#count your lucky stars header | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blackvelvetwriteson · 3 years

Video

youtube

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒

( ~ Sero Hanta x Black Female Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!

FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are only mild warnings for today; mentions of cannabis, Dubcon on the account that Sero is high, and slight dacryphilia.

SUMMARY: Sero gets jarred by a nightmare, so he smokes and watches over Reader-Chan until she wakes up. They talk a little and she soothes him back to sleep.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey there! This fic is part of my 100 followers event that I’m hosting in light of recently reaching, well, 100 followers.. I WOULD LIKE TO NOTE THAT READING THESE FICS WILL BE SOOOO MUCH BETTER IF YOU READ THEN WHILE PLAYING THE SONG!! I PROMISE, IT’S A WHOLE VIBE!! If you’d like to request a scenario, a song and/or a character, I’m MORE than welcome and open to do that! My ask box is open! Thank you so so much for your support!

WORD COUNT: 3385

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

“You’re not getting away this time,” was an ugly, disgusting voice that resonated in Sero’s head that, after a long series of nightmares, had him shooting up, panting softly with sweat sheening his muscular body, his arms hugging his legs to his body. It was 4:15 in the morning and he had to be up in a couple of hours, but he still couldn’t go back to sleep. He figured he’d take a day off and try to catch up on sleep that he’d been missing. He looked over at you who was sleeping peacefully in the bed. He admired everything about you for a long while, his hand caressing your face gently as his heart slowed to a healthy rate. He kissed your fawn cheek gently before he slid out of bed. Your soft breaths resonated in his mind and he smiled a little as he saw you take a deep breath and cuddle into a pillow.

“Te quiero, cariño. Duerme bien por mí, ya vuelvo. [I love you honey. Sleep well for me, I’ll be right back.]” He mumbled to you softly before he walked to your kitchen silently, adjusting his joggers a little as he ran his fingers through his hair making his bang run unruly as he leaned over the counter. As soon as he leaned forward in the dark, his head in his hands, he’d broken down. He’d been having nightmares from a previous intense mission for about a week, and this just happened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Soon he was a mess of tears, his palms collecting every drop as he cried into the darkness of the kitchen. His knees were weak, his body burned with want to be a “useful” hero like Bakugo or Kirishima. He’d started to slip into a fit of insecurity while you slept in innocence in the room, the comforters like waves crashing over you and hugging your body. He let out a soft shaky sigh before feeling his way around the counter to find the coffee pot. He figured he’d be awake anyways, why not make some coffee for after his smoke. He gently spooned the coffee grounds into the filter, filled the pot with water and let the coffee brew as he sighed softly. He leaned against the counter again, grunting softly before looking over at a small box he kept on the counter. He grabbed the small container and a box right beside it. He stole a lighter from beside the set and he slid it in his pocket as he rolled himself a late night/early morning blunt. It’d been awhile since he smoked, but whenever he did, it always managed to make him feel more confident in himself, made him relax, and it made him overall just more laid back. That’s why he waited for that moment when he finally broke down to smoke, and he always waited until you were asleep so you didn’t have to deal with him as his insecurities told him you would. He walked to the small pocket in your room and the living room that contained a big beautiful bay window in which the two of you often cuddled.

From the window, you had a pretty secular view of the city and city lights and the sunrises and sunsets were absolutely otherworldly. He took his place, opening the window up while looking at the late night stragglers scurry along the pavement. He licked the strip that he had left out and smoothed it against the rest of the blunt, sticking one of the ends in his mouth, taking his lighter and holding it up to the tip but resting his head against the wall/ sill instead, taking the blunt from his mouth with two fingers and a heavy sigh. “¿Qué estoy haciendo? [What am I doing?]” He mumbled to himself with a soft sigh before shaking his head and resting one of his elbows on his knee that was raised, his fingers tangling with his hair again. “A la mierda. [Fuck it]” he mumbled out to himself as he watched himself light the blunt with squinted, teary eyes. He took a long drag out of it and ghosted the smoke holding it in as he felt his brain get a little more hazy. He stared over at you laying on the bed as he forced his high. He flashed a soft smile before starting to cough quietly. When he exhaled, there was hardly any smoke left and he even looked surprised at himself. He admired the smoldering bud in between two of his fingers before he took another drag and hummed softly, leaning his head back against the wall again as he looked outside of the window, the sky slowly turning brighter shades of purple and blue. He knew it was getting later, but for once he didn’t care. He just watched you sleep, smiling subtly with a slight reddish tint under his eyes. “Mi hermosa niña... ¿Cómo he tenido tanta suerte? [My beautiful girl… How did I get so lucky?]” he whispered to himself as he took yet another drag from his blunt, holding it in until he got lightheaded and he blew the smoke out of the window.

“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación… [Two lost angels discover salvation..]” he mumbled quietly from a song he’d remembered you playing but he couldn’t quite pinpoint from where. He was too far gone at this point, but he noticed that that one line held weight to him even though he loved the whole song. He loved the songs you played possibly because you were the one who played them and when you sang them, you matched no other; because ‘music is the purest and rawest form of affection’ he always said. You started to hum softly in your sleep, stirring under how bright the moon was before the sun came up. You sighed softly and let your eyes flutter as you watched Sero smoking in the window, his slender fingers playing in the smoke clouds that he exhaled, that happy grin on his face, his squinted eyes as he got lost in himself and his thoughts of you. You couldn’t help but to notice how the moon and soft light of the fast approaching day illuminated his skin and this made you smile as you stretched in the bed still half asleep.

“Ah, see,” you giggled softly. “I knew I smelled somethin,’” you giggled as you watched him slowly turn his head towards you. “You had another nightmare or somethin’,” you asked as you continued to lay down and cuddle your pillow. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded and sighed softly. “Aw baby,” you say softly as you sit up and stretch again, yawning and rubbing your eyes a little. “Why didn’t you just wake me up,” you ask softly as you threw your legs over the side of the bed, adjusting the shirt that hung off of your body as you made your way over to Sero on the seat of the window.

“Lo siento, [I’m sorry,]” he mumbled softly as he blew smoke out of the window. “I didn’t want to disturb you because I know you have a shift today,” he whispered softly. “I just wanted to watch you sleep,” he said quietly as he let his arm reach in front of him, the blunt half smoked in between his fingers, his elbow resting on his knee gently. You made your way over to him and gently hugged him from the side, gently pulling his head against your chest.

“You know you mad cute when you get like this right?” You giggled softly as you ran your fingers through his smooth hair. He blushed a little and hugged your waist from the side, closing his eyes and completely relaxing into you.

“Honestly, no, cariño, that’s all you,” he said softly as he felt himself get emotional again. “Can you sing me that one song… Where he says.. Something about, ‘two lost angels discover salvation,’ sometime,” he asked and your mind instantly woke up. You smiled a little at the scent of brewing coffee sneaking into your room.

“That song by Miguel? Coffee?” You chuckle softly and sway slowly as you hum softly, always open to sing to your love even if it was entirely too early and you were low-key getting a second hand high from him.

“ I wish I could paint our love… These moments and vibrant hues… Love play, turns in to gun play, And gun play turns into pillow talk… And pillow talk turns into sweet dreams… Sweet dreams turns into fucking in the morning… Fucking in the morning…” you hummed softly to him as you felt his free hand hug your arm. He was getting glassy-eyed again loving how you felt against him so early, singing to him so sweetly as you tenderly held him.

“Sí mi amor, [Yes my love,]” he whispered softly as you sung to him, his head tilting back as his eyes closed. “That’s the one…”

As you usually did, you started skipping parts in the song to ones that you liked more. He hummed softly with you and he nuzzled his head into your chest as he took another drag from his blunt and listened to you. “Old souls, we found a new religion… Now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism... Pick a star in the sky we could both say goodbye… Old souls we found a new religion, now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism…” You looked down at him and his almost ashed blunt and you laughed softly as you saw how adorning his gaze was and he hummed with you softly.

“Two lost angels discover salvation.. Under bright peach skies watching the sun rise…”

“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación.. Bajo brillantes cielos de melocotón viendo salir el sol…” He mumbled softly with you before putting his blunt out and standing up, his hand resting at your waist before running up his shirt that you were wearing. He kissed you gently and slowly, gently running his tongue, which to him felt like cotton, over your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth. He bit your bottom lip and fell into a slow rhythm, gently and slowly leading you to the bed, pushing you down as soft growls left him and he ran both of his hands up your body, gripping your chest, kneading into your breasts slowly and gently as you started to grind into him slowly and subtly, both of you halfway asleep, and Sero now sensitive because of how stoned he was. He bit your lip again and tugged with his teeth, gently and slowly pulling away, kissing down your neck as your hands guided his strong hips to grind into yours. His eyes looked a little fogged over and distant from what you could see, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. You’d had a bad dream and feeling him against you was exactly what you needed; having him love you down while you quietly showed him how to take care of you while slowly improving both of your moods. The soft, crisp breeze pushed through your room through the opened window and it cooled you down as you felt Sero’s teeth against your neck. You whined softly and ran your fingers through his hair slowly, messing his hair up as his strong hands continued to knead into your chest, his eyes closing as he let out soft hums against your skin. It got to the point where you started to hurt with how rough he was being so you gently caressed the side of his head and pointed him onto how to change and help you right. “A-Ah babe, that’s just a lil too hard,” you whispered softly as you felt him lift the shirt and you shivered at the sudden cold air over your body as his hands eased up on the squeezing and pulling.

“Lo siento, mi amor, [I’m sorry my love,]” he said softly as he pressed his lips against yours, his eyes running over your nipples before he hugged you close to him and slowly and gently sucked on one, his tongue swirling slowly and gently around the bud making your back arch into him, your fingers getting lost in his hair as you let out sleepy moans, that song running on loop in your mind as he tended to you. You gently ran your fingers over his chest and under his shirt to tease his nipples while he cared for yours. He let out soft shuddering breaths against your skin as you pushed your hips into a slow grind into his. “O-Oh fuck,” he whined softly as he nipped your neck again, practically losing himself as he slowly slid one hand in your panties, one finger effortlessly pushing into your dripping cunnie making you push into Sero some more, your eyes looking gone too. You looked up at him and pulled his head closer as you arched your back into him.

“Please,” you mumbled to him softly. “Please give me another finger,” you slurred out as you clung to him and started to ride his finger. He couldn’t do anything but oblige, his fingers curling sweetly into your sweet special spot as he added another, his hand slowly thrusting them in and out sloppily as his body tingled with his high. “T-Thank you! O-Oh f-fuck thank you,” you whined out quietly, slowly maintaining a slow rhythm so you didn’t overwhelm him but you still got your pleasure. One of your hands clung to Sero, gently peppering soft kisses over his lips, your teeth catching his lip occasionally, the other hand slowly stroking him through his joggers. He trembled and let his legs give out as he leaned into you, gently kissing you back, soft hums and groans brewing in his chest as he rocked himself against your hand. He couldn’t help his shuddering breath against your soft shapely lips in between every kiss and nibble you dealt. The way his muscles flexed with every movement as he tried not to cum had you dreamy eyed and wanting more. “S-Sero p-please, You whined softly as you tried to close your thighs, the way his fingers pressing against your special spot having your back arched and breathing hitched and stuck in your throat. “P-Please… I-I want you,” you whined out softly, wanting so badly to cum while he had you impaled on his cock. He looked down and then back up at you, his eyes halfway closed and bloodshot. He stopped grinding into your hand slowly and let out a choked whine against your lips, his hands worshipping your beautiful body. “Can I… G-Go inside,” he asked softly, gently kissing your cheeks, your lips, and down your neck as he waited for your answer. Even while he was in his intense high, he was still just as respectful as ever; even as his muscular body hung over your seemingly delicate frame that he loved so much, even panting and gasping for air as he tried not to cum. You, of course, nodded and gently kissed his forehead gently.

“Yes, Sero,” you said softly as you spread your legs for him more. “P-Please… I want to feel you inside of me,” you said softly and sleepily. “Fuck me back to sleep,” you said softly before watching his eyebrows knit a little. He pushed his boxers and sweats down, slowly and gently trying to line himself up so he didn’t hurt you when he slid inside, sucking his fingers clean as he hummed softly. “Mi amor,” he whispered softly. “I’m not ‘fucking’ you,” he said as he let out a pleasured groan, slowly sliding the tip inside, arching his back and throwing his head back as he suddenly felt the intense pleasure, wanting more, but wanting to go slow. “I’m making lo-love to y-you,” he whispered, soft curses spilling out of him as he slowly slid himself in, inch by inch, his body becoming even more tense as he slowly bottomed out inside of you. “S-So t-tight,” he whimpered softly, his pelvis catching your clit when he did bottom out inside of you, his eyes glistening with tears of overstimulation already but you didn’t mind. The way he filled you up, a small bulge forming in your tummy as he tried to adjust, you clenching down around him driving him crazy. His lips quivered as he stared at you, his mind running circles, his heart pounding against his chest enough to shake his core, frantically swallowing as he choked back his own orgasm. “I-I c-can’t move,” he whispered softly sounding like he was going to break down into tears. “I c-can’t… B-Baby!” He whined loudly as he slowly grinded his hips into yours, tilting his head back as he lost control of his tears letting them dampen his reddened, hot face. He looked down at you and watched the moonlight catch your body, not being able to rip his gaze away from you, watching how your face beautifully contorted as you grabbed at him in a desperate attempt to get closer to him, moaning out soft curses after moaning out his name, how you pressed your body into the bed. He didn’t know that he had this hold on you with such slow and subtle movements, but it was obvious he was driving you insane and he loved it all. He took in the sight in front of him, falling in love all over again as he towered over you and rolled his hips into yours slowly and rhythmically. “I-I’m so-sorry! L-Lo siento! I-I’m g-gonna c-cum,” he whined out after a fit of choked moans. “Te quiero... Te quiero tanto, cariño- [I love you, I love you so much, baby-]” he whined out, his breath hitching at the end of his sentence, his hips fucking into yours dealing hard thrusts as he tried to milk himself using the grip you had on him as leverage. “F-FUCK! C-CUMMING! I-I’m c-cumming!” He moaned out as he completely broke down into overstimulated tears. You whimpered loudly and egged him on, your legs wrapping around his waist so he could reach deeper inside of you, your eyes glazed over as you looked up at him sleepily, feeling him tremble against you with soft groans.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned out meekly, drowning happily in all of Sero’s sounds. “T-Thank you! F-Fuck! Thank you thank you thank-“ Your breathing hitched as you were filled up, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came and clenched hard around him. “F-Fuck! S-SERO,” you screamed out, scratching into him roughly as you bucked your hips riding out your high against him, tears of your own threatening to spill from your waterline. His body was twitching and trembling as he whimpered softly at your throbbing insides tightening around him over and over again. “You d-did so good for me baby,” you whimpered softly, guiding him down to your level, gently positioning him so he could lay on your chest. He was a sniffling mess, stray tears falling down his face, his eyes glistening as he looked up at you while you played in his hair and rubbed his back still cockwarming him. “My beautiful boy,” you whispered softly, gently kissing his forehead, slowly drying his cheeks of his tears as he tried to get his breathing under control. He tried to speak, but his jaw felt as heavy as a cinderblock, he could only sputter out soft mumbles as you continued to coo at him and massage his back and neck. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll call in later,” you whisper softly, gently kissing the top of his head, humming to him softly to lull him- successfully- to sleep as the purple-ish hues of the early morning melted into soft peaches and dim golds blanketing the both of you. You hummed softly and managed to hum yourself to sleep, just moving your hips a little to get him deeper inside of you as you slept. You loved the feeling of him filling you up, the scent of the brewed coffee now completely in your room making you slip off deeper into sleep.

94 notes · View notes

oikadori · 3 years

Text

A small letter from Val ➸ 2020 was really an unpredictable year. I had a really bad time with some family arguments as well with school. But is amazing how one small thing made my year SO BRIGHT. Haikyuu brought me so many laughs, sobs and so many emotions in general. I wasn’t into anime until I watched it, now I’m watching like 3 animes at the time and reading the Haikyuu Manga. So first I’m gonna thank Furudate Sensei!

Thanks to Haikyuu I jumped into Tumblr! So I’m gonna show my love and appreciation for all of the people that made me smile last year year.

A letter to my Followers ➸ Guys, WHERE DO I START? This was a reblogging blog at first and then I thought “I want to share some ideas too” There are no words to express how gratefull I am. Thank you for supporting me and staying with me! I appreciate all of you so so much!!! wish i could say thank you indiviadually but that would be a little difficul. To all you who constantly like and my posts I see you and when you show up in my notifs, I smile.

Now some letters to my moots, no particular order just the way the pop up in my brain! Note: my brain is dumb as hell

so sorry for being super sappy :v

A letter to @millie-mint ➸ my sunshine! omg millie, I think you were my first friend here and I consider you one of the closest people here. I’m very grateful with you and I’ll do anything so you are happy!! ngl I miss you on here but I know you are okay so that is all I need ILY :33 🤩🤩

A letter to @kenmaki ➸ my sugarrr ,,, gab !! ngl I was a little intimidated by you at first but you are so kind and nice with me...like how?? why?? I’m lucky to have you as moot, you are so talented and your vibes make me super comfortable and safe? I will still shower you in affection this 2021 Count on me for anything :) Also thank you for letting me take inspo on your header 😉😘

A letter to @vhskenma ➸ my very first wifey, I felt so appreciated and loved when I first saw YOu in my notifs and then we became moots and short after that I consider you one of my closest closest friends sksksksk bunny skskskskksksk you are very precious to me kithes kithes😘😗😚

A letter to @peaxhcringe ➸ oh beth you were the first moot who i truly interacted with. I want this 2021 to chat more with you cuz you are lovely babe 💘🥺 your works are *chef kiss* i wish i knew more about bnha so we could rant more 😼

A letter to @prettysetterbaby ➸ oh my-JJ queen! when we became moots i was so shocked! Seeing you in my dash makes me super happy you are always funny and send good vibes in general, i want to be like JJ in this 2021!!✨

A letter to @wissbby ➸ MY GOD. wiss ma'am you really are stealing my heart in the little time we started interacting but like i have the urge to get your kisses and hugs??? and the memesss omg pls you are hilarious ily already 💗💗

A letter @oikadiors ➸ my girlfriend, my wifeee, sexy joy!! you are so talented. you are super cute and nice and and sksksksks really you seeing you in my inbox always steal a smile out of me! thank you sexy 😼

A letter to @tetsukuroosgf�� ➸ gabbie i know we became moots quite recently but you are super nice and cute and your writing is just WOW 😳 also girl you are growing so fast i'm intimidated 😯 jk bby i'm so HAPPY FOR YOU! Keep going 🤩🤩

A letter to @itzdaichi ➸ agus, que te digo guapa. eres un amor 🥰. quiero robarte un beso lindura 🤭🤭 a pesar de que somos moots hace poco tiempo me puse como LOCA cuando dijiste que eras latina 🥺 te mando abrazos y besos 💋

A letter to @ahkaahshi ➸ fran, i know we don't interact much but let me tell u that you are like a big sister to me 🥺🥺

A letter to @shoyosun ➸ martaaaa my love!! you are my drawing partner in this app, god your drawings are also inmaculate and you also write!!! you are so talented! Wish i could hug you rn 🙌🙌

A letter to @zumisace ➸ Seleneeee I literally screamed the moment you said dragon age!! hope you don't mind me ranting in your inbox from time to time once the game is out 😳👀👀 hugs and kithes!!!

A letter to @kouffee-ink ➸ OH MY— yaz you are so supportive, kind, funny and also a star wars fan??? i'm so glad we met bubs !! we were destined to be friends, you are an absolute love!!! kithes kithes 😚😚

To these moots I truly wish we could talk and interact more the next year!! I’m shy :c But you are the sweetest and you all super TALENTED! I can’t– man, i'm so lucky 😭😭

@ush7jima @amberalisa @aiiishiiiteru @tsukisemi @ @hvnlydmn @kodzurin @iwaishiteru @iwas-angel @hajimine @alysken @godwrecks @kurooskult @velvetfireworks @fatedfiction @akakeiiji-main

Finally, HAPPY NEW YEAR CUTIES 🥂

thank you for making my tumblr experience so amazing 🤩 💗💗

#appreciation post #ILSM 💓💓💓#thank you #bye 2020 #hello 2021 #💌.love.letters

47 notes · View notes

liibrii · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: Still the same

Ojiro Aran x fem!reader

Synopsis: In Aran's eyes you've always been someone he could lean onto. Before you lost touch after graduating that was. Now that you've found a way back into his life, cracking under the weight of the world, he's determined to be there for you as you were for him. It really is only the question of time before he falls in love with you again but he soon starts to realise he might not know you all that well to begin with...

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, friends to lovers

Warnings: timeskip spoilers, internalised guilt and shame, intrusive thoughts, self doubt, depression, anxiety, swearing, use of alcohol

wc: 3.1k

a/n: if you wanna be tagged lemme know. as always feedback is greatly appreciated! a big thanks to @rosecaffelatte for the help with header and dividers!

“I dig the new look. But why just the beard, why not grow some nice moustache too? You could twirl them during matches. Like some super volleyball villain.“

Aran's coffee goes down the wrong pipe. “Is that how ya see me?” he asks during coughs.

Years later and your laughter still sounds the same. Warmth spreading through him is still the same. It's been a few months since you moved to Tokyo to finish your degree. “Better late than never, right?“ you told him the first time you got coffee together. An unfamiliar bitterness laced your voice then.

“Me? No. But the opponent might.“ You add some sugar to your cup before making a sip. Aran remembers seeing your favourite drink on the menu and wonders why you ordered something else. Maybe you just don't like it anymore. It has been some time since he last saw you.

Almost four years to be exact. Has it really been that long? He remembers the reunion as if it happened yesterday and graduation only a day before.

“We're graduating in a few days so I made you all a little something.“ You pulled neatly wrapped gifts from your bag. “Don't look so suspicious.“Seeing team's faces made you scrunch up your nose. “It's just a framed picture.“

You made one for everyone, even the first years who were merely bench warmers. It's the picture of the entire team taken after you returned from your last nationals. Aran remembers vividly how insistent you were on hanging team banner in the background. 'We don't need memories.' “But I sure do,“ you joked.

There's a hand written message on the back side. A different note for every single member.

“Take that 'Tsumu!“ shouted Osamu back then and pushed his frame under Atsumu's nose, “Look here, 'Don't tell 'Tsumu but yer my favourite twin!'“

Atsumu sneered at his brother: “What're ya talkin' about? 'Tsum-Tsum yer on the way of becomin' the best setter the world has ever known. And don't tell 'Samu but yer my favourite twin!' Take that ya pig!“

Aran laughed with the rest of the team. How typical that you would play twins against each other to create chaos. 'Aran,' his note read, 'don't forget to stretch properly after practice! And please, never sprain your ankle during matches. World doesn't have to know all your socks have holes in them.'

The first time he noticed your absence in his life was only months after graduating. The volleyball club manager who yelled at the cheering squad in front of the entire gymnasium for making a first year cry during a practice match. Fearless.

You were there when he needed someone to lean onto. With a snack and a sports drink, staying late just to make sure he didn't go overboard with practice. A light slap on his shoulders when he was wallowing in self doubt. On the days it got especially bad you pulled a pack of ritz crackers from your secret stash of snacks and bought him a drink on the way home. Sometimes you'd sit on the stone fence by the crossroad where your path home diverged, gossiping for hours about your classmates and teachers. Aran found it so easy to tell you all the trouble weighing on his mind. Be it about school or volleyball, you listened. Even when he knew he was talking nonsense, even when he knew his worries were just unfounded doubts you listened.

“Better to try and fail than to never try at all,“ you once told him.

Aran's lips curved into a small smile. “Where did ya read that? Some ancient philosopher?“

“No, it's a song.“ You pulled out your phone from the pocket and offered him a headphone. “Wanna listen to it?“

It really was no surprise he fell in love with you.

But he never spoke of how his breath caught in his throat, how his heart pounded whenever you were around. How could he when he had always known that look of pure love and adoration in your eyes would never be meant for him?

How could it be when you were so obviously in love with Kita?

No matter how much his heart ached for you he had to admit you and Kita were a match made in heaven. Years later and he still remembers the pictures in your room, you and Kita aged five or so holding hands, bruised knees and dirty cheeks, you and Kita on your first day of elementary school, you and Kita graduating Middle school. You and Kita joining volleyball club together. You and Kita locking pinkies on the way home. You and Kita. Always you and Kita.

He was so jealous back then. It drained so much of his energy trying to prevent the sneering beast from taking over. So much suppressed emotions trying to protect the friendship he to this day holds so dear. But no matter what he did he couldn't prevent his insides clenching every time you took Kita's hand. Well, why did he even expect you'd chose anyone but him? You've known him your entire life. Kita was your best friend from before either of you even knew what that meant. He understood you better than anyone. Why would you ever choose anyone but him?

For years you were happy and for years Aran believed he had moved on. Once in passing Kita even bashfully mentioned marriage. Aran congratulated his friend, even looked at engagement rings with him. That night he cam home and collapsed on the bed dazed from emotions erupting back to the surface. In his lonely, empty apartment he cried his eyes out. Never before had he been so angry at himself. He believed he was over you. And with one single sentence from Kita vines carrying your name sprouted thorns and pierced his heart.

He was a terrible friend, wasn't he? Perhaps this was his punishment for wishing you were in his arms instead. You are happy, right? So why can't that be enough? Even if it's with someone else, if he really loved you then knowing you are happy should be all that matters, right?

You were happy. Until you weren't. Aran was never glad to learn you and Kita broke up. But he wasn't sad either.

“I always thought ya and Shinsuke were gonna be it.“

Warm sunlight dances over your face. You stare out the window, the gaze of your eyes sorrowful. Aran doesn't remember ever seeing you sad. You've always been the happy one, the one capable of lifting others' spirits no matter how bad it was.

You stir your drink. “I thought so too.“ When you lean back your eyes still search for something in the street. “But that's how it goes you know, sooner or later you realise you've been wrong. One way or another.“

You're trying to sound carefree and Aran's heart cracks a little. Why are you trying so hard to conceal the pain? Don't you trust him?

You are still his friend. He's starting to think that maybe... Maybe he isn't yours anymore. He shouldn't have brought up Kita. Idiot.

“Our semi-final match is next week. Ya comin'?“

Before you answer a small voice chimes in. “Uhm, excuse me? Ojiro-san?“ The boy's eyes sparkle with excitement as he asks for an autograph and a picture and Aran's more than happy to oblige. Two other kids show up and then their parents and some of the guests who had been throwing glances at your table for some time. Aran takes his time taking pictures and exchanging pleasantries. Meeting fans is the one aspect of being a renown athlete he likes.

When he turns back at you there's a fond smile on your face. “Remember those times when you thought you had no future in volleyball because you didn't get invited to youth training camp?“ Your voice softens. “Look at you now. Ojiro Aran, outside hitter of Japan's National Team.“

The light trace of pride in your voice makes his face heat up. “I was lucky to have friends who believed in me.“

“True. I better get going, my shift stars in an hour.“ You stand up and collect your things. “Talk to you later!“

What little of time you spent together always seemed to fly past too rapidly. Aran watches through the window as you hurry down the street. His coffee has gotten cold.

His spike wins them the semi-finals. In the eruption of cheering he can't hear your voice but he does see you bouncing on your heels right beside his family. You're wearing his jersey. Not a replica, it's the same jersey he wore the last season. You jumped from happiness when you opened the present. One more for your small collection of former teammates' jerseys.

Aran beams and waves in your direction. If he could he'd run over to hug and spin you around just like he used to do back in high school but he's called away. By the time interviews are over you're long gone. A part of him really hoped you would wait for him. Just like you did back in high school. All there is is a message telling him he was amazing and you're proud of him. His heart swells and for the rest of the day nothing can wipe the wide grin off of his face.

At the after party alcohol runs in rivers. Since there's no practice scheduled for tomorrow his teammates go wild. Aran downs his fifth or sixth shot having lost count a while ago. He's warm and giddy, from the victory, the alcohol, the girl on his lap running her hands up and down his chest. What was her name again? She pulls him to the dance floor, her hair is the same colour as yours and her body feels so nice against his... She looks at him funny when he calls her your name. He gets lost in the blasting music and dim lights, the haze of all the drinks and the arm around his waist.

The sound of the alarm clock might as well be a sack of rocks someone dumped on his head. Even still half asleep the blunt throbbing in his head is becoming unbearable. He wraps himself tighter with the thin blanket. Futon beneath shifts as someone climbs over him.

Or perhaps he's just dreaming.

When the second alarm rings Aran's eyes begrudgingly flutter open. He struggles to pick up the phone trying to hit that snooze button. He rubs the sleep off his eyes. That's not his phone.

The alarm is still ringing. Oh, he's going to have one hell of a headache today. His fingers shake when he finally finds the 'stop' button. For a few moments he lies motionless though the pounding of his heart rings in his ears. Last night is a haze of disconnected voices and pictures. The futon beneath him is too small to be his and he doesn't recognise the pattern of the sheets either. He probably slept with some girl from the party. Better get up and get the awkward 'morning after' conversation over with.

Sitting up he discovers all his clothes are still on. The room doesn't look familiar, yet the smell... There's something homey and intoxicating about it.

Standing up is a feat on its own. He's dizzy from the sleep and the alcohol and has to grab the edge of the desk to steady himself. He closes his eyes and waits for dizziness to pass. In the weak morning sunlight sipping through the window he notices books and pencils strewn all over. There's a framed picture on the window ledge. It takes a moment for him to recognise it.

Last year of high school, the last trip to the beach you made together. Akagi is giving you a piggy-back ride, Omimi holds both of your popsicles with a fond look on his face. Aran stands beside him, carrying the inflatable ring you guys later accidentally popped on a rock, and on the edge of the group is Kita. His face is covered with a post-it note.

Sudden sickness twists his stomach and it's not just too much alcohol to blame. He slides open the door and looks around before walking down a short hallway to the kitchen. You're just packing your bag. “Look who woke up from his beauty sleep. Want some breakfast?“

“Bathroom,“ is all he manages to utter.

“Last door on the right.“

He finds it not a moment too early. How embarrassing, to be throwing up at your place. He feels your hands rub soothing circles on his back as he leans over the toilet. Once his stomach settles down you hand him a glass of water and some headache medicine. His head is spinning. When he finally collects himself enough to stand up on his own you hand him a new toothbrush. “I gotta go in a few minutes. Professor doesn't like us being late.“

“What happened?“ His voice is hoarse.

“You had a drink too much Mr. Lightweight,“ you say with a loop sided grin. “A girl form the party called me in the middle of the night asking for someone to pick you up. It's a good thing she did cause everyone was so drunk they couldn't stand straight. You guys really did take celebrating to a whole new level. I did take you to your place but when we got there your keys were gone. So might want to look into that. Also I'm pretty sure I strained a muscle dragging you up the stairs.“ You glimpse over to the clock on the wall. “Listen, I really have to go. My roommate'll be home all day so you can stay if you want. And when you get hungry just take something from the fridge. You gonna be alright?“

Aran nods. Fuck, even that hurts. “Need to sleep it off,“ he mumbles.

You give him one more pat on the back before you leave. He struggles for a while trying to unscrew the tube of toothpaste. Never before has brushing teeth posed such a challenge. He washes his face with ice cold water that does nothing to improve the headache or his mood.

He collapses back on your futon. So, this is your room then. It's nothing like the one he remembers from back home. The Vabo-chan plushie team gifted you for your birthday lies on the pillow. It still holds the ball Omimi made at the last moment, not that he was the one given this task in the first place. It was meant as a joke yet you brought it with you to Tokyo. Aran snuggles it, noticing how pale and worn out it's becoming. He drifts back to sleep, thinking he should tell the others you still have it. They'll be glad to hear it.

No matter how hard Aran tries to pay you back the money for the taxi ride from the party you refuse. The only payment you're prepared to accept is a trip to the seaside. The moment you see the endless blue water you run closer, discarding your shoes on the beach. Seeing you splash around in the shallow water makes him laugh.

He lays out the blanket and watches over you. It's good seeing the exhaustion on your face being washed away. Even if you didn't complain at all and said nothing he could tell balancing college and work is taking its toll. Despite smiling and appearing as carefree as always you seem tired. Aran is starting to fear you'll break under the weight of whatever it is you refuse to tell him.

He lays back on his bag, basking in the warm sun. Soon he dozes off. Once he wakes up you're laying beside him and scribbling in the margins of an article you have to read for an upcoming lecture. He lets you work and simply enjoys your presence. He missed hanging out with you, even if you don't do anything special he's just glad to have you around.

As evening falls he draps his jacket on your shoulders. You always loved stealing – not stealing he corrects himself, borrowing- you always loved borrowing jackets and hoodies.

“Hey Aran? Can... Can I tell you something?“ You hide your face beneath the hood of his jacket.

“'Course ya can.“

“Remember the old maple tree by the crossroad?“

Aran thinks for a moment. “Ya mean the one Suna dared ya to climb and ya fell down from?“

“That one yeah.“ A shadow of a smile flies over your lips at the memory.

“Everyone thought Oomi-sensei would throw ya outta the club. Shouldda seen the second year's faces when they thought we'll lose our precious manager.“

“A few months ago I walked past it. Thought about climbing it.“

“Lemme guess, ya couldn't? College life sucked all the strength from yer arms? Told ya ya should exercise more.“

“I was scared.“ You take a deep breath. “I climbed that tree a thousand times before. And now I'm too scared to even touch the lowest branch.“ You fidget with the hem of his jacket. “It scared me so much you know, not noticing how much I've changed.“

“Ya haven't changed that much.“

You look at him. “Haven't I?“

“No.“ Lies. A part of him knows it's lies. “Yer still the same. Our precious manager.“ He playfully pokes your shoulder. Yeah, you're still the same. You're still the you he remembers. “Yer my friend. Fearless. Always there to kick some sense into me.“ You're still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago. “Yer one of my best friends. Nothin's gonna change that. Besides-“

“I hated you.“

Seagulls' calls. Waves crashing on the shore. People chatting in the distance. “Well, hate might be a bit too strong...“ You pull your knees to your chest and hug them, your eyes fixed on the waning light on the horizon. “I was so envious of you, you know? Of all of you... You, Akagi, Omiren,... You all knew what you wanted, you going pro, them going to college, and Shin... Even back in school I was the odd one out. I couldn't admit to myself that I envied you. Now I know it was wrong. So fucking childish. But that's how I felt.“ You can't bear to look him in the eye. “Sometimes I still feel like the one who has no idea what to do with her life...“

A lump forms in Aran's throat. He had no idea. Too blinded by your light, too engrossed in his own feelings to notice what was happening underneath your carefree facade.

“Knowing that tell me,“ you glance at him and tears in your eyes glimmer in the last beams of the setting sun, “can really nothing change our friendship?“

Ch. 2: Tattered

#ojiro aran #ojiro aran x reader #ojiro aran imagine #ojiro aran angst #aran x reader #ojiro aran x y/n #hq #haikyuu x reader #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki angst #all that is gold #libri scribbles

46 notes · View notes

aifastic · 3 years

Text

Winning Lines

The @talesofteufort zine has been shipped, and the PDFs sent! Thank you very much to everyone who contributed. I’m very glad to have been able to participate in this project; it was a wonderful experience and it’s been great working with everyone aaaa ♥

I’m really happy to share my piece for the zine! I really hope you all like it ♥ (Read it below the cut)

Title: Winning Lines Words: 1845 Warnings: None Summary: BLU has a drawing contest. Demo just wants his magazine back.

-----

“ARE YOU MANN ENOUGH TO DRAW THIS BETTER THAN US?”

The header caught BLU’s Demoman’s attention. He’d been reading the latest issue of Hat-Wearing Man when he found the ad at the bottom of one of the pages. There was a somewhat simple drawing of a monkey in a spacesuit. “If you draw Poopy Joe better than our extremely talented artist, we’ll give him the boot—and kick his ass in the process! And your picture will be the new image of our project and you, our lucky friend, will win nothing less than $700 dollars!”

“Huh, it doesn’t look that hard…” he said, pensive. Suddenly, the magazine was snatched from his hands. “Hey!”

“Ohohoh, what’s this?” Scout said, grinning at the magazine. “Hey, I’d win this in the blink of an eye!”

“Oi! Get your own!” Demo took the magazine back. “I’m gonna try this. Mum will love the extra money,” he added to himself.

“Pffft, no way, it’s a waste of mail money, pally. If someone should participate, that’s someone who actually has a chance.”

“Heh.”

They turned around to see Sniper in a corner, grinning.

“What’s your deal, Long Legs?”

“Shut up, ya scoundrel. If anyone has a chance here, it’s me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Demo asked. “Where’s your credentials, mate?”

“Don’t need any,” he said. “Quiet kid, hours at the back of the classroom sketching the teacher being eaten by a croc.” He grinned. “It should be easy as cake.”

“Oi, do ya remember the magazine is mine?”

“I agree, though—the chance should be for whoever’s got the talent.”

Demo sighed. “Aye, alright. But I’m not gonna just give it away.” His face lit up, an idea coming to his mind. “You’ll have to beat me for it.”

“Huh?” Both mercenaries stared at him quizzically.

Demo grinned, eye glinting.

“Let’s have a drawing contest.”

-----

They emptied the kitchen table in order to make room for their sheets of paper, pencils and pens. In the meantime, they threw evaluative gazes at each other, competitive strike flaring up.

The rest of the team slowly wandered to the room to find out what was going on.

“What is noise?” asked Heavy, scratching his chest. Medic, who was right behind him, had just closed it, having found himself too distracted by the ruckus to continue his surgery.

“We’re about to find out who’s gonna win 700 dollars!”

Medic perked up. “I am in. What is the bet?”

“We’re not betting, mate.” Sniper showed him the magazine’s ad. “It’s a contest.”

Medic’s smile turned dangerous. “Even better.”

“Heavy is in, too.”

“Aw, come on, guys! It’s not as if you’re gonna beat me!”

Heavy threw Scout an unimpressed look. “It is fun. I want extra money. I am in.”

“Alright, alright, mate. Sure.” Demo handed them both some extra sheets of paper they'd brought just in case.

Medic excused himself to go search for a couple of pens. On his way out, he almost crashed onto Soldier.

“Ach, watch where you’re going!”

“I need sustenance, maggot! And you’re on my way!” He shoved Medic away, making him stumble on the way out. A couple of German swears could be heard from the corridor. “Hello, everyone!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna get in too,” Scout groaned.

“In what?” Soldier inquired, tilting his head. Demo showed him the magazine’s ad.

Engineer peeked over his shoulder.

“Oh, a drawing contest?” he said, looking at it with a fond smile. “Heh. It’s been a while since I tried my hand at one o’ those. But I thought they allowed only one entry per ad?”

“That is point,” Heavy said. “We are fighting to get chance to earn money.”

“Oh…” Soldier grinned. “I’m in, maggots! I actually studied art with Kickasso.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Sure, mate,” Demo said, patting his back and attempting to lead him into the kitchen.

“You don’t believe me!” Soldier looked at everyone. Engie shrugged. Scout picked at his nails, and Sniper scratched the table distractedly. Heavy’s eyes said it all. “I will prove it to all of you!” And he headed to the table, snatching a paper sheet from the pile.

Demo brushed a hand across his own face. “I hope Medic brings enough pens.”

“I’ll go for mine,” Engie said. He added, “And I’ll go look for Pyro; they’ll love this.”

Scout groaned. “Anyone else? Maybe Saxton Hale?”

Spy’s laughter can be heard from a corner of the room.

“Oh, this is priceless. I wasn’t going to butt in, but this looks like too much fun to pass on the opportunity.”

“The opportunity to what?” Scout said, miffed.

“You’ll see,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “Besides, you need a referee, don’t you?”

“Ugh,” Scout said, bonking his head on the table.

-----

Everyone looked at each other from their respective places. Scout’s leg bounced nonstop; Sniper picked unconsciously at his pencil. Heavy’s grip on his pen was strong enough for Medic to worry about it breaking.

“Alright,” said Spy. “You have to draw…” He squinted. “Poopy Joe, following the ad’s instructions; the best artist wins. The rules are: no interfering with anyone’s drawing. No kicking under the table. No destroying anyone’s drawing. No rising up from the table until all this is over. No showing your drawing until everyone is finished. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. Pyro hummed happily.

“Excellent. So, on the count of three: One, two… Three!”

Scout’s pen tore onto the paper. “Shit! Do you have a spare?” Spy handed him one. “Thanks,” he muttered.

The truth was, Scout wasn’t that confident of the fact he was going to win. When it was just him and Demo, he’d been sure he’d win to the unsteady hand of a drunk man. And Sniper was all bragging anyways. But Medic? He’d probably drawn lots of skeletons and stuff at college. And Engineer’s schematics always look exactly like the finished product. Shit. And—did Soldier really paint with Kickasso? Nah, he shook his head. He didn’t think so. Heavy was a wild card, though.

But he had to try anyway! He couldn’t back off now. So he put his all into it.

Engineer turned his sheet of paper down. Hell! That was fast. He tried to concentrate in the lines that formed Poopy Joe, and emulated them the best he could. Damn, his hand was sweaty… He hated drawing. His cousin had always been better at it, and it pissed him off even now, far from home.

He slapped his drawing on the table, face down. “Done!” He looked up to see everyone had finished. Crap.

“Alright, then,” said Spy. “Let’s see what you came up with.”

“Come up with?” That had many meanings, but the way Spy said it… “What do you mean?”

“The challenge was to improve on the design of Poopy Joe drawn by the artist, not to copy it.”

“Oh, darn,” Engineer said, showing a perfect copy of the Poopy Joe logo. Holy shit. “Guess I got a bit carried away. I’m more used to copying stuff, ya know.”

Soldier snickered.

“Let’s see what you did, Soldier boy.”

“Alright! Look at it and weep!”

He showed them all a mess of lines with dots in seemingly random places.

“Soldier, that’s…” Scout got elbowed by Demo. “That’s cool. What are… those?”

“Those are his eyes!” Oh, God.

“Let’s see Demo’s!” grinned Soldier, confidently.

“Ach, you know I’m no artist, mate,” he said, showing his drawing. It was… Actually, it was pretty decent. His drawing had a cartoonish style that drew everyone’s eyes in.

“Interesting,” said Spy, nodding approvingly.

“Demo did great job,” Heavy said, crossing his arms.

“Aw, thanks, mate.” Demo shrugged it off, somewhat flustered. “What about yours?”

Heavy showed his drawing. It was simple, a single line delineating the silhouette of the monkey astronaut. It was stylish, though it was difficult to guess what it was at times.

“Wonderful, mein freund!” Medic clapped, and revealed his. It was… Oh, my god. “I might have put a bit too much emphasis on his organs.”

“Next!” yelled Scout, tearing his eyes away from the gory drawing. Shit. Now he had to show his. Alright. You can do this, he told himself.

He turned the page face up.

“Mate,” Sniper said.

“Oh, buddy, we made the same mistake.”

“Y’know? I saw RED’s Scout draw once and I secretly thought we were doomed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Scout said, face beet red. It was true, he’d tried to copy the drawing, like Engineer did. And his lines weren’t as sure as Demo’s or Heavy’s. Shit. He screwed up big time.

“It’s good overall, mate,” Sniper said. “You just need more confidence.”

Scout flushed. “What about yours, Mister Expert?”

Sniper grunted, and showed his drawing. Oh, wow. It was really good! The monkey looked like it’d come out of the page and tear them apart. He felt as if he would be able to touch its fur.

“Wow, Slim! That’s one helluva good drawing!”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning. “I told ya: quiet kid.”

“Where is his spacesuit, though?”

His face dropped. “Aw, hell.”

“Hmmmph!” Pyro yelled, pointing at their sheet of paper.

“Alright,” Spy said, grinning along with Engineer. “The moment of truth has come.”

“What do you mean—?”

Holy shit.

The drawing was astounding. The monkey looked cartoonish enough not to look real, but in a way that made the drawing look alive. Everything was there, and in wonderful detail: The space-suit, the stars… Even an additional full moon in the background that was a perfect circle.

“Holy shit, Py!” Scout said. “How did you do that?”

“Hhmph?” Pyro asked, pointing at the moon. Everyone nodded. Pyro mumbled happily, grabbing another sheet of paper, and drew a classical Greek style face, then erased the rest of its features little by little until they got a perfect circle.

Oh, for the love of—

“Well, it seems we have our winner,” said Spy, handing Pyro the magazine. Pyro clapped with glee, running off with it.

“Aw, man. That was totally unfair. You knew this would happen!” Scout pointed to Spy accusingly.

“I had my suspicions,” he said, grinning.

“Hey, maggots,” Soldier said, sniffing. “Is that smoke?”

They all turned around to watch Pyro as they set the magazine on fire.

“Ach! My magazine!” Demo ran and stomped on it. However, many of the pages, including the drawing contest ad, didn’t make it. “Hell. Why, mate?”

“Hmmphmmphmmph!” they said, pointing at everyone in the room, then at their drawings. Then they clapped.

Everyone looked at each other, and found a common understanding. Who knew what Pyro said? But they had the feeling they meant they were all winners today.

“So it was a huge waste of everyone’s time. Fantastic,” Spy said. “Entertaining, though.”

“Shut up, Spy, we were having a moment,” Scout said.

And yes, indeed. Because even though Demo lost his magazine, he left the room with a good feeling inside. And he was sure that the rest felt the same way.

Poopy Joe’s artist could keep his job for another day.

#Team Fortress 2 #fanfiction #BLU Team #Tales of Teufort #Tales of Teufort zine #[♥]

12 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Summary: Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. His dreams lately have been filled with himself in a thousand forms, a thousand different versions of what could have been. Dean likes to think that they’re made of the same star stuff, but whatever the cause, he feels the connection.

Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst.

Author’s Note: Inspired by Traffic’s “Dear Mr. Fantasy” and the header image; prompt given by @thoughtslikeaminefield. Love you. @cabin-fever-bang prompt fill. So many thanks to @cracksinthewalls and @there-must-be-a-lock for exceptional editing and motivation. Also love both of you.

Word Count: 2157

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. His dreams lately have been filled with himself in a thousand forms, a thousand different versions of what could have been. Dean likes to think that they’re made of the same star stuff, but whatever the cause, he feels the connection.

Some have been vastly different (he spent an entire day lost in thought about a female version of himself who was apparently a rodeo queen by day and monster hunter by night).

Some are so similar that the lines between his actual self and the other blur to the point of confusion; is he dreaming about himself or a different Dean who made one different choice twenty years ago?

He can always tell the difference, eventually. A scar in the wrong place, an absent friend or loved one still around or maybe someone gone who shouldn’t be. In one universe, someone neglected Baby (couldn’t have been Dean, had to’ve been Sam) to the point where she pulls slightly to the left.

Dean spends the morning after that dream with a muscle tick in his cheek and a suspicious, side-eyed glare for Sam that he never bothers to explain.

But there’s one particular Other Dean, a favorite one his mind drifts to during rare peaceful moments. Daydreaming when he should be researching, drifting off when a particular song plays on the radio while he’s working on Baby, even washing his hands sometimes will pull him back to those dreams.

Unsurprisingly, his favorite alternate world has no monsters. It’s not that he isn’t aware of monsters in this dimension, that he doesn’t hunt them. No, in this other world, there’s no magic, no terrifying creatures of the night at all. He can feel the lightness of this world, steadiness that comes with not having to worry about whether a vampire is going to make this evening walk your last or a wendigo is going to join you on your camping trip.

Dean has a theory that this world was a test world, one where Chuck decided to just let things evolve as they would with very little interference. Humanity still has its issues: war, plague, famine, politics, streaming services that have lived long enough to become the villain.

But no monsters.

Chuck has left this world more or less alone, and Dean is pretty sure he knows why. In God’s eyes, a world without monsters is stale. This alternate world is a world without supernatural conflict, without apocalypse-level struggle, without life and death and good and evil and all that high-stakes, cursed-destiny crap Chuck literally eats for breakfast.

Boring. This world is a snoozefest for Chuck, and Dean’s okay with that.

In fact, he loves it.

He’s been rooting for this world for a while now. He still dreams of it sometimes, so he knows somewhere deep inside that it’s still around. He knows all the worlds will be destroyed eventually, wiped away by Chuck’s callous cruelty. But this one…

Dean’s not the sentimental type, not really, but if he could send it a greeting card, it’d be that cat from years ago on the motivational poster, clawing onto a tree branch.

Hang in there, baby.

He must have done something right for once, because he drifts off and finds himself back there again. He’s a little older in this universe, and he suspects his other self is in denial about beginning to need glasses. A shame, too. A mechanic’s gotta be able to see what he’s doing, and the eyestrain headaches his other self suffers every night would probably clear up completely if he’d just go get his eyes checked.

But they both know he won’t.

He sees better with his hands than his eyes these days. At forty-eight years old (none of that years young bullshit, either; he’s old, and he’s goddamn earned it), he’s spent his entire life in a garage working on one motor or another, same as his dad before him, and so on.

It’s honest work, clean despite the grease, and Dean himself has used his own money to help put at least a couple of generations of little Winchesters through college or wherever their hearts took them, starting back with his brother. Dean and his dad both feel pride over Dr. Winchester, the history professor. Might not make as much as a mechanic, but he’s happy and settled, and really, what man could ask for more?

The best part of this Dean’s day, the best part of his whole life, is her. He’s known her for nearly three decades and loved her just as long.

He was a twenty-year-old punk, learning his way through the art of motorcycles. He’d spent his life so far working on muscle cars, something he would never completely tire of, but now he was in absolute heaven. Dad’s buddy Danny Elkins had agreed to take Dean on, and Dean had taken to bikes like it was meant to be.

Four months into his new life, Danny’s daughter brought her dad lunch, and, for the first time in his life, Dean wondered whether there might actually be a woman who could pull his attention from an engine for longer than a night or two.

It was more or less instant attraction for the both of them, kinda like the movies that she loved to watch. Unlike those movies, however, there was no disapproving father to contend with or prove himself to.

“She’s a big girl and can crack your skull just as good as me,” he’d told Dean. “Pretty sure she’s settled on ya, so just make sure you’re worth it.”

So that’s what Dean did.

Tonight’s dream finds the older Dean alone in the garage, and the sun is at the tail end of setting. Splashes of indigo and orange paint the horizon, framing her approach in a wash of colors blending into shadows that hold no danger.

“Figured you’d forget dinner tonight, what with your new toy. Thought we could share, and you could show me what you’ve been up to.”

She doesn’t really care about the bikes, the cars, any of it. She only cares that it matters to him, and whatever keeps him running is something she wants to be a part of.

Surrounded by motorcycles in various states of repair and assembly, they speak quietly of their day, sharing the tiny details and separate moments that make up their simple life. She feeds him a bit of meatloaf with her fingers, and he eagerly returns the favor by sucking a smear of mashed potatoes from the corner of her mouth.

She sets the dinner containers aside, twisting to the side to reach for the apple cobbler she made yesterday, when he realizes he can’t stand even that bit of separation between. He’s been without her all day; that’s too much to ask of any man.

“C’mere,” he says.

Dessert forgotten, she settles astride his lap, arms linked around his neck, smiling that serene combination of lips and eyes and cheekbones that makes his heart twist and his groin swell same as the first time she turned them on him thirty-odd years ago.

They’ve sat like this a thousand times, and he prays silently he’ll get at least a thousand more. When they were kids, crazy and hungry for every experience, she’d come into the garage in her little tank top, her tiny shorts showing off her new ink, heels fit to kill someone (how she never broke an ankle has always been a mystery and a miracle, in both Deans’ opinions).

She scrubs a thumb over his bearded jawline, humming deep in her chest. She’s swapped the tiny skirts for jeans, although he thanks his lucky stars every day that fashions have moved from bootcut back to skinny. Harder to get off quick, but damn does he love the lines of her legs in ‘em.

They press foreheads together as an old Traffic song plays over the radio, swaying gently, always in sync.

“Dear Mr. Fantasy, play us a tune,” he half-whispers, half-sings, breath warm on her cool cheek.

“Something to make us all happy,” she answers in kind, eye closed. She slides her nose alongside his, runs her chin over his wiry beard, smiles into his kiss as it buffs her face red.

Perhaps in remembrance of their long-past youth, she’s chosen her smallest tank-top, one she’d normally never wear without at least a button-up over it, and he drops his head to rub his cheeks over the bare skin over her collarbone. Her legs link behind his back, anchoring her as she leans back to allow him more access.

God, what she can still do to him. The salt of her skin, the fragrance of her perfume that he picked out for her on their first anniversary that she’s worn religiously ever since, the silk of her hair that he tangles between fingers that still tremble with eager nerves.

Older Dean and worn-out, monster-plagued Dean sigh together, content down to their bones. This life is it for both of them. She is it. One Dean still can’t believe his amazing luck after all these years, and the other aches at the simple, total happiness he feels honored to witness.

“Dean.”

The older man runs a reverent hand down his wife’s arm, twining his fingers with hers. He kisses her knuckles, a few more crinkles lining his eyes as he smiles.

“Dean, wake up.”

The scene before him begins to fade as she takes his face between her hands, kisses his temples, the spot between his eyes, the corner of his mouth. For just a second, this Dean (the “real” Dean, as Chuck put it) feels those kisses, looks deep into her eyes and feels that warmth and light that she brings to the other man’s life.

I love you, she whispers, and he allows himself to believe for one moment that she’s talking directly to him.

“Dean, come on, Cas has a lead.” Sam’s voice finally breaks the dream wide open, and Dean reluctantly opens his eyes. “We gotta go check it out. Get dressed.”

“Yeah.”

He sits up slowly, feeling each of his forty-one years with an ache that no longer surprises him. He swings his legs over the side of his bed, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his face in his hands. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel her phantom caress, her thumb against his cheekbone, her lips on the corner of his.

I love you.

Dean scrubs at his face with hands that get a little older and a little more scarred every day. Warrior’s hands, a testament to his hunts and battles. If he squints a little (maybe he needs an eye exam, too) he can imagine they’re different sorts of scars: burns from hot engines, cuts and scrapes from tools and every-day hard work rather than knives and punches.

He inhales, gathering strength, putting on his mental armor piece by piece. A knight, riding off to save the world from the devouring dragon. He reaches over and grabs his jeans, sliding them on and standing in a smooth motion that is accompanied by only one or two pops and cracks.

I love you.

Dean doesn’t know how this is all going to end. He knows how he won’t let it end: him against Sammy, to the death and all that biblical Cain and Abel crap. But beyond that, he’s going to fight to save his brother, all of his little patchwork family, because they’re all he has in this world.

He wonders briefly if his other self’s wife exists in this world, or if she’s just an anomaly, a one-time figment of Chuck’s imagination. He’s pretty sure it’s the latter; a man can only get that lucky once in a thousand lifetimes, and that other Dean is that one in a thousand.

This Dean could search a lifetime and never find her. She’s already been found, and maybe, just maybe if he and Sam can get their act together and bring the final beatdown on Chuck in enough time, he can save her. He can’t have her, but he could save her world, leave her safe and happy with his other self.

“Let it be enough,” he says aloud, not sure if he’s coaxing himself or the universe. He says it again, one more time for luck.

It has to be enough.

…

“Dear Mr. Fantasy” by Traffic

Dear Mister Fantasy, play us a tune, Something to make us all happy. Do anything, take us out of this gloom. Sing a song, play guitar, Make it snappy. You are the one who can make us all laugh, But doing that you break out in tears. Please don't be sad if it was a straight mind you had. We wouldn't have known you all these years.

#cabin fever bang prompt fill #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #chuck #angst #what if #somewhere out there #the one #dear mr. fantasy #let it be enough #Sam Winchester

214 notes · View notes

star-wars-scribbles-ff · 3 years

Text

Where I Belong | Chapter 1 | Prologue

Story Summary: The only family she’d ever known gave her a name; back when she belonged to something. But when that family is lost, she leaves it all behind. When destiny drops her in the last place she ever wanted to be, she has to earn back the trust and respect of the Republic that left her to die. Caught between the Jedi and the Grand Army of the Republic, she'll discover where she belongs.

Fandom: Star Wars | Galaxy Far Far Away

Rating: T+

Story Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/found family | war violence, death, torture, discrimination, angst, fluff, [more]

Words: 13,623

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Lucasfilm/Disney. My OCs, as well as a few other things within this fanfic are of my own creation. Republic Cog header made by me :)

CHAPTER NOTE: Haha I know you’re having a hard time getting past that terrifying word count above if you haven’t already said ‘to hell with this’ and kept scrolling, but I like writing long chapters because I don’t update as frequently as other writers so I wanna provide some good stuff to keep readers busy while they wait... Hope that’s alright? (All chapters aren’t that long; usually around 5k. Don’t worry there’s just a lot to unpack in this first chapter) If you’re still here I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist | Next Chapter | Chapter Art & Map | Echo & Trauma Squad

“We’ve entered the atmosphere, Sergeant. You boys are clear to get ready.”

Pressing the button connected to the cockpit via a control panel on the wall, CC-4811, Sergeant Mash, went to respond.

“Roger that. Drop us 3 klicks south of RV point Axe.”

“Will do, sir.”

Lowering his hand, Mash turned, gaze finding his team doing a last minute equipment check before their coming drop into hostile territory. It was helmets on at 100 klicks, they still had another minute or so.

“Alright, listen up.” Mash held up a datapad, tapping briskly on the screen, a holo of the location of interest shown up into the semi-lit shuttle bay. “Intelligence spotted a Separatist fleet five rotations ago within the Duluur sector. They lingered for one standard Coruscant rotation above Devaron before departing from this sector. It is unknown whether hostiles have taken RV point Bullseye.”

“Why couldn’t we get the debrief on Kamino?” CC-4999, or as they called him, Nines muttered. The squad member was finishing the assemblement of his Deece with a sniper attachment.

“This is a priority mission,” Mash continued. “Retaking Bullseye needs to be done quickly, quietly, and efficiently. Minimal destruction which means no rockets, detonators, or explosives of any kind, hence our silent entry - sorry Hawk.” The smidgen of sympathy in Mash’s voice for their demolition man causes CC-4998, Hawk, to give a small jut of his chin and a twitch of a smile. “The Republic seeks to turn this Temple into a staging ground for Surveillance Operations. Keeping Bullseye standing is top priority; sweep the grounds and wipe out any Separatist forces that may have taken it; preferably all in under a 12 hour window.”

“100 klicks out,” The pilot’s voice came over the shuttle’s com systems.

Shutting off the datapad, Mash tossed it to one of the shuttle seats lining the bay wall before grabbing his helmet. The rest of his squad did the same as they all put their helmets on.

“Didn’t really answer the question, Sarg.” Nines uttered while rolling his shoulders, the action causing the armored plates to clunk against one another.

“Skipper said the Jedi were touchy about it, Nines.”

The kid was a bit of a hot shot but his skill with a rifle more than made up for the snarky attitude.

“They give us confidential assignments for a reason. They want this done quickly and quietly without word getting out.”

The sniper tipped his trigger and middle finger around in a salute that would have most likely made their training sergeant fume at the lack of maturity before turning towards Hawk.

“Bit strange they revived us so quickly.” CC-4803, Corporal Razor stepped up next to Mash. “From what Skipper told me- most get a couple months before they’re pulled for assignment again.”

Like the rest of their kind, they were kept in stasis when not on assignment. Infantry weren’t because they dealt with the bulk of the war.

“Personally I don’t mind - I guess it’s gotta mean we’re doing something right if they keep pulling us for jobs,” Razor added.

Their advisor on Kamino, Skipper, acted as their go-to man during missions. He’d feed them intel on the ground and organize quick and dirty drops and extractions if the need arose.

“Trying not to think about it, ner vod (my brother/comprade).” Mash said, the mando’a slipping through his mouth with ease. It wasn’t something other clones knew… More of a perk from their branch of the GAR. If you were lucky, your training sergeant may have taught you the Mandalorian language. The clone flash training made it stick too, so they were fairly fluent.

Like the rest of their kind, they were kept in stasis when not on assignment. Infantry weren’t because they dealt with the bulk of the war.

Not long after the Battle of Geonosis, their squad, Echo squad, was formed. It was created in the wake of each of their losses. Mash had lost all his men, his brothers, and so had Razor who had been Sergeant of his own men. Nines and Hawk together lost their Corporal and Sergeant. Higher ups had pushed them all together for a follow up assignment shortly after Geonosis and they had to get to know each other on the ground the hard way.

Since then they’d done a few jobs here and there. They all had the same training sergeant so while there was a small grimmer of familiarity, they were still strangers to each other. It took some getting used to, but things had since smoothed out.

“Sounds like this assignment really is priority. For the Jedi at least. Whatever Jedi was occupying the Temple previously was recalled to Coruscant. It didn’t take long for the Separatists to get word of the outpost’s vacancy it seems.”

“I’ll say,” Razor chuckled beneath his helmet before finishing the tie on his rappelling gear. They’d be dropping into the dense jungle soon. “From what I hear, intelligence still has holes in it. Intel is leaked more often than it isn’t, gotta wonder you know?”

Checking the knot of his rappelling gear a final time, Mash hesitated to respond to Razor’s comment. Razor had always been one for the gossip regarding the Republic’s works. Sometimes that curiosity was useful, but more often than not Mash wished his brother were more discreet.

Word had gotten around, but since the Republic were officially handed control of the army, they’d begun making changes. Their branch of the GAR was getting quite the makeover, however whether the changes were doing more harm than good was still up for debate. Clone Advisors was just one change that had been temporary, but had since stuck around. Certain Clone Officers without fieldwork would act as advisors or middlemen to non-Clone Republic Officers, like the Jedi, still getting a handle on how to efficiently induct the different clones into the conflicts.

It was a surprise to the Clones when the Jedi, the legendary warriors they’d been told of all their lives, didn’t exactly meet textbook expectations.

It wasn’t their place to ponder the Jedi abilities as Military Leaders, but their corner of the GAR was quickly developing opinions, a ship Mash was hesitant to board.

“You implying its a higher ups problem?” Mash asked.

“Not necessarily,” Razor responded. “Just something to think about is all. Although, I know you prefer not to.”

He’d known Razor long before they’d been thrown together in a squad. He’d met him several times on the simulation battlefields during training, and he knew him well enough to detect the humor laced through his voice to understand when he was pulling his leg.

“Stay focused, vod.” Mash muttered, thankful he could hide his own grin as a chuckle from Razor radiated through helmet comms.

“Coming in, we’ll be over the drop zone in 30 seconds.”

The turbulence picked up in the shuttle as they approached their destination and all members of the squad made their way towards the back of the shuttle bay.

Hawk hit the button for the shuttle’s ramp on the wall control panel and soon enough the roar of the ship's engines took over, causing the sound dampeners in their helmets to kick in.

The shuttle trembled as the pilots pulled up on the controls and the ship stalled above an area of jungle which was where their assignment was to begin.

“Go go go,” Mash ushered each of his men out before going himself. One hand on the rappelling line and the other holding his Deece at the ready, Mash kept his eyes on his comrades heading down the 60 or so meter distance passed a layer of fog into the darkness of the Devaronian jungle.

Large vines as thick as the bay of the shuttle covered the planet as far as Mash could see, even through his helmet display. Data on the planet mentioned the unique flora which they would encounter; the vines breached the landscape like borrowing Rishi eels, knotted and intertwined together creating a blanket covering the terrain.

Watching as each of his squad hit the ground, Mash followed as they did in stripping themselves of their rappelling gear as it zipped back up into the shuttle.

Switching comm frequencies, Mash looked up to the hovering shuttle around 100 meters about them.

“We’re clear, pilot.”

“Roger that sir, have fun down there,” The ramp of the shuttle began to close before it headed off.

The jungle had fallen quiet once the ship was out of range, and soon enough, the chirping and rustling of native fauna began to grow in the shuttle’s absence. Looking around the terrain, Mash was quick to notice how the ground under the vine canopy was rather barren aside from sparse foliage in the form of smaller vine systems and shrub-like plants. They were going in under the impression that there would be greater amounts of foliage; it would complicate matters for reconnaissance and stealth-based action going forward.

It was the first bump in the road, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Improvisation; its what they trained for in situations like this.

In a series of blinks, Mash pulled up specs on the surrounding landscape, including humidity levels. They were high enough. Readings indicated it had rained recently.

“Start dirtying up the armor. Foliage won’t provide enough cover so we’ll need to-”

An aggravated grunt caused Mash to turn, finding Nines with his hands braced on his lower back as he craned into a stretch, his Deece in the hands of Hawk.

“They changed this di'kutla (useless/stupid) armor again, didn’t they.” He grunted.

“The Manual outlined the upgrades,” Hawk reminded his brother with a slight tilt of his helmet, only to receive a mild clock on the shoulder plate from Nines as he got his footing back.

“Who the hell has time for that, do I look like I got time for that?”

“Cut the chatter,” The statement came out firm, although the mild distraction of the hostile territory around them softened his words. “This is hostile territory, so let’s shift it,” Mash gestured forward with his Deece.

“Dirty up.” Razor shrugged, emphasizing on the Sergeant’s first order before popping off in one direction to start camouflaging his armor.

Mash watched as Nines lingered on their Corporal walking away before he audibly grumbled, going off in a somewhat similar direction with Hawk.

“I long for the day when I can put this armor to actual use.”

“And how would you go about doing that, Nines?” Hawk asked.

“By using it how it was meant to be used- urban warfare, close quarters… actual fire fights. Not writhing around on a dust ball like Geonosis or making mud angels on this heap.”

The comment caused Hawk to openly laugh, something that if Mash was being honest, wasn’t customary of his younger comprade; however he had to admit it pleased him. He’d always been less of a talker than Nines; more hesitant to accept the new squad; whether it was because of the fate of their old one, or maybe who he had ended up with, Mash wasn’t certain.

“Keep your trash talk on internal comms, Nines.” Razor reiterated the words as if he had done so multiple times already, which he most likely had.

“Trash talk… Kebbur haar haat (try the truth).” Nines grumbled, before throwing a glob of mud onto his thigh plating, coating one leg in the darkly colored mud.

The kid was all talk. As soon as a superior was around he would 180 and they’d be none the wiser.

Another minute passed before the squad’s signature white armor with red and orange accents were covered helmet to boots in Devaronian mud. The humidity would prove troublesome as they’d need to reapply the camouflage again within the hour.

Exchanging a couple of nods with the men, Mash made a final glance exchange with Razor.

“We’re ready,” The Corporal gave him a nod.

“Then let’s move out.”

A couple hours had passed, and the position of Devaron’s two moons had since shifted across the night sky; they could be seen in the distance adjacent to RV point Bullseye’s structure. The thick layer of fog had been ever present since their arrival, and while it didn’t completely inhibit their line of sight, it was keeping them on their toes.

Spotting subtle obstruction on the ground ahead, Mash held up a fist before gesturing for the men to move forward to a position of cover cautiously.

The Sergeant came to a stop at a large vine almost a meter thick. He kept his back to it as Hawk stopped behind him.

“I’ve got eyes on the South road.” Nines came to a stop a few meters to their 3 o’clock, kneeling down on one leg before resting his rifle over a low vine breaching the ground, leaning in to look through the scope.

The Temple had four roads that branched out in each direction, the primary Northern and Southern Roads drew an imaginary line through RV point Bullseye while the secondary Western and Eastern roads connected the courtyards and other smaller facilities to the overall structure.

“It’s called a promenade, not a road.” Razor muttered as he came to a stop beside the sniper, blaster raised and alert as he observed the surrounding area.

“Yeah I know, the HUD said that, but what the hell is the difference- its a road.” Nines grunted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to hear they’ve updated the HUD’s terminology index on architecture. I can’t think of more vital information to the mission.” The cock of Nines’ helmet only enhanced the sarcasm leaking from his filtered voice as he glanced up at their Corporal. “Looks clear up ahead.”

“No droids?” Mash questioned.

“Doesn’t look like it, Sarg. Zero movement.” Nines responded, gaze back through the scope.

From his crouched position on the ground, Hawk looked up at the Sergeant for a brief moment before glancing towards Razor.

Going in they’d be simultaneously at an advantage and disadvantage. The enemy had the high ground and not to mention the location in question that needed to be retaken, but the squad had the element of surprise.

“Alright. Let’s start moving in. Stay sharp and switch to internal comms,” Mash instructed and with a couple of hand gestures, fleshed out their movements going forward.

Like the vigorously tested training exercises on Kamino, the squad began to move in on the target location quickly and quietly. Using the native flora to their cover advantage, the small group made their way up to the Temple road before branching off to the structure’s right side. They’d stay between the Eastern and Southern roads in order to get as close to RV point Bullseye as possible without leaving the cover that the Devaronian vines provided. Once close enough, they could make their way across the courtyard and to the Temple. From there execution of the mission would change. How, was something Mash didn’t know yet.

Loosely following the road’s edge closer and closer to the Temple which was growing up into the sky the further they traveled, Echo Squad finally came to the wall of the courtyard, an area that surrounded the Temple. The wall was just under two meters; a quick scale.

Stepping up to the wall, Nines lowered his rifle, resting its barrel on the wall before perusing the open and exposed ground ahead.

“No visuals. All quiet.”

“I’m not liking this,” Razor muttered, tilting his body only slightly towards the Sergeant. “Its sloppy. Even for the droids.”

“Maybe we just came at a bad time,” Nines offered, continuing to scope out the area. “Caf break or… battery recharge- quiet time. What’d droids have these days?”

“Let’s give it another minute.” Mash decided, craning to look up towards the main Temple structure which was significantly larger than its sibling tower. “We’ll move in if we don’t get-”

“Wait, I’ve got a visual.”

Mash jerked his head to the right to see where Nines’ scope was aligned, towards the smaller of the two towers. The shutter and chung of metal clanking together in a uniform manner was a sound that had since become familiar to them.

On Kamino they trained against other clone squads, training staff, and simulation targets. The droids which were now being used by the Separatists weren’t entirely unfamiliar, but it was a somewhat impersonal enemy nonetheless. The droids were designed to overwhelm, something that proved effective against the Republic at Geonosis, especially their branch of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Part of the reason missions concerning their branch of the GAR were no longer to overlap with Infantry (unless under special circumstances) was because the Jedi thankfully came to their senses on that account. Their branch lost half of their entire force at Geonosis. Their first battle and their kind were cut in half… It unsettled Mash to the point where he preferred to not think about it, but his head constantly reminded him that those nerves wouldn’t help whether he ignored them or not. The Jedi, while they may not have been what they’d expected, were warriors and leaders nonetheless and they’d been taught all their lives that they’d been created to help the Jedi. Things were seemingly off to a rocky start but they’d level out. It seemed they already were, which Mash was thankfully for. He hadn’t worked directly with a Jedi yet, but when the day came he hoped they’d be up to the task of using him and his men to the best of their ability.

The enemy force finally emerged from around the farthest tower, revealing a squad of eight B1 battle droids. The standard, not a problem. However whatever forces may wait within the Temple or around the perimeter was the standing issue. If they had more time, Mash would have ordered a sweep of the perimeter to be safe. But they didn’t have that luxury. Looks like they’d be doing a hard contact entry, sweeping room to room and floor to floor until the entire structure was clear.

“Well you wanted close quarter combat, ner vod.” Mash finally stated, watching alongside his squad as the droid squad went about their patrol of the Temple grounds. “We’ll eliminate this squad first.”

“Soft entry?” Hawk questioned.

“We’ll have to improvise on that front. Debrief mentioned a security system in the Temple. Nothing the droids can figure out, apparently its more of a force user problem, but with the cams they’ll most likely see us coming. We’ll have to hit quick enough to have the advantage inside.”

“What’d you call that, a medium entry, sir?” Nines chuckled, still zoning in on the droids.

“Call it what you want, Nines.” Mash nodded with minor amusement before giving his rifle one last check just to be safe.

“I’ve got a second droid squad coming in, 2 o’clock off the Eastern road… Looks like it might be a rotation change.”

“Watch em, Nines.”

“Roger that Sarg,”

“Razor?” Mash turned his attention to the Corporal.

They always threw ideas off of each other. While Mash was officially in charge, he preferred to keep the title as loose as possible. Razor used to be Sergeant of his old squad, and was demoted to Corporal when transferred to Echo Squad. While they had differing ways of handling situations, Mash understood the wisdom in getting a second opinion.

An audible sigh came through the Corporal's helmet as Razor looked up at the structure.

“No easy way we’re getting in there without almost immediate detection. Without the use of explosives or detonators-” The nod he gave was decisive, his voice level and collected. “Looks like we gotta do this t-”

The fading of clanking metal from the droids was quickly and suddenly overpowered by the rumble of a familiar sound.

Looking up through the vine canopy, the members of Echo Squad are met with the image of a Republic Nu-class Shuttle swooping in over RV point Bullseye.

“No,” Mash muttered. “No no no- what the hell are they doing!?”

“You get anything over comms? Change of plans?”

“No,” Mash growled through grit teeth before quickly swinging a leg up, getting over the wall before gesturing for the squad to follow.

The uninvited guest had already caught the attention of the two squads of B1s as they all began to open fire on the vessel. The fire would do little against the shuttle’s shields.

As Echo Squad members quickly finish entering the courtyard, the Attack Shuttle’s ramp lowers and four similarly dressed troopers begin rappelling down to the adjacent courtyard.

“I don’t believe this-” Mash snapped before gesturing for the squad to move out and join the fire fight on the other side of the Temple grounds around fifty meters away.

“There go our medium entry plans!” Nines laughed over the growing sound of blaster fire as they ran to join the conflict.

“Not the time, kid!” Mash barked.

As they entered the Eastern courtyard that wrapped around the structure, a couple more droid squads came into view. The other Squad of clones that had arrived were keeping a relatively loose formation as they took out the enemy force, for their kind it looked pretty sloppy; or at least not Echo Squad’s style.

Mash knew his squad was on him, and he didn’t have to remind them to keep it tight. They’d cover the enemy force closer to Bullseye and leave the straggling droids to the newcomers.

B1 Battle Droids had a rather standard targeting system; as they clunked along on a relatively straight path, they’d fire their blasters off in even intervals. They were a fairly easy nuisance to deal with on assignment. When high grades of Separatist droids joined in, and their numbers increased tenfold, that’s when their years of training met their match.

As they made their way across the courtyard and towards danger, Mash got that liquid feeling in his lower body, like his legs would give out and he felt ten times heavier running towards the firefight, he knew that feeling would always disappear as quickly as it appeared. As his training Sergeant would say: It’s your forebrain shutting down; a fear reflex. He wondered if his brothers ever felt the same; that trickle of fear. He didn’t doubt it. You’d have to be a fool not to to some extent.

As soon as their presence was made known, and the droids turned their attention to the second squad of troopers approaching, the weight was lifted from Mash’s body and the noise in his head quieted. Time to get to work.

The sound of blaster bolts firing off rang loudly into the silence of the surrounding jungle. Picking off the droids one by one, Echo Squad drew further out into the courtyard, near where the newly arrived squad was.

The last couple shots came from Hawk as he took down a few straggling droids before the men exchanged a couple of quick glances. The spike of adrenaline that one got during the fight was almost euphoric; relaxing when a brief moment of silence came during the action.

That feeling was cut short when Mash and Razor turned in time to see the Sergeant of the other clone squad about to throw a detonator at another squad of droids approaching from the Eastern road, most likely coming back from another patrol.

“Hey!” Mash barked before running over.

By the time the Echo Squad leader was within fifty yards of the other squad, the small explosive had detonated; dirt, droid parts, and some rubble from the road shot up into the air.

“Haar'chak (Damn it).” Hawk muttered, exchanging a brief look with Nines before going after their Sergeant.

“Are you insane?!”

The shouting caused the members of the other squad to draw their attention back, and eventually the Sergeant turned as well.

“Who the hell are these guys-” The Sergeant muttered, patting the shoulder plate of one of his men before continuing towards Mash. “Can I help point you back in the direction of whatever mud pit you all crawled out of?” The sarcasm was strong in his voice as he looked over Echo Squad. To be fair they were all completely caked in the Devaronian mud.

“Sarg-” Razor tried to subtly stop his brother from getting physical but Mash was already close enough to shove the other Sergeant backwards a couple of steps. “Udesii, vod! (take it easy/calm down, brother!)”

“Under what authority do you think you can just waltz in here an-”

“Authority? Listen here vod,” The armored clone points towards Mash. “I’ve got orders to secure that building back there, so unless you’re here to sit back and run recon while covered in that osik (feces/dung) I suggest you back off and let us take it from here.” The other Sergeant seemed all too eager to start smack talking and it took what was left of Mash’s self control to not get any more physical. Ten years of systematic, precise, orderly training, and as soon as the Republic is given control of the military, everyone seemingly falls off the rails.

“I don’t know what kind of information you’re running on, but our orders came directly from the Jedi Temple that we were to scout this location for enemy activity and retake the building with minimal sustained damage.” Mash made clear. “It is obvious that you did not receive the debrief.”

Taking a step forward, the other Sergeant came within inches of the Echo leader’s helmet with his own.

“What are you implying?”

“Read between the lines.”

“I’m warning you now, vod. Ne shab'rud'niÖ (Don’t mess with me).”

“Bax, come on, vod.”

Razor inched his way between the two Sergeants as the other squad member that had spoken up tried to coax his Sergeant into taking a step backwards.

“Regardless of who should or shouldn't be here- the objective appears to be the same.” Razor made clear, his hand residing on the breastplate of his Sergeant, his other held out towards the other Sergeant who was being held back by who now appeared to be their squad’s Corporal. The tension could've been cut with a vibroblade in that moment.

Razor knew Mash preferred to work alone; at least he preferred their squad working alone. If it was one thing the man hated, it was the liability of variables he couldn’t control - other people potentially ruining his way of doing things. Whether it be Infantry clones, Jedi, or other squads like them, Mash preferred the assignments where it was just their squad, and their squad alone.

“Taking Bullseye is priority.”

“Taking what?” The other Sergeant muttered. His posture had since relaxed but it was clear he was ticked off and eager to get a move on.

“RV point Bullseye.” Mash said. It sounded like he spit the statement out through his teeth.

“...You mean the Tower?” The other Sergeant deadpanned.

Silence followed and Razor exchanged a small glance with the other presumed Corporal.

“I’m Corporal fifty-one-thirty-four… 34.” The Corporal stated, lowering his hand from his Sergeant’s breastplate. It was common to just use the last two numbers. Your name was almost always kept within your squad group, and maybe with your training sergeant unless you were comfortable sharing it. It wasn’t the time to exchange such personal details even if the atmosphere wasn’t so tense. “This is fifty-seven-eighty-seven and five-two-sixty.” The Corporal, 34, pointed to the other two men part of their squad.

The one identified as 87 appeared to be their tech man, while 60 appeared to be carrying the demolitions ordnance.

34 gave his Sergeant the smallest nudge with his shoulder and the man seemed to begrudgingly think over his options before his shoulders lowered a fraction.

“Sergeant five-one-eighteen.” He muttered.

“I’m Corporal four-eight-oh-three,” Razor gestured to himself. “This is forty-nine-ninety-eight and forty-nine-ninety-nine.” Pointing the two out, Razor watched as Nines gave the other squad a jut of his helmet, a sort of nod, and Hawk dipped his helmet down in acknowledgement.

Razor only had to turn a fraction towards Mash for his brother to know he would have to speak up.

“Sergeant four-eight-eleven.” His voice was tight, the remnants of his frustration still hung heavy.

“Now that that’s out of the way, would you all mind moving so we can get to work?” Sergeant 18 gestures somewhat dramatically with his blaster in one hand and a cock of his helmet, swinging the barrel of the blaster with smooth precision to the side.

The silence of the courtyard was growing increasingly harder to ignore, no doubt more droids were on their way from within the Temple walls.

“Sarg-” Corporal 34 started to speak

“We got here first, I suggest you step aside and let us take it from here.”

“I’ve been dragging my men through the mud of that jungle for five hours- We were on the ground working this mission before you dropped in on the front karking door-”

“I don't give a mott's backside if you’ve been stuck here for weeks I-!”

“Sir, I’ve got movement, south entrance,” The statement came from Nines, currently training his rifle on two squads of droids, including some SBDs (super battle droids), exiting the main doors of the Temple.

Both Sergeants having turned to see the incoming hostiles seemed to quickly come to the realization that neither of them were getting what they wanted.

Sergeant 18 shot his Corporal a look before cursing under his breath and 34 nodded before he turned more so to face Echo Squad.

“Your call. You were here first.”

Mash clenched his jaw from under his helmet. He didn’t need this but… He couldn’t have it completely his way.

“Can you manage taking the East Tower without blowing it up?” Mash questioned.

The reluctance was evident in Sergeant 18’s movement as he turned towards Mash and finally nodded.

“...We’ll clear it.”

Exchanging a glance with Razor, Mash returned the nod to the other Sergeant.

“We’ll take the main structure; meet up in the communications center after the Temple has been cleared. If you need to, use comm frequency 0374.”

“Roger that,” Sergeant 18 quickly signals to his men and they take off hastily towards the oncoming droids.

With a shake of his head, Mash turned and watched for a brief moment as the squad of newcomers ran off and began blasting away at the droid force.

Nines watched their Sergeant for a moment before exchanging a glance with Hawk before clearing his throat.

“We uh- clear to move in, sir? I’d rather not let them have all the fun.”

Breathing out through his nose, the Echo Squad Sergeant gave his brother a nod before gesturing for them to get moving.

“Keep it tight.”

“You say that like we’re gonna run off, Sarg.” Hawk chuckled, falling into a loose formation at Nines’ side with Mash and Razor behind them.

“Just don’t follow in that crack squad’s shoes, please.”

“Looks like their Sergeant is just a little…” Razor trails off, swallowing the breathy laugh he almost let loose.

“Dini'la? (insane?)” Nines tried.

He managed to earn a few chuckles with the comment.

“Let’s just focus on the task at hand, vod.” Mash responded, voice a little more at ease. Razor had a tendency to keep the atmosphere as light as he was able, especially in instances like this when tension was high. Nines had his own way of trying to do the same, which usually consisted of poking fun at someone or something. “Same rules apply; no explosives. This building needs to be standing by the time we clear it.”

“Copy that, Sarg.” The humor was laced through Hawk’s voice.

He was the most mellow one of the squad. Mash didn’t really consider himself to have a great sense of humor, but somewhere along the line, Mash subconsciously decided to always play with Hawk and pretend like he was the trigger “explosive” happy one of the bunch. Hawk played along with it.

“I call entry,” Nines called out, causing Razor to chuckle before moving up closer to the younger clone to cover his six.

Despite their mismatched squad, formulated as a result of the losses they’d each received, they were quickly becoming a working unit. If it was one thing Mash knew they all took away from their training, it was the constant snippets of advice and encouragement they’d received from their training sergeant. Traat'aliit gar besbe'trayc (The squad is your weapon). Remember that; you are nothing on your own, and everything together.

“I’ve got movement in the dining hall,” Nines muttered over comms. They were using their internal comm frequency so the droids wouldn’t overhear anything. The other squad hadn’t initiated contact with them on the channel yet, but perhaps that was a blessing in disguise.

“Tion'solet? (how many?)” Hawk spoke up.

“I said I’ve got movement not a five course meal worth of information ready for you,” Nines shot back.

Hawk just shook his head at his brother’s humor.

Leaning around the corner, Nines’ HUD marked the number of droids in the room within a beat and he quickly retreated around the corner where the squad was.

“Twelve including a B1 Sergeant and five SBDs. We can use the EMPs right?” Nines questioned quietly to Mash, despite knowing they were on internal comms.

Electromagnetic Pulse Grenades… Debrief didn’t specifically outline that they couldn’t use them.

Mash audibly sighed before lowering his rifle a fraction.

“This is the dining hall. If we end up stuck here a couple days I’d rather raid the pantry than eat ration bars.”

“That’s your argument for not going in with blasters?” Razor questioned, cocking his helmet to the side.

“.... Yes.”

“Just this one room.” Mash grunted while shaking his head. “We need to hold onto that ordnance.”

Giving a jut of his helmet, Nines lifted a hand towards Hawk who had the EMP grenades on hand.

Tossing one to his brother, Nines made his way around the corner and activated the grenade before rolling it into the large room.

A few beats passed before the shuffling and clunking of the metal droids moving about became prominent.

“What’s that?” The high pitched, animatronic voice was becoming reluctantly familiar before the grenade went off, cutting off any chatter from the hostiles.

Echo Squad swarmed into the space with deadly precision, shooting down the few remaining droids that were outside the EMPs blast radius before covering the bases of the room.

“Clear!”

“Clear,”

The room was relatively small for a dining facility. Then again, the debrief did reveal this Temple was rarely occupied by more than a few Jedi at a time.

“What’s left?” Hawk looked towards the Corporal.

“Just Communications; top floor.” Razor turned towards Mash who nodded in agreement.

“While I’m not complaining, the fact that the crack squad hasn’t made contact is a little unsettling,” Nines spoke up once more, taking a seat on one of the tables, slinging his rifle over his lap.

“Nines-” Mash muttered, waving a hand towards the younger clone. “You're covered in filth, try not to get it all over everything.”

“This building is still under Separatist control last time I checked. I think they’ve got bigger problems then my dirty shebs (backside/rear/“ass”) sitting on their dining tables. Just saying.” Nines shrugged, catching the way Razor quickly looked down and breathed out sharply.

“Don’t encourage him.” Mash didn’t skip a beat in lightly scolding Razor’s reaction to Nines’ humor.

Wearing full armor and helmets did inhibit one’s ability to read some body language, but they all grew up learning how to read it. He wasn’t completely there yet, but Mash was beginning to pick up on the little details that clued him into each new brother of his. He could almost identify each of them by their breathing in combat. Nines was the easiest to pick out because he always breathed in such an even and controlled manner; a sign of a sniper; the slightest inhale or exhale could mean the hit or miss of a shot. Hawk and Razor were a little harder to tell apart but Mash was getting there.

“Let’s head up to the top floor.” Mash gestured out of the room with his Deece. “Keep it tight.”

B1 Battle Droids littered the hallway farther down where they had come from. Every floor and room below them had been cleared. All that remained of the main structure was the top floor, the communications center. Whether the other squad had cleared the East Tower was a question Mash hated leaving up in the air. More droids could pour into the lower levels that they had already cleared if the squad didn’t hold up their end.

Making their way to the end of the hall, they came to an open spiral staircase heading up. Sure there was also a lift, but they didn’t know what they were walking into. The stairs would allow them to survey the situation better.

It didn’t take long for the squad to make their way up to the top level and to a small hall that led to the opening of the communications center. No doors. They’d just have to move in relatively quickly to get the jump.

Mash followed behind Nines on the left side of the hallway as Hawk and Razor did the same on the right side of the hall.

“Tactical Droid 12 o’clock.” Hawk said.

“I got it,” Nines had already raised his Deece.

“Pare (wait),” Mash held a hand out, Deece still trained forward, held by another hand despite the pressure it put on his wrist. “Keep it intact, if we get the jump we might be able to salvage information out of it.”

“...Fine.” Nines uttered but kept his rifle in position.

Evaluating the room for a moment, Mash’s HUD marked the hostiles in a moment. Fourteen, a mix of B1s and SBDs not including the Tactical Droid.

“Razor?” Mash questioned.

“Hawk and I got the right side, you guys take left?”

“Copy.” Gesturing forward with his pointed middle and forefinger Mash quickly grasped his Deece as they moved in.

Nines headed into the room quicker than the others, shooting down several of the droids before making a run for the Tactical droid before it could register the situation playing out.

Mash shot down what droids remained around Nines, dodging a couple of blaster bolts that came close to his body.

Razor and Hawk went about taking down droids on the other side of the room, conscious of the blaster charge they were using as they took the droids down as quickly and efficiently as possible; a head shot or correctly positioned body shot; nothing else would do.

Mash had barely caught Nines finishing off the Tactical droid as he finished ripping the droid’s head from its body before standing up with a laugh, tossing it in his hands twice before looking the intact head over.

“Vod, gaanaylir (brother, catch).” Nines tossed the droid head towards Hawk who fumbled for a moment, only one hand free as the other grasped his Deece. The droid part clattered against his armor before he secured it properly in his grasp. Hawk then handed the droid head to Razor without much thought and Echo Squad’s slicer made his way towards the command console a couple meters away.

“Nines, door.” Mash said.

“Copy that.”

Heading to the front of the room where computer stations lined the walls, Mash lightly ran his fingers over the controls of one of the stations before stepping once to the side to where the security cam screens were. Cycling through them briefly, it took Mash a while to finally find a cam that showed the other squad. By the looks they were making their way towards the communications center and they looked calm enough so they must’ve held up their end.

“Anything, Sarg?” Hawk asked.

“No droid activity. That squad’s on there way it looks like. Hawk-” Mash got the attention of his comrade and gestured to the console in front of him with a nod.

Hawk nodded and approached him.

“Refresh security systems and realign motion sensors in the building.”

“Sir,” Hawk gave a nod before getting to work.

“So what’s the plan now?” Nines looked over his shoulder back into the room towards his brothers.

Mash exchanged a glance with Razor who was standing over the command console; the hub for long range communication.

“I’ll start securing a line to Kamino,” Razor decided. “Enlighten Skipper on our progress.” He turned away and got to work on the console.

Mash’s eyes dotted over the console where Razor began working before his eyeline fell to the floor and followed the path of destruction towards the door where Nines was. From there his eyes found several moving figures coming down the hall, the other squad. Great.

“Well well,” Sergeant 18 began, the eyeline of his helmet shifting around the room for a moment before settling on Mash. “Su cuy’gar (you’re still alive).”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Mash muttered before gesturing them over.

“The East Tower is clear.” The Sergeant continued to look around the room for a brief time before his gaze landed on Mash once more, giving the littlest dip of his head. Mash was quick to reciprocate the gesture in gratitude.

“Looks like the droids were tampering with the transmitter,” Razor called over. “It’s gonna take some time to get to working.”

“Alright.” Mash’s eyes had quickly found the squad of men who had since entered the room once more. They were so familiar to him and his brothers yet so incredibly different it almost made his blood boil with just how different they were - how different they approached the mission. “In the meantime we need to secure the greater perimeter.”

“You know how long that’ll take?” The Sergeant reprimanded.

“It needs to be done,” Mash countered before turning towards Nines. Hesitating in his words for a moment, Mash evaluated the men he had present in the room.

“Let’s send three men, including a Corporal.” Mash wasted little time in subtly waving Nines over.

“If you’ve all got a slicer who can take over this, I’ll take a few men out.” Razor called over, now lying on his back with his head inside a compartment under the command console, helmet on the ground next to his legs. One of the other squad’s men, 87, had since traveled over to where Razor was. After a moment he looked up from where he was knelt down near Razor.

“I can handle this, sir, if you wanna send someone out with them.” His voice was just a hair higher in pitch and the detail, as small as it was, already told Mash that the clone was younger to some degree; maybe closer in age to Hawk and Nines.

Sergeant 18 turned towards Mash for a brief time before turning towards the two of his men still at his side. He nodded to one of them and he stepped forward.

“Alright 11… We’ll play it your way. 60 will go with’em on the scouting,” He nods to the comprade that had since stepped up.

Clenching his jaw for a brief time, Mash reluctantly thought over his next move before carefully removing his helmet. Positioning it under his arm, he relaxed his jaw before holding out a hand to the Sergeant.

The soldier was still but the slight movement of his helmet indicated he saw the outstretched hand.

“Echo Squad. They call me Mash.” It was a longshot. But it might make things easier going forward if they stepped past the formalities of numbers for names.

The Sergeant was unusually still for his seemingly gung ho attitude prior; but the man finally looked down at the hand after an uncomfortable beat of silence before raising his hands to his helmet. Removing the piece of armor, he went to tuck the helmet under his arm before returning the gesture.

Mash met the same set of eyes. “Trauma Squad... Baxter.” His hair was relatively unkempt, but part of that might have been due to helmet hair. It was not the standard military cut all clones were required to maintain on Kamino; it appeared as if he’d let it grow out a bit, his bangs were just teasing his brow.

Mash shook his hand once before they each pulled away from the gesture.

Looking to his left, Mash met Razor’s eyes as his brother walked over.

“This is our Corporal’n slicer.” Mash nodded towards him.

“Razor.” He responds.

“That’s ours.” Baxter nods to his right to the clone next to him.

“Ram, Corporal and sniper” The Corporal previously known as 34 chimed in with a dip of his helmet.

Mash gave a small nod in response to the clone.

“Nines, sniper.” Nines took the opportunity of silence to speak up.

“Hawk, demo.” Hawk waved a loose hand while continuing to fool around with the security system console on the other side of the room.

The man behind Baxter adjusted his stance before clearing his throat. “Char, demo.”

Mash gave the man a small nod of acknowledgement before he met the eyes of the Trauma Squad sergeant.

Baxter turned and gestured towards the last man who hadn’t been named, currently with his head inside the command console where Razor had previously been.

“The kid over there’s Jack; our slicer.”

“Razor, you alright taking Nines and Char on a perimeter sweep?”

“Just the courtyard or do we wanna start covering this in sectors?” Razor inquired, looking between the two Sergeants.

Mash glanced at Baxter momentarily and the Trauma Squad Sergeant did the same.

“I don’t think we need to start heading off into the jungle just yet,” Baxter’s voice was controlled and somewhat reluctant.

“Maybe just walk the perimeter outside of the courtyard for now. Take an hour and sweep it; check each road for damage or foot traffic and call in if you see any signs of more droid patrols.” Mash continued to eye Baxter as he spoke.

“Alright,” Razor nodded before briefly meeting the eyes of Nines and then the one identified as Char, giving them a small nod to move out.

Mash firmly gripped Razor’s shoulder plating as his brother went to walk by before leaving with the two soldiers in tow.

“How’s it coming, Jack?”

“Corporal Razor mentioned the power cell might’ve been tampered with.” Jack strained to look out from the small space he had his head in, hands up under the console inside the cylinder structure.

“Well if that’s the case then we can’t get any messages out at the moment. Not even to a nearby fleet.” Baxter muttered, kneeling down next to his comrade. “May not be the time,” Baxter raised his voice enough to catch Mash’s attention. “But what exactly did your mission debrief necessitate… In detail?”

Mash watched the Sergeant for a moment and remained silent until he got to his feet to face him fully.

“I’m not sure if we’re there yet.” Mash was calm in his statement but still firm. This could get ugly again and Razor wasn’t there to mediate. Not that he needed it… But when it came to this Sergeant, he found his fuse seemingly much shorter than normal.

“Not sure if we’re there yet.” Baxter repeats with a nod, a hand coming to the back of his head before he ran his fingers through his hair quickly. “Y’know if I didn’t know better I’d say-”

“Go on,” Mash cut him off slightly.

Baxter almost smiled before glancing around the room for a brief time. While his expression said amusement, his eyes held a certain reluctance similar to Mash’s.

“... Let’s just contact Kamino and get this mess sorted.”

“Good answer.” Mash gave a nod and crossed his arms; as well as he could in the armor at least while watching the Sergeant walk over to his man at the command console.

Shaking his head, Mash headed over to Hawk.

“Any luck?” Mash braced a hand on the station Hawk was sitting at and let his eyes graze over some of the cam screens.

“Systems should be finished with the reboot soon.” Hawk nods. “I’ve got no trips on the sensors aside from us so… I think we’re clear for now.”

Mash lifted his gaze and looked out one of the transparisteel viewports of the Tower, eyes picking up on the large vines that coated the planet surface.

“For now.”

The jungle just surrounding the Temple held an eerie silence. One that hadn’t been present when Echo Squad was on their approach from RV point Axe. The firefight had since quieted any fauna in the vicinity of the Towers.

Making their way across the courtyard and towards the East road, Nines kicked a few crippled B1s out of his path as they walked. While the sniper was content to keep his eyes forward and on the task at hand, his eyes eventually traveled over to the Trauma Squad member with them; Char.

Nines let himself look the clone up and down for a beat. He walked different; fought different; no doubt probably did everything a little different too. While your average civvy probably couldn’t comprehend that fact, for a clone, it was just part of the job - part of the job that the Kaminoans never taught them. It was something they just learned early in their lives, despite being manufactured to be the same, there was always that little bit of human that the longnecks could never fully scrub out. Nines figured every training sergeant probably instilled some sort of mindset that reinforced their tendency to individualize themselves; he’d heard rumors about other trainers.

The Trauma Squad member, like the rest of his squad, had green-like color accents on his white armor. While there was no way in hell that the other squad could tell due to the mud they were still covered in, Echo Squad’s color was red; their armor was accented in the red to orange colors.

Nines’ eyes caught the couple of stairs ahead that went down a foot before smoothing out into the road heading into the Jungle; the place where one of Trauma Squad had thrown a grenade was prominent in the blasted off pieces of stair that littered the vicinity.

“You’re demo right?” Nines gestured down to the rubble with the barrel of his Deece. “This you?” He laughed.

The Trauma Squad member came to a stop and slowly looked towards Nines, taking a beat to process the question.

“Was the Sarg,” Char finally responded. He had a somewhat deeper voice, more so than Mash or Baxter too.

“Guy’s not one for the rulebook is he?” Nines raised an eyebrow from under his helmet before maneuvering down what intact stairs were left.

“Least he didn’t have us rolling in osik,” The man chuckled and Nines felt annoyance prickle his skin.

“First off its mud. We were running recon and needed to take precautions. Second, we were following a strict outline from the Jedi… They wanted the location taken quickly and quietly to avoid making a scene; I imagine they didn’t want their meditation-force-Temple lookin like a battleground when we were done.” He gestures back to the blown up set of stairs that were getting further away as they continued down the road, checking for any droid activity.

“...Smells like osik.” Char stated.

Nines clenched his jaw and caught the way Razor gave him the littlest shake of his helmet.

Don’t.

Nines let silence fall, although it took every ounce of self control he had left not to start picking this guy apart. It was in his nature to just… Wind people up. This guy was winding him up and was looking like he wasn’t even giving it his full attention.

Glancing down at himself for the briefest second he caught the sight of the thick layer of mud still caked to his armor… It did smell terrible.... But it was mud…. Hopefully.

The soldiers continued down the quiet path that led deeper into the jungle until they reached the end of the architectural road that ended at some stairs and a small dirt path, not even a road, that continued into the wilderness.

“Well that was eventful.” Nines muttered before turning to head back in the other direction.

They still had the north and south roads to walk. They’d already swept the west road now opposite their position. “Remind me again why they needed us for this job. This is infantry level work.”

“Says the talking osik pile.” Char surmised, following the sniper with his gaze as he went to leave.

“Wayii- copaani mirshmure'cye, vod? (Good grief- are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?)” Nines had whipped around, coming relatively face to face or- helmet to helmet with the Trauma Squad member.

“Alright, easy you two!” Razor interrupted the two, putting a hand on each of their shoulders before pushing them apart. “Same team.”

Char glanced towards Razor for a brief time before bowing his head in a small nod. Turning towards Nines he eyed the sniper for a brief time before stepping past him to continue their patrol back to the Temple.

Nines muttered once more under his breath before meeting the gaze of the Corporal.

“You may know how to wind people up, but you make it relatively easy for others to do the same to you, vod.” Razor chuckled before patting his brother’s shoulder plating.

Nines rolled his eyes before walking alongside his older brother back down the road to continue their sweep.

“How about- now?” Jack grunted, half of his armored body cramped into the small compartment under the command console.

“Nothing,” Baxter responded, staring at the dark holotable.

Mash watched the two quietly while his arms crossed, trying to keep his expression as blank as possible before he exchanged the smallest glance with Hawk and Ram who was standing a meter or two from them.

A string of curses in Mando’a left the clone before the clattering of metal parts followed. The holotable flickered to life moments later.

“Wait that did it,” Baxter held a hand down to the opening where Jack was.

“You serious? The power cell isn’t even in place I’m holding it-”

“Just don’t move.” Baxter cut him off before going about the controls.

Mash took a couple of steps forward and began putting in a secure channel code.

“I’ll contact our advisor,” Mash explained, fingers working quickly along the bottoms of the console.

Baxter seemed to stall in his movements as the Echo Squad Sergeant stepped up and he retracted his hands from the console. “You do that,” The Trauma Squad Sergeant moved back slowly before crossing his own arms.

Mash slowed his actions as he processed the dramatic response from the soldier before resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Finishing the code, Mash activated the transmitter and stood up straight, watching as the holotable, now illuminated, hummed to life.

It seemed much longer, but a few seconds later a hologramic figure emerged from the table and Mash was quick to recognize him.

“Sergeant, how is your assignment going?” Skipper questioned, hands loosely on his armor belt.

It was a relief to see their Clone Advisor, but Mash found the words leaving his mouth to be far from that thought that grazed his mind.

“Temple’s been retaken, but sir, would you mind explaining to me what the hell high command is playing at?” Mash leaned forward on the console, hands on either side of the controls.

“...Excuse me, Sergeant?” Mash rarely ever talked to a superior with such an aggressive tone.

“Let me,” Baxter less than gently shoved Mash out of the way before taking his spot in front of the hologram. “What he means to ask is what high command’s been doing with their thumbs up their shebs while we trip over our own feet down here trying to recapture a Jedi timeshare.”

“Wayii.” Mash roughly rubbed a hand over his shaved head before cursing. “Show a little decorum,” Mash seethed.

“Me show decorum?” Baxter turned towards the Echo Squad leader, a hand to his armored chest.

“Alright, settle down!” Skipper almost had to yell to get the attention of the two Sergeants before they both finally directed their attention to him. “Mash, what’s the state of the Temple? Enemy activity?”

“We’ve secured the position, sir.” Mash said. “We eliminated a small Separatist force holding the location; wasn’t nearly enough to hold it indefinitely; most likely just a temporary force to hold the grounds.”

“They may send reinforcements then. Be on guard.” Skipper warned.

Mash gave a nod before glancing around at the others temporarily. “When will the Jedi be arriving?”

His question was followed by silence, and Baxter was the first to react as he adjusted his stance and took a step forward.

“Well?”

“...The Jedi don’t have a replacement lined up yet.” Not only did his reluctance to respond clue them in, but the hesitation in his voice as well.

“Excuse me?” Baxter slowly blinked in response, posture twitching.

“Meaning?” Mash questioned.

“Meaning,” Skippered sighed lightly. “You all aren’t going anywhere until they send a Jedi.”

Baxter, being the first to react again, kicked the command console, causing the hologram to flicker.

“Hey!” Jack called from under the console.

“You gotta be-” A string of curses in mando’a followed Baxter’s proclamation as he took a couple steps away from the console.

“Take it easy,” Mash put a hand up.

Returning to the console, Baxter rests both hands on the rim.

“I need to talk to our advisor. He’ll get us out of here.” Baxter made clear.

“Sergeant, your advisor has been pulled for an assignment, so Trauma is officially under my jurisdiction until he returns.”

The man was fuming, but he remained quiet, much to Mash’s surprise.

“You both are to hold the location and report back any Separatist activity or attempts to retake the Temple. It shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.” Skipper eased, holding out a hand as he spoke. “The Temple has a storage facility with foodstuffs and rations to keep you comfortable if you all are stuck longer than your dry ration packs will allow.”

“We better not be,” Baxter grumbled under his breath, glancing towards Ram.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, sir.” Mash reassured the Advisor. “We’ll keep the Temple secure.”

“I’ll contact you when I have word on the Jedi.” Skipper gives them a final nod before the hologram disappears and it falls quiet.

“...Can I get up now?” Jack grunted, a foot kicking slightly as the man was still on his back halfway under the console.

“Alright,” Mash mumbles quietly, meeting Hawk’s eyes before glancing towards Baxter as the man had since began pacing around slowly. “Well-”

“Jetiise (Jedi; plural),” Baxter uttered under his breath before shaking his head.

“Hey,” Mash’s tone lowered in a warning manner. The man seemed quick to want to bash on any of the higher ups.

“It’ll only be for a few days.” Ram spoke up, meeting Mash’s gaze for a brief moment before looking towards his Sergeant.

Walking over to the computer stations lining the far wall, Mash stepped past Baxter to grab his helmet and put it on.

A couple careful blinks later, he activated their secure comm channel.

“Razor? How’s the patrol going?” Mash spoke up, eyeline shifting to the left as Jack crawled out from under the commander console and put a hand through his hair with a mumble.

The comms crackled briefly before he got a response.

“All qui… out here, Mash. No sign u-... oid traffic around the T… ple yet. We’re almost done ch... south road th… be heading back.”

“Transmission was fuzzy but I understand. Let me know if anything changes,” Mash responded.

“Yes sir. Any news?”

Mash clenched his jaw and thought it over for a moment before shaking his head.

“Long story short- we’re stuck here together until the Jedi can send someone. Could be a few days.”

“Did he j… ays!?”

That was Nines alright.

“I see,” Razor responded. “Brief us when w…. back.”

“Will do,” Mash finished the transmission before taking his helmet off with a sigh.

“Just great.” Nines growled under his breath, his grasp on his Deece tightening and loosening as he fidgeted. “Stuck with crack squad for-”

“Who’re you calling a crack squad, mate?” Char cut him off. “We’re not the squad looking like they just crawled out of a swamp.”

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure they find your body at the bottom a swamp, mate.” Nines barked back, having turned on his heel to stop Char in his tracks.

“Gev! Take it down!” Razor ordered, shouldering Nines to get his younger comrade to back off. “Both of you,” Razor turned a look on Char before gesturing them both forward. “Squabbling like Infantry cadets for galaxy’s sake-” He cursed before walking ahead of both of them.

Nines begrudgingly followed, but not before exchanging a small glance with Char before they began heading back to the Temple.

The walk back was quiet and by the time they’d gotten up to the communications center, the atmosphere had leveled out.

“The perimeter is clear.” Razor announced, removing his helmet as he entered the communications room.

Mash turned and met the eyes of his Corporal with a nod.

“Seppies won’t stay quiet for long,” Baxter chimed in, leaning against the command console with his armed crossed, expression almost belligerent as he looked back down at the ground with a scowl. “They’ll send reinforcements and soon.”

“We’ll be ready,” Mash agreed, hands resting on his armor belt. “First things first, we need to start organizing patrols; keep an eye on local air traffic an-”

“Who- put you in charge exactly?” Baxter questioned, his expression revealing genuine confusion but also fatigue.

Mash clenched his jaw and breathed out quietly through his nose before shooting Razor the smallest look.

“It’ll only be a couple days, I’m sure we can balance leadership.” Ram proposed, sitting at one of the chairs at the computer stations at the opposite side of the room.

Baxter’s body jolted as if he was trying to prevent a scoff before he nodded.

“Better only be a couple days.”

ONE WEEK LATER…

Nines clenched his jaw, staring down towards his hands before his gaze lifted and he met Char’s eyes. The Trauma Squad member stared back at him, expression hardly set but relatively at ease despite the fact.

Tapping his finger lightly, Nines swallowed before he finally nodded.

“I’ll raise you three Nuna jerky strips.” Nines finally stated before tossing the packaged meat into the center of the table.

“I’ll match that, vod.” Char nodded before grabbing some packaged jerky strips from the backpack next to his feet, tossing them into their pot where other small foods and rations resided.

From the other side of the communications center, Ram watched the two playing cards with a tightly knit brow.

“I don’t get it,” Ram finally muttered, giving a shake of his head.

“What?” Razor questioned while chewing on a ration stick, eyes on the SOP manual up on the datapad balanced on his propped up leg.

“They’ll be at each other's throats night and day- but as soon as the Sabacc cards come out they turn more civil than jetiise.”

Razor let a hard breath out through his nose in amusement before shrugging lightly, using a knuckle to scroll down on the datapad.

Those two were always going at each other, but over the past several days they’d each discovered their love of the card game, Sabacc. They’d started developing an awkward love/hate relationship with the game at the center.

“As long as they’re quiet,”

The week had passed by slowly. Razor and Ram were getting along alright during the time, however Mash and Baxter were still at opposite ends of a spectrum. They butted heads but a brotherly atmosphere was starting to settle in.

Turning in his chair, Ram faces the computer station and quickly goes about cycling through the comm channels, listening for any chatter that might clue them into a hostile force. Alongside that chore was looking for any Separatist activity on the air traffic scanners. So far they’d had nothing all week.

The beeping of one of the air traffic scanners causes both Ram and Razor to look up from their distractions. Ram is the first to swing around in his chair and lean over to the neighboring computer station.

Razor got up from his chair and walked over.

“Got something?” He questioned.

Ram evaluated the reading before narrowing the scanner range.

“I’ve got a ship entering the atmosphere, around 50 klicks out.” Ram responded, brow knit as he watched the screen on the station plot a hypothetical course for the ship that was approaching. “Computer's plotting its course; it looks like they’re heading for us.” Ram muttered before getting to his feet. Cycling through the channels for a moment, Ram found the only other active one and pressed one of the buttons on the panel to unmute the transmission.

“Incoming ship, you are entering restricted Republic Military airspace,”

Razor eyed the image on the screen that estimated the ship’s trajectory as Ram continued to recite one of the standard messages from the SOPs manual.

“Do you copy?” Ram waited but only static came through on the comms.

“I repeat, incoming ship, you have entered restricted Republic Military airspace-”

“They’re coming in way too fast.” Razor muttered, eyeing the readings on the computer screen built into the station. “Reads are coming through… Ships heavily damaged.”

“Specs?” Ram inquired.

“Hull integrity is at critical levels, heat spikes all over the ship, scanner’s reading engine failure. That ship’s not being piloted, it’s going down.”

“What’s the estimated crash path?” Ram asked, finger hovering over the comm button, allowing the static to come through.

Going about the controls on the station, Razor expanded the aerial map of the surrounding area and the computer AI marked an estimated crash zone.

At seeing the area, Razor leaned in further, brow knitting tightly.

“Something wrong?” Ram questions.

“That’s just near RV point Axe… Aren’t they patrolling that area?” Razor questioned, turning to the fellow Corporal.

At processing his comrade’s words, Ram quickly abandoned the comm frequency he was using to contact the unknown ship and set the frequency to their squad comm channel.

“Sergeants we’ve got a ship coming in with a projected crash zone in your area… Baxter? Sergeant Mash?”

Razor watched the fellow soldier quietly before glancing to the side seeing Nines and Char had since approached, similarly reflected expressions of concern.

“Haar'chak, I can’t get anything through,” Ram swore before shaking his head; meeting Razor’s eyes. “Wanna head out?”

In the past few days, they’d discovered how communications were difficult on the planet. If a party was out in the jungle, comms were always very sensitive. They knew it would complicate matters if the Separatists organized an attempt to retake the Temple.

“... Yeah, let’s go.” Razor agreed before quickly going to grab his helmet. “You two hold down here,” Razor looked to both Nines and Char.

“Let us know if you need any help.” Nines nodded before shrugging. “... Well I guess you won’t be able to so-... If it looks bad from here we’ll- consider coming to help.”

“Good to know,” Ram smirked before throwing his helmet on.

Nodding to the other Corporal, they both began running for the hall.

There had been a short rain shower earlier in the morning. The ground was soft and their armored boots sunk into the soil as they treaded through the jungle.

Baxter was walking a few yards ahead with Jack at his side, and Mash followed closely behind with Hawk.

The Trauma squad members were chatting lightly amongst themselves and Mash and Hawk chatted on and off.

They had fallen into a relatively simple routine over the past few days. They’d hit bumps now and again, but everyone usually did their best to stay out of each other’s way.

The ease of the atmosphere around them came to a screeching halt however, when the crackling of sticks sounds off to their 9 o’clock.

Baxter is the first to ready his rifle before anyone else had time to process the sound disruption. They may not have been a squad, but they knew how to make it work, and everyone worked off of each other in accordance with the developments around them.

All of them trained on an assortment of foliage several meters away, more rustling follows before small chirp-like noises emit from the bushes.

It was a familiar sound. One of the native fauna from the planet, a small reptilian species. However the familiarity didn’t stop Baxter from watching the position from which the sound radiated with a raised weapon.

Jack had his weapon raised hesitantly as well, although Sergeant Mash’s lack of reaction caused him to second guess his own. They hadn’t seen any action in weeks. It was obvious Sergeant Baxter was getting an itchy trigger finger to shoot something.

“S’nothing, brother.” Mash mumbled, rifle loosely held in front of him.

Baxter rolled his eyes from under his helmet and muttered under his breath before continuing on their patrol.

“Jedi are wasting Special Forces; as if Geonosis wasn’t enough of a wake up call for em,” Baxter said, his pace picking up.

Mash tries not to roll his shoulders in an effort to ease the prickle of uneasiness he got from Baxter’s comment. How had this clone survived this long without getting himself terminated.

“C’mon, vod,” Mash mumbled, knowing Baxter would understand his comment.

In training, they were taught that Jedi leadership was invaluable. However at the Battle of Geonosis, the clone army was in for a somewhat rude awakening at just how unprepared the Jedi seemed to be in leading the army. Special Forces lost half of their numbers, and strategically, the Battle was a mess. Many clones came out of their first battle confused, even angered, but still unwaveringly loyal to the Jedi… well most of them did. Baxter made Mash rethink that part.

“Maybe the next assignment will have us mopping floors in the Jedi Temple, who knows you gotta remain optimistic.” Baxter called over his shoulder.

Mash just shook his head and exchanged a small glance with Hawk.

Crackling over the comms caused Mash to slow his pace, a hand raising subconsciously towards his helmet.

“Razor? That you?” Mash spoke up.

“We-.... ip comi… cra… yo-...”

“Damn it,” Mash muttered before using his knuckles to knock the side of his helmet a couple of times. “Are you getting anything clear Baxter?”

“No,” The Trauma Sergeant grumbled, eyeline on the ground as he tried to listen to the gargled transmission. “Come on boys, spit it out.”

“Repe… shi… proj… crash…”

Mash shook his head lightly as he tried to listen only to start hearing a roar of a ship in the background of the transmission.

“...You hear that?” Mash turned towards Hawk who nodded.

“Hey Max,” Baxter suddenly spoke up.

The Sergeant’s expression fell from under his helmet. “It’s Mash,” He grumbled before turning around to look at the Sergeant.

He was looking up through the vine canopy.

Mash’s brow knit in response to seeing the Sergeant before he followed the man’s eyeline to the sky, eyes widening at the sight.

“Uh… That doesn’t look good.” Jack stated, also finding the ship that was hurtling down towards them in a ball of fire.

“GO GO GO!” Mash yelled, waving the men off. They began running towards the ship and managed to avoid most of the debris coming off of the craft as it crashed through the vine canopy and barreled into the mud around forty yards away.

Half of the men had dived for cover from broken pieces of the ship that had rained down.

“Everyone alright?” Mash called out, the question leaving his mouth before he could register his own state.

“Fine here sir,”

“All good.”

Mash quickly got to his feet, seeing Baxter had already done the same.

“Not what I was expecting when I hoped for some action but I won’t complain,” The Trauma Sergeant didn’t waste any time, and Mash wasn’t going to slow him down as they quickly began making their way towards the wreckage. “Wanna bet they were trying to warn us?” Baxter laughed, referring to the rest of their group at the Temple.

Mash nodded to the side in agreement, feeling Hawk come up on his right as they followed the canyoned trail the ship had left in its wake.

It was a fairly large craft, a freighter by the look of what was left.

A small explosion off of one of the dislodged engines causes the team to jump back a step.

Baxter suddenly patted Mash had on the back before going closer to the wreck.

“We’ll cover the cockpit area,” He practically threw the comment over his shoulder before jogging off with Jack close behind him.

“But- I- Erm,” Mash shook his head and quieted his objection before it could pass through his lips.

“Let’s cover the back of the ship,” Mash responded, looking towards his comrade. “Looks like the ship’s main structure is still relatively intact. We might be able to enter through the cargo bay.”

Hawk acknowledged his Sergeant with a nod before going to follow the clone. Both keep a close eye on the wreckage as they approach. Parts of the hull were missing, revealing little hints of darkness within the craft. There could still be lifeforms on board.

Hawk let his eyes run along the side of the crashed ship as they made their way closer. Most of the ship wasn’t ablaze, the engines had been, but they’d broken off the main craft when it struck the ground.

Giving the side of the ship another once over, Hawk cleared his throat. “My HUD isn’t recognizing this freighter, sir.”

“It isn’t Republic, keep your eyes open.” Mash responded, rifle raised.

They get to the back of the ship and the ramp is dislodged from the freighter. Giving the dark opening a quick once over, Mash nodded to Hawk and they began making their way inside.

Cargo boxes and cages of supplies littered the space. Despite the wreckage everywhere, Mash was quick to spot an outlying object.

“10 o’clock,” Mash nodded to the corpse off to the left as they headed further into the ship.

Hawk noted the body, as well as another farther away against the wall and followed the Sergeant. Their HUDs could pick up life signs and so far, there weren’t any.

“Hey Mack!” Baxter called out suddenly. “We’ve got some dead lizards up here!” Baxter appears from an elevated platform up the wall at the back of the cargo bay that they had been heading towards. There was most likely a door to the cockpit and a ladder somewhere.

Mash shook his head and looked up, noting the ship was relatively small now, from what was remaining intact; the ship was now clear.

“It’s Mash.” The Echo squad Sergeant responded under his breath, lowering his rifle in front of him

“Trandoshans?” Hawk inquired, craning his neck to look up to where Baxter and Jack were.

“Lizards. Did I stutter, kid?” Baxter responded.

“Yeah Hawk, Trandoshans,” The remnants of a chuckle sounded through Jack’s helmet as he softened Baxter’s sarcastic response.

Both jumped down into the cargo area and Baxter playfully knocked Hawk’s shoulder plating with his knuckles.

A sudden shudder of cargo crates in the back right corner of the ship’s cargo bay causes the soldiers to jump into action. Mash and Hawk have their weapons trained on the origin of where the sound originated and Baxter and Jack did the same. The first sign of a potential hostile in a week. It was safe to say they were anticipating a threat.

Taking a couple steps closer, Baxter kept his rifle trained at the corner of the damaged ship’s bay before hand signaling to the others.

Mash, Hawk and Jack all gave nods in response before Baxter spoke up.

“Come out!” Voice alone, Baxter’s ranged on the lower end of what was common for clones; coupled with the helmet filtering his voice, he sounded even more menacing.

When nothing followed the demand, Baxter knocked the crates with a calculated kick of his armored leg, jostling them a good bit but not moving them enough to reveal the hostile.

“NOW!”

Changing the settings on his HUD, Mash changed his helmet display to thermal and after a couple seconds, his brow knit together at the readings coming from behind the crates.

“Bax-”

“Am I speaking Huttese? Get out here you di-”

“Take it easy, Baxter!” Mash finally snapped, jabbing the other Sergeant with his armored elbow before lowering his weapon.

“Er you crazy?” Baxter growled, helmeted gaze whipping around to the other Sergeant.

“Alright you,” Mash took a couple of steps closer, “C’mon out,” Voice still significantly firm, but lower in volume to Baxter’s, Mash waited for some kind of response to the changed approach.

The silence that followed doesn’t ease Baxter’s caution as he kept his rifle trained on the crates before eyes peek over one of the boxes.

“Yeah you- out.” Mash muttered pointing to the ground in front of his feet with his forefinger, rifle still held up in one hand trained ahead.

A small being made their way out from behind the crates and Hawk slowly lowered his rifle; Jack followed the action not far behind.

Taking a moment to process the lifeform, Baxter felt his shoulders fall. “Too bad,” Baxter finally muttered. “Was looking for an excuse to unload on somethin,” Baxter’s eyes trail over the young girl now standing in front of him with slight disappointment.

“Sir,” Jack breathed out a laugh.

“Told you Jay,” Baxter glanced back towards his slicer, “I got more of that sociopathic blood in my system than the others.”

Mash looked over the being quietly. She was young, probably an early adolescent; dirty and emaciated. His HUD was picking up on an accelerated heart rate.

“Sir,”

Mash turned and looked over his shoulder to see his Corporal, Razor, along with Trauma Squad Corporal, Ram.

“We went ahead and did an extra sweep of the crash site perimeter. Any life in he- Oh,” Razor caught sight of the small being that barely met the soldiers chest plates in height.

“Affirmative,” Hawk shrugged lightly, rifle at ease in front of him before he looked back down to the girl who had taken a few steps back towards the crates she’d been hiding behind.

“So we’ve got no other survivors,” Baxter stated, processing the fact before nodding.

“The ship didn’t come up on my HU-”

“Didn’t on ours either,” Baxter cut Razor off as he looked over the torn up ship around them.

“I’ll begin scanning the haul,” Ram offered before leaving the damaged cargo bay.

Mash looked around further before turning his eyes to Baxter as he moved out of his peripheral.

“A miracle she survived this,” The Sergeant of Trauma Squad grunted while evaluating the ship’s seemingly nonexistent roof before turning his eyes to the child. “You’re lucky, kid.”

Masterlist | Next Chapter | Chapter Art & Map | Echo & Trauma Squad

CHAPTER NOTE: If you’re reading this, well first off congratulations. I’m frankly quite surprised you haven’t fallen asleep yet or given up. Second of all, I hope you enjoyed!!! One note: Mando’a is littered throughout, I apologize if I made mistakes, I’m still learning!

Support is appreciated if you had fun reading :) I hope to post the next chapter soon!

#my fic #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #clones #jedi #grand army of the republic #star wars ocs #clone wars ocs #republic military #temple of eedit #devaron #galaxy far far away

14 notes · View notes

jinned · 5 years

Text

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹: 08 march. 2021

⇢ ao3 i now cross post here under the username jinned

⇢ wattpad i will be cross posting here soon under the username jintobean

☆ = personal fav!

♡ = fan favorite!

♢ = on ao3!

→ 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒸

☇ synopsis: after your recent death, namjoon takes comfort in your old favorite sweater

☇ pairing: namjoon x deceased reader

☇ genre: angst

☇ rating: mature, 16+

☇ word count: 616

→ 𝒻𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒽

☇ synopsis: your crew was called to deal with a forest fire nearby. What you didn’t expect to find was a man, desperately needing your help. Once you save him, he has a special way of thanking you for your kindness

☇ pairing: hamadryad namjoon x female firefighter reader ft. Choi Hansol aka Vernon

☇ genre: pwp/smut

☇ au: fantasy

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 6.3k

→ 𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁 ♢

☇ synopsis: this is the first christmas you get to spend with your husband, and he does his best to make it special...very special...

☇ pairing: namjoon x female reader

☇ genre: smut/pwp, fluff

☇ au: domestic, married couple, slice of life, christmas time yeeyee

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 6.6k

→ 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒 ♢

☇ synopsis: jimin was eager to become the apprentice to a famous warlock. but he meets someone and now has a choice to make…

☇ pairing: Namjoon x jimin ft. warlock seokjin

☇ genre: angst, smut

☇ au: demon Namjoon, human jimin,

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 9.1k

→ 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀

☇ synopsis: getting caught in the moment with the one you love never ceases to stop those butterflies from flying around your stomach

☇ paring: namjoon x female reader

☇ genre: fluff

☇ au: hinted royal

☇ rating: pg

☇ word count: 636

→ 𝓂𝑜𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ☆♡♢

☇ synopsis: after making you moan the most pornarific moan Seokjin has ever heard, he needs you to make that sound again. for music purposes of course

☇ pairing: producer seokjin x female reader

☇ genre: smut/pwp

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 9.3k of mostly unedited filth

→ 𝓂𝑒𝒶 𝒸𝓊𝓁𝓅𝒶 ☆♢

☇ synopsis: you’ve traveled long and far to seek out a warlock to be your teacher. but he ends up teaching you much more than just magic…

☇ pairing: seokjin x female reader, ft koh shinwon

☇ genre: smut, fluff, humor

☇ au: warlock jin, half warlock reader, fantasy

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 16.9k

→ 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁

☇ synopsis: seokjin knows you’ve been feeling down, so he makes a simple gesture to get your hopes back up

☇ pairing: seokjin x female reader

☇ genre: fluff

☇ au: domestic, slice of life

☇ rating: pg

☇ word count: 931

→ 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓃

☇ synopsis: seokjin, a legend on the pitching mound, comes face to face with the up and coming new guy jungkook. their on the field battle gets more intense when they spot you selling cotton candy in the crowd

☇ pairing: seokjin x female reader, jungkook x female reader

☇ genre: action, fluff, slight crack, angst if you squint

☇ au: baseball player seokjin and jungkook, stadium worker reader

☇ rating: pg13

☇ word count: 3.5k

→ 𝒸𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒸 ☆♢

☇ synopsis: everyone at school is smitten for the new guy. and you’re totally not. definitely not...

☇ pairing: Yoongi x female reader ft. best friend Namjoon

☇ genre: RomCom-ish, crack, fluff

☇ rating: pg13

☇ au: college

☇ word count: 4.9k

→ 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝓈

☇ synopsis: the prince who’s always bullied the help has finally been assigned his punishment. and you’re the lucky person who has to oversee him

☇ pairing: prince yoongi x servant female reader

☇ genre: smut, slight angst

☇ au: royal, e2l

☇ rating: mature/explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 5.4k

→ 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒

☇ synopsis: you’ve been stood up for a friend movie date, but all is well when you see the cute ticket counter boy

☇ pairing: yoongi x female reader

☇ genre: fluff

☇ au: slice of life, strangers to lovers?

☇ rating: pg

☇ word count: 1.2k

→ 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈

☇ synopsis: you know just what to do when you see that hoseok isn’t acting like his usual self

☇ pairing: hoseok x reader

☇ genre: angst, bittersweet fluff

☇ rating: pg13

☇ au: domestic, slice of life

☇ word count: 1.5k

→ 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒 ♢

☇ synopsis: jimin was eager to become the apprentice to a famous warlock. but he meets someone and now has a choice to make…

☇ pairing: Namjoon x jimin ft. warlock seokjin

☇ genre: angst, smut

☇ au: demon Namjoon, human jimin,

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 9.1k

→ 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈

☇ synopsis: a simple birthday celebration turns into you nerding out over astrology to your boyfriend

☇ pairing: jimin x reader

☇ genre: fluff

☇ rating: pg

☇ au: slice of life, established relationship

☇ word count: 1.5k

→ 𝓅𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀'𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓈

☇ synopsis: you and taehyung join forces to get some revenge on your exes, hopefully mixed feelings doesn’t turn this valentine’s day into a complete disaster

☇ pairing: taehyung x female reader, seokjin x jeon soyeon from (g)-idle

☇ genre: smut, slight angst, slight fluff

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ au: coworker, office, valentine’s day, strangers to lovers to friends (s2l2f)

☇ word count: 9.6k

→ 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈𝓎 ♢

☇ synopsis: your body can’t decide between sleep and pleasure. it feels like you’re about to lose your mind when a certain roommate of yours walks in to check on you

☇ pairing: taehyung x female reader

☇ genre: smut, pwp

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ au: roommates, f2l

☇ word count: 3.7k

→ 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹 ♡♢

☇ synopsis: being attracted to someone you want to hate is proving to be a lot more difficult than you initially thought

☇ pairing: rockstar jungkook x journalist female reader

☇ genre: smut/e2l

☇ au: rock star jungkook, journalist reader

☇ rating: explicit, 18+

☇ word count: 14.6k

→ 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓃

☇ pairing: seokjin x female reader, jungkook x female reader

☇ genre: action, fluff, slight crack, angst if you squint

☇ au: baseball player seokjin and jungkook, stadium worker reader

☇ rating: pg13

☇ word count: 3.5k

→ 𝓂𝒸𝒹*𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃 ♢

☇ synopsis: it’s no secret that you live your life by the rules. the only thrill you allow yourself is going to mcdonald’s to interact with the exuberant drive-through employee who likes to give you a little bit more than what you originally ordered

☇ pairing: jungkook x female reader

☇ genre: smut, crack, pwp

☇ au: fast food worker jungkook, customer y/n, slice of life, strangers to lovers

☇ rating: explicit/18+

☇ word count: 10.9k

☇ this story is a part of the fast f*cking food collab!

𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻 ♡; 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉 ☽; 𝒞𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀 ✩; 𝒮𝓂𝓊𝓉 ↝

1. they’re not your bias ✩

2. you cry for no reason ♡

3. you surprise them with a date ♡

4. how they snuggle you ♡

5. types of lovers ↝

6. how they ask you out ♡

7. them as boyfriends ♡

8. they dedicate a song to you ♡

9. when they’re drunk ✩

10. they read their own fan fiction ✩

11. someone flirts with you in front of them ↝

12. you get them to rest ♡☽

13. you find a kitten ♡

14. you have a nightmare ♡

15. they’re sexually frustrated ↝

16. they fall in love with someone else ☽

#masterlist #bts #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts reactions #jinned #ao3 #bts ao3

1K notes · View notes

kutemouse · 4 years

Text

Caught (Part One)

Disclaimers: All “Save Me” webtoon and BTS MV/highlight reel/film references and plots belong to BTS and BigHit. All pictures of Kim Taehyung belong to BTS and BigHit, I just edited them for my header. The picture of BTS came from Vogue Japan, I just edited it for my header.

A Note from Kutemouse: I know, I know, this has been a long time coming, and I’m so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! I’ve actually had it written for a while, but today was the first day I was able to get up and do some stuff. Pregnancy is rough! Oh, that’s right, if you haven’t seen it yet, I made a Big Announcement earlier today that explains why I’ve been so inactive lately, and also explains my plans for the future.

Age Recommendation: 21+ (this is NOT one for youngsters, kuties, and is MOST DEFINITELY NSFW)

Genre: Mafia!AU w/ BTS, Jailbird!AU w/ Taehyung, Yandere!BTS

Warnings: Not many warnings for this part, kuties. Swears, I guess. Unsupportive SO? Kidnapping. Use of chloroform.

Word Count: About 3k

Summary: Kim Taehyung was the absolute love of your life… until he became a murderer. With him serving a life sentence in prison, you were finally free to live out the rest of your life however you wanted. Just when you thought you were at the top of your game, ready to take on the world, Taehyung reappears like a monster not even your worst nightmares could dream up. He gives you a year to fall in love with him, but now the question is, can monsters even be loved?

Master List

Tag List: @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash @btssmutheaven @taemaknae @rebeccawoodrow @sassysaxsolo @iconicgguk

If you want to be added, just lmk!

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Caught (Taehyung Series, Yandere, Smut, Angst) Part One

We were skipping class in the school greenhouse, enjoying the humid warmth and the earthy smell wafting from the plants. We were talking, I forget about what. What I remember most is fiddling with his large, rough hands, intertwining my fingers between his over and over again. I remember his deep laugh that seemed to rumble through the recesses of my soul. I remember glee blooming in my chest whenever he grinned at me.

His tone was teasing, mine was indignant yet flirtatious. Again, I forget what we said to each other, but I clearly remember those two words. “Kiss me.”

I gaped at him. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated.

I hesitated. “Here? Now?”

Taehyung leaned down, tilting his head, until his lips hovered over mine. I felt each of his exhales on my skin, practically heard my heartbeat speed up.

“Kiss. Me.” It was barely a whisper, yet it resonated through my body, down my spine and throughout my limbs.

Without another word, I pressed my lips to his, melding them to fit his, a thrill running through me at his appreciative groan.

He pulled back, his inky eyes somehow growing darker. “I love you, baby girl.”

I sat up, gasping. Blood rushed to my head, making me see stars. With a groan, I covered my face with my hands.

“Sweetie?”

My fiancé, Lee Chanwook, rolled over and peered at me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice husky from lack of use.

“Yeah. Fine. Just had a dream, go back to sleep.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. He rolled over, his breath growing deep and even as he fell back into the reaches of slumber. If I could be so lucky. I hadn’t thought about Kim Taehyung in… well, it had to be almost a year now. Or two. I wasn’t sure.

Either way, my life moved on without him after shit completely hit the fan. My aunt and I agreed I shouldn’t transfer schools, since I only had a month or so left til graduation. I graduated alongside Chaeyoung, who seemed to be my only friend after Taehyung got arrested. She held my hand tightly the entire ceremony, only letting go when I was called to accept my diploma.

As soon as I graduated, Aunt Sunhee and I moved into her place in Busan. It was a tidal wave of change. Compared to my mom’s cramped, two-bedroom apartment, my aunt’s large house was a mansion. She recently obtained a position as COO of a large company and applied for custody of me immediately after.

Before we moved, I found my aunt’s letters my mom had hidden from me. My aunt had tried to call me multiple times but was never able to reach me. She even flew out to see me a couple of times, but all it took was my mother calling me at school and telling me I needed to stay at a friend’s house for me to stay away. I guess my mom was scared she would lose me.

Yet that’s exactly what happened in the end. My aunt paid for my mom to go to a rehabilitation center, but after only a few weeks, the center called my aunt letting her know my mother had disappeared. Aunt Sunhee called the police and even hired a private investigator, but my mom was nowhere to be found. I succumbed to the realization that she was probably dead. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks afterward.

A year and a massive amount of therapy sessions later, I decided I wanted to do something with my life. I was already attending university to obtain a business degree, but I hungered for more. My aunt got me an internship within her company, and I learned a lot just by working under her. Four years later, with a bachelor’s degree in hand, my aunt hired me as her executive assistant, and I took a year off before going to graduate school to both work and plan my wedding.

I was introduced to Chanwook at a company get-together. He was the son of one of my aunt’s business associates, and he caught my eye almost immediately. Mostly it was the way he was the exact opposite of the boy I hadn’t been able to get my mind off of. He was a stickler for the rules, had a great relationship with his parents, and never, ever did anything that would cross the line or damage his flawless reputation. He was kind and funny, but there was no wild or daring side to him. At the time, he was exactly what I needed.

He helped me forget about Taehyung. In the years before then, whenever I had a spare moment for my mind to drift, Taehyung’s wide, boxy grin and deep voice would float into my thoughts. I spent days wondering what went wrong. When had he become a murderer? At what point did he crack? Why hadn’t I noticed sooner?

Chaeyoung and I kept in touch, and I heard some details of Taehyung’s trial from her. I heard he was sentenced to life in prison without parole, due to the one count of murder against him. It would have been two, but Taehyung’s dad’s body was never found. No one was even sure he was dead.

I spent many nights staring at the ceiling, thinking back to the night when Namjoon got that frantic phone call from Taehyung. When Jungkook wouldn’t let me see him. When he completely disappeared for that entire week.

I had no doubt he killed his father. I don’t think he did it maliciously or intentionally. I think he found the strength inside of himself to fight back, and it ended in a death. It didn’t make the murderous act any less horrifying, but it did make me wonder just how deep the darkness inside Taehyung ran. Was he really the monster the media made him out to be?

Aunt Sunhee caught me one night poring over article after article covering Taehyung’s trial. “Y/n, you can’t keep doing this,” she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You need to move on with your life.”

It took a long time, but eventually, I stopped surfing the internet for mentions of Taehyung’s story. My conversations with Chaeyoung grew few and far between until they stopped completely. Memories of Tae’s smile, his voice, his laugh, his lips, faded away. I even changed my last name to “Park” both so I’d be recognized as my aunt’s relative, and so no one from my past could find me. Four long years later, I was finally free of Kim Taehyung.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, my damn subconscious didn’t want to let him go. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to wipe away the image of his smiling face. I never imagined that, years later, he would still be haunting me.

I got out of bed, wrapping a robe around my body before stepping out onto our apartment’s deck. The cool, four-in-the-morning air roused my senses even further awake. I stayed like that until the sun began to peek over the edge of the horizon, thinking of Kim Taehyung and our shared past.

“Hey,” Chanwook said, coming up from behind to wrap his arms around me. “Have you been out here all night?”

“Not all night,” I replied. “Just since I woke up from that dream.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed sleepily in response. “Was it a good dream?”

I bit my lip, mulling his question over. “No,” I finally said. “It was more like a nightmare.”

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

That afternoon, I yawned as I re-read the same sentence for the umpteenth time, willing my brain to focus. “You look like you need a cup of coffee,” my coworker, Lisa, said.

“That would be nice,” I murmured in response, still trying to focus.

She stood and grabbed her purse. “I’ll get yours with an extra shot of espresso,” she said.

“Just so you know, I absolutely adore you.”

She blew me a kiss accompanied by a cheeky wink. “I know. Be back in fifteen.”

With the promise of caffeine on the way, I sat back in my chair and rubbed my temples, telling myself I’d get back to that report later. My cell phone began to buzz, and I picked it up, frowning at the unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Miss Park?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Hello, my name is Choi Yeonjun. I’m a representative of the company Bangtan Enterprises.”

“Never heard of it.”

A chuckle came through from the other end. “That’s because we’re a small start-up just breaking into Seoul’s business world.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Miss Park, we’ve been made aware of your extraordinary skills and experience. Your aunt is COO of her company, correct? And you’ve been working under her for how long?”

“Well, if you’re including my internship, about five years now.”

“Excellent.”

“Mr. Choi, what is this about?” I asked as politely as I could.

“As a start-up company, we’re in need of experienced people to help run it,” he explained. “We’re prepared to offer you the COO position here at Bangtan, which comes with your own office, and we’ll double your salary.”

My mouth dropped open. “Double?”

“Double.”

I shook my head in an attempt to pull myself together. This opportunity was huge. I’d been accused of exploiting nepotism in order to get where I was today, but this could be my chance to prove all my naysayers wrong. I could show them I was entirely capable of forging my own path.

Still, I wasn’t going to just jump at this. I pulled my keyboard towards me and searched Bangtan Enterprises. Only a few results came up, but they confirmed my hopes into reality. Bangtan Enterprises was indeed a start-up, but it was based on a very profitable idea and, from the looks of it, had already lined up some high-end clients.

“And you said you’re based in Seoul?” I asked.

“That’s correct.”

So I’d either have to move there or split my time between Busan and there. I chewed my lip, wondering what Chanwook would think. “Your offer is very generous, Mr. Choi. May I have some time to think about it?”

He chuckled once more. “Unfortunately for you, you are not our only candidate. You’re our first choice, but there are others who are willing to start as soon as tomorrow.”

I clenched my phone. “No! I mean, that’s fine. I’ll take it.”

I knew I might regret it later, but this was a hell of an opportunity. Besides, it wasn’t like I signed a contract. I still had time to back out.

“Excellent. We’ll send you an official offer via email. When is the earliest you can start?”

“Don’t tease me, Mr. Choi,” I said playfully. “I thought you said my competition could start tomorrow.”

“That may be true, but—”

“Well, anything they can do, I can do better. I’ll send you my plane’s arrival time.”

“We’ll have a car waiting.”

I swiped off the call, anticipation flooding through me, causing a burst of excited energy to run through my veins.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

“You what?” Chanwook gaped at me.

“I said yes,” I replied nervously. I just told my fiancé about the new job, and he seemed to think it was great up until I said I accepted.

“Sweetie,” he groaned, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Are you serious?”

I frowned. “Yes, of course I am. I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Chan.”

“Well, you’ll just have to tell them you can’t take it anymore.”

I scoffed. “And why not?”

“Because we have a great life here. You make plenty, I make more than plenty. Why do you need another job?”

“Maybe I don’t need it,” I retorted. “Maybe I want it.”

“Want to move away from here? Miles away from your friends, your family?”

I scowled at him in response.

He sighed. “Y/n… answer me honestly. Is this about your mom?”

I snorted in disgust. “Seriously, Chan?!”

“It’s a valid question! Are you sure you don’t only want to go to Seoul to see if you could find her?”

“No, that’s not the reason I want to go to Seoul!”

“Then why?”

“Because! This is something that I earned, that I did on my fucking own. In fact, this will be the first and only thing that’s mine alone.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? My job? Came from my aunt. My business degree? My aunt’s money. This apartment?” I said, gesturing around the room. “Your money.”

“So what?”

“So I want something for myself. We don’t have to move to Seoul, you know. I know your job is here, and I’d be willing to make the commute. You know, stay four days there, three days here, or something.”

Chanwook scoffed. “Do you even hear yourself?!” he shouted. “We are getting married! Planning on starting a life, here, in Busan! If you want a job based on your own merit and not because your aunt took pity on you, then find one here.”

I was rendered entirely speechless for a good few moments before I was able to gather myself back together. “I cannot believe how unsupportive you’re being,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m taking that job. It’s your choice whether you’ll let that affect our relationship or not.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

I turned and grabbed my suitcase before stomping out the door, intent on going straight to my aunt’s. If Chanwook was going to be a total ass, I didn’t want to be around him. Thankfully, Aunt Sunhee wasn’t there to ask prying questions when I entered the house with my spare key. I walked up to my old room and hopped on my computer to search for flights from Busan to Seoul. This was my dream. And nothing, nothing at all, was going to stop me from achieving it.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I walked briskly toward my destination, my heels clicking on the airport floor. As promised, a car was waiting for me, along with another passenger in the backseat. “Miss Park,” he said, extending his hand towards me as soon as I buckled up.

His voice sounded familiar. “Mr. Choi?”

“You can call me Yeonjun,” he said, his blonde hair falling over his left eye.

“And you can continue calling me Miss Park.”

He tossed me a smirk. “So, the boss would like to speak with you,” he said easily. “Nothing to be nervous for, he just wants to get to know you. However, he has an important meeting to attend over on the other side of town for which he’s requested your presence.”

“So this car is going straight there?”

“No, you’ll switch to his car once we get to the office. That way, you’ll have time to get reacquainted.”

I frowned. “Reacquainted?”

Yeonjun chuckled. “I meant acquainted. Slip of the tongue.”

“If you say so.”

We spent the rest of the ride in silence, something I was surprised over. I thought he would want to go over my contract or something, but I supposed that would all come later. The driver pulled the car into a parking structure, causing the interior to instantly darken.

“There it is,” Yeonjun said, pointing. A sleek, black SUV sat in the middle of the road, effectively blocking our way. “Go on. Mr. Kim is waiting for you.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of my new boss’s name. Thoughts of Taehyung rushed through my mind, but I shoved them away. Kim was a common enough last name. I stepped out of the car, pulling my suitcase from the trunk before walking towards the SUV. Yeonjun did not follow. After stowing my luggage in the trunk, I opened the side door and hopped in.

A figure sat on the bench across from me, his face covered in shadow. “Mr. Kim? Hi, I’m Park Y/n,” I said, extending my hand. He did not take it.

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice an eerily familiar deep tone.

“Oh, of course you do. Yeonjun said you wanted to get to know me… What would you like to know?”

“I know everything about you already, baby girl.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to see through the darkness that covered his face. “S-Sorry?”

“I said,” he replied, leaning forward. The light caught onto his inky eyes, causing me to gasp. “I know everything about you already, Y/n.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Kim Taehyung was leaning towards me, a smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth. Sure, he looked slightly different. Older. More mature. He had definitely filled out, and his hair was now a complimentary jet-black falling attractively into his dark eyes.

“Hey baby girl,” he said, his smirk widening. “You lost?”

My body suddenly jumped into full-blown panic, and I grabbed at the car door’s handle, shrieking once I realized it wouldn’t open. Taehyung forcefully wrapped his arms around me, pinning me hard to his chest, clamping a hand tightly over my mouth. “None of that now,” he hissed.

I bit him, causing him to yelp, and continued trying to escape, fumbling at the lock that stood between him and my freedom. Taehyung pulled a handkerchief and a bottle from his jacket pocket, putting a dab of whatever liquid was inside on the cloth before clamping it over my mouth. His chuckle came out as more of a wheeze as he held me to his chest. “Damn, baby girl,” he said. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to this, but here we are.”

With each one of his words, my field of vision grew smaller and smaller until my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I felt myself falling into a state of unconsciousness not even the fear of death itself could fight off.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Part Two is Here! 😉

31 notes · View notes