#also i love how they are both just so snarky and so Fond in this scene | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson. warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW), with a sprinkle of softness. words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...) author’s note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I’ve been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven’t seen a single fic* using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart.

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did.

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement,” Cole teased.

“Well, I would’ve volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I’ve read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn. Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least. That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but almost a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn’t fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That’s how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer.

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Strong boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it’s hard not to, with the way she’s been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There’s a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you are all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate?

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure. On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too. Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How’s your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I’m afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look.

“Is there anything troubling you?”

“Not when I’m with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond’s words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart. In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It’s the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it’s easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through. You sit by Helaena’s side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you.

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I’d like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out. You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you’ve known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice. The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum. “Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I’m afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look.

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face. “As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there’s a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn’t leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it’s time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first.

“I couldn’t help but notice your absence. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing.

“I’ve always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you’ve never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze.

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain. Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is. “Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read.

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time.

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of feet away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would’ve apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.”

“You weren’t thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth.

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye.

You don’t know if it’s a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that’s left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I’ve missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast.

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile.

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your pearl, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly. “I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there’s an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don’t know what’s to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There’s a brief pause before he adds. “But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize.

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there’s something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again.

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently); — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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miko-magica · 1 year

Text

Helpless

♡ Synopsis : In which Kaeya and Diluc never lost their father Crepus and the uncrowned king knight of Mondstat starts to be interested with a certain painter from Liyue.

♡ Note !! : Sorry I need Ragbros and Diluc fluff, It's 12am rn so don't expect anything too good when it comes to words. Diluc in this fic is still a bit like himself now but he's cheery and closer with Kaeya. Ajax (Childe) is your brother because I love him and I think it'd be a funny conversation to have. Crepus is a friendly man in this fic and I can't tell you otherwise, he is a FRIENDLY MAN (I'm a hyv employee fr)

A beautiful Monday morning. Your brother, Ajax decided this time of day would be a good day to have a drink in Mondstat's Angel share. "Ajax, if we were truly related I would question how." You say taking a drink of your Dandelion wine that you both ordered. " Well, I would question why you drink only one glass of this amazing wine Master Crepus here have given us!" Ajax said with a chuckle sharing a kind grin towards the man who returned the favor with a chuckle.

Crepus wasn't really fond of the Fatui himself but you being a big help and a well known painter as well as his associate— he grew fond of your brother. "Well I can't exactly take all the credit, my sons did help me with brewing that drink. It was their idea in fact." He said in a cheery voice, Ajax seemed to be enlightened by this news; He seemed to have gotten the instinct to adopt another sibling. "Ah! Yes I remember seeing a knight with red hair, I don't remember another though?" You say with a smile on your face taking another sip of your wine.

"Ah you've probably seen Kaeya, he doesn't look much like me. The blue haired knight with a Cryo vision. He's a remarkable fighter and though he is quite fond of drinking he's very reliable. Diluc is the one you saw, he's very serious and snarky yet he's really cheerful around his brother. They're basically inseparable!" Crepus replied as the doors of the Tavern opened revealing two tall knights "Good morning Father!" The two said in sync as they walked over to master Crepus. "Ah! Speak of the devils." He chuckled.

Ajax saw the two and never took his eyes off of them, on the other hand.. the boys also had their eyes glued onto your brother. "Hello, you must me Kaeya and Diluc? I'm glad to have finally met you both!" You say in an attempt to break the tension, Diluc turned his head towards you and paused to open his mouth for a moment but he only bit his inner lip and blinked several times while Kaeya snickered. "Hello, you must be the painter our father has been talking about! You're even more stunning than father had warned you to be." He said nudging his brother with a chuckle, you laughed from his statement— a statement your brother seemed to not have appreciated.

"What do you mean by that?" Ajax said putting his drink down and staring Kaeya dead in the eyes "oh! I didn't mean anything like that, apologies I was just teasing." Kaeya chuckled apologetically while Diluc nudged and whispered something to his brother then cleared his throat "Welcome to Mondstat, I heard you were from Liyue? How've you enjoyed your stay so far?" He asked with a smile on his face as he sat down on the barstool next to yours. "It's been great, I enjoy the scenery here a lot. The people of Mondstat are also very welcoming and kind, I'm quite glad I've come here again." You say as you took another drink of your wine which seemed to have never run out.

"Ah.. yes. I see— yes.." Diluc silently says while Crepus gave a little chuckle, as you turned to them you see that Kaeya seemed to have whispered something to him. "Huh? Have I missed something.." You ask with confused eyes, Ajax laughed through his drink while shaking his head ever so slightly almost as if he was mocking you.

— Two weeks

"Kae I don't think you understand! Have you seen their eyes? They're gorgeous— not just their eyes it's- it's them as a person! I- oh my archons what's happening to me." Diluc says catching his breath "Yeah 'luc you told me 'Kae.. this one's mine..' in that tavern when you first met, it's crazy to see the great knight Diluc fonding over someone like this... Wait til' Jean hears about this!" Kaeya said teasingly, while Diluc sat on his chair helplessly. Everytime you looked at Diluc, he started to get lost in your eyes, every small contact with you had him almost melt into a small puddle.

"Kae you can't blame me— they wrote letters ! See-! These letters! Their handwriting- choice of words I- just everything! Do you see!? Kae I can't— what am I compared to them? All I have is my honor and my tolerance for pain! How can I —" Diluc said fumbling over his words while he showed the letters to his dear brother who seemed to have been getting a kick out of his brother's misery "Hm..you're definitely— Ah! HAHAHA! OH DILUC! You're crushing so badly I have to tell father!" He says with an overly happy tone.

"What— no! Kae you can't do that!" The redhead said with a huff but Kaeya seemed to not have listened since now Diluc is watching Crepus walk across the room to you— stone faced you were. By that time he thought 'I'm through' , the nights he received your letters, the time when he'd look into your eyes and he'd drown in them. Crepus said nothing about Diluc liking you but he did hint that he knew you felt the same way.

He was helpless when your smile was as bright as ever, your eyes shining ever more brighter than it ever did. The more he stared the more he felt himself slowly melting and fading away into nothing but liquid. The more he thinks of your beautiful smile the more he falls for you, the more he thinks of what his father could've said that brought you that much joy, the more he succumbs to the gentle feeling of being around you. When you looked back at him he looked away immediately while he grabbed Kaeya's arm and started to chat with a random topic and a bright red face.

— One month later

God, he was drowning in your presence,he finally had the guts to ask you out. You two ate in a fancy restaurant, his whole being was frozen the moment he had a conversation with you going on for hours on end. When he picked you up, when you ate, when he sent you home. You chatted almost endlessly, he wished for it to last forever. Diluc was melting everytime you wrapped your arm around his, everytime he saw his father and brother in the corner of his eye cheering him on. The moment you held his hand to bid goodbye, he was melting inside and each moment he couldn't help but feel so warm that it physically made him weak.

— Two months later

Ajax grew fond of Diluc upon seeing how much weaker he seems when he's with you, how he sees his hands tremble when you hold his hand to guide him, when he sees Diluc's face heat up in a way that it could be hotter than his pyro vision. "Treat them well, I don't want to see them cry." Ajax said patting Diluc's shoulder while Diluc just nodded firmly. Even though his face was straight, he was bursting with joy inside.

— Seven months later

He met your family, Teucer grew fond of Diluc almost immediately, a new side of Diluc was unlocked whenever your siblings came close to him. He wasn't really fond of children but your siblings were too sweet for him to ignore. It's actually really rare to see him like this.

"Your family sure is something, they bring out a side of me I can't really explain. Teucer confides with me and Ajax tried to Fight me." He said with a smile plastered on his face, you can't help but smile and chuckle. This man beside you, he could be yours if you just say so. But do you really have the courage to do so? Teucer was going to go home with Ajax to Snezhnaya tomorrow, you have bigger matters to attend to.

— Half a month later

"REALLY?" Kaeya yelled, it echoed through the whole winery. Crepus and Adelinde hurried up to Diluc's room upon hearing the commotion. They saw Diluc as flustered as ever but this time he's smiling more than he ever had, Kaeya was chuckling and nudging Diluc while small "congratulations" escaped his mouth. "What happened?" Crepus asks, Elzer who followed to see what was happening could be seen behind the two also confused by the matter.

"They're together !" Kaeya exclaimed as the three took a pause and cheered, Diluc was more than embarrassed now. Adelinde asked Diluc to tell her everything while Elzer watched on the sidelines as Diluc stuttered and fumbled. It wasn't over though, Diluc was teased the whole day— it even extended to the next day, Crepus and Kaeya never stopped talking about how red and happy he was to finally be with you. Though he's embarrassed, he seemed to be more than glad to be with you. More than happy to enjoy your touch and your presence everyday.

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inoreuct · 8 months

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Zoro goes pale and mutters "oh NO" bc you KNOW what this means. She's gonna babble EVERY embarrassing & awkward thing about Zoro to Sanji. Sanji gets to see another side to Zoro in the way he interacts with Perona, as her little brother. And Sanji finds this so, SO endearing. And of course, Persona speaks abt Zoro's good side as well, the side that Zoro finds embarrassing (maybe he thinks is even weak) & is hesitant to show--kind, soft, protective, & surprisingly gentle (2/2)

YOU ARE SO RIGHT. all the gossip in the underworld goes to her or through her (also, get it? bcs she’s the ghost princess? i’m sorry i’ll stop) and i can imagine her yelling WHAT THE FUCK loud enough to make waves across the styx when she finds out from her shade friends that zoro’s head over heels for what, a flower god?? and it’s not just a silly fling? shit, THAT’S why there’s a worldwide famine? he’s bringing sunlight— and she’s like wow ok. in love with a flower god. that is both incredibly surprising and not at all.

she tells this to zoro and he’s like ok excuse me. he is not a Flower God he is the god of SPRING. DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT SPRING IS. and at that moment she just stares at him and knows he’s absolutely gone. done for. the ring might as well be on his finger bcs in his head he is a married man. the only reason they wouldn’t get hitched is if sanji didn’t want to.

and THEN she meets sanji properly. he is unlike any other of the other spoiled, beautiful creatures vying for zoro’s affections (aka his gold and power and title). he tosses his head back and cackles gleefully when she tells him about how zoro knocked his two front teeth out chasing shadow puppies as a kid. he gives snarky commentary and agrees that zoro needs more colour in his closet. he doesn’t reply when she asks if he loves zoro, but every single time sanji’s said her brother’s name it’s been in an impossibly fond tone. this one will do, perona thinks.

and mind you, he is her brother first and the king second. sanji watches her wrangle zoro into a vicious noogie about “keeping him a secret, you doofus, and why the hell would you fucking kidnap him? what were you thinking?!” and laughs behind his hand, because same, girl. same.

and sometimes when zoro is out late doing kingly stuff, they sit together by the fireplace with blankets and hot chocolates, and perona tells her new little brother about zoro. about how the king had a soft spot for animals, how zoro used to cry when he saw the souls of cats and dogs and even mice. how their father, mihawk, had gruffly but gently taught him about the way of life, about how it was a cycle (“and maybe he should have thrown one or two courting lessons in there too, gods”) and how zoro had slowly grown to fill mihawk’s shoes. he hid his soft parts to make it seem like he had no vulnerabilities, but they’ve both seen how zoro treats animals and children, the way he treats sanji.

sanji hums happily, and perona sips her chocolate. she likes this one, she decides. she likes this one a lot.

#zosan #zosan au #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #ronoroa zoro #one piece zoro #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #one piece #ask box #ino’s ask box

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merakiui · 8 months

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Orz I’m down so bad for Wriothesley (pls arrest me sir—) and was so pleasantly surprised he’s actually really charming, smart, and snarky D:’

He’d be such an interesting yandere! Though I would absolutely be worried about disappointing sigewinne ;-;

(putting my thoughts under the cut just in case of quest spoilers!!)

I am as well!! I went into the quest thinking I wouldn’t like him all that much, but he’s actually so pleasantly wonderful???? >0< I also adore how he sounds in English!!!! There’s something about his voice that is so captivating to me. And his personality is great! I love how intelligent he is. The conversation he has with Lyney in his office had me at the edge of my seat. It was so good. orz and we were treated to this wonderful image of Lyney being tranquilized. >:) seeing how upset and angry Lyney got with Wriothesley, how determined he was to make sure his siblings were safe and wanting to protect them, was very heartwarming. He’s so sweet. T-T

AND THE SMIRK ON WRIOTHESLEY’S FACE OOOOOOOO I LOVE HIM.

That aside, I do think he’d make for a very interesting yandere, even more so if Sigewinne plays some role in getting the two of you together. I like to think she looks up to your relationship and finds it so darling that His Grace has found someone to cherish. Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t fully understand human ideals that she doesn’t realize it’s unhealthy. She could be idolizing your relationship, finding it to be the most wonderful thing, despite not understanding why you hide in the infirmary to keep away from His Grace when he comes looking for you during his free time. She just wants to make sure both of you are happy and healthy at all times, so her prescription for you is to stop avoiding His Grace! You’ll be happy to see him, won’t you? At least, that’s what she thinks… She’s never quite sure with your expressions because, even though you smile and act like all is well, there is a tightness to your facial muscles that belies something dishonest.

Wriothesley doesn’t give you any reasons to hate him. Not truly. Of course you can’t leave the Fortress of Meropide, so you are essentially stuck with him. That’s just reality, the result of your sentencing, not due to any of his meddling behind the scenes. But those who have caught the Duke’s eye often receive special treatments. He is quite kind underneath his shrewd exterior. You can deny his gift of a few extra Credit Coupons, you can scoff at the delicious welfare meal (he certainly pulled a few strings to ensure you’d be treated on a day you worked your hardest), and you can continue to gently tell Sigewinne you’re not as fond of His Grace as it may seem. But then what will that solve? You’re not sure why he seems so taken by you, often inviting you to his office to indulge in tea. You haven’t done anything outstanding to catch his attention. You’re just you.

And that says everything, no?

#genshin chit chat #step-brother wriothesley……………..#thinking many thoughts orz

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kryptonian-bat-thing · 3 months

Text

The sun was just rising in Metropolis' horizon, the beginning of a new day after a tough night of patrol, but Batman was apprehensive still. It had only been a week since... that happened.

What was wrong with him? How could he betray his best friend like that? He knew that the answer to said questions was simpler than he'd ever admit out loud — or even to himself.

The truth was that Bruce had a certain fondness of Superman. Of course he did, the guy was practically a demigod, but that wasn't all there was to him.

The little tweaks, the smallest details, everything came as an overwhelming wave of respect for the man that he couldn't keep buried no matter how much he tried to.

Much to his demise worked that fact, since he'd rather not go through such an experience again.

A week ago, when they had just finished defeating a team up between Joker and Luthor and dropped both at Arkham, they found themselves at the Batcave, as they'd do after an exhausting fight. To catch up, aid each other, finish mission reports, etc. But this time, Bruce wasn't having it.

Earlier, in the fight, Superman launched himself straight into a kryptonite cannon, almost having it explode in his face. If Batman hadn't rushed him out of the scene in time, the Man of Steel would be long gone. He couldn't bear to even think about such absurdity.

Resting under the yellow sun lamp, he looked pure and innocent, like Clark Kent. But also wise and powerful like Kal-el, Son of Krypton. Bruce loved that about him, how he could conjure up the best of both worlds, become the strong hero Metropolis needed while keeping his true self immaculate by the darkness that came along the life of a vigilante.

Batman, cowl off, marched up to the sapphire eyed man with a clear scowl on his face, already scolding him for going off the plan. That he had been an idiot, prepared to let his life be ended if it meant a greater good. Bruce knew that it didn't make Clark stupid, but he had to let that concern out, even if only as anger.

Why couldn't he understand it, that Bruce simply couldn't lose him? That Clark is way too important to be wasting his life on the field like a pawn on a chess board? That, without him, the world would be lost? His world would be lost. He finished his snarky comments ready to move onto the report, when Clark made a sound.

Oddly enough, there was a mocking scoff coming out of the other's mouth.

"So you're allowed to risk your life everyday, but I can't, just because I have powers?" a smug smile. He knew the man was kidding, but the joke felt somehow offensive to him.

"Yes. I'm more replaceable than you; if I went missing or dead, Dick would wear the cowl and keep--"

"But he wouldn't be you." His tone shifted, still soft, but to a seriousness. It was like patting thick wool: solid yet comforting. Eyes glistening with the yellow light; cuts and bruises on his skin fading away like clouds in the wind. "And I wouldn't be me.

A Superman without a Batman just isn't the same, B. I'd probably lose my mind if it weren't for you holding my head in place. Sometimes I get scared thinking of it but... I just wanna spend, all the time that I can making sure that I'll be there when you need me..."

And he could tell, Bruce could tell Clark wasn't sure what that meant himself. If these feelings ran any deeper than their friendship, or made it stronger, or somehow both. He knew the younger man was still speaking, but he crouched and let himself come closer as words flew in and out of his ears. Soon Clark was quiet, staring at the icy ebony eyes that pierced through his own with furrowed brows, but a warm smile, revealing his internal conflict.

The older hero took it as a sign and went in. That was the worst mistake of his life.

Clark stood completely still their lips touched, tensed up at the shoulders, the stubble from Bruce's face rubbed his chin once, then twice, then gave up as the Knight retreated slowly. Then abruptly turned his back on the other, counting his heartbeat down; cape swirling like the wish he had to hide from under that sweet glare.

"Bruce, I..."

"Forget this ever happened. It was just a... moment of weakness. I'll finish the report later."

He didn't look back as he climbed up the stairs up to the Manor; he had a feeling that Clark knew he expected the Cave to be empty when he returned.

As he watches the rays kiss the golden buildings, a blue streak comes alongside a gentle breeze. Clark has been trying to talk about that day ever since — probably to let his friend down slowly, Bruce thinks to himself with pain in his chest — however it wasn't easy to get the Dark Knight to openly discuss his feelings.

This time, he had nowhere to run. No excuse. He wasn't in his city now; he couldn't run to the gargoyle's shadows and disappear. Bruce just couldn't bear to feel this pain any longer, it messed with his brain, it became an obstacle that had to be overcome. He couldn't stand in Superman's way any longer.

As the floating figure made his way closer, slowly, both tried to look confident. It's a force of habit, of course, until Clark broke it by pulling his lips in a brief loop sided smile, greeting his companion. It was ridiculous how Bruce had always wanted to kiss it and, when he did, it was the end of their friendship as he knew.

He sighed internally and braced himself against inevitable rejection.

But it never came.

"Do you regret it?"

"What?" he tilted his head upwards.

"Do you regret it." Clark repeated in another mumble, although he knew the Bat had heard it perfectly.

"No." Bruce let his chin fall again to his chest, gaulets holding onto each knee. Clark sighed.

"I wasn't exactly raised somewhere where people knew what sexualities were, B." he whispered, insecurity all over his usual bright voice.

"I've met your parents. They seem very accepting, in every way." that was their way of saying they adopted an alien they found in their yard, why would they mind if he liked to kiss men or women?

"And they are. That doesn't mean they knew it even existed." a small humoured smile faded in and out. "Folks at school were not that kind. They would bully and make fun of anyone slightly different, even if they had no idea what it meant. I only understood more about it when I was already old enough to drink."

Bruce frowned at the comparison, but kept on listening. The red boots touched the building he was perched on.

"Of course I'll treat anyone who feels that way with the same respect, I'm not a jerk. When it comes to me, though... I still don't know where I'm at in all that stuff."

"I see." Bruce stood up after a silent moment, white lenses showing no emotion. He willed his heartbeat down several times, but it was getting out of hand once again.

"I've been with guys before, I'm sure you've heard."

"Not from trustworthy sources." the disguised reporter grinned with an arched eyebrow. Bruce allowed a single giggle, which sounded more like a scoff to his own ears.

"I've slept with them, yeah." he sucked a breath through his teeth, then pursed his lips. "But I've never really dated any of them."

His heartbeat was out of control now and Clark could hear it, for sure. The way the shining eyes of his best friend reflect the light was breathtaking.

His whole figure was. Being bathed by the earliest sun rays, a golden statue of a god stood before him. The humblest god, he thinks to himself, and somehow said god had chosen to get with him out of anyone else.

"I don't deserve you." He whispers with furrowed eyebrows. He wasn't sure if Clark could see them, but he didn't have to. They can understand each other simply by their tone of voice, another thing he loved about their friendship.

"What? Don't say th--"

"It's true and you know it, Kal. It doesn't matter how much I want to pretend you're just the sweet guy I know, you're also Superman and you have a duty as such. I cannot stand in the way." the Knight's voice was steady and low, but pained. Why couldn't he be selfish for once?

Clark looked hurt, confused overall. Bruce's mumbling was back.

"You're just... Great. To me. And I'm not sure if I can also be great to you. I am... Scared."

His hands are then held by stronger ones. Even through the heavy leather gloves, he could feel the warmth of the whole Sun that is his Clark.

"B, look at me."

He does, and is not surprised to be met with the most compassionate look he knows. It was strong enough to move mountains and destroy planets, but it chose to aid weak souls and lift broken spirits.

Bruce held back an empty smile as Clark blinked, processing thoughts and words in only a way he could do.

That was why he loved the man. He'd been afraid to admit, but Clark was like a beacon of hope to him more than the actual symbol of Superman.

The way his eyelashes flutter when he's nervous, how considerate he is over anyone, how he gazes at the sky when he feels thoughtful or conflicted, as though he was searching for guidance among the stars.

Bruce had once been afraid he'd ever choose to leave Earth, but was glad that he had made it his home. A bit of a selfish desire, he was aware, but he was also aware that he was — unlike his beloved — only human. It is human to wish to be the only one who gets to see Clark's real smile, as he wakes up, before he drifts into a slumber, when he takes a bite of food that he enjoys.

"You think I'm so strong, but you can't see yourself." the voice was now low, chewing on his lower lip as Clark conjured up his next words. "You're amazing, Bruce. I respect you above everything and there's no way I wouldn't want to be with you."

The Dark Knight dared to approach, but held his face inches apart, hesitant. Then, it was Clark who moved forward.

Just as his lips were about to be sealed, the younger man tilted his head and frowned, his eyes focused somewhere else. Bruce was already beginning to think he'd messed up somehow, until his comm also started beeping, prompting him backwards, away from the smooth hands and into his ear.

A quick nod from both sides, and they dissolved; into a dark shadow between romanic buildings, and a confident figure amongst the clouds.

He felt butterflies in his stomach from watching such a noble man, the man he was madly in love with.

#batman #dc #superbat #superman #superbat ficlet #superbat fic #ficlet #short ficlet

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honourablejester · 6 months

Text

Thought for a Ancient Gnomish Divination Wizard

I wanted an incredibly ancient gnome granny. BUT. I wanted an incredibly ancient gnome granny who has only started learning magic in the last decade or so, because she was bored out of her tree in semi-enforced retirement and decided learning to be a wizard would be a great, non physically demanding hobby in her elder years. Because you see an ancient wizard, you expect an archmage, someone who’s been wizarding their whole long life, but you can start learning magic at any age. So I wanted a granny who’s level 1, because this was just her hobby she started this last little while.

I also specifically wanted her to be learning magic via correspondence course. By letter. Because she’s not going to get up and toddle off to some strange new city and sit in classes with all these kids a literal fraction of her age. She’s not able for that. So she found a (potentially dodgy) old wizard willing to teach magic by letter, and set up a correspondence with them.

And then. While these thoughts were percolating. I love the gnomish massive extended family thing, I love the idea of a four-hundred year old gnome matriarch. But I was thinking what her background would be. What she’d spent those four hundred years doing. What her massive extended family was likely still doing. And I thought.

What if they’re a massive crime family. What if her background is criminal?

Because. In Ireland there’s this thing called the mammy mafia, which is the cultural idea of the small-town coalition of grannies who know everybody’s goddamn move, on account of all the ‘little birds’ that told them. And. Make that a literal mafia, or at least a literal criminal clan. And this horrific old biddy at the root of it. She’s four hundred and something years old, thrice widowed (once by her own hand), with an absolutely ridiculous number of cousins and descendants and assorted relatives who stayed in the family business. Her criminal contact is that one grand nephew who knows how to get in touch with everyone in the family, and who’s friendly enough with gran to pass her ‘suggestions’ along.

Because. See. She’s ancient. She hasn’t been a direct part of the business in decades. Not all the family are willing to listen to the old biddy. But she still has enough of a spider’s reach to make life difficult for a lot of people. Especially since her specialty, back in the day, was blackmail. And that much she’s only gotten better at. A word in the right ear does wonders, even when you’re about as physically lively as a four day old corpse.

Which is why her school will be divination. Because she’s a nosy old biddy.

And. She’s also lonely. She wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t one of those innumerable relatives who are all, aside from her favourite grand nephew, varying states of fed up with her, the family’s moved on, gran, it’s not your day anymore, let me run my murder-and-blackmail ring my way, I’ve only been doing it for two centuries at this stage! So. So she decided to learn magic, and she found some perhaps financially struggling hedge wizard, and she’s spent the past decade or so exchanging incredibly vicious and snarky letters with someone who is a genuine wizard, and who does have opinions on the correct way to learn/do magic, but is stuck in a circumstance where he’s teaching some ancient harridan by correspondence course to make ends meet. And she’s become sort of genuinely fond of him. She’s never met the young man in her life (though naturally she’s had some great-great-grand-whatevers spy on him and steal all his information, just for safety’s sake), but their letters have become sort-of-friendly in between arguments and increasingly exasperated ‘lessons’, and she’s just become a bit fond of him.

Which makes it both a) inconvenient and b) worrying that he’s recently stopped responding to her letters. Or any letters. And her familial spy network can’t find any trace of him anymore. He’s up and vanished, and possibly in the wizard way, or possibly in the buried in a shallow grave way, and she’s deeply upset about it.

Upset enough to actually get up and go out and find out what the hell happened to him. Herself. In person. Because she may be only a starter wizard, and she may be an irrelevant old biddy so ancient that her bad shoulder and bad knees and bad lungs won’t let her murder people the good old fashioned away anymore, but she has four hundred years of evil experience of the world, and nobody gets to ‘disappear’ a friend of hers and get away with it.

And if it’s his own magical idiocy that’s done this, then she’s gonna find him, dig him out of it, and laugh in his face about it while saying ‘I told you so’. Because that’s what friendship means for wizards, right? And ancient old harridans.

(Some mechanical character notes:

Is it blasphemy to have a wizard who isn’t proficient in arcana? Because I feel like four hundred years of criminal and blackmail experience will incline her more towards insight and investigation. And, well. This is a hobby to her, that only got serious when her teacher slash pen pal slash best friend went missing. I think I want her to pick up the Observant feat as well at some point.

For her subrace, I’m going deep gnome, because they’re stealthier. So imagine this vast, occasionally genial clan of greyish gnomes who are involved in the criminal underworlds of like half the continent.

I did debate both illusion and scribes for her subclass, but, well. She’s a nosy old biddy, so divination. I think there’ll be a healthy amount of practical spells among her actual arsenal, though, good old Knock and Misty Step and Invisibility, because she’s not ideological about her school, she just likes having tools, and blackmailer instincts die hard.

She will also have Find Familiar. Purely so she can have a literal ‘little bird’ spy. The preferred form would actually be like a sparrow or a house martin or equivalent, a ubiquitous small urban bird, but maybe I could reskin a raven for it?)

I just wanted an evil old biddy who picked up magic as a hobby in her twilight years, and then had a reason to go out and about with it. You know?

#d&d #5e #character concepts #wizards #gnomes #evil old ladies

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nanomooselet · 4 months

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My Brother's Keeper (VI)

You may have noticed that I didn't extensively discuss Rollo, Livio, or Legato, which is maybe odd considering they are (and pretty blatantly so) parallels or foils to Wolfwood and the twins. And it's mostly because I'm trying not to let this damn thing become even longer (it was supposed to be three parts. Three. It's clocked out at seven, and that's after I took a machete to it to stop it becoming eight. Goddamnit) and I did already go on about all of them in the episodes they appeared.

It's also because at this point, Wolfwood's story (for the moment) is done. When he makes the choice to leave July and Vash behind, that's the end, and the reason he returns actually isn't about him at all. The narrative focus is instead on Meryl and Zazie, making sure we know what both have to say about this. It's good to know Zazie's displeased by this turn of events and very unlikely to ever again believe a word Knives says. (Humans will eat your planet just like they did their own and real quick Imma use Vash to eat the planet myself first sorry-not-sorry BYE WORMS.) It's sweet that Meryl's love of Vash didn't result in her death by Knives's jealousy, as it did for Rem and nearly did for Luida.

Nick's concerns, however, have always been limited to the orphanage and Livio, and their fates are both now out of his hands.

Everything always comes back to the twins, in the end. I think in this analysis I've come to understand the key to Stampede, which is that almost nothing in it is only about the thing it seems to be about. It's always also in some way about the twins.

Wolfwood's part in Stampede is about how he was Knives's weapon and became Vash's follower. He goes from being Nicholas the Punisher full time, a walking dead man carrying his own tombstone, to being Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the awkward, scruffy, snarky dweeb who cares for his family with his whole heart and lives to see a kinder world. Inevitably he has been scarred and stained with blood - he remains the one who killed all those people on the cult's orders, and he'll bear the cross for them. But he's no longer limited to killing in order to save. There's a new path for him to follow.

It starts with doing what Vash would do: getting out of there while he still can before everything explodes. He just happens to scoop Meryl up as he's fleeing. When the twin angels ascend to do battle, the best place for mortals to be is anywhere but nearby.

He wasn't going to rescue Vash, and he never could have. Protecting Vash was the task Knives gave him, and that was out of an complete absence of respect for Vash as a person, a competent adult, a being of unimaginable power, an independent-thinking-individual-who-isn't-exactly-like-Knives etc. The very last fucking thing Vash needs is to wake up in the care of another paternalistic "older" brother - not that I believe Wolfwood would ever treat him the way Knives does, but frankly I can see why neither would want to take the risk.

(Also increasingly sure Knives is bsing about being the older twin. It's like how Wolfwood really is still a kid, and he acts like one, and honestly I think Vash treats him like one. Those startlingly fond, adoring expressions that blow you away a little bit? They're What Vash Is Like Always About Everyone. But especially kids. He's like that about Meryl, too, just less overtly.)

If anything, Vash saved Wolfwood. So Nick realises he has to survive, when before he kinda just wanted to die. He's no longer permitted some dumbfuck last stand. Fighting Knives is crazy and impossible, so let the impossible crazy man take care of it. It's his field of expertise. Love and peace ya'll. Woowoo's out.

Two things, however. The reason, in the manga, that Wolfwood didn't return to Hopeland (until he did), and the reason, in the manga, Chapel has none of the narrative's sympathy (not even Vash really gives a fuck when Wolfwood snaps his neck, and Chapel was already in a wheelchair at the time. I remember a bookclub post that declared God hates Chapel. I'm a layperson, but I'd call that theologically sound).

I mean, there are multiple reasons, but the most relevant is that in the manga, this evil-minded wrinkly fuck trained Wolfwood to kill. Wolfwood believed that being a killer rendered him unfit to ever again return home, until the day Chapel launched a direct assault on the orphanage using Razlo and Livio, revenge upon Wolfwood for taking up another cause - being Vash's friend - when his sole loyalty and purpose was supposed to be in death. He's disgusted that Wolfwood let Vash's ideals blunt his edge when previously he was near-"perfect".

I can't tell you what shape these events will take. But I can tell you they're still in the future. Stampede is a prologue, and the final phase has not arrived. Wolfwood's beginning is complete. His real story is yet to come. And I don't think he's forgiven himself for fulfilling the contract, even if Vash has.

The angel's eye, the Eye of Michael, still watches.

(And only the angel's? We'll see.)

Anyway, back to the twins.

(Part I)

(Part II)

(Part III)

(Part IV)

(Part V)

(Part VII)

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #millions knives #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #and only livio's? WE'LL S #all of the stampede characters besides roberto are wee bebbies #alas that is why old drunkle must die #by this point “nick” is my name for him because “wolfwood” is too annoying to type over and over #hope he doesn't mind #trigun maximum #meta: my brother's keeper

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bloodheartz · 2 days

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Soul Easter For The Fandom Ask

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most) - Probably Stein (with Spirit in close second. I'd say Spirit's my fav but I think about Stein more). Honestly both because I always had a fondness for scientist characters and because I find him super relatable (I mean- I'm a Stein introject so that last part goes without saying but even if I wasn't that'd be very true for us). I'm not going to get into it on detail with this post but since childhood we've dealt with real-world equivalents of a lot of the things he struggles with in canon. (gif via @/soul-dwelling)

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped) - Probably either Maka or Crona. Maka more-so from the early chapters of the manga and Crona moreso from the anime. I mean just look at how adorable they both are.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave) - MARIE. I think more people should be talking about Marie I love her so much. She's so silly and absolutely lovely and a total badass. I was so sad we didn't see more of her in the anime to the point that she directly was the character that motivated me to pick up the manga.

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week) - Not obscure to the point listed in the prompt since she features a prominent role for a while, but I absolutely love Eruka. I put her here since I don't see a lot of people talking about her which is a shame. I love her snarky / silly personality and she has probably one of my favorite designs in the series. And I absoutely love her dynamic with Free!

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave) - Medusa, she doesn't fit in the pathetic part of this but oh boy is she "problematic" (moreso just straight up a terrible person) and controversial. That being said oh boy do I think about her a lot and enjoy her as a character. She sucks so bad. I think about her once and I'm in the torment nexus for the night (in a good way. I have many Thoughts on her.) A lot less importantly I would be lying if I didn't say she wasn't one of the few fictional women I have a crush on even though im a gay man. Overall just a big fan of when a woman is evil and terrible and oh boy is she evil and terrible. 10/10 (also im just a sucker for snake themed characters hehe)

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason) - Spirit. I'm sending him to the torment nexus for 100 years. He's so silly and pathetic and I have the biggest crush on him that comes out as expressing the desire torment a good chunk of the time like I'm some sort of school child who teases their crush because they can't comprehend love yet.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell) - Spirit.

#soul eater #Franken Stein #Spirit Albarn #maka albarn #Crona Gorgon #marie mjolnir #eruka frog #medusa gorgon #ask game

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fridayyy-13th · 4 months

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THE "fanon is so much better then canon" REBLOG TAGS. WOULD U BE OKAY SHARING UR SASHA CHARACTERIZATION THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS THAT MADE ME SO EXCITED TO SEE..... . no worries if u'd prefer not to though or wouldn't be sure how to articulate all of that!!! im like that sometimes when there are just So many character thoughts so no worries either way :-]]] have a cozy day or nightttt btw

oh my goodness yes absolutely i would be okay sharing. Sasha's my girl!! i love her!!! and i will not stand for fanon's slander of my beloved.

a while back i made a post about the list i have of Various Sasha Observations from the episodes she appears in (tbh i still need to add stuff from MAG 039 to it...), but what's always struck me is just how full of character and life she is, even appearing in as few episodes as she did. she's curious, clever, snarky, pedantic, reckless, and cares for her friends so much. basically the opposite of the "braincell holder" archetype she's been assigned!! she faces monsters head-on twice to protect her friends, she learned about Martin's CV through her own snooping and kept that information to herself so he could keep his job, she seems really easy to talk to (in MAG 024, she manages to coax an amused tone out of Jon, who's in full prickly-boss-mode at this point in the series), and she's also just as clueless about archiving as the rest of the characters (see: the stapler incident. standard staples rust, i believe what she should have been doing to keep the loose statements together was putting them into individual folders? i'm not an archivist. but the idea Sasha would have been better at archiving is not true. she would have absolutely been a better Archivist though. in Jonah's eyes, at least. she's got Jon's lack of self-preservation and double the curiosity).

also just...as an arospec person i love projecting on her, honestly. aromantic!Sasha is a headcanon very dear to my heart; i'm particularly fond of queerplatonic interpretations of her and Tim's relationship. i'm also very fond of queerplatonic jonsasha! which is even harder to find!! i just love the ace/aro solidarity they could have. i've got fic WIPs that feature both those relationships in more spotlighted roles than they usually get, if only i could finish them...alas, i'm a notoriously slow writer. they'll get done eventually, i promise 😅

oh my GOD i almost forgot to mention just how often the other characters bring her up after her death!!! see, like, another thing about fanon is how often Sasha is sidelined, even when she's still alive, but Jon pauses for a heavy moment after Knowing she was killed by the Not!Them, and Martin repeatedly asks about her and her safety after "she" (the Not!Them) disappears, and Tim's downward spiral is accelerated by having lost another person dear to him to the Stranger. and even after her death, she's important to them. when Peter asks Jon "where are your friends, Archivist?" in 159, his first answer is "Tim and Sasha are dead," when his closest friend at the time is Daisy. this isn't even important to her characterization per se, but it's important to me that you know that she was so important to them. she was their friend!!! even though she was forgotten she was remembered as a friend!!!!!

...but uh, yeah. that's my thoughts, lol. Sasha James is the light of my life and fanon absolutely dropped the ball on her. fanon tends to drop the ball on most things but Sasha especially. God i love her so much. it's like my personal mission to get the fandom to care about her as much as i do.

#friday chats #the magnus archives #sasha james #anon tag

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kimbapisnotsushi · 2 years

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so people are super invested in who the nonrich kids are for all the rich school teams from this post so like. let’s get it i guess!!

seijoh: y'all already know!!! fucking yahaba shigeru!!! it's why he's got such an attitude about things!! he's a middle child AND he's sick of the rich kids' bullshit!! like idk i feel like on the first day of school a lot of yahaba's classmates think he's like them bc he seems so ~shallow~ and ~preppy~ but then he instigates violence within the first ten minutes of class (WITH A GOOD JUSTIFIABLE REASON) and everyone is like "what the fuck".

(i have my thoughts about kyoutani being a nonrich kid too bc like. i do love them being the nonrich power couple of seijoh who are just so ready to FIGHT anyone who talks shit otherwise but also??? kyoutani coming from a rich stuffy family?? that punk ass?? that'd be HILARIOUS)

shiratorizawa: SHIRABU SHIRABU SHIRABU. unlike yahaba he makes his disgust known loud and proud. every time a rich kid tries to come for him he's like "absolutely the fuck not" and RIPS them apart so bad not even all their money could pay for enough therapy sessions to fix the damage. he knows goshiki means well but goddamn does he want to bop that kid on the head sometimes. (i also like the idea of shirabu and kawanishi bonding over being the nonrich kids but also??? kawanishi being like SUPER weird BC he grew up wealthy and exasperated but fond shirabu??? i LOVE that shit)

fukurodani: tbh. i really really like konoha as the nonrich kid for fukurodani. like "mr. jack-of-all-trades" yeah of fucking course he seems like he can do every single little thing compared to everyone who just. HIRES people to do shit for them or buy whatever they need. konoha knows how to use duct tape in a hundred different ways while his classmates are just like. tossing easily fixable headphones and sunglasses out every time they break and buying new ones every single time. (also. yes this follows the snarky nonrich kid and weird rich kid. konoaka my beloved.)

itachiyama: look i know we only have three of them BUT. the sheer HILARITY and the HONOR of it being the CAPTAIN, iizuna tsukasa??? i think both sakusa and komori are rich and being cousins they get into the weirdest most trivial spats that iizuna has to sort out. like sakusa is yelling at komori bc "YOU SPILLED CAPRISUN ON MY BALENCIAGA" and komori is all "THEY WERE UGLY ANYWAYS JUST BUY A NEW PAIR" and iizuna is like. "wtf. guys. like honestly fuck the both of you we have PRACTICE right now come ON"

inarizaki: SUNA. IT HAS TO BE SUNA. kid who came all the way across the prefecture to an elite school where he doesn't know anyone or anything? a school where presumably most of the rich students have known each for YEARS bc they went to the adjacent middle school together? yeah there's going to be SO much bullshit when suna gets to inarizaki and hjsgbdkhd it makes me hurt just THINKING about it. like okay yeah all of these types of schools are ruthless but suna is such an easy target because he really doesn't have anyone here y'know?? (that's a lie, of course. he has the team. and that's enough.)

kamomedai: i didn't cover them in the og post but like. kamomedai is DEFINITELY rich. like. how the fuck else do you nab someone who coached pro to teach a bunch of high school kids??? and keeping in mind with what we already know of hoshiumi and hirugami . . . i'd really like for it to be hakuba LMAO. like, we know he isn'tas good and just started playing in high school, so there's probably a roadblock somewhere that makes him feel like he isn't catching up to the others as fast as he'd like, but really he just never had the resources they always had bc of their money!! i'd also really like liam to be one of the nonrich kids too, bc then he and hakuba would have some cute senior-junior bonding moments

mujinazaka: usuri. no explanation needed.

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mamawasatesttube · 4 months

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▵ for made for sunny days

❖ for storm in a bottle and aftershocks (i look forward to seeing how you surprise me!)

↻ for your ghost i will gladly bear

<3 <3 <3

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line

The phone on the nightstand buzzes. Cass doesn’t bother checking what it says, but Tim leans over to peek at the screen, then smirks. He rests a hand atop Kon’s head, fondness and love radiating through him despite all his snarky words.

i cheated a little by going for a passage rather than line, but shh. its just like... the way cass specifically as narrator can so easily see the way tim is worried and full of love he doesn't know what to do with. tim and kon are more focused on what they're both saying to each other, but to cass it's about the underlying emotion. it's also about tim being a bitch. i enjoy when tim is a bitch.

❖ pick 2 fics and I’ll combine them somehow

(storm in a bottle and aftershocks!)

ohoho this is definitely a single scene in the aftermath of the climax (i.e. tim finding out that superfam are selkies). he suddenly understands why lois stared at him like she was thinking of boring a hole in his head with her eyes, and why clark looked so analytical and unhappy, that day he fell into the harbor in january and kon fished him out, bundled him up in his favorite grey jacket, and brought him home to take care of him.

because. kon's favorite grey jacket. his pelt. he never lets anyone touch it, after how horribly he was abused for it as a child when he didn't even know. and he wrapped it around tim to keep him warm. to save his life. how much did it hurt him to do that? how violated did he feel, while tim soaked in a hot bath to stave off hypothermia?

tim didn't know. at the time, he had no idea. but now he knows, and the guilt is eating him alive. not knowing isn't a good excuse for how he clutched it around his shoulders, digging his fingers into the manifestation of kon's personhood. he can't fathom how kon can even stand to look at him anymore, let alone touch him.

he needs to apologize. he needs to. the guilt and horror are an anchor around his neck, and he's going to drown.

(meanwhile kon is just out here like yippee yaaaay tim in my jacket <3 <3 <3 yaaayyyyy yippee wahoo yay tim wow yayy yippee yay yay!!)

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it

your ghost i will gladly bear

HM!!!! oyl tim + robin kon is such a specific situation it's kind of hard to transpose that dynamic onto other ships without a lot of fiddling. that being said, i AM thinking about your cissiecassie + cassierose au where cissie is cassie's very beloved, very dead wife and cassie is So Fucking Normal about it. the cassie from that verse meeting a cissie from a dead wife cassie universe...

honestly if they're adults and they were married to each other and then lost each other. i think they would have some very emotional messy sex and then both feel so guilty about it afterwards, as if they both cheated on their dead wives. if you say "HOT FUCKING MESS YIKES YIKES YIKES!" in the mirror three times at midnight, the outline for this fic will manifest in your home.

#answers #loisinherlane #i do love intensely messy wlw.

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echoedcrosshairs · 9 months

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Dark Redemption: Stranger’s Together - Part II

Summary: After Crosshair joined the empire you went looking for him and eventually found him but he wasn’t the man you remember, temporarily free from the empire Crosshair has to figure out whether he’s staying to make amends or rejoin the empire 🖤Smut with an Angsty Plot🖤

Warning: Cannon typical violence, Order 66, Pinning, former established relationship, emotional turmoil, eventually smut, Crosshair’s depression, Crosshair’s head wound, Happy Flashback. || This is a darker series ||

Word Count: 9k ~ Song Ships in the Night / Mat Kearney

Masterlist ~ Part I

Imaginary red speckled your hands as you searched them, Am I no better then him? I've see what he's capable of, the only one who truly knows and I'm willingly proposing to send him back. A short burst of maniacal laughter spilled out as your heart rate vibrated through your chest. You covered your free willed lips with your trembling hand but Hunter had already walked back in and sat on the beds edge next to you his tenderness squeezing your leg which helped settle your trembling form.

Hunter ignored Crosshairs shallow breathing in the door way when he spoke, "Are you sure you want to go down too why not just let him find his own way?"

"Penance," you whispered the black scar on your heart threatening to rip itself open again, "My Crosshair is gone..." your voice trialed off to finally met Hunter's concerned gaze, "but I have to know without a shred of doubt that monster isn't him."

"He's Crosshair," Hunter whispered answering the question.

"Are you sure Hunter?" You looked away, "I loved him, so much..."

"I know," Hunter replied letting go, "and he loved you," Hunter unfolded a tiny piece of paper and handed it to you, "as much as he tried to hide it."

Weakly you took the paper opening it to find another photo of the two of you together, a tender moment on a Naboo balcony his arm around your waist with his usual expression but their was no mistaking the look in his eyes. You could see the photo had been reopened several times with the deep crinkle marks, "Why did you never show me?" you asked still staring at it.

"Incase there was ever a day you doubted it. Keep it," Hunter stood up staring down at the photo, "Tech says preparing to land." You followed Hunter out taking the available seat.

"Any particular area?" Tech asked as all of you entered the atmosphere.

"There's a small town near the port I'm fond of."

"When where you here long enough to be fond of one?" Crosshair said looking at you.

"Wouldn't you like to know, snarky," the teasing endearment fell out, your upper lip twitched into a sneer before typing in the coordinates for Tech. You felt Crosshair's eyes searing into you as you slide back into your seat. You brought your leg up setting your cheek on it as you unfolded the picture. A small genuine smile gracing your face as you looked at it, not just because of the intimacy captured in the photo but how it had become a playful game between the brothers to catch these moments. How simple life had been. You folded the photo back up and tucked it your pocket finding Omega standing over you who had also been looking at the photo.

"You both look happy."

"Prying is rude, Omega" you replied flatly, "but yes."

"This place is a dump," you heard Echo grumble, looking up you smiled finding the city the same before the Empire, "Are you sure? There has to be better areas."

"No one would think twice of looking for us here. I'll take a com and my go pack," you looked at Echo's grumpy expression as Tech landed. Echo had always been your closes confidant and best friend especially in Crosshair's absences. He was the first out of his seat hugging you ignoring Crosshair's glare that it went on a couple moments to long. "See you later, Corporal," you said cheerfully, goodbye was to final but you both knew the odds. He didn't say anything when he let go giving you a solider's nod which he only reserved for Captain Rex. You would have sworn Wrecker broke a rib picking you up.

"Last chance," Hunter whispered hugging you once the three of you got to the ramp.

"If I die, bury the photos in my place. Don't hate him for it," you swallowed feeling him go ridged, you pulled back giving him a kiss on the cheek, "Take care of Omega, she can have my cookie stash."

"What didn't you tell us," Hunter said deadlocking his grip around your arm knowing their was more to the story as it seemed to lead in a more finale direction.

"I just told you," Hunter's eyes fell to Crosshair who was rigidly postured like a solider waiting for the next set of orders, "I wouldn't have it any other way," Hunter's hands fell to fist at his side, "You were a squad long before I joined and will be afterwards," you stated resisting the urge to embrace the sergeant again.

Descending the ramp was different this time, it was just a mode of transportation to the reality below but this time is a stairway to hell deciding your punishment. They weren't steps, they were echoes of the souls secrets waiting to be judged. You wondered if any sane person would rationally walk towards their possible death before you looked to him, the former soldier of the Republic had done many suicide mission and came back, maybe that was what this was a suicide mission. Consequently whatever this was didn't matter, depending on the outcome. The bags under his eyes were heavy, the small lines in his face more define but how he carried himself showed a broken man steeling himself to the world. You caught him eyeing you in return, shifting your gaze back to the city you silently lead both of you to a hotel. The building was far from fancy but it had a secret reputation.

"A black room if possible, two beds, three nights," you said slipping him a tiny pouch, the man unphased opened it and handed you a key to the suite, "Yes I know the way," you smiled before he could ask.

Both of you went to the fair side of the building ascending the hidden staircase behind a portrait. Crosshair remained silent studying the surroundings as both of you found the black door with the number matching the key. Everywhere else had the generic slide open door however these were old and manual. He took the key from your semi trembling hand and opened it without a word letting you enter first. He took the bed closes to the window, he sat there watching the industrial city move about as small ships flew about and speeders glide.

"I'll find you something less suspicious to wear, are your measurements still the same?" Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he gave you a small nod as he flicked a tooth pick into his mouth, "I'll be back in thirty."

He wanted to follow after you but this soldiery time would give him time to think how much had happened today and wonder what was in the pouch. Undoing his armor, he left it in small stacks on the poor excuse for a coffee table as it wobbled lightly at the weight. Just in his blacks he felt naked, overly overexposed to the unknown world around him. He placed himself in the sofa staring at the ceiling, little bits of memory of his life prior to the empire resurfacing. A kiss, a passionate night, fighting, droids, then came the abandonment, loneliness and finally the rage at his brothers but Hunter told him you weren't them. Crosshair replayed your conversation with Hunter what seemed to be a hundred times before it fell into place, if he was ordered too could he? With the chip he could do it as easy as breathing but now without it, he wondered if he still had the resolve. It was to late when he noticed he had curled in on himself when the door opened. When you spend so much time with a person you recognize their tells just from bodily language alone after all this time Crosshair scolded himself for his still being the exact same. He grumbled a noise uncurling himself noticing your eyes peeled themselves from his finely shaped figure and snatched the bag from your hand, "You wish I was that ugly," he snarked. Neatly laying out the new apparel it was reminiscent of time he chose to forget, moments that use to haunt his waking hours in the night. The plan black pants and dark maroon turtle neck fit him best in the moment, he grabbed them and took himself to the refresher to change.

"Only if I could tell if your heart is," you whispered once you heard the door shut. Out of muscle memory you refolded the clothes setting them out in a stack before grabbing your simple entire from the other bag.

"What are those," Crosshair said flatly noticing the still healing blemishes speckled across your shoulders.

"Ask Admiral Rampart," you snapped pulling the shirt quickly on, "Surprised you didn't see us when you walked pass," you knew you shouldn't have said it but the provocation was already out hanging in the air.

"What!" he seethed before backing you into the wall glaring down at you caging you with his arms and his eyes narrowed to slits.

Glaring back at him, "You heard me just fine."

Crosshair's mind flicked to a report he'd accidentally seen on Ramparts desk that he tried to hide, an escaped insurgent and remembered the chipper attitude of the Admiral prior, "What do you know."

"Everything."

His arms dropped, backing away he stuck a fresh tooth in his mouth. Burying his emotions he let his face go blank, "Everything?" he asked flatly not looking at you. Everything to range from absolutely nothing to everything.

"For a man with impeccable eyesight, you didn't see the probe droids."

Crosshair gave a curt nod looking at you looking for any semblance of a lie or sign of rejection but it was like looking in the mirror, nothing. Everything. He looked down at the perfectly stacked clothing, somethings never change even after knowing everything. He took the stack of clothing and put them in the dresser on his side of the bed. Three nights? "What's the plan?" He droned.

"Well I plan to go on a stroll, maybe hit a cantina and a decent dinner. You're free to tag along, or head home, or find company to keep yourself occupied, I hear imps often enjoy the... riveting company" the jab obvious, "However I plan to soak this place in one more time," you shrugged slipping the key into your pocket.

"Have you?" He asked quietly.

"No," you opened the door noting the hesitation before he accompanied you. Electing to ignore the silence, "Ever been here?"

He contemplated the answer and lack of the return question on the matter, "Once."

Pondering if there was a double meaning you looked at him, Crosshair always had the best Sabacc face. Sneaking out the hotel your feet guided you towards an old Cantina on the other side of town. Taking in the bustling little city, it seemed so raw untouched by the empire unlike the other major cities around this one hadn't been collected into the fold yet because there was no strategic value or assets here. One could describe it as beautiful while Echo described it as a dump, to most it was still beautiful no flags hung, no soldiers stationed and no clogged roads for Imperial transports. It was difficult to tell the difference between the natural wind and speeders but after being on a ship so long then only having the freedom to smell the smoke of Kamino it was a lavishly sensation. Noticing an approaching speeder over head, you raised your arms your finger tips catching in the strong wind gusting past and your heart rate picked up at the sensation. Sighing you brought your arms down tucking them at your sides, ignoring Crosshair's questioning expression and impeccable soldier posture, "You need to relax, you stick out like gundark in a room of banthas."

"Don't tell me what to do," he scowled but attempted to relax his posture anyway.

"Says the one listening," you pointed out noticing the tension in his shoulders fading.

"Why three nights?" he got the nerve to ask.

"I'm figuring either you sneak off tonight and contact the empire or we have time to... get to know one another."

"You know me," he said squinting.

"In another life perhaps," you asked looking at him, "know you however? I do not."

Crosshair studied you, "What makes you say that?" he asked watching you stop and stare at him.

You touched the scarred webbing across the side of his head before bringing your hand back to your side, "You're not the same after all of that, you can't be," was all you managed to get out, "I saw everything you did for the sake of that wretched Empire. My Crosshair never would have never slaughtered innocents, wouldn't have followed so blindly... he would never be you."

His hand vice gripped your hand tugging you towards him, "Do you think I had a choice in the beginning," he snarled flashing the scaring, "They knew it activated and never came for me, abandoned me to become a monster for the empire because they prioritized her, the child they didn't even know over me. My brothers," he spat, "betrayed everything we stood for. I had no where else to go," venom laced his words while rage contorted his face, "At least with the Empire I know where I truly stand. Then there's you," he growled, "Treating me as if I'm gone, discarded just like they did to me. You're no better."

"You're right, I am no better. I'm giving you, a monster, an opportunity to survive knowing the devastation you've left in your wake," you hissed back, "I know you didn't have a choice in the beginning, but you do now" you studied him watching the calculation of answers reeling across his face, the rage softening, "You don't have to go back to your brothers and you don't go back to the empire."

"We're both monsters then," Crosshair choose his words carefully, "Neither of us are the same." Do you want to forsake what we had because of what I've had to become to survive? The question died on his tongue, "Why?"

"I'm not ready to give up on Crosshair, I may mourn him but that doesn't mean I'm ready to forget what we had," he didn't even need to ask the question both of you had always had similar trains of thought, "Even knowing everything I know, he is the only thing that kept me going during Rampart's sessions trying to break me." Without thinking about it Crosshair lured you to his barely breathing chest ignoring the public setting as letting his lips brush against yours for a split moment before resting his chin on your forehead.

The speech center of your brain check out for the day at his outburst even through the new clothes aroma he still managed to smell the same. As quick as the outburst had started it ended, he took his arms off of you and backed away as if nothing had happened and started walking. Dazed, you followed after him not sure at this point who was leading who to where. The solidness of him shook you, he was here, alive, not just ghost haunting your memories or a shadow lurking just out of reach. You stumbled over to the nearest ally way, hunched against whatever building trying to get a hold of your spinning head while your stomach grew a swarm of butterflies. How could just a smell do this, but it wasn't just the smell but the eruption of emotions caused by the lips and arms of a ghost. What is happening. You saw him lean against the side of the building looking down at you, "What, thinks it's funny?" You breathed.

"No, let's go back to the hotel," Crosshair kept a collected expression as he recognized the signs.

"If I move I think I'm going to be sick."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've seen you sick," he

mumbled pulling you away from the wall and waiting but a warning never came. Keeping an awkward grip on you, Crosshair maneuvered both of you up in the discreet hotel room above. He placed you next to the refresher feeling your weak grasp clinging to his pants ankle, "Cross," he heard you say weakly noticing how paled your skin looked. He got down sitting next to you, "Yes?" he observed you laying down, setting your head in his lap. Both of you remained silent, but he saw some of your color return. Interesting, he thought. Cross, she said my name. His eyes went wide as he observed your clammy skin and he brought his fingers to your rapid pulse, "What do you need?"

"Nothing," you pulled up disgusting by the show of weakness, awkwardly crawling your way into your bed.

"What do you need." He repeated.

"I need Crosshair," you said tucking your arm under the pillow holding onto it not bothering to peel your clothes as you crawled under the covers. Finger tips finding the photo tucked away in your pocket, you pulled it out and stared at it.

Before you could put it away he snatched it out of your grasp sitting back on his own bed looking down at it, "I'm right here," he muttered staring at it before setting it on the nightstand, "move," he growled peeling his shirt and pulling back the covers climbing in. The sensation of having someone so close made his skin feel as if beetles were trying to burrow out as he pulled your stiff form to him, "relax," he realized how ironic it was due to his rigid nature. Pulling your face to his bare chest, he tangled his legs around yours as he held your waist. Crosshair let out a deep breath as he felt the palm of your hands warm against his chest, finger tips just barely burrowing into him and face pressing into him. He didn't need Hunter's hearing to hear the well practiced silent sobbing, "Cyar'ika," he whispered letting his hand attempt to make soothing circles.

Your hands had a mind of there own as they pushed against him as you stared up meeting the no longer familiar eyes but you saw it just the faintest silver of light in the darkness, "CT-"

"Crosshair," he growled trying to keep the anger from reaching his facial muscles with little result, but it wasn't anger pointed towards you it was towards what Rampart did to both of you. He let you push him stiffening not knowing what you were going to do, "You'll never see me, accept me," forgive me he said flatly detangling himself from you moving to his own bed staring at the ceiling. His fingers traced the familiar tattoo on his face, one you had touch countless times wondering if it was time to also get it removed. He wanted to curse the maker but couldn't find the words to do so that didn't make him curse himself in the process. Slowly everything he was getting ripped away piece by piece and there was nothing he could do about it. He pinched the bridge of his nose squeezing his eyes shut, your whispered confession pulling him out of his thoughts abruptly, "In the darkness hours of the night, I thought of you," he wouldn't repeat what you had said, "the chip didn't take you from me," it was as close to a confession as he could get. He looked over at you, "Were you and Hunter or Echo...?" His stomach dropped at the question that had been gnawing at him at how close you seemed to either of them. It felt like there was more to the story other then just being a squad because there was something there that he couldn't put his finger on.

"No, when you left... Echo is the one who tried to console me so I could keep going, he's my best friend, he was the first person who saw me when they rescued me. Hunter is just Hunter, he's worried about me being with you" you admitted.

"Would you have if I never..." came back?

"No," the answer was quick and precise, "my heart and loyalty was to Crosshair."

"If it wouldn't have been the chip, would you have come with me?" he asked returning his attention to the ceiling.

This time you looked at him, perfect skin, the narrow arch of his nose, a jaw line so sharp it could be use to cut plastoid but there were also unmistakable bags under his eyes, from regretful nights to long missions you couldn't tell. "They asked me that too," you said returning your attention to the ceiling, "My Crosshair would have never joined, at least deep down that's what I hope."

"He's a soldier, what else is there besides war?"

"A family? Kids? Normalcy?" You rattled off several more things knowing it fell on deaf ears.

"Didn't answer the question."

"Don't think I would have lasted long seeing how they treat civilians and clones."

"So you would have betrayed me?"

"I would be betraying the Empire, Crosshair. Everything isn't as black and white as your narrow mind thinks it is."

"Narrow mind?" he sat up glaring, "Betraying the Empire would be betraying me."

"Except Crosshair isn't the Empire, he's just a wheel in a cog propelling it. He's just a man not a concept sweeping the galaxy in eternal dictatorship," you watch his eyes squint but he laid back down.

"I don't think we should talk politics."

"We should before you execute me, make me understand your reasoning."

"I wouldn't."

"Then you would be betraying the empire by going against an order," you stated seeing the contemplation reeling across his face, "when it's given, that is."

He heard his knuckles pop from how hard his fist were clenched, "You claim not to know me, yet you risk your life for mine?" he growled, "What's the point in remembering, if I don't exist?" he got up facing the wall laying his hands flat against it resting his forehead against, "The universe is erasing me, just another meaningless clone in the masses" he whispered. It was the whisper of a man on the verge of snapping. His palm hit the wall leaving an noticeable crack.

You sat up staring at his muscular back, the tension knots visible, "Says the man who will barely look at me and wants nothing to do but pick fights," you watched him spin on his heel standing to full height, very step calculated as he moved as he stared down his jaw set as he leaned down getting face level with you.

"I've never been one for words," grabbing a tooth pick from his pocket he stuck it between his lips waiting to gauge your reaction to the proximity. You're eyes were trapped on him, a memory of a smiled pulled at his lips. The first real one he'd had in a long time, "This is what you wanted," he said noticing the tiny hint of fear in your features. He leaned in, "Omega is right, I don't recognize you either but at least I'm trying."

You bit the end of the tooth pick sliding it between your own tooth, "You don't think I am either."

"No."

You let out the breath, "You're right, all I see is who you've become because I can't see who you were. The man in that photo had love in his eyes for me but you don't seem too," the dagger in his heart twisted, "Crosshair loved me but I don't think you do. I think your chasing a memory to hope to feel something again," the dagger ripping out his still beating heart.

He plunked the toothpick out of your mouth snapping it with his fingers before casting it to the ground, "Are you actually going to force me to say it back?" Crosshair whispered letting fingers found your chin forcing his facial features soften. His face barely felt like his own anymore, the vulnerably and raw emotion he let show across it were so foreign compared to his usual demeanor. Weakness was everything he tried to cull in himself serving the Empire because it wasn't a luxury he couldn't afford anyone to know. Attachment, love, remorse and the unyielding presence of guilt that kept him up in the dead of night regardless of how much he tried to shove it aside it forever lingered on the edge of his consciousness. He waited letting you take in the love, pain and the ache of desperate longing he felt deep with in the dark confines of his broken soul.

His hand was cold against your face but you didn't pull away. You stared at him while the darkness in his eyes was a remainder there was still a beast inside part of who he use to be was fronting. The grip softened, dropping to his knees forcing himself to look up at you. Confessions of his bared soul laid before you to judge. Silently begging you to deem him as sinner so he could find his penance before begging for the salvation of only thing that could stitch together the remnants of his shattered soul, love. There were no secrets, every transgression you were already privy to. You didn't recognize this side to him, grabbing his hand you pulled you him back up towards you onto the bed. Fingers dug into him pulling him close except this time he was the one who silently wept as he downturned his face into the pillow.

"Cross," you breathed pressing your face into the center of his chest. You felt his legs wrap around yours and his arms cage you, he didn't want you to see him like this and you weren't going to force him to let you.

Finally pain stopped shedding from his once barren tear ducks, his eyes found the wet spot in the pillow and flipped over the pillow to hide the annoyance of the outburst. His thin fingers found the collar of your shirt, he paused for a moment with your tense at the touch before he proceeded to open the collar staring at the injection marks. They will vanish with time. His jaw clamped at the frustration you had been right there next to him for who knows how long and how far everyone went to hide it. He wasn't stupid enough to look you up in the system and when he did ask they had side stepped the question. I am a soldier, stop being so soft. She's capable of handling herself, she knew what could happen. Crosshair let out a deep everlasting breath composing himself. He let himself indulge on the feeling on your warm breath against his pectoral muscles as your fingers clung to him almost in fear that he would disappear if you let go. Two strangers with a lifetime of memories, which once transcended what Crosshair ever thought possible for himself, who both now clung to the specter of the other trying to find any semblance of that lifetime in this one. He wasn't a fool, his story would never have a happy ending but for now he could at least have a tiny slice of what was.

"Do you want to try going out again?" he asked releasing the possible double meaning of his uncarefully spoken words, "I could use a drink," he added.

"Yeah," you pulled away not able to look at him. You fluffed out his shirt and handed it to him. Feeling his slender form blocking your path to door, you finally looked up at him. His face at regained his regular snarky yet stern appearance but you could see the traces of red in his sclera. You watched him put his shirt one, his eyes only for a brief moment breaking contact as he stood there silently observing. "Yes?" you finally asked after he continued not to move.

"We'll never be who we were before," he said this time attempting to choose his words carefully, "If the war has taught me anything, it is anything can be rebuilt with time," he turned leaving you there for moment to ponder his words as he headed for the exit.

You followed after him wondering if he meant the two of you or the Empire. He had always been allusive with his wording, leaving it open ended and up to interpretation when it came to anything that wasn't on the battle field. Noticing his rigid posture return you caught up to his side flicking his shoulder. Hearing a small grunt you saw them relax. Instead of walking this time, you hailed a cab to the cantina. Scowling when you saw the disapproving eyebrow arch of his when the both of you exited the cab at the dingy place. He let you guide him inside, the place was reminiscent of 79's. You walked up to the counter to order drinks surprised when he followed you up.

"Corellian Whiskey," he said before you got the chance to speak.

You arched an eyebrow, "Make that two," you said putting the credits down. The bar tender took them and handed both of you the shots, downing them you both did another around. Crosshair tapped for two more before both of you wandered off to a nearby table.

"Why this place?"

"Just call me sentimental."

"This is boring," Crosshair murmured feeling out of place without a talkative group.

"Dance?" you asked nonchalantly remembering how at peace he seemed on the dance floor.

"Don't have to ask me twice," he said getting out of the seat.

"Actually if you remember, I did."

"You have two left feet and no rhyme."

"You were slow dancing to techno."

"And?"

You rolled your eyes, a pit forming in your stomach at how easy the banter was after all this time realizing how deeply you missed it. Staying on the outskirts of the floor both of you had fallen into step, thankful that your feet remembered even if your mind had almost forgotten saving you the embarrassment of stepping on him. The touch of his hands where cool in contrast with the fire in his gaze. You removed one of your hands from his placing it on his waist and he responded in kind doing the same. His fingers slide up your shirt just barely to where his thumb and index finger rested on your skin, solidifying you were really there. You moved your hand up to his neck letting your fingers dip under the turtle neck barely.

Cautiously Crosshair took one step closer hovering above your face, "Cyar'ika," he whispered ignoring the harshness of the alcohol on his tongue leaning in letting his mouth hover over yours.

"I think you drank a little to much," you whispered but didn't pull back.

"No," he whispered letting his whole hand trail up to your curve while his mouth bridged the tantalizing gap. His mouth was desperately locking with yours, almost a year apart had almost made him forget the sensation of you.

You pulled away panting, "You can't be kissing me like that in public," the words came out slurred not due to the alcohol but the mind numbing sensation of him.

"I can and will," he said pulling your mouth back to his.

You felt the gentle pressure of his tongue press against your lips, your heart was already going light speed but you opened your mouth for him. You let his tongue explore as much as he needed it too, gently time to time nipping down on his tongue playfully. By the time he pulled away your hand was trembling on his neck. Both of you were panting as you looked at each other. Without realizing it you had started crying, "Crosshair." His arms were around you in a moment guiding you away from the crowded dance floor towards an empty both. You watched him flag down the service droid for some napkins. Your fingers bunched the shoulder of his shirt, you wanted to hate yourself for needing him after everything you've witnessed but there was nothing else in this galaxy that could fill the void in your chest except his presence.

Gently his hand covered yours, "What do you need?" He had never been a comforting person, less so now but he always tried.

Your fingers unbunched his shirt just enough to barely pound his shoulder with the side of your hand before you talon cling to the fabric again, "Are you really... Crosshair...?" you choked out.

"Unless you know someone else with that name," he verbalized pressing his teeth together.

"Are you... my Crosshair," you clarified.

"Since day one."

~ Days of the Republic; Reassignment ~

The Corellian Well Cantina, you scoffed at the name as you pushed open the unfamiliar door. Spirits burnt the hairs of your nostrils with the spiced scent of whiskey and poorly mopped up over indulgences. The lighting was less then ideal for this priority meeting nor the atmosphere but discretion had been of the utmost importance for whatever reason. Taking in the clientele you didn't see any familiar facial features of the man you were looking for. Playing on your data pad trying to pass time until you heard the familiar clone voice standing at the end of the table. Shocked you blinked rapid finding him in civilian clothing, one's that definitely were borrowed, and a poor fitted hat but the face, the voice and the scar killed the doubt of who was standing before you.

"Com- Cody," you whispered motioning for him to sit.

"Sorry for all the secrecy," he said scooting in besides you, "but this unfortunately requires it for the time being," he passed you a data pad, "You're being reassigned to a Kaminoan black ops squad, Experimental Unit 99, effective immediately as their handler."

"Sir?! My other-."

"Everything has already been taken care of. We head to Kamino when your finished reading."

"Do you vouch for this?" you stared into the eyes of best man and friend you've known since joining GAR.

"I have taken them personally on black list missions. Their not like my men and I, their wild and unorthodoxed but unquestionable resolve, determination and they get results we need. I vouch for them and you taking this assignment."

You nodded turning on the pad, eyes going wide reading about their individual enhancements, "I didn't even know that was possible," you were aware that commando's were made differently and enhanced but nothing like this. Barely done reading Cody was already tugging on your sleeve to leave. You followed him with your face still in the pad reading their personality profiles scowling once you read Crosshair's, "He's going to be fun," you grumbled.

"Crosshair?" Cody smirked seeing the small nod.

"Trust me, you've worked with Neyo. Crosshair pale's in comparison."

"Is this my apology for you assigning me that asshole?" You deadpanned.

"More or less, these boys could change the tide in this war. However their.. lack of people skills and lack of following direct orders posses a problem."

"Which is why I'm going to be the diplomatic buffer," you sighed, "You're lucky you're my favorite."

The jump to Kamino was silent, by then the Commander had stripped himself of the civvies back into his white and orange armor, "They'll be making their debut soon, with you officially now on this assignment I wouldn't be surprised if they moved it up but it'll give you time to meet them."

You've been on Kamino before but the path you were taking was foreign. It was the service passages, 99... you bowed your head for a moment of silence for the man who once roamed these halls. Catching back up to the Commander you saw he was thinking about him too, the stern expression but the distance in his eyes. He was just letting his body just guide him through his halls. "I'm glad you trusted me for this assignment," the interruption was enough to pull him out of his head as you recalled that he was here at the bold attack of Kamino.

"They won't be here much longer as their getting our own barrack room with everyone else," Commander Cody knocked on the ancient door before letting the both of you in. They were already standing at attention when the both of you entered, "Woman in company," he said your name then repeated each of there's as a formality even though you had already read their files, "At ease," quickly they relaxed sitting back at the large table in the center, "All of your stuff is in the room next door."

You rolled your eyes, "Of course it is."

"I'm the sarcastic one," you looked up to see the grey haired man rolling a toothpick to the other side of his mouth smirking eying you over the dismantled weapon he was cleaning.

"Technically she wasn't being sarcastic but-"

"Shut up," Crosshair grumbled.

"Tech's head is full of knowledge he likes to dump at every opportune moment, you'll get use to it," Hunter said studying you trying to get accustom to your scent and sound, "or use to drowning it out."

"That knowledge has saved our lives on multiple occasions-."

"We get it four eyes," Crosshair said flicking his tooth at his brother who batted it away without looking. He returned his attention for the most part back to the weapon keeping you in his peripheral vision amused that Wrecker ran over picking you up squeezing you before dropping you back down.

"Huh, you're small."

"Astute as always, Wrecker," Crosshair grumbled.

"Everyone is small compared to you," you pointed out smiling.

"That's true," Wrecker admitted going back to his seat.

"There all yours," Cody laughed, "Boy's, this your personally assigned liaison. Since you don't have a chain of command to report to, she'll be the middle man."

"I am quiet capable of handling and reporting our assignments," Tech said defensively.

"What does this civvie know about the war?" Crosshair said pointedly.

"This civvie," you said curtly, "has been apart of GAR probably longer then your creation, so really what do you know about this war?" you tossed back.

"She's served with the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps during the Battle of Geonosis and as aid of the 212th since. I expect you to treat her respect," Cody eyed him.

"Crosshair didn't mean any disrespect ma'am," Hunter tossed a glare at his brother.

"I've had read his file, I am aware of his quips but thank you."

"Good luck," Commander laughed, "I have to get back, I'll send Neyo your regards."

"You can send him to hell instead," rapidly batting your lashes at him.

"He's already going there," Cody coughed under his breath waving as he left.

Hunter at pulled out another chair offering you a place to sit. He hadn't taken his eyes off of you since you entered the room. None of them had been around female nat borns as all of their instructors had been males and even when they had gone off world on assignment they mostly ran into separatist forces. On the occasional they had ran into the native inhabitants Commander Cody had dealt with them and Tech for his helmet translator. Hearing Tech whisper that staring was impolite, he finally turned his attention back to the vibro blade he had been sharpening.

"This is weird," Wrecker nervously chuckled.

"There is nothing we can do, we must accept her assimilation into this squad and continue," Tech replied trying the chess board, singly playing it by himself as that was the only way it was stimulating, "Perhaps some training simulations to test her aptitude in combat?" Tech purposed.

"Let's show her how a real squad handles themselves," Crosshair smiled reassembling his fire puncher.

"Practice or live rounds?" you folded your arms over your chest.

"Li-," Crosshair started before Hunter interjected, "Practice."

"Boring," you scoffed, "I'll grab my gear, sim room 2b good enough?"

"Yes that shall suffice," Tech nodded standing up from him game grabbing his helmet off his buck.

You saw Hunter cock an eyebrow when you said boring but before he got a chance to question it you turned dipping into the room next store, smirking when your armor attachments had already been laid out. Cody had probably assumed this was going to happen sooner or later. You flicked on the familiar armor sliding the various weapons into place. Each of them were already armored up by the time you were done and waiting outside the room, "I would have caught up."

"Sure," Crosshair said sarcastically.

"I'm not the old man," you shrugged pointing at the silver peppered with night and salted with light hair much to his offense.

"Haha she called you old," Wrecker said clapping his brothers back.

You noticed the glaring squint in his eye as you entered the training room, "I'll take west, you take east end?" you smiled at the sniper, who only rolled his eyes, "Your loss."

All of you waited in the center of the room waiting for the droids to activate. The boys were saying something but the adrenaline had already awoken shooting through your blood stream. The moment the droids activated all of you were off. Much to the annoyance of Crosshair you beat him to and up the west tower.

"Knife!" Crosshair called staring at the droid in Tech's blind spot watching you instinctively throw it at the droids head, he shot the knife watching it drop perfectly into the droids skull.

From the perch above the two of you worked in unison picking off droids, Hunter was impressed by the advanced skill. Recon officer? Hardly. He saw Crosshair eyeing you from across the battlefield, one eye on the battle field, one eye on you the whole time. There was an very noticeable shift in the group with the new addition, especially with Crosshair. Hunter felt the shot before his eyes had captured what had transpired, a droid actually climbing up to Crosshair's advantage point then you taking a shot at the droid wizzing passed Crosshair's ear. He turned for a moment watching the droid fall to the ground before returning his attention to the battle. Always watching his brothers back, he often forgot to watch his own not that he would never admit it.

Wreckers jaw slacked witnessing it, "Did you see that?" hollered to Tech.

"That's never happened before, both the droids climbing nor Crosshair missing such an obvious-."

"Shut up," Crosshair seethed through the com, thankful the simulation ended. He jumped down bouncing between the wall and the tower and sliding down to the center platform. Slinging his fire puncher across his back he watched you poorly climb down the tower and head there way. At least she doesn't have all of my tricks, Crosshair thought.

"I am impressed," Tech admitted once you had caught up.

"Marshal Commander Neyo is unrelenting in training."

"So I've read," Tech said staring at the clone's profile, "I think that simulation has provided me with enough data that I can make an accurate assessment of your combat skills without needing another trial run."

"She got lucky," Crosshair sneered removing his helmet.

"I think you got lucky."

"Oh I haven't gotten that lucky yet" he leered in your ear walking pass sticking a toothpick between his lips.

"I wouldn't blame you for suddenly being reassigned," Hunter grimaced staring after his brother.

"I'm use to it," you shrugged staring after the enigmatic man. There was something dark stalking his uncommonly dark irises compared to his brothers, a lone predator always circling but never pouncing. While his brothers eyes echoed burning bark, Crosshair's were the color of the forest floor riddled with hidden dangers. While Neyo's eyes terrified you to even look at, Crosshair's made you want to study them whether it was face to face or under a microscope was still up for debate.

"Something in your mind?" Hunter smiled staring at your lost in thought expression.

"Huh? Oh nothing, just wondering how the boys are reacting to my reassignment."

"Your scent says different," he chuckled, "His too."

"I already hate this."

"Between Hunter's senses and our close proximity to one another, there is never any secrets between us. There is never such thing as privacy with us just so you are aware," Tech pointed out.

"You're slow," Crosshair mumbled from his bunk.

"So is your charm Cross," you said sliding back into the chair digging out your pad finding a short 'Congrats on the promotion,' from Neyo. Anything is a promotion away from you, you were tempted to type back but instead going the safe route saying thank you.

Hours later the boys were ready to turn in for the night so you excused yourself from their quarters disappearing into your own, it was cramped having an apartments worth of stuff cramped into the small space. Even though Cody or whoever had tried to perfectly replicate the set up it just hadn't felt relaxing enough to sleep. You took yourself up the ship docking bay watching the waves crash against the wall.

"Where do you think you're sneaking off too?" Crosshair mused joining you at the railing after he had discreetly slipped from the bunk room after hearing the faint opening on your door curious if you were leaving after his comment.

"Somewhere far away from you," you said sarcastically.

"You didn't go far enough," he poked back failing to hide the amusement at your witty tone relaxing that you weren't upset with him.

"Excuse me, let me just go grab my bathing suit," you rolled your eyes finding his for a moment looking into yours.

"Is it black?" he said mischievously.

"Like I'd tell you."

"I rather you show me."

"Step on a duresteal bolt," momentarily the soldier was standing in front of you glaring. The darkness consumed his eyes but sparkled his frosted hair. Long thin fingers gripped your chin, you watched as he turned shooting his toothpick into the ocean below before his attention returned to you.

"I'm the sarcastic one in this squad."

"We'll see," the comment turned his blood to a consuming flame. Crosshair wasn't use to anyone challenging him let alone anyone competent enough to keep up with them or enough to watch his back. He waited but you didn't pull back, a predatory smile tugged at his lips, "Go to bed, Cyar'ika," he pulled away, the pounding of his heart barely keeping his breathing even. His eyes caught your confusion at the sudden lack of physical contact and the pet name, "Did you think I was going to kiss you?" he let out one laugh trying to conceal the nerves threatening to spill over, "Not on the first date," he added before you had a chance to speak before weak limbed walking himself back to his bunk.

"Calling dibs?" He heard Hunter chuckle.

"Shut up," he menaced.

"Not pairing I forecasted," Tech muttered taking out his pad, "statistically you two had the lowest probability, I shall need collect further data about her."

"Shut up," Crosshair repeated.

"You would be teasing one of us, Crosshair if the roles were reversed."

"No I would be shooting one of you," he snarked, his lip twitching up into a sneer already uncomfortably with the thoughts of them being around you knowing if his mind was this clouded their's had to be the same way, "Go to bed," he growled turning towards the wall. His mind was foggy with anticipation he saw across your face regardless of his poor attitude and how perfect you looked on the tower as much as his failure to notice the droid enraged him. He was astonished at how quick you responded to the threat and didn't seem to hold the failure over his head nor hesitated coming to his defense even after his generally rude behavior. Out of all them, he was the last one who deserved a chance but he may have been cocky enough to believe he was the handsomest out of the bad batch. At some point during his self scolding he had passed out not before realizing how far he had fallen.

Crosshair pulled you out of the resurfacing memory, brushing your hair back with his hand. While he was still upset at the idea you didn't want to see him, he wasn't going to deny himself the small luxury of being touched. Once he would pulled away at the public display not wanting anyone to see the man under the suit of armor but he wasn't that young and naive anymore. Older now, he learned you could lose everything on a moments notice. While losing Kamino hadn't necessarily upset him as it had been hell for every CC not to mention dealing with the regs, his brothers betrayal had scarred him greatly.

"I don't know how you're still in there," you whispered taking in the familiar structure of his face. You let your fingers trace the tattoo around his eye which you had done thousands of times before.

Crosshair squeezed your wrist, "please stop implying I was gone," there was an edge to his voice anger or desperation he couldn't tell.

You swallowed staring at him then your wrist finding finger imprints from his grasp. Rubbing the tender spot, he placed the cold glass of water the droid had brought over with the napkins to dull the ache. He pulled the glass back after a couple minutes of silence rubbing it with his thumb before you looked back at the returned stern expression, “I’m okay Cross…”

“I’m going for a walk, alone,” he said sliding out, “Stay here.” Crosshair ran his hand against the hideous scar which set his teeth on edge. Nothing but a disfigured monster, he thought, I’m a soldier bred for war and for a purpose of bringing peace, kark the empire for the chips but this is what we were all made for in the end. Crosshair carefully walked down the street eyeing every land mark so he could back track. Thoughts darted through his mind like a native mon calamari bouncing between water currents. Every thought making his skull rattle from one bouncing thought to another. He had prayed that the solitude would help but it had the opposite effect leaving him more confused and angry.

You sat alone for eternity before letting the batch know that for now you were safe and fine. Smiled when Echo replied instantly that they all missed you and to keep them appraised when you could. Peering out the black out blinds you noticed the light was rapidly suddenly setting like the feeling in your gut about how long he had been gone and that you had no way to get ahold of him. Peering around the now crowded space, you noticed a couple wandering gazing on you further making you anxious wondering if it was because you were beautiful or because they had seen your photo on a most wanted holo. You couldn’t risk finding out, carefully you ducked out of the building before awkwardly waiting out front for a little while longer to no avail. In the past, you had etched the layout of this city into your cortex of Cross was loss you would find him. Just that one day sitting in that cantina had change your life, sure the structure and discipline of your previous assignments had been nice but there had been something so liberating about the change and meeting the batch. Meeting Crosshair. Knowing his eyes you walked opposite of the sun. Your eyes scanned each side alley way with no sign until you looked down finding a single tooth pick.

“Toothprick,” you muttered, continuing your path making sure to periodically look down every handful of paces. You found him slumped up in one of the only trees near the hotel staring towards the sunset, “Get lost, Loth-cat?” you asked.

“I told you to stay there,” he replied flatly staring at the array of colors in the sky.

“And how long ago was that?”

“Lost track of time,” he admitted rubbing his scalp. One leg tucked to his chest with his elbow resting on it touching his head, one leg outstretched and his other hand laid across his lap, he realize he probably looked like a mess. Forcibly straightening out he looked down finding the concern in your eyes, he sighed hoping down landing gracefully on his feet tucking his hands in his pocket. “What are you looking at,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, “You, Loth-cat,” you teased at his sniper’s fondness of being off the ground, “You look good up there.”

“I bet I look even better above you,” he quipped reflexively but his tone didn’t match the words.

You hovered close to him not trying to interrupt his mind, “Back to the hotel?”

Crosshair’s gaze lingered on the setting story of the day, his mind, stomach and heart twisted at his decision wondering if at the end of the day if it was the what was best for the both of you or the galaxy. He offered a single stiff nod matching your pace with his calculated steps so every step fell into sync. Using the corners of his eyes, he watched your pondering expression, “What?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t want me to climb up there with you,” you fibbed.

“Liar.”

“I don’t remember you being this moody, well unless it was in a fun way.”

“Why do you keep trying to force me to be who I was?” he snapped, “Can’t you just accept me for who I am now?” his head feeling like it was going to split at that ugly seam, “This is who I am,” he added flattening his tone. The rest of the walk to the hotel in pain filled silence.

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