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shadowbriar · 10 months

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Sirius Black - The Lion and The Lamb

Pairing : Sirius Black x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 5.1k Warning : One curse word. I'm so bad at this I don't think there's any other? Synopsis : Sirius' plot of pairing her with Remus has finally come to a success yet he finds it hard to find the joy in their relationship. Notes : Post no 3 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. This story is a little bit all over the place, I'm sorry for that. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Sirius Black's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @when-you-cant-think-of-anything

It is only logical that someone like her, a bright witch with the wittiest mind and cleverest brain, would ever fall for someone who’s equally as brilliant. Someone who excels in his classes, despite the fact that he has a troublesome condition that restrains him from having a full attendance in his classes, is still being appointed as prefect due to his capability and proficient skill set. It’s simple logic, isn’t it? Smart people are attracted to smart people, the same way funny people are attracted to other funny people.

At least, that is the rule Sirius Black is believing in.

For years he has tried to play the matchmaker for Remus and her. ‘Accidentally’ pairing them up for school projects, ‘accidentally’ forgetting their group study session so the two of them would be left alone, and ‘accidentally’ always making her sit next to Remus in every chance presented. Sirius was determined to get them together. He would always argue that they just haven’t noticed the chemistry they have, how everyone in the room could tell that these two are in love with each other. Though James would always deny and say that no one except Sirius would see this so-called chemistry, Sirius has already made it his life mission to make them a couple.

“Truly, I love Padfoot but his antics on pairing us up is starting to get under my skin.” Remus grumbles as he walks with her through Hogsmeade. They were supposed to meet up at the Three Broomstick, her and the rest of the Marauders, but after an hour of waiting, the two knew that this is just another stunt Sirius’ pulled for them “Once we get back to the castle I will make him transform into his animagus form and turn him into a fur hat, I swear it.”

She chuckles, “I’d love to witness that.”

The two continue their walk until Remus halts all of a sudden, stopping his pace with an expression she couldn’t decipher. It was as if he was thinking deeply about something that is struggling to burst forth from his lips. His brows furrow and it’s taking a huge amount of self control in herself to not straighten them with her thumb.

“I have an idea that might make you murder me,” He says to her “But this is worth the shot, at least for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you not tired of this? Of Padfoot always setting us up like this?” Remus questions, his arms now fold in front of his chest “Because I am. We can hardly hangout with the others anymore and don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, Love, it’s just that—”

“Sirius,” She cuts, nodding in understanding with a small laughter “I get it. What do you propose?”

Remus shrugs, “Well, since the boy’s so determined to get us together, why don’t we just.. Get together?”

“Get together?” She repeats with a raised brow “As in.. Date each other?”

“Yeah, precisely that.”

She stares at him with appalled eyes. Remus seems adamant with his proposal, his tone is firm and his body language shows 100% certainty, yet her mind still couldn’t process his words properly. The idea of them dating would be as logical as flying pigs. They are the true definition of platonic love. Dating Remus would feel like painting the Black Lake pink with a makeup brush, painful and useless.

Noticing her bewildered expression, Remus proceeds to explain his bid, “Alright, maybe I worded it wrong. I meant to say that maybe we should try to give the impression that we’re dating. I love you Dove, there’s no denying that, but we’re nowhere close to what Padfoot is insinuating and I just can’t live the rest of my school years being his experimental toad.”

“Ah,” She finally nods in understanding. Her facial expressions soften from the explanation, letting out a chuckle now as Remus’ words start to make sense “You still have to define try in this scenario, Rem. What are the rules and what not?”

Remus shrugs once more, “Just act like we’re dating in front of the boys, I guess.”

“Okay, and what does ‘act like we’re dating’ mean?” She questions further, her right hand now resting on her right cheek as she gives the offer a thought “Dating could have a very broad meaning, these days.”

“Hold hands, walk you to your classes, carry your books, you know those little things.”

“And how about the PDAs?”

“Like kissing?” Remus asks. He winces slightly at the thought, not out of disgust but more on the unlikelihood of either of them enjoying such action “We can opt that out. Just tell people we’re not a big fan of public attention for such gestures, they’ll buy it.”

She pursed her lips, brows furrowed now as she truly pondered her options. Sure the fact that Sirius is restless about his mission is irritating her, but is pretend dating really the answer? It feels cruel, knowing that Sirius came from a good heart, but Remus is right. Just how many more years should they suffer through this foolish mischief? If anything it will only grow discomfort between her and Remus and she surely wouldn’t want to lose her friendship with him.

“Should we put a time frame for it then?” She says, trying to help perfect the proposal “Say.. 3 months? Would that be too long? We could just tell people that we didn’t really work out by then.”

“I was going to say until the semester ends, but 3 months seems enough.” Remus nods, holding out his hand “So is that a deal?”

She smiles, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, “Deal.”

—-

The next morning when the pack walks down to the Great Hall, Sirius’ eyes are caught at the sight of his two friends sitting comfortably close to each other, already enjoying their meal and sharing what seems to be the most interesting discussion. James shot him a look, utterly puzzled at the intimacy they were showing. Peter was the only one who could still function and walk to the couple, sitting right in front of them.

“Morning, you two,” Peter greets, his eyes narrowed in an interrogating way “You left pretty early this morning, Moons. Didn’t even hear you go out the door.”

“Yeah, I had to pick her up from her dorm.” Remus shrugs, his tone casual as he rests a hand around her shoulders “You guys are here on time.”

“What is happening?” Sirius asks this time, a disbelief smile decorating his baffled face. He was still standing by the table, the only one who’s not yet seated. His eyes travelled to Remus’ secured hold around her “You two are more comfortable than I last remember.”

“Yeah, well, we decided to give it a go.” She explained with a smile, looking at Remus.

Sirius let out a chuckle, one that doesn’t sound the most sincere as he proceeds to question, his tone was laced with uncertainty, “Give what a go?”

“Dating.” She answers as she turns to him briefly before giving Remus a little peck on the cheeks “We’re dating now.”

Remus, who wasn’t expecting the kiss, turns crimson. It wasn’t the first kiss he’s received on the cheek from her, but getting it under the impression of their romantic affair still caught him off guard. He gave her a look, one that she understood was him being impressed at her act, before pulling her head closer to his shoulder.

Remus’ eyes now travel to Sirius’ who is stupefied, still on his feet after witnessing such action. He doesn’t seem to be joyful, not even the slightest bit happy at the fact that his life mission is now finally achieved. Like someone hit the invisible reset button in the back of his head. Completely at loss of words and understanding of the scene unravelling before his eyes.

“You alright, Pads?” Remus asks with a raised brow.

James had to pull on Sirius’ robe in order to bring the black haired boy back to life. Sirius blinks, evidently trying to digest the new information with a scrunched brow. He finally takes a seat, resting his hand under his chin in an interrogative gesture, “What— When, uh, when did this happen?”

“Yesterday, after our Hogsmeade date.” She answers casually, squeezing herself closer to her ‘boyfriend’ as she continues “We figured.. You’re right. We do have chemistry between us, so we thought— Why not? Right, my Love?”

Remus smirks, seemingly amused at the pet name given, “Right, Darling.”

“Aw, not the pet names.” James fakes a gag “You two are going to beat me and Lils as couple of the year.”

Breakfast continued with so much laughter and bliss that her cheeks were starting to hurt. It feels wonderful to finally share tender and warm moments without having to worry that Remus might feel uncomfortable or that she would have to excuse herself to join her group of friends to run from a plot Sirius would pull on them. After what seems to be forever, the two of them can finally appreciate the platonic love shared in the group.

Yet through the delightful morning they’re spending, she couldn’t help but to notice the half-hearted laughter Sirius would let out or how he would play with his food more than to chime in on James' jokes. He wouldn’t meet eyes with her, as if he has a secret he wants to keep. Something she couldn’t tell what it was nor what it’s about.

—-

Fake dating Remus has been brilliant to say the least. Neither of them now have to feel awkward from each other, nurturing their friendship that was once put to halt when Sirius started his ruse. James and Peter have been more free to ask either of them to hang out too, knowing that Sirius wouldn’t pop out of nowhere and jeopardise the plan to have her paired up with Remus instead. Yet through all these splendid events, she couldn’t help but to notice Sirius’ withdrawal.

He has been more quiet whenever the five of them would hang out, being too busy with his assignments she knows full well he pays no mind about or excusing himself to get some rest. She couldn’t even see him alone, always having something in his schedule that would make him leave her in the hallways.

It would be a lie to say that she doesn’t miss his presence.

“Have you been giving the group more quidditch practice, Potter?” She asks as she plops herself to the sofa, scanning around the Common Room to look for the familiar black haired boy.

James makes a face, “No? We haven’t even done any practice for weeks due to the bad weather.”

A frown blooms on her face. Quidditch practice is Sirius’ most used justification to his pardon and to know that there hasn’t even been one for a while surely baffles her. What could be the reason for Sirius’ absence then?

“Where’s Sirius?” She voiced out “I haven’t seen him for a while now, it’s like he’s avoiding me.”

“Probably feeling undermotivated now that you two are dating. His whole life was devoted to seeing you two as a couple, now that it’s happened, I suppose Padfoot requires some time to recalculate his next life mission.” Peter comments nonchalantly “Perhaps he could finally find one that is actually useful for his future.”

She forces a smile.

A big question mark is still ingrained in her mind. She seems to be the only one to notice Sirius’ withdrawal and is actually bothered by it. Perhaps it was because the boys still see him in their dorm room and spend more classes with him that they could hardly notice the difference. Either way, she knows that she won’t get her answer by asking them about Sirius. She has to ask him herself. However that might be.

—-

Sirius’ palms have been more sweaty nowadays every time she was around. He was sure that one of these days his closest mates will call him out for the strange act he’s been pulling and how he’s committing the grandest sin to have feelings for his best friend’s girlfriend.

In his defence, Sirius never intended to fall for her. He’s always admired her, sure, only a fool would question that, but never has Sirius ever thought that such admiration stemmed from romantic feelings. He always thought and believed that her best pair is Remus, someone who is stable and responsible, unlike him who is impulsive and directionless in life. Someone who would follow wherever the wind would sail his ship to.

No, Sirius will never accept anyone who is less prudent than Remus to be her lover.

But that day in Potion class haunts him like a persisting ghost. How the cauldron of Amortentia smelled like her. A mix of her perfume, her favourite dish that she would always dig in whenever Christmas comes, and that scent of flower they did their Herbology paper on back in third year. There would be no chance that Sirius misinterpreted the scents. What he smelled from the love potion was her, only her.

Now he’s standing feet away from her, trying to cast the patronus charm along with the other students. He could see Remus succeeding in no time, producing a wolf shaped patronus. He could see the mixed emotions Remus had on his face. Proud of his success in conjuring the spell and bitterness over the form of patronus he owned.

He turned his gaze to Lily, a beautiful doe was running around her. James on the other side of the class was screaming in delight when he finally conjured his patronus, a magnificent stag standing by his side. Sirius knew that James would use this to pester on Lily more. People do say that some soulmates may have a connected form of patronus.

Sirius’ lips turned into a smile as he watched her successfully produce her patronus now. A beautiful rottweiler was running around her. What a perfect patronus, Sirius thought. A courageous and loyal animal, the perfect one for her.

Now Sirius tries to cast the spell himself. A couple tries and he finally managed to produce a full patronus, a german shepherd. He lets out a satisfied laughter, watching as his patronus runs around the class, stopping only when it met her patronus.

But Sirius’ patronus soon disappears as his focus dissolves, locking eyes with Remus who watches over the event with a confused look and an intrigued smirk plastered on his face. Sirius swallowed his own saliva in nervousness. Does this mean Remus knows about his growing affection towards his girlfriend?

—-

“I’m calling it, me and Lily are soulmates.” James says happily as he jumps on his bed, resting his arms behind his head as a pillow “Who would’ve thought, right? A stag and a doe. Merlin, we must’ve been made for each other for real.”

“Not really in the mood to talk about patronuses, guys.” Peter snorts, sulking at his still failure in conjuring one.

“Don’t worry, Wormy, your time will come.” Sirius says, patting the boy’s shoulder before heading to his trunk to put his books in “Took me a couple tries to get it too.”

“Right, your german shepherd patronus,” Remus notes, a suspicious smile tugged on his lips “Did you notice that yours were the only one other than her’s in the form of a dog?”

Sirius feigned a confused look, furrowing his brows, “Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, right! Her rottweiler!” James chimed “It was adorable when your patronus came to her’s, Pads. Too bad yours didn’t last too long. You surely need more practice with your spell.”

Sirius only let out a small chuckle, not saying another word as he silently prays that they would drop this topic. It’s uncomfortable enough for him to know that his patronus were fond of hers, adding to the stress of his realisation of her scent from the amortentia. Now to have Remus staring at him with an expression he’s dying to confront yet certainly not ready to face the consequences of, Sirius wonders if pairing her with Remus all these years was a mistake.

—-

“I think we need to call off this ruse.”

“Already?” She asks, putting down her book to meet Remus’ eyes “We’re not even half way through 3 months.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to get that long. Even if we break up now, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t pair us up like he did before.”

She raised an eyebrow, confused, “Why would you think that?”

“Because that git finally realises that he likes you.” Remus says with a confident smirk.

Her eyes nearly popped out of its eye sockets. What Remus said just now is as surprising as hearing that Dumbledore and McGonnagal are holding their wedding this Yule break. Never in a million years would she ever expect such a reason to be uttered by him.

She let out a mocking laughter, dismissing his words, “You’re mental.”

“I’m not,” Remus denies, leaning closer to her to prove his words “That day in Charms class. His patronus came to you. You both had guard dogs as patronus. Why do you think that’s because?”

“Mere coincidence?” She questions, still finding his words to be baffling “We both have dogs as our patronus, so? They’re not even the same breed. You’re making a connection out of nothing.”

“Am I really?” He challenges “I mean, think about it! Don’t you think Sirius has been acting strange ever since we’re dating? And that day in Potion class, I bet you a hundred galleons, he smelled your scent from the amortentia.”

“He does not,” She says firmly, shaking her head in denial “And you don’t even have a hundred galleons, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “My point still stands. Sirius likes you, I’m certain of it.”

She frowns, still finding it hard to digest Remus’ words. It feels like some sick joke he’s trying to have her convinced. There would be no chance in hell that Sirius would like her. Why would he? All these years spent of him trying to get her with Remus, why would he now have feelings for her?

“No.” She says short.

“Why are you so defensive about this?” Remus groans “I’m telling you. We call things off now and I bet Sirius will waste no time and court you.”

“He spent his whole life in Hogwarts trying to pair us up, Remus. Now you say that he has feelings for me? Doesn’t that sound a little bit mad?”

He shrugs, “Maybe he didn’t realise his feelings for you until we did this fake dating.”

“That still sounds absurd.”

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Remus says, holding his hands up in surrender “But I still think we should stop our ruse now. If he really does have feelings for you, I don’t want him to feel like he’s betraying me or anything. I refuse to be the cockblocker between you two.”

She put up her book, closing their conversation with a nod. If Remus thinks that it would be best for them to stop their fake dating now then she would have no issue against it. It wasn’t like she was having the grandest time of her life fake dating him, but there would be no chance that she’s falling for his words, that Sirius secretly holds feelings for her because there’s simply no chance for that to ever happen in this life. No chance.

—-

“You broke up with her?!” Sirius asked, tone rising in disbelief and unexplained anger “Why?!”

“Because,” Remus answers with a shrug “I just don’t think that it was working.”

“So you dumped her?”

“No, it was a mutual agreement.”

Sirius still has his displeased expression on, glaring at Remus. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way. A mix of relief and rage at the same time. He was glad that they finally ended their relationship, for whatever reason Sirius isn’t sure he wanted to dig deeper on, but on the other side he can’t help but to worry if she was hurt by Remus’ decision. Even if it was a mutual agreement, who’s to say that she isn’t crying and bawling her eyes out from heartbreak right now?

“I still can’t believe you broke up with her.” Sirius mutters “You two have only been, what, a month together?”

Remus shrugs once more, letting out a tired sigh, “There’s no bad blood between us. She’s fine, I didn’t break her heart if that’s what you’re so riled up on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, giving him the ‘are you serious’ look.

“What?” Sirius asks, appalled “What’s with that look?”

“Oh, come on, Pads, stop acting oblivious.” Remus says, rolling his eyes “You might fool Prongs and Wormtail but you’ll never fool me, not about this.”

Sirius frowns, folding his arms in front of his chest in defence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Remus glares.

Sirius squared his shoulders, showing his firm stand.

Remus sighs, patting his best friend's shoulder in an attempt to console him, “For what it’s worth, Pads, I’m not angry. If anything, I’m glad that you finally come to your senses and realise the true reason for your dedication in finding her a proper partner. You care for her, in a whole different world than how me or Prongs or Wormtail do. I just hope that you won’t be stupid enough to pull another lark on her.”

Sirius remains quiet, his defensive expression softens a little. It was one thing to realise his feelings for her, one thing to see all the signs scattered around them that he was so blind to see before, but it’s an entirely different thing to have it confronted by Remus. By the one person who he should feel most embarrassed to admit the feelings for. What kind of a friend is he? Has he no shame?

“I’m sorry, Moony.” Sirius begins “I never meant for it to go this way.”

“What are you saying sorry for? I just told you I’m glad about your budding affection for her.” Remus replies with a chuckle “You can throw away the shame or any foul feelings you have for liking her. I’m not angry or disappointed or anything you might think I feel. Matter of fact, if I could give you any advice, I’ll tell you to go and see her now and waste no more time. You’ve been dense for quite too long, it’s time you actually do something about it.”

“Are you sure? You’re not the slightest bit angry at me?”

“Pads, if you ask me one more time, I swear to Merlin I’ll hex you.”

Sirius smiles, genuinely at last. He feels like the heavy burden that has been sitting atop of his chest has been lifted. Like he could finally breathe and think clearly after being so suffocated by all the overthinking he’s done at night. He could feel the energy that used to flow through his veins slowly returning, making his confidence and bold self to be resurrected back to life.

“Moons,” Sirius called, grinning “You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

—-

The library was pretty much empty now. Students have either gone back to their dormitory or down at the Great Hall to have their dinners. She too would find herself digging into roasted chicken and mashed potato right now had today been another ordinary day, but no. Today has been everything but ordinary.

Remus’ words echo in her head like a broken record. She knew that Sirius had been acting strange. She’s confident that she was the first to notice this. Even his reaction to their dating news was so out of character. The anticipated grin and jump of joy was never presented, only vacant eyes and forced laughter served by Sirius ever since.

Now she tries to bury the thousand of questions running in her mind by reading some books she knew would do her no good. She’s lost count of how many times she’s reread this one sentence. None of the words seem to enter her brain, lost into thin air as her eyes skimmed through the words.

“Hey.”

Her head was turned in the blink of an eye, neck almost cracked from the sudden force. She stares at the boy standing by her side with a surprised look, smiling faintly, “Sirius, hello.”

“Can I join you?”

“Uh, sure,” She says, heart pounding now “Take a seat.”

Sirius silently does, smiling at her with quite the nervousness. Whatever it is he wanted to say tonight, she knew that it messes with his heartbeat as much as it does to hers.

“Are you busy?” He asks, fidgeting with his fingers “I’d like to steal a little bit of your time if you aren’t.”

“No, I’m not busy.” She says, closing her book. She tidies her hair nervously, trying to compose herself in front of him. Something she’s never felt before, conscious of his appearance in front of Sirius. Lord, just what is happening in her heart, truly?

“I, uh.. I have something to talk to you about.” Sirius begins, his volume getting smaller and smaller that he’s practically whispering now “I heard that you and Remus didn’t work out.”

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t.”

“Are you okay?”

“Grand,” She bobs her head up and down, a little bit too cheerful for someone who’s facing a break up “Me and Remus are still friends, there’s no hard feelings between us. We just didn’t work out.”

“I see.”

She nods again, smiling awkwardly, “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah.. I mean, no, not really.” Sirius says, tongue tied over whatever lines he wanted to spill “I just— Well, I— Shit, this is so hard to say but I— Well, the past few days I’ve been thinking and I.. Well.. I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “What for?”

“For trying to pair you and Remus together.” He continues “I.. I realised that I might not have the proper reason for wanting to find you the right partner. I mean, I thought I did but some things that have happened recently have altered my perspective.”

She opens her mouth before closing it again, confused at whatever direction he was going for, “Sirius, I don’t believe that I understand a word you said just now.”

“I know. I’m not making any sense right now.” He says with a chuckle. The laughter was enough to melt the tension between them but once it died down, the heaviness on his shoulders returned that Sirius couldn’t help but to let out a sigh “What I’m trying to say is.. I think.. Well, I used to think that certain people belong to certain people.”

Her brows knit, listening carefully to his words.

“I thought that smart people belong with smart people. I thought that someone as smart as you should be with someone just as smart. I mean, it’s logical isn’t it? The lions belong with the lioness and the lamb belongs with the other lamb.” He continues, rambling “But then you started dating Remus, and that Potion class happened, and Charm class happened, and I began to think.. Could the lion be with the lamb?”

“I— Am I the lion or the lamb?” She asks, furrowing her brows “I’d be offended if you say I’m the lamb.”

Sirius grins, “You’re the lion, of course.”

“Then who’s the lamb? You or Remus?”

“Me,” Sirius answers, biting his inner cheek in nervousness “I’m the lamb.”

Her expression softens, slowly understanding his words.

“I know it was wrong of me to feel this way. You’re dating Remus, for Godric’s sake! I’ve been trying to pair you two for years and now that you two are dating, I can’t even fake happiness for it.” Sirius confesses, smiling pitifully to himself “What a friend, right?”

She takes his hand gently, softly squeezing it in assurance, “We can’t help who we fall in love with, Sirius. I’m sure Remus understands.”

“He does,” Sirius answers “Do you?”

She was quiet now. It all happens too quickly for her. Just a few hours ago she was fake dating Remus, then he told her that Sirius likes her, and now Sirius himself is professing his feelings. Sure there have been moments in her life where she admires Sirius more than she admires Remus or James or Peter, but it was never as strong as how Sirius is portraying right now. Never as clear as the devotion Sirius is offering her right now.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Sirius says, noticing her mute as rejection “Just say the words and we can put this behind us. Pretend that this never happens.”

“Sirius,” She calls, holding his hand firmer now “I appreciate your honesty and truthfully, I— I don’t have a word to say to you right now.”

Sirius nods, understanding.

“I just.. I need time to digest everything.” She continues “And you’re not making me uncomfortable. If you’d like to dive further into whatever this is we’re feeling right now, I’m willing to give it a go, but I can’t promise you anything right now.”

“Give.. Give it a go?” Sirius asks, hopeful eyes now staring at her “You’re willing to give this a go?”

“I mean, sure. I’ve always wondered what chemistry you always talk about whenever me and Remus were in the same room because to put it frankly, I always thought that it was us who had the chemistry, not me and Remus.” She reasoned, smiling a little at the thought “But like I said, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise you that I would be able to return the affection as much as the one you have for me. I’ll try, but I don’t want to give you false promises.”

“That is more than enough.” Sirius says fast, grinning satisfiedly now “Thank you.”

She nods, returning his smile.

Relief was what best describes the two of them now. Sirius kisses the back of her hand gently, showing his grandest gratitude for her understanding and kindness. The same happiness was mirrored on her face, flustered at his gentle gesture. It’s only a matter of time now until the two hand each other their hearts. After all, german shepherds and rottweilers always make cute puppies, don’t they?

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alfredsolos · 10 months

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Colin and Damian's dynamic and each of them as individuals really intrigues me, so I wanted to continue my "Damian Wayne HC's", with their relationship and my intrepretation of things.

(By the way, I already made a post about explaining Colin's character within the canon. He is a character who is very misinterpreted and most of the time written as a Jon Kent 2.0. So if you want to understand my hc's for him more, you can go into my 'Colin Wilkes' tags and see my posts about him.)

Colin is a stoic kid. Damian is a stoic kid. So they make a pretty intimidating duo.

They both are considered 'cold' but Colin is more 'silent-cold' while Damian is 'unhinged-cold'.

Colin has always admired and loved superheroes ever since Batman saved him from Scarecrow, so his stoic persona slips away whenever he comes across one. He also does not have a 'least favorite' hero. He loves all of them.

Since Colin grew up in an orphanage and every night went out as Abuse to save people, he is very protective. Damian, naturally, is very protective. So sometimes it gets in their way when they're trying to save the other during fights and they end up just messing everything up and fuck off.

Although Colin is very stoic, before he became Abuse, he was a very shy child. He had a closed-off sadness inside him since people mostly adopted babies or toddlers. He just knew that he was too old and would be without a family.

After becoming Abuse, he first hand realized how dangerous Gotham could be to the people and the children. This filled him up with a new type of feeling, so he ended up following his heroe's foot steps and became a vigilante.

Colin (canonically) found out Damian was Robin from a single back flip. His ability to stay calm in situations and assess really helps him on the field.

Colin and Damian never go to school together, never meet up as Damian and Colin. At least not at first. Their friendship is built upon duty and mission. The realization of them being friends come to them years later.

There is only one person Damian would not hesitate to tell any sorts of secret, and that's Colin Wilkes. He just knows that no matter what, Colin would never judge him or admonish him for his flaws and mistakes.

Colin rarely sees Damian's other siblings, but Damian feels like Colin isn't very interested in them despite being a superhero fan. Which in return interests Damian. He never really understands why.

Colin is not very interested in Damian's siblings because they are so unlike Damian, it becomes very uncommonly common. Sure he likes them and admires their work very much. But they simply don't fight, think, joke or understand him like Damian.

What really intrigues Colin about Damian is that his character is exactly opposite of what a hero 'should' be. He is brash, agressive, hilarious in a fucked up way, dangerous, scary, theatrical, uncaring and scarred. He is such an uncommonly uncommon person that Colin just can't help but be his friend.

Best part of being Abuse to Colin is branding criminals' faces. He isn't sadistic really, but it gives him a deep pleasure doing it.

Damian thinks branding criminals is genius, although he refrains from doing it. Branding isn't really a Bat type of thing.

Colin doesn't really get along with Jon. Jon tries to befriend him and Colin knows that he is a good kid. But befriending Jon (or any other friend of Damian) means patrolling the streets as a trio rather than a duo. He can't really explain it, but it just feels wrong to imagine Damian in a three person group. He isn't jealous or anything, he is perfectly fine with Damian patrolling with Jon. It's just that he feels like, with Damian, it's supposed to be a duo. Bringing a third person messes up the dynamic for him and Damian.

After Alfred's death, Damian (canonically) ends up leaving the Manor and continuing on his own. And for a while Damian and Colin end up living together. These are the times where they really see what they mean to each other.

Damian sometimes really struggles to see or understand what really Colin is to him. A friend, ally, rival, lover, brother? He really doesn't know. What he knows though is that Colin means so much to him and that he will keep being at his side as long as he's allowed.

When someone hurts Colin, he will hurt them as much as they hurt him. An eye for an eye.

When someone hurts Damian, he will hurt them ten times more and they'll regret ever touching him.

Although Colin is a Batman fan, he doesn't have his moral code. He won't go out of his way to kill someone, but if they do end up dying he won't care as much as he should.

When Damian was a kid and would kill someone, he wouldn't feel anything. After Bruce's influence, in those rare times that he kills someone, all he hears is his father's voice in his head. So sometimes he wonders whether he is a bad person for feeling remorse because of his father and not for actually killing someone.

Both Colin and Damian aren't touchy people.

Colin isn't a touchy person because he rarely got them when he was little and now he just doesn't find the appeal in it. He doesn't really care or desire for it as much as other kids.

Damian on the other hand basically has haphephobia (fear of touch). He doesn't trust anyone to get that much close to him. Although he doesn't feel pain from touching, he feels lightheaded and reflexively presses his arms into his body as close as he can. This of course makes him uncomfortable. And in extreme cases, flashbacks and bad memories fill him up.

So these were some of my hc's for Colin and Damian. I don't know what you guys think of their relationship (whether it's romantic or pure friendship) so think of these as anyway you want.

#dc comics #batfamily #batfam #damian wayne #dc #bruce wayne #batman #abuse dc #dc abuse #colin wilkes #damian wayne headcanons #damian wayne headcanon #colin wilkes headcanon #colin wilkes headcanons #jon kent

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year

Text

zombie au with ike ft. luxiem - In Pursuit to and from the Sun

(i think this submission got lost in the sauce and i can't find it but at least i still have this screenshot)

lmao sorry i went off the grid for a sec. life happens, you know, applied for some vsf programs, went on a classified operative excursion away from my post and got a new writing software. i actually wrote the last of this on a helicopter returning from the mission so that’s why i didn’t proofread beforehand sorryyyyy. but more importantly I TOUCHED GRASS. guys. i touched so much grass. i touched so much grass i could replant a garden. call me a topiary, i touched that much grass. is this what it’s like to work at a dispensary? bc i touched so much grass

a few disclaimers: this fic is ike centric but contains general luxiem angst as a treat and may be read in a platonic or romantic tone, whichever you prefer. it's also another 10.7k words long so if you want to read but don’t have the time, use a like/rb as a bookmark. most importantly: heed the tags for this one, i kind of went off the deep end here

tags: platonic relationship, hurt no comfort, angst, zombie au, no happy ending, gender neutral reader

⚠️ major character death, suicidal thoughts, gore, infection, arson, and apocalypse-typical violence

continued au notes and commentary here (spoilers)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since the initial zombie outbreak, you’ve been running around the country with your best friend Ike and the circle of close friends you both share. You’ve made peace with the fact that it will always be hard. You and your band hop around from town to wilds, with no real objective other than to survive. Every location has something to glean, after all. It’s just that the zombies are always on your tail, and there’s only so much looting to do before the chorus of dead can tear you and your family apart.

It’s deluded to pretend you’re the invulnerable main characters, though. You and your friends are in a townhouse currently being ambushed by a strain of zombies. You swear they’ve gotten more intelligent since your last encounter. A dense herd of bloodthirsty undead is one thing, but a dense herd of bloodthirsty undead that have a chance of understanding positioning is another. Closing doors is barely a second of relief now.

You were lucky to be in a room with Vox when you got ambushed. He lived his post-apocalyptic life with a rebar rod in his hand, wrested from a collapsed concrete building early in during the initial outbreak. He claimed to be a trained swordsman once, and even though the rebar was more of a club than a sword, you admit you would’ve been worse than dead if you didn’t have him by your side. You’re sure he’d be screwed without you, too. Now that the world’s gone to the dogs, you stay prepared with a pair of climbing picks that can clobber in zombie brains just as well as scale walls. Vox shoved zombies out of the way while your picks cleared a path to escape from the house out through the window, Vox in tow.

You and Vox reunite with Ike and Shu outside. The former keeps various kitchen knives hidden under his no-longer white mantle, and defends Shu from stragglers while he digs into his backpack. You notice his weapon, an iron fire poker, by his feet along with a bottle. He rips sheets off of an old Millwall brick to stuff inside the bottle.

“Blowing the place up,” Shu says, in case you didn’t make the connection already. His breath is ragged. “Where’s Luca and Mysta?”

Like a stage cue, you hear the rocket of gunfire the second he says it. Your hope is crushed. Noise attracts zombies, and Luca was the only one with a shotgun. If he pulled the trigger, the situation was even more dire than you thought.

Shu grits his teeth and repeats himself, intensity barely restrained. “Where is Luca and Mysta.”

“I’m going back in,” Vox declares.

Ike drives a knife into the head of a fallen body. Destroying the brain confirmed they wouldn’t regenerate, and he minimizes the risk as precise as a surgeon. He made short work of the zombies that hadn’t overrun the house yet, but you could see them flood the interior. “Don’t be stupid, Vox, that’s suicide.”

“You heard the gun!”

“And I said that’s suicide!”

“Not if someone goes back in!”

“How are you going to find them without getting yourself killed?” Vox opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Ike took advantage of it. “That’s what I thought. Luca’s our muscle and Mysta’s a clever guy, you’ve seen him outsmart the zombies so many times before!”

“They know basic organization, Ike!”

“All the more reason not to go back in! Have some faith in your friends!”

Vox grants him an unholy leer through his haunting yellow eyes. “How dare you lecture me about faith when I’m trying to save their lives.”

His glare was lost. Ike focuses on confirming the dead stay dead. His back is turned from the swordsman as he chops a skull in two with a butcher’s cleaver. “Because no matter what, they’re going to get out, and they want you out just as much as they’re fighting.”

But Ike’s words were just as lost to Vox; you barely saw the trail of his blood-splattered haori before he ran back to the townhouse, rebar in hand and fury on display.

Shu shoves the remains of the Millwall brick into the cupholder of his pack, a battering ram for another day. He produces a box of matches instead. “It’s best to take them all out at once.”

You speak up. “But Vox just-”

“I know.” Shu’s lips purse. “And I’m not going to throw them. Not until I know they’re all safe.”

You watch as Vox speared through a living corpse, then threw its remains on the ground. The zombies are centered inside the house, but the windows are all covered. The door stays open as he passes through the threshold, but you can’t see a trace of him left.

Ike stabs through a brain close to you and Shu. You see him heft himself up, and the traces of a permanent dead remain on the ground. The head is split open with precision, and the brain blooms out from the skull. It leaks pink nerves and black rot among the blood, like a disgusting flower.

He passes by you, dead set on his goal. “You’re not going, Reader.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“And don’t expect to.” Ike’s words are emotionless, but not cold. As much as he pushes away Vox, you know he cares for everyone in your group like brothers. He’s the least risky out of all six of you- after all, he’s tearing apart zombie brains without a complaint while you catch your breath and Shu stands watch.

You draw your climbing picks and follow him to the field of dead. “Let me help you.”

You feel useless just standing there, after all.

Though the task of confirmation is much calmer than fighting for your life, it’s still unenviable, and you have to admire how Ike distances himself seemingly so easily from it. You try not to look at their faces, but that’s just as impossible. After all, the brain is right between the eyes. That’s the worst part.

You made the mistake of looking into zombie eyes twice in your life.

The first was your first fight of the apocalypse; a zombie had you deadlocked in an aisle of an outdoors store, and only when it was within biting range did you drum up the courage to grab the first thing you saw- two fluorescent orange climbing picks, never used- and drive them into the writhing heart. You bolted then, too focused on escape than freezing, and those climbing picks proved themselves to be your best survival tool in combat and exploration.

The second was the first time you confirmed the dead, and those eyes, that face- skin and bone but youthful, blue bleeding through the iris like a cracked yolk, remains of eyeliner and mascara along her deteriorated features- she was a person, so young, so beautiful when she was alive, like she knew she had decades to go- sometimes you swear she’s the face you see at night when you remember how human and how simply unlucky this world is now. It’s simply unlucky, and being unlucky is simply brutal.

(You held back your tears when you bashed her brain in. Later that night you pulled your best friend Ike aside, and cried in mourning of a woman whose name you never learned. He didn’t complain then, either, and you only sobbed harder when you realized as much as he comforted you, he could never muster up the vulnerability to grieve himself.)

You club a pick into the forehead of the fresh, putrid dead. The other pries it open, and a third swipe pulverizes with finality.

It’s messy. When you drive your weapons into the skull there’s a crack of metal against bone, and a thin gush of blood that spurts out to your arms. Especially large openings reveal nodules of black rot spotted through the brain. If you focus, you can see the moist, moldy texture seep through the wrinkles of the brain, and if you were any less jaded it’d be enough to make you turn your head and hurl.

But the deed is done in only three stabs, and you cling onto that fact. The more mechanical the task is, the easier it is to drive yourself to just get it done. Club, pry, pulverize. Club, pry, pulverize.

You pass by one of Ike’s carvings as you move onto another body. His work is premeditated from habit; he usually does this deed while everyone else recuperates. A standard chef’s knife is his weapon of choice when he faces against zombies, but he keeps a cleaver sheathed to his side when he has the time to get precise. One good slash goes through bone. Bone sweeps through the brain, and the work is done, and he carries on to the next, messy on his mantle but clean in the cut.

There are only a few more bodies left untouched on the yard where you hear heavy steps on the grass and Shu’s voice cry out. “Luca!”

You and Ike snap up. Luca’s blond hair is matted to his face with blood and rot as Vox runs beside him. They look like they ran through a blender of decayed flesh, and considering the herd of dead inside the house, perhaps that isn’t so strange of a metaphor. Even as Luca sprints, he turns to pump shotgun lead to the predators when they get closer, and each corpse’s fall is punctuated by hot gunfire.

Shu calls out his name again frantically. The men return, and so do you and Ike, five missing one. “Luca, where’s Mysta?”

“It’s bloody,” Luca simply says. His breath is short, and he wipes at the mess of gore and hair on his forehead. All it accomplishes is smearing black and red together along his face and in a blotch along his arm.

“But where is he, I need to know!”

“And it’s so much.” He trails off. He stares into the side of the townhouse and beyond the distance. Strapped to his back is his go-to weapon, a baseball bat littered with nails, each with residue dripping off the spikes from freshly killed zombies. “There’s a lot. Oh, I’m feeling kind of- kind of cold.”

“He’s in shock,” Ike says. He takes Luca’s hand in his, but Luca doesn’t even react. “Oh, Luca. What happened?”

“Kind of a lot?”

“Where’s Mysta?”

“He…” Luca’s eyes dart to the center of the townhouse. “He’s stuck, because of me, isn’t he?”

“Alright, lay off the man.” Vox intervenes. “We’re done asking questions. Shu. Your matches. Light it up.”

“What?!” Shu screams at Vox. You’ve heard him yell, but never once have you heard him scream. Especially not with Vox sounding so detached. “No, are you crazy? Mysta is in there!”

“Light it up, Shu-“

“I said, no! No! No way, not a- not a fucking chance!”

“Shu, listen to me!” Vox thunders. “I’m sorry, but Mysta is gone.”

Shu stands his ground. His features are tense, and his ultraviolet eyes burn holes through the earth. “Not a fucking chance.”

“Mysta is gone,” Vox insists, and you hear his bassy voice break even lower. “I saw it myself.”

“He is not.”

“It was too overrun, it’s miraculous Luca even got out.”

“Mysta,” Luca says, and closes his eyes. Ike holds him upright and rubs his arm, as comforting as he possibly can in the worst situation, as much as possible when his own face is just as distraught as everyone else.

“And I wish with everything that I have that I could’ve gotten him out,” Vox continues, more of his own justification than anyone else. “And I wish I was just a little faster, and that they were a little further away, and, God, that he wasn’t trapped, but he was, and I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t close enough…”

Shu is murmuring his own protests to himself at this point, and feeling the pit in your stomach yourself, you reach to hold his hand. He jerks away like you’re made of lava. You feel ill. “You’re lying to me.”

“And he got bit, and he knew that meant death. And he ran, ran upstairs, to draw them away from us, and there were more, and he knew, he knew, he knew he was dead but we weren’t.”

Luca lets his head fall on Ike’s chest. Ike becomes his crutch, and holds him. “Mysta.”

“His distraction saved Luca’s life. And mine if I was slow.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He was a hero,” Vox says.

“Stop.” Shu’s eyes shut. He looks like stone about to break, paralyzed in denial as the proper grief is setting in. His hands dive and clasp around yours. He’s trembling. You squeeze back. “Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”

“He was a hero, and our brother, and the sun. Please don’t devalue his sacrifice like that.”

“Oh my god.” Ike interrupts, and his face is paler than the dead. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Luca, don’t look.”

With one hand, he buries Luca’s head into the fabric of his mantle, and with the other, he points to the tallest point of the townhouse.

You crane your neck up and squint. The townhouse has one window peeking out from the room along one small wall. When you recognize the shapes through the window your legs nearly give out. Startling, saturated, unadulterated horror grips you. You see his hat.

“He’s still alive,” you whisper. “Or he rose. But he’s still surrounded.”

With revived desperation Vox grasps Shu by the shoulders. “Don’t devalue his sacrifice, Shu, you know better than anyone he never wanted to fall victim to that curse. Let him and the rest of the zombies pass on properly, like a hero should. Light the match, please. Please.”

You absorb the chaos as if you weren’t there. You’re detached. Nothing feels real, not even as Ike strokes Luca’s hair, distressed and staring at the window, while Luca is just as distanced as you are. Vox’s heroic resolve shattered as he recounted Mysta’s last moments, and Shu, the smart one out of your group, can’t even function anymore. You knew everyone considered themselves each other’s family, but Shu and Mysta were especially close, and it tears you apart to watch Shu finally grasp the terror of the townhouse ambush.

Shu lets go of your hands to cover his face. Through the gaps between bloodstained gloves, you can see the sparkle of tears. He’s crying. “This isn’t possible.”

“Do the right thing,” you say. “Do what he would’ve wanted.”

Shu stands so still. He looks up to the sky, as if it could all go back just by an hour. The clouds just kept rolling.

He picks up a bottle and lights a match.

“This can’t be happening.” A teardrop nearly flicks out the match, but he gathers his strength, and places it by the newspaper wick. The paper flares alive in caution orange.

Shu breathes in. You see his face is scrunched up from crying even as he tries to aim, and it’s like he’s aged years in a matter of minutes. His face has never truly been clean of dirt or gore in weeks, just like the rest of you, but even under the orange fire his eyes go dull. There’s weight under his eyelids, and his mouth is forced into a tight, shaky frown as he exhales.

“I’m so sorry.” Even when it was a zombie Shu always apologized before killing. He treats it as a blessing of what they once were. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry it had to be this way.”

Shu throws the molotov.

You lose track of Mysta’s silhouette as the townhouse goes up in flames.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The death of Mysta Rias was the death of the sun, and the world has been even drearier than the desolate land would have you think.

Everyone lives on edge frostily. It’s barely been a month since he passed, but the wound hesitates to close.

Ike is maybe the best adapted to your band of six now as five, but even then you can tell he’s not the same. He’s a champion of reservation. Every sweep of his knives into dead flesh are purposeful, every word spoken is calculated.

You think back on that night you cried in Ike’s arms the first time you confirmed the dead. You still haven’t seen him cry. Strange, since he was the type to get emotional at sappy movies and video games before the first outbreak. You’re worried, but he insists he can keep it together. To be fair, he’s doing an excellent job at not having a conniption, but the way that he acts so much more emotionally distant isn’t exactly inspiring confidence either.

But Vox, for all he puffs himself up about making sure no man gets left behind and all that heroic junk, hesitates far more than his honed swordsmanship would have you think now that Mysta’s gone. It hasn’t gotten in the way of surviving yet, but you have to wonder when it will. He’s gotten indecisive and requires time to think- great for planning, not so much for a live-or-die fight.

Luca’s the one that surprises you. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him happy when your band of friends started roaming the country together, but he was good natured, and was the first to pick himself up from a bad scrape. He had a sly, sideways curve to his lips whenever he laughed, but it’s been so long since you’ve heard it that you’re starting to forget the way his skin curves into smile lines.

He doesn’t smile at all, really. As optimistic Luca was, it was no secret Mysta was the other half of the laughter in your group, and now that Mysta was gone the morale was as well. Luca keeps up his positive attitude as much as he can but it’s rare, and it’s quiet when you see it.

You notice whenever someone lights the campfire, he’s never around to watch it, and no one makes him do it. You don’t think anyone’s ever talked about it out loud, nor has he ever let himself show it. But when he turns around to feel the warmth, Vox is always to his front, blocking off the bright blazes, and sits by him while he cooks game. You have a theory Vox hasn’t given up his hero complex yet, but for as tense as he gets by the fire Luca hasn’t had a breakdown yet either. Unless things change, you won’t bring it up. Your group has never experienced a loss quite like this in the zombie apocalypse, and all things considered, for as awful as the morale it could be much, much worse.

Speaking of much worse, Shu…

He was a wreck when Mysta passed away, and that’s putting it lightly. When you ran from the remains of the burning townhouse and into a forest, your footfalls were punctuated by Shu’s shortened breaths, and he held back hiccups as you left Mysta behind. By the time Vox figured you were safe from the horde and Ike’s feet gave out from exhaustion, Shu’s eyes were shut tight in disbelief.

You barely uttered a word to him before he fell back into sobs, and when you offered a hand he threw himself to you. It was disorienting. You always considered Shu the face of serenity and restraint even in your lives before the apocalypse, and after the outbreak he was always the one that could find the best path to follow for the greater good of all six of you. But now there were only five, and the grief was fresh.

But Shu howled. He clawed himself against your chest in inconsolable wails, and his face was contorted, sore and raw red in splotches of unmuted primality, nearly unrecognizable. There was an animal in your arms. Agonized.

“It’s not possible,” he heaved. His articulation was lost in his eruption. “It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be!”

You didn’t have any words to say, and clearly Shu didn’t either. He howled again as his bestial hands clutched around your arm. Nails dug through his gloves and into your skin, and if he clutched you any tighter he’d tear the flesh off the bone straight, a creature of despair. Screaming and howling, and soon enough he was choking on his own spit and the block of mourning in his throat, some ugly peals of tears and snot, and the remains of rot on his hands and blood against the hollows of his ghastly cheek; the ash left in his lungs and the smoke that lingered in his hair, and the flames that licked through his fingers and inside the bottle and outside the glass; the blazes that ate through the wood of the house, the very same hue as his brother’s favorite shirts, his hat, flickering a cycle of brightness and color and roiling heat until he knew the fire had swallowed up what remained of Mysta.

Shu had no choice but to scream. When his throat took away that privilege he mustered up what he could of his vocal chords and churned. All his mouth went dry but he still smacked his tongue against his gums and huffed out seethings and surges of thin breath through gritted teeth, more akin to wheezing than anything else he’d howled but the pure distress gone untouched.

He eventually exhaled himself into an uneasy sleep, but even in sleep his face was still struck with suffering. Rest was more like a pause to a realized horror than it was a reprieve. You and Ike cleaned him up and laid him sideways on the ground for the night- after all, it had been an awful day, and as the moon rose in the sky you know you wouldn’t be getting anywhere after the horrible events, much less with an unconscious Shu.

Luca spent the rest of his day detached from his own experience, even after the shock wore off. When Shu’s composure broke, Vox had attended to Luca, and they quietly wept together while Shu bawled. By the time Shu began to rest, Luca looked into the ground, water bottle in hand.

Vox approached you while Ike started a fire and prepared some rations for the rest of the group. “He’s not taking things awfully, but I’m concerned for him,” he said. “Luca, I mean.”

“I know you mean Luca,” you responded. You couldn’t hide your own exhaustion from the day either.

“As much as I hate to say it, Shu freaking out was to be expected. He and- and Mysta- those two- they were so close. And Luca, too. I thought he would freak out like Shu, but hell, Reader, I cried more than him. I know I get emotional and he’s better at keeping it down than me, but…”

Vox’s eyelids fluttered as he looked up at the dark sky. His eyes were red. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. It’s not like him.”

“Well, living without-” Your exhaustion dragged down your sentence before you could finish it. You thought you were well-adjusted to the death, but your voice caught before you could utter his name. You cleared your throat. “Living like this. There’s going to be a lot of weird changes, and everyone mourns differently.”

“I suppose you’re right.” But Vox didn’t look too pleased to hear that. “We need to protect him.”

“He does plenty of protecting himself. And we look out for each other regardless.”

“Then we should look out for him especially.”

“Of course. I don’t want him to get overexerted.”

“And let’s tap out of any interaction if we can, including looting. Last thing we need is to get into another big fight with the zombies, or worse yet, other survivors.”

“Avoiding fights has always been our M.O.” A chilled breeze ran through the forest. Vox fiddled with his haori. You stared right through him. “Sorry if this comes across as weird. But do you really think laying low is a good idea?”

“It’s dangerous to let anything interfere with us.”

“We’re in the zombie apocalypse, Vox, everything is dangerous. It’s not like I can just wave a wand and poof, we’re immune from the plague. Besides, we’re just two out of s- out of five. We’ll figure it out when it’s not so late, and Luca and Shu are in working condition.” You squinted. “Hey. Enough about them for a second. Has anyone ever asked you if you’re okay, Vox?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Is now. How are you holding up?”

“What, do you want me to lie to your face? No one’s doing well.” He averted his eyes, and you knew he was averting the question. “I could ask you the same thing. Shu was intense.”

“Tired,” you said. “Just plain tired. I don’t even think I have the energy to properly grieve.” And just like the man standing before you, you averted your eyes as well. “I don’t think I want to either. I don’t know. I miss him a lot, but I don’t have the time to miss him. Not when the apocalypse is literally unfolding in front of us and there’s people taking the brunt of the loss way harder than I am. I wish I could give him the remembrance he deserves.”

Vox nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything in response, and the silence made you feel like you aged hundreds of years in his presence.

“You’re very observant, Reader,” he finally said. “And you spend a lot of time making your own conclusions before you act. That’s smart. But knowing too much prevents you from action, full stop.”

Campfire smoke curls around the chilly air and by Vox’s face. His head was still angled up to look at the sky, and the orange glow against his sharp features weathered him into a dreary oil painting. There was a gash between his cheek and ear where a tree branch hooked him while he evaded a zombie’s grapple, and the light illuminated the soft pink flesh exposed under the cut of skin. The corner of the gash met his thoughtful frown. “Every moment of life teaches you something. I’m wondering when it’ll be too much and we simply can’t go on the way we used to.”

“Might be soon.”

“Today definitely sped it along.”

The fire crackled. You and Vox sat there unmoving, too focused on the blaze and how controlled it was compared to the townhouse.

Even as the tinder burns, your thoughts were still so awry now that the group got smaller. Vox had a point about Luca. You needed to keep an eye out on him in case he’s putting on a brave front. Even then, you didn’t like how Vox deflected your concern, but prodding him would only make it worse, especially when the loss was so fresh.

Your thoughts drifted to Ike, and how you haven’t managed to share a word with him at all since the townhouse burning. He hasn’t cried, you recall, not a single time since the first outbreak. You admired his composure but now that Vox admitted his own fears for the others (and neglected to tell you the ones about himself), you can’t help the unease that settled into your stomach. What were his thoughts like? Everything went off the rails whenever you tried to collect yourself, but if Ike was able to keep it all under wraps, then his mind must be a storm.

Speak of the devil. Ike hands Luca a small can of beans, but the blond stayed by his lonesome. Your best friend took the empty seat beside you, and gives you and Vox your dinner.

You thanked him, and after savoring what little you had of your portion, you asked how he’s doing.

“Just gotta get through another day,” Ike responded.

Then he tipped the last of his beans into his mouth and stared at the fire, just as you did after talking with Vox. He was unreadable as ever, but the only thing you could glean from him with confidence is that he had just as much on his mind as you thought. Maybe even more.

You wished he would just tell you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

But grass grows over graves, and even if Mysta didn’t have a proper send off, time waits for no one.

Once Shu woke up, his face was a mess of bleariness and exhaustion. Something in his bright eyes froze over during the night. Amethyst faded to plastic.

“We’ll keep moving,” he declared, and his voice chilled you to the core. He called out the order as a leader, not a friend, without the care or delicacy he always granted to your group. His emotion died with Mysta.

(And you saw Vox ready himself to refute, but once he met those purple eyes filled with something unearthly, he shank under Shu’s presence.)

Days pass. All of them are spent on the road. The group spends as little time resting as possible just to get a few extra miles out to your next destination.

Shu and Luca say it’s to get away, but they end the sentence differently. Shu says to get away from the zombies. Luca doesn’t finish his thought at all.

It’s no surprise that Vox opposes it. The more distance between the group and the townhouse, the more he speaks his mind.

But Shu is determined to go further, just as much as Vox is convinced everyone needs to lay low.

And in all the time you’ve known these men, you’ve never seen any of them fight against one another quite like this. Vox always concedes, but not before Shu spits venom and he flings it right back. Their words are always about the plan, their future, where the group is going and why don’t they wait out the zombies instead of these hourly skirmishes on the road; but everyone can tell there’s more lying in subtext than the literal argument. You’ve seen the way Vox grits his teeth and musters up his courage whenever he’s about to tell Shu off, and you know that disgusted glare Shu gives Vox whenever he brings up hiding from the zombies.

Ike usually ends up being the one to break up their fights. One dismal evening while he lectured them both about teamwork and other platitudes, you and Luca sat next to each other. He’s a big guy, but he’s lost a lot of weight from rationing, and his expression looks like an abandoned dog more often than not these days.

He talks quietly, but plainly. “Shu hates me, doesn’t he?”

“What?” The bluntness startles you. “Luca, listen to yourself. He could never.”

“He could.”

“He wouldn’t,” you insist. “He’s gone through a lot, and he’s not taking it well, but I know it’s always because he wants to protect you. All of us.”

“So is Vox. But he just shuts him down without a thought. You ever wonder why, Reader?”

“To get away from the zombies,” you recite. That’s always his reasoning. Staying put in one place just means more time for zombies to gather at the scent of the living.

“So would finding a secure shelter, like how Vox says.” Luca sits with his knees close to his chest, and watches from a distance at the quelled fight. Vox says something, and you can see Shu’s face contort even though you can’t hear what he says. “But he doesn’t even listen to him. He doesn’t even listen to you, Reader, when you try to break it up.” He holds his legs closer to himself. “I don’t know if he’s ever listened to me. Or anyone.”

“He would if you told him you feel like that. He’d understand.”

“Would he really?” You nearly answer that before you realize the question is rhetorical. “You’ve got eyes, Reader. Be attentive like how I know you always are and look at how he looks at us. Me and Vox.”

You try to follow Luca’s request but Ike is speaking, and Shu’s eyes close.

He elaborates. “It’s not a nice look.”

“He’s stressed.”

“Then why doesn’t he ever look at you like that? Or even better, why does he listen to Ike only, and how come it never seems to stick?”

“He’s going through a lot.”

“We all are.”

Across the camp, you watch Ike run a hand through his hair. Shu is still talking, and Vox sighs.

“I think he blames us.”

You grab Luca’s arm. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s obvious anyways.”

“Because that’s our friend.”

“He hasn’t acted like one for a long time.”

“Because he’s lost so much.”

“We were all friends,” Luca snaps. “We lost just as much. Hell! I was in the house! We were together! And then we got separated, and unlike someone Vox actually tried to help him out until- and I should’ve- we saw him get bit, and I couldn’t- I just, I-”

Luca shuts himself up. Your hand falls from his arm to his palm and squeezes. No life returns your gesture.

You sit in the stagnant silence.

“I’m sorry.” Luca lowers his head. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Get it off your chest, Luca. I won’t hurt you.”

“No, I don’t think I should.” He unwraps his legs, and stands up from the ground beside you. “I’m not going to say it and be an awful friend, even if he’s acting like one.”

Before you could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Luca already turned his back, and you sat alone from the argument as he walked away from everything.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Despite all their bickering, Shu and Vox lead the group through travel. It’s more likely that the bickering is the exact reason why. The fire iron and rebar push aside the greenery, until Vox stops with his rebar casting the brush aside. “Fucking finally.”

You catch up and look across the hill. Buildings. This used to be a small rest town in a clearing between the hills before the outbreak, but now the bright signs are dimmed out and dirtied. Not a soul lurks in the abandoned town, including the dead.

“We’re not stopping,” Shu says.

“Piss off, Shu. I’m tired.”

“You’re never going to be well-rested.”

“Then how does safe sound?”

“Not possible no matter where you go.”

“But safer than on the road-”

“Guys,” Ike interrupts. “Quit acting like toddlers.”

Vox pouts and Shu squints. None of the three want to get the next word in.

So you speak up instead. “We’re running out of supplies. If we don’t find any more food soon, then we won’t even be able to continue on the road.”

“Reader has a point,” Ike agrees.

Shu’s expression sours. “Fine. We’ll look around, but make it quick. Camping out here is a great way to get robbed.”

“Then we’ll move together and keep watch for one another,” Vox declares, and he smiles. “Welcome to the correct side, Reader, Ike. It’s good to have you on board.”

Ike rolls his eyes. “Don’t drag me into your petty fights.” You fight the urge to quip he’s already in the mess as the mediator.

But the group traverses the hills and enters the remains of the town. The ground is littered with garbage strewn about in the haste for its citizens to flee town- or for the ill-fated, become the corpses dragging along the cement.

The zombies here shamble along independent from one another. That’s the best you could ask for. The only consistent thing about zombie behavior is their danger when in swarms. Alone, they’re nothing but fetid flesh barely clinging onto the skeleton, ready to fall into a hundred pieces at one strike, but when accompanied by others? Fodder makes up for each others’ weaknesses, and no matter how competent or skilled you are, one human is nothing to a crowd of zombies on the warpath.

The zombies of this town haven’t synced up with one another, and you’d like to keep it that way. While on the road, you’ve had plenty of skirmishes with small groups of zombies, but the last time your band faced off against a proper herd, you lost one.

A single zombie clambers to the front of your group. You hear metal against fabric as Ike pulls out his cleaver from its sheath, ready to do the deed, but before he can advance Shu already has his fire poker in his hands and the business end driven through the eyes of the zombie. He twists, assuring the brain is too punctured to allow the body to rise again, and the poker is back at rest. He barely even apologizes to the body as everyone trudges on.

Behind his back, Ike resheathes his weapon. He squints through his glasses, and you can read the confusion between his green eyes. Ike doesn’t meet your glance, but his expression is welcome, as unfortunate as it is. At least you’re not the only one that noticed how out of character Shu has been lately. You’re getting a sinking feeling about him.

However, the moment passes as soon as it appeared, and you and the rest of your friends rove onwards until you come across a set of stairs erring into the earth, surrounded by a dirtied glass entrance.

“Who would’ve thought?” You wonder aloud. “I never would’ve guessed this little town had a subway system.”

Vox raises his hand along the cool glass. “This could be good. The entrance is camouflage pretty well considering the damage of this town, and there might be some preserved food in vending machines. All we need to do is break ‘em.”

“And if there isn’t any food, it’s still a big area,” Ike adds. “Plenty of space and a roof over our heads.”

Luca looks down the staircase. It’s dark, but not unnavigable. The edges of the sidewalk are lined with yellow paint stripes, and features small lights along the walls from a backup generator, most likely. “It’s a good hiding place,” he says.

Luckily for everyone, Shu can already tell he’s defeated, and doesn’t put up much of a fight before you all descend down the stairs.

Not even ten minutes later Luca found a vending machine and smashed it apart with his spiked bat. Vox unwrapped a pack of Oreos with a smug smile.

The subway was no longer in operation and the trains themselves were abandoned, but you found a sign with a map of the station. The subway connected the major areas of the town together, and could be used as secret passages through the ruins.

And most interesting, there were even less zombies underground than under the sun.

“I wonder if the stairs confused them?” Luca says to himself. “Surely a few of them figured it out, since we killed some since we entered the subway, but it might be too complex for herds to come through. Or the architecture itself is confusing.”

You weren’t about to question it. This was one of the most peaceful environments you’ve entered since the outbreak, and there was no way you would ignore the moment to catch your breath, even if you can still cut through the tension with a knife.

You enter first watch with the drifting bond between everyone on your mind, and when Ike relieves you for his watch, you fall asleep in record time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

An arm jostles you awake. “Reader. Wake up, zombies.”

You curse, albeit a little groggily, but in a flash you’re on your feet. You thumb under your sleeping pad and grab your climbing picks. “I thought we were safe?”

“Not at all.” Your eyesight adjusts after you start walking, but you can already recognize the voice as Ike. Out of the corner of your eye you can spot Shu trying to shake Luca awake, and Vox gathering everyone’s things together. “They’re flooding in fast. Herds of them. Like they’re all on the same wavelength.”

“Like the townhouse.”

It dawns on you and you say it without thinking. Ike’s shoulders freeze over. “Don’t say that. Not so loudly.”

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

“Get your things together. They’re not here yet, but they will be soon, around the corner we came.”

Vox approaches halfway through zipping a backpack together. “We should take the next right corridor. I remember that leads to a different exit.”

“You sure it’s not the same one the zombies are coming in through?” You ask.

“Positive.”

“We need to stay ahead of the herd,” Shu said, Luca in tow. “No fighting unless absolutely necessary. If we get started now we should be able to get away without overexerting ourselves. Ready?”

No words need to be exchanged. You leave the clearing just as you found it.

A collected groan follows behind you, and a chill runs down your spine. You’ve never heard so many zombies, and never so man all in harmony. The moans arrange together in the cavernous halls, bouncing off the cement and down the station.

The urgency rises once the cries grow closer. Vox breaks out in a run, then Luca, and Shu behind him.

“Right,” Vox calls, and dives at the turn. A zombie greets him. He drives his rebar into its head and flings it away without a second thought like a lancer.

The zombie smashes against a sight with arrows to different stations. Ike swerves out of the way. “Fork ahead, where now?”

“Right? I mean-” He goes one way to view a sign, then sprints the other. “Straight! Straight!”

The dead sing. You can’t think to look back but the smell of rot is suffocating.

Your foot falls under the concrete ground in time with your family, and in time with the stumbling zombies approaching faster than you’ve ever felt before.

Luca halts in his tracks, and you thump against his back. Your mouth parts to speak but your eyes fall upon the exit.

Or rather, the lack of exit.

Boulders of broken concrete hide the stairwell from daylight.

Hot breath strangles you, and you turn with your picks in hand. Swathes of the dead are fixated on your group.

Ike runs straight-on to the choir. You scream out as one reaches for him before he turns at the last fork in the road.

You cut your scream off halfway when you follow him without a second thought.

A hand covered in dirt and mold grasps against the sleeve of your jacket. You swivel and sink your pick into the limb, and the wrist pops off under your blade. The hand goes limp and falls from the fabric.

You hear footsteps behind you, and when Luca speaks up you’re full of relief even if only for a moment. “What now?”

“Just run,” You say back, more of a guess than an order.

Shu drifts in front of you. “Where are we?”

“Give me a moment, I’m trying to think!”

“We don’t have time, Vox!”

“I know, Shu, shut up!”

“Going left!” Ike shouts, and you all move without question.

But you realize only after the zombies cut away the turn that the station turns more decrepit on this side. The tunnels are lined with debris and the floor crumbles away along the painted stripes.

And before you can find a new route, you see a puff of dust from the ceiling.

“The roof!” You shout. You’re gasping to breathe now, and your words stumble upon the exhale.

Shu’s eyes roll up to the flickering light, and you both see the elongated crack above your heads. It’s been in decay for years. How unlucky. How simply, brutally, lethally unlucky.

“Hurry!” He pleads. He’s at the front of the pack, followed by Vox and Luca alongside each other. Ike trails behind you.

The crack in the roof follows your every footstep even as ancient instinct kicks in. Adrenaline shoots through your veins and pushes you forward, accompanied by bits of debris tangling in your hair. The flooring turns from concrete to tile, and with the dirtied mosaic comes a glimmer of hope. Surely you must be going the right way.

The zombies’ cries are loud, but the squeak of your shoe against the tiles is louder. There must be something beyond.

But the ceiling splintering out is the loudest of all.

It all happens at once:

The way that Shu turns at the sound and can’t even get one of his own out before he sees your face-

The powdered cement turning to hail in the blink of an eye-

Your war cry through gritted teeth as you launch off, the fastest you’ve ever run before-

A knife unsheathed in in warmth and frigidity in your midst-

Luca, hated, blamed, petrified.

Your brain catches up through the curtain of scrap. It’s all because of Luca. Even at his most vulnerable, you’ve never thought of him as weak. Nonetheless, his eyes are dead purple crusted against his ghost-white face, and his lips force open while a vein along his neck strains to scream out your name, but he lets out just one small, throaty heave. A miserable noise.

It silences you.

You know it, and he does too. A chunk of ceiling drops mere inches from your last step. Vox approaches, calls out your name before he’s even comprehended the truth before him. You see the dark in his pale eyes tighten into a thin reptilian pupil and he reaches out in desperation.

The last of the ceiling shatters. A broken crag hammers into his palm instead. All you hear is Shu finally get out the scream before the remains of the underground roof shuts you out from your family.

The dead rises in volume. The glimmer of hope evaporates.

You force yourself against the barricade, but your weight is no match for the pile of rubble, and you watch the zombies shamble forward with your back against the wall. The only person you have left brushes plaster away from his eyes with one arm and brandishes a knife in the other.

Ike Eveland looks like hell alive.

It would almost be hilarious if you weren’t facing a subterranean grave. His face is dirtied with mud and rubble, and the legs of his trousers are matted in blood, rot, and dirt, but even then, this is still your best friend. The years you’ve spent alongside him blend together. His once-delicate hands now bear countless scars from travel and fights, but the contours of his face are recognizable even through the dust that mars his skin.

This is an unwinnable situation. You’re locked in checkmate, but Ike stands next to you.

You speak. “No more exits, right?”

Ike swipes at his face again, and the sleeve of his mantle comes back grayer than before. “I think we both know how this ends, Reader.”

“Yeah. I do.”

You both watch the leading zombie shuffle one foot forward, and each of its followers mimic the motion.

You notice Ike’s hand against his face out of the corner of your eye. Then how his shoulders jerk up for a moment, before setting themselves in place, stony and rigid.

His words break your heart. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither.”

“I wish I could refuse all this- all this-”

He sniffs.

You move without thinking, and your mind is set. You wrap your arms around Ike.

He doesn’t even raise his hands. He just leans against your shoulder lifelessly, and lets the tears fall.

You rub his back as he hiccups into your shirt. How long has he been keeping this locked up? You ache for him and all his repression as his body goes limp against yours, the only thing keeping him standing.

“It’ll be okay.” That’s only a lie you can hope is the truth. “After all this. We’ll be okay. Shu and Vox and Luca, too. It’s a straight shot now that all the zombies are on us.”

“I’m going to miss you. All of you.”

“We’re together.”

“I’m sorry this is how it ends.”

“We still have options.”

He scoffs, even as his voice cracks through his quiet crying. “We’re trapped, Reader. There’s no way out.”

“We can still go out on our terms,” you say. You place your hand over his, the one that holds the knife. “Once we’re gone, the zombies are going to search for the other three.”

You squeeze one last time, and break away from the hug. You look upon the wave of dead flesh and rot, and draw your weapons. “I don’t want them to fight any more than they have to.”

“That’s hopeless.”

“It’s all I can do.”

“How are you so calm about this?”

“I’m not sure myself,” you admit. “It’s just that right now, I know I’m in a losing battle, and I accept that. But I don’t accept just laying down and dying like that.”

Your climbing picks cross together as you ready your eerily still mind. The blades scrape against each other. Metal sings. “And I just want to handle things calmly. After all this time, I learned that from you.”

“I don’t know how you can just remember things like that when we’re about to die.”

“I suppose I only die on my own terms. Hey.”

Ike stumbles to his feet. His knife is pointed to the ground. With a tranquility that evaded you all throughout the apocalypse, you steady his posture and guide the blade up to the dead beyond.

Your hand rises up his arm as his eyes close, and he silently murmurs to himself. You rub his shoulder. “You good?”

Ike exhales. His body lowers as he does, and with the breath comes a relaxed posture. This is the most at peace he’s been since the outbreak strangled the past world.

His eyelashes rise. Stormy green seas focus upon the staggering zombies.

“No.” Ike’s lip trembles. But he’s set on the zombies ahead, and a bolt of lightning crosses through his eyes. “But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good man.”

“There’s about five of them leading the pack in that corner. We can pick them off and get some more breathing room.”

“Understood, Mr. Tactical.”

“Don’t call me that.” Under the exhaustion and the fear and the grittiness that comes with crying, you hear some of that classic, joking exasperation. You snicker to yourself, but the bittersweet smile remains.

“Mr. Eveland, then.” Your sight hones in on one zombie to your right. Its jaw slides apart as it follows the scent of the fresh living. “It’s been an honor, Ike.”

“Likewise, Reader, we’ll do what we can.”

“Let’s go.”

At your command, you both launch off, laser-focused on the individual dead.

Ike kicks a corpse down to knock it prone, then rakes his knife into the skull, and that’s all you can see before you throw yourself into the fray.

A one-on-one is simple. The zombie in front of you holds out a decrepit hand, perfect for your climbing pick to detach. It stumbles at the force and grants you an opening to clobber its brain in.

Rinse and repeat.

You dive between the steps of your latest kills to divert attention in time to slay another and stay moving. The trick is to use gravity to your advantage. They aren’t smart enough to stand their ground, and when they inevitably fold from the pressure of your picks, it’s like the zombies present themselves for you can finish the job.

The next target swipes at you. You jut one pick down upon the corpse and one more meets the brittle skull. This gives you enough time to duck under a lunge, sweep the leg, and aim to kill.

Something grabs your leg before you plunge the pick in. A body, dismembered from the waist up.

You yelp as yellow-black teeth rise, and frantically kick. The zombie holds on tight, but when you regain your senses, it doesn’t even see the blade incoming before the soft brain squashes in. Splatters of gore and bits of chunky nerve endings sprays against your frame while your sweat mixes in with the stench of rot and muddy mildew.

You step back to reposition. Ike’s clothing is covered in blackened blood, and you watch him plunge his knife into the chests of whatever unfortunate beast approaches next. He twists and yanks out, then goes in for a final blow between the eyes. He has a rhythm established despite the shades of rot against his mantle and shirt. It almost looks routine.

His next victim’s head rolls to the ground and breaks apart like porcelain. The brain is still in place, but the elongated gash through the nervous system confirms it would never rise again.

But one gets the jump on Ike while his back is turned, and he yells out as he thrashes. He swivels on his heel. The zombie maneuvers around even as his hands push back in a fierce gridlock. It snaps its broken jaws in Ike’s face as it snarls, and sinks its claws in. Gunk travels through its saliva.

“I got your back!” While Ike retreats, you trip the dead that crawls in front of you, and dash to his side. You drag your picks into the nape and back of the zombie’s head, and the creature goes limp just in time for Ike to shove it against the wall.

Ike catches his breath, brushes his hand against his arm, and meets your concerned look with a nod in silent gratitude. “They’re gaining on us,” he says. “You don’t need to kill all of them, disabling them is fine!”

“Got it!”

But even that is easier said than done. There are so many zombies in the herd, it looks like you haven’t even left a dent, and your space is getting limited. You hack through the edges of the herd and pray that your wild swipes cut through a limb or two.

“We’re losing turf!”

“Yeah, and I- gaah!”

Ike heaves. Your switch flips from ‘kill zombies’ to ‘check Ike’.

You follow his rasp to the corner of the room, where the ceiling crashed down. His back is pressed against the tiled wall, and he struggles to peel off his mantle.

You don’t even need to ask. His hand clutches his arm, and the chunk of flesh missing from it.

“Holy shit, Ike!” You can’t even mute yourself. Millions of warning bells go off in your head. The internals are coated in a dark membrane from where it meets the oxygen in the air, less red than it is purple, and his veins beside the mutilation rise in an ugly green.

You reach your hands out as you rip off a cut of fabric from your sleeve. “No. No, this can’t be happening-“

He slaps your hand away before you can begin to bandage the blood loss, and immediately crumples. “Don’t do that! It’s the virus!”

“There’s no way it spreads that fast-“

“It will. I don’t want you to have that.” Ike sucks in air through his teeth as he sinks to the floor.

“How did you even-“ you cut yourself off. “It was the zombie that jumped you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even notice the pain when it happened.” He curses in his native language. The green in his veins rise, and branches sprout from the veins under his graying skin, like tree bark. The rapid decay of the outbreak. “Oh, that’s not good.”

The din of the battle behind you is entirely forgotten as you focus on the uneven flesh, the imprint of the bite upon his mangled arm, how nearly every level of the wound has turned to the same rot of the zombies.

Ike’s breathing is labored. The center of his shirt is soaked with the rot of those he killed, and rises and falls shakily.

He smacks his lips, and you’re struck with the realization that talking is a strain. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

You crouch by his side and nod.

“The sheath, on my belt,” he says. “Can you unfasten it?”

You comply without question even through your blurring eyes. I can’t refuse a request from a dead man, you think, and then the weight of your thought slams you.

Ike’s unscathed hand rises from the wound, coated in slick purple gore, and brushes against the handles of his knives. The membrane pools together into beads along the handle. His fingers stop at the last slot in his sheath, and the tip of the cleaver is dyed in the beginnings of the rot.

You think you’re about to vomit your heart out.

“No.” Your voice wavers. “No. No, I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Ike comforts you, and you feel even more like trash. You should be the one comforting him instead. “I trust you.”

And that’s what gets the tears to spill out from your eyelashes. “But I can’t kill you.”

“You said it best earlier. Dying on your own terms, right?”

“But I can’t kill you.”

“I don't want to be one of them,” he admits. “Look around, Reader, we’re surrounded, and we both know there’s no way out. And being one of them, it’s unnatural. It’s just messed up. If I’m going to die, I want to know I’m at rest. None of this- whatever all this is.”

His head lolls to the side. “And I want to see Mysta again.”

The chorus of the dead accompanies Ike’s heavy breathing and your weeping. You are a helpless child.

“I’ll help you,” Ike adds. “I’ll tell you how I usually confirm the dead. You’re my best friend. I trust you.”

It sickens you.

You let out a puff of air as you draw your palm over your eyes. The gore across your face smears over with your tears.

You take the cleaver in your hands.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve better than this.”

“It’s the best we can do. I’m glad.”

“This is so fucked up.” You draw the cleaver with both hands, as if that would end the shaking. Even as you shut your eyes, you can’t get your resolve in place.

“The trick is to be fast,” Ike says, and it disgusts you at how easily he says it. It disgusts you even more when you know the decay is spreading as he speaks, all the way into his raspy voice. “It’s all in the wrist. That’s what keeps it precise instead of clumsy. It’s where all the force is. Don’t swing wide. Just center it where you want to hit. How are you doing?”

“Not good.” Your breathing deepens, a last-ditch effort to remain calm. “I’m scared.”

You force your eyes open. The world floods in white, then falls into the blurred grays of the subway station.

Ike is already so much worse for wear. The bite is entirely blackened, and the discolored skin stretches from his arm to his shoulder, creeping along what little you can see of his neck.

His eyelids are shut, gentle aside from the furrow in his brow.

“Me too.”

Even with his feigned nonchalance, there is so much sorrow laced between his words.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be safer,” Ike says, and even he doesn’t seem so convinced by it. “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you too.”

“You’ll always be my best friend.”

You raise the cleaver.

“Please tell Mysta I’m thinking of him. We all are, always.”

“We’ll be watching.”

Ike’s head is lowered, but you still see his attempt at a smile.

You black out as you swing.

There is no memory left of his last moment. It’s all too much to bear.

You cover your face, because looking at him is simply- just- too- much. Blood mixes in with your eyelashes, and you taste metal on your lips.

You don’t even have the energy to scream, or cry, or do anything. You are a husk, and you do not hear Ike’s cleaver clatter to the floor. There is nothing.

Your body moves without your command. You step back, and even though you refuse to look, you know you’re backing away from Ike. Your heart hammers, and so do your limbs. It spreads in droves, this pressure of heartbreak, constricting you and squeezing you apart.

Daggers fall into your skin. You snap out of your stupor.

But once you identify the daggers as teeth, you wish you didn’t.

You tear your hands away from your face as a glob of rot (his rot, you realize, and you can’t even begin to wrap your head around that) flicks out in an arc. The hammering- it’s claws raking against your flesh and tearing you apart like meat.

While you accompanied Ike in his last moments, the outbreak stopped for no one, least of all you. You are no invulnerable main character. You blocked out the roaring chorus as he lay, but it continued outside of your little bubble, and with your back turned they absorbed the last of your free space for a perfect siege.

You veer your head away out of instinct when the teeth pull away, and takes a bite of muscle out with it. The pain is blinding hot- you finally regain your voice in time to screech, but it drowns out through the zombie moans.

A second set of jaws snaps you up. Already your head is spinning, and when you see the sinew from the corner of your vision you resist the urge to faint. If you take a look at the broken skin and extruding vine-veins again, you know you’re going to black out again, and never wake up.

You force your sight to anything else.

You make the mistake of looking into zombie eyes for the third time in your life.

But this time you don’t retain the memory, either. Because for as little time you have left, how could you live knowing that your best friend’s peaceful green eyes snapped open in terror in his final moment?

You choke out, and whether it’s from pain or grief or pure fear, you can’t even tell. Just that it all mixes together into a toxic blend, the poison of your undoing.

And to think, you had the gall to meet such a grisly end head-on minutes ago.

On the ground, next to his limp foot, the steel edge of Ike’s cleaver winks at you.

It’s all in the wrist, he told you, and your blood burns into dust. But Ike is gone, now, and for as horrified as his melted remains were, he was certainly watching your every move.

And the infection is unnatural, and climbs along your shoulder, and there is no agony in the world like this fate.

And you wanted to see Mysta again.

With the last of your strength you regain your legs, and kick off one zombie from your leg. It topples and gives you enough time to shake off another that has you grappled.

The weight shift combined with your blood loss makes you hit the ground hard, but you scrape at the floor nonetheless. You are so weak, and you struggle, so focused on the glint of the blade that you ignore your skin crack apart like mud in a drought.

You reach, bloodied and battered, and so close to rest.

The washed light shines off the cleaver. Its reflection teases you as a monster snatches your foot and send you back into the horde like a toy.

You emit your final scream, and that too dies as hundreds of hands hold you back. Your body and blood is swallowed by the herd of dead.

When you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the dark in your mind rearranges to replicate the cleaver. Then it flattens, and you see the haunted remains of Ike Eveland between it.

The only sound left is teeth meeting bone.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

#ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland angst #luca kaneshiro #mysta rias #shu yamino #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #luxiem angst #4402 writes #bsprites #STEALTH PROTOMEN REFERENCE BABEY #this is a bit clumsy but i'm glad it was over 10k words i wonder if saying so much is just my style now #how much of a coinky dink is it that i was binging luca's twd streams and a bunch of southern gothic music when i was writing this #i'll post the full au notes i had operating tomorrow i think

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jedi-enthusiast · 1 year

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My [ongoing] CodyWan Fic Masterlist

Hello! Sorry that this post is a little late, as I said in another post, I've been busy and it kinda got sidetracked--but it's here now!

This rec list isn't gonna be as long as the other one, since I haven't really had time to get into new fics (life stuff + the work of writing my own fic), but there a still a good chunk of them + a couple are series.

They're gonna be separated into "Ongoing" and "Abandoned" so that way you know what you're getting into and I'll put more info in the description--and yes, I'm recommending a couple abandoned works because I think they're still good and maybe with enough support the authors will decide to continue. Either way, they're good fics.

Ongoing

shoulder the sky by @shootingstarpilot

Have I already recced this series? Yes. Am I still reccing it again? Also yes.

I seriously cannot rave enough about how awesome and well done this fic is, and no amount of me harping on it will ever do it thejustice it deserves. This fic has made me laugh, cry, get really pissed at the characters, and it has me waiting (im)patiently for every update--like, every single day I check Ao3 and it's just to check if this fic has updated.

It handles Jedi and Clone culture beautifully and adds in so much interesting world building, it perfectly balances out the fluff with the angst, it handles grief and PTSD very well, and so many other things! The author is also honestly just very sweet and even takes time out of his day to reply to as many comments as possible (which is insane, because there are always like 70+ comments on every chapter).

The Emperor and His Mandalorian by wanderingjedihistorian (RangerJedi67)

Technically I think this would be considered finished, but the author has added a new work to the series every couple months since I found it, so I'm adding it here just in case.

It's a Sith!Obi-Wan AU where Obi-Wan kicks Palpatine's ass and becomes Emperor and marries Cody, son of Manda'lor Jango Fett, as an agreement when Mandalore surrenders to him. I honestly really like how this fic handles Obi-Wan as a Sith and how that affects his actions and relationships with others, as well as Cody being a sort of "balance" for Obi-Wan's dark tendencies.

I'm not even a big fan of Sith!Obi-Wan fics, but this series is the one that got me to start reading some of them--so it definitely comes recommended!

no one left to sing to by slotmachines_fearofgod

This fic is a really interesting take on what would happen in TCW if Cody took more of an active role in the story. I love the author's take on Cody's character and how both his duty to his brothers and all the Kamino bullshit effects how Cody handles Obi-Wan and his feelings towards him.

Also the ending of the most recent update had me screaming and crying at my computer.

The art of living anyway by Itstwointhemorningwhyamiawake

A "Rex is Force-sensitive" fic that follows Cody and Obi-Wan's relationship as well. This fic is pretty new, so I don't really know where it's going, but the first two chapters have been amazing so far!

Abandoned

the sun is just a star by clementines_and_colorful_things

It's hard to give this fic a description that does it justice, but it's honestly really really good. It's basically a slow burn that follows Obi-Wan and Cody through TCW and, according to the tags, would eventually lead to Order 66 happening differently than in RotS.

More Than Blood by generalekenobi

Where Order 66 happens a bit differently and Cody and Obi-Wan end up on the run with baby Luke and Leia, having to masquerade as a Mandalorian couple to do so (uh-huh, yep, totally fake--them have feelings for each other? never).

I really love how this fic gives Cody agency and lets him go "no, we're not doing that, try again" and actually effect the story's outcome. It makes the story a lot more interesting and adds to the dynamic between Cody and Obi-Wan--both relationship-wise and in their newfound mission in taking care of the twins.

I Can Barely Recall (but it's all coming back to me now) by Shortcuts_make_long_delays

Ok, so I don't know if this fic is abandoned or just taking a while to update, so I just put it here--just be aware of that.

This is a Modern!AU where Cody and Obi-Wan used to date, but broke up due to something that keeps being hinted at but not overtly stated (and fuck, I just wanna know what happened! It's killing me!), and now Cody meets his ex "Ben" again when he turns out to be Obi-Wan, Anakin's older brother.

This fic is really interesting and well written and, like I said before, I really just want to know wtf the accident is--the suspense is killing me! Ahhhhhh!

Honorable Mention

An honorable mention for Not This Crude Matter by thebitterbeast

This fic was gonna be apart of the "ongoing" section, but the final part was posted like right after I posted my finished CodyWan rec list.

This series isn't just centered around Cody and Obi-Wan, but I still think it handles their relationship--and other relationships--beautifully. It centers mainly around Jedi culture and it's honestly one of my favorite takes on it. I can't recommend this series enough!

#ao3 fanfic #codywan #codywan fanfic #star wars #fanfic #codywan fic recs #fic recs #I hope you guys like this list as much as the last one #show fic authors some love #they deserve it

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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fic rec friday 1

welcome the the first fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Blast Zone by @mareepicurean

In the middle of a mission, a bomb going off leaves Lance unable to hear. Still, while he's deaf, the rest of his team are the ones that won't listen.

This is one of my voltron fics ever. I’ve read it regularly since it came out in 2017, and it was one of the big inspirations of my deaf lance fic. The fic does a really good job of team hurt/comfort and Lance’s insecurities without making the team weirdly evil. An awesome fic that I highly recommend. (Also, there’s some excellent Shiro & Lance!)

2. Perishing Pearls by @ohcontrary

A training session with the team goes awry when Lance has to spar against Allura, who's wielding her new whip. The mere sight of it raises ghosts he'd much rather forget.

This one is also heavy on the angst, although fair warning: it mentions past child abuse, so tread carefully. The fic is handles complicated family dynamics and grief really well. It is a great established klance hurt/comfort fic.

3. How To Train Your Galra by magisterpavus [EXPLICIT]

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

This series is the walking proof that 2016 fics hit different. Should 14 year old me have been reading it? Probably not. It’s hugely NSFW, so definitely proceed with caution, but it’s a banger and has a lot of good banter, team as family, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, and more. Honestly a lot of fun and a lot of face-palming, just remember to heed the tags.

4. If It Ain’t Broke by @overlymetaromantic

A 5 plus 1: Five times Lance takes a hit for the team, and one time the team takes a hit back.

There’s this specific scene in this fic (it’s a bit of a spoiler) where Lance is getting shit from a worried team, who’s upset about him continually putting himself at risk, someone asks “Even if it means putting yourself at risk?” and Lance doesn’t even hesitate before saying “Yes!” It’s such an easy description of Lance’s character that it makes me emotional every time.

5. Medic Lance by Fullmetal_Bitch

Multi-chap ft. my headcannon that Lance is the team's unofficial medic. Basically, it's a 5 + 1 of Lance helping the others when they're hurt and them helping him, just with a couple extra chapters. Story is so much better than this summary, I swear.Story is complete but the chapters did get revised so let me know whether you reckon it reads smoother now!

Medic Lance my beloved, truly. I feel like it fits him so well, especially as the Blue Paladin. This also has really good BAMF Lance, and Lance interacting with all the lions! Amazing, longer story.

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#i have hundreds of these for 25 weeks at least #vld #voltron #fic rec #fic rec friday #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #langst #team as family #bamf lance #longpost

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sunbadger · 18 days

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Mini detectives / Chapter 1

Next chapter -> TBA Read on AO3 Rating: General audiences, no warnings apply Relationships: Levi/Erwin, Gabi & Falco Tags: Attack on titan spoilers, post-rumbling, Erwin is still dead, slice of life, mystery solving, a little bit of comedy.

Summary: There is an unsuspecting, wooden urn on Levi's shelf. Since it's incredibly rude to ask him about it, Gabi and Falco instead decide to investigate to find out who it belongs to, and why the flowers in the vase next to it change every week. First they stalk Levi, then they search his whole house, then finally go through all of his personal belongings. It's an ethical operation lead by detectives Gabi and Falco! Background that may be helpful: - This is set post-rumbling and Erwin is still dead. - I believe Erwin is the only body that Levi really had access to after they died, so this urn is incredibly special to him. - Gabi and Falco are around 14 - Levi's got his own little cottage and a tea shop.

Rest of the fic under the cut, it's 1600 words.

The wooden box on Levi’s bookshelf had always stood out to Gabi. The feathers of her duster brushed against it each week, tracing the chiselled lid and the space around it. On its own, it would easily be overlooked due to the lack of decorations and details - only naturally decorated with the wood's marbled pattern. What truly made it interesting were the constantly changing flowers in the vase next to it.

Every week, Gabi would come over to clean, and every week there was a new set of flowers. Her nimble hands turned the box left and right, tilted it back ever so slightly to check the bottom, and forward to see the top - but alas, there was no name, nothing engraved, and no indicator of what it was. After finishing his work elsewhere, Falco put a stool down in front of the shelf. He glanced at her.

“I think that’s an urn, Gabi,” he said, “you shouldn’t be touching it.” Gabi pouted.

“I'm just trying to find a name on it.” She put the urn back in its intended spot. “I wanna know who Levi’s lover was.”

“Lover?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, touching the vase. This week’s flowers had petals as deep and blue as the ocean.

“Well… flowers are used for anyone,” Falco said, “and Levi doesn’t seem to be very popular, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she sighed. Falco climbed the stool to reach the top of the bookshelf to wipe it with the soaked towel in his hand.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Gabi’s jaw dropped.

“You can’t just ask about dead people like that!” She exclaimed. “What if he, like, starts crying?” Falco shrugged.

“Maybe he’ll be happy to talk about them, since he clearly cares about them so much.”

“You go ask, then!”

“I could, but…” His mind drifted.

“Why are you asking about my dead friends, huh? You thought that would make me happy? Mind your own business, brat.”

Falco shivered. “B-Besides, you’re the one that’s curious.” Gabi glared at him. “Okay, maybe I am a little bit curious.” He stepped down from the stool. “But I don’t want to ask.”

“Let’s continue cleaning for now, and we’ll figure out a plan later, alright?”

“A …plan?” She nodded, gave him a thumbs-up, and brushed past him towards the kitchen where more cleaning duties awaited her.

Falco was nearly crushed into the dirt as Gabi leant over him, trying to get a better view between the leaves. The fedora that Jean had leant him for the day was already smudged with dirt and his coat threatened to rip from the thorns of the forest they had walked through. He would probably have to “lose” the suit and hope Jean forgets about it once the mission was over.

“The target has approached the destination!” Gabi bursted out. “We will observe closely before making our first move!” Falco crawled his way towards an opening in the bush. Just like Gabi had reported, Levi’s familiar figure was currently making its way down the plaza. They had done a thorough analysis on his schedule and deduced that he would be most likely to visit the flower shop on Fridays at 5 pm, one hour after closing his shop. A small miscalculation meant they had actually been waiting in the dirty bushes of a hill for 30 minutes too many, but otherwise, it was a perfectly executed plan.

The hill allowed them to have a great overview of the whole street, and the leafage surrounding them provided cover. Falco had expressed doubts that Levi would be on the lookout for small kids in bushes, but Gabi brushed him off. Her eyes shined as they fixated entirely on the target, suspensefully watching to continue the mission. Falco was happy to be living a normal life, but it seemed that Gabi almost missed the conflict of their old lives. She was always excited to put herself in danger, and maybe this was her new way of getting that kick of adrenaline. Well, as her best friend, he would never turn her down, even for something as trivial as-

“Falco, pay attention!” She grunted, suddenly staring straight back into his eyes. He gulped. “Are you ready?”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“Ready…” His eyes shifted to Levi, who was now taking a moment to browse the array of colours set up on the porch of the flower shop. The lady working there must have noticed him coming, and was kind enough to hold the door open for him as he rolled up the ramp to the entrance.

“Set…” As soon as he disappeared behind the glass door, Gabi hit Falco’s back.

“Go!” she yelled.

Pressing the hat down on his head, Falco ran down the hill, doing his best not to trip as he made his way towards the building. Their predetermined route allowed him to move as swiftly as possible while avoiding any doors or windows due to the slight curve. With one last, clumsy jump over the edge of the street, Falco got as close as he could to the wall of the building and hunched down. His breathing had quickened somewhat, resulting in quiet pants as he collected himself. While the door to the shop had closed, the window was thankfully open, allowing him to listen in and analyse the situation.

Operation one: Gather information

“Do you need my recommendation today, Levi?”

“You should know I don’t have any knowledge on these things,” he grumbled, “I just need it to look nice.” Falco was able to make out a faint sigh. “Something happy, preferably.”

“Something happy,” the cashier echoed. “Would chrysanthemums do the trick?”

“Chrystanthe-what?” She chuckled.

“Bright, yellow flowers,” she said, picking a pot from the shelf. “Makes you smile, right? They make for a great addition to any home, and are used both for memorials and decoration.” Falco’s ears perked up at this. He determined that he would have to leave his position outside the shop in order to observe the flowers. The visuals could hold essential information, after all. He quickly glanced up to the hill where Gabi met his eyes with a thumbs up. With a deep breath, he gathered courage and pushed the door open, simultaneously pushing his fedora down over his face.

“Welcome!” The lady helping Levi greeted him. He opened his mouth to greet her back, before remembering that his voice would give him away. Awkward social situations were a necessary compromise for the operation to succeed. Instead, he slipped as far as he could into the opposite corner of the shop, turned around and pretended that the bags of soil in front of him were really interesting. Gabi acted like the disguise was perfect, but even with the fancy jacket and matching hat, Falco was unsure if he could pass as a random civilian with this behaviour.

The store was crammed to the max with as many plants that could possibly fit into such a small building. Everywhere possible, there were pots with flowers or boxes full of gardening equipment. If you were too reckless with your movement, there was a risk of bumping into obstacles everywhere you went. While it was difficult to stay far away from Levi in the cramped shop, it did instead provide many shelves to hide behind, as long as he was careful. Regardless, Falco was somewhat confident that he could execute the job flawlessly.

“Decided yet, Levi?” She continued. “Daffodils are also a great choice,” she tried again. “They reach high towards the sky with ambition and strength.”

“Quite on the nose.” She laughed.

“Well, you’re not a roses kinda guy, are you?”

“Definitely no roses.” Falco gazed over his shoulder as subtly as he could, catching the sight of the two. The lady dragged the pot of a yellow pair of flowers off the shelf and held it in front of Levi. They didn’t look very romantic, in Falco’s opinion.

“No matter what your choice of flower is, I assure you that your love will shine through.” Her smile beamed with light this time. “Because flowers are the best gifts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he deflected. “Let’s do those daffodils this time.”

Falco frowned at the choice of flowers, but regardless, he had gathered the information he came there for. It meant almost absolutely nothing, but enough to potentially, maybe, sort of confirm Gabi’s theory that the flowers are meant for a lover. Feeling satisfied with the information, he walked towards the door, but the crowded room unfortunately included tons of things he was capable of knocking over. With a loud clang, an empty, metal watering can hit the floor, and Falco felt his mind scream in embarrassment.

“...Falco?”

“O-Oh, Levi!” He exclaimed, lifting his fedora and thus giving the disguise up. “Didn’t see ya there!” Levi’s expression turned sour. “I mean, I was so absorbed in the- uhh-” He looked at the shelf in front of him. “These new gardening gloves! I’ve been meaning to get some.”

“...Right. For your gardening.” Falco suddenly realised what Levi’s scowl was about and began a frantic attempt at brushing the dirt off of his coat.

“Me and Gabi are trying out this new idea of planting veggies for everyone!” After his failed attempt at cleaning himself, he walked over to the wall of seeds instead. “Maybe potatoes!”

“Oh honey,” the flower lady butted in, “potatoes won’t be in season until april.” Falco’s smile wavered. “Let me help you.”

Falco left the store with a bag of lettuce seeds, gardening gloves, and an empty wallet - without much of a clue to report back to Gabi.

//// That concludes chapter one! Next time, they'll have to try another approach. Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated. This is my first published fanfic, so please be kind lol!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot #snk #attack on titan spoilers #levi ackerman #erwin smith #gabi braun #falco grice #eruri #fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction

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fangsp1der-2099 · 8 months

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Scratches and Hugs Miguel x gn!reader

As the head of the Spider Society, Miguel O’Hara had to be stoic, strong and a leader. As his partner you love that about him but you also know that he can also be soft, kind and gentle but being “the protecter of the multiverse”(as he likes to call himself) can’t be that. Or at least…he thinks that.

He also believes that PDA makes him look weak meaning no kisses, hugs or hand holding, which is hard for you since you love PDA. Once you tried holding his hand while taking a walk along the roof of the Spider Society HQ but the second your fingers brushed against each other he moved away. “Y/N what are you doing!? Someone could see us!” He snaps at you, he rarely ever snaps at you. So after that day you didn’t even try to show your affection for him in public.

You came back from a mission injured. Which was nothing new , in nearly every mission you came back bruised but this time you had a fight with a violent vulture. The vulture had grabbed your shoulder and now there was a gaping wound there. It was nothing to worry about but you were still put in the infirmary to recover.

You hear heavy footsteps move to your door and the grip on your bedsheets tightened . The door opened revealing an exhausted Miguel. His hair was disheveled and dark bags hung from his eyes. “Miguel are you ok?” A soft tone erupts from your mouth and the grip on the bedsheets loosen.

“What do you think?” He squeezes the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I was worried sick Y/N! Why didn’t you ask for back up?” He snaps at you. Your mind races back to the night you tried to hold his hand.

“Look I’m sorry I didn’t think I needed help! I’m fine it’s just a scratch!” You hurry your words out you show him your quickly healing wound.

You hear him swear a few words and then he moves towards you and wraps his giant, muscular arms around you.

You take a deep breath, taking him all in. Was this really happening? He was hugging, no holding you in public?! You were in a room but the glass screen were still there for the whole infirmary to see. Your breath collides against the crook of his neck. “Miguel please I’m sorry.” You wrap your own arms around him.

“I was so worried Y/N! I thought you had been seriously hurt!” His voice cracks a little. This is the side you like of Miguel. Where’s he’s soft and worried and kind. The side only you get to see.

You sit there for a few minutes before you both hear a familiar voice. “Well what do we have here?” Jess opens the door and both of you freeze. “It’s not what it looks like Jess!” You wave your arms around in defence and Miguel is still frozen in his spot. “Oh please we all know about you two.” She crosses her arms and gives us both a look. Miguel finally raises his head. “I’ll be leaving now.” He finally moves but as he’s walking to the door Jess steps in-front of him. “No you’re not,” she puts a hand onto her hip and points a finger to his chest, “Sit.” He makes an almost growling noise. “No Jess, move out of the way”. The two continue to argue. They were like little kids. “Miguel just tell her it isn’t that big of a deal!” You shout to him and he grumbles to himself.

“Four months.” He says in a whisper. “What was that?” Jess teases him. “Four months!” Miguel shouts a little too loudly. “You could’ve just said that. And by the way I really don’t care who you go out with.” She laughs before saying. “You’ve got your work cut out for you Y/N.” You laugh and she says goodbye.

“Shit everyone knows now don’t they”

a/n: I’m super nervous to post this so please be nice and I will be taking requests from now 🤗

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x you #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse

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hawthornsword · 4 months

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For the wip tag thing - could you tell us some about Loyalty As A Love Language pt 2? <3

I'd be glad to!

I wrote the first part so quickly I never thought it would take me this long to continue it, but I have a bad habit of scope creep - my stories always get much bigger than I initially expect. Currently it's got its own folder with files of notes for Kamino, Fox, Rex, The Bad Batch, and one that I make myself laugh with every time I see it called "Alpha Seventeen's Guide to Rehabilitating Your Sith."

But I won't tease, I know you want more Waxer/Boil. 😁

Here's a bit of Waxer post-Umbara:

Waxer lay against soft pillows listening to the sound of the heart monitor beeping. He couldn't see it because the right side of his face was still bandaged. He'd only come out of bacta yesterday. The Jedi healers said his recovery would be slow, due to bacta shortages - they couldn't spare any more. He'd have to heal the old fashioned way, and then go through physical therapy after that.

Waxer had taken the edge of a grenade blast on Umbara. He didn't remember much of the event itself besides hearing Obi-Wan's voice through the haze of pain. Later, Rex told him that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had healed everyone on the battlefield who wasn't already dead. The Jedi got them stable enough for the medics to take over.

Waxer had just sighed. 'Helix isn't letting Obi-Wan out of his sight, is he?"

Rex laughed. "You've got that right. I think he's been quoting studies about the dangers of Force exhaustion. And Kix would be the same with Ahsoka, but Charger has followed her around like a duckling ever since she saved him on the Citadel mission, so Kix appointed him her personal medic."

Waxer had laughed through his pain. Now, he closed his eyes so he didn't have to stare at the warmly sunlit walls of the healing halls that were the wrong shade of gold. The 212th and the 501st had both shipped out from Coruscant again before Waxer had come out of bacta, and they weren't yet out of hyperspace. Bugs, the padawan-healer in charge of him, had looked a little starry eyed when Waxer had woken and said he needed to call his riduur, and had promised to let Waxer know as soon as he was able to. The kid was a Zeltron - a natural born romantic.

There was a sigh to his left. Waxer glanced over with just his eyes. It was still hard to move his neck.

"I'm bored," Hardcase whined. Waxer chuckled and winced. Some things never changed. Hardcase had been hard to corral since they were cadets.

"Case, you got blown up. Don't you want to rest?"

"Only a little, not nearly as bad as you. I need something to do, or I won't be able to rest."

"Ask Bugs when they come by. I'm sure they'll be happy to help." Waxer suggested. Hardcase lit up at the mention of the padawan. They were already thick as thieves.

#tag game #my writing #clone trooper waxer #lieutenant waxer #clone trooper hardcase

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jinxedshapeshifter · 1 year

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No, Silver the Hedgehog's Personality Has Not Changed: An Analysis

Okay, I'll be upfront about Silver being my favorite Sonic character here so there's transparency. However, I've also either played or watched someone else play every game Silver shows up in and read all the IDW comics (except the Bad Guys miniseries). I am qualified to analyze Silver's personality. This also gets personal in both the tags and towards the end of the analysis, and the post is long, so I'll add a read more break.

So first things first: the stuff people complain about. Here are the main complaints I see:

His personality is completely different from how it was in Sonic 06 and Sonic Rivals

His dorky traits (such as his social awkwardness) have been amplified

Neither of these are necessarily true. Let's start with the first complaint, his personality being completely different. My reasoning for this does tie into the second point however.

Let's quickly go over how personalities work. Under different circumstances, different aspects of a person's personality might be more prominent. For example, I'm a naturally anxious person. Under certain circumstances -- usually being around people I know -- my social anxiety specifically disappears almost completely because of circumstances. This can even be seen in the Sonic series with other characters.

Vector isn't usually aggressive, but he can be provided the circumstances are right, as seen in Sonic Heroes.

Sonic likes to goof off and joke around, but he can be serious if the situation requires it.

In Sonic Prime, Rouge does do a lot of treasure hunting and loves looking for gems, but if the situation puts her in danger, she avoids it; she specifically says "No gem is worth losing my wings over!"

Silver's circumstances are different from his circumstances in 06 or Rivals, and he's developed to realize that he doesn't always need to solve things with violence.

It's also worth noting that from the beginning he's been relatively awkward when it comes to situations where he's not trying to save the world. He's even awkward when he is trying to save the world. He's always been awkward in social situations especially, because aside from Sonic 06 he's been alone most of his life, and even in Sonic 06 he's presumably only ever interacted with Blaze before meeting Mephiles, so he's not used to interacting with other people socially.

I'd argue that it's implied he's not as socially awkward when he's with someone he knows when Blaze mentions in 06 that he's "pretty insecure when he's alone" because I'm the same way. If I'm not around someone I know, I get incredibly anxious and insecure in social situations. It's even directly shown in 06 that he gets awkward in social situations when he's alone; when Blaze is around he interacts with Mephiles and Sonic just fine, but the second Blaze is gone he gets awkward when he interacts with anyone he doesn't know.

This is mainly seen in the cutscene where he first meets Amy. He has no idea how to respond to her throughout the entire exchange, making him come off as awkward. Even as they're helping each other, he's still incredibly awkward.

It's even implied he's not naturally aggressive:

Him questioning whether it's right to kill Sonic to save the world means doing so likely conflicts with his morals. He's so conflicted on whether or not it's right to kill Sonic that he is literally willing to let the future stay how it is if he decides it's not the right thing to do. It's because of Blaze that he continues to go after Sonic, but my point still stands: he had a moral crisis over killing Sonic, implying that sort of aggression isn't in his nature.

Also in Sonic 06 and Sonic Rivals 2, he's shown to be quite the awkward dork when he's not focused on a mission. In the Sonic Rivals duology especially, he's shown to throw hands first and ask questions later, but he does -- again -- take a nonviolent route in his story; his story is the only time Capture the Chao is played in Story Mode in Sonic Rivals 2, and he decides to play it with Sonic instead of fighting/racing him again. The reason he's so aggressive in the Rivals duology is because he thinks everyone's getting in his way. He becomes incredibly docile towards Espio when Espio offers to help him in Sonic Rivals 2. The only reason he was so violent towards everyone else in Rivals and Rivals 2 is because he wanted them out of his way, and this continues to be the case as the franchise goes on, albeit to a milder extent. Listen to his in race dialogue in Team Sonic Racing, it proves my point. He LITERALLY tells Big, IN THE MOST MOCKING VOICE EVER, "Go home to Froggy, Big!"

Speaking of Team Sonic Racing ...

He's shown in both TSR and Sonic Colors DS to be incredibly docile if he doesn't have a set goal (I’m not counting his snark in Colors DS as hostility so don’t bring it up). Remember, in both games there’s no mention of his future still being ruined; in Colors DS, he specified that his future is no different than the present, and the most we get about his future in TSR is a line from Zavok about there “being worse in your future, Silver!” During races he gets non-aggressively hostile because he’s competitive.

His personality only is how it is in Sonic 06 and the Rivals duology because he’s set on a goal and views everyone else as obstacles, with the exception of Espio who is helping him. In every other situation, his hostility is playful/competitive hostility, not necessarily genuine hostility.

So, in summary: Silver’s personality hasn’t changed, but his circumstances have, and he’s learned that he doesn’t need to resort to violence to solve every problem. That’s why his dorky traits are more likely to be highlighted. Those traits have always been there, but his hostility overshadowed it most of the time because he had a set goal in mind and everyone, in his eyes, was getting in his way. Since he’s learned how to handle those kinds of situations without getting overly hostile, his more aggressive traits aren’t as prominent. Those traits end up prominent again when he gets competitive. He’s grown as a person and learned to have more self control. Why is that a bad thing? Why is Silver developing enough to not see violence as necessary a bad thing?

Now I’m gonna get personal for a sec because I was much like Silver was in 06 and Rivals at one point, likely due to my autism going undiagnosed for far too long. I’m no longer like that because I developed as a person.

So I ask again, why is Silver no longer seeing violence as inherently necessary a bad thing? Why is it bad that he’s more dorky and awkward than hostile and aggressive now? Answer: it’s not. He’s developed, and it makes me incredibly upset that it’s criticized instead of celebrated, because his mentality in 06 and the Rivals duology would've realistically led to some incredibly toxic relationships.

#silver the hedgehog #analysis #sonic analysis #sonic fandom acknowledge character development challenge 2023: impossible #look admittedly my personal experience with a similar type of personal development might make me biased #as well as silver being my favorite character #but at the same time due to my personal growth being similar to silver's seeing people say he should've stayed the way he was makes me feel #invalid? i guess?#like unless you've been around someone or been someone with behavior and a mentality similar to silver's in 06 and the rivals duology #you do not know how fucking toxic it is to be around it #without his development silver would not be able to have functional healthy relationships #it's better to be awkward and communicative than aggressive and hostile during a confrontation and thats exactly how he is now #which makes for infinitely healthier relationships #tags are really me saying 'and i took that PERSONALLY' lmfao

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xviruserrorx · 3 months

Text

Title: "Would We Be Caught Dead Here?"

I am oh so very late and I know I didn't do the interest check but I wanted to do the @elyan-fest so here is Day 1's for the prompt "Stop, coming back". Also 1. This fic seems really weird to me, I don't know what it is, I like the fic I really do, but there's something weird about it. And 2. From the get-go this was supposed to be Elyan/Merlin, like the situation, the image it was all merlyan... And then I wrote the dialogue and it was very much the way I normally write Mordred—but not they way I normally write Mordred's dynamic with Elyan though—but, but the situation, the actions are very Merlin (to me) but the dialogue is too much not-Merlin (how I normally write him) for me. And I can see Mordred doing the actions under a situation (the situation being this weird au). Okay... Yeah there's my weird dilema. This fic wrote itself, truly, it's not even the ship I originally wanted it to be which has never happened to me before. Anyways Enjoy! 😁

Elyan Fest - Tumblr | Ao3 - [-> Next]

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Prompt(s): "Stop, Coming Back"

Relationship(s): Elyan/Mordred

Character(s): Sir Elyan, Mordred

Important Tag(s): Canon Divergence, Post-magic reveal, Magic Reveal Gone Wrong

Rating: Gen

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply, Mention of Blood and Death, Manhandling (kinda sorta)

Word Count: 1,659

“I'm risking it all just for you.” Elyan felt a shiver run down his body. Mordred's hand found his and he lifted the other to brush his fingers on his jaw. “I'm risking my capture just to say I love you,” Or After a long day Elyan returns to his chambers to find an unexpected person in wait for him.

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Elyan rolled his shoulders. His chainmail grew heavier with every move that even the weight of his cape seemed to make things worse.

He swatted his arm back, grabbing the feet of cloth from dragging behind him. All need for his appearance dropped. The halls were empty, only the sound of his shoes against the floor filled the silence of the night. His normal company of one of the other knights had faded slowly but surely over the months. Though, he could say that for many things of the Camelot that he knew.

Camelot's once strict laws against magic somehow had grown worse in such little time. The leniency of the death penalty for those with or through any association of magic was all but gone.

Gallows were built more often, the executioner consulted more often, and the smell of burning flesh had little remedy to remove the after trace it left on his clothes, skin, and the air of Camelot as a whole.

The king was no longer the king he had promised to protect and serve. It'd been far too long since he had seen his sister's smile. The one he'd once teased her about; love and everything more for what she held for Arthur. He'd hardly seen them glance each other's way in weeks.

Missions that before had them picking on one another were nothing the same. Gwaine had little energy to display his usual charm; he was Camelot's best swordsman after all. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked to Percival, more so even heard the other knight say anything. But perhaps it was Leon he saw take it all the hardest. Comparing Camelot's records to when Uther reigned, none of them could have ever imagined those records matching, even surpassing the older ones.

They had been happier once at the peak of war.

Instead they were sent on tasks—hunt after hunt. It was nothing more than the king using them as a hawk as they brought innocent people one after another to his feet.

All of them hesitated just the same to continue to perform each task they were ordered. Elyan knew it was out of fear. Fear none of them possessed before everything happened, as if everything was the proper word to cover it all.

Elyan let out a sigh of relief as he reached his room, his hand coming to undo his cape buckle around his neck. He yanked the leather free and felt the chill of the night come over him as he closed the door, the all too familiar presence partnered to close.

He'd done this before. Too many times before.

He pressed his eyes and edged the exhaustion further. “We can't keep doing this.” He turned around and tossed his cape to the side.

His window was wide open as he had suspected. The figure he knew too well was sitting on the window ledge; legs crossed, hands gripping the sill, cloaked over in moonlight and yet still completely hidden in darkness. As if Elyan didn't know all of him to recognize him with much less.

He let out a scoff. “And you know it too, Mordred.”

Gold lit in the dark, a rush of something he only could find desirable from him as flames erupted at the wicks of the candles.

Elyan felt some of the day's tension fall away. Even though It felt wrong to find such comfort in something he imprisoned day after day.

The soft glow from the candles lit Mordred's face as he stood up. He removed the black hood from over his head and let the light take over him. An expression of something somber yet unreadable was all he showed to him.

Mordred walked closer, his finger tracing down the exposed blade that laid on the table in his room. Elyan hadn't found the strength to properly clean it off since that morning, just the dried remnants of what they both knew, left there to be.

“Patrol has tightened,” he spoke. “More guards, more knights.”

Elyan nodded. “The king has things… different.”

His finger traced the bottom of the hilt where the name of his sword was branded. “Not different enough.” He pulled away, his cloak catching in a gust of wind through the window.

“I suppose not.” Elyan walked over, grabbing the empty scabbard from the other end of the table. “Still holes in our defense?”

Mordred cocked his head. “If you know where to find them.”

He sheathed his sword, placing it back on the rack with the rest of the weapons. Mordred watched.

“And how to make them,” Mordred continued.

Elyan stopped. He eased his shoulders to relax and to turn back towards Mordred. “Why are you here?”

He stood there, something mocking humor played at his lips. “You know why,” he said. He turned on his heal, looking around his room. “I've heard things have gotten worse around here since…”

That unspeakable incident. Perhaps they both wished it was all just some nightmare they were trapped in together.

“They have.”

“And Merlin?” he asked.

Elyan moved, following behind him. “He's been adjusting.” It wasn't a lie. It was all he knew. It was all both the king and queen had said about Merlin since they'd last seen him all those months ago.

Mordred scoffed. “The king's closest friend swears off magic. Sounds too familiar.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Did Morgana tell you that?”

He turned to face him. He shook his head. “Morgana’s still in Ismere, has been for a fortnight. Didn't want to go.” He glanced down at his feet. “I've been with my people.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

Mordred all but rolled his eyes then loosened the laces of his cloak. His robes and talisman around his neck all the proof he needed.

“You didn't tell me that.”

He raised an eyebrow, sarcasm dancing across his face as he pulled his cloak back around. “Because you think me a murderer.” He fumbled with his laces.

Elyan closed the distance and nudged Mordred's hands away and took over. “I think, from what I've heard, you possess very powerful magic, Mordred. Magic you can use to protect yourself.” He pulled the laces into a knot.

“Protect. Kill. Defend,” Mordred said. “It's no use when you see it all the same.”

Elyan took a breath and dropped his hands to Mordred's shoulders, straightening out his cloak and fixing his talisman. “Not me.” He let them fall back to his side.

Mordred smiled. “Not you,” He emphasized

Elyan knew at the end of the day they would have Mordred killed, no matter if there was blood on his hands or not. History or not, he knew perhaps that might have made him all the more wanted for Camelot's gallows.

“I know you know.” Mordred stepped closer. “And you know too, but…” He tilted his head to the side, their noses brushed one another's. “I'm risking it all just for you.”

Elyan felt a shiver run down his body. Mordred's hand found his and he lifted the other to brush his fingers on his jaw.

“I'm risking my capture just to say I love you,” he continued.

Elyan turned his head away but felt that gentle touch deepen and pull his head back forward.

“And you're risking just the same.”

He swatted his hand away and grabbed Mordred's wrist in the same strike. Watching that facade of bravery crumble underneath his touch as Mordred's expression twisted. Pain infiltrated in the cracks, leaving the same scared boy who had fled Camelot months back right in front of him.

“I have a chance,” he spoke through his teeth. “You don't.”

Mordred twisted his hand but he only tightened his hold. It would bruise. They both knew it. The longer Elyan held and the more Mordred moved and struggled guaranteed it.

“Stop coming back,” he continued.

Mordred cocked an eyebrow, teasing him with that feigned innocent look that turned mischievous all too quickly. “If that's what you want.”

“It is.”

He held his gaze. Neither of them wanting to give in till Mordred lowered his head and looked away. “Fine.” He yanked his arm free as Elyan loosened his grip.

Elyan breathed out, staying in place as Mordred turned around back towards the window. Until he stopped.

“What?”

Mordred turned around. “You and I both know that if you really didn't like this—me coming here night after night. You would've told the queen or king already.”

“I wouldn't do that to you.”

He lightly chuckled, a grin forming on his face. “You wouldn't,” he agreed. “Keep your space. Keep me safe, keep you safe. Is that not it?” He took a step back.

Elyan shook his head. “Our love isn't worth your torture.”

He smiled, something of hope there too. “Isn't it?”

Elyan swallowed past the lump that formed in his throat. “Go. Camelot isn't safe for you anymore.”

He gave him a pitiful smile. “Was it ever?” Mordred continued to walk backwards.

Elyan looked down, seeing how close he was to the open window. “Mordred?”

The back of his knees hit the ledge. That smile changed. “I'll just risk it again.”

He watched as Mordred leaned back his weight and fell out the window.

“Mordred!” He lunged forward, scrambling to grab the ends of his cloak but was too late. He stuck his head out the window, exhaustion no longer a thought as he looked at the drop to the ground.

No Mordred. No body. No cloak. He looked up. The cloaked figure that was in his chamber was walking away.

Mordred turned around, still walking and looked up at him. He smiled one of his all too fleeting grins before he pulled the hood forward and turned back around.

Elyan watched as his cloaked figure walked on and disappeared without a sound on Camelot's grounds.

#bbc merlin #virusfanfic #elyanfest2024 #merlin fanfic #sir elyan #sir mordred #fanfiction #elyandred #????? i dont know their ship name #this fic feels so weird to me i dont know why i really like how it cane out i mean the au is kinda oddly placed but...#its fine im gonna sit on it for like a week and then come back to it and ill be like 'oh its fine now i was just being me'

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dk-wren · 5 months

Note

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "dk-wren"?

Hello Anon!

Thank you so much for the ask. I really wish I kept better track of the fics I've read and enjoyed for myself, as well as to answer your question a little better. The 10 I've chosen represent both a mix of my all time favorites and some of my recent favs.

(I'll link all of them at the bottom of the post for the sake of formatting and to help with the flow of reading. Also, if you are the author for one of the fics I've listed and would like to be tagged, please let me know! I'd be more than happy to!)

Buddy Daddies

Let's Make this Last Forever & Practice Makes Perfect by ZsBrainrot

Love these fics as they both explore Rei and Kazuki's relationship and some of their earlier moments as a couple (or as they begin to realize their feelings for each other). Love their other BD works too, but if I had to narrow it down, I'd say these are my favorites from Z.

Every Reason Not To by Jenanigans1207

Just a sweet little fic of Kazuki talking to Rei about how he is nothing like his father and that he is loved and wanted by both Miri and him.

Bolt from the Blue by AlexiasRei

Fun crossover with Spy x Family and the Forger family. Also, love how all the parents get a little slice of action to show off their (some more than others) hidden identities.

Spy x Family

Cold. by MyriadOfThings

I remember this being one of the first Spy x Family fics I read and it has continued to stand out to me. The angst of Twilight still having to leave the Forger family after Operation Strix was a success, seeing Yor as Thorn Princess going to any length to find out where her husband is, and the ending!

The Woman in Red by nightofmynyx8

I think this was the first series I read on AO3 as it was being released. Literally, remember being so excited whenever I saw a new chapter dropped. Also, loved seeing Yor take center stage in this mission and protective Loid.

Trigun/Trigun Stampede

Take Care by Lunarame

I'm always interested in how different artists explore Vash's wings and how he reacts to their appearance. For most of his life, Vash has constantly been on the run, so I love the tenderness of Wolfwood just wanting to take care of Vash and his wings in this fic.

Waiting at that shallow grave by riotintheheartt

I really enjoyed this piece from the Vashwood Big Bang that took place recently (and still might be taking place). This is the first one I started and quickly fell in love with it. I was super intrigued by the premise and loved how it was told in a non-linear way.

Banana Fish

I always wanted to protect you - Flying by Enora_Wings

Shorelines by snowcapped_detours

Guess who just watched Banana Fish? Me! And guess who's been reading fics to cope? Also me! Jokes aside, these represent some of my more recent faves, especially for the Banana Fish fandom. It's also fun(?) because they sorta represent two sides of the scenario of what if Ash reunited with Eiji.

As for your second question, Anon, yes, there is a story behind my name Dakota (or DK) Wren.

Dakota (and the nickname DK) was the name of my favorite doll growing up. Looking back, I realized how much the scenarios I would imagine in my head and how I would dress her should've been a big indicator of the geeky, fandom lover I am today. I knew others would play like school or mall with their dolls, and then you had me dressing her up and pretending she was going to SDCC, Star Wars Celebration, etc. In a way, playing with Dakota when I was little was the first time I could really embrace this side of my personality without feeling the need to simmer it down or pull back on how I expressed my love for all these things. That's why, when creating this name, I knew right away I wanted Dakota incorporated in some way.

As for the "last name," Wren, that was pulled from one of, if not my favorite character, Sabine Wren from Star Wars Rebels. I discussed why I love Sabine so much and what she means to me in a previous post, but basically, I loved how she used art as a form of resistance. For her, the power of art could cause as much change as physical power. And for someone who spends a lot of time in the arts, I just really loved this aspect of her. Likewise, I loved how she was portrayed in Star Wars Rebels as this character who was both strong and emotionally vulnerable. The complexities of her past, and how she must deal with them in the present, is what caused me to love her even more. Since Dakota Wren was going to be my pen/writer name, the way her artistic side is emphasized throughout Rebels, and my general love for her, is what caused me to pick Wren as the second part of my name.

Thank you again for the ask! I hope you enjoy the fics if you take the time to read them. I've only really gotten into reading fics from these fandoms (even though I'm in a few more) so I apologize if you were hoping for fics from a fandom I didn't list above. Also, if you (or anyone else) has any fic recs from these fandoms, please send them my way!

Thank you as well for asking about the story behind my name, it was really fun to talk about! Maybe not the most interesting or elaborate, but both parts of my name mean a lot to me, so I'm glad I could share the story of how I created my name!

-Dakota Wren

Links to the all the listed fics:

#asks #favorite fics!#buddy daddies fic #spy x family fic #trigun fic #banana fish fic #story behind name

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jodithann827 · 1 year

Text

Pretty Woman 5/11

Rating: Explicit /posted on AO3 / tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter Summary: an awkward dinner and sex on a piano… yes please!

Waldorf Astoria

Lobby

Saturday

7:45 pm

Mulder strides confidently through the lobby, a man on a singular mission.

Gentle music is playing in the background, patrons milling about. He’s been going over different dinner scenarios since he left the office. Dressed in a sharp gray suit, he makes his way to the concierge desk and asks the attendant if he has any messages. He looks around, slightly concerned that he doesn’t see Scully. He checks his watch again, making sure the time is correct.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mulder.” A voice interrupts his thoughts. Looking to the right, Mulder sees a man about his height but broad-shouldered, sporting glasses and a bald head. He picks up the phone on the counter, intending to call the room to hurry Scully along, when the bald man continues speaking. “My name is Walter Skinner, and I’m the manager of the Waldorf Astoria. I have a message for you, from your niece.” Mulder, looking vaguely confused, lowers the phone, giving the man his full attention. “The woman who is staying with you, your niece,” Skinner insists.

Mulder holds his hand up, signaling Skinner not to continue. “Mr. Skinner, I think you and I both know that she isn’t my niece. The reason I know this is because my sister never had the chance to have children.”

“Yes, sir,” Skinner relents. “Ms. Dana asked me to relay a message. She is waiting for you in the lounge.” Mulder turns to head in the direction of the lounge and hears Skinner add, “Captivating young lady, she is. Something about her…”

Nodding his head in agreement, Mulder makes his way into the lounge area, a darker room filled with soft chatter and faint music playing. He turns his head from side to side, looking for Scully, but he doesn’t see her. Thinking the message was wrong, he turns to leave but stops in the doorway to take one last, quick look around.

Scully, seated at the bartop, swivels her chair as Mulder turns back to face the bar a second time. Their eyes meet and for a moment, Mulder is too gobsmacked to speak. His mouth then curls into a smile. She is dressed in a black, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that hugs her curves and falls to her knees. Her wine-colored hair is pinned up on one side, letting the soft curls fall loosely over her shoulder. She stands and slowly makes her way over to him.

“You’re late,” she informs him, her eyes never leaving his.

“You’re dazzling,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She walks in front of him and his hand falls to the small of her back, escorting her out of the bar and into the night air.

The Voltaire

8:15 pm

Mulder and Scully approach an impeccably set dinner table with crisp white linens and grand china, where two men are already seated. As they near, the two gentlemen stand while the host pulls Scully’s chair out and she sits. Only then do the men take their seats. Scully regards the scene. Fancy music, elaborately dressed individuals, and divine smells wafting from other tables. She glances at the mysterious men sitting across from her, one old and one young. Unbeknownst to the reason, she shivers. She senses the older gentleman’s eyes on her, studying her with a predator’s unwavering attention. Something makes her uneasy. She snaps out of her trance at the sound of Mulder’s voice.

“Mr. Spender, it’s very nice to meet you in person.” He introduces himself to them with the same charm as he did Scully, though much less flirtation.

“My son, Jeffery,” Spender introduces after shaking Mulder’s hand. Mulder turns, introducing Scully to the men. When her slim fingers make contact with the old and wrinkled hand, she tenses ever so slightly.

Dinner proceeds as a quiet affair. The men stick to comfortable subjects: stocks, the weather, Mulder attempts to bring up sports, specifically the Knicks, but neither Spender appears interested. Scully interjects every so often, feeling the strong need to help Mulder break the ice, so to speak, but mostly she sticks to eating the robust meal in front of her, although her nerves get the better of her more often than not.

“Look, Mr. Mulder,” the elder Spender unexpectedly utters, “I know you want to buy my company, and I know I spoke with your lawyers and told them it was a done deal. However, I have changed my mind.”

His voice is casual but steady. No-nonsense, as if he were talking about the sale of a used car and not a multi-billion dollar business. Mulder sets his fork down, intent on giving his complete attention to the matter at hand.

“I knew your father,” Spender states, catching Mulder off guard. Scully sees it, the slight clenching of Mulder’s jaw.

Recovering quickly, Mulder replies, “I didn’t know.”

“I was sorry to hear he passed away. I knew him for many years. We worked together once upon a time.” Mulder gives a slight nod. Pausing before speaking again, possibly pondering something profound, Spender pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one flippantly.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.” Scully looks around, realizing the chastising came from her own voicebox. Spender gives a snide smile but continues puffing away.

“Your father was a hard worker when push came to shove. He mentioned you from time to time. Hinted at the fact that you and I should work together one day. I feel as though that day has finally come. You can buy my company, Mr. Mulder, but I would like you along with it.”

Jeffery clears his throat in an attempt to corral his father. Spender senior steals a sideways glance and puts him in his place with one searing look.

“Excuse me,” Jeffery says, standing. Scully watches him walk away, presumably in the direction of the restrooms.

“You and I could make an extraordinary team, Fox,” Spender tells him, using his given name. Scully thinks he’s trying to pack more of a punch. Unsure of what to do, she sits quietly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and stares at her fingers.

“Why me?” Mulder suddenly asks. “It seems like you have a protege in your son.”

“Jeffery’s a good boy, but he doesn’t have what it takes.”

“And I do? You’re being very evasive. Is it purposeful?”

“Yes and no. I like your focus on social commerce, Fox. You’re one of the most skilled entrepreneurs in this area. I think you would be a great asset,” he insists.

“What do you want to sell–” he starts, but is cut off by Jeffery’s return to the table.

“What did I miss?” Jeffery questions.

“Mr. Mulder is going to seriously consider joining our team,” Spender senior shares before Mulder can dispute the claims.

Scully, watching the scene unfold, sits back uncomfortably and she knows the evening cannot end soon enough.

“Well, Mr. Spender, you’ve certainly given me a lot to think about. I’ll be in touch.” Mulder states, effectively ending the conversation for the moment.

Waldorf Astoria

Penthouse

Mulder sits comfortably in a chair backed up against the patio wall. Scully, removing her shoes in favor of her bare feet, calls out to him, “What are you thinking?” She’s met with silence so she pokes her head outside the door. “You’re quiet,” she observes. She joins him on the patio, hoisting herself up to sit on the ledge.

“I’m usually good at reading people,” he tells her. “I can’t get one on him.”

“I had a lot of feelings,” she tells him. She spent the entire car ride back to the hotel replaying the evening in her head. Something was off. Something about the elder Spender reeks of unease.

“You can’t trust him,” she says, flatly.

“I don’t have a reason not to,” he tells her. She casts her eyes downward and Mulder softens slightly. “I’ve been working on this deal for almost six months, Scully.”

“I get it,” she expresses after a minute. “You can’t make it personal. It’s like me and the no kissing. It’s why I have that rule; it’s too personal. When I’m with a guy I compartmentalize. I’m like a robot. I just do it,” she tells him, realizing a second too late that she had, in fact, had sex with him the previous evening. She looks down for a second, cheeks tinged with pink. Then looking up at him she corrects herself, “Well, not with you.”

Mulder smiles and waves his hand gently, stating, “Of course not.” Scully smiles back at him. Mulder, remembering the previous evening, comments, “So the whole no orgasm thing…”

Scully looks at him, slightly shocked by his brazenness. He’s waiting for her to elaborate.

“It’s simple, actually,” she explains. “Sex for men and women is different. For men it’s physical. For women, it’s emotional. They’re johns: guys I pick up who pay me. I will not, cannot, become emotionally invested.” She turns her head sideways, taking in the view.

They are both quiet for a moment. Mulder, still seated, is lost in his own thoughts when Scully suddenly announces, “I’m sorry about your dad.” Mulder looks at her, giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Were you close with him?” she questions. Mulder stares past her, pondering the question.

“I hadn’t seen him in a really long time. We weren’t close. I wasn’t there when he died,” he confesses. Scully looks at him, this smart, capable, kind, and apparently sensitive man. She wants to wrap him in a hug and never let go. She understands a thing or two about pain, about losing a parent. She hops off the ledge, walks to him, and bends down so she is at eye level with him.

“How about we veg out in front of the TV tonight? Stuff our faces with ice cream and watch old movies?” she suggests. Mulder stands and moves towards the balcony door and Scully moves to follow him.

He stops, gently touching her chin, and says, “I’ll be back in a little while. We can do that tomorrow night.” He walks in from the balcony without another word.

She follows, watching him go to the front door and leave.

Hotel Lobby

3:00 am

Scully, dressed in the white terrycloth robe, face scrubbed free of makeup, exits the elevator. Her eyes roam the deserted lobby of the hotel. After Mulder left she had changed out of her dress, washed her face, and watched TV for the better part of three hours. Understanding his need to be alone, she wrestled with herself on whether to go after him or not, finally settling on tracking him down.

She hears the sound of soft piano music drifting from the ballroom. Wandering over, she pokes her head through the door and takes in the sight. The hotel staff is cleaning, organizing, and moving tables and chairs. There is a man sweeping behind the bar. Mulder is sitting at the piano, playing a song Scully doesn’t know, but she is in awe of his talent. She drifts over to him, staying out of sight behind him, not saying anything for fear he will stop. Mulder continues to play, finishing out the song. The staff around them applaud and Scully clears her throat, making herself known.

Mulder turns to see her and smiles. “I only play piano for strangers,” he informs her.

She walks around him and leans against the piano as she counters, “It was beautiful.” After a pause, she declares, “I was getting lonely.” His eyes meet hers, understanding both meanings of her words.

Mulder turns towards the employees and instructs kindly, “Gentlemen, would you please leave us.” Scully looks on as the men begin dispersing. She pushes herself away from the side of the piano. Mulder is still seated on the piano bench. She moves to stand in the small space between him and the keys.

“Do people always do what you tell them to?” she asks, though they both know it’s a rhetorical question.

Mulder reaches up and grabs her around the waist, pulling her towards him. “I guess so,” she whispers seductively.

Mulder confidently picks her up and places her on the grand piano, her feet hitting multiple keys, the sounds not nearly as pleasant as Mulder’s smooth playing. He steps into the space between her thighs, his hands on her waist and his mouth hovering over hers, tempting her to break her own rule. Their breathing speeds up.

The room is so quiet Scully swears Mulder can hear the pounding in her chest.

He parts the robe to reveal a black negligee, sliding it up to expose her belly. He leans over and kisses her stomach, and Scully lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She feels herself being gently pushed down, laying against the smooth wood of the piano top. Mulder nips, licks, and glides his tongue over her toned stomach. He spends time moving his tongue in, out, and around her belly button, paying special attention to the hoop that pierces it.

Scully breathes in sharply. It has been a very long time since someone bestowed her with this type of regard.

Satisfied with her stomach for the moment, he moves his mouth lower as his hands run over her thighs, reaching around to where the back of her legs connect to her ass. Knowing where he’s headed, Scully sits up on her elbows, breathing heavily. “Mulder, you don’t need to. I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” she tells him breathlessly. It’s not that she doesn’t love having a man’s lips on her, but he is paying her, and this shouldn’t be happening.

Mulder pauses and looks up at her, his eyes pleading in a strange way. “Please let me, Scully,” he requests, almost begging. At that moment she knows she can’t deny him anything.

She gives a little nod and he moves his mouth back to the top of her panties. He breathes out, his breath hot against her sex. His fingers slide over the creases of her thighs and slip into her now-drenched panties. He gently pulls them down and off her, discarding them on the floor next to the piano. His mouth descends upon her, and at the contact, she yelps softly. He begins licking up and down her slick folds, combining his wet mouth with her slick juices. He tongues her in a rhythmic motion, up and down, occasionally slipping his tongue into her.

“Oh,” she mewls. The sounds she’s making tonight are a stark contrast to what came out of her mouth the previous evening. After a few minutes of Mulder gliding up and down and back and forth he takes her clit between his lips and sucks.

“Oh my!” she shouts unexpectedly. Needing something to do with her hands, she tries grasping downward but only makes contact with the smooth surface of the piano. Instead, she finds part of her robe and clasps it tightly. It seems like forever that he is doing this.

Up, down, side, back, suck, nip, tongue. She begins writhing under his mouth, so close to the brink, unsure if she should let herself take the plunge.

Deep down she knows that in about thirty seconds or so, she won’t have much of a choice.

“Oh Jesus, Mulder,” a needy whimper escapes her mouth. This spurs Mulder on, willing to do anything to take her over the edge. Mulder takes one hand off her thigh, lowers it, and pushes a finger into her slowly, then adds another. He roughly moves in and out of her a handful of times and suddenly she is flying, not holding back. “Holy hell, oh my god, Mulder,” she cries, shuddering.

He keeps up his motions, though he slows them considerably until she comes down from her high. He withdraws his fingers, looking her in the eye as he brings them to his lips and licks them clean. Scully’s chest is heaving, her forearm draped over her forehead. He begins kissing back up her stomach, over her chest, and to her throat, sucking desperately on her neck.

Scully’s head is swimming. She cannot believe the feelings she’s experiencing. It feels backward and selfish; she should be pleasing him. She shakes the thought from her head as Mulder does amazing things with his mouth.

Mulder, giving her a minute to catch her breath, unbuttons his shirt, leaving it on but open. He then unbuttons his pants and pulls them down slowly, watching Scully intently as he does. He pulls a condom out of his pants pocket and rolls it onto his manhood.

Mulder pulls her onto his lap as he sits on the piano bench. Scully slides down on his engorged sex and he lets out a guttural moan. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Scully starts gliding up and down, moving her head in closer to gain access to Mulder’s neck. She begins nipping and licking. Mulder, meeting her thrusts, grips her hips tightly. He so badly wants to hear Scully shout his name again. Licking his finger, he maneuvers it between their bodies, hitting the jackpot when he hears her shriek.

She turns his head so she can reach his ear. She sucks on his earlobe before insistently hissing in his ear, “Yes Mulder, yes, just like that. Make me come again.”

“Fuck, Scully,” he manages to choke out. With one more swipe over her clit, she is coming again, this time pulling at the short strands of hair at the nape of Mulder’s neck. An instant later he erupts into her, calling out her name and any god who might be listening.

Leaning into him, soaked with sweat, she smiles into his neck. He made her feel all the feelings, and it had been a long time since someone did that.

“Is it just me,” Mulder gasps, attempting to slow his breathing, “or are we exceptionally good at that?”

Scully picks her head up and lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “You know what Mulder, it’s not just you.”

“Well,” Mulder states suggestively, “what do you think about taking this party up to the room and maybe working up to round two?”

Scully gives him a flirtatious smile and replies with a wink, “I think that’s the second-best idea you’ve had all evening.”

#au fanfiction #dana scully #fox mulder #the x files fanfic #x files #msr fanfic #sex on a piano #smoking bastard #walter skinner

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loonysama · 1 year

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Fierce and Feisty Friday

Rules: Post a snippet from one of your fics (can be published of WIP) featuring a fierce and/or feisty character this Friday or next, then tag some people so they can share, too! (Feel free to use the banner if you want!)

Tagging: @thecassadilla @firawren @annaofthenorthernlights @ragingrainbow @a13thprincefora13thprincess @5wans-kenobe @pterawaters and anyone else that wants to play!

🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️🌩️

Valentine Bear

Frozen (Ryder/Kristoff; Anna & Kristoff; background Anna/Hans)

“So what’s new this year?” Anna asked, her nose always near Kristoff's Peeps holiday displays.

Kristoff tucked the package of Peeps he had just thrown in the air behind his back and turned as she walked by. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She nearly knocked Kristoff over grasping at it behind his back.

“Ooh!” she said when he stretched his leg back to keep them both upright. "It's a rough gig you got there! You know, actually having to do what your manager says!”

Kristoff looked around, and shrugged. "Let me know when you see a manager.”

Anna chortled. “Hi- larious ! Assistant manager is a manager if there isn't a manager around! That makes you my employee. Obey!”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head or anything,” he teased before finally letting her steal the Peeps.

“Aww, they come in heart shapes this year?"

Kristoff started to tell her about the chocolate covered heart lollipops he was going to make at the bakery, but she picked up her original train of thought. “Kris, you know I love you, right? And you’re, like, sooo handsome, and all that,” she exaggerated facetiously.

She pinched his biceps, and said with a mocking tone, “I mean. Arms. For. Daaays … If you’re into the sort of thing.”

“Well, you’re not exactly my ideal, either, you know,” he said with a genuine smile. “I mean... in a pinch,” he said with a wink.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then she bit her lip. “So, um, listen, Kris. You know the new produce guy Ryder?”

Kristoff leaned on one of the boxes he was unpacking and knocked it over, then stepped on a package of neon yellow Peeps that had just fallen out. “Ryder?” in a high-pitched, breathy voice as his foot slid out from under him.

He groaned when he landed flat on his back, and Anna giggled and knelt over him. “Uh-huh! Thought so! You just can't seem to take your eyes off of him, can you?"

“See, this is why you’re not allowed within five feet of my displays.” He even marked the floor at four points around the display area with taped black X’s that couldn’t be removed. Anna knew better.

"Look, it's my job as your best friend to notice these kinds of things. And I've noticed that ever since he started you've avoided the produce department."

He rubbed the back of his head, which fortunately only barely touched the ground. “I’m ok, by the way. Thanks for your concern.”

Anna ignored him and continued, “Come on, Kris, admit it. You've got a crush!”

Kristoff gulped, “Mmm. Mhmm. You got me,” he said in defeat because lying to Anna was never worth the time or energy. She never gave up and always found out anyway.

Anna held her hands out to help Kristoff up, and she squatted down so low that she almost fell over. Their giggling didn't interfere with her mission, though. "So, Kris."

She clapped her hands together and held them in front of her nose. "So... Ryder’s going to be helping you with the display today.”

Kristoff pursed his lips, and awkwardly extended his arm to rest on the boxes again, but thought better of it, so it landed on his hip instead. “Wait, what?” he asked, as nonchalantly as he could, which was not very.

"I’m not sure if you were aware, but,” she pinched her still shiny ‘Asst. Manager’ badge and held it out as a reminder. It was impossible to forget since she's brought it up almost every day for the past six months.

A crooked smile took hold of Kristoff’s face as she continued.

“Man-a- GER ,” she said, elongating each syllable.

“Mhmm assistant ,” Kristoff coughed into his hand.

Ignoring him, she continued, “It’s my job to manage people, see? And you need help. So I’m managing you. Anyway, I think Ryder studied art or something?”

His smile spread to something mischievous, when he said, “You know, you only got that job because it's the only position in the entire store that doesn't require coordination!”

Anna crossed her arms, and said, “Says the man that just wiped the floor at the mere mention of a cute boy… Anyway, we both know it’s cause I’m bossy. That’s why-”

“Anna?” Hans asked as he rounded the corner. She snapped to attention, and bit her lip. Hans rubbed his toe on one of the black X’s, and barked, “Have someone get these off. I’m sick of looking at them.”

“Will do!” Anna readily replied with eyes squinted in Kristoff's direction. It's not liked they worked anyway.

Hans looked Anna up and down, then frowned at Kristoff, who pretended not to notice. Then Hans looked at Anna again and said, “I need to see you in my office when you’re done there.”

“Coming!” she said eagerly.

Hans paused to give her a slight smile. Then he winked at her, and she turned bright red. Kristoff broke into laughter, and said, “Ok, that definitely has nothing to do with why you got promoted!”

“Shut it!” she said playfully with a slap on his shoulder. It was only funny because it wasn't anywhere close to being true. “Anyway, duty calls!”

She pointed at him before she left, and said, “But be nice, Kris. Ryder’s super sweet, so don’t scare him off!”

Kristoff scoffed, “When am I not nice?”

Anna pouted, then pointed two fingers from her eyes to his. “I’m watching you, Bjorgman!”

Continue reading @ AO3.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

#fierce and feisty friday!#frozen fanfic #rydoff #kristoff & anna #hansanna #best friend antics #valentine bear

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

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Bud

Chapter 4 of The Hunt

{series masterlist} | {next chapter} {previous chapter}

{crossposted to AO3} {join my taglist!}

Wolffe x Fem!OC, some Comet x Fem!OC

Series summary: The 104th battalion’s new medic Rose comes into the scene dazzling everyone, ready for anything life as a battalion medic will ofer to her after having spent much too long secluded in a medical station orbiting Rishi. While she forms close friendships with the troopers, she and commander Wolffe never seem to get along. As arguments between them heat up, Wolffe is challenged to make Rose fall in love with him, a game that by no means will end well for either of them.

Chapter summary: After a string on missions, Rose and the wolf pack are sent to Naboo with free time on their hands. While things seem to be developing very well with Comet, Wolffe will have to figure out how to deal with his jealousy the more he has to see Rose and Comet be together.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for mild sexual content--this one's spicy. Hot making out, some biting, sexy dancing, dry humping and hip grinding. Alcohol consumption, insults/language, unintentional voyeurism and eavesdropping, love triangle. Jealousy.

A/N: Another one of my favorites. If you love Wolffe being emotionally constipated, you'll love this chapter :3

Word count: 7.8k

This fic is ongoing and posted to-date on AO3. Cross-posting on tumblr will be in progress over the next couple of weeks. After that, I’ll pick it up where I left off and post any new chapters on both platforms.

When Rose was assigned to the 104th division, even after spending some time with them, she didn’t know completely how highly regarded they were on every level. By every general, by every other battalion, troopers, ARC troopers, captains, commanders alike would shift to a mode of respect whenever the 104th was brought up. In case that hadn’t been clear to Rose before, it became bright as the morning suns of Tatooine that everything they had to offer was wanted all over the galaxy, and sooner than later, they’d been bumped off their base on Hoth to go to a new horizon.

It had been a while of doing that. Hoth, Kashyyyk, at least five other worlds saw the armor of the wolf pack visiting, and in that while, they’d all barely caught a break. Rose couldn’t complain; it certainly beat spending rotation after rotation orbiting Rishi. But the bags under her eyes were getting more prominent than ever, and she was feeling the weight on her shoulders the same as every other member of her battalion was, and it was why the news that they’d be having some time to unload on Naboo dropped on their fingers like perfectly fitted rings.

There was just one bump. One thorn that continued to prick Rose’s back, and she’d done a successful job of keeping things professional for missions’ sake, but unloading on Naboo, spending free time on arguably one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy, both with the man who’s life she’d saved and now she had some sort of item with, and the man who’d made a totally inappropriate move on her at a totally inappropriate time, who’d sparked even more inappropriate feelings within her when he did. Not that she still felt those urges, but Rose knew it would all probably get messy and complicated if there was nothing else to distract from the unwanted facts.

“Alright everyone, listen up,” Wolffe’s voice traveled all over the area they were in on the venator’s hangar, breaking Rose off from her thoughts. “We have a short task to carry out when we arrive at Naboo, after that, we’ll be free for quite a few days.”

Sinker and Boost nudged each other from across Wolffe, both of them with sly grins and clearly reflecting how much everybody was looking forward to some time off. Rose smiled at them, always happy to see her boys happy as well, and from across her, she caught Comet already smiling at her. Naturally, she returned the smile, a charming one that could light up the hangar if the lights suddenly went off.

“Remember we still have to focus,” Wolffe said, his voice a low grumble as he forced Comet and Rose’s gazes back on him. “Three different shipments of refugees are arriving on Naboo at about the same time we are. We have to make sure every refugee accounted for has arrived safely and provide with any necessary supplies for them to be on their way to their camps. The queen of Naboo and Senator Amidala herself are supervising, so we need to get this right.”

“When do we not?” Boost smirked. “Come on, commander, loosen up! We’re going to have a party for days!”

Wolffe scoffed, a tiny smile creeping up on his lips. While the rest of the troopers scattered around the area surrounding their distinctive Plo’s Bros gunships, Boost went over there and nudged him too with a devious little grin.

“Wanna tell me why you haven’t been at each other’s throats as much lately?” Boost inquired as he stood next to Wolffe, arms crossed and looking at the nearby scene where Rose walked up to Comet and made some friendly conversation, inaudible to them both.

“She’s been too busy to keep up her insufferable act,” Wolffe discarded the question, turning his back on the scene with a scowl and an eyeroll that Boost knew all too well.

The trooper couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up. Does it actually bother you to see her with Comet?”

“Get to your gunship, Boost,” Wolffe countered him.

“And now you’re dismissing me,” Boost laughed again. “You know, you’re actually very easy to read. You’re not even trying to live up to your own little dare.”

“It was your idea.”

“I never told you to do anything, commander.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes again and put on his helmet, finding it provided a very easy way to not have to talk to people. Extending his arm, he gestured at a pile of nearby crates resting next to one of the gunships.

“Want to be funny? Load those crates, and make sure they all get to Naboo like they should,” Wolffe began turning his back on Boost too and headed for his gunship, stepping inside and holding one of the handles above him as more troopers filed in and got ready for takeoff.

“You want me to get Comet to help me?” Boost smirked. “It’d help your case, you know. I can’t imagine you enjoy seeing him with her.”

Wolffe didn’t feel obliged to say anything else to Boost and merely watched as he walked away, clearly amused with the little conversation they’d just had. His helmet did help, but even though his visor was particularly designed for him to see exactly what was necessary for him to have in sight, he caught a glimpse of something he felt he didn’t need from the corner of his eye.

On a different gunship, Rose and Comet were just climbing on and securing the handles like all the other troopers, but they were clearly smiling at each other as Comet teased Rose with their height difference. She was so short that she barely reached the handle, and even in her uniform and few bits of armor, she looked so soft, so curvy, and having her arm extended above her only emphasized the way her black hair fell in rich waves down her back, better as she tilted her head up to look at Comet and giggle, biting her lip and all. Wolffe didn’t need to hear what they were saying to figure out what was happening between them, and it became painfully obvious when Rose let go of the handle and instead settled to hold onto Comet’s forearm, their little smirks still proud and prominent, clearly without a care of who’s sights they attracted.

Nauseating. That was the only word Wolffe would use to describe it. He grimaced as the doors of his gunship closed and sealed, depriving him of the sight that was bringing his blood to a boil seconds ago. Knowing he was out of his mind, he shuddered as he began to realize that Boost’s idea no longer sounded ridiculous, and he knew he’d definitely have to do something about it.

No sooner had they landed on the outskirts of Theed when the troopers of the 104th began unloading everything, well aware that the ships carrying the refugees would be due soon. And as always, they did an impeccable job of it and everything was set by the time the gunships were gone and the landing bay had been cleared for the arrival of the refugees.

“Well done, everyone,” Wolffe addressed his pack. “We’ll need a majority of hands here, but if a few of you could head over to our headquarters and make sure everything’s fine with our stay’s arrangements, that would be great.”

“Don’t worry, commander,” Comet began. “I’ll get to it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rose was just about to make her way beside Comet when Wolffe noticed her from the corner of his good eye.

“Actually, I need you here,” Wolffe said as calmly as he could manage. “We don’t know what state these people will arrive in; some might need aid.”

He had a point. It didn’t settle completely well with Rose, but it also wasn’t something repulsive. Nodding over at Comet, she expressed she’d remain where she was while he walked off in the opposite direction, and though Wolffe was aware he’d manipulated the whole thing, it filled him with satisfaction to see Rose walking away from Comet and heading towards him.

Rose stopped next to Wolffe, but her eyes never fell on him. The commander even noticed how she looked over her shoulder at Comet’s disappearing figure, and Wolffe was once again glad to have had his helmet on, hiding the way he bared his teeth in envy at the attention she gave Comet. Rose then looked forward again, speechless where she’d normally shoot some witty remark at Wolffe for asking her to stay behind with him. The silence was peaceful to some, but deadly to someone like Wolffe, and it only then dawned on him that he had the opportunity to talk to Rose about something, anything, maybe even apologize for what he did on Hoth—no, Wolffe wasn’t one to openly apologize. But having things be that awkward between them wasn’t going to get them anywhere, and Wolffe knew he had to do something about that too.

Still, he also knew time was running out when the first of the three ships came into view, still far along on the horizon, but approaching at a decent speed that would soon render them all occupied for who knew how long again. That much was clear, but how was Wolffe supposed to address her again? Moreover, why was it so hard to address her? Maybe because of how stubborn and arrogant she was, but he was barely any different. Wolffe felt it would simply be best to go with what he usually did, some fine old teasing.

“If any of them need medical care, I hope you have your flowers on hand,” Wolffe told her.

Rose’s gaze remained trailed forward, but a light scoff escaped her. “I bet they’ll be way nicer about it than you.” The medic took out a small piece of paper and started scribbling on it to give it to Wolffe afterwards, and he didn’t know what to say when he noticed the words thank you written on it in fine handwriting.

“Maybe you can learn the two words now,” Rose didn’t bother looking at him when she said the words, and she walked off to the side with a subtle, confident sway in her hips when the ship with the refugees had arrived.

He crumbled the paper in his hand and hid it in one of the compartments of his armor, and the whirring of engines stopped him before he could react in any other way. Now with the large freighter in front of them, its hatch became open and down started coming the refugees, all of them different, shapes, sizes, and origins. The soldiers began leading them down the landing bay and telling them general instructions regarding their stay as well as the supplies they’d be able to take.

As expected, there were a few refugees who needed some medical assistance. None of them were injured with much gravity, but whoever showed signs of injury was taken to Rose. Soon, she had a line of about six refugees who patiently waited for attention, and Rose helped patch them up enough for them to continue on their way. The second ship arrived in time, and then the third one, one by one so as to not overload the landing bay.

Rose knew she had eyes on her as she tended to the wounded refugees. Wolffe could swiftly direct the crowd to where they needed to be and provide with supplies and answers, but he kept an eye on the medic as much as he could. Some refugees she helped with medicine and proper sterilizers, others with her own concoctions of herbs, but in every case, she definitely knew what she was doing. It made Wolffe feel like an ass for a moment, thinking how he ever could have questioned Rose when she was clearly a fine medic in every aspect of the word. Below his helmet, the scar where he’d gotten the cut that first night out with her at the bar began to tingle as if to further remind him what a jerk he’d been to her, and what a perfect excuse this day was to make it up to her and get things over with.

The ships left soon and all the refugees were making their way inside headquarters, signaling another job well done. Rose tidied up her medical supplies and figured it was about time to head inside headquarters and settle down for the next few days; she was anxious to see Comet again already, and she’d spotted a nearby lake that seemed to be the perfect little place for a nice outing. Her mind dwelled on the image, but her thoughts were interrupted when her wrist comm began to ring, a little smile crept on her face and she answered gladly.

“Come in,” she said, her voice audible to the other clone troopers nearby.

“How’s it going with the refugees?” Comet asked her on the other end and made her smile widen.

“They’re all on their way inside now,” she replied. “And how’s it going with the lodging? If you’re done, I was thinking maybe you and I could go to a lake not far from here. I haven’t seen it from up close, but it looks promising.”

Rose could practically hear the way Comet smiled when he chuckled lightly into the comm, and from a few paces away, Wolffe picked up on the details of her conversation.

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, “but I was just going to tell you I might not be able to. Not today, at least.”

“Why not?” Her voice seemed upset.

“A big chunk of the barracks was left a mess by the previous division who used it and now we have to clean it up,” Comet explained. “I just know it was the 501st.”

“Well, don’t jump to conclusions,” Rose chuckled. “I could wait for you to be done, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to, but I also don’t want to make you wait all day. Let’s say Corvis and I have earned the captain’s trust here and now he’s designated us as the official cleaning staff,” Comet replied. “It looks like we’re going to be stuck here a while.”

“I wish I could have gone with you,” Rose said regretfully.

“They needed you there,” Comet comforted her.

“Then I’ll go with you now,” she suggested.

“Negative, sweetheart,” Comet fired back. “You go on to the lake, you deserve to rest even more than the rest of us. Go see if it’s nice down there and you can take me there tomorrow, alright? I’d offer to go tonight, but tonight we’re all going to go drinking and I’ll be the only one sober and looking after the rest.”

Rose chuckled at his sweet words and blushed at the name he’d used for her. “Alright, Comet, we’ll do it your way.”

“Atta girl,” he smiled on the other end of the comm. “Have a good time, alright?”

“You too, or as much as you can, at least,” she chuckled.

“I’ll try,” he sighed.

With a little smile, Rose hung up the comm and began to walk across the landing bay, drawing Wolffe’s attention to her after he’d listened to the conversation. Though having Comet stuck with Corvis and the captain cleaning all day wasn’t part of his plan, he couldn’t deny it fit his needs well, and before Rose was too far gone, Wolffe approached her as best as he could.

“Off to the lake then?” Wolffe’s voice surprised Rose, and she quickly turned around to face him.

Confusion riddled her usually confident face, but the way her eyes looked made Wolffe admit he was feeling abnormally tight.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I won’t take long. I’ve got my comm if you need anything.”

“Actually, I’ll go with you,” Wolffe said.

Her confusion turned into downright bewilderment at his remark, raising a brow at him and everything. She began suspecting all possibilities for Wolffe’s behavior and quickly pressed the back of her palm to his cheek to check on his temperature, which was normal.

“What are you doing?” Wolffe asked her.

“You don’t have a fever, you don’t have any signs of illness, which means there’s no reason for you to be delusional,” Rose spoke with a perfect eyebrow raised at the commander

“No, I’m not out of my mind,” Wolffe replied.

To try and brush off the matter, Rose chuckled and let her enchantress nature shine through Wolffe’s puzzling change in attitude.

“Listen, the lake is a bright, happy place surrounded with flowers and lit up with sunlight, with the singing of birds and not a problem in the world,” she stated, prancing and bouncing around a bit with that deceptively sweet smile of hers. “It’s a place where bunnies like myself enjoy spending the time, it’s not a place for a wolf.”

Not unless he wants to grab a snack, Wolffe thought to himself.

“I appreciate you wanting to frighten me out of it, but I fancy going anyway,” the commander told her.

“Why?” She asked. “It’s not dangerous, I won’t be in any trouble if I go down there for a while by myself.”

“I’m just offering to hang out with you,” Wolffe’s teeth bared slightly.

“Hang out?” Rose scrutinized. “Since when do you want to hang out with me, or simply hang out at all?”

“For shit’s sake, Rose, I’m trying to be nice to you,” Wolffe said bluntly, his hard eyes landing on the medic in front of him in a way that echoed the look he’d directed at her that day at Hoth, when he was dangerously close to her, pushing her dangerously close into giving into her desire, her sweetest instincts.

Rose scoffed at him again. “I don’t want your kindness.” She then scanned him from head to toe, letting out a soft chuckle when she noticed the bewildered look in his eyes mixed with that egotistical anger signature of a bruised ego. “I suppose you can come with me if you want, just don’t be an ass.”

She walked off, leaving Wolffe both furious and deliciously inquisitive. Standing completely still, he stared at her as she walked off decisively, never deviating from her tread to the lake. Shortly after, Wolffe began to follow after her, perfectly aware he was probably stupid for doing it, that he and Rose drove each other insane, but he didn’t care. He needed to take every step it took to reach her to that lake even if it was the end of him—and he knew that woman would be the end of him.

Rose was ahead of him the whole way. Wolffe even slowed down his pace when the lake came into view, and his gaze remained fix on the young woman in front of him as she walked through the flowers, her hands extended and softly grazing against the stems and petals, feeling them as she continued moving forward until she arrived at the lake’s edge. She sat down on the ground and dug her fingers into the soil, reveling in the sensation of natural earth at her fingertips, as if it could breathe life and spirit into her after a long time of being drained. She took a deep breath of fresh air and felt it cleanse all the tension of the past few weeks from her, and on the exhale, opened her eyes to revel once more in the sight of nature.

Wolffe watched from afar at the way she behaved. She gave off the same vibe she had on Hoth when she was out on the snow by herself; Rose gave an aura of innocence that made Wolffe want to fight off even the insects that flew near her, fearing even they’d mean her harm, but he also wanted to claim her right there at the edge of that lake and make her his.

Before standing up, Rose’s attention was caught by a bundle of tiny white flowers grouped together in a way that made them seem like an army. She let out a chuckle and picked out one of the stems as Wolffe approached her slowly, warily, only to see her arrogant smirk shooting at him as she threw the makeshift bouquet at his chest.

“For you, commander,” Rose seemed to spit out the word.

He was no medic, but he recognized the yarrow all too well, and Rose’s message could not have been clearer. Rose turned around, not before smirking at him, and she faced the peaceful lake while feeling Wolffe’s presence behind her.

“Why are you really here?” She broke the silence.

He took a couple more steps toward her until he was just behind her, his body barely away from hers, breath fanning over her shoulder.

“You and I aren’t done,” he whispered.

“You and I?” Rose turned around to meet his gaze. “There’s a you and I now?”

Wolffe scoffed with a smug look, his face tilting only slightly as his eyes traveled down to her lips. “You wanted to kiss me back on Hoth.”

“And it would have been a mistake,” Rose replied. “That’s why I didn’t do it.”

“Not because you don’t like me, like you claimed,” he cornered her.

“That was still true,” she smirked. “You’re arrogant, you throw insults around like they’re nothing, you’re a cocky bastard who gets things done by being an asshole.”

Wolffe didn’t understand why her words were riling him up so much, but he was thankful his codpiece hid the shameless erection that had grown inside his blacks. His sly look turned seductive, and he took his hand to cup her jaw, his touch far gentler than she’d expected it to be.

“And yet I don’t see you walking away from me,” he whispered, leaning ever closer to her until he was barely over her lips. “Are you going to do that, bunny?”

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes whispered desire. Wolffe then leaned in fully and finished the job, crashing his lips onto hers in a hungry, seductive kiss which he growled into while she countered with a soft, breathy moan as her hands grasped at his shoulder pads. His kissing was gruff, his grip on her waist was hard, his free hand ran through her rich black locks to secure the back of her head. Even through his armor, Rose was well aware of his growing length, hardening, exciting her with how far they could get in her state of bliss. His kisses were like a raging fire, and when his lips traveled from her lips to her neck to kiss and nibble at her tender skin, Rose could only see stars around her.

Grunting softly and breathily moaning out the nickname bunny as he gradually took her to the ground, Wolffe was all but ready to finish the game when both of their comms began beeping with Sinker’s voice booming on the other end of the line.

“Everything’s good, fellas!” he was celebrating. “Our lodging is good to go and the refugees have all been accommodated. We can now officially party!”

“So get back here anytime before sundown, we’re going to a bar in the heart of Theed,” Comet continued.

Comet. Rose let go of Wolffe upon hearing his voice. She felt horrible for having agreed to a fling with Wolffe when things were going so well between her and Comet, even if they weren’t formally a couple yet. Kind, sweet Comet who looked out for her, who gave her forehead kisses, who joked with her, showed her gratitude, and who never once criticized her work. The comms were cut off, and Rose smoothed out her hair and uniform hoping she didn’t have any marks on her neck that would tell the tale of what had just happened, and trying to think straight, she began walking away from Wolffe.

“Wait,” Wolffe reached out for her wrist, tugging only slightly and not at all with the brute strength that Rose would have expected from him. “Don’t go.”

“Wolffe, I was right, this was a mistake,” Rose whimpered. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I want. You and I don’t like each other… Comet and I do.”

And then she left, making her way back to the headquarters they’d arrived to, leaving Wolffe alone at the edge of a lake, in a place that was clearly not made for him.

Rose had tried everything to get her previous encounter with Wolffe out of her mind. She’d showered, dressed in a gorgeous black dress that accentuated her hips with is flowy skirt that went halfway down her thighs, redone her signature red lipstick and made a few waves on her hair to get ready for a night out at the bar. She’d made sure to check for any marks Wolffe may have left, but her skin seemed intact as if he hadn’t been running his tongue and lips on it earlier. At least, that was one less thing she had to worry about.

She’d deliberately taken longer to get ready and told the rest of the troopers she’d meet them at the bar if only to buy her some more time to clear her head before heading there. She knew she probably didn’t have to, but she wanted to apologize more formally to Wolffe before picking up where she’d left off with Comet.

One thing she hadn’t account for were the looks and attention she’d get upon entering the bar, which she felt silly for forgetting since it was merely rutinary. Of course she appreciated it, but she needed to sneak a moment with Wolffe to get it all over with, and it wouldn’t be possible to do it if everyone was staring at her. Everyone, specifically Comet, had his eyes glued on her, and Rose couldn’t help but return his smile with a charming one of her own, earning them a few whistles from the troopers who had undoubtedly noticed how much time they’d been spending together since Hoth, even before that.

“You look stunning,” Comet said as he handed her a colorful cocktail, her first drink of the night.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied as she noticed the dark red shirt he was wearing as well as the black trousers and jacket, and only then did she take a moment to take in the sight of the bar. It had a classier tone to it than the 79’s, especially in its architecture, but there were still lights, a dance floor, and even a little stage where the DJ was poised and played dance music. Being in Naboo, the bar wasn’t overflowing like it would be on Coruscant, in fact, it had just the comfortable amount of people for a nice night out. Rose didn’t see it going wrong any way, but she did want to get her little errand done soon.

“Let me go greet the others,” she told him and winked.

Comet replied with a smile and he sat down with Sinker and Boost again to continue their lively chatter while Rose went off on her mission to find Wolffe, and soon enough, she found him standing at the bar getting another round of drinks. His stern gaze landed on her, unchanged, and all she felt she could do was sigh apologetically.

“I just wanted to apologize again,” she said quietly.

Wolffe shook his head slowly. “No hard feelings.”

“Are you sure?” She asked him.

“Of course,” he told her with candor filling his gaze. He wanted to get in bed with her bad, but he wasn’t willing to make her life hell for it. He wasn’t garbage. “I came on too strong too. I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

Rose smiled sincerely. “I appreciate it.”

“Let’s go back to hating each other, then,” Wolffe smirked and held up his glass.

“To hating each other,” Rose clinked her cocktail with his glass, mimicking his smile, and feeling far calmer than when she entered the bar, she returned to the table back to Comet’s company.

Wolffe watched after her with a turmoil of emotions bubbling in him, and that was something he didn’t like. He knew that, as far as his little bet with Boost went, he could be let off the hook. He and Rose had made out and the lust between them was obvious; it could be proof enough that he could be more than capable of taking Rose into the bedroom. By all means, the little hunt could be over, but Wolffe didn’t quite like the idea of not holding Rose again the way he did at the lake.

He felt her scent linger on him even hours after that had happened. He’d memorized the way her hair felt so soft against his skin, the sound of her breathy little moans, the way her chest heaved as she breathed heavily, aroused by him, willing to let him in. If he thought back enough, he could still feel his hands wrapped around her waist, and he could only imagine his hands on other parts of her body and the way it would make her squirm. Wolffe knew he had to stop thinking about her like that, and in a fit to do just that, he looked at her as she took a seat next to Comet and she brushed her hand over his bicep just before he wrapped his arm around her and their conversation with the others kept going.

Wolffe gulped down a shot of Corellian whiskey to get him through the night.

Over at their table, Sinker and Boost sat across from Rose and Comet, and Boost had just arrived with a little bowl full of chocolates whose major ingredient was liquor. He unwrapped one of them and held it up in front of him while he looked at the squad’s medic with a devious little smile.

“Hey Rose,” he spoke over the music and loud enough for everyone to hear. “If I get drunk on these chocolates alone, you and Comet have to make out!”

Rose didn’t buy it. “I think you’re drunk now.”

“Chocolates, I said!”

Rose and Comet exchanged a look, both of them amused at Boost’s state.

“What do you say?” Rose asked Comet with a purr.

“You’re the one who’s going to give treat their hangovers,” Comet chuckled.

“Not when we’re off duty, I’m not your mama,” Rose snapped her fingers. “But I meant about the making out part.”

“Rose, I could never say no to that,” Comet told her quietly into her ear.

“Eat all the bloody chocolates you want, Boost,” Rose concluded.

Boost, in his own animal-like way, growled and unwrapped several chocolates at once to stuff them all in his mouth, earning a few cheers from his comrades to see how many he could eat at once. Rose playfully rolled her eyes at their guy behavior, and then her gaze landed on Comet with a sweet smile.

“Do you want to try one?” Comet asked her and reached out for one of the chocolates in the bowl, but he only earned a slap from Boost who growled what sounded like the word mine, but no one could know for sure if he still had the civilized ability to talk.

“Here, take this one,” Corvis handed Comet a wrapped chocolate from his table. “Don’t let Boost see it.”

“Thanks, man,” Comet replied. He unwrapped the little round chocolate and held it up to Rose, who took it in her hands and looked at it before directing a charming look at Comet that had him heating up and hearing his heart beating in his ears.

“Ooh, you know what you should do?” Sinker spoke up, not as drunk as Boost but definitely happy with the alcohol he’d already consumed. “You should each take half of the chocolate and make out.”

“Why does everyone want to see us make out tonight?” Comet questioned, and then he looked at Rose again. “It’s your call.”

Rose blushed. “We haven’t done it yet.”

Comet smiled sweetly at her, and it was enough for Rose to make her decision. With a wide grin that had a slight touch of seduction, Rose put the chocolate between her teeth and waited for Comet to make his move. He couldn’t keep resisting her, and he gladly leaned in and took the other half of the chocolate with his teeth, after which the two of them kissed each other proudly, hungrily, moaning softly into each other as the troopers around them cheered and whistled and catcalled them.

From the bar, Wolffe had ditched the shots and now held the whole bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Rose and Comet were grinning widely after their first kiss, foreheads resting on each other as if they’d been lovers forever while the cheering continued in the background. In the happy chatter, drinks came and went. Rose drank just enough to feel easy-going; Comet’s high alcohol tolerance allowed him to drink endlessly and not feel a single effect, and overall everyone was tipsy and having a good time with the exception of Wolffe slumped at the bar.

The commander forced himself not to look at the scene of Rose being unbelievably happy with the man she liked. He was thinking of leaving and would have gone through with it until he noticed Boost had stumbled over and sat next to him.

“Sucks to be you,” Boost slurred, followed by a little hiccup. “Did you know my stomach hurts?!”

Wolffe couldn’t help but chuckle at Boost’s state. “Come on, trooper, you can handle more than that.” He sat Boost up and rested his back on the edge of the bar to then signal at the bartender. “Sorry, he ate too many of those chocolates. Have anything that could help him?”

“I’ll bring him something to digest,” the young female bartender answered kindly and went into the kitchen to perform her task.

Being left alone with Boost now and hearing the cheering and chattering in the background, Wolffe noticed that Boost was looking at him with a sad smile.

“Sorry, commander,” Boost said, his voice still slurring. “She likes Comet, and now he’s got her red lipstick on him.”

“Just forget about that, will you?” Wolffe said, though not with the aggression he expected he’d carry in his words. It was a softer tone of voice loaded with defeat, one that Wolffe was a stranger to and it made Boost lift his head up in alert.

“Woah, Wolffe, are you sad?!” Boost yelled. “Rose has to know—ROSE!”

“No, shh!” Wolffe quieted Boost down before he did anything stupid. “Just settle down and sober up.”

Wolffe snuck a look over at Rose to see if she’d noticed Boost calling her, but it seemed that with the cheering and the music, Rose hadn’t heard a thing. She didn’t suspect anything she didn’t already know, and Wolffe knew it was probably right even though every fiber in his body pushed him to admit otherwise, to not leave things the way they were. He was supposed to be the one holding Rose’s body in one hand and a drink in the other, he was supposed to be the one taking her to bed that night.

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?!” The DJ’s excited voice boomed over the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the bar. “We’ve got clones here tonight!”

Every member of the 104th cheered except for Wolffe; even Boost made an attempt of raising his hand and cheering, but he was still too knocked over. Lucky for him, his elixir had just arrived, leaving Wolffe to thank the bartender before he looked out at the rest of the bar again.

“And who’s that lovely lady there with you?” The DJ signaled to Rose.

Rose couldn’t help but blush and smile with allure while Comet grinned proudly back at the DJ.

“She’s our medic,” Comet said.

“Oh!” The DJ cooed with excitement. “So she takes good care of all of you?”

“Just Comet!” Sinker yelled out, loud enough for the whole bar to hear.

Rose laughed that bewitching laugh of hers and leaned her head on Comet’s shoulder while he smiled into her hair.

“Oh, well then, how about you come up here and show off? Your other boys need attention too, you know,” the DJ switched the song to one with a heavier beat, ideal to dance to, and turned up the volume a bit while Rose received cheers and whistled.

She loved the attention with or without the alcohol, and with the shots and cocktails she’d already had, she had absolutely no problem getting up on that stage and putting on a little show. Rose knew who she was, and she definitely knew how hot she was as well; plus, her dress would be her ally for that. She got up and grinned seductively at Comet, bending over and hovering barely away from his lips as she emphasized the way her chest looked in that position. Comet, dazed at the beauty of the woman before him, felt himself begin to heat up all over and he couldn’t take his eyes off of Rose as if she’d cast a spell on him.

Rose took a few steps away from him and walked backwards slowly towards the stage, her eyes never leaving Comet’s like he was her prey. Gradually, she began to sway her hips to the beat of the music, and she even added some undulations of her body and ran her hands through her hair, ruffling it up, looking like the goddess of everyone’s dreams.

“Fuck,” Comet said to himself, already with a heavy breath at such perfection, such seduction. Rose was truly amazing. Every move she made was perfect, and for a moment, he couldn’t believe he was with someone as incredible as her.

As he sat at the bar, there was no way Wolffe could ignore the show Rose was putting on. Every time she moved her hips flashed the memory of her at the lake; every time she turned around and ruffled her hair made him remember her scent, her moans. He watched her, prying eyes memorizing her every move, her figure, and like a vow, he swore to himself he’d have her one day.

Whistles and hoots flew at Rose from every side of the bar, and she loved it. Her gaze remained fixed on Comet, and she adored the way his eyes scanned her with lust as if he were studying her. He seemed both nervous and craving, and that only filled her with pride. Fully on the stage, Rose’s moves became more eloquent with the music, now in a full routine that stole everyone’s hearts if she hadn’t already. The bar roared in ovation, and the DJ continued to hail her on stage.

“Come on, troopers, get over here and support your medic!” The DJ whooped, and at his encouragement, the stage and dance floor became filled with the troopers of the 104th and anyone else along the bar who wanted in on the party. Comet joined Rose on the stage as well as Sinker and Corvis, and Boost, now feeling like he could stand, couldn’t miss out on the opportunity either. It left Wolffe alone on the sidelines of the bar, still clutching the bottle of whiskey and taking long sips as he watched.

Though there were now countless people up there with her, all of them yelling out how hot she was, Wolffe could only see her. He was aroused, of course. Her dancing riled him up, filled him with the need to sin. He wanted to growl at her, to howl with her in his arms, but while he sat there counting all the different ways he could make her eyes roll back, Rose was up there on the stage still dancing to the beat, tangled in Comet’s arms, grinding her hips and her ass to him, making out as their bodies swayed together for everyone to see. Seeing him with her like that when Wolffe had been so close to claiming Rose earlier was abhorrent.

The night wore on, and as Wolffe continued to fill himself with whiskey and dread, everyone else did the same with cocktails and passion. No one cared to count the hours, and it wasn’t until the very dead of night that the troopers slowly made their way out of the bar and headed back to their headquarters, most of them tumbling and speaking nonsense.

Comet, with his inhuman resistance to alcohol, remained sober despite all he’d drunk, and Rose took it upon herself to sober up before getting everyone out of the bar, and they managed to take their battalion successfully into the barracks and accommodating them in their bunks and some on the floor with blankets, all of them lying sideways. Rose knew she wouldn’t sleep; she was determined to make sure everyone woke up safely. She’d deal with the hangovers later.

Their barracks on Naboo were probably the most elegant ones she’d been in yet, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if she knew that those were the most luxurious barracks clones ever stayed in in the galaxy. She herself slept in a different room, not too different in aesthetic from that of the barracks, but she had no problem spending the night there to keep an eye on the troopers. She sat next to the balcony, its door open, and the city of Theed lay behind her with a gentle caress of the night breeze on her back.

Comet silently walked up to her. He was smiling, and he held a blanket in his hand which he then draped over Rose’s body.

“Here,” he told her quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up. “You’ve shielded me from the cold before, now it’s my turn.”

Rose smiled as she hugged the blanket around her body. “You did the same before I did, back on Aleen.”

“I remember,” he smiled.

Rose opened her arms and let Comet inside the blanket just as she had done on Aleen. He snuggled close to her and wrapped his arms around her, and he rested his lips on her head taking a whiff of her scent. Right there on that balcony, Comet was convinced there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

But not everyone in the barracks was asleep; Rose and Comet weren’t the only exceptions. Wolffe hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep in the entire night despite how much he longed for it and the release it could give him from Rose’s spell. Comet and Rose whispered to each other, but not a single word escaped Wolffe’s senses, and this time there was no Corellian whiskey to come to his aid.

“You remember that first night on Coruscant?” Comet asked Rose.

Rose chuckled softly and looked at him. “Of course. What about it?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about some nice things you said,” he kissed her temple.

“Like how I have a collective crush on the clones?” She teased him.

Comet chuckled and kissed her lips, amazed as always at how soft and warm they were. “That too, but… I was thinking more about… you and I…”

You and I, Rose thought to herself. This was where her you and I was.

“How I didn’t think it would be possible to be in a relationship during the war, but I would if I found the right man?” She smiled at him, prompting him to reply.

“Yes, that,” Comet said.

“Well…” Rose leaned her head on Comet’s shoulder.

“Would you be willing to?” His voice was full of hope.

Rose smiled with charm at him, her heart fluttering at his words. “Of course.”

Comet lovingly cupped her cheek and smiled at her with all the admiration he had for her. “You’re incredible…”

Rose leaned into the warmth of Comet’s palm and smiled with the same emotion, her eyes sparkling and making Comet’s entire body weak for her. He leaned in closer and kissed her softly and slowly, nowhere near as passionate as their kissing at the bar, but it set off every firework and explosive within them. Rose smiled into the kiss and pressed her body to his as she wrapped her arms around him and let the blanket slide off her shoulders, leaving her bare back exposed thanks to her dress. Comet ran his fingertips over her skin, sending shivers down Rose’s spine, and their kiss ceased just as the heat boiled enough between them. They parted, looking at each other’s eyes with pine.

“I really wish I could do more with you right now,” Comet said, his smile audible to Wolffe even as he whispered. “You and your dancing.”

“Oh, we could do more,” Rose said, her voice tainted with a lustful purr.

“We could wake someone,” Comet stuttered.

Rose grinned seductively as she leaned in closer, slowly, biting her lip. “Then don’t be loud.”

Silence fell on the barracks for a brief moment of peace as Wolffe continued lying still, asleep to the world. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of kissing and faint moaning that his senses became alert. The silent and breathy moaning mostly came from Comet, and it was obvious that he was drowning in his own ecstasy, desperate not to be loud. Slowly, Wolffe looked over his shoulder to get a visual of the scene unveiling between them, and he felt something shatter inside him, something he would have guessed was his heart if he wasn’t so sure he didn’t have one.

Rose had shifted to scissor Comet’s crotch, her upper body leaned over against his with her hands massaging his chest as her hips grinded on his, the slow friction driving them both insane. Both were still fully clothed, but their make out was as hot as it would be without any fabric between. Comet’s hands softly held her ass, moving alongside her hips as she kept grinding, and the trooper had to roll his eyes back to keep from making any noise. Rose watched him squirm, proud of herself for bringing a soldier to the point of crumble, and she stopped grinding before she too was just over the edge.

Wolffe couldn’t watch anymore. He didn’t know how he was supposed to spend the rest of the night, or even the next days seeing Rose and Comet together. Their huffing filled the room with an occasional giggle from Rose, and Wolffe felt his insides fret. He closed his eyes and longed for slumber, anything to take him out of the present moment. For a while, it seemed silence was his ally until Comet’s voice spoke again.

“I love you.”

Wolffe felt like he was going to puke.

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