#City Hunter: The Final Chapter Begins | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erideights · 7 months

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Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him.

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused.

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--''

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

…

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #op buggy #one piece live action #one piece x reader #captain buggy

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selfindulgentpixies · 4 months

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Blood upon the snow: chapter 1

Vampire!Gojo x gn!reader

You read that right folks, it's finally here. Or part of it is anyway. I decided to split my vampire Gojo fic into several parts just because feed back really helps me stay inspired and I'm not sure how long this potential beast of a fic will take me to finish otherwise in all honesty. I've put a lot of work into this fic so far. probably one of the most refined things i've written.

CW: canon typical violence, blood drinking (you know vampire stuff),GN!Afab!reader, reader isn't a blank slate but I still hope you will enjoy putting yourself in their shoes, reader is a hunter(the normal kind), Sukuna is here and he's his own warning. Potential for vampire politics in a future parts if i'm feeling crazy, past satosugu (what you thought i'd be able to leave suguru out of this?)

4.2k

It had been years since it happened but you’d never forget it. The winter had been a particularly harsh one and you’d heard the adults talking about bandit attacks being on the rise due to scarcity. Your mother had soothed you and told you nothing would happen though. That you'd get safely from one city to the next. She’d been wrong.

A merchant caravan was far too tempting a target with all the potential goods on board. From the food to all the valuables carried within. You’d been asleep when it happened, curled up safely in your mother’s lap the both of you wrapped in warm furs and being gently rocked by the movements of the carriage. You were meant to make it to the next major settlement by noon the next day. But right now the moon hung high in the sky, bright enough to to be seen through the thin cloud cover. The world outside was all shimmering shades of blue and white under the winter moon’s silver gaze.

The silence of the snow muffled night is cut sharply by a scream followed by a loud crack of splintering wood echoing through the air, likely from the back of the caravan. You wake groggily in your mother’s arms, dazed and confused as she sets you down on the seat so she can look out one of the carriage’s windows toward the front where your father was at the reins. A wet thump, followed by a scream from your mother. More screams, seemingly from all around, cries from adults scrambling to issue orders. Then your carriage veers, the horses startled by the chaos.

You’re knocked from your seat, tiny body tumbling across the carriage when something suddenly rams into its side, sending it over and off the path. The world goes dark, you’re not sure for how long. When you come to the caravan isn’t immediately in sight though the screams seem to echo all around you. When you finally catch sight of an orange glow in the distance your eyes are able to focus on something much closer as well. A dark shape lying in the snow, red slowly spreading around it. No. Not it. Her. Your mother. There’s several figures in the distance backlit by the distant chaos approaching but you can’t tear your wide eyes from your mother. You begin to crawl toward her when her eyes suddenly fixate on you. “Run.” You freeze. With more strength she speaks again. “Run.” The figures in the distance grow closer. “I said RUN.”

You stumble up to your feet then. A step backward.

“RUN”

And you do. Turning on your heel to stumble through the forest. You hear shouting then but you don’t listen to it. Can’t listen to it because you need to listen to your mother. Her face in that moment seared into your mind. Cold air burns through your throat and lungs as you push yourself to run. To where you had no idea. You didn’t know these woods. You’re quick though, like a little rabbit, running with fur boot clad feet you barely sink into the snow at all while your pursuers stumble and sink through the deep drifts of snow. Too heavy to be supported by the shimmering shell that is the snow’s top layer.

You keep running long after you stop hearing their crashing footsteps and shouts. You keep running until you can’t. You collapse, coughing, lungs burning from the effort and cold. You curl into a ball right there beneath the canopy of pines. You’re not sure how long you lie there, but eventually somehow silent and without sinking into the snow at all a pair of boots appear in your line of sight. You weakly turn your face to look up, your lashes and cheeks decorated with jewels made of frozen tears

A person.. Are they really a person, they seem too beautiful to be a person, it’s as if the moon took human form and came to earth. They kneel down in front of you, expression solemn as they reach out to brush away some of the frozen tears before cupping your tiny face in their large hands. Their hands are nearly as cold as the snow you’re laying upon. All you’re really focused on now though are their bright blue eyes, not just bright but glowing. You attempt to speak but no sound comes out of your raw throat.

“Shhh… Don’t try to speak.” The voice is deep yet melodic, you think it might be soothing if you weren’t so numb. The deepness of the voice at least makes you think they’re a man of some kind even if not a human one. He picks you up and bundles you into his coat. You gaze up at him as he carries you, where to, you have no idea but you can’t seem to care in your current state, so instead you gaze up at him. His eyelashes like the snowflakes that fall around you as they dust over his cheeks with each blink.

You’re apparently not the best listener because you weakly croak out a question. “Are you an angel? Did I die..?”

He pauses mid stride and glances down at you, crystalline eyes wide. Then he laughs, the action jostling you against his chest. “Now that’s a new one.” He adjusts his hold on you and continues. “You don’t need to worry about what I am and no you didn’t die.” His solemn expression has been replaced with a soft one. Lips gently curving at least for a moment and gaze soft before he looks ahead. “No more talking from you, you need your rest.”

You don’t need to be told again as your eyelids feel heavy. The exhaustion from before settling over you like a blanket, wrapped in this strange man’s coat and being gently rocked by his steps you drift off.

You stare up at the ceiling of your small room, blinking away sleep. It’s been years since that night and yet you still dream of it. You roll from your cot, immediately stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers. It was beginning to get cold out, the chill always bringing with it the dreams. Not that it was winter yet. Instead of a world dusted in white the world outside was a fiery palette of reds, oranges and yellows.

You wander your way to the small kitchen where your grandmother sits with a cup of tea clutched between her weathered fingers. “You slept in.” It’s simply an observation not an accusation. “That’s not like you. Normally you’re up before the sun, not well after it.”

You reach for the pot of tea and pour yourself a cup, happy to cradle the warmth in your hands. You hum. “And yet you didn’t come to wake me.”

Your grandmother hums in turn then, it was a response you picked up from her after all. “Of course not. You need to get more rest or you’ll burn yourself out. You’ve spent nearly everyday in the woods either hunting or gathering other supplies.”

“I need to make sure we’re both taken care of. It’s predicted to be a harsh winter. This fall has already been particularly cold.” You blow on your tea and sit across from your grandmother.

“We already have more than enough smoked and dried meats to get through the winter.”

“And the extra can go around to others in the village who need it in that case. If not that I can take it to trade in the larger towns for other supplies we might need. You know, like your medicine. OW!” You yelp as she gives your leg a thwack under the table with her cane.

“Watch your tone,” She replies, both hands returning to her cup to raise it to her lips for another sip. “And stop worrying so much about me. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself still.”

You grumble and rub at your leg. “Stubborn old bat…” you mumble beneath your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing~” You sip at your tea as she narrows her eyes at you.

Before she’s able to say anything more there’s a knock at the door, drawing both of your attention. “Expecting someone today?” You ask her as you begin to get up and go to the door.

“Not at all.”

Not that it was abnormal for people to stop by for any number of reasons in a village like this. What wasn’t normal was when you looked through the peephole and saw one of the lead elders had stopped by your home unannounced. You open the door quickly and step to the side so your grandmother can see who it is.

“Now to what do I owe the visit, Gakuganji? The elders council isn’t meant to gather until the end of the week.” Your grandmother was technically on the council though she was the current youngest member to be welcomed on. Meanwhile she’s said before that she remembers Gakuganji being old already while she was young. Honestly you can’t imagine this fossil ever being young anyway.

“There’s an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you.” He says to your grandmother while his eyes flick pointedly toward you.

You raise your hands in mock defeat. “Alright alright I’ll make myself scarce. Just give me a minute to get properly changed, old man.” This earns you a glare from Gakuganji and a snort from your grandmother as you head back to your room. Soon enough you’re dressed and heading out the door, grabbing your bow and quiver as you go. Your hunting knife already secured to a belt at your waist. Admittedly you’re curious about what could be so urgent that it would bring Gakuganji here, especially when as your grandmother had said there was to be a regularly scheduled meeting of the elders from the various villages at the end of the week.

You stretch and breathe in the crisp air. Glancing toward the sky you realize just how late you actually had slept in and feel a bit mortified. Your grandmother had really let you sleep in well past noon. You grumble and go to bundle up one of your kills from the previous day onto the back of your horse to bring to the city to sell. You really did need to go and get more medicine for your grandmother anyway.

It’s grown dark once you’re on your way home. The days grow shorter and shorter giving way to long nights. You didn’t mind it much. There was a certain peace that came with it, though while on the roads you didn’t allow yourself a false sense of security. It’s why even when you weren’t hunting you always had your knife and bow. It’s a habit that’s saved your life on more than one occasion, both from creatures of the night and simple brigands who think you’d make an easy target.

Something is wrong tonight. You feel it in the air. Everything is too quiet and when the forest is quiet it often means something dangerous is around. You pet your horse’s neck, aiming to soothe it. That’s when not far ahead you see a figure on the road. You slide your bow off your shoulder, your free hand poised to grab for an arrow if you need it as you steer your horse with your thighs. Not that it needed guidance on the path home which you’ve taken hundreds of times.

“So even rabbits can bare their teeth, hmm?” The figure speaks without looking at you. His voice is deep and dripping with amusement. “Put that arrow away before you get hurt, human. I have no business with you”

A shiver goes through you at the words. Human. Your horse stops and refuses to go forward. Your horse that’s encountered all sorts of beasts and kept its nerve. When you don’t say anything the man looks over at you, his eyes are crimson and his face is adorned with tattoos. You know who he is even without having ever seen him in person. You press your lips into a firm line. Sukuna the vampire lord from a distant land. His territory brushed precariously with the Vampire lord who called your own lands home. Two vampires who were closer to gods than anything walking this earth truly ought to be. Crystalline blue eyes and a snowy night flash through your mind’s eye.

You at least know better than to question his presence out loud. But still you don’t avert your gaze and his eyes narrow. Suddenly he is much much closer, making your horse rear back in panic, knocking you off before it lets out a sound of fear and runs off into the woods, leaving you on your back on the dirt road.

“Perhaps your beast is smarter than you are.”

You let out a hiss of pain before opening your eyes and looking up. He’s standing above you, crimson eyes gazing down at you unimpressed. Fear pricks across your skin and keeps your mouth shut. After what feels like an eternity he snorts and suddenly you feel as if you can move again. You scramble to your feet and look away. Years of experience have told you not to take your eyes off a predator and give them an opening lest they rip out your throat but your instincts say to stop meeting his eyes and get away. You think your instincts have the better of it this time.

“Now you show sense,” His tone is incredulous. Now that you’re looking away from his face he begins to walk past you. He pauses when he’s right beside you. “You should be grateful I’m in a good mood tonight.” And like that he’s gone.

The encounter leaves you shaken and without a ride. You curse and shakily gather up anything that fell off your horse with you before heading home. Hopefully your horse would find their way back home just fine and wouldn’t get picked off. You’d worry about them being stolen if they liked anyone but you.

You debate the whole way home if you should tell your grandmother that you encountered Sukuna. Would she even believe you? And if she does, what can she do with the information? Bring it up to the other elders at the end of the week? Or maybe Gakuganji is still at the house… Your whole face sours like you just drank bad milk. That old man wouldn’t believe you. There’s no way.

You’re incredibly surprised then when you crest the hill to the village and see chaos. People rushing around everywhere, loading carriages and preparing livestock to move. You break into a run toward your home. This had to do with the elder’s visit, there’s no way it wasn’t related. When you burst through the front door and into the kitchen you’re surprised to find your grandmother much like you had this afternoon when you’d gotten up. Though this time she’s smoking instead of drinking tea. Blue grey smoke curls into the air from the intricately carved pipe.

“Grandma, what’s going on? Why is everyone panicking and why’re you just sitting here?”

A deep inhale and the end of the pipe shines bright with embers casting the old woman’s face in orange light before she sighs out a plume of smoke and sets the pipe down against her little wooden ashtray. “I told the villagers they need to evacuate.”

Your brows furrow together and dread begins to tighten your chest. “But why? What did the old fossil say, and don’t try and say it’s unrelated.”

She snorts. “Don’t let him hear you call him that…” she ignores your mumbled ‘you call him that all the time’ and sighs deeply. “You’re aware that we fall within a vampire lord’s domain correct?”

You’re a bit taken aback but you nod. “Lord Gojo oversees this territory and the vampires within it.” Not that he exercised any direct power over the human population. Not in a ruling sense anyway.

Your grandmother nods. “The people of his territory are lucky. He’s benevolent as far as vampire lords are considered. He limits the hunting of vampires within his territory and protects us from outside threats.” She pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “He even saved you and brought you home to me without asking for anything in return.”

You’d started to brew tea as she spoke, needing to direct your attention somewhere to control the dread, but now after lowering the kettle over the flames in the hearth you look at her. Really look at your grandmother, frail and forlorn but with a slightest hint of a smile on her face.

“Imagine my shock when he showed up at my door with you bundled up tight. By the time he brought you home I’d heard tell of what happened to the caravan, I’d assumed you’d been lost. But there he was with you, rosy cheeked and cared for. You’d been missing until you were able to tell him who your family were… “

You sit across from her, wondering where she was going with bringing up this story. “I don’t really remember much other than when he found me to be honest..”

“I’m surprised you remember that much.. Truly though I’d expected him to ask for something in return. Perhaps even ask for you once you were of age.”

You choke on nothing at her words and your cheeks flush with heat. “Grandma! That isn’t funny.” Your voice is indignant.

“It’s not meant to be,” she says seriously then sighs. “My point is we’re lucky. He mostly leaves us all be despite his eccentric whims. That isn’t something many who live within a vampire lord’s territory can say. Afterall when I was growing up I fled from the territory of one who was far more malevolent.”

Lord Sukuna. Your encounter on the road flashes through your mind. Things are slowly clicking into place in your mind.

“Lord Gojo has been challenged to a battle by Lord Sukuna.” She folds her hands on the table in front of her, the weight of her words creating a pit beneath you that threatens to swallow you whole. You'd heard the stories of how those who lived within his domain lived or died based on his pleasure of displeasure.

“On the road tonight-” you begin but your grandmother cuts you off.

“This is why the village is evacuating. We’re too close to where the battle is to take place. Though some are going to go further than others. If Lord Sukuna wins, who's to say how quickly all our lives will be thrown into chaos. If he’ll decide to try and take over or if this is simply a game to test his power.”

You chew your lip. “Okay if that’s the case why aren’t you preparing to leave as well?”

She makes an incredulous sound. “Please, you know how my health is. I’m staying here, I won’t be run off from my home by him again. I told the villagers to evacuate so they can make their own choice. Mine is to stay here.”

You stare in disbelief. Maybe you shouldn’t be shocked considering this small village basically sprung up around your grandmother after she settled here. But still to just stay and wait for whatever happens…

The kettle begins to whistle and you push away from the table to get it. To prepare you both steaming cups of tea.

“My question then, oh grandchild of mine, is what will you do?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you pour each of you a cup. “How long do we have, do you know?”

“Two nights from now on the harvest moon.”

“Thats-”

“Incredibly short notice? I imagine Sukuna is forcing lord Gojo’s hand for it to be so sudden. Fight him on that night willingly or he’ll simply begin wreaking havoc in his domain regardless and force him into a confrontation that way.”

“And i really can’t convince you to leave…?”

“No. I decided years ago that I would live out my life here in this village. If it’s to end in a blaze of glory during a battle of titans? Then so be it.”

You tightly clutch at the tea cup in your hands. There’s an unspoken ‘you won’t take that away from me will you?’ that hangs in the air between the two of you. And you won’t. Despite how much it pains you, you won’t take that away from the woman who’s given you so much over the years.

—

In the end you’d left. You stayed longer than most, until the autumn sun was high in the sky, uncaring of the destruction that was sure to be wrought that night. Hadn’t the sun realized that a day like this was meant for storms and gloom? But you’d stayed until your grandmother urged you out the door. You’d wanted to drag her with you but if her final wish truly was to live and die in this village you couldn’t take that away.

You didn’t go far. Only as far as you had to, something in you deciding that you’d bear witness even if from a distance. The powers at play were hard to comprehend. Two beings who appear to be but mere men but with power so immense that you think your grandmother’s description of titans failed to convey it fully. You imagined this is what it was for gods to clash.

The night is old when all seems to have settled and you make your way toward the battlefield. Your intention was merely to see what was left of your home and if your grandmother perhaps still lived. You don’t make it that far though under the harvest moon’s orange red glow. Instead halfway through a scorched field you find him. Pale form covered in ash and blood, once brilliant blue eyes staring dully at the night sky above.

Your breath stutters in your chest. Part of you wishes you could say you hesitate but you don’t. You move to the vampire lord’s side, gently going to your knees by his head. There’s no reaction, not at first anyway. But then dull eyes slowly move toward you. Even still you knew he was dying. If nothing was done he was going to die just like you would have in the snow all those years ago if he hadn't found you.

You draw your hunting knife from your belt, the worn handle carved from the antler of your first kill making it feel like an extension of yourself. You stare at it and its glinting blade, kept meticulously sharp and clean by you, before glancing back down at the man who’d saved you. You weren’t sure if this would even work but you felt you needed to try. Cold steel cuts into the back of your wrist cleanly. You let out a hiss between your teeth at the feeling, and then watch mesmerized by the blood welling to the surface.

With the knife tucked away you slip one hand beneath his head and then lower your bleeding wrist to his lips. At first he doesn’t react. Instead your life simply flows passively past his lips. “Please… I never got to thank you,” Your plea is quiet.

You feel it then, his lips moving against your skin. His lashes flutter before his eyes seem to gain a hazy sort of focus, different from the dullness of moments prior. You press your wrist more firmly to his mouth and you feel his tongue laving over the cut in your wrist. The action surprising you both as something unfamiliar in itself but also in how it soothes the stinging wound. Then like a steel trap being triggered his hands fly up and grab your arm securely before his mouth fully latches onto your wrist, fangs cleanly piercing your flesh as if you were nothing more than a ripe summer peach. You cry out, both from the sudden sting of pain and the abruptness of his action. You don’t try to yank away, instead curling forward, the hand that was once supporting his head going to the ground to curl into the soil. You pant, your face directly above his with your eyes closed tight. The pain is fading as quickly as it started, numbness taking its place similar to when he’d licked the cut you’d made. Your eyes flutter back open and for the first time the eyes you remember from that winter night meet your own. Crystalline as they hold your gaze even as it grows hazy.

You wonder then if you were trading your life for his. If he would drink you dry with every pull of your blood past his lips. You don’t think you’d mind that since your time had been borrowed from him anyway. You sway even on your knees and begin to fall forward. It’s only distantly that you note him releasing your wrist before everything swims out of focus. __

Ba-thump

“Gojo! You’re alive! We thought- .. who is that?”

Ba-thump

“I don’t have time to explain. Get Shoko-”

Ba-thump

And there you have it folks! And i used dividers for the for the first time. Nothin too fancy but I felt this deserved it. I would love to hear if you guys enjoyed this and what your favorite part/s were. This fic is sorta my baby. It's somthing I'll work on when the mood strikes because I want to do it right and put a lot of love into it. I'm really trying for those gothic romance vibes. Also sorry Gojo wasn't in this chapter a ton but I really needed to set the scene and tone of this story.

tag list!: @icy-spicy @margumis @fah-keet @missmugiwara @pastelle-rabbit @mysugu @fushigurro @nanamikentoseyebags @whispers-of-lilith @princess-okkotsu @strawberrystepmom @chifuyuskoneko @katsulock @kinjuutsu @kweenkatsuki-main @biscuitsngravie @pupkashi @chuuyasboots @porridgesblog @kailali @4sat0ruu

divider credit: @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x gn!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gn!reader #vampire gojo #vampire x reader #rossi writes

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sunflowhamato · 1 month

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ROTTMNT Curiosities Part.5

The ideas of making and ending the series through IDW comic would be easy to do

If the series is picked up, the tone of Rise would remain the same

Some chapters discarded were the following, (I took the information from

where it will be more complete, in case you want to read it)

Wedding Smashers: Ghostbear marries his fiancé Ghostpepper, a Chupacabra yokai. Raph and Mikey crash their wedding dressed as their aliases Shadybug and Dr. Rude.

Dog Dale Afternoon: April finds out that Baba Yaga cursed Dale to be a werewolf, but he doesn't know what's happening to him, Donnie shows up to “help him,” and be his doctor.

Shred Dead Redemption: Screenwriter Sheldon Vella shared the first board of his showing the brothers chasing the cupcake van called Fire and Icing in Turtle Tank. Unfortunately, a piece of cardboard (Donnie's cloaking device) blocking the front windshield causes the Tank to crash gracelessly into a Lou Jitsu poster.

Warren Stone 2: Warren Stone is cut in half again, but this time the lower half of him becomes a different Warren sporting a beard and shaved head. Warren Stone II ends up becoming a competent and dangerous enemy for the turtles. Realizing that Warren is upset, Warren II has taken his title of "The Turtles' Greatest Enemy", April helps Warren regain his charm.

Gourd Almighty: A comedic episode about Donnie trying to grow the world's largest pumpkin for a contest.

T-Hex: It was going to be about Mikey wanting a robotic toy with a "boopable snoot." After getting the toy he turns out to be not as innocent as he seems.

Lost Goat: Draxum leaves after having a fight with the family (Turtles and Splinter). As he does so, he is abducted by the foot. While trying to rescue Draxum, the family has no choice but to resolve their issues regarding him.

Goyles just wants to have fun: Huggin and Muggin are confused when they find Draxum working in a school cafeteria. Draxum asks Leo and Donnie to help improve his image so as not to lose the respect he once had for the Goyles.

Rampaging Raph: Raph comes to Draxum for help after getting trapped in his enormous mystical form. He is ashamed of not having mastered his mystical powers like his brothers. Draxum ends up splitting Raph and his mystical power, which then becomes a problem when the Red Hulk turns red and begins crushing the city, getting stronger with each hit. To save the city, Raph has to confess and ask his brothers for help.

The Island of Dr. Noe: Hunter/dentist Dr. Noe kidnaps Raph and Leo and takes them to his home island. The doctor wants Raph's tooth in his tooth collection.

Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mikey becomes the oldest when his siblings turn into little turtles after being attacked by an immortal mutant jellyfish bank robber. 163.There is a small chance that Such TMNT and Rise exist at the same time. 164.Production ties were a little over a year from premise. About 8 weeks from premise to draft record, about 12 for a storyboard, 8 for final animation, with design happening all the time. 6 months for full animation, music, etc. 165. You always interacted a lot with the design team when writing 166.Here is the board with the episodes of the series (in season 2), although some are jokes 167.Although Netflix supported Rise for the movie, it is not Ron or Russ's decision whether the series will continue or not, but they want it to continue supporting 168. The best way to support Rise is to keep watching, posting and spreading the word for the show

#rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt april #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt draxum

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webslinger-holland · 2 months

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The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 2

Summary: Upon arrival at Coruscant, the planet's senator gets to finally meet the infamous Clone Force 99 who are assigned to protect her.

Warning: threat to one's life, talks of assassination, beginning of anxiety attack, slight argument

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 6.4k

Series Masterlist

The planet of Coruscant was one of the most active planets in the entire galaxy. The surface was riddled with various cities; skyscrapers that tried to reach the sky. The underground system, which often times wasn't the best location to be, was also incredibly active during all hours of the day. And in the skies, modes of transportation were always going from one place to another.

The Marauder entered the planet's atmosphere, having just come out of hyperspace. The descend took a little longer than usual given the air traffic. However, eventually, the Marauder was able to make its way to the capital city. They made sure to land on the correct landing platform.

As the ramp descended, the group of five climbed out of their ship. Not far away, Commander Cody stood at attention and was ready to greet the clone force upon arrival to Coruscant. He gave a single nod to them in acknowledgment.

"Commander," Hunter greeted.

"It's been a while, boys." Commander Cody commented. He looked at each of them carefully as if expecting to see some kind of change, but there really wasn't anything much different about their looks or behavior.

"Not long enough evidently," Crosshair grunted from the back of the group. He went to cross his arms over the stretch of his chest. He was most certainly the least happy one to be assigned this mission.

"You didn't give much details on the line," Hunter explained. "What are we working against here?"

Slowly, Commander Cody began to walk back towards the compound. The rest of them went to follow. Though Cody and Hunter were heading the group.

Now the commander made sure to survey his surroundings before bringing up the sensitive topic. "The senator has faced three assassination attempts within the last month alone. The last one claimed the lives of her guards," Cody told them.

"And that's where we come in?" Echo questioned.

"Our main priority is to keep the senator safe at all costs. Hopefully, if we play our cards right, we can catch whoever was sent by letting them come to us," Commander Cody expressed.

"So lay low, keep our eyes open, and protect the senator?" Hunter replied.

"At all costs," Cody added.

"Shouldn't be too hard," Wrecker said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Don't be too sure," Cody warned. They approached the entrance of the building. The doors slid open for them to enter the lift.

The small group went to enter the lift, finding a spot before the doors closed in front of them. After clicking the button for their final destination, the lift began to move.

"The assailant...whoever it is...they are nothing like I've seen before. It's not like a bounty hunter; they're much too sloppy for a job like this. No...we are dealing with a professional here," Commander Cody almost sounded conflicted.

In the background, Hunter and Crosshair seemed to glance at each other through the corner of their eyes. They both knew the kinds of missions the commander had been on and the things he had seem. It didn't bring them much relief knowing that even the commander was worried about his mission.

The doors slowly opened to reveal a grand entry room. The marble flooring was shining against the soft glow of the golden lights. There were intricate golden patterns that looked like crown molding near the ceiling. And the handles on the door were made of pure gold.

"She should be just inside," Commander Cody insisted. He went to open the door doors, which allowed the rest of the group to enter the senator's office.

The most appealing part of the grand office was the massive window overlooking the busy city. There was plenty of comfortable seating, ranging from single seats to full couches. And a single desk was situated in the center of the room. Though the senator was nowhere to be found.

The Clone Force were a little cautious to step into such an impressive looking space. They felt a little out of place with their custom black plastoid armor and unique looking helmets. Not to mention the fact that they were all defective clones with varying appearances.

It could have just been the color of the lighting or the modern look of furniture in the room. However, everything looked so pristine and rather expensive. They honestly didn't think this office belonged to a senator, rather it belonged to a princess.

Each of them had gone their own ways throughout the room. While Tech instantly gravitated towards the small collection of books on a nearby shelf, Echo found himself standing in front of the window looking out at the city.

Without much thought, Wrecker went to touch a little glass figurine on the senator's desk. Though before his hand could make contact, Hunter's instincts kicked in and swatted his hand once as a warning.

"Don't touch anything," Hunter mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sure the senator is just running a little late from her last meeting," Commander Cody explained. "She shouldn't be too long."

Upon hearing this, Clone Force 99 made their way to stand in front of the desk. They wanted to make a good first impression on the senator whenever she arrived. As they waited, their eyes viewed the skyline in front of them.

All of the sudden, there was a slight shift in the atmosphere of the room. Naturally, as if it was a response, Hunter turned his head ever so slightly to his left. His ears perked up upon hearing an unfamiliar soft heartbeat coming from the room next door. He glanced at the door on his left through the corner of his eye.

As the heartbeat drew closer and louder, Hunter was able to make out the muffled conversation that followed from the other room. Despite the fact that Commander Cody was speaking with the rest of his brothers, Hunter seemed to ignore them and could only focus on the heartbeat. It was the softest thing he had ever heard.

"Do me a favor? Behave yourselves, boys." Commander Cody commanded them.

"No promises," Crosshair replied snakily.

Finally, Hunter went to turn his head to look directly at the door beside them. It was if he predicted the arrival because the doors began to open only a second later. The sound of the door opening caused the other members of the company to turn towards it.

The Senator of Coruscant came waltzing into the room with her assistant at her side. She wore this white flowy dress that cascaded over her feet and dragged on the floor behind her. The upper half of the dress was more sheer and showed the soft supple skin underneath it. Her hair was tidied back into a braid, which was heavily decorated in small white pearls.

For the first time ever, Hunter heard his own heart skip a beat upon laying eyes on her. His eyes trailed down the length of her form, taking it all in for his own pleasure. He was most certainly thankful to be wearing his helmet.

Though the senator didn't even acknowledge the clones upon her entrance, but this was probably because she was busy hearing what the rest of her schedule looked like for the day from her droid assistant. The clones seemed to watch her movements carefully as she circled around the room to the backside of her desk. Their eyes raked down her body shamelessly, losing themselves in thought for a brief second.

Just as she passed by them, a subtle hint of her scent had followed right behind her. Her scent naturally flowed through the filters of Hunter's helmet and invaded his senses. He closed his eyes to relish the scent of fresh lavender, which was not something you would expect from a senator who lived in a heavy populated city.

"Your final appointment is at three in the afternoon," the droid beeped. He held up the data pad for her, but she waved it off.

"That's fine," Senator Rayna agreed. She stood behind her desk and went to organize a few papers.

Upon hearing her voice, Hunter's ears perked up once more. He wasn't sure why he was so enamored with her. Whether is was the softness of her voice, her mesmerizing appearance, the intoxicating scent of her perfume, or the gentle heartbeat that followed her.

"Right," Senator Rayna sighed loudly. She placed the last stack of papers to the side before finally directing her attention to the clone force. "You must be my new escort," Senator Rayna figured.

"Senator," Commander Cody interjected from the sidelines. Her eyes scanned over each clone carefully. "I'd like to introduce you to the group of clones that's been assigned to you. This is Clone Force 99."

Each of the clones proceeded to remove their helmets. They stuffed their helmets into the underside of their arm. Now, the senator was able to get a good look at them. She realized how differently they looked from your regular ordinary clones. And she was intrigued by this.

"Well, you know who I am so there is no need for introductions there." The Senator rounded the side of her desk to stand in front of the clones. "State your name for me so I know what to call you," Senator Rayna ordered.

"Uh, my name?" Wrecker asked slowly, given that she was looking directly at him.

"You all have one, don't you? All clones are given numbers; although I gathered that most clones prefer to go by names. So what is yours?"

"I'm CT-9902. They call me Wrecker," the clone's deep voice boomed. He smirked down at her. She offered her hand for him to shake, which he did so very carefully because he was afraid to hurt her.

After this, the senator took a single step to the right. She was going to make her way down the line of clones. And she wanted to hear each of their names.

"My designated clone number is CT-9903," Tech replied as a matter-of-factly. He adjusted his glasses. "Otherwise, as known to my brothers, as Tech," he added at the end.

The Senator offered her hand to him as well, which meant he needed to move his data pad to the other hand in order to shake it. He gave her a single nod of approval before she moved down the line again.

The clone trooper didn't say anything. He maintained a defensive stance with his arms crossed across his chest. He also wore a nasty scowl on his face. He truly did not want to be there because he had no interest in politics.

"What is your name soldier?" She questioned him. She tried to figure out what was going behind those eyes if it was anger or distain.

Though Crosshair was far from intimidated by her antics. He felt a slight nudge in his side. He finally spoke. "CT-9904."

"And do you have a name?" She wondered.

"Crosshair," he said reluctantly.

Likewise, the senator chose to say nothing. She gave a single nod understandingly before extending her hand out to him. The only problem was that he didn't take it. So she awkwardly slipped her hand back down to her side and moved on.

"I am CT-1409. I'm Echo," he replied quickly.

"Oh," Senator Rayna perked up. "Not a 99, huh?"

"No ma'am," Echo responded.

"He was originally part of the 501st and served with them for many years. He's the newest addition to this squad," Commander Cody said from the sidelines.

"Pleasure to meet you," Senator Rayna smiled up at him.

The senator went to shake his hand, only to find a scomp link located where his right hand should have been. He had even raised his arm as if wanting to shake her hand as well; he was still getting used to not having a hand.

"Oh," Senator Rayna said defeated. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She cringed at her own actions, wishing she had caught that before she made a fool of herself. "My deepest apologies," she went on.

"Not to worry," Echo reassured her. He saluted her instead with his scomp link.

Now, reaching the end of the lineup, the senator was standing face to face with the leader of the group. She looked up at him with curious eyes. But before he could introduce himself to her, she spoke up first.

"And you must be the sergeant," Senator Rayna concluded. She also took the time to study him carefully.

"CT-9901," Hunter's deep voice sounded from the back of his throat.

The senator raised her eyebrows at him as if mentally requesting for his given name. He realized that he should have also mentioned his name, but he honestly was still lost in his thoughts.

"Hunter," he corrected himself.

"Hunter," Senator Rayna repeated with a small smile on her lips. Her heart started beating just a little faster than normal, which did not go unnoticed. He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I've heard a lot about you."

Upon hearing this, Hunter felt his breath catch in the back of his throat which caused his chest to heave out a little. He straightened his back in posture. He could only wonder what kinds of things she knew about him and his squad.

"Uh senator," the droid spoke up. He glanced between the two of them, expecting them to turn to address him. But they kept their gazes on one another. "I hate to interrupt, but you're going to be late," the droid reminded her.

In response, the senator squeezed her eyes shut. She cursed under her breath. "Blast! How could I forget?"

Without hesitation, Senator Rayna went to collect the stack of papers on her desk. She quickly rifled through them to make sure none of them were missing. She proceeded to spin around on the heels of her feet, walking away from the clones to scurry around the room.

The clones didn't tear their eyes away from her retreating figure, subconsciously peering around one another to keep their gaze on her backside. The commander needed to clear his throat to gather their attention once more. They quickly redirected their focus in front of them.

The droid went to hand her a cloak to put on. She slipped it over her shoulders. She began tying it around her neck. "Where are you heading next, commander?"

"Kiros," Commander Cody stepped forward. "There are talks of surrender. We'll see how it goes. I won't bore you with the details."

"Perhaps we can discuss them at a later time," Senator Rayna agreed. "When I am not running late."

"Senator," Cody saluted her. He excused himself from her presence.

The senator grabbed the last of her things, hastily hanging the pile of papers to her droid. She took the data pad out of the droids hand to check her schedule. She was running very late. Nevertheless, the senator tossed the data pad over to Tech.

"Might be a good idea to make yourself a copy of my schedule to have on hand," Senator Rayna explained to him. He quickly typed in a code which would transfer the information to his own data pad.

"Already on it," Tech confirmed.

"Might I remind you that this is the fifth time you have been late to a meeting this month?" The droid interrupted once more. It slowly moved around the room given it's lack of flexibility.

"I have been a bit preoccupied with other things," the senator waved off. Finally, Senator Rayna stopped what she was doing to address the small squad of clones. "Now, about this meeting..." her voice trailed off.

For a brief second, the Senator of Coruscant wondered how she could explain what she does as a career or what they could expect from this type of job. She felt a wave of anxiety begin to wash over her, being rudely reminded of the threats she faced every day now.

At that moment, Hunter noticed a change in her demeanor. He could hear her heart beating faster and her breathing quickened in pace. She began finding with her fingers nervously to contain her nerves, which did not go unnoticed by the others.

"I am a member of the Loyalist Committee which is headed by The Sepreme Chancellor. The other members are senators or representatives like me. This is an informal meeting; it takes place just upstairs in one of the conference rooms," she informed them.

The senator was talking so rapidly that the others could barely keep up with her. It almost sounded and looked like she was on the verge of having an anxiety attack. And Hunter noticed this immediately.

"Senator," Hunter interjected. She kept talking though.

"In the past, I haven't needed my guards to be present in the room. Things have changed since then. Now...I would feel better -- safer, if at least two of you accompanied me in the meeting. Like I said, it's more of an info--," but she was stopped.

"Senator Rayna," Hunter spoke over her to stop her ranting. His voice wasn't loud, more firm than anything.

Slowly, Hunter took a single step forward to stand an arm's length away from her. He looked down at her with soft eyes, which she found oddly comforting. He heard her heartbeat going back to a normal pace. He sent her a small reassuring smile.

"We are going to protect you," Hunter told her. "Don't worry. You're in good hands."

The ride in the lift felt like it was lasting ages. There was a slight sense of tension in the air given that there were six people basically crammed into the space. In their defense, no lift ride is ever comfortable for an average person.

Facing the door, Senator Rayna stood in the middle with Hunter and Echo standing on either side of her. The other three clones were standing behind them with their backs nearly touching the wall of the lift. The illuminated number continued to change as the lift passed another floor, drawing closer to the final destination. Just a few floors left.

Initially, the senator kept her hands clasped together in front of herself. Her hands mindlessly fell apart, which resulted in her hands shifting back to the respective sides of her body. In the process of this happening, the senator's hand brushed against the back of the sergeant's gloved hand on accident.

Upon contact, the both of them retracted their hands in a slightly awkward fashion. The sergeant shifted on his feet slightly, taking a small step away and mumbling a soft "sorry" through his modulated helmet. Though it was hardly his fault.

In response, the senator sent him a warm smile before directing her line of attention back towards the closed door in front of her. Her hands moved back into the original position in front of herself. She could feel some heat rising to her cheeks, but she figured it would go unnoticed.

Behind them, Tech had watched this slightly awkward encounter with a cocked eyebrow. He was quick to nudge Wrecker who stood beside him.

"Huh?" Wrecker looked down at Tech.

Tech gestured to the sergeant and the senator was a subtle nod of the head in their general direction. So Wrecker took a second to analyze them with his eyes switching back and forth between the two bodies. He didn't catch their encounter so he was rather confused.

"What? What happened?" Wrecker whispered to his brother. Though it wasn't really a whisper, because everyone in the lift heard him.

"Nevermind," Tech sighed with a roll of his eyes.

Finally, the lift had come to stop on the designated floor. The two doors slid open to reveal a vast long corridor. A few people were walking through the corridor which consisted of other members of the senate or personal guards.

It didn't take long for Hunter to sense the uncertainty radiating from the senator standing beside him. He glanced down at her briefly to see the worried expression on her face. For a little encouragement, Hunter placed one hand on her lower back to urge her forward and his other hand gestured to the corridor before her. She gathered her courage with a deep breath, taking the necessary step forward.

Exiting the lift, Hunter and Echo walked on either side of Coruscant's Senator. Right behind them, Wrecker went to follow them but was abruptly stopped when Crosshair placed a single hand on his chest. The much larger clone nearly toppled over his own feet and looked towards his brother for some form of explanation.

"Wouldn't want to step on the senator's dress, would we, Wrecker?" Crosshair teased him. He gestured to the white train that flowed behind her dress and trailed along the floor.

"Oh right," Wrecker agreed while scatching the back of his neck.

The three clones waited until the others had properly exited the lift before finally following them through the corridor. They made sure to be two steps behind so they wouldn't step on the senator's dress.

And Wrecker was relieved that his brother saved him the embarrassment because he couldn't imagine the look on the senator's face if she ever found a large footprint on her white dress.

Walking through the corridor, the escort found themselves quickly becoming the center of attention. It seemed like they continued to receive stares from passing senators or workers from the capital. This was something they were commonly used to, especially back on Kamino. But for some reason, it felt different this time around.

"Sorry about the unwanted attention," Echo said from beside her.

"Hmm? I hadn't noticed," Senator Rayna replied with a small smile on her face. The clones were a little relieved to hear that the senator did not mind in the slightest.

In the short distance, a few clones were striding down the long length of the corridor with blasters in hand. The clone armor that they wore was adorned with red accents, hinting to the fact that they were members of the Coruscant Guard. They were elite clone shock troopers whose main purpose was to protect the Galactic Republic Capital. They were some of the best clones the Republic had to offer.

In passing, the Coruscant Guard took a second to stare at the passing members of Clone Force 99. They nudged each other and gestured to the group of defective clones. Their unnatural appearances always caused them to garner more attention than they would have liked.

"Hey," one of the guards called attention to his buddy standing beside him. He tipped his head to gesture to them. "Get a load of these guys."

"Those guys are clones?" Another clone remarked from the sidelines. "They sure don't look like clones."

Once the Coruscant Guard was out of their line of sight, Crosshair seemed to glance over his shoulder. He seemed to grumble something under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the batch of regs behind them.

"Remind me again why you weren't assigned members from the Coruscant Guard?" Crosshair questioned. It seemed like an obvious choice for an escort given that they were already stationed on Coruscant.

"Because my last guards were part of the Coruscant Guard," Senator Rayna replied flatly. "And they didn't do a great job."

"Fair enough," Crosshair accepted. He almost wanted to chuckle at this because he knew the guard was not nearly as skilled as everyone gave them credit for.

Upon rounding a corner, Senator Rayna halted in her tracks to stand in front of a closed door. The other members of her escort seemed to stop beside her, waiting for her next step. She activated the panel on the right side which opened the door for them. She quickly stepped inside with Hunter and Echo following behind her.

As the door closed, Wrecker and Tech went to stand on either side of the door for the extra added protection. And Crosshair began walking down to corridor to secure the perimeter. Back inside the room, Hunter and Echo took their stops by standing beside one another in the back of the room. Their eyes never leaving the senator's moving figure.

"My apologies for being late," Senator Rayna announced. She went to sit at the head of the table, finding a small stack of papers in her place meant for her. She quickly looked them over.

"No worries, my dear. I'm sure you have plenty of other things on your mind," an older voice spoke from the far side of the table. Raising her head, Senator Rayna's eyes landed on the familiar form of Chancellor Palpatine who was sitting at the head on the other side.

"Right. Now what have I missed?" Senator Rayna questioned. Her eyes shifted between the various senators within the committee, half expecting one of them to catch her up to date since she arrived so late.

On the right side of the table, Bail Organa of Alderaan and Padmé Amidala of Naboo were sitting beside one another. On the left side of the table, Mon Mothma of Chandrilla and Orn Free Taa of Ryloth had also been apart of this committee. The senators looked to each other in order to see who would speak first.

"We were just discussing the details surrounding the upcoming Gala," Senator Amidala explained.

The Senator of Coruscant proceeded to rifle through the stack of papers in front of her, attempting to find the list of things that still needed to be completed in preparation for the gala.

For a moment, Hunter's gaze seemed to drift towards the window in the large conference room. He studied the buildings across the way carefully, spotting a few unoccupied rooftops. It was the senator's voice which brought him out of his train of thoughts.

"How far out are we again?" Senator Rayna asked.

"Three months," Chancellor Palpatine said rather calmly.

"Are things going accordingly with the planning?" Senator Rayna wondered. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, which caused the senator to look up at them with a confused expression. "What's going on? You've all been acting weird."

The other senators continued to remain silent. However, they looked at each other as if they were all thinking the same thing and were choosing to stay quiet about it. Finally, Bail Organa gathered the courage to speak for the rest of them. He spoke softly and calmly with hopes that it would help soften the blow he was about to deliver.

"We think you should take a hiatus," Bail Organa replied.

"A hiatus? From what?" Senator Rayna asked in utter confusion.

"From your job -- your position as senator of this planet," Chancellor Palpatine added. "Law low for a little bit until things die down."

"I don't need to law low. What I need to do is my job and taking a hiatus will not help me do that," Senator Rayna argued. She rose out of her seat in a furry.

"Y/n," Mon Mmtha interjected. She spoke with a calm voice. "We are worried about you and your wellbeing."

"I have a new escort. They will protect me," Rayna would not drop her argument.

"And the hiatus will only add to that protection," The Supreme Chancellor claimed. He was trying to sound optimistic about the proposition, which only seemed to anger the senator more.

"I have to present a treaty at the end of the quarter. And we vote a week later. I can't miss that," Senator Rayna tried to reason with them.

"It can be pushed back," Chancellor Palpatine suggested. He shrugged his shoulders at the notion, seemingly unfazed by the option of pushing back her speech.

"Til when?" Rayna inquired angrily.

"Indefinitely."

Upon hearing this, Senator Rayna leaned forward to press her hands against the table. She looked the chancellor dead in the eyes from across the room. She wore a stern look on her face.

"I have been working on this treaty for months, changing the littlest of details to make sure it is nothing short of perfect. I applied for the notion to be brought to the senate at the end of the quarter and it was accepted. I am going to present this," Senator Rayna said sternly.

Look back out the window, Hunter saw a small perch on one of the rooftops. He almost wondered if that was a sniper's nest; it would have been a prime location if it had been. With that in mind, Hunter's eyes trailed along the length of the sniper's path. His gaze settled on the wood table in the room. And his stomach dropped.

"E-Echo?" Hunter whispered to his comrade standing beside him.

"What?" Echo said in the quietest voice.

The sergeant was staring directly at what looked like a small nick in the middle of the wooden table. It couldn't have been more than an inch in diameter. There was a small dark circle around it. It had to have been from a blaster shot.

The senator's hands were on either side of said hole. He quickly came to realize that if the sniper had raised his weapon just a little higher, it would have gone right into the senator's head.

"I think this is where it happened," Hunter concluded. Whoever had taken the shot knew what they were doing. They fired a warning shot. At least, that seemed to be the case before they proceeded to take out the guards.

The sergeant's mind was occupied elsewhere. He hadn't been fully listening to the conversation up until now. He tuned his ears into what the chancellor had to say about this. And sure enough, Hunter's suspicious was right.

"Who says you will even be around to present your treaty?" Chancellor Palpatine wondered. "The last time you were in this room -- it did not end well. You could have been killed if your guards had not been there."

It suddenly made sense. The senator was feeling nervous about leaving her office to come here because of what happened the last time she was there. She was still feeling the affects of the incident. And whether she chose to deny it, it was affecting her mental health now.

"We cannot force you to take a hiatus, but we strongly advice it."

"Please Y/n," Senator Amidala said softly from the sidelines. "We don't want you to get hurt."

"I appreciate your concern -- truly I do," Senator Rayna began. She looked over the faces sitting around the table. "But I have to be there for my planet and for my people. You should all understand that."

"We do," Senator Organa nodded his head in agreement.

"Then let me do my job," Senator Rayna pleaded her case one final time. Her eyes shown with sympathy.

With great hesitation, the other senators looked towards one another in a form of silent communication. A few of them seemed to nod their heads gently as if to say they will allow the senator to operate as she always had been. Finally, The Supreme Chancellor reluctantly gave her his approval in the form of a short and curt nod of the head.

"Very well," Chancellor Palpatine agreed. He sent her a smile. "Continue as you were, senator."

By the end of the meeting, a majority of the members had gone their separate ways since their schedules differed. Now, it seemed like only Senator Organa, Senator Amidala, and Senator Rayna remained in the room. While the Senator of Alderaan went to speak with the newest escort, Senator Amidala went to stand beside her best friend and greeted her with a warm smile. The two young women began talking amongst themselves.

On the other side of the room, Senator Organa went to talk to Hunter and Echo. He took the time to shake both of their hands in greeting and introduced himself to them.

"You must be Clone Force 99," Bail Organa noted.

"We are two fifths of them," Echo claimed. "The others are right outside."

"I was the one to reach out to General Kenobi and Commander Cody about finding Senator Rayna a new escort. I've heard a lot of things about your squad," Senator Organa replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"All good things, I hope." Hunter wondered.

"You know your own reputation better than anyone. You tell me," Senator Organa stated. He quirked his eyebrow at the two clone troopers in front of him. They remained silent because he did bring up a good point.

Looking over his shoulder, Bail Organa looked towards the two senators talking to each other. His eyes softened upon seeing how the two of them interacted with each other. While they were best friends, he always thought they acted more like sisters (though they actually got along with each other). He felt a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"She's a handful, that one. Once she sets her mind on something, she won't back down easily. One of the most stubborn people I know," Bail chuckled to himself.

Neither Hunter or Echo doubted that. They had just witnessed how stubborn she could be in their meeting and how she refused to take a hiatus despite the fact that her life was on the line. However, was it stubbornness or selflessness?

For a brief moment, Hunter found himself following his line of sight until it landed on the senator. She seemed so carefree; her face was radiating with beams of happiness. Her lips turned upwards into a smile and her laugh echoed over to them.

"I won't tell you how to do your job," Bail Organa returned to their conversation. He looked between the two clones. "But can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Of course, senator." Hunter nodded his head.

"Be mindful of her. She's gone through a lot recently and she's grown more sensitive to her surroundings. She doesn't sleep most nights in fear of what may happen when she closes her eyes," Senator Organa claimed.

Slowly, Hunter's eyes drifted back to the senator standing in front of him. He saw the gentlest and kindness in his eyes. He could tell by the tone of his voice that he cared deeply for his fellow senator. But then things turned more solemn.

"She's like the daughter I never had," Bail's voice was laced with a heavy sense of sadness. "If anything should happen to her--"

"We know, senator." Hunter interjected. He placed a hand on the senator's shoulder. "We'll try our hardest to take care of her for you."

"Thank you," Bail gave a nod of appreciation.

Across the length of the room, Senator Amidala and Senator Rayna caught up with each other. They had spent some time apart. While one was traveling the galaxy, the other was strictly confined to the planet for her safety. It truly felt like eternity since they had last seen one another.

"I heard Senator Organa reached out to General Kenobi for assistance," Senator Amidala began. "Did he travel alone or--"

"He was accompanied by Commander Cody," Senator Rayna explained. The corners of her lips tugged into a mischievous all-knowing smirk. "His Padawan was not with him if that's what you're wondering," Senator Rayna added.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Senator Amidala scoffed awkwardly. She shook her head at her friend's ridiculous comment.

"Oh please," Senator Rayna sighed. She rolled her eyes. "You think I don't notice how you are constantly asking about him and pining over him."

"I do not!" Padmé scolded her.

"You do know that it is forbidden for the jedi to form attachments," Senator Rayna tried to talk some reason into her friend. She knew that there was some unspoken thing going on between them, but she didn't know the details of it.

"Enough about me," Padmé quickly dismissed the conversation with a wave of her hand. "What about you?"

"Me? What about me?" Y/n scoffed slightly.

"Isn't there someone you are pining over yourself?" Senator Amidala wondered. She cocked an eyebrow at her in a suggestive manner.

"No, I am not pining over someone." Senator Rayna shook her head in denial. "I'm a little bit occupied with other matters at the moment."

From across the room, Hunter's highly sensitive ears had picked up their conversation unbeknownst to them. He turned his head ever so slightly to be more in tune. He felt his heart flutter once again in his chest.

Finally, Senator Amidala and Senator Rayna went to leave the room by walking beside one another. The others made sure to follow behind them. They entered into the corridor to be met by the rest of the squad.

"Perimeter is secure," Tech relayed to his sergeant. Hunter gave a curt nod of acceptance. "The shuttle is ready for departure whenever the senator sees fit."

Now Hunter and Echo had shifted to stand beside their brothers in the corridor. The senators had directed their line of attention to view the small squad of soldiers. They certainly did not look like your regular batch of clones. Their armor didn't even match the traditional white with hinted colored accents. It was more of a dark grey color and was accompanied with hinted red accents.

Not only did each of their helmets mismatch, but so did their physical appearance. The one near the back was a literally giant, two of the others were tall and lanky, the other one looked more like a droid, and the last one had broad shoulders and a strong built. Just by looking at them, one could tell that there was something off and that they were genetically enhanced.

"Ma'am," Hunter drew the senator's attention. "Whenever you are ready."

The Senator of Coruscant nodded her head understandingly. She quickly gave a brief farewell to her fellow senators. The clones saluted the other senators as a form of respect. The senator proceeded to walk back down the long length of the corridor with her new clone escort following right behind her.

Meanwhile, Senator Organa and Senator Amidala watched their retreating figures with keen eyes. They saw how their associate interacted with this new batch of rogue clones. She didn't seem to mind or question their abnormalities. At first, Senator Rayna had been hesitant to ask for help from the jedi and was uncertain about having a clone escort. But now, things seemed to have changed her mind. And the senators wanted to know why.

CHAPTER THREE HERE

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 9 months

Text

Clan of Three - Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: Guns for Hire

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

------

Dawn covers Nevarro as the covert surrounds the Gauntlet as you give your final goodbyes. The Armorer speaks to Bo-Katan and Din with Grogu in his pram by the bounty hunter’s side. You spot amongst the crowd the copper and white Mandalorian as he moves forward and you pull away the group as you stand in front of Kaz.

“I guess this is goodbye…I wish you could come.” You say your foot kicking at the rocks as he nods wishing that could be true.

“You’ll come back soon. With many Mandalorians then we can return home.” He says trying to think on the bright side you nod feeling your throat tighten up and your eyes burn. You fling your arms around his shoulders as he accepts your embrace your head buried in his neck as he holds your head close to him the other around your lower back. “Oh mesh’la I’ll see you soon.” He whispers in your ear as you try to remember this feeling. You pull back his hand cupping your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. A bunch of sad beeps comes from below looking down as R4 bumps against Kaz sad to leave as well. You both chuckle sadness in your voice as he rubs the droid’s head.

“I’ll miss you too R4.” He says and the droid nuzzles itself against his leg. Your gazes meet as he leans forward his helmet meeting your forehead as your eyes close accepting the Mandalorian kiss. You knew the others could see this but you didn’t care it was your life. “I’ll miss you mesh’la.” He whispers and you feel the affection and adoration in his words. You nod wordlessly if you speak you were sure to break.

“You watch my ship you hear me..?” You say and he chuckles, his laughter a melody as you reluctantly have to pull back. “I promise not to take it on a joyride.” He jests and you give a sad smile trying to take him all in before you have no choice but to turn R4 following beside you as you return to the adults. Din and Bo-Katan were silent having seen the whole display and while Din wanted to shelter you from the world he knew he couldn’t take away this one moment of happiness. The protective father in him was afraid to see his little girl grow up but he had no choice but to watch her mature, fall in love, and soon she would leave to live her life.

The Armorer looks over at the four of you nodding, “Good luck on your journey.” She says and you all nod and before you know it your boarding the gauntlet and leaving Nevarro off to find these other Mandalorians. You were heading to Plazir-15 where the supposed remaining Mandalorians that were once Bo-Katan’s were off to. Entering the atmosphere see the large plains of grass as you that was covered in large domes that reminded you of the destroyed planet of Mandalore.

“There they are,” Bo-Katan comments and you see out the window seeing the large fleet station outside the city in an open clearing, the light cruiser with multiple other ships. “That’s quite a fleet.” Din comments and Bo-Katan nods,

“It took me a long time to assemble it. Most of it was captured from the Empire.”

“I knew they looked familiar. Could come in real handy taking back Mandalore.” Din says and the female Mandalorian is silent, “Axe Woves is their leader now. It’s going to take some convincing to get them to join us.”

“I wonder what they’re here for?” You ask why such a large fleet would be on this kind of planet, “This planet isn’t on the New Republic Registry, so I’d guess it’s an independent world that hired them for protection.” Bo-Katan gives her best guess.

“Can’t imagine Woves will be happy to see you.” Din brings up the possible bad blood.

“Yeah….I’ll land outside the fleet’s perimeter. It’s probably best if we go in on foot.” She says when a fanfare fills the ship, “Welcome to Plazir-15. The Outer Rim’s only remaining direct democracy,” A voice comms through on the comms, “You’ve been assigned a docking slip. You will be guided on the assigned path. Engaging automated guidance.” The ship suddenly jolts as Bo-Katan lifts her hands seeing the controls being to move by themselves.

“What happened?” You ask as she huffs, “They’ve taken control of the ship. I guess we’re going for a ride.” Soon you land on your assigned docking and walk down the ramp seeing two imperial droids and the air is suddenly tense.

“Welcome to Plazir-15. Please proceed to your hyperloop pod,” The protocol droid directs you to the hyperpod. You four walk past the droids R5 staying on the ship with R4 joining you.

“Why do they have Imperial droids on an independent world?” Din whispers to Bo-Katan who shrugs, “It’s the Outer Rim. Your guess is as good as mine.” Entering the pod Grogu sitting next to Bo-Katan and you next to Din R4 in the middle as the doors hiss close.

“Bring us to the bay closest to the Mandalorian fleet.” Bo-Katan asks the pod as a female voice on the P.A. comes through, “As per Article Nine of the Coruscant Accords, permission must be granted from High Senate for access to self-defense forces in the peacekeeping zone. Do you grant permission to scan your chain code?” Bo-Katan and Din hold out their vambraces producing a chain code and R4 reveals your chain code from his system. Three beeps fill the air as it scans your codes.

“Din Djarin, Bo-Katan Kryze, and Y/n Kenobi-Kryze. Your presence has been requested by the leadership of the planetary democracy…” It responds and Bo-Katan shakes her head, “I’m afraid we have more pressing matters. Perhaps at a later time.”

“Please do not attempt to leave the vehicle. This is not a request.” The automated system ignores her request and you're sent speeding toward the opulent and shining city.

“I’ve never been here before. Have you?” Bo-Katan asks and you both shake your head, “I haven’t even heard of it.”

“Do you think we’re gonna have to blast our way out of here?” You ask looking at the city passing by quickly as you draw closer, “We’ll find out.” The pod jolts to a stop and the five of you exit hearing the sound of light music, before a large banquet at the end of the table a couple dressed extravagantly with patrons all around. The room goes silent before the man stands waving you over,

“Join us! Come! It’s a party,” He lets a booming laugh as the guest join in as well, “Come! Everyone, special guests. Mandalorians and a Jedi.” You felt like entertainment as the guest ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ as you make your way to three already placed chairs beside the decorated man.

“I hope you like secretions. Take a little sip-sip. Come, please.” The three of you take a seat in between Bo-Katan and Din with Gorgu still in his hovering pram. The man with a large salt-and-pepper beard turns to the gorgeous woman next to him,

“Honey. Do you love me?” He asks in a sing-song voice as the woman laughs cupping his cheek, “Oh, my goodness. Yes, I do.” She repeats the same melodic tone as the both of them laugh.

The man turns to face you three holding his hand together as he introduces himself, “Let’s address the bantha in the room. I was once a facilities planning officer during the war. And thanks to the New Republic Amnesty Program, I was able to help rebuild Plazir-15.”

“You were Imperial?” Din asks and the woman rests her hand on Bombardier’s, “He was. Plazir suffered greatly under Imperial rule. My husband came here as part of his rehabilitation. He oversaw the rebuilding of this planet on which my family served as nobility since it was originally settled, and…we fell in love.” She says dreamily as her husband grins pressing a kiss to her knuckles,

“We fell in love. We did fall in love.” The two of them laugh and the Duchess’ eyes land on Grogu, “Could I perhaps hold the baby? Please?”

You both look at Gorgu as he coos Din speaking up, “He doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” The Duchess holds a small piece of fish making kissing noises and Grogu jumps out of his pram landing in her arms, “You are so fast. Yes.” Din sighs seeing the child being coddled

“You see, it was time for our planet to move into a new age. We held direct democratic elections for the first time in our history. We are both royals and elected leaders.

“And the Mandalorian privateer warships docked in your fields?” You ask and the Duchess looks over at you, “Oh, we hire them for protection. Our charter forbids us from having a military because of my husband’s Imperial past.” Bombardier nods,

“But because of this, all of our resources go to growth and the people.”

“I’d like to speak to these “privateers.” Bo-Katan asks and the Duchess nods, “That can be arranged. There is just one condition.”

“What?” Bo-Katan asks and the couple looks at each other before rising to stand avoiding the question, “You really must see the view. Right this way.” The Duchess gestures to the balcony as you all rise to stand and the festivities grow silent.

“We’ll just be a moment. Enjoy your meal, and don’t get up. Let’s show our guests the view.” Bombardier says charismatically to his citizens and they quickly return to the banquet as you’re led outside.

“We have a problem.” Bombardier says dropping the persona once away from the people, “Yes?” You say a bit confused.

“A droid problem.” The Duchess says and Din stiffens slightly before asking, “What kind of droid problem?”

“Malfunction.” Bombardier says and his wife cuts in, “A coordinated malfunction.” “We think.”

“What makes you think that?” Din says crossing his arms as the couple looks concerned.

“The planet’s Imperial droids were reprogrammed for peace.” The Duchess explains, “I personally oversaw the program. I can assure you they were completely rehabilitated for peaceful purposes. Exclusively.” Bombardier defends his work.

“We thought.” The Duchess says and Bombardier grabs his wife's hand, “They were, my love, I personally oversaw the program.”

“What kind of malfunction?” Din asks wanting to get to the bottom of it.

“I mean, nothing too serious at first. Unexpected power cycles. Deleted task stacks.” Captain Bombardier explains, “Then it got worse.” The Duchess adds and her husband winces continuing,

“Traffic accidents. Heavy equipment failures leading to injury…Assault.”

“Assault?” You say surprised droids that were reprogrammed were causing this, “Respectfully, what does this have to do with us?” Bo-Katan asks.

“Our constables are ill-equipped to confront battle droids.” The nobles explain and it adds a whole new layer hearing the droids were imperial battle droids.

“Battle droids?” Din says coldly.

“Uh-uh-uh-uh. Former battle droids. They’ve been rehabilitated for civic duty.” Bombardier tries defending but his wife shakes her head, “We thought.”

“They were.” “Obviously not.” The two argue before Bo-Katan cuts them off, “The Mandalorian garrison outside your city walls can make quick work of your battle droids.”

“That’s just it.” The Duchess says and you tilt your head, “What?”

“Our charter forbids any standing army from entering our city. Our constables aren’t even allowed to carry blasters.” The Duchess explains.

“But you allowed us to be armed.” Din points out and the nobles nod,

“Exactly. The people have voted that we are a pluralistic society,” Bombardier explains, “You are Mandalorians. Weaponry and armor are intrinsic to your culture, are they not?”

“They are.” Din says and Bombardier turns to you, “And you are a Jedi. Your kind was once soldiers during the Clone Wars but are meant to be keepers of the peace.” You nod hesitantly.

“That’s right.” You agree, you wouldn’t call yourself a soldier and definitely not a keeper of the peace as you’ve been described twice. But you didn’t know from history that Jedi were once meant to uphold peace across the galaxy before they became soldiers during the Clone Wars.

“You see where we’re going here?” Bombardier says gesturing with his hand trying to get you to understand, “You want us to eliminate your droid problem.” Bo-Katan comments.

“Exactly.” Bombardier snaps his fingers, “I knew you would help us.” The Duchess thanks you three before you even made a decision.

“Hold on there, Your Majesty. We didn’t agree to help you.” Bo-Katan holds her hand up and the Duchess steps forward, “Please, Princess Kryze. Your Grace.” She begs and Bo-Katan shakes her head.

“This is not intended to be a work of charity. Unlike my brethren outside your city walls, I am not a mercenary. Apologies if that is the impression I gave.”

“What I intended to convey is that I would hope that this “excursion” would be viewed as an act of diplomacy between our two planets,” Bombardier offers, “In fact, Plazir-15 would formally recognize Mandalore as a sovereign system and petition the New Republic to recognize it as such.”

“The mercenary captain, Axe Woves, indicated that he split from you because you had designs on ruling Mandalore once again.” The Duchess brings up the relationship between Bo-Katan and Woves. “Those plans have been abandoned,” Bo-Katan says harshly.

“The offer stands nonetheless.” The Duchess says as Kryze you two, “What do you think?”

“You had me at battle droids.” Din says and you nod, “Let’s get going.”

Before you could head off to begin your ‘excursion’ Bombardier stops you, “Wait Princess,” Three look back seeing him looking at you, “Do you mind showing your weapon? The Jedi are known for their craftsmanship for their lightsabers.” He asks and you are silent as he begs the Duchess looks excited to see the weapon and some of the guests are watching. You sigh feeling like a performer as you pull your saber from your belt and with a flick of your wrist the brilliant orange saber illuminates the room. The guest applauds in awe of the weapon as you wave it around with a deadpan expression wanting it over with.

“The hilt is beautiful this metal I’ve never seen before?” Bombardier examines the marbling of the hilt from his view as you retract the blade attaching the saber to your belt, “It’s beskar.” You say before you rejoin Bo-Katan and Din and you frown.

“I felt like a circus animal,” You sigh as R4 follows after you three Grogu staying with the Duchess and the Captian.

“These droids were all reprogrammed to serve the community from the stockpile of captured Imperial robotics scheduled to be scrapped at Karthon,” Inside the command center you met Commisoner Helgait as he stands in front of a large control table, the walls lined with screens showing security footage, “The droid’s reprogramming was a complete success, until one day, an isolated event…”

You watch on the screen a garbage droid pick up trash before violently flinging it around before leaving the mess, “Then others,” You see a B1 battle droid begin to throw around shopping goods as its owner looks horrified, “This is just a small collection of malfunctions that our security cameras caught.” You see the landspeeder controlled by a driver droid crash into a window as the crowd exclaims then in a restaurant the cook droid begins wielding knives quite viciously swinging them around as the patrons scream running away.

“Turn them off.” Bo-Katan suggests and Helgait looks over at her, “What?”

“Why not turn them all off? Who’s in charge of that?” She asks and Helgait points at himself, “I am. There’s a failsafe cutoff switch built into the system. However…” He shows the large red button before he pauses and you look at him,

“What?” You ask and he looks over at you, “The citizens voted against any interruption in droid services. They can’t live without it.” He laughs and Din crosses his arms,

“And why’s that?”

“The citizens are no longer required to work and can spend their days engaging in recreation, the arts, and participating in our direct democracy. If we shut down the droids,” He laughs at the idea, “Our citizens wouldn’t know how to survive. Our society would collapse.”

“Then what do you want from us?” Bo-Katan asks, “To seek out and decommission any remaining rogue droids, until we can fix the problem.” Helgait explains the female Mandalorian sighs holding out her hand, “Give us the list.”

“Well, for that, you’ll have to go to the lower level and speak to the Ugnaughts.” Helgait explains and you perk up hearing the familiar creature, “Ugnaughts?” Bo-Katan asks confused and Helgiat nods,

“Ugnaughts.”

Descending into the lower levels on a turbolift Din leaning against the glass wall, “See what happens when you rely on droids?” He says with malice and Bo-Katan looks over at him,

“Are you taking this personally?” She asks and he shrugs, “Just pointing it out.”

Bo-Katan sighs as the lift reaches the level of the Ugnaughts, “Let’s just finish this so we can be on our way.” Entering the workshop the Ugnaughts busy working on various droids that they seem to not even notice your presence

“I am Bo-Katan Kryze. Which one of you is in charge?” She calls out and they don’t even spare her a glance, “We were sent on behalf of The Dutchess and Captain Bombardier to help you with your droid problem. Hello?” She steps back looking at the two of you, “This is going nowhere.”

Din steps forward looking at all of them working, “I am Mandalorian Din Djarin, friend of Ugnaught Kuiil. You will answer our questions and help us with our task. I have spoken.” His wording draws the attention of all the Ugnaughts as they stop working and you find yourself at a table with some refreshments, “Thank you for your hospitality and for sharing your table with us. We were engaged to hunt down and eliminate the malfunctioning droids.” Din thanks them

“There are no such droids.” The head Ugnaught states with a shake of his head.

“You may not have heard the news down here, but your droids are wreaking havoc in the world above.” Bo-Katan comments and that seems to draw a reaction out of the Ugnaughts, “There is not much of which we are not aware. These halls are the central nervous system of the city. I assure you, the droids are not malfunctioning.”

“Citizens have been harmed by these malfunctioning machines.” She retorts and The Ugnaught places his drink harshly on the table, “This is not the case. I have spoken.”

“We’re not in any way suggesting that your work is to blame. The stories of Ugnaughts’ skill with smithing droids are legendary,” Din says doing damage control, “We know that Ugnaughts are considered the hardest-working species in the galaxy. We, like you, have been engaged with a task to perform. We will investigate the dangerous incidents. We would appreciate your help.” He pleads and the chief Ugnaught turns speaking to another one before they face you again now holding a disc

“Here are the locations of the droids you seek.” Din accepts the item gratefully with a nod as the three of you stand, “Thank you. We are in your debt. I have spoken.”

Leaving the lower levels the three of you plus R4 find yourself in a hyperloop pod and Bo-Katan looks over at Din, “What was that?”

“I’ve spent time with Ugnaughts. There’s a particular way to communicate with them. Accusing their work of malfunctioning is an insult.” Din explains and your heart aches slightly remembering Kuill and his sacrifice for your and Grogu’s lives, “Now, they’ve indicated that there’s a likelihood that the next event will be at the loading docks.” Din says looking over the disc holding the location of any malfunctioning droids.

“How sure are they?” Bo-Katan asks and Din shrugs, “Hard to tell. Ugnaughts always seem sure of themselves.” You and Bo-Katan chuckle slightly as you arrive at your location,

“Well, it’s the only lead we’ve got so we might as well have a look around.” She says as you exit the pod at the loading docks. The mechanical footsteps as you come down a ramp seeing repurposed B2 battle droids loading boxes of cargo. You can feel the anxiety coming from Din.

“I haven’t seen battle droids since the Clone Wars.” Bo-Katan says slightly in awe, “I have.” Din says coldly as you draw closer.

“Any of ’em look suspicious?” You ask trying to spot the possible rouge droid.

“They all look suspicious.” Din comments and suddenly a B1 battle droid foreman appears before you, “Halt. This is a restricted area. You are to vacate immediately.”

“We have a few questions,” Bo-Katan says and you see Din move over watching the fleet of B2 droids working.

“Show me your identification please.” The foreman holds his hand out.

“We’re here on behalf of The Dutchess to investigate the droid malfunctions.” You explain and the droid nods still not approving of your appearance, “Yes, I saw the reports. Rest assured, I’ve had the entire line of loaders undergo maintenance protocols as a safety measure. The uh, certification is on file.”

You all look over seeing Din wave his hand in front of one of the droids but it continuing working, “Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The foreman calls out as Din looks at another one.

“Why’s that?” He says and the foreman looks slightly nervous by Din harassing the droids but they seem to make no reaction, “As a precaution. Their base function was warfare.”

“I thought they were just checked out,” Din comments then kick another droid as it stumbles while holding the cargo but it regains balance and continues working. “They were. Uh, what are you doing?

“Then this shouldn’t faze them.” Din says kicking another droid as the foreman calls out to him, “Uh, sir? Excuse me! Excuse me! Sir!” Din kicks another droid as it falls over on its side knocking the crate out of its hand. Suddenly the droid swings its arm out hitting Din sending him to the ground then runs away as Din pushes himself to stand.

“Re-certified, huh?” Din huffs as the foreman looks at him, “You should have left them alone.”

The three of you book it after him R4 on your heels as it knocks a bunch of pipes over and you slide under them before they hit the ground ahead of Din and Bo-Katan as you exit hitting a crowded street. You see the droid grab a crate and hurl it toward the three of you. The crowd yells and you whip out your saber the howl of the orange blade as it slices through the crate it avoiding hitting the three of you as you continue your pursuit.

The B2 droid jumps onto the front of a moving landspeeder as it screeches to a stop, it grabs a power unit chucking it at you. Din pulls you out of its path before it could flatten you. You three continue after it before R4 appears beside you telling you an alternate path, “Keep going!” You yell before turning down an alleyway and running inside a bar. Dodging a waiter as you rush through the restaurant patrons let out surprised noises seeing a person run through the establishment. You spot the droid appearing before a window and you push up on a table diving through the window and landing on it. Glass litters the ground as you swing your saber out it dodging the droid suited for war swings a metal fist catching you in the face. Your saber is sent flying out of your grasp as you crash to the ground. It advances on you and before you could whip the Darksaber out two shots fill the air before the droid drops to the ground dead.

You sigh seeing Bo-Katan holding her two blasters and soon Din is in front of you as constable droids arrive, “This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene.” You hiss in pain as Din’s hand touches your lip feeling it split.

“You should see the other guy,” You joke to the dead battle droid as he pulls you to your feet shards of glass falling from your body, you had some minute scratches as your saber returns to your hand with the force. Din mumbles under his breath using his cloak to wipe at your bleeding lip, “You’re so reckless you know that?”

“Scold later, I found a spark pad.” Bo-Katan says and you two turn seeing her hold up the pad from the destroyed droid, “What’s it say?” You ask as she reads the inscription,

“The Resistor.” She says and you tilt your head, “Sounds like a droid bar.” Din says and Bo-Katan chuckles flashing the small metal piece.

“And there’s an address.” Leaving the crime scene to find this address while the constable droids deal with the wrecked B2. Walking through an alley following after R4 who leads you to the address.

“Let me do the talking in there.” Bo-Katan says to Din, “Why is that?”

“Because I wanna get the information fast and get to the fleet.” Bo-Katan explains and Din nods, “So do I. What’s your point?” You hear music playing outside the multiple bars and nightclubs that seem to cover this secluded street.

“You kicking droids is really not helpful.” You pipe in and he gives you a look, “I figured out which one was malfunctioning, didn’t I?”

“You did it your way, now let me do it mine, okay? This is the address.” Bo-Katan comments as you enter the building. Music plays as droids chatter amongst themselves with them various droid beverages. It’s dead quiet with your arrival as all the droids look over at you.

“I don’t think they get many of our kind here.” Din comments as you slowly make your way to the bar where there is a bartending droid, “Can I help you?” He asks and Bo-Katan takes charge of this investigation.

“That depends. Is this The Resistor?” She questions and the droid nods, “This is.”

Bo-Katan places the spark pad from the B2 on the bar and the bartender picks it up examining it, “That spark pad was found on a rogue battle droid.”

“We give out lots of spark pads. What are you getting at? The bartender says returning the spark pad and Bo-Katan leans forward pointing at the bartop, “There has been a string of malfunctions that all point to this oil can.”

“You can check my registry. We are in full compliance with Planetary Hierarchical-” “If you don’t start answering questions, I’ll yank your memory circuit and dissect it back at the lab.” Din grabs a tool that sparks electricity aiming it at the droid's face as it is silent you and Bo-Katan look at Din. You see from the corner of your eye a blue protocol droid trying to leave.

“Nobody leaves.” He orders and everyone in the bar is frozen, Bo-Katan grabs his shoulder pulling him, “A word?” Din lets himself be pulled before glaring at the bartender, “Stay where I can see you.” Joining the small huddle Bo-Katan whisper-shouts at him.

“What are you doing?” Din rolls his eyes and you see the movement in his helmet, “You’re wasting your time. You can’t reason with droids.”

“Din, their behavior is programmed. All they do is reason.” You stress but the bounty hunter wasn’t convinced, “They’re also programmed not to harm organics. How’s that going?” He retorts and Bo-Katan pinches the bridge of her nose,

“Look, you are not helping. Just because the malfunctioning droids happen to visit here doesn’t mean that this one is in on it.” She says, “I want to help.” The bartender offers.

“You want me to pull your hearing sensors too?” Din snaps back and you glare at the older man, “Din!”

“We are worried that if these horrible incidents continue, we will be…” The bartender explains before growing silent, “You’ll be what?” Din presses still suspicious.

“There are concerns among my customers that we will be replaced.” The owner explains. “By what?” You ask.

“Humans,” The droid says, “Most of us have been refurbished and reprogrammed. Some droids on Plazir date back to the Separatists. The New Republic would send them to scrap. But here on Plazir, they are given a second chance.”

“Well, these catastrophes don’t help your argument.” Diin retorts and the droid nods, “Exactly. That’s why we need your help. We don’t want to be replaced. We still have a lot to contribute. Human life is so short. They don’t ask that much of us. Organics created us. It’s the least we can do.” Suddenly the droids around you beep in unison agreeing with the bartender’s statement. R4 beeps too bumping against your leg and you pat the atsromech’s head. You’re led to the back office as the bartender droid sits at a desk.

“Do you have a record of what each of the suspects ordered?” Bo-Katan asks and the droid shakes its head “That is not how it works here. There is no selection of beverages as with organics. Here, droids are served Nepenthé.”

“What’s Nepenthé?” You ask the bartender as they pull out a box full of spark pads while flipping through them. “It is a viscous lubricant that protects against mechanical wear while delivering program-refreshing sub-particles.”

“So Nepenthé reprograms the droids that drink here?” You ask thinking you understand, “It patches the programming as the commands of the mainframe change.” Finding the multiple malfunctioned spark pads and scanning them.

“It seems the malfunctioning droids all imbibed from the same batch of Nepenthé.” It observes and the three of you look at each other.

Inside a morgue that was for the malfunctioning droid, the female lab tech opens a drawer revealing the destroyed B2, “These are the remains of the latest malfunctioning droid.” The lab tech withdraws the oil from its system before moving to a larger machine.

“We’re looking for programming sub-particles.” Bo-Katan asks and the woman nods placing the vial into the machine, “Yes. Let me isolate them.” The machine starts spinning as the data beings loading,

“All right, let’s see if they give us a reading. The particles are definitely present.”

“What are the chances that they’re still active?” You ask and suddenly you’re shoved behind a wall by Din as Bo-Katan pulls the lab tech to the ground, “Get down!” The white spherical lab droid spins violently attacking you all with its laser blasters.

“Watch out!” You say to Din unleashing your saber and throwing it at the droid it splits in half the blade returning to your hand as you all try catching your breaths from the sudden attack “They’re still active.” You breathe out as you look at the sparking lab droid. Following the incident, the lab tech brings a small sample of the oil under a microscope,

“These are the sub-particles.” She says before pausing, “Curious…”

“What?” You ask as you see on a screen what the tech was viewing, “They’re actually nano-droids.”

“How did nano-droids get into the Nepenthé?” Bo-Katan asks before you spot some markings on the droids, “What’s that?” You point at the screen, “The striations? Just an aberration in the metal. Probably malleability limitations at this scale.”

“No. It’s writing…” Bo-Katan says and you all notice the few lettering, “Rotate the perspective.” She asks and the lab tech rotates it once analyzed you see the writing, “It’s a chain code.”

“If it has a chain code, then we should be able to determine its point of origin.” You say and the lab tech nods checking out the chain code, “In theory. Let me see what I can find out…Yes, here we are. They were originally manufactured by the Techno Union. Been in cold storage for ages. The chain title says it didn’t arrive on Plazir through Droid Acquisitions. How strange…”

“How did it arrive?” Din asks as the lab tech dives deeper into the chain code, “They were requisitioned by the Security Office.”

“Is that unusual?” You ask and the woman looks back at the three of you, “It’s illegal. There’s no record of this transaction on the government registry. These droids were ordered by an individual.”

“Is there a name?” Bo-Katan asks and the chain code reveals who purchased it.

“Our head of security. Commissioner Helgait.”

You returned to the security office to capture your perpetrator exiting the turbolift seeing Halgait working away on the large console, “Check the cycles of security cameras for any potential irregularities.”

“Commissioner, we have some questions for you.” Bo-Katan calls out as the three of you move towards the man who waves you off, “Sorry, I have to check the data farm for anomalies.”

“We know about the Nepenthé. And the nano-droids. They didn’t malfunction.” Din says, “You programmed them to disrupt and attack. You’re coming with us.” Bo-Katan tells him walking towards him when his hand hovers over the large failsafe button,

“Everyone, freeze! If I trigger this failsafe, it will convert the planet’s docile workforce back into battle droids and unleash them upon the unsuspecting citizens of Plazir! Don’t make me do it.” He yells as Din and Bo-Katan aim their blasters at the man, “There’s no way out, Commissioner. Give yourself up.”

“Give up? I never give up. I didn’t give up to the corrupt Republic, I didn’t give up to the Empire, and I won’t give up to you.” Helgait spits and Bo-Katan frowns, “You’re a Separatist?”

“Separatist is a pejorative term,” Helgait shrugs, “I support democracy. Count Dooku was a visionary. He was cut short in his prime by the Jedi enforcer-” A sharp jab across the back of his skull and Helgait collapses to the ground. Standing behind him is yourself lowering the hilt of your saber. Everyone in the room looks shocked not even seeing you move, even Din and Bo-Katan knowing you were right beside them. Looking at where you stood only see R4.

“Politics.” You say shrugging as Helgait groans in pain. Returning to the festivities with Helgait in tow the Duchess and Captain Bombardier look at the Commissioner confused,

“What are you doing with Commissioner Helgait?” The Duchess questions as Din pushes the man forward, “We found the cause of your malfunctions.”

“Is this true?” The Duchess demands shocked and Helgait nods solemnly, “I’m afraid it is m’lady.”

“Despicable.” Bombardier scoffs and Helgait glares at him, “If that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.” “I beg your pardon.”

“This planet is unrecognizable since he arrived.” Helgait blames the Captain as he breathes deeply, “I had a feeling you hated me.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Commissioner. You served my family well,” The Duchess says before returning to her husband’s side, “But Captain Bombardier is the love of my life. And I know his heart is true. Sure, he’s made some mistakes in the past, but who here among us has not? Is there no room for a little bit of forgiveness in a galaxy so vast?” Helgait looks distraught bowing his head in forgiveness,

“I am sorry to have disappointed you, My Lady. Perhaps someday I can earn such forgiveness from Your Grace.” He begs and the Duchess frowns, “Perhaps. As for now, you must live in exile on the moon of Paraqaat.” A squad of constable droids escorts Helgait away.

The Duchess turns back to the three of you “And as for you, Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, Lady Y/n Kenobi-Kryze, and Din Djarin of Concordia, I grant you an audience with our deployment of Mandalorian privateers,” She turns and grabs an item stepping towards Bo-Katan, “I also give to you both our highest honor, the key to Plazir. You will always be welcome in our domed paradise.” Bo-Katan accepts the gift graciously the three of you bowing to them.

She places Grogu on the ground and then to you, “Come young jedi,” You are a bit surprised before coming forward, “And to this little ones, I grant knighthood.” Your eyes widen slightly as you slowly bend to a knee.

The Duchess is given an elaborate blade, “You are now a knight of the Ancient Order of Independent Regencies.” She says to Grogu before moving to you placing the blade against each of your shoulders, “Though your trials of a jedi are not complete young jedi you will always be a knight in the eyes of Plazir.” You bow your head slightly as Din comes over picking up Grogu, “Go in peace, brave travelers. Until our paths meet again.” You four bid goodbyes and soon you find yourself back in the hyperloop pod.

“Now approaching landing field three.” The automated voice says as your sent zooming toward the fleet. Bo-Katan is silent looking out the window, “They’re Mandalorians. You’re their leader. They’re going to follow you.” Din speaks up and Bo-Katan shakes her head,

“I’m not their leader anymore. Axe Woves is.” You look over at the woman, “Then what’s your play?” You ask and she grows silent once again, “I’ll know when I get there.” Reaching their landing field is a bit of a walk before you come to the fleet, it was impressive the light cruiser and the imperial ships as well. You thought you’d seen a lot of Mandalorians from the covert this was twice as many. The Mandalorians under Woves command grow silent seeing the four of you arrive. You spot Woves sitting on a crate when he spots Bo-Katan as he rises to stand.

“Have you come back to join the mercenaries?” He calls out and Bo-Katan steps forward, “I’ve come to reclaim my fleet.”

“It’s no longer your fleet, is it? I’m now in command and grown quite fond of it.” Woves counters and Bo-Katan nods, “Then I challenge you, one warrior to another. Do you accept my challenge?” It’s silent as you wait for his response,

“I do.”

Woves fire a wrist rocket but Bo-Katan activates her jetpack sending her into the air and charging at Woves, knocking him to the ground with a kick. The two flips over both vibroblades are brought out as they swipe and slash at one another. Bo-Katan seems to get the advantage on Woves throwing him to the ground and disarming his blade. Woves rise charging at the woman with his jetpack the two are sent into the air ramming into a starship. Fists are thrown when Woves catches a fierce punch against her sending her to the floor. Bo-Katan charges him with her jetpack increasing her speed and pulling him into a headlock, “Do you yield?” With a yell, he rockets them on top of a starship. It’s brutal and vicious as they fight when Bo-Katan drags them down to the ground with a whipcord launcher. Woves sends a wave of flames but she blocks the blast with her personal combat shield. Bo-Katan gets the final advantage pinning him to the ground and holding him a knife point

“You’ll never be the true leader of our people. You won’t even take the Darksaber from her. She’s the one you should be challenging.” Woves says his words filled with venom as Bo-Katan presses the blade closer to his neck shaking him, “Enough Mandalorian blood has been spilled by our own hands.” She hisses before releasing him sparing him but is the victor.

“Mandalorians are stronger together.” Bo-Katan speaks to Woves’ followers as Woves rises to stand, “But a child possesses the blade. Followed by a misguided zealot. One, I might add, who has not one drop of Mandalorian blood in his veins.” His words are filled with venom and your blood boils your hand moves to your saber but Din rests a hand on your shoulder calming you down.

“Din Djarin took the Creed and chose to walk the Way, just as our ancestors did,” Bo-Katan defends him, “He is every bit the Mandalorian that they were. Certainly as much as any of us. For Y/n she will be a rightful ruler for Mandalore better than any of us.” You hear the slight pain in her voice and you felt uncomfortable having their eyes on you seeing their young ruler. You were probably the youngest wielder of the Darksaber many adults with much more experience in life than you have. If Bo-Katan meant to control the fleet you would be ruling over this and more. Your hand rest on the Darksaber feeling the weight on your hip, the responsibility too much for someone like you.

“But according to our ways, the ruler of Mandalore must possess the Darksaber.” Woves retorts and Bo-Katan grows silent her weak hand shown. Without the Darksaber she would not fully have their support. The old memories returning now reveal the truth of the true owner of the blade.

“Then she shall have it,” You call out moving towards the woman holding out the hilt, “This belongs to you.”

“It’s not a gift to be given, no matter how well intended.” Bo-Katan shakes her head, she was already gifted the saber once and that led to the fall of their homeworld. “It’s not a gift,” You say before turning to the other Mandalorians

“While exploring Mandalore, I was captured. And this blade was taken from me. Bo-Katan rescued me and slayed my captor. She defeated the enemy that defeated me. Would this blade then not belong to her?” You explain looking at them who remain silent before raising your voice, “Would it not belong to her?”

Woves is silent before nodding having no choice but to agree, “It would.” You move to stand before Bo-Katan holding out the hilt of the weapon, “I return this blade to its rightful owner.” She looks down at you as you hold out the weapon.

“You could still rule Mandalore…” She whispers but you shake your head, “That’s not the life I was meant to live.” You respond and she takes the weapon as you rejoin Din’s side. You watch her look at the weapon before activating it in the presence of the Mandalorians. You had your ruler of Mandalore, you were all going home.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three #clan of three series #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy

Happy Bad Batch Eve! I'm obsessed with the new season but the content isn't coming out fast enough so I felt like I needed to write my own.

Tech's not dead and Crosshair rejoins the team partway through Season 2 after Mayday's death rather than being imprisoned by the Empire, but this is otherwise canon-compliant. No Season 3 spoilers.

While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Chapter One

“We will be landing on the outskirts of the city ruins shortly. Scanners indicate that it is abandoned, but there is an Imperial outpost located ten klicks East, in the next valley over. This should be a relatively simple operation: make our way to the city center, locate the cargo, and return to the Marauder.” Tech was at the controls of the ship as usual, setting them down in an open, overgrown area where the ruins of the city—little more than rubble and scrap now, haphazardly heaped stoneworks and scorched earth where once there had been homes, streets, marketplaces—were fewer and further between. The remaining members of the squad did their final checks of their equipment, adjusting armor and securing weapons as the hatch hissed open. Wrecker was the first out.

“Woah. What happened here?” The largest member of the squad looked around incredulously. The destruction was not recent; a thick layer of soot, grime, and overgrown weeds was evidence of the neglect that the ruins had been left to. It did not seem that anyone was deeply interested in rebuilding.

Tech had the answer, as always. “A particularly destructive battle toward the end of the war. The city was occupied by Separatist forces. Citizens who were unable to evacuate before the droids moved in were held in a makeshift camp on the North side of town. Luckily, this means that many of them made it out alive once the Republic regained the territory. Their homes…were less lucky.”

Crosshair, Hunter, and Echo followed the pair down the ramp. “What cargo could there even be left to recover in all this?” Crosshair asked skeptically. His voice, as usual, dripped equal parts disdain and boredom.

“Cid’s intel says mostly expensive droid parts,” Echo intervened. “The town had a factory. When the Separatists occupied it, they planned to begin shipping the parts off-world to help with production of their army. The Republic moved in too quickly for them; the factory was destroyed, but the crates were being housed underground awaiting cataloging. As far as Cid’s source knows, they’re still there.”

Hunter looked thoughtful. “Anything to worry about with that Imperial outpost, Tech?”

“Doubtful,” the other replied, examining his datapad. “The cargo is not significant enough to merit their attention, and forces are largely dedicated to patrolling a nearby spaceport, where it would seem most of the refugees have relocated.”

Hunter nodded seriously. “Alright then. Crosshair, get a good vantage point on the hilltop where you can keep an eye on us and any activity from the outpost coming our way. Everybody else, let’s locate that cargo.”

Their forces divided, the rest of the squad beginning to pick their way among the ruins toward the city center, while the slender sniper hiked in the opposite direction. The hills were dotted with trees—not heavily forested, but enough cover for him to dig in and wait. Soon, he crested the peak, settling in at a good vantage point where he could watch the outpost in the middle distance through his scope. Activities at the facility were regular and rhythmic; troopers on patrol, units coming and going from the nearby spaceport. Nothing extraordinary.

“In position. All clear,” he reported over his comm.

“Acknowledged,” came Hunter’s reply. With any luck, the others would retrieve the cargo within a number of hours. He waited, patient and disinterested. He was good at waiting.

Some time later, his comm crackled to life again with a status update. “Cargo located.” It was his turn to acknowledge their progress. For a brief moment, he thought idly about whether he preferred missions like this one—smooth, uncomplicated, if a little boring—or those where everything seemed to go right to shit. At least, he smirked to himself wryly, the latter required more significant use of his skills.

When he heard the screeching sound of failing engines and saw the dark plume of smoke trailing behind the ship on its downward trajectory, all he could think was that the galaxy must have been listening in on him.

It crashed down northeast of his position, the impact of the wreckage echoing out across the valley. The response on his comm came through almost immediately.

“What the hell was that, Crosshair?”

“Downed Imperial shuttle. Drawing attention from the outpost now. Get moving.”

“Well, with any luck that’ll keep them occupied long enough for us to get outta here. Stay outta sight,” Hunter replied. Crosshair shifted his scope from the troopers mobilizing at the outpost toward the crash site, just in time to see a woman emerge from the ship, coughing in the smoke. He had expected a detachment of troopers to come stumbling from the wreckage, not a lone woman. She was human, silver haired, staring back at the shuttle with a look halfway between rage and despair. She slammed her fist against the ship’s hull in frustration, and he smirked a little as she winced, rubbing her hand in pain. She ducked back into the ship, emerging momentarily, pulling a poncho over her head as she strapped a blaster to her hip and pulled on a pack.

He scanned the area around her as she began marching south from the crash, glancing furtively in all directions. She was heading on a trajectory that would intersect any moment with two troopers on speeder bikes. She was moving too slowly, limping a little. This should be interesting, he thought dryly. He was sure the Empire were very welcoming to unauthorized crash landings of stolen shuttles near their facilities.

When the woman and the troopers came face to face, he could only imagine the dialogue accompanying the silent pageant he could see through his scope. The woman slowly raised both hands, throwing a flattering, charming smile at the troopers. She thought she could talk her way out of it, he reasoned. So the flash of the blaster bolt caught him by surprise when she snaked one of her hands behind her head, grabbing a concealed weapon off her shoulder, and fired off a shot.

“Is that blaster fire, Crosshair?!” Hunter demanded over the comm.

“Not mine,” he replied calmly.

“Then who?!”

The round had caught one of the troopers in the chest, toppling him off the speeder bike. The woman took advantage of the confusion to dive for cover behind a tree, exchanging fire with the remaining trooper. What she couldn’t see, of course, were the other half dozen Imperials making their way toward her position. Any moment now, she’d be surrounded.

“Status?” Crosshair queried over the comm.

“Making our way back to the Marauder.”

The woman managed to get a good shot in on the remaining trooper, and he toppled to the ground. However, just as she made a dash for the speeder bikes, two green bolts flashed by, wrecking her getaway vehicles and forcing her to dive once more, losing the smaller blaster. She recovered quickly, unholstering the larger piece at her hip and taking shots at the oncoming troopers as she ran for cover again. It was pointless, he thought. She didn’t stand much chance of escape, alone, on foot. Not this close to the outpost.

From his vantage point, he could see the troopers fanning out, boxing her in. She had the hillside to her back; the elevation would slow down her retreat, even if she could keep up enough cover fire to out-maneuver the speeder bikes. And—the only part that mattered to him—she ran the risk of drawing Imperial attention to the adjoining valley before they finished loading up the marauder.

However, before he could further consider the implications of her retreat, he saw her move to fire off another shot from around her cover. In the brief moment she was exposed, a blaster bolt from one of the troopers clipped her side, propelling her forcefully to the ground. She was close enough for him to hear her strangled cry at the hit, echoing out against across the valley. She scrabbled backwards in the dirt, blaster thrown out of reach. One of the troopers swung off his speeder bike, approaching her slowly as he took aim. They weren’t planning on taking her prisoner. He couldn’t hear whatever words they exchanged, just see the snarl on the woman’s face before her features calmed, peaceful, as she closed her eyes before the inevitable.

Crosshair dispatched the trooper closest to her, expertly, just before the Imperial could squeeze to pull the trigger. He followed it up with three more in rapid succession, the troopers falling dead before they could hope to locate the sniper’s position or find cover. The final two, he saw with some surprise, were caught off guard by the woman, who had managed to crawl over to her lost blaster in the confusion.

She was attempting to limp her way over to one of the abandoned speeder bikes when he caught up to her.

“Stay back,” she warned him, eyes glinting as she aimed her blaster at him.

“Are you even sure you could ride one of those things by yourself right now?” He drawled back at her.

“Of course I can,” she snapped. As if to prove it to him, she gripped the handle of the first one she came to with her left hand, knuckles white, right hand steady as she kept her blaster trained on his chest. She swung her leg and mounted the bike. He watched her grip on the handle loosen as the shock and pain caught up to her, her eyes rolling back in her head as she collapsed.

#the bad batch #star wars #clone wars fanfiction #clone force 99 #bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x oc

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opalpearl86 · 4 months

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Bound by Honor

Chapter 1: Unexpected Heat

In the bustling city of New Earth, where humans and extraterrestrial beings coexisted, lived a young woman named Amelia. She had always been fascinated by the stars and the mysteries of the universe. Little did she know that her life was about to take an extraordinary turn.

Amelia's life changed when she encountered a wounded Yautja warrior named Kael. The Yautja, a race of formidable hunters, were known for their strength and honor. Despite their initial differences, Amelia and Kael formed an unlikely bond, and he became her protector and confidant.

As time passed, Amelia discovered that Yautja warriors had a unique biological trait. Once a year, they entered a state known as "heat," where their primal instincts took over. During this time, they sought a compatible mate to fulfill their biological needs. It was a crucial period for Yautja society, as it ensured the continuation of their species.

Chapter 2: The Awakening

One fateful evening, as Amelia and Kael sat in their small apartment, a strange restlessness filled the air. Kael's eyes glowed with an intensity she had never seen before. His body language became more primal, and his scent changed, becoming intoxicatingly alluring.

Amelia, being an afab reader, had heard tales of the Yautja heat but had never experienced it firsthand. She knew that Kael's instincts were taking over, and she had to find a way to help him through this challenging time.

Chapter 3: The Omega-Verse

Amelia delved into her research, seeking answers to the mysteries of the Yautja heat. She discovered that in Yautja society, there were different roles assigned to individuals during this time. Some were known as "alphas," who were dominant and sought a mate. Others were "omegas," who were more submissive and desired to be claimed.

Amelia realized that she fell into the omega category, and her heart skipped a beat. She had always been drawn to Kael, but now she understood the depth of their connection. She knew that she had the power to help him through this challenging period.

Chapter 4: Bound by Honor

With newfound knowledge, Amelia approached Kael, her heart pounding in her chest. She explained the concept of the omega-verse and how she believed they were destined to be together during his heat. Kael, though initially confused, listened intently, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and gratitude.

Bound by honor, Kael accepted Amelia's offer to be his omega. Together, they embarked on a journey of passion and discovery, exploring the depths of their desires and emotions. Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, as they navigated the complexities of Yautja biology and human emotions.

Chapter 5: Episodic Adventures

As their love deepened, Amelia and Kael faced numerous challenges. They encountered prejudice from both human and Yautja societies, who struggled to understand their unique relationship. However, they remained steadfast in their commitment to each other, determined to prove that love transcended boundaries.

Their episodic adventures took them across the galaxy, from the bustling streets of New Earth to the untamed wilderness of Yautja homeworlds. Together, they fought against injustice, protected the innocent, and forged a path of acceptance for their love.

Chapter 6: A New Beginning

After a year of intense passion and growth, Kael's heat finally subsided. The bond between Amelia and Kael had transformed them both, leaving an indelible mark on their souls. They had defied societal norms and found solace in each other's arms.

As they stood on the precipice of a new beginning, Amelia and Kael knew that their love was a testament to the power of acceptance and understanding. They had proven that love could conquer all, even in the face of adversity.

Bound by honor, Amelia and Kael continued their journey, side by side, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Their love story, born amidst the stars, would forever be etched in the annals of history, a beacon of hope for all who dared to follow their hearts.

And so, their extraordinary tale of love and adventure continued, as they embraced the unknown, hand in hand, ready to face the universe together.

#yautja x female reader #predator franchise #yautja x reader #yautja #yautja x human #omegaverse #yautja lover #predator

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therenlover · 7 months

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Slain (Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo/Vampire!Reader)

Chapter One: No Compasses, No Signs

Synopsis: The world undergoes change. Helmut Zemo finds new residence and perspective on his journey for revenge.

Tags: Vampire!AU, Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo, Slow Burn, Blood Drinking, Manipulation, Everyone Is Morally Grey, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Rating: E (+18) For Later Chapters, Minors DNI

Warnings: Mild Gore, Minor Mentions of Child Death

Word Count: 9,900~

--------------

Her lips were a breath away from his neck, fangs bared, when his weapon found purchase in her heart. She settled there a while, leaning closer into him and the great bolt of wood that sat between them. He stilled as she did.

One last shuddering breath escaped her lips. “Thank you, Helmut,” It was more than that, though. A confession of love hid itself within her words.

Helmut grimaced. Not this. Not now.

Before there was even a moment to reconsider, he wrenched the stake free and brought it down again, and again, and again, and again… Better to make sure the job gets done than leave her to suffer.

He walked from that room into the daylight an untethered man. The hunt was just beginning, though.

Every inch of the floor sat soaked red in his wake.

———

Sokovia was always most beautiful in the autumn.

It was a timeless place, or at least that’s what all the brochures had said. After spending the morning exploring old-growth forests or quaint villages, a three-hour car ride could take you straight into the city, filled with modern Sokovian culture and art. The capital city of Novi Grad was bursting at the seams with theaters, galleries, museums, historical districts, and Michelin-rated restaurants serving farm-to-table cuisine: anything you craved on an international vacation, you could find it there. Students the world over chose the Sokovian National University over all others across Europe and the globe for its arts department. People thrived there.

At least they had.

Now the theaters that still stood sat empty, never to play another film or host another symphony. Museums were looted, restaurants burned, and the university, with a campus several hundred years old, turned to dust as Novi Grad disappeared off the map forever. The bricks that had once built a nation came crumbling down in one final, fatal blow. In the span of one night, the history of the whole country was lost forever.

Some things still remained, though; things older than even Sokovia had been.

Helmut Zemo just had to find them.

There was no map to follow towards his prize. There had been once, an ancient thing that sat rolled up tight in a glass case on his father’s desk for all his life. It had been there, untouched, in every memory Helmut had of that office. He imagined his father and grandfather had similar memories there, looking up at the very same desk and pondering the stiff, crumbling parchment above. Not anymore, though. There would be no more young Zemos to gaze up at that sturdy oak desk. It had been found crushed beneath the rubble of their ancestral home.

In fact, there wouldn’t be any more young Zemos at all.

Carl had been found crushed in that rubble too.

It was better that way. He had met a nobler fate than most Sokovian citizens had. Still…

Sometimes it was better not to dwell on things like that.

Helmut’s father hadn’t had much time to teach him the ways of the family before his passing, but some things came with time and the rest could be gleaned from superstition.

Silver, for example, was plentiful across their vast collection of heirlooms. Those trinkets had become incredibly useful to melt down for bullets and crossbow bolts when he started to hunt. Much more helpful, though, was the fact that the furniture in their homes was often made of fine wood, and some of those handcrafted bedposts and coat racks, when twisted just so and pulled at the socket, would reveal a perfectly sharpened end hidden within.

Those stakes had come in handy.

And even if there hadn’t been any childhood lessons on how to slaughter a creature soundlessly in the darkness of the night, Helmut had learned plenty about that in the Sokovian special forces.

After months of little revelations, his preparations were long past done. Now the only thing left to do was follow his father’s footsteps.

Surviving the journey was a secondary priority.

Helmut didn’t need his family’s map to know exactly where to seek the first of his quarries. He had heard tales of her for his whole life in nursery rhymes and whispered childhood stories.

Women, children, and wandering folk with pure hearts couldn’t be led astray, but if a man with a guilty mind followed the Behnit River, he might just get lost. Thankfully, Helmut had that part covered. Once lost, the poor soul would trek through the winding Sokovian mountain passes, traveling far beyond the shadow of Mount Wundagore until he came across a forest of fog. If the man wandered the forest long enough, evading the great beasts that lurked there, he would find the castle of the Grey Lady.

Anyone foolish enough to seek her there would see the face of death.

Now, Helmut Zemo was not afraid of death. He had been intimately acquainted with it from birth as had twelve generations before him. Ever since his father’s head arrived home on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, shipped neatly in an ice-packed crate and wrapped with a red ribbon, the abyss was attached to him like a lover. Not even his wife or child could escape that cruel mistress’s clutches. Without anything left to lose, Helmut found himself in only death’s company.

Even now, as he wandered the abandoned villages and barren fields of the country he once called home in search of the Grey Lady, he spent his time slaughtering the last stragglers of Ultron’s army and putting any live victims out of their misery before they turned. Neither tended to last long once they were starved, but a few stubborn bastards held on. He liked to think of it as a mercy when he drove his stake through their skulls.

Death walked beside him like a friend, and Helmut didn’t fear his friends.

They feared him.

That suited him just fine.

To be fair, not everything was bad here. The Behnit flowed through fields of flowers and fruiting trees where all manner of soft, warm, innocent creatures slept, untouched by the horrors of modern civilization. Helmut slept among them unnoticed. He sustained himself off of their sacrificial charity.

Another silver lining: the longer he traveled along the riverbank the less it seemed to rain, which was appreciated. His coat kept him warm and the stars kept him company. The autumn leaves seemed just as beautiful as they were advertised to be in the travel brochures he used to wipe his ass on the trail.

He had pitched his tent for the night in a cluster of boulders by the pebbled shore. The greatest of the stones were still jagged from where a slowly dying glacier rended the earth and left a river its wake. Still, they were softened somewhat by moss and time.

When Helmut woke that morning, emerging from the boulder’s shadows, the once open field that had surrounded the river the night before had been replaced with more trees than could be counted. Thick morning fog rolled in from the water’s edge. Visibility was at almost zero. There were just trees and trees and trees and nothing.

It was exactly as he thought it would be.

So he packed up his tent, tucked it away in his bag, and freed his wicked, silver blade from its holster- another heirloom coming in handy. Its weight rested naturally in his hand. Then, he walked on.

Thus began the first leg of Helmut Zemo’s journey towards revenge.

———

Black blood splattered against the cobbles as my ringed fingers slammed into the younger man’s cheekbone again.

It pooled in the stones’ creases; a thick, stinking ichor that clung to my jewelry and my skin as it continued to dribble down from his face and body. I couldn’t help but lick a stray droplet from my lips.

He wasn’t quite broken yet. It wouldn’t take much longer, though. My hunger could wait until then.

The pathetic creature stood his ground in the corner of the darkened stable as his eyes darted about to search for an escape route.

There were none. I had made sure of that. There was only me and the sturdy walls behind him. Nowhere to go but down.

As expected, he sunk to his knees after just one more sharp hit to the cheek.

I allowed my hand to linger for a moment. It may have been cruel, but I didn’t care to think too much about it. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

His red eyes glinted with tears. Slowly, he nodded.

“What is your name,” I asked.

“Pietro,”

“Pietro,” I repeated the word on my ancient tongue, feeling each syllable roll over the muscle. A strong name. Sokovian. I brought myself down to his level, resting on the balls of my feet before him. My fingers danced along his skin. “How did you receive the gift?”

“Please, I don’t kn-”

His voice shuddered and stalled as one of my pointed nails slowly began to dig into the cold meat of his cheek and more sticky blackness coated my fingers.

I smiled right through it despite the growing unease in my stomach. Maybe a gentle hand would be more helpful…

“You do know, Pietro, even if you don’t think you do. Don’t you want to tell me? To get this over with?” My voice was sickly sweet. The dank stall, once reeking of stale piss and rot, began to match my cloying tone. The air grew thick with a dizzying perfume and Pietro’s stiff posture softened at the first breath of it. All at once his eyes swam with not fear, but relief. He wanted to make me happy now. Nothing would make him feel better than following my command. It almost made me want to vomit more, if I were capable of it.

The words came soft and dreamlike from his trembling mouth. “Novi Grad, at the university. My friend was a student. We were walking back from the bars to meet my sister and a man was waiting in the alley… oh god. No.” Pietro shook his head. His pulse began to speed. “I ate him. I ate Paul. The man attacked us and Paul tried to run and I- I ate him!”

His story was sad but unhelpful.

My voice stayed even despite his hyperventilation. It was best to keep him calm for both our sakes. “Who changed you, Pietro? Who was that man?”

The air grew heavy around us both, blanketing him in warmth and pleasant feelings from all sides. It was calm. It was safe. It was all a deception.

Pietro leaned into my touch like a young, blind animal searching for his mother and I hated to admit it stirred something more in me than nausea. Whatever it had awoken, and I didn’t care to find out, it was bringing out my mercy. Death no longer waited for him at the first wrong move. I sat quietly at his side, smearing dark blood across his hair as I stroked it without meaning to; a small comfort. Absent tears dripped from his empty eyes.

After a long while, Pietro decided he was ready to speak again.

“He said he was a friend of Stark… that he would change the world,”

My voice came in a low sigh. “Starks always think they will,”

I had known. Even if I hadn’t been absolutely certain, it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling his scent brought on. If I wasn’t in so much denial I could have guessed as much the second even a drop of Pietro’s blood hit my lips. He was of my own flesh in a way, however diluted by distance and time. I had tasted it in him. There was a flavor only attributable to myself under his chemical bitterness and the musk of wet dog.

Slowly, I let my hand slip away from his face and stood, kicking at a pile of rotting straw on my way up.

Pietro drooped further into the corner. His sandy hair covered enough of his face that I couldn’t tell if he was still crying or not. “I was just so hungry,” he breathed, “I couldn’t even think, I just kept eating them. All of them. Anyone I could catch. I was just… so hungry,”

“Are you still hungry,” I asked.

The stable went silent.

He nodded. “I’m starving,”

It was a huge risk, and a stupid one too. I hadn’t taken on a familiar since the 1800’s. It had been much longer than that since I’d created a thrall or spawn, and this… this was much more complex in new and different ways. He was not mine, even if he shared traces of my disease in his blood. Whatever hybrid monstrosity he was—I was almost certain he contained something other than the vampiric curse I bore—it meant he could not be controlled by force as a young spawn could. Pietro would instead need to be tamed to be trusted, much like the legacies of wolves that dwelled alongside me in my woods.

Pietro didn’t look particularly defiant, though. Keeping him leashed to my side couldn’t be that difficult. Besides, the idea of having some company wasn’t a completely unpleasant thought.

In fact, I rather liked it.

I approached him again like I would have approached a wounded animal, undoing button after button on the sleeve of my coat and exposing the smooth flesh of my forearm. It was an offering. An olive branch. He swallowed hard.

“I will not give you this gift lightly Pietro but I am in a particularly giving mood. You only need to answer one more question, and this can all be over. Do you wish to pay penance for your hunger? Or do you wish to die?”

His body trembled as the pungent reek of fear took over the room once again. My glamour had worn off well before. It was only fair to let him make this choice with all of his mind in his own hands. “What are you doing?” He asked. His accent trembled on every syllable.

“I’m offering you a choice,” I replied. “You weren’t given the luxury of choosing what you have become, but now you can choose what you do with it. We’re similar, you and I. We’ve made mistakes. I know from firsthand experience that one needs to learn to control this curse or die before it kills them in the ways that matter, and you don’t look dead to me. At least, not yet. So what would you prefer, Pietro? How does this end?”

Pietro gulped. His shaking hands were fisted in the soft cotton of his dirty AC/DC t-shirt. “I don’t want to die,”

My face relaxed into a soft smile. That would do just fine.

“Then drink,”

He attacked my wrist like a mad dog. It didn’t even feel like a pinch as his teeth ripped into my skin.

Cool, red blood flooded his mouth in an unholy communion, and, in that moment, I could have been his god.

Pietro ate like an animal.

It was clear that nobody had guided him when he was created. No one had sat at his side as he fed for the first time, showing him just where to put his teeth or how to keep things from getting messy. Of course he’d had to kill to eat. There were no lessons on where the major veins and arteries lay: which ones were deadly, which could be pierced and healed, how to heal them… It was a damn shame. He could have been so much more than an animal.

Now, blood splashed wildly from his mouth as he tried to swallow as much as he could, ripping with his new, sharp molars to try to coax more viscera into his throat. I pitied his lack of understanding. He could barely feed himself, even off of my near-endless supply.

That being said, his desperation was almost cute.

He drank his fill of me until his eyes glazed over. As a fed man, he was flushed with life again, breathing deeply and gaining color in his pallid complexion with every breath. From the looks of it, a few more hours without a meal would’ve killed him before I could. When he finally detached from my wrist there wasn’t a hint of guilt or shame or fear in his eyes. Instead, they reflected pure satiation into the darkness. His look promised gratitude. Servitude.

I released a cold huff of breath into the air. “Full?”

Pietro replied shortly, wiping his mouth with the butt of his palm. “Yeah, much better,”

“Good,”

His eyes darted to the wound he’d left. “Are you ok?” He asked. For all of his previous boldness, he now refused to meet my eyes.

It didn’t matter much to me, but I shrugged, examining the previously mangled flesh. “No harm done.”

Pietro gaped at the improvement. My skin was already knitting itself back together, though it was working a bit slower than usual. I needed to feed soon myself.

Strong with a fresh supply, his pulse beat hard enough in his jugular that I could watch it pulse from half a meter away. More thoughts sparked behind my eyes.

Well… it couldn’t hurt.

I needed far less than he did to keep myself running. It would only take one bite. One big mouthful. One swallow. I had given him far more than that, so it shouldn’t leave him wanting in the least.

“Would you do me a favor, Pietro?” Using his name was a manipulation. The air grew thick again with the scent of pear blossoms and juicy, dripping stone fruits. “The first step towards controlling your new form,”

“Anything,”

The graphic on his t-shirt was soaked with blood and bits of ripped vein.

“Give me your neck,”

It wasn’t a question. Instead, I found myself demanding access to him.

The worst part was he followed me blindly, even with his own understanding of what it meant to feed. Pietro tilted his chin to the sky as if he might begin to wail at the moon and waited. Not a muscle moved as he waited for brutality.

I didn’t quite know what to do with him anymore. He was filled with too many unexpected surprises.

This man, barely more than a boy, was an abomination, a scientific marvel, living and dead all at once. He never should have been thrust into his creation, but abomination or not he would satiate the hunger that gnawed at every cell in my body better than any other source of blood at my disposal. His blood, however tainted, was warm beneath his skin. It called to me like the predator I was made to be.

As I moved in for the bite, though, his eyes met mine again despite the obvious effort he was taking to close them and imagine he was anywhere else. I found a new terror overwhelming him there. Something even more ancient than I was sat deep in the dilated pits of his pupils, like a pig finally understanding his purpose as the axe began to drop. I had seen it more times than I wanted to count: The looks they gave when it was too late to squeal or run. Fear, understanding, and acceptance of the end. It was the place they went when there was nowhere left to go as they waited for the slaughter. I could stomach it in animals, a needed sacrifice to sustain myself, but to see it in the eyes of one so much like me, his eyelashes wet with blood and tears… I saw my own face looking back at me.

Slowly, deliberately, I guided his head back to its front-facing position, patting his unscathed cheek with a cool but soft hand. “You passed the test, now go to the house. Find somewhere comfortable. I’ll meet you there,”

I wasn’t that hungry anyways.

Pietro sat still for a moment, eyes shifting warily from wall to wall, but as soon as he realized there were no more instructions to wait for he scrambled to his feet, bolting from the stables almost on his hands and knees until he managed to keep his balance. In a moment’s time, he was shoving his way out the door. Every few seconds, though, he would look back at me until he couldn’t manage to keep me in his sights.

He still reeked of fear.

Good. It was best for him to fear me. I would rather keep him in line with fear than with pain, and we weren’t here to make friends. Things would be better this way.

Brushing wet straw from the thick leather of my day pants, I rose to follow, leaving the bloody stall behind me. I only paused long enough to spare a look towards the piles of rotting, ichorous bodies packed into the adjacent stalls from the months and weeks before. It would need to be dealt with eventually, but not tonight. I continued into the gloom, locking the door to the stables on my way out.

There was more important work to do.

———

Pietro adapted to my solitary life far better than I could’ve expected him to.

He mostly kept himself entertained, never lingering too long in my presence, not that he should want to. There was very little of mutual interest between the two of us anyway outside of mealtimes. Still, I kept a close eye on him, from a distance of course.

The garden had become his main refuge, and that suited me just fine. It had gone neglected for a while anyway. Having a hobby would help him adapt to his new life more smoothly, and hey, a little uninformed TLC at his hands couldn’t possibly hurt the plants that had already survived generations' worth of being harvested but otherwise ignored.

When he wasn’t scrounging around the loamy dirt, Pietro spent his days patrolling the grounds. He had probably seen more of the expansive property in the past weeks than I had in the past decade. It was a stark reminder of what a homebody I’d become in the past hundred years.

Every night, when the gardening and patrolling was done, he would trot back to his seat at the dinner table, right beside my own at the head, and share his informal report on the events of his day. Once it had been news of the wolves he’d befriended, then a broken fountain that needed repair, then a deer caught in a fence. I figured this was his way of earning his keep, even if I had never asked him to. I had barely done more than feed and house him since his arrival. No progress had been made on controlling his power. His proverbial leash grew longer each day I refused to put in the time (and effort) to discipline him.

It would be so easy for him to slip away

I had no more control over him than I did over the weather. If he truly wanted to, Pietro could have run off into the mist the second I let him out of that stable, escaping to whatever fate awaited him outside the bubble of my protection. There was no glamour, no psychic energy compelling him to stay. It would be as easy as him making the choice and enacting a plan.

Still, he came back each night like a hound with a rabbit in his teeth, sometimes literally. We shared the details of his day over light, meaningless conversations each dinner time until he fed from my wrist once more and shuffled off to rest.

Despite everything, the time I spent with Pietro in the evenings was the most fun I’d had in ages.

Not that I’d ever admit that. There was still a certain air of decorum and fear-based respect that hung between the two of us and I refused to bridge the gap. He was my ward, after all. Or… manservant? No, he didn’t do enough around the interior of our home to warrant the title. Housemate indirectly threatened with death upon his departure? Whatever. The semantics of what he was to me were unimportant. What he wasn’t was a friend or equal. I lorded above him in every way: age, knowledge, sheer supernatural power. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to pretend we were closer than tentative acquaintances.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t privately relish in the meals we shared, though, and the brief bits of humanity he coaxed out of me somehow with his presence. Our quiet companionship would perfectly toe the line to keep him respectful but less fearful. At least, I hoped so.

It would be painfully miserable to be alone again now that I’d remembered what it was like not to be.

My own days hadn’t changed much, with the exception of my evening meals. Dawn was spent in the animal pens. I fed and watered the pigs and chickens and lambs before taking their offerings: the sheep were sheared on seasonal rotation, the chickens laid in the mornings, and every once in a while, a pig would grow round and tired enough to be culled. Mostly I would toss anything slaughtered and drained to the wolves to keep them happy, but on occasion, I’d leave with a lamb of my own to quench my unending thirst. Not often these days. Instead, I supplemented my diet with wine in the hopes that, eventually, I could overcome my hunger entirely. It hadn’t happened yet. I hadn’t given up hope.

Once the beasts were tended, the rest of the day was spent curled up in one nook or another attempting to pass the hours with whatever useless activity was available. If I stayed put too long, I had learned my flesh would begin to petrify, so I forced myself into monotonous, limited activities each day. Recently that meant embroidery, which made its way into the rotation once every few decades. Before that, I’d organized the library alphabetically by the author’s names (before it had been by book title), taken up oil painting until I ran out of paint, and spent a small stint attempting to design my own clothes for the hundredth time. It turned out as well as it always had. That was to say, every single design was awful and/or impossible to sew with the materials at my disposal. Even the garden Pietro loved so much had once been a time-sink to keep me from turning to stone. After almost a thousand years, though, nothing kept my attention long.

Nothing new was left to discover here. On rare occasions, a new hobby would arrive on the body of an interloper, like the Game Boy with its drained batteries that sat next to my bed, but even those didn’t take long to break or lose their novelty.

Besides, visitors had become a rarity as soon as cars and highways came into fashion.

Who would spend their days wandering down old forest paths when they could take their new vehicle down a well-mapped road instead? It was quicker, cheaper, safer- and then came the airplanes and the busses and the high-speed rails. By my nine-hundred and eighty-seventh year of immortal life, I was lucky to get a lost hiker at my door once or twice a year that the wolves didn’t shred before I found them.

Things changed for a bit after the world shook. Suddenly, it seemed as though there was a wave of new bodies wandering the wood every dusk and dawn. No companionship could be found with those maddened newborn creatures. They were like only one man-made monster I had ever witnessed, almost seventy-five years before, but they were mindless with the endless tug of their starvation, an unprecedented side effect of their disease. Always so hungry. Few retained any scraps of humanity by the time they made it to me, sunburnt and emaciated and so very confused.

After a while, though, even they became rare. It was as if they had all been sent in a great burst before whatever event that bore them was over. The whole situation concerned me. I wondered if they weren’t coming to me anymore, where were they going? There must have been more of them than the ones who had come to my door. If this hadn’t been an attack on my home, organized to finally rid me of my life, why were they created? And if so many had made it as far as my castle, what had become of Sokovia? I feared I would never get an answer.

Pietro was the last.

I couldn’t have known it when I spared him, but no more followed in his footsteps. He himself had arrived almost a month after the young man who came before, and he had taken a few weeks to find me after the one before him. Then, after Pietro, there was nothing. If he hadn’t been spared, I would never have known of Ultron, or the children he sired to prove himself to Stark, or the bomb Stark had dropped to rid the world of the vampiric plague that would descend upon it.

Maybe it was the renewed scarcity that made me pause when I first saw him stumbling through the bushes. That split second of indecision before I gutted him on sight, was it curiosity or loneliness? Or was it luck? Whatever it was, and I didn’t care to dig too deeply into any of my feelings on the matter, I was glad for it.

The pair of us kept each other company. Fog rolled in each morning and the moon glowed full each night and the world kept turning, but things were new now. The same china and linen and dining table I had stared at for hundreds of years seemed to have new detail in it every day.

We had peace.

Until the morning Pietro came wailing through the study doors with that mangled wolf in his arms.

“There’s a man!” He gasped, blood running down his front and into the deep auburn of the rug at his feet. The poor thing was long dead. From a few feet away I could tell it had gone quickly to whatever had felled it. Even still, Pietro’s eyes were wild with something more than fear at the sight of the corpse’s state. “He-“

I cut him off, rising from my chair. “Where,”

His eyes darted to the dripping gash in the wolf’s neck.

“The front walk,” he said, “I didn’t see much of him, just a shadow, but he’s armed with something bad, something that felt wrong. There are more dead too, too many to carry, but I thought she might make it. I thought I could fix her,” Pietro was babbling now, talking faster than he could even rationally think. It was evident that he had never seen a slaughter like this. At least, he had never seen a slaughter like this without a driving bloodlust that would drown out every thought other than hunger. A slaughter that wasn’t his own to make.

I crossed the room to him. “Watch the house,”

“But-”

My eyebrow raised. I was chillingly calm, tutting at him softly. “Do you think I am incapable of defending my own home?”

“No, no, but he’s just… I… how can I help you?”

Despite his fear, Pietro still so desperately wanted to do what was helpful. His moral compass was strong. I appreciated it. He was already making progress all on his own. I didn’t need him though, not for whatever awaited me in the woods. There were few people who had any knowledge of my location, and fewer still who would be able to enter and hold their own against my defenses. Knowing what I knew of Ultron, I was prepared for my feud with the Starks to come to an end. Besides, he would just be a liability, a clear weakness in my rock-solid strong persona. He was still too young.

Teeth bared, I let out a soft growl. “Like I said, watch the house. That is how you can help me, just in case someone else attempts to enter while I’m distracted,” I gestured towards the door into the greater hall outside. “Eat, then keep watch. I would only judge you if you wasted her body. If I need you, I’ll whistle,”

“How will I hear you from so far?”

“I have my ways,”

Without waiting for confirmation, I started my warpath towards the front of the house, leaving the sounds of sloppy tearing in my wake.

———

As soon as I was out the doors I could feel him at the end of the walk, but it wasn’t until he had broken the tree line, several hundred yards away, that he noticed me waiting for him.

Not a word was exchanged. That blurry body on the horizon shifted, reached back, postured, and- snap.

One soaring arrow cut through the air and found its target in my chest.

He wanted violence? I would give him violence. It had been so long since I had someone to toy with, someone who had the capability to even try to resist the toolbox of horrors that my nature had lent me. I grinned. This was a game, and I was a sore loser when my life laid on the line.

Time turned to mist in my grasp.

All at once, I was acutely aware of the bolt that had shredded through the shoulder of my coat. It stayed embedded there, the tip jutting out just below my shoulder blade, but the shaft sat too high, missing my heart by a significant margin. Stoney flesh burned all the way through the wound. When I tried to send a tendril of energy through the tunneled muscle, it fizzled out and died.

The damn tip was silvered.

This was a clever one; more than just another mindless, bloodthirsty drone in search of a throat to rip. This man had knowledge. He was a craftsman. A hunter.

My revenge awaited.

With a speed that defied the laws of the natural world, I greeted my opponent.

I moved with the wind. Every molecule of my body sang as I pulled them apart and brought them together at will, drifting over his shoulder in an amorphous cloud of smoke. Blood thrummed under his skin like thunder even if he could not actively comprehend my presence.

He was mortal.

I could feel the loose amalgam that made up my mouth almost watering at the sheer feeling of a human pulse so close to me, however slowed in the wake of my speed. Every bit of him was lean muscle, too, wrapped up in leather and military-issue kevlar. It would rip like butter under my predator’s teeth. He didn’t know that, though. In his mind, he was blissfully protected from the things that went bump in the night.

A quick scan with the looser edges of my cloudy form revealed that, despite his silver weapons, he wore none of the metal on his person.

This man may have been a hunter, but he was also a fool. He wasn’t a Stark, either. No, he smelled wrong, not a note of wolfish musk surrounded him besides the stench of dead dog in his wake. A wild card, then. Or something I couldn’t quite recognize without my nose all put together.

Plum, perhaps.

A sword, silvered like his crossbow bolts, was strapped high on his hip, but it didn’t take much maneuvering to undo the clip and send the blade clattering to the ground. Next came the crossbow itself. Taking something from the man’s hands was a little trickier, but nothing was beyond my grasp, especially when I unleashed this power. Usually, it was kept close to my chest. It was a secret truth I couldn’t even burden myself to recognize. I was ancient. I was so much more than any living soul could be forced to comprehend, I was-

The seal on the crossbow caught my eye. A badger posed regal, gnawing on the snake in its dripping teeth. My snake. Their crest.

Oh.

The game had just become so much more fun.

I felt the air, bringing my nose together enough to sniff at it. I had to be certain. There could be no mistakes if it was who I knew it had to be. And it was: It was like a perfume I could never quite wash out, a song that always resided in the back of my head, as familiar as my own name after all of the years I had known it. Maybe, just maybe, I knew it better than my own scent.

He was a Zemo.

Twelve generations I had killed over that stupid attempt at a takeover to expand their barony. Twelve fathers of twelve sons, each more horrid and twisted than the last, had willingly walked into the lion’s den on the eve of their eldest son’s 18th year to fulfill their end of a bargain struck by the first of them all in the hope to spare their bloodline from total annihilation in my wake. One by one they sought me out of their own free will. Every time they believed they would improve on the failings of the last, finally besting me, but their pride was their fall. They were cocky and stupid enough to think they knew enough to defeat me.

Every single son had died for their gall.

They didn’t have to. If one had simply disobeyed or learned mercy, I would have let them go without a second thought. It wasn’t as if I could leave this forest to find them. Nothing compelled them besides their own hubris.

And now, the thirteenth was there to take his place at the grave.

This was wrong, though. An unshakeable feeling gripped my mind more than even my rage at the damned bloodline before me. Maybe not wrong, no, but not quite right either. He was far too young.

It wasn’t as if he looked exceedingly youthful. The man’s eyes held a certain wisdom that only came with time. I was sure that, if I were capable of seeing my own reflection clearly, it would be a trait we shared. His face showed age too. A thick but well-trimmed beard decorated his cheeks and chin, obscuring the thin line of his scowl. I spent what felt like hours memorizing those features— searching for hidden signs of age, of course, or other features that might give away his weaknesses.

The point wasn’t to admire him, though, or let his features become the focal point of my focus. This was not a man who had raised a man.

He had simply come too soon.

There was no reasonable explanation I could find to explain him birthing a blood son who had reached the age threshold to fulfill our bargain. To take a father from his child… the thought haunted me. Even with the acrid stench of death and dog permeating my home from all sides, with the culprit all but waiting for release in my hands, I couldn’t do it. My standards remained.

It just… wouldn’t do.

I let loose my tight grip on time, letting each shred of my body come together into its correct place like the snap of a fresh rubber band. It was always dizzying to find time’s proper flow again but I leaned into the exhilaration of my physical form’s newness. My voice escaped my lips- at last, my real lips. It was a bone-chilling whisper. To him, I seemed to appear at his back in an instant, traveling with the breeze that froze him.

“Next time, son of Heinrich, you’ll have to aim better than that,”

He went stiff at the feeling of my cold breath on his neck, like every hair on his body had stood at attention the second he became aware of my closeness. It was more than just a startle, though. That fear was genetic, bred into him by father and father and father before him. It was in every drop of blood that rushed to his face in my wake. He masked it as well as he could have. His expression remained schooled even as a freezing hand came up to brush against his neck. I knew better, though. I saw things humans could never dream of comprehending about each other.

Minutiae. Breath and pulse and scent and temperature. Predator senses.

“You were expecting me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“And you weren’t expecting me,”

Zemo laughed, a bitter thing. “Perhaps not. None of the others have been quite so… fast,”

I tossed his crossbow aside. It landed in the nearby brush and shattered as it slammed against the ground. My own strength was unknown to me. I could only pretend it had been intended. “Your father should have taught you better than this. This is a disappointment,”

“He might have,” he said, “but he didn’t live long enough. So, I believe you are to blame for his inability to mentor me in the rules of your little game.

My pulse raced even as my mind paused. His dark eyes took in the surroundings, surely searching for something to get him out of my grasp and back into the upper hand. Little did he know that uncertainly was creeping below my skin.

Men. They were all the same. They lacked the sight.

“You’re free to believe that if you choose,” I replied, “but eighteen years was plenty of time for the rest of them. If it was not enough for you, well, I can only call that greed. Of thirteen men, you are only the second to lose your weapon before even crossing my threshold. That and the fact that the first was not your father, it seems, means it is your father’s failing that he did not pass on the wisdom he had learned.”

“How long did he last?”

“He lasted more than six hours of combat before I gutted him. It’s a shame you couldn’t do the same. At this rate, you won’t survive the hour. What a bore,” Slowly, and without a wince despite the burning at my fingertips, I snapped off the end of the bolt in my shoulder and placed the silvered tip in my pocket, patting it softly through the fabric once it settled at the bottom. Extracting the rest of the solid metal rod was an easy feat from there. His eyes remained trained on me over his shoulder as it joined his bow on the ground.

Zemo, to his credit, mastered his fear beautifully.

His pulse had stabilized some, though its steady rhythm still rushed through my nostrils and into my dizzy mind like an intoxicating symphony. He was a cocktail of emotion inside his well-kept exterior. The scent of sudden horror was now morphing into surprise, perhaps even curiosity. His gaze only escaped mine to examine the blood dripping lazily from my shoulder to my feet.

“Confused?” I taunted.

He shook his head. “Not confused, no.”

“Then what are you?”

I wanted to know him. I wanted to rip the deepest secrets of his mind from his chest and devour them. I wanted to taste it. It would be so much sweeter if I didn’t have to take it, though. If it were given freely.

“Learning,” he replied.

It was my turn to be unprepared.

I stalked around him, coming to face him head-on, and he held my gaze again. His pulse stayed steady despite the fact that the space between us was near nonexistent, as if he thought of himself as a predator too, just like me. Still, those damn eyes examined me like some sort of experiment, not like prey. Questions sat unsaid between us in the fog.

What makes you different? What makes you special? What makes you tick?

Stars above, he made it so easy. It was impossible to keep from smiling just a little at the absurdity of it all as he took in the sight of my neck and the puckered scars that littered it. This was nothing like my dinners with Pietro. This was dangerous. Almost fun.

Everything I gave to him he shot right back at me in spades, almost as if he was toying with me too and deriving his own sick satisfaction from the electricity in the air. It reminded me a bit of the great bacchanals that had been thrown here in my youth, when the castle halls ran red with the blood of my victims, both unwitting and all too willing to die by my lips. I hadn’t been alone then. There were faces to entertain me around any corner. Even when the party ended and the bodies ran dry, my creator waited patiently for me in the bedroom as dawn broke each morning. It was horrifically, terribly, irredeemably fun. I wanted to forget it so badly that I almost had.

Now, though, the memories were fresh.

How long had it been since I’d really spoken to someone without their fear leaking from every pore? Since there had been someone to laugh with? To bounce off? To feed from?

My throat twitched shamefully at the thought.

Blood was a varied thing. No two feeds would ever taste exactly the same, even if they were almost interchangeably similar. Every emotion, every dietary choice, and every passing second spent aging would affect the profile as it hit my taste buds. Omnivorous or herbivorous animals tended to be brassy and harsh on the tongue, yet somehow watery. Overall, unfulfilling. Carnivores left me a bit more satisfied, but not much, and definitely not in terms of flavor. Other vampires were more substantial than animals, but bitter depending on their age. A young vampire tasted a bit like a berry that wasn’t quite ripe.

Humans, though… humans were uniquely human. There were no words to describe it. Mortals could not comprehend the kind of sensations that fresh human blood would fill me with enough to create the vocabulary to depict it properly. Some were savory, some were sweet; some were stomach-churning and heavy and some lighter than water on the tongue. They were ephemeral. Unique. Devastatingly addictive.

There was one unchanging fact about the taste of blood, though, that haunted my waking dreams on my worst nights.

However disgusting they had been in life, every Zemo had been orgasmically delicious in death from the very first.

I resisted the urge to unleash my glamour and drain him dry right there and then heroically. I was not that woman anymore. I had to promise myself that, at least, to keep it all reined in. The last human I’d fed from had been his father and before that his grandfather. It would do me no good to give in to my basest urges which I had fought so hard to suppress. He would die with honor and dignity when it was his time, and it wasn’t.

Not yet.

So, instead of ripping his throat clean out, I dragged a nail down the column of Zemo’s neck, relishing in the gooseflesh that raised at my touch.

“Do you always play with your food?” He asked.

I shrugged, playing the persona he needed from me to keep his dignity. “Only with your family. It keeps me young,”

And suddenly, that little playful light in him died. I didn’t quite know what had set him off, or how, but it was as if a switch had been flipped on his mood.

“I would appreciate getting on with whatever this is, then, if you wouldn’t mind,” He hissed. Zemo took a sharp step forward, closing the space that lingered between us in one swift motion. My nail pressed dangerously close to his jugular. “I am not your toy, nor was my family. This little game you’ve played with us is finished. It’s long past time. No more sons,” his nose was almost brushing my own as he spoke. I could taste every lick of hate in his breath. “This ends here.”

Even now, at my mercy, he was spending his last moments protecting his son from meeting the same fate. Not even once had any of the other men who came before even mentioned them. Not even in passing.

For a moment, I almost let him go.

The first of the Zemos had deserved it. The second had almost deserved it more if such a thing were possible. The generations seemed to snowball through the decades like some sort of horrid disease. Each man had found their way through the warding around my forest, and that in and of itself was evidence of their crimes in my eyes. The weight of guilt in their hearts had guided them to me like the light of the north star. Once they’d arrived too, every man had only continued to prove themselves unworthy of life. Every time, I thought maybe I could impart a lesson.

Twelve men had failed to understand their own failings, though, and until they did, I had doomed them to pay the same price, over and over, in an unrelenting loop of loss.

But I was so tired.

So, so tired.

Who could say if they’d ever learn? The blood I spilled might have taught them nothing at all, and it might never teach them. How many years would I spend alone, haunting the halls of an empty castle, waiting for them to learn?

Always starving.

Always hurting.

Even the guilt was gone. It was just…

Emptiness.

Deep down, I had to wonder if I was really doing it to teach them a lesson, or if I was just glad to have a warm meal and a conversation these days. When had it started to become less about them than it was about me and my own feelings?

Thirteen men. An unlucky number, but a prophetic one.

Maybe it was time to let go.

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms, letting my hand slip away from Zemo’s neck. “I have to admit, son of Heinrich, it takes a lot of nerve to demand anything of me,” I sighed, reluctant, “I’m impressed,”

He quirked up an eyebrow. “This sounds like the beginning of another game, vampire,”

“You might find out if you let me finish,”

Zemo stayed silent. I could almost hear the whispers daring to escape him as he licked his lips. Around us, the fog sat heavy and thick.

“As I was saying,” I cleared my throat and my stomach turned. When was the last time I’d been so nervous about something? When had I last felt anything at all? “You want to end the games? Fine. Lay this bare. Why are you here? Thirteenth son of Zemo, what brings you to me? Why risk your life, your youth, for this?”

I did not dare unleash my glamour to pry the truth out of him, nor did I need to. His words came easily from the very depths of his soul.

“Revenge,”

His eyes glossed over as he said the word. No longer was Zemo looking at me, though, even if his eyes were trained on my own. Instead, he was looking somewhere distant. A wrath that moments before had seemed so personally tailored against me and my existence now resided not within me, but far beyond me… Interesting

I could work with that.

The whole situation was incredibly delicate. One wrong move from me and he would be lunging for any remaining weapon in the vicinity. I walked the razor’s edge, the snake in Eden. But would he bite?

My voice came low like a prayer.

“Against who? Me?”

“Against all of the monsters in this world,” Something akin to madness pushed through the man’s demeanor. It smelled inky and burnt on the skin: a human crematorium. Loss. “The things that roam and kill without a second thought, bloodsuckers like you who thrive off the deaths of those around them. Mostly, though,” Zemo grimaced, “I want to put a silver bullet between the eyes of Tony Stark and every monstrosity he’s ever created,”

Tony. He had a son.

Despite the palpable tension in the air and the pang of shock that hit me at the mention of Howard’s offspring, the wrong Stark, I shrugged my shoulders, keeping up my unbothered persona as long as I possibly could. Anything to keep this moving forward. Anything to keep him talking and not attacking. Any excuse to keep him alive just a few minutes more. “You aren’t the first person to wish for a Stark’s demise,”

He stilled. “Maybe, but I will be the last,”

“What makes you so certain that you will succeed where even I have failed?”

“He killed my wife and son,”

After all the years I’d spent surviving off of the sacrifices of others, I had thought my heart was stone. That there was nothing left, just petrified muscle and dust. Somehow, though, I could feel it thump and ache for him. Ache for his wife, his child. All at once his early arrival made all the sense in the world.

There would be no eighteenth birthday to wait for.

No more sons, he’d said. Not now, not ever.

My voice shook ever so slightly in the mist. “I’m sorry for your loss,”

Zemo shook his head. Greasy, unkempt hair fell over his eyes, shading them, hiding them away from my prying gaze. “You say that now, and yet you were the one who killed my father,”

Touche.

Uncomfortable emptiness filled the air. Neither one of us made a move to continue the banter.

It would be as easy as breathing for me to put him out of his misery. I could drink my fill of him and forget. After a few decades, my imagination would stop being haunted by the chubby cheeks of a boy who would never find a calling, fall in love, or have chubby-cheeked babies of his own. Zemo could have destroyed me too, in that moment, just as easily as I could have destroyed him. He couldn’t know it, but I would have let him. It would be as easy as lunging for his unbroken sword and ending it all. I wouldn’t dodge. I wouldn’t dare. Not when the guilt I had hidden away so well was finally rearing its ugly face.

This one felt different. He was like nothing I’d encountered in all of my long, miserable years of life. Maybe he was even more needed than Pietro had been.

If I were to end my empty existence at his hand, I could die happily.

The idea came clear.

It had been foggy before, a half-assed imagining. I could overpower him, control his fragile mortal mind, and keep him tucked away somewhere where I could covet the feeling of his resistance against me, all to ease the endless, aching loneliness I still felt every day. He didn’t need to come willingly. Just like Pietro, I could break him to my will. If I could do it to another vampire, how hard could a stubborn mortal be?

Now, though, I saw a different path through the darkness. It was a terrible idea. Self-destructive. Awful.

The worst part? It might just work.

“Howard Stark stole something from me too, once”

Zemo scoffed in disgust. “Your wealth?”

“No, my blood,”

My deepest secrets flew plainly from my lips like they were nothing more than facts. We lapsed into momentary silence once again.

“So those creatures in the countryside…”

“Are a part of me, yes,” I mindlessly fiddled with the hem of my coat pocket, feeling the weight and heat of the silver within. “I have regretted trusting him every day for the last seventy-two years,”

Zemo stepped back and I let go of the breath I’d been holding for what felt like decades. Finally, someone else knew. The jig was up. In its wake, he seemed pensive. Thoughtful. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he seemed lonely too.

This mess was my fault, that much was plain. I hadn’t set foot outside of this damned forest since 1943 and yet, somehow, the choices I had made back then had led to the destruction of my mother country. No amount of solitude could pay the penance I owed for the crimes I had committed now, no matter how desperately I had tried.

The worst of it all was that so much was still unknown. If so many of those hybrid spawn had made it here to my home, how many more had ended up elsewhere? Was it just Sokovia that was overwhelmed by them? Who made it out? How many women and children had died at the hands of my own blood?

I rid my head of the poisonous memories as best as I could, shoving down the growing pool of guilt and regret that had been threatening to boil over for longer than I thought I could have swallowed.

One thousand years of death was finally here for its vengeance, and it was fast approaching; finally catching up to me. It was poetic, though, for it to come from him.

“I am willing to listen to your proposal,” Zemo said. “Let’s get on with it,”

“Alright. I’m offering information about the Stark family; everything I know about their affliction, my affliction, their plans to use it, the weaknesses of the monsters that will stand in your way. Anything you want, anything I know from all of my years in this life, is yours for the taking,”

He replied plainly, eyes suspicious. “I won’t spare your life,”

“Did I ask you to?” I stepped towards him. We were nose to nose again. “You can’t kill me. It wouldn’t even take a second for me to snap your neck and leave you here to die in paralyzed agony—it would be so easy—but I’ve decided against it. I’ve already had my fun for far too long, so stay here and learn all you must know from me for as long as you’d like. If you ever manage to learn enough to kill me, we shall duel honorably as your forefathers did before you. Either you will die here a failure, or you will leave here with all of the information you need to become the deadliest hunter in history. Once that’s completed, your revenge will be all but guaranteed,”

Ever the skeptic, he tilted his head to the side. “But what do you gain from this? Why would you decide against getting rid of me before I become a threat?”

“Companionship, stimulation, absolution; take your pick,”

“A meal?”

“Not until you die. Not unless you ask,”

Stroking his beard, Zemo took a step back and looked me over with a discerning eye. He had examined me intensely before, but it was like a canine scoping out its prey. Now, though, he searched me for signs of verity, any reason to distrust the suspiciously beneficial deal I had all but laid at his feet. Around us, the world seemed to pause for him as it might have for me.

“As soon as I have the power to kill you, you’ll be dead,” he muttered.

And so my final deal was struck.

“I look forward to you trying,”

--------------

Thank you for reading! Once completed, the next chapter will be linked here.

This work has been crossposted to Ao3

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfiction #fanfic #vampire au #vampire hunter helmut zemo #pietro maximoff #marvel x reader #x reader #marvel fanfiction

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skynapple · 2 months

Text

Budding Romance | Ch. 6

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

Jeremiah is dragged along and encounters some thistles.

Oh, Xavier would die if he were here. If only he could see me right now...

The night market was two blocks of Linkon City's downtown district, lined with booths selling trinkets, crafts, art, food trucks, and a few games that were easy enough to tear down and store away. They arrived at a themed booth that looked like it was representative of a popular toy brand he could have sworn he recognized.

It was some kind of toss-in-a-hole game but with pebble-like stars that looked like they barely fit in the holes on the board. They stood in line and watched child after child try and fail, the angled edges of the stars often catching the edge of the hole causing it to bounce right out.

Jeremiah immediately failed to see how it was a two-person game. "So, how exactly is this two-player?" He said, always one to speak what he was thinking.

"Well, look how hard it is!" She deflected quickly. "If it was just me, I wouldn't have that many chances. But with you, I'll definitely have a better shot."

"Ok. But, why-"

"NEXT!" The irritated teenager called out to the line, interrupting his thought.

She seemed to know what he was asking anyways. "Well, I also wanted to thank you for helping me the way you did before, maybe get you away from the shop for a little bit? I dunno..." She looked at her shoes, shyly. "And like I said, all my other friends were busy, so I thought, why not?"

It warmed his heart to hear her so sincere.

"I thought I'd mentioned before, no need to thank me. Any friend of Xavier's is a friend of mine. It's an honor to help out a Deepspace Hunter." He pretended to roll up his sleeve. "So don't you worry, ma'am. We'll definitely win this."

They definitely did not.

Sure enough, their handful of stars each bounced right after the holes, try as they might. "These stupid stars." She said, gritting her teeth bitterly as they turned away after both of their turns had passed. "Yeah!" He agreed, "I can't believe they made it like this! It's impossible." A familiar feeling settled in his heart. In a strange way, it reminded him of losing a wanderer fight. He turned to her, resolved as her own words to him from so long ago came back to him.

Sharpen your sword, Jeremiah.

He may have had no idea what the prize was, but he was not going to let her back down so easily. "What are we waiting for?" He nudged his chin towards the line, already hurrying to the back of it.

After an hour of playing over and over, the teen attendant felt bad and admired their persistence in being the only ones to try again and again. "Yeah, it's kinda rigged not gonna lie." The kid said with a wink and handed one of the prizes over. "It's day one. No one's gonna know if one's gone.

And so she'd finally obtained her prize.

"This is what you wanted?" He remarked at huge succulent thistle plushie that she needed both of her arms to hold onto.

"This is the same one they have at my favorite arcade! But this one is Linkon limited edition and they only have it here! I'm trying to collect them all. I can't believe I got it!"

He laughed. "It's so cute! Glad I could be of service."

She buried her face in it, taking in the artificial scent. "Let's get a picture?"

"Yes!" He quickly agreed and slung an arm around her shoulders to take the photo with his phone.

"Can I post this?" She asked eagerly after admiring the selfie.

A wicked grin grew on his expression. "Of course!"

He was mentally preparing to tease Xavier when the feeling of her warm hand fingers clenched around his palm interrupted his thoughts. It lasted only a millisecond -just a quick squeeze, to say thank you- but it left his heart pounding.

"Thank you so much! I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh-..." He stammered. What in the world? "No problem."

Suddenly he felt like it was the first time he really looked at her. Inexplicable emotions rising as he stared. Would the woman he'd known head have spent so much time attempting a plushie? Who would have been at her side then?

"Something on my face?"

"Hmm? No. I was just wondering how in the world you're going to get that plushie through your door."

She laughed. "That's why it's squishy!"

Before he could say anything else, she was pointing out a food stall. "After all that effort, I'm starving! Oh, and foods on me. No arguing. Everything here is so good. But you know what's really good here? You can get hot dogs dipped in fried potatoes. Have you ever had one?"

"I can't say that I have..."

Jeremiah had no idea what to think as he followed her, barely hearing her as she began to point out the other stalls over the thoughts swirling in his head. Part of him was pleased that he could spend so much time casually with her like this. It was a refreshing replacement to all the negative memories spent at war, and nice to be around her in such a joyous, youthful way. It was nice to feel like she was his friend again.

But she's not. She has no idea. I'm just a stranger. A friend of a friend.

Maybe if she knew who he was, he'd feel better about it. He'd know where he stood; he'd know his place with her. With this in mind, the other thoughts were about how jealous Xavier would be. While at first it was funny and he was never one to shy away from making him more jealous, he never actually wanted to get in the way of anything between them. For as long as he'd known the both of them, they'd only ever had eyes for each other and that was not something he felt like he could or should interfere with. A sinking feeling grew in his stomach that maybe this was too far?

No, this is fine. This is casual. If I was any one of her other friends, she'd be doing the same. Now he chided his racing thoughts. This is nothing. He can't be too mad about this. Just helping her out, like always.

"Any of those sound good?" She was asking. Even though she'd spent so much time listing all their options, he hadn't heard a single one.

"Well, my mind kinda stayed on the Korean hot dogs. What did you say, potatoes, huh?"

"Yes! Ok, you're going to love it. Let's get in line!"

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am! Lead the way."

This is nothing.

When he got home later that evening, he had half a mind to gloat to Xavier and send him the picture he'd taken, but hesitated.

He's going to kill me.

Right when his thumb hovered over his contacts, a notification from a new sender lit up on his screen.

Miss ma'am: [Had fun tonight :) thanks for the help! It got through the door!]

He pursed his lips together and thought long about what to reply. [Np! Had fun too.] Was all he was going to leave it at.

She replied less than a minute later. Miss ma'am: [Btw I need help tomorrow. My real succulent died :(]

[Send pics.]

Miss ma'am: [Its too dark rn. I'll pop by the shop tomorrow.]

He thought about it. [Closed tomorrow.]

Miss ma'am: [Oh ok! I'll send pics then.]

He thought about it some more. [I'll swing by?]

Miss ma'am: [That works!! Do you have Xavier's address? Same building. I can let you in.]

[Ya. What time?]

Miss ma'am: [Noon?]

[Kk!]

For a while he tried not to overthink it. It was just helping out an old friend, for which he felt he owed her a lot anyways.

...This is nothing.

#madi writes #love and deepspace jeremiah #jeremiah love and deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace mc #love and deepspace xavier #lnds jeremiah #lnds mc #lnds xavier #lnds #l&ds #l&ds xavier #l&ds jeremiah #lnd mc #jeremiah x mc #jeremiah x skylar

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nemaliwrites · 5 months

Text

My super secret Big Bang fic is finally not so secret! My @mlbigbang fic, In Pursuit of the Uneatable, will be posted on January 1st!

Relationships: Adrien/Marinette, Marinette & Tikki, Marinette & Chat Blanc Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Bunny, Manipulative Lila Rossi, Self-Esteem Issues, Identity Issues, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir is not Chat Blanc, Introspection, Canon-Typical Violence, Lila Rossi's Downfall, Hurt Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Psychological Horror, Moral Ambiguity, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Unreliable Narrator Summary: Who do you trust when your own reflection becomes a stranger? In a Paris where Lila weaves tales that blind the city, Marinette stands accused, isolated. Her parents’ trust is shattered, her friends distant, and in battle, illusions blur the line between ally and enemy. As the shadows and uncertainty threaten to close in, Marinette finds herself turning to the last person who claims to be on her side: a boy in a white mask who calls himself a fox hunter.

and here's a lil snippet from chapter 12:

Ladybug’s been crafting her apology in her head for days now, but if there’s one thing she’s certain of, it’s that it’ll all fall apart the second she lays eyes on him. That is, if he even shows up — it only occurs to her now that he might not, that he might be angry enough at her to avoid her.

But he does show up. Of course he does. She never should have doubted that; the fact that she did only has the effect of making her feel more guilty. Because he would never put his own feelings ahead of their duty, and she never should have thought he would.

He comes, a shadow in the night, to stand before her. For a fraction of a second, Ladybug finds herself doubting which cat this is — after all, noir and blanc are two sides of the same coin, are they not? When she sees his eyes, though, she knows truth: his eyes that are one color, the greenest green.

“Chat Noir,” she says, voice nearly lost in the wind. The only indication he’s heard her is the way he turns. His profile, the only thing that’s illuminated, faces her. “I’m sorry.”

He says nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” Ladybug continues. Her voice threatens to break, but still, she persists. “I should have told you everything, I know that. I…I never meant to leave you in the dark like that. I just didn’t want you to worry about me—“

“I do worry, Ladybug.”

Chat Noir says the words loudly, confidently, an open declaration. She gapes at him.

“I’m always worried about you,” he says; he turns his eyes skyward, as though desperate to look at anything that isn’t her. “I worry if you’re getting enough sleep. I worry if you’re stressed out. I worry that an akuma might come for you and that this time, there won’t be anyone to save you — that I won’t be there to save you.”

And now it’s his turn for his voice to break. Ladybug steps closer, takes his face in her hands. Turns it so that he’s looking at her.

“Have you considered,” he asks softly, “that maybe you don’t like to rely on people? That you don’t want to show weakness? That you’re too focused on thinking that you can do everything yourself?”

Mirroring her, he brings his hands up to her face. They’re interlinked, intertwined, impossible to tell where one stops and the other begins. If noir and blanc are two sides of the same coin, then so too are the ladybug and the black cat.

“Maybe,” she admits, hating the way that doing so makes her feel vulnerable. But here, of all places — in her partner’s arms — maybe she can let herself be vulnerable. “Maybe you’re right.”

Chat Noir drops his hands, steps away from her. A stark contrast to his next words: “You know I’m always on your side, right? No matter what.”

“I know,” says Ladybug, because she does. She’d just forgotten it — but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Her hands fall to her sides. “And I think…I think I’ve found someone else on my side, too.”

Someone, something, somewhere, somehow.

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

Text

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 20

A Whimper

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings and tags: the shit hits the fan; mentions of Plan 99 (spoilers for TBB season 2 finale); angst; suspense; canon-typical violence (bearing in mind that in canon Mando cuts a dude in half, soooo... adjust expectations accordingly); references to torture; choking; blood and injury; character death; language.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Echo deals with the fallout of Plan 99; Cerra has a polite conversation with the Empire.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings, "Double, Double Boil and Trouble" (part 2 here) and "Do It Again," but all the fics can be read as stand-alones.

…Not with a bang but a whimper.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Echo sat motionless in the cockpit of the Marauder, staring blindly at the navigation controls. Tech was gone. They’d lost. And all of it had been for nothing. They had no way of locating Hemlock or his base—no way of finding Crosshair. Echo hadn’t just failed to bring one brother home; he’d lost another.

He mentally replayed those fateful moments in the railcar again and again. Could he have worked faster? Could he have done anything differently? Could he have changed the outcome? He didn’t know, and that uncertainty haunted him.

He turned to stare at the empty pilot’s seat. For an instant, Echo could almost see Tech there. He swallowed hard, pushing down the overwhelming grief that tightened in his throat, choking off his breath. His head hurt; his chest ached; his eyes burned with unshed tears.

Gonky shuffled into the cockpit and squawked so quietly that Echo didn’t hear him at first. The droid moved closer and honked a little louder, trying to get Echo’s attention.

Echo blinked and looked away from the vacant pilot’s seat. “What is it?”

Distantly, he heard a familiar rumble, and his heart began to race. He launched out of the co-pilot’s seat and sprinted out of the Marauder. He spotted the Venator hovering over Ord Mantell City and immediately commed Hunter.

“Hunter, the Empire's here.” No answer came. “Hunter, do you copy? Wrecker?”

There was no reply; nothing but static on the comms.

Kark.

Cerra stumbled as the TK trooper shoved her into the corridor. She subtly tested the binders on her wrists, but they held fast. She fought down the tide of panic rising in her chest and tried to ignore the way her breath was beginning to spiral out of control.

Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five. Oh, god, what if I never see Gregor again? Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Don’t think about it. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five.

She forced herself to focus on solving her immediate problems. First, she needed to get out of the binders. Impossible. Next, neutralize the trooper and take his blaster. He’ll blast me before I ever touch the deecee. Next, get to the hangar, steal a shuttle, and hit up the first Starcups she could find.

Piece of uj cake, she thought. Kriff, I’m going to die.

Her sense of impending doom only intensified when she reached the torture chamber—or rather, “enhanced interrogation room.” A stocky man in an officer’s uniform waited next to a table fitted with numerous restraints and an array of control panels and sinister-looking instruments. A tray of surgical tools and hypo-syringes sat next to it, neatly arranged.

At least he’s organized. I’d hate to be tortured to death by someone who was sloppy.

“Agent Daivik, I presume?” she asked.

“Ah, Miss Kilian. So good of you to join me,” Daivik said smoothly. He turned to the TK trooper. “Take off her binders and get out.”

“Can’t wait to get me alone?” she quipped as the trooper unlocked the manacles.

“Hardly,” Daivik sniffed. “You are only useful because of the information you possess. Please lie down.”

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink first?” she asked, rubbing her wrists to get the blood flowing to her hands again.

Daivik smirked, then his fist slammed into her shoulder and sent her careening backwards, the backs of her legs colliding with the interrogation table. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her down onto the table. She kicked her feet desperately, but he pinned down her thighs with one of his legs as he forced her to lie flat on her back. She scratched and grappled with his hand that clamped around her throat in a vise-like grip.

“Ju—Ch—” she sputtered as her airway closed.

“Ready to talk so soon?” he snarled. “I’m just getting started.”

Nevertheless, he loosened his grip enough that she could speak.

“Choke me harder, Daddy,” she rasped.

He snatched his hand away with a revolted curse, and she saw her opening. She headbutted him with all the force she could muster, and his nose made a sickening crunch as her forehead smashed into his face. He staggered backward, and she seized a scalpel off the surgical tray and plunged it into his neck. Blood sprayed out of him instantaneously, spattering thickly over her hand, arm, and face, and she lost her grip on the scalpel as the hot, slippery fluid coated her fingers.

Daivik’s pale blue eyes opened wide with shock, but he staggered toward her, his hands outstretched toward her neck. She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded the scalpel deeper into his throat, then curled her legs up and kicked him away with both feet. He lurched backward and fell, landing with a heavy thud. He went abruptly still as his head collided with the durasteel floor.

She leaned forward on the edge of the table, bracing her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. Her vision blurred, and with her clean hand, she wiped Daivik’s blood out of her eyes. The door hissed open, and the TK trooper rushed into the room. Cerra lunged for another scalpel, but before she could strike, she saw a flash of blue, and the trooper collapsed to the floor. A clone in gray and white armor stood behind him, blaster still raised. Cerra crouched in a defensive position, scalpel clutched in her fist. The clone smacked the control panel to close the door behind him, then lowered his blaster.

“You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do is comm,” he said as he removed his helmet to reveal a familiar scarred face and mismatched eyes: one brown, and one a cybernetic silver.

“Wolffe?” she gaped, her voice hoarse and ragged from Daivik’s bruising grip on her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw you on the security holofeeds and thought you might need help.” He spared a glance at Daivik’s corpse. “Looks like I was right.”

“I had it under control,” she lied, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“You were about to bring a scalpel to a blaster fight,” Wolffe said pointedly.

“Kriff you,” she replied without heat.

“Kriff me yourself, coward,” he grinned.

“Holocams?” she asked.

“Surveillance feeds are off for this room and the corridor outside. You all right?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” she asked, pulling off her jacket and using it to wipe the blood off herself as much as possible.

“You don’t look so bad,” Wolffe said as he quickly began to strip off the TK trooper’s armor.

She moved to help. “Been better, been worse.”

“What’s your plan for getting out of here?” he asked.

“Steal a shuttle,” she said.

“I like it. Simple, straightforward.”

“Want to come with me?” she asked.

He shook his head as they wrestled the TK trooper out of his compression suit. “I’ll stay here and cover for you from the command deck.”

“You sure?” she asked doubtfully. “They’re going to suspect I had help.”

“I’ll stay,” he repeated. “I have… other duties to fulfill.”

He turned his back to give her privacy as she changed into the black body glove, then handed her the armor one piece at a time as she suited up.

“It’s a hell of a coincidence, you being on the exact ship they brought me to,” Cerra observed.

“Sure is,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“Almost like someone knew I got captured and sent you in after me,” she said.

“That’d be quite the twist, wouldn’t it?” he agreed noncommittally. “Good thing neither of us knows anyone who would do that.”

“Good thing,” she agreed as she settled the helmet onto her head. “How do I look?”

“Not bad,” Wolffe replied. “You might want to take this, though.”

He drew one of his blasters and offered it to her.

“I’ve got his deecee,” she said, gesturing toward the unconscious TK trooper. “I’m good.”

“Trust me, you want this one,” Wolffe said.

She glanced down at the blaster in his hand, and her breath caught as she recognized Jesse’s modifications.

“I could only find the one,” he said. “But I knew you’d want it back.”

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard before she managed to reply, “Thanks.”

He nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “Ready?”

“Any time. It was good seeing you, buddy.”

“You, too, kid,” Wolffe said, sliding his helmet firmly into place. “I’ll see you around.”

“That a promise?” she asked.

“Clone’s honor.”

They stepped into the corridor, and Wolffe closed and locked the door behind them. With any luck, nobody would discover Daivik’s body and the TK trooper until Cerra was safely off the Venator. With one final nod at each other, they parted, Wolffe heading to the bridge while Cerra made her way to the flight deck.

She forced herself to walk at a normal pace to avoid drawing attention, though her instincts screamed at her to run. Her heart pounded, and she was grateful for the helmet that hid her face from the Imperials she passed in the passageways; she didn’t think she would be able to disguise her anxiety without it.

The hangar was nearly deserted when she arrived—no doubt thanks to Wolffe. Nobody noticed an extra TK trooper in the shuttle bay. Cerra selected a shuttle, then quickly located and disabled its transponder beacon. Once she powered up the shuttle, the Imperials would know something was wrong. She would have an incredibly narrow window to get out of range of the tractor beam. There would be no time to program the hyperdrive navicomputer; she’d have to use the last inputted coordinates and hope for the best. She took a deep breath and boarded the shuttle.

Settling into the pilot’s seat, Cerra began running as many of the pre-flight protocols as she could before engaging the sublight engine. This is it, then, she thought, beginning the power-up sequence and maneuvering the shuttle out of the bay.

The comms crackled almost immediately. “Nu-class shuttle, you are not cleared for takeoff. Return to the—”

She muted the transmission, then punched the thrusters to top speed, blasting out of the hangar and into space. The Venator opened fire, but as soon as she was clear of the ship, Cerra jumped to hyperspace. Safely away, she yanked off her helmet and leaned back in her seat, gasping for air.

“I can’t believe that worked,” she said aloud with a short, incredulous laugh.

Riyo stared at the flickering hologram of Echo’s face, feeling as though all the oxygen had been forcefully ripped from her lungs.

“How?” she whispered. “What happened?”

“The Trandoshan sold us out,” Echo replied, his face grim and twisted by grief and anger. “We barely made it out alive.”

“Why would the Empire take Omega? What do they want with her?”

“I don’t know. That Imperial—Hemlock—he said something about Nala Se. He said she’s still alive.”

Riyo frowned. “Could she have escaped the destruction of Tipoca City? Halle Burtoni told me there were a few Kaminoans scattered throughout the galaxy, but she didn’t mention Nala Se.”

“If Nala Se is working for the Empire, that can only spell trouble for us clones,” Echo said.

“I agree. We should discuss this with Rex. When will you be back to Coruscant?” Riyo asked.

Echo glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes.

Her heart began to pound. “Echo?”

He took a deep breath before he replied. “I’m not coming back to Coruscant.”

She blinked. “... What?”

“I’m staying with Hunter and Wrecker,” he said quietly. “Omega is still out there somewhere, in Imperial hands. We have to find her.”

“Cerra is still out there, too!” Riyo protested. “We need you here! We need you—”

“Riyo,” Echo said gently. “Rex and the others are doing everything they can to find her. I trust them, and I trust that she can take care of herself until they find her. Besides, if I know Cerra, she’s already making whoever took her wish they were never born. But Omega is only a child. We can’t abandon her.”

He was right, of course. She knew he was right. But knowing he was right didn’t make the crushing weight in her chest feel any lighter. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She bit back the selfish words that sprang to her lips, knowing that speaking them aloud would only make things worse. Nevertheless, they reverberated in her mind.

I need you. I love you. Come back to me.

Echo reached for her through the holocomm, and she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining that she could feel the warmth of his touch.

“We will see each other again,” he said. “I swear it, Riyo. This isn’t the end for us.”

Without her comlink, Cerra had no choice but to use the shuttle’s communicator to contact Rex. Not only were the shuttle’s comms not secure, it was possible that the Empire was actively monitoring them. She keyed in the details for one of the team’s burner comm channels.

“Code kilo-three-two-seven. Scrapper to Monarch, come in,” she said. The minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness as she awaited a reply. When none came, she tried again. “Monarch, this is Scrapper. Please respond.”

The comm was silent. Fighting down her rising panic, Cerra ran a diagnostic to make sure it was functional. All systems were normal. She was just about to try a third time when the voice she loved most in the entire galaxy crackled through the speaker.

“Scrapper, this is Watchman. Good to hear your voice.”

Gregor. Oh, thank kriff. Tears of relief stung her eyes, and she hurriedly blinked them away as she responded.

“Back at you, Watchman.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “Really good.”

“What’s your status?”

“I’m all right, but I could use a ride. Any chance you’re free for a pickup?” she asked.

“Affirmative. Head to delta-one-alpha-eight-two. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Copy that, Watchman. Fly casual.”

“You, too, Scrapper.”

Gregor ended the transmission, and Cerra let out a shaky breath. It was over. She was going home.

---

Next chapter

#echo tbb #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #star wars #the bad batch #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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rinbowaman · 1 year

Text

Mermaids Tale - Chapter 1

Alright here we go. First chapter of Mermaids Tale, I think i already mentioned but this story deserves a better title, but we'll stick with it for the sake of ceasing any confusion.

As mentioned in my latest post, I'm adjusting the ML to post the whole storyline of MT, I must...its really quite good and when you read the buildup and the history of the characters, its good. For those of you that want just the good stuff, i'll post ONE chapter of the first smut encounter, just one. This story has alot of smut, among other genres. So there will the best of both worlds here.

Pairings: Heeseung and you

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Mentions of nudity but that's about it.

Summary: Noooooooooooooo....just know, that MT Heeseung is really...sexy. This storyline contains a cat and mouse chase type of thing going on. Lots of hunter and fleeing prey vibes.

Side note, i think they finally fixed my tumblr because posting is alot less of a pain. Seriously, the chapters i've posted so far for each series, some of the grammar errors and structure errors are bc this thing would not let me copy and paste, i had to like re-write each paragraph into the box as i was looking at the draft. So there may have been alot of typos and stupid mistakes in those, apologies.

The sound of the busy city buzzes in your ears as you monopolize through the crowds.

Passing by a line of shops and rows of canopy tents of casual eatery, you keep a hollow face as you remain hidden beneath the bill of your hat. You strut through, strategically making way towards the path of a shorter route leading to your home.

Your hair lays bundled up under your headpiece, eyes remain forward under the hovering cloth, and your body’s form, out of sight and beneath a large sweatshirt. The lengthy shape of your legs made out by the fitted jeans that cover them, and the slight exposure of soft skin on your forearms, revealed by slightly rolled sleeves, remain as your sole identifiable features that are seen.

Carrying out your habitual trend of hiding beneath cloth, and shadow when traveling hasn’t been the most pleasant routine.

However, throughout the course of events in earlier years, you’ve learned and been warned of, the dangers against you. For each time you leave shelter, you place yourself at risk of exposing yourself and suffering the unimaginable, putting an end to your bloodline.

The fate of your bloodline, as mentioned, solely relies on you. Carrying the task of preserving it comes with dire responsibilities and measures, something that you have been doing for many years, yet still haven’t grown entirely used to.

You turn around a corner leading into a marketplace alley. It’s a shortcut you normally take to get back home, saving you a half hour from walking among crowds, which never made you feel easy. Not after you learned of your secret.

The moment you projected the turn, the owner of one of the food tents accidently bumps into you, as he was making his way to customers bringing them hot jasmine tea.

His body was forced back from the impact, as was yours. The ceramic dishes that were neatly staged on the platter fall and shatter on the stone tile. The young man peeks up through recovered squinted eyes and sees that the contents of the teapot had sullied your entire sleeve.

Noticing the color of the material becoming darker from the splash, his face grew into great concern when he saw the skin on your arm glisten at the reflection of a nearby streetlight.

The vapors emerging from your arm are noticeable, as well as the blotches of the bright red shade that takes over the natural hue of your pigment, and the stunning glow you were born with.

He begins apologizing theatrically and calls out to the neighboring canopy owners.

A group of elderly shop owners come to attend to the wound on your arm, suppressing the discoloration with wet cloths and ice. One woman runs back inside her boutique to find a first aid kit, while the others remain in a frenzy as they place effort into treating the burn.

But there was no burn, at least in a somatosensory manner, not visually.

You reassure them that you’re fine, despite their urging in taking you to a hospital. You softly shake your head and thanked them for their care, you further your efforts in convincing them by smiling and waving, appearing as jovial as possible while you continue your way through the alley.

As a child, you didn’t realize that your inability to feel physical touch, vibration, or any sensation for that matter, was really something to be concerned of. Truth be told, you still don’t. In fact, you prefer it that way. Regardless of countless moments where teachers, friends, and family all grew concern over your “defect”, you personally found it convenient.

You would be lying to yourself if you deny ever being curious on what it is like, to feel temperature, roughness, pressure, tickle, itch, pain, pleasure, cloth, skin, and tingle. But you realize that whatever it was that you were missing, you couldn’t possibly be yearning for it if you’ve never experienced it. As depressing that may sound, your “defect” saved yourself the emotional traumas of pain and sadness, which is something you had no problems feeling.

It started when you were six, after your dog Lucy had passed away. You were sad because you missed her greeting you, the way she kept you company and played outside, and the sound of her adorable whines whenever she wanted a doggy treat. You developed a bond with her out of pure emotion because the times that she licked your face, when you pet and rubbed her ears or her belly, or when you held her in your arms, it wasn’t possible to develop any fondness out of the physical compassions of love for her. You never felt it. Which somehow, you believe, may have placed limitations on the strength of your bond with her. Since everything you felt was out of pure emotion, the number of traits that would cause your grief was limited, therefore you were able to accept her loss much faster.

There were other times too, like the moments where your friends would experience a broken heart or betrayal at the discretion of a loved one. Events such as this is what made you the most grateful. After witnessing the times when a dear friend would come to you for comfort, shattered by the hands of a man who used and abandoned her, you came to understand that the degree of her sadness and heartbreak was enhanced due to her physical relation with that man. Thankfully for you, you could only imagine, not that you would.

You found it very disturbing that regardless of how many times your friend had experienced the ruthless abandonment of her lover, all conducted after a session of sexual intimacy. No matter how many times he left her, she would always welcome him back with open arms, enabling him to do it all over again. Whenever you had asked her why she would even permit herself to let him in again, her response was the sealant of any curious thought you had in the sense of touch.

“I know he’s going to leave, and I wasn’t going to. But then he kissed and hugged me, and I just couldn’t help it, I needed to feel him again. Have you ever gone without sex for weeks Y/N? Its brutal! I got desperate.”

Her words drifted through your brain. What would she have said if you had divulged the fact that, regardless of you being 109 years old, you never had sex. You heard from friends you made along the way of their experiences, and quite frankly, it never appealed to you. It may just be one of those moments where the coined term “you had to have been there” applies heavily to it, which of course, wouldn’t matter for you. The loss of the sense wasn’t just limited to your skin, it was internal as well. You recall the time when you nearly had a close call in exposing your secret.

It was while you were with a group of co-workers, the lot of you all deciding to have lunch at a sushi bar. A moment of carelessness resulted in everyone being confused when the waiter brought out the tea and poured it into each of your cups. You were the first to drink, and upon noticing you sipping from your cup, a fellow co-worker across follows suit and takes a sip.

The sound of the cutlery clashing, the blood curling scream, and smaller dishes shattering on the floor, overfilled the entire restaurant as she jumped up and covered her mouth. The tears streamed down her face as she shouts for ice and water, the remaining group stood off to the side with puzzling looks.

“Too hot! My mouth is burning!”

She panicked as her mouth begin to blister and her lips turned red.

“Why didn’t you let it cool down?”

“I thought it was already cooled down! I saw Y/N drink from her cup, so I thought it was okay!”

The poor girl exhausting her sobbing words as she popped ice cubes in her mouth, desperately trying to relieve herself from the burn.

The group looked your way, they also noticed your lips were bright red, and now that you think about it, you may have had blisters in your mouth as well, but how were you to know?

You played off that whole experience by telling them that you had a damaged nerve syndrome. That’s been your go-to excuse for as long as you could remember, there was no other way other logic that you could use for moments like that one.

You finally make it to your apartment.

Looking down at your arm, you noticed the redness was beginning to swell a bit, ironic that you couldn’t feel the pain from injuries such as this, yet you were susceptible to the damage it would cause. Everything has its ups and downs you suppose.

Migrating to your bedroom, you glanced over to the all the vintage photos of your mother, father, and your siblings.

Managing life by changing your name every decade, relocating, and cutting off ties with friendly relations after a certain amount of time had passed, it wasn’t easy for you to succumb to emotional moments of loneliness. Your life was always moving, nothing was constant or stable, at least not for too long. The only time when you would feel saddened was whenever you looked at the photos of your family, who have all been passed away for years already. The remaining relatives you had from your brother and his wife, your cousins, nieces, and nephews fully remain unaware of your existence, there was no way you could explain that, while they were significantly younger, your appearance had remained unchanged since the year you turned 22. The moment you blossomed into a young woman, no longer having the pre-mature attributes of a girl, you were at your true feminine form and had remained as such. Just like your mother.

A flashback drives past your mind for a moment, you remembered it so vividly.

“Y/n, do you want to join us? We’re doing game night.”

Your younger brother implores you to join, and normally you would, but tonight was different.

“No thanks Matthew, I want to go out for a night walk on the beach. Tell mom and dad I’ll be back after a bit.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with? I don’t think mom likes it when you go out by yourself, remember? She said that a 15-year-old girl should never be out on her own in an unfamiliar place.”

“I’ll be fine, this is private property, and the beach is just right across from the house. I’ll be back in an hour.”

At that, you left the old beach rental your family reserved for the trip to Greece. It was your first time there and it became your favorite place in the world. There was something about the land and the Aegean Sea that surrounded it. It gave you a feeling of familiarity, the same sense someone would get when they go home for the first time in many years. It was nostalgic. Yet, that wasn’t the only thing that made you feel sentimental.

You didn’t know why, but up until that year you pondered the puzzling fact that, while your defect inhibited you to feel physically, there was something about the ocean that contradicted that.

You had found out about it initially when you were 7-years old, your family took a trip to a beach nearby home. The hot sand was too much for your family, and they knew it wouldn’t affect you since the family doctor was the one that initially told your parents of your “nerve damage”.

Despite hearing their calls to you, bidding you to stay put with them, you ignored their yells and ran to the shallow waters. It was the first time you had ever seen the ocean, and you were attracted to its appeal the way magnets attract iron.

With your feet stepping into the water, you were shocked to realize that there was something transpiring. There was a sensation that you’ve never experienced before, and you didn’t know what to call it. Looking back, you know now that it was the temperature of the water. Yes, the temperature. Not only that, but the swirling whirlpool swishing around your ankles, the wet sand riding in between your toes, the jagged tips and points of rocks and seashells, and the feel of the gravitational pull as the water receded, only to return at your feet once more when another rolling wave had hit.

For the first time, you had felt the powerful sense of touch.

You never mentioned the experience to your family, there wasn’t any particular reason, you just felt content that you were able to experience the sensation for once. But you quickly realized that your ability to feel only occurred when you were in the water. The ocean waters.

You exit through the back kitchen door, skipping towards the shallow waves. The rental was just far enough from the water, a single person such as yourself walking amongst the wet sands couldn’t be seen easily at night. But you weren’t concerned at all, there was absolutely no one in sight and that’s how you preferred it, because now you’ll be able to freely express your joy once you reach the shallow waves.

The moment the water rushed over your skin; you rediscover the sense of touch once more.

Of all things in this earth for you to feel, you were eternally grateful that it was the ocean. You felt as equally grateful as you breached the waters belonging to the beautiful Aegean Sea. It was the first time you get to experience water that was foreign, exotic, and mystical, much different than the local beaches back home.

Before placing our feet in, you took a second to watch the bubbles of the sea foam riding the waves. It was so pretty to look at. The foam resembled white clouds as the bubbles looked like crystals, reflecting twinkles of glistening light reflected by the moon. Assorted pastel color prisms coated each bubble as you watched them roll back into the sea for the next wave.

You walk along the shallow end, kicking your feet to create small splashes as you twirl in your summer dress. Apart from the sense of touch, nothing ever changed your experience in the water, up until a feeling hit you. It was a sensation you didn’t recall feeling in the water before, but it stung with a vengeance. You couldn’t put your finger on what was happening, but you knew based off your recollections of witnessing similar reactions with other people, the sensation you felt was the first in your life.

Pain.

The overwhelming reaction of having to feel pain for the first time caused you to collapse, the stinging sensation grew worse. You panicked. Unable to fathom what was going on, your mind tried to process at the sensation you were succumbing to. Drowning with confusion and fear, you realized that, unlike the waters back home, there was something about the waters belonging to the Aegean Sea, and your body was reacting to it.

Fear and shock took over your emotional senses, covering the unpleasant sense of physical pain as legs grew weak, too weak.

The stinging hit every inch of your legs from the hip down, and for a moment you wondered if you had been stung by jellyfish or perhaps bitten by a poisonous sea snake.

To your horror, you screamed as you looked down at your legs, finding that you no longer had them. Not anymore.

Instead, they were replaced with a long, graceful tail and fin. You shuttered in fear, noting that the lower half of your body was now covered with fish scales.

You couldn’t move from the sandy spot you were laying in. Your panic heightened as you attempt to use your upper body strength to crawl away from the water, but the pull of the waves as the tides rolled in enabled the receding sand to sink you down, practically gluing you stuck and your lower half remaining in the water.

As the currents grew stronger, and no one in sight to hear or see you, your body was slowly but surely getting pulled in deeper into the water.

Each wave dragged you in deeper, your whole body was nearly entrenched in the shallow water, yet it was becoming easier to move, so long as you were going in the direction of the deep end. You felt exhausted from fighting against the waves, so you laid there in defeat. Your wet hair was plastered all over your face, the transformation of your lower extremities caused the ruffle lining of your dress to shred.

Noticing that the stinging pain was no longer present, you closed your eyes and found comfort in feeling the soothing sensation of the water showering your entire body. The feeling that you normally enjoyed.

You closed your eyes and laid your cheek down on the wet sand before you, not sure if you just needed a break or if you had entirely given up and assumed you were going to die in that spot. Within seconds after closing your eyes, another wave rolls in, covering you entirely. As it pulls back, revealing every shell and rock that laid thickly underneath the sand, the raging current drags you one final time, fully submerging you in the water.

The feeling, opposed to what you felt moments earlier, was beyond amazing. Even though the temperature of the water was cooler, you felt warm and secured. The swooshing of the current wraps around you and glides against your skin.

Your whole body felt the touch of everything around you. The pale silver scales glowed contrasted against the shadowed depth around you. Considering how dark it was underneath the surface, your view was as clear as glass. Everything you laid your eyes on, you were able to see its finer details, no matter how small or large it was.

You could hear the echo calling of whales, even though they were meters from where you were at. It appeared that not only did you gain the sense of touch by being in the water, but your other senses remain unimpaired. They actually seemed enhanced under water.

As tempted as it was to savor the environment you were in, you started to get worried that your mother would come look for you, especially since your time outside was breaching the final moments of the hour. Though you weren’t entirely sure how you would go see her in the state you were in.

You swam back to the shoreline, although it didn’t feel like swimming, more like gliding. You found it was so easy to move in the water, and you were moving in a speed that you’ve never was faster than any moving car you rode in.

Beaching yourself as you reached the shoreline, you turn to admire the pale-silver color of your tail.

The fin was large and fanned out, the skin that stretched over the frame was semi-transparent, and it glistened with a sheer blend of pastel colors, the same as the seafoam. Two spurs outlined the out corners of the fin as it branched out, they were long, and the tips of them were sharper than any knife you’ve seen.

The scales on your tale all looked like nacre, or simply known as Mother-of-Pearl, reflecting the wide hue of colors to bounce off the silver base. The amount of scales lessened just past your pelvic bone, revealing the skin you were familiar with. Had there been more time you would have removed your dress to see how much had changed with your upper body if it did change. Yet you became more focused on figuring a way to get out of the water, then coming up with an explanation for your appearance.

Moving was hard, compared to how it was in the water, now that you had laid ashore it felt nearly impossible. Finding yourself stuck yet again, the only manner to get farther away from the water was to crawl using your upper body. Digging your elbows into the murky sand, you struggled to find some level of stable foundation as you felt yourself sinking in.

Noticing the partial burial of large rocks all around, you reached for the exposed surfaces, grabbing on to the points and edges. Using the moment of your body to shift in the direction you needed to go, you exhausted every effort by using whatever means necessary to get further up, closer to your destination. The sense of touch begins to fade out, disappearing the further you move away from the water. A bittersweet exchange.

Finally, you reached the dry mounds of sand. Grabbing a handful, you watch as the spilling of dry granules seeps in between your fingers, feeling a sense of accomplishment. You moved upward just a tad bit more, ensuring no part of you, to include the tail, was touching water.

You come to a sudden halt as a familiar sensation hits you. Odd, since you were no longer touching the water, yet the stinging all throughout your lower half re-emerges, and you could feel it just as strongly as you had in the water. You turned over onto your back and saw all the dry granules of sand that coated the scales of your tail. Witnessing the metamorphosis happening before your own eyes, you watched as the beige hue of the sand and the rainbow explosion of color from the scales begin to transform. The merging of colors gradually fades into a hue that matches your skin, while the two long spurs at the corners of your fin begin to recede.

Beginning at the inner triangular tip in the center of your fin, the skin separates, and continues up along the center of your tail, regaining the shape and length of your legs.

Was that all it took? Dry land? Or just being out of the water…these waters.

You didn’t tell your parents what happened that night, you didn’t know how. For the longest time, you wondered if it had been a dream or some type of hallucination. Yet the memory of feeling the water, listening to the whales, and re-visualizing the clarity of your sight, you knew that it was neither.

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cocogum · 1 year

Text

Gon was born in 1988.

One thing that always bothered me about the 2011 version, was how they made Gon and Killua say that they were exactly 12 instead of saying “almost 12”.

Now I know I shouldn’t be complaining about something so small and insignificant.

But I’m still going to.

When I saw these two saying they were 12 instead of saying that they were almost 12, it irked me because I knew the math wouldn’t be right. If they were actually 12, then they’d be born in 1987 making the timeline of the story incorrect and changing the whole story by taking off a year of it.

By changing one detail and making it look like another, you mess up something bigger than just a character’s age. When it comes to what year hxh takes place in, we have to rely on what we’ve got since the story doesn’t say it for us but simply gives us clues and hints.

But that’s not the point here. The point that I’m trying to make is that every time his year of birth pops up on his bio, it shows the year 1987 instead of 1988. At first, I didn’t think much about it, since I knew the wiki was talking about his anime counterpart. But when people started using the year 1987 for his official birthday, it just felt too messy and unorganized for me so that’s why I’m making this to not only help myself to remember but also if anyone has had the same problem I had.

So let’s begin.

Gon was born on May 5th, XXXX.

At the very beginning of the series, Gon, Leorio, Kurapika and Killua take the 287th hunter exam on January 7th and took exactly 8 days for them to finish it (so from January 7th to January 15th). Specifically in chapter 6, Killua asks Gon how old he is. The boy tells him he’s almost 12 to which Killua also says the same thing (like seriously dude u could’ve just said 11 instead of saying “almost 12” like why complicate yourself???)

So now we know the main character’s age during this time period which was 11.

Next, when the main four finally reunite on September 1st (Kurapika joins them just a bit later) in the Yorknew City arc, Gon and Killua are finally 12 since their birthdays (May 5th for Gon and July 7th for Killua) passed already.

Let’s fast forward a little.

In chapter 146, Bisky tells Gon and Killua that the new year is almost there, specifically stating that it is currently December 29th.

(This scene also helps us to know that the Hunter exam usually stops accepting participants on the 31st of December.)

Just a bit later during the same chapter, when Killua exits the game to apply for the hunter exam a second time, we see a sign hanging from a store building which conveniently just happens to show us the exact year of when this is all occurring as well as the month and the day. According to the sign, the date is said to be December 29th, 1999.

(Not only do we get the full date but we also get the time too which is 15:08 aka 3:08 pm.)

We know this scene takes place on December 29th since Bisky confirmed it on the panel just above this one so we can trust this building sign for giving us an exact answer on the year and time this is taking place in.

Since every hunter exam starts on January 7th (the application deadline ends on December 31st), Killua would have passed the 288th hunter exam on the seventh day of the new year (since he instantly beat everyone on the first phase).

Now we go even further into the timeline.

If we fully skip the full chimera ant arc and go right to the scene where Gon’s at the hospital, we get to see a doctor in chapter 316 explaining to Knuckle and Knov the situation that Gon is currently in. While explaining to them the severity of his condition, we can see the doctor privately commenting on how he’s shocked to see that a 12-year-old boy turned out like this in just one day.

(So apparently 4 months have passed during the chimera ant arc cuz why the hell would that doctor say he’s 12 if it took the hunter team more than four months to win against the ants??)

Fast forward again.

The 289th hunter exam occurs only this time, instead of starting on January 7th like usual, it got postponed to a later date so that the Hunter association could gather the necessary resources to help Beyond Netero and the Kakin Empire to properly accompany them to the Dark Continent. Even though we don’t know when this specific hunter exam eventually started, we know that it ended on July 3rd which makes Gon 13 years old (and eventually Killua as well since his birthday is only 4 days later).

So there we go.

Gon is 13 years old in 2001 (which is the current year that the story is taking place in) and his complete birthdate is May 5th, 1988.

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moonyswoony43 · 9 months

Text

Fuck me

Chapter One

I had a dream and now i'm writing it and making it better 😊

He slams you against the wall, your back immediately feeling the cold brick texture “FUCK” you cough as all the air in your lungs leave. “Give up” the mandalorian basically growled behind the beskar helmet, his gloved hands firmly wrapped around the neck of your shirt, you pant as the taste of iron filled your mouth as blood gushed from your nose, not to mention you can feel the bruises forming around your side, he definitely broke at least two ribs.

Although you were in a lot of pain you couldn't help but chuckle “now where's the fun in that?” and grab the knife conveniently placed at your side and slash the inside of his thigh, he howls and naturally lets go letting you slip away and start running.

But It's not long until he’s right behind you again “dammit he’s not one to give up is he?” you grumble under your breath.

You've been going at it for at least an hour now, usually it didn’t take more than 25 minutes before hunters gave up trying to chase you or you had to lose them. But this guy didn’t seem on giving up anytime soon, your guessing they had lifted the bounty price because there’s no way a hunter would care this much right?, who knows how much that desperate old fuck would pay to get his hands on you again.

You run into a crowd to try and lose him but as you crash and bump into multiple people he has no problem passing through as they make way for a mandalorian.

Although this is the closest you've ever been to being caught, you weren’t scared

your cockiness was way too big to let you worry. When you finally got out of the crowd you had entered the small street you knew like the back of your hand. You turn around now running backwards “is the armor slowing you down mando?,” you say in a curious voice, if it was gonna last a while why not make it fun. Of course the mysterious man doesn’t respond.

you can hear a man in the distance. It was the guy who was always selling his fruits and you remembered how he’d always have three crates of extra fruit against the wall of a building “how about you take it off and show me that pretty face of yours?” You wink and grin as you watch him stutter with his next step after the comment. You turn around and with perfect timing you’re able to hop on top of the crates and jump, pulling yourself up on top of the roof of the building, you turn around to see if he would do the same but to your surprise, he didn’t. He just stared at you from below, his chest falling and rising, “what? You afraid of heights?” You chuckled as you huffed for air, crouching over the edge. Again he didn’t say anything and after a minute he started walking away but not without a limp, most likely from your handy work. And before he was too far away you decide to say one more thing “your ass looks great from this angle” you yell from above and you grin when you see him immediately flip you off from over his shoulder

you begin to walk away but it’s not even your second step when you feel the adrenaline leave your body and feel the pain finally hit you like a fucking train, it was so much that you physically couldn’t hold yourself up anymore so the minute your foot hit the ground your body followed. You hiss “prick”. You groan as you pick yourself up bearing the pain, and grabbing your side and begin to limp.

You wander through the streets as the suns went down minute by minute, you make sure to take a couple of loops around the city just to be sure no one’s following you. You make your way to a cantina your friend Maria works at, you had met her the day you started running and she took you in like a family member. You see her in the distance as she’s closing the doors “Maria!” recognizing your voice she turns to see you smiling “Hey- HOLY FUCK YOUR NOSE” she immediately drops her bag and keys on the floor and runs towards you instantly cupping your face, you let it happen cringing “that bad?” you ask her, After a minute she lets go, turning back to grab her stuff. “What happened this time?” She said unlocking the door and rushing inside, you followed closely behind “I mean you get into stupid shit all the time but you never come back this bad, are you fighting for money again?” She asked as she walked behind the bar and came back out with a bottle of alcohol and a rag, something you were used to seeing at this point “No, its was a bounty hunter” you sighed as you flopped onto a stool “psh, yeah right what actually happened” she said not believing you for a second “Its true” you reassured her not happy about it, you watch as she pours the alcohol into a cup and dips the rag in it “okay, so your telling me that after a year of successfully out running MULTIPLE of bounty hunters with minor injures all of a sudden your limping in here with a black eye, broken nose, and by the way your holding you side I’m guessing a broken rib or two?” she says bringing the rag up to your nose “he-AH” you hiss when you feel the sting of the alcohol against the damage “oh stop it, your being dramatic” she said unfazed too focused on the injury “he was a- AH- AH OKAY YOUR DOING THAT ON PURPOSE” “WELL IF YOU WOULD STOP MOVING IT WOULDN’T HURT AS MUCH” she yelled annoyed punching your shoulder in a very older sister type of a way, maybe because she was older and after a year and a half of caring for eachother it wouldn’t change anything if you did call her your sister.

“Wait I thought there werent anymore mandalorians since the great purge?” she said confused. After cleaning up your nose she gave you an ice pack for your eye and had moved on to your ribs wrapping them carefully with bandages “yeah, I thought that too until I was getting my ass beat by one” you told her in annoyance and then there was silence. It wasn’t a weird silence, it was just silence, neither of you break it until “....are they as hot as people say they are?” “M I WAS GETTING MY ASS BEAT” “I’M JUST ASKING”.

“You got a cigarette?” you ask her as your about to leave “umm, yeah but you buying a new pack cause this is my last one” she digs through her bag and pulls it out “k, thanks” you say as you reach to grab it before she takes it back “promise me the next time I see it’ll be with my cigarettes” she says with the dead serious look on her face, you scoff, but she just raises her eyebrows waiting for a real answer” “fine. I promise” you smile, she gives a skeptical look but gives you it anyway and you snatch before she can take back again, you turn to leave until you feel maria grab your arm firmly and you turn to look at her confused, “Don’t get caught moron,” although she tried to cover it up with the teasing name you could see how worried she really was “-today was too damn close”. You look at her and smile

“I never get caught”

You continue to walk through the night with a perfectly good cigarette in your hand, it wasn’t until maria crossed the street and turned the corner that you realized you didn’t even have a lighter. As you walk by you come across an older lady selling blankets who conveniently had a candle burning on the stand, kind of a bad idea considering blankets and fire don’t sound like too good of a mix but who were you to judge? You place the cigarette over the fire, eventually lighting it and placing it into your mouth.

You continue walking when you enter into a new street, the entirety of the street was empty, with the dark engulfing it and only a flickering light lit the way “this isn’t creepy at all” you say sarcastically to yourself. You stop when only the butt of your cigarette is left, to your right, was the empty road, and to your left, was a dark alley. You flick the butt on the floor and stomp on it with the heel of your toe, suddenly you feel a fist make contact with the side of your face

Shit.

the blood had already had time to dry as it covered the left side of your forehead, your head was pounding. You didn’t know whether to blame it on the nasty punch you got or how your head made contact with the rocky ground every two seconds since the bounty hunter had been dragging you around by a rope tied to your wrists like a fucking kid pulling his wagon around, shit you wouldn’t be surprised if the motherfucker started skipping his happy ass to his ship

Everything was still hazy but you knew you had to think fast. Quickly you grabbed the piece of rope pulling you and yanked as hard as you could. This led to the mandalorian stumbling back giving you enough time to move as much as the rope would let you and push him down to the ground, pinning him down with your weight and grabbing the small knife that was sitting in his belt and bringing it up to his neck. “Just let me go'' you said grimacingly behind your teeth, your breath heavy, keeping a firm but shaky hand around the knife against his neck. Sometimes you had to take things seriously, even if it was a killjoy. He, however, was not fazed and instead chuckled and tilted his head “I like this part of you better, less annoying” and before you could do or respond to him you feel a sharp pain to your side “ah- what the fu-” you look to see what it was.

A needle, he stabbed you with a fucking needle. All of a sudden everything felt fuzzy and light and when you tried to look back at him he had already pushed you off and you didn’t even notice. What the fuck is going on you said to yourself as you watch him pick up the item and put it in a baggy. Your head started pounding horribly, your body couldn’t bear to move but your mind knew you had too, so you began to get up to your feet while he was “distracted”. Getting up was no problem but the second you tried to walk you were met by the hard ground, you continue trying, you could feel his eyes on you as you try horribly to run away, eventually you felt a hand place itself on the small of your back and your arm involuntarily wrap itself around the back of man's neck. “What did you do to me” you said weakly you voice cracking “I didn’t do anything I gave you a sedative, which was supposed to be for my next bounty who was six foot ten” “this feels like the worst high ever” you whine embarrassingly but you couldn’t help it “it's not supposed to be fun” he said trying to shut you up “dick”.

As you continued to walk the bad part of the drug seemed to be wearing off already only leaving the feeling fuzziness “so much for beating a giant with this thing, this shit wears off fast” he doesn’t say anything your mind began to wonder “wait…are you telling me you used what seemed to be a very important sedative on a guy an inch taller than you? Was I that intimidating to you mando?” you look at him with a stupid smile plastered on you face “no you were getting annoying and I had no other choice” “I meaannn I was already in bad shape and too tense to focus plus my hands tied you could’ve easily- ” you don’t finish when he lets go of you and your immediately back on floor this time against a tree. You watch in the dark as Mando walks over to a specific tree and picks something up from behind it but before you could see what it was it all started again, the dizziness, the pounding headaches, the fuzzy eyesight. You groan, dropping your head against the tree and bring the balls of your palms and place them against your eyes. “It comes in waves” he says, “what?” you say not paying attention, You open your eyes to see him look down at you with what seemed to be a green blob? It was hard to see since the was one of the systems “the sedative, its comes in waves” you drop your head and whine

“fuck me”

#the mandalorian #male reader #no y/n #possible triggers #my first fanfiction #mando x reader #slow burn #sort of #constructive critism welcome #but please #be nice #mando x male reader #slow writer

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moodymisty · 1 year

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Five Times You Flirted With Wrecker, And The Time He Flirted Back - Ch 5

< Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 >

Author's Note: Final stretch! Final two chapters actually have something resembling a plot. Maybe. Enjoy <3

Summary: Of course out of all the clones in the galaxy to fall head over heels in love with, you pick the one that just thinks you’re doing a flip.

Relationships: Wrecker/Fem!Reader

Story-wide Warnings: Eventual NSFW, Fluff, Shy!Reader, Friends to lovers, Awkward flirting, Pining, one instance of a drunk clone being a little pushy but nothing extreme, Reader is too shy and Wrecker is too oblivious, Reader is vaguely one or twice described as being ‘nerdy’ but no details, Size difference, Vaginal sex, Unprotected sex,

Word count: 3375

Ao3 Link

79’s is packed tonight.

Not something too terribly unusual, though this time in particular, it feels like it’s absolutely stuffed to the brim with clones painting the night red; Eager to have a rare night on the city streets instead of cramped up in the barracks. It hasn’t been long since the clones were allowed to begin leaving the bases and exploring Republic core worlds; And needless to say, they’ve absolutely been taking advantage of it.

You normally don’t come here very often, or to other large, bustling places like this in general, but the whole Batch decided to invite you; And it had been awhile since you’d actually spent a night outside for once. It was for your own well-being that you decided to go and get some fresh air and different scenery. And a few drinks.

After dealing with so much lately including but not limited to having to do that chaotic report on the Marauder- you swear you can still feel Wrecker's hands on your body- you're eager for some relaxation.

It’s shortly after you get out of the taxi you see them killing time outside the entrance, apologizing for being late even though you’d never agreed on an actual time.

It didn’t help that you’d spent what felt like an eternity standing in front of your closet, trying to figure on what in the galaxy to actually wear; Before just settling on a dress in the back of your closet. It wasn’t anything too crazy, but you can’t help but feel a split second of regret when you stand next to them still in their full armor, while you’re wearing something so dramatically different.

“Hey!”

Wrecker is the one who borderline drags you over, pushing through a group of regs and ignoring their displeased expressions.

“You look,” Anxiously waiting for the rest of his sentence isn’t good on your heart, though thankfully he doesn’t take long. “Different- But like a good different!” Wrecker stumbles over the ladder half of his sentence, seeing your confused face.

“Oh, uh; Thanks, Wreck.”

You brush the front of the dress down, looking up as he awkwardly smiles. The rest of the Batch isn’t far behind, and eventually regroup with Wrecker before you regret this choice of attire.

As per their usual routine when they come out to 79’s, the Batch finds a booth as far back and out of the way as they can possibly get, shoved in the shadows by the single door that leads out into the alleyway behind the bar. There’s a draft coming from it that makes you shiver, but it’s not a bad little spot. You don't mind it in the slightest, as it gives you a tiny little bubble of reprieve in what feels like a building stuffed to the absolute brim with enough stimulation to make your head just ache. The booming music does remind you of something, however.

“Isn’t all this music terrible on your hearing Hunter?”

You lean forward to talk loudly at him over the table, even though the topic of your question makes it apparent that you wouldn’t have to do so. Hunter shakes his head, watching as your shoulders are rolled forward as you lean on the table looking at him. Wrecker’s on the outside of the booth beside you, one of his legs out from underneath the table to give you and Tech enough room in the already cramped area.

“Took some meds beforehand. After the last time I thought ahead.” You smile and nod at him. “Smart.”

Maybe it's the drinks, though you've barely had a few sips of yours, but everything just feels so, nice.

You don't feel stressed and tense, and even if the lights flash so bright and the floor is almost shaking with the amount of people dancing and stumbling around on it, you don't mind.

You aren't even melting down with Wrecker so close, sitting right next to you with his arm draped over the back of the seat. If you lean back at all, your head would bonk right against his bicep. You try not to think about it too much, and just brush it off as him trying to stretch out in an area not really meant for someone of his size. The side of his thigh is also pressed against your own, and you can feel the coolness of his armor though the soft fabric of your clothes. They’re talking about a recent mission of theirs, watching over the rim of your glass.

"...along with being quite displeased with our arrival." Tech holds out a single hand for a moment in a nonchalant gesture, while Crosshair rolls his eyes.

“They’re never pleased when we do their job for them.”

You always enjoy hearing about some of their older missions, leaning forward on your elbows and listening to Crosshair speak this time. He normally doesn’t participate in these sorts of things, but this time he’s decided to speak more than three or so words. Wrecker seems to like this retelling in particular, as he interrupts Crosshair in order to lean forward and boast about how he ripped a mini-gun off of it's stand, and carried it around as if it was an ordinary blaster. The whole time he's smiling as wide as can be, clenching a fist while your eyes lock on the way his muscles tense under his armor.

"Right?"

You glace up away from his arm, noticing the way he seems like he’s waiting for you.

Oh, he must’ve asked you a question.

"O-oh, yeah, totally!" Crosshair rolls his eyes at Wrecker.

"Are you done distracting her, so I can finish?" You highly doubt that Crosshair knows why you were really distracted, and instead had just assumed Wrecker was stealing you attention with how loud he was being.

You don't like the way he’s looking at you however, eyebrows raised.

The night continues goes by smoothly even after he does finally finish, chatter and small talk with smiles and laughs as you all burn through your drinks. Once they’re all gone, you press your palms against the table top and raise up slightly from your seat.

“I’ll go get us some more. Everyone want the same?” Hunter waves at you.

“I got it, you don’t-” But you're already shooing Wrecker out of the way before he can finish, slipping off the seat and out of the booth. He allows you to push him aside, before watching you give a thumbs up and tug at the front of your dress.

"Nah, don’t worry about it. I'll be right back!"

It’s quite a tight fit through a myriad of moving bodies, but you eventually manage to push through to the bar where you can lean over the counter-top and order all the drinks you think you need, counting your fingers to make sure you remember them all. It'll surely be a minute or two of waiting given how busy it is, so you decide to steal the only open bar stool right next to you. Sitting down on it, it's a bit uncomfortable to be up here all alone, and you find yourself glancing back at the Batch.

Wrecker is perked up to look at you over the crowd, but once you lock eyes with him, he quickly glances away.

Weird.

You just figure the lot of them are waiting for you to return with the goods, your foot tapping against the front of the bar in a mindless gesture as you wait.

“Hey, you really shouldn’t be up here alone!”

At first you ignore the voice, thinking that sentence was meant for someone else instead of you, though when a clone comes quite close to your left, you realize he must have actually been yelling at you.

“What?” You think you heard what he said, but you’re almost hoping it was misconstrued.

“You shouldn’t be up here alone! Someone’s gonna snatch you up.” It’s a bit of an uncomfortable sentence, but it isn’t incredibly malicious, so you just shrug it off and partly ignore him. All the drinks should be done any moment, and then you can shuffle away to the back of the bar again.

“I think I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

You look away from him in a clear attempt to cut off this ‘conversation’ at it’s root, but he doesn’t seem to take the easy out you gave him. He’s cute, sure; Has a large tattoo going up the side of his neck, but you can’t quite tell what it is given over half of it is covered up. He’s also incapable of taking a hint, as he leans in close enough that it's uncomfortable and you find yourself straightening up to get away with a more than noticeably irked expression.

At least to anyone that isn’t totally piss drunk, as he seems to be; Judging by the way he grips the countertop to avoid wobbling.

“We all got a table in the back, and we were hopin’ that someone pretty would join us before the night ended.” You tried to be nice, but if he isn't going to catch the hint, then you're more than capable of being blunt.

“Look, buzz off, I said no. I’m here with someone else.”

In one ear and out the other though, it seems.

"Come on, I'll introduce ya." He looks at you as if waiting for you to stand, however you stay put. You’re too distracted to notice that the drinks you’d ordered are being put in front of you, before the droid toodles off to it’s next programmed task. "No. I told you I'm here with someone else. So leave me alon-"

"Hey, what's takin' so long?"

You don't want to say this is the time you've been the most glad to hear his voice, but it is close to the top.

Wrecker, having just bored a way through the entire crowd with ease to get over to you, now stands to your side, and close enough to the other clone that he can look down on him– and with a healthy side eye at that- just as easily as he can you.

The multiple glasses of liquor in his system surely doesn’t help matters, but the trooper can’t hold back his reaction upon the realization that you are here with company- multiple, actually- and just who exactly they are. Almost every trooper on Coruscant knows Clone Force 99, for better or worse.

"You're kidding; You know that lot?" You really don't like the tone he used there.

"And?"

Your voice is sarcastic and far more venomous than you usually use with people, but you don't exactly care in the least. Wrecker crosses his arms, apparently quite pleased you’re fighting on his behalf.

"You do know they're the defect squad right? Why waste your night on that? Come on, I'll-" He suddenly reaches forward to grab you by the wrist leaning on the countertop, though he barely gets halfway there before being abruptly stopped.

"Yeah- that's not happenin'!"

All the sudden the clone in front of you is a good distance off the ground, being held up by Wrecker who has him gripped by the back of the chestplate. Having now stepped in he has him by the scruff, holding an entire person up above his center mass like nothing. You slide off the barstool you’re on, taking a step back.

“The pretty lady said no.”

He claws at Wrecker’s wrist to no avail; And is only let down when Wrecker decides to dump him back on solid ground.

He makes a noise, says something under his breath that’s probably more than a little bit foul, and then scurries off into the crowd; Leaving you both alone. A few of the patrons close by had shifted away from the scene in fear of a fight, but with the aggressor gone, most of the bar devolves back to normal. Now that the object of his anger is gone, Wrecker quickly looks you over.

“You alright? He didn’t snag ya, did he?”

Behind Wrecker you notice the others making their way towards you, having more than likely seen the commotion even from halfway across the bar. Glancing towards them you then look back to Wrecker’s face, looking down on you. He doesn’t seem entirely reassured by your smile back- you probably wouldn’t be either honestly- As his hand moves to lay on your shoulder.

But you really don’t want to be under the spotlight at the moment anymore than you previously were, so you decide to scurry before they all circle you.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Your own hand gently touches Wrecker’s feeling how warm he is even through the fabric of his glove. “But do you mind if I take a minute?” Wrecker’s looking at you with a face filled with concern, but you just attempt to smile and wave them off while stepping away backwards. “I’ll be right outside, I just want to get some fresh air.”

It’s almost impossible to not feel their eyes on your back as you scurry out the main doors, the cold air hitting you like a thump to the chest. It hadn’t been this brisk going in, but now all the sudden you feel like shivering. Your current clothing does almost nothing to keep you warm, crossing your arms over your chest.

The dress was a silly idea; You don’t know what you were thinking trying to wear it. Besides trying to look nice for him.

There’s a bench nearby out of the way of the crowds moving in and out of the bar, just outside of all of the bright lights illuminating the entrance. Everything is so bright and almost obnoxious, and now you’re nowhere near as comfortable with it as you had been going in. This spot is nicely out of view, so you decide to sit there almost entirely out of view and tug the sleeves of your dress higher on your shoulders.

The bench is just as could as you’d expected as you sit on it, shivering as the cold races up your spine. This bout of foul weather has really done it’s toll, especially after getting stuck in the rain with Wrecker a few days back. At least it isn’t raining now, as you rub your hands together and watch a group of people walk by.

He really didn’t have to, but you appreciate Wrecker coming to your aid. Though something now does stick out to you about the whole encounter.

He, called me pretty...

You don't think he's ever call you pretty before. He's called you smarty, shorty, Tooka; After a time you'd fallen asleep curled up in an odd position in the co-pilot seat of the Marauder. You didn’t go home that night, just slept in the ship until morning. But all of his little nicknames had a teasing tone to them. Pretty didn't.

You don’t really know how to feel about it; In one part of your head you’re almost overjoyed by it, but the other hand wonders if you’re just looking a little too deep. All it does in the end is to further confuse you in this agonizing silence you’ve been suffering in for so long.

"Hey, uh..."

almost startled out of your wits you look up, seeing Wrecker obscuring the bright lights enough to cast you in a decently sized shadow. Him being backlight highlights the texture of the scars across his face, watching him tug at an exposed section of his body glove.

"Uh,” He tries to find the words, eyes darting around your face. “Cross, said I should check on you." You softly smile, as Wrecker looks down at you while scratching the back of his neck.

"You sure you're alright?" Sitting down on the bench beside you, Wrecker seems almost nervous to do so. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the assist, Wrecker." His nervous expression morphs into more of a smile now, clearly relieved.

"Ya don't have to thank me," His lips press together. "I didn't like the way he was talkin' to ya."

He’s almost angry- and in a way seemingly more affected by what happened in there than you were. It’s not the first time you’ve had to shoo someone away like that, but it’s the first time since you’ve known Wrecker.

“It’s not a big deal Wreck, don’t worry about me.” Your hands feel so cold, rubbing them together and almost wincing as they sting while becoming warmer again. A cloud of hot air puffs from Wrecker’s lips as he speaks, joining with the fog from your own breath.

“Sorry; Can’t help it.” He laughs, though it fades away into quiet as he looks at you.

"But, do you mind telling the rest of them that I'm going to take a taxi home? I think I've had my fill of bars for the night." His body leans towards you a little bit, eyebrows raised.

“Ya sure?”

You don’t really think you’ve ever heard him say anything that quiet, which you find quite out of character given how long you’ve known him.

A part of you doesn’t want to leave, but it’s more that you don’t want to leave here; This moment, not the bar. But you can’t, you’ll eventually either have to go back inside or go home, else you’ll freeze to death out here in this outfit.

“Yeah; It’s been a long night.” He nods in response, seeming more than a little disappointed.

“But I’ll make it up to you. We’ll party all night another time, promise.” That perks him up, grinning at you wide enough to show off his teeth. His cheeks scrunch upwards, pushing his eyes. He looks so cute, and genuinely happy.

Ok; Just lean in, it's really simple... Don't wuss out, I've been thinking of doing this for weeks.

"Oh and... Thanks, Wrecker."

You sit up as straight as possible, but when that isn't high enough, you push one of your hands on the back of the bench enough that you can raise a knee onto the bench, awkwardly leaning on it to get high enough to give Wrecker a kiss on the cheek.

It's chaste and only a split second, but you feel the way your face burns and Wrecker tenses underneath your lips.

"I'll see you later. Promise."

Getting up from the bench, you cross your arms across your chest and rub your arms, walking away fast enough from him that you don't even see his full reaction to your kiss. Part of you doesn't want to; Getting into a cab and scurrying home while you hold your fists to your chest to try and stop it from hammering in the cold.

But once you’re gone, Wrecker goes back inside empty handed, seeing the way his brothers notice you’re not with him. Sitting back down onto the booth with a hard ‘thud’ Wrecker shrugs his shoulders.

“She went home.” He still sits on the edge of the seat as if you’re there, leaving a little empty spot between him and Tech.

“Miss her already?”

Leaning back, Crosshair plays with the edge of his fingernail while looking at Wrecker; Who instantly perks up at your mere mention.

“Well yeah! She’s fun!” The sniper rolls his eyes.

“Sure, that’s why.”

Hunter seems to kick at him under the table, as Crosshair jolts upright before giving him a glare.

“Lets just use up the few more hours we got left before heading back.” Echo isn’t apposed to spending a bit more time outside the barracks and in some cleaner air, though he still makes a head jerk in the direction of Wrecker.

“Are we just going to ignore how pitiful he looks or…” Wrecker scowls in his direction, not enjoyed being pointed out so harshly. The toothpick between Crosshair’s lips moves from one side to the other, right before he speaks.

“He’s always like that when she leaves, he’ll get over it.” Wrecker leans his arm still across the back of the seat, though this time it’s around nothing. He flicks something- probably a used toothpick- with his other hand towards the sniper, and by doing so inevitably starts an argument.

Echo shakes his head.

#wrecker x reader #the bad batch wrecker x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #Wrecker/Reader #mywriting #reader insert #reader

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