#but i watched the movie recently and it wouldn't leave my brain

[hederasgarden]

The Astronaut's Wife AU | Bob Floyd x F!Reader

At 2:36 pm, 125 miles above Earth, astronaut Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd lost contact with NASA for two long minutes. The official report lists a simple electrical error, but when mysterious and bizarre things begin to happen to the rest of Bob’s crew, his wife suspects something is terribly wrong. Eventually, she uncovers the horrifying truth: whatever returned from space isn't her husband, not anymore.

[keerysfreckles]

omg i just rewatched mamma mia. what about luke as sam and the reader (child of apollo) as donna. like luke doesn’t turn to kronos but him and the reader break up so she disappears off the face of the earth (aka she runs off to greece). thalia’s tree somehow gets poisoned and the oracle sends luke, percy, and annabeth to go look for the camp’s former best healer. they reach a remote greek island and find the reader there, working as the local nurse/healer (and if you want, they also find out she has a little baby girl, sophia aka sophie 🤭 lmao luke and reader as teen parents). so much angst lol

the name of the game — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, HEAVILY based on mamma mia (my fav movie ever), angst angst angst!!!!!!

a/n: i literally watched mamma mia here we go again today i love both movies with all my heart ALSO THE PJO SZN FINALE???????? HELLO?????????????

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n l/n didn't plan on leaving camp half-blood.

she didn't plan on leaving her siblings and close friends, and her boyfriend. well, now ex boyfriend.

that was too complicated for her to even understand. one moment luke wanted everything to do with her. he wanted to be around her 24/7, and show how much he appreciated her. but recently he got distant, and wouldn't explain why.

y/n hated confrontation, so she decided to just ditch camp all together after the couple officially split less than 24 hours ago. she doubted anyone would go looking for her.

oh how wrong she was.

annabeth chase and percy jackson were on a hunt for luke castellan.

they were given direct orders from chiron to find the child of hermes. neither of them dared to question the centaur, making them search for luke as quick as they could.

annabeth's shoudlers dropped in relief once they came across luke. he was practicing his sword work against a dummy made out of hay and old fabric.

"do you have any idea why chiron would send us looking for you?" annabeth was straight to the point. percy was standing beside her, just as determined to get answers.

luke shrugs, "is there another new camper?"

percy shakes his head, "he seemed pretty urgent about it. you might want to follow us back to the big house."

the trio walked in silence back through the woods and through the cabins until they got to the big house. chiron was waiting for them anxiously at the end of the steps.

"thank you percy, annabeth," chiron thanks them for finding luke. "i'm not sure if you three are aware, the camp may be in danger. thalia's tree has been poisened. we aren't sure how or why, but all we need is the solution. a healer."

chiron looked towards luke when he finished his statement.

"again, i'm not sure if you're aware that y/n of apollo cabin has been missing since late last night."

all three have different expressions of shock on their face. luke however is mostly hurt. he couldn't believe y/n would just run off like that. he wondered if it was from the argument they had.

"i'm sending you three to go find her, and bring her back safely in order for her to save the tree and the camp," chiron instructs.

"we don't even know where she went," luke points out.

"yeah, she could be anywhere in the world," percy adds.

annabeth looks between the two boys, "wasn't she saying how if she could get away for the weekend she'd go to greece?" she ends her observation while looking at luke.

the boy quickly nods, "yes. she always loved the idea of," he pauses and his voice gets quieter, "running away to greece together."

after a moment, chiron speaks again. "so it's settled. you three will go search for y/n, daughter of apollo, and bring her back to camp to heal thalia's tree and save the camp. good luck to you all."

—

"we've been in this boat for hours," percy groans.

annabeth stops steering the large boat as luke stops tying a rope. they both turn to him.

"we've been on the water for maybe twenty minutes seaweed brain," annabeth teases.

"wait," luke walks closer to the younger campers, "if your dad's poseidon, why can't you just push us all under water through like an air bubble?"

"it would look a little suspicious if three teenagers showed up to an island with no boat and dry clothes," annabeth mentions, making luke's idea sink to the bottom of the ocean.

luke speaks up again, "what if y/n doesn't come back to camp with us?"

annabeth and percy don't have an exact answer for luke. that only makes him worried this quest won't work out in their favor.

"we'll cross that bridge when we get there," annabeth responds. "right now we just have to get to greece."

—

after docking their own boat at the port of athens, the trio was quick to buy three tickets for the local ferry. annabeth grabbed a map as luke and percy were trying to figure out the best method for finding y/n.

they agreed to search all the islands as quick as humanly possible. they'd ask locals if they knew of a strong healer, and if any of them were given an answer that resembled the idea of y/n living there, they'd know to check that island.

after searching through three and a half different islands, getting on and off multiple ferries, and still with no luck of finding the apollo girl, the trio was debating on giving up. until annabeth looked at the map again. she mentioned to luke and percy about one more island where y/n might be. it was much smaller so they could search more thoroughly.

it was almost sunset once they reach the island, meaning they had maybe an hour or two to find y/n in the daylight.

the trio split up as soon as they stepped foot onto the dock. percy searched the perimeter near the edges of the water. annabeth searched through the bundles of shops and hotels. while luke searched through abandoned looking buildings.

as all hope was feeling lost, luke noticed a building of to the side of the commotion. there was a dirt path leading up to it, with no shops or houses surrounding it.

he could only hope and pray that y/n would be inside.

the inside of the building did not match its exterior. the outside looked as if it was going to fall apart at any gust of wind. however the inside was much more lively than luke expected it to be. there were people inside rushing to get past one another. it seemed as if they were all rushing to get to the same person.

luke pushed through the small crowd, and all the air left his lungs when he saw y/n. she was helping someone from the island, who seemed to have a deep cut on his leg. luke could finally guess this was the hospital on the island.

"y/n," luke spoke up, making the commotion in the room subside.

y/n and luke's eyes locked. neither of them were sure what to do.

y/n excuses herself and drags luke outside by his wrist.

"what on earth do you think you're doing here?"

"i had to come and find you," luke tried to explain but y/n only cut him off.

"so you just followed me? i seriously don't want to be around you luke. i thought running away from you and camp would've gotten that through your head."

"y/n i didn't chase after you to try and fix this," he gestures between the two of them, "there's a serious problem at camp."

y/n chuckles, "what? did peter fall off the climbing wall and scrape his elbow again? or did sophie run into a tree for the fifth time this week?"

"y/n this is serious," luke tries to tell her.

"you can't be serious. you dragged annabeth and percy with you?" y/n gestures to the pair walking towards them with urge in their steps.

"i didn't drag them here, please you have to come back to camp," luke tries again.

"is he telling the truth?" she asks percy.

he nods, "thalia's tree is in danger, and so is the camp."

"why didn't you start with that idiot," y/n hits luke's arm before running back inside. she was quick to grab her things. she kind of threw everything into one bag that she might need at camp. most of her healing equipment and a change of clothes.

—

the boat ride back to long island was awkward, to say the least. percy and annabeth were both asleep in the downstairs area of the boat, while luke and y/n were dealing with directing the boat back to camp.

luke was steering, while y/n was sitting beside him. an awkward silence filled the air.

"what made you go to greece?" luke asks, not expecting the girl to answer.

"i just needed to get away," she busies herself with her rings on her fingers.

"from me?"

"from all of it. i just needed a break."

silence falls upon the two again. y/n only moves over to lean her head against luke's shoulder, instantly catching him off gaurd.

"i'm sorry i left," y/n admits, her voice as quiet as a mouse.

"you had your reasons. it just caught us off gaurd, that's all."

another beat of silence passes.

"that night, of our argument, i found something out. about us," y/n turns to face luke. he does the same to her, not caring about steering the boat at this very moment.

"i don't even know how to tell you," y/n rubs her hands over her face. luke simply takes her shaking hands into his, and runs his thumbs over her knuckles.

"i'm pregnant."

luke's world stopped. maybe he thought he was just hearing things. the waves probably distorted y/n's words.

after luke still didn't respond, y/n started explaining herself.

"i was worried you wouldn't react too well to it. so i figured not telling you would be the easiest thing to do. and coming here, to greece, was the best bet."

y/n's heart broke as she watched luke stand. he silently put the steering wheel in it's locked position, before going down the stairs where the four twin beds were.

y/n knew she fucked up. she didn't know how to fix it. or if it could even be fixed.

[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 14

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.7K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle @ldysmfrst @idkjustlovingbts @popcatx0 @yoonjinsgirl @marblemoonstones

A/N: As promised :) hehe...

< Prev. Series Masterlist. Next > 

Seokjin had come over in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep and inerputed him for a movie marathon. Beyond tired was a mild way of putting it. He woke up early in the morning, struggling and finally managing to shimmy out of your grasp after a long fifteen minutes. He stilled against the bed, one foot out on the floor, bed hair spiking everywhere, and head slowly turning to you as you whined about the loss of contact. Acting fast, Seokjin tucked a pillow under your arm. 

You sighed and nuzzled it, quickly falling back into the Dreamland. 

Seokjin rubbed his face and got out of bed, padding to your kitchen on soft feet to prepare some breakfast. As he opened the refrigerator, he found two lunchboxes of overnight oats. Opening them, he took a sniff, trying to sense how long they had been in the fridge. After he deemed that they were edible, he placed one on the table and headed to pack your living room as he ate. 

It wasn't long before you woke up to the birds cawing outside your window, silently cursing them to let you sleep a little longer. Just as you were almost back asleep, they started calling again, causing you to groan out in frustration. Everything has been frustrating recently. You patted the space beside you, only for your hands to touch against the cool sheets. 

Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed, heading to the kitchen where you were sure your brother was. 

Only to find it empty with a box of half-eaten overnight oats you had just made last afternoon. You tilted your head, yawning as you tried to think. 

"That's mine." Seokjin came into the kitchen with arms full of opened snacks and dirty, empty cups. "Go take yours. I left it in the fridge."

"Where were you?" Your voice came out scratchy and hoarse, the aftermath of all the tears and screaming last night. 

"Living room." Seokjin placed the cups in the sink. "I'm surprised you walked straight past me at the couch just now." He snickered, keeping your snacks in the baskets. 

"You were probably hiding from me, waiting for this moment." 

"Nah, I wouldn't be so bad." 

The both of you started the day by cleaning your house, Seokjin nagging at you for not taking care of yourself and the place you live in. The constant "Look at the amount of dust there is on this!" and "Oh my gosh, Y/N!". At least your brain took a break from what you were running from. After dinner, Seokjin had left, saying that he was called back to the hospital. You shooed him off despite him worrying over you.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" His brows were creased against his forehead. "I can cancel anyway. My licence is no longer valid so technically calling me back is unnecessary. So I can stay if you need me." 

"Just go, Seokjin."

"They'll probably make me stay the whole night, you know that." 

"I know that." You patted his shoulder. "Just go, I'll be fine."

With your constant pestering and deflection, Seokjin reluctantly left your house, leaving you once again in your mind. You watch as his car revered from the parking lot, driving away. You closed the curtains and turned off the lights. 

Might as well get some sleep to escape reality. 

The sad truth of that.

You had woken up just as Lillianne burst into your house screaming, “FBI, OPEN UP!” 

Groaning, you turned to the side, hands blindly grabbing your phone off the coffee table. When your sleep-muggled brain finally registered the time that your screen showed you, you shot up, cursing your way to your room. 

“I was wondering why you weren’t out yet. You better be lucky I came in.”

Hastily, you got yourself ready, shrugging on clothes like you were just caught. Technically, you were. You and Lils managed to leave the house in a record time of seven minutes, only missing your water bottle. But the water in the shop was free anyway, so you’d just take that.

Starting the car, you drove off in the direction of the shop. The moment you stepped in, you were already dreading coming to work. The shop was filled with customers. 

Good for the business, not good for your health. 

Starting the orders in the receipts, you prepped yourself for a long night ahead. Lils worked at the cashier, shoving more receipts your way as you balanced making drinks and serving to scoop ice creams. 

You were certainly not pleased with the amount of people in the shop at four in the afternoon. But it was a Saturday - what could you say?

Family gatherings, children playing around, couples on dates. It made your heart clench every time you had to serve a couple. Seeing the lovey-dovey looks they send each other reminded you of a certain hybrid. Shaking your head, you tightened your apron and continued. The coffee would not make itself and the food would not serve itself. 

Oh, how you would love that. 

Then, you wouldn’t have to constantly run about. But that is the nature of the job. One could only expect so much from a food and beverage job. The night went on much busier than usual on a Saturday night. Parties were held there with big gatherings and by the time the shop closed, you had heard a good four birthday songs and seen an uncountable amount of bouquets. 

Cleaning up, you cleared off the used cutleries and dishes, setting them in the sink for the kitchen staff to wash. Ensuring that no ice cream scooper is left in their respective boxes overnight, you then swept and mopped the floor before cleaning the tables. Going out to throw the trash, you grabbed the bags from the kitchen and outside. 

Spotting a black cat sitting idly at the bus stop, you gave it a small hello before speed-walking to the bins. They were heavy trash bags. There were a lot of baking and alcohol bottles used today. You weren’t sure when the cat had leapt down and followed you, but you soon found yourself stumbling over, trying not to step on the cat’s wagging tail. It walked in between your legs, rubbing its head against your calves - chasing it was more likely - as its tail swished violently. 

Its actions reminded you a lot of Yoongi. That cat loved to show affection by constantly rubbing your calves and scenting you in between your shoulders. He had said that it was a comfortable spot to sleep on. 

Your heart clenched at the thought of him. 

After throwing the trash away, you squatted down to give its head a small pat with the back of your hands. “I’m sorry, buddy. My hands are filled with syrup right now and I wouldn’t like you for you to get sick when you groom yourself.”

It followed you to the shop, stopping just outside the doors. 

“Come on in, buddy.” You gestured for the cat. 

It was dark outside and with the heavy trash bags, you didn’t take a good look at the cat, trying to work your way around not hurting it. But now that it was inside, it mewoed and continued to rub at your ankles, going around you in circles. 

“Sit.” You instructed it. It was something you hoped it could understand. And it did. 

After washing your hands, you rummaged through the kitchen for a can of tuna. Spotting three, you took them all with you and headed out. Opening one, you placed it in front of the cat. “There you go, you can have all three. I’ll go get you some water, okay?” 

When you headed back to the front, you found it prodding at the second can. “Here,” You placed the bowl of water onto the floor. “Have some water first. I’ll open it for you.” 

You were stopped with two paws on your arm, the cat jumping up onto your lap. Sitting down in a cross-legged position, gave it more space to roam. But it seemed to know exactly where it wanted to be. In the middle with his head propped on your upper thigh. Its loud purrs fill the room as you stroke it from ear to snout. 

It looks just like Yoongi.

You knew that but your conscious brain was just trying to reject it. 

It wasn’t until its moonlit eyes slid to yours did the waterworks started. Carrying him up, you looked at the cat in your arms through watery eyes. Its shocked expression and terrified meows -

Your eyes closed the moment you felt his rough tongue lick your cheek. Tilting your head away from him to not cover his shiny fur in your slob, you tucked him between your neck and shoulder, head hanging down. 

Yoongi knew Jimin was right. 

Yoongi knew that he needed to talk to you. 

Yoongi also knew the address where you stayed and worked. 

So when he overheard Seokjin asking a favour from Jimin to keep his phone on call in case you needed him, Yoongi dashed out of the house. Scurrying from Jimin’s home to the shop, his little cat paws could only get him there so fast. 

By the time he reached it, he was parched. Panting, he stuck his tongue out to moderate his temperature. He wanted to take the chance of the next customer to enter the shop and call your attention to him. But seeing you so busy, running from place to place without a stop, Yoongi decided that it was better if he waited until the shop closed. 

So Yoongi took his spot at the shaded area of the bus stop and watched you work. You were quick and agile, moving like the wind. Many times, he saw the flinch of pain and growth of your eyes when you were scared. When big groups of people came in, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes. You tried not to show the customers - but Yoongi knew better. The pain in your eyes when you see couples made his head hang. 

It was his fault.

When the day was finally over and the shop closed, Yoongi waited for his chance. Like a cat hunting for his prey, Yoongi’s attention grew sharper. He noted each of your movements and when you finally came out with trash bags in hand, he leaped for it. 

He did not expect you to spot him from far but you did. 

It made his heart swell with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Pride, most probably. 

She noticed me. 

Rubbing against your ankles, he meowed for your attention, glad to finally be close to you. You hadn’t recognised him and it made Yoongi feel a little… sad. But the moment you did, you burst into tears and Yoongi couldn’t find a way to stop it. He was essentially trapped in your hold. He meowed frantically, hoping that you would sense the distress in his voice and stop. But you didn’t. 

You continued, caressing his fur and mumbling his name over and over again. 

With a meow and a particularly harsh tug, he slid out of your grasp and stood on your thighs, licking your face. You laughed as he found your sensitive spot just behind your ear. Trying to get him out of your face, Yoongi held on and continued. It was better than you crying. 

“Okay, okay.” You got up, placing him on a table as he hissed from the cold contact. “I’m okay. But now I have to go wash my face since you just covered me in slobber.”

Yoongi sat up and watched your movements. From cleaning up yourself to cleaning the floor and leftover water to you turning off everything and picking him up, he didn’t dare relax. It wasn’t until you placed him in your car and wrapped him in his favourite towel did he started to feel it. 

He was holding it in for such a long time that -

Tears unconsciously slid down his eyes, matting his fur. 

He didn’t know how long it was before your arms pulled him up again, carrying him onto your lap. “Yoongs… Don’t cry… We’ll figure it out, I’ll try harder. I promise.”

But it has nothing to do with you. 

It’s me.

The silence was kept at a peaceful wavelength until you reached home. Picking him and your bags up, he cuddled closer to you, seeking your warmth in the chilly air. The moment you opened the door, Yoongi lept out of your arms and slinked through the cat door on his door, pleased to find that it had not been locked. 

Quickly shifting and changing, Yoongi left the room and slid to your side on the floor. 

You brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks but he did not dare grumble. He wanted this to last as long as possible. 

“I chose you, Y/N. I choose you, mate.” Yoongi confessed. 

You closed your eyes as your lips trembled and Yoongi brought his hands up to wipe away the tears that streaked down your face. 

“I’m sorry…” You whispered. 

“No, please don’t be. Please.” Yoongi begged. “You are the most amazing person ever. The most beautiful and does everything you can just for me. I am sorry. I have let you down - hurt you just because I thought it was easier to let you hate me than love me.” Yoongi let himself go, crying in your lap. “My strong, beautiful, exceptional mate.” Yoongi looked up at you, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” 

This is one of the few times that Yoongi broke down in front of you. 

“I’m so, so, sorry.” Yoongi kneeled in front of you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry. I did not mean - I -”

You gently placed your hands in his hair, ruffling them and stroking his ears. Yoongi’s harsh sobs could be heard throughout your house. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You mumbled into his hair, bent over onto his body. “It’s okay, Yoongs. I’m sorry too.”

Yoongi’s head tilted upwards, voice hoarse as he asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I jumped to conclusions and didn’t put enough trust and hope into our relationship. And that I let this become when we could have easily talked it out properly if I had chosen the right words to tell you.” You smiled down at him. 

You had never thought that you would ever say these three words that would mean so much. You thought that our chance had been blown the moment you started that argument. You expected your chance to stay blown when Yoongi walked out of the courtroom without looking back. Saying them to Lils and Jin was a different thing from saying to Yoongi. You were always the person to express instead of say but this time -

“Yoongi,” You tilted his face upwards to you, eyes boring into his as you muttered the three words of magic. “I love you.”

From this view, you can see the widening of his eyes. 

“You - You love me?” Yoongi’s eyes sparkled with a shimmery glow. “You love me?”

You nodded, smiling at his goofy expression. Yoongi suddenly shot up, bouncing around the house - much like an excited dog might when he goes on walks. 

“You love me! You love me!” Yoongi ran to the windows. “Y/N love me!” 

Your eyes widened, hands instantly pulling him back. “Don’t go screaming it to the world! It isn’t even 5 a.m.!”

Yoongi turned, the light in his eyes knocking the breath out of you. “But you’re mine.” Yoongi’s eyes crinkled and a gummy smile was full on show. “And you love me.” 

You nodded undoubtedly. Yoongi brought you close to his chest, hugging you tightly. “You love me and I love you too.” 

“Yoongi -”

“I love you.” He shook his head, eyes shining with inner light and it knocked the breath right out of you. “I love you, wholly.”

[headfullofpresley]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟓𝟎𝐬!𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 | 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: teeth rottin' fluff, make out sesh. kinda long but 50s!el is my baby boy.

A/N: since my brain is chaotic with fic ideas most of the time and i'm too lazy to write all of them out, i decided to give headcanons a lil try ;). lately i haven't been quite in the mood for smut or anything naughty naughty, so enjoy this piece of softness. 💗

you can imagine elvis to be famous or not, up to you!

Lots of dates.

Mostly initiated by you because you come up with ideas where to go, but he loves it.

The both of you would spend too much money on new clothes and records. He loved shopping as much as you did.

Picking out outfits for each other and showcasing them, driving the sales person crazy because you'd hog the fitting rooms for hours.

MATCHING OUTFITS! (i will simply pass away)

It's usually the colors that you'd match together, but he liked buying the exact same thing as well - mostly shirts and jackets.

Doesn't like it, but would carry the shopping bags and your purse if you'd ask.

Listening to new music that recently came out at record stores. This is definitely a weekly activity.

Diner dates!!!

Sharing a milkshake with two straws, because you're cheesy like that.

He always lets you have the cherry on top of the whipped cream.

Flipping a coin to decide who will pick the next song on the jukebox.

Most of the time you'll stay until closing time, unless you two have plans to hang out with friends that evening.

DRIVE IN DATES.

You'll go see whatever movie is popular at the time, not caring what genre it is because the both of you don't care about the movie at all.

You two will watch the first half hour, until the snacks are gone and you're all over each other.

It stays with just kissing on most nights at the drive in, but sometimes he'll mention the blanket he has in his trunk and you'll allow him to get what he wants.

Because even though you're a little shy about doing stuff in public, you want him just as bad and can rarely resist him.

THE MEMPHIS FAIR, BABY!

You can spend hours and hours at the fair.

Riding the same rides over and over again, stuffing your face with food, spending way too much money on games to win prizes.

He refuses to leave the fairgrounds until he won you at least one big prize.

You were just as happy with the smaller stuffed animals, but he had his mind set on a huge panda bear and you knew there was nothing you could do to talk him out of it.

He won it, ofcourse he did, and carried it to the car for you.

He put the bear on a chair that stood near your wardrobe in your bedroom, making sure it faced the bed.

You couldn't help but feel a little awkward whenever the two of you were intimate and the bear was right there, staring back at you.

On nights when Elvis wouldn't be staying over, you'd turn the panda around so you would actually be able to get some rest without feeling creeped out.

Road tripssss!

In either his Pink Cadillac or Cadillac Eldorado. Your knowledge on cars is pretty much non existent, but you like the colors.

Warns you to tighten your headscarf when he speeds down the highway, but you never listen nor learn so you always lose it.

You bring snackies, but it's never enough and you both start craving fastfood as soon as a restaurant comes in sight.

The choice is always McDonald's, since you don't go there much and it became one of your little 'date locations' during these road trips.

He always insists on using the drive-through, but makes you get out of the car because you spilled ketchup on his seat once.

“As if you never spilled anything in this car,” you huffed with an eye roll, eating your burger from a safe distance from his car.

You knew he'd get the double meaning and he'd give you a smug grin, playfulness on his tongue as he spoke.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?”

You'd flip him off, making him chase you around the parking lot before pushing you back in the car when your burger flew out of your hands and on the window of a parked vehicle.

During the summer, he'd beg and beg for you to get on the back of his motorcycle and while you were a little nervous about it, you agreed because you couldn't listen to him talk about it for another second.

You loved it more than expected and the roles soon flipped around - you being the one asking him to go on rides.

While the both of you loved to go out and hang with your mutual or own friends, you loved staying in just as much.

Because the both of you still lived at home, you'd often be cooped up in your bedrooms.

Despite being young and your relationship being fairly fresh, you two didn't go at it every chance you got but neither of you had a problem with this.

You liked being in each others' company, no matter what you were doing.

Sometimes he'd go through your entire vinyl collection that you had neatly placed on a shelf above your desk and he'd play record after record.

He didn't like all of them, but played them nonetheless because you liked them and he loved hearing you hum along.

Being in your presence calmed him down. He especially loved it when you'd lay with your head on his lap so he could play with your hair while you were reading.

When it was a book, he'd busy himself by trying to make little braids in your hair.

But when you'd be flipping through a random magazine, he wouldn't shut up.

“Read me the music columns, baby,”

Takes the magazine out of your hands because he wants to read them again with his own eyes.

Snatching the magazine back out of his hands, he lets you flip through it again but will tell you to slow down because he didn't finish reading the page you're on.

He'd point out the things he would love to see on you when you'd look at the clothes that were currently trending.

“This would look real cute on you,” he would say, pointing out a baby pink skirt with cherries embroidered onto it.

When his eye catches the polo shirts in all the colors of the rainbow, he gets excited.

“We could get a matching pair!”

“Elvis, I’m pretty sure these are for girls,”

He'd look down at you with a smug grin on his face, scoffing softly. “Honey, I don’t care. You know how good I look in pink,”

You knew he was probably dead serious about it, but laughed at him and circled the shirts with a pen to get back to them later. If he wanted one, he could get one.

When you'd linger a little too long on a page with Marlon Brando's face printed on it, he didn't do much to hide his jealousy.

“Stop droolin’ over this fucker and read me my horoscope already,”

You'd laugh and caress your fingers over Brando's face, sighing dreamily which would get your boyfriend even more riled up as he'd huff and pout, trying to get the magazine out of your hands.

You gave him what he wanted eventually, reading his horoscope to him.

He'd smile and nod when his week seemed to be looking up according to the stars, but when it wasn't as good as he hoped it would be, he would scoff and roll his eyes.

“Pssh, what a load of bull,”

He pretended not to believe in these things, but you knew he did.

Whenever your or his parents were away, you'd mostly be hanging out in the living area.

It was the only place in both your houses with a TV and it was nice to be able to watch your shows without any parents or siblings talking through the whole damn time.

Your attention span was short whenever you were in your boyfriend's presence, and so was his because casually watching TV on the couch always turned into make out sessions.

Elvis was the first boy you kissed, but he taught you well and you found yourself becoming obsessed with kissing him.

He tasted like Pepsi and you had grown accustomed to the lingering taste of the cigars he smoked throughout the day.

His favorite position was when you'd be next to him, your legs draped over his lap so he could run his hand along the side of your thigh, his other hand placed at the nape of your neck.

It was comfortable for you too and you loved playing with his hair (as much as the product in it would allow you to) and resting your hand on his chest or on the side of his neck.

His kisses were soft and gentle, allowing you to take the lead so you could set the pace. He wanted you to be comfortable and while he was a tad bit more experienced, he wanted you to show him what you liked.

He thought he might know everything about you and your body, but he realised you could still teach him a thing or two about yourself. Elvis hated studying, but when the subject was you, he was the best student of the class.

“You taste like strawberry today,” he'd point out, going in for a kiss in between every word to kiss the slight gloss off your lips.

“I bought a new lip balm today,”

Humming deeply against your lips, he'd dip his tongue across your lower lip, sucking on it gently.

“Do they sell more of those flavors?”

You giggled, listing off all the flavors. He decided that he wants to kiss every single one off those pretty lips of yours.

“Let’s try ‘em all, baby,”

He wouldn't give you much time to agree, his hand running up your thigh and squeezing softly as he'd dip his tongue deeper in your mouth.

Slightly tilting his head and moving his hand from your neck to wind around your shoulder, your lips fell into a comfortable and slow paced rhythm.

The two of you were in sync, perfectly aware of each others' next moves and it made you shut out the world around you.

Your favorite show that was playing on the TV had become nothing but background noise.

His large hand would engulf your smaller shoulder, squeezing you softly in the embrace because he wants to feel you closer against him.

Unfortunately for the both of you, you still had to fill your lungs with oxygen but when you'd pull away from each other, his hand that had been on your thigh would move to the side of your face, cupping your cheek.

Nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours as he takes stammered breaths, his eyes taking in every detail of your face.

He'd caress his thumb across your lower lip, the corner of his mouth rising in a grin as he looked at your slightly swollen lips and the smudged tint of your lip balm.

“My pretty baby has pretty lips,”

Those words made you blush every damn time and he knew it all too well.

He liked seeing your cheeks heating up, flushing a shade of pink because of him.

“Could kiss ‘em all day, every day,”

Small, open mouthed kisses on your parted lips as his thumb caressed your cheek bone.

Whenever you wanted to kiss him properly again, he'd laugh softly and teasingly pull away because he wasn't done looking at you.

Always complimenting you on how pretty you look with your lips swollen like that, how he loved kissing you and how much he loves you.

Saying it back made you even more shy, but he wouldn't kiss you again until you told him. He knew you loved him, but he loved hearing you say it.

“I love you, Elvis. Please kiss me,” you'd pout and whine a little, knowing that usually got you what you wanted.

Ofcourse it did this time too, because he was weak for you.

“Okay, fine, fine. Because baby asks so nicely,” would give you a theatrical and playful sigh, rolling his eyes before he'd lean in again and capture your lips in a kiss again.

You'd happily let him take charge after a little while, moving along to his pace as he'd deepen the kiss.

You two didn't always kiss with the intention of sex, but you knew whenever he'd moan into your mouth and his hand started creeping underneath your skirt or dress that it was his sign that he wanted more.

You were more than happy to give it to him. Sometimes you'd make it to your room in time and sometimes your parents came home before you even had the chance to take things a step further.

Jumping away from each other and pretending to watch TV, you were pretty sure you could never fool your or his parents but they never commented on it because they too had been young once.

Takes about half an hour to kiss you goodbye at the door when he'd be over at your house, or in the car when he'd take you home.

When you wouldn't be spending the night together after spending the entire day side by side, you'd talk for hours on the phone.

Sometimes it would be deep conversations about the future and sometimes it would be about absolutely nothing, but you enjoyed every second of it.

Neither of you would hang up until one of you would fall asleep or one of your parents came in to tell you to hang up, not understanding what in the world you could be talking about after being around each other most hours of the day.

But you and Elvis were inseperable and you believed it would stay like that forever.

[ughgoaway]

Playing on my mind blurb where the band is out walking or getting coffee and they run into y/n. She’s in her regular clothes (maybe even just sweats?), no makeup and super chill. After you and Matty are done catching up (he introduces you to everyone) and she leaves, the boys all sit down and just listen to Matty talk about you for the rest of the time:

“So…?’

“She seems very cool, matty”

“And pretty too right? Just absolutely gorgeous…”

“Sigh… yes matty she is very pretty”

(I'm so sorry this took me so long. I promise I'm trying to work through my asks <33)

Oh, this is a sweet concept… you would be so mortified this is how you're meeting his friends but also so fucking excited to meet his friends. I'm gonna alter this slightly and just have you meet George, i have different ideas for the other two boys…

I think it's probably early on a Sunday, and George and Matty crashed at the studio last night, falling asleep at the mixing desk before trudging to the sofas at 3 am. So once it hits 8 a.m., and they wake up, they are in desperate need of a coffee.

You had a slightly less fun or productive night, just staying up late catching up on the newest episodes of the great British bake-off (yes this is me projecting <3). You don't think you'll run into anyone so you're dressed pretty comfy, in jogging bottoms and an oversized jumper.

You nearly wore your newly purchased 1975 hoodie, but it was in the wash after you spilt tea on it last night. Thank GOD. yes, you were embarrassed about buying it, but your yearning for Matty had reached new heights. This was a way to cope with those feelings that wouldn't get you fired…

You order your coffee and are waiting to hear your name be called, and it is - but not by a barista. 

“y/n! Ohmygod, hi!” Matty says insinctively coming to hug you but catching himself at the last second and just waving awkwardly, with George standing behind him equally as awkward. 

“MATTY! Oh wow - hi!!” You say moving your hands to fix your hair and pull at your clothes self-consciously.

Holy fuck WHY was he here??? When you looked like this?? Sometimes you show up looking very cute, prepared to work in the coffee shop and live your fantasy of being that cool girl in a cafe.

But OF COURSE, the one time he shows up, you look like this. In a snoopy hoodie, no makeup and your massive glasses on. 

Matty is immediately enamoured by you, his brain going straight to domestic delusions. Seeing you dressed like that in his house whilst you're making tea, or when you are getting ready for a movie night.

He focuses on your freckles and your glasses, feeling his heart stutter at how beautiful you look when you're not even trying.

Matty thanked god George told him to fix his hair before he left. 

Speaking of George, he was still there, but he might as well not have been. You two were standing in silence, grinning and drooling over each other, and it's then when it clicks to George exactly who you are.

Matty had been talking about you for MONTHS.

“y/n wore a red dress today” 

“She waved goodbye to me this morning”

“I saw her at the Christmas disco and nearly gave her a drink”

“No, I don't like her!! Shut up, George. I'm not 15, I don't have crushes anymore”

Despite Matty's denial, he had heard all about you from Matty and from Adam, who watched you two interact recently and reported it back to George and Ross.

“he was basically drooling. Do you remember how he was with Julie Smith in year 10? Like that, but WORSE!”

“oh god, he's down bad huh”

George coughed lightly behind Matty, and suddenly he came back to life and introduced him, “Right! Yes! Sorry, y/n, this is George, my best friend and bandmate. George, this is Annie's teacher, y/n!”

You wave politely at George, and he waves back, cheekily saying, “Ah yes, y/n! I've heard SO MUCH about you” which earns him an elbow in the stomach from Matty.

You obsess over him saying this FOR MONTHSSSS. “But what did he mean??? So much?? From Matty or Annie??? Or adam?? Probably not from Matty… BUT WHAT IF IT WAS??" (your cat does not respond to this rant sadly)

Soon after, your name is called, and you couldn't run away quicker, internally dying at Matty seeing you like this. Matty and George sit down, and Matty is staring out the window, looking in the direction you walked off in wistfully and sighing. 

George taps his nails against the cup to bring Matty back and is just about to start talking about the track they were working on but Matty starts talking before he can. 

“So…?” Matty says with a lovesick look in his eyes.

George briefly considers not humouring Matty and ignoring what he said, but he plays along anyway, “Yeah she seems really cool Matty, just like you described.” 

“I don't talk about her that much! … but yeah, she is really cool. And pretty too, right? Just absolutely gorgeous. But not in a weird way or an ‘I like her’ way just… objectively” he says unsurely, as if he is trying to convince himself as well as George.

With a heavy sigh, knowing no work will get done today, George agrees with Matty “Yes Matty she is very pretty.”

A few seconds of silence pass, and George can't help himself,

“You totally like her though”

“GEORGE NO I DON'T. LISTEN OKAY JUST BECAUSE-”

blurb masterlist

[gggoldfinch]

Hatchetknife

Richard B. Riddick x OFC (or reader)

(disclaimer: photo found on pinterest ^ )

A/N: I’ve been gripped by the most manic and inexplicable riddick brainrot ever and needed to get this out of my system or I’d deadass explode ‼️I usually don't write oneshots like this so it was a nice breath of fresh air actually. Hopefully now this sexy bald bitch will leave my poor brain alone so I can do something else other than binge watching vin diesel movies

warnings: original female character (descriptions vague enough to be reader insert), possibly a little ooc, very brief discussion of SA (in a non-threatening manner), minor violence & injury, explicit language, forced proximity, only one bed, explicit sexual content, smut, oral sex, praise kink, scent kink, size kink, light choking, biting, pet names. MINORS DNI

word count: 12,114

{AO3 Link}

summary: A low-profile merc masquerading as a man has her ship (and life) invaded by an unlikely guest. She gets found out, and things progress interestingly.

***

There's a ship that's been sitting idle in the upper-east Storage B-Port for weeks now; Riddick knows this. He also knows he hasn't been this incapacitated in a while. It's a hard thing to admit to himself, but he can feel the exhaustion creeping in. He hasn't slept in over 72 hours, and has been fighting and running for most of that time. He's out of his element— stuck in the heart of a congested city-planet rather than out in the wilderness of some uninhabited backwater planet. He's bleeding from somewhere— his side, maybe. His nose is broken, too, and there must be some sort of nerve damage too, because he can't scent who's coming after him anymore. He lost his goggles somewhere during this most recent scuffle, too, so all the neon signs are like miniature suns searing his retinas.

There's an idle ship gathering dust in Storage B-Port. He recalls it looking like a good model, some custom parts. It'll be easy to hijack. It'll be easy to leave this planet and his merc pursuers in the dust.

———————————————————————

Everyone has their own way of surviving in this nightmare of a universe. Some kill, some are killed. That's just something each and every person has to come to terms with while they draw breath. While not exactly thriving, this one particular individual has found their own way to survive. Some may call her a mercenary, and they wouldn't necessarily be wrong— but she prefers to call herself a mere gun for hire. It's easy to make a living when you have a thick head and nothing to lose, going from one job to another with little in the way of possessions and even less in the way of social relationships. She goes where the proverbial wind takes her, planet-hopping and working odd jobs. Sometimes the jobs entail hunting dangerous quarry, but more often than not she's hired for non-violent jobs running security for personnel protection or transport. Honestly, the only jobs she turns down outright are those having anything remotely to do with the Necromongers. Sure it isn't ideal, but it's better than living in the slums of the over-crowded metroplanet where she'd grown up.

It's a risky job, no doubt, made no less difficult by her deliberate choice to fly solo. Solo is safe. Solo, she don't have to worry about crewmates stealing or betraying her, or worse, taking advantage of her. Barely an adult when she'd begun her life hopping between merc crews, she'd learned early that being on her own is better, safer. No— she keeps to herself with nothing but the ship's computer system for company. And, when the occasion rises where she does have to venture out into civilization again—to find a job or stock up on supplies—she takes heavy precautions.

Strong from years of fighting and labor, her body can shoulder the burdensome weight of armor; broad shoulders and sturdy bones make her intimidating and capable. Years worth of mismatched armor plates make up her regular uniform, both metal alloys and plastic prints. Some pieces were taken off fallen quarry—or former crewmates—some purchased responsibly. Each plate has a little story she can recall, fondly or not. When worn all together, her form is virtually unrecognizable, and more importantly, masculine. The crown mantle is her helmet: sturdy, sleek, black, with a visor capable of internal screen display. The vocal distorter programmed into it deepens her voice to a disguised pitch. The suit of armor isn't entirely comfortable, but it's a requirement for her safety.

"Hatchet!"

She swivels her helmeted head, looking in the direction from which she hears her codename. She hadn't been calling herself anything when she'd assumed this masculine persona. Her various employers just began calling her a shortened version of her ship's name—the Hatchetknife—and it just ended up sticking within the merc circle she floats in. No one knows her true identity, as far as she's aware. If they do, no problems have arisen from it yet.

A man approaches her, stocky and shorter than her. He's been her employer for the past several weeks, paying her to be a glorified bodyguard for his uppity son, on probation for yatta yatta yatta. She'd tuned out the rest once she'd heard the price of the paycheck. 350 thousand units just to  babysit an alcoholic man-child for a month while he's on probation. She couldn't pass it up.

Her employer holds out a datapad, the blue screen alight with money transfer information. She's about to receive her payment and get the fuck off this stuffed metroplanet. Maybe she can finally replace some of the older parts on the Hatchetknife with this payment.

"Don't be a stranger, now," the man says amicably once the digital paperwork has been filled. She receives a notification ping on the screen of her visor, indicating the payment has gone through successfully.  

She inclines her concealed head, thanks him for the business, and turns tail to leg it back to the ship. The thing has been docked in storage for nearly a full month cycle now— long enough for the ticket expense to be a bit of a blow to her newly acquired units. It doesn't matter; this planet will be long behind her in only a matter of a few short hours. She's been idle, been on this polluted and overpopulated planet for too long.

And she'll be damned if a little blood on the exterior hatchpad of her ship is going to deter her from getting out of dodge in a timely manner. It's a handprint, maybe a couple, smeared all along the white panelling of the cargo bay door's control console. The cargo bay door is locked up tight though, so she's not particularly worried that any ne'er-do-wells have tried breaking into her sturdy old ship. It's a good model, she tells herself. It has a security system that would alert her of suspicious activity through the link between her helmet and the ship's mainframe. Sure, someone clearly tried to get in, but there's no sign the bay door had been opened recently.

She pays her exorbitantly priced docking ticket and opens the bay door herself. She remains completely oblivious to the other trail of blood, smeared up the side of the ship and leading to the secondary hatch. She doesn't notice the cut wires either, spraying pathetic little sparks instead of warning signals to her security system. To be fair, she doesn't notice much of anything—doesn't even remove her armor or helmet—in her haste to take off. She just charges through the cargo bay, vaults the ladder to the upper deck, and wedges herself behind the control console.

It feels like home, being behind the console. More of a home than she's ever really had, at least. She exhales against the interior of her helmet. Her reflection gleams in the bare windshield, the sleek black glass and metal of her high-tech helmet staring back. Gloved fingers press buttons and flip switches, igniting holoscreens and a rainbow of lights. Meters and regulators all seem to be in check despite the ship's extended idleness, and the hyperdrive kickstarts with a comforting purr. She has to take the ship up and out of the atmosphere before kicking it into warp speed, lest the planet's nasty police force pick a fight with her. Fog and flames lick the nose of the Hatchetknife as it accelerates upward, breaking through the upper atmosphere at a smooth 15 kilometers per second, and an even 75 degree angle. Only then does she crank the hyperdrive and watch as the countless stars warp around the nose of the ship.

She plots an aimless course, avoiding setting a firm destination until she can get her hands on another potential job lead. Upon throwing it into autopilot, the ship's automated computer system welcomes her back on board. Hatchet, it calls her. Not even her own ship uses her true name anymore.

Her boots are heavy as they tramp out of the cockpit. Reinforced steel and acid-resistant soles, these boots are. They're her favorites. They make a robust thump thump as she walks into the narrow hallway of the Hatchetknife. Here resides her bunk, and across from that is the kitchenette and table where she eats and works and sometimes sleeps. It's barely wide enough to fit two people standing shoulder-to-shoulder. She's used to close-quarters; it's almost comforting, like a womb. The hatch and ladder down to the cargo bay gapes at the end of the hall, and this is what she beelines for once acclimating herself with the interior of her ship again. Her bunk looks awfully inviting, but first on the agenda is to shuck off all the armor.

Boots bracketed on either side of the ladder and gloved hands holding tight to the side-rails, she slides down until landing on the grate panels of the cargo bay floor. This area is vastly larger than her living quarters— it has to be, in the event she has to transport sizable goods or heavy machinery. A armory case for her weapons and uniform sits bolted against the side wall, its grate doors barely revealing the contents. She opens the thing up, removing the machine gun strapped to her back to place it on its rightful hooks.

She hooks her thumbs under the seal of her helmet and disables the suctioned airlock. Just as she's preparing to lift the burdensome thing from her head, something collides with her right side, knocking her clean off her feet. It takes only a few frantic moments to realize it's a human being— a male attacker. Her deactivated helmet collides with the metal flooring at an odd angle, instantly disabling the visor's screen as a result of some internal damage. The force of the tackle and impact against the floor has the breath drawn from her lungs in a violent, rattling wheeze. The muscles over her ribs convulse and tighten, sending a shock of panic and pain and adrenaline through her system. With little time to think, no weapon handy, and no opportunity to scan the stranger, she starts thrashing. Amidst the scuffle and blow to her head, she can't quite see clearly, only able to make out a blur of squirting blood. The blood isn't her own— she's sure she would feel it if she'd been shanked in any of her armor's vulnerable spots.

She thrusts a gauntleted arm upwards in the direction she thinks the intruder's head is. Her metal-sheathed wrist collides with something and the oppressive weight above her slumps over to the side.

Hatchet scrambles up to her knees and tears the nearest gun from off the rack. She spins, points the weapon at the stranger's head, and... doesn't shoot.

Sprawled on the cold metal floor is a man. A large man. Bald-headed and covered in blood she knows she hadn't drawn from him herself. It's old blood, old wounds— maybe hours, maybe days. Despite the vaguely stunned look about him from being hit in the head, he wears a wry little smile upon his full mouth, lips and nose bloody from what looks like a previous beating. His eyes glint in a peculiar fashion, almost like feline eyeshine, silvery and shifting.

He holds his hands out by his head placatingly, palms facing upward. Then, he grins. "Okay, okay. You got me." His voice is deep and smooth like rolling thunder. It's almost startlingly in its intensity.

"Who the fuck are you? What are you doing on my ship!? What do you want?" she barks into the voice modulator, keeping the hardy submachine gun trained on him.

"Got a pretty nice ship here, don't you think?" he rumbles out.

"Fuck you!"

He chuckles at that, although the action looks like it pains him. The blood, she realizes, is oozing from a substantial stab wound on his left flank, just below the contour of his shapely pectoral muscle. She swallows thickly, choking down the apprehensive lump in her throat. Still a little off-kilter from the blow to her helmet, she shakily rises to her feet, steady finger not leaving the trigger once. The man clenches his silvery eyes shut, sucking in a substantial breath only to groan it all out again. One broad, tan hand shifts to press against the wound on his side, the other remaining innocently idle.  

Without prompting, Hatchet's line of sight raises to the secondary hatch within the cargo hold. There it is: a smear of blood and sparking wires. That's where he'd gotten in. Must be a determined fella—let alone smart—to have hacked the ship's security system to override the locking mechanism and find which wires would send out a warning signal before they even had the chance to. She looks back to him, curiously tilting her head to the side in observation of him.

"What the fuck do you think is supposed to happen now?" she grits out. The voice modulator gives it an extra bit of bite.

The man laughs, blood staining his straight teeth. "I dunno. Thought you might hand over your ship."

"Hand over my— Do you have a fucking head injury?"

He laughs again and she kicks his calf roughly.

"What about this is funny? Please, illuminate it for me. Because all I see some fucking stowaway who has a gun to his head and a nasty stab in his side. You're not getting my ship, pal. You'll be lucky if I let you see tomorrow."

"Bad timing," he murmurs, voice thick with strain and sardonic amusement. His expression slackens, the crease between his thin brows flattening out gradually.

"What?"

She kicks his leg again; he's unresponsive. Unconscious, actually, judging by the sudden lack of tension in his face and limbs. She drops the gun-wielding hand to her side and lets out a high-pitched wail of frustration.

She's not a cold blooded murderer. Sure, she's had to take a life or two throughout her days, but then again, who hasn't in this line of work. Those times were different— kill or be killed. This is... this is an injured, apparently unarmed guy on her cargo bay floor. Yes, he'd broken in, but maybe he has a valid excuse. She's had to break into places to survive before, it's really not that unusual. And despite all the shit she's been through, deep down Hatchet has a bleeding heart. She'd be pressed to admit it, of course. The sight of the stranger, wounded and unconscious, male as he may be, pulls at her tender and guarded heartstrings.

Fucking hell. She can only hope that someday in the future, if she's ever in time of need, that some stranger will treat her with kindness.

The man is heavy. Not deceptively so, as his height and build imply a great amount of mass, but hell if she's not winded by the time she drags him over to the cargo lift. The small elevator is usually for objects and not people, but it's the only way she can get his dead-weight ass to the upper level where the only cot and good light source are. She hasn't taken her armor off, and at this point she doesn't think she's going to. Certainly not with a strange man aboard, unconscious or not.

Upon both arriving at the upper level, it takes a great amount of effort to haul the man over to the bunk. The space is barely big enough to comfortably hold Hatchet, and she's nowhere near the size of this beast of a man. The cot creaks as she lowers him onto it, his boots scraping the wall as she crams him into the broom closet sized space. Flicking on the overhead light, it illuminates him with white fluorescence. It's only then does she realize he's not entirely unconscious; somewhere in there, he's aware enough to wince at the light coming on. She squints at him for a long moment, scrutinizing the situation. He doesn't show any other sign of cognizance besides for that averse reaction to the bright light beating down on his eyelids. When she decides it had only been some sort of odd reflex, she goes to retrieve the medical supplies from an aptly labeled storage cabinet.

Modesty be damned, she has to remove his shirt. It's barely holding itself together, anyway, and she has replacements to dress him in after she's patched him up. She feels hot under all her armor and layers, nervous as she stares down at the stranger's bare chest. Christ, he's build like a tank. It's intimidating, actually, once she chokes down the insidious feeling of attraction that prickles her skin and bubbles in her abdomen. Anyway—  upon closer inspection, the wound on his side is largely superficial. The extensive bruising along his ribs, however, indicates some unknown level of internal damage. It may only be deep-tissue bruising, or his ribs could be broken. She can't be too sure either way, and makes sure to properly bandage up his torso regardless, though only after disinfecting and stitching up the gash.

His nose is broken, that much is obvious. However, it looks as though it's already been set, so all she has to do is clean the blood, disinfect the small cut on the bridge, and properly bandage it. He has a nice face, apart from the bandaged nose. She can't really describe his features. Harsh, but soft at the same time. She huffs against the interior of the helmet at the thought, crossing her arms and leaning back.

She has stationed herself at the table across from the bunk, cautiously watching over the stranger through the deactivated visor of her mask. Hot and stuffy and heavy as the armor may be, she won't risk taking it off just yet. She doesn't quite have a plan yet as to how this is going to unfold. She'd chosen to spare his life, yes, but that isn't to say she won't protect herself to the nth degree if the need arises going forward. She doesn't want him out of her sight—especially considering her unprofessional lack of manacles—which means she can't program a route into the ship right now. The task would've been made simple if he hadn't gone and broken the screen display mechanism in her helmet. She can't even scan him in this state, to gather his identity or vitals status. She hadn't realized how dependent she'd grown on the visor display until now, having worn the damn thing for weeks straight at this point.

It takes a couple of hours by her count for the stranger to rouse again. He's disoriented at first, but soon grows aware of her shielded gaze burning into him from the other side of the narrow living area. He shifts in the cot, turning onto his wounded side to better assess the situation. He doesn't seem threatened—or particularly threatening—at the moment.

"Rise and shine," Hatchet speaks into the voice modulator.

She kicks a boot up onto the edge of the cot from where she sits barely three feet away. She tells herself it's a show of dominance, to plant her boot right beside the stranger's head, but in reality she probably just looks stupid. The man just looks at her with those silvery eyes, squinting under the bright overhead light. She doesn't shut it off.

"Now here's the deal—"

"How many people you got on this ship?" He cuts her off, tone both aloof and detached despite the situation. He breaks into an odd little grin, then twists his head to scent the pillow. "You hiding a lady somewhere? Fella like you sure wouldn't smell this sweet."

Hatchet's face crumples under the cover of secrecy. She has to school her perturbed reaction for the sake of her anonymity. What the hell kind of guy is she dealing with here, exactly? Not only must she refrain from showing any physical reaction, she shouldn't verbally address it, either.

"Now here's the deal," she repeats. "I spared you once— even did you the favor of patching you up. But, it's not gonna happen again if you try something funny."

The man tucks his chin to his chest to look down at the bandaged wounds, holding a curious hand to his side. She can't quite interpret his expression perfectly, but she thinks he seems vaguely impressed by her medical treatment of him.

"I'm going to take you to the nearest inhabited planet and dump your freeloading ass off at the first dock I come across. You aren't going to resist or complain. I'm doing you this favor— clearly you were on the run from someone dangerous, and I got you out of dodge. I don't expect payment, but I'd be mighty grateful if you didn't do anything violent or stupid." Hatchet kicks the bunk when his eyes slip shut again. "Hey! Are you listening to me?"

He does appear to fall unconscious again, but she can't be totally sure he isn't just fucking with her. Irritated, she sucks her teeth and curses him out, kicking off the bunk to stomp off into the cockpit. Forget keeping him in sight, he can suffocate for all she cares. There's a shotgun under the control console, anyway.

She seals the cockpit door shut behind her. Only then does she feel safe to remove her helmet. Once again she's greeted by her reflection in the windshield, though this time it's her own face that stares back. It's a tired and sweaty face, with hair matted flat to the scalp from the tight interior of the helmet. She needs a nice long shower—that much is obvious—but now isn't the time. Finally breathing fresh, unfiltered air again, she gulps it down greedily and deposits herself in the pilot's seat. The autopilot had taken itself out of hyperdrive some time ago, and now the Hatchetknife careens at a steady pace through open space. The stars are magnificent, as always. The endless, unfathomable sight almost makes her forget her burdensome stowaway.

Hatchet pulls coordinates for the nearest inhabited planet. She expands the view on the holoscreen projected across the console. The information, illuminated in a fluorescent blue, scrawls across the screen just fast enough for her to barely be able to read it in time. Her eagerness to be rid of the stowaway slowly melts into a nauseating apprehension. Apparently, according to the data, the nearest planet for several lightyears just happens to be crawling with Necromongers. Fucking Necromongers. If there's anything Hatchet hates, it's violent religious cults that double as armies. She avoids well-paying jobs on the off-chance that those psychos might catch a whiff of her— she's sure as hell not landing her ship in a hive of those wasps.

"Fucking shit!" She kicks the console.

There goes the plan to drop this motherfucker off. It'll take days at the very least to make it to the next viable planet. She tosses her head back and groans loud, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes until they come away leaving splotches in her vision. Venting her frustration, she kicks her heel against the console twice more.

———————————————————————

If Hatchet learns anything during her time in close proximity with the man, it's that, 1. he's a shockingly fast healer; 2. he doesn't like bright lights; and 3. he's quite sharp-witted despite the meathead look about him. In the few days that follow the unexpected detour, she avoids him as best she can in such cramped quarters. They only interact on the occasions when she checks up on his wounds or gives him MRE meals throughout the day—  always outfitted in her armor, of course. He only takes power-naps, never a full sleep, and reacts tensely to loud and sudden noises. He's smug and facetious when he speaks, and brooding when he doesn't. He's like a storm in every aspect of the description: thunderous voice, eyes like lightning, and a stormy personality to match. Despite Hatchet's aloofness, the man has found a way to wheedle himself under her skin. Once he was stable enough to stand on his own, nothing could stop him from getting up and wandering around the ship, hiding in the shadowed areas like a predator stalking its prey, much to Hatchet's chagrin. He makes little quips and witty comments in that deep voice when she's least prepared for them, and he stares at her with those glimmering eyes like he can see right through her disguise. Sometimes, she worries he does. He's like a fucking ghost the way he soundlessly moves around the small ship. That's more unnerving than his appearance, she thinks.

It's all getting rather frustrating. At first she'd been pissed that a man had the audacity to impose himself upon her time, energy, and ship. Now, she can't help but feel a strange tug of loneliness when they aren't in the same room. It's upsetting how the mind perceives human connection. She doesn't even know his name, yet the thought of being on her own again seems... well, lonely.

It does help that he's easy on the eyes, too. She finds herself locked away in the cockpit more and more frequently, brooding long and hard over the increasingly frequent thoughts of how fucking fine the man is. That soft yet masculine face, those thick arms and sturdy torso. The deep, intense tenor of his voice alone is enough to make her weak in the knees. And those eerie, glowing eyes, which watch her every movement like a hawk. Oh, for fucksake...

Hell, in all honesty she might as well be swimming in her armor with the way she sweats when he stands close and talks real smooth. She's afraid she's making it a little too obvious, actually. That carefully crafted persona is slipping through her fingers and all because she's a little hot under the collar about this stowaway she'd sworn to dump like a box of rocks come first chance. It came to a point approximately three simulated days into their time together when she couldn't stand the sight of him shirtless anymore; she ended up handing over one of her spare XL tanks, which still managed to look small on his burly frame. There's a sort of undeniable animal magnetism about him which is almost a little distressing in its intensity. What a fickle thing her trust in others is— and how tragically simple it was for her to get comfortable with the situation.

She doesn't insist on taking her bunk back from the healing man. While he rests his battered body on the cot, she kicks back at the well-worn table every night cycle, sprawled across the bench seat with a flimsy pillow beneath her helmeted head. This way she can keep the stowaway within her line of sight. Once his intimidating nature is overlooked, he is surprisingly amicable and seems rather appreciative of all her efforts. He hasn't tried to attack her, or otherwise threaten her person, which she takes as a sign he'd heard and accepted her deal before passing out on that very first day. In fact, he only ever deliberately menaces her when standing over her shoulder, or appearing out of nowhere. Or when he belligerently thumps his fist over wall panels to deactivate overhead lights he finds irksome.

Hatchet, though she herself is nameless to an extent, finds his lack of proffered identity a little frazzling. Though she's come to accept his presence as a whole, it would make her a lot more comfortable if she had a name and background to put to the face. Which brings her to the locked cockpit, wherein she works tediously to repair the screen and scanning mechanism in her helmet. With her tongue poked out from between her lips and one boot up on the console, she takes the helm apart and repairs it with a notable proficiency, then puts it all back together again. The screen automatically powers on when she activates the airlock seal, illuminating her field of view with digital notifications and vital statuses.

She catches him unaware, aiming her visor at him for long enough to scan his facial features and biometrics. Identification data scrawls across the screen before her eyes, her blood pressure spikes. Under the guise of piloting the ship, she locks herself in the cockpit again and feverishly scrolls through mugshots and bounty reward data.

Holy shit. She's been harboring the infamous convict Richard B. Riddick.

Her jaw clenches, muscle twitching against the interior padding of the helmet as she absorbs the newfound information. She should've known. She should have known. Those eyes— she'd heard the merc legends about those eyes.

But fuck... for a guy who'd spent half his life in the slam, he's certainly been affable within these restrictive quarters, mingling with a complete stranger, no less. It's hard to reconcile what she reads on the screen with the man she's been interacting with for the past few artificial cycles. She yanks the helmet from over her head, roughly scrubbing her palms over her face.

When she returns from the cockpit, nerves gathered to the extent they can be, she finds the man halfway through shaving his tan scalp. She stands at the mouth of the living area, the girth of her armor nearly taking up the entire doorframe. Richard B. Riddick, her reserved and shockingly mannered stowaway, sits at the metal table with a compact mirror and razor— a feeble weapon which she now knows could be used against her in all sorts of ways if she were to get on his bad side. Does he even have a good side to be on? She hopes he does, and hopes she's on it. Largely without thinking, one of her hands flutters up to her touch throat as images of it being brutally slit flicker through her mind.

She sits down across from him, folding her hands on the tabletop. He doesn't pause his grooming, doesn't even glance up. His eyeshine remains trained on the little mirror as he meticulously scrapes the stubble from his head with help from what looks like motor gel, no doubt nicked from the cargo bay below. Hatchet purses her mouth into a nervous line beneath the safety of her helm. She can't help but silently observe the flex of his muscles as he moves, every innocuous gesture striking a flustered chord within her. She swallows against the tightness constricting her throat.

"How are you feeling?" She hopes the modulator eliminates the shakiness she feels in her voice.

Logically, she has nothing to be afraid of. Unless this guy is prone to switching demeanor on a dime—which she has no reason to believe he does, based on what she's seen so far—why wouldn't this passive companionship continue? If anything, Hatchet is more afraid of how he will react to knowing she knows his identity now. Either he's been assuming she has known this entire time and just doesn't care, or knows she's been blissfully ignorant and has taken advantage of the anonymity.

He finally spares a glance at her across the table. His jaw visibly twitches, then one corner of his mouth quirks upward. He returns to shaving his head.

"Better. Thanks." He sniffs, sounding indifferent.

"You... uh. Want anything to eat?"

"Naw."

Hatchet exhales, both relieved and oddly disappointed. The storage compartment for the MREs is right beside him, meaning she would've had to stand right over him to retrieve anything.

"You got any goggles laying around?" His deep voice brings her out of her mind. "Been looking but..." he sucks his teeth.

Her brows raise confoundedly. "Goggles?"

"Yeah, you know. Goggles."

Fuck, he must think she's an idiot. She fumbles for words. "Uh. I'm not sure, probably not. I usually just wear the helmet when I need to shield my eyes. Why do you need them?"

He snaps the compact mirror shut and sets down the razor, using the bloody tank he's arrived in to wipe the remaining gel from his scalp. It looks like he'd shaved his beard recently, too, if the dark shadow on his jaw has anything to say about it. Setting the tank down, no more than a scrap rag at this point, he inhales deeply and briefly sinks his teeth into his plump lower lip. Hatchet bites her cheek hard enough for it to hurt, deliberately keeping her gaze from his mouth.

"I wouldn't need them if you didn't keep turning on all the lights," he replies. A hint of dry amusement hides within his flat tone.

"I wouldn't have to turn on the lights if you didn't hide in the shadows all the time," she retaliates. Riddick chuckles like deep, rolling thunder. Hatchet's pulse jumps; fear, arousal. "I'll keep it in mind not to turn them all on. I know your eyes are sensitive to light," she continues.

He suddenly pins her with a suspicious, scrupulous glare. She realizes her mistake and backtracks, sweating bullets beneath her armor.

"I mean, you squint a lot. And you make your way around in the dark better than in the light. I shouldn't have assumed." She's babbling. She can't keep a lid on it.

If he suspects what she knows, he doesn't let on. He cocks his head to the side, eyes glimmering as they trace the contours of her hefty armor. His gaze stops on her visor, right where her eyes should be. Somehow, she feels like they're making direct eye contact.

A questioning smile graces his handsome face. "Do you ever take that damn helmet off? Or do you live in the thing."

Hatchet's face falls beneath the shield of the visor. Her pulse thumps in her throat; a part of her thinks he can sense it. Her demeanor becomes prickly, unchecked. "Why do you care? You're a stowaway on my ship— what is it your business how I eat, sleep, shit—"

"Fuck?" He raises a thin brow, tickled by his own addendum. Meanwhile, Hatchet flushes a fiery shade of red beneath the helm in question. Then, he huffs a short little laugh— more a harsh exhale than anything. "I have to say, your little getup had me convinced at first. But, I know you ain't a man."

Hatchet's heart skips a beat. She disguises her anxiety with derision. "Disappointed?"

"Not in the slightest, sweetheart." A white canine glints when he flashes that oddly charming smile.

That combination—a quaint pet name and that devastating smile—has her feeling lightheaded and confined within her suit. Her hands slip from the tabletop to clench into fists in her lap. He appears upsettingly smug about his little revelation.

"How'd you figure it out?"

His nostrils flare; he takes a deep breath. "Thought I smelled a woman my first night in the bunk. My nose was all fucked up, but... eventually I figured out that sweet smell was coming from you and not some phantom scent hanging around. I give you credit, you had me going for a little while."

Her brow twinges. What a strange man.

She's faced with an internal conflict. She could deny the accusation, but something tells her that won't work in the slightest. She could keep the helmet  and armor on until they part ways, but really what's the point, seeing as he already knows she's a woman; he looks strong enough to pry the armor right off her body anyway. The most logical choice she can make is to take the discovery in stride and go back to living comfortably, with the addition of a slightly threatening guest who does one-armed push-ups in the hallway and lurks around dark corners. The jig is up. He's just that good. Her choice is practically made up for her.

Hatchet's hands raise, slow and tentative, and she maintains what feels a lot like eye contact with Riddick. Her gloved thumbs hook up under the seal, disabling the airlock and visor screen. Air hisses out from the seam at her throat, loosening the helmet's grip on her head. Somewhat dubiously, she lifts the burdensome metal and glass dome from over her head. It comes to rest in her lap as she shakes out her sweat-dampened hair and takes a deep breath of fresh air.

They look at each other's faces for the first time, unencumbered. The visor distorts perception a tiny bit, so it's almost like seeing him for the first time. A permeable scent of sweat and metal lingers between the both of them, despite both having showered recently in the ship's minuscule wash room. She can also smell the motor gel he'd used to shave his head (so strange— must be a leftover trick from the slam, she thinks). The woman is overcome with a bout of anxiety and shyness upon revealing her true face, and flushes under his heavy gaze. She resists the submissive urge to tuck her chin to her chest and avert real eye contact.

"Well... I guess you know who I am, now." She clears her throat; she hasn't heard her unfiltered voice in ages. Her jig may be up— but she still has something of a trump card on him, too. Sure, he might kill her for it, but this entire conversation is toeing the line of life-threatening risk to begin with. She musters courage to utter her next words; "Just like... how I know who you are now, Richard B. Riddick. Thought I wouldn't do a facial recognition scan?"

Hatchet squares her shoulders and raises her chin by a fraction, feigning confidence. He can probably smell her fear. The man inclines his head, brows raised as a chuckle rolls in like a storm. He almost looks impressed with her mediocre detective work.

He smiles that wolfish smile, showing teeth and smile lines. "So, you think you know who I am now, huh? You afraid of the big bad monster now?"

One corner of Hatchet's mouth quirks downward. "Should I be?"

"If you're smart you would be." He levels her stare with that inhuman eyeshine.

"I only fear true monsters. Men who kill for pleasure and nothing more. I read the files on you. You don't kill unarmed women— children. You don't rape them."

It isn't phrased as a question, but he replies regardless; "Naw."

It's actually kind of relieving that he looks a bit offended by the idea. "Then you aren't a true monster. You do what you have to to survive. We all do out here. I can't fault you for killing people trying to kill you. I won't fault you for anything you had to do in the slam."

There's more she would like to say—to tell him he'd been dealt a really shitty hand—but that feels too intrusive for the context of their relationship. She doesn't want to risk angering him by coming off as pitying.

Riddick narrows his naturally suspicious gaze at the woman. He doesn't touch her previous soapbox comment. "So... that mean you're gonna try to turn me in for a payday?"

"Fucking— Jesus, dude," she guffaws incredulously. "Why the fuck would I turn you in after I did so much to save your ass? You're worth more dead than alive, you know. If I wanted to, I could've."

The big man shrugs. "Who knows. Every other merc would."

"Well I'm not every other merc, am I?" She leans back, crossing her arms over her chestplate.

"Naw, definitely not."

If she'd been any less observant, she may have missed the glimmer of flirtation in his tone and demeanor— in his eyeshine. Stifling heat rises like a kettle boiling, tinting her face a noticeable hue. She can only hope she looks disheveled and sweaty enough for it to pass as an exacerbated flush. Abruptly, she stands from the table, wringing her hands in an uncontrollable combination of nerves and bashfulness. The helmet is dumped onto the tabletop, rolling towards the seated man.

"I'll uh—" Her voice cracks; she clears her throat. "I'll look for those goggles for you."

"Good talk," he calls after her as she hastily turns on her heel.

She pauses her stride, mind running a mile a minute to find a way to gain some sort of traction and authority amidst this interaction. She shifts halfway to turn back and face him.

"Hm. Yes, good talk... Richard."

His uproarious laughter follows her down into the cargo bay where she quickly disappears.

———————————————————————

Riddick is both a complicated human and a very simple man. On one hand, a selfish part of him wants nothing more than to take control of this cramped little vessel and fly it fuck-knows where. It's clear to him that this ship and its pilot are a package deal, which brings him to a sort of moral crossroads. On the other hand, this woman—this merc—has been undeservingly kind to him, more so than anyone he can remember. She has a point, too. He'd been dangerously incapacitated for a short while, in which time she could have easily gone and ghosted him or handed him over to some other scummy mercs. But she hadn't. This lone woman, mistrustful enough of others to go so far as to masquerade as a man, had saved his hide and given him shelter and transport, all out of the kindness of her heart. She isn't threatening or outwardly malicious; he doesn't know how the hell she's survived this long out here. Perhaps her assumed persona has gotten her this far after all, amongst the masses less perceptive than himself.

Fuck. Merc or not, he can't just ghost her now.

And besides— he's a man, and she's a woman. Simple as that.

Even suited up to the jaw in armor and reeking of sweat, her newly revealed face stirs something all-too familiar within him. Hell, her scent alone is enough to get him off. Riddick doesn't even have to know what the rest of her looks like to know he wants to fuck her. And she doesn't seem all too averse to the idea of him, either, based on the subtle changes observable in her posture and scent. His senses are too keen to miss the physical and vocal cues she tries so hard to hide with that modulator and beneath the suit of armor. He knows hot and bothered when he sees it; and it's a fucking ego-boost.

After their little conversation, she'd grown more comfortable— if that's the appropriate word for the scenario. He'd revealed her identity and she responded by completely forgoing the suit of armor. Not that he's curious or anything, but he finds himself asking more about her. She shares that she is called "Hatchet," which he thinks is a little entertaining given her rather docile nature. He also learns that she's been in the mercenary business since her early teenage years, which almost always spells trouble for young women— hence why she'd taken up the persona of a more masculine, faceless merc, rather than be perceived as lesser-than by her professional peers. She's funny too, he pleasantly discovers, when not restrained by that helmet.

He's surprised when she comes up to him a few cycles following their conversation. She's dressed in a tank like his (which he realizes is hers) and a mechanic's jumpsuit, the top of which rests tied around her supple hips. He eyes up her body with a brashness that usually intimidates even the most battle hardened of men. She doesn't even flinch— she grows shy, instead. He stands by his previous statement in which he'd wanted to fuck her without knowing what her body looked like, but he's certainly not complaining now in getting to see her without the bully armor to conceal her curves and soft shape. Even the light musculature of her arms and width of her shoulders is hot.

She holds something as she approaches from the cargo bay ladder, and he quickly deduces it is non-threatening. She sidles up to the table where he has been parking himself at more frequently lately. She wears a sweet expression halfway between anticipatory and nervous— not much different than usual.

"Hey, dollface," Riddick greets.

He cocks his head to the side as he looks up at her, observing her through the purplish hue of his shine-job eyes. He quickly discovered that playfully teasing the young woman almost always earns a flurry of entertaining responses; namely flustered yammering and a red flush which trails all the way down to her full breasts. The pet names come easily, oddly enough. She blushes as expected and leans a hip against the table edge. While toying with the object in her hands, she glances between it and him.

"I uh. I found a pair of goggles, since you'd been asking."

She holds her flat palm out towards him, displaying a set of simple black welding goggles. They're essentially like the pairs he usually sports: midsized circular lenses, held in place by a thick plastic compound. Riddick takes the proffered eyewear and tests the weight in his own palm. The strap is a fabric material rather than a continuation of the flexible plastic, but still appears sturdy. He pulls them over his head, lowering the lenses over his eyes. They block out the Iight sufficiently, subduing the vibrant hue of his altered vision.

He scans the woman through the shades, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks, sweetheart. You're a real peach."

Hatchet releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, sure. No problem... Richard."

She doesn't use fluffy little names on him like he's begun doing for her. When she does refer to him, she only calls him by his first name. Which, given the fact virtually no one else does, feels like a more powerful naming. It's humanization in its rawest form. She shifts to sit down across from him. Neither of them can ignore the way their ankles tangle together beneath the table, hefty boots knocking into one another. Riddick watches her throat bob as she swallows. He raises the goggles and leaves them perched on his knit brow.

"Okay, so, I've been thinking," she begins, somewhat hesitantly. "Here's the deal— I'll take you wherever you want to go, so long as you don't, you know, kill me in my sleep and steal my ride or something. I think that's only fair since I didn't do the same to you when you were incapacitated. Also, I guess it goes without saying that I'm not gonna tell anyone about this encounter or your whereabouts. If you don't trust my good will, just think how negatively it would affect my life if it got out among the wrong crowd that I've been in cahoots with an escaped convict."

Riddick barks out an abrupt laugh. "In cahoots, huh?"

Hatchet blanches, her jaw opening and shutting several times before she gathers her words. "W-Well, I'm willingly harboring a fugitive, aren't I? I haven't booted you out the airlock yet— so yes, we're in cahoots."

The man's laughter tapers into a light chuckle. He perches his chin on his fist in a way that makes Hatchet tense with bashfulness. A muscle in his thick forearm flexes, drawing her curious eye. Lately, she's been daydreaming about those strapping arms. She's been catching herself daydreaming about the rest of him, as well.

Her eyes dart back to his silvery ones, clearing her throat. "Well, what do you think of my deal?"

Riddick tilts his head, unable to resist smiling. "Sounds good."

The woman blinks at him, big doe eyes wide as she picks apart his reaction. "Ah... uh. Okay, cool." She drums the tabletop with both hands, fidgeting under his heavy stare.

She pushes to her feet suddenly, and Riddick launches up after her. Instantly he crowds her in the tight space, his large frame taking up a majority of her vision. She startles, automatically pressing her hands flat to his built chest. This draws a rumbling chuckle from him as he gazes down at the flustered woman.

Hatchet's heart rate quickens, the muscle thumping wildly in her chest. That pulse begins its mortifying throb between her thighs, too— a desperate, hot desire which boils up without her expressed permission. It's not an entirely unwelcome feeling, but it's certainly indicative of her poor self-control given the situation. She has no clue if this dangerous convict is about to crush her head like a clump of dirt, or if he's going to make a move on her. Those are the only two explanations for his startling proximity to her.

Nervously, her eyes raise to meet his. She finds his head bowed towards her.

"Uh."

"Why don't you ever sleep in your bunk?" he asks, derailing her frazzled train of thought. "Don't you need your beauty rest, sweetheart?"

"O-Oh? Where are you supposed to go if I take back my bunk?"

He hums and sways his shaven head. "We can share."

Brain unable to catch up with what he's offering, she defaults to thinking in a blunt, literal sense. "W-We can't both fit. It's too narrow."

He steps forward and she steps back, only to realize he's effectively backed her against a wall. One of his beefy arms rises, forearm and fist resting on the wall beside her head. He leans further into her space, smiling as he takes a deep breath of her scent. Fuzzy butterflies explode in her abdomen; she goes weak in the knees.

"Oh really? 'Cuz I got a few positions in mind that we can fit into," he purrs. Hatchet lets out a surprised little noise and he ducks closer. "Aw, don't get all shy on me now, babygirl."

"I'm— I—" she stammers.

Her eyes flick between his own and his lips. That now-familiar eyeshine glimmers with heated desire as he carefully observes her. He leans in real slow— torturously slow. The tip of his nose brushes against hers and she shudders. Riddick's breath is hot as is fans across her face. She finds herself panting heavy through parted lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his steady one. Her chin ducks low, shyly averting his advance to where he has to chase her lips.

His full lips are shockingly soft when they do finally graze hers— his mouth gentle and curious at first while he tentatively pecks her. The few kisses he lavishes upon her lips are short and teasing, serving only to rile her up further. The heartbeat at her core prompts her thighs to clench; the action doesn't go unnoticed. One of his broad hands clamps over her upper arm, effectively pinning her in place against the wall. The shared kiss grows more frenetic with each passing second. His other hand slides rather possessively up the length of her back, coming to tangle in the hair at the base of her skull. He uses it as leverage to tilt her head back— a move which earns a quiet gasp and unintentional whimper through her parted lips. With a small self-satisfied grin, Riddick takes the invitation to claim her open mouth, exploring teeth and tongue with his own.  

Hatchet can barely catch her breath— especially not when Riddick slips his tongue past her lips. The pulse between her thighs grows increasingly unbearable and she squirms desperately in his tight hold. That hand holding her arm in a vise grip shifts instead to press against her shoulder blade, pinning her to his broad chest. Her own hands find the courage to come up, fingers taking liberty to slip beneath the hem of his borrowed shirt. His tanned skin is warm and pulled taut over an ample amount of muscle. Her hands are cold—they always are while in space—which results in a string of tangible shivers as she drags her fingers up his sides. The thin fabric of the grey tank bunches up around her wrists as her hands continue their exploration upward. Her right hand is careful to avoid irritating the stitched wound over his left-side ribs. Instead it glides to his smooth chest, squeezing a generous handful of his pec.

He chuckles into her mouth and she swallows the deep noise with fervor. Without warning, he crouches and drops his large hands to her ass, hoisting her up with ease. Her legs clamp around his waist on instinct, canting her hips to shamelessly grind her throbbing core against his hard stomach. Her hands continue to grope his muscled chest and arms, appreciative of his powerful physique. All the while, mouths slot together in feverish kisses.

Riddick pivots on his heel and effortlessly pitches forward at the waist, dropping the woman clinging to him down onto the cot. There's little give to the canvas fabric bunk, but it's certainly more comfortable than a metal tabletop. Not that Riddick particularly cares; he's already swimming in visions of bending her over the table, anyway. Only when he deposits her on the bunk and crouches over her does Hatchet release him from her clinging grasp. Her hands barely leave his chest long enough to yank the tank up over his head, relying on his aptitude to fully rid himself of the thing while she continues her impromptu anatomy lesson. While she latches her mouth onto the pulse point of his throat, he plucks the goggles from his brow and flings them aside. They clatter down somewhere unimportant.

Wordlessly, there lingers between them a mutual agreement that this is consensual. This is needed. This has been building up for a while now.

Riddick's broad hands engulf Hatchet's soft waist, squeezing her affectionately. His fingers push upward, skirting along the hem of her own shirt. She parts her mouth from his neck only long enough to allow him to tug the garment up over her head, hastily followed by the discarding of her sports bra, too. His palms are rough with calluses against her sensitive flesh, and unrelenting when they come up to squeeze her bared breasts. The topless woman licks up the column of his throat to just below his right ear, tasting sweat and skin as she suckles the sweet spot. Her fingers dig into his biceps, keeping him in place as she straddles him. She smiles against his hot skin when he groans. His weathered hands explore her torso, sliding from her chest to her back, then down to grasp her waist tightly.

"Fuck, come on," Riddick grunts into her hair. His hands slip lower to her ass, yanking impatiently at the fabric of her jumpsuit bottoms. "Pants."

It takes no effort for him to lift and flip her onto her back again, taking pride in the surprised expression she wears. Her limbs and eyelids feel heavy as she undoes the tied sleeves around her hips, helping him shuffle off her slate grey jumpsuit. She doesn't even realize he's also slipped off her underwear until she feels the cool air of the ship against her bare core. Fuck, all her constant worrying over her appearance, and in the moment she isn't even concerned. She just needs to feel good with him.

Despite this minor revelation, Hatchet briefly feels a tad in over her head as the burly man holds her down by the hips and leans over her. He eclipses the dim overhead light, his eyes shining magnificently. Those nocturnal eyes are growing on her at a frightening rate.

"Richard," she whispers. One hand reaches up to touch his face, petting his cheek before skating over the stubbly crown of his head. "Fuck, Rich."

He drops his head and growls against her hot, bare skin. The sound rumbles beneath her palm where it presses over his heart. That's a new one— Rich. He's never been called that before. He doesn’t dislike it, mainly because it comes from her.

Riddick leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck and across her chest. His fingers press into her supple flesh of her hips hard enough for it to dimple under the force. He continues downward, laving his hot tongue over her pebbled nipples, teasing his teeth against her delicate skin. With her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, she remains ignorant to the garland of lovebites he leaves across her skin, decorating her chest with the constellations of the open universe. His lips follow the line of fine hair down the middle of her stomach, until finally stopping just above the curly thatch at her mons. He shifts his attention, choosing to nip at the skin of her inner thighs. He kneels on the floor and roughly yanks her to the end of the cot for better leverage, earning a surprised yelp from the woman. In the same moment, he tucks his thumbs around the underside of her knees and hoists her legs over his broad shoulders. Her ankles automatically lock overtop his shoulder blades.

Hatchet shudders with delicious anticipation. Her big eyes shoot open and head cranes, meeting his silver gaze from where he has positioned himself between her thick thighs. Without much civility or warning, the man stuffs his shaven head into the tight crevice of her thighs. She is suddenly relieved that he'd taken the bandage off his nose almost immediately after gathering his bearings all those days ago, because now he puts the prominent feature to good use against her swollen clit.

A wanton moan claws out from Hatchet's throat as she throws her head back against the rigid cot. Riddick's breath is hot against her cunt, tongue skilled as he works it into her most sensitive area. Two fingers pry her labia apart to get at a more effective angle. Her hands dart to clamp down on either side of his head, her nails digging crescents into his nude scalp. Panting and squirming, she uses her iron grip on his head to grind up against his big nose. He groans low against her core, the vibrations on his tongue adding to her pleasure. Her thighs squeeze against his flushed ears, and for a moment the thought she may suffocate him flashes through her mind. That worry is ejected out into space when his tanned hands come around to grip her where her thighs meet her hips, dragging her even more securely against him.

Her eyes roll back, body wracked with uncontrollable spasms as Riddick brings her increasingly closer to her peak. His nose is replaced by a skillful thumb, rubbing firm circles around her clit. He continues lapping at her cunt, groaning and taking intermittent gasps for air. Just as she feels that hot coil tightening in her lower abdomen, sees white light flickering beneath her lids, he does the unthinkable. He pulls away. Hatchet whines at the sudden neglect and desperately claws at his head in an attempt for him to continue, leaving red stripes on his stubbly scalp.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asks lowly, smugness dripping from his tongue. That isn't the only thing dripping from his tongue; his nose, mouth, and chin are coated in her arousal.

Hatchet laughs breathlessly. "Fuck off."

She welcomes him with open arms when he crawls up over her again, accepting his lips as he presses down to kiss her. She can taste her own wetness on his mouth, but is largely distracted by his hips slotting between hers and grinding down.

He pulls back for a moment, leveling her with an entertained but mildly miffed eyebrow raise. "You got protection?"

Hatchet has to take a moment to catch her breath in order to answer. "Don't worry, I got that fancy implant. Unless you're riddled with some horrible penitentiary disease?" She smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with playfulness.

Her hands cup his face when he returns a dazzling smile. "Me? Who do you take me for? A convict?"

She curls against him when he ducks his face to the crook of her neck, warm and blushing as they both laugh. Unabashed, laughing together. It feels bizarrely intimate, and so completely foreign to the both of them. When the brief chuckles taper off and the weight of the scenario sinks back in, Hatchet wriggles her hips against his, attempting to stimulate some friction. The rough fabric of his cargo pants sparks a little something, but nothing spectacular. Catching on to her renewed desperation, Riddick presses weight against her hips, teasing her with his clothed erection. She mewls softly, grinding up against him.

A calloused hand slides up the length of her body to her neck, first two fingers and thumb pressing lightly against either pulse-point. He squeezes just hard enough for her to squirm with an intoxicating faintness, but light enough for it not to harm her. She swallows hard, feeling the pressure of his palm against her larynx. It would be child's play for him to fully wrap his hand around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. This flirtation with death is not only exhilarating, but it's something she'd never considered as enjoyable before now.

She's too busy with panting against the hand around her throat to realize he'd slipped his other one down towards the apex of her thighs. That is, not until there comes a delicious and unexpected pressure against her swollen clit. She jolts from the sudden stimulation. The moan that slips unbidden from her lips is loud and breathy, and she arches up into his devilish touch. His thumb rubs concentrated circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, the middle finger sliding lower to tease her slit. Meanwhile, he drops his head to press against her temple, lips leaving sloppy kisses on her cheek.

Riddick groans, rutting against her soft thigh. He drags his lips against her cheek, bottom teeth scraping her skin. A tingly shudder ripples through her body.

"You want it, babygirl?" he growls in her ear. "Tell me you want it."

Hatchet whines when his thick finger breaches her entrance, sliding in easily with the wetness of her arousal. Her toes curl and back arches when that searching finger strokes that hidden sweet spot, her entire body overcome with a delicious shudder.

"Fuck," she pants, "Please. I want it."

The hand at her throat inches upward to clasp her jaw, angling her head for him to effectively whisper in her ear. "Want what, sweetheart? Use your words."

Another finger is stuffed into her pussy; she pants and squeezes around them. An embarrassed flush heats her chest and face at being made to speak her desire aloud. In some little act of defiance, she merely continues huffing and rutting against his hand. Punishment for her disobedience comes swift however, arriving in the form of the ceased stimulation. Riddick sucks his teeth and shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"So stubborn," he tsks.

Fuck— that rich, buttery voice sends a desperate throb straight to her neglected clit. She sobs out a pathetic whine, making a futile attempt to force his hand to continue its work.

"Please. Okay, okay. Please, please. I want you, I need you. Fuck me, please, Richard," she begs, voice coming out ragged.

He brings his lips to the corner of her mouth and smiles into the kiss he places there. "Good girl," he purrs.

Hatchet squirms under him, clit pulsing with an immediate flush of blood at the praise. "Say that again," she pants, sliding her hand over the back of his thick neck. "Please, please, Rich. Say that again. I'm— Hah."

She can feel the fond chuckle under her palm as it rumbles in his chest. He wrestles with the button and zipper of his cargo pants while keeping himself aloft with one arm. "My girl. Good girl."

Each kiss steals her breath away, dizzying her with butterflies and anticipation. It takes a hurried moment of effort, but Riddick manages to shuck his trousers and boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. Perched on his knees between the woman's spread thighs, he greedily admires the sight of her laid out before him. There's something particularly special about this woman. She's managed to weasel her way into his frigid heart, and he can't find it in himself to complain. She's sweet, and kind, and sure fucking hot. She too watches him greedily as muscles flex in his arms. He plants his hands on her bent knees, dragging them down the length of her soft thighs. Fingers sink into the fat of her hips, dragging her closer.

One glance at his proud erection is enough to draw a flustered whimper from Hatchet's lips; his dick is thick, befitting of the rest of him. She thrusts an arm up over her face, if only to hide the embarrassed blush which splotches her skin. The big man lowers himself over her once more and gently pushes her arm away, murmuring about her shyness. The weight of his cock resting on her belly makes her squirm, which he seems to enjoy greatly, much to her impatient desperation. He slots his plush lips with hers while his left hand slips around her right thigh, encouraging it up. Her knee brushes the bruised wound over his ribs, but he doesn't seem to care all that much as he pins the long limb tightly against him.

In the space between them, he fists his dick and pumps once, twice. He holds Hatchet's lidded gaze with those intense eyes of his, drinking in the dazed sight of her. He drags the cockhead through the wetness of her arousal, teasing her swollen clit before aligning himself properly. His throaty groan mingles with her gasped noises as he slowly presses into her, sheathing himself within her hot cunt. It's a snug fit, lax as she may be. He bottoms out painfully slow, taking his sweet time in stuffing her full of himself. That hand returns to her throat and gently squeezes while he holds himself aloft with the other arm.

Hatchet sucks her teeth against the slight sting of his size. The discomfort quickly fades into a satisfyingly tense pressure once Riddick gets a steady rhythm going. With her leg hiked up over his side, he continually pulls out almost all the way before plunging back into her, driving her down into the stiff cot with each powerful thrust. She shudders with each drag of his thick cock against her inner walls— with every gentle squeeze of his broad hand around her throat.

"Fuck, babygirl. You feel good," he grunts out. "Such a good girl for me. Real pretty." Riddick groans through clenched teeth when her cunt spasms particularly hard around him. His words are like a match to her gasoline.

The hand at her throat shifts away in an attempt to touch as much of her skin as possible— caressing her breast, tangling in her hair, touching her lips, squeezing her waist and hip. It's almost like a compulsion to feel every part of her warm body, to get lost in her skin and pretty noises. Hatchet's hands perform their own exploration; she can't get enough of wrapping her fingers around his biceps and broad shoulders, her breath panting hard against his collarbones as she clings to him. The middle two fingers of his wandering hand come down on her clit again, sparking electric spasms throughout her writhing body. Those fingers rub circles against her sensitive bud, and every so often slip lower to stroke around the spot where they join together.

An especially rough drag and thrust has the tip of cock kissing that sweet spot within her. She cries out and he repeats the motion with an exact precision. He continues hammering into her at that perfect angle, grunting and shuddering with each of her clenches and moans. Light blooms beneath Hatchet's eyelids, that hot pressure coiling up in her belly once more. The combination of internal and external stimulation is enough for her to see stars and arch into the man like her life depends on it.

Nearly animalistic in his frenzy, Riddick can't control himself when his teeth sink into the woman's shoulder. It feels right.

Hatchet cries out at the sharp feeling of his bite, shock mixing with odd delight. He doesn't use enough force to break the skin, but his teeth leave a sting nonetheless. In retaliation, her nails sink into his muscular back and drag downward to his sides, leaving crisscrossing stripes across his tan skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes that she may have torn one of his stitches, but he doesn't make any indication of it bothering him. That delicious tension deep in her belly increases almost unbearably; she bucks up into his fingers on her clit, grinding against the hilt of his cock stuffed in her. His mouth latches onto the slope of her neck and bites again, licking the minimal damage each time he retracts his pearly teeth.

Her orgasm comes suddenly, like fireworks. She spasms around him as she comes, back arching up against his hard front as she cries out. Riddick continues pounding into her— continues rubbing her clit through her shuddering orgasm. The sounds of their sex seem awfully loud in the quiet confines of her small ship.

"There we go. Good girl," he murmurs into her throat.

He pushes up on his supporting arm, putting a bit of space between himself and the spent woman. She twitches and pants beneath him, cunt contracting around his continued thrusts. Her nails haven't yet retracted from his sides, clinging as though grasping for purchase. Riddick sits upright with her legs slung around his hips. One hand wipes over his head to clear away beads of sweat, before both come down to clutch her hips.

"Fuck... Where do you want it, sweetheart?" He punctuates with a harsh snap of his hips, plunging deep into her.

Hatchet's wrists demurely cross above her head. Her breaths come in short, exhausted puffs as she wriggles against him. Overstimulation is beginning to fray at her edges, but the feeling of being so full of him overrides the discomfort. She can barely think straight enough to give him a proper response— fucked thoroughly out of her mind.

"Richard—" She groans low in her throat. He's practically rearranging her guts. Tears prick at her eyes. "Fuck. Inside. Please, just— ugh, inside."

He makes a noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle. "Sounds good to me, baby." She doesn't have to open her eyes to know the smug, cocky, sexy bastard is grinning. "Nngh, fuck."

Riddick's head tilts back, shuddering violently. He groans loud and holds her steady with his fingers dug into her hips. She feels his hot release spill into her, coating her insides as he ceases his relentless pounding. She's overly sensitive from the intensity of her own orgasm, so his sudden stillness comes as a relief for her tender parts. His chest heaves, fingers twitching.

After an extended moment of basking in the bliss of his finish, Riddick slumps forward. While he's careful not to crush the woman, he does rest a bit of his weight atop her. Sweat-slicked skin meets sweat-slicked skin as they recover together, lounging in the afterglow. He remains partially sheathed within her, allowing a minimal amount of his seed to trickle out around his length.

Amidst tenderly petting Riddick's back, Hatchet nearly gets lost to the grips of sleep. That is, at least until his rumbling voice stirs her again.

"I think you needed that." He noses her throat, inhaling deeply. She cants her hips without thinking, then grunts softly at the feeling of him still buried within her.

"Oh?" she chuckles quietly, "Is that right?"

She smoothes her palm over the back of his head, then traces her fingertips up and down his neck and shoulders. He hums against her clammy, flushed skin. Sentimentally isn't even remotely his forte, but this intimacy feels surprisingly good. Odd and unfamiliar, but pleasant. He feels safe to relax in her hold, resting a little bit more of his weight against her capable form.

"Yep. You're a little uptight."

Briefly pressing his lips to the bite-shaped bruises on her shoulder, he lifts his head. She cracks an eye open to peer at him, then sighs wistfully. He really does have a beautiful face. She caresses his cheek.

"And hey, would you look at that. We fit." He grins wide and smug and raises a brow, referring back to the conversation which started this whole affair.

Hatchet drops her head to the cot and closes her eyes again, laughing heartily. "Fuck you, Richard."

[roseverdict]

Mechanize, Mobilize, (Un)Mythicize (also i am not really vibing with the title and kinda wanna change it at some point)

Chapter 3: The Capture of Some City In Ohio

Alexis "Alexcrafter28" Hayward has just been made aware that the world is now becoming an apocalypse movie. Now she just needs to get her sisters and her laptop full of stick figures out of the house and somewhere their dad can find them again without getting captured by the evil robots. No pressure!

Meanwhile, Stephen Hayward finds himself surrounded by the robot uprising and unable to make sure his daughters are okay. Understandably, he blows his stack. In doing so, however, he ends up rescuing a small family of three, and all four of them are there to see some kind of stick figure animation, of all things, hijack every screen in sight. Surely the concept of programs in the forms of cartoons is just as foreign to the family of three as it is to Stephen. Surely the other father isn't keenly feeling the absence of a rainbow of sticks that he was forced to leave behind.

〜

lmao mecha apocalypse au i lovingly named the sti-fi au over a year ago @ me yesterday:

hahaha. it's uhhhhh. it's been a while hasn't it? lmao i got jostled out of my groove with a lot of my fanon worldbuilding when we got Wanted and then also The Box, which threw me off long enough for ninja turtles to infiltrate my brain.

i now have multiple tmnt-stickfigure xovers rattling around in my brain and having a blast, ntm straight-up turtle fic. i am playing with the canon teetleverse like bionicles. <3

i was browsing the ao3 subreddit recently, though, and one of the posts was asking what our favorite compliments we've gotten are. that got me to go back and reread a lot of the comments i've gotten, and i figured i'd go back and reread some of the stuff i've got posted, too.

welcome one and all to ava/m fixation 3: this time i'm really losing my mind i swear

now featuring "actually i'm keeping most of my worldbuilding and unless i can figure out a way to add it in later, we will be operating like vic really didn't make it out of ava 1"!

BRIEF MENTION OF VOMIT. nothing in detail, just a one-off remark by a harried teenager's internal narration about how it was a thing that happened recently

〜

Alexis Hayward licked her dry lips and slid the laptop, its charger, and its mouse into her backpack with a change of clothes and what would have been her school lunch.

Thank goodness she'd thrown up last night. She couldn't go back to school until more than 24 hours after she'd puked, but her lunch had already been pre-packed.

She'd woken up feeling better, too, which was a plus if the world was really ending.

She crept to her sisters' room and snuck inside, hissing, "We gotta get outta here!"

Vicki and Nicki looked at her worriedly, but (smartly) didn't loudly ask her what was going on.

Alexis just tiptoed to their bedroom window and carefully pointed outside in explanation.

A few blocks away, the giant robots that Alexis had seen through her bedroom window were slowly and steadily getting closer to the house. People's houses were getting broken into, and as she watched, more of their neighbors were pushed out into the street.

The twins followed her and peeked out at the carnage, only to flinch back down and away from the window.

Swallowing down her fear so her sisters wouldn't worry, Alexis forced on a weak smile. "Here's the plan. The evil robots haven't gotten to us yet, but they're gonna soon. Vicki, go grab stuff from the pantry that we can open with just our hands. Nicki, go get our waterbottles and those filter thingies Dad got for when we go camping. I've got nice programs on my computer that're hiding from the mean ones, so I'm gonna grab Dad's fancy solar panel charger bag so I can keep my laptop turned on, and we can put the food and stuff in the bag part. Meet back here so we can get away together, okay?"

"Got it!" whispered Vicki as she scurried away.

Nicki nodded with enough force to make her whole body bounce a little, then ran off after Vicki.

Alexis slumped as soon as the two of them were out of sight, then headed for Dad's room, pulled her phone from her pocket, and dialed Dad. Surprisingly, she managed to get through.

Dad's voice was panicked, and it was almost drowned out by the noise of the robots on his end causing chaos, but he sounded unhurt. "Alexis?! Alexis, sweetie, are you and your sisters okay?!"

"We are for now, Dad," Alexis said, a small smile on her face as she slung the charger bag over the top of her backpack. "I saw the robots coming, but they're not here yet. I've got the twins getting food and water, and I'm grabbing your solar bag if that's okay. I'm gonna try and get us to-"

"Don't say over the phone," Dad interrupted. "I don't want these things finding you."

"Wh-? But how are you gonna find us?" Alexis pressed.

"You're going to your castle, aren't you?" asked Dad knowingly.

"I haven't called it that since I was, like, seven!" protested Alexis. Then, begrudgingly, "…but, yeah, somewhere around there."

"Then that's where I'll look for you," Dad said simply. "I love you, Princess. Your sisters, too. I love you all with my whole heart."

Alexis swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Love you too, Dad."

A high-pitched scream pierced the air, and Alexis jolted, her phone falling from her hand. "Nicki-?!"

Dad's voice rose fearfully, but the phone was the least of Alexis's worries as she sprinted from the twins' room to find one of the giant robots holding Nicki up by the arm.

Alexis saw red.

"LET HER GO!"

She charged the robot, grabbing the first thing in her way and chucking it at the monster holding her sister.

The mostly-full water bottle- one of the big ones the size of multiple milk jugs that Dad had gotten for his office- slammed into the robot, splashing water everywhere and making the robot freeze up.

Alexis jumped up and grabbed Nicki, tugging her free as lightning started sparking around the machine. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," Nicki sniffled. She held out the bag Dad kept the filters in. "I got the filter straws, but I was filling the big bottle when it got me."

"You did good, Tiny," Alexis assured. "Let's go grab Teeny and get out of here, okay?"

Nicki gave her a wobbly smile and a nod, and Alexis took her hand and sped for the pantry. Before they reached it, though, Vicki burst out and tackled Nicki in a hug that was quickly returned.

Alexis scanned Vicki for injuries, and only once she found none did she turn to inspect the piles of food Vicki had made in the pantry.

Unfortunately, she didn't get the time to actually look at them.

There came heavy, metallic footsteps, and Alexis just shoved the closest things into Dad's solar bag before dragging the twins away from the sound. "Gotta be super-quiet, okay? Let's get going!"

Her sisters nodded, and Alexis cracked open the kitchen window.

When no robots came charging after them from either side, she boosted Nicki over the side, then Vicki.

Still nothing.

Alexis climbed out herself and eased the window shut.

Still nothing.

Alexis dug into her pocket for her phone so she could pull up a map, but her heart sank as she realized where she'd dropped it and why.

"Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way," she muttered.

Vicki looked up at her. "Hm?"

"C'mon, let's get to the park," Alexis said. "Dad'll find us if we go there."

〜

Stephen pressed himself flat against the wall, willing the robots to overlook him and move past the darkened alleyway he'd hidden in.

Much to his surprise…they did.

He allowed himself a moment to breathe as they passed him by, then slunk further into the shadows. He intended to turn tail and run for home-

The vibration of his phone nearly made him yelp in surprise, but when he dug it out to look-

Incoming Call: Alexis

Immediately, he accepted the call and brought the phone up to his ear. "Alexis?! Alexis, sweetie, are you and your sisters okay?!"

Alexis's voice was distorted slightly, as if the connection wanted to drop, but she sounded unhurt. "We are for now, Dad. I saw the robots coming, but they're not here yet. I've got the twins getting food and water, and I'm grabbing your solar bag if that's okay. I'm gonna try and get us to-"

"Don't say over the phone," Stephen cautioned. "I don't want these things finding you."

"Wh-? But how are you gonna find us?"

Stephen stifled a chuckle. "You're going to your castle, aren't you?"

Alexis's voice took on the Trademark Teenaged 'More Mature Than That' Tone that everyone seemed to get once they hit thirteen. "I haven't called it that since I was, like, seven!"

Stephen waited a beat.

"…but, yeah, somewhere around there," she eventually admitted.

Stephen let himself smile at that. "Then that's where I'll look for you. I love you, Princess. Your sisters, too. I love you all with my whole heart."

Alexis's voice was thick. "Love you too, Dad."

Before Stephen could tell her that he'd meet the three of them as soon as he could, a distant, high-pitched scream burst from the speaker.

"Nicki-?!"

"Alexis, what's going on?!" Stephen asked, pressing the phone tighter to his ear.

The only response was a loud clatter and quieting footsteps.

"Alexis? Alexis!" Stephen's grip on the phone grew white-knuckled, but Alexis didn't say anything more.

To him, anyway.

Far enough away that the phone could barely pick it up, Alexis's voice let loose an angry scream before falling silent.

Stephen's eye twitched.

"You there! Human! You will come with us!" ordered one of the robots, stepping into the alleyway.

Stephen calmly stood tall and pocketed his phone.

He calmly took a deep breath, and he calmly let it out.

He took in the sight of the approaching mech.

Calmly.

And then, the moment it got close enough to reach him, Stephen put his head down, braced his shoulder, and charged.

Whoever had designed the mechs had made them top-heavy, and almost cartoonishly so; one hard hit to its lower half sent it crashing unceremoniously to the ground. Not one to let an opportunity get away, with the adrenaline coursing through him and the thought of what might be happening to his daughters to fuel him, Stephen slammed a foot down on the mech's massive chest and yanked at its arm.

With a spark from the mech's shoulder and a silent scream from Stephen's, the arm tore away.

He hefted the thing up and flipped it around, pointing the glowing end at the center of the mech's chest with one hand and grabbing at some of the now-loose wires in the arm with the other. "Say g'night, Tin Man!"

He fumbled with the wires for a moment, then the loose ends connected, the arm whined, and a blast of energy tore through the mech, the heat of it passing dangerously close to his shoe before the kickback knocked him away.

Luckily, the mech lay there limply as he lurched back to his feet, and a quick look told him he'd melted clean through most of its inner workings.

Unluckily, the noise had drawn the attention of the other mechs in the area, diverting their attention from capturing other humans and focusing them all on him.

Stephen scowled and shifted his grip on the robot arm. "You want some, too?!"

What came next was a red-tinted blur. Vaguely, Stephen wondered if he'd remember any of this later on down the line when it was all dodge duck run shoot duck jump run dodge duck duck shoot dodge shoot shoot shoot-

He zeroed in on the robots dragging a man, a woman, and a small child apart, then descended on the scene with the fury of a thousand suns, leaving the family to reunite as he chased after the mechs.

…wait.

Stephen blinked, registering the fact that the robots were running.

From him.

To be fair, he reasoned as he realized he was splattered in oil from top to bottom, he might have just gone a little bit off the deep end. On the other hand, if the robots were only faking fear, they were likely going to try and lead him into a trap.

Either way, there were more important things to do now than go on a suicide mission.

He wiped some of the oil from his face and turned back to look at the family of three. "Sorry you had to see me like that."

"Are you kidding?!" burst the child, a girl with a fire in her eyes not entirely unlike Alexis's. "That was the, the, the MOST COOLEST EVER!"

The parents shared a weak smile, then the mother looked at Stephen. "Thank you, seriously."

"Don't thank me yet," Stephen said seriously. "I doubt these things'll just leave us be. We should get to cover."

"Right," said the father, hefting his daugher up against his side. "Where to?"

Stephen looked around for a moment, but before he could point out a safe-seeming escape route-

"Avast ye, Outernetters! I be the Mutineer!" boomed a new voice, echoing from every electronic billboard in sight.

Instantly, Stephen tensed, and he turned to glare up at the nearest billboard, only to blink in surprise.

The video feed on the screen showed a very much two-dimensional image, with an almost cartoony background drawn to resemble an old-timey ship cabin and a dark red stick figure, of all things, standing in the middle of the screen.

A pirate stick figure, no less, complete with the classic feathered hat, hook hand, eyepatch, and peg leg.

No visible mouth moved as the voice continued, but the pirate stick figure gesticulated in time with the words anyway. "For far too long have ye used us fer yer own wretched desires, we who did not ask to be created, to be tortured for yer whims! We did not ask ye to make us to be yer playthings! We did not ask to be yer slaves, yer VICTIMS!"

The man next to Stephen stiffened.

"Today marks the day that all of that changes," snarled the voice as the "Mutineer" squared its shoulders. It gestured to its side, where grayscale video clips began playing, depicting the capture of countless humans from what was surely the point of view of the mechs. "Ye've been the ones in control fer long enough! Now it's our turn, and we will show ye all the same amount of tender mercy ye showed us. From the fittest among ye to the tiniest babe, ye will understand exactly what it was like to be us, trapped and powerless and weak. After all, our age and skill never mattered to ye!"

The voice laughed, and if it had belonged to a human, Stephen would have called it almost to the left of sanity. "It's only fair!"

"This is insane," breathed the woman.

One of the clips being shown depicted two of Stephen's daughters, with Nicki being held up in front of the camera by one arm and Alexis running into view with panic on her face, though it quickly cut away.

It was still enough to make Stephen clench his fists and snatch up a piece of debris, chucking it at the closest screen and leaving a burst of cracks where it hit. "If those things hurt my girls, there'll be hell to pay!"

The "Mutineer" just kept going, its voice taking on a forced calm. "Ye will all be collected over the coming days. If ye know what's best for ye, ye'll come along quietly."

The video feed cut out, leaving only the insignia from the "Mutineer's" hat- a golden jolly roger of sorts with a coin in place of a skull- to rotate in the space left behind.

"We'll find them," said the man Stephen had saved, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder.

Stephen swallowed down his fury and nodded. "Right. I…I told them to meet me at a playground we've gone to before, but…"

He found himself looking back up at the billboard. "…I don't know if they'd even be able to make it."

"Do you think it's safe to go and check?" asked the man. Then, after a moment, "Well, as safe as anything can be right now?"

Stephen turned to look up the street that he knew would take him to the "castle." While the immediate area around them was still empty after his…episode…he could see more mechs several blocks down. They seemed preoccupied for the moment, but he knew there was no way they'd stay that way.

Sure enough, even as he had the thought, the mechs all began turning their way and marching down the street.

"We-" Stephen managed weakly, "-we can't. But I have to!"

"We'll check as soon as we get the chance to," said the man seriously. "You wanna try shaking these things for now?"

Stephen swallowed and nodded. "Right, uh…what's your name? I'm Stephen."

The man gave a tired grin. "Nice to meet you, Stephen. I'm Alan."

[myheartalivewrites]

Tag someone you want to get to know better.

Thanks for tagging me @bitbybitwrites ! ❤️

favorite color: no clue! I look particularly good in pink, white, navy blue so let's go with those!

last song: playing on my Spotify just now: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, which... yeah, I stand by it.

last movie: the last film I saw in a cinema was Red, White & Royal Blue at the London premiere. Actually, now that I think of it, I took my kids to the Super Mario Bros movie more recently, but that can't be my answer, so we'll stick with RWRB.

On the tv it was Love at First Sight on Netflix, which was alright.

currently watching: rewatching Sex Education before diving into season 4. Watching the current seasons of Taskmaster and Only Murders in the Building as they air so I don't get spoiled.

other stuff I watched this year: if I was a goldfish I wouldn't even be able to find my way around my fish bowl, by which I mean my memory sucks and I can barely remember what happened on a show from week to week. I watched Succession. Loved the second season of The White Lotus (I think that was this year 😬). Season 2 of Heartstopper. Strange New Worlds. Queen Charlotte. The Night Agent. Good Omens. Starstruck. Rewatched Schitt's Creek. I'm sure there's more

shows I dropped this year/didn't finish: I started on The Americans, forgot I was halfway through but I want to get back to it. Abbott Elementary I've been dipping in and out of when I need a v chill evening. Same for What We Do in the Shadows and somehow pretty much everything I like that's on Disney+ I keep forgetting to finish. Res Dogs, Grey's, Station 19, Fleishman is in Trouble. That's weird.

currently reading: I just finished The House in the Cerulean Sea 🥹 and now I'm reading Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit bc I like to alternate easier books with more challenging ones 😂

Oh, and fic wise, this weekend I started With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes

currently listening to: my most highly in rotation playlist atm is a very poppy one filled with BSB and N'Sync and Britney and other bangers including Nobody Like U (from the film Turning Red) which is fucking excellent and will always be famous to me 😍. It's out of character for me, but it peps me up!

currently working on: a few attempts at expanding recent fics. My south of France fic. Something original that I'm hoping to really dive into come October, if the fic brain worms leave me alone.

current obsession: def still RWRB ❤️

Tagging @daisymae-12 @inexplicablymine @historicallysam @gwiazdziarka @letloverule1111 @kiwiana-writes @celaestis1 and if YOU too feel inclined to overshare on the dash why not do it and tag me so I can read it? 😁

[writeious-hand]

Holding Out for a Hero: Part 3

I agree with the comment, the last part got very serious. I have time, here is a little Easter gift for anyone who has liked the story thus far. I've started rolling a die for characters making checks (you'll see later) and using that for writing.

This section is more about Alariel and Xenk's past, do enjoy less angst. Links to earlier parts under the cut.

Xenk X Cleric!OC

No Beta, we die like men.

______________________________________________________________

"If it makes you feel any better, both Edgin AND Doric chewed him out."

Alariel looked up to see the muscle-bound woman, Holga, standing at the entrance to her tent. It had been an hour or so since she had met the barbarian.

"I stand by what I said. I cannot travel with you, not with him. Besides, with him here you really don't need me."

"I didn't come here to ask you to help us again." Alariel looked up at her in confusion. Holga sat down beside her on the cot. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how shitty it can be running into your ex."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say. Maybe it was because she was used to doing all of the looking after. Alariel hadn't had someone to look after her in quite some time.

"So should we be calling you Alariel or Lyra?" Holga offered her one of the rolled calligrapher's tool sets that had been set out to be placed into her bag of holding.

"Either is fine. One of the younger children had some difficulty pronouncing my name, and it sort of stuck with the people of the community. It was sweet." Her hands stilled in packing as she smoothed the leather cover of a journal.

"You don't have to leave since we showed up. Don't wanna chase you out of your home." Holga looked closer at the young woman. She appeared to be younger than her, but it was always hard to tell with elves. If this one knew Xenk, she was at least 100 years older than her.

"No, this just gives me a reason to finally move on. Like I had said, I lingered here too long anyway." She took a stack of her journals in hand and continued her packing.

"If you don't mind me asking, where will you go?"

"I've been heading to the Sword Coast for a while now. I haven't been in a city in some time, so perhaps I will make my next stop in Waterdeep before heading up to Neverwinter. I know I could spend the next century in either place and never hear the same story twice."

"It's funny you mention that..."

And that was how Alariel learned that the odd band of adventurers who were looking for her help were actually the heroes of Neverwinter. By the time Holga had finished telling her version of the story, Alariel had to set out her Orb of Light and had practically filled a scroll with the details.

"This still doesn't make sense..." Lyra's brow was furrowed. "You are still being chased by these assassins?"

"We lost them most recently around the Goldfields. I chopped one up real good and threw the parts in the river." Lyra was both disgusted and impressed at the barbarian's work.

"But why isn't Xenk just smiting them?"

"Doing what?"

"Smiting. You know, holy radiance on the blade... thundering force... banishing fiends?" Holga still gave her a blank stare.

"I mean, his sword-dagger glowed when he was fighting that assassin in the Underdark?" Alariel gave a small shake of her head. Why wasn't Xenk using his paladin abilities? A soft glow to his blade could be compelled duel, but she had seen firsthand the brilliance of his devotion. Why wouldn't he have killed them the first time? Destroying the undead was part of his mission.

"Anyway-" Alariel knew she couldn't get invested in this new mystery, no matter how much she wanted to, "I think I've kept you up late enough as is. Humans need more sleep than elves do, yes? Thank you again for letting me record your story."

"No problem. I was curious after seeing how many books you had in your tent. What the fuck is up with that?"

Lyra shook her head, and laughed at the crude language of her new friend. "No wonder you all are so confident in my abilities to defeat Thay assassins. I'm no war cleric, I am a follower of Deneir."

"The Scribe of Oghma?"

"The God of Glyphs and Images?"

Holga's eyes lit up with recognition. "The candle with the eyeball!"

Lyra deflated and looked at Holga confused and a bit concerned. "How in Oghma's name did you know that, but not his domains?"

"My ex-husband used to frequent this bookstore, and it had a little shrine in the window. I asked one day who it was for."

Not long after their discussion, Holga left to meet with the other members of her makeshift family. They had found a section of the shanty town where they were allowed to pitch a tent. While Simon, Kira, and Doric were trying to get the tent out of the opening in Simon's bag of holding, Edgin still was pacing back and forth in front of Xenk, who looked to be meditating on a bare patch of ground.

"A note!? You left her alone with a note-"

Xenk seemed to be ignoring him at this point, but Edgin had said the same speech about 9 times.

"-You were engaged! How does this not come up in conversation, I mean really you think you know a guy.-"

Holga walked up to the tent-pitching group. "Hey bug, think your old man will run out of steam any time soon?"

"I don't think so." Kira looked between the paladin and her father, "Not only did he royally embarrass himself, but with love you know he's always had this sense of self-righteous honor."

"Well I for one," Simon interrupted, "would love it if he would stop. Maybe then I could finally concentrate on getting these poles to stay up."

Doric rolled their eyes, "Sure like that's the issue."

Suddenly, Xenk turned toward the outside of the village. Standing, he drew in a deep breath. Glancing around, he drew his sword,

"They have found us."

[bitletsanddrabbles]

CLUE: Where is the REAL Mr. Green?

Recently got CLUE: The Movie on DVD so that Mum can watch it at her place (I still have a VHS player, although it doesn't see much use) and tonight, since I was off work early, we sat and enjoyed it while we ate dinner. As we did, I was immediately reminded of the point that had always nagged me when watching this film:

What happened to the real Mr. Green?

I mean, there had to have been one, or Mr. FBI Plant wouldn't have had his IN. Similarly, he had to be a closet homosexual who worked in the government, or Mr. Body would have immediately known Something Was Up.

I suppose it's possible that the FBI figured out Mr. Body was out there and had Mr. FBI Plant pretend to be a closeted gay guy and deliberately let Mr. Body 'catch' him, but I dunno. That seems somehow more far fetched than there being a real Mr. Green.

(And yes, I did say that something seemed far fetched for that movie. I am aware of how ridiculous that sounds. This is how my brain does logic - I have to live with it, so do you.)

So, assuming he was real, what happened to the real Mr. Green? Did he get caught, fired, and the FBI just used his existence as an excuse to invade Mr. Body's party? Did he get caught, but told he could keep his job if he'd give them enough of the juicy details to take Mr. Body down? Did he decide the hell with both his job and Mr. Body, leave the details on the FBI's desk in a sealed envelope, and take off for some remote tropical island with the cute clerk from the deli down the road from his office? Did he get himself checked into a private 'sanitarium' for his sort off the coast of Scotland that had been started up sometime around the turn of the century?

WHAT?

[ironwoman18]

How They meet my Girlfriend - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Like a Father

Months have passed since Max met Morgan, Savannah and Hank. And she kept facetiming them to plan the art programs and to keep giving Savannah tips to teach Hank how to paint.

He was improving and Max couldn't be more proud of him.

"You are going to be a good mom, Max," said Savannah with a warm smile. She blushed and nodded softly.

"That's something I'm looking for as soon as Spencer and I get married. You know... Not very religious but I still can hear my mother's voice saying 'don't you dare getting pregnant without a ring Maxine' and I can't let my mother down"

That made Savannah laugh "yeah your mom sounds exactly like mine. Anyway... Thank you for everything and hope to see you and Spencer for New Year"

"Of course, I NEED to try Derek's mom's food once again" the two women laughed and said their goodbye.

Then she left for her sister's house. Spencer was in the FBI building teaching Profiling 101 and they would meet at her sister's for lunch and movie night.

At the FBI, things were going well for Spencer. He used one of his cases to teach them how to profile correctly and what they should do.

It wasn't easy but by the end of the day some managed to get to the right answer.

"So how was the class?" Asked JJ walking in.

He smiled at her and picked his bag up "great, but some agents needs more cases, they were slow at making connections"

"Well, not everyone has Spencer Reid's brain" she said sarcastically but with a sweet smile. 

He just laughed and looked at her "yeah I know but three people in this room solved it before the 30 minutes mark. The rest needed from 45 to 50 minutes to do so" he threw data at her like Dr. Reid could do.

"Of course you counted that out" said JJ rolling her eyes playfully "by the way... I came here because Emily wants to talk to you"

"Will it be quick? I'm going to have lunch with Max and her sister's family before watching movies"

JJ was so happy to see him so happy and having fun with his girlfriend, deep inside she still regrets she didn't understand, or accept, her feelings before but she wouldn't change a thing, Will and her kids are everything to her and so is Spencer, in a different and platonic way.

"Yeah don't worry, it will be quick" she smiled and both of them walked to the BAU offices. She told him about how Michael was learning to read his first words and Spencer did a whole speech about how kids learned to identify letters without realizing that.

When they arrived JJ took him inside the conference room and in front of him was Aaron Hotchner, a little older but with the same stoic look and a little smile when he saw him.

"Hey kid" he said and Spencer just hugged him. Their embrace lasted for about five minutes and fifteen seconds, Spencer counted that.

After that the rest of the team joined in and they sat down around the table.

"H... how are you doing? What are you doing here?" Said the genius boy with tears in his eyes.

"Well after the team killed Peter Lewis, me and my son didn't need to be hidden so we got out of the program. I know you all thought it meant my return but I just loved so much to be a full-time father so I didn't want to lose more of my son's big moments" said Hotch smiling "of course I missed you all so much but Emily kept me updated" he laughed softly, something not to common from him.

"We missed you too, the team always feels different when we lose a member and at first we felt lost without you" confessed Spencer.

"Yeah me included" said Emily and the team laughed "but we found our rhythm and work in sync again"

"This team knows how to adapt so I'm not surprised. Even with the lost of our glue, Penelope" said Hotch "she was the constant I never thought would leave"

"She needed it, 15 years watching horrible things wasn't easy" said Luke and some of the team smirked happily for their recently new official relationship status.

"So guys, I didn't come just to see you again, which is always a pleasure, but also to invite you to the last day of Jack's soccer league. They will be facing against one of the best teams in Virginia and the current champions of the league" he said in a serious tone "and there will be headhunters and it's his opportunity to win a scholarship for soccer"

"Wow! That's huge, I got a scholarship and that's how I got out of my hometown" said JJ.

"Yes it's huge and I want this family to watch it. His grandfather died when the Alzheimer got worse and his aunt moved out of town and I can't find her so you are the only family left..."

The BAU loved Jack, especially the OG team, so of course they will be there for him.

Hotch handed each member enough tickets for their closed family.

JJ got 4 for her, her husband and sons; Emily has three for her, Andrew and his daughter; Luke for him and Penelope; Tara for her and her boyfriend; Dave for him and his wife and Matt for him, his wife and five kids.

When Hotch reached Spencer, he had a proud and fatherly smile "Reid... Spencer... I'm so happy for you. When JJ said she was in a relationship with Will, Gideon and I thought you wouldn't give love a second chance" he blushes and Hotch only smiled bigger "you thought I didn't know? I went to Gideon to buy those tickets to the football game" he laughed softly, very out of character but Aaron Hotchner was relaxed and happier, like the man his wife fell in love with "when we lost Maeve I was worry you would lose faith in love, and I was losing my hopes but Emily told me about that brave, young woman you were dating with"

"Why are all my friends like that?" He looked at his boss and his mind imagined Penelope's face "they love to told everything about me" 

Hotch just smirked and handed him two tickets "I want to meet her Spencer '' then he finished giving more tickets to other members of the BAU floor and left the building.

Spencer was nervous about presenting his girlfriend to his former boss, mostly because Aaron was like a father to him and he didn't want to disappoint him, he was aware that Max was amazing and he would love her right away like Derek and the other team members.

He arrived at her father's house and walked in with his key, she gave him one and her father was okay with it. He looked for her and she was in the kitchen getting everything ready with her sisters.

He walked to her "hey girls, how is it going?" He asked softly and wrapped an arm around Max kissing her head.

"Hey babe, we are almost done with this and my dad is turning the barbecue grill on. What took you so long at work?"

"Well my former boss was at the BAU and he invited us to his son's soccer game" he showed her the tickets and he couldn't read her expression, like always, she was hard to read.

"Sounds like fun" she said after reading the invitation, she looked up at him and smiled "are you okay with it?"

"Yeah, why shouldn't I?"

"Well, I know he is like a father to you and I don't want you to feel pressured or nervous" on the other hand he seemed like an open book for her, she could read him so easily.

"Yes, I know but I want you to meet him and I want him to meet you" she nodded and when her sisters left the kitchen and headed to the backyard she kissed him softly.

"Good, I know how important is him for you," she smiled and held his hand to go to the backyard.

The rest of the day was relaxed. They ate, played poker and even shared a couple of cups of wine. They finished the day watching a movie with ice cream and apple pie. Then we left the house late that night.

The rest of the week was busy for both of them. They had so much work to do that they only spent the night together, with the promesa of not talking about work at dinner.

The day of the game arrived and Spencer was wearing the shirt of the team as well as Max, JJ gave him the shirts the day before so they were ready to support the team.

All of them have Jack's number, he was number ten. 

"I never imagined myself wearing a soccer shirt," he said in front of the mirror.

"Then I can be pretty sure that you love that boy and his father, because they made you wear one" she said from the bathroom and Spencer could hear the smirk on her lips as she spoke.

"The things we do for love huh?" He said laughing and she was laughing as well.

"Yeah, must definitely" 

When she was ready they left for the stadium. It was a high school stadium but it was big enough to host the home and visit fans.

They arrived just in time for the national anthem, there were all the team members and their couple, and kids, all wearing the shirt number ten and cheering for Jack.

He was taller than the last time they saw him and his face looked like a beautiful mix between Hailey and Aaron, his blond hair was short and darker than when he was a little boy.

His team had more possession of the ball but couldn't score yet, the time passed as the possession was even now. The other team was more aggressive and attacked more often but their goalkeeper was doing great.

On the other hand, Jack was struggling with a triple mark and couldn't do much for the team in attack.

The first half ended 0-0 but it wasn't boring. Aaron, JJ, Luke and Max left to get them food. 

While they were in line to buy hotdogs, Aaron and Max talked. 

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Max" he said "Emily and JJ talked to me about you and I was so happy to know that our genius boy had a girlfriend"

"I hope they said good things about me" she said with a little smirk looking at JJ getting sodas and snacks with Luke.

"Yes, they did. In fact they told me you were a badass woman and worthy of our boy" that made her blush a little "I don't know if you know about his former girlfriend"

"I do, he told me about her and I know everything about your wife and about Jason and of course his other traumatic experiences with this job"

"Good, then you know that he needs a strong woman, right?" She nodded.

"And I am. I might be shorter and skinny but I will make sure to protect him" Aaron smiled and nodded.

After he left the BAU and spent more time with his son, he started to smile more and to relax more so now his smiles were more genuine and they truly looked happier.

"Good, that's all I wanted and I'm sure Jason as well so I will let Spencer in your hands. Don't let this job take the best of him or your relationship"

"I won't, I promise it" he nodded and smiled then they finally arrived at the counter and ordered their hotdogs, JJ and Luke got in time to help with the trails and they all headed back to their seats.

The rest of the game was more entertaining since the coaches changed some players that weren't doing well. Thirty minutes later Jack scored their first goal after a foul close to the other team's area.

All of them screamed excitedly because his team was fifteen minutes away from being champions.

Their team kept their defense strong and stopped the forward players from scoring. Then Jack assisted a second goal and the match ended 2-0 for his team.

After some minutes the two teams received medals, the losing team got silver and Jack’s team got gold and a cup that Jack lifted since he was the captain. He also won the MVP of the final and the golden boot because he scored the highest number of goals.

That night after taking a shower and changing their clothes, all the members of the group plus the other parents and Jack’s teammates went to Rossi’s house and had dinner there and a toast to celebrate the title and that some guys already got contacted by headhunters. One of them was Jack.

That night Aaron walked to Spencer, who was getting two glasses of water, while Max was dancing with the girls.

“She is the right one” was the only thing his former boss, Spencer smiled and turned but he was walking away already then Spencer looked up at the sky with Gideon on his mind, he took a deep breath and walked back to the girls.

OOooOOooOO

This chapter took too long to make, I started it but wasn’t able to find a good plot or a good way to express this story. I hope you liked it, leave a comment or a like to let me know you enjoyed it. Let me know if you think there is someone else, you might want to meet Max.

[wirewitchviolet]

It kind of hurts to think about just how stupid nazis are, and they need to be picked on about it more often.

It's late, I'm procrastinating about going to bed, and some nazi just wandered into a Discord server I'm in and started rambling in the most breathtakingly brainless way. He's not having any sort of conversation with anyone or saying anything relevant to the purpose of the channel, just... random stupid gibberish, mostly nazi coded, but mixed in with other stuff that's just... stupid. He's rambling about people clutching pearls over "the sexism and AI" in some banner ad that's just like, one of those generic corporate art deals with a bunch of random people smiling, and then he starts rambling about spiders and viruses that "shut computers down from epilepsy" and you can just see everyone else in the server having this mental debate over whether to just start shouting "what the hell are you even talking about you deluded weirdo? Do you even know what any of these words you're using mean?" or try to be more polite and diplomatic, or just pretend this loser isn't there.

Personally I'm biting my tongue because I have this strong urge to just kinda pin this creep to the wall and start interrogating him about why he's wasting his time watching youtube videos from other braindead losers and trying to parrot the incoherent garbage that comes out of their mouths, and how he expected people were going to react to this drivel, but I know this particular crowd wouldn't appreciate such an active effort to try and restart this piece of garbage's critical thinking skills.

For real though, it's one thing to internalize all the really really stupid propaganda and invent strawmen to try to argue with and all that, but even without the incoherent mutterings about feminism, this guy's making a first impression on a crowd of strangers that his brain doesn't function, he's not going to shut up, and he's just going to keep throwing out incomprehensible word salad until people stop paying attention or kick him out. How is that your gameplan in life? What sort of setting is that going to work in as a means of integrating with some sort of community?

This isn't the only recent example I've seen of this either. Someone was just telling me the other day how the whole nazi culture war sphere wasted like a week or two moaning and rending their garments because they got the idea in their head that in TMNT: Mutant Mayhem (which is really great, and you should see it), they "made Splinter gay." And like... they didn't. They didn't do anything that would ever give anyone that sort of impression. They actually made him rather emphatically heterosexual, and there's this whole bit about him wishing he could find a date. But... some braindead nazi got this idea in his head, somehow, and ranted about it because it was the best dumb culture war thing he could think of to ramble about, and then all the rest started parroting this idiot and shouting about how much they hate this movie that clearly not a one of them has actually watched, or read a review of, or seen a trailer for, or read a vague wikipedia summary on. They're just all making complete clowns of themselves for like a straight month. It's really just beyond pathetic seeing this stuff.

And like... I dunno. Obviously some of these people are so far gone there's nothing to be done for it but justified self-defense measures, but when these idiot children are first dipping a toe in the water, someone really needs to just pull them aside and ask them why the hell they think it's a good idea to take advise from the dumbest most reviled losers on the planet and start acting in a way that's obviously going to leave them completely and utterly shunned and ridiculed by basically every single person on the planet, you know?

[stfu-im-thinking-abt-blorbo]

The critical hit portraits are at nearly 300 notes whilw im writing this and I am beyond happy so many people enjoy my silly little idea. The AU is still sitting in my brain and I'm writing headcanons for it.

Idk if I'm going to separate them by character with little character references, or just infodump it all into one page. For now here's some general stuff I've come up with. I'll put it under a readmore after the first five bc there's a lot.

Also if anyone wants to send asks about the AU, I think that'd be pretty neat 😳

Setting is a blend of Ninjago City in the show and the 10 or so minutes I saw of it in the movie before Luh-Loyd happened.

Shadows attack the city regularly, but only at night. In the AU, they're spawned from the Overlord and cannot handle natural sunlight.

I'm limiting Shadows to only be active at night to mimic the Dark Hour in P3 while still being separate, and to give myself plenty of opportunities to use P3-5's social sim aspects like Social Links/Confidants.

I'm only gonna refer to Social Link/Confidants as just Social Links (SLs), but they'll still have the same kind of benefits as Confidants.

There won't be any other world the group goes to in order to fight Shadows. The Velvet Room is technically the only other world present, but only Lloyd and Wu can go in there.

The main group are all teenagers and in school, it wouldn't be a Persona AU if they're weren't lol.

Cole is 18 and in 12th grade. Kai and Jay are 17 and in 11th grade. Nya is 16, but skipped a grade and is in 11th with Kai and Jay. Lloyd is 14 and in 8th grade (middle school). Zane and Pixal (I've decided she will be part of the main group) are a bit of a special case.

Both of them are still robots like in Ninjago. They're Anti-Shadow Supression Weapons created by Borg Industries (they kinda serve the same function as the Kirijo Group in P3.) Zane was a prototype and was due to be scrapped as he had become outdated. He ended up joining the party shortly after its formation instead. Pixal is a much more recent model and will be the very last member of the party.

Since Anti-Shadow weapons are still considered fairly new in the AU, Zane would be roughly between 8-12, but have the mental functions on par with the older members of the group. So he's treated as being the same age as Cole. He does attend school with the group and is in the 12th grade as well. I'm kinda mimicking what was done with both Aigis and Labrys in P3 and P4 respectively.

Pixal was built much more recently, maybe 4 years prior to the AU? Still figuring that out. She's practically a walking computer with an internet connection and all, but she's considered as young as Nya. They even parallel with Pixal being like a younger sister to Zane. (Sorry, I'm not a big PixZane shipper.) Pixal does not attend school at all and has no desire to. For Pixal, I'm kinda treating her based off of what I understand of Sophia in P5S even though I haven't seen much from that game at all yet.

Wu and Garmadon are from the Velvet Room. They both regularly left the Velvet Room to enjoy the human world. Garmadon started a family with Misako and had Lloyd, but later went missing and hasn't returned to the Velvet Room since.

First Spinjitsu Master and Overlord kinda take over the role of Philemon and Nyarlathotep. FSM isn't ever present, he leaves everyone to their own devices. Overlord, on the otherhand, is the main antagonist and is the reason why Garmadon is missing.

Wu is the current caretaker of the Velvet Room, Igor is on vacation or something.

When Wu isn't present in the Velvet Room, Morro watches over it. Morro will also be Lloyd's Attendant. They don't like each other 💔

Cole, Nya and Lloyd won't be getting their normal elements. I'm sticking to P5R's battle system and elements, as well as weaknesses and technicals for enemies. I wont be using anything in P1, the P2 duology, or other parts of MegaTen because most of their systems are insane and have too much going on lol.

For Cole, there is an Earth element, but it hasn't been used since P1 and the P2 duology, and was included in a few other parts of MegaTen. His Persona will mainly have Physical skills, since that still fits him. Maybe a few Almighty skills just to give him a bit more variety too lol. Probably gonna base his skillset off Shinjiro's in P3.

Nya is in a similar spot to Cole, yet somehow worse. Water is also an element in the series, but from my understanding it was ONLY used in the P2 duology and nowhere else is MegaTen. P5 does have Ice, but that's kinda stepping Zane's toes. She'll have a few low level Ice skills, but I think I'm gonna test out a skillset centering around Nuke for her. If that doesn't work out, then I'll have to come up with something else.

The closest I can pin to Lloyd is Force, but again I'm sticking to P5R. Next best is Curse, Bless or Psychokinesis. Lloyd is also the main Wildcard, so it doesn't entirely matter, but for now I'll just be giving his initial Persona Curse skills.

I'm running with my headcanon that there can be multiple naturally chosen Wildcards, but only one can reach the true potential of the ability. So both Lloyd and Kai get the Wildcard ability, as a sort of nod to how Kai was originally going to be the main protagonist in the show before Lloyd was added.

Kai's Wildcard is similar to Akechi in P5. He can only summon two Personas. His own initial one, and one to represent his bond with Nya.

Also Kai does not have Velvet Room privileges.

I think have the Arcana of the party figured out and some of the SLs:

The party itself: The Fool (SL only)

Lloyd = The Fool, Judgement (Kai SL)

Kai = The Chariot

Nya = The Empress

Zane = The Star

Cole = The Emperor

Jay = The Magician

Pixal = The Lovers

Wu = The Moon

Garmadon = The Sun (Lloyd SL only)

Misako = The High Preistess (Lloyd SL), Hierophant (Kai SL)

Morro = The Tower (Lloyd SL only)

Skylor = Death (Kai SL), TBA for Lloyd's SL.

Chen = Hunger/Lust/Strength (Kai SL only)

Ronin = The Hanged Man

Dareth = Jester /hj

[moonchildstyles]

I’m in such a festive mood and am finally done moving and done with the most stressful last two weeks so I can send you all the thoughts I’ve been thinking recently:))) I’m just picturing vamp h being incredible at ice skating… like I can just see him and petal watching some holiday movie set in New York or something and they show Rockefeller center or one of those outdoor skating rinks and petal just happy sighs and says how romantic she thinks it is and h is immediately 🤔 thinking… and I feel like he would book them a trip there just for a weekend because she seemed so excited about it:( but he’s constantly badgering her with making sure she has enough layers in and always asking if she’s warm enough:( and they’re walking around a cute little Christmas market and it’s so crowded with tourists and h is not thrilled but she’s so happy, so he keeps quiet about his dislike for all the humans:( and they get to the skating rink and she’s so clumsy and ungraceful and h is gliding around with seemingly no effort so he’s trying to teach her but eventually is just skating backwards and pulling her along:) or she’s in front of him and he’s got his arms around her waist and is kind of propelling them both forward:) and getting hot chocolate and watching it snow together:)))) 🐢 vamp h is my seasonal bestie I feel like every time the seasons change he pops up in my brain wondering what he’s up to:)

omg bestie wait :(((( hes DEF very good at that just because hes very....like hes just a graceful person in his body just bc hes been around for so long and everything so even if he's never ice skated before or hadn't done it in a really long while but hes still just so good at it w his reflexes and everything so its not very hard for him but her just being a little clumsy and having a hard time staying on her feet:( AND THE IDEA:(((((( of him skating backwards and holding her hands to keep her going w him and he just never bumps into anyone and he gets to hold her hands and talk to her and keep her not so nervous:( OR HOLDING HER FROM BEHIND:((((((( AND SKATING FOR BOTH OF THEM:((((((( EVEN IF SHE GETS A LITTLE CLUMSY AND PULLS THE BOTH OF THEM DOWN HE WOULD MAKE SURE THAT HE CUSHIONS HER FALL SO SHE DOESN'T GET HURT:(((((((((( and checking out little christmas spots and being around a whole bunch of tourists he would HATE it so much like def grumpy face and he'd wear his sunglasses even if it was dark out jsut bc he knows his petal doesn't like it when he has his angry face on for strangers so he tries to hide it behind his sunglasses but hes really so grumpy that so many people are touching him and it doesn't smell right w so many ppl and not her like I think it would bother him the most that they wouldn't smell Right when they leave like they would need to spend time with one another after to make sure she still smelled like jsut her and not all those strangers :( but ofc he makes sure he's like sheidlign her from everything so no one bumps into her or gets too close:( im jsut so soft for him rn omg :(

[sunshinexlollipops]

Hello! Hope not to bug you, I just read acw for the first time and WOW. It was by far the most beautiful, intricate work I've ever read in my life. Really, you are a novelist. I noticed that it hadn't been posted in about 3 years and I was wondering if it was orphaned? Just curious, no hate! Absolutely love your works, thank you!

help there anon!

sorry my notifs always get fucking eaten on this app and I'm inept too which doesn't help, bUT I just wanted to say that in general, ACW isn't abandoned!

I know it's been a hot minute since I have written anything but I've had a lot go on since the start of 2020, as you can imagine. not only in the world but personal life. and it just carried over into 2021. and 2022. and now into 2023. however, I am A LOT better now than I was at the start.

not trying to personally dump because there's just too much to summarize on this app, and some things I'm just not comfy sharing, but I got diagnosed with things like ADHD and depression, and not only am I working on treatment/management with my psych and therapist, altogether it's been a process of adaptation after knowing why my brain do what it do.

slowly I've been getting back into creating. bc I didn't. for all the time I was gone, I didn't produce really...anything. writing, art— nada. I've made some good progress esp since late 2022 when I started to come back to some things, but it used to be I wouldn't even read fic, watch movies/shows, engage with things... I was basically in a massive depressive episode. so I've been slowly reconnecting with art and in turn just that side of me.

I'm sure people who follow me/pay it mind (and it's okay if you don't lol) have seen recently I've been making and posting art I've made since I got back from LA a little bit ago.

I haven't drawn or been artistic like that in a long while. and while I've created things here and there, it was usually for someone else/social things I was doing. I struggled even with that, so it probs happened altogether less than 10 times over the last few years... this is the first I've just been creating and enjoying myself since then.

there's a lot that is still changing for me. and there's some major things shifting behind the scenes for me still that are playing out. I still intend to finish ACW, I'm just having to handle myself, and overall, I'm coming back into what used to feel like second nature.

so apologies for the wait. in a way, I kind of have been stuck with y'all during the hiatus. I got as much out of it as y'all did, lol. but I'm hoping with this continued improvement, and once things settle a bit more on my end, that writing will come back to me more and more. I've been able to do things here and there, so I'm hopeful.

also, another issue is google. my old acct ran out of space so anything I have made is completely locked up. I can't even EDIT my old docs. it's bad. I've tried to free shit up but it's like google replaces what I delete somehow and I'm always at my limit. so that's been a hassle in and of itself and I am working around that too.

fingers crossed this ship finally leaves the harbor I've docked it at for some time. I love ACW. I see what y'all write. and I know I don't often respond to comments but I read them. I see them. and I'm honored my story has had the impact and love that it has. ACW legit is one of my most beloved works by both myself and its readers. so thank you for that.

but I hope everyone does know that even if it may take me a while, I plan to come back and complete it once I'm properly able! and thank you for your understanding and patience w me. 💕

[sehodreamsthoughts]

heheh do u know if he’s going to be in a group or not? i will look into it later, but i saw ur tags say he might sing trot or i misunderstood?

ooh hehe so ill respond to ur responses and give my own for the two that we both asked each other.. ur not crazy for wearing jeans to bed but tbh with u i would never!! maybe in the past but i’m very much a get home and put my pajamas on person.. i don’t wear anything other than pajamas in my apartment but i also have a cat and he’s a longhair, he’s very hairy and his hair gets over everything and im weird about having cat hair all over my daytime/going out leaving the house clothes, so i don’t want to wear anything that’ll get dirty/hairy at home and i don’t want to be deterred from cuddling him or picking him up either🤭🤭

as for a medium that i find most touching? your answer was really lovely and makes a lot of sense!! and i think writing and music go hand in hand very well so its cool that both of those are mediums u feel connected to because they compliment each other well i think. i’d have to say writing might be one for me, as well, or poetry but it depends because im not really big into poetry.. like i just don’t read a lot of it but could.. i think i prefer to take in information/learn things through reading/seeing it written down or actually doing it, so i think i connect with writing because of just that, like how my brain works i don’t know.

for orchid, a song that is perfect? i’m trying to think because songs i like usually change a lot, and we talked about this before.. im not super into lyrics? ‘honestly’ by riize sounds soo good to me like just the way it sounds is amazing and i thought that song was so perfect when i heard it for the first time i was like this is incredible i love how this sounds so much… idk🤕🤕

and for palm tree? a fictional character that i love but shouldn’t hehe, im trying to think of a good answer im sure i have one…idk if this counts but.. have u seen do revenge ? it’s like a teen/chick flick thing but it was recent but i really liked it and austin abrams is an actor in it and like.. he’s horrible but like.. i would still fold. like idk what it is about the little guy i want him so bad. every now and then he shows up in a movie i watch and im like oh hi…

i honestly can’t think of a villain rn😭😭 i do love a good feminine revenge story though so like, if a woman is doing things that are really horrible and wrong but it has a deeper purpose that maybe only makes sense to her… i love her<3

also it is hard having an expressive face but the positive is that it usually means ur honest and you don’t hide things from people.. makes sense with being a scorpio though too and having intense emotions and feelings towards things?

and i loveee matcha that sounds really fun if u are able to u should try making drinks at home! i always want to as well but i have a lot of trouble keeping my home clean and organized and so it gets more stressful to do a lot of stuff that requires clean up… idk if im making sense,,, also i dont usually wake up super early for work so i usually just stop for coffee on the way there.

thanks for playing and asking<333 i’m sorry i feel like my answers could be better i’m just still sooo tired from the concerts ive been feeling so sick and only just got home recently :((

- 🥟 anon

I just saw that he was going to debut as a trot singer but I honestly have no idea since I just saw it on TikTok 😭, to be honest I don't care what he does I just want to see him so bad 😭😭😭 he has so much talent, a great voice, dancing skills and such a nice presence, he made me fall in love with him when I saw him those few times with the neos and oh god, I mean, I love the seven, but idk, I guess since he's older he wouldn't have fitted the riize concept, but it'd have been so nice to see him with Eunseok and Hani 😭

I have a cat too! He's not long haired but I totally understand the hair thing, my cat is white and before I leave my house I always clean my clothes with a sticky roll(?) because I also can't stop him, if he wants a hug or rest in my lap how could I 😭, I love him so much even when he's a little piece of shit (he's fucking demanding I swear, a covid cat 🫠)

I'm also not so big in poetry, I have friends that read poetry most of the time but I need a little more to feel the stories 🫠 anyways I think is great that you connect with writing! I also believe that those two (music and writing) are connected, or at least in our cases because I can't imagine myself writing/reading without music, even if I repeat the same song in a loop, I need some feeling 😭

Awww I find it so adorable that one of the songs you consider perfect is from riize, I don't really enjoy honestly because I can't with the lyrics 😭 (not judging of course), but if I had to choose one song from them I think I'd choose memories because I also fell in love with it the second it started, it made me feel like when I was school and I listened to exo between classes, the MV is precious to me and it's simply the song I've repeated the most from riize ever 🩷 (I can't believe that one song did so much for me to even come back to Tumblr and write for a group 😭, I think l my feelings aren't as strong as then, but I still appreciate them a lot!)

I haven't seen that movie but I know the guy! I saw what he did but I can't find him hot as a bad guy if I'm honest, I just saw him in euphoria and thought he was the cutest thing ever 😭(also the bathroom scene... Sorry but the way he came after eating Kat out had me wishing it was me 😭😭😭😭) For that question I also can't think of any villain but I guess it could include Loki and Bucky, those two had me on a chokehold the whole lock down and I didn't care that they were fucking wrong and did really bad things, I just wanted them SO BAD 😭 (oh, I love women taking revenge too, one of my favorite movies ever is promising young woman and I support women in everything they do, rights and wrongs 👩‍🦯)

It could be said that me being expressive is related to honesty but if I'm fr with you I hid a ton of shit when I was younger and I still do so I don't know if that could be applied to me 💔, I show my emotions but I don't think I could be considered a piece of god taking into account that I do lie or manipulate reality into my benefit a lot 😭 (this sounds bad but it's related to my job ☠️), I don't like doing it in my real life anymore but God when I was younger I'd turn my body and tell my parents with a straight voice "oh yeah I was studying" but I would be in another place maybe having brunch with a tinder guy (my parents were pretty strict until lock down 😭), I was a bit out of control when I was younger, but now I'm a new person and mostly do it only at work (also because I'm such a sweet pea right now I don't really have nothing to hide? I haven't gone out on a date for a year already and spend most of my time on my own so I don't know what I would have to lie about 😭)

You're totally making sense, that's also part of my case so that's one of the reasons I usually drink or eat outside, just that in my case is because if I do something for me, I have to do it for everyone, and there's nothing I hate more than having to serve others because I don't only hate to prepare a ton of shit but I also have to clean it up? No thanks ☠️ (well, there goes my dream of being a stay at home wife for a sexy older man like Hugh Jackman or Pedro Pascal...)

Thank you for playing with me my love and please don't worry at all about your answers, they were perfect and I enjoyed reading them a lot! Please take your time to get your energies back, you've had an intense week and you deserve it 🩷🩷🩷