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senp1i · 3 months

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(G)-Idle Yuqi x Male reader

Words: 4175 req: @dav1233555

The deafening screams and cheers of the fans were still ringing in Yuqi's ears as she finally staggered off stage, her members similarly buzzing with adrenaline energy around her.

But despite the adrenaline still pumping through her blood, the person on Yuqi's mind in this moment wasn't one of her G-IDLE members, or even her fans...it was him - her boyfriend who she hadn't seen in months thanks to their conflicting schedules and due to her world tour.

She had resigned herself to their usual lengthy separation after shows, only able to stay connected through short, delayed phone calls and video chats. It was the new normal when you both had demanding careers in different countries. But then yesterday he texted, out of the blue that he flew out and would be at this Seoul show to surprise her, and Yuqi hadn't stopped smiling since.

Weaving through the organised backstage chaos, she scanned the crowds of staff urgently, not even bothering to change yet. Where was he? Her stomach fluttered with a mixture of anxiety and nerves. What if she misunderstood and he wasn't actually...

And then she spotted him - leaning casually against a concrete wall looking unfairly hot in dark jeans and a black tshirt that hugged his tall, bulky frame. He was watching her approach with that smile she had missed for months, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners like a crescent moon and her heart skips several beats.

"Oh my god!, you're actually here!" Yuqi squealed, launching herself at him recklessly. Strong arms caught her, spinning her in a circle as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was dimly aware of people probably staring, but she didn't care one bit. Laughing, he set her down gently. "Of course I'm here baby! You didn't think I would miss your show in Seoul did you?" His large hands lingered on her hips, thumbs just barely grazing the strip of bare skin between her “tank top” and leather pants.

"Ahem!"

The unexpected loud throat clearing jolted them back to semi-coherent reality. Breaking apart awkwardly, Yuqi felt her cheeks flame as she met the dancing backup singer's amused smirk. Whoops.

"Maybe we should continue this somewhere more private?" Y/N suggested, equally red if not more but his eyes still heated. Yuqi quickly agreed, grabbing his hand to lead him away before they scared any other staff members.

They bid goodbye to her members, who sent them off with eyebrow waggles and whistles. Soyeon made some cheeky comment about using protection that Yuqi pointedly ignored. There were more important things on the brain right now, like fucking her boyfriend into the next life….

The sexually charged tension from earlier snapped back instantly once alone in the car. Yuqi just couldn't keep her hands to herself - after being deprived of his touch for so long, she desperately needed to feel him. Starting innocently on his thigh, her hand wandered higher each red light, loving his sharp inhales when she "accidentally" touched the front of his jeans.

"Fuck..." he choked out, grabbing her wrist before she made contact. "Behave, unless you want me to wreck this rental..."

Yuqi just bit her swollen bottom lip, eyes dancing, this was going to be fun...

By some miracle they arrived at her apartment intact. They barely shut the front door before crashing together again like magnets. Clothes disappeared rapidly between sloppy kisses. His shirt hit the floor, followed by her half-zipped leather pants stumbling down the hall. Falling sideways onto the unmade bed finally skin to skin, all remaining rational thoughts out the window.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he allowed himself a long appreciative look at the gorgeous naked woman before him. From her flushed face and kiss-bitten lips, over smooth collar bones to perky round tits peaked in lust, down the feminine curve of her waist to those sexy black lace panties...

His heated gaze snapped back up to meet her own wandering one, catching her shamelessly ogling the bulge in his tented boxers. He smirked.

"Enjoying the view, baby?"

"Mmhmm..." Yuqi purred, shifting closer until her lips just barely grazed the shell of his ear.

"Though I think you're still a bit overdressed down there..."

Not needing any further encouragement, she wrapped one delicate hand around his considerable length through the thin fabric - hard as steel and already leaking in anticipation. Groaning, his head dropped back against the sheets at that first tantalising contact.

"Fuck, I missed you," he grit out. Surging up to capture her grinning lips again, he kissed her deeply, tongues sliding. His hands slid down to grip her lace-covered ass, hauling her tighter against him until she could feel every hard ridge of cock.

Breaking their heated lip-lock with a gasp as one thick finger slipped unexpectedly under those panties to drag through her slick folds, Yuqi's eyes fluttered closed.

"Oh yes, just like that..."

Easily sliding first one, then a second digit into her welcoming heat, he watched in a haze as she began to slowly fuck herself on his hand. Shoving those same fingers upwards, he simultaneously rubbed her swollen clit, smirking when her inner walls instantly clenched tighter at the dual sensations.

"Fuck baby you're dripping...Can't wait to feel this tight little pussy squeezing my cock again." The gravelly words against her ear made a more slick gush, drenching his pumping fingers.

"Mmm what's...ah!...stopping you?" She managed to gasp out between moans. The delicious tension coiled tighter and tighter in her core, right on the brink...

And then suddenly, maddeningly he withdrew his fingers. Snapping her eyes open, she whined in frustrated protest - but then caught the positively horny glint in his hooded gaze. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly, deliberately brought those slick fingers to his mouth. A deep groan rumbled in his broad chest as he licked them clean of her juices.

"Mm delicious as always, baby. But it would be a damn shame if this ended too quickly..."

With unfair ease he flipped them so she was on her back, caged between strong arms. Reflexively Yuqi spread her legs in blatant invitation, aching and empty. But instead of lining himself up, he shifted downwards. Large hands pushed her thighs further apart, baring her glistening pussy.

"I think you deserve a reward first for that killer show tonight..."

Yuqi barely processed his husky promise before she felt the soft heat of his tongue drag firmly from her leaking entrance up to circle her aching clit.

"Oh fuck!" Her fingers instantly tangled almost painfully in his hair, hips bucking. Humming approvingly at her reaction, he gripped her waist with steely strength to hold her still.

"Been way too fucking long since I got to properly taste this pretty pussy..."

Then he dove back in with shameless enthusiasm, alternating broad licks with tight circles concentrated right around her swollen clit. Yuqi saw literal stars behind her clenched eyelids. When he sealed his lips around that straining bundle of nerves to suck firmly, she nearly convulsed right off the bed.

"Yes yes yes just like that oppa!" she heard herself babbling mindlessly. The filthy endearment she knew drove him wild always slipped out unfiltered in moments like this. As expected, his answering groan reverberated straight to her clenching core. So close...

But once again, just before she toppled over the cliff's edge into oblivion, he stopped. Sitting back on his heels with a smug grin that she wanted to slap off his handsome face.

"Fucking TEASE!" she accused in a breathless whine, chest heaving as she kicked his chest gently. His chuckle came out strained, cock visibly throbbing almost angrily behind those damned boxers.

"Now now, watch that naughty mouth babygirl..." He mock scolded. When she just scowled, he arched an eyebrow.

"What do good girls say?"

Huffing at the game but deciding to play along, Yuqi relaxed back against the sheets, letting her thighs fall open in unmistakable invitation. Biting her lower lip coyly, she met his darkening gaze through her lashes.

"Please make me cum with your cock oppa..." she whispered.

His lips crashed back to hers roughly. "That's my good girl," he rasped when they finally broke for air. Gripping her hips hard enough to leave fingertip bruises, he guided his painfully swollen length through her slick folds before sinking into her sloppy heat. Their twin groans echoed loudly in the room.

"Fuckkk you feel even better than I remember baby," he praised through gritted teeth, buried to the hilt inside her silken pussy. Restraint evident in every quivering muscle, he gave her a moment to adjust while she revelled at having this part of him back where he belonged.

Propping himself up on forearms braced on either side of her head, he began a slow retreat. Their heated gazes locked, both holding breath...Only to gasp it back out sharply as he snapped his hips forward, filling her completely again. Yuqi saw literal stars at the perfect angle dragging along her g-spot.

"Oh yes, just like that oppa!"

Needing no further encouragement he quickly built an aggressive rhythm - almost brutal snap of his hips punctuated by the lewd sound of skin slapping on skin. Interspersed with their mingling moans and curses were wet noises from her sopping pussy greedily swallowing every vein-lined inch again and again.

Fingers tangling almost too-tightly in her fanned black hair, he claimed her bitten lips in a messy clash of tongues and teeth. Breaking away with a gravelly groan, his head dropped to mouth wetly at the slender column of her arched throat.

"Fuck you take me so well Yuyu... Gonna make you cum so hard on my cock."

She could only mewl affirmatively, nails raking red trails down his flexing back at each punishing plunge. Tilting her hips up sharply, she eagerly met his every thrust, inner tension coiling impossibly tight. So fucking close...

Sensing her impending release, he shifted angles - somehow hitting even deeper. One large hand left her hair to slip between their sweat-slick bodies, fingers instantly finding her neglected clit to rub hard, fast circles in time with his pounding hips.

"Be a good girl and cum for oppa..." he commanded, pinching the swollen nub ruthlessly. That bit of pain/pleasure pushed her shrieking over the edge - cunt spasming violently around his relentless cock still hammering into her throughout the endless pulses of ecstasy.

Vision whiting out, Yuqi was only vaguely aware of his gravelly praises murmured against her temple as she slowly floated back down.

"So fucking gorgeous when you cum baby..."

She mewled when he carefully withdrew his still rock-hard length, her sensitive walls fluttering around sudden emptiness. But he kept her thighs cradled open, massaging the trembling muscles soothingly.

"Think you can give me another sweet girl?" His cock prodded just barely back inside her sopping entrance, teasing them both. Still breathing hard, Yuqi managed to nod eagerly.

"Want you...to cum inside me next," she affirmed huskily. That lusty glint returning tenfold, he surged back into her welcoming heat with a loud groan.

"Fuck yes... Take this cock just like that."

Her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, nails biting in with each pleasurable drag along her sensitised walls. When he made to pull out again, she locked her ankles behind his thrusting ass - keeping him buried balls deep.

Breaking their messy kiss with an approving chuckle, he carefully flipped them without severing their intimate connection. Now straddling his hips, Yuqi braced both hands on his chiselled chest as she began working her still-trembling thighs to ride him. Slowly at first, loving the delicious stretch of her stuffed pussy around his girth.

But soon she built up eager speed, tits jiggling wildly with each rise and fall. His large hands anchored bruisingly on her waist, guiding each slick slide along his entire length. The lewd sound of their coupling filled the room.

"Fuck yes, just like that Yu. Ride my cock..." One hand left her hip to roughly palm a bouncing tit, pinching her tightened peak. Whimpering as sparks shot straight down, she ground her hips tighter. So deep... Chasing that peak again she slipped one hand between them, finding her swollen clit and rubbing urgent circles around the sensitive nub.

Imminent orgasm rolled hot at her core for the second time. Leaning down without losing rhythm, her lips found his ear.

"M'close again oppa," she panted, clenching teasingly along his thickness. "I want you to fill me up with your cum..."

His answering groan sounded pained, cock jerking inside her. His bruising grip yanked her down hard once, twice more before she felt the hot pulses of his release coat her fluttering inner walls. That sensation tipped her over too - cunt spasming erratically around him, drawing out every drop as she moaned her climax.

Chests heaving, Yuqi collapsed against him, their mixed juices already seeping onto his thighs. His softening cock slipped free and she hummed at the loss. Propping up slightly to meet his dazed eyes, she deliberately dragged two fingers through the slippery combination of their orgasms before bringing them to her puffy lips. Maintaining eye contact, she licked them clean with a tiny moan.

"Mmm delicious oppa." Ignoring his halfhearted swat for her teasing, she giggled against his neck placatingly.

After a few moments catching their breath, he gently manoeuvred her Jello-like limbs off him towards the bathroom. Under the warm spray he carefully cleaned every inch of her thoroughly used body himself. The loving tenderness made Yuqi's chest squeeze almost painfully. She wished they could stay in this little bubble together indefinitely, ignoring the outside world...

But eventually prune-like fingers made them move from the cooling water. Towelling off, Yuqi noticed the mess of clothes still thrown haphazardly from front door to bed. Slipping into his discarded tshirt like a micro dress, she padded towards the kitchen to whip up some food.

They cooked a simple pasta dish together, conversation flowing easily about everything and nothing. His arms wrapped around her from behind while tomatoes simmered or noodles boiled, chin hooking casually over her shoulder. Unable to resist, Yuqi tilted her head giving him access to nip and suck marks along the curve of her neck. Things nearly got derailed onto the kitchen floor at one point.

Later stuffed full of oily pasta, they collapsed sideways on her couch not even bothering to get dressed yet. Half paying attention to some drama rerun, Yuqi drew nonsensical patterns across his bare chest with a fingernail. The occasional rumble of his laughter vibrated against her cheek where it lay tucked under his arm. Everything just felt so right.

As the moonlight fading towards early sunrise outside though, reality began creeping back in. Stomach sinking, Yuqi realised she had no idea how long they actually had left together before...

"When does your flight leave?" She tried to keep her tone light despite the sudden ache blooming behind her ribs. His sigh ruffled her hair.

"9am." Glancing at her phone screen, she calculated barely 5 hours now remained in their little haven. Sensing her mood shift, he hugged her tighter against his side.

"It's not goodbye forever though, okay Yuyu? I'll visit again as soon as I can get more time off work, I promise. We'll figure this out."

Still she had to bite her lip hard to keep sudden tears at bay. Sucking in a deep breath, she sat up abruptly before the dark thoughts could take hold. Grabbing his hand off her waist, she fixed a cheeky grin on her face.

"Well no point moping about it now huh? We've still got a few hours left to enjoy!" Not giving him a chance to react, she dragged him stumbling back towards the rumpled bed, already shrugging his oversized tee off one shoulder...

Over the next hours they proceeded to make more thorough use of every surface of her apartment, switching positions and places continuously. By silent mutual agreement, they didn't speak about his leave again, choosing to stay locked in each other's eyes or connected by roaming mouths and hands instead. Committing every muffled moan and pleasured gasp to memory for the next lonely stretch that loomed ahead.

All too soon however, the dreaded alarm on her phone shrilly announced it was time. A heavy silence surrounded the bedroom where they lay tangled up, hearts still racing from their last frantic fuckery not even 10 minutes prior.

As if putting it off could somehow stop the inevitable, they lingered longer under the sheets sharing soft, slow kisses. But his return flight wouldn't wait, responsibilities in another country calling insistently. So finally with a deep sigh he untangled their limbs and rose to gather scattered clothes. Yuqi couldn't bring herself to move yet, just watching silently with the sheet held over her bare boobs.

Once dressed, her Y/N, sat back on the edge of the mattress, fingers combing gently through her tangled hair.

"Come on baby, don't look at me like that," he cajoled softly. "This isn't forever, just a few more months."

Yuqi bit her lip, trying and failing to force a smile. His warm palm cupped her cheek, thumb swiping away a stray tear before it could fall.

"Promise you'll video chat me the minute you land?" she asked in a small voice. He smiled gently.

"Of course. And I'll be back to visit again before you know it." Ducking his head, he kissed her tenderly. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away for too long."

A moment passes as they stare at each others eyes, lost, "I love you, you know..." The whispered words blurt out before she could second guess them. It was the first time either had actually voiced the emotion out loud. His answering smile practically lit up the room.

"I love you too," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing. Happiness bubbled up Yuqi's chest and she dragged him down into a slick kiss.

Too soon though, her phone alarm blared again, signalling it was time to depart for the airport. With a reluctant sigh he gently extracted her clinging limbs from around his shoulders.

"C'mon baby, don't make this harder," he chided without any real heat. Shouldering his backpack, he kept an arm wrapped securely around her waist as they made their way out to the idling taxi. The ride passed in near silence, her hand clinging almost desperately to his larger one the whole way.

At the busy terminal, he checked his bag through to the gate before turning to properly say goodbye. Yuqi fiddled anxiously with the hem of his shirt hanging around her thighs - the nearest thing to a security blanket for when he was gone. Sensing her distress, he tucked a knuckle under her chin, tipping her face up.

"Hey, no more tears okay? This is just see you later." lowering his head he kissed her sweetly. When they separated, Yuqi took a deep breath and fixed a teasing pout on her face.

"Fine. But you better keep your promise to video chat me the minute you land, mister." She accentuated the warning with a playful poke to his chest. He barked out a laugh.

"Yes ma'am. Though with the time difference it might be pretty late."

"Don't care," Yuqi insisted stubbornly. "I'll keep my phone volume all the way up. I expect your handsome face on my screen bright and early."

Overhead the boarding call for his flight crackled through the intercom. Glancing regretfully towards his gate, her boyfriend swept her into one last rib-creaking hug.

"Last chance to cram me into your suitcase," Yuqi mumbled into his shoulder lamely. His body shook against hers with another sad chuckle.

"Tempting. But I'd have a hell of a time explaining that to airport security not to mention your members and company." Pulling back, he kissed her forehead lingeringly. "Get home safe baby. I'll call you as soon as I land, I promise."

Nodding, not trusting her voice anymore, Yuqi stepped back out of his embrace. Their joined hands clung together a heartbeat longer before finally slipping free. With one last devastating smile over his shoulder, her boyfriend handed the gate attendant his ticket and disappeared down the boarding tunnel.

Shoulders slumping, Yuqi slowly meandered her way back out of the airport in a daze, thankfully no one recognized her this early in the morning. She kept glancing instinctively for his tall figure every few yards before the painful reality sank in all over again that he was really gone. The taxi ride back home felt endless, bottom lip raw and bitten between her teeth against the threat of more tears escaping.

By the time she let herself back into her empty, too-quiet apartment, eyes burning with exhaustion, the glowing screen of her phone read nearly 1 pm stilll no message yet, but she hadn't really expected one. With the lengthy flight plus time difference, it would probably be hours still until he landed and made it through customs.

Curling up in the centre of her big, cold bed, Yuqi clutched one of his leftover shirts that still smelled faintly of his cologne. She forced her eyes closed, willing sleep to come and temporarily dull the hollow ache in her chest.

Sometime later she gradually registered the buzz of vibration and a familiar ringtone. Bolting upright, heart suddenly racing, she fumbled to accept the call - not even bothering to check the time. His gorgeous, rumpled face filled the video screen, baseball cap pulled low and flashing that killer sleepy smile.

"Hey you," he greeted warmly. "Told you I'd call."

"I didn't actually think you'd manage it tonight, isn't it like 3am there or something?" Yuqi asked, unable to keep from mirroring his smile. He shrugged, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah about that. But I missed you already so I didn't wanna wait 'til morning."

Her heart swelled two sizes, previous gloom vanishing. They stayed on video chat for nearly an hour just catching each other up and chatting aimlessly. More than once she caught him yawning widely or eyes drifting closed before snapping back alert.

"Okay babe I better let you get some sleep," Yuqi finally relented, taking pity on his obvious jet lag. He started to protest but she cut him off. "We can talk more later after you get a nap. I'm not going anywhere."

Nodding reluctantly he blew her a silly kiss through the screen. "Sweet dreams beautiful. Talk to you in a few hours."

Ending the call, Yuqi fell back against her pillows feeling lighter than she had any right to. Nothing had really changed - they were still continents apart just like before. But hearing his voice again and seeing him settle safely back into his own bed made the looming separation more bearable somehow. Snuggling back under the sheet that still smelled faintly of his cologne, she drifted easily off to sleep herself.

Over the next weeks they fell into a familiar routine - daily phone calls or video chats when their schedules aligned, occasional cute selfies or candid snaps throughout work days. The time difference made things tricky but they made it work.

During one such call about a month later, Yuqi was in the middle of recounting some silly prank Minnie had pulled on Soojin when she noticed him start to shift restlessly.

"Babe are you even still listening?" she accused, one eyebrow raised.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry you just...distracted me for a sec," he mumbled, cheeks faintly flushed.

"Oh really? What could possibly be more interesting than my story?" Yuqi challenged.

Clearing his throat, he gave her an uncharacteristically shy smile. "That shirt you're wearing is just really familiar…”

Glancing down, she realised with a start she had subconsciously thrown on his oversized tee that she'd stolen, the hem hitting mid-thigh as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Suddenly she matched his blush.

"Oh! I guess I just grabbed it without thinking when I got dressed earlier..." She trailed off, teeth catching her lower lip. An inviting heat entered her boyfriend's gaze, making her stomach swoop deliciously.

"Mm I like it," he says nodding . "Maybe flip the camera down and give me a little spin? Remind me what I'm missing..." His voice dropped lower and Yuqi suppressed a shiver...

a/n; not really a fan of gidle, also havent seen any content other than their music so this might be a little... off, sorry about that lol, tho hope u enjoy

#idle smut #yuqi smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #fafic smut #kpop fanfic #male reader smut #gidle yuqi #song yuqi #yuqi x reader #girl group smut #female idol smut #one shot

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hugmekenobi · 3 months

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Next Steps

A Bad Batch Post S2 Oneshot

Gif by @im-no-jedi

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Although your return to the Batch has made things better, there are still elements of your past you have to face...

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, made-up timeline and what I imagine what Echo will be doing, limited use of y/n, swearing, my views on mindsets, referenced 'dead' characters and nightmares, mentions/descriptions of torture, detailed scar descriptions, angst, light fluff, nickname 'sweetheart', some emotional hurt/comfort, body and general worship, Hunter being dominant but a consent king, hint of a praise kink, Smut (non-explicit descriptions of making out/kissing, grinding, edging, fingering, oral (f) receiving, overstimulation, handjob, unprotected p in v- not in reality please), reader described as strong and powerful, smart and beautiful, Force-communication and more of my general interpretation of how the Force feels/works

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Word Count: 12.8K

Rating: 18+

Author's note: Once again, a massive thank you to @burningfieldof-clover for helping me when I got stuck and who I am very grateful to have as a friend! Dropping this before S3 graces our screens and I hope you all enjoy!

Chibbier

Echo waited in the forest clearing as the Marauder touched down. “I got your message. It sounded urgent, is everything alright?” Echo asked as soon as the door to the Marauder opened revealing his two brothers.

“Everything is fine, Echo.” Hunter said.

“More than fine.” Wrecker emphasised.

“But we agreed we weren’t to meet until (Y/N) was back with us so unless you’ve found her…” He trailed off as he saw the smile tugging at Wrecker’s mouth and Hunter in particular seemed more at ease than he’d been in the recent months. “Wait a second, you mean-”

“Hey stranger.” You said with a grin as you came into view and stood between Hunter and Wrecker. You laughed as Echo’s expression changed from stunned to happy then to relief in quick succession. You jogged down the steps and embraced him tightly. “Long time no see.”

“I’ll say.” Echo replied with a smile as he mirrored your actions. “You had me worried.”

“Worried?” You queried. It sounded like he had a specific worry in mind rather than the general worries that had plagued the rest of you for months.

“Last news of you I’d heard had me getting ready to tell the boys to launch a rescue mission.” Echo said as he parted from you. “But lucky for us, they found you before I needed to share that.”

If you weren’t so happy to see him, you could’ve punched him. You weren’t far away enough from the other two and you knew Echo’s words wouldn’t go unheard, especially by the clone with enhanced senses. You hadn’t gotten around to sharing that part of your time alone and you weren’t sure that you wanted to either.

Hunter hadn’t forgotten that there was something about your past that you weren’t telling him. He’d noticed small shifts and changes in your behaviour since you’d been back. It was things like you made sure to keep your top layer on at all times and if you had to take it off, you would always go to the refresher regardless of it you were alone or not which was something you never used to do. You hadn’t communicated with either him or Wrecker in the silent way you were able to do where they’d hear your voice in their head which was something you did regularly in the past. You were also more emotionally and physically distant, the latter happening at night in particular and ordinarily it wouldn’t bother him, but he knew the cause was rooted in something you’d gone through. But every time he tried to broach the issue, you refused to talk about whatever it was that was causing it, and it pained him that he could do nothing but watch the negative impact it continued to have on you.

“What’s going on with, Omega? Any new leads?” You asked Echo instead, ignoring Hunter’s hand that now rested on your upper arm.

“(Y/N)-”

“Not now, Hunter. Please.”

Hunter released a quiet and resigned sigh. He wanted to help you if he could, but he also knew he had to wait until you were ready. It was just getting harder to do that.

Echo glanced between the two of you. “I said something I shouldn’t have, didn’t I?”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Just fill us in.”

Echo’s eyes darted to Hunter who only nodded. He took a breath and waited for Wrecker to join the three of you. “Nothing new. Imperial security on Hemlock is tight and any breakthrough just results in more cryptic information.”

“Yeah, we’ve had much of the same.” You agreed irritably.

Echo nodded before he faced Hunter. “I know we said that we’d come together once we had (Y/N) back with us, but I think it’s better if I stay doing what I’m doing. Rex and I are going to meet and try to pool together what we’ve gathered. We can tell you what we find and send you to follow up on other sources since we can’t cover everything ourselves and you can also keep searching on your own.”

Before Hunter could form a reply, the sound of branches snapping grabbed his attention.

The blaster bolt that immediately followed the noise, skimmed the armour on your upper arm.

You all reacted quickly and took cover behind the trees.

The onslaught of fire was being directed towards you and would only occasionally be aimed to your fellow clones as a way to keep them from advancing towards the source. Evidently you were the main target here.

“Hunter!” You shouted over the sound of blaster fire. When he pressed his back against the tree trunk and his helmet looked over to you, you called on the Force and dragged the assailant out from their spot, and a well-aimed shot from Hunter saw to it that the blaster was rendered useless. You kept that link with your ally to Force-push them into another tree, and they crumbled to the floor.

All of you lowered your blaster for the moment. You needed to find out why they were here, killing them immediately wouldn’t get you very far.

You stepped out from behind your tree and observed the bounty hunter carefully. Throughout the firefight, you’d felt yourself being pulled towards them, but you couldn’t work out why and that urge hadn’t gone away.

Stiff and unsteady movements had you readying your blaster again but as the hunter got to their feet and caught your eye, you understood why that feeling was there.

Your heart stopped and you stayed rooted to the spot as you saw the blade ignite from the hilt they were holding. The ground around them illuminated in a pale blue haze and you understood what was calling you to the hunter now. Your feet suddenly began moving of their own accord.

The other three all shared a collective bewildered look at what was unfolding in front of them.

Hunter collected his shock quickly and raised his hand to order the others to halt their fire as you fully stepped out to into the clearing.

The bounty hunter charged for you, but the attack posed little threat to you. Whoever this was had no idea how to use an elegant weapon like this and their grip was heavy and clumsy. It wouldn’t take much for you to disarm them.

You ducked under their reckless and uncoordinated swing, grabbed their wrist, and bent it back until the weapon fell from their grasp. You landed a hard kick to their chest, and they stumbled back. The hood fell loose- now exposing a feminine face- but she wasn’t a bounty hunter you recognised. You didn’t have much time to dwell on that since she grabbed a small knife from her boot and jabbed it towards your stomach. You parried away her strikes before you grew tired of dragging this altercation out. Landing a strong punch to her jaw, you used her dazed disposition to Force-pull her face down to the forest floor and waved the others forward.

Hunter and Wrecker pressed their knees into her back and brought her arms around to firmly hold them behind her.

You paid little attention to what they were doing. You hesitantly walked over to the weapon left discarded on the ground.

“Who hired you?” Hunter demanded as he held her down.

“Fuck off.” She snarled as she fought against their grip, but they were too strong, and she was in a much weaker position than she’d been in ten minutes ago.

Echo merely bent down to reach into her jacket pocket and pulled out the tracking fob and bounty puck. Your holographic image confirming what they’d all suspected.

Upon seeing that, Hunter found himself pushing his knee deeper into her spine, paying little attention to her groans of protest.

“Where did you get this?” You questioned softly, more to yourself than anything. You kept your back turned to her as you knelt down and studied the familiar design on the hilt. You couldn’t pick it up, not yet. You knew what you would feel if you did, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

“What?” The bounty hunter snapped as she went for another attempt to wriggle free, but the two clones kept her tight to the forest floor.

You stiffened your posture as you turned on your heels and strode over to her. You lowered your mask, found your voice, and crouched down to her eye level. “Where did you get the lightsaber?” You pointed back to where the weapon still lay abandoned.

“I’m not telling you a thing, Jedi brat.” She spat.

At her words, Hunter twisted her arm harder, ignoring her pained cry.

You signalled to Hunter to ease up and you stood tall once more and indicated to them both to get her on her feet.

Once they did so, you pressed your blaster against her stomach and brought your lips close to her ear- your voice a quiet but lethal whisper. “You know who I am and what I’ve done to people to get what I want. Do you want to be next?” At her harsh gulp, you kept pushing. “I can’t imagine what that’ll do for your reputation in your community... then again, maybe I can… shall we find out?” You knew you’d done enough as you sensed her flicker of fear. You took a step back and looked at her with a firm glare.

“It was the client I did the job for.” She muttered begrudgingly. She wasn’t about to be maimed or die for a job that wasn’t paying all that much in the first place. She’d worked too hard to be seen as a contender, she couldn’t lose that now.

“And who was that?” Hunter asked again, his voice steely.

“Some shop owner.” She replied irritably.

“A name.” You insisted.

“I can’t remember.”

You puffed out an exasperated sigh and took a half step forward.

“Kedrin! His name was Kedrin!” She revealed fretfully.

You saw the shared look between Hunter and Wrecker. “That name mean something to you?”

Wrecker nodded. “He was the one that told us to go to Christophsis to find you.”

The name meant nothing to you upon initially hearing it but evidently you were involved somehow. You ran the information over in your head. Shop owner… Kedrin… Christophsis… it was starting to make sense in your head and that would mean… Your breath caught in your throat as it hit you. You hadn’t even known his name and you’d taken his only family away from him.

“Why set the bounty on her?” Echo asked coolly, keeping his blaster focused on her.

“Not really supposed to ask.” She grunted. “He just mentioned a dead brother.” She saw the flash of something in your eyes… it looked like regret. “Oh… you killed him.”

You glared at her. You hadn’t had time to fill Echo in yet and this was not how you wanted to go about it.

Echo’s eyes darted from her to you. “What is she talking about?”

“Echo…” You started but a cruel laugh from the bounty hunter interrupted you.

“Oh, she’s achieved quite the reputation. Can’t go far in the Outer Rim without coming across someone who had dealings with her.”

Echo angled his head to face you, but you wouldn’t meet his gaze. As hard as you were trying to hide it, you looked… ashamed?

“Back off.” Wrecker growled at the hunter as he saw your mask of composure slip for a moment.

“What’s the matter, Jedi? Suddenly the killing and torture got too much for you? If they were all as weak as you, no wonder they’re all gone.” She taunted mercilessly.

“Shut up.” Hunter snarled as he saw the way your fists clenched as you worked on keeping your distress at bay.

But you knew it was a pointless venture. Despite her current predicament, that bounty hunter arrogance was in full flow now that she’d discovered your weakness, and she wasn’t about to stop. Her stare was filled with malice, but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of turning away. Your shoulders heaved as you worked on keeping your breathing even and controlled.

The bounty hunter addressed the clones now. "I didn’t get much guidance from my client aside from ‘kill her’ so ever since I picked up that bounty, I've been trying to think of the most chaotic way to take her out. She's obviously felt enough emotional turmoil that an easy death would be a mercy. Jedi don't deserve the luxury. I like to play with my food before I kill it."

“And how’s that worked out for you?” You retorted though your conviction was weak as her words found their mark and her sneer told you she was completely unbothered about her current situation now. Your only plan involved letting her overconfidence be her own undoing.

“Nice try.” She mocked. “For a moment I believed your threats but now that I’m really looking at you, I know you don’t have it in you to kill me anymore. You’ve gone soft and you’re pathetic I can see it in your eyes- you’re haunted by what you’ve done, Jedi.”

Your jaw clenched and you could feel those emotions you’d worked so hard to control start to rise to the surface.

“I’m getting outta here and I fully intend to finish what the Empire started-”

Hunter’s fatal shot to her chest silenced her and she flopped to the ground.

“Looks like you have something you need to deal with first.” Echo advised Hunter as he destroyed the puck and tracking fob for good measure before he holstered his blaster. He faced you. “I still don’t know what happened whilst you were on your own, but your past is your own, I won’t hold anything against you, we’re still okay.” He reassured you.

You barely managed a nod of acknowledgement as her words were still replaying in your mind, but you wouldn’t let it show. Instead, you took out your vibroblade and cut a section of her clothing. You stayed silent as you took the piece of fabric and wrapped the lightsaber in it. You knew it was a lame gesture- especially since you immediately felt that rush of connection as you lifted it- but it provided you with a false sense of security that you would rather have because the second you made unrestrained contact with it, you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist or turn your back on it again. You held the hilt tightly before you waved farewell to Echo and made for the ship.

Hunter nodded absentmindedly at Echo’s words whilst his gaze was fixed on you. He knew seeing that lightsaber might bring back some memories, but the intensity of your reaction told him there was more to it than simply remembering that period of your life. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and reached his hand out to Echo. “Be safe, Echo. We’ll be in touch once we’ve dealt with this.”

“You too.” Echo replied, meeting Hunter’s hand in a firm handshake before they parted, and he watched Hunter head back to the Marauder.

“See you later, Echo.” Wrecker said warmly as he lightly slapped his brother’s shoulder before he followed Hunter to the ship.

“What’s so special about this lightsaber?” Wrecker asked as the ship entered hyperspace.

Hunter leaned against the entrance to the cockpit, arms crossed as he studied you. Your eyes hadn’t left the weapon sitting in your lap.

“It’s mine.” You said quietly.

Hunter immediately straightened up. “It’s yours?” He repeated.

“Yup.” You cleared your throat and brought your eyes up to face the two clones. “I figured it would’ve been destroyed in Order 66. Guess not.” You said with a resigned sigh.

“Woah! Talk about lucky!” Wrecker said excitedly but you didn’t seem to match his enthusiasm. “This is good news, isn’t it?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

“I don’t know what kind of news it is, Wrecker.” You said honestly.

“What’s your hold up?” Hunter asked curiously.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty handy weapon to have and if it belongs to you, isn’t it better that it’s back with you?” Wrecker followed up.

“It’s difficult to explain.” You deflected.

“Try us.” Hunter encouraged gently.

You shot him a look, hoping he would drop it but the look in his eyes told you that he was not for dissuading. You released a short breath. “It would be like taking back a section of my life I was ready to leave behind. That I had left behind… for years.”

“And you don’t know if you’re ready to reconnect with that part of you yet?” Hunter guessed.

You shrugged in complacent agreement. “Making the choice to leave the Jedi Order was already difficult and leaving my lightsaber…. well, that was hard enough the first time and now that I have it back… I don’t know.” You ran a hand over your face. “It’s just complicated.” You got to your feet and carefully put the lightsaber on a shelf in the cockpit.

Wrecker slapped his hands against his thighs. “Well, I always think things look less complicated after a good sleep, what do ya say? We all could use some rest before we sort out this Kedrin guy.”

Sleep didn’t provide you with much respite these days, but you hummed out a quiet laugh and shared a brief smile with Hunter. “Sounds like a good idea, Wrecker.”

Hunter jolted awake, panic setting in as he reached for you only to find that you weren’t there, and he had a horrible feeling that he hadn’t woken up yet. But no, he could hear Wrecker’s faint snores, so he had to be awake, and he knew he was back with you, it wasn’t a trick. There would be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t lying next to him right now.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. You were here, you’d been here for a while now. He’d found you; you were okay. It wasn’t like before. You were probably just in the cockpit. Yes, that’s where you had to be.

When he felt himself calm down, he got to his feet and noiselessly made his way there but paused in the entryway as he saw you reading one of Tech’s old datapads, top layer still on, feet tucked up beneath you as you sat in the pilot’s seat. He thought he’d gathered them all. “Where’d you find that?” He rasped; his voice still thick with sleep.

You jumped in your chair as you heard him. You had been utterly absorbed in what you were reading, you hadn’t sensed him approach. You looked up to see Hunter standing in the doorway to the cockpit. “Tucked behind the medkit. I forgot how much Tech truly recorded.” You said in fond remembrance although there was an overall sense of sorrow in your voice. You flashed him the title of the current report you were reading. “Remember that mission on Ryloth?”

“You and Wrecker got separated from the rest of us and decided to blow up the target from the inside and escape through the garbage chute if I remember correctly?”

“Right.” You said with a soft chuckle.

“Pretty sure that was the mission that made you a fully-fledged member of our squad, Wrecker couldn’t stop raving about you after that. I was almost jealous.” Hunter managed to joke.

You gave him a small grin at that before you turned off the datapad and properly took him in. “Guess you couldn’t sleep either?” You asked in a hushed voice as Hunter stepped further into the cockpit.

Hunter merely shook his head and sat across from you.

“Nightmares?” You figured as you delicately put the datapad back and sat in your seat once more.

“I prefer calling them recaps.” Hunter muttered dully as he sat across from you.

You reached for his knee and squeezed it comfortingly. “Do you want to talk more about them?”

Hunter shook his head. “You know and lived it all too and being here with you helps anyway. What about you?”

“Just a lot weighing on my mind.” You said airily as you brought your hand back to your lap.

Hunter made a small noise of quiet understanding. He hadn’t been expecting much more by way of a response from you.

“I don’t know how he does it.” You whispered in sad envy as you jutted your chin over to where Wrecker was sleeping soundly.

Hunter followed your gaze and sighed. “It’s the only way he can switch off. Especially in the early months, he struggled with remembering everything.”

“Yeah, any form of healing from all this won’t be easy.” You said with a heavy breath.

“Wrecker might be able to sleep better than we can, but he keeps a blaster by him and has his hand on it at all times. I don’t think he ever wants to be caught off guard again.” Hunter replied solemnly. “Moving on won’t ever be simple.”

You dipped your head in agreement and leaned back in your chair.

The minutes ticked by and the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while before Hunter cleared his throat. “I’m going to be selfish for a moment, okay?”

You tilted your head at him and adjusted your posture to give him your full attention. “Okay…”

Hunter took another breath, his throat bobbing before he spoke, “You can’t leave me to wake up alone like that.”

It hit you immediately. Fuck, you’d been an idiot, of course you couldn’t do that. If he’d done that to you, you would lose your shit. How could you have been so stupid? “Hunter-”

“I had one night too many of waking up to a cold and empty space and worrying about where you were and what was happening to you. I can’t go through it again, I won’t. Not anymore.”

You’d been so wrapped up in your own head, you hadn’t even considered what that would do to him, but you should’ve known better, especially because your reaction would be exactly like his. You quietly stood up and closed the short gap between you to straddle his lap.

He accommodated you in an instant and his eyes fluttered shut as you gently stroked your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” You soothed as you placed delicate kisses to his face whilst you moved your hands to rub up and down his chest, his sleep clothes warm and soft beneath your palms.

Hunter caught your wrists and tenderly caressed the scars left there as a result of what you’d endured in Cid’s parlour. “I barely lived through it once and I won’t do it ever again. I don’t care what time it is, if you’re up and struggling with something you wake me up with you. I’d rather that than wake up without you and have that pain and panic set it again. Promise me… please.” He begged, brushing some strands of hair back behind your ear as his eyes looked deep into yours.

You nuzzled into his neck and placed a gentle kiss on his pulse point. “I promise.” Your lips traced his jaw. “And you promise too.”

“I promise.” Hunter agreed and he tucked his fingers under your chin and brought your lips to his.

You had wanted to keep it short and sweet, but you soon found yourself physically incapable. One gentle nip from him on your bottom lip and you were done for. The kiss soon turned hungry and desperate. The two of you were consumed by a passion you’d had no outlet for yet, and you were getting completely lost in the moment. Your hands threaded themselves in his hair and you pressed yourself against him as he deepened the kiss and squeezed your hips to get you to subtly grind against him which were instructions you were only too happy to follow.

It was all over though when you felt his hands start to reach the bottom of your shirt and brush against your bare skin. Instinctively, you flinched away, and you crashed back to reality. You knew what marks you were concealing, and what he would feel if he lifted your shirt, and it wasn’t something he should have to see. “I- I can’t.” You panted against his lips. Your body yearned for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go any further, not yet. Everything was still too fresh, and you couldn’t, no matter how much you wanted to.

Even though his body burned for you, he’d never push you into this, but he wanted to share the burden of whatever it was that was tormenting you. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?” Hunter murmured breathlessly as he glanced up at you.

You swallowed thickly. “I want to but-” You released a low, shaky breath. “It’s- it’s hard to talk about.”

Hunter stroked your cheek. “Well, when you’re ready, I’ll be right there.”

You pressed your lips into his palm.

“Come on, let’s try to get some rest. We’ll arrive at Nelvaan in a few hours.” He kissed your forehead before you got to your feet and the two of you made your way back to your bunk.

“Y- you’re supposed- supposed to be dead!” Kedrin exclaimed fearfully as he cowered behind the main counter upon seeing you standing in the doorway of his shop, the two clones on either side of your shoulders.

“You should’ve sprung for a better bounty hunter then.” You countered as you walked towards the store owner. “I have some questions for you.”

“No, I’m not dealing with any of you ever again!” Kedrin reached underneath the counter and pulled out a blaster and pointed it at you.

You stopped your advance and raised your hands in surrender. “Kedrin, I just need to talk to you.”

“Fuck you! You don’t get to use my name and talk to me like what you did to me was nothing!”

You internally cringed at the memory of what you’d put him through.

“Did you even know he was my brother?!” He shouted in anger. “Did you even care, you heartless bitch?!”

Hunter tensed beside you.

You lightly grazed his hand with your own to tell him it was fine but at the same time shame coiled in your gut. You lowered your mask and kept your voice low and composed. “Kedrin-”

“Stop using my fucking name, you never bothered with it before!” He then turned his rage to the clone that stood closest to you. “And you! I still have the scar from you!” He yelled at the clone on your right, the blaster in his hand still quivering as he aimed it between the three of you.

Hunter stood unwavering beside you and said nothing.

You saw how unsteady his grip on his blaster was. “You’re not a killer, Kedrin. It’s why you sent the bounty hunter after me in the first place.” You said as an attempt to talk him down but the Force around him was in complete chaos, the only emotion that had any kind of control was his anger and that was dangerous. You knew the kind of pain and wrath the loss of a loved one could unleash, and it was why you’d never wanted to put anyone through it in the first place but now you were seeing the impact of your mistake firsthand.

“You killed my brother you fucking bitch!”

You sensed him getting ready to pull the trigger. “Kedrin-” You ducked as the blaster bolt came straight for your head. You channelled the Force and took the blaster from his hand whilst Hunter and Wrecker used that distraction to advance and subdue him. They shoved his head and torso down to press against the countertop.

“Do you want one to match?” Hunter threatened as he reached for his vibroblade and held the sharp point just above Kedrin’s unmarked hand as he and Wrecker held him down.

“Hunter, it’s okay.” You said, pulling him back from that line the two of you had agreed to keep each other from as you saw the way his grip strengthened and the wince of pain Kedrin couldn’t conceal.

Kedrin kept looking for a way out of their hold but was proving futile. “She murdered my brother.” He whimpered as he continued some half-hearted attempts to free himself.

“You’re right. I did.” You approached him and crouched to meet his eyeline. “And it was a mistake that I’m plagued by to this day. All I can do is say that I’m sorry. I know you’d love nothing more than to kill me too, it would probably feel great but please, please Kedrin, don’t do this. It won’t end well for you.” You begged. When his resistance finally ceased, you turned your attention to Hunter.

“Give us a minute.” You said to Hunter, resting a hand on the top of his shoulder.

“But-” Hunter got ready to argue.

“Hunter.” You interrupted firmly and fixed him with a stern stare.

Recognising that tone and look in your eyes, Hunter released a disgruntled but compliant sigh and nodded to Wrecker to let him go. He holstered his blaster and sheathed his vibroblade before leading the way out.

As you heard the door shut, you stepped back from the counter to give Kedrin some space. “You have no reason to trust me, but I promise that I’m not going to hurt you, that’s not why I’m here.”

“You’re- you’re not here to kill me for the bounty hunter?” Kedrin asked warily.

You shook your head. “There was a time where that’s what precisely I would do and I wouldn’t even hesitate, but you’re not the person I’m supposed to be hurting and neither was your brother. I know nothing I say will bring you comfort but I am not here to kill you. I only want to talk.” You said sincerely as you put your weapons to the ground and faced him calmly.

Kedrin massaged his right shoulder- which had been on the receiving end of a particularly harsh grip from the clone you referred to as ‘Hunter’- and narrowed his eyes at you. “What is it exactly that you want to talk about?”

“This.” You placed the lightsaber on the counter and unwrapped it. “Where’d you get it?”

Kedrin wasn’t buying that that was all you wanted to know about, you had to be here for revenge. “How do I know you won’t do some magic thing like you did last time?”

You released an irritated sigh. “Because if I was going to do that, I would’ve done it already. I won’t lie, I can’t leave here with you still intent on sending hunters after me or I will have to do some things neither of us will enjoy, particularly you. I will always regret taking yours away from you, it was never part of my plan to leave someone alone, but my family is still counting on me, and I can’t have anything messing that up. Please, leave us alone and I’ll never bother you again after this.”

Kedrin angled his head and regarded you inquisitively. His body was still filled with fear of being alone with you, but it was like there was a different person standing before him- you seemed genuinely upset and sorry; and that in of itself would be punishment enough- better you feel the guilt of what you’d done than have an easy out. “You’re the most terrifying person I’ve ever met but for some reason, I believe what you’re saying. No more bounty hunters.”

You felt into the Force around him but there was no dishonesty or deceit. “The lightsaber?” You redirected his attention to the weapon on the counter.

Kedrin shrugged. “What about it?”

“Where did you get it?” You repeated impatiently.

Kedrin flinched at your tone and- not wanting to risk upsetting you any further- started wiping down some glass cases to channel his nervous energy and spoke quickly. “I’ve had it for a while, couldn’t tell you who gave it to me. Just that they were employed to be a part of the clean-up after your lot betrayed the Chancellor and found it and wanted a souvenir of the experience.”

You coughed and bit back the flurry of insults and threats that nearly escaped your mouth.

Kedrin, now so focused on his task that he was oblivious to your discomfort, carried on in a restless ramble, “Guess they ran into tough times during the transition period and wanted rid of it for some quick cash. No one really wanted to buy it though, it just sat there which was why I gave it to that bounty hunter.”

You felt your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you realised what this could mean for you. Leaving it behind had been an active choice to cut part of yourself off from the Force and now you had a chance to feel the Force flow through you as a single entity, no more jagged or disjointed connections… but you didn’t know if you were ready for that yet, it was too much to even comprehend. If it had survived everything and found its way back to you… did that mean that you could too?

“So, um are you going to pay for it?” He dared to ask but your sharp and cold glower had him gulping nervously and wringing his hands. “Uh, never mind, you can take it.” He said hastily. “Just let us be done with each other.”

You said nothing to him, you only covered it once more, picked up your other weapons and exited the shop.

“Everything okay?” Hunter asked as you emerged from the store.

“We were going to go get some supplies if you want to join?” Wrecker added.

“I need a moment. You guys go.” You said, giving Wrecker your concealed lightsaber and avoiding eye contact with them both as you hurried back to the Marauder.

Having found a moment of relief under the warm water, you got out of the shower and started to towel off and redress but as you pulled your tank top over you, you realised you’d left your long sleeve out by your bunk. You swore under your breath and only hoped the other two would take a bit longer on the supply run. You dashed out the door of the refresher and started to rummage through the bunk for it.

“Who did that to you?”

You whipped around to see Hunter stood frozen in the entryway to the Marauder. “Dammit Hunter-”

“Who did that to you?” He repeated heatedly, his concern and rage rising each second. The sight of the deep and cruel scars that disappeared from your upper back beneath your shirt to the rest of your back was engrained in his mind and any plans of waiting for you to come to him evaporated as his anger and protectiveness overcame him.

Wrecker stepped up beside his brother, put the supplies down and your weapon on a shelf. He nervously glanced between the two of you and it didn’t take an enhanced skill for him to pick up on the way Hunter was trembling with fury. “Eh, what’d I miss?”

Hunter ignored him and kept his eyes on you. “Who was it?”

You turned back around to grab your shirt and it was then that you heard Wrecker’s sharp inhale as he too now saw what it was Hunter had seen. You fiddled with the fabric, twisting it tightly in your hands. “It wasn’t like it was solely one person. Just forget about it.” You muttered aloofly.

“No, I can’t just forget about it. Who. Hurt. You?”

You sighed heavily and half-turned to face the two clones. “It was a two for one special.”

“Don’t.” Hunter chided sternly. He couldn’t have you make light of this, not when he’d seen what you’d gone through now. He couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer anymore and, as awful as a part of him found it, he had to push you now.

There was no leeway in his voice, you weren’t going to be able to dodge and weave your way out of this conversation now. “Basically, it was both Imperial Stormtroopers and their higher command officers.” You swallowed harshly. “They- they worked together on this one.”

Hunter simply stormed away from you to the ship’s controls. “Wrecker, let’s get the ship in the air.”

“You’re going to go after every Imperial officer and stormtrooper in the galaxy?” You scrappily tugged your top layer over you and hustled after the two of them as they strode into the cockpit.

“If I have to!” Hunter growled.

“I’m with the Sarge on this one.” Wrecker agreed severely as he started to power up the ship.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought but that’s not logical nor practical!” You argued.

“Don’t talk to me about practicality when they did that to you!” Hunter shouted angrily.

“It was my fault, Hunter!” You yelled back.

That caused both of them to pause and Wrecker turned off the engine.

“I did it to myself.” You said, your voice scarcely above a whisper as you braced yourself for the time you were about to relive.

“What are you talking about?” Hunter asked, his voice as quiet as yours now as he studied your face carefully.

“Before I tell you, I need you both to stay calm. Especially you.” You said to Hunter. You knew he wasn’t mad at you; his reaction had been exactly as you’d expected. His fierce protectiveness was a quality you loved about him, but it could be his undoing if he wasn’t careful. “And you need to know and accept that nothing would’ve changed it, it wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I acted in poor and emotional judgement and there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it. Please, trust me on this.” You insisted with a pleading stare at him before you looked to Wrecker who- albeit hesitantly- nodded. You glanced to Hunter again who was still looking like he could take on the Empire singlehandedly. “Hunter?”

Hunter felt a keen sense of dread at your words, and it was highly likely he wouldn’t be able to view it quite as simply as that, but he allowed himself a deep and calming breath. He’d do this for you. “Tell me.”

You exhaled nervously and fidgeted with your hands. Realistically, you’d known you wouldn’t be able to go through the rest of your life without being found out or talking about it but that didn’t make doing this any easier. “I’m sure I don’t really have to go into how hard it was to find each other, right? I’m sure you guys had your fair share of failed leads and things were pretty hopeless for a while, yes?”

Hunter and Wrecker both nodded.

You took another breath. “Right, well, it was the same for me. During our time apart, nothing I did was getting me any closer to you and I could feel it draining me every day. Lyra and I arrived on Christophsis and decided to settle there but it didn’t help. No matter how hard I searched, no matter how much of myself I gave up when it came to getting what I wanted, nothing was bringing results, and I was angry. I was angry, frustrated and just miserable. And it was in that poor state of mind that I made a choice that I shouldn’t have.”

Hunter knew those emotions all too well and he’d get incredibly impatient and unfocused when they got overwhelming, but he’d been fortunate to have Wrecker around to pick up the load when it got too much. Yes, you may have had Lyra, but he knew you and how you operated, and you would’ve put it all on you, regardless of how exhausting it would’ve been and that’s what made him nervous as he awaited further explanation.

You shuffled your feet. “I was being a bit of a nuisance to the Empire wherever I went, Christophsis was no exception, but I was getting nowhere on the information front so, in my slightly unstable state, I figured the best way to find out about you or even Hemlock was to um well, find it straight from the source.”

Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. “No, no you didn’t.”

Wrecker looked between the two of you in confusion but then it clicked with him too and he stared at you, horrified. “Why would you do that?”

You swallowed thickly. “I thought that by handing myself in, I would be able to get the information I was needing. I figured they would have some form of intel on you I could use.” You huffed irritably as you remembered how foolish you’d been. “Turns out they were a lot smarter than I gave them credit for and they sussed out my plan pretty quickly.”

You winced as Hunter threw his helmet and it crashed against the wall. You expected no less but you needed to reign him back in if you had any chance of recounting the whole story. “That’s not staying calm.”

Hunter got to his feet and paced; his distress evident. “We were on your trail! If I’d been faster and picked our sources more carefully, you wouldn’t have had to-” Hunter seethed. How could he have failed you so badly? You’d put yourself through hell for their sake and if he had gotten to you sooner, you wouldn’t have had to have gone through this.

“Hunter, no.” You shook your head to stop him from putting the blame on himself. “The whole reason I did it was because the trail was running cold, and I was desperate. It was all on me. and I’m not done explaining this yet and it doesn’t get better, but you can’t do this. I understand and appreciate where it comes from, but it won’t help now, okay? Just let me finish it.”

Hunter clenched his jaw but did as you asked. He sat back down and nodded at you to continue but he was helpless to stop the anxious shaking of his leg.

You gritted your teeth as you prepared yourself for what you had to do next and any levity that you’d previously been forcing into your voice vanished. “Since they knew what I was and some of the general history between all of us, it’s like I said, they were aware of what I wanted, and they definitely weren’t up for giving it to me. They finally had me under their control, and they were very good at making sure I wasn’t getting away any time soon. Honestly, they were pretty creative with their methods and I’m sure some of them found doing what they did to me quite therapeutic.” That dismissive attitude slipped back in at the end without you meaning to. Frankly, you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for the sharp and worried looks from Wrecker and Hunter. You mentally checked yourself before you proceeded.

“Where they showed their inexperience however was when they got frustrated at how little I gave them. I don’t think they realised how hard it would be to crack someone like me. Their fists, their whips, their electrostaffs… it all hurt but it wouldn’t get me to talk. So, they went for something different, and that was what got them quite close.” You stopped again and found yourself touching the small pinprick scar as you remembered the sharp sting and then the complete haziness that would follow that would render your completely susceptible to anything they would do and say. “Whatever concoction they’d inject into my neck when they got bored or too tired from physically hurting me was nearly impossible for me to resist and that was a terrifying experience... I was having to fight my own mind while they happily watched on. That interrogator droid would enter, and- and my body would go cold with fear every time.” You paused for a chance to gather yourself and squeezed your eyes tight to rid yourself of the memories of that dark, cramped room they would take you where you were helpless to their cruelty and the last thing you would clearly recall would be the whirring of that droid approaching you.

You took another breath before you continued to speak. “That was what came close to breaking me and they worked that out. Every day they would inject me with that serum to make me submit to their words and they would tell me you were right outside. They- they would tell me that I would see- see you all again if I only told them how much I knew about Omega and where I was hiding…. And every day I would have to remind myself that it was all a lie… that you weren’t there, and I couldn’t reveal anything since that would put Lyra in danger too.” You released a shaky breath. “Or they’d try to convince me that you were going through the same thing I was and- and it was my fault and to get- to get it to stop I would have to tell them everything.” You felt a lump form in the back of your throat, but you forced yourself to talk through it. “They could beat me all they wanted but that was the thing that actually left a mark… these scars merely came with the territory.”

A troubled silence fell upon the walls of the Marauder as you finished. You picked at some imaginary lint on your leggings as a way to bring your emotions under control.

Hunter felt sick to his stomach. He could’ve saved you or made it so putting yourself in that position would never have needed to seem like a viable option. You’d needed him and he hadn’t been there. He’d let you down.

You caught a glimpse of his expression changing from anger to defeated sadness and he didn’t need to vocalise those thoughts; you were perfectly aware of what would be going through his head. “It’s okay.” You mouthed silently to him.

You shouldn’t be the one comforting him. A broken and anguished sigh left his throat. Okay? How was any of this okay? You’d subjected yourself to torture for them and had carried the burden of it by yourself for so long.

“How’d you get away?” Wrecker asked in quiet upset as he imagined you experiencing that.

You coughed and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “Truth be told, it gets a bit blurry near the end. I…” You trailed off and frowned as you worked on accurately recalling what had gone down the day you got out. You hesitantly started your explanation again. “I remember overhearing that they were going to send me off world to a high security prison and I couldn’t have that. The trooper who put the cuffs on me to take me back to my cell was a rookie, I think he figured I was unconscious, so he used the regular ones that didn’t restrict my Force-wielding abilities. Then the dizziness and blackouts set in, I remember finding the strength to take him out, but I don’t exactly know how I proceeded from there. The next thing I do remember was collapsing outside the door to where we were living and Lyra dragging me inside.”

“Hunter?” You looked to him since he hadn’t said anything yet.

Hunter’s throat had gone so dry, he couldn’t summon words immediately. All that was racking through his head was how he could’ve prevented this and how he should’ve been there to save you. You never should’ve been the one to drag yourself out of that hellhole. The protective part of him wanted to find a way for you to come up with any identifying features that could assist in hunting down those who’d inflicted that pain on you but despite all you’d relayed to them, he was calmer now and he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. He may have failed you then, but he wouldn’t now. His focus now lay in what he could do for you now but there was an element to the explanation he was missing and once he had that, everything else could fall into place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He murmured instead.

There was no accusation in his eyes, no pointedness or blame in his tone. You knew he just wanted to understand, and it was a fair question. “I was working on compartmentalising it; it was just going badly. And-” You stopped yourself from continuing and instead just started to back away. “Nothing.”

“And what?” Hunter pressed as he got to his feet and caught your hand before you could step away any further.

You shook your head. “It’s a stupid reason, I shouldn’t care about it.”

“Nothing you’re feeling about this is stupid. I might be able to help, you only need to tell me.” Hunter prompted tenderly as he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

You regarded him carefully, attempting to find some deception or falseness in his tone so you didn’t have to say it but, unsurprisingly, you didn’t find any. You bit your lip before speaking, “I didn’t want you to have to see them. They’re- they’re not exactly nice to look at.” You muttered as you dipped your head to stare at the floor.

The fact that that was even cause for concern felt like a punch to the gut but at least there was something he could do about it. He may not be able to go after the Imperials like he wanted but he could help you realise that was a non-issue for him and one that hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Wrecker, take a walk. I’ll be in touch when you can come back.” Hunter ordered his brother.

Wrecker wasn’t about to question him, so he did as he said. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder in comfort. “Thank you for telling us.” He said before he left the ship.

You went to address Hunter, but he spoke first.

“Turn around.”

Your brow furrowed but you couldn’t deny the warmth that bloomed in your stomach at his words. “What?”

“Turn around.” Hunter repeated, his tone quiet but filled with dominance.

Despite your lingering questions as to what exactly it was that he wanted, you found yourself doing as he instructed. You could feel the heat in your stomach start to radiate throughout the rest of his body. Each steady thump of armour hitting the ground had goosebumps rising on your skin in anticipation and you felt him crowd your back and rest his chin in the space between your neck and shoulder.

Hunter kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear and as he felt you relax into him; he slowly grabbed the hem of your long-sleeved layer and lifted it over your head and dropped it to the floor of the ship. He didn’t let his eyes fall to the scars yet. Instead, he caressed the trail of goosebumps on your arms and continued to pay close attention to your neck, softy nibbling the areas that he knew would make you weak at the knees.

He could play your body so well; it was like the two of you hadn’t been parted for as long as you had been. You could feel yourself growing more and more compliant to his touch and desire coursed through your body. You only snapped out of it when you felt his touch go lower and he tugged the bottom of your vest top. You went stiff and immediately grabbed his hands in a panic. “Hunter, no. You-”

“Easy.” He soothed as he pressed delicate, featherlight kisses to the back and each side of your neck. “Trust me.” He rasped against your skin, but he waited for your signal.

You released a low, unsteady breath. You couldn’t live in this state of fear and shame forever. You trusted him with everything you had and that was why you felt yourself letting go of his wrists. Your breathing grew uneven, and your body trembled as you felt his bare hands graze underneath your vest top before, they held onto the hem of it.

“Relax… it’s okay. You’re okay now. Let me see.” He encouraged gently, only lifting when he saw you nod your permission.

His gaze finally dipped to your bare back, and he had to fight to keep his breathing calm as he felt his heart shatter once he saw the full extent of what had been done to you. Your back was a map of merciless and vicious scars, and he wanted nothing more to take away the pain they’d caused you and inflict it on his own body. But that was the only effect they had. He was not repulsed, not repelled by the sight of them. They did nothing to ruin his physical perception of you. You were every bit as beautiful to him now as you had been when he first met you on Devaron all that time ago. “You’re exquisite.”

You refused to believe that. These were different to the scars you were both used to that came with the impact of battle and you were under no illusions as to how unsightly they were. You went to turn to face him so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at them and to protest his words, but he sensed that and beat you to it.

“These do not define you. They do not define my view of you. You are strong, you are capable, and you are a force to be reckoned with and that is why I love you.” He started to lightly touch each one. “No amount of scarring is going to change that. You. Are. Beautiful. I will be there to remind you of that whenever you need it.” He pressed his mouth to the space between your shoulder blades.

Your body trembled under his touch and his sincerity threatened to overwhelm you. “Hunter-” You managed to choke out.

“I would tear the galaxy apart for you, if you wanted me to.” He hummed against your skin as he continued to trail his lips down your back, worshipping every mark that had been left on you so as to leave a new association with them now. “But I know that’s not what you need.”

A quivering breath left your lungs at his words and ministrations, and you knew you felt the same way. But it was because the two of you were aware of that line that your relationship worked so well- you could balance the sentiment with intent. You could feel him starting to make his way back up your back.

“So, what is it that you need?” He hummed into your ear before he placed his hands on your waist and sucked a mark over the tiny scar that rested on your pulse point.

You groaned and braced your hands on the wall that formed the entryway to the cockpit as you felt your knees buckle.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me and it’s yours.” He asked again as his fingers started to dip beneath the waistband of your leggings whilst he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

You knew exactly what it was, it was all you ever really needed. “You.” You gasped and you swore you felt him smile against your skin.

“You have me… always.”

You couldn’t hold out any longer, you turned around and crushed your lips against his with a groan and pushed him to the wall of the entrance to the cockpit. If he was taken aback by your abruptness, he didn’t show it as he matched your enthusiasm immediately, one hand coming to firmly grip your exposed waist whilst the other tangled itself in your damp hair, a desperate and eager noise leaving him as he got to feel your body press against his.

As you kissed him, your hands fisted his shirt and you pulled insistently but made no moves to actually step away to remove it, you were too addicted to the feeling of having him this way again… yet you needed to feel his skin against yours which is why you were thankful that he had enough willpower to separate himself from you and take it off himself.

The two of you breathed heavily and the air was thick with tension, but you were too focused on looking at what rested just past his collarbone. You hadn’t allowed yourself to check if he had held onto it for fear of what it could mean if it was gone, and your breath hitched. You touched the black leather cord and traced the small Jedi Order symbol on the end. “You- you kept it?”

“Of course, I did.” He softly uttered, if a little out of breath. He cradled your face in his palms. “What do I have to do to make you see what I see in you?”

Any answer died on your lips, and he passionately reconnected his mouth to yours, using your surprised gasp to deepen the kiss before he stepped away from the wall and started to direct you both down the narrow hallway to your bunk, muscle memory mapping the way as neither of you were content to separate to make the walk any easier.

A trail of clothes was left in your wake as you made your way to your bunk.

Hunter gently laid you down, his lips never parting yours before he patted your hip to get you to be on your front.

You still found yourself feeling reluctant. His beautiful brown eyes were laden with lust but there was also a deep and devoted sense of care behind them which was why you complied with his request. You trusted him.

Hunter went back to what he’d done earlier as he left delicate kisses to every scar that donned your back. What you endured was something no one should ever have to but what he could do now was make sure you knew that you didn’t need to hide them for the sake of other people- especially him- any longer. “You never have to worry about these. All that matters to me is that you’re here now, you got away, and you will never end up back there. More scars don’t have the power to change how I feel about you, nothing does. I love you for all that you are.” He planted a kiss to the base of your spine before he got you on your back to face him.

Hunter wiped away the salty tears that had escaped your eyes and nudged the side of your nose with his. “I love you. Always.”

“Always.” You repeated hoarsely as you were overwhelmed by the emotions that came crashing to the surface. You stroked back the smaller bits of hair that frequently slipped past his bandanna.

Hunter kissed your cheek before leaving a trial of kisses along your jawline whilst his hand slowly made its way down your body to rest between your thighs.

Your legs parted for him on instinct and your hips bucked into his touch and a soft moan left your throat.

His voice took on a low purr as he moved his fingers. “Here’s how this is going to work: I am going to tell you everything that I love about you which you are then going to repeat and… if you don’t…” He stopped and took his hand away as he saw that familiar expression on your face, and he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged the edges of his mouth as that expression turned into an affronted pout. “I stop.”

Your eyes widened at the very clear implications of what he had in store for you.

“Or this doesn’t have to go any further and we stop now.” He offered sincerely.

No, you didn’t want that. It had been too long, and you needed him like your lungs needed oxygen. You could do this. You nodded your consent.

Hunter angled his head to press his lips against yours before he started to move his fingers again, hungrily swallowing your appreciative gasp. He kissed you passionately, not in any rush to stop right now. He parted from you and took a second to appreciate the throaty sighs that left your mouth at his actions, the way you bit your lip and the slight wrinkle on your brow as you grew closer to your release. He’d missed being able to see you like this, but he was relishing the opportunity to relearn and do all the things that made your body contort in pleasure. “You’re beautiful.” He exhaled in complete awe.

You were so caught up in the pleasure radiating throughout your body that you had already forgotten his plan and you were too put out by the feeling of your climax fading away to recall where your side of the bargain came into it. “Hey-” You cut yourself off as you saw the expectant expression on his face and then you remembered what you had to do to get what you craved but that doubt was still there, and you felt awkward doing it. However, the reassurance and trust that also rested on his face saw to it that you did as he said. “I- I’m beautiful.”

Hunter bowed his head with a supportive smile before he carried on, the sound of your groan was like music to his ears. “Despite all that’s happened… all that we still have to do… you always find a way to make me smile.”

You were in a state of total euphoria and therefore failed to fully comprehend that he’d said something else. It was only when you felt him pull his hand away and the emptiness that followed that brought you back to the current situation. With a whine, you spoke again, “I- make- make you s- smile.” You ground out as you moved your hips in tandem with his touch as you chased your high.

He let you have your first climax, pausing to let you come down from it. Once your breathing evened out, he went again and kissed you before muttering against your lips, “You’re smart.”

“I’m- fuck.” You were too distracted by seeking the next release you were longing for to remember to respond, and you cried out in irritation as he stopped just before you reached it.

“Almost.” He crooned into your ear.

As frustrated as you were, you got your bearings and whispered, “I’m smart.”

“Good girl.” He praised, a grin on his face as your breath stuttered at his words, before he continued, curling his fingers in the way he knew would send you over the edge and sure enough, your hips lifted as your release crashed over you and a gratified moan sounded from you. However, he didn’t stop, he worked you through it and said, “You’re caring.”

The process got easier and began to feel more natural. You slowly started to understand that clinging on to that part of your past had made it impossible to fully come back. Keeping yourself hidden and refusing to acknowledge what you’d experienced had made it difficult to fathom that he could still want you this way but each affirmation from his, as silly as you’d initially felt at doing what he said, was helping cement the idea that you may not be able to change or fix what you’d gone through, but it didn’t have to control you anymore. You had a partner and family that loved you and who you adored and would do anything for. You would get through this and now you were beginning to feel like you could do it. You felt yourself believing what he was telling you. A whimper left your throat, and you could already sense that you were hurtling towards the edge again, but you repeated it. “I’m c- caring.” You said through panted breaths as you coped with the overstimulation.

“You’re doing so well.” He encouraged as he kept to his word and continued to touch you. “You’re strong.” He knew he was repeating himself, but they weren’t words he minded reiterating, and he needed you to know and believe it too.

“I’m strong.” You said breathlessly as your hands curled into the blanket beneath you as that feeling overcame you again.

He saw you through your next peak and took his hand away to give you a rest from the stimulation and simply stared at you and the blissed out look on your face. He had it committed to memory, but it never ceased to take his breath away every time.

You gathered yourself enough to smile at him. “Thank you.” You whispered as you lightly followed the shape of his tattoo. You clasped the back of his neck and attempted to pull him towards you, but he worked his way out of your grip and instead kissed the hollow of your throat before kissing his way down the rest of your body. Your head fell back as you realised his intent, but you had thought it would be time for him to take what it was he needed.

He could help the groan that left him as he finally put his mouth on you. He could get drunk off the taste of you, and it had been too fucking long since he’d had the chance to do so, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

You couldn’t help the way your hands tangled in his hair and tugged him closer to you, his appreciative growl sent shivers down your spine, but you were so sensitive, and you didn’t think you could manage another one. “Hunter, I can’t. Just-”

“One more. I know you can.” He encouraged desperately as he planted a kiss to your inner thigh, sucking a bruise into the skin, before he went back to where his attention was demanded. He needed you to fall apart on his tongue, he was addicted to it, every drop of you, every whimper that sounded from you was like his own personal drug and he would never tire of it. “You’ve been such a good girl… done everything I’ve asked for… just give me one more, sweetheart.”

That did it. Your back arched and you finished with a ruined and exhausted moan. You were completely spent but it felt so good. You barely registered him to come rest beside you, his lips pressed against your temple.

“I know that wasn’t easy, but I’m so proud of you.” Hunter murmured into your hairline as he stroked up and down your side.

You regained enough feeling in your limbs to turn on your side “What about you?” You queried, still struggling to catch your breath. You knew you would be sensitive but your overwhelming longing for him swiftly outweighed any concerns.

Hunter slowly shook his head as he brushed his lips against yours, taking them away when you went to deepen the kiss. “This was always about you.”

With each passing moment, you were gaining more clarity over your faculties, and you knew what you had to do. A seductive smile pulled at the corners of your mouth and your hand snaked down between you both.

“What-” Hunter inhaled sharply as he felt your hand wrap around him, and his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to thrust his hips into your touch. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to-”

“You said this was about me and what I need, right?” You hummed as you rested your forehead against his whilst your hand kept moving. You kept your touch teasing but just enough to drive him crazy.

“R-right.” Hunter said through a strained breath as he felt his restraint leaving him with every second you continued to touch him.

“And what I need is to feel you…” You brought your lips close to his, barely any space between you now. “Inside me.” You kissed him, tugging his lip between your teeth whilst your free hand entangled itself in his hair, the actions eliciting the depraved groan you had been looking for, and before you knew it, you were back on your back again with Hunter kissing you with a newfound fervour which you matched in kind. You wrapped your legs around him and drew him closer to you, smiling against his lips at the surprised huff that escaped him.

Hunter kept kissing you as he started to guide himself into you. He knew you would still feel tender and was careful as he slowly moved into you, both of your breaths catching at the feeling. His head fell to rest in the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there before he soothed the sting of it with his tongue as he started to move, heavy grunts and pants leaving his lips as he got absorbed in feeling you this way after all this time.

Your nails dug into his back, and you could feel the muscles flex beneath your fingers and a sensual sigh left your lungs as you finally felt all of him.

One thought crossed your mind amidst the fog of pleasure that was spreading over your body. You’d let go of your fear now and you wanted to look for that connection again. Before, it had marked a level of certainty of your place here and overall mindset and if you couldn’t find it after all that had happened, there was a time where you would’ve been sure that it would mean there was no true way back for you. But now you understood that wasn’t and didn’t have to be the case. If it wasn’t there, you could work to get it back.

You used the Force around you to find his unique signature again and you could’ve wept with joy as you sensed it once more and it welcomed you with open arms. It had been waiting for you. You bridged the gap between you and allowed that feeling to flow through you. I love you.

Hunter paused his movements, and he stared down at you, a shocked but delighted cry left his mouth as he saw the broad and affirming smile on your face that told him he hadn’t imagined it. He’d wanted to have that back for so long and his heart soared as he realised what this meant for you. You weren’t holding back anymore; you were officially home.

You stroked a thumb along his cheekbone before clenched around him in an attempt to get him to keep going, a smug hum of laughter leaving you at the almost pained expression on his face as he got himself back under control before he started again.

“Do it again. Please.” Hunter requested frantically as he felt himself approaching his own release.

You smiled affectionately at him and continued to kiss him as you saw him through to his climax. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He finished with a strangled groan, and he collapsed on top of you. He stayed there for a few moments before he gently pulled out of you, stroking your hair as he saw you slightly wince at the action. “I’m sorry if it was too much.”

You shook your head. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” You reassured him as he laid down beside you and held you close to him. We should clean up.

Hunter made a sound of acknowledgement as he pressed his mouth to the crown of your head. “What made you do that again?”

“I let go.” You said simply before planting a chaste kiss to his lips before taking his hands in yours and guiding him to the refresher. “Come on.”

“What are you thinking?” Hunter asked as he watched you pick up the wrapped lightsaber from the shelf Wrecker had put it on. You hadn’t touched it since taking it from the bounty hunter.

“I can’t hold on to or fear the past anymore. We can only look to the future now and that future has us getting Omega back. And…” You uncovered the seemingly harmless looking weapon. “I think this will make achieving that easier.” You reached for it, hesitating for just a moment before you picked it up and it was an instant reaction. You took half a step back as the sensation of feeling that connection you hadn’t encountered for years threatened to overwhelm you. Flashes of your past as a youngling and echoes of previous battles and instructions from your master sounded in your head but it wasn’t scary this time, you were merely remembering the periods where this weapon had been your life.

Hunter placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You alright?”

You took one long breath. “Yeah. It’ll just take come getting used to, but it’s going to be worth it. I’m not hiding what I am these days, may as well have the whole image.” You said light-heartedly.

Hunter cupped your jaw and kissed you gently, both of you sighing contentedly into the sensation before Wrecker’s hesitant voice echoed through the comms.

“Um, Hunter… I hope I’m not interrupting eh anything now but um I was wondering if I could come back? I’ve started to wander in circles and I’m getting some suspicious looks.”

The two of you chuckled.

“Poor guy.” You said with a humorous shake of your head.

“Yeah, Wrecker, head on back and we can get outta here.” Hunter replied through his comm.

“Wrecker, how’d you fancy having an excuse to shoot at me?” You said into your comm, and the intrigued but excited cheer told you your answer.

“Shoot you?” Hunter repeated, titling his head at you inquisitively.

You grinned as you clipped your lightsaber to your waist. “Yeah, how else did you think I was going to train?”

“That’s 15 to 11!” Wrecker whooped as you came to after his stun blast hit your back.

Fuck you. You jabbed playfully as you accepted Hunter’s outstretched hand. He tugged you to your feet.

“You’re lasting longer.” Hunter commented supportively and- knowing you would want to go immediately again- walked away to take up his position.

You wiped the dirt from your clothing and removed your mask to take some deep breaths and find your centre again. Taking on jobs, following leads, mediating and lightsaber training… that was how you balanced your time; you were feeling more like the person you had been before your world had been torn apart. You’d never be able to be her again, but you could own who you are now and allow yourself to feel the emotions you’d been struggling against without suffocating in them anymore.

“But still not long enough!” Wrecker goaded. “I’ll always be in the lead!”

You didn’t take the bait. Instead, you took off your armour, gloves, and long-sleeved top.

“Hey, wait a minute, that’s not fair.” Wrecker protested.

Hunter turned inquisitively and his breath hitched. A soft sheen of sweat graced your skin and your body rippled with strength and untapped potential… and fuck did it make his heart skip a beat and his blood run hot. He was grateful his helmet was still on because the way his eyes widened would’ve given you too much material to work with right now, but he wasn’t able to hide the way his hand slightly fumbled as he unholstered his blaster. He wasn’t embarrassed by finding you attractive in this way, the frequent teasing he’d often received for it just made it harder to focus on the task at hand.

“The training stays the same and my strategy is my own. It’s not supposed to have an effect on you anyway.” You retorted with a smug grin as Hunter’s reaction went exactly as you’d anticipated.

“You better not mess this up for us, Hunter.” Wrecker warned as he shoved his brother’s shoulder to snap him out his reverie.

You laughed to yourself as you watched them. You picked up your lightsaber and ignited it, the blue blade thrumming at your side, and you felt that rush of connection and security. Having a blaster by your side was nothing compared to this.

It was a powerful sight that Hunter never got used to and quite frankly, part of him was relieved he’d never come across you as an official Jedi General during the war because if his reaction to seeing you train and work towards unlocking whatever you had been tampering down for so many years was anything to by, he would’ve gotten himself shot a long time ago- half your earlier victories came from redirecting his own stun blasts to him.

You got into your stance and faced the two clones as they readied their blasters. “Alright, let’s go again.”

<Previous Oneshot

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faeriekit · 1 year

Text

The Firstborn Son (part II)

Read the first part here!

dp x dc | Batman 👻 tw for: canon-typical violence, threats against children, purposeful exacerbation of triggering events

****

Dick is sick.

It started out as a cold, but the symptoms keep shifting—Dick’s been vomiting periodically, but not frequently enough to encourage them to fetch a doctor; Dick is too cold, then too hot, and then freezing all over again.

Alfred, of course, provides ‘round the clock care, but…

Bruce can’t help it. He’s Bruce Wayne’s ward, not Alfred Pennyworth’s, so Bruce makes himself busy reading children’s books and tucking in pillows and delivering small sips of blue Gatorade to the most miserable child in the whole wide world.

(According to Dick, anyway).

(Considering the keening whimpers and constantly cleaned sheets Bruce has been replacing, Bruce is inclined to believe it.)

Bruce is down the hall, fetching Zitka from the wash, when he hears the scream.

It’s too high to be discomfort—it’s too loud to be anything but fear.

Or pain.

“B!! B B Beebeeebeebee—!!”

Bruce has never been faster in his life. Not training with the league of assassins. Not flinging himself off rooftops.

He slides into the room just in time to see a sobbing, struggling Dick leave it. A clawed hand drags the nine-year-old by the arm out of bed, across the hardwood floor, and into a toxic green rift floating in the air. And then he’s gone.

Bruce’s world melts around him.

He needs—he needs his armor. He needs his gear. Dick is gone and he needs gear—

He hurtles towards the cave so fast that he almost bowls over Alfred in his desperation. He’s practically on all fours down the stairs. Bruce nearly rips the hands off the antique grandfather clock he’s fashioned into a door trying to get it open that much faster, and he’s shoving himself into Kevlar and thick black boots as soon as he reaches his gear locker. His belt is packed. His weapons are loaded—he needs to go before that green rift closes—before Dick gets anything farther—before anything happens to him—

Alfred is going to be upset down the line for the grapple-marks on the bannister, but all Bruce can think of is how quickly he can get back up to the boy’s bedroom. He lands, he launches himself off the railing, and lunges back towards Dick’s room.

(Again, blowing past Alfred.)

“Master Bruce, what on God’s green earth—“

“Something kidnapped Dick!”

“What?”

Bruce lands with all his considerable weight on the floor of Dick’s room, ignoring the colorful circus posters and world flags tacked to the walls for the sake of a green ripple burning through the center of the room. Bruce makes to jump through.

Alfred’s grip on his arm holds him back.

Bruce can’t even process it for a moment. That his parent—who knows how important Dick is, and cares for him too—is stopping him from going in after him. And then Bruce’s ears tune back in and Bruce begins to understand a little more.

“—throwing yourself into danger with only a moment’s notice and no back-up! We need more information before you go careening, head-first—“

Bruce would normally agree.

But he can see the tattered edges of reality closing in on the green wound. There won’t be much time to go through before the rift—whatever is it and wherever it goes—closes, and his nine-year-old-ward is left alone in a secondary location.

Bruce really hopes he’s not going to leave Alfred alone in Wayne manor if he goes through this. But he has to go through with this. Bruce has always been weak to stray pets and people in need, and this boy is—he’s—he’s Bruce’s responsibility.

He doesn’t say anything. Alfred raised Bruce—he knows how to read him. Bruce uncurls Alfred’s hands from around his arm, shifts his weight, and lunges through.

The world turns uranium green.

Kryptonite green, even. Everything has this odd, incandescent glow to it; considering that he can’t see the sun, Bruce—Batman—has to guess that the ever-present light is the only substitute for solar energy.

He’s going to investigate it more. Later.

When there isn’t a huge, periwinkle dragon with Dick clutched in its lime green claws.

The dragon is as long as a school bus, with the expected claws and teeth, red eyes, and ridged spines along its back to deter predation. It looks, in a way that is almost comical, like a living, breathing version of what a child might think a dragon looks like. It isn’t a color that can camouflage even in this green environment.

There’s no ground, but—somehow—Bruce is able to launch himself forward after the beast. He’s treading…air. Or something like it. Whatever this atmosphere’s glowing substance is. Dick is scrabbling against the unyielding surface of the beast’s claws, and Batman has to fetch Dick back before something worse than sudden transportation happens.

He’s not fast enough to catch it. It can fly, and Batman cannot.

Bruce flings batarangs at its foot. With any luck, it will have to drop Dick, and he can—who knows—dip down and catch him.

It flips a wing. The batarangs are harmlessly batted away.

But its mobility is compromised as it does, unable to pump its wings as it defends itself. Interesting. There isn’t anything in particular holding Bruce up in the air, a speck in an array of floating island, but when the dragon’s wing-beats are interrupted, it no longer moves as it ought to.

The reason why doesn’t matter. It’s an exploitable weakness. Bruce hurls another two batarangs at its foot, and when it ducks a wing to hide Dick from him, he hurls another two towards its other wing.

Bingo. The dragon’s wings stutter. It doesn’t fall, as Bruce worried it might have, miraculously. There doesn’t seem to be anything but abyss below or above them.

He strides forward. Dick is miserable, snotty and sobbing in his little elephant jammies, and all Bruce wants to do is pick him up and bring him home. He’s so close. Dick is reaching out with his little, fragile hand. Bruce has to grab it back.

He’s so close. All Dick has to do is reach out and grip his black glove—

A sonic blast propels Batman back.

“Come on, Bat-boy!” Bruce hears. His head snaps upwards. A blue-haired woman with a guitar and studded black clothing floats above him, pleased to be between him and Dick.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. Finally, he gets someone verbal. “Who are you? What do you want with the boy?”

The woman’s smile is all teeth. “It’s not about what I want, Bat-guy. Care to dance for a spell?”

The guitar in her hand changes shape; the fist-shaped body of the instrument precedes the fist-shaped beam sent his way, her fingers on the strings as she summons the musical blast.

Bruce dodges the first one. The second— the third one is too close, as Bruce tries to fistfight the woman as quickly as he can to get her out of the way, and takes a sonic punch to his Kevlar-padded chest instead.

He can’t breathe. The woman takes full advantage of his breathlessness by lifting her guitar, swinging it back, and giving him a hit that would have concussed him without his cowl.

Bruce can’t move. Dick’s captor is getting away. Dick is getting dragged away and he cannot make himself move.

“Golly G, Bat boy, I thought this would be harder!” the woman laughs. “Let’s try something smoother, instead. What do you think about a love song?”

There’s no point in engaging with her. She’s actively trying to stall him from going after Dick. However, despite knowing that she’s stalling, there isn’t a great way to disengage from the fight. Dick’s cries are tapering off with the distance, and Bruce can feel his heart stuttering for reasons not related to the thoracic injury he’s just endured.

(Her fingers flick across the strings, and her guitar flickers into the shape of a heart.)

So he takes a risk. And feints. Jumps back, gets distance between them, and tries to go after his kidnapped ward fast enough that the dragon won’t escape his sight.

Bruce dodges the first few blasts, but the lack of cohesive planes of movement are disorienting. He gets hit in the side with a blast, and—

Everything does fuzzy. Concussive-fuzzy, even. Where is he going? Ember (that’s her name?) is right here. He was…looking for her. Wasn’t he? Yes. Right. He was looking for Ember.

She floats down to his height. (Perfect control of her flight, a dim part of him notices.) “You with us, Bat-boy?”

Bruce. Nods. He wants to give her good information. She’s the important thing he’s looking for.

Her smile is electric. She’s the center of the world. “Good work! If you love me, you’re going to stay here and be patient. I’ll come get you in a minute, ‘kay?”

Bruce nods. He’s getting better at making his body move. He has to listen to her; how could anyone not listen to her, when her voice is so hauntingly beautiful?

Her laughter is the sunlight. And then she’s off.

Bruce is patient.

He will wait.

He will…

Oh God.

Dick is gone.

Bruce doesn’t quite wake up, but—Dick is gone. His ki—his ward, the bright little bird, the light of his house is gone. He’s sick and—Alfred isn’t here, and—

His looks around the area are frantic. There won’t be footprints or dust or debris left behind, but there has to be something. There has to be something he can use to get Dick back.

Focus. He needs to focus. Whatever rip he had broken through to get here, the spatial rend that was used to take Dick, is already gone. There is no way to go back and gather intel or get help. The woman that had trapped him in his head is already gone, with no trail to follow. Neither does the dragon have a trail.

He takes a—step. Whatever the equivalent is of stepping. And then another. If he triangulates the positions of the islands he had seen the dragon fly past, he might be able to approximate a direction. Maybe. It’s all he has—

—And something cracks against the back of his cowl. Bruce staggers.

A second blow and he’s out.

****

Bruce wakes up.

He’s still in the majority of his Batgear, which is a sign that 1) there has been little attempt to frisk him, and 2), that Dick’s naming conventions have worn off on him. Bruce is in an approximately 6’ by 6’ stone cell. His limbs are free.

Still. He automatically checks his belts for his equipment. Sure enough, his belt—smoke pellets, last of his batarangs, grapple gun, lockpicks, rebreather—and everything in it is gone.

There’s still a knife in his boot, though, so that ought to count for something. His captors aren’t used to trained operatives, nor deeply-entrenched criminal elements. Likely more used to common abductions; Bruce would be embarrassed to be taken by surprise by such amateur elements, but. Well. It’s not as if he can hear the footsteps that weren’t there in that vast green wasteland.

And, just like the outside green landscape, there is no central light. Everything simply…glows.

So he wasn’t removed from this new…dimension. He is only trapped in a building within it.

The cell has bars, but not bars big enough to slip through, cowl or no cowl.

Guards flicker past in concentrated routes. They’re just as liquid and green as their uranium homeworld. Their body armor places them more closely to a riot squad than to usual prison sentencing, but it’s not as if Bruce knows why they’re here or what their role is. They’re identical, from their helmets down to their wispy…tails…

A larger, bone-white build makes its way into his field of view. “Make way,” it announces to the guards, authority barely softened with a southern twang. “I’m going to speak to the prisoner.”

Great. Batman is a prisoner.

The huge build reveals itself to be a huge, broad-shouldered man, clothed entirely in white. Black boots. Black hat. His nose is…rotted away.

“Prisoner,” the man addresses him.

Bruce says nothing.

“You’re in here for the maximum sentence of a hundred years for bringing real-world items into the Ghost Zone. There’s no trial for this sentence: the King,” the man spits, “Demanded this personally. I am Walker, and I am the warden here. Cross me and you will regret it eternally.”

A warden.

Not an active member of the legal institution, but the end of it. Interesting.

Batman draws his cape around him. “I am only here for the boy. He is nine, he is ill, and he was kidnapped from his bed. Help me find him, and I will be out of your…”

Bruce takes a look at the man again.

“…Hat.”

“No can do,” the man says, firm. “Boy’s scheduled for a private execution with his Majesty. You’re in my custody now, and the boy’s going to find himself a permanent house in the Zone somewhere. Sit tight, or else your sentence is getting a few years’ extension.”

An exec— “He is nine,” Batman snarls, more his armor than he is the man within. “He is a nine year old with a hundred degree fever—why does he have an execution date?”

The warden, Walker, gives Batman a look. “Common practice for breaking your contract with the Ghost King,” the—ghost?—explains. “No reason for you to worry about it; you certainly can’t make any contracts from in here. Nothing comes in. Nothing comes out. Get comfortable—you’re not going anywhere.”

Not going anywhe— Bruce hurls himself at the barred door and the man within it, needing to go get his ill nine-year-old as soon as physically possible. He is getting out of here, and he is getting out of here this instant. The need to get his boy back is overwhelming. The thought of Dick, aching and fevered, in his pajamas and not even his armored suit, in the hands of someone who wants to kill him—

Bruce manages to wriggle past the first two guards, but a fourth and third manage to get him in the side with electricity. He doesn’t scream. The electricity doesn’t end—Bruce grits his teeth together and he tastes copper in his mouth but he does not scream, he has to get to Dick.

“Get him back in there!” the warden barks. The hall swarms with guards, and Bruce is pushed back into the cell, slammed onto the floor.

He rolls to his feet and lunges back up, fists outstretched.

The guards are too smart to fight him, and it burns, because he wants to repay this threat to his child with blood and broken bones. (Do ghosts even have bones to break? The best way to find out is to try. The barred door is slammed in his face.

Bruce heaves all his weight against it. pushes it with all the force in his body. Tries to pick the lock with the clawed tips of his gloves.

It doesn’t move.

A hundred-year sentence. A hundred years. It doesn’t even matter that Bruce could be stuck here forever, if Dick is about to lose his life in mere hours.

He wants to bang on the bars with his fists. He does. He wants to scream. He doesn’t scream, because one action might actually damage the bars and the other will only alert the guards to his state.

A hundred years. An execution date.

Bruce has to think. He has to get his way out of here. He has to think.

Someone is accusing Dick of a crime. The punishment is execution. It’s a pressing matter, but not helpful in the first problem of finding a way out of the cell.

Bruce has accrued a hundred year sentence. This is because he has brought “real world” items into the “Ghost Zone”. His tools and gear are all from his world, ergo, the world Bruce and Dick come from are the “real world”. This makes the world Bruce has fallen into the “Ghost Zone”. Ruled by the “Ghost King”, Bruce recalls.

He buries his face in his gloves. He needs to get out. There has to be something he can use. There are guards crawling everywhere and the prison is on high alert. The bars are drawn over the door.

This world is not the real world. There must be something exploitable in its occupants, in its functionality, in its physics—right?

Bruce knows—something—about ghosts. He tries not to worry about the supernatural in his work but he’s read a little of everything in his life. They are afterimages of people. More concept than personhood. If Walker is the warden, and the guard is the guard, that is all they are. There is no personal detail to exploit.

Not going through people, then.

Ghosts… Bruce has been hit and smashed on the head a lot, but they’re not famous for combat, they’re famous for their ethereality. For being able to walk through walls, float, disappear, reappear… They have done none of that. Ghosts, if that’s what they are, while they are in the Ghost Zone, are very tangible. Bruce has taken enough hits to the head and to the ribs to prove it.

Real world objects are forbidden, for some reason, but ghost objects lack the intangibility that would be expected of them in the real world. Ghost objects in the Ghost Zone retain real world physics.

Would real world items in the Ghost Zone retain real world physics…?

Bruce takes his face out of his hands. Looks at them.

This ought to work, he thinks, and punches the wall with no intention of meeting it.

His hand goes through. Hm.

Bruce is going to get his gear, and he is going to get it now.

****

Outside the prison is a large swathe of blackness. Gone is the green sky and floating islands.

All the better for Batman’s escape, then; since he doesn’t glow, there’s no easy way to notice him in the blackness of the all-consuming atmosphere.

In the distance is a stark red castle. The towers rise in the murky atmosphere, with its own red glow seeping into the rest of the zone around it.

If Bruce would have to guess, it’s pretty likely that the Ghost King lives in the giant castle. Dick is probably there. He’s lost his ward for a few hours, so reclaiming the lost time has become essential.

Bruce strides towards the castle. Or. Flies? He’s trying not to pay attention, to be honest; it seems that one of the rules of this Zone is that if Bruce starts thinking about what ought to happen, he’ll simply impose physical laws of his own world to apply to this one and start falling. It’s not helpful.

He has to focus on getting his ward. Making a plan—to ferret his kid out of wherever they’re holding him. To make diplomatic reasons as to why his nine year old shouldn’t be executed. To get down to the bottom of the issue… At his furthest, to take the fall for whatever Dick’s been blamed for as his guardian.

That Dick might not be alive is…not something Bruce is willing to consider.

He’s going to get Dick and figure out a way home. Bruce promised to take care of him, the same way Alfred promised to take care of Bruce.

So Bruce struggles his way through the wasteland. He keeps his eyes out for stray dragons he does not see. He makes his way to a red castle, unsure of how long it’s taken or how long it’s been since Dick was snatched away.

Bruce tests the durability of the outer wall. It flows around him like water, the same way the prison cell walls had. Batman ducks inside the fortress. And—

Bruce wakes up in bed.

Alfred is there. He looks…younger. For some reason, the bed is too big for Bruce to comfortably get out of on his own, so Alfred offers his hand and helps him down.

Oh. This room is his childhood bedroom. It’s so large. Why doesn’t he remember this blue-striped wallpaper? He doesn’t think he’s changed it.

Alfred supervises as Bruce washes his face and brushes his teeth (tasks which require a stepstool), and then they go down to breakfast.

Mom and Dad are there. Dad’s dressed for work, of course; Wayne Enterprises can solve its own problems, which means that today he’ll be in his clinic’s office. Mom is still in her sleeping robe. She probably has charity work today.

Bruce only lets go of Alfred’s hands for good morning kisses from his parents.

They have breakfast.

He doesn’t seem to have school today; Alfred dresses him in his much-smaller-in-Alfred’s hands peacoat, hands him a wrapped lunch, and waves goodbye as Mom takes him in her taxi to the city.

Everything seems….warm. Fuzzy. Mom’s hand holds his as they walk through hazy city streets on their way to her charity work. Her smiles are painful and familiar in Bruce’s heart. Although he can’t remember why, he’s missed them. He plays packed games and toys with her desk pens as his mother’s office does work around him.

He blinks, and they’re at dinner. His mother is in evening dress, although his father looks like he’s rushed here fresh from work. Bruce’s shed peacoat is on the chair behind him. They’re having his favorite meal. Alfred is plating Bruce’s seconds.

Bruce thinks he’s going to cry. He doesn’t know why all the quiet domesticity hurts like a wound to the stomach. Dinner is the same as it’s always been. Bruce goes to bed with goodnight hugs and kisses and I love you!s and it feels like something has been ripped out of him and he is bleeding. All his strength is leaving him.

Or, perhaps, Alfred is right, and he’s just tired. Alfred leads him up the stairs, cracks open his door. Waits for Bruce to enter before him.

Something is wrong about the room placement. Bruce can’t put his finger on it. Bruce is supposed to be in the other room. (His parents’ room).

No, he’s not… Yes, he is. This is supposed to be Dick’s room.

The bleeding sensation in his stomach gets bigger. Deeper. Bruce presses his hand there, and looks to see if he’s bleeding. He’s. Not? But the sensation of wetness is there. He just can’t see it.

Alfred is asking for him. Bruce can’t see his face anymore—just the spot where his face is supposed to be. The colors of the walls fade. There’s water covering his socked feet. When he looks down, there’s nothing there, not even a puddle?

Where is Dick? Where did he go? He’s supposed to be in this room—this room hasn’t been Bruce’s in years—no, he just work up in it this morning. Where’s—

Batman claws out of his dream with heaving chest. He swallows back bile before he accidentally leaves evidence of his passage, because—

Right. He’s after his ward. He’s retrieving Dick from his captors. His clawed gloves dig into the castle’s plush carpet as he tries to gain back a semblance of balance. He’s trembling. He’s no use to the rescue mission if he’s trembling.

Pity, a voice slithers out. Bruce’s neck cracks as his head jerks up. Up above his bent form is an indistinct body of stars. I was hoping I could feed on you more. Never mind your breaking and entering; I’ll inform the King of your attendance. I believe there’s a special moment for a special bird in the throne room.

Bruce feels his wan face grow paler yet. This is—worse than he thought. They know whose Dick’s second identity is. At the very least, they feel comfortable implying who Dick’s second identity is.

The body of stars slides down and away. It convalesces into some sort of elegant form, a goat-shaped face topped with ram’s horns.

It doesn’t matter. It does because it reveals Bruce’s location to the entity who wishes his ward ill, but it doesn’t because it does not change that Bruce has to get to the throne room and fix this. Whatever this is. Whatever’s going on.

Whatever. Bruce hurls himself through walls and looks for the throne room.

He finds one room entirely swathed in blackness. Bruce would withdraw himself from it, except. There’s a ping on his comm. His finger goes to click it automatically. “Ro—“

There’s no further sound. The lights around him click on—blinding in their intensity, until his cowl cycles into its sunglass lenses and Bruce can finally see.

He wishes that he hadn’t.

Skyscraper-high above him, scraping the rounded ceiling at its height, is a platform. On it—surrounded by colorful ghosts flipping and walking midair—is Dick.

No. Is Robin.

Dick is clearly still sick. He’s clutching himself, taut and shaking, and Bruce thinks he can hear sniffles over the comm in his ear. But there is a domino on his face and he is dressed in the bright colors and cape, a hundred thousand feet in the air.

Bruce’s heart races. “DICK!”

“B?” Dick shouts back, faint as the wind. His head tilts around. Bruce realizes that Dick can’t see him. Probably can’t see anything with the stage lights. The entire floor would be a swath of darkness and a deadly drop. “B-Bee? B, are you there?”

“I’m here,” Bruce reassures loudly, just in case Dick’s comm isn’t working. “I’m here.”

“That’s right, the guest of honor is here!” one of the colorful ghosts shouts, and lights play on the arched dome of the ceiling above them. “Now, for the star of the show! Everyone welcome Robin, last living son of the Flying Graysons! Round of applause from the audience!”

The room is empty of everyone but the performers and superheroes. Still, applause echoes hollowly from the walls, as if there are beings living in them, or the memory of what applause is meant to sound like.

There isn’t a clear answer as to how Dick got up there—there is neither a ladder nor a net to have climbed up to reach the platform. What is clear is that there is only one way down, and Dick’s yellow-caped form is surrounded by hostile spirits in diamond unitards, all grinning identical, captivating smiles at audiences that aren’t there.

“Tonight, we celebrate the reunion of a family! This little bird is going to meet his parents again at long last. Round of applause for the petit Robin, getting his wings at long last!”

The applause goes on and on. The sound thunders in Bruce’s ears. His veins go cold. There’s a burst of noise—and then confetti begins its descent, fluttering around them in a cloud of colors.

“B?” Dick whimpers over the comm. His usual confidence is gone. There is no grapple gun. No trapeze. No wires, no edges. No nets. Only hungry ghosts at his back, ready to end the life of a little bird. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t—“ Bruce doesn’t want to lie to his son. So he doesn’t. He will simply have to succeed. He holds out his hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

“Bee?”

“I’ll catch you, Robin. Focus on me, okay?”

The comm crackles. “…Okay.”

Bruce swallows. The voices and the applause swallow him down just as equally, and he fights to stay present and focused. He holds out both hands. There isn’t a choice. He has to catch Dick. There is no acceptable alternative.

“I love you,” Dick says, suddenly, and that’s the only warning before Robin’s small form begins to plummet from the platform. Bruce isn’t close enough. He sprints, arms outstretched. The sight is—it’s hauntingly reminiscent of the night they met—the plummeting, the gravity, the inability to breathe, but now it’s worse because Bruce has dared to care and he loves this boy more than he can stand to rationalize his feelings for—

Bruce catches his boy around the waist. Dick is in his arms. Thank God.

Bruce sobs. Dick one-ups him by bursting into tears. There’s some functioning part of Bruce that approves of age appropriate expressions of emotion; meanwhile, the rest of him has joined Dick in his tears.

It’s instinct and immediate to pull Robin’s shivering, crying form under Batman’s cloak. Not a moment too soon: the acrobatic ghosts on the ceiling whoop and cheer, dropping from their midair revelry to descend upon them. Bruce curls up around his child. He’ll have to be the wall between Dick and the world once again.

“Love you,” Bruce mumbles, just to verbalize the emotion. Just once.

And then everything goes quiet.

There’s only the sound of Dick’s labored breathing. Bruce peels back the cloak to only see what’s in front of them.

There’s a child in the room. No one else. The colors, the lights, the confetti are all gone. He looks like Dick. He has the wrong colors—white hair, blue pajamas to Dick’s red ones—but the features are close enough to be…eerie. The effect is likely on purpose.

“It’s okay,” the boy says. An echo layers over his voice. “It’s over. No one is coming to get you.”

Bruce doesn’t move. There is no evidence to prove the statement as fact.

“There were statements made about a hundred year sentence. And an execution.”

The boy doesn’t move. And then, like the corner chipping off an ice cube, a small smile cracks through a serene façade.

“…I mean either of you. He was never in any danger. And besides, it’s over.”

Bruce needs answers. “What is over?”

“The test.” The boy is succinct.

“A test.” It’s certainly not one Bruce had opted into. “Elaborate.”

The boy’s head tilts. Bruce notices for the first time that his eyes are the same unsettling green that he had been forced to swim through to find Dick. They have the same glow as well, casting green light on his cheekbones that flickers as he blinks. “Your son says that you are a good guardian. That he trusts you to care and protect him as needed, that you would fetch him if he were in any danger far from you.”

…All of which Bruce had done. He doesn’t quite let up from his crouch. There’s no guarantee that the danger actually has passed. But it’s easy enough to rearrange his stance, to lift a quietly hiccupping Dick onto his hitched leg, to put the boy’s head on his shoulder.

The little ghost looks…fond. “I see that he was correct. As such, I have something to entrust to you.”

Bruce is rather tired of the games. “Not interested.”

The white-haired boy smiles. Little fangs protrude from white lips. “See it first. I will return you home despite either decision you make.”

And then he’s off—skipping towards the back of the room, the ethereal glow following him. The spotlights are gone, if they ever existed. There is no sign of the absent audience, the acrobats, the Ghost King that had been teased in other conversation.

There is something in the back of the room. Bruce can’t make out what it is. But the boy lifts the top and dips his arms down into it, retrieving a green-wrapped bundle from inside.

The ghost boy darts back.

In his arms is a human infant. Bruce would recognize the look and feel of real flesh anywhere. This is a newborn. So new, in fact, it’s almost purple.

“You might recognize his mother’s name,” the boy offers, bouncing. It is very clear, suddenly, that this conversation was the end game. “She gets the Al-Ghul name from her father, who sold the baby to me.”

Bruce’s lungs choke. No, Talia wouldn’t have—would she—?

The ghost doesn’t even ask before putting the baby on top of Dick, careful to balance the baby and his ward both until Bruce’s arms are around one each.

The baby grouses ever so slightly in its sleep. Dick opens gummy eyes to wipe shaking fingers across the emerald swaddling cloth.

“Baby,” Dick breathes. The grabby hands should have been expected at that point.

“Robin. You are ill.”

More grabby hands. God help them both.

The ghost laughs. Bruce would dare call it a giggle. “I cannot keep him here, or he will be dead in all the ways that matter to the living. I’ll trust you to raise this precious thing of mine, Bruce Thomas Wayne. When he becomes his own man, we may speak of his role between worlds.”

And with that alarming statement, the floor around them becomes dotted with dozens of bright points, speckled amongst the carpeting and tile. The floor dips down, drags itself out from beneath them. They are surrounded by a floor of stars, floating. Floating, until—

Bruce wakes up in bed.

****

He thinks he had a bad dream last night. Bruce doesn’t remember it all, but he isn’t sure he wants to, either; his time in the league has taught him how unsettled nightmares can make him.

Bruce washes his face. Brushes his teeth.

He has a vague memory of being worried about Dick in his dream the night before. It’s probably related to his ward’s sudden illness, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t check in on him. Just that he has an understanding how the dream originated. Bruce might ordinarily be the first downstairs and meet Dick at the breakfast table. For now, he exits the master bedroom and looks for his ward.

Dick, unexpectedly, finds Bruce first—slamming his door open, spotting his guardian in the hallway, and electing to make a running leap into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce stands there and takes it, of course. Moving might disrupt the boy’s trajectory and put him in danger of collision. Dick nearly smacks his skull against Bruce’s in his haste.

“Good morning, Dick.”

“BRUCE!” Dick shouts, which is…not unusual, but is rare so early in the morning. He clings to his guardian’s broad shoulders. “Bruce—B, I had a bad dream!”

Huh. “So did I, chum,” Bruce validates, wrapping his arms around Dick so he doesn’t fall. “Coincidental. You’re feeling better this morning.”

“Yeah!” Dick agrees with a grin. “That’s because I wasn’t sick! It was a ghost.”

Bruce’s mood does a 180. “It was a what?”

“A ghost,” Dick reiterates, impatient. His bony knees dig into Bruce’s ribs. “He gave me a ghost disease. But ghosts aren’t real so now I’m all better.”

Bruce wants to ask more questions. He really does. But then there’s a faint little cry from behind one of the shut doors of the family wing, and Dick beams like the sun has come out from the cloud. “Put me down!!”

Bruce, numb, does. Dick scampers off after the sound in his jammies, popping open the door across then hall, and then the one next to it, before ducking into the room with the door ajar.

Dick screams like a bird, and the cry grows louder. Bruce darts into the room after them.

In a previously untouched family bedroom is a walnut-brown cradle. Dick is leaning over the side and cooing like a dove, one hand in and on his tippy-toes as he tries to reach…something.

Bruce’s deja vu of his dream gets stronger. He thinks he knows what he’ll find, but…

He approaches slowly. Lets his gaze fall inside.

Inside is a tiny, Talia-brown baby boy, swaddled and grouchy.

He’s probably hungry, Bruce’s brain says. He probably needs diapers, ASAP. The rest of brain promptly lights itself on fire.

“B it’s your baby!” Dick crows, as if he was in on this. “Look, we got it back! Ooh! Ooh! Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?!”

Bruce carefully sits down on the floor before his legs lock. The nine year old takes the opportunity to climb atop his lap to reach the crib better.

There’s no clear path out of this one. So, of course, Bruce shouts back into the hall: “Alfred?”

Alfred, who has clearly had a morning of his own, rushes up the stairs and into the room without his coat, only to find his previously-missing employer, his previously-kidnapped ward, and an infant on the floor of an unoccupied bedroom.

“What have you done now?” Alfred asks, more out of gross curiosity than genuine interest. Bruce shrugs.

“Actually, do not tell me. Young Master—yes, pass the little one here, please. Thank you, Master Dick.”

There is a lot of tender memory of a younger Bruce that he must have once been in Alfred’s care; the unwrapping of the swaddle, the gentle check of limbs, of the stomach, the hands and feet. The baby is in good health, if a little lethargic.

Dick peeks into the makeshift changing-table bed as Alfred attends to the infant. “It’s a boy!” Dick shouts two inches away from the butler’s ear, startling Alfred, the baby, and a too-sensitive Bruce all at once.

Bruce opens his arms, and Dick obligingly hops in them. He’s clingier this morning than usual. Bruce isn’t sure why, but he does feel the same, so he resolves to selfishly accept all the hugs Dick is willing to spare today.

“Thank you for checking,” Bruce says, and makes a not to remind Dick about body privacy again.

“Having a first son is important,” Dick announces, apropos of nothing. “Pop Haley used to talk about it all the time. How do you feel about it?”

Bruce thinks. Gives the question its due consideration. Opens his arms, just to see what will happen, and isn’t surprised to see Dick fall into them, relieved to be wanted.

“Well,” Bruce says. “I think I already have one.”

This is clearly the wrong thing to say; Dick looks at him, stares deep into his guardian’s eyes, and promptly cries loudly enough to compete with the baby.

(Hours later, Bruce will run his hands over the new cradle while putting his son to sleep, and find Damian Al-Ghul Wayne etched neatly into the crib railing.)

#ooky spooky!!#I thought this might be like. a cool few hundred words.#nope #6000 #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc #dcu crossover #batman #more the fool am I #all's well that ends well I suppose?

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iamadequate1 · 3 months

Text

Don't Stream on Max

Ragging on Max is fun, isn't it? This is going to be long since I brought tables. Here's a kiss GIF to get people's attention!

Let's be real: if HBO/Max has a cancellation rate this high and is the only streamer with a cancellation rate approaching these numbers, we're long past the point where fingers can be pointed at the shows individually, trying to invent unique "failures" in each one separately... except for Zaslav's baby, The Idol, that show deserved it. If there is an oddity like this, deduce down the common factor, and the common factor here in all these "failures" is WBD/HBO/Max. WBD does not know how to run a streaming business, and yet, it is charging consumers the highest rates in the industry.

✨Cancel Max now✨

Remember that WBD sponsored article from Vulture? Remember?? Specifically...

And then there was the final strike against last month’s canceled trio of titles: their production costs. As noted earlier, all three series went into development circa 2019-2020, at a time when competition for hot new shows was beyond intense. Streamers were handing out ridiculous deals in order to land coveted projects and agreeing to license fees and production budgets that were usually only reserved for big, established blockbuster hits. So a series like Rap Sh!t, which had the feel of an indie production and used iPhones to tell its story, ended up costing Max twice as much to license as HBO’s critically loved, niche comedy Somebody Somewhere, per a source familiar with show budgets. Our Flag Means Death, the same sources say, had a license fee three times that of Somebody.

First of all, they picked the smallest show they could in order to justify ~scary~ words like "twice" and "three times" without any danger of being specific, but they also picked a show that was "renewed" and I can find no evidence it's being worked on anymore!

But 2019-2020, let's discuss that. The merger was finalized April 8, 2022, and Max, the illicit love baby between Discovery+ and HBO Max, launched on May 23, 2023. On its face, Max has the second largest sticker price of streamers, and that sticker price is mostly built from that HBO prestige, but I'll build to that...

Let's say Zaslav had to let 2022 roll, so let's look at 2023, shall we? HBO/Max had 11 shows debut in 2023.

Velma (Max - renewed + lol)

The Last of Us (HBO - renewed)

Fired on Mars (Max - Purgatory)

Gremlins: Secrets of the Mogwai (Max - Renewed)

Clone High (Max - Purgatory as new season is coming in)

The Idol (HBO - cancelled)

Warrior (Max - cancelled + moved to Netflix)

Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake (Max - renewed)

Young Love (Max - Purgatory)

Scavengers Reign (Max - Purgatory)

Bookie (Max - Renewed)

Wow! Not even half confirmed renewed, and one of the success stories is Velma. HBO also only debuted two series that year: TLOU was in development since 2020, but The Idol was still in early stages when Zaslav wandered in. Since he didn't put a stop to it, The Idol remains Zaslav's sole contribution to HBO, especially since according to Wikipedia, the show went under a "drastic" overhaul in April 2022, the month of the merger.

There is an article going around citing that Max has a 26.9% cancellation rate, and that seems.... off? It is still far higher than every other streamer, but it's still lower than what's expected from what we've seen of WBD/Max. If you look at Max's original programming list and HBO's original programming list, something's not adding up. I tried to follow the source back, but it wanted money, so I'll do it myself! I suspect that the glut of mindless reality shows, exploitative docuseries, and miniseries really brought that percentage down.

I'm just going to look at the cancellation of actual scripted shows, ignoring miniseries (that's just a big movie on purpose and no concern about #FinishOurStories), series that haven't aired an episode yet, non-English series (most don't have Wikipedia entries and are a messier thing to research), and co-productions (as Anne with an E showed, sometimes the partner can be responsible for cancellations -- this unfortunately leaves off series like Gentleman Jack). I also limited myself to series that had/about to have a season debut after the merger date (April 8, 2022).

(I've got the 'tism, and I enjoy making spreadsheets.)

Drama:

Comedy:

Anthology:

Continuation:

Adult Animation:

Kid/Family:

(Note: I used "ended" if I immediately saw that it was the creators who ended the show on purpose.)

HBO Breakdown:

Max Breakdown:

Combined:

HBO/Max is hovering around a confirmed 50% cancellation rate. I don't expect shows like Tokyo Vice and The Sex Lives of College Girls to last past their seasons that are about to premiere, and I expect many of these other "renewed" or "pending" shows to disappear into the ether.

Let's talk money. What is the monthly cost to subscribe to streamers? To make my life easier, I'm not going to list out yearly costs.

Streamer | Cost/Month with Ads (USD) | Cost/Month without Ads (USD) Apple | n/a | 9.99 Disney | 7.99 | 13.99 Hulu | 7.99 | 17.99 Disney/Hulu Bundle | 9.99 | 19.99 Max | 9.99 | 15.99 Netflix | 6.99 | 15.49 Paramount | 5.99 | 11.99 Peacock | 5.99 | 11.99 Prime | 8.99 | 11.98 Starz | n/a | 9.99 Discovery+ (on debut) | 4.99 | 6.99

Disney and Hulu together without bundling would be 15.98 with ads and 31.98 without ads, so each bundle is 62.5% of what it would have been with a double charge. If Max would be a similar deal, the HBO and Discovery pieces separately would add to 15.98 (ads) and 25.58 (no ads), so assuming no Discovery inflation (and, lbr, the starting pricing was already too high), the HBO piece would be 10.99 (ads) and 18.59 (no ads), putting HBO as the most expensive streaming option.

It's hidden, but Max is a bundle. Discovery+ and HBO do not have overlapping shows or audiences; it's really like if ESPN and Disney tried to sell itself as one service without telling anyone.

Since I tossed out the reality pieces, the cancellation rates I have above are the HBO pieces. If you're paying for Max, you're paying for the most expensive TV option, while paying for the highest turnover in TV productions. If you're subbed to Max for one show, it would be cheaper to just buy it from a digital store or, you know, 🏴‍☠️

So, circling back to the initial quote: sobbing about being beholden to the wacky 2019-2020 greenlights, when those greenlights are the only reason people are subscribed to the service in the first place is certainly a choice! Especially since now that the only "originals" Max is offering up are on par with Velma and The Idol, and the prestige TV that were underway at the time of merger (ex, TLOU and that upcoming HP show) maybe justify a one month sub-and-binge per year. With this obscene cancellation rate and creator disrespect, they aren't going to nab any more big projects, but they sure want you to pay them like they are.

Look, I'm not getting into the labor and worker treatment parts of this, and I'm not getting into the media representation parts of this or how non-white/straight/male shows have to meet impossible standards. Both of those are also egregious and part of a much, much larger discussion. Just from a purely consumer point of view, Max is a bad product.

Cancel Max. It is not worth your time to care about anything they put out.

Anyway, some petitions for shows that this failed streamer dumped recently. Max won't pick any of them up again, but you can show other streamers that there is interest for them to pick up the shows!

Our Flag Means Death

Rap Sh!t

Julia

Winning Time

Warrior (S4 has not been confirmed with Netflix)

#petitions at end #our flag means death #ofmd #save ofmd #adopt our crew #david zaslav #hbo max #max #don't stream on max #rap shit #rap sh!t #julia hbo #winning time #warrior #the gilded age #the gilded age should help out their Gay Twitter brethren

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angstywaifu · 3 months

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The Lost Sister - Part 5

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Thank you for all the love on this little series guys! Literally makes my day seeing you guys interact with it. Little bit of a shorter one, but I hope you like it. Been thinking about maybe taking requests? Obviously I am still quite new to this so I may not be good at writing everything. But if you have any ideas feel free to throw them my way :) The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

Challenges only happen once a week, so the next few weeks I continue to feel Imogen’s gaze on me every time we’re in the same room. Which is only a few times a day for meals and battle brief. But every single time I feel her eyes on me, watching my every move. I get the feeling the only reasons she hasn’t tried to start a fight already is us being on the same squad, and the fact I am Xaden’s sister.

As we stand around the mats watching the matches take place, I can practically hear my heart beating in my ears. I know I can hold my own on the mat, but something about the prospect of me being called up with Imogen terrifies me. The boys have assured me its nothing and I am over thinking. But the looks they give each other, mainly Garrick, do not convince me in the slightest. And despite how many times I had asked Garrick directly, he would not budge. I hadn’t talked to him or the others in the last few days, mostly keeping to my fellow first years in my squad. I wasn’t the only one who had noted their annoyance at me ignoring them. With Violet and Rhiannon commenting on it. Multiple times Garrick had tried to get me alone between classes or at the end of the day.

The moment I’ve been dreading is here. Emetterio points a finger at Imogen and I with a smile on his face. “My two best female fighters. Lets see what you can do.”

I’m kind of glad Garrick and Xaden are busy with their own fights to see us called up. But Bodhi is not. He goes to move but I give him a look, trying to convey I do not want him to interfere. He falters for a second before nodding and staying in his place. He’s probably going to get an earful from Xaden and Garrick later. But I don’t care. I need to know why she’s been acting the way she is. And if Garrick and Xaden get involved before the fight starts, they have the power to call it off.

Imogen starts circling the mat as if I am her prey. As if she’s out to kill me. As much as I would like to think my squad and being Xaden’s sister keeps me safe, the reality is people die in the riders quadrant. Nothing keeps you safe here.

”You need to keep away from what’s not yours Riorson.” She spits out at me.

What's not mine? Her eyes flick to Garrick a few mats away who is still focused on his fight to see Imogen and I have been paired up. That’s when it clicks. There is either history there, or she wants him. And here I come, essentially back from the dead and either put a divide between them, or wrecked any hopes she had of being with him. She’s jealous. And honestly who wouldn’t be. As per usual he is fighting without a shirt on, and its definitely a site to see. All the girls near his mat are watching him. She thinks I’m his. If only her words were true.

I don’t get a chance to respond back. In a blink of an eye Imogen has run at me and starts berating me with punches I can barely keep up with. Occasionally she gets a hit on my ribs, stomach or the side of my face. She’s coming at me with every thing she can. She tires for a second and I step back before launching a well placed kick to her stomach, sending her stumbling back before I am on her again. She not as lucky as I was when it comes to blocking punches and I manage to her a few decent hits on her. One of them lands on her nose, sending blood down her face and across the mat.

I vaguely hear male voices yelling that sound like Garrick and Xaden. But I block them out, focusing on the fight at hand. My luck runs out and she gets a well placed knee into my stomach causing me to double over, earning me a knee to the face and a sickening crunch to my nose. The familiar taste of blood trickles into my mouth. She pushes me to the ground and I have enough time to shield my face before she’s punching me again. Someone tries to pull her off but they are pulled away. I use the distraction to flip us over so I am on top. She comes at me with her knees and elbows, and manages to get a foot up and kick me off her. I land on my back and my head hits the hard ground in stead of the mat with a loud thud. I barely hear Imogen approaching me with the ringing in my ears. I look up in time to see her foot coming for my face, barely rolling out of the way in time. Her eyes flare with anger as I get away and am able to get back on my feet. I need to end this fast. The knock to my head has definitely given me a mild concussion paired with the knee to the nose I received earlier. If she gets another good hit on me I’m done. I need to win this to get her off my back.

She screams and runs at me with all she’s got. I can use her anger against her. She won’t be thinking straight. I plant one of my legs between hers, duck under her arms and use my ground foot to pivot around her locking my arms around her neck in a choke hold and locking both her legs between mine. My extra weight throws her off and we land on the mat with her on top of me, but I manage to hold on.

She claws at my arms and tries to kick her legs out. It takes all my energy to keep her locked in place. But slowly I feel her become weaker and weaker. Around the mat others yell for her to fight back and yield. If she’s anything like me, she wont yield. This is personal. After another minute her arms fall away and she passes out in my arms. I don’t even hear Emetterio call the end of the fight due to the ringing in my ears. But I know its done. I push her weight off me and do my best to sit up.

I look to my right and see Imogen coming to on the mat next to me covered in blood from where I got her in the nose earlier in the fight. We just stare at each other for a few second before she nods her head at me. Once we’re both healed and recovered I’ll have to find her and talk to her. A few other second years come and help her up and lead her towards the doors, most likely to the healers quadrant.

I go to stand but a big pair of arms wrap around me and pick me up as if I weigh nothing. I don’t even have to look up to see who it is as their familiar scent invades my senses despite my nose feeling like it should no longer work. I look up into Garrick’s hazel eyes as he walks with me bridal style in his arms out the doors and towards the healers quadrant.

Part 6

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #garrick tavis x reader #the empyrean #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #garrick tavis imagine

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art3misg33k · 2 months

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i see ur most recent post and obviously i have to ask abt trent

My favorite character right out the gate lets go!!

(Ok wow this got sooo long I am sorry)

Starting with my personal takes & headcanons Trent is so nonbinary to me. They give such vibes of being like “idk man I’m just existing” as well as at first thinking they just really didn’t care about gendered stuff bc society is stupid about it but then realized just how deep those feelings were. I also love just any headcanon of Trent not being cis in general. The gender queer vibes are so strong with that one. In terms of sexuality I’m really not sure? I think they’re to multiple genders but idk in what way. Bi, Pan, and Unlabeled are the ones I’m stuck between.

On a slightly more analytical note in I think in Island they are well showcased as a nice chill person but also having the capacity to stand their ground and be intimidating (that one scene with Cody).

I don’t think they’re really good with social queues and may be a bit gullible seeing how things went down with Heather. On the outside has that mysterious energy but can be a real goober when you get to know them. Insane silliness potential that was wasted in my opinion.

Crossing into the semi-headcanon but also canon implied type stuff is their neurodivergence. In TDA it’s obvious that Trent has some neurodivergent tendencies. I personally think OCD and autism. I hate the way it was handled, not because they gave Trent these traits in the first place but how they framed them as a crazy person. That treatment was definitely very damaging to Trent and most likely made them go to heavily masking, even more so than before. Being pitied so much also felt incredibly frustrating to them.

The way that Trent was launched into fame right after a messy breakup on international television definitely made things worse. They seemed like they were thriving while the band was together but in reality they were only being seen for their music and not who they really are, pointedly ignoring their neurodivergence, flaws or any wrongdoing on their part. It hurt seeing how they were treated so horribly when it came to their mental health but as soon as they started singing they were suddenly this sweet, emotional, amazing guy.

And in terms of my headcanon they were also dealing with a ton of dysphoria being seen a guy in the Drama Brothers because they were closeted. I personally think that they had only found out a couple of months before Island so they weren’t comfortable telling anybody yet. They felt like they could tell someone close like Gwen eventually but didn’t want to come out on tv so they said nothing. I think in the days between the finale and TDA Trent became afraid again not wanting to ruin things with Gwen in fear of her being upset that they wouldn’t be the cool talented boyfriend that she expected. On the Aftermath they didn’t really have anyone truly there for them only having those who pitied them or who thought they were an awful person, leaving them isolated not just about dysphoria but just their existence in general.

I do believe that between TDA and WT as well as onwards that Trent was able to build a genuine friendship with Justin, Harold, and Cody despite how messy things got with the band at times. Unintentionally they started unmasking a bit around them closer to when WT started and when they weren’t met with judgement (maybe a bit that was just genuine misunderstanding that got corrected but still) Trent was starting to more and more feel like they could be themself. (Back to more headcanony for a sec) After WT Trent came out to the three of them and was met with acceptance! From there Trent is able to progressively come out more and more from their shell and from the closet to more people!

Also hopefully patching things up and becoming friends with Gwen eventually but that’s just like a wish I have

I think I just unintentionally typed out a whole outline of what I think their life is instead of just my opinion on them in general but yeah.

Some random headcanons!!:

- (Stolen from Courtney-deserved-better) A lot of people think that Trent looks so cool and mysterious but in actuality they are usually just zoned out

- Biggest sensory issues are with sound. They’d go insane without headphones/earbuds bc the music is nice and their noise as opposed to how horribly loud life can be (Kinda projecting on this one but it makes sense for them so shhh)

- Listens to most genres but especially the ones within the general indie/alternative umbrella. A good amount of ppl think that they only listen to mainstream pop type stuff so when they’re with Trent and some darker/depressing type shit like CSH comes on from one of Trent’s playlists they are so surprised.

- Likes some of what the Drama Brothers made but a lot of their brand was pushed into them by producers and the whole band kinda hated how fake things felt at times. After WT they manage to get away from that company and the band gets a lot more creative freedom making what they want. (Also changing the band name eventually bc of Trent if we’re talking in a world with my nb headcanon. Not sure when or if Trent would publicly come out but if not before the name change then they all just make something up about rebranding)

About ships! - I personally love tons of td ships being a massive multi shipper, especially with characters that are my faves (With an exception of Raj I don’t rlly see him with anyone but Bowie). Gwent was the first ship I ever got into with Total Drama and it has a special place in my heart. It’s not my absolute favorite but I still love seeing them together and au’s where they actually work things out healthily during Action or where Action and or TD didn’t happen. I love a lot of other ones too like Trustin and Trody and a lot more! I think my favorite Trent ship may actually be Trenoah, it’s really my favorite rare pair. Ik they didn’t really interact but the POTENTIAL!! They would play off of each other so well and ahhh dude I think I’d need to make a separate post just taking about those two

And that’s the basics of my thoughts on Trent! (well maybe not the basics but trust me it’s not all that I have to say about them).

I think in the future I’ll make a post about what I think their potential backstory is bc I got carried away and didn’t rlly cover that here. @ashyjingles if you want me to @ you in that just let me know!

#long post #like seriously #i went overboard #i am so sorry #but like they’re my fave I can’t help but ramble like I’ve gone mad #total drama #tdi #tda #total drama action #total drama island #trent total drama #td trent

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julianalvarez9 · 8 months

Text

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME / MASON MOUNT

PAIRING: Mason Mount x Chilwell!Reader

SUMMARY: What hurts more than the man that you love leaving your childhood club, is having been told from the start that being involved with him was a bad idea.

WARNINGS: mason is kinda a dick in this? maybe not intentionally but...... not really Emotionally Responsible. also, Ben all the way in protective mode.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

Are you free today? Need to talk to you about something xx

The message from Mason, earlier on the day, had made you think about this moment an endless amount of times.

In your mind, there's no other result that him asking you to be his, finally, after months of anticipation. You've been trying not to think about it, though, to avoid any disappointments in case it was just another day, but you can't really ignore the feeling in your gut: you're nervous like you've never been with him.

You figure it might be because this is your first public appearance alone together; that is, without your brother, Ben, or without any of the guys from the Chelsea team, to make it seem like this isn't what it, definitely, is: a date.

In reality, you could have figured what he wanted to tell you from the start. Even before the meeting, there had been multiple clues; like the endless flow of rumors floating around his neck -that he had, definitely, told you to ignore before-, or the public setting to have this conversation, or the chaste kiss he planted on your forehead before sitting in front of you. Not on your side.

Maybe you would have noticed all of it if you hadn't been so caught up in it. In him.

So, when the news finally exits his lips, and it turns out to be something completely different from what you had expected, you're left dumbfounded.

"I'm signing for Manchester United, Y/N. I'm leaving Chelsea this summer".

What?

Maybe you had interpreted it all wrong. From the message, to the hidden glances and forbidden touches shared between you two during all these months, away from all prying eyes, but especially, your brother's. Could it be? Or had he intended, all along, to be so cruel from the start?

Ben had never been enthusiastic with the idea of you two together, and you always assumed that it was out of protectiveness, of fulfilling the role of older brother. But maybe he knew something you didn't.

Your face must have been showing the myriad of emotions you were feeling at the moment, because Mason is quick to launch forward and take your hands in his, like he always did to comfort you. "Hey, you okay?".

As if you hadn't been showered with a cold water bucket just now. As if he hadn't thrown you into the void, without a safety net to catch you when you inevitably reach the ground.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, enthusiastically, painting the widest smile you could muster at the moment. "'M happy for you, Mase, really happy. Just remembered I have somewhere to be right now, uhm, with Ben. I have to go".

Mason would never have let you paid, like he never did before today, but he's so confused about your sudden reaction that he isn't quick enough to stop you from throwing a couple of pounds in the table to cover your tab.

Getting out of the coffee shops feels like a blur.

Your fingers work quicker than you knew they could, dialing the contact in a second, while you rushed down the sidewalk, brushing past strangers who gave you dirty looks for pushing them out of the way. You mumbled apologies left and right, but honestly, the only thing you could see through your tearful eyes is your phone, and how the display changes when your brother, after a couple of seconds, picks up.

"He's leaving".

You don't bother with greetings or introductions. But hearing Ben sigh leads you to believe he already knows who you're referring to, even if you hadn't muttered his name. "Where are you? I'll come pick you up".

The words splutter out of your lips before you can stop them. Maybe you're saying too much, more than he needs, or wants, to know, but you're only trying to come to terms with what Mason had so carelessly announced not even ten minutes before. "I thought we were gonna talk about, I don't know, us," you bitterly laugh, and the term now feels foreign.

Angrily swiping under your eyes to stop the teardrops from falling, you continue speaking. "But no, he sits there, with his always so perfectly styled hair, and his beautiful smile," you hear on the other side of the line how Ben's car keys fall to the floor, and in other occasions, it would have been funny to you -picturing him nervous at merely hinting you find one of his best mates handsome, but now you're too angry to care. "All to tell me he's going to fucking Man United".

The line is silent for a couple of seconds while you keep on rushing past people. You don't really know where you're going, but you're crossing streets and turning in corners like your body knows where it's going without needing directions from your brain.

The words came out bitter from your tongue, almost laced with venom. As if he didn't wish to be wrong, just to see you happy. As if being right was Ben's fault. "Go on. Tell me you told me, warned me, that this would happen. I deserve it".

He's gripping the steering wheel hard, turning his knuckles white to avoid exteriorizing how angry he is at Mason for hurting his little sister. He'd probably make him hear all about it the next time they saw each other, be damned if it was in a public or private setting. Still, the words he's speaking to you through the line are tender. "I could never".

Your legs stop in the all too familiar park. Ironically, it's the same one Mason and you had came so many times before: whether it be for a small picnic, to take Summer on a playdate or to take Ben's dog for a walk.

The realisation only made you cry more, and as if on cue, your brother's arms wrap around your trembling figure. "It's alright, Y/N," Ben whispers, quietly, in your hair, "you're gonna be okay, yeah? I'll make sure of it".

The tears that blur your vision and soak Ben's shirt doesn't let you see another call from Mason; it going straight to voicemail after being denied an answer for so long. But Ben sees it, and a million thoughts cross his mind. One thing is certain, though: he can't afford losing you to Mason, and letting you go to Manchester is not on the cards.

"I'll take you home, yeah?" your older brother asks, knowing that his home would be untouched territory to his old mate. You can only nod in agreement, strength being drained from your body after crying for what feels like a hundred hours, as your mourn what could've been.

Ben knows that, even if he's only trying to protect you, and do what he feels it's right, he can't keep you far away from Mason forever: but this is, for sure, a way.

#football imagine #football x reader #football x you #football fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n

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shaunamilfman · 4 months

Text

King of My Heart

Summary: "The story of your burgeoning relationship with Jackie Taylor told through a series of drunken encounters. College au."

A/N: drunk girlfailure jackie my beloved. its not described graphically but there are mentions of jackie throwing up a few times if that bothers you. based loosely on this ask.

August.

The first time you met Jackie Taylor she was on her knees on a dirty bathroom floor puking her guts out into the toilet. Normally you would have just minded your business, but you weren’t nearly drunk enough to ignore the accompanying sounds of her sobs. You stumble slightly into the room, squinting slightly as the bright fluorescent lights are so much brighter than anything else at the party. “Hey.” You say cautiously as you carefully drop to your knees next to her. You place a comforting hand on her back as you draw her hair behind her head and hold it out of the way.

Your nose wrinkles disgustedly at the whole experience, but you turn your head away from her as you gently rub her back. “Just get it out pretty girl, it’s gonna be okay.” You murmur comfortingly. You do your best to ignore the sounds of her retching lest you join her, but you can tell that she’s finally stopped sobbing so you decide talking must be working. You keep up the encouragement until you finally hear her flush it away. She leans back exhaustedly as she shifts off of her knees to sit back against the tub and buries her head in her hands. You awkwardly drop your hands off her, sitting just a little too close to her now that she’s stopped being sick.

She brings her hands back down from her face as she stares pathetically over at you. She smiles weakly in greeting as you take her in: her wild hair, bloodshot eyes, red nose, and her mascara running down her face in tracks. You smile back, not wanting to let her on to how much of a mess she looks like right now. You suspect she might still be on the verge of crying, but considering the way her sobs were rocking her entire body when you walked in you were willing to take it as a win. “Are you alright, pretty girl?” You ask genuinely. You start to regret the question as her lip starts quivering as her eyes tear up again.

Your eyes widen suddenly. Oh shit. You think. You barely have time to catch her as she launches herself into your arms on the bathroom floor. You awkwardly wrap your arms around her as you receive a lap full of crying girl. She buries her head in your shoulder, which you think is far too intimate for a stranger you met in the bathroom but you certainly weren't going to be the one to tell her that. You can vaguely hear her whimper out some words but she’s crying so hard you can’t really make heads or tails of them. You finally catch something about ‘drunk’ and ‘Shauna’.

“Who’s Shauna?” You ask while rubbing at her back, figuring she wanted to talk about it. She spills every last little detail between sobs into your shoulder. You can’t help but be strangely invested in the whole story. You did ask with the intention to comfort her but you found yourself drawn more and more into the drama of it all. You wondered what the fuck happened to make her lonely enough to spill all this information to the first stranger she found on the bathroom floor, but that was none of your business.

“What?” You ask, gasping in shock. She pulls back, eyes red and swollen as she nods seriously. She wipes at the tear tracks on her face as she finally manages to calm herself down.

“I know. I know.” She draws out dramatically.

“She really said all that shit after she slept with your boyfriend?” You asked in disbelief, shaking your head as she hums in acknowledgment. You really weren’t expecting to get such good gossip out of this venture, but this shit was better than reality TV. You reach up above you to pull a hand towel off of the bar and gently bat her hands away as you wipe her mascara off her face. She’s sitting fully in your lap at this point, which you're doing your best to ignore, and lets her eyes close as you take care of her face. When she opened her eyes again the expression on her face was unreadable but her big eyes seemed to stare straight into your soul.

You shift uncomfortably as you look away, which is harder than you’d think considering how close to you she’s sitting. As if she’s suddenly becoming aware that this isn’t a normal amount of intimacy to share with a stranger she mumbles a quick sorry, but interestingly enough makes no actual move to get out of your lap. What the fuck is wrong with this girl? You wonder idly but decide it would probably be easier to just go along with it at this point. She has this way of making her socially unacceptable actions seem perfectly normal as if you’d be the weird one if you questioned her about them.

You listen quietly as she talks your ear off about this and that, sitting back against the wall with your legs crossed as she sits sideways across your lap. She throws her arm over your shoulder as she talks, seemingly getting more comfortable the more you allow it. By the time she finally stands up and stumbles back to her dorm, you think you must know everything there is to know about soccer and the epic rise and fall of her friendship with this Shauna girl. You stand up slowly as she leaves, your legs going numb for how long she was sitting on top of them. You stumble back to your own apartment falling straight into bed, emotionally exhausted from the entire experience.

…

October.

“Y/N!” Jackie calls out happily. You can tell from the slightly glazed look in her eyes that she’s already had one drink too many. You weren’t entirely sure how she had learned your name but were admittedly pretty curious to know if she had gone out of her way to find out. Secretly you hoped she did. You’d run into her at a few more parties, not all of them as eventful as the first. You murmur a quick goodbye to the friends you came with as you walk over to see what she wants. Her face lights up when she sees you coming. Her chair is far too small for the both of you to sit comfortably, but you still acquiesce as she excitedly pats the seat next to her. You shift a little awkwardly at the way it pressed your thighs together, but she certainly doesn’t seem upset about it.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You greet a little awkwardly. You still didn’t know her name, but she always flushes with pleasure at the compliments so you’ve decided just to roll with it.

She pats you excitedly on the thigh as she starts talking, mouth immediately moving a mile a minute as she catches you up on everything that’s happened since the last time you ran into her. You find yourself strangely invested in her life and listen intently as she speaks. She seemed oddly lonely for such a bubbly girl, and you wondered why she was having so much trouble finding other people to talk to at these parties when she obviously could have made a lot of other friends if she tried.

“God, I know.” You interrupt. “I had a professor like that my first semester. The average was like 45% and somehow we were the problem.” Jackie nods enthusiastically in agreement as she speaks.

“He acts like he doesn’t have a one-star rating!” She groans, leaning her head against your shoulder. She pouts up at you, as if she’s the only person to have this problem ever. You raise your cup to your lips to hide your grin, but judging by the knowing look she sends you it didn’t work too well. She sighs dramatically in offense, shaking her head as if disappointed. Jackie catches sight of your empty cup, suddenly standing up and dragging you off to the kitchen with her.

“Jesus!” You exclaim as you stumble after her, a little dizzy from the sudden change in position. You were honestly surprised that she managed to pull you up like that: she was definitely a lot stronger than you gave her credit for. She rummages through a few glass bottles sitting on the table before she finally finds the one she wants. She grabs your cup from you as she starts pouring you a drink. “Oh,” You say in surprise. “Is that for me?”

Jackie rolls her eyes as if to say obviously, as she continues. “Then this one girl was like maybe the people who didn’t study are bringing the average down, as if I didn’t have to step over her passed out on the floor the night before the exam.” You laugh softly as you look up at Jackie with an overly fond grin. Your eyes lock as she returns an equally fond look, the two of you getting lost in each other in the middle of the kitchen. You nearly jump apart at a loud yell of glee coming from another room. Jackie’s hand flails slightly, knocking over the bottle she just sat down on the table. It falls over on your hand with a loud thud, making you hiss in pain as you draw it back towards your chest.

You groan as you flex your fingers painfully, but it fades quickly enough that you know it isn’t anything serious. Jackie bats your other hand away so she can examine it closely, poking at your fingers as if to determine any damage. “What the fuck is that going to do?” You ask wryly, the corners of your lips quirking up in amusement. She ignores you as she keeps messing with your hand, failing at what she obviously considers to be a subtle move as she laces your fingers together.

“I’ll have you know that poking at the wound is a tried and true method.” Jackie defends with a too-wide grin. “I was really worried about your fingers.” You shake with silent laughter, your face contorting weirdly as you try to choke it back. “What?” She asks in confusion, which finally sends you spiraling over the edge.

“I bet you were.” You say between peels of laughter, flexing your fingers in an obscene gesture. Jackie scoffs, a blush immediately covering her face, and gently shoves at your shoulder in reproach.

“See if I nurse you back to health again,” Jackie mutters with a pout, looking adorably embarrassed as she backs away from you.

“Wait! Wait, Doctor…” You trail off playfully, giving her an expectant look. She grins as she shakes her head.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep calling me pretty, Y/N.” She says smugly. You slowly grin at the realization: she’s been purposely keeping her name from you to make you compliment her. She waves her fingers playfully as she turns and disappears off into the party.

…

November

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you were far more invested in your current conversation, but your interest immediately peaked at the mention of someone crying in the bathroom. It couldn’t be… No, You think. It definitely is. You sigh, abandoning your cup on the table as you walk off to find her. You follow the sound of sobs up to a familiar bathroom and sure enough there she is. She’s just crying this time, not throwing up, so you’re deciding to count it as progress. She looks up quickly as you open the door giving you a watery smile. She doesn’t seem all that surprised that you’re here, in fact, she seems like she was rather expecting it. You get the strange feeling that you are running late.

Jackie looks utterly pathetic sitting on the bathroom floor, holding her knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her bottom lip quivers as she blinks away tears and you're nearly overcome with the desire to hide her away from anyone who could ever hurt her. She has this strange way of inspiring extreme loyalty even in someone whom she hasn’t even graced with her name.

You sink to the ground next to her, opening your arms wide as she immediately scrambles into your lap. She buries her head in your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as she shakes with sobs. You wrap your arm around her stomach and rub the other hand against her back, cradling her as you try to comfort her the best way you can. You’ve never been particularly good at comforting people, but you and Jackie work well in the sense that she doesn’t seem to expect you to be. She seems pretty content– as content as someone sobbing on a bathroom floor can be– with just having your attention as you murmur your best attempt at comforting words.

You’ve gotten three ‘let it out pretty girl’s, two ‘it’ll be okay gorgeous’s, and a ‘you need to breathe baby’ before Jackie finally manages to get herself together. Jackie sighs against your neck, wiping her eyes off on your shirt. You resist the urge to groan, knowing from experience how hard her mascara was to get out of your clothes. You shiver as Jackie’s cold hand brushes up against the back of your neck as she plays with the edge of your collar. You find it incredibly distracting as she rolls it between her fingers as she says, “You came.”

You shrug. “Heard there was someone crying in the bathroom.”

Jackie hums in acknowledgment as she looks down at the hand wrapped around her stomach. “You keep taking care of me.” She says quietly. “I didn’t think I’d ever have someone to take care of me like that again after…” She looks so incredibly sad, but at the same time, she stares at you with such a large amount of affection that it makes you squirm in discomfort.

“It’s not a bad gig,” You admit. “Out of all the girls that could have been crying all over me at a party I’m glad it’s you.” She smiles evenly throughout but you can see her eyes narrow slightly at the mention of other girls. You shift nervously underneath her and she whines quietly in protest as she tries to hold you still. You roll your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall, getting the sense that you're going to be here for a while.

“What brought you to the bathroom floor this time?” You ask.

Jackie sends you an amused grin as she asks, “Would you believe I dropped something?” You roll your eyes as you give her an expectant look. She sighs exaggeratedly, as if she hasn’t been impatiently waiting to talk your ear off about whatever’s upset her this entire time. If she’d had the ability to speak while she was crying that hard you're sure she would’ve already told you several times over.

You listen patiently as she speaks, reacting at all the appropriate points. You tilt your head in consideration as you think, feeling strangely proud at how high Jackie seems to hold your opinion as she watches you thoughtfully. “You miss this Shauna girl a lot, don’t you?” You state more than ask. Jackie nods slowly, as if a little embarrassed to admit it. You couldn’t say you approved much of the desire, but you knew Jackie needed to try to mend this relationship for her own sake. There’s only so many times you can find someone sobbing on the floor before it starts to get concerning.

“Do you think you can forgive her?” You ask. Jackie seems to consider this for a long time as she cozies up in your lap. The longer you sit here the more aware you become of just how warm her body feels against yours, regardless of how cold her hands seem to be, and you're more than content to bask in the feeling while Jackie thinks. You can feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes and it starts to lull you to sleep. You startle as she suddenly speaks, having almost forgotten what you were sitting around for.

“I just want her to say she’s sorry, that’s all.” Jackie’s eyes prickle with tears that you're quick to wipe away, placing an affectionate kiss against the side of her head in an effort to stifle her tears. You really don’t want to do this again tonight. Jackie’s eyes widen as she flushes, burying her head further in your shoulder. You aren’t quite sure what that’s about, but at least she stopped crying.

You sit on the bathroom floor with her sitting pretty in your lap for quite a while, moving on from Shauna as you talk about anything and everything she could think of. You really enjoy spending time with her even as strange as she seems, but you really wish you could start meeting more in other places. Your legs ache something terrible from sitting in that same spot for so long, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world as Jackie prances off happily a few hours later. You groan as you pull yourself to your feet, leaning heavily against the counter as you wait for the feeling to come back. Still, you managed to get at least one thing out of tonight.

“Jackie.” You say quietly, deciding you quite like the name. Finally getting it out of her was like prying teeth, but you think it really fits her.

…

New Year's Eve

The first time Jackie Taylor had run into you right as you were leaving class you had chalked it up to chance. The two of you had gotten lunch together, leaving you with the realization that she’s still that delightful mixture of strange and kind even when sober. The next four times that Jackie had run into you had left you more and more suspicious, but you didn’t seem to mind as much as you probably should. If you were ever unsure, the look of utter happiness on Jackie’s face when you had run into her outside of her own class would have changed your mind. She’d hung off your arm the entire afternoon, dragging you around to show you all her favorite spots on campus as if they were super niche and underground.

Despite these encounters, you were more than a little surprised when Jackie Taylor had plopped down in the seat across from you in the library– mostly because you weren't aware she knew where the libraries were, let alone what time you’d be there– but the surprise had quickly turned to fondness when she asked where you were going to be for New Years. A combination of Jackie not wanting to stay the whole break with her family and you living off campus has brought you here: leaning against the wall at a dingy frat house as you nurse your drink.

It wasn’t the best night you’ve ever had, admittedly already starting on a sour note as some guy hit you with a lame question of “What's a pretty thing like you doing here?” in what he obviously believed to be a charming voice before you’d even made your way into the door. You scowled at him but before you could answer Jackie popped up out of nowhere and placed a surprisingly firm hand on your arm as she dragged you far away from him. Jackie happily talked your ear off as she handed you a drink, even if she had kept glaring in his direction. You’d ended up away from the rest of the party, not being able to hear each other well over the music, which left you standing awkwardly by yourself without her.

Jackie had walked off to get another drink a few minutes ago, not that she needed it as drunk as she was already, and you were admittedly concerned with how long it was taking her. You were about to set off to find her when she excitedly wandered back in. “Y/N!” Jackie calls out in surprise when she sees you as if you weren’t exactly where she left you. “I’ve been looking for you!” She smiles so wide it splits her face as she finally finds you.

“You found me.” You say with a grin, unable to stop yourself in the face of her clear exuberance.

“Where’d you go?” She asks in a whiny voice. “I missed you.”

You laugh fondly. Where did I go? “I missed you too.” You say instead. Jackie gasps quietly, looking a little hesitant.

“You did?” She questions, eyes wide. You nod and Jackie looks at you for a moment like you put the stars in the sky. She clears her throat suddenly as she glances away before sending you what you're sure was meant to be a flirty smile. “Of course you did.” Jackie giggles, more self-confident than ever in her inebriation.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” Jackie teases. You scoff as you gently push at her shoulder. Jackie looks far too proud of herself at the moment. Two could play at that game.

“Good thing you were there to save me, yeah?” You tease. Jackie flushes slightly at the comment.

“Save you?”

“Oh, yeah. A real knight in shining armor.” You confirm with a wry smile. You suspected Jackie was more jealous than anything, but you appreciated how fast she had gotten you out of there. Even if the idea of having her pay so much attention to you made you a little lightheaded. Jackie preens at the comparison, grinning smugly over at you.

Jackie reaches out to lean against the wall next to you, but clearly misjudges the distance as she crashes face-first into it with a loud thud. She reels back with a pained cry, nearly tripping backward in her haste only to be saved by your quick reflexes as you grab at her arm. She stumbles into you as she gets her feet back under her, one hand covering her nose. “Fudge!” She curses as she pulls her hand away and finds blood.

Fudge? You mouth in surprise. Whatever. You’ve got bigger problems. You quickly pull her by the hand to the kitchen as you go searching for paper towels. You gently hold them up to her face to soak up the blood as you hold her tightly against you in comfort. You can hear her jagged breathing as she tries not to cry, not wanting to risk further irritating her nose. You whisper soothing words in her ear as you try to calm her down.

Jackie's hands clench tightly around the fabric of your shirt, enjoying the proximity despite the reason behind it. She’s long since calmed down before you try to peel away from her. She whines pitifully but doesn’t make a move to stop you, her hand falling limply to her sides.

Jackie hisses as you pull the paper towel away from her face to inspect the damage. Jackie watches you closely as you carefully turn her face to look at her nose. “It doesn’t look that bad, Jackie,” You say as you pull your hand away. She looks upset at the loss, her bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pout. You consider her for a moment. “Does it still hurt?”

Jackie pauses in consideration before suddenly whining in pain, nodding insistently. You narrow your eyes, not quite believing it, but you return to fussing over her even as she seems to have a miraculous recovery. After she stops whining about it you take a wet paper towel to her face as you gently wipe the blood away. You're holding on to the side of her face as you turn it side to side as you clean her up. Jackie seems entirely focused on the contact, eyes nervously darting around as her face burns bright red.

You're just pulling the paper towel away from her face as you hear the countdown begin, nearly startling you away as the screaming starts. You’re about to join in the revelry when Jackie lunges forward and kisses you just as the new year begins. Jackie hisses in pain as her nose touches your face but doesn’t pull away for a second. You eagerly reciprocate the kiss despite your surprise at its origins, and have to resist the urge to push forward as she pulls away.

Jackie smiles nervously at you as she stumbles away. You try to call out for her but she throws a “Sorry, I’m more tired than I thought!” over her shoulder as she rushes out of the kitchen. You're left standing in the middle of the kitchen still holding the bloody paper towel as partygoers scream happily around you.

What the fuck was that?

…

Valentine’s Day.

You didn’t see Jackie for a couple of weeks after classes resumed due entirely to the way she’d turn tail and run every time she saw you so much as looking at her. She’d shown up outside your class one day as if nothing ever happened claiming a family emergency that she’d insist upon no matter how much you grilled her about it. You finally gave up on arguing when she caved and apologized for it, seeming oddly guilty given what she was claiming. You were admittedly very excited when she asked you to go out to a party with her for Valentine’s Day, only to be quickly disappointed when she followed it up with a “As friends, of course!” Whatever.

She’s gotten progressively drunker as the night goes on, practically hanging off of you as she giggles far too loudly at a joke that you didn’t think was nearly funny enough to warrant that kind of reaction. She’s gotten noticeably flirtier as the night goes on as if every drink she throws back is emboldening her more and more. Despite your concern with how much she’s drinking you find yourself endlessly charmed as she squeezes at your arm and gently makes fun of you, always giving you her full attention. You don’t think she’s looked away from you once in the last hour which would be concerning coming from anyone else but Jackie seems to make it work as always.

“You’re like… really pretty,” Jackie says suddenly, changing the topic as she blinks at you in what you're sure was meant to be a wink. You flush slightly but try to shake it off.

“I think you’re really pretty too, Jackie.” You reassure, smiling softly at her. Jackie groans as she shakes her head.

“No!” She whines, looking frustrated.

“No, you’re not pretty?” You question, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“No, no. I’m pretty,” Jackie says almost immediately, making you laugh. “You’re just so…” She trails off, reaching her hands out to cup the side of your face. You inhale sharply as the motion brings your faces closer together.

“Jackie?” You question softly, remembering how she acted the last time she tried this.

“So pretty…” She murmurs again, “Made me nervous.”

“You’re… You’re not going to run off on me again?” You ask slowly. Jackie shakes her head exaggeratedly fast, looking like she immediately regrets it as she quickly backs up with a hand flying up to her mouth. You jump away from her, terrified of her throwing up on you, but you slowly relax as it seems to be a false alarm.

Jackie still looks a little nauseous but otherwise no worse for wear. You sigh. You should probably get Jackie home before the night ended in tears. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why she’d drink so much if she knew she had such a low tolerance for it every time. “Let’s get you home gorgeous.” You say placatingly. Jackie sighs, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face. She nods as she holds her hand out four you to hold.

You lead her by the hand out of the party, looking at her expectantly as you get to the street. She stares back at you in confusion, happily swinging your joined hands between you. “Where do you live?” You prompt her helpfully. Jackie shrugs. What?

“What’s your dorm?” You ask slowly. She shrugs again.

“Dunno,” Jackie says.

“You don’t know?” You ask with a touch of irritation. Jackie frowns as she makes a big show of thinking about it.

“I don’t remember.” She concludes finally. You look away in frustration, fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you try to calm down. You miss the knowing grin on her face as she quickly stifles it before you turn back.

“You don't remember where you live?” You ask in disbelief. She shakes her head hard enough that she starts to look dizzy, leaning heavily on you as she loses her balance and almost takes the both of you down. You eye her wearily, not sure what you're supposed to do with the drunk girl hanging off of you. Judging by your typical meeting site– holding her hair back as she throws up and sobs her life story to you– you suspect there isn't anyone you could put her off on even if you tried.

“Do you wanna sleep at mine?” You ask finally, deciding it would be better not to leave her there.

“Mm,” Jackie murmurs happily as she clings to you. You’re practically holding her up at this point as she doesn't seem to want to stand. She doesn't seem to want to do anything but climb all over you at this point.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes. Start screaming you're being kidnapped if you disagree." You say playfully, not even sure if she's awake enough to listen to you. You're practically carrying her down the sidewalk to your apartment at this point and you dread to think how it looks to passersby.

“Noooo.” She whines quietly in your ear, barely loud enough for you to hear it. “Please don't throw me in your dungeon.” You shudder at the hot breath directly against your ear. She doesn't seem to mind though, as she starts resting her head on your shoulder and breathes against your neck. You can admit to being slightly self-conscious as the gorgeous girl hanging off of you stares at your face from 6 inches away.

She's so strange, You think absentmindedly. You decide that you kind of like it anyway. You make a squeaking noise that you'd later deny as she presses a gentle kiss against your jaw. “Thank you for taking care of me.” She murmurs with a tired grin on her face. Her eyes are barely open as she stares up at you. Her hair is wild and unkempt and she smells suspiciously like vomit, but under the streetlights you think she's never looked prettier. You flush at the thought, looking away from Jackie as you drag her to your apartment.

You pull her into your bed the second you step into your room, deciding to forgo changing under these conditions. She immediately latches on to you the second you're within grabbing distance. She clings on to you like a child, whining petulantly when you try pulling away. After you stop fighting she starts positioning your limbs where she wants them, ending up with her curled back against your chest with one of your arms and a leg thrown over her.

You're in the strange position of holding someone against your own will: she holds on to your arm so tightly you're not sure you could get it back without hurting her. She's surprisingly strong for how tiny she is. There's a faint stinging where her fingers are wrapped around your arm, you think she might have drawn blood. You sigh quietly as you decide to just go limp. You've slept in worse places, after all. God was she fucking cold, though.

You're sitting against the edge of your bathtub with Jackie resting her head on your thigh as you gently massage her scalp with your fingertips. She’d immediately woken up hungover, rushing off to be sick as you were left comforting her over it again. Jackie pulls her head back with a groan, looking up at you from her position on the floor. She sits up to move between your spread legs, wrapping her arms tightly around your back as she buries her face into your stomach. She whines against you, prompting you to resume running your fingers through her hair.

Jackie murmurs a muffled “I’m sorry,” into your stomach, making you shudder at the feeling of her breath. You try to pull her away to look at her but she only digs in more, refusing to let herself be moved from the safety of your body.

“What are you sorry for?” You ask finally, giving up on looking at her.

“Ruined it again.”

You sigh, sliding a hand down to rub comforting circles against the side of her face with your thumb.

“You didn’t ruin it, Jackie.” She scoffs.

“Did too,” She insists.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did no-” You trail off, shaking your head. “What are you, 12 years old?” Jackie giggles as she pulls away, smiling gently up at you from her knees. She looks serious all of a sudden, resting her hands against your knees as she sighs.

“I wanted you to be my valentine,” She admits, “I chickened out asking you.” You grin softly, looking incredibly pleased.

Jackie, upon noticing your reaction, grins back at you as she squeezes your knee affectionately. “Always more confident when I’m drunk,” She says wryly. “Got too drunk again though.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “You could ask again?” You offer.

“Do you want-” She starts.

“Yes,” You interrupt, making her laugh. “Maybe somewhere without alcohol, yeah?” You suggest playfully. Jackie’s face scrunches up as she nods in agreement.

“Never going to drink again,” She mutters, looking a little ill still. You don’t think she’ll hold out on that for too long, but you’ll enjoy making fun of her again when the time comes for it.

The two of you lock eyes for a long moment and Jackie slowly leans up. You shake your head insistently as you press your hand flat against her mouth. “Not until you brush your teeth, Romeo.” You mutter. Jackie whines in protest as she slumps back against her legs. Her eyes narrow as she licks at your hand making you squeak in surprise as you draw your hand back. She looks smug at the action, slowly rising to her feet as she starts to look through your drawers for a spare toothbrush.

At least she knows what she wants.

…

Two Years Later.

“Y/N!” Jackie complains, huffing in annoyance as she drags you stumbling out of the bar. You were more unsteady than you'd thought you'd be, probably owing to the last drink Jackie had warned you not to get.

Whoops.

“Whoops?” Jackie asks, rolling her eyes. As annoyed as she is she doesn't seem to be actually mad, maybe even a little amused at the situation. You grin widely, tugging her against your side as you throw your arm over her shoulder.

“Did I say that out loud?” You ask, just a touch too loudly. Jackie laughs softly, leaning against your side as she wraps her arm around your back to guide you home.

“I told you that you'd had enough.” She says wryly.

“It tasted good.” You defend weakly, pouting over at her. She hums in consideration, pausing for a moment before she swiftly kisses you. You eagerly begin to reciprocate but she quickly pulls away as she gives you a teasing grin. She slips out of your arm and she makes a big show of licking her lips before nodding decisively.

“It does taste good,” Jackie confirms as she pulls you by the hand down a side street and up to the gates of your apartment building. You groan in disappointment which just makes her laugh. Her smile lights up her face like it so often does, and you find yourself lost in her eyes. As much of a rush as Jackie has been to get you home she's more than willing to let you admire her, the corner of her lip quirking into a smirk the longer you stare.

You can't help the rush of excitement that comes over you as Jackie reaches over and tugs you forward by your belt loops. Her hand rests on your hip before it slowly slides into your pocket. Your pocket?

Jackie pulls away as she holds your keys up, waving them in front of your face before she turns and walks up the stairs. You wait at the bottom dumbfounded for a minute, rushing up the stairs and catching up just as she unlocks the doors. “Not fair.” You complain, holding the door open for her and locking it behind you.

“No.” Jackie agrees, setting her purse down on the counter. “Fun though.” She adds as she walks off to get changed.

You cry out happily as she finally walks back out of the bathroom, having already gotten changed and ready for bed. You hold your arms out for her to climb into, but she chooses to ignore them as she walks over and lays on the other side of the bed. You gasp in offense, rolling over to stare at her in disbelief. She feigns a sternness that she isn't actually able to enforce as she shakes her head. “Told you not to get that last drink.” She says, looking away from you in an effort to hide her smile.

“Jackie Taylor,” You say slowly, having to really think about your words. “Are you… punishing me?”

She shrugs. “Is it working?” She murmurs.

“On my birthday?”

“I had a surprise for you,” She complains. You snicker as you give her a knowing look.

“Was it you?” You ask wryly. She scoffs, rolling over to face away from you with her arms crossed over her chest. You'd worry she was actually mad if you couldn't see the blush on the only visible part of her face.

“Don't be like that, gorgeous,” You say, pulling gently against her shoulder. She lets you pull her on her back, still refusing to look at you. She huffs loudly, just in case you'd forgotten she was annoyed. “Give me my present in the morning, yeah? I'm sorry I got too drunk for it,” You say placatingly.

Jackie uncrosses her arms, letting them fall limply to her sides. Still, she makes no move to get any closer. “Come to bed?” You whine, tugging gently against her arm.

“I'm in bed, ” She teases, giving you a smug look.

You smirk slightly as you playfully lean up to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against Jackie’s jaw, falling back against the bed giggling when she exclaims in disgust and jerks her face away. She gives you what she obviously considers to be a warning look but does next to nothing to deter you as you shift up to your elbows, intent on planting another one. She makes a whiny noise in protest as she gently pushes your face away from her. She pouts over at you and you grin softly as you roll on your side to face her. You reach a hand out and squish her cheeks together, making her lips bulge out exaggeratedly. She slaps your hands away with a groan, giving you an exasperated look. “No.” She whispers, trying to be firm but still giggling as she points a stern finger at you.

Jackie cries out in shock as you gently bite at her finger, trapping it between your teeth. She watches in disbelief as she tries and fails to get her finger out. “Please?” She asks finally, giving up on fighting you. You release her immediately, grinning far too wide as you climb on top of her and hug her tightly. She makes an irritated noise as your weight presses her into the bed, but reaches up to massage your scalp with her fingertips as you yawn into her neck. You shift on top of her as you find a comfortable position, more than happy to let her gentle motions soothe you to sleep.

…

5 Years Later.

You ignored the banging on the door to your hotel room at first, figuring some drunk couple had the wrong room, but the longer it went on unimpeded the more concerned you got. Finally, after the thought of Jackie being hurt crossed your mind, you shot up to go answer the door. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Jackie, hand flying up to cover your eyes. “Jackie!” You cry out in shock, feeling an equal measure of shock and pleasure at her arrival. “Thought it was bad luck to see the bridge the night before the wedding.” You chide gently.

“You don’t believe in that,” Jackie accuses gently, a mixture of drunk and exuberant. You shrug, still holding your hand over your eyes.

“You do,” You say, entirely unsure why she’s here with you instead of at her bachelorette party. You’d had your party a few days before, choosing not to risk the hangover. Jackie, on the other hand, always loved to live on the edge. You smile fondly at the thought. Jackie makes a pleased noise, hands reaching up to tug your hand away from your face.

“Look at me,” Jackie pleads, smiling brightly at you. She pushes gently against your shoulders as she walks into the room, the door swinging swiftly shut behind her, walking you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fall backward in surprise, taking a giggling Jackie with you as she falls on top. You grunt at the sudden weight, but that does nothing to stop Jackie from moving up to her knees to straddle you, grinning smugly down at you.

You can tell from the glassy look in her eyes that she had a few too many tonight, making you roll your eyes. She pouts at the reaction, hands coming down to cup the sides of your face. You shiver slightly at the coldness of her ring against your face, but you enjoy the reminder of her place in your life. Your fiance, and tomorrow your wife. You can’t help the way your smile lights up your face as you stare up at her, the love of your life who broke her own silly superstitions because she missed you.

You rest your hands against her hips, shifting her into a more comfortable position as you ask “What’re you doing here?”

“Don’t you want to see me?” Jackie whines, looking seriously put out. You laugh gently as you squeeze at her hip.

“You know that. Staying apart was your idea, gorgeous.”

“I’m drunk,” Jackie informs you.

“No. Say it isn’t so.” You say dramatically, feigning shock. Jackie nods seriously as if she truly believes it to be novel information.

“You always take care of me when I’m drunk,” Jackie confesses, a look of affection suddenly coming over her face. She leans down and presses a kiss against your hairline, lingering far longer than she needs to. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

You choke up slightly as you say “Always Jackie. I promise.” Jackie frowns at the sight of your tears, quickly wiping them away. You clear your throat awkwardly, leaning up to kiss her as a form of distraction. Jackie grins happily when you pull away, but she’s still watching you a little closer than you’d like as you gently coax her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Your wife always took care of you too, in her own little ways.

#jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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gingerswagfreckles · 6 months

Text

At this point the "Secret Zionists control the media" rhetoric is going way beyond the actual coverage of Israel. Reports of hate crimes against Jews worldwide are being immediately dismissed as propaganda, false flag attacks, and elaborate conspiratorial lies all designed to derail the Free Palestine movement and help Israel. All I have to say to this is: You people are fucking crazy, and very, very antisemitic. Jewish people globally are not faking the massive uptick in death threats and hate crimes we are facing. Jewish people aren't faking their own deaths and elaborately staging antisemetic attacks against themselves to make the supporters of Palestine look bad.

It's the same age old situation as we have seen in so many social justice movements infiltrated by bigots: If you actually hate Nazis and hate antisemites, why are you so committed to covering their hate crimes up? Why are you so committed to denying the existence of this bigotry? Shouldn't you be trying to distance yourself from this bullshit, be trying to weed out the Nazis that use the pain and suffering of the Palestinians as a vehicle of their hate?

But way too many people seem content to look away at best, and at worst, to actively perpetuate the narrative that Jews worldwide are coordinating a fake media campaign against ourselves to stir up sympathy for Israel. And it's antisemitism. It's textbook antisemitism. Some of you are lifting phrases and tropes directly from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and then getting angry when Jewish people around you doubt your sincerity about wanting to "punch Nazis."

Being critical of the media's slant towards Israel isn't antisemitic, but the way you guys talk about this often, often is. Zionism isn't just some word you can throw around to justify ignoring the growing wave of antisemitism. It's a specific ideology that seeks to establish and maintain a Jewish ethnostate in the Israel/Palestine area and is not what it is driving 99.9% of the pro Israel narratives you are reading.

The United States isn't backing Israel because the government is controlled by people who are oh-so-commited to Jewish Ethonationalism. They are funding Israel because they want to have an ally in the Middle East and a place they can launch nukes from if they want to. Any slant in the American media that exists is much more tied to the interests of those in power (who are OVERWHELMINGLY gentiles) than it is to the interests of some secret cabal of nationalistic Jews. The idea that "Secret Zionist Jews" have control over the narratives in the media is perpetuated by antisemitism, not reality.

When confronted with this fact, gentiles within the left are very quick to say that they are not accusing Jews as a whole of controlling the media, "just" Zionists. There are even Christian Zionists, they tell you! Maybe you, the paranoid Jewish person seeing antisemitism everywhere, are the real antisemite, since it's you who are conflating Jews and Zionists!

This is an extremely dismissive and disingenuous way to frame the very legitimate concerns and fears Jewish people are bringing up in regards to the narrative around "Zionist controlled media." The vast majority of people who are using the word "Zionist" here are using it as a synonym for Jews, and the argument that the loudest voices on the left are truly using this word to only target real "Zionists" is very very quickly falling apart.

If you don't really believe there is a secret group of interconnected JEWS controlling the media, why are you accusing random Jews worldwide of elaborately lying about hate crimes? Why are you accusing actual Jewish Pro-Palestinine activists of being double agents for the Israeli government when they speak up about antisemitism? Why are you accusing the ADL of working for the Israeli government? Why are you suspicious of every single instance of antisemitism being reported by unrelated Jewish people around the world, regardless of their connection or lack of connection to Israel?

Most importantly, why is the fact that these unrelated reports are occasionally making the news evidence to you that the media is controlled by "Zionists"? If you really did not believe that these media-controlling Zionists are all Jews, you would not be accusing Jews who have no connection to Israel of lying about antisemitic hate crimes that are making the news, and you wouldn't be accusing news organizations that are reporting on these unprompted, unrelated attacks of being Controlled By The Secret Zionists.

Insisting that you do not really mean Jews when you say Zionists control the media means nothing when every word a Jewish person says absout rising antisemitism is evidence to you that they are part of a conspiracy. The more you accuse random Jews of lying about antisemitism, the more Nazism and bigotry are allowed to grow and take advantage of the Free Palestine movement. When Jews start talking about this antisemitism, your reflexive response should not be to accuse them of lying, or of being a double agent only pretending to be pro-Palestinine who is really secretly an Israeli pysop. This is classic antisemitism and it is absolutely terrifying how many people are regurgitating it without a thought.

Not everything you read on the news can be blindly trusted, but the stories and people you choose to be critical of are telling when they start to create a pattern. At this point that pattern is very clearly NOT just "we are critical of the coverage of Israel, and of statements from the Israeli government." Its now quite openly becoming "we don't believe any news reports covering instances of antisemitism, and are suspicious of all statements or accounts provided by any Jews."

Please, please, please stop. For the love of God, slow down. It's very easy for bad faith actors to hijack righteous anger for a just cause to perpetuate their own conspiracies and hate. And that is very clearly exactly what is happening right now.

Jews worldwide are a minority group. A tiny, very hated minority group that is not responsible for what the Israeli government is doing to the Palestinian people. We are facing a massive wave of antisemitic backlash over it, which is landing most squarely on the Jews in the world who have the least power, because those are the ones who are the easiest to hit. But we are not your punching bag, or the outlet for your anger over Palestine. And the immense suspicion so many of you are casting on all Jewish discussion of antisemitism is terrifying. We are not your enemies. We shouldn't have to beg you to recognize that, but we clearly do. The recognition that there is growing antisemitism everywhere, including the left, is not mutually exclusive to supporting the Palestinian cause.

And we are not. We are not. Controlling the media. Please stop accusing us of faking antisemitic attacks.

#gingerswagfreckles #israel #palestine #israel palestine war #israel palestine conflict #israel hamas war #i/p #i/p war #i/p conflict #jewblr #jumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism

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the-mighty-jellybean · 7 months

Text

The Hound of Hell's Kitchen

Series Summary: "We are only as blind as we want to be." Maya Angelou

Y/N Y/L/N was not prepared to be hindered by how the world viewed her position in society, not even the law was going to define, who she was as a person. Strong, brave and true of heart. The very qualities that make her so attractive to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Pairings: Matt Murdock x Reader

Series Warning: Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst and a little childhood trauma, just to really spice some things up. Strong Language

(18+ Only)

Chapter Two: Bottled Up

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Slight Gore

Word Count: 3.9k

"That isn't me." Y/N lied, sitting back in her chair, looking between Matt and Foggy.

"I think we all know that, that isn't true, Y/N." Foggy quirked a brow at her, Y/N's eyes darting between the two.

"Look," Y/N leant forward, pressing her fingers together to make a triangle in front of her, she leaned heavy on her elbows, "That Alpha was throwing his weight around, he was pressuring that little girl, perusing her."

"So you decided to throw him through a train door, and break his arm?" Matt tilted his head upright, also lifting his eyebrows.

"He wasn't going to stop," Y/N huffed, "Alpha's like that never do."

Her voice goes faint at the end, Matt's lips twitch again, this time, Y/N couldn't tell whether it was because he was uncomfortable or angry.

'Fuck this Alpha was hard to read…but my god is he pretty-wait what?!

The toner he was wearing was strong, it was so distracting, she could barely tell what emotions he was scenting.

"Well now he's pressing charges of assault and battery." Foggy, explained glumly. That quickly snapped Y/N out of her thoughts.

"Battery?" Y/N snorted, "I hardly touched the dirty bastard."

"I think the broken arm, and the video evidence of you sending the man through the train doors might be a give away." Foggy bit his lip, both the men seem genuinely sorry for Y/N, but she couldn't allow herself to so easily trust these men.

"What I'd like to know, is how a Beta of your size and build is able to lift an Alpha off the ground by his throat, and launch him with such force he lands almost 40 feet away from where he started?" Foggy pressured, once again Y/N was tapping her feet. “Are you enhanced?”

"Something like that." Y/N fiddled with the hem of her jumper, before bringing it to her mouth to chew on.

"Don’t do that with your jumper,” Matt instructed, Y/N immediately dropped the sleeve from her mouth, a look of shock on her face, Matt shuffled in his seat, sitting forward, “we need you to be honest with us Y/N, if you want us to help you.”

‘I’m honestly confused as fuck...as to why I stopped chewing my sleeve’

Y/N stared blankly at the Alpha for a moment, confused as to why she would naturally listen to this man, this man who can’t even see her, so how did he know she was chewing her sleeve?

“I want your help, please just tell me what I have to do." Y/N breathed ignoring Matt’s request, "you're my council, how the hell do I fix this mess?"

"Well we're gonna start by getting you released on bond, on the grounds that you weren't informed on why you were brought her, that alone should get that fixed, and then we'll worry about the rest later." Matt reassured, Y/N nodded along.

The two men stood, Y/N reached her hand out, and the two men took it in turns to shake it, first Foggy, and then Matt.

When Y/N and Matt's hands met, and their skin slotted together, it felt like sparks flew up each others arms, like their very touch created it's own source of electricity.

Both of them quickly pulled back, Y/N brushing her hand on her thigh, and quickly dropping her gaze away from Matt, who seemed just as stunned and awkward.

“Sorry, must be storm coming, lots of static in the air.” Y/N shrugged, not quite believing her own explanation. Matt stayed silent, a distant look on his face.

Foggy cleared his throat, jolting Matt back to reality, and the two of them left awkwardly.

'Well that was weird.'

Moments later, the two men reappeared, flagged by the same arresting officers.

"Well you're free to go." The officer, seemed to be talking through his teeth. "For now, head to the front desk, and they'll give you the rules of being released on bond."

Y/N nodded, standing, she followed the four men down the corridor, back to the desk she had been checked in an hour or so ago. The woman explained the rules, but Y/N couldn't concentrate.

She was stood right next to Matt, she could hear his heart in his chest, it was beating fast and strong. A thin layer of sweat was pricking his forehead, and his grip on his cane was making his knuckles turn white.

'Is he sick?'

Her eyes darted to the side, his cheeks were flexing and his jaw twitched.

'What was this dudes problem?'

Eventually the woman finished, Y/N signed some papers, before being led out the station, to the bustle of the busy city.

"Well thanks," Y/N flashed a smile, before turning away from the two men.

"You're welcome, we'll be in touch." Foggy waved, before grabbing Matt by the arm and leading him away. Matt's eyes seem to linger on Y/N for a little longer, before he allowed himself to be walked away by Foggy.

---------

Y/N rushed down the avenue, desperate to get to the shop before Jordan closed up for the night. She was gonna need her backpack, within the next few hours or her blocker was going to wear off, and she was going to be vulnerable tonight.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, not caring about the people she was knocking out the way, mumbling a rushed apology as she carried on running.

Fumbling to a stop, she pressed her palms on her knees as she gasped for breath, bending in half. Managing a few choked breaths before looking up at the sign in front of her.

CLOSED

"Goddamit." Y/N cursed, reaching up to fist her hair.

'What the fuck am I going to do.'

---------Later that night----

"Please! No! Please." The man crawled back desperate, not caring as he cut his palms on the broken glass, as he tries to kick himself away.

Slobber fell heavy on the ground, nothing by grinding teeth, and low growls, echoed around the alleyway.

The only thing the man could see through the dark, was the glowing yellow eyes, that stare savagely back at him. The eyes hung like lanterns in the pitch black abyss.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man begged, holding his hands up to protect himself, desperately waving them around in the dark.

Then he felt it.

The wet nose of a...dog?

"Y-you're...an O-omega?"

It was cold against his palm, for one brief moment, he sat confused, but he didn't have time to think anything else, before the cold sensation of a nose was replaced by the ripping sensation of skin, as the creature pealed the man's skin off his hands.

The man shrieked in agony, kicking wildly, but the animal soon got hold of his upper arms, before finally making it to his face.

Soon the alleyway fell silent of human cries, instead filled with the sound of cracking bones and tearing tissue.

-------- early hours of the morning

Y/N stood outside the precinct alone. She was panicking, hard. Quickly, shoving her bandaged hands into her pocket, as a group of officers walked by her.

She hadn't managed to get hold of Jordan all night, she hadn't applied her spray in hours, and she didn't know what to do. She managed to find an old bottle of toner, under her bed, but it wasn't going to be enough. She probably wreaked of Omega at this point. people passed her in the street, when they looked at her, she worried they could smell her fear, and sweet fragrance.

Y/N was so caught up in her own thought, that she nearly punched Matt in the face, when he lightly touched her forearm, spinning round to face him.

"Sorry...sorry didn't mean to frighten you." Matt apologised hastily, his hand still rested on Y/N's arm.

"You didn't," Y/N lied, she must stink of Omega, and Omega anxiety, "I was already on edge, where’s Foggy?”

"I can tell," Matt confessed, he eventually released Y/N's arm, when he realised he was still holding it, "he’s on his way, running late, his Omega, was feeling unwell this morning. What happened to your hands?"

Matt scented strongly of concern, and every fibre of Y/N's Omega being, wanted to just fallen into his embrace, but she managed to keep herself composed. For now.

Y/N was quick to put her hands back in her pockets, wincing when the bandages pulled on the fabric in the process.

"Broke a glass, I'm clumsy." Y/N nodded, shuffling from side to side.

"Quite a glass?" Matt commented, "You sure you're okay?"

"Well not really, god knows what they're going to say to me today." Y/N confessed, pursing her lips.

"It's gonna be okay, we'll look after you...I'll look after you."

Y/N's face faltered at that statement, and it was clear Matt had made himself uncomfortable.

"You smell..."

"I did shower this morning." Y/N interrupted, sniffing under her armpits and the collar of her shirt, scenting embarrassed.

"No," Matt laughed, but his smile dropped, "you smell different today? You smell like...an Omega."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, she felt like she'd just swallowed a glass of wet cement, and she feared she'd never breathe again.

'Oh fuck...fuckfuckfuck....an Alpha knows...knows I lied’

“But yesterday you…”

“I never said I was a Beta, people just assume, because I have a lot of confidence.” Y/N panicked, her breathing laboured, the smell of her own anxiety was choking her.

“Y/N-“

“Please-Matt-Alpha-Mr Murdock, please don’t tell anyone.” Y/N was pleading, pleading for her life.

It was bad enough she assaulted an Alpha, under the pretence of being a Beta, but for an Omega to assault an Alpha, Christ this would be it.

“Hey, hey it’s gonna be okay,” Matt stepped forward, he turns to rest his cane on the wall behind him, before turning back to Y/N and taking hold of both her forearms, “shhh, it’s okay, don’t be scared.”

Matt’s hands slide down from her forearms to the underside of her wrists, he rubs slow circles into them, making sure he scents calm and reassuring.

“You don’t understand, I’ve committed a serious crime.” Y/N felt the sting of tears, and she didn’t know what was more embarrassing the fact she was whimpering like an Omega mess in a strangers arms, or the fact she was doing it so publicly right outside the precinct.

“Please don’t get upset, be calm Omega.” Matt’s voice was stern, but it gave Y/N great comfort. The command of ‘Omega’ was enough to bring Y/N back to the real world.

“But I can’t go in there, Matt, I’ve broken a serious law.” Y/N was still flustered, but she felt herself leaning into Matt, her instinct leading her to calm herself in the crook of Matt’s neck. She managed to hold herself back, and reserve some of her dignity.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got some blocker spray in my pocket, it’ll dull your hormones enough that you should be undetectable, when we’re in there.” Matt jutted his head in the direction of the doorway, and Y/N felt her stomach sinking. She couldn’t stop the panic.

“Y/N, breathe, honey,” Matt encouraged, he was scenting calm so strongly, he worried that half the precinct would be asleep by the time they got in there. “Just breathe, everything is gonna be okay.”

Y/N took some shaky breaths but she was able to get herself back into some kind of control. Matt reached into his suits inner pocket and pulled out a little bottle not too dissimilar to Y/N’s.

“Here, spray this quickly.” Matt instructed, and Y/N did not need to be told twice. She was quick to apply it to her neck and her wrists, and then handed the bottle back to Matt, who tucked it back away.

“Thank you.” Y/N sighed, managing to get her breathing back under control. Y/N felt her sensitive scent dampen, the spray hadn't been a block, but a very strong toner, she suspected it was just as illegal as her blocker spray, but she didn't think now was the time to discuss, something like that.

“Don’t mention it,” Matt reassured, his lips twitching into a smile, “I want to keep you safe.”

Y/N furrows her brow and opens her mouth to ask Matt a question but she was interrupted by the scent of sweat and gasping breaths.

“Sorry-sorry I’m late.” Foggy rasped from behind Matt, he leaned heavily on Matt’s shoulder, as he tried to steady his breathing, “Karen was very unwell-didn’t want to leave her-alone.”

“So where did you leave her?” Matt questioned.

“With Danny and Colleen, he says he’ll try and make her better?” Foggy nodded, Matt gave a singular nod of acknowledgement, whilst Y/N stood still just as confused as before.

“Are they some kind of doctors?” Y/N asked.

“Umm, no not really,” Foggy fumbled, he fiddled with his tie, “more of a natural herbalist thingy.”

“Riiiight, didn’t think a man like yourself would believe in that shit, but hey it’s your life not mine.” Y/N smiled, a very in-genuine smile, “now speaking of life’s…shall we see where I’ll be spending the rest of mine.”

Y/N gestured to the building with her head, keeping her hands firmly in her pocket and the two men nodded in agreement, before following Y/N inside.

——

Y/N stood before the officer, looking to the floor, she rubbed her thumb anxiously across her bandaged knuckles. She was doing it so aggressively Matt worried she might peel her own skin off.

"Well...Y/N, you're free to go." the officer grumbled, signing the papers in front of him aggressively.

"What?" Foggy stated confused, Y/N said nothing but kept her head down, finding the floor of the precinct fascinating.

"The charges against you are dropped." The officer, says, begrudgingly.

"On the account of?" Matt chimed in.

"On the account of the complainant being found dead this morning, in an alleyway in Hell's Kitchen." The officer stated, bluntly, seeming completely bored by the whole ordeal, if not a little frustrated he was able to let Y/N go so freely.

"So that's it then?" Y/N looked up briefly, shuffling side to side on her feet. "I can go."

"Yeah you're free to go, take this," The officer hands a release form to Y/N, "sign here," he directs Y/N to an empty dotted line, which she scribbles her name down hastily. "Right, clear off."

Y/N snorts, rolls her eyes, and pushes her way through Foggy and Matt heading towards the door.

"What the hell happened to this guy?" Foggy asked, Y/N paused at the door, her ears twitching for a moment.

"Found the dude in an alley, his face torn to shred, had to use tattoo identification." The police officer shrugged.

"Not dental?" Matt quirked his head to the side, Y/N noticed that he was tilting it back in her direction slightly.

"Teeth were shattered, and some of them were...missing."

"Missing." Foggy sounded horrified, and that was all Y/N needed to hear, before she pushed the door open and swiftly exited.

Y/N was quick to walk away from the precinct, as fast as her legs could carry her. Heading for the shop, so she could pick up her bag from work.

In her own little world, she looked behind her briefly, before coming to a sudden holt as she collided into something solid, with great force.

She hit the "wall" so hard, Y/N had to stop herself from falling backwards, a hand grabbed her waist, balancing her out.

"Jesus Christ, watch where you're going-" Y/N stopped short in her sentence, as she stared at her own red reflection in the glasses of Matt Murdock. "What are you doing?"

"Why did you leave in such a hurry?" Matt asked her, Y/N swallowed thickly, but kept her face steel nonetheless.

"I was done, I got released, I'm not sure about you but I don't hang around precincts to get me kicks." Y/N jested, Matt smirked, scenting strongly of amusement, it made Y/N feel warm inside, she shook her head to get rid of the dreamy feeling that started to cloud her mind.

"It's kind of an occupational hazard," Matt shrugged, "What with being a lawyer and all."

Y/N rolled her eyes playful, she couldn't help the little smile that danced across her face, but the smile dropped momentarily.

"How did you get here so fast?" Y/N wondered, looking back in the direction she came, and then back to the Alpha standing before her.

"Short cut," Matt lied, "I wanted to talk to you-"

"I don't have time for this, Matt, I've got places to be." Y/N tries to move passed the deceptively quick blind man, but she's unsuccessful, as he grabs hold of her bicep. Y/N hisses, but gulps when she catches herself. "Sorry." she mumbles, quickly.

"It appears you have quite the temper, Miss Y/L/N." Matt points out, Y/N could hear the Alpha tone he was using, he was trying to assert dominance, scenting strongly of authority.

However, Y/N was just about able to shrug him off.

"Oh you don't know the half of it." Y/N rolled her eyes, fixing her jacket, which had been ruffled by Matt's grip.

"I'd like to." Matt purrs, Y/N shuffles uncomfortable, and she scents regret from the Alpha, whose shoulders drop when he realises, he might have offended the Omega. "Sorry, I just mean, I'd like to get to know you better...I find you...fascinating."

"Fascinating?" Y/N showed an obvious look of offence, but quickly remembers the man in front of her can't see her, so she loudly scents annoyance, "Fascinating? I'm a person, not an experiment. Not some animal in a zoo, you can poke at with a stick. Good day, Mr Murdock."

Y/N didn't give Matt a chance to respond, before she turned and walked with pace, and vigour.

-----

Y/N managed to get to the shop, just before Jordan was closing up for lunch, sweat poured off her forehead, and she flapped the collar of her shirt, wildly, to create some kind of air circulation around her clothes.

"Jordy." Y/N panted, catching the Beta's attention, he turned to look at Y/N, but his expression read far from happy.

"Y/N." Jordan spoke bluntly, he disappeared back into the shop, yet before Y/N could follow him in, he came outside again, physically blocking Y/N from entering. Y/N furrowed her brow, and looked down at Jordan's hand where he clutched the strap of her backpack.

Y/N's eyes widened when she realised the front pocket was open, the spray gone from inside of it.

"Looking for this." Jordan said coldly, holding the spray between his finger and thumb, Y/N felt the blood drain out of her head, heavy in her feet. She thought she was going to faint, but she managed a few shaky breaths.

"What's that?" Y/N tried to play it cool, but she knew Jordan could see in her eyes that she was panic stricken.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N," Jordan spat, "Don't lie to me...anymore."

Y/N looked to the sky, taking a step back, and biting her lip hard, mainly to control the whimpering cries that wanted to break loose from her chest.

"Jordy, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Jordan gritted through his teeth, "Sorry that you brought illegal blockers into my shop? Sorry that you lied about being a Beta? Sorry that you could have lost me my business, and send me to jail in the process? What? Hmm? Which bit are you sorry about? Roughly?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that this whole situation would go away.

"I'm sorry for all of it Jordy. I'm so sorry about all of it." Y/N cried, she looked at Jordan pleadingly, but she was met with nothing but a hard stare. "Please don't tell anyone, please."

"Who am I going to tell? The cops? Then lose my business and go to jail for employing an Omega?" Y/N let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, but her relief was short lived, "No, I want you out of here, you don't come near me, or my business again, you understand me?"

"But Jordy, please-"

"Leave, Y/N!" Jordan roared, throwing Y/N's backpack and spray at her, bottle bouncing away, "And take this shit with you, you disgusting, bender."

Y/N couldn't believe what was happening, what Jordan had just called her, how her life seemed to just be going from one poor fortune to the next.

Y/N scrambles to grab her things, first the spray, which had gone skidding across the sidewalk, then grabbing her bag, shoving the bottle in the pocket, and hastily walking away.

She felt Jordan's eyes blazing into the back of her head, as she breaks into a sprint heading back towards her apartment. Eyes burning strong, Y/N fought with all she had to keep her tears at bay, at very least until she had made it home, to the safety of her one room, apartment.

Slamming the door behind her, Y/N falls to her knees, curling up on the rough surface, of her damp rotting floorboards.

However, before she could really wallow in her sorrow, there was a brisk and firm knock on her front door. At first Y/N wanted to ignore it, remaining where she was. Yet another knock came, this time followed by a stern voice.

"Y/L/N, open up, it's your landlord."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, momentarily, before heaving herself to her feet, and staggering towards the apartment door. Opening the door slightly, she peaked out through the narrow gap she had left herself, looking at the battered black boots of her Landlord Mr. Fitzgerald.

"Mr Fitzgerald, how can I help you." Y/N rasped, still looking to the old man's boots.

"Rent, that's how you can help me." Fitzgerald ruffed, Y/N felt her chest tighten, and she rested her forehead on the doorframe, closing her eyes.

"I don't have it yet." Y/N sighed.

"That's the third time, your rent has been late." Fitzgerald scented of anger and irritation, "You have till the end of tomorrow or you're out. Understand?'

"But, Mr Fitzgerald-"

"Tomorrow evening, or you can pack your shit up, and go." Fitzgerald ended the conversation there, turning hot on his heels, and heading to his own apartment, slamming the door shut loudly. It made Y/N flinch, she too closed her door aggressively, before she let the angry tears roll down her face.

"Fuck..." Y/N hissed, punctuating her expletive by punching her fist into her pillow, "Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

Y/N delivers blows to her defenceless pillow each time she swore.

"You. Fucking. Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit. Bitch. Omega."

Y/N eventually flopped into her pillow, she didn't cry, she didn't have the energy to be emotional anymore. She just lay there, breathing in the fibres of her pillow, instead tuning in to the noise of the city, outside her tiny window.

The noise of traffic, car horns, cyclists, people hailing cabs, people arguing over the prices of fruit.

Then Y/N heard it, the sound of a little girl.

Crying. Tiredly, into a soft toy.

She was in a dark room, somewhere underground, but not too far from where Y/N was laying right now.

Lifting her head up from the pillow, Y/N sniffs the air, opening her window wider, trying to get a better location.

"Mama...mama." the little girl wailed louder, Y/N heard the sound of a door unlocking, the girl's cries grew louder, less coherent more desperate.

"I'm coming, little one," Y/N felt her veins narrow, her pupils widen, the black spots of the city growing bigger.

"I'm coming."

Chapter Three

Taglist

@bad4amficideas

@ninacotte

#marvel fanfiction #reader insert #matt murderdock #matt murdock x reader #alpha!matt #beta!foggy #omega!reader #daredevil #mcu fanfiction #daredevil x reader #marvel's defenders #defender a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o lifestyle #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au

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rayslittlekitten · 7 months

Text

I've been writing so much angsty Jax lately, I needed a bit of a palate cleanser so I whipped this little thing up. I don't know if I want to turn this into a whole ass fic yet, but I think this small little scene can stand on its own. I sorta had an idea inspired by "Bring It All To Me" by Blaque but this isn't quite what I imagined but I still liked how this came out. GIF is from here. A little teenager Jax fluff.

You impatiently stare at the clock hanging above the chalkboard as your leg bounces up and down, counting down to the seconds waiting for the bell to ring. As soon as you hear the shrill, you grab your textbook and book bag and dash out of the classroom. As the hallway quickly fills up, you push through all the other students trying to make it to their next class, just like you are, but for you, you're more concerned about what happens between classes. When you finally make it to your destination, you slow down, as does time.

There he is: Jax Teller, leaning against the row of lockers, looking so cool in his white t-shirt, baggy jeans and white sneakers. He runs his long slim fingers through his blonde tresses as he's listening to his best friend, Harry Winston telling him a story, but gets distracted by a pretty brunette walking past him. His head turns and follows her as she struts down the hall like it's her own personal catwalk, flicking her hair back while putting one heeled foot in front of the other. He nudges Harry and he's also now watching the same girl.

Suddenly, time returns to reality when someone behind you pushes you, launching you forward and knocking your book out of your arms. Jax and Harry's own oogling gets interrupted as well by your interruption.

"Get out of the way!"

Embarrassed, you look around for your book in the sea of legs, but find it presented in front of you. You look up and all the breath is taken out of your lungs.

"Are you okay?"

Never in a million years did you ever think you'd ever get this close to Jax, let alone talk to him.

"Y-yes," you manage to croak out as you timidly take your book back from him.

"That guy was a jerk," he scoffs.

"Come on, Jax, we gotta get to class," Harry jumps in.

"We're actually gonna go smoke some weed in the cafeteria. Wanna join us?"

"Ignore him." Harry rolls his eyes.

"See you later." Jax winks at you and the two troublemakers walk off.

#WIP?#jax teller #sons of anarchy #gn!reader

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the-lonelybarricade · 2 months

Text

We Bleed the Same - (4/?)

Summary: The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice... The beginning to a story we know, unfolded a little bit differently.

A gift for my darling @belabellissima💝

Also huge thank you to @popjunkie42 for her super helpful feedback on this chapter 💕

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

The ring, at the very least, served as a useful projectile to launch at Rhysand’s head.

Feyre’s mind was whirring like a spindle, producing one thread of thought that twined around and around and around her chest. Wife.

Rhys caught the ring from the air with infuriating ease. She wished she could have seen it crash into his monstrously beautiful face. “It’s too late to return this, I’m afraid.”

He had lied, but why? When?

“I’m not your wife!” She hissed.

Rhys mockingly clutched his chest. “Oh, how the words of a loved one cut deeper than any blade.”

Nevermind what Nesta would say about her improper attire. Feyre pushed the sheets of the infirmary bed aside, scrambling to her feet. Her boots had been removed at some point in the night, and she might have been able to find them if she spared a moment to glance around the room. But a flood of anger carried her across the stone floor, allowing Feyre to ignore the bite of cold leaching through her threadbare socks. She stopped close enough that she would have been nose-to-nose with Rhysand if he wasn’t so gods-damned tall.

She needed to angle her head to meet his eyes, and he looked so amused that someone a fraction of his height was ready to pick a fight that she couldn’t resist jamming a finger into his chest.

“You had no right,” she said, seething. “Word of something like that in this village…”

A rumor like that would travel quickly. Feyre Archeron, the wild daughter of the fallen Archeron family, married to a mercenary. Dark brown eyes flashed through her mind. And for a completely foolish moment, she wondered what Isaac would think of the news. She shook the sad, useless thought away, reminding herself that Isaac would be married by the summer.

“You said you dream of being a spinster,” Rhys said. “Now you get to enjoy that lifestyle with none of the scorn. When my contract ends, I’ll move on from this town and you can claim to be a widow.”

“Why?” She demanded, shaking her head like that might clear away this strange reality. “What’s the point in all of this? What do you gain?”

He smirked. “Besides a pretty wife?”

Feyre felt her entire body flush with anger. Rhysand was the only person who’d ever called her such a thing, and somehow he managed to wield the compliment to get under her skin more effectively than years of Nesta’s hurled insults. She wanted to scream, or find a firepoker she could use to prod at him in turn.

But that’s what he wanted. She could tell, by the way his maddening smile grew with every ounce of her temper. “You’ve already figured out what I want, Feyre. There’s history between me and that High Lord. And now that you’ve fixed his interest, I need you here. Having you as my wife is just a delightful bonus.”

“I’m not—”

Rhys pressed a finger to her lips to smother the protest before Feyre could form it in full. He said, soft as a lover’s whisper, “Don’t let Lord Nolan hear you say such horrible things, sweet wife. If you want your family to be able to stay here, safely tucked behind fortified walls, then I’m going to need you to pretend to be the open-minded, adaptable woman that I know you can be.”

She pushed his hand away. “If you think my sisters are going to put up with this ruse—”

“Then you better convince them it’s not a ruse,” Rhys said.

“How?” Feyre threw her hands up in exasperation. “We just met yesterday. They know that.”

Like he couldn’t resist, his finger returned to her lips, tracing the outline with a fixation that had her sucking in a breath. “Why don’t you tell them,” he mused, “that all those times you were sneaking out to fuck the farmboy, you were actually seeing me? I guarantee I would have shown you a better time.”

Feyre tilted her chin higher as she stared him down. She refused to feel shame for her trysts with Isaac, even if he was only a farmboy, if their encounters had been brisk and clumsy and inexperienced. That touch of humanity had kept her sane, kept her alive, through these last cruel years.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” she said.

“Do they?”

It was meant to be cutting, but the challenge drew a much bleaker thought forward. What even was there to know?

For years she had operated on one single-minded goal: keep her family alive and together. It was a vow she’d made on her mother’s deathbed eight years ago and without it, she was little more than the winter frost, drifting aimless day after day. The only true ambition she had was painting, a passion she hadn’t touched since that summer Elain had been able to afford three small pots of paint as a gift.

They could try to flee, try to hire a boat and make a new life for themselves on the continent, but without Rhysand’s protection it would be a gamble to try to get on a ship without being tracked by the High Lord. And a small voice, worn-out piece of her wondered… what would it feel like to surrender? Who could she become if she didn’t have to fight and barter and scrape for every meal? If they could stay here and be safe from the fae, fed and comfortable… it was beyond anything she’d ever dared hope for. A marriage to a handsome—if not infuriating—man seemed a meager price to pay in the end, if she could finally fulfill that vow to her mother.

“So we’re to be married,” she said in a single breath. “And live together on this estate, acting as a married couple, presumably sharing a room together…” He nodded in confirmation. “We’re not sharing a bed,” she said, flatly.

His eyes brightened, the very picture of triumph. “Consider it done,” he said. “I’ll be on guard duty most nights, anyhow.”

A relief, and yet… she felt oddly disappointed to think she’d be alone most nights. Of all the complicated affairs of marriage, there was only one aspect she truly had any experience with. She’d always known she was too wild and too sharp to be someone’s bride, but there had been moments in the barn with Isaac when Feyre had learned she could be soft, too.

With Isaac to be married, she didn’t see why she couldn’t seek that comfort elsewhere. If she had to put up with Rhysand’s company, she thought she could at least indulge the flirty remarks and bedroom eyes, if only as a distraction. Those perfect lips had to be good for something besides kindling her temper. And at least between her legs, she wouldn’t have to hear all his rakish commentary.

I guarantee I would have shown you a better time…

Feyre steeled her nerves to continue, “And if we fuck…” Rhys stiffened. She had to clamp her lips together to smother a laugh at his expression. Clearly despite his teasing, he hadn’t considered that sex would be on the table. But there was no denying he was beautiful, and if she was going to go along with this scheme she could at least glean some measure of enjoyment from it. “No kissing.”

That wasn’t a rule she’d used with Isaac. But with Rhys, and the attention he was already paying to her mouth, she thought it would be too dangerous to let him kiss her. Dangerous to be humoring this harebrained plan at all.

“No kissing,” he repeated, sounding a bit strained. “Understood.”

He was so close that she could watch his chest rise with his next breath. She felt oddly tempted to flatten her palm over his heart, like she’d done last night, just to measure how fast his heart was beating. Did this phase him at all? From his endless look of amusement, it didn’t seem like it.

Rhys drew the ring from its velvet cushion. Despite her better judgment, Feyre held her hand out, watching his face as he delicately took her hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger without hesitation. His eyelashes skimmed his high cheekbones as he surveyed the diamond adorning her hand. For a moment so fleeting she thought she might have been imagining it, a crease formed between his brows in the faintest glimpse of anguish. It vanished before she could even hope to speculate its meaning.

Then he was smiling at her like he’d never been more pleased with himself.

“Since I’m here, wife—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

He continued as if she said nothing at all, “Would you like help getting dressed?”

Feyre resisted the urge to fidget under Rhysand’s slow, unhurried surveillance. A gentleman would have averted their eyes, or pretended they hadn’t noticed her state of undress. His eyes lingered everywhere they shouldn’t, heavy with something she couldn’t quite label as desire. But she didn’t have the sense he was displeased by what he saw, either.

“It isn’t as if the beast took my arms,” she said, turning away from him in dismissal. “It’s just a scratch.”

A scratch that could have easily found her bleeding out in the woods, were it not for the mercenary who huffed under his breath, likely thinking the same. Feyre ignored him, sweeping her eyes over the infirmary in search of something to cover herself. A wicker chair was situated in the corner of her bedside, a familiar cloak strewn over its back.

It would have to do. Her sisters likely hadn’t had the foresight to bring many clothes with them when they’d fled the cottage. She hoped Nesta had at least taken the coin Feyre stowed away, but she would need to return to sweep the cottage and see what was left behind. That was… If they were even permitted to leave. Would they be hunted the moment they stepped outside the walls of the estate?

Feyre could ask Rhys to accompany her, though her stomach curdled at the prospect of asking him any more favors. A man like him kept a meticulous ledger, and as she lifted his cloak from the chair, she knew even its use would be added to her list of debts. But she would argue if they were to act married, then what belonged to him also belonged to her.

Footsteps sounded at her back. She didn’t turn, not yet ready to subject herself to that piercing stare, and whatever smart comment he had prepared. Rhys stopped once he was close enough for his heat to warm her back, not saying a word as he reached around her to take the cloak from her hands. She allowed him, feeling him step away and for a moment believing he was taking it back, denying her from covering herself with it.

Then, slow as if not to startle her, Rhysand held the front straps open and pulled the cloak over her head. Its weight fell across her shoulders, tickling her neck with its soft fur. He pressed a palm into her uninjured shoulder, prompting her to turn so that he could wordlessly adjust the straps to her much slighter frame. Careful, all the while, not to jostle or brush against her injury.

So he had the capacity for decency. It wasn’t as if Feyre would give him a medal for it—and certainly not the thank you he was trying to tempt with his raised brow.

“There,” he said once he had finished with the straps. He gave a small laugh as he assessed her. “It practically swallows you.”

It wasn’t hard. All of her soft edges became sharper in the winter.

She shifted the cape, hating the way Rhys stared like he could see through the fur and cloth, straight to the ridges of her ribs underneath. He didn’t know they’d become more defined in the last three weeks, and she knew he was only making a light hearted comment. Heat itched along her cheeks all the same, and she couldn’t find it in herself to laugh—wasn’t convinced that it was something she was still capable of.

Silence sawed between them as Rhys waited for her to say something and she only blinked, fighting the wild thing inside her that wanted to snap and claw and bite for the insult he didn’t truly mean to inflict. When the fight had nowhere to go, she felt it sink down, draining out along with all of her energy.

Feyre sagged a bit into herself, and the next thing she knew Rhys was herding her back into that wicker chair.

“Seems like that tonic might be wearing off,” he said mildly. “Do you want more?”

“No,” she said, breathing through her teeth.

The pain in her arm hadn’t returned, but she did feel heavier. Was that the tonic wearing off, or had the world always been this heavy, and it was only now settling over her?

Rhys hummed in what sounded vaguely like agreement, helping himself to the task of lacing her boots. It was odd to watch him drop to his knees before her. Odder still, to feel his steady hand curve behind her calf and coax her leg upward so he could slide her worn boot onto her foot. He paid no mind to his miraculously clean trousers, seemingly content to muddy them by propping her heel against his thigh.

Watching those quick, nimble fingers move and pull against her laces lodged something free inside her, something she didn’t dare inspect. “I haven’t lost my arm,” she reminded him, though it lacked the sharpness she’d been aiming for.

He glanced up, pleased that she was speaking again. “Yes. But stretching those stitches is going to burn like Hell.”

Boot now laced, he set her foot down and gestured for the other. Feyre obliged, lifting her foot so he could slide the second shoe on. She supposed if anyone walked in on them, they would have looked rather… intimate.

“See?” Rhys purred, clearly sharing her line of thought. “We’re good at this.”

He looked up, both boots now laced. His hand was still curved around her calf, not quite prepared to let go. And because of the precious warmth spreading under her skin, she was willing to let him linger for just a moment longer.

“Which do you need first,” he asked. “Food or a bath?”

“I supposed this is where you offer to bathe me yourself.”

The devilish glint in his eye said he was already entertaining the idea. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Her mouth felt dry.

“Food,” she said. “I’ll bathe once I know you’re somewhere far, far away.”

Food, it turned out, meant leaving the infirmary to join Lord Nolan and his family for lunch in their impressive dining room.

Unlike the small, splintering table from their cottage, Lord Nolan boasted a broad dining table, hewn from rich, polished black ebony. More impressive than its size were the countless dishes of food laden atop its surface, all wafting decadent steam that drifted towards Feyre, twisting her aching stomach until she worried she might collapse.

Feyre willed her body upright as she swept her eyes over the generous spread. She flinched when her gaze unexpectedly landed on a pair of emerald eyes, staring back at her through the face of a snarling beast that was carved into each leg of the table. It looked enough like the beast she’d encountered the night before to curb some of her appetite, and she frowned, examining the rest of the carvings. Ward marking decorated the table’s apron—similar to the ones her father had spent the last of his fortune to have etched into the cottage exterior. She didn’t want to imagine how much the useless engraving had cost Lord Nolan.

Identical markings were carved into the backs of the chairs that Nesta, Elain, and her father were already seated in. They faced an elderly man hunched at the head of the table, dressed enough finery that there would be no mistaking him for anyone other than Lord Nolan. To his right was a handsome, much younger man—brown-haired and blue-eyed and already sneaking mooning glances towards a giggling Elain. The Lord’s son, if she had to wager a guess.

All conversation halted the second Rhys and Feyre stepped through the large, cherrywood doors. Nesta, stiff-backed from before they’d come in, set her silverware down hard enough to make Elain flinch.

“Feyre,” her father said, reaching for his cane like he intended to stand to greet her.

“I’m okay,” she said, with enough edge that her father dropped his hand back into his lap. Nesta snorted—either from the less than favorable first impression Feyre was already making, or simply because she enjoyed anything that displeased their father.

Ignoring them, and Elain’s wide-eyed stare, Feyre turned towards the Lord and offered a clumsy curtsey, which earned another thinly disguised laugh from Nesta. “Thank you for your generosity towards my family, Lord Nolan.”

Feyre hadn’t been given the same upbringing as her sisters. If she’d ever learned the proper etiquette for meeting nobility, she’d been too young to remember it. A curtsey seemed sufficient—though Nesta’s mocking sneer was quickly faltering her confidence in even that small gesture. If it wasn’t for Rhys, placing a steadying palm of Feyre’s back as he bowed, subtly, from the waist, she might have turned and darted straight out the doors.

“Thank you again,” Rhys echoed, with none of her wavering uncertainty. His voice dipped lower than it’d been a second ago. And from his tone, it sounded less like he was thanking them for a favor and more as if they’d fulfilled an obligation he was owed. As if he was the Lord. There was glee in his voice as he added, “My wife and I appreciate your kindness.”

Well now he’d done it. Feyre suppressed a sigh, her attention darting to Nesta, who’s blue eyes turned to slits. Elain’s mouth parted open, and she quickly grabbed for her wine to duck her face into the goblet, artfully evading any fighting she feared might ensue. And their father… he simply nodded to himself, eyes clouding with a sort of melancholy that caused Feyre to grit her teeth. As if this was some outcome he’d suspected, but was disappointed by. Just last night, they had all watched her walk out of the cottage, prepared for that beast to take her life. They should be grateful that she was even here. Alive.

The Lord, hawk-nosed and gray-eyed, nodded and said to Rhys, “I am pleased to see that your wife has recovered.”

His tone was bland enough that there was no mistaking his words as sincere. But he was being charitable to offer them at all. Feyre nodded her thanks, but Rhys… he just stared. Eyes narrowed slightly.

“Please, sit,” the Lord added, gesturing towards two of the unoccupied chairs, across from Nesta and their father.

Rhysand, either a fool or an unconventional strategist, claimed the chair facing Nesta. And smirked. In front of their hosts, Feyre prayed she could trust Nesta to keep her nastier comments to herself, or at least until she’d managed to corner Feyre in private. But it wasn’t helping that Rhys raised his brows at Nesta, as if daring her to say something.

“I’m relieved you’re okay, Feyre,” Elain chimed in after swallowing a large mouthful of wine.

Feyre couldn’t tell if it was said to cut the tension, or because Elain truly meant it. She glanced towards her middle sister, beautiful despite the marks of poverty. Her face was sharp and angular where it had once been full and round and flushed with life. But Elain’s eyes hadn't changed. Not in any of the years they’d been in that cottage. They were still bright and gentle, in a way that was rare to encounter in their village.

Last night, Elain’s eyes had been so wide her pupils nearly swallowed all of the brown, not a trace of the warm, honeyed tones that Feyre could see now. She could still hear how Elain sobbed, too terror-stricken for words, frozen like a doe. And when Elain spoke just then, there’d been a residual scrap to her usual lovely, lilted sing-song—from how loudly she’d been screaming.

One moment she’d been giggling over boys with Nesta and the next, their door was broken down by a terrifying, unexpected faerie beast. Feyre could forgive her sister for not trying to help. For being frightened. It was enough to know that she cared, that there was grief shining in her eyes as Elain’s lips stretched into a strained smile.

A hand wrapped over Feyre’s. She tensed, but Rhysand’s words swam over her. “It was very brave of you to offer your life to protect your family.” She turned, meeting his eyes, searching them and finding none of that amusement. Rhys leaned closer, pitching his next words just for her benefit. “Stupid,” he added, the breath of his whisper brushing along the shell of her ear. She tried not to shiver—not with Nesta watching them so closely. “Utterly reckless. And braver than perhaps anything I’ve ever done.”

She doubted that.

“Yes,” Nesta said, drawing their attention away from each other. “Well done, Feyre. It was so heroic of you to lure away the faerie that you brought to our door.”

Rhysand stilled, his fingers tightening over Feyre’s. The tone Nesta used, dripping in venom and outright contempt… It was nothing new. Though, knowing that she’d been moments away from death, it cut into Feyre nearly as viciously as the beast’s claws.

She sucked on her teeth, ruminating in the sting. What was it that elicited Nesta’s ire? Was it because of the praise, or Rhysand’s subtle prodding, or did her eldest sister truly despise Feyre so much that she didn't care that she was almost killed? Did she resent that Feyre had lived? No… no. Nesta could be cruel, but there had been grief in her eyes, too. They had looked at each other, and understood. Understood in a way that was perhaps too difficult to acknowledge in the aftermath.

Words lapped at Feyre’s tongue, too sharp or bitter or not quite right. What could she say that wouldn’t sound defensive, or self-important, or worst of all… hurt. Elain opened her mouth, prepared to mediate so they didn’t make a scene in front of their hosts.

But it was Rhys who said levelly, “A life debt is a very heavy burden, isn’t it? It can rest uncomfortably on the soul.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked between them, and she raised a cool brow. “Is that why my sister married you, because of a debt?”

“Nesta,” Feyre chided, sneaking a nervous glance towards Lord Nolan.

At most, the elderly Lord appeared bored with the theatrics, but his son was monitoring them—particularly Elain, now stiff and withdrawn from the demure lady who’d been giggling moments ago.

“What happened to Isaac?” Nesta pushed, causing even Rhysand’s casual posture to straighten, just enough that she worried the blade strapped to his back might find itself embedded in the dining table, or worse.

Their father reached towards Nesta, like he might put a hand on her shoulder to chide her for making a scene, but all it took was one cutting glance from his eldest daughter for his hand to immediately fall back into his lap. He lowered his chin.

No one was touching the food in the center of the table—hot, glorious food that would finally cure the ravenous hunger she knew was raging inside each of them.

Nesta kept her glare fixed on Rhys, challenging him to answer. He only laughed, leaning in to brush some of Feyre’s hair from her face, a gesture of casual intimacy that scorched her cheek where his fingers brushed.

He crooned, “Why don’t you tell your family how we met?”

“In the woods,” she lied. It was never something she’d been very talented at—she’d never really had a reason to, when her sister was critical of even the barest truths. Feyre wracked her mind for details that might convince them. “Four months ago, he got caught in one of my snares.”

Rhys’s lips twitched. She could practically read in the look he shot her, That’s what you’re going with?

“You would expect a mercenary to be more aware of their surroundings,” Nesta said, thoroughly unconvinced.

“Maybe I wanted to get caught,” Rhys said, flashing Feyre a grin. Then, paying no mind to the empty plates in front of everyone else, he reached across for the platter of chicken and began piling it onto Feyre’s plate.

“You must be a talented huntress,” the Lord’s son complimented. “Especially if you managed to kill a faerie.”

“She’s remarkable,” Rhys agreed. Feyre marveled at the pride in his voice. How did he manage to lie so convincingly?

When he was done with the chicken, Rhys handed the platter to Elain, who accepted it with a wary glance towards their host’s empty plate. Lord Nolan nodded in subdued approval, and that was all Elain needed to begin serving herself as well.

Rhysand continued picking up plates of various steaming dishes—vegetables, bread, sauces, even a decanter of wine that he poured into the goblet in front of her. She noticed he didn’t load his own plate nearly so generously, but when he nudged a fork into her hands, she didn’t think to question it.

She thought she might prefer to do away with the fork entirely and shovel the food into her mouth by the handful. Manners were a distant, faraway concern, but she was able to exact enough control to shovel an appropriate-sized bite into her mouth. It was an effort to chew slowly, to swallow, to look as if this wasn’t the first proper meal she’d had at least since autumn ended.

And the spices… she shut her eyes. She’d forgotten that eating could be something more than a means of keeping her body functioning. That flavor could dance on her tongue, evoking stories of the faraway lands they’d traveled across to get to this dining room. Her family had fallen quiet, equally absorbed in this rare chance to fill their empty stomachs. Rhys—thank the forgotten gods—kept the situation from being unbearably mortifying by making polite conversation with Lord Nolan and his son to fill the silence.

She learned a bit about them in the moments she could piece together between mouthfuls of decadent food. Graysen—the son—was a year older than Nesta, and he’d been training with the guards at the same age that Nesta and Elain began learning the pianoforte. From the gleam in his eye as asked after Rhys’s own training, she knew he had listless questions about their encounter with the beast last night. Thankfully, he was a gentleman as much as he was a warrior, and he reserved such questions until the last of their plates were empty.

Once the servants carried them away, he leaned forward, “Did you manage to kill it?”

Feyre wasn’t the only one who flinched.

“No,” Rhys said, jaw tight. “Thanks to Feyre, I was able to catch him with an ash bolt, but he’ll be back.”

“Great,” Nesta said, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “So—what? We can’t leave this estate without worrying about being hunted?”

It was never a problem before, Feyre wanted to snap. You never bothered to leave the house most days, anyway.

With a deep breath, Feyre said, “It’s only temporary, Nesta.”

Another lie. If the High Lord’s words were to be trusted, then the terms of the Treaty meant she would always owe a life debt to Prythian. The fae couldn’t lie, and his wording had been fairly clear.

A life debt is a very heavy burden, isn’t it?

Rhys, oblivious to his sharp words that were digging beneath her skin, nodded in agreement. “We’re putting together patrols to search for the beast and protect this estate—if he comes back, we’ll be ready for him.”

“Some of us have lives,” Nesta said. “Tomas was about to propose!”

Good. Feyre privately hoped that Tomas would fix his interest elsewhere. Out loud, she said, “If he loved you, Nesta, he would wait.”

“Not if he goes to our cottage and thinks we’re dead.”

“Write him a letter,” she said, patience thinning.

Graysen cleared his throat, his eyes wandering to Elain, as if seeking her approval as he intervened. “If you must go into town, one of our men could always escort you.”

Elain beamed at him. Graysen smiled back with an endearing, boyish sort of relief. They might have been a good match if the Archerons had managed to maintain their fortune. But without a dowry, or so much as two coins to rub together, Feyre wondered what Lord Nolan would think of a romance between his son and Elain. He didn’t seem to take any notice of his son’s budding interest—in fact, as Feyre studied the Lord she thought his eyes looked a bit glazed, his awareness drifting like a thick morning fog, not quite pinned on any one thing.

She fought the temptation to wave her fingers in front of his face. It was likely his age. People in the village tended to die long before age could claim them, and she supposed she didn’t have much exposure to the elderly—but with his wealth, and his abundant access to food and warmth and medicine, he could outlive the average human expiration.

Maybe that’s how Rhys had managed to get away with the lies. The old Lord was senile and his son—he seemed kind, though a bit too eager to find a faerie on the other side of his sword. Having killed that wolf, she supposed she didn’t have any room to judge, but… Feyre shuddered, now, to think that the creature she’d skinned had been as sentient as the beast she’d encountered last night.

“I’m tired,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. Her stomach hadn’t felt this heavy in years, and with the tonic wearing off she thought she could do with a bath, and a nap, and some method of putting this whole ordeal with the wolf and beast far, far behind her. “I think I’d like to retire, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Rhys said, as if he had any right to dismiss a guest.

Lord Nolan only nodded, unnervingly silent. Something tightened in Feyre’s gut.

She didn’t look towards Nesta or her father as she got to her feet. Elain offered another tight smile, but they all said nothing as Feyre slipped toward the door, Rhys trailing at her back like a new extension of her shadow.

It was only once Feyre rounded the corner and froze at the sight of a long stretch of corridor, flanked by rows of doors, that she realized she hadn’t the slightest clue where she was going. She’d been operating on a single directive: flee. Just as well Rhys had followed her, and had now stopped a healthy distance from her back, leaning against the nearest wall as he waited for her to process her next move.

Feyre sighed. “Just show me where it is, you asshole.”

He barked a short laugh before pushing off the wall, striding in front of her with more fluid grace than any man ought to possess. Maybe he’d been a cat in a previous life, and that was why his booted feet made hardly any sound as they strode down the hardwood floors, through halls mounted with weapons and hunting trophies. Though Feyre suspected they were wealthy enough to flaunt silver and gold, it was iron that decorated most of their fortress—iron sconces on the walls, iron latches on window sills, intricate iron handles on every door.

Rhys curled his fingers around one such handle, smiling at her as he stepped through the iron threshold. “Here you are—a room fit for a mercenary and his new, lovely wife.”

She could have laughed. Or wept. The room was likely plain by a lord’s standards, roughly the size of the cottage she’d shared with her family. Two rich velvet settees were settled beside a low wooden table in front of the fireplace, big enough that she wouldn’t feel too guilty making Rhys sleep on one. The large fur rug, likely won from one of the Lord’s many hunts, looked like it would make a pleasant place to nap as well.

And then there was the bed, about as large as the one she and her sisters slept on, but now she had it all to herself. That was a strange thing to come to terms with.

“I have to go soon.” His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to run you a bath?”

“I can manage,” she said, but he was walking into the attached bathing room anyway. She followed, feeling a bit lost. How was any of this real, how had her life changed so quickly, so drastically?

The iron handle squeaked as it turned, and a moment later the faucet rumbled, pouring steaming water into the large porcelain tub. Steaming. Now she was weeping, and she turned, not wanting Rhys to see. It was stupid—so utterly stupid, and pathetic, to be crying over a warm bath.

Footsteps sounded at her back as Rhys approached. Given how silently he’d walked before, she knew it’d been intentional, so she didn’t jump when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Feyre resisted his first attempt to make her face him. It was obvious she was crying and that was bad enough. But when it was clear she wouldn’t obey, he moved around her anyway.

They stared at each other for a moment, and she waited for him to say something about the tears streaming down her face. He didn’t. He just silently took to unlatching the cloak, until its weight dropped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet along with the weight of eight years of survival, of being solely responsible for keeping her family alive.

A sob ratcheted up her spine. Rhys gently grabbed the elbow of her injured arm, holding it steady as he unwrapped her bandages. Her eyes fell to the raw, angry skin freshly sewn together with dark, jutting sutures. She winced at the sight.

“You should be careful getting them wet,” he said. “Let me help.”

His voice held enough concern that she trusted he would be professional about it, but Feyre shook her head. “You said you need to go.”

“I can stay.”

The moment she was encased in that warm water, she knew there would be no holding back the floodgates. Nevermind that she wasn’t prepared for Rhys to see her naked—not yet, not while she was still bony and sharp and her arm looked like that.

“Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

Rhys pressed a hand to her cheek. It was only then that he swiped away her errant tears with his thumb. “The patrol might last a few days,” he said. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

She nearly pointed out that staying out of trouble meant staying as far away from him as she could get. But she wasn’t quite in the mood for jokes, and hearing that he would be gone for potentially days… she hadn’t realized how comforting she found his presence, until that moment.

“Enjoy your bath,” he said. “Try to eat and rest and get stronger.”

A goal. She was good at working with those.

Feyre decided she could give him one, too. “Try not to die.”

Rhys laughed. “Believe me when I say I’m very, very hard to kill.”

#Im going to go nap for 10 days now #We Bleed the Same #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre

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use-your-telescope · 7 months

Text

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 2: And You Have Every Right to be Scared

Summary: Theo ends up on SHIELD's Radar. Loki ponders his place among the Midgardians.

Author's Notes: First chapter with Theo POV! This is a much lighter chapter than the last one. Hoping to post Ch. 3 on 10/22, but it depends on how helping my parents move next weekend goes (I have it written, but having the time to post is another thing. If you enjoy, please reblog!

Content Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3,843

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Some Nights (Intro) - fun.

There are some nights I hold on to every note I ever wrote Some nights, I say "fuck it all" and stare at the calendar Waiting for catastrophes, imagining they'd scare me Into changing whatever it is I am changing into... And you have every right to be scared

It was really easy for Theo to pretend there wasn’t a sudden infestation of shadow creatures attacking Earth until she was locked in a dirty subway car beneath New York City with a horde of them.

Sure, she saw the recent news reports about their appearance in New York, not to mention the videos of different organizations struggling to fight them. Hell, at work she had treated some of the people who came into the Emergency Room after getting into a tussle with the little terrors. However, she was perfectly content to ignore the reports, the calls from Nick Fury, the stalking by Maria Hill, and the pestering by her Mémère to put her abilities to use by helping eradicate the beasts.

Nick Fury may have done her family a favor a while back, but they already repaid it tenfold. It was no secret that he always kept tabs on Theo, but she assumed it had less to do with him calling on a favor and more with ensuring someone with abilities like hers was always monitored.

If anything, the more Fury insisted on cornering Theo “to talk,” the more it seemed like Nick Fury had forgotten that Theo swore off everything affiliated with her powers. Theo was a civilian. She left that life behind, trading it in for stethoscopes and scrubs, and she was not about to go back. There was nothing that the Director of SHIELD could offer her that would change her mind. Besides, the hippocratic oath specified that Theo would do no harm, and if she really wanted to push Fury’s buttons, she could argue that the oath could apply to shadow creatures, even if they were eldritch horrors.

Well, that was what Theo told herself. In reality, she was content to ignore the shadow creature problem until a pack of the little monsters barged through the steel door of a subway car, snarling and slithering and reeking of death. Running crossed her mind, until one of the damn demons launched itself at Fran, the little old woman with the perfectly permed hair and smoker voice who always rode the subway back from her poker night at the same time that Theo was on her way home from work.

Hippocratic oath be damned, Theo was not about to let Fran die right after she won $200 from Eddie (who from what Fran had told her over the course of many train rides, sounded like an absolute asshole). Fran needed to live so she could celebrate, which meant the beasts needed to go, and Theo was the only one around with the skills to exterminate them.

A bit of strategic maneuvering among the chaos ensured that no one saw Theo activate her powers. Not even five minutes later, the subway car floor was littered with the dust of what was once the pests; she may have chosen to abstain from fighting, but after all that time combat still came to Theo like it was second nature. When all was said and done she slipped into the crowds, deactivated her powers, and returned to the scene, pretending to be just as shocked as everyone else.

In the days following the confrontation, the video of her singlehandedly obliterating the entire pack had gone viral. Even though Theo’s powers altered her appearance so a casual acquaintance could not identify her, anyone who knew about her little secret would instantly recognize her. Unfortunately, Fury and Maria were among the select few who knew exactly what they were looking at. After the video got out, the pair were somehow even more incessant in their attempts to speak to Theo, to the extent that she had to start relying on back doors and climbing out her fire escape to avoid them.

When the other members of the cover band Theo played in noticed her aversion to taking the main exits, they assumed she had a stalker. It certainly didn’t help that there was now a table of middle aged men in suits at every bar gig, standing out like a sore thumb amidst the younger, more casually dressed regulars. The only reason they didn’t call the police was because she eventually made up the claim that Stark Industries was recruiting her for their hospital that they just opened in Avengers Tower, so she was trying to make it less obvious to the people around her that she was being observed.

As far as lies went, it was terrible - certainly not one of her best - but somehow they believed it.

It was a bit harder to avoid the SHIELD agents when she was at soccer practice. They sat in their vehicles, parked far enough away that none of the other players noticed. Sure, it made Theo wonder if there were times other creeps sat there watching their practices, but she never brought it up. Her team had just qualified to play in their rec league championship, so they needed to stay focused.

A week after having to talk her bandmates out of calling the cops, Theo came home from a bar show to find Maria Hill accompanied by a collection of SHIELD agents in her apartment. The stalking was one thing, but entering her private space? Theo was moments away from banishing them to an alternate dimension, even if it meant she’d be in deep shit later on.

Before Theo could unleash her temper on the uninvited house guests, Maria uttered a phrase so startling that even Theo was rendered speechless.

“Director Fury wants to speak with you immediately - it’s about your parents and your sister.”

Cause there are some nights I hold you close, pushing you to hold me Or begging you to lock me up, never let me see the world Some nights, I live in horror of people on the radio Tea parties and Twitter, I've never been so bitter…

Two decades prior, had one inquired whether Loki could imagine himself living his life anywhere besides Asgard, Loki would have laughed at the preposterous nature of the statement.

In his naivety, he believed Asgard to be the golden realm, the very definition of a Utopia - why would one wish to live anywhere else? Certainly, other realms had their charms - Vanaheim’s lush landscapes always provided a peaceful retreat, and visiting Midgard to cause lighthearted chaos was a childhood pastime for both Loki and Thor - but why would one ever wish to live anywhere other than the realm of the Gods themselves?

As he sliced through another of what could best be described as “shadow beasts,” it occurred to Loki that the Norns had a rather cruel sense of humor. How else would he be in his current position, residing upon and working alongside the Midgardians to protect a realm which he was once sent to conquer? That morning, he was summoned to fend off a multiversal threat unlike anything he’d encountered among his many travels. The day before, he represented New Asgard at an international summit on environmentally sustainable food production practices. He had lived upon Midgard for over half a decade, with no sign of leaving any time soon.

Had someone informed younger Loki of what the fates had in store, he would have collapsed to the ground in a fit of relentless, all-consuming laughter which was so intense that one might think him mad.

Alas, Asgard was no more. The few Aesir who survived Ragnarok were brought to Midgard, to establish a new civilization on the very land where Odin uttered his final words. No sooner had the Aesir landed on Midgard were they called into battle, facing off with the Mad Titan himself, Thanos, as well as the Black Order. More Aesir perished in a truly intergalactic battle which barely succeeded in preventing the Titan from achieving his goal - eliminating 50% of all living creatures in the universe.

When the dust settled, the once mighty Aesir were reduced to a mere shadow of their former glory. They struggled to make sense of the tragedy, to attempt to rebuild without any of the tools which allowed the Aesir to thrive in the construction of Asgard.

The initial reaction to Loki’s presence in the realm he once terrorized was not kind. Had it not been for Thor’s advocacy and Banner’s testament that Loki was acting under duress when he attacked New York, Loki would have been banished from the realm, if not outright executed. Whether he deserved his brother’s arduous defense, Loki was skeptical, but without an alternative for where he would go or what he would do, Loki was forced to accept the support.

Selfishly, he was grateful for his brother’s foolish sentiment, though he would rather hug Sutur than admit it aloud.

Preparing the Midgardians for what to expect when Thanos would inevitably arrive, as well as fighting alongside the Midgardians to defeat Thanos brought a tenuous truce. He no longer endured harassment when venturing beyond New Asgard, but scandalized whispers followed him as if they were the shadow of his legacy - a legacy of destruction, of embodying the monster which parents told their children of at night, of betraying those who he claimed to love. Those nearby would put forth a concerted effort to avoid crossing paths with the trickster, providing him a wide berth wherever he went.

While the Midgardians were unafraid to hide their distrust, the attitudes which the Aesir held towards Loki were more difficult to ascertain. Perhaps they were conflicted; the time which Loki posed as Odin was among the most peaceful and prosperous that the realm had known, though it was at the cost of banishing the Allfather to a care home on Midgard. Banishing the Allfather led to Odin’s passing, which brought the return of Hela, and eventually caused Ragnarok. Though prophesied, it was not a stretch to argue that Loki’s actions served as the catalyst for the demise of thousands. And while Loki ensured the salvation and evacuation of many Aesir by piloting the Statesman to Asgard, it never should have reached such a state where evacuation was necessary. Sure, he unleashed Sutur and ultimately ended Ragnarok, but that was simply a matter of finishing what he started.

Then there was Loki’s involvement with the interruption of Thor’s coronation, the invasion of Jotunheim, the banishment of Thor, and the killing of his father, Laufey. All of which led to his involvement with the Mad Titan and the Black Order - a time which Loki had no interest in revisiting, but caused irreparable harm to many people and multiple realms. And though most were unaware, Loki could be traced back to the death of Frigga - had he not informed Kursed where to find Jane, the Allmother would have remained alive. He may have nearly sacrificed himself to protect Jane Foster, but one heroic moment was nowhere near the atonement required for his past actions.

The search for atonement was how Loki found himself fighting alongside Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

It had been Thor’s idea. The oaf believed that joining the Avengers would cast Loki in a positive light and improve his reputation, which would be important if he were to remain on Midgard and ruling New Asgard by Thor’s side. Additionally, joining the Avengers would provide the younger prince with a means by which to continue practicing magic, as well as access to knowledge and resources which might satisfy Loki’s more scholarly nature.

The case Thor put forth was not terrible; perhaps a lesser being would have been swayed. However, neither of the reasons he provided were the cause of Loki relenting to the constant pestering about assisting the Heroes.

Loki viewed the agreement to join the Avengers as reparations, or paying his penance. He did not expect the Avengers to welcome a villain into their midst, much less a monster - he certainly was no hero. If anything, he expected them to view him as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. They would be civil towards the Asgardian, and in exchange he would provide whatever assistance they needed while maintaining a safe distance.

That was years ago. In recent days, Thor swore the Midgardians had come to love Loki, though Loki was hardly convinced. Sure, the Midgardians no longer made a point to avoid the younger prince wherever he went; if he was out in public with Thor, from time to time a passerby would approach and ask for a photo with the trickster instead of the God of Thunder. The media relished opportunities to interview the God of Mischief, during which he turned on his charm and played the reporters like a fiddle. It was all a show. Loki knew that it was a facade, an illusion - a part he played in the elaborate scheme of things. Still, there were moments where he allowed himself to dwell on what it might be like to truly belong, to know he was not alone.

A flash of movement in the corner of his vision caught Loki’s attention. He turned to find Maximoff unleashing a blast of chaos magic on a pack of the eldritch vermin which had overrun the streets as of late. She offered a bright smile and wave; Loki allowed one corner of his lips to quirk upward as he nodded at her.

Even if his responsibility was little more than to play a part, there was something to be said for the recent challenge which occupied the Avengers’ time. Shadow creatures, for lack of a better term, randomly started appearing in New York, attacking random civilians and destroying anything they touched.

In the many years since Loki had adopted Midgard as his place of residence, never had he encountered a situation quite like this. All efforts to identify the origin of the beings had been futile. The creatures were not like anything encountered by any of the Avengers, Loki included, and even among the seemingly endless supply of information available to the Avengers, no record of similar creatures appeared anywhere. The magical aura which emanated from the creatures was quite distinct from anything Loki had encountered before.

And yet, the prospect of a challenge that not only required skill in battle, but a certain intellectual pedigree brought a spark that he had not felt in quite some time. Perhaps it was an antidote to the drudgery.

Or, perhaps it was a chance to prove to himself that he was in fact worthy of the title of “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

He didn’t dare dwell on the thought.

And you, why you wanna stay? Oh my God! Have you listened to me lately? Lately, I've been going crazy... And you, why you wanna stay? Oh my God! Have you listened to me lately? Lately, I've been fucking crazy...

She must have lost her mind.

Flanked by a pair of SHIELD security guards, Theo cursed herself for agreeing to go with Maria. Really, she must have lost her mind - that was the only reasonable explanation that Theo could come up with for her lapse in judgment. After all, everyone in her immediate family was dead, and they had been dead for a long time. If she couldn’t bring back the dead, there was no way that anyone affiliated with SHIELD could.

What could Nick Fury possibly want to speak with Theo about regarding her parents and her sister that hadn’t been discussed long ago?

When she considered the situation, it was more realistic to assume that there was probably some treaty that Theo broke by using her power. Given she wouldn’t come willingly, they must have realized they needed to lure her out so they could lock her up - even if the Sokovia Accords were no longer enforced, it didn’t mean people were still a bit put off by anyone with… abilities. Again, another reason why she had no interest in using her powers.

Along the cool tile floor, Theo’s black oxford shoes clicked with each step. The sound echoed off the sterile halls, while harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the path forward. Staring ahead, Theo had to stop herself from snickering when she realized Fury’s bald head actually shined under the light, as if he polished it for the occasion.

What would happen if Theo told them she changed her mind? Would they grab her and drag her into whatever interrogation room they undoubtedly had set up for her? Would they skip the interrogation and toss her into a cell? Or would they let her slip away?

Probably the first option. Maybe the second. The third was laughable. This was SHIELD they were talking about; they probably had some kind of ward on the entire compound to restrict any special abilities.

No, it was too late - she had come too far, and she couldn’t turn back. She may as well play along and see what they wanted. If nothing else came from it, she was curious to see what on earth would be related to her family.

Then again, Curiosity killed the cat… or some shit like that.

Well, nothing managed to kill her yet, so it was safe to say that curiosity probably wouldn’t be her cause of death.

Arriving at their destination, Maria scanned her badge to unlock the steel door. Fury entered first, not even offering a nod of acknowledgement to Maria. With a tense smile, Maria gestured for Theo to enter next. Theo forced the closest thing she could offer to a smile before following suit.

Based on the hallway they just exited, Theo expected an interrogation room to await her. Instead, she was greeted by black leather chairs with high backs, which surrounded a relatively small table constructed from metal and glass. A projector dropped down from the ceiling, pointed at a screen on the opposite end of the room. There were no windows. Pale gray walls echoed the metal finishes found throughout the rest of the SHIELD facility.

A conference room.

“Sit.” Fury gestured to a chair, though he didn’t make any effort to sit himself.

Keeping her eyes trained on the director, Theo cautiously lowered herself into the seat.

“I thought you were done fighting.” Fury began, crossing his arms and glaring at Theo.

“I thought you could control your interplanetary invasions better, but if it’s between having to fight versus watching little old Fran get ripped to shreds, I’m protecting Fran.” Leaning back in her seat, Theo crossed her arms and returned Fury’s glare. “You know that I want nothing to do with this, so why won’t you leave me alone?”

“We understand that you want to be a civilian, but you know more about shadow creatures and the world they come from than anyone else,” Maria answered, taking a seat across from Theo and folding her hands together atop the table. “We wouldn’t be trying to enlist you if we felt we had other options to stop them.”

“So you lied about having something I needed to know about my family so you could get me down here and beg me to help?” An incredulous laugh snuck out of Theo as she shook her head. “That’s low, even for SHIELD–”

“Your parents and your sister are alive.”

With seven words, Nick Fury rendered Theo speechless.

It wasn’t possible; there was no way they were alive. Theo was there - she saw their blood spilled on the cobblestone streets, empty eyes reflecting back a city engulfed in flames. Their final cries still rang in her ears on the darkest nights.

Searching his face for proof that he was trying to trick her, Theo only found the harsh glare and narrowed eyes that the director cast at everyone around him.

Fire coursed through Theo’s veins at the audacity of Fury’s claim; that he believed he could fool her was almost enough to make her leave right then and there.

“Bullshit.” Theo clenched her jaw, her hands balled into fists as they remained in her lap. “You know as well as I do that they were killed in the massacre—”

“Proof.” To make his point, Fury slapped a manila folder down in front of Theo. “They may have been in the massacre, but they weren’t killed.”

Biting back her ire at Fury for the moment, Theo turned her attention to the contents of the folder. Photos, partially redacted communication records, measurements of their magical signatures, all relatively recent - her mother, her father, and her sister.

An avalanche of thoughts cascaded in Theo’s mind. If this was the case - if they were really alive, how did they survive? Where were they now? Why hadn’t they tried to contact Theo, or Mémère, or the council?

Theo drew in a deep breath, holding it for a five-count, then released it slowly.

“This doesn’t make sense,” She said, scanning over the documents yet again. “If you know they’re alive, where are they? Why aren’t they here?”

“Here’s the deal: you help us with the shadow creature invasion, and we’ll help you reunite with your family.” Rather than answer Theo’s question, Fury leaned forward, folding his hands together and resting them on the table. “Work with the Avengers to investigate and eliminate whoever’s at the center of these invasions. If you do, once you’re reunited with your family, we’ll leave you alone.”

“Wow, that seems rather manipulative, don’t you think?” Theo drawled, her tone unapologetically sharp as she glared at the pair of SHIELD agents across from her. “Withholding my family from me in exchange for my services?”

“We’ll need to work together in order to reach your family anyways,” Maria pointed out with a small shrug.

“You help us, we’ll help you.” Fury pressed.

Some people believed in fate. Some people believed in destiny. Theo didn’t believe in either - while she had been placed in positions where it seemed like she had no choice more times than she could count, she knew that she, ultimately, was the one who decided her path forward. At times, the decisions were obvious, but there were plenty of decisions made that kept Theo up at night.

This was one decision she was not ready to make.

“Give me two days to think it over,” Theo countered. “I’ll find you when I’ve made up my mind.”

Two days was reasonable - she needed time to do some research of her own, figure out what parts of the situation Fury was holding off on telling her, and weigh the risks of agreeing to the proposal.

Then again, if they were alive… What did she have to lose?

There are some nights I wait for someone to save us But I never look inward, try not to look upward And some nights I pray a sign is gonna come to me But usually, I'm just trying to get some sleep... Some nights!

Tag list: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @thedistractedagglomeration @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @mochie85 @coldnique @lokixryss @gigglingtiggerv2 @infinitystoner @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @crzyplantladyvibes @buttercupcookies-blog @vickie5446 @wolfsmom1 @sarahscribbles @loki-cees-all @the-lady-amphitrite @tripleyeeet - let me know if you want to be added!

#loki fluff #loki angst #loki #loki fanfiction #loki smut #(eventually)#when everything's made to be broken #WEMTBB #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki marvel #loki mcu #avengers AU #slow burn

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