#flittering and hissing in her hands

[thehotelpod]

got no idea if we can ask these things, bud did you guys ever give the crew small quirks or little hobbies ( aka the owner always wanting to learn opera or the manager possibly wanting to learn how to race , just spit ballen)

i love being asked these things and talking about my little goblins.

they don't super have...interests? the Hotel built them to be what they are and want what they want so they kinda just want to work and kill and stuff. (the New Crew their monstrous mirror, streamlined to murderous perfection)

but as the pattern becomes more intricate and subtle, being swept away is no longer enough, as they say, and pretending to be human started to feel real. but 'real' means nothing to dreams who know the dreamer.

mostly they just collect little things. (The Manager and her reservations cards! The Owner has a whole computer/file system on the 3rd story sometimes. this season the Lobby Boy even has his little mall bag and his stuff...did that happen yet actually? that might be...lllater but yeah they collect what they can.)

[huggingkoalas]

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ riding a motorcycle should be similar to riding her face, right?

word count — ‧₊˚ 1.8k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ smut, use of vibrators (using a literal motorcycle), mentions of ‘exhibitionist’/‘voyuerism’ kink, mentions/use of ‘mommy’ kink, pet names, teasing, cursing, established relationship, bottom!reader, top!natasha

authors note — ‧₊˚ am i going absolutely feral over nat's motorcycle scenes in age of ultron and black widow? yessir :P + this fic is inspired by this tiktok edit of nat too <3

“Will you teach me how to ride, Nat?” You asked, stopping your gentle scratches on her scalp.

Natasha, lying on the bed with her head on your lap, turned her attention from the movie playing on the television to you. Amused, she raised her eyebrows, her infamous smirk on her lips. “Are you talking about my face?”

You slapped her hard on the arm and shook your head in amusement. “I meant the motorcycle, you weirdo.” 

“Ouch, that hurts.” Natasha hissed with a pout on her face. 

Both you and Natasha knew she could handle physical pain since she was literally the Black Widow. Even if she didn’t have superpowers like Thor and the Hulk, she was still one of the most powerful women in the world. Fighting the desire to roll your eyes, you played along with her antics. You rubbed her arm, eyes twinkling in faux pity while mouthing ‘sorry’. 

“I read the mission reports everyone sent from the Ultron Offensive mission. I had no idea you knew how to ride a motorcycle.” You remarked, continuing your featherlight strokes along her hair. You wish you were there that day. If you witnessed Natasha riding a motorcycle, skillfully navigating through traffic and avoiding danger, you’d be drooling right away.

“I guess it just never came up. I wouldn’t mind teaching you, though. It would be hot if you rode something other than my face.” Natasha teased.

“Nat!” Your cheeks turned bright red from her comment. “I-I mean, you’ll have to teach me the basics first, though. I don’t think I’m ready to drive one yet.”

The thought of driving a fast vehicle sent shivers down your spine. Despite feeling scared, you wanted to impress your girlfriend. Maybe if you tried something dangerous, like learning how to ride a motorcycle, she wouldn’t keep calling you a scaredy cat.

“I can teach you the basics now.” She replied, removing her head from your lap and sitting up.

“N-Now? You sure?” You hesitated. “I mean, sure, yeah, okay.”

You didn’t think she’d teach you how to ride a motorcycle now, but you weren’t complaining. Natasha intertwined your fingers with yours, dragging you to the garage quickly. 

You could see the excitement in her eyes as she led you to the garage. The green in her eyes was brighter than usual, and you couldn’t help an endearing smile appearing on your face. Seeing this side of her made your heart melt. Sometimes, she reminded you of a puppy.

Your eyes adjusted to the amount of sunlight flittering through the ceiling-to-floor windows once you reached the garage. It was your first time here, and the spaciousness of the area amazed you. Numerous cars, including SUVs and Humvees, were lined neatly side-by-side. Your gaze immediately spotted the familiar black and red motorcycle you had read in her mission report.

“What’s its model again?” You asked, walking to the motorcycle and running your fingertips along the tank cover before resting your palm on the leather seat.

“It’s a Harley-Davidson LiveWire.” Natasha walked up behind you, resting her hands on your hips. “It’s brand new. The motorcycle from the mission got totalled, so Fury and Stark had to buy me another one.”

“Yeah, I know. I had to deal with financial reports afterwards. It’s... really expensive.” You turned your head to look up at her, leaning up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Only the best motorcycle for the best woman in the world.”

“Enough compliments or I’m bringing you to my room and showing you how much you’re the best woman all night.” Natasha husked, her teeth tugging at your earlobe. Her hot breath whispered in your ear, making you weak to your knees.

She released herself from behind you, her famous smirk on her face as she noticed your flustered state. “Alright, get on the motorcycle.” She said, her voice an octave lower than usual. You looked at Natasha, and she was looking at you with darkened eyes. 

You both knew what that tone meant. It was the tone she would use on you when you were writhing on her sheets, moaning her name over and over again as she brought you to multiple orgasms. Both of you knew what the tone did to you. You’d willingly get on your knees and do anything she asked if she used that sultry voice again.

Clearing your throat to brush your mind off the filthy thoughts your brain had come up with, you inquired. “Won’t it tip over if I get on it?”

Natasha lets out a short laugh as you shoot her a nervous look. There’s a mixture of amusement and something else entirely in her green eyes. You're not sure. She’s making you even more nervous than you already are.

“See that little stick on the side propping up the bike?” With a nod of your head, she points to the black pedal holding the vehicle up. “That’s a kickstand. The bike doesn’t magically defy gravity, and it certainly doesn’t fly.”

You wanted to wipe the smug grin off Natasha’s face. Normally you’d make a snarky remark now, but instead, you let her off with a shrug.

“I promise to catch you if, for some reason, the kickstand doesn’t do its job, detka (baby).” The use of the pet name relaxes you a bit, and you nod your head.

“Fine, I trust you. Is there... A specific way to get on it?” You asked.

“Just mount it, lyubov’ (love). It’s the same as riding on my face.” Natasha replied in a teasing tone. Your head snaps towards her, and your cheeks warm. Her arms are crossed, and her biceps are clearly visible as she wears a black sleeveless sweater. You know you won’t survive the rest of the lesson if she acts (and looks) like this.

You grab the handles and slowly swing one leg over the seat. Your feet barely touch the ground, and you’re tiptoeing while sitting on the vehicle. 

“I think the motorcycle is too tall for me.” You looked at her with a frown.

Natasha expertly climbs onto the bike behind you. “Shortie.” She taunts.

“Careful!” You exclaimed, holding onto the handlebars as the bike tilted left and right due to her movement.

You shift in your seat, getting used to the weird position. The motorcycle seemed larger between your thighs. Furthermore, there were a bunch of pedals, levers, and buttons. You were familiar with what the side mirrors do, but you were not sure what everything else does.

Your heart pounded in your ears. The seat slope caused Natasha's body to press up against you. You shudder slightly as you feel her breasts press up against your back. You tried to make yourself comfortable, but her breath against the back of your neck sent a small shiver down to your core. 

“You’re so tense, detka (baby). Do I make you nervous?” She rests her chin on your shoulder, her hands running down your arms to take your hand in hers while you hold the handlebar.

“You’re sleeping on the couch if you don’t shut up right now, Nat.” You replied, gritting your teeth. As much as you liked her relentless teasing, the heightened adrenaline and fear in your body spiked your anxiousness.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, lyubov’ (love). Let’s start the lesson then.” Natasha said, turning her attention back to the task at hand. 

She turned the key in the ignition on. The rumbling of the motor startled you as the engine started to thrum softly beneath you.

“I’ll put it on neutral since you’re not driving.” She added.

You nodded your head. You had a license to drive a car, so you knew some driving language. But even though you had experience driving a car, you knew that riding a motorcycle was something completely different. You could feel your heart racing and your grip on the handlebars trembling slightly.

“The lever above the left handle is the clutch lever. The one on the right is the lever for the front brake.” Natasha continued, showing and explaining the parts and their functions.

You couldn't concentrate. The vibration of the engine below you and the slight vibration of the seat had your attention instead. You pursed your lips and nodded as you pretended to understand what she was teaching you.

Closing your eyes for a moment, your breath caught in your throat as Natasha’s lips touch the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Are you listening to me?” She murmured against your skin.

You pursed your lips and speak shakily. “Y-Yes.”

Natasha smirked as she watched your face, she could clearly see that your mind was somewhere else entirely, exactly where she wanted it to be. “I can make you feel even better...”

“This is the throttle handle that gasses the motor.“ She taps a finger on the right handle. She slowly turns the handle towards you, her wrist applying pressure, and the engine revs louder.

“Shit, Nat-” You gasp out loud, the vibrations beneath you getting stronger the more she turns the handle. You feel even more wetness gathering in your panties.

“Nat,” You whimpered with desperation. “Please, I..I-”

You arch your body against her and throw your head back against her shoulder, enjoying the vibrations from the seat. Natasha almost moans at the sight of you aching for her. She gently pulls your shirt off, throwing it behind her. The cold air sends goosebumps down your arm and her left hand rests on your thigh, squeezing and kneading your clothed thigh.

“Shh... Quiet. You don’t want someone to walk on us like this, do you?” She warns you.

Your lungs are struggling for air as you gasp. Shame and desire course through your veins at the thought of someone catching the both of you in this position. You bite your bottom lip, biting it hard you think it might bleed. 

“Want me to go faster?” She asks in a sultry voice. Without waiting for your response, she twists the handle down quickly, the seat pulsating quickly and louder.

Your torso jolts forward and you can’t stop the moan that leaves the back of your throat. Your panties and pants are sticking to you uncomfortably as the leather seat vibrates harshly against your folds. You’re rutting down onto the seat desperately, aching for release. 

“I-I’m close, Nat, don’t stop, please-” You somehow manage to plead through the haze.

You moan loudly as she revs the engine loudly once more, and you scream ‘mommy’ as you orgasm, stars blinding your eyes as your body shakes with bliss. Your arousal sticks to your thighs and pools onto the leather seat below you as you come down from your high.

Natasha switches off the ignition once you finish tumbling over the edge. The vibration and the sounds from the motorcycle quiet down, and all you can hear is your increased heartbeat and the silence of the garage. You feel your legs and body twitch slightly from the orgasm. 

You turned your head towards her, seeing a shit-eating grin on her face. “Wow, ‘Mommy’, huh? That’s a first.” She teased, licking her lips. “I’ll have so much fun cleaning the bike later.”

You groaned, hiding your face in her neck. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

[dragonbabes]

Imagine Solas and Lavellan accidentally bumping into each other during those eight years between Trespasser and Veilguard.

Just so you know, I wanted this to be like two paragraphs max. Wanted to sprinkle a little angst dust on your head, but ended up pouring the whole jar (sorry, but also not sorry?) I hope you enjoy spiraling with me… <3

She sits on a fine couch tucked in a corner, behind sheer curtains that obscure her from most of the prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the elvish woman that wielded the very power of the fade; or the hand that had housed it. She isn’t blind to the disappointment that flitters across faces when her hand is found void of any milky glow, and only a shiny white gold prosthetic clinking against her glass of wine.

Wine. She hates it. Most the time. She’ll drink it at events, if only to make the night pass by a little smoother. The wine, however bitter it is, makes every minute packed with questions poking and prodding at her most painful scars sound a little less like stone grating against itself. Usually, Dorian sticks close to her side to fend off the especially insensitive and the racist assholes that like to hover around her as flies hang around shit.

Lavellan grew up among trees and flowers and sweet silence. The petticoats, snide remarks, and hidden meanings that stink up the air here gives her a headache. It's hot, it's crowded, and she feels like a tiger chained and locked in a cage. Despite hiding - or trying to, at least - Lavellan still catches people looking her way and then whispering behind their hand. Someone is always talking here. The one thing that she and Solas disagreed on is the 'pleasure' of court intrigue. The court makes her feel like a pretty little piece to be won by the highest bidder. When she attends, she’s surrounded by men with one drink too many in their bellies, saying things like—

“I’ve lost you to your thoughts again, Herald.” His words roll off his tongue thickly; he’s Orlesian, that much she’s gathered from his accent. He, who is a scholar and wiseman, ever searching for answers of the fade. And she — oh, joy — is an object of curiosity to him (those were his exact words). “I’ve heard such talk always clams you up. These are the things the others who have sought you have said. You are from the Free Marches, a Dalish, so I imagine you are hesitant to leave your people.” Lavellan hides her snort with her glass by taking another drink. Is he going to pretend that she hadn’t left her clan to travel across Thedas and attend the Conclave? Has this scholar yet asked himself, 'How can she fear leaving her people, yet be here, in Tevinter, at this ball?'

Her eyes, now housing unnatural specks of green that really fascinates the pompous magisters roving about, trail away from the human, along with her thoughts, to meet with the eyes of an elven servant just entering the room.

In his hands is a tray of balanced glasses of champagne — a drink much kinder to her tastebuds — that shine the same shade of gold as the servants' widening eyes. She blinks at the panic that washes through them. He spins around (not losing a drop of the champagne, she notes), shoves at the other servant entering just behind him - who bears a tray of yummy little sandwiches in their hand - back into the shroud of the hall and begins hissing at them.

Her gaze falls down to her hands, clasping her drink in her lap. Since the events of the Inquisition, she’s been held above most everyone. Revered as untouchable, someone to be worshipped. To be bowed to. Even by her own people.

She is lonely.

“Surely, I cannot be so unworthy of your company, Inquisitor.” The man concludes his rant at her side. A rant full of reasons of why she should stay at his estate and become his mistress, to put it bluntly. It's all wrapped up in passionate and poetic words he wants to use to tie her up. Like a dog, not like a lover. For she is an elf, she is a trophy to be won! The Inquisitor! Herald of Andraste, she has been touched by the Maker and sent to them. For them. But... She is an elf, and they'll do everything they can to gloss over it. Sometimes she wonders, hundreds - thousands, maybe - of years from now, will she still be remembered as the elven woman she is? Or will they remake her into what they want?

“My lord, my silence is not an insult to your character.” Lavellan watches as the elven servants fully enter the room now, the taller one behind now with a covered face and lowered eyes. Curious... They move around the room, offering refreshments with lowered heads and sagged shoulders; it makes her tongue thick in her mouth. She trails their movements. “I am flattered by your… Fascination with me.”

Glass empty, she sets it down and turns her hand over, eying the pretty designs etched into the prosthetic. Dagna designed it for her, with the help of Dorian; she wasn't surprised when they gave it to her to be blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the gold, but she was also surprised to love it so much. A simple thing, with the eye of the inquisition on her palm - where the mark was - and vines with small, intricate leaves twisting out from it... “The magic I wielded is a curious phenomenon, no?”

“Absolutely! No one has had such a close connection to the fade! Imagine what we could achieve with your ability, and my intelligence.” She grinds her teeth, jaw flexing; of course, she’s not intelligent enough to understand it on her own.

The vines, Dorian explained, wasn't just because she's Dalish or loves botany, but rather because she 'has a habit of making even the most desolate places blossom.' She closes her palm and holds it over her heart. This human next to her is ignorant to that; she shouldn't let it bother her...

“I’m sure it would’ve been extraordinary.” She lowly replies, her irritation barely covered by the smile she forces into her lips, “Unfortunately, I cannot wield it anymore.”

“Ah, yes, your adversary.” The man leans back in his chair, one arm resting on the couch behind her. Lavellan slowly inches away. “What was his name?” The lord taps his chin as he hums to himself. Lavellan doesn’t bother to offer him the answer, though it’s blanketed over her tongue, drying her mouth and casting her eyes out the window. “The Dread Wolf?” The elven servants stop in front of them.

“My lord.” He offers out the tray to them and lowers his honeyed eyes. Lavellan watches him steadily, the taught lines between her brow melting off her unnaturally sharp features. “Inquisitor.” He dares a glance at her, and she takes that second to smile at him. The lord grabs a glass and continues. As if they don’t exist.

“That is how your people refer to him, yes? The Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel.” There’s cheer flashing through the lord's eyes. He takes a taste of his drink and swishes it around his mouth with a smile barely contained. Her eyes sharpen, but she forces herself to look away before the look kills him. It would’ve, she imagines, and she’s almost ashamed to say it would bring her joy. Just a tad. But that’s not very Inquisitorial of her…

“Thank you.” She quietly says as she removes the last glass from the tray. “Yes, my lord. That’s what they call him.” He cackles, head thrown back, and drawing the rooms attention. Lavellan doesn’t share his elation.

“To think that you had one of your own gods under your nose for the better part of the year!” He puts his hand to his stomach and laughs some more. The Inquisitor rolls her eyes and takes a large gulp of her champagne. “And you never noticed, m’lady? That your feared Dread Wolf dined at the same table as you?” Lavellan’s hand tightens over her drink.

“His name…” Lavellan flinches at the break in her voice and takes a deep breath to steady herself. There’s a burning to her eye. One that tells her she may be one drink too deep herself. She downs what's left in her glass and clears her throat. “His name is Solas.” She flicks her eyes, newly hardened, back to the lord. “And he was there to help. Just like the rest of us. He is a good man… I had no reason to doubt him. Ever.”

“You sound rather affectionate in your address.” He comments.

“Yes.” Her words are quiet as a smile ghosts over her lips. “So, you will understand me when I say I cannot accept your offer.”

“Come, I can change your mind. You can merely visit for a while, things may progress naturally.”

“They will not, my lord.”

“You cannot know that.” He leans in closer to her, drawing a nervous laugh from her.

“I know myself well enough. It will not happen.”

“Surely you will not waste yourself on-“

“Would you like a treat, my lord?” The unmasked servants question is sudden and frantic at first but falling quiet toward the end. Lavellan raises her eye at the nervous shift of his feet, and glances to his friend behind him; what has them so on edge? She catches grey-blue eyes for merely a second before they’re obscured by his brunette hair as he bowed and offered the tray with steady hands. Familiarity instantly breathes down her neck at the shade of blue she saw. Then it begins to burn in her gut.

She cannot seem to escape him no matter where she is...

It’s quiet, Lavellan realizes, and she begins to blink herself back to the present. All humor leaves the lord as he finally turns to acknowledge the two standing before them. His eyes have somehow become a darker shade of black, and his lips turned down with a silent snarl. Lavellan shudders at the sudden change, goosebumps rising into her arms. She watches the look in his eye sharpen into a knife, and her heart jumps into a throat. Inhuman. He’s inhuman, she thinks.

“You can see that the Inquisitor and I are having a conversation, yet you would interrupt us?” Lavellan straightens. This will go badly, and quickly. She places her hand atop the lords, and levels him with a stare that she had been masking all night; pupils blown a little wide, hard, and a slight sense of bloodlust. It was men like this that took her clan from her. She can barely conceal the shake numbing her limbs.

She has to reel it in. For Dorian's sake.

“He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, there is no need to use such a tone.” His hand grasps back at her own, and he plants a slobbery kiss to the back of it. Horror parts her lips.

“You jump even to the defense of those who are below you. You are exquisite.” Her skin runs cold, as if she stepped out into a winter night with no cloak. Below her? Below her?

“You would sit next to me on this couch and say such a thing?”

“Ah, Inquisitor. You must be upset with my scolding. Forgive me for such unsightly behavior. I do not make a habit of disciplining the help in front of my guests, be sure. But sometimes you must act immediately, to teach them that some behaviors simply will not be tole-“

“Enough. You misunderstand me.” Her voice is low. Her tone is that of the Inquisitor, not Lavellan, and it makes her heart shiver and ache a little. “They are my people.” Her words are, despite being quiet, heavy, hard, and final. “They are not below me. They are my people.” Gods, she’s had too much to drink. She should hold her tongue. Dorian will have another mess to clean up if she loses her cool again. “Do not think that I have been blind to the disrespect you pay to me and my people. You think you have hidden them so cleverly them behind your little compliments. You have crossed the line. You disgust me, and you will never lay a finger on me, my lord.”

The lord is silent. So are the servants. She removes her tight grip from his hand and scoots herself to the other side of the couch. “Leave me. Before I lose the rest of my patience and become the savage you expect me to be.”

Joy, her first taste of it tonight, blankets over her chest at the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look that's taken up his paling face. Without a word, he scurries away. The Inquisitor steadies herself with a deep breath.

“I’m sorry to provoke him. I know my place.” Lavellan’s brow pinches, and her attention is back on the two before her. The other servant remains with his head bowed and tray outstretched.

“Thank you.” She gingerly removes a sandwich. “You must not apologize to me. And,” her eyes trace the lines of his pale face, and the messy curl of his blond locks… She stops herself. He knows his place, he says… But she fears he doesn’t. He is not below the nobles here, not below the human servants, but how can she convince him. In a room full of people that see him as a mouse scurrying between their boots. “Truly, you’ve nothing to apologize for.”

A sense of shame burrows in her cheeks as she looks away from them. She should help them. There won't be any consquences to her, but the lord will run and tattle, and these two will still be to blame. She should help them escape. But… How? Perhaps Dorian will know.

“You’re as kind as they say.” He bows his head to her, and she shifts in her seat. “We are in your debt.” Her eyes dart to the other elf, but his eyes remain downturned.

“Is your friend okay?” She asks. He jumps as his attention returns to the quiet form at his side.

“Oh, yes. He’s mute.”

“Oh?” She takes in the tall, masked man before her. “Why do you wear…” She catches herself, “Why the mask?”

“He has a nasty scar. Wouldn’t want to offend you, my lady.” Her brows pinch, but a laugh plays on her lips.

“People say I’m kind, yet you fear showing me your scars?” She looks to the other, wishing he’d bring his eyes to hers, but he doesn’t. She wants to see that blue again. “Well… I take no offense to yours. I’ve my own to hide as well.” She addresses him, and his eyes return to meet her own. Again, her stomach churns and her heart flutters. She wishes she could see Solas again, to know if she truly remembers his face, or how he looked at her. If the blue of his eye truly is so similar to the ones staring back at her.

Lavellan takes in the straight brow above the masked elf's eye and returns to searching the depths of them. They seem to suck her in, and she's helpless to pull herself away; they felt like wells full of an emotion she couldn’t place. She leans forward before she can think better of it. Why is her heart stirring so much? She felt she could drown in the warmth radiating out of those blue orbs.

Why is he looking at her like that? As if she were the only thing in this room? As if he knew her, as if he understood-

“Lady Inquisitor?” The servant asks quickly, another nervous shift in his stance.

“Ah, sorry.” A sheepish smile plays on her lips as she leans back against the couch. “Your eyes are quite beautiful. They remind me of a friend.” Her own gaze falls, returning to watch the city splayed out before her, and dulls to a melancholy glisten. “Thank you for the sandwich. Take care.” They bow to her, and stalk off.

She’s foolish. She wanted him back so badly she can see him in any set of pretty blue eyes, it seems. Her eyes redden, tears building until they threatened to fall, and all the drinks she’s had begins to burn in her stomach. She’d like to leave soon.

She hates the court. He loved it.

And that’s all she can think about when she comes to these things.

XXX

She hates the court.

Why is she even here?

Where is Dorian? Why would he ever leave her side in a place like this?

Those are the sort of things whirring around Solas’ head. He stares severely at the marble floor and takes deep breaths to ground the uproar within him. His body is buzzing, like every nerve within him is coming to life simply by being so near her. Years have passed, yet she is as beautiful as ever. More so.

Perched on a couch just behind the shifting curtains, the mage casts her several glances as they work their way around the room, and shudders each time she’s revealed to him. Beautiful. Ethereal. Her hair shifting with the breeze, tapping against her jaw, and plump, painted lips caressing the curve of her wine glass.

She hates wine.

He just needs information of who the idol was sold to. It’s a simple mission that any agent could carry out. Therin wasted no time trying to dissuade him. He even suggested Solas take a walk in Treviso, visit a cafe, and take a day to himself. But the mage didn't want to wander, he wanted to focus. There's a reason he insisted to come himself...

That reason is on the couch a few paces behind him. Solas hadn’t wanted to be haunted with the thought of her, torturing himself over the words she would say to him if she knew that he is one step closer to finishing the ritual… A ritual that would ruin the world she fought and bled for…

Therin insisted that he doesn’t follow him in, but she’d already seen Solas following him and she would have questions; the observant, smart, curious creature she is. So here he is, heart hammering so hard in his chest the closer he steps to her that he worries he might pass out.

When her voice finally reaches his ear, he almost let's out an audible whimper, but manages to strangle it with a quiet cough. How he missed hearing her voice. If he could, he’d give everything to spend another night pouring over books with her in the Skyhold library. What wouldn’t he do to hear her voice free of the weight of his betrayal and back to the warm, lilting cadence she used only with him.

“The Dread Wolf?” Solas stills at that name. The lord who is draped across the couch with Lavellan, leaning closer to her, as she leans farther away, hums with amusement. "Fen'Harel..." Solas can barely breathe, this close to her; yet unable to speak to her, to touch or hold her…

It’s nearly more painful to him to be unknown to her, as he is now, than to bare himself before her again.

His tongue swells after he steps past the curtain and beholds her entirely. Clad in a detailed dress clinging to her waist, pushing up her breasts, and resting happily on her wide hips. Solas burns her image into his mind, noting every little detail of her that has changed. His eyes linger on the golden hand that reaches out and plucks a drink from Therin's tray.

He could fall to his knees now and beg her forgiveness. She could tell him he is nothing and he would be grateful she even allowed him to kneel before her… His chest constricts painfully.

“Thank you.” Her voice is warm, softened. “Yes, my lord. That’s what they call him.” Her civility is forced, he can hear it in the flatness of her words. The human begins to cackle, and Solas’ eyes narrow dangerously onto him.

“To think that you had one of your own gods under your nose for the better part of the year!” The mage's hands tighten over the silver tray until they are white knuckled. He would laugh at Lavellan? The woman who saved his sorry ass from the tyranny of Corypheus? “And you never noticed, m’lady? That your feared Dread Wolf dined at the same table as you?”

And he would ignore vhenan's clear discomfort? The shade cast over her eye, the frown on her lips, and her hand tightening over her glass. The expression on her face, sure to fall unnoticed by everyone else, is one of desolation while she looks out to the city. He wanted to reach out and touch her temple, relieve her of what he knows is banging around in her chest; the exact thing that is trying to claw its own way out of his chest and to her. Solas’ mind is narrowing, his willpower dwindling; he’d damn all of his efforts soon if he didn’t leave. He needs to back away or he will blow their cover. The elf manages a weak step backwards.

“His name…” Her voice breaks, and he does the same. Her eyes are slightly irritated, a redness climbing up into her cheeks, and he can see her collecting herself with deep breaths. She’s always been in control of herself. He admires her for it. “His name is Solas.” She brings her eyes back to the lord, keeping them steadily on the shifting fool. “And he was there to help. Just like the restof us. He is a good man… I had no reason to doubt him. Ever.”

Solas’ heart falls into his stomach, where it begins to churn into a nausea that threatened to bring him to his knees. Her words are lodged in his chest.

“You sound rather affectionate in your address.”

“Yes.” It comes from her in a whisper. It comes with a smile. “So you will understand me when I say I cannot accept your offer.” Offer? His eyes flick back up to the two on the couch, trying to decipher the look shared between the two.

“Come, I can change your mind. You can merely visit for a while, things may progress naturally.” Is he asking her to, what, marry him? Be his mistress? Her unease and his insistence leads Solas to believe it’s exactly that; likely the latter, considering. There’s a pang in his chest.

Of course others will want her. Look at her. More than that, she is good. She’s kind, strong, intelligent- he could go on forever. She is everything. What creature could not crave her?

“They will not, my lord.”

“You cannot know that.” The bastard begins to lean closer to vhenan. The panic that shuddered over her expression is enough to send the elven god over the edge. She moves away with a nervous laugh. Solas stiffens, and he hears a sharp breath from Therin; the agent could tell when the Dread Wolf was getting prickly.

“I know myself well enough. It will not happen.” Solas’ eyes are smoldering.

“Surely you will not waste yourself on-“ That’s it. He can take it no more. He takes a step forward, the tray beginning to loosen in his hands.

“Would you like a treat, my lord?” Therin’s voice calls him back to himself. The mage swallows thickly. His eyes instinctively return to Lavellan. She locks him in his place with her gaze, every muscle in his body tensing, and his heart flopping from his stomach up into his throat. He could not get control over himself.

His eyes lower, and he holds out the tray. She would know his voice if he made even a noise, that he was sure of. So he’s silent in his regard to her and the piece of shit next to her. There’s an uncomfortable silence, but Solas doesn’t bother to ascertain why it’s fallen over the four of them.

“You can see that the Inquisitor and I are having a conversation, yet you would interrupt us?” Solas clenches his jaw. Would that the lord knew what beast was barely keeping himself in check a feet away… What would his words be if he knew that the Dread Wolf — the wolf that loved the woman he is so blatantly propositioning — had his fangs positioned at his throat; how Solas salivates at the thought of crushing the man’s windpipe.

“He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, there is no need to use such a tone.” The Dread Wolf’s blue eyes cool even further as he watches her hand fall atop the humans. Her skin has paled, her eyes darting between Therin and the lord with a disarming smile trying to stick on her lips.

“You jump even to the defense of those who are below you. You are exquisite.” She is exquis-

He will kill him. Before Solas leaves this ball tonight, he’ll see this man’s heart removed from his chest. The lord thinks he deserves to press his lips to her skin? Skin that Solas himself did not have the pleasure of tasting? This little human believes himself worthy of vhenan? His vhenan?

The lord even pays no mind to the look of terror that breaks through her mask for a second. He would ignore her rejections, belittle her, and touch her so carelessly? Death is almost too good for him.

“You would sit next to me on this couch and say such a thing?”

“Ah, Inquisitor. Forgive me for such unsightly behavior. I do not make a habit of disciplining the help in front of my guests, be sure. But sometimes you must act immediately, to teach them that some behaviors simply will not be tole-“

“Enough. You misunderstand me.” Lavellan’s voice is unnaturally hard and low. He imagines he’d die right then and there if she were to ever addresses him with such a cold voice. Solas waits impatiently for the lord to do the same. “They are my people.” She keeps her voice low so that the others in the room wouldn’t catch whiff of the commotion. “They are not below me. They are my people.” She has not changed so much, it seems. To endure the insults he wrapped up in his compliments, until they were directed at others. Often, she didn’t bother to defend herself from the sharp words of others, but the moment she heard someone mumble under their breath after him — or anyone, really — she was nearly feral. He would pull her away with a smile playing on his lips, and wrap his hand around her waist, plant a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s ok, vhenan.” He’d say. “Their words do not bother me.”

“But they bother me!” She’d cry back with this same look in her eyes. A direct stare, sparkling with ire, and a promise to fulfill every warning coming off her lips. His hands threatened to tremble knowing that they could not soothe her as they did before...

“Do not think that I have been blind to the disrespect you pay to me and my people. You think you have so cleverly hidden them behind your compliments. You have crossed the line. You disgust me, and you will never lay a finger on me, my lord.”

What is it raging about in his chest? Dying jealousy clashing with his ire, now being smothered by a cool wave of pride.

“Leave me. Before I loose the rest of my patience and become the savage you expect me to be.” The lord scurries away. Lavellan’s chest rises with a deep breath, and falls with her steadying exhale.

“I’m sorry to provoke him. I know my place.”

“Thank you. You must not apologize to me. And,” She bites her lip as she catches her words. His eyes return to her as soon as he feels her gaze slip to her hands. The crease between her brow, and the worry of her lip; she has something she wants to tell them… She returns with only a warm smile and, “Truly, you’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“You’re as kind as they say.” Lavellan shuffles as Therin bows his head to her, and Solas does the same. “We are in your debt.”

“Is your friend okay?” He’s suffocating under her gaze. He’s nearly forgotten how thrilling her attention was.

“Oh, yes. He’s mute.” She hums back a response, and asks about his mask. Maybe he should’ve just turned around and let Therin handle it all. Of course she’d be suspicious of the one elven servant wearing a mask. “He has a nasty scar. Wouldn’t want to offend you, my lady.” She laughs.

Gods his knees are weak. A smile blossoms into his own lips before he can think. Then his brow pinches; he’s smiling, while feeling like he might throw up, or worse, start sobbing in her lap.

“People say I’m kind yet you fear showing me your scars? Well… I take no offense to yours. I’ve my own to hide as well.” In a moment of weakness — pure stupidity —, despite the whispers in his mind that doing it is a terrible mistake, he trails his eyes up to her own. He is all too aware of the love she has for him.

She will know him. Even if it’s just from a short meeting of their eyes. What’s worse is he almost wants her to recognize him.

If she did, what would she do? His eyes search hers for an answer. Would she allow him to apologize? Would she forgive him? Would she run into his arms? Or would she give him that same icy stare that she gave the lord? Could there be even the slightest hope that someday he could hold her again?

But hope is all he’s ever seen in her eyes. This time is no different. He sucks in an audible breath as vhenan leans forward; he sees the familiarity sparking in her beautiful eye, in the part of her lips.

“Lady Inquisitor?” Solas lowers his gaze as her attention is pulled away from him again. He lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Ah, sorry.” She gives a short smile. “Your eyes are quite beautiful. They remind me of a friend.” The world is spinning, until he catches sight of how her eyes have fallen. “Thank you for the sandwich. Take care.”

He bows again, trying to somehow say “I love you eternally, vhenan” with the gesture, but he knows it won’t reach her. He knows it by the far off look taking over the shine in her eye.

His own heart shudders as he gives her one last glance from the shadows of the hall, pulling his mask down and revealing the heavy frown over his lips. The redness of her eye a warning of the tears brimming them, is a cool reminder to the chaos that she’d stirred up in his chest.

All those smoldering emotions that had been warring in his chest, cooled by his pride, are now extinguished with his regret. Regret that he’s ever made her wear such an expression. Regret that he cannot kiss it off of her.

“Let’s continue.” Solas says with a hardened jaw and furrowed brow, turning and walking away with his hands clasped behind his back. “Oh, and try to figure out that lords name.”

“You cant be serious!” Therin exclaims. Solas merely turns to him with a raised brow. “Right… On it.”

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Seven

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

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Series Masterlist

When she arrived at the lounge, the piano was already being played. She couldn't hear it until after she opened the door. Then, she stilled. It wasn't that she felt possessive over the piano, but nobody else had ever played it, nobody but Charles.

For the first time since they had met, he wasn't wearing a suit. His jeans were ridiculous, with the rips in the shapes of stars. But that wasn't what she was focused on.

The way he was playing, she hadn't taught him that.

When the door shut behind her, the playing stopped. He looked up, looking at her as she walked forward.

"Hey," he called. Just days before he had threatened her into going to dinner with him, and now he was acting like it never happened. "I wanted to talk."

She placed her bag on a chair and climbed onto the stage. If he wanted to talk, he could talk. It didn't mean she was going to listen.

Charles pressed a few more keys and turned his body around completely. Now facing her, she checked over his body, checked for any sign of the gun.

But he didn't have the gun. It wasn't tucked away in the waistband of his jeans, wasn't on the piano behind him.

At that, she was just a little more willing to listen to him.

"I want to apologise," he said. "To you. I want to apologise to you."

It was completely unexpected. She couldn't hide the shock written on her face, no matter how hard she tried.

"My judgement on how to handle... this... hasn't been good. I asked Arthur for advice, but God knows I'm terrible at following it," he said and gave a weak laugh.

But she didn't laugh. No, she couldn't. Not when she didn't know what was going on.

So, she asked just that. "What the fuck is going on?"

Something flittered across Charles's face, something indescribable, something she couldn't read. He ducked in a deep breath, steadying himself. "I think you're pretty," he said, his voice slightly strained. "Really pretty, actually."

She didn't quite know what to say. What could she say to that?

"I know this is unexpected, especially after... everything, but..." The words he was looking for, they weren't coming to him. Or maybe he realised there was nothing he could say that would get her to stop hating him. "Fuck," he spat and stood from the bench.

Suddenly, his hands were on her arms and his lips were on hers. Charles shut his eyes, trying to melt into it.

But she pulled away. The second she did, a crack! rang out as her hand met with his cheek. "Shit," Charles hissed in surprise as he held his cheek.

Her heart beat erratically in her chest and she held her hand over her mouth, surprise registered on her face. She'd slapped him. She'd slapped Charles Lelcerc, the crazy, dangerous brother in the Leclerc family.

He'd been slapped before, and those people had regretted it instantly.

A smile spread across his face and he stepped towards her. But, before he could reach her, she was running off of the stage and disappearing in the back room. Charles didn't move to follow. He sat back at the piano and pressed his fingers to the keys, playing once again.

When she got to the back room, she pressed her body against the door and locked it.

Finally alone, with a barrier between them, she breathed. Her back was still against the door, listening as the piano music started up again. He had kissed her. Why the hell had he kissed her?! What kind of game was this?

He hadn't chased after her when she slapped him, like she had expected him to. No, he had gone right back to the piano.

It wasn't like she hadn't thought about kissing him before. No matter how much he scared her, she still woke up after dreaming about him with an ache between her legs, a need settling in her stomach.

Those dreams, the many she'd had, she hadn't forgotten any of them. Not the one where Charles took her to the back office after a performance and made her see stars, not the one where he sat on the bench of the piano, bent her over his lap and spanked her ass raw.

Not the one where he kissed her slowly, took her hand and led her back to the car. In her dream, he'd taken her to his apartment. She'd never seen the inside of it before, but she dreamt about it. It would be neat and tidy, with art work on the walls, giving it life and colour. His kitchen would be a disaster. He'd have the best equipment, best toaster, best microwave, best blender, and he wouldn't be able to use any of it.

She touched her fingers to her lips. Maybe if he hadn't have been so threatening before, she would have gone with it, melted against his body, kissed down his neck until he was whining for more.

She wasn't the dominant type, not by a long shot, but she wanted things to to be on her terms.

Sucking in a breath, she unlocked the door. The piano grew louder as she marched her way back to the stage.

She didn't expect Charles to notice her right away. But of course he did. "I knew you had a feisty side," he said, not looking up from the piano keys.

She sat on the bench beside him. Still, Charles didn't look up. He kept playing.

That was until she grabbed his face. Her fingers gripped his cheeks and she pulled his face towards him, pulling his lips towards her own.

If Charles was surprised, he didn't let it show. He took over, moving his lips against her own as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands were against her waist, pushing her against the bench of the piano.

"Fuck," he managed to say through deep breaths, his forehead against her own. "Fuck."

this is shorter ye but it sets up some important shi

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[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon || Chapter 3: The moon || Chapter 4: The sun || Chapter 5: The sun || Chapter 6: The moon || Chapter 7: The moon || Chapter 8: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,104

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 9:

THE SUN

We got back in silence, he dropped me off—saying that he still has some unfinished business he left back to his office. I just nodded and went to my home.

It was refreshing to be alone for now, changing to my comfy wear as I flop in my bed, I mutter to myself that why is he a mafia and his step-mom—who he held in high regard an agent.

Was she aware of this? If so, why didn’t she stop his son on becoming a dangerous fellow?

This questions swirl in my head and eventually made me fall in deep slumber. My whole body felt tired and my mind exhausted. I hope he stays safe, it made it much clearer that he saves women and children from danger but what puzzles me is why did he pursue being a mafia instead of becoming an agent like his step-mom.

My eyes began to feel heavy, yawning as I roll over—snatched and hugged pillow, wrapping my body with my favorite blanket as I let myself fall in deep slumber.

I had a dream, in my dream. I’m walking in a field of flowers, I picked up a rose and someone trim the thorns of that rose, we were happy—hands together as he danced with me in a field of tulips. He’s gentle, loving and giving, he has a smile that would make me smile too. I can’t hear his voice when he speaks but I understood anyway.

My dream felt real and so vivid, I want to see his face but I couldn’t. I held out a hand and caress his cheeks, he leans to my palm and kisses it.

“I want to see you.”

“You already saw me.”

What he said shock me, but I felt happy—my stomach and heart felt fuzzy and warm.

“I found you?”

“You found me.”

I laugh and hugged him, I could feel his warm hands at my back and gave me a kiss on my temple. Now, I felt sleepy again. My eyes flittering shut as I fell in a deep slumber again.

“… yes…”

My ears were ringing.

“… I got…. Her… y…”

Someone’s talking, my head felt heavy. I felt déjà vu.

“Sir, she’s awake.” Someone said beside me, I felt a sharp object being pulled out from my shoulder.

Opening my eyes was already painful enough as I see someone blind me with a flashing light, squeezing my eyes shut as I groan from the light.

Hissing as I pull my legs up to my chest, I hear a clunk from my ankle—opening my eyes to see, I am chained.

Someone chuckled and I heard they put down their call and their heels click, their footstep approaching me. My vision still a blur, trying to focus my sight. I got a glimpse of that person towering me.

It was that ginger guy,

My throat is too dry but I manage to utter his name, “Ajax?”

He chuckle and pat my head, “hey there, girlie. I hope you had a wonderful dream,” he said with a smile, “before my boys take you away, they said you were snoring it all away.”

I tilt my head, my ears still ringing then fading away.

“oh, does your head hurts?” he spoke with concern, I nod and softly groan from my headache, “if they knew you’re a deep sleeper then they wouldn’t have to drug you, but I guess that’s also my fault.” He gave a weak laugh and kneel down to my level.

“I hope you don’t mind being kept here, you know.” He shrug and clasp his hands together, his knees on the ground and using his ankle to support his rear, “Since, Scara wouldn’t give in and take his mission seriously ever since he met you, you know?”

How much does this man kept on yapping?

All I heard that they’re on a deal with this woman name, or what he called the Tsarista, I squint and hiss as my ears kept on ringing then fading.

“You know, you don’t have to worry being starved. You’ll get food, I’m not that cruel to starve his sunshine, now do I?” he chuckle and boops my nose, “I’m curious too if he’ll go lengths to find you.” He stood and brush off some dust on his knees then tidy his sleeves.

“oh yeah, there’s no spare room. Don’t mind the dead bodies that will be put and rot here.” He added before turning his back at me, my throat felt dry and he saw that—mentioning to one of his men to fetch me water and get me my needs before leaving me in this dimly lit room.

The chain clunk as I move to stretch my legs and feel the coldness of the wall and floor.

What the hell did I do to deserve to be treated like this?

If he ever noticed something was wrong, I hope he notice quickly.

I want home.

Get me home.

Please…

I woke up from hunger, the ringing from my ear finally stopped.

I groan and look at my surroundings, nothing but darkness and emptiness. I stood and crack and stretch my muscle and bones, I step into something but I didn’t step too hard that it’ll break. Looking down, I see a small remote with only one button.

I picked it up and sat down again, analyzing and flipping the remote then clicked the button.

Minutes passed and I hear the door click and open, I saw a man in his tux holding a tray filled with food and something to drink, milktea and water. I tilt in confusion as he sets down the tray and left the room, without thinking much I chug down to the tray filled with goodies—trying to have my fill and to have my stomach stop growling from hunger.

I felt full, I think to myself that maybe this remote—every time I press its button, one of his men will come get me food every time I feel hungry or something.

“Maybe he wasn’t really kidding on not to have to worry about me being starved.” I mutter to myself and continue munching on my food.

It felt nice, my stomach felt warm and I love having my fill.

But I don’t like being kept in the dark, I don’t like the dark.

It’s not warm like the sun hitting my skin, it’s not the sunlight hugging me—instead it’s the darkness in this room, I have no one to keep me company here.

I hope he comes to get me soon…

Link:

Chapter 10: The outsider

[alchemania]

Snow White Dove, Blood Stained Wings.

(Or, the Traveler has a harrowing encounter which leaves her reeling.)

There is a shivering blob of white amongst the snow of Dragonspine, and as Lumine draws closer, jet black hair accented by hot pink stands out in sharp contrast.

Oh. That's a body.

“Hello?” the blonde called, kneeling down and ignoring how the cold bit into her legs. “Can you hear me?” No answer, so she shook the smaller person a little roughly, causing a pair of snow white wings to pop up and flitter rapidly as they jolted awake. Lumine screamed and leaned back, trying to avoid getting walloped in the face, and watched as the other person hissed and grabbed their right wing- now that the Traveler looked closer, it was moving oddly …was it broken? “Here, let me help you up. There's a church down in the city,” and strong hands lift the other person out of the snow - now that she can see the face, it seems to be another young lady, and her cheeks and nose are rosy from the chill.

“..thank you,” the girl manages, leaning all her weight on the Traveler. “You are too kind..”

It doesn't take too long to get to the church, taking the teleporters. The petite young lady is tucked into a bed and told to rest, and after ensuring she'll be alright, Lumine makes way to go.

“..it seems the rumors were true, you really will help just about anyone.. I wonder if one day, that will be your downfall..”

Lumine stopped in her tracks, looking to the inhabitant in the bed in her peripheral vision. She looked so small, the blankets covering her up about to her chin, but the room suddenly felt very, veryyyyy cold.

“..what do you mean by that,” she hears herself say, by some miracle.

“Oh…don't pay me any attention,” the raven haired girl placated, waving a hand weakly. “Simply thinking aloud..”.

“..who are you,” Lumine demanded, turning fully around to face the bed as her expression hardened.

“Does that matter..? Would you have left me alone on that mountain to die if you didn't like the answer?”

Silence.

“.. I don't mean you any harm, Traveler, or the people of Mondstadt, if that's what you're worried about," was the quiet reply after a long moment. "I swear it. But I'm aware you do not like the people I work with very much, and so I deemed it best to keep my mouth shut until you offered me assistance.”

“The folks you work with,” Lumine repeated almost dumbly, looking more and more rattled by the moment.

“You got one of my coworkers killed back in Inazuma. Does that ring any bells???”

Lumine can't breathe.

“You're a Harbinger?”

Rapidly, she goes down the list in her mind. Signora was dead, and she'd already met Arlecchino, so this had to be either Sandrone or Columbina.

“Which one?” she barely manages.

“The Damsel,” the girl replies easily, eyes finally opening - they're a beautiful magenta, almost mesmerizing. “Nice to meet you, Traveler. You don't have to be afraid. Like I said, I have no desire to harm you, or anyone here. It's a little disheartening to think you may have simply abandoned me if you knew who I was beforehand….. but at least that's not what happened, no? I don't know why you're so flustered, Master Childe speaks so highly of you -”

“He's NOT my friend!”

There go the wings again, slightly.

“.. we're not all horrible people, you know. Not all of us had a choice in this.”

Lumine thinks of the twins, and Freminet.

Columbina looks sad now, genuinely so.

“...Why can't you understand that?”

“Well, sorry for being a little on edge, considering some of your coworkers have tried to KILL me -”

“But I'm not them. I already said I have no interest in harming you. Do you think that I'm lying?”

Silence, painful.

“Perhaps if you stopped looking at us through your black and white lens, you'll see that we, and you, are much closer to grey than you'd like to admit -”

The door slams, the sound resounding. Lumine is gone.

Columbina closes her eyes, sighing.

“...well. You can't fault a girl for trying.”

She steeples her hands over her chest then, expression thoughtful. “The heart that forever bleeds will one day cease to beat. . I wonder if she will realize that before it's too late. I surely hope so.”

And the Harbinger slept.

[hurlingsupport]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Gender Neutral Reader Insert)

Chapter 10: A Beacon of Hope

<- Previous Next ->

“Run, run, run!” Darius screams.

“Is the Parasaurolophus still there?” Brooklynn pants, supporting Yasmina with the help of Sammy. 

Kenji looks to his right, a Parasaurolophus running beside him. In an instant, the herbivore swerves to the left to avoid the massive jaws of a T. Rex. 

“Aah! Not anymore!” The boy yelps.

You all come to a sudden pause in your running, scrambling to decide where to go next.

“Over there! Cover!” Darius shouts over the commotion, pointing towards a fallen tree. 

The Parasaurolophus almost runs into your group before the T. Rex blocks its path, determined to make the herbivore its meal.

You all struggle to climb over the deadfall, Darius taking the easier route and climbing under it. What makes it even harder is the fight between the dinosaurs continuously invading your guy’s space. 

The Parasaurolophus’s tail slaps against the trunk, wood chipping at the force of its struggle. There’s a loud, cracking sound, but all of you are too afraid to check if that was the sound of wood or bone. Then, there’s a crunch, and now you’re sure that the Parasaurolophus lost the fight.

Once the T. Rex’s heavy steps recede, Darius stands up to look over the fallen tree. He stands still, observing the scene before he turns to you all with furrowed brows. 

“They’re gone.” He assures, an eruption of relieved sighs following his words. 

“Why are there so many dinosaurs around?!” Kenji hisses angrily.

“I mean, it’s their island.” You mutter, causing Brooklynn to chuckle before giving an answer of her own. 

“It’s either your boyish charm or all the fences on the island are down.” She jokes.

“No offense, but it’s definitely option two.” Sammy nods. 

“I don’t even care. Right now, I just want a sandwich. We haven’t eaten since we had those awful carob bars that Ben…” Yasmina pauses, eyes flittering in your direction as she stutters. “I-I…”

She can’t seem to find her words, and a sorrowful silence follows. You try your best to ignore the looks, pulling your knees closer to your body. You hold back a wince when your left hand brushes against your pants.

You’re not sure what to think. About Ben, about the pity you’re receiving, or even the shared despair about his disappearance. No, not his disappearance; his death. You remind yourself of the odds, the logical side of it all. You’ve always looked at things logically, counting the pros and the cons. And looking at it now, it’s only logical that Ben is dead. 

But maybe you shouldn’t think that way. I mean, look where thinking logically has gotten you. 

A distant roar puts a stop to your thoughts, your group gasping at the sudden noise. You all groan, dreading the idea of running any more. 

“We just need to eat and rest.” Sammy sighs. “I can’t keep running like this.” 

“We don’t have to.” Darius says as a smile grows on his face. “There’s bound to be a way to call for help on Main Street, and food and everything else.” 

Everyone walks forward, the Innovation Center building just barely seen from behind the treeline. Hopeful grins spread like wildfire at the sight. 

“Come on!” Darius calls, everyone immediately following in his footsteps. 

When you get to Main Street, it’s completely barren. There are chairs and tables scattered around, thrown around in a hurry. Your group looks at the mess with quiet concern. 

“What happened here?” Kenji asks faintly. 

You all come to a stop in front of an almost unrecognizable building. Its support beams are crooked and bent, the building itself just a massive heap of concrete at this point. 

“Uh, I’m thinking dinosaurs.” Yasmina guesses. 

“It’s more than that.” Kenji huffs, kicking a stray cup. 

“Some kind of fight took place. From the height, it looks like maybe the T. Rex and… something bigger?” Darius gazes at the wreckage with worry.

“The Indominus Rex.” Brooklynn concludes, pushing some stray hairs behind her ear as she peers down into the Jurassic World Lagoon. “I don’t think we have to worry about it anymore, or what’s left of it.” 

Most of the fence that usually surrounds the lagoon is gone, the surrounding ground cracked and broken off. You walk closer to her, taking a reluctant look down at the water below.

A trail of blood, as if something had been dragged away, leads to the depths below. There's nothing left of the Indominus as far as you can see, its remains most likely stuck at the bottom of the Jurassic World Lagoon by now. 

“Or the Mosasaurus being hungry for a while.” Darius grimaces from beside you.

“Guys!” The three of you jump from Sammy’s unexpected yelling. “You have to see this!” 

The next thing you know, you’re all standing in front of a standee cutout of Brooklynn. The cutout stands stiffly, a charger held in its cardboard hand to advertise for the store behind it. Everyone stands with their jaws dropped for just a few seconds, before they burst out into laughter.

“Wow, I totally forgot I agreed to that,” Brooklynn sputters, a wide smile on her face.

“Do you only own one outfit?” Darius snickers.

Brooklynn swerves her head towards the boy, an almost offended look on her face. “What? It’s my signature look!” 

Kenji runs up to the standee, swiping a charger from the display and bending down on one knee in front of the pink-haired girl. 

“Please, autograph my phone charger, O Queen of the Brooklanders!” He wheezes, taking an exaggerated breath of air as he cackles.

“Well, I think it’s cool.” Sammy smiles, hand resting on the standee’s shoulder. “When we get rescued, I’m taking it with us.” 

“TBH, this does remind me of home. I haven’t posted in days. I bet my followers are worried sick about me,” Brooklynn sighs.

“And your parents?” Sammy adds with a raised brow.

“Oh, uh, right. Obvi. Them, too.” Brooklynn nods her head hesitantly.

Maybe some time away from her phone would do Brooklynn some good. Her internet lingo was really throwing you off. Who actually says TBH in real life?

“Okay, let’s start, uh, looking for a way to communicate with the mainland.” Darius suggests. “There’s gotta be a phone or something here, right?” 

With those orders in mind, everyone searches the store for a way to get help. 

As you’re searching the cabinets, you hear Darius murmuring about sunglasses and hats. You ignore him, focusing on scrounging around for something helpful. 

There’s a creak next to you, and when you glance up, Kenji’s staring down at you. It’s an awkward staring contest between you two, but you ultimately give up in favor of looking through another cabinet. 

“So, are fanny packs your thing, or…” 

You sigh, slamming the cabinet in front of you shut with a little more force than necessary. You may have defended him back in the tunnels, but that didn’t make the two of you friends. Taking the hint that you don’t want to talk, Kenji runs off to bother Darius and Yasmina instead. 

Resuming your search through the many cabinets, you end up finding a stock of random toys. The packages include a syringe needle jammed into a plastic bug and a red substance that looked like it was supposed to replicate blood. ‘Become the Mosquito!’ The toys read, likely referring to the mosquito that gave Jurassic Park scientists access to dinosaur DNA. 

Definitely a weird choice in toy products, but anything to gain profit, you suppose. You shudder at the sight of the kiddy needles, closing the cabinet with a grimace. You’d just steer clear of any toy stores around here. 

“Oh!” Sammy gasps, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop.

“You found something?!” Darius shouts excitedly. 

“An Insider’s Guide to Jurassic World!” Sammy reads aloud, showing off a yellow book. “It’s got all kinds of details about the park. Did you know there’s hidden dinos carved into the buildings? Or that aircrafts aren’t allowed to fly over the island?” There’s a short, befuddled silence before she continues. “Sorry, that last one’s a bummer.” 

“Hey!” Brooklynn calls out.

“Is it a phone?” Darius asks.

“It’s a camera! And it works!” A beep emits from the camera, a smile growing on Brooklynn’s face. “Now I can document all the crazy stuff we’ve seen! Our rescue will be a Brooklynn Exclusive!” 

She poses for the camera, glancing towards you all with hope-filled eyes. “That’ll get my follower count back up to where it belongs.”

“And that will help us… how exactly?” Yasmina asks in a low tone.

“Uh, because when we get home, this will also make you famous?” Brooklynn answers happily, pointing the camera in your guy’s direction.

“Hey!” Kenji yells.

“Please tell me you found a phone.” Darius pleads.

“Uh, no, but I could be in the video.” Kenji puts on some sunglasses and finger guns the camera.

Sammy gasps again, causing Darius to swing his head towards her.

“Phone?” He asks tiredly.

“Nope. It’s better than that.” Sammy smiles, still staring into the book from earlier. “It’s an EDB–emergency distress beacon! After the first park went down, Mr. Masrani installed one on Main Street.”

Everyone gathers around Sammy, peeking at the guidebook with hopeful expressions. 

“It’s battery powered and can send an SOS signal 150 miles in all directions! We’re saved!” She grins.

“Does it say where it is?” Yasmina gestures towards the book with a green dinosaur walkie-talkie. 

“Uh… no.” Sammy frowns. “The rest of the chapter is just glamor shots of Dr. Wu wearing turtlenecks.”

Well, that’s concerning. 

“Everyone, spread out.” Darius orders. “There’s a way to communicate with the outside world somewhere here on Main Street. We find this thing, and we go home.” 

“Affirmative, human.” Kenji agrees, talking into a dinosaur walkie-talkie identical to Yasmina’s. He walks off robotically, making robot noises all the while. “Beep. Boop-boop. Beep.”

Guess that means it’s time to search some more.

The camera beeps as Brooklynn records, sending her signature greeting towards an imaginary audience.

“What’s up, Brooklanders? You wanted exclusive footage? Well, here it is!” She spreads her arms wide, showing off the barren street behind her. “And there’s nobody better than me to show it to you. Ka-pow!” She imitates gunfire as she points offscreen. 

“You do know ‘Brooklanders’ is a weird name, right?” Kenji asks from behind the camera. 

Brooklynn glares at him. “Okay, I was ten when I came up with it, and–just, shh, start over!” 

You sluggishly feel along the walls of each building with your good hand, peeking into the alleyways between them hoping to spot the beacon. Then again, you have absolutely no idea what this beacon looks like. 

Of course, you saw what it looked like in the book, but you doubt it’d be out in the open like that. It might be in a concealed space, or hidden somewhere along the creases of the building walls. Either way, this was going to take a while. 

The camera beeps, showing Yasmina looking through the glass doors of a building. 

“I don’t see any beacons in here.” She announces.

The camera moves to a coffee poster taped to the glass windows, Brooklynn letting out a dreamy hum at the sight of it.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be in your video!” Sammy smiles, bursting into frame with the book from earlier held close to her chest. “Ooh, should I have my own catchphrase?”

“Just talk about the stuff.” Brooklynn huffs.

“Okay, according to this book, things in the park are disguised to keep up the whole natural illusion of Jurassic World.” Sammy looks up from the book with a gasp, running out of frame.

When the camera pans back to the cowgirl, she’s crouching next to a trash can.

“This rock is really a trash can.” She pushes the swinging top of the trashcan a few times before standing back up and gesturing towards some electrical wires behind her. “Those vines are electrical cords. Pretty neat, right, Brooklanders?” 

She spreads her arms out with a smile before breaking the silence with a confused look. “You ever notice ‘Brooklanders’ is weird to say?” 

Brooklynn lets out a frustrated groan, and the camera goes black.

“Hey!” Brooklynn calls your name, the camera hiding her face as she points it at you. “Got anything for our fans?”

You raise a brow at her use of the word ‘our’, but answer regardless. 

“Yeah,” you face the camera with a deadpan expression. “If you ever get stranded on a dinosaur filled island, protect your nose at all costs.” 

Brooklynn chuckles at your words, peering at you from behind the camera with a grin. “A broken nose or two is pretty cool.” 

You turn away from the camera with a scoff. “Says the one that fixed it. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

She responds with a smile, turning the camera towards herself as she explains her nose-fixing achievements throughout this whole trip. 

You continue to feel along the walls with droopy eyes. Man, none of you have slept since the camp was still intact, which was… how long ago again? You know it was night when you all were on the monorail, and it was daytime when you all got out of the tunnel. 

Did one whole day already pass? That would explain why you felt so tired. Sadly, you can’t really do anything about it at the moment. You didn’t want to slack off, and you doubt you’ll have enough peace and quiet to close your eyes. Therefore, searching for the beacon despite your head falling downwards every few seconds was the only option. 

When another beep emits from the camera, it’s pointed at Yasmina and Darius standing near some wreckage. 

“Find anything?” Darius questions with a sigh. 

“Not yet. What about the others?” Yasmina sends a curious look behind her.

“Found scooter!” Kenji hollers as he rides a scooter across the camera frame. 

The screen goes black once more, before a beep signals yet another video.

“Hey, Brooklanders! Check this out!” Kenji rides the yellow scooter into frame again as Brooklynn turns to him. “Now it sounds weird to me, too.”

The screen cuts to black. This time, Sammy appears when it turns on. Pointing to different areas offscreen as she rides a green scooter, the cowgirl describing how they’re disguised. 

“That rock is an electrical outlet, and that rock is a straw dispenser–” The camera crashes to the ground when Sammy falls off the scooter with a yelp. “I tripped on a rock.”

The screen cuts to black again. Sammy reading out of the guidebook when the beep sounds.

“And this rock is…” She spares an awkward glance at the camera as she shuts the book. “Just a rock, but I think it’s neat.” She leans against the rock, throwing her hand out towards the camera. “What do you think, camp fam?” 

“Camp fam?” Brooklynn questions, her confusion evident from behind the camera.

“That’s right, it’s a new catchphrase. Ka-pow!” Sammy shoots her hands in the air, imitating gunfire. 

Brooklynn just stares in silent perplexity.

The screen turns black, Kenji, being the new camera holder, and in front of the camera is a toy Stegosaurus held by the rich boy as he walks up to Darius.

“Mm, roar! I’m gonna eat you!” Kenji says in a creepy voice. 

Darius turns to the camera, his face blank because of how tired he was of everyone’s bull. “That’s a Stegosaurus, Kenji.”

“You look like a plant.” Kenji makes munching noises as he taps Darius’s head with the toy. The shorter boy simply stands there and allows it all to happen. 

The camera then cuts to black for a final time.

Once everyone deemed it time for a break, you all sat at the patio umbrella tables in front of a shop. Yasmina sat at one table, Brooklynn and Sammy standing at the table with her. They giggled and posed, Yasmina recording them as they said random phrases. 

Far off, Darius paced back and forth with a worried expression. He clutched a dinosaur walkie-talkie in his right hand, and you swore you could hear the cheap plastic cracking a bit from his tight hold. 

You sit in a chair off to the side, feet resting on the table in front of you. Your upper body is unprotected by the umbrella on the table, the sun acting as a blanket of warmth. You lean back, eyes shutting almost instantaneously.

“Anybody order frozen pizza from the world’s dopest delivery boy?”

You open your eyes to see Kenji rolling in on the scooter he found earlier. He talks into the walkie-talkie with a grin; the device changing his voice into a more robotic tone. On the handles of the scooter hangs two bags, likely full of pizza, like he said.

“Food? Finally! Yes!” Brooklynn cheers, her hands balled into fists because of her excitement. 

“I’ll get napkins from the rock.” Sammy beams, her obsession with the disguised objects of the park showing through her words. 

Once you all are seated with a piece of pizza in your hands, you all just sort of sit there awkwardly. Now, you’d definitely chow down on some pizza when given the chance. Don’t get it twisted. But it’s hard to chow down when your pizza is identical to that of a block of ice. 

Everyone takes a bite despite the blue color of the pizza, immediately flinching backwards with a yelp. Luckily, you’re not that desperate, so you take the others as an example of what not to do. 

When Kenji bangs the pizza on the table, it becomes increasingly clear that you all will have to wait for the pizza to thaw before eating it. Your bunch places the pizzas back into their individual boxes, laying them on the ground to thaw out in the sun. 

After that, the only thing you all have left to do is wait. You take this as an opportunity to get some shuteye. Leaning back in your chair, you close your eyes with a grumble.

When your eyes open again, you can’t tell if you’re dreaming. You look to your left, and then to your right. You’re surrounded by trees and foliage, and with no path to follow, you walk with no real intent. You didn’t know where you were heading, nor did you know where you wanted to go. All you know is that right now, you should be walking.

Pushing past a leafy branch obstructing your view, your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. There stands Ben, who looks around aimlessly. You immediately race forward, tackling the boy into a hug.

He yelps, turning to you with a fearful expression. When he sees it was you who grabbed him, his fear turns into surprise. He calls your name hesitantly, hands hovering over your form.

“Are you…” He sputters, unsure of what to say at first. “Are you okay?” 

You release him from your hold with a chuckle, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Yeah, why–why wouldn’t I be?” 

He eyes you doubtfully. “Alright then…” 

The boy turns away from you, still surveying his surroundings. Confused by the cold shoulder, you force yourself into his vision.

“What are you looking for, Ben?” You ask with a laugh. Why do you keep laughing?

He furrows his brows at you, standing on his tiptoes to see over your body. “Looking for Bumpy.”

You hum, turning to look behind yourself. You see a flash of color, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. 

“I think I saw her.” You say almost robotically, a grin stretching across your face. 

Ben looks at you skeptically, but smiles after a short few seconds. “Lead the way.”

You grab his hand, holding it tightly. His hands feel clammy and cold, and when you look at his face, it seems a lot paler than usual. Despite this, you copy his happy expression and lead him towards the movement you saw earlier. 

You walk through the forest in a haze, Ben’s freezing hand clasped in your own. You lead him without hesitation, almost as if you already had a set destination in mind.

“Hey,” Ben calls your name faintly. “Do you miss me?” 

You keep your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look his way. His hand is much too relaxed, almost slipping out of your hold. You don’t respond to the boy.

“It’s okay if you do, I think.” The boy pauses, his words slow and calculated. “I’d miss you too.”

Tears spring at your eyes, your smile straining as you continue leading him through the forest.

“You’re probably the first friend I’ve had in a while. I’m glad I made one before–” he’s interrupted when he bumps into your back.

You stand still, hands shaking and breath uneven. You swallow the lump in your throat before speaking.

“I found her.” You announce quietly. 

In front if you lies Bumpy, or at least you think so. It’s hard to tell with the state of the little Ankylosaurus. Flies and beetles eating away at the decaying flesh. She looks as if she’s been torn into, yet her body is scarily intact. It resembles that adult Ankylosaurus back by the broken gyrosphere. The Indominus must’ve gotten to her before you two did.

“Oh.” Ben hums. 

It’s quiet between the both of you. Neither of you move, simply staring at the limp body that used to be Bumpy. At least, until you can’t take it anymore and your despair exceeds your control.

Tears pour out of your eyes, hiccups, and sniffles escaping from your mouth every so often. Throughout it all, Ben’s hand stays clasped in yours. You’re not sure if it’s because Ben’s holding onto you, or if you’re holding onto him. But either way, he stands silently by your side until your sobs quiet down. 

Once they do, Ben grabs hold of your other hand, pulling you into his sight and him into yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, head lowered shamefully.

“You can’t even look at me?”

You swear you hear a smile in his voice. But why would he be smiling? Isn’t he sad? Isn’t he mad? He’s dead. He’s dead, and it’s your fault. You tried to push it all away, but look where that’s gotten you. Why is this happening to you? What did you do wrong? You just wanted to get away from your parents. You just wanted to feel safe. 

Ben pulls you into a hug, his rotting face still obscured by your closed eyes. His fingers twitch against your back, and if you try hard enough, you can pretend he’s tapping to an unknown rhythm. 

He says nothing, and neither do you. And for once, you feel safe. 

Your head hits the table with a thud, a weight holding it down. When the weight is lifted, you look up groggily to see a Compy standing in front of your head. It tilts his head at you curiously. 

There’s some unintelligible shouting, and then you watch as everyone throws the pizzas to lead the Compies away from your group. You tune everything out after that, laying your head on the table with a ‘thud’.

You’re never sleeping again, that’s for sure.

You rub your eyes tiredly, nodding your head mindlessly as Yasmina's words go in one ear and out the other. 

"You sure you're up for it? You look pretty tired." She asks with a chuckle, eyes glancing over your slouched form. 

Feeling your back ache from your bad posture, you straighten up with a groan. 

"I'm fine." You say almost automatically, the words bursting out of your mouth crudely. When the black-haired girl gives you a doubtful look, you fix your hair with a sigh. "I mean it."

She nods, hesitantly accepting your answer. "Alright, just wake me up if you get too tired." She sends a pitiful glance your way, walking towards the shop from earlier and making herself comfortable against a counter. 

You scoff at that, offended by her words. Why is everyone acting like you're some orphaned child now that Ben is… gone. 

You stand dumbly for a second, eyes staring at the ground, and then moving to the pouch hanging from your waist. You refused to answer Kenji earlier, but no, fanny packs were not your 'thing'. You only kept because it was Ben's. And, who knows, maybe it'll come in handy again like it did in the tunnel. 

You force your eyes to leave the pouch, sitting yourself down at the chair from before. The stars twinkle brightly, light pollution a problem of the past on this isolated island. 

You look to your side when you hear grumbling, only to find Darius laying against a pillar, fast asleep. His head leans to the side, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. His hands twitch at his sides, grasping at nothing. 

Maybe you should mind your business like you usually do. So you lift yourself up from your seat, grimacing when the chair scrapes against the ground. You should do some rounds, make sure there aren't any creatures hiding in the dark waiting for a chance to bite one of you when you're not paying attention. But when Darius starts murmuring to himself, you realize you can't mind your business this time.

You crouch at his side, reaching a hand out to shake his shoulder, but he shoots up when your finger meets his arm. He pants hurriedly, sweating like he ran a marathon. 

"Whoa, whoa, are you okay?" You ask as your eyes survey his form. 

His hands are shaking, and his chest moves up and down at a rapid pace. It takes a few seconds, but he eventually calms his breathing, his eyes searching the streets for something that isn't there. 

"Darius, are you good?" You repeat yourself, ignoring the urge to ask what he was dreaming about.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He assures, but his eyes still wander around with no real target. "Thanks. Sorry I fell asleep." 

 

"I volunteered to take the first shift, remember?" You brush some dirt off his shoulder, retracting your hand when his gaze lands on you. 

He looks at you with a raised brow. "I thought Yasmina did?" 

"Well, she definitely tried. We had to bargain for half and half in the end." You chuckle awkwardly, gaze falling on a slouching Yasmina. She's in a big huddle with Sammy and Brooklynn.

You briefly wonder where Kenji is, but his snoring is too obnoxious to miss, and there he is, splayed out across the counter. 

Your eyes automatically search for Ben, but remembering that he's gone, your eyes fall to the gravel beneath you.

You startle when Kenji suddenly starts mumbling into the dinosaur walkie-talkie he still hasn't let go of, only to turn to Darius with an annoyed expression. 

"Can't stop talking even in his sleep." You mutter, hoping to lift Darius's spirits with your jab at Kenji. 

Sadly, he's not even looking at you. His brows are furrowed, a grimace worn on his face. He hugs his legs close to his chest, whispering to himself.

"I have to find that beacon. I just need to try harder." He finally looks up at you. "I can find it if I try harder." 

You stare at him in silence, before a serious expression crosses your face. It might weird him out, but he needs to get out of his head. You stand up in one sudden movement, startling Darius out of his stupor. Then, you start jogging in place, making sure your form is right. 

He stares at you in silence for a few awkward seconds, but eventually breaks the quiet built between you two. 

"Uh, what are you doing?" His eyes travel up your form hesitantly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

You don't spare him a single glance as you answer, "Getting my ideas flowing." 

When he continues to stare at you in bewilderment, you expand on your words.

"Before I write, I have to think, and before I think, I have to get moving." When an idea enters your mind, you pause your jogging to stretch. "When I've got that idea in my mind, I can start writing." Unfortunately, there isn't any paper or pencils in your sight, so the idea simply sits in your mind. 

Darius’s mouth hangs agape, utterly confused. 

"Sometimes writing is the hardest thing in the world. None of your ideas make sense, you can't find out how to start your story, you don't know what you should even write." Your stretching comes to a stop, and you let out a relieved sigh. "You feel like you're not trying hard enough, but sometimes writing evades you." You turn your gaze to Darius, who's eyes start twinkling in what you hope is realization.

"Sometimes, you just need to have fun. Write something you normally wouldn't, write something that makes zero sense, just write something." You rest your hands on your hips, encouraging Darius to add on. "The number one rule in writing is to start writing. You just need that first draft for every piece of the puzzle to be put into place; and that's how the best stories get written." You offer a hand to Darius, who grabs it with a smile on his face. 

"I think we have very different definitions of fun." He laughs, his hand still holding onto yours. 

"Okay, then. What's your definition of fun?" You let a small smile grace your face, Darius beaming at your words.

In a shocking amount of time, you and Darius are walking towards the Jurassic World Discovery Walk.

"Learning new dinosaur facts! Whoo!" 

"Whoo!" You pump your fists with a lazy grin. 

You briefly considered waking Yasmina up so she could take a shift in watching, but when you saw her laying on Sammy, you decided against it. 

"I've been wanting to see the Jurassic World Discovery Walk since forever!" Darius reads one of the little signage stands full of information. "I can't believe that this place is practically untouched!" 

Thinking about the fact that most people who came here only traveled to see baby dinosaurs act as ponies for children and watch carnivores eat goats like it was a sport, you could easily believe that it was rare for people to care for the actual dinosaur and not the concept. Despite that, you hum in agreement, not wanting to diminish Darius's excitement. 

"Race you to the next plaque!" He shouts with a grin, jogging to the signage literally right next to the one he was reading previously.

"That was not a race." You snicker, walking towards him as he reads. 

"Check it out. Sauropods can eat up to 12,000 pounds of food per day!" He turns to you with a smug expression. "Obviously their necks help them cover both elevated and lower grazing levels, but still, that's insane!" He points a finger at you. "Race you again!" 

Yet again, he only runs a mere two steps to the next plaque. 

"Ooh, this one's about camouflage! 'Some dinosaurs developed color patterns to help them blend into their environment to hide from…'" Darius pauses his reading, whispering to himself. "Hide…" 

He gasps, a determined expression now worn on his face. "I know where the beacon is."

"That was fast." You smile, walking forwards to stand next to Darius. You quickly read the plaque, Darius talking his head off right next to you.

"It all makes sense now! Jurassic World would never make the beacon easy to find, even if that's a safety hazard, everything is hidden in plain sight!" 

"Well, now we can go back to–" Your words are cut off when Darius shoves himself onto you. His arms wrap around your torso, a bright smile adorning his face.

You hold your arms in the air awkwardly for a few seconds, before eventually relaxing into his hold and patting his back.

"Thanks." He chuckles, pulling away from the hug with one final squeeze. "Dino-buddies?" 

He holds his hand out, knuckles facing you as he grins. You let out a genuine laugh at that, closing your right hand into a fist. 

"Dino-buddies." Your knuckles knock against each other painfully, the two of you yelping at the incident. You both rub your hands with pained expressions, before laughter fills the air. 

The very next morning, Darius herds everyone together in order to tell them his findings. 

"Look, we–we already looked here." Kenji mutters as he rubs his eyes.

"We looked, but we didn't look." Darius says, spreading his arms out as if that would help his explanation.

"Well, that clears that up." Brooklynn adds sarcastically.

"It's like Sammy was saying, things are disguised as other things. We never saw the beacon because it was camouflaged." He shakes Sammy's shoulder with a smile, before everyone splits up to find the camouflaged beacon. 

You all look at pretty much everything in sight: rocks, trashcans, plants, all up until Yasmina stumbles and hits her shoulder on a random tree. It emits an unnatural thud when her shoulder makes contact with it, a smile spreading across her face.

"Ever hear a tree do that?" She asks rhetorically. 

Everyone surrounds the tree, Sammy pulling a previously unnoticed handle. "There's stuff inside!" She gasps.

"Find it again for the camera?" Brooklynn asks, pointing the camera at Sammy. 

Sammy closes it, then reopens it with artificial surprise. "Ooh! There's stuff inside!" 

Everyone spreads out to open the other fake trees, though it’s a fruitless endeavor. 

"All aboard the fail-boat." Kenji snickers. "The rest of these are all empty, broseph." 

"This one's missing." Darius murmurs, pointedly ignoring Kenji. He stares down at the broken stump of one of the fake trees. 

Following a trail leading to a rather closed off section of Main Street, your group stares into the structure with unease. An animalistic snarl brings you all out of your curious thoughts, gasps ringing out across the group. 

Darius hurriedly leads you all up a ladder, which gives you a front row seat to what occurs.

A T. Rex drags an artificial tree, obvious by the ear-bleeding noise it makes as it scrapes against the ground, into her lair. This must be the T. Rex paddock, which really makes you wonder why the hell Jurassic World thought it was a good idea to have such an amazing predator so easily accessible to the public. 

The carnivore drops the tree onto a pile of trees and debris, nudging it with her snout as she snarls softly. Once it's to her liking, she turns around and begins scraping her feet against the dirt ground, likely a way of scenting her nest. 

Then, she opens her jaws wide, letting a mind-numbing roar escape her jaws as she screeches. You all duck your heads at the act, brows downturned in worry.

"A T. Rex lair!" Darius whispers with twinkling eyes. "They've found fossilized nests, but the T. Rex never did this when the park was open. We're witnessing new behavior. This is great!" 

When his excitement is met with disappointed stares, Darius quickly backtracks. 

"This is terrible." He groans. "She built her lair right on top of Main Street."

"And it's about to get worse. Look." Brooklynn holds her camera up, zooming into the new addition of the nest. There lies the beacon, stashed away inside the metal tree on the T. Rex's nest. 

"Well, we found the beacon." Yasmina sighs. 

Everyone groans at her words, annoyed expressions spreading like a virus. Wanting to stay out of the T. Rex's sight, you all sit up against the short ledge of the wall you sit on. 

"How are you supposed to get to the beacon now?" Kenji growls, a sneer growing on his face. 

"Don't you mean 'we'?" You ask with furrowed brows, more so annoyed at his grammar compared to the situation at hand. 

"No, because I want to live, and living does not involve me walking into a T. Rex lair!" Kenji points in the direction of said lair, wide eyes staring at you in disbelief.

"So wait, does that mean we can't signal folks and tell them we're still here?" Sammy asks with a frown. 

"Great. Try to spend a little time being normal kids, and it still ends up biting us in the butts." Kenji scoots forward as he complains, preparing to leave the ledge all together. 

"I…" He sighs. "I just wanted 24 hours where we didn't have to think about dinosaurs, or being left behind, or, or…or Ben." 

At the mention of Ben, everyone exchanges sorrowful gazes. Your eyes fall down to your shoes, burning holes into the dirty midsole. 

"It was nice while it lasted." Sammy mutters. 

"Hey, we can't give up now. I know it seems hopeless, but there's always an answer." Darius assures. "We just have to get out of our own heads to see it." 

Darius and you share a knowing glance, before the sound of stomping draws your guy’s attention. 

"Kenji," Darius calls. "Were there any more walkies in the gift shop?" 

"Uh, yeah–yeah. There were a bunch of them." Kenji nods.

"Good, I think I've got an idea." Darius says with a determined smile. 

And with that, a plan is set into motion.

You, Darius, Kenji, Brooklynn, and Yasmina huddle behind the ledge. Brooklynn and Yasmina look over the ledge when stomping from the T. Rex starts dispersing. 

"Heading your way, Sammy." Yasmina speaks into her dinosaur walkie-talkie. 

A little after the carnivore disappears into the foliage of the forest, Sammy responds from the walkie-talkie. 

"Listen up. She just passed by." The cowgirl's voice is quiet. "Coast is clear. Go for it!" 

Once you get the go, Kenji clips his walkie-talkie onto the strap of his pants. Darius, Kenji, and you climb over the ledge, carefully making your way down the wall.

Kenji easily lands with a quiet 'thump', as do you. Darius however, hangs from a pipe with his legs dangling in the air due to his shorter stature. Kenji makes quick work at grabbing the boy's shirt and pulling him to the ground with a harsher 'thump'. 

Looking up at the girls above, you can just barely make out their disapproving gazes. But the three of you ignore them in favor of making your way into the T. Rex's paddock. 

"I hate this." Kenji huffs, causing you to roll your eyes.

Darius runs over to the nest with you following closely behind, though Kenji lingers due to his complaining. 

"Ugh, I hate this." He repeats himself. 

Darius climbs up the pile with a grunt, grabbing hold of any piece of wood that sticks out. One of those pieces happens to be loose, and the boy loses his footing for a few seconds. You quickly grab hold of his flailing hand and pull him towards you, giving him balance as he regains his footing.

"Thanks." He sighs in relief. 

You look down when Kenji yelps, watching as he just barely avoids grabbing hold of some dung. He quickly grabs the walkie-talkie from his pants and talks into it.

"Next time, I'm straining my ankle and I'm staying behind." He whispers angrily.

"You wouldn't be able to handle it." Yasmina responds through the device.

You and Darius ignore Kenji's complaints and continue searching the pile, before the dino-nerd points a finger above you. 

"There!" 

You spare a glance down at Kenji, who falls almost face first into the pile when a plank of wood crumbles under his weight. 

You pull yourself upwards, grimacing at the smell of the nest as you help Darius up. You just barely avoid falling backwards when Kenji grabs your ankle to help himself up. You glare at him when he gets to the same level as you, but he either doesn't notice, or ignores it.

Darius pushes some stray debris off the metal tree, revealing the beacon sitting inside the tree like a battery to a remote. The three of you immediately try to pull it out of its place inside the artificial tree, but even with six hands, it doesn't budge at all.

"The T. Rex must’ve damaged the housing. I can't get it out." Kenji grunts, still trying to pull the beacon out to no avail. 

"We don't need to get it out. We just have to activate it." Darius grabs the beacon, before turning to you and Kenji. "Help me get this open." 

You and Kenji look around the pile, before you spot a jaw bone perfect for wedging the beacon out. You grab hold of it, Kenji shuddering beside you. You force it into the small space of the hatch, pushing down on the jaw bone. 

Darius and Kenji join you soon after you've got the wedge secured between the sliver of an opening on the beacon, the three of you pulling the bone downwards with all your might.

"Come on! Open already!" Darius grunts, placing a hand on the tree to help open the beacon up. 

A click resounds, and the three of you fly backwards as the hatch finally opens. A yelp escapes from you as your left hand scrapes against some of the debris, the cuts that had previously been scabbed over reopening. 

"Ow!" Kenji shouts, Darius merely groaning as his hands grab hold of a piece of wood. 

Once you all regain your footing, Darius lets out a cheerful laugh at the sight of the open beacon. Although his happiness doesn't last long as distant stomps make their way into your trio's ears. 

The three of you gasp, heads snapping to the entrance of the paddock as the stomps get closer and closer. Your little group huddles together, hiding behind any debris you can find in the slight chance that you'll evade the T. Rex. 

Kenji holds a large leaf over his head, squeezing his eyes shut with a whimper. The leaf he's holding only slightly covers you, and doesn't cover Darius at all, so you pull the younger boy toward you forcefully. His shoulder meets yours, and you reluctantly shuffle closer to Kenji as the stomps make their way into the paddock. 

You're holding your breath at this point, eyes squeezed shut as you wonder why none of the girls warned you of the incoming danger. At least, until a familiar voice rings out across Main Street. 

"What's up, Brooklanders?" 

It's Brooklynn’s usual video greeting, though it's much louder than normal, as if it's being played on a speaker of some kind. 

The stomping starts up again, but this time it goes in the opposite direction. There's a guttural roar, and your trio takes that as a sign to finish what you all come to do. Darius hurriedly climbs up the nest again, stumbling because of his quick movements. 

The boy grunts as he pulls himself at level with the beacon, flicking the small switch towards the green wave symbol. The small screen on the device lights up, showing that the signal's been sent. Darius lets out a disbelieving laugh, before you grab hold of his wrist and pull him off the nest. 

"We've got to go." You remind him, saving the congratulations for when the three of you are in a safe place. 

Running to the exit of the paddock, Sammy appears from the corner, a relieved sigh leaving her lips at the sight of you all. Still sitting on the ledge from earlier, Yasmina stares down at the four of you in concern.

"We activated the beacon! The SOS signal went out!" Darius yells at her, wasting no time in running out of the sectioned off area once Yasmina gets the message.

You all group up once again, quickly leaving Main Street after filling some bags with items from any intact shops. Despite the ringing in your ears from the T. Rex's roars, you can't help but laugh at your success. Or, well, your group's success. 

"We're gonna be saved!" 

"We did it!" 

"Yeah!" 

"Whoohoo!" 

"Yes!"

"Yeehaw! That's what I'm talkin' about!"

There are screams of celebration all around, your group only calming down when Darius apologizes to Brooklynn.

"Sorry you had to give up your camera." Darius smiles.

"Eh, it was old and junky anyhow." She snickers. "My followers deserve way better picture quality than that."

"Where to now, Darius? We obviously can't go back to Main Street." Sammy shrugs, a white bag hanging from her arm.

"Now we have to find a place to hole up until help arrives." Darius stands up, gathering attention from your group. "And rescue will be coming. We just gotta stay alive until they do." 

If only it was that easy. But, this is better than surviving with no guarantee that rescue is coming. Soon, you'd finally be able to go home. The very thought makes your shoulder drop in relief. 

You just wish that Ben was here to feel that same solace. 

[allelitesmut]

Palate Cleanser - A Prequel - Chapter Two

After things got a little heated the previous night, Riley struggles to walk the tightrope that has become her friendship with Max.

Pairing: MJF x Actress!Childhood Friend!OFC

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Sexual Content (minors dni), Cheating adjacent, mild fingering and oral.

Find the original story here

Find part one of the prequel here

Riley stirred at the feeling of her mattress dipping by her feet. She didn't have to look beneath the covers to know who's hand was slowly wrapping around her ankle; the electricity flooding her system did that for her. Max guided her legs apart and she should have stopped him but his hand felt so good sliding up her calf, urging them as wide as they could go without nudging Jonah. Riley blanched - Jonah. Her head snapped in his direction, her blood running cold as she saw him splayed face down beside her. His limbs were dangling precariously off the mattress, face plastered into his pillow, snoring quietly.

Attempting to move as little as possible, she lifted the covers, eyes connecting with Max's in the dark. She watched as he laid a deliberate kiss halfway up her thigh, his fingers curled around, holding her legs apart. Her eyes darted back to Jonah but when Max's tongue traced its way to the edge of her pajama bottoms, her head fell back into the pillow. The ache between her thighs was echoing through her entire body and she didn't stop him from pushing the fabric as high as it would go, and kissing his way up to her hips.

His fingers inched up the curve of her hips, curling beneath the waistband, and Riley leaned up, pulling the cover up again, reality hitting her.

"Max, what - " She whispered, quietly as she possibly could. But he cut her off with a finger pressed to his lips and a lazy shush that managed to quell her argument. Her tongue laved across her bottom lip as they looked at each other, the air trapped in her lungs. Biting down hard but not feeling a thing, she laid the covers back down and let her eyes flutter shut, trying to block out the noise in her brain. After a quiet beat, Max’s fingers dug in more decidedly and she lifted her hips to help him pull her shorts and panties down, then off her legs.

With one last look at the sleeping figure beside her, Riley tried, too late, to muster even an ounce of self restraint. But it was futile as Max thumbed over her slit and the ache in her core nearly swallowed her whole. He strummed slow, torturous strokes through her soaked folds and her fingers curled into the sheets, bunching it into her fist as she squirmed but Max pinned her hips down with his forearm. A breath hissed between her teeth as he nipped at the inside of her thigh.

Using two fingers to hold her open, he rubbed his thumb in tight little circles over her clit and her head flew back into the pillow. He picked up the pace and she pulled an arm across her face, biting down to muffle herself. Then, without warning, he was sucking on her clit and she grappled to hold onto the bedpost for stability. His tongue flittered over the sensitive spot, fingers sliding down to fill her up when -

CRASH

Waking with a start, Riley shot up in bed. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, hands feeling out around her as she got her bearings. After a moment, she noticed the bed was empty aside from her cat curled up at the foot. Jonah was nowhere to be seen but there was the sound of clattering coming from some floor below her.

With a groan, she heaved out of bed and did her best to shake her dream out of her head. It didn’t stop the dull hum in her core, but if she let herself think about that dream for more than a moment, she was going to end up making bad decisions. Very bad decisions. Fuck, she missed the feeling of Max’s hands on her. But from the sounds of things, Jonah was downstairs making an apology breakfast and the guilt that was now eating away at her stomach was going to force her to accept.

Pulling the thin silk robe around her, she tied the waist and started down the stairs. She tiptoed past the closed door to her guest room on her way down the next two flights toward the whistling coming from her kitchen.

She stopped short, though, when she saw Max standing by the stove, flipping a pancake. Warmth that she had been trying so hard to banish, pooling in her stomach in an instant at the sight of him. Her dream was playing out on a loop in her dream, unable to push the image of his face between her legs, out of her head. He flipped one more pancake before turning to look at her, his eyes roaming indecently as if there was actually anything on display, and she tried to swallow back the lump in her throat.

“Morning, sunshine. Hope you don’t mind, I opted to stay in for breakfast this morning.” He greeted her and she inched toward him with a cautious smile.

“You makin’ those pancakes for me?” She gestured to herself coyly and Max rolled his eyes, waving her over. Hesitating for a moment, unsure she could handle being that close but doubly unsure that she could pretend she was unfazed if she wouldn’t go near him, she finally took a few reluctant steps in his direction.

“Obviously. You think I make these lemon blueberry pancakes for anyone else on the planet?” He roped her into his side once she got close enough and she grinned, ignoring the way her skin buzzed. But the effect was inexhaustible and radiated throughout her body, washing away all her hesitation the moment she was tucked under his arm.

“But what, no bacon?” She ribbed his side as he turned back to the pan, flipping another pancake. Ignoring last night felt like the safest way of proceeding if he was going to allow it. It wouldn’t be the first time they flirted with crossing a line, only to pretend nothing happened the next day; it was practically part of their dance by now.

“Please, do you think I’m an amateur?” He jut his chin further down the counter to the package of turkey bacon waiting to be fried. “If only someone had a griddle instead of making me use this toddlers sized frying pan. I could be done by now.”

“Listen!” She gaped. “That little pan is a warrior. She has gotten me through some of my toughest hangovers. Show some respect.”

“I will not. This puny excuse for cookware should be ashamed it even exists.”

“Shh! You’re gonna hurt her feelings!” She pouted, head cocked, and Max used a palm on her cheek to lightly push her away from him.

“Good! I hope I break her spirit and will to cook so you have no choice but to get a real persons pan.” He said as he slid the pancakes out of the pan, onto a paper plate. Riley gasped, hands melodramatically clutched to her chest.

“Your cruelty knows no bounds!” She grinned, though, watching the stifled smile rise to his face. He continued on, reaching past her for the bacon and laying the first piece down. It sizzled away and he laid another down, not looking up as he responded.

“I just know to throw things away when they’re useless.” He left the pieces to fry up, turning his attention pointedly to Riley, and she squirmed, suddenly quite antsy.

“I mean…” she stammered, trying to eek through this conversation safely. “…is anything ever truly useless?”

“Yes.” He didn’t miss a beat, and she swallowed hard. “Especially if you could easily access something that does the job way better.” Riley hesitated, stomach twisting as Max got a step closer to her, and this conversation started to feel like it wasn’t about her frying pan anymore.

Before she could respond, though, she was saved by the front door swinging open, and she jumped. Max smirked before retreating to the pan to check on the bacon. He knew he was doing what he needed to. Riley’s eyes flew to the door, watching as Jonah stumbled in with a paper bag in his hand. He cleared the distance to her quickly, placing a brief kiss on her lips, and Max’s muscles tensed. It never got easier to watch. If anything, it felt like, lately, it was getting even more painful. He’d never felt so much like crawling out of his skin.

“I’m sorry about last night, sweetie.” Jonah offered, pulling her stiff frame in close by the hips before holding up the bag. “I gotcha some breakfast!”

“Oh, uh…that’s…it’s fine, babe. It happens. Thank you for the breakfast, its really thoughtful.” She glossed past the boiling anger she’d had last night, pounding it down with the ashes of her guilt. “But um…” she glanced over to where Max was putting the bacon on a paper towel and setting more to cook. Jonah swiveled, finally catching a look at him, bag lowering.

“Maximillion!” He shouted, coming around to give Max a firm slap on the back. “I didn’t know you were here, man! You stay the night?” Max plastered on his most plastic grin, turning to take Jonah by the shoulders.

“J Money, my man!” He pulled up Jonah’s arm, eyeing the bag in his hand with a scolding frown. “Dunkin Donuts, bud? You know there’s like three places on this street alone that make better bagels than them.” Jonah flushed, yanking his arm away but keeping his sickly smile in place. “Being in New York City and grabbing breakfast at Dunkin - especially for an apology…I mean, that’s basically a sin, isn’t it?” He winced, sucking a breath between his teeth, reveling in the embarrassment that crept into Jonah’s face. “Sorry, man, just tryna help you out for next time, right?” He smirked and Jonah begrudgingly nodded an agreement.

“Well it’s a good thing that’s not the only apology.” Jonah boasted, wrapping a possessive arm around Riley, and Max bristled. His teeth ground within his clenched jaw.

“Oh?” Riley prodded.

“Yeah, I’ve had a busy morning.” He pulled up a chair at the island and Riley filled in beside him. Max worked on finishing off breakfast, doing his best to ignore the cocky tone in his voice. He was willing to bet that Jonah would be a hell of a lot less cocky if he could see Riley’s texts from last night. “So look, I know you’re really bummed that I missed your little party last night,” Riley opened her mouth to object but Jonah kept talking, “so I decided I’m gonna do one better.”

Pulling in a breath, her brows furrowed, blinking a few quick times. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Jonah had tried to surprise her once before, on their three month anniversary. But that ended with her in the emergency room after he dragged her along to a golf session that not only turned out to actually be an unwelcome business venture, but also saw him swing his golf club back into her face. She thought Max was going to kill him when he found out; if they hadn’t had lunch plans the next day, she might have thought twice about telling him it even happened in the first place. But the fractured jaw wasn’t an easy one to hide, not matter how mild she insisted it was.

“Tonight, I am throwing a proper party.” He declared quite proudly and Max scoffed, leaned against the counter by the stove. Disregarding it, Jonah powered on. “Think dj, bartenders, fog machine - the works.” He pulled out the jazz hands and Riley sat, stunned, with her mouth wide open.

“Classy.” Max snickered but Riley plowed right past him.

“Tonight?” She spluttered the word and Jonah nodded with an unearned confidence. “Isn’t that a bit last minute? That’s a lot to pull off in like…twelve hours.” She glanced up at the clock but he waved her off.

“I’ve got it totally covered. My cousin’s birthday party got cancelled after he gave his wife chlamydia so he said I could use it all!” He said, perfectly casual. Riley blinked back at him but Max couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.

“Oh, shit, sorry dude.” He held up an apologetic hand, coughing his laughs between the words. Jonah rolled his eyes but continued.

“Anyway, it’s gonna be sweet. And you will never believe who I got to agree to come.” He didn’t give her the chance to respond before blazing on. “Harry Randall. Can you fucking believe it?” He slapped the table but the rest of the room was quiet. Jonah held out his hands for an additional emphasis when Riley shrugged.

“Okay, fine, I’ll say it.” Max cleared his throat. “Who the fuck is Harry Randall?” Jonah rolled his eyes with a scoff and fully turned his body towards Riley.

“You’ve met him. He was the one at the office holiday party. Big bald guy with the goatee?” He offered and the light clicked behind her eyes before they narrowed.

“The one that pinched my butt when I was at the punch line?” She grimaced but Jonah hardly stopped long enough to notice. Though Max sure did.

“He started his own firm and if I can get in good tonight, I might be able to talk my way into a decent job there!” He hardly even noticed the way Riley’s face screwed up as he snatched a piece of bacon off the plate Max had just brought to the island.

“Oh, wow, that’s uh…”

“Crazy lucky, I know.” He nodded, choking the rest of his piece down. Max got a plate down from the cabinet and loaded it with pancakes and bacon, setting it in front of Riley before sending Jonah a pointed glare.

“J Money, you have got to be the luckiest son of a bitch on the entire fucking planet, man.” Max forced the words out with a bite that he couldn’t contain but Jonah was unfazed.

“Don’t I know it, man. And you know you’re welcome tonight - hell, bring a girl for once! But I gotta jet for now.” He jabbed a thumb toward the door. “Gotta finish grabbing the rest of my stuff from my place.” Riley froze, forkful of food halfway to her mouth, eyes shooting to him.

“Hmm?” She squeaked. Jonah slowed just as he was getting to his feet, a grimace flashing across his face for just a moment before it twisted into a smile.

“So, funny story, honestly. I went this morning down to my place so I could pick up flowers from the place next door for you. But of course I run into my landlord, you know, of all the times…”

“You didn’t bring any flowers.” Max pointed out with a laugh but Riley was breezing way past that.

“Wait did something happen with Joe?” She had met his landlord a few times in the past and he was always agreeable.

“Oh right…I guess I must have forgotten to mention it when I came in last night…” He rubbed a sheepish hand over the back of his neck, eyes anywhere but her. “We got into an argument last night. It’s...actually why I ended up at the bar.” Riley swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to silence the pit in her stomach. She set her fork down on the plate with a clink.

“What were you arguing about?” She raised a brow and he huffed, crossing his arms.

“He’s a jackass and he’s hounding me about all this stupid shit like ‘oh, you owe five months back rent’ and ‘you can’t keep ripping up the past due notices like that makes it go away’.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, avoiding Riley’s eye as much as possible but also desperately straying from Max. “And I tried to explain to him that I’m just in a little slump but my comeback is right around the corner so he’s got to just wait for it like the rest of us, you know?” Riley’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even known that he was late on rent. Five months was well before he lost his job. Her head was spinning.

“Jonah…”

“He’s got no respect for the hustle it takes to make it in this city.” He rolled his eyes, kicking at the leg of the stool he was clutching. “So he told me that I had 24 hours to come up with all five months of back rent or he was going to toss my shit out. That’s when I ended up at the bar.”

“What?” Riley gaped, eyes connecting instantly with Max’s and her stomach turned. How could he not have told her this last night? He came here and had a forty five minute shouting match with her but never thought to mention that? She was going to be sick. “He can’t do that! Let me go down there, I can talk to him - he has to give you thirty days at least!” Jonah wet his lips, face screwing up before clearing his throat.

“Well that’s sort of what I was thinking this morning when I saw him…” he led in cautiously and the knot in Riley’s stomach doubled in size. “So I marched over when I saw him and I told him he had to give me thirty days. No exceptions.” She could feel the ‘but’ coming from a mile away.

“Why does it sound like he said no?” She blurted out, getting increasingly nervous about his comments about getting his stuff.

“No, no. He agreed to thirty days.” But but but but but but but. Oh it was ominous, hanging in the air like a nuclear blast about to decimate them all. “But then he mocked the come back and I just couldn’t take it anymore.” There it was. “I just told him, ‘Man, I don’t need this. I have got a super hot girlfriend with a place in a way nicer neighborhood than this. You can have your shitty apartment.’” He wiped his hands in front of him a few times and Riley just gawked.

“You what?” She furrowed her brow.

“It’s not permanent, I swear. I’m gonna get back out and find a new place. I just couldn’t let that guy talk to me like he was better than me.” He shook his head with a scowl aimed down at the table before his head popped back up and he slapped a hand down. “Alright, I gotta go before he starts tossing my shit to the vultures that live in my building to steal. I’ll see you tonight - party starts here at nine. You should find yourself a pretty new dress. I gotta impress if I’m gonna win over Randall. You know you’re my lucky charm, baby.” He winked, leaning in for an extended kiss that make Max squirm across the room, and whisked out the door before she could object to any of it.

The door closed behind him and the house succumbed to silence. Riley stared down at her plate somberly. Not even pancakes could salvage this morning.

“Sounds like you’ve got a new roommate. Congrats.” Max snickered, taking a bite of a pancake, standing on the other side of the island from her.

“It’s not like that. You heard him, it’s temporary…” It was not her most convincing performance.

“Right. That was definitely the impression I got from that conversation.” He didn’t go easy on the sarcasm and Riley directed her attention back to the pancakes.

“Maybe when he comes back, I need to let him know that I don’t think this is a good idea.” She murmured, trying to get a handle on the way her chest was tightening.

“Why? What’s wrong? You’ve been with this guy for seven months but don’t want to live with him?” He was taunting her and they both knew it. It was obvious to everyone, probably including Jonah, that she didn’t want him to move in. This was a sanctuary she had worked hard to create…plus she was hoping that if he did manage to score that job tonight, she might stop feeling guilty for the idea of kicking him while he’s down long enough to reconsider whether she even wanted this relationship anymore. But boy, that feeling wasn’t going anywhere if he was now unemployed and homeless. Shit.

“I just need my own space.” She said simply, as if she hadn’t offered Max her guest room permanently not long after she moved in. If he was smart, he would have said yes. Granted, he’d only ever turned her down because he knew she would end up bringing home a guy one day and thought he might actually be compelled to end it all if he overheard them going at it. He blamed it on their individual needs to get laid without a roommate interfering, as if he hadn’t been interfering in that for years, but thought that was close enough to the truth. The look on her face when he said it, though, told him it had sent a harsh message about his priorities that he hadn’t meant to send. It was especially bad timing for him when her mom came by for dinner the next week, intent on setting her up with one of her friends' sons now that she was back in the city.

“In other words, you need space where he isn’t.” He watched her resist admitting it but when he raised his brows, she winced.

“Maybe a little. Is that bad?”

“Bad for who? Cuz yeah it’s definitely bad for him.” He chuckled and Riley buried her face in her hands. “You gotta end things, Ry. You’re starting to look like it’s physically painful to be around him.” Wiping a hand down her face, she heaved a sigh.

“Maybe I’ll find I love living with him…”

“Ha!” Max couldn’t contain himself and she scowled down at her breakfast plate. It didn’t seem particularly likely to her either. Lately, every word out of Jonah’s mouth was grinding her gears. “Fat chance, babe.” Stabbing at her pancake, she sighed. “You can’t seriously be considering letting this guy move into your house.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” She mumbled, focusing her attention on drowning her pancake in syrup until it was practically dissolving around her fork.

“Break up with him! Like fucking now. Call him and leave it on his god damn voicemail if you have to. He is a parasite and he’s going to drain you of everything you’ve got if you don’t nip this in the bud.” He couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, not like he really had been before. Riley’s eyes shot up to his and he didn’t miss the nerves that flittered across them before she narrowed them.

“Right, because you’re an unbiased party.” She took a pointed bite of her breakfast and Max huffed.

“Please. As if your relationship is an actual obstacle for me.” His face scrunched in that pompous way that made her want to smack him. He leaned across the island, into her space, and her breath caught in her throat. Fuck, she hated that he could have that effect on her. “I could have you any time I like, Riley. Boyfriend or not.” His voice was low as gravel, eyes locked with hers. She wet her lips, eyes flicking down to his mouth for the briefest moment as her pulse raced, and she crossed her legs, trying to ignore the way her body was betraying her. Scenes from her dream swirled in her mind. It took everything to ignore the desperate pull she had to leap across the table and force that smug expression off his face, destroying a set of dishware in the process. But then he was settling back down onto his heels with a stifled smirk. “So you can trust me when I say that you should break up with him for you.”

He broke their eye contact, allowing her a second to breathe as he cut a piece of his pancake. The way he could turn her brain to pudding was uncanny and dangerous. She watched him take one bite, then another before setting his fork down and clapping his hands.

“Alright, I gotta take off for a bit.” He declared, pushing off the counter. Riley got to her feet on instinct and Max bit back his smile. “Besides, you gotta go and find a dress for your housewarming party.” He teased, raising a brow, and she rolled her eyes.

“God, right. A dress good enough that it gets him a job with a pervert. Charming.” What was she getting herself into? Max came around the island toward her. “You’re coming tonight, right?” Her voice was pleading and he nodded, coming to stand in front of her.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He said it like a promise and she swallowed hard. “But for now I gotta go.” Pulling her into a tight hug, she lingered for a beat too long. As he finally pulled back, he let his lips ghost across the shell of her ear, raising goosebumps across her skin, his fingers toying with the edge of her robe. “And fyi, no one could say no to you in red...”

Heat zipped up her neck and flooded her cheeks. Max stepped back, eyes lingering on her with a hint of a smile. Riley’s belly fluttered as she struggled to pull in a breath. The boundaries around there were starting to feel very blurry.

“See you tonight, sunshine.”

____________________________________________

Next Chapter Here

Beta Read by @daddyhausen

Tags: @fvckingromantic @omg-im-such-a-masochist @smallestsnarkestgirl​ @wrestlingwhore​

[celestial-fucker]

Would you read my Loki fix-it fic just by this first draft snippet?

“‘Let time pass.’

Loki did not know how long it had been for Sylvie when she came to visit him.

He knew she was coming.

He could see everything that was happening, that would be happening, and what had been happening all at once.

So he knew she was coming to see him. But time in the multiverse was something he still had not fully grasped the concept of yet.

“Loki.” His eyes were unfocused, flittering between the timelines. With effort, he focused them, and Sylvie was stood in front of him, with only a few mere green vines standing between them.

Loki tried to put something on his face that was akin to a smile, but whether or not it looked like one was another matter entirely.

“Greetings, Sylvie.” He said with a false bravado. He already knew what she was going to ask of him, but in order for everything to happen as it was supposed to, he couldn’t rush things. But then again, how could he?

She hesitated before speaking once again. “You look…”

“Terrible? Ungodly?” Loki gave a bitter laugh.

“I was going to say powerful. And exhausted.” She replied instead. “Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

Loki’s mouth went dry. “I have no other choice.”

“What do you mean, you have no other choice?” Sylvie hissed. “We are both gods. You should have at least tried to find another way, Loki.”

“What use was there?” His voice sounded small, even to himself.

“What use-” She cut herself off and looked around as though to say, Can you believe him?

“I understand what you ask of me.” He looked directly into her eyes.

“It will work.” He could see that even she could hear the slight quivering tone of disbelief that she held in her voice.

Loki smiled once more.

“We will see.”

Sylvie held out her hands, and Loki took them.”

THIS IS NOT SYLVIE/LOKI!

Anyway✨

[okdeannawrites]

Kiss game! 9 with 49 and BasicallyFamilyButNot!Jordan x Stiles please?

superfluffycam-blog asked:

Kiss game! 9 with 49 and BasicallyFamilyButNot!Jordan x Stiles please?

Jordan and Stiles kiss in public (9) and out of necessity (49).

Well, this is a first. I’ve never written Jordan and Stiles together before. I’m a Sterek girl, so…a challenge has now commenced!

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE

Jordan Parrish did not panic. He didn’t. He was a calm, even-keeled guy. He didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. He couldn’t afford to as a Sheriff’s deputy in one of the smallest, most dangerous supernatural counties in the west.

But even he felt the panic rising in his chest as he and Stiles pushed through the crowd gathered to watch Beacon Hill’s ball drop on New Year’s Eve. Behind them, he could hear the telltale click of a woman’s high heels. A woman determined to kiss him at midnight and steal the soul right out of his body, if what Stiles said could be believed.

Or maybe it was the hellhound part of him she wanted to steal. Stiles wasn’t too sure on that part. But what he was sure about was that they had to be in public at midnight and make sure someone else kissed him at midnight.

Which meant they had to find the pack in the massive crowd gathered to watch the ball drop, and thus far, they weren’t having much luck pushing to the front despite the deputy uniform he wore.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Jordan asked, hissing at Stiles as he once again tried to push his way through two burly guys who looked like they could bench press both their weights without breaking a sweat.

Stiles nodded, his own panic flittering through his eyes. “Yes. I’m positive that’s what the text said. Deaton even confirmed it for me. It must be in public where other people can see, and it must be at midnight tonight. It’s the only way to get her to stop and make her lose her powers.”

Because apparently, according to lore, if she didn’t get to kiss the prey she’d chosen at midnight, her powers were deemed null and void until the next quarter of a century arose. And with only five minutes left on the clock, they had to find the others before it was too late.

Renewing his push through the crowd, Jordan tried to pinpoint where the others might be but with the crowd still too thick, he knew they weren’t going to make it. He could practically feel the woman’s nails on the back of his neck, despite her still lagging a good ten feet behind them.

Unless she had the power to part the crowd to get to him.

Glancing back, he froze as he realized just how close she’d gotten to them. “Uh, Stiles, I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

Stiles glanced back then stopped, shifted, and all but plastered himself to Jordan’s front. “Change of plans, Parrish. You’re gonna have to kiss me instead.”

“What? Are you crazy? You’re my boss’s son!”

“And if you don’t kiss someone in the next ten seconds, you’re as good as dead.”

Shit. This was not what he signed up for when he moved to this town.  The Sheriff was going to kill him, and that was only after Derek Hale got through with him.

“Stiles—”

The younger man shook his head, took Jordan’s face into his hands, and at the stroke of midnight, kissed him for all he was worth.

It was easily the best and the worst kiss of his entire life. But it had the desired effect, because the second Stiles pulled away from him, they turned as one to realize the woman chasing them was gone, only a single, slinky red gown left in her place.

“I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Stiles turned and grinned at him. “And all it took was a kiss from yours truly. You’re welcome, but, uh, maybe don’t tell my dad about this? He gets kind of testy when I physically assault his deputies.”

Jordan laughed. “Stiles, you saved my life. I think we can keep this one a secret.”

Stiles exhaled in relief and nodded once. “Right. Thanks. And, uh, maybe don’t tell Derek, either? I don’t know how he’d take it and…”

“And you don’t want to screw things up before it has the chance to become something?”

Stiles nodded again, smiling ruefully. “I’m not sure he’ll ever let it get there, but I don’t want him to think this was anything more than me trying to help you.”

“I get it, and don’t worry, he’d get it, too. I’m sure of it.”

Especially since he could see Derek’s face in the crowd just over Stiles’ left shoulder, his eyes burning into him as if warning him to back away. Which Jordan did, quickly and in quick, heavy strides.

“Thanks again, Stiles. I owe you one.”

Stiles grinned. “Hey, what’s a kiss between friends and pseudo family, right?”

Right. Friend. Family. Pack.

What a lucky hellhound he was, to have friends who cared enough to kiss him to save his life. “Let’s just hope it never has to happen again.”

“It won’t. Because next time, we’ll get one of the girls to kiss you. Because no offense, man, but you’re lacking the necessary stubble to make my kissing experience the best it could ever be.” A bold grin accompanied his statement then he was gone, weaving into the crowd to join the others—and somehow finding Derek standing exactly where he shouldn’t have known he would be.

Jordan shook his head and turned, weaving his way back through the crowd to his patrol car. He had a shift to finish, and he prayed it was much less eventful than the rest of it had been.

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER

[mallowmaenad]

"Dude, how long have you been at it??"

"I AM AN IMMORTAL MACHINE! MY WILL IS INFINITE."

The human's mouth smirked in a silent chuckle as she watched her roommate on what looked like her ninth hour of gaming. The room smelled like the inside of a hot car, two different oscillation fans pointed in the robot's direction.

The human girl scanned the room as she walked closer towards her friend.

"Babes you're so hot right now that you're fucking up the pleather of your ratty gamer chair."

The camera-like head rotated, apeture adjusting as it leaned forward to get a better look at the damage. A low thrumming sound vibrated through his voice box, an equivalent to a frustrated groan. The shutter flittered as she thought about the best course of action.

"Maybe I can get a chair from the kitchen..."

"And burn the house down??"

It turned to her human companion, sitting there in silent thought, the jovial smile he was given upon entering was gone. She knew it hardly took it this long to think.

"Well... I wouldn't say that would happen... probably."

Two firm taps on the casing on top of her head, the human withdrew her finger, hissing quietly.

"Bitch you sound like you're running on Chromium and I could fry an egg on your head."

The bot took its hands off the keyboard, rotating his chair with a motion against the chest in an expression of surprised betrayal.

"C-Chromium!?"

They both looked at each other motionless, the biological of the two shifting from an expression of a disappointed by concerned mother.

It pantomimed sulking, though the feeling was far more authentic.

"S-sorry... I... was just having... you know I don't like powering off, it's not the same as sleeping, y'know. I don't dream, and I basically don't wake up until I'm fully charged. Sometimes I can't even smell or hear until I've been awake for a few minutes." She brought her knees to her head, a rumbling whine coming from inside of him.

The human wanted to console her friend, hesitantly bending down and patting him on the head, a hushed "Ow, ow." following the display of affection.

"Look, let's just hook you up in low power mode."

"I'm pretty helpless when I'm like that, and I'll charge a lot slower..."

"I'll take care of you."

It blinked, fluttering loudly as she contemplated things, but it was too late to say no. A quiet but pointed beeping emitted from inside the chassis. Low power mode.

The next ten minutes were a blur, the human hissing and cursing as she walked it into the living room like a wounded soldier. Consciousness began to fade back in as the LEDs along its spine blinked red, the fat cable plugged into the outlet on her back. The two fans from his room placed nearby.

"Oh thank fuck I thought your batteries died."

The sound of an exhale, anthropomorphized as one anyway. It focused on the... beautiful, soft face of her roommate.

"...'letric sheeb..."

She put her hands on her hips and smiled, stifling a laugh.

"I thought you said you didn't dream~?"

It leaned forward, shakily tilting its head.

"f-feelsh like id..."

"Why do you even sound like that? You like, you don't have a tongue."

The gentle sound of a revving engine, she wasn't in a thinking mood.

"O-ok how about I put on some cartoons and bring you your plushie?"

"Yeee~"

"What do you want to watch?" her tone lilted, talking now in the voice of a gentle, motherly figure.

Its apeture twitched, if she was an old computer sure enough she'd be making that AOL dial tone. The swivel of his neck going limp, leaning against the wall.

"c-cube... cube dog."

She smiled, she knew what the robot meant.

Soon the machine was squeezing its electric eel plushie and watching a show her human friend had shown to it in the past, occasionally whirring or saying simple phrases, beeping and booping in delirious joy. In the other room, her human was making fried eggs.

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 11: The Reprieve

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Will Rogue Squad reach Cassian in time??? Jyn Erso is the Bryan Mills of Rogue One. Also, Melshi has nerves of steel and is a badass. That is all.

Hello friends! Sorry it's been longer than I intended since I've posted an update. Here's a long chapter to make up for it. Hope you enjoy. Thank you for sticking with me and reading this fic 💜 It really means a lot to me.

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 11: THE REPRIEVE

Cassian lay on his back, arms sprawled to the side, eyes closed.

He couldn’t feel his body except for a warm, gentle breeze tousling his hair.

Finally, he let his eyes open, squinting in bright sunlight, and was surprised to see branches swaying overhead. Green shoots with flittering leaves stretched from massive trees whose canopy was at least twenty-five feet off the ground.

Staring up into the peaceful, magnificent vision, Cassian realize there was no birdsong, no buzzing insects, nothing but the breeze in this immense, empty forest.

His consciousness vaguely registered that he shouldn’t be in a forest at all. Wasn’t I on a star destroyer?

“Cass?”

He tried to turn his head toward the voice that had whispered his name but he found he couldn’t move. All he could do was breathe and blink, so he lay very still and listened, hoping the familiar voice would speak again.

Had the wind been playing tricks with his mind?

“Cassian, you’re early.”

His heart was instantly in his throat. “Mom?”

He could hear her feet moving toward him through the grass but couldn’t turn to look. He could, however, feel her energy, not cold and brittle like she’d been in her last days on Ferrix, but fiery and strong like she’d been when he was a child. “Mom, is that you? I can’t see you.”

“I’m here, Cass.”

He was trying not to cry, overwhelmed with a mix of relief and frustration. “Can you help me? I can’t move.”

“Lie still,” she reassured him. “I’m almost there. I just wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Cassian blinked and the view above suddenly fractured like a broken hologram. “No,” he whispered to himself, afraid of what the fractures would reveal. When he blinked a second time, half the trees disappeared, replaced by something metallic and featureless. He could feel the grass under his head dissolve into a durasteel floor.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Maarva shouted, and the forest vanished.

Death troopers grabbed him by his now tattered imperial jacket and sat him against the wall. They were in the process of disengaging the binds around his neck and wrists when his vision fully cleared. He hadn’t been unconscious, he hadn’t been dreaming, his mind had simply been elsewhere. Cassian realized he was still in Tarkin’s custody and he remembered they were transferring him to the Death Star.

“Time to go,” one of the troopers said, slapping his face to rouse him. “Wake up, Andor.”

Cassian shoved the man away but he was too weak to do any damage. The trooper recovered quickly, grasping him by a fistful of hair before punching him twice. The rebel fell to the side, covering his face with his hands. All six death troopers closed in around him; days of standing watch over a man they wanted in their grasp had worn out their patience. The death troopers would now tolerate zero resistance. One took hold of his collar and pulled him up, ready to strike him again, when the cell door hissed open.

Andor only saw a glimpse of white plastoid helmets before he was dropped to the floor.

“What’s going on here?” the death trooper squad leader asked.

“We’ve got another prisoner for you.”

The new captive was thrown forward so hard she fell to her knees.

Cassian’s heart nearly stopped when he looked up to see Jyn Erso’s bloody face. His eyes grew round as his mouth fell open. “Jyn…” he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. Everything he feared reared up and threatened to burn him to ash.

Her wrists were cuffed together and her brow badly gashed. She looked terrified as she met his gaze. “Cass…Cassian?”

“She’s another Scarif rebel,” the new voice said.

Despair took such firm hold of Andor that his vision darkened around the edges.

Jyn refused to break eye contact with him, though she was listening to the imperial soldiers’ conversation.

“Who told you to come in here?” the lead death trooper growled.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” A boot stomped roughly on Jyn’s back, sprawling her flat on her face. “She’s a Scarif ringleader. The deck commander told me to bring her up here so you could deliver her to Grand Moff Tarkin.”

“Tarkin’s not here.”

“I know that, you imbecile. Take her with you when you deliver the other rebel to the Death Star.”

“The timing is awfully suspicious.”

“She’s been fully scanned and verified. Check your data logs.”

A few gentle beeps chimed as the lead trooper accessed his wrist comm. After a long silence he finally replied. “All right, it checks out. We’ll take her from here.”

“Good luck,” came the reply.

The terror suddenly left Jyn’s eyes and she screamed, “Get down!” at Cassian.

The change in her expression was enough instruction. He pressed back against the wall, making himself as small as possible, as Jyn pulled a truncheon from beneath her vest. One blunt flick extended the weapon to its full length. The imperials only managed to shout, “She’s loose!” before Jyn unleashed her fury. In the few short moments she’d been in the cell, she’d seen Cassian’s blood smeared on the floor and walls. She’d seen his face covered in cuts and bruises. But worst of all was the desperation she’d seen in his eyes; Cassian’s hopelessness was all the fuel Jyn needed. She would make these death troopers regret being born.

Jyn attacked ferociously, taking several of them out by the knees before staving in one of their helmets and breaking another’s neck. Cassian was reminded of the first time he saw her fight, outnumbered in a dusty Jedha alley, beating an entire squad of stormtroopers with such ease it took his breath away. Now, in this soulless, disturbing, crowded cell she performed the same feat with her hands bound.

When a blaster shot ricocheted off the wall inches from his face, Cassian flung himself to the floor, covering his head with his arms. More blaster fire erupted, followed by frantic shouts. The chaos was terrifying and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally be killed.

As suddenly as the ruckus began, it ended.

“We’re clear,” a male voice shouted. “Hurry, Jyn.”

She appeared at Cassian’s side, easing his arms away from his face, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. He gripped her wrist, holding her at bay, afraid to let her get too close. His brain struggled to process the emotional torrent thrashing through his senses; he wasn’t sure what scared him more, that she might be a figment of his imagination or that she might actually be in this deadly place. “You can’t be real,” he gasped.

“Cassian,” she said softly, “it’s ok.”

“No,” he almost shouted. “How can I be sure you’re real?” His eyes had grown wild. “You’re just another one of Tarkin’s tricks.”

Jyn took his face firmly in both hands and leaned down. “I’ve got you,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ve got you.” He froze as her words struck his heart. “You took me in your arms on the Scarif beach and whispered that you would hold me until we died. Tarkin couldn’t possibly know about that.”

He melted against her as dread turned to relief. Tears stung his eyes and he clung to her with bloody, broken fingers. She tightened her arms around him. “It’s ok,” she whispered. “It’s finished.”

He looked into her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. She wasn’t a trick; she wasn’t an apparition or a hallucination. “Jyn.” He touched her cheek. “How are you here?” He gently traced her cuts. “Did they hurt you?” he asked, anger giving his voice strength he couldn’t act on.

“It’s all part of the plan, Cass.” She gestured to the other men standing around the room.

“Melshi?” he asked in shock when his gaze fell on his old friend.

“Mate.” The sergeant smiled. “Ready to get out of here?”

Cassian pointed at the stormtroopers. “And them?”

“Rogue One. We’re all here for you.”

Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi each pulled their helmets up to reveal their faces.

They had risked their lives to find him; Cassian was surprised by the wave of fervor that created in his heart. But it also reminded him of the imminent danger Tarkin presented. He gripped Jyn painfully tight. “You can’t be here,” he pleaded. “The Empire wants all of you, but especially you, Jyn. You have to go.”

“We’re not leaving you.”

“But this,” Cassian gestured at his body, covered in blood and bruises, “this is all because of Scarif. They want revenge.”

“They’ve had all the revenge they’re going get.” Jyn forced him to meet her gaze. “We’re not leaving you behind.”

She glanced over her shoulder and spoke to her companions. “Melshi, help me with Cassian. Bodhi, keep a look out in the hall. Chirrut and Baze, go find the others.”

“What others?” Cassian asked as Jyn helped him sit up.

“The rest of your team.”

His countenance changed so quickly she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“They’re dead.” His tone was dark and guilty.

Melshi stooped down and didn’t wait for his friend to go any deeper into turmoil. “Come on. We’ve got to get moving.” He hooked Cassian’s arm over his shoulder. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t know,” he replied as Melshi and Jyn hoisted him up. “I haven’t stood for a long time. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.”

“Long enough.” The rebel sergeant propped his friend against the wall while Jyn went to the table, retrieving Cassian’s boots and socks.

“You’re being transferred to the Death Star, so there’s a ship already waiting for us in the shuttle bay. We just have to walk down there like prisoners with an armed guard.”

Cassian nodded then looked at the boots she held out to him. “They wouldn’t give those back to me.”

The truth pained her; he was right, the Empire was too cruel to treat a prisoner with dignity.

“And you have to change armor,” he continued. “These troopers are Tarkin’s personal squad. They’re the only ones authorized to walk me to the shuttle bay.”

“Get changed,” Jyn ordered. “You too, Melshi.”

Rogue One began the grim task, stripping dead men of their armor before fastening it on their own bodies. As Jyn loosely locked binders around Cassian’s wrists, the cell door unexpectedly hissed open and an IT-O droid thrummed across the threshold. In milliseconds the machine assessed the situation and initiated a kill protocol.

“Look out!” Cassian shouted, gripping Jyn and spinning her away just as the droid fired several blaster bolts. One shot caught him in the left shoulder, thrusting him forward into Jyn’s arms as he cried out in pain. Another shot seared across her left side, burning through her clothes into her torso. They fell to the floor as the droid advanced on them, ready to deliver the kill shot.

But the threat was neutralized just in time as Bodhi blasted the machine through its photoreceptor. Crashing to the floor, it sprayed a fan of electrical sparks before going dead. Baze thumped the pilot on the back, approving of the well-aimed shot. “Nicely done.”

Bodhi stepped nervously toward Jyn. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” Jyn quickly evaluated her own wound, writing it off as non-critical before rolling to her knees and leaning over Cassian. He clutched his arm tightly to his heaving chest as he fought to breathe through the pain. “Come on,” she urged reassuringly, offering him her hand and pulling him up into a sitting position. “It’s not your first time getting shot.”

“No,” he groaned, “but it is my first time getting shot after having pain-enhancing neurotoxins injected into my blood.”

She gripped his left arm and held it at an angle that took pressure off the shoulder joint. “Hold it like this with your other hand,” she instructed. He did as he was told while Jyn moved behind and gingerly inspected the injury. He clenched his teeth as she pulled the fabric away to reveal scorched bone. “Jesus, Cassian.” She swallowed hard, staunching the urge to be sick. “I think this would hurt even without the neurotoxins.” She gestured for Melshi to open up the IT-O droid. “See if that thing has a syringe with a painkiller.” Ripping more of Cassian’s jacket open to better access the wound made him catch his breath. “What were you thinking, throwing yourself between me and a blaster shot?” she teased, trying to take his mind off the pain.

He snorted weakly. “Just trying to keep you alive so you can boss me around some more.”

“Found something,” Melshi said as he knelt next to her and helped put pressure on the wound, eliciting a gasp from Cassian that made her muscles feel unsteady.

Once they got the bleeding under control, Melshi held up a thin device with a rounded tip and a short needle protruding from one end. “It has to go into the mid jugular.” He pulled open Cassian’s jacket, revealing a site so grisly it made the sergeant pause. His friend’s neck was covered in puncture marks that were black and blue and fierce, and a red burn stretched across the flesh from what had obviously been a shock collar.

“Tarkin and I never seemed to hit it off,” Cassian joked dryly, attempting to downplay the gruesomeness.

Melshi made up his mind quickly and administered the shot before any more could be said. Andor hissed at the sudden discomfort, but the sergeant rubbed his thumb into the puncture making sure the contents distributed quickly into the bloodstream. “Sorry, mate. We don’t have time to linger. This should at least dull the pain.” He took hold of his friend’s jacket and hauled him to his feet. “We need to get a move on.”

Bodhi extended a hand to Jyn, but as he pulled her up, her eyes lingered on the IT-O droid. What did that horrible machine do to Cassian?

Draven’s orders rang in her ears. She realized the droid’s databank would answer her question.

“Just do it,” Cassian said quietly.

She glanced at him, a sense of guilt creeping up her spine.

Though his eyes, haggard and brooding, stared through her, she realized his pragmatic spy instincts could not easily be turned off.

“Go on.” He nodded toward the droid. “Alliance brass wants it, right?”

Jyn obeyed, rolling the dead machine until she found a panel. Instead of popping it open, she punched her fist through the metal. This monster had tormented her friend for countless hours; there was no reason to be gentle. She ripped through the wires and structure until she found the memory bank in the middle. Pulling it free, she tucked it into her inside vest pocket.

“Let’s get moving,” she said, walking to Baze who put her wrist binders back on.

Malbus led the group out, followed by Chirrut and Jyn, then Melshi and Cassian, with Bodhi taking rear guard.

“Hey, Melsh,” Cassian said under his breath.

The man’s acknowledging grunt sounded strange through the helmet.

“These death troopers didn’t like me very much.”

He nodded once. “Understood.”

The group took the lift down to the starboard shuttle bay on the opposite side of the ship from the docking bay where they landed. When the lift doors opened, Baze and Bodhi intercepted a stormtrooper squad, forcing them to stop their procession so the prisoners could be dragged past. Melshi made a show of shoving Cassian so hard he stumbled. Gripping him by the back of his jacket, Melshi marched him on, ordering the rebel to keep moving.

The shuttle bay was a massive hangar, lined from end-to-end with an assortment of ships. The deck commander stepped out of an office as the squad came in. “Stop right there,” he demanded.

Rogue One had no choice but to comply. “We have a scheduled prisoner transfer. What’s the problem?” Melshi said, striding forward and dragging Cassian along at blaster point.

“You’re late and she,” the commander said pointing at Jyn, “is not on the manifest.”

“We’re late because of her,” Melshi replied, not phased for even a moment. “She was brought into custody literally minutes ago and is being transferred along with Andor under Tarkin’s direct orders.”

“I’ll need to scan them to verify.”

“Make it quick. The Grand Moff is waiting.”

“You know protocol bypasses no rank,” the commander said firmly. “Especially in regards to prisoner transfers. Bring her forward.”

Chirrut pushed Jyn next to Cassian and both prisoners were forced to their knees. Andor’s painful gasp was no performance. He crumpled in on himself trying to breathe through the discomfort, but Melshi didn’t crack. He reached down and pulled Cassian’s head upright as the viper droid scanned the prisoners.

After a moment the deck commander handed them a small disk, “Here’s your updated manifest. Another Scarif rebel, eh?” he leered down at Jyn.

“That’s right,” Melshi said.

“Yes, well, she’ll soon look no better than this one,” he hiked his thumb at Cassian’s battered appearance. “We’ve assigned you Lambda GS-2872 right here,” he pointed to the nearest shuttle. “Now get this scum off my ship.”

Melshi didn’t respond. He simply yanked Cassian to his feet and thrust him toward the shuttle. The rebel commander only managed a few steps before his strength faltered, his legs bending as his head snapped back. Bodhi appeared instantly at his other side, helping Melshi drag Cassian the last few steps up the shuttle ramp. Once all were aboard and the gangway was lifted, everyone hurried to their positions. Melshi transferred Cassian to Jyn’s arms and ran to the cockpit with Bodhi where they began the launch sequence.

Jyn heard Cassian’s breath shudder as he leaned on her heavily. Her thoughts instantly flashed to the Scarif beach where she half dragged his damaged body to the shoreline only to be met with a view of certain death speeding across the water directly at them. Jyn tightened her jaw, forcing the memory away as she carefully lowered Cassian into one of the seats.

“How long?” she asked as the shuttle slowly exited the star destroyer’s bay doors.

Bodhi replied. “Lightspeed in thirty seconds.”

She knelt at Andor’s side. He was clearly struggling to stay conscious. “We’re almost there, Cass. Just hang on.”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“Coordinates set,” Melshi announced.

“Prepare for jump,” Bodhi said calmly.

The black of space stretched forward as the shuttle passed into lightspeed, nebulous blue and white colors swirling as they headed to safety.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE GHOSTS” - Cassian struggles to stay alive and Jyn is beside herself with worry as her friend starts to slip away.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 "The Reprieve"

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[dirtbagdefender]

wip wednesday but like. a day late.

tagged by @thotpuppy 💖

so far this is an untitled time loop for stranger things, picking up at the end of season 4.

“So,” Steve’s eyebrows are furrowed, and Robin’s still hissing where her fingers are prodding her head where she must’ve hit it, “this is new.” Eddie snorts while Max just raises her eyebrows.  No shit, Steve. Max has to remind herself to be nice, and she takes a deep breath in while she shakes her head. How do you even begin to explain this? The Mind Flayer never did weird shit quite like this. Even battling Vecna didn’t feel this weird. This is some shit out of The Twilight Zone. “The last things we remember are dying.” Succinct, like ripping off a band-aid.  She gets two sets of bug eyes. “Dying?” Robin echoes. “Both of you?” her eyes go to Eddie, flittering around his face like she can discern a wound by his expression. Quieter, like he’s been punched in the gut, Steve reiterates. “You died?” She watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, a shadow of grief settling in his eyes as he stares across the cab at her. And she’ll revisit that, she will, because she didn’t think Steve cared a whole lot about her. Yeah, he went toe-to-toe with Billy, but she had been convinced that was more about protecting Will and Lucas than protecting her. Maybe she was wrong. “That’s not what’s important right now.” She sees out of the corner of her eye, Eddie nod and cover Robin’s hand where it reaches for him, coming to rest on the door. Comforting. Billy didn’t do comfort. Billy would’ve cussed and shoved people away and been the epitome of a cactus: harming anyone who was dumb enough to get too close. She takes another breath in, makes herself stay on track. “What do you last remember?”  Steve and Robin both go still before they look at each other.  “Vecna on fire?” Robin checks with him. He nods.  “In the attic.” Steve tacks on, turning back to her and Eddie.

and bc i'm terrible and i don't know if ANYONE has any wips happening rn — consider yourself tagged, too!

[dru-plays-starbound]

You Never Forget Your First

Universe: Starbound CW: Grief Words: 665 Context: Written for the Woe, Cubes be Upon Ye Protectorate Event, some of Mio feelings about the Terrene Protectorate.

"Where you go, I'll be right behind you…" The song drifted along the quiet, empty corridors of The Vestige, mournful in its longing and loneliness. "Where I go, I'll have you at my side…" Kata looked up from where she was reading, hidden in a storage compartment near the front of the ship. Her e-book was tucked into a pocket as Kata rose, flicking one long, grey pigtail out of her face. She crept out of the storage compartment. "Where we go, together…" The song was coming from the Bridge. Kata checked her watch. Past midnight, local planetary time. No one but she was usually up this late. No one but the Captain was allowed on the bridge.

Kata crept forward, keying open the Bridge door, wincing at the pneumatic hiss. Sat in the chair at the navigation console was Captain Mio. "There's nothing we can't fight through. Nothing we can't weather…" The rising beeps and bloops from the ship's instruments made an odd accompaniment. With every other line of the song, Mio tapped the little hula girl, gummed down to the top of the console. "If you've got my back, I've got yours. Standing firm against it all…" Kata couldn't stand the pain in her captain's voice any longer. She rapped against the metal hull.

Instantly the song died in Mio's throat. She rocketed to her feet, reaching for the pistol on her hip. "Kata! 'Tides, woman…" Mio cleared her throat, hand moving away from her weapon to sign out, "What can I do for you?" Kata stepped onto the Bridge. "Captain, you okay?" she signed, her hands slow and cautious. "Yes, thank you." Kata frowned at Mio's quick and perfunctory signs. Kata drew herself up, her gestures sharper. "Respectfully, do not believe you." Mio lifted her chin. Kata looked her in the eye, one fist on her hip.

All at once, the Captain seemed to crumble. Her shoulders bowed, her gills flared rapidly, and the underside of her throat flushed a speckled red. Mio wobbled on her feet, then fell back into her seat. Kata cried out as she rushed over, hands flittering between Mio and signing, "Captain! What's wrong? You sick? I get Medic!" "No, it's fine." Mio caught Kata's shoulders, before her hands returned, tremulous, to the signs. "I'm just… I miss my first crew." Kata shook her head in confusion. "That song was one Fabian came up with. To remind us there was nothing we couldn't do together. Tides, he was so proud of it too." Mio nictated, her gaze over Kata's shoulder. "And here I am, singing it as a mourning song, instead of a marching song." "This at Academy?" Kata asked. "Yes. Our last year, we were sorted into proto-crews. We trained together as one unit. We should have graduated together. Gone into space together." "How long?" "Since Earth?" Mio's hands shook, mangling the sign for the Protectorate's homeworld. "Nearly five years? Maybe. I'm ashamed to say space has made time fuzzy." "It has been seven years, three months, 19 days, 55 hours and 3 minutes," SAIL's modulated voice came quietly through the speaker on the console.

Mio twitched an eyebrow ridge, her throat working. "Okay to miss people. Sadness not a failing," Kata said. "Don't have to hide." The shiver in Mio's hands belied the perfunctoriness of her signs. "I have my current crew to think of. Food to source, equipment to maintain. I shouldn't be wasting time on what's long passed." "Captain-" "I also have to finish plotting this course. Thank you for your concern, Kata. Go to bed." The last signs were delivered with a sharpness that made Kata blink. She rose, but still hovered until Mio made shooing motions at her. As Kata left the Bridge, she heard Mio take up her tune again, but rather than the mournful sound from before it was upbeat and joyful. Kata smiled; glad, if confused, that her Captain was in better spirits than she'd been found.

[nixalegos]

Boggled in a Bog

Continuation from HERE "Hithril, was it? No surname? No heraldry? That's almost refreshing." He said as he hefted the cast iron and gripped it near the end of its length the wrong way, and started to pull it away from himself. Symbols, runes, shapes of strange and unfamiliar magics ignited along the iron. Some so close to be recognizable, but all of them harsh, hateful shapes. As soon as the rod was filly lit up he turned it with a flourish and then with the hissing pishaw of pneumatic assistance, drove the rod into the watery muck. Nothing happened as he let go and took a step back to look at her. "Did you come here by portal, or are you a native to this place?" He asked as the clear and empty sky peeled with a thundercrack. Lighting struck the wrong way. Not from sky to ground, but the other way around. The spark of the divine turned around leap from that rod straight up, its coloration wrong, a blaring foul green, arcing its way up over the treeline and cascading out. From where they stood she could see other streaks of unnatural power reaching to join in six different directions with them at the center. Like a net, or a circus tent made of non-linear patterns of current and field. Once it was formed and seemingly stable, that current feed back into itself, and down. The lighting reached and snaked into the ground, like the stories of mad science gone horribly right. The lighting moved as if alive, arcing down into the soil, the muck, and what it touched, moved. The loops and coils reaching farther was too strong, igniting gnats and moths and flittering jittering bugs like signal sparks simply for passing by. A circuit that was overloaded and overheating. The bodies of toads and frogs long since passed burst from the wet peat with open leathery mouths, their tongues consumed by emerald fire before it spread to the rest of their diminutive bodies. Forceful resurrection by immolation and desecration. There, something larger, a badger with no arm flopped up with no fur, its teeth missing before the flames spread over it. All over, the cycle of life was taken, wrested back, and its neck snapped in favor of the warlocks desire for efficiency. And efficient it was, the huge area his lighting cage had cast over had struck paydirt only a dozen feet away from her. A head gasping with escaping gases lurched up. Followed closely by something even larger. A horses head. The dead and its rider tried in vain to obey the magic sizzle snapping in their bones, that forced unmoving ligaments to snap and flex again. Most of the chain lighting now curling in their paths to this point of larger resistance, colliding and burning the preserved flesh with bullet holes as it poured into them both. And then, as soon as the macabe ritual started, the looping arcs of fel lighting stopped, the bodies of the bog, the dozens of critters, the handfuls of beasts, and the victims too, were allowed to rest once more, collapsed ontop their own dug open watery graves. The lighting cage above them had discharged to nothing, only the scent of sulfur and brimstone hung heavier then the mist had been when he'd started, and he made his way closer towards them. The iron rod he'd used had melted under the weight of the ritual, slagged and steaming. "I'm from Azeroth, are you familiar with the realm at all?" He said casually, as if the barbaric act of violence against the cycle was totally dismissible and barely worth mentioning. @ramblingsofamoonwatcher

[sanguine-salvation]

❰❰ MEDIC ❱❱

[ An Extremely Self-Indulgent Meme - ACCEPTING! ]

Oh.

Oh, they... could feel again.

Which meant they weren't dead. Pity.

Viktor groaned as their consciousness rolled lazily back into their head, into their eyes even if they didn't open them, and most agonizingly, into the rest of their ravaged body. They sort of remembered now... their blood spilling and their flesh bruised, but everything was a spinning mess in their head. The world was barely real anymore.

"Mmmmrgh..." Oh. Oh, no, very real, very very real, and not a smart thing. Body mad. They shifted against whatever they were on, some kind of surface that wasn't concrete, maybe? And as they tried to open their eyes all they could see was aching, blurry reality, all a mush of colors and shapes. Feeling flittered back into their limbs past the obvious pain and injury, they felt... something else.

Something they knew well enough.

"Rgh, no," they tried to push themself up on pure survival instinct alone, their arms pushing past all the sluggishness and managing to drag their torso up by an inch before the world started to come into much sharper focus. Hands on them, touching the sore spots, the texture of bandages on raw flesh and sticky blood. "Don't." Viktor hissed and tried— very unsuccessfully— to wriggle free of... whatever was going on again.

Touching, no touching.

Their eyes flickered to the blurry shape of a zombie, her hands busy on their body. Their blinked and narrowed their eyes, baring a glint of their teeth like a wounded animal. "Don't touch me."