#at first glance they seem fine but if you look at their feed long enough you start to see Holocaust denial and combined with

[badolmen]

Hey I saw some people sharing an infographic with this logo on it and, uh, I’m assuming you don’t know much about this group?

Stop Zionist Hate is a neo-nazi organization and platform. If you see the SZH logo do not spread their posts. They’re using your sympathy for Palestine to lead you into agreeing with their white supremacy. Don’t fall for it. Fuck Zionists. Fuck Nazis.

[riki-riks-chick]

jay smut :c

Life Saver ┃P.JS

Vamp!Jay x Turned!Reader

Jay turns y/n to keep her from dying, but was that the only reason?

cw: smut!, finger fucking, oral (fem rec), unprotected sex, vampire sex, blood mentions (biting/feeding), multiple orgasms, slight obsession, and i think that's it.

wdct: 1.7k

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Third Person POV~

You wake up in immense pain, vision blurry and ears ringing. you hear strong voices talking, and that's when you hear the words.  "You should have left her dead. why do you wanna be a hero so bad?" A strong voice rung through your ears as you opened your eyes, turning your head to face the two unfamiliar people, despite your aching head.

As soon as they heard the bed sheets rustle upon your movement, they both snapped their heads towards you. "You're awake! How do you feel!?" One of them rushed towards you, seating himself at the edge of the bed as you let your gaze fall on his platinum blonde head of hair. It framed his face perfectly. "I feel awful.." You spoke, your voice hoarse and raspy as you did. The other man in the room simply scoffed before taking his leave. 

 "Where am I?" You asked, glancing back at the kind man in front of you as he poured you a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. "You're at my house.. You'll be staying here from now on.. Do you remember anything from when you were last awake?" He asked as you raised an inquisitive eyebrow, trying your hardest to remember your last conscious moment. 

 "Uhm.. I remember walking home after going out with my friends.. Those guys dragged me into that- wait.. what happened to me, and how did you find me?" You questioned as the man laughed nervously. "I saved your life..  It's a long story, really." He said as you shot up, immediately regretting the decision as your vision went blurry. "Steady.. The affects haven't worn off yet.. It's best to lay down for now.. Drink some water.."

You took a sip of water before laying back down. The second your head hit the cool silk pillow case, you felt somewhat at ease. "What's wrong with me? What affects are you talking about?" You asked as he sighed. "Promise not to freak out?.." He asked as you nodded. 

"I didn't want you to just die like that.. You looked so innocent, and... I may have turned you into vampire to keep you alive.." He explained as you stared at him, completely and utterly shocked. "I- I'm a vampire?" You stuttered out, and he nodded. "Yes, but it's hardly been long enough for the urges to kick in. Once you're okay to stand we can go through with your first feeding."

 "I'm a vampire!?" You repeated as he sighed. "Yes, but it's fine.. It's not much different from being human.. You're just immortal and have an undying thirst for human blood." He responded in a failed attempt to ease your mind, but you were still processing. "I'm a monster..."

 "Okay ouch.. We're not all monsters.. We live just like anyone else.. We didn't ask for this.." He said as you sighed. "Sorry..." You mumbled as he nodded. "It's whatever.. Get some rest and I'll check on you later.."

The second he left, the pulsing pain returned, making you wince. You couldn't even wrap your head around how much of a fucked up situation you were in. Eventually you fell back asleep, that way you wouldn't be distracted by the pain.

A few hours later, you were awaken by the same man as before. He was dressed differently this time, the dark clothing a stalking contrast against the white and gold face of the room.

He looked handsome, something you had hardly noticed before, and the sight of him seemed to ease your mind. "How are you feeling?.." He asked gently, his hand trailing your torso, it felt electrifying.

"I feel thirsty..." You explain simply, but he seems to understand perfectly. "I don't know if you're strong enough for your first feed, but you can feed off of me.." 

"What?..." You sound hesitant, but he brushes your hair out of your face, shushing you. "Don't worry... Every human has tasted blood before.. Just think of it as licking a bleeding cut.."

He then bites his wrist, his fangs stained crimson as he pulls you to sit up, letting you get your fill off of him. He runs his fingers through your hair in the process, easing you through it as you eventually pull away, your lips stained red, and your fangs peeking out curiously, the tips matching the same red color of your lips.

You seem to feel much better after your first feeding, but the glint in his eyes shows pure hunger. He leans in, capturing your lips with his own as he clears your lips of the crimson hue painting them. 

He pulls back, eyes glowing red as he smiles seductively. "I'm Jay..." He introduces before kissing you again, this time straddling you. His hands are planted on either side of you, hips meeting yours as you slide your hands up and over his shoulders, tugging him closer.

Something about him is simply impossible to resist, even the headache from earlier went away the second he got close. "Is this okay?.." He asks, his eyes almost begging you to say yes, and when you nod, he's sitting up, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You help him, sliding it off of his toned shoulders as you undo his pants as well,  

He stares at you, in a daze almost as he watches you undo his pants, sliding them just barely past his hips before palming him through his boxers. He allows you to touch him for a bit before he grows too impatient, pushing your hand away before kicking off his pants completely. 

He then tugs at your shorts, tugging them off of you along with your silk panties, letting them litter the floor with the rest of his clothes. "You're really pretty... I have to say..." He whispers, running his finger over your hole as he spreads your folds. "So wet.. Good." He smirks, sliding a finger into you as a means of teasing. 

It's only one, and it's not that deep, but fuck it feels good. It's unbelievable how good he's making you feel off of one finger, and once he adds a second you can't even focus. 

"Holy fuck..." You grab his hand, moaning as he grasps your wrist, moving your hand. "Does it feel good?.." He asks, despite need of an answer. You nod, biting your lip as you tilt your head back against the pillows.

Jay pulls his fingers out of you, leaning down to kiss you again as he removes his boxers. "You know... I couldn't bring myself to leave you when I saw you like that.. I got this feeling, and it made me crave you.. Not in a vampiric way though."

You're hearing every word he says, but you can't seem to focus. He presses his tip against you, rubbing his cockhead along your glistening folds. "Can I? Please?.." He asks as you nods, moaning as he slowly pushes into you, filling you up completely.

He doesn't wait to move, his hips making slow efforts as he thrusts into you. His cock is deep inside you and you're seeing stars already.

You don't know if it has anything to do with the fact that your senses are now heightened, but you feel so much more sensitive than before.

"Jay..." You moan his name, feeling your stomach turn pleasurably with each thrust. His cockhead creates a bulge in your lower abdomen with each thrust, and he presses down on it, making everything feel ten times better. "Fuck.."

You feel like you've already experienced an orgasm, but you know for sure you haven't. Everything just seems so much better with him right now.

"If you feel like you need to cum, just let go... Trust me it won't be the last." He mutters lowly, thrusting harder as he slides his hand underneath your shirt, groping your breast. "Fuck Jay.." You grip his wrist, growing closer to your release with each burning touch. "I'm gonna cum.."

He smiles at your words, his hips seeming to increase the speed of their movements. "Cum for me, princess.. Let it all go."

His words seem to send you over the edge as a bout of pleasure blooms in the pit of your stomach. He's now leading you through the best orgasm, hips still moving fiercly against yours as you moan extremely loud.

He fucks you through your orgasm, wanting to push you over the edge even more. You feel incredible. Words getting mixed up, and just overall incoherent.

It's not long before he's coming undone too, thrusting hard, but slower as he cums inside you, filling you with his essence. "Stop clenching around me, fuck.."

He pulls out slowly, watching his white substance spill out of you as he runs his fingers through it, sucking them clean afterwards. "What a pretty little mess."

You're simply watching his every move, already feeling fucked out.

He lowers himself between your legs, licking your cunt from bottom to top as he sucks on your clit, lapping up the mess of cum between your legs.

You squirm beneath him, letting out little whines and whimpers as you tug on his hair. "Jay... Please.." The pleasure is intense and Jay knows it, he's obsessed with the way he's making you feel right now.

"You taste so good, princess..." He's breathing needily against your pussy, licking into it as he slides his fingers into your hole, moving them in and out at a fast pace while focusing his tongue on your clit.

You feel the all too familiar feeling build up inside you again as he continues to eat at your dripping cunt, his fingers fucking into you slightly faster with every passing minute.

You give no warning as you cum, but he's fully prepared for it, lapping up every fluid you let out for him.

When he finally pulls away, chin glistening with your liquids, he pulls his fingers out of you, sticking them into your mouth to make you taste yourself.

You moan around his fingers, gripping his wrist as he smirks down at you. After a short while, he pulls his hand away, leaning in to kiss you. His cock is pressed against you, fully erect and ready to fuck you again. "I hope you enjoy tonight because I want to be like this for the rest of eternity..."

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I hope this was good 🫣

[foreingersgod]

Can you write a CC x country reader that has a heavy accent, like Texas or smth and how it makes people react to it?

this is such a cute idea, i decided to put my own little twist on it so i hope you like it!

Texas Twang . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you were born and raised on a texas farm, eventually moving away for college where you met caitlin. here’s a list of 5 times she’s fallen in love with you and your accent

A/N: #5 is a wee bit spicy (trying to feed ya’ll as per request) so please skip it if you’re uncomfortable with that!

also i got these sayings off of google cause i dont know any texas slang or how to convey the reader having an accent so sorry if they’re literally not real 😭

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1. when you first met

you were panicked, running around your small room trying to find your stupid fucking phone. you were already running 5 minutes behind, the clock on the wall told you, but you wouldn’t be able to find your first class of the morning regardless if you didn’t find your phone. checking under your heap of blankets, in the drawers of your desk, and even in your laundry basket, you found nothing.

then, after throwing every book out of your backpack as a last resort, you saw it laying below discarded orientation papers and sticky notes. with a sigh of relief, you snatched your phone and sprinted out of your building.

you were running at full speed, which was a little embarrassing considering every one else on campus was just walking normally. but you were extremely behind and would be so mad if you were late to your first class at this school. so you continued to weave through people. you dodged campaigners, sped through large groups on the lawns, probably knocking down a few people in the process.

your sprinting seemed to pay off when you noticed the building up ahead. you glanced at the time, seeing you still had a few minutes to make it if you really hurried. your legs ached as you continued to speed walk past bypassers.

then, without notice, you ran right into someone passing by. the force of your impact causing the both of you to fall to the ground in the middle of the quad. if you weren’t late already, you surely would have been now.

“shit” you heard the other person cuss under their breath. you looked up, still planted on the ground, to the person in front of you.

she was an insanely attractive woman. lean, about 6 foot, muscular, just your type you might add. she was pushing herself off of the concrete side walk, brushing the gravel from her pants. you followed suit, standing up then apologizing profusely for running into her.

“oh my hell, i’m so sorry” you exclaimed “i was goin’ way too fast, i apologize”

she gave you a crooked smile, shaking her head.

“no you’re ok, it happens, i should’ve been paying attention”

“no, really ‘s my bad”

her face twisted ever so slightly as you talked “you’re not from around here are you?” she blurted “sorry, that’s completely irrelevant, i just noticed the accent”

you laughed, this wasn’t the first time someone was confused by the heaviness of your accent “it’s fine, i don’t mind. yea, no i’m from a small town in texas, i moved up here for college recently”

“oh really? that’s cool” she smiled, extending her hand to you “well, i’m caitlin by the way”

“i’m YN” you returned her handshake “ ‘s so nice to meet you, but i’m runnin’ late for class”

“wait” she stopped you before you ran past her “do you think i could grab your number, maybe i could take you out sometime?”

you were all smiles “i’d like that, i’d like that very much”

2. your first argument

you don’t even know how it started. all you knew is that some girl was getting flirty at the bar and, according to your girlfriend, you were letting her seduce you. this was obviously not true. you and caitlin hadn’t been dating that long, but it has going really well and she’s incredibly important to you. important enough that you wouldn’t just be flirting with other women at the bar.

nonetheless, you were being dragged out of the bar. caitlin was oozing jealousy as you headed back to your place for the night.

“she was all over you, YN” caitlin sneered, following you into your apartment and slamming the door.

“oh my god, she wasn’t!” you rolled your eyes “good lord, arguing with you ‘s like tryna piss up a god damn rope”

“what?”

“what do you mean what?” your accent was thick, rolling off your tongue.

“what the hell does ‘pissing up a rope’ mean?” she looked at you confused, dropping the girl from the bar entirely.

you looked at her equally confused “you don’t say that here?”

“uh no, i think that’s a you thing” she said “your texas slang is distracting me and it’s making it very hard to be mad at you right now”

you chuckled, kissing her cheek “ ‘s just my southern charm, baby”

3. when you sing in the car

caitlin hated country music for the most part. but when you came along, you made it your duty to get her to enjoy it at least a little bit. she had never been subjected to small farm country music and to you, that was a sin.

so you’d play it for her on occasion, if she let you. and surprisingly it was pretty often. she would never tell you, but she only put up with country music just to hear you sing it. she was completely mesmerized by the way your accent mixed with the tune of the songs.

one day you were in the car together, on the way home from a get together with friends. it was a warm summer evening, sun on the brink of setting causing the sky to glow shades of orange and pink. cait was driving, per usual, you being her honorary passenger princess. she rolled down all the windows for you (even the sunroof) just how you liked it. you loved feeling the hot summer breeze blow through your hair with the radio turned all the way up.

“you follow me, and lead me on..” you hummed lightly, ‘all your’n by tyler childers sounding through the car radio.

she snuck glances at you as she drove down the empty street, watching how you let your arms hang out with window and let the wind fan over your face.

“so ill love you till my lungs give out” you closed your eyes, lost in the moment “i ain’t lying’”

caitlin so desperately wanted to pull over and listen to you sing all night long. your voice was like a gift from the gods. the way your accent slurred with each word had her melting in the drivers seat.

“i’m all your’n” you looked over to caitlin, smiling “ ‘n you’re all mine”

she smiled back, reaching across the console and resting her hand on your thigh.

she let you play your music the rest of the way home, just wanting to listen to you sing for a little bit longer.

4. when you met her family

you had waited months to meet caitlin’s family. no really, families were your thing. growing up in texas, it was common to be in or surrounded by a big family. and you knew big families more than anyone else, having 9 siblings, you being the middle child. it was a setting you thrived it and you tended to get along with people pretty well.

caitlin was hesitant to introduce you, she was freshly out of the closet and had never brought a girl home before. but this thanksgiving, she thought it was the perfect time to introduce you.

“so, YN” caitlin’s mother asked from across the table. “i’m sure you’re not used to such a small family, caitlin told me you come from quite the family tree?”

caitlin’s hand found your knee under the table, squeezing it lightly for comfort.

“oh yea,” you chuckled “my mama had a whole litter with 9 ‘a us. it was always crazy around the house, with 5 brothers n 3 sisters. and my daddy wasn’t around to help out off’n, but that’s a whole ‘nutter can a worms”

the way her family reacted to your voice made caitlin laugh under her breath, watching how they slowly dissected your sentence trying to make out the words from beneath the accent. she thought it was cute, lucky to have such a unique and special girl.

even the way you interacted with her younger cousins had her fawning over you, you were just so sweet and gentle.

“hiya, sweetie” you smiled as caitlin’s baby cousin accidentally fell into you “took a bit of a spill there didn’t ‘cha?”

you were the perfect picture of a warm welcome, full of beauty and grace and kindness. caitlin knew, from this moment, you’d be in her life forever.

SPICE AHEAD

5. during sex

she’d be lying if she said that damned accent didn’t get her riled up. because truly, it had her wet the second you started talking.

when she would have you pressed up against the wall, one leg wrapped around her torso as she kissed down your collarbone and onto your cleavage. the way you would moan “oh darlin’” oh so sweetly in her ear had her going crazy.

the rare instances in which you would take the lead in bed, watching as you crawled atop of her, stripping her bare. how you would hook your fingers under her underwear, tugging them down her long and toned legs. she was already bucking her hips into nothing. then you’d fasten your arms under her thighs, pulling them apart to place delicate kisses along the insides of her legs.

you’d tease her a bit more before dropping your head low, hot breath fanning against her glistening cunt. she bit her lip, trying to suppress moans of pleasure, and you had hardly touched her yet. you took your time with her, tongue dragging deliciously against her, savoring the taste.

“well you’re just sweeter than cherry pie, aren’t ‘cha baby” you’d praise, having her arching under your touch. with that, she couldn’t hold her moans any longer, completely coming undone as you continued to treasure every inch of her body.

you were going to be the death of her. 

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A/N: alright guys i tried to make it a little spicier, so feedback is much appreciated cause i honestly feel like it sucked lol

[cod-thoughts]

Day 5 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 2.3k

Relationships: 141 as family

Tags: Character study (kind of), ghosts relationship with food, talk of past starvation

Price had seen men who ate with discipline. He’d seen soldiers who treated food as fuel and nothing more, men who ate quickly so they could get back to the fight. But Ghost—Ghost was different. Keep reading under the cut or on AO3 Please don't read if it will harm you!

Price had seen men who ate with discipline. He’d seen soldiers who treated food as fuel and nothing more, men who ate quickly so they could get back to the fight. But Ghost—Ghost was different.

Price noticed it during their first mission together after Mexico, the way Ghost barely touched the rations, how he always seemed indifferent to food altogether. While the rest of the team would wolf down their meals after a hard day, Ghost would sit apart, mask half-raised just enough to eat mechanically, the food barely disappearing from his plate.

Price couldn’t blame him—Ghost had seen more than his fair share of suffering, been through things Price could only guess at. But the way Ghost treated food was unsettling. He ate as if it were a chore, something he had to endure but took no pleasure in. Sometimes, Price wondered if Ghost would’ve skipped eating altogether if it wouldn’t draw attention.

It wasn’t long before Price started to realise something: Ghost didn’t seem to eat until everyone else was done. Always the last one to touch his food, always picking at it, eyes distant and unreadable behind the mask.

“He’s like a machine,” Price muttered to himself one night as he watched Ghost push food around his plate again.

But he wasn’t a machine. He was a man—a man who never seemed to enjoy the simple act of feeding himself.

---

Soap was the first to notice how quiet Ghost was during meals. He wasn’t just quiet—he was silent. Even on the good days, when the team bantered and laughed, Ghost rarely said a word. He’d sit at the edge of the table, always near an exit, eating with deliberate, methodical movements. It was like he was somewhere else, far from the mess hall or the campfire.

At first, Soap assumed it was just Ghost being, well, Ghost. The man was silent in almost everything he did. But it started to feel different around mealtimes, like Ghost wasn’t just quiet because he didn’t want to talk—he was quiet because he didn’t want to be noticed.

One day, after a particularly brutal mission, the team gathered to eat around a fire, exhausted but grateful to be alive. Soap joked around, tossing comments at Gaz and Price, but when he glanced at Ghost, he saw the man wasn’t even looking at his plate. He was staring off into the distance, hands still, as if he’d forgotten the food was even there.

Soap, always the one to poke and prod, decided to press. “Ghost, mate, you gonna eat or stare at it until it gets cold?”

Ghost’s eyes flickered over, but his response was as indifferent as ever. “I’m fine.”

But Soap wasn’t buying it. He’d seen Ghost in the field, seen him push his body to the limit without a word of complaint. The man was relentless. But this—this was different. It wasn’t about discipline. It was about something deeper.

Soap let it go for the night, but the image stuck with him—Ghost sitting there, food untouched, eyes hollow behind the mask.

---

Gaz wasn’t one to interfere with anyone’s habits, but over time, he started to see patterns in Ghost’s behaviour that unsettled him. It wasn’t just that Ghost ate little and said even less—it was the way he seemed to treat food as a necessity he didn’t want to admit to. Like he was trying to deny something his body clearly needed.

Gaz thought back to a mission in the desert. They’d been on the move for days with minimal supplies, and by the time they’d reached an extraction point, everyone was running on fumes. The second they got back to base, the team devoured their rations with the ravenous hunger of men who’d been pushed to their limits.

But Ghost had waited. He sat there, watching the others eat, hands still, his face hidden beneath the mask. When he finally did start eating, it was slow—almost too slow, as if each bite had to be earned.

That was when Gaz started to wonder: Had Ghost been starved before?

He knew Ghost’s past was filled with trauma—stories whispered about what Simon Riley had survived. Torture, abuse, betrayal.

Gaz wasn’t naïve enough to ask, but something about the way Ghost treated food as a burden made it clear: hunger wasn’t a stranger to him. It was something he’d lived through, something that had left its mark.

One night, after another long mission, Gaz made a quiet observation. “You know, Ghost…you don’t have to earn your meals here.”

Ghost didn’t look up from his plate. He didn’t answer. But the silence felt different this time. He didn’t shrug off the comment, didn’t deflect it with his usual indifference. He just kept eating, slowly, methodically, as if Gaz’s words had struck something deeper than he’d ever admit.

---

Soap was the first to offer something off his own plate, casually sliding over a piece of steak one night when they were at base. It wasn’t much—a tiny, almost insignificant gesture—but the way Ghost looked at it made Soap pause. There was a flicker of hesitation, something between disbelief and discomfort.

“Not a fan of this part,” Soap explained, gesturing at his plate. “You can have it if you want. Need more protein anyway, right?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked from Soap to the offered food, and for a brief moment, he seemed to weigh his options. Finally, without a word, he accepted it, his gloved hand moving silently as he took the piece of steak.

Soap didn’t make a big deal out of it. He didn’t want to. But when Ghost finished his meal that night, Soap felt like something had shifted—something small, but important.

The next day, Gaz left his tomatoes untouched. “Never liked these,” he said casually, pushing them toward Ghost. Ghost’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before he reached out and claimed the offering, silently nodding his thanks. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step toward something deeper—toward a shared understanding.

---

Price understood that Ghost had a complicated relationship with food. He saw the way the man held back, eating in calculated bites, as if every morsel had to be earned. Price didn’t want to push, but he also knew that sometimes, Ghost needed to be reminded that here, in this squad, things were different.

So, one evening after a particularly rough mission, Price suggested something different. “Let’s cook something proper tonight. We earned it.”

They had fresh supplies from a nearby base, and the team set up a makeshift grill near the campfire. It was a rare chance for something better than rations, and while the others jumped in, joking about who was the worst cook, Ghost stayed on the edge of the group, watching.

Price caught his eye. “C’mon, Simon. You’ve done more than enough to earn a real meal.”

Ghost hesitated, but something in Price’s tone—firm but not demanding—got through. He stepped closer, taking a spot near the grill. Price handed him a spatula without a word. It wasn’t about forcing him to cook; it was about making him a part of the process, showing him that this was something they could do together. Something they all earned.

When they finally sat down to eat, Ghost ate with them. He didn’t rush, but there was a difference—a quiet acceptance that for tonight, at least, he didn’t have to justify each bite.

---

After a few weeks of watching Ghost pick at his food or trade bites with the team, Soap came up with an idea. During one meal, he nudged Ghost with his elbow, keeping his tone light. “We should make a deal, yeah? You eat the stuff I don’t like, and I’ll eat the stuff you leave behind. Fair trade.”

Ghost’s brow furrowed behind the mask, clearly uncertain. Soap chuckled. “C’mon, it’ll be like the old days. You used to swap food in school, right?”

Ghost didn’t answer, but after a long pause, he nodded slightly. From then on, it became a kind of unspoken agreement. When Soap pushed something across the table—be it a slice of overripe fruit or some overly spiced vegetables—Ghost would accept it. And in return, Soap would take the smallest things Ghost left behind, almost imperceptibly lightening Ghost’s burden.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to show Ghost that here, among his team, he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

---

Over time, the team began to notice a shift in Ghost’s behaviour. It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first. But once they started paying attention, it was clear: Ghost wasn’t avoiding food like he used to.

Price noticed that Ghost no longer waited until everyone was done before eating. He’d start his meal with the others, still quiet, still measured, but not as distant. Soap began to see him engaging a little more during mealtimes, even if it was just a word or two. Gaz observed that Ghost didn’t push his food around as much—he ate with purpose, not as if it were a necessary evil.

There were still days when Ghost seemed to withdraw, when the past resurfaced and eating became a task to endure. But there were more days now when Ghost joined them fully—silent but present, eating like the rest of the team.

One evening, when they were all sitting around the fire after a successful mission, Soap spoke up.

“You know, Ghost,” he said carefully, “you’ve been doing better with the grub lately.”

Ghost looked up, his mask casting shadows over his face. “What do you mean?”

Soap shrugged, keeping it casual. “You don’t seem to hate it as much anymore. Thought you might be warming up to the idea of eating with us.”

For a moment, there was only the crackle of the fire between them. Then Ghost, in his quiet way, responded. “Maybe I’m just learning there’s more to it than just staying alive.”

Price exchanged a look with Gaz. They understood. It wasn’t just about food—it was about control, survival, and trust. Ghost had spent years deprived of all three, and only now, after years with the team, was he learning to reclaim those things in small ways.

---

As the years passed, the team saw Ghost’s relationship with food continue to change. He still ate with discipline, still viewed food as fuel first and foremost. But there were moments now—rare, but growing more frequent—when Ghost seemed to take something else from it. Maybe it was the comfort of routine, the warmth of sharing a meal with his team, or the small joy of a hot meal after a cold mission.

Price noticed it first—Ghost reaching for seconds after a particularly gruelling op, something he never would’ve done in the early days. Soap spotted him lingering at the table after breakfast, nursing a cup of coffee instead of rushing off. And Gaz saw the subtle relaxation in Ghost’s posture when they ate together, as if he finally trusted that the food would always be there, and that he didn’t have to fight for every bite.

One evening, after a mission that left them all exhausted and bruised, the team gathered around a campfire to eat. The food was simple—rations, barely more than sustenance—but for the first time, Ghost didn’t sit apart. He sat with them, mask raised just enough to eat, his presence a quiet acceptance of something he had denied himself for so long.

“You alright there, Ghost?” Soap asked, breaking the silence as they all dug in.

Ghost didn’t look up, but there was something softer in his voice when he replied. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And in that moment, the team knew—they’d helped Ghost find something he never knew he needed. Not just food, but the warmth of a shared meal, the comfort of trust, and the peace of knowing that, here with them, he was safe.

---

As Ghost grew more comfortable, something subtle began to change in the way he approached meals. It wasn’t immediate, but there were moments now—small but significant—where Ghost seemed to relax, to take a breath and be present with the team.

One night, after a long mission, Soap handed him a plate and added a wink. “Figured you earned an extra helping tonight, mate.”

Ghost didn’t push it away. He didn’t say anything, but he sat down with the others, mask lifted just enough to eat. He still ate slowly, methodically, but there was a shift. When Soap handed him a piece of bread, Ghost accepted it without hesitation. When Price offered to share some of his coffee, Ghost took it, a silent nod of thanks exchanged.

The team noticed, but they didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to.

---

As Ghost began to accept more from his team, he also found small ways to show the others he understood. He’d never admit it out loud, but when someone left a piece of bread uneaten or picked at their food, Ghost would quietly take it without comment, ensuring nothing went to waste. Ghost knew better than anyone how crucial that was.

One night, when Price left a few scraps on his plate, Ghost picked them up without a word and finished them. Price raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Still hungry?” Gaz asked with a teasing grin.

Ghost didn’t respond, but Price gave a small smile. He knew what Ghost was doing—it was his way of contributing, of making sure they all understood. And even if Ghost would never admit it, Price appreciated it. It was Ghost’s way of reciprocating, meeting them in the middle. Even though he would never admit to it, they knew, and that was enough.

[solxamber]

Solicitous — Geto Suguru x reader

Geto Suguru always thought that staying by your side had been enough. But when he thinks that you might choose to go to his best friend over him, he can't help the bitter feelings that arise, till he's met with an unexpected truth: your heart had always been his.

The rain patters lightly against the window, a soft rhythm that slightly soothes his pounding head. His head aches, his body weak and feverish, but it’s not just the flu that’s weighing him down. It’s the thought of you—choosing to take care of Satoru, like he’s sure you will. After all, Satoru is strong, funny, and annoyingly good-looking. Why wouldn’t you choose him?

Suguru sighs, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders as he glances toward the door. He tries not to let the bitterness creep in, but it does, swirling in the pit of his stomach. You’ve always seemed close with Satoru, laughing at his ridiculous antics, smiling when he teases you.

Suguru thinks maybe he’s been reading too much into the times you’ve stayed by his side, fussing over him with that warm, caring gaze. Of course, you'd choose Satoru.

Just as his thoughts spiral deeper into insecurity, a soft knock echoes through the room. His heart stutters—he’s not ready for this. He isn’t ready to see you walk through that door with all your affection meant for someone else.

“Suguru?” your voice calls softly as you step inside, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup. His eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly composes himself, mustering a weak smile.

“You’re here?” he asks, voice raspy and disbelieving. He thought you’d be with Satoru.

You set the tray down on the bedside table, sitting beside him and running your fingers through the hair that had fallen into his face. “Of course I’m here. I came to take care of you.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, unsure what to say. The knot in his chest tightens. “But… Satoru…”

“Satoru will be fine without me there” you say, waving off the concern as you spoon a bit of soup and hold it up to his lips. “I’m here for you, Suguru.”

He hesitates for a moment, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign that you’re lying, that you’d rather be anywhere else. But all he sees is genuine concern, affection even, and it while it makes his heart ache, a small hope also blooms with it.

He lets you feed him, savoring the warmth of the soup, though it does little to calm the storm brewing inside him. As you fuss over him, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth, tucking the blanket around his body, he feels the familiar crack in his resolve. He can’t keep pretending everything is okay.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he says quietly, eyes averting from yours. “You should’ve just gone to Satoru. I know you…" his voice cracks "like him."

You freeze, slowly retracting your hand from his forehead, looking at him in shock. “What?”

Suguru clenches his fists beneath the blanket, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “I see the way you look at him. He’s better than me, stronger. Of course, you’d choose him over me.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, and before you can respond, he continues, his voice trembling, filled with emotion he’s tried so hard to bury. “It hurts. Watching you with him, thinking you’d rather be with him than with me. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, he's my best friend but I can’t help it. I just—” He pauses, his breath hitching as a tear slips down his cheeks, the first real crack in the mask he’s been wearing for so long. “I can’t lose you to him.”

“Suguru…” you whisper, your heart breaking at the sight of him, so vulnerable, so open in his pain.

You cup his cheek, turning his face toward you so that he’s forced to meet your eyes. He blinks, the tears making his vision blurry, but he can still see the softness in your gaze, the tenderness that’s meant for him.

“I don’t like Satoru,” you say firmly, your voice steady. “I’ve never liked him like that. It’s always been you, Suguru. You’re the one I care about. You’re the one I love.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if your words don’t quite register. But then the weight of them sinks in, and his breath catches, more tears spilling over as he breaks down completely.

“You… you love me?” he chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it too loudly might shatter the moment.

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice gentle and dripping with affection as you wipe away his tears, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sob escapes him, and he pulls you into his arms, clutching you tightly against him as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His body shakes with the force of his emotions, and for the first time in a long time, Suguru lets himself cry without holding back, without pretending he’s okay.

You don’t let go. You hold him through it, your fingers gently threading through his hair, your lips pressing soft kisses to his temple, his cheek, his jaw, until his sobs begin to quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, maybe a little dense, but not stupid” you murmur, brushing his hair away from his face. “You’ve been hurting, and you didn’t want anyone to see it.”

He sniffs, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes still red and puffy from crying. “You still love me, even after all that?”

You smile softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Of course I do, Suguru. I always will.”

Relief floods his system, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to smile—a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the warmth of your breath mingling with his, the closeness of your bodies, and the quiet understanding that your eyes have always been on him.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours.

And then you’re kissing him, slow and gentle, a promise of everything that’s to come, and in that moment, Suguru knows without a doubt that he doesn’t need to pretend anymore. He has you, and that’s enough.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(( god i miss him sm

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — WOLFWOOD x FEM READER

You thought you'd be the one taking care of the stray you picked up off the streets, not the other way around.

wc — 3.6k

tags — fluff, dog boy/werewolf/shapeshifter au I guess, whatever you want to call it, “you become responsible forever for what you have tamed” but it goes both ways, animal abuse mention (non graphic and not from reader), shoujo manga vibes, title from runaway by Aurora

There’s a mangy old stray on your block. You’ve seen the kids chase him off with sticks too many times not to want to do something about it, no matter how your mother used to scold you for your bleeding heart. 

“It’ll get you hurt someday,” echoes now in your ears as the cashier rings up your dog food, both wet and dry. You’re not sure which he’d - it seems like a he - would prefer.

$12.97 is your total. Not a bad price to pay for a life. 

Only a gentle kind of revolt, more teasing than genuinely angry, remains in your mind as the first drops of rain land on your face. It was a light mist, barely enough to dampen the sweet smelling air. The wet haze pulled blurry rainbows across the clear summer sky, enough to put a hop in your step as you hurried back to your apartment. 

There are no children today, and the neighborhood is quiet. A half dug hole by the adjacent apartment’s peonies tells you that your target is either nearby or at least recently in town. You unpack your bag, setting out a trap in the form of a can of wet food. 

Something skulks in the periphery of your vision. Trying not to startle him, you peek at the shadow out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t know dogs grew to be this big. 

When you really look at him, your stray seems more wolf than dog. He’d be nearly as large as as a human if he stood up on his back paws. Hiding beneath the trees where he thinks you can’t see him, he’s tense and untrusting. 

It’s strange for you to think of yourself as capable of making anyone nervous, much less someone as big as he is. You take a step back.

He edges forward, then flees into the shadows again. He’s hesitant. His paws skitter across the grass, beating a fast and unsteady tempo that reveals how nervous he is. It’s obvious that he won’t come out to eat as long as you’re here. That’s fine.

Trust can be earned. 

From your apartment’s windows, you watch him gulp down the food. He’s so clearly famished that he doesn’t even pause to breathe between bites, leaving you almost afraid that he’ll choke. When he’s finished, he lies down by his bowl, his eyes glittering.

He’s not asleep - he’s too wary a creature for that, but it’s relieving to see him relaxed and sated. He dozes like that for a minute or two before he lifts himself back up on weary paws to trot back into the woods. 

You’ve tried to make it a routine to feed him after work, stopping by the pet store to pick up different flavors you think he’d like to try. Neon stickers pop out at you from various tags on the shelves, promising to boost muscle growth or improve bone strength.

In the end, you get them all. When all you do is work, you don’t worry about blowing your money on things like this. You have nothing else to spend it on - might as well spoil him. It’s nice to be able to take care of someone else.

It might be all in your head, but you think he’s starting to warm up to you. He still waits until you’re gone to eat, but it’s easier to keep tabs on him now. You don’t think it’s an accident.

Sneaking a glance out of the corner of your eye, you can spot the telltale signs that he was waiting. Sometimes you even find him waiting for your car to pull in. 

Today, you find him at the end of your driveway, his tail thumping against the pavement. He’s in a good mood, it seems. When you park, he even gives a short howl.

He still retreats when you climb out of the driver’s side, only inching forward when you rustle your plastic bag of groceries at him. You crack the lid and set it down slightly in front of you to wait it out. 

You’ve been trying to get him used to your presence so you can take him to the vet. It’s a slow process - some days he’s more amenable to your presence than others. 

It takes a minute or two for him to consider if it’s worth it, if you’ll hurt him. Eventually, he slinks forward, his body low to the ground. 

You smile at him encouragingly as you wait, crouched down to be on the same level as him. He’s a big dog, probably almost the same height as you sitting down. He pauses in front of the food and sniffs cautiously. Then, he passes it. 

Your heart drops. Maybe he didn’t like it. Had you picked wrong? He’s eaten everything you gave him before - you didn’t think he was picky. 

He comes right up to you, his hot breath gusting over your hand. Suddenly you realize that this is a predator. He might be feral or have rabies. After everything, you realize you don’t really know him.

Animals aren’t like humans. You’ve assigned a wild beast your own moral complications and assumptions. Perhaps it’s hungry enough to want to eat you. 

He’s close enough that you can feel the warm weight of his body against your shins. Something fuzzy bumps into your hand insistently until you lift it. You realize that he’s asking to be pet and with trembling fingers, you do. 

Your fingers stroke over his head and ears, growing surer with the way he’s pushing back against you. It tickles just a little, enough to make you giggle until he shoves his snout right into your palm. His nose is cold and wet. 

“Go on,” you encourage, trying to nudge him towards the bowl. No matter how nice his fur feels, there’s something heartbreaking about watching him choose love over food. 

“You need to eat,” you scold. He sneezes in a way that makes him shake all over. If he wasn’t a dog, you’d think he was smiling at you. He only takes a mouthful when you reach out to resume petting him. He seems to like it when you scratch right behind his ears. 

You almost feel like you’ve formed a bond until he stops right at the boundary of your home and refuses to walk any further. You had thought you were getting along so well, too. 

“Come on,” you coax. “Here, boy. There’s nothing to be scared of.” 

He skitters back anyways, circling your property with a low, mournful howl before he trots back towards the perimeter. 

Progress is progress, you try to remind yourself, however disappointed you are. 

Sometimes, it feels like you’re not making any at all. There are days where you can’t even watch him eat, not knowing if he’s alright until the next time you find an empty bowl. Your fears are only alleviated by the moments where he lets you pet him or waits for you, a reminder that you are earning his trust. 

It may be a slow process, but he is becoming more comfortable with you, little by little.

Now it worries you when you can’t find him sitting in his usual spot, wary but excited. He doesn’t come even when you peel back the lid of the can noisily, the metal crumpling easily in your hand. You can’t help your anxieties from multiplying, though logically you know that he’s probably just off doing whatever dogs do in their free time.

You’re already halfway up the walkway to your house when you turn back. You can’t go inside without knowing he’s safe. A quick lap around the neighborhood reveals nothing. You’re checking behind bushes and cars when you hear the first faint whimper. 

Frantically, you push the leaves aside until you find him huddling in the center of a rose bush. He’s curled up on himself, as small as he could possibly be. His tail is tucked under his nose. 

Your hands are pricked with thousands of little needles as you keep digging for him. You can’t imagine how much worse it would be for him. This could only have been his last resort. Something worse had chased him here. 

He wags his tail when he sees you, barely able to lift his head. Seeing him struggle, you can’t help yourself. You push the branches aside to help him drag himself out, his body battered. Those kids again. 

“Come on, baby,” you coo, stroking his matted fur as you pick him up in your arms. He’s not as heavy as he should be, starved as he is. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you.” 

It was settled before you could decide it for yourself. He’s your responsibility now. There was never a choice in it. 

Dr. Rem’s assistant comes out to fetch you less than five minutes into the check up. “I think you should stay,” he says, his tone just cool enough to sound a touch annoyed. 

Your overgrown puppy won’t submit to her ministrations unless you’re in the room with him, stroking his ears and promising that everything will be alright. He must’ve been a pet at some point, to know what needles are and have such a reaction to them. To know that despite the initial pinch, it’s okay as long as you’re being pet. 

When it’s finally over, both of you are exhausted, but Dr. Rem is as professional as ever as she walks you through the care routine for his treatments. “Honestly,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how some people can be so cruel.” 

You don’t either, but it doesn’t matter. He’s yours now, and you’ll never let anything touch him again. 

“Does he have a name?” Dr. Rem’s incredibly blonde assistant asks as he’s filling out your release forms. 

“I’ve just been calling him dog,” you admit bashfully. 

He doesn’t need to speak. His expression says it all. Unbelievable.

You take a look at the creature you’ve decided to bring home. He does look more like a wolf than a dog. You’ve always thought so. “Wolfwood?”

“What a weird - ahem, interesting - name for a dog,” Nai, from his name tag, says. 

By your feet, Wolfwood wags his tail in agreement. 

“Wolfie?”

His tail wags harder. He pauses. It wags again. He turns around and nips at it, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he might like the nickname.

When you try to carry him from the car into your home, he clambers stiffly to his feet like an old man. You have to hide your laugh behind a couch. For some reason, he seems more human than animal. You’ve caught him noticing things no normal dog would, and you’re sure his pride would be injured. 

The sound his nails clicking across the floor is strangely comforting, like ASMR. You’ve heard that dogs are naturally helpful to lower cortisol and reduce stress, but you’ve never thought you’d experience those effects. You lean down to stroke a hand over his furry coat, carefully avoiding the spots where he’s still hurt. 

When it’s bedtime, you’ve resolved to give him the comfort of your bed and take the couch, but he’s not having any of that. His jaw snaps around the hem of your shirt, teeth digging into the fabric to prevent you from leaving. Immediately, you stop moving, afraid to hurt him worse. 

“Calm down,” you say gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He barks in discontent. He really does seem human, as if he understood you. 

Out of options, you resign yourself to curling up on the bed next to him, hoping you won’t accidentally roll over him in your sleep. Maybe you should invest in one of those bed dividers they use for small children. It’s the last thought in your head before you drift off. 

A deep, reverberating sound wakes you up. You roll over with the pillow shoved on top of your head to try to get some peace, but it continues. Fed up, you finally rise out of your comfortable sheets, ready to give whichever neighbor that’s decided sunrise was a great time to mow their lawn a piece of your mind. 

Instead, you’re greeted with a strange man in your bed. Your scream is cut short by his hand clapping over your mouth as soon as you start. 

“Oops.” He says. “My bad.” 

Your eyes grow wider in terror. 

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, like that’s going to help when there’s a random man in your bed. “None of that. I’m a friend.” 

You scream louder. In a spark of inspiration, you try to bite him. He winces. That’s when you start noticing the ears and the tail. The faint resemblances to someone else you know. The bandages wrapped around his torso. 

“That’s right,” he says, noticing you look. “Recognize me now? Would this help?” 

The tail flicks back and forth in a familiar motion. Someone else used to do that to show his happiness. 

“Wolfie?”

“That’s a stupid name,” he laughs. 

“I think I’m going to pass out.” 

“Don’t do that,” he says, but it’s too late. You’re going back to bed. 

You’re not sure why you’re not more surprised that the stray you picked up is actually a human, but after your initial reaction, you find yourself remarkably open to the idea. Part of you feels privately that you’ve always expected Wolfie to be special. He seemed so smart. 

You’re in too deep to kick him out now, human or not, but that also might be an excuse. Having him around is nice, you have to admit. Whether he’s a human or a dog, having someone to come home to has changed your life.

You hadn’t realized how lonely you were until you came home to Wolfwood preparing dinner, the apron you bought for him wrapped around his waist. It reads ‘kiss the chef’ in bright pink letters. 

Although you’re the one who took him in, you feel like you’re the one being taken care of. 

It’s not just you. Even your coworkers have commented on the way you rush home now instead of staying up until the very last minute. You can’t keep up with your bad habits anymore. There’s someone waiting for you now.

When you open the door, the delicious fragrance of something savory drifts to your nose, spiced and warm. “I’m home,” you call. 

There’s no need. He’s already waiting at the door. It’s a comical sight. He tries to make it casual, leaning against the wall with an oh-so-nonchalant air, but he’s there every single time you walk through the entrance without fail. 

It’s too easy to get used to his presence.  

Having someone to come home to makes you quicker to turn down overtime requests and more hesitant to take on additional duties. You thought this would hurt your work report, and you were willing to take the hit. Some things are worth it. 

Instead, your productivity spikes. Even your manager notices, doling out rare and surprised praise on one of your last projects. The change in you is palpable.

“Did you get a boyfriend?” Meryl asks. “You seem happier lately.” 

Everyone notices the way you seem brighter, more easygoing. You’ve started bringing homemade lunch boxes instead of eating out. Your good mood has translated into a better work product than any amount of indifferent hours you put in before. 

It’s still a surprise when you receive your promotion at the end of the quarter. Something you’ve been working towards for months drops right in your lap. Lately, it feels like everything has been falling into place. 

Good things arrive on the heels of even better things, all because you’ve felt more personally fulfilled than you have in years. You though taking Wolfwood in would slow you down, but it’s done the opposite.

You have more time now that you have someone looking after you. It also motivates you to have someone of your own to care for.

When you present the news to him, you can’t stop yourself from crying out of happiness, though it’s embarrassing. Wolfwood licks at the small tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You laugh, trying to push his face away with no real effort behind it. 

“Kisses,” he replies. “For doing a good job.” 

Not like that, you try to remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“Why is your heart beating faster?” 

Stupid dog senses. 

There are other ways in which his dog nature comes in handy. He’s more sensitive to nature than you are. You’ve come to rely on him instead of the forecast as he sends you off every morning, his nose scenting the ozone and petrichor in the air. 

“Don’t forget to take an umbrella!” 

“I’m already running late, bye!” 

You should’ve listened. Now you’re forced to trudge through the damp muck, soaked to the bone. Your sneeze is so strong it rattles through your bones, making you feel achey and weak as you sniffle through the last leg of your journey. By the time you finally reach the front door, you feel as pathetic as you must look, like a half drowned rat. 

Wolfwood is waiting for you again, but you barely register it. You nearly stumble over a cabinet leg as you try to make your way to the couch through the dizziness, collapsing on it. Wolfwood pads over to you, making a low grumbling noise of concern.

“Shh,” you murmur as you feel his cold nose shove into your palm. “Not right now, Wolfie. I’m tired.” 

He puts his head across your thigh and whines discontentedly. Your breathing is coming a little hard. Still, you try to reassure him. “I’m okay. Just had a long day.” 

There’s human hands against your forehead now, nice and cool. You turn your head so you can nuzzle into it, the gentle pressure relieving your headache just a little. 

Someone’s holding you now, arms around your back and sides. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta sit up. Eat something.” 

Almost like a dog yourself, you whine and pout, turning your face away. The idea of food is turning your stomach right now. Everything seems too rich for your weak stomach. 

“This is why I told you to take that umbrella this morning.” Wolfwood’s voice is stern, but his hands are kind as he props you up. 

“One sip, alright? For me.” 

Weakly, you part your lips so he can slide the spoon between your teeth. It’s a mild broth, barely any flavor to it, but it’s the only thing you can bear at the moment. The hot soup feels incredible, warming you from the inside out. 

“There we go,” he says. “Good job, sweetheart.”

With his help, you finish the whole bowl. He wraps the blanket tighter around you before he takes the dirty dishes. Even when he leaves your side, you can hear him bustling around the room, so you’re not worried. This is nice. Even feverish, you feel pleasant. 

When Wolfwood returns to the couch, his dog ears are peeking out of his hair. He kneels by you to check your temperature. Spotting your chance, you scratch at the base of his ears, listening for the satisfying thump of his tail hitting his thigh when you get the spot he really likes.

“What a good boy,” you coo, forgetting yourself. 

He laughs at you, watching you fluster. “Did you forget I’m not a real dog?” 

Your face is hot, but not from the fever. 

A few months into the strange miracle of having someone else to care for, and someone to care for you, Wolfwood asks you for an unusual favor. 

“Can you get me a collar?” 

Your gaze sweeps over him, considering. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that now that I know you’re a man.” 

“Honest, aren’t you?” When he smiles, you can see his fangs. It’s strangely charming, the wink of white bone in the corner of his mouth. 

“Why do you even want one?”

“I dunno, instinct? It just feels nice.” He braces his hand against his throat, testing the way it’d feel. “Yeah. It feels like something’s missing.” 

“That’s strange. I thought you’d prefer to be free.” 

He stretches out, lifting his arms. You can see the muscle lining his back beneath his thin, nearly transparent white tee. “Freedom is relative. Everyone is tied to something, you know. No use in pretending otherwise.” 

You tap his nose playfully. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he lunges forward and snaps his teeth over your finger. 

“You can be wise for a puppy,” you say teasingly. 

“Like I keep telling you, I’m a man,” he says, roughly pulling you towards him so he can punish you by messing with your hair. You shriek in protest, trying to push him off, but the request sticks inside your head.

On the weekend, you take a few leashes from the right section and sneak into a quieter corridor in the pet store. Even though you’ve agreed to this for Wolfwood’s sake, it’s still embarrassing. You have your pride, and it’d be hard to explain to anyone what your actual situation is. 

Perhaps understanding your plight, Wolfwood doesn’t mess with you as he usually does. Or maybe he’s just pliant at the thought of getting what he wants as you clip the leather around his neck. 

It looks good on him, you have to admit. He looks almost like a punk rock star, transforming it from dog collar to statement necklace. 

You flick the tag on his neck, watching the silver circle twinkle with your name and number. It’s meant for him to wear when he chooses to go on walks himself as a dog. “Now it’ll be okay even if you do get lost,” you tell him, satisfied.

“I’d be fine either way,” he says. “I know the way home.” 

For some reason, that makes you feel as owned as he looks, even though you’re not the one with a collar around your neck.

[kengan-daddies]

I was thinking Ohma x Reader. I was thinking where Ohma and Reader got into an argument where Ohma got himself hurt from fighting and she find out. They are arguing at their shared apartment and they’re in a relationship. Then they gave each other silent treatment in the next day after an argument. Since then they can’t ignore each and they made love. 18**

Don't Leave Me Ohma Tokita

Anime : Kengan Ahura

Character : Ohma Tokita

Warning : Angst, , Arguing, Love Making sex

Don't Leave Me Ohma Tokita

Don't Leave Me Ohma Tokita

You and Ohma haven't been seeing eye to eye lately, and you aren't sure why either, you and Ohma having little argument s wasn't uncommon, but the tension would usually fade after a while... But this time, it seemed as though this cloud wasn't going to break until you both had a scary argument that possibility tear you apart.

You've been trying to avoid him and the issue at hand for the longest time, trying to let the tension fall away naturally... But it just seemed to make it worst. So, which a trembling heart and cold feet, you asked him one day at breakfast. "Ohma... Is everything okay?" You asked him. He gave you the usual, "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" As he'd gobble his sausage and bacon.

Your grip on your fork would tighten and your throat would tighten. "Are you sure? You seem more irritated then normal." You asked, he gave a frustrated sigh as he'd look off to the side, thinking of wether he wanted to answer you or not... "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me... In fact I should be asking you the same." He said as he looked over at you. You blinked, "Me? What kind of tension have I've been giving off?" You asked.

You didn't think that, maybe the one with the tension was you. "You've been avoiding me lately, never coming to bed at night, never wanting to stay in the same room for long... So if anything I should be asking you 'what's wrong'."... WHAT!? THE AUDACITY OF THIS FUCKER!! THIS ASSHAT OF AN IDIOT!!!! " I've been avoiding you because of your fucked up attitude!!" You said angrily. He stared at you with an uncaring stare but there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "My fucked up attitude? What about your attitude!?" He countered, and you crossed your arms. "What attitude? I've been nothing but understanding and considerate of your emotions." You said.

"You've been a real bitch to me lately, not wanting to answer a simple question, not wanting to even talk, every time I talk to you, you give me a damn attitude, huffing and puffing, like what the fuck!?" He said, his voice rising in anger. "I haven't been 'huffing and puffing!' Like I said, I've been trying to give you space so that you can relax from whatever the hell this is!!" You yelled. He rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that bullshit!! You've been just as tense as I've been, you'd shove my hand away, complain when I even try to give you a hug, and you've been more bitchy lately too!!" He yelled back.

Your glare hardened as you stood up from the table. "Well since I've been such a 'BITCH!!!' DON'T COME BOTHERING ME ANYMORE THEN!!" You shouted as you walked around the table towards the hall. "FINE THEN!! COME FIND ME WHEN YOU AREN'T SUCH A FUCKING CRYBABY!!" He shouted back as he made his way to the front door, snatching it open as he slammed it behind him. You stood there in the hall, looked back at the door as you glared with tears in your eyes. "Fucking asshole." You muttered to yourself as you walked into your room.

That was two weeks ago, and the silence in your apartment was heavy, Ohma came home a day later, but he refused to speak to you so you did the same back. You'd both silently walk around each other, not spearing the other a glance as you'd both move about, at first you wouldn't even cook for him, only making enough for yourself, but he started leaving the apartment, staying gone for hours till a day, and that made you paranoid. What if he was out cheating? Eating at another woman's home because you aren't feeding him anymore, not washing his clothes anymore... You were mad at him but you didn't want to lose him.

So you went back to cooking for him and washing his clothes, but no talking and no touching, and that seemed to keep him around more. He had his own strike against you too, he refused to go shopping with you, letting you go out on your own, let you carry everything in on your own... But that didn't last for too long when he noticed the young man who lived a few doors down from you both helping you with your groceries and shopping bags, he'd watch as you laughed and talk with him, even going as far as to let him walk into your home as he'd place your bags down on the counter or the floor... He had to put a stop to that.

So he went back to shopping with you, helping you carry your bags, chasing any potential competition away, he didn't want to lose you in such a way, but still no talking and touching. It went from two weeks to three weeks, to a month. The silence was beginning to weigh on you, you missed him. You missed hearing his voice, his laugh, you missed his weird hugs and nose bumps, you missed having him in your bed, your stubborn pride be damned, you wanted your man back.

So you made up your mind... It was deep into the night, the weather was beginning to change, the nights were becoming colder and longer, and the heater was on, but it wasn't enough, so you got up from your warm bed, sleep clouding your mind as you walked out of your room rounding the corner as you saw him sleeping on the couch. You looked at him with sleepy eyes, your fingers gently combing through his hair, but you didn't get far as his hand shot up and he grabbed your wrist in a firm grip. His eyes opened and he gave a groggy groan as he looked up, seeing your half-asleep form standing over him.

He didn't say anything as he pulled you down towards him by your wrist, you climbed up on the couch, your legs straddling his waist as you sat down on top of him, his hands gently going to hold your waist. You placed your hands down gently on his chest as you landed down. "I miss you Ohma, I'm sorry." You whispered, his hand came up as he pushed your hair away from your face. "I miss you too." He said You smiled as you leaned down, your lips brushing together softly before you pressed down deepening the kiss, your tongues danced together in each other's mouths, your mixed salvia coating both of yours and his lips.

Your hand trailed up from his chest, up and over his shoulders as they tangled into his hair. He groaned as your nails gently raked across his scalp and you gave a light chuckle. His hands trailed down your body until they landed on your ass, his hands gripped the soft flesh, massaging it a few times roughly until he lipped his hands up your large shirt pushing it up, you both sat up, and you raised your arms so that he could take your shirt off, throwing it off somewhere as he wrapped his arms back around you as he kissed up your sternum and jaw, latching on your neck as he sucked.

You moaned softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your hips softly rocking against his, making his thigh flex under you as he bucked up weakly. "I love you, Ohma... I'm sorry." You whisper, and he shifts, flipping you over as he places you on your back his eyes were so expressive, what his mouth didn't say, his eyes did, and what his eyes couldn't express he put it into action. He was usually relaxed or rowdy during sex, but this was different. It was more gentle, slow, and full of love and emotion.

He held you tight to him as he trusted into you, your sweet whimpers and cries being gently silenced with a kiss, his eyes never left your face, taking in your natural beauty, he couldn't imagine a life without you, he's grown accustomed to your love, he'd destroy this whole apartment complex if something were to happen to you. It was a deep love, He loved Yamashita Kazou, but this was different. This was deeper, it was hard to explain. You made his heart soar with happiness every time you smiled, hell just looking at him made his heart beat like crazy for you. His heart broke every time he saw you cry or even angry with him, he felt more like a man with you just in his arms.

He loved you... He loves you, you were his one and only, and nothing would ever change that. The feeling of your pussy fluttering made his breath hitch, your arms tightening around his neck as your back arched. "Ah--- Ohma....Oh Ohma." You whined as your orgasm came crashing down on you, his arms wrapped tighter around your waist as he buried his face into your neck. "I love you, Y/n" He muttered into your skin, as his hips picked up speed losing his pattern as he felt his end rushing. "I love you so much... Please...Please don't leave me... I'm sorry." He spoke, his cock throbbed and his eyes wept as he met his end.

He groaned loudly into your shoulder as he filled your womb, the warm liquid rushing into you made you give a soft moan as you combed your hands through his hair as you held him close to you... You both lay there in each other's arms, soft kisses being exchanged as the semen that lay in your womb is prayed over by you both, hoping that it'll bloom into a child that was made by love.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 59 ~ The Priest

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 5.9k

In this chapter ~ When the group continues to move with no real destination in mind, they're suddenly thrown off course as shouts for help could be heard in the distance. It turns out it was some kind of pastor, offering his church as sanctuary for those who saved him from the clutches of evil. Though it was no secret that a few members didn't trust his intentions.

AN ~ It's officially been a year since I started writing this story and uploading it to wattpad. And though I started posting chapters here a few months later, I still just wanted to say thank you for all the love and support! It truly means the world to me, and I can't wait for you guys to read what else I have planned for the many chapters to come:))

We all woke up fairly early the next morning, merely minutes after the sun began to rise to keep on moving. Rick made it very clear that he wanted us as far away from Terminus as possible, though he didn't really have a clear destination in mind. It gave me that same familiar feeling of when we lost the farm, not knowing where to turn to next or where to go when there weren't many options to begin with.

Subconsciously I think we all wanted to find a safe place we could build up again like the prison, although that was a long shot. But the truth was, I didn't really care if we had a plan or not. I hadn't felt this positive in a very long time, and to me it didn't matter where we were going, as long as we all stayed together.

We all formed some kind of line as we walked towards who knows where, leaving me next to Carl as we talked casually while he held Judith in his arms. Our conversation was hushed, unheard from the people walking a little ways ahead of us as we smiled and laughed quietly together for the first time in a while. I ravished in the feeling, loving to see the kid actually relax as he felt safe and hopeful after everything we went through.

Though a gentle touch on my shoulder seemed to stop me in my tracks, turning to see Daryl looking down at me with a small smile, "Was bout to go hunt. Ya wanna come with me?" he asked.

I nodded as I glanced back to Carl, "Let your dad know. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"I will." he said. 

With that, I followed Daryl deeper into the woods so we could try and find more food to bring back. I stayed pretty quiet as I looked for any tracks in the dirt, but of course it was pretty slim to none, our luck not being on our sides with finding something to eat. Let alone enough to feed the whole group. All I could manage to see were old walker footprints, settling with looking up in the trees instead to try and maybe spot a few squirrels. 

My eyes scanned around the branches as I tried to pinpoint some nests built up high in the trees, but it was hard to focus on that when all I could feel was Daryl's eyes burning into me. I tried to ignore it for the few silent minutes we spent out there, but my annoyance only grew as I was the only one attempting to find food when it was his idea in the first place.

A sigh left my lips as I finally turned around to face him, watching as he immediately looked down towards the ground acting as if he hadn't been caught.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.

His lowered eyes slowly traveled up to reach my own, "Like what?" he asked, as if he didn't already know what I was referring to.

I huffed as my arms crossed over my chest, "Like...I'm going to break or something." I clarified.

He shrugged, "Just worried about ya."

"I'm fine." I assured in a much calmer tone, not wanting to start something, but also not wanting to be seen as someone weak. 

His eyes held nothing but sadness and concern when he looked towards me, silently telling me he didn't believe a word coming out of my mouth. To be completely honest, I don't even know why I lie to him anymore, because one way or another he's going to know.

"Okay," I confessed, "I'm not fine...but I will be." His face didn't falter, as if waiting for me to continue, "I just need some time." I finished.

This caused him to nod with a small, reluctant smile on his face, now moving to walk right beside me, searching the trees as well. I didn't want to wander too far from the others, but so far, we weren't having much luck finding any animals to bring back. Everything seemed empty, like even the wildlife knew to stay far away from the place we too were trying desperately to get away from.

The silence that fell between us was nice, comfortable, though I missed hearing his voice. But as if he read my mind, he opened his mouth to fill the quiet.

"Talk to me about somethin." he said.

I felt my face scrunch, "What do you mean?"

"Anythin," he said simply, "Just wanna hear yer voice. Tell me somethin I might not know bout cha."

I faltered for a moment as we seemed to have the same damn mind, but laughed quietly to myself at his request, "Well you're my husband, you know pretty much everything...but let me think."

I began to rack my brain for something that he had yet to find out about me but nothing instantly came to mind. On the farm, we spent most of the time talking nonstop, getting to know every single detail about the other before we even got together. So, there was truly not much that he didn't already know. In fact, he probably knew me better than anyone else.

 "Why don't you go first?" I suggested when I couldn't think of anything good, "Gives me more time to come up with something."

"Alright." he huffed, growing silent as he picked through his mind as well. I then looked back towards him a moment later when he let out a quiet gasp, watching as the corners of his mouth tilted up as he nodded, "I got one."

"Go ahead." I said softly.

He grinned at me, "So, before all this...whenever I went huntin, I would always bring back at least one rock I found in the woods. I ended up havin a lil collection by the end."

My heart swelled, "That's adorable. You're so cute."

"Pfft." he scoffed, "I ain't cute." he said defensively, although I could see a little blush appear on his cheeks at the compliment.

"Well, I think you're pretty cute...you're just going to have to deal with it." I said sweetly, reaching out to gently boop his nose.

He rolled his eyes, "Woman, I swear-"

But I stopped him before he could say anything else by kissing him softly. I pulled his frame closer to mine and parted my lips a little so he could easily slip in his tongue. He quietly groaned in response, causing me to smile against his mouth as my hands trailed down to give his big arms a gentle squeeze.

I pulled away after a few seconds to see his eyes open slowly, having a hazy look to them which made me smile brightly as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Alright...I'll be cute for ya."

I smirked, "You're whipped." I teased.

"Aw, well can ya blame me?" he asked before leaning in to peck my lips once, twice, before finally breaking apart, "Yer turn." 

"Oh yeah," I said, "Well, the only thing I could think of that's kind of interesting is that I know another language."

His eyes widened a little, "Really?"

I nodded my head, "Mhm, I took French throughout high school, and I can still speak it somewhat. I'm a little rusty though."

"Say somethin." he said a bit excitedly.

I thought for a moment before smiling softly, "Je t'aime beaucoup chéri."

His eyes lit up at the phrase, but I thought it was even sweeter that he didn't even know what I said, he just loved the sound of it. "What'd ya say?" he asked.

"I said, I love you very much honey."

He then asked me to repeat it, surprising me a little when he tried to say it himself, nailing it almost right away. I didn't think I could fall anymore in love with his voice, but when he spoke French, I think I could've melted into a puddle if he didn't have his arm placed around my waist.

"You sound sexy." I complimented.

He raised his eyebrows, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I confirmed.

He smiled and kissed me once more before we were off again to try and actually find something to bring back. Once we ventured further out, by the grace of God we finally found a handful of squirrels, Daryl pulling out a thick string from his bag so we were able to carry them back. To my surprise, we actually got more than what I was expecting, but it still didn't seem like much considering the number of mouths we now had to feed.

After being away from the others for far too long, we decided to head back towards their path to catch up with them, seeing as though we had something that would last us a little while. Though I couldn't help but notice that Daryl was a little more on edge as we walked back, trying his best to hide his anxious feeling, but I caught on almost immediately. His eyes scanned around the area rapidly, almost as if he was keeping an eye out expectantly for something lurking by. But I didn't linger on it for very long when I noticed the group beginning to come into view.

They didn't see us however, and once they heard a stick snap from underneath my foot, they all raised their weapons in our direction. My eyebrows raised a little as Daryl and I coincidentally raised our hands at the same time in a joking matter.

"We surrender." Daryl muttered sarcastically.

I laughed and nudged his shoulder lightly, seeing the rest of them visibly relax as we kept moving forward. Though Rick seemed to make a beeline over to us instead of leading the group like he once was, not saying a word as he looked at Daryl expectantly.

"Nothin." was all he said, and I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"Nothing?" I asked, watching as the both of them tried desperately not to let me in on the private discussion, "Guys, come on. Secrets don't make friends." I reminded with raised brows as I stared at them expectantly.

Daryl let out a sigh before he finally caved, "Last night I had this feelin that someone coulda been watchin us. But when we went out, I didn't see no tracks. Just me bein paranoid."

I let out a breath, "Okay, good. But please just tell me the next time you think there's a psychopath following us." I joked.

"Yes ma'am." he nodded, and I rolled my eyes at the famous phrase he loved to use to get a reaction out of me. And clearly it worked just as well this time as it did the last, seeing him chuckle to himself.

"So, whatever you heard last night-" Rick stepped in.

"It's more what I felt. But if someone's followin us, there woulda been somethin." Daryl confirmed.

Rick nodded, relief filling him momentarily before he looked back towards me, "You doing okay?"

I knew he meant his question with the best intentions, but the annoyance I was feeling only started to bubble over. To everyone else, I had apparently grown fragile after what happened to me when I was out there on my own, but that was far from the truth. It was just a minor bump in the road, one that I had taken care of myself, it was as simple as that. But I could see almost everyone was walking on eggshells around me now that they had an idea of what went down without knowing the whole story, and it was starting to get to me.

"Jesus, I'm fine." I snapped slightly, turning on my heel to walk away without another word.

When my back was turned and I had created some distance, I heard them begin to talk quietly with each other as I only got further away, but I just kept going. Blowing off some steam as I finally caught up with the others, falling in line near the back as I took out my bow to hold in my grasp in case of any danger that passed by.

But as it turns out, I had unknowingly planted myself right next to the new girl, Tara, without even realizing it at first. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she scanned the side of my face, clearly trying to come up with something to say.

"We didn't uh...we didn't get to officially meet." she said after a few seconds, "I'm Tara." she introduced, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I glanced over at her before panning down towards her extended hand, reaching down to grasp it lightly, "Rose."

She smiled with a nod as our hands eventually parted, "Listen, uh...Glenn told me about how you almost...tore my head off last night."

I chuckled sarcastically to myself, "Oh, I'm sure he did." I muttered, not surprised in the slightest, "Him and his big mouth have been nothing but a pain in my ass since the beginning."

She laughed a little before her smile faded once more, "My point is...I'm not trying to cause any trouble. It's just-"

"I know," I interrupted as my face softened, "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Glenn gave me the gist and...I trust him. So, I guess that means I trust you too. You're good."

She let out a relieved sigh, "Good...cause I'm not gonna lie, you kinda scare me a little."

"Good." I said simply, sending her a wink to show that I was joking.

She smiled slightly and held out her hand again, this time in a fist. Her smile seemed to be contagious as my lip quirked up as well, knocking her knuckles lightly with my own before we continued walking in comfortable silence. 

That is until we all suddenly heard a man began to scream and cry for help, his voice echoing through the forest though he didn't seem too far away from the path we were taking. Everyone stopped in their tracks as our ears perked up, our weapons clutched tightly in our hands as we tried to listen and pinpoint where the sound was coming from. But the last thing I wanted or needed right now was to cross paths with someone that we didn't know, and didn't trust.

"Dad, come on!" Carl tried.

I shook my head as I made a beeline towards the front of the group, "Hell no, we keep moving. No more strangers."

"Rose please, he needs help." Carl begged, his eyes darting from Rick to me to see who would make the first move, the decision the others were anticipating for.

I could easily see how anxious the kid grew, wanting to help someone who was clearly about to lose his life, but I didn't know if we should risk it. It could be some kind of trap, the unknown scaring me much more than anything else seemed to as I had an inner debate with myself.

But I eventually closed my eyes as I made up my mind, groaning a little in irritation before running in the direction of all the noise, hearing everyone else following my lead to have my back. As we weaved through the many trees and different obstacles, it wasn't long before we came across the man who was making all the noise amongst the quiet.

He was stuck up on a giant rock as a few walkers surrounded him, some grabbing at his feet while the others reached from different angles. He was now crying as he desperately tried to fight back, wearing to what looked to be a priest collar and all black clothing.

A gunshot was fired from just behind me, watching as one of the walkers went down instantly as the bullet shot through its skull. I grabbed one of my knives and quickly stabbed the nearest corpse in the head, Rick coming up beside me and doing the same thing from my left as we got the ones that clung onto the man's limbs.

The rest dropped like flies as we took care of them with ease, our attention now on the man still somewhat frozen on top of the giant rock in shock. He continued to cry breathlessly as his hands clung to the top for dear life, he didn't look like a threat. But looks could be deceiving, and I was far from ready to trust him just yet.

"Come on down." Rick said to the man.

He scanned the ground below him uneasily to make sure it was safe, before slowly sliding down the side and landing firmly on his feet. He looked to be in pain as his wide eyes scanned all of us, Rick asking if he was alright as he tried to break him out of his little trance.

The man held up a finger to tell us to wait before leaning over and suddenly throwing up everything that remained in his stomach. I cringed at the sound and turned my head away slightly, trying not to laugh at everyone's faces as they watched the man in disgust.

"Sorry," he whispered as he wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve, standing back up to his full height to face us again, "Yes, thank you. I'm Gabriel."

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick asked cautiously.

Gabriel chuckled and looked around nervously, "Do I look like I would have any weapons?" he asked.

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like." Abraham said.

I blinked a few times as I glanced back to the man in confusion, trying not to laugh at the same time with the random, out of pocket comment he just made. I thought back to what Glenn said just last night about him, and low and behold, he was right.

"I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need." Gabriel assured.

Daryl scoffed from beside me, "Sure didn't look like it."

Gabriel only smiled, "I called for help. Help came."

My eyes scanned the man for a moment as I thought about what he meant. I was the one who took off running first, but I sure as hell knew it wasn't God that compelled me to rush towards the complete stranger. It was just...well I actually didn't know what it was. Pity maybe? Or the desperate look in Carl's eyes? Hormones? Who fucking knows.

"Do you- do you have any food?" he suddenly asked, "Whatever I had left just hit the ground."

Carl almost instantly reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling something out to offer it to him with an extended hand, "We have some pecans." 

The man smiled, muttering a small "Thank you." as he took a few from his hand and placed them in his mouth. He began to glance around at all of us again in clear nervousness, his eyes lingering on Judith as she began to coo in Tyreese's arms.

"That's a beautiful child." he complimented.

My eyes narrowed dangerously as I glared daggers at the man, instinctively stepping in front of Tyreese to block the baby from his view. I watched his eyes widen as he instantly looked somewhere other than my intense stare, settling with looking to my left back towards Rick.

"Do you have a camp?" he asked.

"No," Rick said immediately, "Do you?"

"I have a church." he said simply. Shocker.

Rick thought for a second before speaking again, "Hold your hands above your head." When Gabriel did as he asked, Rick moved over towards him, starting to pat him down as he questioned him. "How many walkers have you killed?"

I stepped in quickly, "Rick no. Not this guy." I said sternly.

He looked back at me, "He has a church."

"Woohoo," I cheered sarcastically, "I don't give a shit. I'm not doing this again...I can't."

The last part of my sentence came out quieter than I had intended it too, but I wasn't going to lie; I was scared. After everything that happened to us recently, I thought that the others might agree that going with this stranger wasn't a good idea. He could have more people waiting for us back at his sanctuary and attack us all. I didn't want to risk that. Risk anyone else's lives.

Rick turned to face me fully upon hearing my plea, placing a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze as he wanted me to really hear him, "Trust me." he whispered.

I stared at him for a few seconds before looking back to the priest, watching as he smiled nervously at me. I turned my attention back to Rick and reluctantly nodded, knowing that I only agreed because I did truly trust him. Not because of the pity I felt for the man.

Rick nodded back to me in return, before turning to face Gabriel who raised his arms up again, "How many walkers?" he repeated.

"Not any actually." he confessed.

"How many people have you killed?"

His eyes widened, his mouth slightly parting in shock as he was blown away he was even accused of such a thing, "None."

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence." he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, the Lord also wanted that one guy to kill his own son as a sacrifice instead of a goat." I stated, pointing out that God wasn't necessarily a splendid guy, before walking up closer so we were face to face. "What have you done? We've all done something." I questioned in a dangerously low tone.

He looked nervous once again as swallowed harshly, beginning to stutter over his words, "I'm a sinner. I sin almost every day...but those sins, I confess them to God. Not strangers." 

I couldn't help but scoff as I ran my tongue over my teeth, "And I only save my family from danger. Not strangers. Today's just full of surprises, huh?"

He truly didn't know how to answer me, beginning to stammer over his words as he realized I wasn't backing down. That is until Michonne spoke up from behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder for me to back off, mentioning the church he brought up originally. The man then didn't hesitate as he began to lead us in the opposite direction of where we were headed, the group following close behind as he ducked through the many branches in his way.

I still didn't know if I fully trusted this guy, even before we were being leaded blindly through the forest. He was definitely hiding something, but then again maybe his sin was something like he forgot to pray before bed one night or some shit. However, I had grown to read people pretty well, and watching him get a little too nervous at the simple question I asked him, caused a red flag to pop up in my mind.

"Hey earlier, were you watching us?" Rick suddenly asked Gabriel.

"I keep to myself. Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead don't you think?" he asked.

Daryl shook his head, "Nah, people are worse."

"Well, I wasn't watching you. I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today." he informed.

Everyone nodded in silent agreement, moving along right behind him, "Or maybe I'm lying." Gabriel suddenly spoke again, "Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels."

We all seemed to stop walking at the same time as he attempted to joke around, but it only caused all of us to become a little more on edge. Everyone clutched their weapons on instict a little bit tighter as he slowly turned back around to face us the moment he heard we had stopped.

His mouth parted as he noticed we didn't understand the joking manner, watching out of the corner of my eye as Daryl moved his squirrels behind his back protectively so they would be out of view.

Gabriel looked apologetic, "Members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to me desired."

"Yeah, hilarious." I deadpanned.

He just nodded his head and didn't say another word, knowing that at this point he was just digging himself deeper into a hole. We walked only a little further before a simple white church started to come into view, surrounded by a quiet beautiful greenery. It kind of reminded me of the church we thought Sophia was hiding in way back when this all started, everything about it seemed almost exactly the same. 

Gabriel walked up the few steps towards the giant double doors, pulling out a key to unlock the handle, but Rick stopped him. "Hold up," he said and held his hand out for the keys, "Can we take a look around first? We just want to hold onto our squirrels."

I snorted as I watched Gabriel visibly hesitate to hand the keys over, but eventually complied so we could scope the place out before him. Rick was the first to walk in with his gun raised and we all followed cautiously to see if there was any type of threat waiting for us inside. It was dark and completely silent in the space, the only light coming from a quite beautiful stained-glass window in the very front of the structure.

I stood tall in the back, lingering by the entrance as the other scoped out every inch of the place, focusing more on the doors toward the right and left at the end of the room. But it didn't take long before I saw Rick coming back out, giving me a nod that it was clear before I turned to exit the place along with the rest of them. He was telling the truth.

Gabriel looked a little relieved as we walked back outside, nodding towards the place, "I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside, well it would've been surprising." he said.

"Thanks for this." Carl said gratefully.

I looked down towards him with softened eyes, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and giving his arm a soft squeeze. This kid had been through hell and back but was still so thankful for everything he had. I swear most of the time he was more mature than I was.

"We found a short bus out back, it don't run but I bet we could fix that in a day or two. Father here says he don't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport." Abraham announced as he made his way back from around the building.

Rick only nodded as he spoke again, "You know what's at stake here, right?" the burly man asked.

"Yeah, I do." Rick said.

"We can take a breath-" Michonne began to say.

But Abraham was quick to interrupt her, "We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down."

"We need supplies no matter what we do next." I stepped in, "And if I remember right, you said it would take a day or two to fix that bus. That gives the rest of us a break we need, and we have shelter right here." I gestured to the church.

He clicked his tongue, wanting to protest but I spoke again before he got a chance, "I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass, okay? But you can't look me in the eye and tell me with a straight face that we haven't been through hell the past few hours. Just a day or two...and then we can go on your little field trip."

He huffed, "Ain't no field trip, missy. It's a mission that's going to save everyone's asses. It's gonna save the world." he stated confidently.

I nodded my head slowly, "Yeah, let me know how that works out in the end." I muttered before glancing back at Eugene. I gave him a subtle look that he would be able to read, telling him silently that I knew his little secret. Everything clicked together when he shifted slightly under my gaze; he was lying.

After seeing enough to only confirm my suspicions, I moved to head back into the church, following behind everyone else except the small trio who lingered outside as they now didn't know what to do.

I slowly walked right up to the very front as everyone else seemed to fan out from around me, though I couldn't pull my eyes away from the giant window. It was mesmerizing, the beautiful colors flowing out of the glass only illuminated everything else so beautifully. They were so bright and vibrant, something I hadn't seen in a long time, it practically hypnotized me.

Until there was a sudden presence at my side, gently placing a hand on the small of my back to turn me around to face them. My eyes then met with Daryl's as he smiled at me softly, though I frowned a little to myself at the black eye he still had.

"It'll be nice to sleep somewhere with a roof for a little while." I commented.

He nodded, "Yeah, tell me bout it."

I tilted my head, "But you love being outside."

"M' just happy to sleep somewhere other than the ground," he said, nodding to the many pews behind us, "Ain't gettin any younger you know."

"Yeah, that's fair..." I trailed off as I ran my hands gently up and down his arms.

I then slowly realized the position we were in, facing each other with our arms tangled together in the front of an altar, only causing me to wonder what it would be like to get married in a place like this. We obviously never had an official wedding, but being in an actual church made me think more about it, especially with the beautiful window illuminating the space. 

He caught my mind wandering almost instantly, placing his finger under my chin to get me to look back up at him, "Whacha thinkin bout?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Nothing. Just...did you ever think about getting married somewhere like this?"

He hummed as he thought for a moment, "With you? Or just in general?"

"In general."

"Pfft." he scoffed, "No."

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Cause I never thought I would ever get married." he said simply before a slow smile spread across his face, "But then I met a real pretty girl, and somehow convinced her to like me enough to put a ring on her finger." he said as he ran his thumb over the diamond on my left hand.

I smiled a bit sheepishly, "Well, first of all, you got her to love you. Second, any woman would be insanely lucky to have you, leaving me the luckiest girl on the planet." I winked, "And third...I don't have a third, but you get it."

He chuckled, "Alright, yeah, I get it. Why are ya thinkin bout gettin married anyway?"

"I don't know...I guess I always wanted to get married in a pretty church like this one. But it's the end of the world so it doesn't really matter anymore. Just a thought." I said, brushing the topic off completely.

He hummed a response before he grew quiet for a long moment, chewing his bottom lip as he thought hard about something. I watched in amusement as he almost forgot I was standing right in front of him, witnessing him deep in his own little world.

"You still with me?" I finally spoke.

His eyes snapped back to me, "Uh yeah...sorry, darlin. Just thinkin."

"Care to share?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Nah, nothin important. M' gonna...talk to Rick figure out a gameplan bout those supplies."

I nodded, "Okay, love."

He glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching us before kissing my cheek, turning to make his way towards Rick who was talking quietly to Gabriel further down towards the aisle. I watched for a moment as the three men were having a serious conversation, but then Daryl seemed to say something that made Gabriel look directly at me, and I turned my head away abruptly. 

That was awkward. 

With the silence consuming me once again, I decided to walk around the place a little more until I spotted Maggie and Glenn in the back, having a hushed discussion side by side. "Hey lovebirds." I greeted them.

They both looked up at me and smiled, "Hey," they said in unison.

"So," I started, taking a seat next to Maggie as they looked towards me expectantly, "What do you think about this whole saving the world bullshit?" I asked.

She looked confused, "What do you mean?"

Glenn chimed in from her left, "Ro doesn't think Eugene actually knows the cure."

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know, he just doesn't seem very confident, and I can just feel his guilt from here. He just looks like he doesn't know shit, and now it's catching up to him."

They both looked at me with raised eyebrows, "Wow." Maggie muttered.

"It's just an observation, I obviously don't know for sure...but I guess we're going find out one way or another." I said as I gestured to the three now entering the building.

They both nodded in silent agreement as our eyes followed them for a moment, "Should we bet on it?" Glenn suggested, a mischievous smirk coming onto his face.

I blinked, "We don't have anything."

"Oh yeah." he muttered in slight defeat, placing his head in his hands as Maggie chuckled softly, rubbing his back in reassurance.

But before any of us could say anything else, Carol walked up hesitantly, "Sorry, I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

I shook my head, "Nope, just talking about how much of a big fat liar Eugene might be, what's up?"

She looked confused for a second before shaking her head a little at my humor, excitement suddenly filling her features, "I was just wondering if you would like to look for some water with me." she said as she looked directly at me.

"Oh sure, let me just tell Daryl where I'm going-"

"He already knows, Rick's sending out a few different groups to look for some things. Water, food, ammo, all that." she listed.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, "Oh...okay. Then let's go."

She smiled and gestured for me to get up with her hand. I went to grab my bow and arrows from where I left them by my backpack before heading to follow her out the front doors. Though I glanced over my shoulder one last time towards the group before actually leaving, a few people watching my movements as they waved goodbye with the same excitement that Carol seemed to carry.

Confusion crossed my face again, waving back to the rest of them awkwardly before I shut the giant door behind me with a slam. My frame turned back around slowly as I tired to figure out what the hell I missed, jogging a little to catch up with the woman who was already on the move.

"So, did you guys find some special brownies or something? What's up?" I asked in slight amusement.

She looked over with furrowed brows, "What do you mean?"

"Everyone just waved at me before I left like they were suddenly excited to be in God's house or something."

Her eyes flickered with a little bit of an oh shit emotion, but she quickly smiled to cover it up, "I wouldn't know anything about that. Probably just happy we're all together again." she said with a shrug.

I narrowed my eyes at her, "Yeah...probably."

Bullshit. This woman was hiding something. Maybe she was luring me out into the woods to kill me, but then again, I'm always paranoid about that sort of thing. I watched way too many crime shows before the world ended. 

After I eliminated the possibility of her trying to kill me, I dropped the topic completely. Whatever it was, I was either going to find out eventually or there truly wasn't anything suspicious to begin with. For now, we were just two lovely ladies getting some water for the rest of our group. Or at least that's what I assumed.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist - @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit @silentlysuffering98

[yril-writes]

— LOOK AT ME!

synopsis ; attention is what they want and they shall get, but sometimes it's just too much to handle that two man power can be so draining.

scenario ; you were on a date but you are busy with your phone not even hearing a word they are saying.

"How about you stop paying attention to that phone and look at me, it's like I've been talking to a brick wall."

"I'll break that phone of yours if you keep on looking at it. So, will you look at us now?"

type ; headcanon

include/s ; ryoumen sukuna, itadori yuuji, getou suguru, gojo satoru

pairing/s ; character/s x gn! reader

genre ; fluff, comedy, a mountain full of corn

SUKUNA x READER x YUUJI

Having dates is a thing whenever weekends come after a long hectic day from school work. But for you due to amount of stress you wanted to just be lost in your phone's feed.

Busy scrolling on your news feed, you couldn't hear a word from Sukuna or Yuuji. At first they didn't want to bother you but it didn't take long enough for Sukuna to immediately burst out.

"When are you going to stop looking at your phone?" he says in an annoyed tone and having his eyebrow twitch uncontrollably. He looked pissed and impatient, Yuuji on the other hand seems to be stressed out holding down Sukuna and his temper. "Well, I'll just keep on being busy here, you guys just chill or something." with a blunt tone, you push aside the fact that Sukuna just snapped. With that being blurted out from your mouth Sukuna snatches your phone and tucked it in his inner pocket. "This is a date! A proper one! You ain't getting your phone back!" just like a kid, Sukuna sulks and at the same time is irritated. Looking beside him, you persuade Yuuji to defend you only to see him trying to make a face you can't interpret, "Sukuna is right, this is a date. No phones for you." turns out the face he was making was his 'grumpy' face. Sighing, you finally surrendered and decided to go with the flow with this so-called date. "Fine, you better give my phone back!" you scowl at Sukuna who looks satisfied just now. "Nah, Yuuji and I have other plans with the phone if you don't cooperate. Keep that in mind."

SUGURU X READER X SATORU

This day was an unexpected one, since you didn't plan on going out but with these two together your day is sure to be a one heck of a day.

Even though they asked you out on a date, you just seemed to be glued on your phone non stop scrolling until they've had enough.

"Stop with your phone, the notification sound is ticking me off..." scrunching his eyebrows as he glances to your direction busy scrolling on your phone, Getou now sees that you are not even listening to a word he says. "(Y/N), you don't want you know who to be mad right? Stop looking at your phone for a second!" the whispers uttered by Gojo felt like he was screaming for help, lifting your head up, you see that one of them is angry and the other one is sweating buckets trying to calm the other one. "You guys bothered me enough, can I just do my thing and you guys carry on?" after uttering those words you turned back to your phone and ignored them both. Without even any warnings Gojo snatches your phone and passes it towards Getou. "You want your beloved phone back? Then pay attention." you can see it on his face how irritated he is and Gojo on the other hand is mouthing the words 'sorry' "Suguru, can I just have my phone back." you bluntly said it. "Oh, you'll get it. At the end of the date. Be a proper date and cooperate why don't you?" you let out a deep sigh and crossed your arms, giving a glare towards them both. "I hate you two. I just wanted to have my phone back that is why I am agreeing to this date you both forced me into." "FORCED? oh, we would never! Right, Satoru?" Getou then nudges Gojo, "YEAH! what are you talking about, forcing you on a date?!" Gojo then laughs it off. "I really hate both of you." pouting as you avoid their gazes you see in the window reflection Getou trying to dip your phone in the glass of water. "WAIT! OKAY FINE! LET'S HAVE A PROPER DATE! JUST DON'T DO THAT TO MY PHONE!" "Good! We are making progress!"

a/n ; still in the hospital! I really hope that I'm out of here, the smell of hospital really reels for me...

taglist ; @sammushy , @gcj-doesart, @ryuuudesuwa, @jasugoi

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 20 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Paring: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly), physical abuse (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 1,018

A/N: How are we liking the story so far? Stated as always, this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

The drive was long and quiet, the only sound being the rumble of the Impala's engine and the occasional rustling of a map in Julia's hands. Dean had been more silent than usual since Crowley filled them in about the First Blade. Apparently, some unmanned submarine had dredged it up from the bottom of the Marianas Trench, and it had passed through several hands since. Now, it was a matter of tracking down those hands. Sam had stayed back with Crowley to do the legwork, leaving Dean and Julia on a small case in a quiet town.

The case itself wasn't anything out of the ordinary—vampires. At least, that's what it seemed like from the reports. Cattle mutilations, missing persons, all pointing to a nest hiding somewhere on the outskirts of town.

But it wasn't the case that was bothering Dean. No, it was the Mark of Cain. He could feel it now, more than ever. There was a subtle pull under his skin, a low hum of power, like a dark whisper in the back of his mind. It wasn't strong yet, but it was there, lurking, waiting. And it was starting to affect him.

Julia, glancing at Dean every few minutes, finally broke the silence. "You alright, Dean? You've been kind of... distant."

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh." Julia gave him a look, unconvinced. "Fine. Sure. Because you've been real chatty today."

Dean sighed, not really in the mood to explain the whole Mark situation, especially not when he didn't fully understand it himself. "It's just... this whole thing with the Mark. It's messing with my head. And I don't like it."

Julia's eyes softened, and she reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. "We'll figure it out, Dean. I promise."

He glanced at her briefly, then back to the road. Her touch was warm, grounding him, but the thought of how much power the Mark held was enough to keep him on edge. He didn't want her involved in this part of his mess, especially not with how much the Mark was starting to tug at his darker impulses.

"Yeah, well," Dean muttered, "you should be more worried about these vamps than me right now."

Julia didn't say anything for a moment, but Dean could feel her concern lingering in the air between them. She didn't push, though, and for that, he was grateful.

The Impala finally rolled to a stop outside an old, dilapidated barn, overgrown with vines and shadowed by the dense forest behind it. The sun was setting, casting a dull orange glow across the landscape, but there was something eerie about the place. A perfect hideout for a vampire nest.

Dean killed the engine and stepped out, glancing around as Julia followed suit. He popped the trunk, grabbing a machete and tossing one to her.

"Ready?" he asked, his tone more clipped than usual.

Julia nodded, though she gave him another concerned glance. "Always."

They moved in sync, creeping toward the barn. The air was thick with tension, the kind that came before a fight. Dean's heart was pounding—not from fear, but from something deeper, darker. The Mark was buzzing under his skin, and as much as he tried to ignore it, he could feel the need for violence growing.

They reached the barn door, and Dean nodded to Julia before pushing it open. Inside, the air was musty, and the faint smell of blood lingered. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he spotted them—five vampires scattered around the room, two of them feeding on a terrified-looking girl chained to the wall.

Julia moved quickly, drawing the attention of one of the vamps, her machete slicing through the air. Dean followed, hacking down another vamp in a clean swing, but as the blade connected, he felt something... exhilarating. The Mark flared, sending a surge of energy through him, stronger than before.

Dean gritted his teeth as he continued the fight, each strike more aggressive than the last. He moved with a fury that was hard to contain, slicing through vampires like it was second nature. The more he fought, the more he wanted to keep going, to tear them apart with his bare hands.

Julia, meanwhile, was holding her own, but she glanced over at Dean, eyes widening at the way he was fighting. "Dean!" she shouted, ducking under a vampire's swing. "Dean, you good?"

Dean didn't respond, too lost in the rush of the fight. He decapitated another vamp with a swift, brutal strike, blood splattering across his face. The Mark pulsed again, and for a split second, he hesitated, feeling the bloodlust gnawing at him. It was almost intoxicating.

But Julia's voice cut through the haze. "Dean!"

He blinked, snapping back to reality just in time to see her struggling with the last vampire. She managed to pin it down, and with a grunt, she drove her machete into its neck, severing its head in one clean stroke. Breathing heavily, she stood up, wiping blood from her face.

Dean, still gripping his machete tightly, stared down at the carnage around him. His heart was still racing, but the fight was over. He wiped the blood off his face, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the Mark. Julia walked over, eyeing him cautiously.

"You sure you're alright?" she asked, helping the wounded girl stand, her voice quiet but steady.

Dean swallowed hard, his pulse still thrumming in his ears. "Yeah. Just... needed to get that out of my system."

Julia frowned but didn't press him. She seemed to sense that something wasn't right, but for now, she let it go. "Let's get this get this girl out of here, she's lost a lot of blood"

Dean nodded, but as they helped the girl back to the car, the weight of the Mark settled heavily on his shoulders. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this under control. And the worst part? A small part of him didn't want to.

[etoilehistoire]

Midnight Conversation

(follows from First Feeding)

He should leave well enough alone. He knows it.

Things are, after all, good. The party trusts him, more or less. They see him as one of their own – not enough, perhaps, to have his back in a pinch, not enough to truly feel safe, but he can rely on them in battle. They’ll fight at his side and heal him when he’s hurt, and really, how much more can anyone realistically ask for?

And then there’s Xia, pretty little Xia who never offers her blood but never denies him when he asks for it, and who always seems to know when he needs it. After the first time, he’d waited as long as he could despite her warning, not wanting to face that too-knowing stare again, worried that his self-control would fail a second time. Until she’d taken to watching him across the campfire, a smirk playing over her lips, taunting him until he broke down and asked.

It went well. As it did the third time, and the fourth. His embarrassing loss of control hadn’t repeated, and they’d fallen into a comfortable pattern.

There’s no use disturbing it.

And yet it worries at him, like an itch he knows he shouldn’t scratch. He mulls it over as they sit around the fire and laugh at the latest attempts at cooking, as they each take turns singing in the cool night air.

Xia sings last, the pretty paladin’s voice surprisingly sweet. He waits until the others go to bed; through luck or through some ability to read him that he wishes she lacked, she stays up, strumming the battered old lute idly as they watch the last of the flames die down.

It would be nice if she’d say something. “Out with it,” maybe, or “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind – talk to me.” But Xia can wield silence like a weapon. She’ll wait, and continue to wait, and if he chickens out and says nothing she'll wait even longer, and he’ll know that she knows that he chickened out.

Fine. He moves closer, sits next to her. Waits to gather his thoughts. Then, with no preamble: “How would you know?”

She glances over, still picking through random chords. “Hmm?”

“You said.” He stares into the fire. “That first night. You said you could kill me if it were necessary, but that you didn’t know if it was necessary. Yet.” He swallows, not looking at her. “How would you know it was necessary?”

He can feel her stare now. “You’re asking me what would make me kill you.”

“I think it’s a valid question.”

She takes a deep breath. He waits, still not looking at her, but listening. Oh, he’s listening.

“If you were a threat to the rest of us,” she says slowly, after a long pause. “A threat that couldn’t be resolved any other way. If we couldn’t restrain you, couldn’t reason with you, couldn’t help you. If you were too far gone and there was no bringing you back. Then, yes. I could kill you. And I would. As I would for anyone else here.”

She takes a deep breath. “I would make it fast,” she says softly, and even though he’s not looking directly at her he can tell she’s also staring into the fire now. “Fast and clean. I wouldn’t make you suffer. And I would bury you properly, after. I would mourn you.”

Bizarrely, this makes his throat tighten. It’s… unexpected. He’d always figured when he died, it would be in a dingy dungeon somewhere, or perhaps on the side of the road, his body left for particularly unpicky crows. To hear that anyone, even his would-be murderer, would mourn him when he’s gone… well. It’s unexpected, that’s all.

Equally unexpected is the hand that slips into his. “It’s a pretty big ‘if,’” she says softly, and squeezes his hand. “I don’t expect it to come up.”

If asked (and if he were inclined to be truthful), he would have said that the pretty little paladin barely tolerates him, that she sees him as, at best, a necessary inconvenience. He would have said that he sees her as a meal ticket – quite literally, in fact – and a strong body to stand between him and his enemies, nothing more. Yet as they sit, hand in hand, watching the last of the flames die down, she makes no move to take her hand back and neither does he. And if either of them are manipulating the other, he genuinely can’t tell.

[anonymousewrites]

Clan of Three (Book 1) Chapter Thirteen

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: The Bait

Summary: Greef Karga makes a good decision for once, but things still don't go to plan as Imperial remnants take over Nevarro.

            The Razorcrest touched down on the outskirts of Nevarro. Near them waited Greef Karga and a gaggle of Guild hunters. Karga approached as the hull door opened, watching for any sign of attack. This was an extremely tentative alliance until each party proved they were not out to harm the other (Mando was a man of his word, but Karga was still wary).

            The three blurrgs descended from the ship. Kuiil sat aboard one, Cara on another, and (Y/N) rode behind Mando. The new egg-shaped cradle for the Child floated beside Mando’s burrg.

            “Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando,” said Karga. “But things have gotten complicated since you were last here.” He glanced at the new faces. “It seems introductions are in order. It seems we’ve both provided a security detail. I recommend the Shock Trooper guards the ship. These lava fields are lousy with jawas.”

            “She’s coming with me,” said Mando evenly.

            “But the town is now run by ex-Empire,” said Karga. “If a Rebel Dropper is with us, they’ll all get their hackles up.”

            “She’s coming,” said Mando. It wasn’t up for discussion.

            “Fine,” said Karga shortly. He held his hands up. “Fine.” He pointed at Cara. “At least cover your tattoo. No need to flaunt it.” He smiled. “Now, where are the little ones.”

            (Y/N) leaned out from behind Mando, and the cradle floated forward and opened long enough for Karga to get a look at the Child.

            “So, these are who all the fuss is about,” said Karga musingly. “What cute kids. I can see why you don’t want them hurt.”

            The baby is cute, but (Y/N)? Mando considered the usual anger they displayed and the constant need to fight everyone they encountered. Not how I would describe them.

            “Well, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all,” said Karga. “The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk out for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light.”

            Mando nodded. That was all the acknowledgement he would give.

            The bounty hunters and the group on the blurrgs set out across the lava plains, walking in slow silence as the sun descended on the horizon. They only stopped when it was too dark to continue and an adequate campsite could be made. And even then they worked in silence, setting up a fire and cooking the food scraps they brought with them. Nobody trusted the others enough to speak.

            Karga glanced at where Kuiil was feeding bits of meat to the Child. “I guess the little bugger’s a carnivore.” He looked at (Y/N). “What about you?”

            “I don’t think my diet matters,” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes and looking Karga up and down. Until they had proof he wouldn’t betray them, they wouldn’t trust them.

            “They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for you two,” said Karga. “Who knows, maybe for some highfalutin menagerie.”

            No, they wanted to do experiments on us, thought (Y/N), shifting at the memory.

            “Let’s go over the plan again,” said Mando, changing the subject as he noticed (Y/N)’s discomfort.

            “We both enter the common house,” said Karga. “We show the Client the bait. We join him at the table. And you kill him.”

            “Tell me about his reinforcements,” said Mando.

            “They’re all ex-Empire,” said Karga. “As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they’ll all scatter.”

            “What if they don’t?” asked (Y/N).

            “They will,” said Karga assuredly. “If, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path to alternative employment, and they elect to react impulsively…Well, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened Shock Trooper, will cut down anyone who bucks.”

            “How many will there be?” asked Mando.

            “No more than four,” said Karga. “He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. Trust me.” He stood and began turning the spit. “Nothing can go wrong.”

            Something did go wrong at that moment. A large creature swooped down and snatched the piece of meat from Karga’s hands. The hunters, Mando, and Cara reacted instantly. They shot up at the creature, and (Y/N) pulled the Child closer to them and shut his cradle before shooting at the carnivorous creature. Unfortunately, in the darkness, it evaded their fire and swooped down to steal a blurrg. The poor blurrg was lifted into the air and stolen away. The hunters kept shooting, but a second creature emerged from the darkness again and stole another blurrg.

            Finally, Cara’s shot hit the creature, and it screeched, turning on the group. Mando fired at it, and it tackled him, trying to claw at him through his armor. (Y/N) ran forward, approaching it and the fire to see it more clearly. They aimed and fired, and the monster screeched again, letting go of Mando and turning on (Y/N). Mando took his chance and activated his flamethrower. The creature’s tail caught on fire, and it screeched, finally retreating at the knowledge that it couldn’t avoid further injury. Its partner followed, and they disappeared into the darkness.

            (Y/N) opened the Child’s cradle He cooed at them, perfectly safe and unharmed.

            “Are you two alright?” asked Mando, still covering them in case the creatures came back.

            “We’re fine.” They looked at Karga, who was groaning and holding his arm as it bled. “He’s not, though.”

            “He’s hurt badly,” said Kuiil, assessing the damage.

            “I’m fine. I’m fine,” argued Karga, but he was clearly grimacing against the pain.

            Mando and Cara approached with the little bottles of bacta they had, but it wouldn’t be enough to heal him as it looked like poison was spreading.

            The Child cooed and reached out to (Y/N). They looked down at him, and they felt like they understood him. (Y/N) lifted him out of the cradle and let him waddle towards the group around Karga. When he paused and looked back, (Y/N) understood he wanted them to follow.

            It was strange to be following a baby’s lead, but he was fifty. Perhaps he understood more about the world that it first seemed. (Y/N) definitely thought he understood their shared abilities more than they themself did.

            Mando was confused when (Y/N) and the Child passed him and crouched by Karga. The Child reached out, and (Y/N) copied his movements. A moment passed as the two focused. And then Karga’s skin began knitting itself back together. The wounds closed up, and the poison receded. The pain lifted. Karga was healed.

            The Child sat down tiredly, and (Y/N) drew their hand back, glancing down nervously. They were aware all eyes were on them, and the others’ gazes felt like flames on their skin.

            The rest of the night passed in a heavy silence.

l

            Karga and his hunters walked a few steps ahead of (Y/N)’s group as they headed to Nevarro under the morning sun. Karga spoke quietly with his men, and Cara, Mando, and (Y/N) couldn’t hear him.

            “You think they’re having second thoughts?” murmured Cara.

            “Could be,” said Mando. “I need your eyes.”

            “We’re watching,” said (Y/N).

            They arrived at the ridge of a small rocky hill. Below them in the near distance lay Nevarro. Karga stopped, and the people walking behind him caught up.

            “I guess this is it,” said Karga.

            Behind them, (Y/N) heard a slight movement, and they felt the two hunters behind them (How did they feel it? Don’t ask them, they didn’t understood) approaching. Karga whirled on them and shot them down instantly. Mando, (Y/N), and Cara drew their blasters, and Karga raised his hands.

            “There’s something you should know,” said Karga. He walked forward and holstered his blasters. Mando, (Y/N), and Cara kept their blasters aimed at him. Karga kicked the hunters’ bodies over. “The plan was to kill you and take the kids. But after what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it.” Seeing no change in their expressions, he raised his arms. “Go on. You can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn’t violate the Code. But if you do, those kids will never be safe.”

            Mando looked over at (Y/N) standing with their blaster raised, fiercely guarding the Child, who looked at him in confused apprehension.

            “We’ll take our chances,” snapped Cara.

            “The imperial Client is obsessed with obtaining these assets,” said Karga. He looked at Mando. “You tried to run, but where did it get you?”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They didn’t feel like Karga was lying, but they weren’t sure if it would be smart to still go along with this plan. They wanted the Client to stop hunting them, but knowing anyone could turn on them did make it riskier.

            “This is ridiculous,” said Cara.

            “Perhaps you should let him speak,” said Kuiil.

            “Listen, we all need the Client eliminated,” said Karga. “Let me take the children to him, and then you and Cara—”

            “No,” interrupted Mando sharply.

            “Let’s just kill him and get outta here,” said Cara.

            “What if the Child wasn’t actually…in the cradle?” asked (Y/N) suddenly. All heads turned to them, and Mando slowly lowered his blaster. (Y/N) took the opportunity and continued. “Kuiil can keep him out here. As long as Mando kills the Client before he manages to realize the kid isn’t here, then we’re good.”

            “You’d still be there,” said Mando.

            (Y/N) nodded. “To be bait, yeah. But if it came to a fight, face it, I have a better chance than the kid. It’s not ideal, but we need to get rid of the Client. His hunters will just keep catching up to us.”

            Mando finally holstered his weapon. “They’re right,” he said to the others. “The Client will keep sending imps.”

            “It’s a trap,” argued Cara.

            “Take me, too,” said Mando.

            “Take you?” asked Karga.

            “You can tell him you captured me. Get me close to him, and I’ll kill him,” said Mando.

            “That’s a good idea. Give me your blaster,” said Karga. Mando handed it over without argument and nodded at (Y/N) to do the same.

            “This is insane,” said Cara.

            “It’s the only way,” said Mando.

            “Well, I’m coming with you,” decided Cara.

            “No, no, no. That would make them suspicious,” countered Karga.

            “I don’t care. I’m coming,” reiterated Cara fiercely.

            “Tell them she caught me,” said Mando.

            “Fine. Then she can bring the cradle and the Ushti,” said Karga.

            “My name is (Y/N),” they said, crossing their arms.

            “Kuiil, ride back to the Razorcrest with the Child and seal yourself in,” instructed Mando. “When you’re inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors.”

            Kuiil nodded and handed Mando a small device. “Here’s a commlink. I will keep the Child safe.” He turned to Cara. “Don’t forget to cover your stripes.” He picked up the Child and headed to his remaining blurrg.

            “Let’s go,” said Mando. He pulled two pairs of handcuffs from his belt. He snapped the first pair onto (Y/N)’s wrists and let Karga put the other on him. It was time.

l

            (Y/N) walked beside Mando as Cara and Karga flanked them. Stormtroopers with speeders stood at the entrance of Nevarro while other stormtroopers patrolled the streets within. The troopers guarding the entrance stood from where they leaned against stones.

            “Chain code?” questioned one guard.

            “I have a gift for the boss,” said Karga casually.

            “Chain code?” repeated the guard coldly.

            Karga sighed and held up his chain code. The guard scanned it and spoke, “I’ll give you twenty credits for the helmet.”

            Karga glanced at Mando. “Haha! Not a chance. That thing’s going on my wall.”

            “On your wall?” murmured Mando questioningly.

            “Go with it,” whispered Karga. He was trying to keep up appearances.

            The stormtrooper handed back Karga’s chain code. “Go ahead.”

            Karga held Mando’s arm and pushed him into Nevarro. Cara and (Y/N) followed beside them. The patrols of troopers watched them as they walked through the streets.

            “I thought you said four,” muttered (Y/N). “This is not four.”

            “Four guarding the Client. Many more here in town,” clarified Karga unhelpfully. “Things got really heated once Mando smashed the safehouse.”

            “Slip him his blaster,” murmured Cara.

            “Not yet,” responded Karga.

            Mando looked down at (Y/N) as they continued on. The Child wasn’t there, but they were, and that meant they would be in the line of fire. Mando would have to be careful to ensure they survived.

            Finally, they arrived at the common house. The door slid open and they stepped inside. (Y/N) felt their throat close up as they saw the Client rise from his seat in a corner booth of the bar. It was silent as the group approached and the four stormtroopers watched them carefully.

            “Look at what I brought you,” said Karga jovially. “As promised.”

            “What exquisite craftmanship,” observed the Client, reached up to touch Mando’s beskar armor, well aware of where Mando had gotten the materials. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans.”

            He’s speaking as if he respects culture. He didn’t care when Mandalore was destroyed, and he doesn’t care that Ushti is pillaged, thought (Y/N) angrily.

            When Mando didn’t respond, the Client turned towards (Y/N). He smiled, and (Y/N) fought back a shiver by focusing on their unadulterated anger. “Ah, the Ushi returned. Dr. Pershing looks forward to working with you again.”

            (Y/N) glared at him and imagined stabbing him with their dagger.

            The Client turned to Karga. “Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?”

            “I would be obliged,” said Karga.

            The Client gestured to the barkeeper droid, and it beeped and began preparing drinks. “Please sit.” (Y/N), Mando, and Karga sat down as the Client continued and addressed Mando. “It is a shame your people have suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable.” More stormtroopers entered the bar. They were greatly outnumbered. “Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? Why did Ushti? Why does it continue to? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace.”

            Lies, lies, lies, come to Ushti and see what the Empire has attempted to do with what remains of my planet, thought (Y/N), curling their hands into fists.

            “Compare imperial rule to what is happening now,” continued the Client. “Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.” He grew businesslike. “I have seen the Ushti. I would like to see the baby.” He reached for the cradle, and Karga blocked him.

            He coughed awkwardly. “It is asleep,” said Karga.

            “We all will be quiet,” assured the Client. “Open the pram.”

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow in worry, but before the Client opened the cradle, a stormtrooper arrived and delivered a quiet message to the Client.

            He cleared his throat and stood. “Don’t think me to be rude. I must take this call.” He walked over to the bar where the stormtroopers were setting up a holocall.

            In the booth, Mando and (Y/N) slipped from their cuffs. They had been put on with the express purpose of letting them escape.

            “Give us our blasters,” murmured Mando.

            “You get one shot, Mando,” warned Karga quietly, passing the blasters over to (Y/N) and Mando. The Mandalorian was prepared to kill, and (Y/N) was ready to defend themself if the stormtroopers tried anything.

            “This is bad. You said four,” whispered Cara urgently.

            “Well, there are more. What can I tell you?” said Karga.

            At the bar, the Client connected to the holocall  A man in dark armor appeared in the hologram. “Yes, Moff?” asked the Client.

            “Have they brought the children?” said the Moff.

            (Y/N)’s blood ran cold. If this “Moff” was more in charge of the Client, that meant he was very important in the Empire, even the remnants of it. It meant he was dangerous. And it meant there was someone above the Client looking for (Y/N) and the Child.

            Will today not be the end, then? Is the Empire going to keep coming? thought (Y/N) worriedly.

            “Yes, they have. The Ushti sits behind me, and the other is sleeping,” said the Client.

            “You may want to check the Child again,” said the Moff.

            The Client froze and looked over his shoulder.

            Bzzt!

            The Client fell, shot through the chest by a blaster shot from outside the bar. More shots rained in, taking out some stormtroopers. Someone else was attacking from outside.

           As the blaster shots fired into the bar rapidly and the Client’ s body fell, Cara and Karga ducked down, and Mando covered (Y/N) as they scrambled to get down. The four watched as the droid and all the rest of the Client’s armed guard were killed by blaster fire. The hologram of Gideon just smirked in satisfaction before switching off the holocall.

            Finally, silence descended. The droid and the bodies of the stormtroopers lay on the ground of the bar. Shattered glass from the bar window lay around them, glinting slightly in the sunlight like wicked teeth.

            Mando nodded to Karga and Cara. The pair of them got up and moved to one side of the bar window while Mando covered (Y/N) and brought them to the other. They each peered out carefully.

            Several stormtroopers in completely black armor held large flamethrowers in their hands. Behind them arrived an imperial land transporter, and a squadron of stormtroopers in gleaming white armor poured out. Unlike the Client’s guards, these men were organized and clean, not dirty and rough.

            “Four stormtroopers?” snapped Cara. “This is bad.”

            “That is a whole squadron,” said (Y/N).

            Mando lifted the commlink. “Kuiil? Are you back on the ship yet? Are you there? Do you copy?”

            “Yes!” replied Kuiil.

            “Are you back to the ship yet?” asked Mando.

            “Not yet,” replied Kuiil.

            “Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down,” said Mando. He put the commlink away and looked down at (Y/N) beside him. He had to get them out of there. “I’ve got you, kid.”

            (Y/N) looked at him hopefully. They felt like he meant his words, but they still clutched their blaster tighter as they saw a tie-fighter land in the town square.

            The entry hatch opened, and the  Moff from the holocall exited. He strolled through the stormtrooper squadron, his black cape swirling behind him.

            “You have some items I want,” he announced to the group within the bar.

            “Who’s this guy?” asked Cara.

            “The guy the Client was talking to,” murmured (Y/N), narrowing their eyes.

            “You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not,” continued the Moff.

            Me and the kid aren’t possessions! thought (Y/N) viciously.

            “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They’re onto us,” said Mando urgently. No answer. “Kuiil, come in!”

            “In a few moments, the assets will be mine,” said the Modf.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. They looked at Mando. He’s going to kill Mando…!

            “Kuiil! Do you copy?” demanded Mando. “Kuiil!”

            “They mean more to me than you will ever now,” said the Moff cooly.

            “Kuiil, are you there?” questioned Mando. “Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil? Kuiil?”

            “Mando…” said (Y/N) quietly. “He’s gone.” They could feel it in their blood. Kuiil was gone. The Moff’s men had the Child. And he had (Y/N) trapped.

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

[levi-venn]

The First Toothpick

Chapter Eight: It Ain't Forever

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair, Tech, Hunter, Jango Fett

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: It's time to part ways. Cad and Crosshair aren't ready.

Read the previous chapters here:

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Also Available on AO3

In the week after Skatter’s attack, Cad made sure the kid got plenty of rest.

This meant Cad had to relax too, just to keep the kid from sneaking off to train with his sniper rifle (which he tried, several times).

They watched holofilms together, ate Baron Burgers, Nectrose Freeze, and anything else not allowed in the Kamino facility, and most importantly Cad taught the kid how to play Sabaac and Dejarik, then how to cheat at both.

It was…nice.

The kid seemed happy, too.

When the day came to return to Kamino, however, a heavy silence fell over both Cad and the kid. Not that either one of them were much for conversation, but this felt different. An oppressive weight instead of a calm blanket.

The kid curled up in Bossk’s chair aboard the Justifier, a subdued look on his face as he cleaned the already pristine sniper rifle, while Cad stayed in the cockpit, boots on the console, leaning back and gazing at the stars as they streaked by. 

This quiet moment should’ve been spent planning how Cad would spend his credits. It was a real lucrative job and there was plenty to think about, but Cad’s brain had other plans. His thoughts floated down the ladder and into the common area where the kiddo’s future had yet to be determined.

Cad wasn’t being paid extra to care. 

“Am I your son?”

Fuck you, Jango, Cad thought, pulling his hat over his eyes and sinking into his chair. You should’ve hired Embo for this.

The Justifier soared through wispy gray clouds towards Tipoca City, morning mist coating the viewport, glittering as the sun dared to peek through the stormy sky.

“Kid,” Cad called out. “Get your shit together. We’re here.”

There was no answer, but he heard rummaging and a weird scraping sound. He was about to yell again when he remembered why the kid was quiet. 

Right, augmented fucking vocal cords .

The Justifier landed, and Cad climbed down the ladder to find the kid standing with his nose practically pressed against the hatch, white-knuckling the strap of his rifle, and the heels of his boots bouncing rhythmically.

Cad smirked, guessing the kid was eager to get back. “Got your bag?”

The kid stopped bouncing suddenly. He nodded, but didn’t look up.

“Got your rifle?” Cad prompted, hoping the playfully dumb question would pull an equally playful hiss out of the kid.

The kid just nodded at the door.

“How about fingers and toes?”

That got him. The kid cracked a brief smile and glanced up at Cad just long enough to reveal why he was avoiding eye contact.

Those damn watery human eyes. Too easy to tell if they’re angry, scared, or just on the edge of cryin’.

Cad punched the release and the door slid open. The kid bolted down the ramp and across the long bridge.

Cad was about to follow when something crunched under his boot. He looked down. Metal shavings littered the ground, leading back to the kid’s chair. Bossk’s chair.

Well, shit. Cad let out a short, raspy laugh. That lil bastard. Bossk’s gonna be pissed.

In neat handwriting, carved into the back of Bossk’s chair were the words: Crosshair was here.  

The “o” was drawn like the fine crosshair reticle taken from both Cad’s scope and the upgraded scope he made for the kid.

Cad rubbed the residual metal shavings away and contemplated the name.

“I think I came up with a name,” Cad said, perched on the fence as he watched Jango feed the fabools.

“Oh yeah?” Jango glanced up, wiping sweat from his brow beneath a ridiculous, but functional straw hat. 

“Yeah, but don’t laugh.” Cad hugged his knees. “I mean it.”

“Caddy…” Jango sounded hurt. “I laugh a lot, but I take names seriously. It’s your legacy and you deserve a good one.”

Cad hated how badly he wanted Jango to approve of this name. It shouldn’t matter. It was his name. Deep in his gut, it felt like his name. But if Jango rejected it…if he told Cad he didn’t deserve it…then would Cad reject it too?

“Spit it out, or I’m gonna start calling you Cad the Conqueror. Cad the Carnage Collector. Cad the Caped-”

“Bane,” Cad snarled, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Cad Bane.”

Jango tilted his head, taking off the dumb hat and giving Cad a thoughtful look. The fabools started bouncing impatiently against Jango’s legs.

“Cad Bane…” 

Just hearing his new name from Jango’s lips already felt like an affirmation. But when that honest smile spread across Jango’s weather-beaten face, Cad knew it was official. “Oya, vod. That’s your name. Cad Bane is who you are.”

Cad tilted his new, wide-brim hat down a little, hiding his eyes. “You can keep callin’ me Caddy, if’n ya want. Just you. No one else.”

“I’d like that,” Jango said. “Caddy Bane and Jango Fett. Partners in crime, yeah?”

“Always,” Cad said. And he truly meant it.

He thought Jango did, too.

Crosshair…

Cad felt a tightness in his chest.  That kid’s fate’s carved in durasteel. You know it. He knows it. Jango sure as fuck knows it.

Cad turned back to the bridge to find the kid - Crosshair - waiting for him outside the facility, rain soaking his silver hair.

He was waiting for Cad.

Sticking a toothpick in his mouth, Cad lowered his hat against the drizzle and strolled down the bridge towards the kid. 

The kid was sniffling and wiping his eyes. “Stupid rain,” he hissed, though the mist was nothing compared to the raindrops falling from the kiddo’s eyes.

“You’re gonna be okay, kiddo,” Cad said and pressed the control panel, opening the door and pushing the kid gently inside.

The kiddo angled his head up at Cad. “But what about-?”

“Crosshair?” A small voice echoed from far down the hallway. 

Cad turned to find a small boy, shorter and skinnier than the kiddo, standing in a gray jumpsuit, a datapad in his hand, and large yellow goggles magnifying his bright, brown eyes.

“Tech,” the kid’s voice cracked as if trying to call out louder than his augmented vocal cords would allow.

Crosshair broke into a run. 

So did Tech.

Cad leaned against the wall, thumbs hooked in his belt, watching the two kids collapse into each other in a hug so hard they fell to the ground. 

“Guess you missed me,” Crosshair hissed a quiet laugh, sitting up.

“An educated guess considering I don’t like losing my balance,” Tech said, adjusting his crooked goggles. They sat in the middle of the hallway, side-by-side, Tech's head on Crosshair's shoulder as they talked. “Wrecker cried two nights ago because he thought you were retired. I told him crying was a waste of energy since we have no proof if you were alive or dead.”

“I bet that made him cry harder,” Crosshair said.

Tech sighed. “It did and Hunter made me apologize.”

“Did…Hunter miss me?”

Before Cad could hear the answer, his attention turned to the familiar, assertive footsteps of his former mentor.

“Welcome back, Cad,” Jango said, standing beside Cad, helmet tucked under his arm. “Did the cadet give you any trouble?”

“Not any more than I used to cause you,” Cad said, folding his arms and tonguing his toothpick. “He’s ready to deal with anything y’all throw at him.”

“Good to hear.” Jango pulled out his datapad. “Well, deal’s a deal.” 

Cad felt a buzz in his duster pocket signaling a heap of credits was just added to his account.

“Appreciate you taking this on, Cad. Knew you'd see it through.”

Cad and Jango stood there, both watching the kids as if they were at a park in the middle of Coruscant rather than a facility equipped to turn children into killing machines.

Cad sensed Jango wanted to say something, the hesitation apparent on his twitching lower lip and the way he glanced over at Cad watching the kids. “Either say it or don’t, but don’t keep lookin’ at me with those anooba pup eyes, Jango.”

“You could stay. Help train these kids to be prepared for…the future.”

“I ain’t gonna train kids to become soldiers that die for someone else’s cause.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Cad.”

“No it ain’t.” Cad said and spat his toothpick. It landed on Jango’s boot.

“If you change your mind-”

“I won’t.”

Jango sighed. “Fine. Take care of yourself, okay, Caddy.”

It felt like a knife had sheathed itself neatly in Cad’s chest right in the hole Jango left when he abandoned him. Cad refused to look at him. “Always do.”

Jango walked away. So did Cad.

And just like that, the job was over. The contract was closed. Cad Bane had no more business here. 

Cad got as far as the exit sign before stopping in his tracks.

If I leave now…what happens to Crosshair? He deserves better, but what the fuck am I gonna do with a kid? Crosshair Bane, son of a bounty hunter whose profession is to piss off half the galaxy? Who has to look over his shoulder for bastards like Skatter every day of his life?  What kind of future is that for the kiddo?

Then again, what future does he got right now?

Cad spun around. “Fett,” he snarled. “We need to talk.”

Jango looked back at Cad with a measured look. “What do you-”

“Not here,” Cad said, he glanced back at the kiddo eyeing him curiously before his attention was pulled back to Tech who was talking non-stop about something on his datapad.

“This way,” Jango said, and walked around the curvature of the hallway, stopping at a subtle door leading into a viewing room overlooking an obstacle course.

Jango set his helmet down and leaned against the glass pane. Far below the room, a group of identical kids dodged live blaster fire and were chased by skinny beige training droids Cad had never seen before. 

Cad pulled out another toothpick and stuck it between his fangs. 

“What’s wrong, Cad?”

Cad watched two of the kids crumple to the floor, while their brothers leapt over them, scrambling to safety from a barrage of blaster bolts.

Fuck this…

“How much do you want for him?” Cad asked.

There weren’t many things that threw the famous Mandalorian off his game, but Jango actually flinched. “What?” 

“How much do you want for the kid? He and I work well together. He's better off with me.”

“With you,” Jango said dryly. “He's better off as some bounty hunter’s lackey?”

Cad rested his thumbs against his belt buckle. “I’d teach him all I know. He’d be…my legacy.”

Jango’s face fell, and for a split moment, Cad thought maybe this longshot would pay off. 

“I’ll give you your credits back right now,” Cad continued. “And add more to sweeten the pot. Just name a price.”

“Dammit, Cad,” Jango sighed. “It’s not up to me. Even if it was, he’s part of a squad. We can’t split them up.”

“I’ll take the lot, then,” Cad said, feeling a little dizzy at his own proposal. He’d need a new ship. They’d need new clothes and a lot more food. Crosshair ate like he was part airlock. “Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, the whole-”

“Stop,” Jango snapped. “Dank farrik, Cad, what you’re asking is impossible. This isn’t for me to decide.”

“Your DNA runs through their veins. If not you, then who else do I gotta pay off?”

“This isn’t about credits. What they’re doing in this facility is a lot bigger than either of us. They aren’t orphaned kids…not like you. They’re-”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“They’re property of their sponsor. Which isn’t me.”

Cad felt his hope start to lose its grip. “Jango…”

“You need to leave,” Jango said, standing up and slipping his helmet on. “Bringing you here was a mistake. It’s better for…all of us if you leave and never return.”

Cad’s hope plunged into the icy depths. He bared his fangs. “This is kraytshit, Jango. This whole program, this whole facility. It ain’t right and it ain’t you. And...I ain’t leavin’ without him.”

“Leave. Now. I’m not telling you again.” 

And then Jango did something unimaginable to Cad Bane. He squared up, helmet on, and a hand over his blaster, like he was ready for a duel at high-noon. Of all the people in the galaxy, Jango was the last person Cad expected to face him like this.  

His mentor, his hero, his best friend. 

There was a time when he’d do anything for Jango Fett.

…Those days were dead and gone.

And Cad, for the first time in his life, surrendered. “Have it your way, Fett.”

For most folks, it was near impossible to read a Mandalorian’s expression once that helmet was on, but Cad felt Jango’s regret in the subtle way the helmet tilted. 

“Caddy Bane and Jango Fett. Partners in crime, yeah?”

“Always.”

“Just one last thing,” Cad said, keeping his hands up and away from his blaster.

Jango’s scoff came out staticky through the vocoder. “You got a lot of nerve asking for anything else, Bane.”

“It ain’t much, just…get rid of Lieutenant Pynk. He’s a shit teacher and these kids ain’t gonna get anywhere with him. Choose someone like you. Hell, you teach ‘em. But not him.”

Jango didn’t move for several long seconds, then his posture relaxed. “That…I can do.”

“I got your word?” Cad pressed, lowering his hands slowly.

“You have my word,” Jango said. He didn’t remove his helmet. The last time Cad would see Jango was through a damn t-visor. “Goodbye, Bane.”

Cad made his own way back to the main hallway towards the docking platform’s exit. 

The kid was waiting for him, blocking the door. A toothpick in his mouth, arms folded, and a boot making black streaks against the pristine white wall.

“Figured you’d be with your brothers by now,” Cad said.

“I want you to meet them,” Crosshair replied, looking down at the floor.

“Kiddo…”

“I told them all about you. They want to meet you. Please…”

Cad knew if he walked into a room with three more kids like Crosshair, he’d be putting himself in another impossible situation.

“Can’t. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

“Are you coming back? Can I train more with you?”

“You got all the trainin’ you need. I ain’t bein’ paid to do more than I did.”

“I just…” Crosshair looked up at Cad with large, heartbroken eyes. “I want you to come back.”

“It can’t happen.”

The look of devastation hit Cad’s heart harder than if the kid had shot him point blank.

“Okay,” the kid mumbled, his eyes falling to his own boots as he started to walk away.

“Wait. Just…hold on a sec,” Bane sighed and knelt down. “C’mere.” He took off his toothpick pouch and opened the flap showing Crosshair the mythosaur skull burned within. It was stuffed with toothpicks. “You hold onto this for me, okay? It’s my lucky pouch so I’m gonna want it back one day. It better be in good condition or I’m kickin’ your ass, ya hear?”

Crosshair cracked a smile and took the pouch. 

“Roger that,” he said and clipped it to his belt next to his own pouch filled with more toothpicks and a melted starsbar. 

“There’s…something else.” Cad said against his better judgment. He pulled out a small chit. “This chit has my personal frequency on it. Memorize it, then destroy it. If things fall to shit here and you need a - whatever the military calls it - an ‘ evac’ out of this whole damn life, you comm me and I’ll come getcha.”

Crosshair took the chit. 

“Bane?” Tears started to escape the kid’s brave, glassy eyes. “Is my life going to fall to shit?”

Bane rubbed his face and huffed. “I don’t know, kiddo. But no one really knows what life’s gonna throw at us. What I can tell ya, is that what you're feelin' now, it ain’t forever, and it sure as hell ain’t the last time we’re seein’ each other. I promise ya that.”

The hug came out of nowhere. Little arms wrapped tightly around his neck in a death grip. 

Cad Bane didn't know what to do. He knelt there. Stunned.

“What? Duros don’t hug? At all?”

“What the fuck is a ‘hug’?” Cad asked, sneering behind his beer. 

“You’re fucking with me…” Jango swayed on the cantina stool. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to our shitty little crew and I wanna hug about it.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you…need a big ol’ mando hug.”

The hell of it was…Cad wanted that hug. Desperately.

He had needed a hug since he was old enough to understand what loneliness meant. 

And a hug from Jango Fett - the first person Cad ever truly trusted, someone who was always going to be there for him - sounded damn near perfect.

But that’s the thing about wanting something this badly. It only makes life more painful when it’s taken away. Cad was used to losing those that mattered to him. 

If he ever lost Jango, he didn't think he'd recover.

“No hugs. Duros custom.”

“Fine, fine,” Jango hiccupped. “Can’t fuck with ‘Duros custom’.”

A few minutes later, Cad tentatively leaned against Jango’s shoulder.

And a minute after that, Jango quietly draped a loose arm around Cad's neck. 

They sat like that for a while.

It was nice.

Too nice. 

But he tried to enjoy it while the moment lasted.  

Cad gave Crosshair a strong pat on the back and waited for the kid’s grip to loosen. He didn't. He sighed and rested a hand on the kid's back.

“Listen, kiddo, people like you n’ me are survivors. We’re too damn stubborn to let this galaxy swallow us whole. Just keep your head up, keep those boots moving forward, and follow your gut n’ your gut alone. Got it?”

Crosshair mumbled something, but it was muffled against Cad’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna be okay, Crosshair.”

The kid suddenly pulled back, cheeks wet and he sniffled loudly. “Do you like it?”

Cad wondered if that innocent and hopeful expression on the kid's face is what Jango saw when Cad told him his new name.

Cad smirked. “You’re still Kiddo to me, but…yeah, Crosshair. You did good.”

The smile lit the kid’s whole damn face up. It was a wider smile than this galaxy deserved. A smile that Cad used to wear whenever Jango gave him that coveted approval.

“Go on, then,” Cad said, gently prying himself away and standing up. “Go be with your brothers.”

Crosshair gave a little salute, without a trace of sarcasm. “Bye, Bane.”

Walking back to the Justifier, Cad hoped that Crosshair would use that comm chit before Cad left orbit.

The practical side of him knew that the next time they saw each other, they’d both probably be completely different people.

And he wasn’t wrong.

***

The Clone Wars came and it was a profitable handful of years.

Cad made a lot of money off of desperate people and power-hungry gangsters alike. Whenever a job in Coruscant was available, he’d swipe it up, if only to scope out the clones stationed there.

He never did see a silver-haired clone among the troops, just a sea of identical helmets. He didn’t like the idea that any one of them could’ve been Crosshair.

His personal frequency remained quiet for years. Long after the Clone Wars was over…after the Empire made everything more complicated.

When the comm finally came in, however, it wasn’t from Crosshair…

…it was from one of his brothers.

“You got a lotta guts callin’ me,” Cad sneered, recognizing the soldier in front of him. “Figurin’ after our lil showdown over the lil lady's bounty you’d wanna steer clear.”

Hunter’s snarl reminded Cad a lot of a lil kid long ago, snarling in the wheat field, angry at himself for missing a target and angrier at the bounty hunter shooting at his feet for hesitating. 

“Trust me,” Hunter said. “This wasn’t a call I wanted to make, but I’m not callin’ for me. It’s for Crosshair.”

Cad’s sneer faltered. He sat up. “What happened?”

Hunter’s surprise was evident on his face. Guess he didn’t figure Cad Bane cared about anything but credits. That was true…but he’d do anything for the kid. 

“Come to these coordinates,” the soldier said. “He needs help…and he asked for you.”

[immortalmsmoon]

HEHRHRGRGRGEGRGRR

i loved the Yusuke and talk reader!!!!!

Do you mind if i request another for Yusuke???

If not, Yusuke w a reader/ S/O who started to make him lunches after noticing he hasn’t been eating much after the Madarame incident </3 poor boy :’[

Yusuke x Reader who makes lunches for him

A/N: this is so cute!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

Warnings: a little bit of talk about trouble eating, nothing to major though.

Wordcount: 469

the first time you give him one, he feels so special

even when he was with Madarame, Yusuke was the one feeding himself

the fact that you would put so much effort in to making sure he was eating made him so happy

he sits there with a small smile, his cheeks dusted in pink

After the Madarame incident, Yusuke really started to struggle with food because he no longer had someone to provide for him. he was also having trouble figuring out if he should spend his little money on art supplies or food, which caused his situation to get even worse

the fact that you noticed makes his heart feel like its about to burst, in the nicest way possible :)

It had been a week since Madarame had turned himself in. You knew Yusuke was taking it terribly. You could tell. Its not like it was hard to see.

he seemed paler than usual, and his eye bags were deeper, darker. He seemed tired. Even when he was at school he was different. Usually he was so full of enthusiasm, eager to cover a blank canvas in colour and give it life. Now he sat on his wooden chair, his eyes just as blank as the canvas. You had tried to talk to him many times, tried to tell him you were always there, that he could always talk to you; but he would blow you off, saying things like "Im fine. you need not worry, my love". But you knew him better than that.

which is what leaded you to where you are now. You glance at the clock. Its 11 pm. you know you should sleep, but what's one sleepless night in comparison to all that Yusuke as gone through? sleep could wait.

a blue plastic bento box sat Infront of you, filled with various snacks and foods you new he enjoyed. As long as it took you to make everything, it was a lot of fun to make everything look cute.

the only part you were nervous for, was giving it to him.

The morning passes by in a blur, and soon enough, its time to give Yusuke his gift. You place yourself infront of his desk.

he looks up at you, eyes curious. you slowly pull out the bento box, before placing it on your side of the desk, then slowly sliding it over to his side.

"W-whats this?" he asks, eyes wide. as soon as he opens it he's met with a delicious sent, one that brings a smile to his face.

His cheeks are red, and his smile is large, larger than you've seen it in weeks. he reaches for your hand and gives it a squeeze.

"I love you, Yusuke." You whisper, squeezing his hand back.

"I love you more, darling" he whispers back.

[hoodoo12]

I'd love to read what you consider to be your best Wolverine story.

That is difficult, and whatever I post is not going to be in vogue with the current influx of Wolverine + Deadpool fan works. 😢

I like this one that's a rarepair mashup (so rare it is literally the only one with these two characters): Gulo Gulo

And here is snippet of a story I never completed, published on line in 2006. Under a cut because I don't like clogging up people's feeds with stuff they don't care about.

By nature of his abilities and whether he liked it or not, Logan was intimately aware of each and every person he crossed paths with. Most were flatlines and easily ignored, some were mutants, cataloged but ignored just the same. The rest etched themselves into the primitive sections of his brain. She was one of them. 

He first knew of her at Xavier’s. He’d been “passing through” once again and wandered the hallways looking for what, he didn’t know. He’d bathed, eaten, and slept more deeply than he had in a long time, and now he was bored. The students were loud and boisterous. They joked with each other and either ignored him or whispered about him when he walked by, never seeming to realize he could hear everything they said. The few who recognized him said hello, but not much more. They all seemed to be in a hurry to get outside in the sunshine, even if it was just to get on their phone. Outside was at least away from teachers and schoolwork. Walking passed an open doorway to a small sitting room, Logan noticed her. The girl sat withdrawn, not even glancing up at the multitude of kids making enough noise to raise the dead. None of the other students acknowledged her, in return. 

Logan thought that odd. 

She looked normal. Petite, fair-haired, wearing jeans and a blouse. No obvious mutations, but she must be on, to be a student here? Logan stepped into the room. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?” He startled her; she jumped and looked over quickly. Just as quickly she cocked her head away from him, as if another person addressed her too. She shook her head. Logan sensed it wasn’t in response to his question. “You okay?” he repeated. He came further into the room. “What’s your name, kid?” The girl cocked her head again. Logan’s enhanced hearing caught her whispered words, “Can I talk to him?” He did not hear a reply. 

She glanced back to him, then away again, like a nervous tic. “Can I?” she whispered in repeat, with more urgency. In a rush, a wave of uneasiness filled him. This girl was not right. This situation was not right. Xavier’s school took in mutants; she acted oddly, like something was mentally off. She seemed to become more and more agitated as her whispered question received no answer. 

“Can I? Can I? Please, can I?” Her voice rose with each inquiry. Her head twitched back and forth between him and her invisible companion. “Hey. Hey!” Logan said, tamping down his apprehension to take another step forward. In an effort to calm her, he insisted, “It’s okay. That’s fine. You’re fine. You don’t need to talk to me. It’s okay.” She continued her questions as he spoke. Christ, Logan though. Where’s Jean or the Prof when I need ‘em? “I will!” The girl shouted, making him jump. She was suddenly very still. 

Licking his lips and now not taking his eyes off her, Logan paused. With no other words coming to mind, he repeated his first question. “You okay?” “Yes,” she agreed quietly. The picture of sanity sat in front of him. “I’m Emily.” Not trusting her to start another one-sided dialogue, Logan nodded with her. “I’m Logan. It’s stale in here. Why don’t you head outside with everyone else?” “I don’t like to be around people.” It occurred to him that her simple statement didn’t seem to be the same reason he didn’t like to be around people, or the reason Rogue didn’t like to be around people. Both he and Rogue were interested in other people but wouldn’t get close; this girl was most shut-down to the people around her. Logan took a breath, thinking he was the wrong person to deal with someone like her. He wondered how to back out of this room that had become uncomfortably small. “You’re Wolverine,” Emily stated. “ . . . yeah. I guess my reputation precedes me.” “No.” She didn’t offer an explantion, and the small hairs stood up on the back of his neck. “You readin’ my mind, Emily?” He tried to say it lightly but failed. “No.” He narrowed his eyes and thought he should just leave. Nothing was holding him in this room. Just walk away-- “I don’t know much. You’re Wolverine, and you’re not dead.” Her statement froze him in place. “What did you just say?” “You’re Wolverine, and you’re not dead. Not yet, anyway. But there were lots of times you thought you should be, huh?” Now it wasn’t just the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Logan wasn’t sure if what she said was a threat, but he didn’t like it. He stepped forward and made to grab her shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, trying to become one with the chair’s cushions. Logan stopped, breathing hard. He demanded, “What do you mean by that? Who are you, girl?” She looked infinitely sad as she choked out, “They call me Reaper.”

⁂

“She’s a scared young woman, Logan.” “She scared the piss outta me! Who is she? What’s her mutation?” Hank sighed and turned to Professor Xavier. When the older man paused as well, the larger mutant cleared his throat and replied, “She thinks she communicates with the personification of death. The Grim Reaper.” “She thinks she talks to the Grim Reaper?! What the hell?” “Logan,” Charles broke in, “you have to understand that not all mutations manifest themselves physically. It can take time--” Logan interrupted. “Yeah, I know. I can’t see your telepathy, but I sure can feel it. Has anyone seen the Grim Reaper? Can you make her prove who she’s talking to?” Both Charles and Hank shook their heads. “So you don’t know for sure. She could be a mutant or she could just be a crazy kid with some kind of multiple personality problem--”

“A dissociative identity disorder diagnosis is difficult and fraught with controversy,” Hank interjected, clearly upset by Logan’s tone. “Charles’s school is not equipped or sanctioned to make that diagnosis.”

Logan dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “My point is, she could be seriously messed up and you’re letting her be with other kids her age? They’re scared of her! She acts weird--weirder than most around here--and they avoid her like the plague! How healthy is that for anyone?” “Couldn’t you be considered “seriously messed up”?” Hank growled. “I believe Charles allowed you to stay. And to come and go as you please. Do you think people aren’t scared of the Wolverine?” Logan’s expression melted to a snarl at the blue-furred mutant’s words. Hank regarded him with keen eyes. “Enough of this,” Charles interrupted. “Logan, I appreciate your concern, but the children who attend my school is not your decision to make. I have no reason to believe that Emily is lying. Our tests conclude she is a mutant. If her mutation isn’t satisfactory to you or if it disturbs you, that it is your problem, not hers.” “This whole situation is a problem! You don’t know what she is, or what she can do--” Logan stopped himself mid-sentence with a shake of his head. After a moment’s pause, he angrily continued, “Fine. It’s your school. You’re the boss. I hope you know what you’re getting into.” He stomped out of the room, leave questions hanging between Charles and Hank. 

⁂

He avoided her during her time at the mansion. He heard from other students that she didn’t do anything; she completed her homework, spoke only when spoken to, and refused to participate in any type of physical education classe that involved conflict. She occasionally held one-sided conversations. Logan was told she knew people’s names before they were introduced to her. Her explanation was that Death knew everyone, and whispered their names into her ear. 

When she graduated, she left Xavier’s school and disappeared. 

Logan was on a migratory route again, feeling the need to cover distance but having no particular destination in mind. He stopped randomly at motels when he could afford them, picked up odd jobs here and there to keep him going. Passing through nameless towns, he always sought out the dingiest, dankest bar available when he had cash in his pocket. He never ran out of trouble in places like that, and it made him feel alive. 

Pushing in the creaking door of the latest dive, common odors assaulted his nose: stale smoke, sweat, old beer. Underneath it all, barely noticeable, was her.

Logan closed his eyes and stopped in the doorway. He debated turning on his heel and walking away. “Shut the fuckin’ door!” somebody shouted. Logan walked through.

[yzafre]

we're flying above the valley below | ch 12

AO3

First | Previous

Unversed, unversed, heartless, hijacked machinery, unversed.  Every turn just seemed to lead them to another problem.  They were making progress, though, slowly but surely.  Boo somehow remained delighted, as well.

After clearing out another cluster of unversed, Sora turned to find Ventus hunched over, staring intently at the trail of fading smoke in front of him.

“Ven?  What’s up?”

“Huh?” Ven turned to him, eyes flickering back to the now-empty floor, “It’s… nothing.  It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  Let’s keep going.”

He forged ahead, and Sora glanced over at Kairi, meeting her concerned gaze.  This thing with Vanitas was really getting to him, wasn’t it?

“You boys aren’t gonna leave without saying good-bye?” a voice called out, interrupting their exit.

Vent froze.  Sora watched carefully.  He should be looking towards Randall, he knew, but he couldn’t look away from the lines of tension and rage lining his body.  Instead, it was Mike and Sully that confronted the chameleon.

“Give it a rest, Randall.  You’re not gonna get away with this.”

“Yeah!  We’ll stop anything you throw at us.”

“Maybe you will,” Randall purred, “Or then again, maybe you won’t.  I have still got an ace up my sleeve.  Now… I command you to destroy them!”

That, at least, got Sora to look away.  But whatever Randall had been hoping for, it wasn’t happening.  Instead, he was left to scowl at a piece of dead machinery in the corner, snapping several times before skittering over to crawl over the metal, muttering darkly to himself.

“Where is he?”

Sora jolted.  Ven had come up beside him, Keyblade in hand, glaring at the monster.

“Uh – wha?”

“Where is Vanitas?” Ven repeated.

Offence rippled across Randall’s face, “Wha – seriously, you’re worried about that puddle of shadows while I’m trying to kill you?”

“Well, you’re not exactly being very successful, here,” Mike said.

Randall hissed, but when Ventus moved forward menacingly, he jerked back and vanished, the skittering sound of his feet moving away.

“Hey!  Where is he?” Vent yelled after him, feathers blooming from his back and bristling, “Where is Vanitas?!”

There was no response.  Ven lurched forward, and Sora prepared to go after him, but a heavy hand tangling in his hood brought him up short.  He looked back to find Sully holding both him and Ventus back, the other boy nearly hanging from the monster’s grip, toes scrabbling against the ground.

“He’s long gone by now.  And we have to get Boo to safety, first, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Sora said, sheepish.  Ventus took longer to respond.  Nervous, Sora glanced over; Ven was glaring up at the ceiling, jaw working silently until he slumped, closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath.

“Fine.”

Sully eyed him skeptically, but let them both down.  Ven rolled his shoulders as soon as they touched down, scowling darkly as he turned back to the path.

“Let’s go.”

As they headed deeper into the factory, Ven glanced back one last time to where Randall disappeared, watching the shadows growing longer as the door slid shut behind them.

A chill spread down his spine.

For a moment, he almost thought he felt… but, no.  There was nothing in that room, and the trails of darkness from the defeated unversed weren’t strong enough for Vanitas to be that close.

Still, though, the uncertainty stayed with him as they kept going.  Sora tried to engage him in their various misadventures along the way, but all he could manage to pull up was a flat, empty smile.  Through the factory, onto the roof, it didn’t matter, that gnawing paranoia wouldn’t let him go.

And even if he knew it would probably amount to nothing, knew it was just feeding into his fear, he couldn’t help but glance over every time an Unversed was defeated, trying to see if there was any commonality to the direction the smoke floated, to where the trails of negativity returned.

…it was all heading down, currently.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the ground below them shook, the building rattling.

“And earthquake?” Mike wondered, “But, we never get those here!”

Sully shook his head, squinting out over the edge of the rooftop, “It doesn’t look like it affected the city.  Whatever that was, I think it came from inside the building.”

“In that case, we really need to get Boo safe,” Sora said, crouching down to tug playfully at the little girl’s pigtails, “Can’t have a building coming down on top of her.”

“And then we can deal with whatever caused it,” Kairi added.

There came a point, as they made their way to through the last stretch to the door-vault, that their path forward became suddenly, entirely clear.  No more unversed, no more heartless, no more defective machinery.  Even the vault itself was empty.  On high alert, they worked swiftly to retrieve Boo’s door and send her through, waiting for the inevitable ambush at the last second.

But nothing happened.  Boo returned home safely.

“Did that feel… a little too easy to anyone else,” Sora wondered.

“But, if they’re not stopping us… what are they doing?” Sully wondered.

A scream – no, a hundred screams – cut through the air, and with a chill, everything fell into place.

I’m after negative emotions.  And my new friends have kindly invaded the factory to get ‘em for me.

“The other scream cannisters,” Ventus realized, “What did you do with them?”

“Huh?  Well, we stored them in an empty vault, until we could decide what to do with them,” Mike said, “Why?”

Heart in his throat, Ventus took off like a shot towards the sound of the screams.

He could, vaguely, hear the others shouting behind him, but the words were lost over the pounding of his heart in his ears.  Slowly, the sounds of screaming began to fade.  Pausing in the middle of a junction, he glanced around frantically – which way, which way?

Further down the hall, an unversed twitched into being.  Ventus pounced, tearing through it, and then watched.  Sure enough, the fading smoke flowed, visibly, obviously, in one direction.

There he was.

Vanitas.

The floors of the vault were littered with ravaged canisters.  Dark emotions wafted through the air, inevitably pulled towards the dark, pulsing mass in the center of the room that was gorging on the Darkness.  Despite himself, Ventus’s hands shook around his Keyblade.

Despite his fear, he stepped forward.

Glowing eyes split open, staring straight into him.  The rest of the body twisted in turn to face him, growing larger, larger, larger, to loom over him.  Ventus grit his teeth, glaring right back.  Another unversed?  Then where was…?

No matter, if he had to tear through this thing to get to Vanitas, then that’s what he’d do.

He just… had to actually take it down, first.

He could avoid the unversed’s hits.  Ventus was fast, especially when flying, and the vault had enough room to maneuver in.  And he could get some attacks in himself, magic especially working best.  Doing both at the same time, however, was more of a challenge – and in between it all, the unversed would eat at the remaining emotions in the room, healing itself and starting the process all over.

It was all just. So. Frustrating. He didn’t have time for this!

Impatience will make you sloppy, Master Eraqus’s voice whispered in his ear, And the Darkness will take every advantage you give it.

 The voice pricked at him, like a vine of thorns curling through his chest.  He shut it out, diving in again.

Almost immediately, the Master’s warning rang true.  He landed a devastating attack on the creature, yes, but when he turned he found his escape blocked, found himself bullied back and back and back until he was backed into a corner.  Danger came in from all sides, he couldn’t fend it all off –

“Ven!”

With a flash of steel, Sora appeared, blocking the attack.  As he drove the creature back, Kairi alighted beside Ventus, pouring healing magic into him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said.

“Next time, wait for us!” Sora called, bouncing back to stand with them, “That was really close!”

He couldn’t just let Vanitas get away, Ventus wanted to say.  They didn’t understand, they didn’t know, but in the end….

“You’re right,” he said, swallowing down the bitterness in his chest, “Sorry.”

“Heh.  No problem!  Now, let’s take this guy down!”

Three Keyblade wielders was much better than one.  This way, two of them could hassle it, while the other took advantage of its distraction to cut in and deal crippling blows.

Still, still, it was not growing weaker.

Every time he thought they’d cut it down smaller, it just seemed to regenerate, and they were right back where they started.  Frustrated, he pulled back to observe, circling around the room.  Kairi fell into formation beside him.

“This isn’t working,” she said.

“No,” Ventus agreed, “There’s got to be something we’re - wait.”

Below, Sora cut through a limb.  The wriggling mass fell to the ground before fading into smoke, a trail that moved, steadily, back towards the creature.

No, not just to the creature – to its center.

“I see it – Kairi, I need you to carve a path for me.  Just a single beam of Light, as strong as you can make it, right at its center.”

“What?  But, I - “

“Please.  I know you can do this.”

It took another half-circle of the room, but eventually she nodded, “Okay.”

“Good.  I’ll watch your back while you charge the attack.”

Ventus dove down, spinning between two lashing tendrils, the snap of teeth.  Above, he could feel the Light building, a beacon that called to him soul-deep.  Eventually, it reached a crescendo, and he spun out of the way even before he heard Kairi shout - “Now!”

He pressed his wings back along his spine, plunging himself into the trail of magic.  The creature roared, raising tentacles of dripping Darkness to try and ward it off.  The Light pierced through each one, though it grew weaker with each obstacle destroyed.

Safe in the center of the beam, Ventus reached deep within, pulling up his own well of Light.  It seared his veins, coating his skin and clawed at his mind – but it served its purpose.  When he passed all the defenses the unversed threw out, when Kairi’s attack finally gave out, he hit the surface of the unversed like a meteor and crashed straight through it.

His point of entry closed behind him almost the second he was inside, the Darkness closing in heavy around him.  The Light drifting off his skin only made it inches before being consumed.  The shadows shifted, growing denser, darker, the smog condensing into a single form, gleaming yellow eyes staring out at him above a bloodthirsty grin.

“Vanitas,” he hissed.

“Ventus,” Vanitas purred, “How nice of you to come visit your brother.”

“We’re not brothers.”

“Oh?  But what else could we be?” Vanitas asked, “I exist for you, shaped by you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Ventus snapped, “And neither did you – to be cut apart like this, Light and Dark all nice and neat.  Are you really just going to accept his interference?  Shouldn’t we get to choose what we are?”

Vanitas blinked, then threw his head back, cackling. “Oh, but I did choose.”

“And what you are is this?”

“Of course.  I am Darkness.”

“Fine,” Ventus seethed, “You’ve made your choice, but I’ve made mine, too.  You won’t win.  I’ve defeated you before; I can do it again.”

“Oh?  Then I’ll have to make the most of this chance.”

They met with snarl, violently lashing out, again and again.  With every strike, Vanitas’ form became more amorphous.  He’d already been less-than-solid, from the start, but he seemed to melt under the onslaught into pure magic. 

Instead of dissipating, thought, it lingered, clinging and drifting closer to Ventus.  It slithered inside - into his veins, into his heart, brushing into the depths until he could feel Vanitas’ glee, his bloodthirst, his sheer, manic energy, as if it was his own.  It dug in with greedy fingers, violating, a place and sensation only his Flight should be, invader, wrong-wrong-wrong-get out.

“Come, brother.  Let’s join again: you and I as one, just as it’s meant to be.”

“No.”

“No?  You’re gonna reject me?” Vanitas sneered, “When for so long, I was the only one that heard you, the only one that listened?  Now, you think you don’t need me?”

“I never needed you!”

“Liar!”

Vanitas lunged, the tendrils around Ventus’s heart growing thorns, digging in.  It burned, a horrible stretch – something to big trying to fit into a place already full, trying to force something impossible.  Ventus was sure it would break him open, shatter them both, when –

A nova of Darkness burst to life inside him.  At first, he flailed, sure Vanitas had gained purchase, but – no, he seemed just as startled.  They both turned, searching for the source, Ventus in fear and Vanitas in delight, until they realized it came from outside of him.

Where Aqua’s bond had laid dormant for days, it now came to life in a horrifying blaze.  Despair-rage-pain-helpless-alone-alone screamed from her, dripped from her heart, thick and viscous and never-ending.

Aqua! Ven screamed, but it was drowned out by crashing of the tidal wave pouring from her.  Vanitas, twined through their connection like a parasite, feeding off the negativity, laughed in glee as he grew larger.

“I know I said there’s a seed of Darkness in her, but I never dreamed it would grow into this.  Ah, maybe I should have gone with the backup Light, rather than you.  Unlocking all this after I merged with her – it would have been beautiful!”

“Shut up,” Ventus snarled.

“All that faith in your friends, for what?  You lose them all to Darkness in the end.  And now - first Terra, then Aqua – both consumed.  So much for the lauded strength of the Light.”

“I said shut up!”

Power exploded from him, a searing heat writhing just under his skin as Light burst out, blinding, brilliant, devouring the Dark.  Vanitas cried out – laughing, or screaming, it sounded the same – until the crackle of magic drowned him out.

As the light faded, the smog dissipated slowly, lingering on his skin all tacky and damp, the taste of smoke and despair stuck to his tongue, leaving him feeling grimy and unsettled.  The silence echoed.

Aqua, he begged along their bond, but there was no answer, only the sound of the storm. 

She couldn’t hear him; she wasn’t listening.

“Ven?  You okay?”

Swallowing thickly, Ventus blinked his eyes open – oh, when had he closed them? - to look at Sora, Kairi staring in concern from over his shoulder.

Yes, he tried to say, but his throat just clicked shut.  I’m fine, but -  there was this weight in his lungs.  He breathed once, twice, shakily, until he could breathe clearly.

“I don’t care what Yen Sid said.  I don’t care how impossible it is.  Aqua needs me, and I’m going to find her.”

Next