properly "OUR daughter is C.O. A little humility MIGHT earn her respect!" he says raising his voice. 　

 Past Johnny looked straight at his furuteself annoyed at how he is in the future "Dad always said "Hungry people eat lunch, humble people serve it." present Johnny prods past Johnny in the chest "Dad was an asshole! Hollywood made us--" He removes his younger self's glasses and drops them on the ground "--an even bigger one!" He then stomps them into bits. Undeterred, past Johnny pulls out another pair of sunglasses from the side of his pants and puts them on his face. He smirks, and then jumps into a comically over dramatic fighting stance "Heee-yaaaaah!" he exclaims. Present Johnny shakes his head in disgust and assumes his own stance. 　

They fight. One would assume that the past Johnny would have every advantage fighting an aged version of himself. But for all of his speed, strength and skill, the present Johnny knows his every move before he himself even pulls them off. present Johnny is careful not to even injure his younger self, but even with this handicap he has no trouble taking him down. Within moments, past Johnny is kissing the tarmac "An old man just kicked your ass" past Johnny struggles back to his feet and dusts himself off. As he begins to walk away, it's clear the beating has disconcerted him, but he tries to maintain a false bravado nonetheless "...You got lucky" 　

Past Johnny stopped for a second before looking down "why is (name) here?" he asked dead serious making present Johnny flinch and averst his gaze "she's here because she's our friend and allie-" "CUT THE SHIT!" past Johnny snapped whirling around sneering at his futureself, who looks shocked "you know what I mean! everyone here has been dancing around this the whole time we've been here! Why is she here and not back home where she's supposed to be?" he pokes his futureselfs chest "why isn't she safe at home? why is she still here? why is she fighting with us?" Present Johnny's patients was wearing thin at his pastselfs questions "she's fighting with us to stop Kronika" "you know that's not what I mean damn it! Don't avoid the question and answer me! what happened to her to make her stay here and be younger than us by so many years!" "SHE DIED!" 　

Silence hangs in the air around them. Past Johnny is stunned "what..." he whispered stumbling slightly as present Johnny takes a deep breath before facing his pastself "she died the day Shao Kahn was defeated. she fought him with help from the elder gods by using her body as a vessel when they left her they took everything from her. her strength, her energy...her life" Present Johnny ran a hand through his hair while his past self is trying to take this in "wait why didn't Raiden step in a save her?...why did he let a girl die for a world that wasn't hers? hell why didn't anyone save her!" "we couldn't do anything. it was too late...Raiden explained that the Elder gods brought her to our world to be our warrior" "warrior...she was 18 fucking years old! she wasn't like us she was just a kid!" 　

Past Johnny realizes he's using past tense when the (name) he knows is still back in his time. A memory of her 18 year old self smiling at the wushi academy flashes through his mind. He takes a deep shakey breath "just...just tell me how she came back...god this is twisted" present Johnny nods "from what she told us the Elder gods brought her back when she was 20. for her it was only 2 years for us it was 14 but she stayed hidden for about a year in outworld and five of those with master Hasashi for training then to us granted we didn't find out it was her till the whole Shinnok thing was over" past Johnny was quiet as he processesd everything. 　

The scene cuts back to the Special Forces command room. Sonya is still seated at her desk, checking through the computer interface for more information about her future self. She presses a link on the screen, and an audio snippet from the earlier mission in the Netherrealm begins to play. The screen displays a new text box in bright red: "BODY NOT RECOVERED" "What?! I'm---" the audio clip is distorted, cutting out part of Cassie's earlier statement "--leaving you behind! --C'mon, move it!" Sonya instantly recoils in confusion and surprise at seemingly hearing that her future daughter left her for dead. The growls of the Netherrealm demons can be heard in the distorted background. "Let's go, let's go, move it!" "What...?" Sonya whispers. 　

She gets up from her seat and storms over to Cassie "You left me behind?" she growled confusing Cassie "Excuse me?!" "My final mission!" "How did you-- She looks over to the screen Sonya was looking at, seeing the red message for herself "Shit" Cassie begins to lose her composure "No, I'm not doing this, not now, not with you!" She tries to turn away, but Sonya grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her back. "Dammit, Cassie! You abandoned me?" "To save the company! That was my order!" "Who the hell gave you that order?!" "YOU did" At these words, Sonya looks away, doubt etched across her face "Read the full report, Lieutenant" 　

Before she can say anything else, all the screens in the command centre turn red and an alarm begins to ring. An "ALERT" message appears on several of the screens. CASSIE: Go to Condition Red! In the hangar, Special Forces soldiers begin running into position, fully armed. Both Johnny Cages are also equipped with assault rifles, running back into the base. Cassie's voice echoes across the tannoy system. CASSIE: We're under attack! Repeat, we're under attack! past Johnny hoists his rifle into the air one-armed like an action hero, while present Johnny keeps his pointed downwards like a professional soldier. "Yippee-ki-yay, right?" past Johnny says as he strides forward, but present Johnny catches him by the shoulder "Follow my lead" he says. 　

He brings his rifle to bear and steps forward, with his younger self trying to imitate his motions as best he can. Before either of them can get very far, a huge explosion rips through the side door of the hanger. No one is killed in the blast, but both Johnnys are thrown from their feet. As they look up, they see Black Dragon mercenaries entering through the blown open hole... and leading them is the younger Erron Black. 　

The scene cuts to another part of the Special Forces base. Three lines of Cyber Lin Kuei cyborgs are standing in formation. Both the younger and elder Kano stride through them, shoving any cyborg in their path back into formation. They reach a large door - the door to the command centre - and smirk in an identical fashion. 　

Behind them strides Sektor, his cybernetic body now infused with the same white and golden painted metal that his cyborg army wears as well - the design of Kronika. The only reason Sektor is recognisable is that parts of him still have the red paint job. He also approaches the door and lifts his fist in its direction. A red laser shoots out from an enclosed gun-turret embedded in his forearm. 　

Back in the command centre, the Special Forces soldiers are hastily constructing barricades with whatever boxes they have lying around. Cassie briefly trades a tense look with Sonya, neither woman saying anything. The soldiers around them bring their rifles to bear as Sektor's laser continues to cut through the steel door like a hot knife through butter. 　

Sonya narrows her eyes and Cassie nods her head. She brings her dual pistols to a firing position and Sonya brings up her rifle at the same time. 　

The scene cuts back to the hanger. Johnny and Johnny are in cover behind a large tank, with present Johnny ducked down behind the treads and past Johnny standing upright and making himself a bigger target. They are trading fire with the Black Dragon mercenaries. The Johnny's quickly find themselves outgunned due to the superior numbers against them and they retreat, ducking behind the tank and running across the hanger to find more cover. 　 As they run, time slows down and a bullet clips past Johnny's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood and knocking his glasses off his head. As the Johnny's duck into cover behind a large jeep, present Johnny brings his hand to his cheek and looks at his younger self. present Johnny now bears the same wound that his younger self has, though his is a faded scar. 　

"Oh, that's freaky like Friday" Present Johnny said pointing at his cheek "They shot our face, Johnny" past Johnny says as he looks like he's about to start crying "They shot our FACE!" He pulls out a personal mirror to examine the wound... which is instantly blown to pieces by a stray bullet. This serves to anger him, and he picks up a nearby riot shield and storms out into the open fray. past Johnny roars in fury and fires his rifle one-handed at the mercenaries... completely missing them due to firing a two-handed weapon with one hand. 　

"Ugh, he's gonna get us killed" present Johnny groans then steps out of cover just as Erron Black and the mercenaries begin to concentrate their fire on past Johnny. Erron's marksman rifle is blasted out of his hands by a shot from present Johnny, allowing his younger self to stride forward with the shield in front, while present Johnny steps in just behind him. past Johnny proves to be as utterly incapable of shooting straight as the mercenaries are at shooting at anything but the shield he is holding up. But it soon becomes a moot point as past Johnny charges the mercenaries with the shield, ploughing into them and forcing them back. As he tackles them to the side, present Johnny faces off against Erron Black, having run out of ammunition for his rifle. 　

"Ooh! Funny way of saying howdy, partner" present Johnny mocked "I was saying goodbye" Past Erron replied "Now why's a nice Texas boy like Erron Black in bed with the Black Dragon? Older You works for Kotal Kahn. He's one of the good guys, kinda" "When I pick sides, I pick a winner. Every time" 　 They fight. Even without a gun by his side, Johnny Cage is still far from defenceless, and his energy powers and martial arts wizardry are more than a match for the gunslinging Erron Black. After a fierce scuffle, the outlaw is left down on the ground by Johnny "You chose... poorly" 　 Johnny runs off. The scene cuts to the Special Forces command centre. The steel door that served as the entrance has been sheared off at the top by Sektor's laser, and the bloodied bodies of both the Special Forces and the Cyber Lin Kuei are strewn around the interior. present Johnny runs into the centre, with Jax and Jacqui behind him. 　

"Cassie! Sonya!" He spots his daughter lying on her back and rushes to check on her. Miraculously, Cassie is only unconscious and quickly wakes up when her father helps her to a seated position "Breathe, kiddo" he says as Cassie takes a few breaths in, gathering her bearings "They took Mom-- Sonya" she said trying to stay awake "I'll get her" Cassie tries to say more, but her eyes roll backward and she almost passes out. She manages to stay conscious only by an immense show of willpower. With Cassie in no condition to issue orders, Johnny looks back to Jacqui "Can we find out where they've gone?" he asks. Jacqui moves over to one of the interface screens, quickly logging in. Within moments she has what she needs "Tarmac B" she replies "On it. Keep her" 　

He gently lets Cassie down onto her back, then stands back up and departs the command centre. The scene cuts to Johnny sprinting down a corridor, having acquired another rifle from somewhere. He dashes past a steel door, but then backpedals to it and takes a look through its window "Ohhh..." Chuckling to himself, Johnny pushes the door open and enters the hangar that it leads to. The scene cuts to the desert landscape outside of the base. Sonya struggles as two Cyber Lin Kuei grip her arms on either side, but is unable to break free. Sektor approaches her "Take her" he commands. 　

As the cyborgs drag Sonya backward, a large explosion rips through the base behind them. What is left of the cyborg army turns to the gigantic hole that has been blasted through part of the wall. As the smoke gradually clears... a gigantic tank, piloted by Johnny, emerges from the base, crushing two cyborgs under its mass. A third is caught under the treads and squished into a bloody paste. As two more cyborgs are flattened under the tank, Sektor shoots out two of his chest missiles. They hit the tank just under its main gun, but barely cause any damage. Inside the tank, Johnny laughs at the ineffective barrage and rides toward Sektor, who teleports out of the way just before he is crushed. Noting the teleport, Johnny brings the tank around and spots Sektor making a run for it. He smiles as he notices Sektor running toward the edge of a cliff. 　 With nowhere else to run to, Sektor turns around... just as a black jet fighter suddenly appears from the canyon behind him. At this, Johnny's eyes widen and he brings the tank to a stop. Sektor activates the boosts on his feet and jumps up to the side of the jet's cockpit. As he does so, the fighter unleashes two of its missiles straight at Johnny's tank. Gasping in fear, Johnny desperately tries to put the tank into reverse, but he only succeeds in turning it slightly as the missiles rain home. They target the leftmost treads of the tank, blowing the tank upward into the air briefly and letting it slam down hard. While the tank remains upright, the targeted treads have snapped in two from the impact. 　

The jet fighter arcs off into the air and swings around for a finishing barrage. Johnny emerges from the tank with a satchel charge, just in time to spot the jet coming for him. His face narrows in determination. The jet fighter lets loose with a barrage from its gatling gun. While it strikes the ground a fair distance from the tank, it is clear that this is a strafing attack and the jet moves ever closer to the tank, the gunfire never letting up. Johnny chucks the satchel charge back into the tank's interior and jumps off, narrowly avoiding some bullets. He sprints off and brings a detonator to bear as the jet fighter closes in. 　

"Two can play that game!" Johnny said as the jet flies over the tank, Johnny presses down on the detonator. The satchel charge explodes, and with it the tank as well. More importantly, the jet fighter is also caught in the blast and catches fire in several places. Sektor jumps from the smoking wreck and lands back down near the base as the jet crashes offscreen somewhere in the mountain and explodes. Sonya was not able to escape the cyborgs during all of that anarchy and she is still being restrained by two of them. Sektor relays instructions to the cyborgs while never taking his optics off the approaching Johnny "Send another extraction vehicle" Sektor orders. Johnny finishes his long walk over to Sektor, Sonya and the cyborgs "You won't be online long enough for your friends to make it, tinhead" Johnny says as Sonya again struggles against the cyborgs, managing to wrench one arm free, but she is quickly restrained once again. The cyborgs drag her to one side as Sektor faces down Johnny "Johnny Cage. Cyrax defeated you when you were younger and stronger. As I am his superior, I am yours" "You're forgetting the time I beat Shinnok, mano-a-mano. Oh, wait! You were dead when that happened" 　

They fight. For all of the advantages Sektor has as a cyborg - his weapons, augmentations and gadgets - Johnny Cage matches and surpasses them with his fighting skill and powers. The struggle is brief, and Sektor is soon lying deactivated out on the ground. "Go back to the nineties" Behind him, Sonya cries out as she tries to break free of the cyborgs restraining her. Johnny turns around to face them "Who's next?" he asks. The cyborgs remain where they are. A new voice cuts in from behind Johnny "I'm next, Hollywood" 　 The past Kano points an assault rifle directly at Johnny. Undeterred, Cage runs straight at him and time slows down as he does so. Kano shoots the gun, but Johnny slides into his signature splits and the bullet flies overhead, mere centimetres from his face. In slow motion, Johnny clenches his fist and brings it back for a swing. Kano looks down with an expression of mounting horror as Johnny finishes the splits and slams his fist straight into Kano's nuts. The effect is immediate - Kano drops the gun and doubles over in pain. 　

Johnny gets back to his feet as time resumes its normal length. Kano remains doubled over, clutching his crotch and wincing in agony "Shit. As if Throwback Me wasn't bad enough" Johnny says as Kano finally recovers enough to stand upright "Oh, it gets bloody worse. Sonya and your little girl... they're gonna die. Right in front of your face" 　

They fight. Kano remains a dirty and dangerous fighter as ever, with his cybernetic upgrades and numerous knives. But Johnny has beaten him before and knows his tricks, and helped by the anger he feels at Kano's words, he has no trouble overpowering and defeating the Australian thug once again "No one threatens my family. He walks over to Kano and stomps on his head, pinning him down. Behind him, more cyborgs have emerged from the base, but Johnny ignores them for now, focusing on putting an end to Kano. But before he can finish him off, a bullet suddenly punches through the kneecap of his right leg, knocking him to the ground "Oh! Motherf..." Johnny groans. 　

His curse peters out as he spots the older Kano approaching him with a captured hostage - his younger self. present Johnny clutches at his knee while present Kano keeps a pistol pointed at past Johnny "Well, well. Got ourselves a full on generation swap here" Present Kano smirked. present Johnny looks over as Cassie, Jacqui and Young Jax walk out of the base, Cassie and Jacqui both carrying assault rifles. As they approach, present Kano forces past Johnny onto his knees and aims the pistol at the back of his head, forcing them to stop. "Don't think so. Between Ninja Mime and Lady Liberty, we've got all the leverage. We're leaving" he says The two Johnnys say nothing, but both look at present Kano with joint contempt. Three transport planes fly overhead, landing on the ground nearby. present Kano pulls past Johnny to his feet and guides him toward the aircraft. The two cyborgs restraining Sonya also walk her in the same direction. 　

From out of the aircraft, two more ninjas emerge with a man not seen before in this timeline. Wearing a biker jacket and desert coloured trousers, he does not like the burn victim he will become in later years. present Kano addresses him directly "Kabal. Go get my lesser half" present Kanos said "And the base?" Kabal asks. present Kano pulls out a detonator "Taken care of. He presses the trigger" present Kano smirks. 　

Behind them, Sektor - who has since recovered - suddenly stands rigid and begins beeping. Cassie, Jax and Jacqui watch in silence as the Cyber Lin Kuei walk toward the aircraft, along with present Kano, past Johnny and Sonya, still vainly struggling against her captors. Once present Kano is out of sight, Cassie and Jax immediately run over to present Johnny to help him up, while Kabal pulls past Kano to his feet and walks him toward the aircraft alongside the last of the cyborgs. Once Kabal and past Kano are on board as well, the jets begin to take off. Once she is sure they are not facing her, Cassie sprints toward them. Jacqui runs after her, while Jax is left holding Johnny up "Cassie! Don't!" she yells. 　

Ignoring her friend, Cassie runs full pelt at the departing aircraft, but soon finds that she is about to run off the cliff edge. She grinds to a halt just before she would have fallen off, then raises her pistol and fires at the last aircraft. Rather than a bullet, she fires out a tracking device that attaches to the jet. As Jacqui, Jax and Johnny make their way over to her, Cassie holsters her pistol and pulls out her tablet. The screen shows an icon of an airplane, along with the word "TRACKING" and the probable destination of the plane - Russia. She looks into the distance with determination "Let's go get them" she said. 　

 In the silence following the departure of the planes, a beeping noise now echoes through the air. "Anyone else hear that beeping?" Johnny asks then they look behind them. Sektor is still standing rigid, with electricity sparking off him. It quickly becomes apparent to all of them that he is about to explode. Thankfully, Raiden teleports into the clearing with a flash of lightning. 　

 "Have I arrived too late?" Raiden asks "You're back in the nick of time!" Johnny says as he motions toward Sektor, who is now screaming in agony as his cybernetic body is wracked with electric sparks. Raiden immediately spreads his arms outward and generates a shield of electricity around himself, Johnny, Jax, Cassie and Jacqui, teleporting them away just moments before Sektor finally detonates, the explosion completely wiping out the Special Forces base behind them. 　

The scene cuts to a luscious garden in the mountains of Japan, adorned with white trees with blood red leaves. Raiden's teleporting shield brings them all into the centre of the garden. Inside one of the huts, Hanzo Hasashi is deep in meditation with Calithea sleeping next to him. He opens his eyes as the flash of lightning finishes. He walks out of the hut to find Raiden, Cassie, Jax, Johnny and Jacqui before him "Now that's what I call a miracle" Jax comments "Yeah, Raiden. Thanks" says Cassie. 　

As Hanzo approaches, Raiden faces him and puts his hands together in a respectful salute. "Grandmaster Hasashi, I humbly request the Shirai Ryu's hospitality. My Sky Temple has been compromised. There is no safer place for us to gather" Hanzo inclines his head in a bowing motion "Lord Raiden. Welcome to the Fire Garden" "daddy?" a small voice came from behind Hanzo making them look to see Calithea walking to them. She notices Raiden and smile running up to him "lord Raiden! have you heard of anything from mommy?" she asked Raiden frowned "I'm sorry, Calithea, but no I haven't" her smile dropped, Hanzos expression turned to concern, Cassie kneeled down in front of her "don't worry pun'kin. you're moms gonna be ok" she said smiling. 　

The scene cuts to a later time in the day. Raiden stands on a bridge overlooking a small pond, with Cassie, Liu Kang, Kung Lao, Jax, Jacqui, Scorpion, Sub-Zero and Johnny now standing with the help of a crutch facing him "The Elder Gods are gone? Shinnok is Kronika's son? No wonder she sent the Black Dragon after me and Dad. We both kicked his ass" Cassie said "It is not vengeance that drives Kronika. She restarts history to balance light and dark among the realms" Raiden states "What can we do, Lord Raiden?" Liu Kang asks "Gather Earthrealm's forces. But that effort will be for naught if Kotal Kahn's armies cannot join us. Cetrion informed me that Shao Kahn has captured Kotal Kahn. We must spare no effort to free him" Raided hesitats before continuing "she has also informed me that Lady (name) has also been captured" everyone is stunned Hanzo glared at Raiden "and you said nothing before?" "I did not wish to cause young Calithea any distress" Liu Kang stepped forward "Kung Lao and I will go. We will rendezvous with Princess Kitana" "Thank you both. May the Elder Gods prote--" He stops himself, remembering that the Elder Gods are now no more "...May you return victorious"

[poor-sickies]

For concussion, maybe Keith? He takes a hit to protect Shiro (or anyone) and gets a really bad concussion. It could also lead into a separate fic for healing pod malfunction. Maybe they put him into the healing pod and it’s focusing on his head. It malfunctions, and he winds up seeing visions from the past, his fears, his fight with Shiro, etc. and he freaks out/is distressed af and Shiro gets him out and comforts him :3

Read my post first! - TLDR: I'm releasing unfinished drafts!

Original draft (written back in 2018):  he’s alone in a Blades mission, in a really cold snowy place, and gets a really bad concussion. He is rescued by Lance, and ends up in the back of the red lion, with Lance telling him not to fall asleep, like in “the fall”. He recovers at the Castle, and winds up seeing visions from the past, his fears, his fight with Shiro, etc. and he freaks out/is distressed af and Shiro gets him out and comforts him

My comments (written now): Okay, so I suppose I should explain myself - “The Fall” is a book from the Cherub series by Robert Muchamore. I used to read them when I was young, it’s about a secret unit in the Secret Services where the agents are kids (aged 12-18), they are military trained and go on missions. This collection is pretty cool, and it did feature some great whump here and there. The Fall is the seventh book in the series, and has an amazing scene, in the middle of the mission, where the main character was just rescued but has a concussion and is overall pretty beaten up. The banter is so amazing, and i just really wanted to write something like that for Keith with Lance. Of course, I intended to develop it, and keep going to the part when Keith would have some dreams and visions from the past (induced by the concussion during recovery), but I didn’t really get there. At least I’ll leave you this initial snippet from when he’s rescued.

“Don’t fall asleep back there,” Lance reminds him, head turning to the side to check on Keith.

“I know, I’m not an idiot,” Keith snaps back, from the bundle of blankets he’s wrapped in.

“Just checking,” Lance answers softly. “We should be arriving soon. Did you contact Kolivan?”

“Not really.” Keith grits his teeth. His vision swims, and even sitting, with both hands on the ground to steady himself, he feels like he’s about to fall down at any minute. “My comm was dead when I crashed.”

“Alright. We’ll let him know when we get to the Castle.”

Keith shivers beneath the fabric, hands wrapped around his torso. He desperately wants to lay back and close his eyes, but Lance is right. He most likely has a bad concussion, and his training at the Garrison had taught him to not attempt sleeping like this before he was cleared by a doctor. So he takes a deep breath through his nose and keeps his eyes open.

His body is battered and sore, from the terrible beating he took earlier. His lower jaw is bruised and swollen, courtesy of the heavy armour used by the Galra. His left wrist is probably sprained as well, and most of his chest and back is mottled with bruises cuts. Despite it all, the pain helps him focus, keeping him from falling asleep.

“Hey, Shiro, I got him,” Lance says into the comms, glancing behind him to check on Keith, “we’re heading back now.”

“How is he? Is he okay?”

“Beaten and bruised, but he’s gonna make it.”

“I’ll wait for you guys at the hangar.” Shiro’s sigh of relief is heard, even through the comms, and Lance chuckles.

“So,” Lance starts, “you want to tell me what the fuck happened?”

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Assignments

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for messages to arrive throughout the day. He’d quickly learned, out of necessity, to distinguish those which demanded his immediate attention and those which would be set aside and dealt with at some later point in time. 

Afterall, time waited on no one, and everyone was busy - especially it seemed these days.

But messages from Nijah Wolff? Those got his attention.

It had been a brief message, to the point but sometimes it was those types of messages that called him to action the fastest. No fluff, no shenanigans, just business. 

Ricard adjusted his jacket as he stepped through the front doors of the company estate, offering a quick nod at the present staff before making his way up the stairs two at a time. He’d left from Ishgard as soon as he’d received the message, but he knew the value of time in any job and if there was a job to do then he wanted to get started and to get started he needed information. 

Information Nijah had.

He gave the wooden side of the door of the woman’s office a quick knock before clearing his throat loudly. “Nijah? It’s Ricard, heard you had work for me…mind if I come in?”

"Enter." The voice called our from in the room. The other who was with her inside was an unfamiliar face, likely an outside contact she had been meeting with prior.

Upon Ricard's full entry Nijah rolled up a few blueprints and handed it off to the man. They exchanged a few hushed words and the man bowed swiftly before making his way past Ricard and out of the office.

"You arrived rather promptly, I appreciate that." Nijah spoke making her way along the side of the desk and resting back along it, palms cupping along the edge of the wood, "I'm not sure what your investigation skills are like in comparison to your information gathering but I have a bit of a predicament I might need your assistance with."

A curious glance was given to the unfamiliar figure but only for a moment as he passed, before Ricard’s full attention turned towards Nijah once more, his hands clasped behind his back as he took a few steps forward. “Though they’re not requested nearly as often, I believe they’re equal in measure. I certainly use them often enough. But tell me about this predicament of yours, and how I may be of service.”

“Seems we’ve had some visitors pay us a visit in the night in which our airships weapons have been tampered with. The crew went in around the morning going through maintenance on The Barghest before setting off on its weekly trip into Limsa and before long they had noticed that The Skydancer as well, was afflicted.” Nijah adjusted along the desk and brought her arms up to cross them, “To make matters worse our ammunition on the vessels were either taken or destroyed. We have some in reserves within the warehouse but what good is ammunition without weapons? The command console was damaged as well. Nothing else seemed to be touched – which is fortunate for us. However, now I’m relying on the sea ships to make the trips necessary for cargo which takes longer and we only have one. I’ve already reached out trying to get ahold of Vahalia to see if she is willing to loan us aide with her vessel. I have the crewmen working on the Airship weaponry and hopefully soon, going to be able to locate Belgrave to get a better assessment on the issue since he was the one who installed the vessels with said weapons.”

A hand lifted and Nijah rubbed the side of her neck, tongue passing over her canine in a brief stint to further think before speaking, “I need your assistance in possibly inspecting the scene and seeing what you can find. See if maybe you heard anything through the vines about some folk coming into some extra ammunitions or even gossip about a job. I just want to know who did this and why. There is very little damage done to the hangar doors – whoever did it was prepared, quiet and knew how to easily access our workshop and hangar without much fuss. Professionals I suspect.”

“Professionals who were likely watching the hanger for quite some time if they knew how to access it without drawing too much attention to themselves…hm.” Ricard’s brow furrowed as he brough his hands from behind his back, lifting one hand to his chin before offering a quick nod. “I’ll need to see the scene, get what information I can from there and then I can start poking around, see who has been talking. Even the most professional of organizations has talkers and I imagine our intruders are no exceptions.”

“I’d like it if you could keep what you know in house for now and try not to extend too far that might get anything important away to outside sources. Just until I can get a handle on all this.” Nijah tilted her head looking to Ricard as he spoke.

“Of course. Anything I discover I’ll bring straight to you.” He hummed thoughtfully, “Now, you mentioned the attack happened over night, yes? Do you know what time the discovery was made and what time the last worker left the workshop last night - at least gives me an idea of the time window.”

“As stated, the discovery was made this morning when the workers came in for their shift. They’re usually in at about 6am and typically the evening crew leaves some time after 11pm. Depends on how busy the day is and what cargo is being brought in. If the vessels aren’t in the bay area then their shifts technically are just seeing to tasks around the shop and Hangar. My estimate would be at about 12am and 6am – stretching it of course.”

“I imagine they probably had an idea of what time the workers arrived for work. If they were watching close enough to know how to break in without causing a fuss. Have there been any recent visitors to the estate. Anyone asking to see the workshop or new hires to the staff that were tending to the airships?” “That is what we suspect, yes since they hit during the hours which the estate isn’t fully staffed.” The dark haired Ala Mhigan woman gave a subtle shake of her head, “No recent visitors outside of the norm. Most of our business with outside sources is tended to abroad and outside of the company grounds. No new hires.”

“No new faces, huh.” The Ishgardian man turned on his heel taking a few steps before pausing and glancing up at the ceiling, turning, and taking another pair of steps. “Which means either they were watching exceedingly close or someone was paid off. I’ll need to talk to the staff of the workshop and the hangar as well.”

He offered a quick shake of his head before glancing back over at the Ala Mhigan woman. “Well, speculating isn’t going to get us any closer to finding answers. Taking a look at this scene and talking to the first people in for work this morning might give me something to work off of.”

Nijah motioned a hand to the door, "By all means, at your leisure. If there is anything you require as well don't hesitate to ask it of me. Ah, there is one more thing. I did find a rather long golden colored thread caught in some of the broken console paneling. Perhaps that is something to consider as well. Keeping an eye out for someone who might be wearing that particular color. None that I have seen here – as you well know, our 'type' isn't exactly fond on flashy and fancy."

“Golden thread?” Ricard’s motions paused for a moment before his head tilted to the side, curious. “Well that is an interesting little wrinkle…do you happen to have it on hand? I don’t claim to be a master weaver by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve been looking at my fair share of fabrics in recent weeks and have had to listen to many a conversation them - not just the color but the make of the fabric might be able to tell me something about who I’m looking for…and who might’ve been slipping our little intruders information.”

Nijah was instantly lost after the question was posed and she instantly reached behind her to the small clear bag she had the thread in, extending it out to Ricard, “It’s a single, thin thread.” she spoke. Each end of the thread seemed frayed and the piece itself only looked to be about 2 -3 ilms, “I doubt you’ll get much out of it since it’s not a whole square of fabric we’re talking about here. At first I thought it was a hair; barely thicker than a strand. It’s more the color that was intriguing as not many people walk around decked in golden colors. I’ve only ever really seen gold in brocades sewn into clothing, specifically gowns and dresses.”

“Well that’s what makes it interesting.” Ricard reached out, taking the offered thread and turning it between his fingers and eyeing it carefully. “This is a color that is typically seen in gowns and dresses.” His gaze cut up to meet Nijah’s again for a moment. “It’s not a color you’d see in a group sent to sabotage a pair of airships, it’d stand out too much, draw too much attention.” He turned his attention back to the thread between his fingers as he moved towards the door, pausing and just before reaching the threshold, the wheels in his head already spinning. “Do you have a list of everyone who was working last night? And are they still on the property?” 

A shoulder lifted in Ricard’s direction in a bit of a shrug when he pointed out what she had already said about the thread, “It could have come from just about anywhere and not specifically the people that fucked us over but its a possibility.” she lofted a brow, “You’ll find the names in the ledger in the workshop but for what it’s worth I don’t suspect any of our own since we already know entry came from outside the hangar via the doors when no one was present. I’m curious to see what approach you decide to take on this.”

“The approach initially is one of casting a wide net. Talk to as many staff members as possible, everyone who was here last night, whether there’s concern about them being involved or not. They may have a detail that they don’t think of as significant, but in the bigger picture it may be an important piece of the puzzle. From there, I get a look at the scene, see if there’s anything to be gathered from there. Then the search moves outside the estate, checking the surrounding areas, especially any area nearby that has a good view of the hangar for anything that may have been left behind. These people, whoever they are, have likely been watching us for quite some time and I expect there to be evidence of that even if it’s only trace evidence of it. Try to put together a picture of the type of person I’m after, since I already know the cargo they have…”

Again, he turned the thread over between his fingers before glancing back at Nijah for a moment. “Then it’s a matter of asking the right questions and setting up the right meetings…very gently pulling at the right threads. But it starts with interviewing the staff, and the sooner I get started, the sooner I get you those answers. And I will get you those answers.”

The woman simply nodded, “Well, don’t let me keep you from those answers. However, if you could for the sake of being thorough, please record anything you find in a book? I’d like to keep it for the future if we need it. Specifically for information sharing purposes between our peers.”

“Of course. I’ll keep a document of everything I find and bring what I find to you. I’ll be in touch, Nijah.” Ricard offered a quick bow before moving towards the door once again.

He slid the door closed behind him before heading to his room for a moment, taking a few moments to gather a few necessary items, and then heading to the workshop.

With the names from the ledger in hand, he started the lengthy process of interviewing each staff member present the evening before and the investigation began in earnest.

One step at a time, one piece of information at a time, until he had a picture of what happened that he could present with some level of confidence.

And that started with one conversation at a time.

"Good morning, friend...I hear you were working last night...come in and have a seat. I need to hear about your evening...."

Mention - @nijah-wolff-xiv

[lonewolflupe]

aLoF ch8 | Fives Days Off

This chapter is very dear to me, so I'm a bit nervous about sharing this one ahahaha. This has some of the earliest scenes/interactions that came to mind when I started creating Lupe's story. There's hurt, there's comfort, there's fluff, and maybe a little more after that ;)

Summary: after a devastating loss, Lupe finds the opportunity to grant a certain ARC trooper some well deserved rest and comfort Rating: Mature (just to be sure) Tags: talk of losses, hurt/comfort, fluff, sexual interaction (nothing too explicit), swearing (usage of slang; kriff/kriffing = fuck/fucking, kark = shit) Words: 5.850k Characters: Lupe (OC), Lone Wolf Squad, CT-7567 Captain Rex, ARC-5555 Fives, CT-5597 Jesse, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Yoda, Mace Windu, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Plo Koon, R2D2, unidentified clone troopers aLoF masterlist | AO3 ch7 < | ↓ | > ch9

20 BBY, Coruscant | GAR Barracks’ Hangar / GAR Barracks

(Straight after the Battle of Lola Sayu/Mission to the Citadel, TCW S03E18-20)

The Lone Wolves’ shuttle slid smoothly into the hangar as Claw piloted it from Coruscant’s sky. Another successful mission, another happy landing. When the squad walked off the boarding ramp, still chatting about their latest endeavour, Lupe noticed Captain Rex walking towards them. Although she enjoyed the Captain's company, she could feel something was wrong immediately. She told the boys to stay put as she turned towards the Captain.

"General, forgive me my intrusion, but you need to see Fives," he spoke to her, his voice full of concern. Her stomach turned when she heard Fives' name. "Is he injured? Where is he?" she asked Rex, doing no effort to hide her worries, her feelings. "He's- He's alright, he's in his quarters," Rex pointed out, before she darted past him to find Fives. "General, it's Echo- he didn't make it," he added as he stood there, nailed to the ground, hanging his head. Lupe quickened her pace and jolted towards the 501st's quarters, without looking back.

She found Fives inside, sitting on a bench at the back of the room. He was leaning forward, his helmetless head cupped in his hands. She dropped on her knees in front of him, reaching out to him. "Fives, my dear Fives," she whispered as she put her hands on the sides of his face. Without saying a word, he leaned towards her and sank his face between her neck and shoulder, putting his arms around her in a tight embrace. She put her arms around his torso, feeling his silent tears running down her skin.

She gave Fives the time to mourn his fallen brother. When he finally pulled away from her, she looked into his eyes, a comforting smile on her face. She was used to seeing his lively, deep, brown eyes sparkle with amusement, mischief, or whatever he was up to. But when she looked into them now, they were dull and empty. Her heart ached as she knew she couldn’t fill this emptiness inside him. Not the loss of Echo, the loss of another brother.

“I’m so tired, Lupe,” he whispered, another tear rolling down his cheek. “All the death. All the nightmares. I miss them, Lupe. I- I’m the only Domino left now.” He hung his head again, lost in thoughts. Lupe pressed her forehead against his as she searched for the right words, but she couldn’t find them. There was nothing she could say that would make him feel better at this moment.

It wasn’t long before she heard a knock at the entrance of the quarters. When she looked around, she noticed Captain Rex again, waiting at the entrance as he didn’t want to intrude on them any further. The fact that he had knocked at all meant something had come up. Lupe gently stroked Fives’ hair before she got to her feet and walked over to Rex.

“Forgive me again, sir, but we, er- We got orders to prepare for our next mission,” he sighed, clearly trying to hide his own feelings of loss and fatigue, but she saw through him. She clenched her fists as she looked at the devastated clone troopers. “They don’t ever allow you time to mourn and regain yourself, do they?” she growled, followed by a sigh. “Let me get through to them.” When she walked past him, she halted abruptly, turning towards the Captain. She put her hand on his shoulder piece whilst she looked him into his eyes. “I’m sorry for your losses, Captain. All of them,” she whispered, before she continued her personal mission.

She barged into the hangar's secluded transmission room and sent out an urgent transmission towards the High Council Chamber. When it got accepted, holograms of the Council members appeared in front of her. It included Anakin Skywalker and his Padawan Ahsoka, who were located in the centre of the room, interrupted in the middle of their debriefing. Everyone looked up at Lupe as soon as her hologram appeared to them. She tried to balance her thoughts, but she couldn't. She was too emotional at the moment.

She knew this was highly inappropriate, but at this moment, she didn't care. "I'm here for an urgent matter," she stated, almost in a demanding way. She needed them to hear her now. Master Mace Windu, his face puzzled yet stern, glanced over to Master Yoda before gesturing to Lupe to continue.

"I'm here before you on behalf of the clones. Day in, day out, they are fighting this war, sacrificing their lives for a Republic they don't even get to experience, as they were created and trained to fight, to die. On a daily basis, they get injured, they see their brothers die before their eyes, getting scarred and traumatised. You cannot send them from one battle into another, you have to give them some slack. Get them help. Don't just send them over to the medical department to fix them up before shipping them out again, but provide them with proper help, with mental support. These men are living beings, deserving of the same lives and chances as anyone within the Republic we are fighting for. Why not fight for them too?"

Her chest was heaving when she finished her speech, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The Jedi took in her words and the Masters seemed to deliberate them carefully. It was Grand Master Yoda, his ears slightly twitching, who spoke out first.

"Spoken passionately, you have, hmm," Yoda said, waiting a moment before continuing. "Right you are, perhaps, but focus on the ongoing battles, we must." Some Jedi Masters nodded in agreement. "We are already short of an army. We have to fight for the preservation of the Republic, we cannot lose to the Separatists' corruption," Master Ki-Adi Mundi added to Yoda's concerns.

"That's just it, Masters. We Jedi are generals, warriors, planning strategies and leading these men into battle. But as far as I'm aware, Jedi used to be peacekeepers." She pointed at Ahsoka, who silently stood beside her Master whilst listening to Lupe's passionate speech, as they all did. "And now you are grooming our young, talented younglings and Padawans to become child soldiers. Just as you send these good men to their deaths, over and over again."

A moment of silence as her words reached the Council members. She saw some of them looking at each other, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Were they silently agreeing with her, or had her words only pulled a sensitive string?

"We thank you for your concerns, Lupe, and we will discuss this with the Council. In private," Master Windu finally spoke, before he shared another glance with Master Yoda. "But it seems to me you're getting involved with the clones too closely. We cannot allow attachments within the Jedi Order, as you’re fully aware of. And to me, it seems you're overstepping boundaries. We will discuss what to do with you. Until then, you are ordered to remain on Coruscant. Don't stray too far from the Temple."

She tried to stay calm and balanced, as her Master had taught her. But she was furious, fuming inside. They seemed to care more about her misstep from straying from the Jedi protocols and guidelines, than they cared for the lives of the clones. With great effort she restrained herself, thanked the Council Members for their attention in a cold response, and ended the transmission.

As she stormed out of the transmission room, still fuming, with both her heart and head racing, she noticed a crowd of clones from the 501st and her Lone Wolves near the entrance of the hangar. A white and blue astromech droid had its scomp connected to the main computer and seemed to be projecting her very own transmission in front of the crowd. They had been listening to everything she had said in front of the Jedi Council, including the Council's meagre replies.

They noticed Lupe entering the hangar, and awkwardly stood there as the droid disconnected from the socket. Some of the troopers scattered about, others tried to act as if they were engaged in some military activity, like spot-checking their gear. Rex, standing next to the R2-unit, put his elbow up as he scratched the back of his neck, fully aware that the General had just caught them eavesdropping on a confidential Jedi Council meeting.

Fives was standing next to Rex, his arms crossed, with dark circles below his dull eyes; he looked defeated. She hated seeing him like this. "Kriff this," she said softly yet determined, before she walked over to him, put her hands around his face to pull him close, and kissed him in front of the remaining clones. She saw a glimmer in his eyes, although faint, but at least she had achieved brightening him up a bit. Content, she walked away from the troopers, searching for a secluded place where she would await word from the Jedi Council.

Fives just stood there, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process what had just happened. Rex looked away; what he didn't see, he didn't have to report. Jesse coughed whilst he bumped his elbow into Fives' side, and another trooper in the crowd whistled. Even the astromech seemed to join in on the whistling.

---

It was getting quite late when her comlink started beeping. After she accepted the incoming transmission, a distant voice told her the Jedi Council was expecting her at once, and the transmitter abruptly ended the message. Lupe sighed as she put the com device back in her pocket, taking a moment before she got back on her feet. She was still in the hangar, at the very edge of the platform behind some crates, overlooking Coruscant. She’d come to like this spot, as she was close to the troopers, but secluded enough to sit and think in solitude. And at this moment, she would rather be surrounded by clones than by Jedi.

As she walked to the hangar’s door to find her way back to the Jedi Temple, she noticed the R2-unit was still around. This time, the droid was accompanied by Anakin Skywalker and his Padawan. Now it dawned on her; the astromech was Anakin’s personal droid, R2D2. She should have known. A quick smile appeared on her face when she walked their way, unable to avoid them as she was headed for the exit. When she neared them, Anakin turned towards her, his arms crossed. He had a stern look on his face, but surprisingly, his look softened when she came closer.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into that argument,” Lupe said to Ahsoka, a half-smile on her face. “Don’t worry about it,” the Padawan replied as she smiled up at Lupe. “Those were some brave words you spoke, Master Lupe. Thanks for standing up for them,” she added softly, before the Padawan shifted on her feet, looking down. Anakin gave her a quick glance before turning to Lupe again. “Brave, but foolish. I know you mean well, and I totally agree with you, don’t get me wrong. But knowing the Council, there will be consequences to your words.”

Anakin’s words were harsh, but he spoke them kindly. She understood he was on the same page as her, but someone had to step up for the clones. “I don’t care what those consequences will be, as long as my words make them act. These men deserve better,” she concluded, as she gestured into the clone-filled hangar. She nodded a goodbye towards the Jedi before continuing her path to face said consequences.

---

Coruscant | Jedi Temple, High Council Chamber

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath when she found herself in front of the Chamber’s door again. Calm and balanced. She had no idea what would be waiting for her behind the door, but she was ready for it. And she had absolutely no regrets for the words she’d spoken earlier. The door whooshed open as she walked forward, and seated in the room behind it was the Jedi Council.

“Lupe, please enter,” her former Master Plo Koon said, as he gently gestured to her to walk forward. She nodded at him, keeping her thoughts and demeanour as neutral as possible, as she walked to the centre of the room. Master Windu readied himself for what she thought would become a lecture. “Lupe, we have discussed your words with great care. We thank you for your concern, but we ask you to leave the matter to us. We will find a fitting solution to the situation,” he spoke with what seemed to her like a lack of emotion. Lupe nodded, trying to stay calm and balanced. “Now for the matter of your misstep..”

“We understand that these trying times of war are weighing heavy on you, as it does on all of us, and we realise you’ve achieved Jedi Knighthood and its responsibilities at a young age. Younger than would be desirable, in times of peace,” Mace Windu continued. “That is why we decided there will be no harsh consequences. We will give you leave for five rotations, to quiet your mind and recollect your thoughts. In return, we ask you- we urge you to keep your emotional distance from the clones. You are their leader and General, and you can’t let your emotions distract you from your missions, your goals. Are we clear?”

Lupe bowed deeply in front of the Masters as she said: “Yes, Masters.” She thanked them for their decision blandly, pushing away all the emotions that were trying to get a hold of her. If the Jedi were supposed to be caring and considerate, how could they ask this of her? They didn’t word it like that, but in her mind, they were straight up asking her to push aside all her feelings. As soon as she was dismissed, she jolted around and walked out of the Chamber, quickening her pace as she walked through the hallway.

Behind her, she heard the whooshing sound of the door opening and closing again. As soon as she felt the presence of her former Master, she slowed down and turned around. “Lupe..,” Master Plo spoke softly as he walked up to her. She pushed back the burning tears in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat before she faced him. “I’m sorry for letting you down again, Master,” she spoke softly, her voice on the verge of breaking. A moment of silence, before he put his arms around her and pulled her close in an embrace. “You could never disappoint me, Lupe,” he spoke softly, as she returned the embrace now that she had finally found some solace.

---

Master Plo had spoken briefly with her about her interaction with the Jedi Council that day. He didn’t judge her, and she knew he cared deeply for the clone troopers as well. He had tried to explain that decisions had to be taken during wartime, and not all decisions were taken lightly. Some decisions were made by choosing between a bad choice, and a worse one. Taking such decisions didn’t mean the Jedi Council didn’t care; they had to keep in mind what was best for the Republic. And what was best for the Republic, wasn’t always best for the Jedi and the Grand Army’s troopers. Lupe understood, but still felt like the troopers could get better treatment. And Master Plo would talk to the Council again, see what he could do for the men they cared so deeply about.

After their conversation, Lupe found herself hurrying back towards the GAR barracks and hangar. She had agreed with the Council that they had been clear to her, which they had been; very clear. But that didn’t mean she was going to follow up on all their wishes and demands. She was given leave for five rotations and she wasn’t planning on spending them in solitude.

“Captain Rex!” she called to him, as she came hurrying up towards him. He looked up from his datapad, dismissing some of his troops when she neared him. He nodded a ‘sir’ towards her as she halted beside him. “Any effects on your, er- Speech this afternoon, sir?” Rex asked cautiously, trying to avoid the fact that he had been listening to the whole thing. She sighed as she looked him in the eyes. “I really can’t tell at this moment. But I deliberated with Master Plo and I am sure he’ll get through to them,” she replied, hoping her trust in the Jedi Council wasn’t misplaced. “So our faith is at the mercy of the Jedi again,” Rex sighed, a wry smile on his face. “Isn’t it always?” she replied with a shrug.

“Rex, I have a favour to ask,” she finally said, shifting the topic. He raised a brow as she bit her lower lip, searching for the most subtle way to put this. “I, er- have been given leave to ‘quiet my thoughts’, so to speak,” she started slowly, and found Rex lighten up with amusement. “You mean, so they don’t get interrupted by your ‘creative thinking’ for a few rotations?” he said, and he couldn’t help himself from chuckling. She laughed, shrugging again in a you-got-me kind of way. “But jokes aside, I was wondering.. Would there be a possibility for Fives to get a few rotations off as well? I think he could really use some time off the battlefield and away from the barracks.” She swallowed as she waited for the Captain’s reply.

“Well, as much as I’d like to comply, I really have to discuss this with the General first,” Rex finally said, thinking about how he would bring this to the General without raising too many suspicions. Lupe sighed, as her faith in her colleagues wasn’t at its highest at the moment. Rex noticed her anguish and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry; if any Jedi would understand, it’s General Skywalker. Trust me,” he said comfortingly, and she did. What a day, where it was easier to trust a clone than a fellow Jedi.

---

Coruscant | GAR Barracks

Lupe was leaning against a crate near the barracks when Rex returned from his briefing. She looked up expectantly when she heard him walking towards her, but it turned into anguish when she noticed Anakin was accompanying him. She wasn’t in the mood for another pedantic speech after her encounter with the Council that afternoon, and as she was supposed to keep her distance from the clones, trying to get one off duty was asking for trouble. Her mind was racing, searching for a logical explanation she could give.

“Good news, sir; General Skywalker has permitted your request,” Rex said enthusiastically when they halted in front of Lupe. She looked at them kind of sceptically, expecting some kind of trap, as if Master Windu would pop out behind them to scold her. Anakin noticed her distrust and started laughing, putting his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “Easy there, Lupe, I didn’t bring the Council with me,” he said jokingly, as if he had read her mind. She started to ease as soon as she realised Anakin was genuine with her, a smile starting to appear on her face.

“Thanks, Anakin, I owe you,” she said whilst she nodded to him in gratitude. “I hope I’ll be able to get Fives some distraction; he could really use some,” she said to him whilst she started contemplating where she would take him. “I bet you will,” Anakin grinned as he started pressing on some buttons on his comm device. “Here are the coordinates to a nice place in the Lake Country on Naboo. A, er- friend of mine owns the place, but she won’t be needing it for a while. She won’t mind if you use it for a few rotations,” Anakin said to her as her own comm device started beeping when she received the coordinates. She nodded again in thanks, eager to go get Fives.

After Rex wished them well and walked off, Anakin gently grabbed her arm for a moment as he moved in close to her. “What happens on Naboo, stays on Naboo,” he whispered with a smirk on his face, before releasing her arm and walking off. Lupe had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but she didn’t care at this point. She turned on her heels and bolted towards the quarters to find Fives, ready to get him out of this karkhole that reminded him of all his fallen brothers.

---

“Fives!” she called when she jolted inside the quarters, crashing her shoulder against the wall as she didn’t try to slow down when she rounded the corner. She noticed him at the back of the quarters again, now laying on his top bunk bed. She continued running, jumping between bunk beds and over a crate, barely dodging a trooper as he walked by, earning her a high pitched ‘watch-it’ as he stumbled on his feet. At the back of the quarters, she pulled herself up on the metal frame of the bunk bed to face him. He looked puzzled, not sure why she was in such a haste. “Get your thrusters off that bed and come with me,” she urged him, as she took his hand to drag him out.

Fives almost fell from his bunk bed when she did, slightly regaining himself so he came down stumbling instead of falling. He grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her down. “Lupe, what are you doing?” he whispered as he looked her in the eyes. “We’re being sent off to fight another battle. What are you doing here?” He sounded serious; another reason why she worried about him, why she had to take him away. “Fives, General Skywalker and Rex got you permission for a few rotations off duty!” she shot back at him, her eyes glistering. He looked even more puzzled than before. “I didn’t ask for any leave,” he said to her, releasing her shoulders. “But I did.”

---

Since neither a clone trooper nor a Jedi really owned any personal belongings, they didn’t have to waste any time packing. They found themselves an AA-9 freighter that transported civilians from Coruscant to Naboo that left the same day. When they arrived in Naboo’s capital city of Theed, they found another transport to the more isolated area of Lake Country.

It was late in the afternoon when they reached the place. A servant droid was awaiting them, clearly informed about their arrival. Lupe thanked the droid after it had showed them around, before it withdrew to a secluded area to not bother them during their stay. The place looked quite luxurious, especially considering the rather small size of the residence. But it was big enough for the few rotations they would be staying; it was nothing like a clone trooper and a Jedi were used to in these times of war. It was perfect.

“What would you like to do?” Lupe asked, a comforting smile on her face, as she turned towards Fives. He was still looking devastated, tired and lost. They hadn’t spoken a lot during their travels, as they had been surrounded by civilians and didn’t want them to eavesdrop on any war related contents. Fives shrugged, looking past her. “I just want to lie down, I guess,” he said softly, avoiding her gaze. She swallowed before she slowly nodded; she wanted to help him, get him some distraction from everything that had happened, but she wanted to give him some space as well, if that was what he wanted.

After Fives withdrew to the adjacent bedroom and closed the door behind him, Lupe dropped down on the couch in the middle of the room. As she let her gaze explore the room around her, her thoughts jumped back and forth. She thought about the Jedi Council, hoping they would come up with a solution that would provide better care for the clone troopers. She thought about Fives, how he had just lost his last Domino brother, and about all the fallen brothers before Echo. Her memories from Geonosis returned, and she felt like that small, unknowing Padawan again. And everything that had happened ever since.. Her mind still racing, she closed her eyes and slowly sank into a long, uneasy slumber.

---

Mid Rim | Chommell Sector | Naboo

It was already morning when Fives woke up. He had fallen into a deep, long sleep and hadn't woken up until now. He hadn't slept that long and undisturbed since.. He couldn't remember, perhaps during his short childhood back on Kamino? He felt a little better, but dark thoughts started to cloud his mind again. It wasn't until he smelled food that he felt his stomach rumble, almost hurting from emptiness. He hadn't had any dinner, after all. Not that they had dinner during battles, but at least he would stuff himself with ration bars whenever he got the chance.

The food smelled kriffing delicious. He didn't know if it was smelling so good because he was so hungry and could eat anything at this moment, or because it would actually be that tasty. He was sure to find out. He heaved himself out of bed, noticing the other half of it was unslept. He had taken off his ARC trooper armour before collapsing onto the bed the prior day, but was still wearing his body glove, a thin, black jumpsuit meant to support his armour and protect his skin from it.

When he walked out of the bedroom, entering the bigger living room, he noticed Lupe was in the open kitchen at the back of the room, preparing breakfast. He couldn’t help to be surprised; he didn’t expect cooking lessons to be part of a Jedi’s training, and here she was, making his mouth water and his stomach growl. As soon as Lupe noticed his presence, she turned around, frying pan in one hand. “I baked you some eggs,” she smiled whilst she looked at him, her eyes glistening. “This place has so many ingredients stocked, even lots of foreign herbs and spices,” she said to him, losing herself in her enthusiasm.

Fives chuckled faintly, heaving his weary body on one of the stools at the high table that was located in the kitchen. “I, er- I didn’t take you for the.. Domestic kind,” he said softly to her, enjoying this different side of her as he watched her put the eggs on a plate and sprinkle some fresh herbs on top of them. She served it to him from the other side of the table, her face full of anticipation as she was hoping this would get at least some of his spirits back up. He looked at the plate in awe, inhaling deeply as he was taking in the delightful scent. “There’s even toast,” he whispered, before digging in. Lupe smiled as she watched him.

After he finished his last bite, he pushed the plate away and sighed out of content. “I really needed that. Thank you,” he said to her, feeling slightly better, but the dark thoughts started to return. Lupe smiled at him, happy he enjoyed the meal, but was taken over by concern when she noticed his expression shifted. She was leaning against the table opposite to him, and started to shift on her feet a bit nervously. “So, er- Anything you’d like to do today?” she asked him softly, almost shyly.

Fives shrugged, averting his gaze from hers. “I, er- I think I’ll get some more sleep,” he whispered, readying himself to get back into the bedroom. He really appreciated the effort she had taken to get him away for a few rotations, for taking him to this place. But he felt he was disappointing her, letting her down, because he really preferred to be alone right now, isolated with his thoughts. He didn’t realise that was exactly what she was preventing him from doing. Lupe straightened herself and walked over to him, putting her hands on his chest and looking him deeply in his eyes. “I have something better in mind,” she spoke softly to him, before landing a soft kiss on his cheek.

She took his hand and guided him outside, into the lush fields ahead. A pleasant breeze made the tall, green grass dance like waves on the ocean. The lake behind the field glistered under the basking sun. They hadn't paid attention to their surroundings too much the day before, as they both had been too tired from the journey and the events from the prior rotations.

After Lupe gently urged him to, Fives sat down at the edge of the tall grass, crossing his legs and gazing towards the lake. Lupe walked back behind him and dropped herself on her shins, her knees pointing towards Fives. She started to pull his jumpsuit from his upper body, her heart skipping a beat when she saw his muscular body below it. He was gorgeous.

And then she noticed the scars. With the tips of her fingers, she gently caressed them, being careful with her touch as if they were still fresh, as if they would still hurt. Fives closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing, focussing only on her touch. Her hands slid towards his neck and shoulders. As she gently squeezed, she felt the tension in his trapezius muscles. She started massaging them, making small movements with her fingers as she put pressure on them.

Fives groaned softly out of content. Lupe noticed how his neck and shoulders started to relax. She kept massaging his muscles, trying to push out all the tension and misery. After a while, Fives let his body fall backwards, and Lupe laid the back of his head in her lap. He opened his eyes and she finally noticed a smile on his face again. She returned it before she leaned forward, kissing him upside down.

---

“Can you swim, trooper?” she asked after a while, a slight smirk playing on her face. Fives heaved himself upright, his torso turned so he was able to look her in the eyes. “You seem to forget I was born and raised on Kamino,” he said grinning, a glister in his eyes. She patted him on the shoulder before standing up, stepping over him and walking straight for the lake. Fives followed her with his gaze, as he remained sitting on the ground, waiting to see what she would do next.

Lupe slid down her pants before pulling her robes off. A piece of fabric, like a bandage, was wrapped tightly around her breasts to support them during her physical activities as a Jedi and a General. Now, she started to unwrap it slowly, her back still towards Fives. He sat there silently, almost holding his breath as he watched her progress. When the fabric was loose, she let it fall on the ground beside her, with the rest of her clothes.

She looked back over her shoulder at Fives, glancing at him with a seductive smile on her face, without revealing any more of herself. She slowly walked forward again, wading into the lake. The water was cool, but pleasant. She walked until her collar bones immersed into the water before turning around, facing Fives again.

Fives sat there, breathless by now. His mind was racing as he watched her get undressed, seeing her naked body, shooting him that seductive glance and walking into the lake mysteriously. She had no business as a Jedi, let alone as a General, being this beautiful. Not that he minded; his brain just needed a moment to process what was happening. When it dawned on him, he got up clumsily, his blacks still dangling around his torso. He pulled it lower, getting his legs out, almost tripping in the process.

He tossed the blacks aside before hurrying himself to the lake. As he waded in, making his way towards Lupe, his brain ignored the coolness of the water. And when he finally found himself close to her..

She reached up to him and their lips touched, as they lunged for each other longingly. Tasting and exploring as their lips moved, as their tongues danced. Fives let his hands wander from her shoulders to her hips, exploring everything in between, pulling her as close as he could. She shoved her arms below his, her hands on his shoulder blades on his back, their chests pressed together. Her naked skin against his sent a shiver down his spine.

His heart pounding, Fives finally loosened their grips before taking a deep breath and immersing himself in the lake, his head underwater as he continued exploring Lupe's body below her hips. A surprised gasp, passing into a moan of pleasure as Fives did something unexpected down below. He emerged from the water again, water dripping from his hair and muscular body as he stood in front of her again. This man. “Where did you learn that?” she asked with a cheeky smile on her face. “We do have access to the HoloNet, you know,” he replied, a grin on his face before he reached for her lips again. She received him gladly, continuing where they had left off.

As they continued kissing, their naked bodies pressed against each other, Fives grasped Lupe’s thighs and lifted her, their hips now on the same level. She wrapped her legs around him, looking down into his deep, brown eyes as she was now positioned slightly above him. He looked back into her amber eyes, their hearts beating faster and faster. And then, he entered her, slowly and gently, so as not to hurt her. She closed her eyes and let out a lustful sigh, completely taken in the moment. He looked at her face for a little longer, admiring her feral beauty, before closing his eyes as well, as their foreheads touched.

Now they were one. Their breath and heartbeats were consistent as they moved as one. As the world around them blurred together, forgetting all about the war that was still raging on in the galaxy, they were one and at this moment, they were all there was. Only them. They were the centre of their own galaxy now.

…

Epilogue

Lupe and Fives were laying in the field, surrounded by the tall grass, their bodies drying under the sun as it was gliding away, not far from setting for the evening. Laying on their backs, their bodies in opposite directions, their heads were side by side as they looked up into the sky. For a moment, they had forgotten about the war, about all the losses and sacrifices, the death and the destruction. For a moment, it was just them, being together, caring and loving. And although they knew this day would end, today was perfect, and it would always be a day they would cherish.

Pfew alright, I hope you're not disappointed after reading this (because again, this chapter is very dear to me). This was actually the very first scene with sexual interaction I wrote, and at the time it was a big deal to me (yeah I know). But I've written a few more by now and I can promise it'll get a bit more spicy (:

Also I'm sorry for doing your boy Mace dirty, you gotta understand that he comes over as very harsh/unyielding/incomprehensible to someone as young/passionate/emotional as Lupe. I actually really like the character (and I'll try to make it up to you somewhere along the story)

[rarepairnation]

3, 4, 7, 9 for the fic writer asks :)

hi anna thank u c: this took way too long lol i just spent days agonizing over what excerpts to pick and how i wanted to analyze them and falling asleep over my laptop keyboard but here it is finally (questions from this ask meme)

3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

dude the multitudes i think i could spend the character limit of this post listing them. opening the entire separate notes app on my phone where i keep them all. highlight reel: pacific rim chosen-one-as-in-sacrificial-lamb raleigh & stacker pentecost (you and i are the only ones who ever ran solo combat that's why i brought you here is CRAZY); james bond m(allory) vs the portrait of m(ansfield) that is very much not present in the halls of mi6 (until it is); lotr faramir and pippin and the ghost of boromir and the debt pippin owes to gondor which is not the debt that denethor demands of him. there are also like way too many little nickjasper oneshots that are sitting around waiting to be written. a selection: jasper leaving messages on nick's phone when he thinks he's dead, putting photos up + building a home together, couch fic, sleepy leather jacket fic, nick sending jasper on his first mission since they got together, 4x nick sweeping jasper off his feet, ambient new years day fic, nick meeting jasper's plane in the hangar, can you tell i am just holding them in my hands so tenderly. these are all such nothing concepts and yet theyre everything to me...

4. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

the day i write a chaptered fic again is the day i am dead in the damn ground. jk but like its the 20k oneshot unlimited scene breaks life for me i am afraid. putting in chapters gives me hives what if i have to go back and change something...ending a chapter gives the adhd a convenient place to sit down and refuse to move...all that

7. What's a trope you love to write?

depends on how broadly we are defining trope. actually i decided that this question just says "theme" instead of trope bc it was the middle of the night and i wanted to talk about Themes And Motifs. like.......guilt complex. the intersection between duty and desire. two people that have never had the luxury building a soft place to land together (because love is a place you could live in). uhhh. subversion of dark/light dichotomies (quiet and comfort and whispered secrets in the night and clarity and endings and unforgiving harshness in the light of day). Water Metaphors. that thing where a character sees their love interest in formalwear (or tactical gear. bc of. well the spy fiction) for the first time. i could go on but ive bastardized the prompt for long enough lol

9. What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

sickos.jpg YES...YES!!! i love this one. i will try to refrain from going way overboard but also...no promises. gonna try to not do any of the ones i did for ao3 wrapped last year lol

"He wants to reach out, wants to touch, wants to find Gareth among the bones of M but he can’t. Not now."

the way i played with names and titles and forms of address in race for a hurricane (bond, the first mallorytanner i ever published) remains one of my most favourite things i've done with words ever in my life. like when i figured it out i was like oh. i Understand them now. there are at LEAST three layers of masks before you even start to get into real people down there. and here is a situation that strips them all away. like mallory has to accept the death of mi6 before he can allow himself to fight for it one last time but their work life balance is pretty much defined by "when you are m" and "when you are not/when you are tanner's." when it's no longer that clear-cut it takes tanner reaching for him and saying gareth for both of them to understand that what they have together exists outside and past the boundaries of m-and-his-chief-of-staff. ugh its crazy stuff

"He's always known exactly how to push Nick's buttons and Nick's not made it a secret how hot he is for him right now, all confident competence, smug and self-assured in the knowledge that he's done everything Nick wants of him - and he has. He's done it to perfection.  He reaches out and traces a finger across Jasper’s jaw, waits until he has his full attention before he lets his mouth curve with clean, shining approval. “Oh, Jas,” he says, “my sword.” Jasper lets out a sigh at Nick's words, pitched high enough that it could be a whine, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Nick steps back, lets Jasper sway half a step towards him, the slackness in his shoulders half want and half relief. Catches him with a hand against his chest. “Let me see you. What have you done to yourself?”"

well i had to put in this entire passage from just so long as this thing's loaded (marvel, unhinged nickjasper). i am just so fucking pleased with the build of the tension and the space of the pause before the Line Of All Time and just. i assigned myself to write Well More Things Should Be Weird And Horny and i think i pulled it off. like six paragraphs up there is pretty much straight up knifeplay in there. in my defense i didnt realize how intense it'd got until i had finished writing it. obviously the crown jewel of this excerpt and also of the whole fic is oh, jas, my sword which is a line that fucking bolt of lightning-ed into my mind exactly when i needed it and put me absolutely flat on my back. (i WILL take the "character being reduced to a deadly weapon by their love interest and liking it" trope to its most literal. Augh.) usually i see those kinds of major lines that i spend a whole scene's worth leading up to coming. I Did Not See This Coming.

man there's more but im putting a readmore in for the sake of everyone's sanity.

"This is leaping off an edge and trusting the ocean to catch her - trusting Raleigh to catch her, and when the drift comes up to cradle her and her feet come down onto the contact pedals she feels like she could eat the world whole. It makes her want to split herself open, loving hands and cold steel and take back what the kaiju have taken from her, the blood they’ve spilt over her insides[...]"

i! love! mako mori!!!!! my best girl!!!! they say when you set out on a quest for revenge dig two graves they! underestimate! me!! when i wrote tempered steel (pacific rim/mako mori-centric) i was like oh i Get her. oh her spine is literally a sword. oh the kaiju took everything from her and she will take everything from them and she will not die trying because she is the hurricane. she will open herself up with her own hands (and raleigh's hands because they are her hands and hnnnggg drift compatibility...) and draw out every drop of blood the kaiju have left inside her and. just incredible stuff

"now[...m]eans after this, after the kitchen they'd painted together, after the car rides to work, after Nick-and-Jasper becomes just Nick, and a house with Jasper's name still on the mortgage."

sorry about the blood in your mouth (marvel, the first nickjasper i ever published. life comes full circle) is the oldest fic in this set but i still think about this line regularly. just. when you are a spy and your husband is a spy and it turns out he's been a traitor all along and you fell for it hook line and sinker. and you cannot let anyone else kill him because you need it to be you, because you have done the thing you never thought or let yourself do, you have built yourself a life with him and now. now you are just nick, now you are a half of a whole and his name will always be on your mortgage and your house will always be yours, both of yours, and. Man. 2020 me was on something fuckoff crazy (quarantine blues is what).

"Dying for each other might be romantic in all the stories but in real life, it just hurts. In real life, it just leaves someone behind. They already know that Jasper will walk unflinching to the edge and let himself fall, that Nick will claw his way right out of the grave just to catch him when he hits the ground. This time, it’s their goddamn story. This time, they’ll run and they’ll get out, hand in hand. This time, they’re going to fucking live."

the whole ending paragraph of say the word and i'm already there (marvel, sneaking into the garage after the divorce to pick up my nickjasper boxes and fleeing with them). i love to subvert tropes and saw that post about instead of i will die for you try i will live because of you, for you and i finally got to do it. i love dying-for-each-other as much as the next girl but also like...let's be serious here for a minute. let's be so real character death in mainstream media is so cheap nowadays. In Real Life It Just Hurts. this is such an i will write you a thousand happy endings moment i think i cried when i wrote it like....man i love jasper sitwell. i love him so fucking much. we've really had quite enough of self-sacrifice and death and all that in my opinion. the knowledge of mcu canon jasper's fate dogs every step of my damn life. it haunts me okay I Need Them To Live.

[corditeheart]

"They found his trail. We've got people tracking him on the ground and in the air."

It escalates rapidly from there. They abandon the cafeteria; no one stops Laguna from entering the ops room, from hearing first-hand confirmation that the flight team has spotted a flare. That the flare belongs to Commander Leonhart.

That he's alive.

That he's alive.

(That he's unconscious almost as soon as they find him, that he's been shot--

There's irony there, Xu thinks, that she nearly loses him almost the same way he'd lost her.)

She remains calm. Collected. Lieutenant Commander to the very end, regardless of the outcome. That's what she trained for. This is what she's good at.

Of course, they abandon Balamb the second she gets confirmation that the chopper is en route to a Trabian medical center, the closest one to T. Garden.

It's a long flight, jammed into a tiny plane between Ellone and Laguna, phone forced to be off for the duration so it doesn't screw with the instruments and depriving her of any information on his condition.

They land. It's an even longer car ride (all of twenty minutes) from T. Garden's hangars to the hospital, and the second the car stops, Xu bolts out into a frozen hell-- she hadn't even stopped long enough to get her coat from her office, still in her t-shirt and leggings and flip-flops.

It doesn't matter. She's already running for the door.

Inside, it's easy to find Squall-- she gets directed to the surgical waiting room, and finds a cluster of local SeeDs already there, standing around sucking down cups of hot coffee, their bumblebee-striped yellow and black winter coats flung over chairs.

"Lieutenant Commander," one greets her, and they all follow suit with a crisp salute. "Didn't know you were coming out this way."

"It was necessary-- he's alright?"

"Was alive when they took him back for surgery-- they didn't like the look of the gunshot wound, but are hoping the cold was enough to stave off any bacteria he might have picked up."

She gets the same information from the nurses at the intake station. Double-confirmation is good. It means he's stable. Injured, but stable.

They wait. She paces. She sits. She eats a protein bar from a vending machine that Ellone forces on her, when she is asked what the last time she ate was, and can't answer it.

They wait. They wait.

She is on her seventh lap of the room in the last hour, wanting nothing more than to smoke a damn cigarette or drink her body weight in coffee, when the surgeon enters the room.

"Mr. President. Lieutenant Commander. Ma'am. The procedure went well-- we had to remove more tissue than we expected to get the bullet out, but he should make a complete recovery. We've moved him to a recovery room if you'd like to come see him."

They follow the surgeon, who foists them off on a nurse, who leads them into a very nice private room and says she'll be right outside if they need anything, but not to make too much of a scene.

Xu doesn't really listen to anything the nurse says, moving past everyone into the room.

He's groggy, in and out; Michele knows the feeling well, and she slips her hand into the one not hindered by bandages, mindful of the IV.

Two days-- and he looks like he's been through a war. Her free hand comes up, brushing wayward hair out of his face, frowning as she feels how cold his forehead still is.

"He's still freezing," she says, before the nurse can leave the room.

"We've got warm saline running through him-- it'll just take some time to work."

She squeezes his hand gently as the nurse leaves, closing the door quietly.

"Hey," she whispers, and it's probably the bean, but she feels a weird lump in her throat, like she might start crying-- and god forbid that happens, "this was supposed to be an easy job. What were you thinking?"

Laguna listened. It was the hardest he had listened to anything in some time.

Not that listening made anything better. It made him more anxious. It made his leg bounce, and then cramp, and he dismissed the act with a pull of the face and kneading the muscle with his fist. It was something to do. Something that was not just sitting entirely still.

It felt just like another flavor of doing nothing, regardless.

"He'd want you to be safe, here," he finally said, trying to pacify Xu in the only way he could. "Every time a mission happens, there's a risk. It's just-"

He was cut off by Xu's phone buzzing, and he almost stood to grab it before her. A call meant information. Anything.

She paused, listening to the call, and Laguna bit back the urge to ask what was being said. But he saw it in her eyes.

Hope.

"Talk to me, Lieutenant Commander."

---

Lack of sleep made the going all harder.

Squall pushed through the snow, feeling his limbs lag and joints ache with the cold. They had started to burn with the excruciating movements. Bad sign; it always felt warmer before things started to shut down from the cold.

He had hours, maybe, to get to that god-damned safe house.

In the back of his mind, he wondered just what might be happening at Balamb. Surely, word had gotten there by now. Someone knew. The monitors in his team's arms would have flat-lined instantly. His own tracker should be sending out signals, unless it had gotten caught in the crossfire.

By now, his dad would be there. Probably Ellone, too. Maybe Kiros. Hell, sure, why not imagine Kiros there trying to be the anchor to keep his father stable? Irvine and Selphie had been on their own missions. They wouldn't even know he was compromised.

Michele was there, pulling rank. Woken from sleep, looking bedraggled and probably throwing on the closest things from the closet. Her brow knit, eyes keen. Beautiful.

Squall could have sworn his heartbeat was not so loud in his ears a minute ago. Nor as fast. Or that it was getting faster and louder-

Wait.

He looked up and squinted through the newest flurry. That was not his heartbeat. That was a helicopter. And if he could see half as well as he could hear, he might have picked it from the sky.

Instead, he pulled one of the precious few flares from his pack and tore the paper off of the end. Struck it against his boot until the thing roared to life. Held it high.

It grew louder. Louder. The dark pinprick against the sky grew larger until the helicopter descended enough for three SeeD operatives in full winter gear to jump out.

"Commander! Good to see you alive!" "Get me the hell outta here." Squall barely managed to get the words out before falling unconscious again.

[mads-weasley]

In an Instant

Poe Dameron x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: It has been almost a year since I wrote anything for Poe, so this is long overdue! As always, I do not own any of these wonderful characters except (y/n). Enjoy! I'd love to hear some feedback from you!!

Summary: After the mutiny, you and Poe get separated in the Resistance's attempt at escaping the First Order by hunkering down on Crait.

Warnings: mentions of death, war, angst, fluff, nothing really

(y/n) - your name

(y/l/n) - your last name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. All the fleet's support ships were now destroyed by the first order. The command ship was all that remained. While the pilot was more distraught about the whole situation, Poe was livid. After being with him for a few years, she’d learned his mannerisms and how he acts when he's angry. He becomes impulsive, well, more than normal, and does things he wouldn't normally do. His heart is so big, and he feels so much for people, even if he doesn't act like he does. That's why it hurts him so much to see their own people dying when it could have been avoided.

From the second he stormed out of the room they were in; she knew he was bound to stir up trouble. Quickly following him, (y/n) reached and gently grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"Poe, you can't go up there. I know you're upset but I don't think we could change Holdo's mind."

He rips his hand from her’s with a look of rage. "We’re gonna die (y/n)! And I guess you don’t know me if you think I’m just going to go along with it!"

Hurt flashed in her eyes as he stormed towards the bridge once again. Around the corner, she could hear Poe’s all too familiar voice, “She in there?”

D’acy’s stressed one now made an appearance. “The admiral’s banned you from the bridge. Let’s not have a scene.”

“No, let’s.”

‘This is not going to be good’, (y/n) thought, so she quickly turned the corner. When she entered the bridge, the sight was a complete surprise to her. She expected Poe to continue yelling at Holdo, but he stopped as he looked behind the famed Admiral.

“Are you fueling up the transports?” he asks incredulously, walking past her to get a better look. “You are.”

(Y/n) knew what this meant just as much as Poe did. They were going to be sitting sucks in the transports. A lot of people would die if they went through with Holdo’s plan.

It was now her turn to get involved. “All of them? We’re abandoning ship? Is that..” she looked at her so-called leader for any answers but got none. “That’s what you got? That’s what you brought us to?”

In a rageful frenzy, Poe kicked over a nearby crate and threw down a chair. “Coward!” He cried. “Those transport ships are unarmed, unshielded. If we abandon this cruiser, we’re done.”

This caught the attention of everyone in the bridge. (Y/n) moved to stand beside Poe, announcing. “We don’t stand a chance!”

Poe decided to take it a step farther, pointing at Holdo. “No, you are not just a coward, you are a traitor.”

Silence hung in the room for a few seconds before the Admiral’s angry voice cut through it. “Get this man off my bridge and take her with him.”

As they were being escorted out by the guards, (y/n) grabbed Poe’s hand, and this time, he didn’t pull away from her.

~

As he was in the hangar, trying to explain their plan to Holdo, (y/n) couldn’t help but reflect on everything that had led up to this moment; Finding the map to Luke, the battle to destroy Starkiller, and the attack that left Leia in a coma. So much had happened in the span of a week that it was a lot for someone to process. She’s snatched from her thoughts by the loud voice of Holdo.

“You have bet the survival of the Resistance on bad odds and put us all at risk! There’s no time now. We have to get clear of the cruiser.” She turns around to address the transport pilots, announcing, “Load the transports.”

“Right away, Admiral.” One responded.

She turned to pass Poe, and as she did so, five soldiers other than Poe and (y/n) raised their weapons on her as he spoke. “Vice Admiral Holdo, I am relieving you of your command for the survival of this ship, its crew, and the Resistance.”

She didn’t react but spoke plainly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah,” he responds, nodding to (y/n). “We’re going to the bridge. If they move, stun them.”

On their way, he turned to her. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I know you didn’t. You just get worked up about stuff and say things in the heat of the moment.”

Leaning over to kiss her temple, he whispered, “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“I don’t believe so,” she laughs.

“Well just wait until to-”

A loud noise cuts him off as sirens ring out in the bridge. They run the rest of the way to see that Holdo has taken over again and is heading their way.

“Seal that door!” Poe yells over the chaos.

A few seconds later, sparks fly from around the door. (Y/n)’s heart drops in her chest. She knew this plan was a big risk, but she always had faith in Rose and Finn. Over the comms they told the bridge to get ready for lightspeed, so with his finger on the switch, Poe took cover behind the Admiral’s chair, gun ready. He called for (y/n) to come take cover next to him, and as she was running to him, the door burst open. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks when the dust settled, revealing General Organa. Poe had a bluurg in the headlights look on his face.

“Leia-“ he started, but was quickly shut up by a stun blast from the General’s gun. (Y/n) started to run forward to help him but was too shot by a stun pulse.

“Those two are going to be the death of me.” She commented.

~

Poe woke up with a start, gasping for breath before realizing where he was. “No. No. No, no, no.” He uttered, running to the window of the transport. He was somewhat calmed by the General calling his name. As he sat down, D’acy explained the plan and how Crait was going to save them from the First Order. After a few minutes of listening, a realization hit him like a train.

“Where’s (y/n)?” he asked frantically.

“Don’t worry, she’s just in another transport.”

This did nothing to ease his nerves, and when the First Order started firing and destroying some of the transports, his heart dropped to his stomach. With every ship that was destroyed, his hope became less and less she was still alive. Tears filled his eyes at the thought of never seeing her smile again or hearing her infectious laugh.

Leia calling his name once again catches his attention. “Poe! I’ve found her on comms!”

Rushing to her, he takes the radio from her hands. “(Y/n/n)! Are you there?”

“I’m here Poe! It doesn’t look good, so I just want to tell you that I-”

Her voice cut out, leaving only static.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)? No! Come on, answer me!”

There were no words to describe the dread and grief that he felt in that moment. Throwing the radio on the ground, he goes over to the window and drags his hand down it before placing his face in his hands. He allowed the tears to escape his eyes as he fully takes it in. She was gone. Breaking down, he begins to sob into his hands. Leia soon accompanies him in his grief. If there’s one person who knows about loss, it’s her.

The young man could tell she was trying to talk to him, but numbness filled his soul. He had nothing but the Rebellion to live for now. He would never get to have a wedding with her, or kids, or even see the end of the war together. All the hope he had for the future was completely gone. Nothing mattered anymore.

Poe was still in this trance when they landed on Crait. When everyone else had left the transport, he remained onboard, unable to move from his spot. Memories flashed in his mind from when they first met.

3 Years Ago

When Poe laid eyes on her, he had to do a double take. She had just gotten out of her X-Wing, still in her bright orange flight suit as she took off her helmet to reveal a smile that instantly hade his day. Another pilot soon joined her in conversation as they walked through the hangar. Wex noticed his staring and smacked his arm. “Come on. The General wants you.” With a longing sigh, he went to go find Leia. When he found her, she was standing next to the very pilot that had caught his eye.

“Commander Dameron,” she started. “This is (y/n) (y/l/n), one of the pilots being promoted. I expect you to fill her in on our leadership procedures.”

He reached his hand out with his signature grin. “Nice to meet you, (y/l/n). I’m Poe Dameron, Commander of Black Squadron.”

Taking his hand, she flashed her own. The first day she had arrived on base, she’d heard of the famous Commander Dameron and his charming personality. Although she had vowed to herself that she wouldn’t fall victim to his devilish looks, standing there in front of him, she couldn’t help but be captivated by him.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n)…but you already knew that.” She mentally slapped herself as she blushed.

Poe chuckled, “Yes I did.”

Seeing her blush was one of the cutest things he had ever seen, and he vowed to make sure to make her blush as much as he could in the future.

Present Day

As he sat there in, frozen in his seat, a shadow was cast in front of him.

“Go away.” He cried, hands still in his hands. The figure slowly walked up the ramp and into the small craft. They kneeled in front of him, putting their hands on his arms, rubbing them lovingly. Immediately, his head shot up at the familiar touch.

He looked like a blerrg in headlights as he croaked, “(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s wrong, P-”

He cut her off with a bone-crushing hug, not minding her yelp of surprise. “I thought you were gone…when your transmission cut out, I thought. I thought I’d lost you.”

Now everything made sense to the girl who was so confused before. All she did was wrap her arms around Poe and allow him to bury his head into her neck. She knew exactly how he felt. There had been so many times he wouldn’t arrive back home on a mission on time and she’d thought he was dead, too.

“I’m here. I’m alright.” She whispered.

For a few more moments, the couple held onto each other as if they would slip through their fingers like shifting sand if they let go. They were brought back to reality when sirens started to blare throughout the base. Pulling apart, Poe placed a soft kiss against her lips.

“I love you. And please, for my sake, never do that again.”

“You know I love you too, Flyboy. Now, let’s go help the others.”

With a nod, they ran out of the craft, hand in hand towards the commander’s room, ready to take on whatever was coming their way.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Ojos Asi - Part 1 - The Beginning

AN: I'm back with another one-shot that turned into a mini-series. Our boy Joaquin Torres doesn't get enough love, so this is my way of helping to remedy that. Set post TFATWS and could tie into my SamBucky post canon 'verse

DISCLAIMER - I know nothing about any Air Force, US or otherwise.

Beta'd by the wonderful @yarnforbrains, dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me (credits to those who took the photos)

Series Master list

Find my master list here

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem SWORD Agent! Reader

Chapter Word count: 2.8k

CW: a pinch of misogyny but mostly fluff, pining and good-natured teasing from one JB Barnes.

“…no, you gotta have it so tight that it almost hurts. Otherwise it could fall off mid-flight and no-one wants that, least of all you…”

Watching Sam and Joaquin talking together, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your best friend, Joaquin, had a look of concentrated confusion on his face, whilst Sam half-smiled at him indulgently, explaining, once again, how the Falcon wings worked. The pair of them had worked hard, with Bucky’s help, to get them working again. You could tell Sam was a little emotional. He had a lot of memories tied up in those wings, and despite having his shiny new vibranium set, there was just ‘something’ about the original ones.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” A deep voice rumbled from behind you, and if you had been anyone else maybe you would have jumped or been embarrassed.

“That’s like the pot calling the kettle black, Barnes.” You dragged your gaze away from the scene in front of you and whirled around to walk past the Sargent. However, you were brought to a jerked halt by a vibranium hand clamping around your upper arm.

“Hey, where you going, doll? Don't cha wanna be here when your boyfriend manages to actually get up in the air?”

“Lieutenant Torres is not my boyfriend.”

“And whose fault is that, doll? You planning on telling him any time soon that you like him?”

“None of your business, Barnes.”

“It is, if it affects how effective you are in the field.”

You glared at him and gritted your teeth.

“There is nothing to affect my performance. Now let me go.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head, but removed his grip.

“Whatever, doll. Whatever.”

You squared your shoulders and walked away from him, leaving the hanger with as much aplomb as you could muster.

You and Joaquin had become friends when you joined the Air Force, straight out of college. You’d both been on the Ground Support Team, but it was a while before you were both assigned to the same op. You got on like a house on fire, even if he was a bit arrogant at first, not uncommon for a guy in his early 20’s.

You’d spent your morning going over your first assignment with your CO. You might have joined the Air Force, but your expertise was in computers, both hardware and software. Wanting to test your skills, the CO had challenged you to make as many working laptops you could out of all the damaged ones kicking around the base. Not having anywhere specific to set up, you’d commandeered a couple of tables and set them up in the corner of one of the little-used hangars. You had your magnifying goggles on and the soldering iron in your hand, along with a whole host of other tools, as you tested each part and put it back in place on the motherboard. It was going well, until a peal of raucous laughter split the air. You placed your iron down with a huff, not wanting to catch yourself with it more than already had done.

“Hey guys,” you shouted out. “Do you have to be so noisy? Some of us are actually trying to work.”

You glared at the three guys, who were messing around with each other. Realising you were there, one of them, a cocky looking blond, jogged over, casting his eyes over the bench.

“Sorry, sweetheart. We disturbing your jewellery making?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared up at him. You’d hoped to avoid this bullshit for a couple of days, but you supposed it was good to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, you are. I was making a special ring for your dad to wear. It’s gonna help him satisfy me all night. Why, do you need one too?”

He had the decency to blush, and his two friends failed to hold back their laughter. The taller of the two, with dark hair and sparkling brown eyes, clapped his rude friend on the shoulder.

“She burned you there, Mike. Serves you right, man.” Then he turned back to you and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Torres, Joaquin. This here is Damien and the neanderthal is Mike. He’s a good guy really.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“I’ll reserve judgement.”

“You’re really sparky, you know?”

“I know. See you later Torres.” You turned your back to them and carried on with your work.

It had been easy to become friends with Joaquin. He was always smiling, always able to see the good side of everything and everyone, and it was a smile that always went all the way up to his eyes, making them shine and sparkle. And over time you softened towards Damien and Mike as well, although they were never as close to you.

There’s a comradery when you’re in a team like that, but that’s strengthened when something goes wrong. The team had been heading out in the hum-vee, en-route to set up for an op when it hit an IED. One moment you had been chatting with Joaquin and Mike, whilst Damien drove, the next you were flying through a fire, your ears ringing and your vision went black.

You came to, to find Joaquin leaning over you, tapping you on the face.

“C’mon, Sparky, wake up, damn it!”

Your head hurt as you opened your eyes and spat out a mouthful of sand.

“I’m up! I’m up!”

You tried to sit up, but the world span. Bile rose in your throat, and you leaned to the side as you vomited it up. Joaquin passed you his canteen, and you rinsed your mouth out.

“’the fuck happened?”

You wiped your hand over your face, and it came away bloody.

“IED.”

For once Joaquin wasn’t smiling. You took a proper look at him. His face was covered in ash and sand. He had a graze across one cheek and his arm…his right arm hung wrongly from the shoulder socket. You looked around and felt a sense of panic rising.

“’Quin, where are Mike and Damien?”

“They were in the front, Sparky. They didn’t make it. I’ve called for back-up. Looks like this was just a random device and not an ambush. There’s no-one out here taking pot-shots.”

“Shit!”

“Yeah, I know.”

The pair of you huddled together and waited for your evac. You had some cracked ribs, plus minor cuts and bruises, whilst Joaquin had a dislocated shoulder. You’d both been lucky, unlike Mike and Damien.

You’d finished out your tour in the time period after the Snap. Like Joaquin, you hadn’t been one of those who had disappeared, melting to ash in the blink of an eye. Unlike him though, at the end of your tour you wanted out. You’d gone on to get a job with SWORD instead, using your skills gained from your time in the Air Force to help protect against more unique threats.

You still ran into Joaquin from time to time, and you always marvelled at how handsome he was and how you could get lost in his dark eyes. Not being his teammate anymore allowed you to give yourself permission to notice these things - things that could have made working together awkward. Still, you never told him, not wanting to jeopardise what you had. He’d never given you any reason to think that he wanted more.

After your uncomfortable conversation with Barnes, you’d retreated to the office to go through some paperwork when Joaquin appeared, sweaty, out of breath and smiling.

“Hey Sparky!” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Eeeeww, ‘Quin. You’re all moist!” You pulled away from him as he laughed.

“Oh my god; it was amazing! I was up in the air, and I was flying. And Sam only had to catch me twice, but still! Oh my god!”

His enthusiasm and bright smile were infectious, making your heart beat harder in your chest and butterflies swirl in your stomach. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, I promise I’ll watch you next time.”

“Hey, and maybe, once I’ve got the hang of it, I can take you for a test-fly?”

You smacked at his chest, trying to ignore how the damp material clung to him like a second skin.

“Trying to sweep me off my feet, Torres?” You loved to tease him, but he didn’t need to know what was really going on in your head.

He wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you off the floor and spinning the pair of you in circles.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Sparky!”

You playfully pounded your fists against his shoulders in a demand to be set back down. God, his eyes were beautiful.

“Put me down, Fly-Boy! You’re gonna rub your stink all over me.”

You couldn’t break his gaze as he lowered you, your body sliding against his as he did so. You stared at each other for a moment, before he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you later! Don’t fly off with anyone else ‘til I see you again.”

“Get outta here ‘Quin.”

You smiled as you watched him leave, then added “And get a shower!”

Would you ever be brave enough to tell him how you felt? Tell him that, no matter where you’d been or how long you’d been away, as soon as you saw him, looked into his beautiful brown eyes, you felt at home again. How you trusted no-one else the way you trusted him. You’d seen a lot in your life, been to a lot of places, but nothing compared to him. His beauty, his spirit.

It intoxicated you and kept you captive.

Fuck.

You had to admit it, Joaquin got good with the wings fast, and he was beautiful whilst he did it.

He’d sent you a text when he was on his way down to the air-field for his second training session with Sam. You got there just as he was suiting up, Sam hovering around him like a mother duck watching her duckling go for a swim for the first time. He flashed you a grin and a wave before turning his attention back to all the straps and buttons that would ensure his safety in the air.

Bucky joined you as the two winged men took to the air.

“I’ll never tire of watching him do that. It’s one thing to think your man is an angel, but another thing to actually see it come to life.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Barnes, for god’s sake. He isn’t my man.”

“Look, I know I give you shit for it, but come on, doll. It’s fucking obvious how you feel. And take it from someone who has been around for a while, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because contrary to what Sam says, I am actually human. I care about people, doll. I care about you. I care about Torres. And after the shit you’ve both been through you deserve some happiness. He’s always going on about you. Sparky this and Sparky that. Maybe if you actually resolve all this fucking pining I won’t have to listen to him ramble on so much.”

You chuckled at Bucky’s attempt to be petty and grumpy. No wonder Sam loved the man; he was pretty cute when he was being disagreeable.

“Maybe I’ll never say anything just to keep winding you up then?”

“For the love of god, no!”

The pair of you were still sniping at each other, good-naturedly, as Sam and Joaquin came in for their landing. Sam made it look easy, but ‘Quin did look cute as he stumbled to a stop.

“Take it easy, Fly-Boy. You don’t want to be eating sand. And you Sam, looking good as always!”

“Hey sweetheart.” Sam smiled as he pushed his goggles up off his face. “What were you and Bucky-bear laughing about?” “Oh, just how I love doing things that piss him off.”

Sam’s smile turned into a laugh.

“My favourite past-time. Although I’m watching you – he might be taken as a form of flirting and I don’t share.”

“Eww, Sam, that’s like accusing me of flirting with my brother or my uncle. Yuck! Come on, Joaquin. I need a beer to wash that awful taste outta my mouth. Bleugh…”

“I’ll meet you in the mess in fifteen, Sparky. Don’t want you to tell me off for being stinky again.”

“Don’t be any longer, or you’ll owe me two beers, Falcon...”

“I like the way you say that.”

“Phpht, you like everything I say…”

You both walked off in your separate directions and Bucky and Sam watched you go. The White Wolf reached out, wrapping his arm around his partner's waist and drew him in close.

“You think she’ll ever tell him?”

“I hope so. He’s so gone on her, and I don’t think he even realises. If we have to wait for him to work it out I might end up throttling him.”

“Young love, ey.”

“You’re a sappy shit, Jamie Barnes.”

“Back at you, Sammy Wilson.”

A couple of months down the line and Joaquin had been cleared to go on active missions with the wings. He was now officially using Sam’s old call sign of Falcon, and no-one could pry the smile off his face or the joy from his eyes. He’d been especially happy to discover that you were going to be the SWORD agent in charge of his first sanctioned mission.

“So, you’re going to be my boss on this op then, Sparky?”

“When am I not bossing you around? You know you love it, and anyway, you’d be lost without me.”

He slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a side hug.

“You got me there!”

Sam and Bucky just smiled indulgently at the pair of you, trying not to laugh when you glared at them.

You and your colleagues at SWORD had been keeping track of various nefarious groups and their activities over the last half a year. The intel you’d gathered suggested a bunch of malcontents hiding out in the mountains of northern Montana. Their motivation was nothing outside the ordinary - they were upset about the fact that they had lost their jobs and been displaced due to the return of the ‘blipped’, which was understandable. However, they had resisted all offers of help from the GRC, seeming to only be happy whilst they were complaining and stirring up trouble. Normally it would have been left to local law enforcement to deal with them, but the chatter was that they were planning something big and had access to weaponry they shouldn’t have, possibly extra-terrestrial in origin.

You stood with Sam, looking over the map laid out in front of you.

“If Bucky and I set up here as ground support, then you and ‘Quin can fly in here, from the south. We think they are camped out here…” your finger pressed a push pin further into the paper, “so you should get a good run up, and be high enough they won’t spot you, at least at first.”

“Is there a good enough route from that look-out for you and Bucky to make ex-fil if you have to?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in worse spots.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“It’ll be fine, Dad!”

Sam seemed to forget that you’d been doing this longer than he’d known you and was sometimes, in your opinion at least, a little overbearing.

“I’ll have Bucky with me. I hope you’re not implying that you don’t have faith in him.”

Bucky, who was sitting on the other side of the room checking over his sniper rifle, tried to hurriedly tamp down a chuckle. Sam just glared at you and raised one eyebrow.

“You did not just go there, Sparky!”

You grinned in return, and after a moment Sam grinned too, shaking his head in amusement.

“Fine, fine. I trust you. It’s your op. You know I’m just a worrier.”

“That he is!” Bucky’s voice rang out sardonically.

“Quiet in the cheap seats, Barnes!”

“Make me, Sammy!”

“Not in front of the kids, Bucky-Bear!”

You loved their petty bickering; you swore it was one of their love languages. Looking over at Joaquin you rolled your eyes at him, and he covered his mouth with his hand to hide his own smirk. God, he was so cute.

Pulling yourself back to the task at hand you clapped your hands together.

“Right, let’s get this show on the road. Move out, guys!”

Part 2

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tinnedowl @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @beelicious-barnes @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll

[megamanrecut]

Since it’s…been awhile since I’ve posted anything, here’s a small snipit from the next chapter of Mega Man Recut Miniseries: Karma, the scene in Episode 6: The Incredible Shrinking Mega Man where Proto Man pretends to order Elec Man to destroy himself to test if Elec Man is capable of mutiny (also where the fic got its name).

Note: Admittedly, this scene was kinda dark? At least for Recut anyway, hahaha. I originally wrote it to address repeated comments asking if the real reason some Robot Masters were not reoccurring was because Wily sent them to Brain Bots’s ‘Robot Recycler’(™) when they failed (which is both super dark and a cool interpretation!). For Recut Wily? No, he’s basically a muppet and wouldn’t kill a Robot Master unless they were completely out of his control (like Ice Man, who fortunately got away >:D) and his actual reason for some Robot Masters only used in one plot then never again is, uh, he kinda forgets they exist. That’s also my personal head canon for why RS Wily’s schemes vary wildly in scope and scale, practicality, and yet sometimes repeat: one track mind, easily distracted (and Proto Man’s willingly along for the hilarious and exciting ride) /…end unexpected ramble 

Note 2: This wasn’t completely edited, the beginning is still copy/paste from the original episode :D  Snipit after cut:

Karma, Chapter 10:

“That man is insane.”

"Gee, really? The mad science hadn't tipped me off yet.”

Instead of reporting immediately to the hangar as Dr. Wily instructed, Proto Man had followed Elec Man out of the laboratory and was walking with him down the hallway that lead to the armory.

"Weren't you listening?" Elec Man asked incredulously. "He's making shrink rays powered by magic crystals. It's an insult to your intelligence and mine.”

"Maybe, but if it does work, wouldn't that be cool?"

"If Wily shrinks every major city, it'll destroy the economy, including the Underground which we normally trade with," Elec Man continued.

"Quit looking for holes in Wily's plans," Proto Man said dismissively. "Just go with the flow." 

The door to the armory at the end of the hallway was straight ahead of them. Proto Man looked over at Elec Man, and said in a casual yet low voice, "Hey Elec Man, do me a favor? Know our recycling room? Go to the scrap metal compactor, turn it on, and step inside.”

The words didn’t immediately register. Elec Man was so accustomed to abusing Wily in front of Proto Man that he had suspected nothing off about Proto Man accompanying him toward the armory instead of reporting to the hangar as Wily had asked. He glanced over at Proto Man’s face, which cheerful yet unreadable, the overhead lights shining dully off his visor, and lowered his own voice. "Is this another one of your jokes? I will be destroyed.”

Proto Man shrugged. ”Yeah, I think you will. That’s an order. Hop to it.”

Elec Man felt…stunned. Wily was inventing shrink rays and planning to auction off cities, and now, now, Proto Man had finally decided to act like a true second-in-command and dispose of the dangerous and defiant criminal within their ranks?! 

With no choice but to obey, Elec Man glared at Proto Man and was about to turn back down the hallway toward the recycling room—but before Elec Man had a chance to fully process a premature and unpleasant demise, Proto Man quickly stopped him.

"I'm just kidding, I'd never order you to hurt yourself, Wily'd have a fit. Just testing your loyalty, you're a good sport.”

Elec Man’s shock, indignation, and betrayal evaporated instantly. He couldn’t believe Proto Man had had him going there. It appeared Proto Man had picked up more about acting like a ruthless gangster than Elec Man had given him credit for. Though he felt annoyed for falling for the ruse, Elec Man surmised Proto Man’s motivation hadn’t been for a cruel laugh at his expense. "This has something to do with Ice Man's betrayal, doesn't it?"

"You know it. Of all the other Robot Masters Dr. Wily's reprogrammed, your personality and will have changed the least…and in your case, that could be a problem.”

"It gives me no pleasure following your orders. If I could disobey Wily, you'd both be dead.”

Proto Man laughed. ”See, that's what I'm talkin' about! Though no offense, if you were capable of killing me, you wouldn't be here.”

"So how do you justify keeping me here against my will?”

"Never said I did,” Proto Man said frankly, though he paused on the question for a moment. “…Do you believe in karma?”

"No."

"Well, while I can't go into the details of your past, let's just say maybe you had something like this coming.”

Being forced to work for an inept mad scientist as punishment for being a member of the Syndicate was a bizarre definition of karma. Elec Man cast an appraising look at Light’s prototype, who willing assisted Wily in unleashing chaos on an unsuspecting populace just for the fun of it, and asked, "And what does karma have in store for you?”

Proto Man smirked. "I don't believe in karma. Listen, I don't understand what you're unhappy about. I know you think working at Skull Fortress is slumming, but by this time next week, you'll be back on top. In the mean time, you've got important jobs to do, jobs too tedious for a human like Wily to do it himself. He's the creative architect, after all, which takes up all his time.”

Elec Man remained unmoved; he refused to see crime as a game like Proto Man did. ”A child can dream up a shrink ray."

"Yeah, but only a mad genius can build one. Wily specializes in impossible inventions. For example, you were reprogrammed by a gun made of vacuum tubes and price scanner parts. Isn't that amazing?”

Elec Man ignored the last jab as he crossed through the door into the armory and shut it firmly behind him. 

Keep talking, idiot. Your time will come—and it won’t seem fun when you finally face the harsh reality of crime.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Absence

(Author’s Note:  I usually steer clear of angst, but this sort of just happened.  Y’all are going to hate me after this.  Oh whaaale)

warnings: some angst, Bad Batch episode 1 spoilers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   You released a sigh into the air, the sound breaking the lonely silence that had settled since you decided to lay down for a while.  You half-expected to hear some sort of response- a mumble from Tech, a laugh from Wrecker, chatter from Omega, or a sigh from Hunter- but the room fell into stillness once more.

   As you lay on your side, arms encircling a familiar pillow, you gazed at the opposing wall.  This was the first moment you had to yourself since the events that transpired on Kamino.  You’d been busy at the front of the ship assisting the others or simply surrounding yourself with them to keep certain feelings at bay.

   But just for a little while, you finally decided to let yourself have the time to process and to just feel.  Without the company of the others to keep you occupied, Crosshair’s absence was more jarring.  It wasn’t something you’d been able to ignore in the first place, of course.  Even in a room full of your squad, you found yourself searching for him or expecting him to be hovering nearby only to remember that wouldn’t be the case.

   Another sigh rose into the air, and you shifted to lay on your other side facing the wall of the bunk.  The pillow still held stale traces of his scent, and you hungrily breathed in what was left and hoped with each inhale that it wouldn’t fade.  You thought back to the last time you were near him before things went from bad to worse.

   Crosshair placed himself on the bench, rubbing his head in frustration.  You watched him with worry.  He hadn’t been himself since this Order 66 was given.  You’d seen him at odds with Hunter and growing increasingly agitated as time went by.

   Omega slid onto the bench beside him, her eyes mirroring your concern.  Although somehow, her look was more sympathetic, as if she knew what was happening to him.  She rested a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly.  You decided to remain at a small distance for another moment before going over to talk to him.

   Moments later, a shock trooper approached the cell.  “CT-9904, you’re coming with us.”

   Your eyes widened as the cell shield went down.  Hunter quickly placed himself in front of the sharpshooter in protest.  “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, holding his hands up.  “We stay together.”

   The trooper wasted no time in hitting Hunter in the stomach with the butt of his blaster, evoking a grunt as the sergeant crumbled to his knees.

   “Hey!” you shouted, darting forward.  “Cut it out!  No one is leaving this cell alone.  If he goes,” you gestured to Crosshair.  “I go.”

   “CT-9904 was summoned, not you.  Now stand down!”  The trooper raised his blaster to strike you this time, and you readied yourself to fight back when you felt a firm hand grasp your wrist.

   You looked to see Hunter standing to his feet, giving you a warning look.  For a moment, you thought that maybe it would be better to stand down and not cause more trouble, so you relaxed your shoulders.  However, that changed the second Crosshair stood from the bench and started walking toward the troopers without so much of a glance or word to any of his comrades.

   “Wait!  No, I can’t just stand here and-” you caught Hunter off-guard and tore your arm free to hurry after Crosshair.  “What are you doing?”

   “I’ve been summoned, _________.  Good soldiers follow orders.”

   “But Cross,” you murmured, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as you reached for his gloved hand.  “I’m scared.  Don’t leave.”

   At the use of his nickname, his face changed.  The bridge of his nose scrunched slightly in confusion before his eyes softened and replaced the challenging gaze with a tender regard that he usually saved for you.  It was like whatever was clouding his mind was shaken away for a moment.

   “I don’t have much of a choice,” he told you, shooting a wary glance at the troopers that surprisingly were paused at the entrance to the cell.  Then, his expression hardened once more as he released your hand and walked into their custody.

   “No!  Crosshair, wait!  You lunged forward, but a large hand grabbed your shoulder.  “Wrecker, let me go!”

   “__________,” he said, his voice low and broken at your distress.  “It’s not gonna’ change anything.”  As Crosshair was led away, you jabbed a finger at the guards.  

   “He’s not their guinea pig!  You hear me?”

   They were out of sight, door sliding shut behind them, and you were left standing there breathing heavily.  You slammed a fist against the wall and turned to see the others watching with pained expressions.  Omega still covered her mouth with her hands in shock.

   “I’m sorry,” you told them, ducking your head.  “Sorry to make a scene.  I didn’t mean to make things worse, but...”

   “No,” Hunter said.  “I understand.  We…” he gestured to the rest of the group.  “ we understand.  We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

   Things quieted down after that.  You placed yourself on the bench where Crosshair had previously been seated and waited.

   You rolled onto your back, staring at the top of the bunk as the memory came to a conclusion in your mind.  That was the last time you’d seen the real Crosshair.  The one that you’d seen in the hangar on Kamino was not your love.  Your teary eyes met his cold ones, and though he didn’t fire at you, you didn’t see much of a reaction in his expression.

   A knock on the door caused you to stir again.  You turned your head to call whoever was at the door inside the quarters.  The door slid open to reveal a form much shorter than you expected.  

    “_________?”

   “Omega,” you said, putting on a soft smile to let her know she was welcome.  “Do you need something?”

   She gazed at you sympathetically, returning your smile kindly.  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

    “I’m alright,” you replied.  “I just…”

   She approached the bunk, eyeing the small signs of Crosshair all around including the pillow in your arms.  “You miss him.”

   You tucked your nose back into the pillow to breathe in his scent once more.  It was nearly gone.  Your eyes watered a little at the realization.  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

   She rested a hand on your shoulder, much like she’d done to him in the prison cell at Kamino.  “The Crosshair you know is in there somewhere.  It’s that chip.  We’re going to get him back.”

   You looked to her as her smile grew, looking less concerned and more hopeful.  It was contagious because you were starting to feel that glimmer of hope in your chest and smile in return.  “I’m sure you’re right.”

   “In the meantime, I know it’s hard.”

   You hummed in agreement, a new memory coming to mind.  Your smile turned into a chuckle, earning an intrigued look from Omega.  “I was just thinking about this one time.  Before we got together, Crosshair and I went to a market for a supply run…”

   “Oh hey, that place looks like it’s got some decent stuff,” you said.  Crosshair’s eyes followed your gesturing hand to a fruit stand, the toothpick between his lips twirling idly.  He didn’t give a verbal response, only following you as you veered off the main path to approach.  An elderly woman with a large sun hat smiled as you paused to get a good look at everything.

    “Well hello there,” she greeted you.  “Can I help you with anything?”

   “Hello!  And yes, could I get a dozen of these?”  you gestured to the baskets of fruit.  “And a dozen of those?”

   “Most certainly, dear,” she nodded.  As she bagged up the product, you turned to see Crosshair hovering less than a foot behind you.  He surveyed your surroundings with those keen eyes of his before he noticed you looking at him.

   “What?”

   “Nothing.”  You grinned.  “See anything?  Any separatist droids perhaps?”

   He plucked the toothpick from his mouth to reply.  “Very amusing, ________.  I haven’t seen anything except for some shady pirate staring at you.”

   “Really?”  your grin quickly faded into a grimace as your eyes flickered to the side.  “Where?”

   “Behind me.”  Crosshair returned the toothpick to the spot between his teeth.  “I’m blocking you from his view.”

   “Oh.”  You straightened up.  “Thanks.”

   “Here you are,” the elderly woman stated, handing you one bag of fruit and Crosshair the other. You handed her the credits. “I also just wanted to say what an adorable couple you two make!”  She plucked a single flower from a nearby bouquet and handed it to Crosshair.  “For the young lady!”

   You wanted to duck your head in embarrassment while Crosshair rolled his eyes. Still, to your surprise he didn’t even bother to correct her.  He merely accepted the flower in silence and turned to you, his hand hovering for a moment before he settled on tucking the flower behind your ear. 

   “Bye!” You waved at the lady as the two of you walked away.

    “...Later on, I caught him looking at me when I had the flower tucked behind my ear.  I knew then that he had feelings for me, just like I did for him.”

   “So he’s always been a little...difficult?” Omega ventured.

   You laughed.  “Oh yes, but it was always an act.  Sometimes, he made it easy to see past that to the big heart underneath.”  You scooted off the bunk, releasing your hold on the pillow so it fell back in its spot, and proceeded to smooth out the blanket.  “Thank you, Omega.”

   She looked confused.  “  For what?”

   “The talk.  It really helped.”

   “Oh, yeah, no problem.”  She smiled.  “I’ve come to think of the squad as family, and...I don’t like to see my family hurting.”

   “I think of this squad as family too,” you agreed.  “ And I’m glad you’re a part of it, kid.  Let’s see if Tech needs anything up front.”

   The two of you became lost in chatter as you headed for the doorway.  You paused to take one final look at the empty quarters and at Crosshair’s bunk that you’d left as neat as he had.  A genuine smile spread across your face as you turned off the light and let the door close behind you.

[ryouverua]

Saimota is a fantastic ship that only improves with age and their respective maturity. Right from the get-go we see this in canon, too! They have a tumultuous first clash at the end of chapter 1 which is immediately turned on its head, and the subsequent growth and development of their in-game relationship really stands out that much more because of it.

This is a long one, so strap in!

Kaito realizes his mistake in his approach after punching him the night before and rectifies it immediately the next morning when he notices Shuichi hasn’t come to breakfast, rightly guessing that he’s stewing in his own grief and misery. And then, being the emotionally intelligent guy he is, he follows up that night and drags him out to exercise (which, y’know, releases endorphins and is scientifically proven to help with mood boosts and even depression) - a move which Shuichi says in chapter 5 saved his life.

A couple days pass and a body drops. Kaito supports him through the investigation knowing that Kaede had been with him last time and that there’s a danger of him relapsing. In the trial, too, Kaito makes every effort to let Shuichi know that he isn’t alone and someone does have his back if he fumbles. This is the real moment that Shuichi chooses to depend on Kaito and is rewarded for it, and while Kaito does get plenty of ego-feed out of it, he believes in Shuichi and his talent wholeheartedly (enough so that it’ll come back to bite him later). But despite it being framed as a ‘hero and sidekick’ relationship, it’s not just for Kaito’s self-worth - it’s to take some of the mental load off of Shuichi, who really, really doesn’t want the pressure of everyone’s lives solely on his shoulders, and is now dealing with the guilt of two cases where uncovering the guilty party hurt him.

(quick chapter 2 interlude! while this is where a lot of the big hero-worship begins for Shuichi and happens to be where I also did his first FTE and got to witness this:

this is also the chapter when these moments happen, post-breakfast and post-casino scene respectively:

and this happens in the very next FTE:

mmm yes, the duality of man. Suffice it to say, while Shuichi has definite rose-coloured glasses on for a lot of the game, Kaito is definitely not an invincible, untouchable hero in his eyes)

Interestingly enough, despite Shuichi still very much leaning into their friendship (and vice versa), they don’t spend a lot of time together in Chapter 3 after he brings Maki out to training that first night! While Chapter 4 is their real ‘break’, Kaito spends a lot of time in his room in the second half while Shuichi gets to know Maki better. And while Maki is a much, uh, meaner investigation partner (love you girl, but that tongue is sharp), they make a great team. Shuichi also starts poking at Kaito’s reason for holing up in his room, incorrectly guess that it’s just related to the occult being brought up. Most importantly, Shuichi is able to do an investigation on his own independent of Kaito just a week after the end of Chapter 1.

Chapter 4 and its immediate aftermath in 5 is great because it showcases Kaito’s flaws and insecurity, and what conflict between the two of them look like. It’s because Kaito respects Shuichi so much that cracks in his own confidence start appearing - and while Shuichi can be obtuse and awkward at times, he shows signs of wanting to broach some more sensitive topics with Kaito; if you do FTEs with Kaito in Ch 4, he even has an inner narrative in which he notes that Kaito had said his stomach hurt before.

He’s not so self-absorbed as to not worry about his friend (but narratively we gotta save that juicy plot point and subsequent reveal for the end of the trial) but hey, Kaito wants to chill and just shoot the shit - so why not have some downtime with his friend in the murder school. Btw, their FTE availability ends here - so if Shuichi has completed them with Kaito, he’s already had his canon-saimota thoughts at this point. While I have given Shuichi the side-eye for his ‘I can rely on Kaito for anything’ spiel, he is fully able and willing to stand up to Kaito in the Chapter 4 trial despite his canon feelings for him at that point. By the way, it’s been a week and a half since the end of Chapter 1 at this point. Shuichi and Kaito have had an arc together where they become fast friends in a pressure-cooker situation and bonding over shared grief for Kaede (even if Kaito’s is less obvious), Shuichi starts as dependent on Kaito’s emotional support but learns to stand on his own two feet, and Kaito is forced to confront his own weakness and hero persona, all while classmates are dropping (including Kaito’s own ex-hero figure, a stark reminder that ‘heroes’ do have flaws).

So the beginning of Chapter 5 is wild to me because of how it’s so often misinterpreted as Kaito immaturely giving Shuichi the silent treatment despite the entirety of the game preceding it explicitly showing that Kaito will tell you, loudly, when he’s angry at you, and that’s purely because we’re in Shuichi’s perspective and he thinks that’s what’s going on - but that’s a bit of a tangent. What I like about it is how we get to see what happens when Kaito (as sick as he is at that point) feels badly and embarrassed with someone he is close to; he withdraws as opposed to lashing out. And while Shuichi is really, really bad at reaching out too without an inciting incident (tunnel escape), he does try and broach the topic when push comes to shove. He’s not lost in hero worship, not even close - he is rightfully upset that the person he’s closest to at the school is upset while still maintaining to himself and the others that his actions were correct. He doesn’t waver on this, despite his attempt to offer an olive branch at the window of the hangar’s bathroom. He truly stands by his own choices in the last class trial and know he won't back down on that if push comes to shove, and that's important - he won't yield the point just to appease Kaito. Shuichi then manages the investigation on his own, leads the trial on his own, faces off with Maki (and who he thinks is Kokichi) on his own, because he has *reached* a point where he can be independent. And to bring it back to how we get a look at ‘saimota in conflict’, Shuichi and Kaito both make amends with each other by the end of the chapter. Even if it’s spurred by it being their final goodbye, Shuichi gets to say his piece, Kaito lays out one of his own vulnerabilities so he can make peace with Shuichi - and even if I’d love to have had them delve into all of Kaito's various issues, there is a very murderous robobear overseeing this which makes time a factor - and I firmly believe that if they had more time, they could’ve resolved even more of the issues that would come up for Saimota. The groundwork wasn’t just there; there was already half the structure in place. And that’s what makes saimota even more appealing to me, tbh. We get to see them build a relationship, run into a big issue, struggle through it and resolve it by the end of the game - and it means that there’s precedent for them to do it again as more interpersonal challenges come up! It’s a goldmine of ship exploration, and they care about each other enough to work through it.

… By the way, at this point they are 2 weeks past the end of Chapter 1.

Imagine if they had more time. Imagine if Shuichi, who is absolutely dogged in pursuing an issue once he catches wind of it (despite how he can get wrapped up in his own head), who cares a lot for other people, who doesn’t just find runaways as part of his detective talent, but follows up with them after because he cares about more than just finishing the job, had the chance to spend years with Kaito and realize he uses his hero persona to protect a much more fragile sense of self. Imagine Shuichi forming that initial friendship with Kaito without the albatross of Kaede’s death hanging around his neck; about how he’ll still look up to Kaito and his fantastic positivity, passion and excellence in his chosen field, and that would only be matched by Kaito’s own admiration of Shuichi’s skills as a detective. Imagine if Kaito, who repeatedly shows the ability to reflect and change his mind when presented with evidence against his viewpoint and was able to express his own insecurity and jealousy to Shuichi in the end, was given the breathing room and space to get more comfortable with doing so. Imagine how difficult and emotionally mature they were to navigate as well as they did in a life-or-death situation that took place over a couple of weeks tops, and how much more they could grow if given the time and space for it.

... And this was nearly going to be where I ended the post, until Ira reminded me of TDP and sent me this wonderful Saimota event (which takes place before the final graduation/training trio event):

Oh hey, Shuichi picked up his catchphrase! It's quite cute how he's finishing Kaito's sentence here - he's spent a couple of years being friends with Kaito at this point, and has even taken up exercising on his own for stress relief. I wonder whose influence that was?

Anyway -

Shuichi has figured out at this point that he does need to firmly extend that helping hand to Kaito rather than worry and keep it to himself. On the other side, Kaito has learned that it is okay to accept that outstretched hand, even if he doesn't need it right now - that he can admit that some day, he might. He's being blase, sure, but it is a far cry from his in-game 'I don't/won't need help'. Good for you, Kaito - you've grown a lot! And that's the most important thing their TDPs show - their capacity for growth not just as individuals, but in a relationship. Of course there will be bumps along the way - it’s very rare that any relationship won’t have them! - but they've proven that they can work these problems in the worst of circumstances. This is by far one of the strongest ships with canon foundation in the entire series, and my goodness do I still love it years later.