#he BENT her holy maker

[mellidee]

"You change... everything."

(hi i'm in pain and it hurts so good)

[f1luver-95]

Fate Charles Leclerc Story…

… Chapter 10 …

Last night felt like a dream, the way Charles treated me was straight out of a fairytale... 

The way he held me in his arms and kissed my forehead made me weak in the knees. 

What shocked me was the fact he wasn't afraid to give me attention and  affection in a large group of people who no doubt had taken multiple pictures of us. He didn't seem to care, and it was almost like he was proud to be there with me as his date. Something I was not used too, Jake always pretended like I never existed when we were in social settings or in public. 

I rolled over and noticed that Lucy was awake as well scrolling on her phone. "Morning Elle," she said as she looked over at me. 

"Morning" I said smiling at her as I stretched my arms over my head, "so you and Lando Eh!" 

"You and Charles Eh!" She mimicked me as she rolled her eyes, "These nothing to report, captain." 

"Really...Nothing?" I questioned, "you two seemed awfully  cozy last night"

"I mean we were flirting all night... but its not like he kissed me or anything" Lucy said looking a little upset about Lando not taking the opportunity to kiss her after they spent most of the evening together flirting back and forth. 

"Maybe he was just nervous," I offered, as I tried to make her feel better about the situation.

"We will see." 

"When are you supposed to hear back about the job here in Monaco?" I questioned hopeful that she would get the job. 

"They mentioned that they would let me know on Monday. But it seemed like they were impressed throughout the interview." 

"You will get it! Everything will fall into place for the both of us." I said as I climbed out of bed and walked towards my closet, grabbing sweat pants and a sweater. 

We made our way towards the kitchen where Kelly and Max were both sitting reading the news paper and drinking a coffee. 

"There she is," joked Max as soon as he saw me walk into the kitchen. 

"What?" I questioned as I walked towards the coffee maker and poured some coffee for both Lucy and I. 

Max didn't say anything he just lifted up the news paper he was reading.

My eye widened in shock  as I looked at the front page of the news paper... on the front page was a blurry picture of Charles and I standing hugging each other as he bent down and  kissed my forehead with the words 'WHO IS CHARLES NEW GIRL?' 

"What the Fuck!" I gasped as I walked closer to Max to see the paper better. 

"Holy shit!" Lucy exclaimed as she ran over to see the news paper, "My bestie is famous." 

"Thank god you can't see my face," I added as I started to freak out internally.... What would this mean for Charles and I... We were definitely not at the stage of our relationship to go public... especially because we were still in the early stages of developing something more than being just friends. 

"Everything will be alright Elle," Kelly said as she reached over and placed her hand gently on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze "Im here for you, as you navigate everything." 

"Im here for you too Elle," Max said "I'll can help you get accustomed to the formula 1 life style." 

"Holy shit...the fan girls are losing there minds on Instagram," Lucy said as she was scrolling on her instagram. 

"Lucy, my advice is to not look at social media until you and Charles figure things out." Suggested Kelly. 

I nodded my head as I took another sip of my coffee. I trusted Kelly she had gone through a similar situation when her and Max first started to date. She grew up in the racing world so she knew a thing or two about what it is like. And now she is dating Max a formula one world champion. 

I could feel my phone buzzing in my sweater pocket, looking down I saw that Charles was calling me... he must have saw the news paper article as well. 

"Belle," his voice sounded like he had just woke up, "are you okay?" Concern evident in his voice. 

"Im okay," I said smiling, the sound of his voice making me feel a sense of calm and comfort. 

"Im so sorry, I had no idea that us going together would make front page news."

"It's okay Charles, you can't control what is being written about you." 

"Come over to my place, I want to hold you in my arms again." 

"Let me shower and get dressed, then I will head down to your place." 

"Okay Belle," Charles said sounding happy that I had said yes to coming over "my apartment number is 1016."

"See you soon," I said into the phone before hanging up and heading towards my bedroom so that I could go shower. 

I noticed out of the  corner of my eye that Lucy has whispered something to Kelly before following me to my bedroom. 

"Im going to head over to Charles place" ... "Im going to Lando's place" Lucy said at the same time as me. 

We both looked at each other and laughed. 

I quickly showered and curled my hair, while Lucy picked out some clothes for me to wear. 

While Lucy showered, I got dressed in the leggings, tank top and cardigan she picked out for me... before quickly picking out some leggings and a sweater for Lucy to wear. 

                        .............................................. 

I  walked out of the elevator and made my way to his door. Taking a deep breath I lifted my hand to knock on the door.  He opened the door and pulled me into his arms, kissing my lips before guiding me into his apartment.  Thank god he had his arm around me or I would have fallen down from the intense fireworks I felt erupt in my body as soon as his lips touched mine. 

"Nice place Charles."  I said as I looked around, trying to compose myself. 

"Thanks." 

I looked around at the kitchen and noticed flowers and a box of chocolate sitting on the kitchen island.

Charles pulled me in for a long hug and I buried my head into his chest as I got a whiff of his cologne. 

Charles pulled away from our hug looking into my eyes "now I believe you promised me homemade cookies, on our first date." 

Laughing I quickly make my way into the kitchen and started making the chocolate chip cookies that I had made with Penelope the other day. Charles kept coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me before reaching down and stealing a piece of cookie dough. Laughing at his attempt to be sneaking I playfully smacked his arm away. 

As we were waiting for the cookies to bake Charles pulled me into the livingroom. I sat down beside him as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table. Once the remote was in his hand he leaned back on the couch and placed his feet straight on the sectional.

Once he was comfy, he pulled me into his body so that my head was on his chest and our legs were intertwined. 

He turned on the TV and went to Netflix. We scrolled through Netflix and settled on F.R.I.E.N.D.S. 

Just as Ross and Rachel were about to have their first kiss I looked up into Charles's green eyes and I could see that he was looking towards my lips and then back up to my eyes. 

We both slowly moved our heads towards one another. Just as our lips were millimetres apart the oven dinged signalling that the cookies were done. 

We pulled apart laughing as Charles stood up and offered me his hand to help me up. We walked into the kitchen smiling as we grabbed the cookies and ice cream and made our way back to the couch. 

"Belle, I am enjoying every minute I get to spend with you. You make me so happy and I know things are moving fast, but it just seems right. I can't stop thinking about you and all I want to do is spend all my time with you." Charles said looking into my eyes like he was trying to get a glimpse into my soul. 

"I'm loving every minute I get to spend more time with you as well." I said as I got lost looking into his gorgeous eyes.

"I know it's moving fast but will you be my girlfriend?" Asked Charles as he looked into your eyes. I could see the nerves radiating from his body. 

I looked into his hopeful green eyes as  I maneuvered my body so that I was facing him grabbed both of his huge hands in my tiny ones. 

"Oh Charles.... I really want to be your girlfriend but Im scared that you are going to break my heart" I said as I  took a deep breath. "My last relationship really messed with my head. We were engaged and on our wedding day I found out he was cheating on me with one of my friends. I found out by catching him having sex with her at the wedding venue. He fucked with head the moment I met him, but I was young and naïve and believed everything he told me. It started off small like never complimenting me, the you look fine or you should probably put more make up on. He never ever  called me beautiful or even pretty. He always told me that I was a psycho bitch, and that no other man would ever love me, and that I was lucky that he loved me." A tear rolled down my cheek as I told Charles about Jake. "Not that I think you would cheat on me if we were together." 

Just as I was about to reach up and wipe my tears away his hands quickly wiped them away as he pulled me into his muscular chest.

"I fucking hate him... I hate that he did that to you and that you had to go through that... you are so beautiful on the inside and out and the fact that he never saw it or appreciated you is his lost... I promise you that if you gave me the opportunity to love you, you would never ever doubt my love for you. Loving you would be my priority. Let me know when your ready... I will be waiting with open arms for you."

I nodded my head and buried myself deeper into Charle's embrace, enjoying the safety of being in his arms. 

                              ..................................................

When I got back to my place, Kelly quickly pulled me aside and asked how everything went.

"To be honest I am terrified of my feelings. I've only known him for three weeks but it feels like I've known him my whole life. My heart is telling me to let myself fall in love with him and to trust that he isn't going to break me apart. But my brain is telling me to protect myself from being hurt." 

Kelly pulled me in for a hug "I can't promise you that you won't get hurt along the way but I can promise you that Charles will do anything in his power to make sure you feel loved and like you are a priority to him.  I have known him since he started racing in formula 1 and I have never seen him so invested in getting to know someone as much as he is with you. I see the way he looks at you, it is as if you are the only person in the world. He is falling for you just as hard as you are falling for him." 

"I think your right Kelly! He asked me to be his girlfriend this evening and I told him I was scared because of everything that happened with Jake. But I shouldn't be so worried about the past that I miss what is right in front of me...my future." 

"Go get your man Elle," Kelly said as she shoved me towards the doorway. I quickly thanked her and made my way back to Charles apartment.

I quickly knocked on the door, hoping that he hadn't gone to bed yet seeing as it was quite late. 

"Elle?" Answered Charles as opened the door only wearing his boxers,  a surprised look on his face as he quickly pulled me into his arms, shutting the door behind him. 

"I'm YOURS Charles." I said as I put my hands on his face and kissed his lips.  

"Really?" he asked as he pulled away from the kiss, I could see the excitement in his eyes. 

"YES! Im done letting my past define my future... you're my future Charles" 

"WOOHOOO!"  Charles yelled as he picked me up into his arms and spun me around in a circle. 

I couldn't contain my giggle at his reaction. I looked into his eyes as he pulled me close. A piece of my hair fell into my face and I could feel his hand move up to move it. His hand gently moving the hair out of my face before slowly moving down to cup my cheek.. Our heads moved together like two magnets being pulled us together as our lips slowly touched.  It was like time stood still, as fireworks erupted.  Slowly pulling away from the kiss we connecting our foreheads together as we both breathed out "WOW." 

"I promise you, Elle. I will never make you question my commitment to you." Charles said as he pulled me in for another breathtaking kiss.

[prerodinu]

He walks with the shadows of the moon, tugging trees from their roots to shudder in his presence. The rain was light, dared not diminish any flame that bit and crawled its way to the treelines from a pups need of something warm and excitement. Though, that fire never reached the dead trails, instead it bent, curved and bowed to the black beast that walked through it - sizzling under his giant paws and going out from a singular huff of his cold breath. Eyes, of two shades, turn to her. A small whelp, but a damaged one like many of this pack.

Velkan didn't make a noise more, only stare upon her with eyes deep and true. Watching and waiting for a moment's flicker, and his ear twisted to allow his trance to be broken. To turn his gait elsewhere, leaving his paw prints behind and frozen blossoms of sealed flames in his wake. Returning to the thicket and licking over his maw, his shrine was returned too. Greeting his loyal Hela and licking up the sacrifices of blood, deer heart and bone to crunch in one sitting.

Katia's shoulder was nudged by the grand beast, though no words spoken, he gave her his blessing as always. Pleased and amused at the new pups this pack brings him every month. Twisting from her once more and treading back towards the trees, his gaze flicks from his trail to Katia… then to the fire maker before his giant frame seemingly disappeared upon stepping behind the trees. Just a trick of the eye to some, but Katia has seen it. The cold vortex tear this beast treads with ease. Welcoming the embrace and disappearing before any other could follow.

She had heard of the thing that crawled through the forest. That had saved the older blonde of the pack. She didn’t need to say the name, everyone knew, the scars were hard to miss for the eyes of the supernatural. 

She wished to be saved. Wished someone cared enough to save her like someone saved the other, but she supposed she was saved, living safely and able to process her shit, the lighter in her hand still licking flames into the night like she was waiting for something else to light on fire. Her eyes connected to his and she swallowed, fingers twitching like she would drop the lighter into the ground and burn everything down. That was the feeling in her soul, burn it down, light it on fire. 

Then a twitch and the feeling was gone, her body lighter as if something took it all away, she didn’t dare say anything. Her fingers flicking the lighter closed with snap as she turned back towards the festivities. She was going to tend to the fire and maybe later she would think about what exactly when on around her and what exactly happened. 

Katia, weaving her way through the trees with another basket upon her hip like her mother used to do when she was picking things up. The full moon bright and guiding her way as she walked. Marek was with her this time. Trailing white behind her as she wove her way around to the shrine that was her place of healing. Her place for him. 

Marek knew not to speak, both of them wandering to leave of the gifts, the unspoken bond that she had with the being that had saved her so very long ago. She had left things, but Artem had baked again and she wanted to share the fruits of their labors, she had picked some choice bits and pieces before as well. Bare feet plodded against the frozen ground the cold not bothering her, the white trailing dress she wore showing off the marks across her back. Though her hair was long again, having grown back from the last time she chopped it off for an offering for them. 

“Holy shit.” Marek’s voice did not catch her off guard, in fact, a warmth bloomed into her soul. Whiskey eyes dipped not look directly at him but showing him her favor as he did for her. She felt the way he nudged her shoulder, she did so back, her head leaning to the side as if nuzzling into him. 

​​”Ahoj, môj priateľ, môj otec.” (Hello, my friend, my father)  Her voice was gentle almost soft and swaying like the breeze around her. She felt his humor in his gaze upon the fire that was still blazing. Her head leaned against his own, fingers already placing the basket down for more offerings for him before she moved that one hand up to his features, touching him so softly, gently, as if in reverence. 

“Najnovšie sa stávajú pohodlnými. Už toľko nekričia do noci.” (​​The newest ones are getting comfortable. They don't scream out into the night as much anymore.) She spoke, knowing he enjoyed hearing about the ones that were new and the ones he brought along. 

What she wasn’t expecting was for Iryna to follow, or Marek to watch with a look of awe upon his features as she spoke and talked like nothing else happened like this was an occurrence for everything. 

Then he was moving, lumbering away as he often did to go find someone else, to go find another to bring to her place, this sanctuary for the wolves that have been abused and forgotten. 

“He’s-he’s real…” Marek spoke, awe in his voice as he did so while Iryna watched, flicking her lighter open and closed with soft clicks and shhhks of lighting it. 

“Nech ti mesiac pobozká labky a ak ťa vidím naposledy, môžem sa k tebe pripojiť k lovu vlkov, keď budem preč.” (May the moon kiss your paws and if this is the last time I see you may I join you in  the wolf hunt when I am gone.)  Katia spoke, kneeling at the alter as she watched the cold swirl and swallow him up. She felt at peace, that she didn’t need to do anything else. That she was whole again that she always will be. 

She stood, graceful movement of swirling fabric as she touched Marek’s shoulder as she passed. A way to bring him back to the fire and the crowd that was celebrating and enjoying themselves. 

“Come, he has feasted as we did. Now we dance and enjoy what he has gifted us.” She smiled, Marek still standing there and staring in awe as Katia gathered up Iryna and pulled her back towards the fire with a tinkling laugh that seemed to echo through everyone else. 

Their golden one. Their own Angel of Death. The Hela who will protect them at all costs. Golden and glistening as the fire that the somber one started. Everyone couldn’t help but to follow and love.

[grimulf-of-the-wilderness]

GRIMULF HAD TO ADMIT TEYVAT was feeling less like a home and more like a figment of imagination as the days, hours and seconds ticked by. Time. Just grains of silken sand, slipping through an hourglass. Memories of that realm were becoming fleeting and less enchanting the more he looked back upon them and reminisced.

He'd ventured too far one day and traded one prison-like hell scape, for another. One nightmarish existence for another. Cyclical, and never-ending.

This was his fate, exist but never feel like you belong.

A N Y W H E R E

And as he stood, resting his muscular arms against the smooth, worn wood railing of this notorious tavern loft he had to admit it was becoming less, and less of a curse to bear. He was, how you say; adaptable.

Clawed hands held onto a pewter tankard full of some kind of slowly brewed alcohol, it numbed the mind far faster than that of any he'd encountered before and under a cloaked hood he found himself looking down into the sea of humanity. Inebriated, writhing and celebrating recent victories, telling tall tales to garner reputation and or clout. The escapism was alluring in of itself, witnessing humanity so hell bent on forgetting what lurked just beyond the barrier of flimsy wooden walls and a door seemed delusional.

The beasts. The gravekeepers, the monsters.

Ohhh if they only knew, here there be monsters too.

This monster had a target, a marked man and their time was up. He placed his tankard on the stair railing and moved like a shadowy apparition along the lofts tiered levels, zeroing in on the hunter who had unknowingly become the hunted. The human was an Executioner of the Healing Church and the quarry was on the move. Grimulf, sunk into tandem making his way to the second floor exit when he spied a distraction.

A flash of honey blond hair...

Was it a coincidence the way this woman, out of nowhere, seemingly bumped into his targeted bounty? Highly unlikely. He paused, standing still, crossing his arms over the barrel of his chest and watched the trap being set with a quiet regard. She was aware of her feminine wiles but there was something else to her mannerisms, something lethal, skilled even, he'd have to be cautious with this one. A low growl escaped the stoic one while he assessed the situation and watched as the foolish executioner took the bait.

Hook, Line And Sinker.

He cursed under his breath witnessing the duo connect and slip out into the shroud of night, to do who knows what. The blonde played the daft fool like a fiddle. It was time for action! Grimulf moved like the primordial beast he was. Quick to slip out a door and onto a rooftop balcony, up high he where he followed behind them silently down a dark alleyway. He had to act fast, his bounty was worthless dead and the church's Executioner was more than likely on the cusp of meeting his maker -and then some. Sliding down a steep roof top and onto an awning he went in for the kill. Not one to waste a second, he leaned over the edge and reached out a clawed hand striking at the church's holy garb and committing sacrilege. His claws sunk into meaty flesh and earned a yelp of surprise and terror from the unholy one as he was lifted clean off his feet and hoisted into the air like a parcel. The Executioner was promptly slammed into the rooftop causing shingles to fly and with his reflexes inhibited due to the copious amounts of booze he'd ingested, he was not much of a fight. Grimulf pushed back his hooded cloak and came face to face with what one could describe as an angel? Perhaps, perhaps not.

❝ Please excuse meh miss but this sack o' holy shite is mine! ❞

Closed starter for @grimulf-of-the-wilderness //:

The pub was noisy and loud and full of life as the lady entered, full of drunken Church Hunters and other citizens of Yharnam. Some were lost deep in their drink, and others chatting up the serving women, giving them a wink as they would pass by. This establishment, known as the “Broken Blade” by the locals, was the most popular by far, being visited by both high and low borne Yharnamites. Dressed in her simple clothing, Lady Sybelle hardly made an impression as she crossed the floor.

Indeed, this night she had the pick of the bunch. After the Hunt, it was well known that those who participated needed to find some escape from the death and dying, and the “Broken Blade” was just the place to do it.

Scanning the room with a skillful green-eyed gaze, she found just the type she was searching for. The man was clearly an Executioner of the Healing Church, with the badge of rank hanging around his neck. Hate filled the lady then at the mere sight of it. So strong was the emotion that she had to will herself back from lunging at the man.

No. She would have her fun with him. Make him known that the Lady Sybelle of the Vilebloods was here to rip him apart. Just as his companions had once done the same to her family. Silently, she watched the man, as he had a conversation with the others at his table, a full tankard in one hand. After a time, the group rose from the table, moving towards the door, swaying with alcohol intoxication.

Now. It is time.

Moving with practiced deliberation, Sybelle placed herself in their way as they made towards the exit. An elbow nudged her in the back, making her stumble all the more believable.

“Oh excuse me, good Hunter.” She said, her cheeks turning a light pink as she flicked a lock of her honey-gold hair out of her face. The man smiled at her, giving her a bow and standing out of her way so that she might pass. She caught his eye, and the connection was strong.

“Forgive-Forgive me, lady.” The Executioner slurred, waving his friends to go on without him. For a moment, the pair talked amongst themselves other revelers, of this and that, of normal subjects, until she could no longer bear his presence much longer without distaste. Until Sybelle cast out her line.

“Dear Hunter, I am afraid to walk the streets alone.” Sybelle said, her eyes wide. “Will you not accompany me?”

He was eager enough, taking her arm in his with confidence as they left behind the warmth of the inn.

“It’s just this way.” Sybelle stated, pointing as she lead the man down an alley. She could sense some hesitation, but he still went along at her side. “Here. This street. Come along, faster.”

[apollostears]

𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫₁︎₁︎

♘︎ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 + 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲!𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐯

♘︎ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧.

♘︎ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟏.𝟐𝐤

♘ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫; 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♘︎ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @desiray562 @gabzlovesu @emonaculate @po3ticb3auty @indiecursor @protectpancakes @hufflefluffwh0re

「︎ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 + 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 + 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 」

HER EYES LINGERED ON GETO’S tired form as he held a slow conversation with Nanami in their shared kitchen the morning after their sleepover. The tattoo artist was oblivious to the tension tethering Y/n to Nananmi, traveling the distance between his spot by the coffee maker and hers by the window overlooking the city below. Last night replayed in her mind in fragments, short bursts of moments shared between the two plagued every thought she had. Y/n found Nanami attractive, yes. But she found all of Geto’s friends attractive, save for Gojo, and was that such a bad thing?

 Part of her felt like she should have let Nanami fuck the feeling out of her like she knew he would. But the other half, the half that stopped the two from indulging in their greedy desires, said that it wasn’t right. That she would be just like Jade and that was someone she hated. 

A sigh expelled from her lips while she shifted her body away from the two and instead, paid attention to the sun. Its bright rays brushed softly over the horizon to rouse the city from its rest, casting a natural glow to the city’s outline. She wasn’t used to being up this early. But, then again, these last two months had disrupted her so much, it prevented her from sleeping past six am.

 Y/n’s phone vibrated on her lap, drawing her attention to the tiny device. Unknown glided at the top, filling her up with confusion as she hesitantly answered her phone.

“Hello?” She swung her legs to the otherside of the window sill, covered feet touching the cold floor.

“Before you hang up, please hear me out!” Jade’s voice came out rushed on the other end. 

An uncanny feeling chilled her spine as Y/n thought of all the worse reasons why Jade could be calling her. Was she pregnant? Was it Geto’s? Did she have a disease? Those thoughts alone encouraged Y/n to figure out what Jade had to say and take their conversation to the roof.

The boys looked at her curiously, to which she waved them off. “Speak.”

THE AIR IN Y/N’S THROAT SUDDENLY FELT RESTRICTED as her phone tumbled from her hands and onto the hard floor with a thud. The video Jade had just sent her before hanging up, had still been on the screen. 

She made no move to pick up the expensive object, her body rigid in horror and betrayal. Y/n didn’t hear Wendy’s rushed footsteps nor her questions that came wrapped in worry. Her heart was beating too fast in her ears. It wasn’t until Sukuna bent down to grab the scratched up phone, that the first sign of life escaped her. An agony-filled sob wretched itself free from the confines of her mouth and startled the group of friends into a concerned tizy as they watched her knees betray her and she collapsed to the floor.

“Someone explain what the fuck is going on, now!” Wendy screamed, dropping to the floor in a quick manner to sooth Y/n’s horrid cries.

Shoko, wide-eyed and surprised, looked at the display on the phone screen in Sukuna’s hands. “Holy shit. Holy shit!” Her tone carried astonishment but her bones held anger. 

With slender fingers, Nanami roughly plucked the phone from the fighter’s grasp and held it for the others to see.

Y/n’s cries hadn’t subsided and Wendy had been filled to the brim with distress, while she and Utahime consoled her. 

Hot white rage violently exploded through him, his fist punching the kitchen backsplash, causing material to chip away and his knuckles to bleed. 

“Geto!” Mei Mei exclaimed, alarmed by his sudden outlash.

“Good as fucking dead. Swear to God I'm killing him.” Toji seethed, reaching for the keys of his black Range Rover, the boys following him.

Helplessness exuded from Y/n’s trembling form as she looked up at her friends in tears. “Stop,” she begged.

The word carried no weight when spoken, Y/n barely opening her mouth to say it, yet they each stopped in their tracks with tense muscles and heavy bones. It was obvious that they were fighting the violence in their heads. 

“Why?” Choso asked, when all he wanted to do was the opposite of what she asked. He wanted to keep going ‘til Kenji’s body was unrecognizable. ‘Til he needed a closed casket funeral. 

“It’s not worth it.” She responded pitifully, coming off the ground with the help of the girls.

“The fuck it ain’t! Those are your nudes, Y/n. Your body on that screen and your moans in the speakers. He violated you and we’re going to do the same to him.” Geto testified in a dangerous tone, an eerie calm washing over his features. 

Swiftly, almost naturally, Y/n ducked her head in undeserving shame while Utahime and Wendy gasped at the news. “No! Why?!” Utahime exclaimed angrily, Wendy already sharing the same emotions as the guys.

“Doesn’t matter ‘hime. We’re going to set some shit straight. Sorry peach, but we ain’t listening to you this time.” Nanami spoke remorseful words but didn’t feel it in the slightest for what they were about to do to Kenji. Toji took the initiative to open the back door and leave. allowing the rest to follow after him. .

Choso was the last one out the door, casting a look of despair towards Y/n, “You don’t deserve this sweetheart. Not at all.”

“WHAT DID HE MENTION YOU FOR? Do you recognize this dick from somewhere?” Sukuna asked the question that was on everyone’s mind after watching the post on the way to Kenji’s.

Toji was driving with Nanami next to him. Gojo and Geto sat in the middle, while Choso and Sukuna sat in the back. Choso was sure that Toji was going well over the speed limit as his eyes became unfocused from the quickness of the trees whizzing by. 

Geto sighed heavily, taking the phone back from Gojo. “I feel like I should but nothing comes to mind. I mean, how many girls have I ‘stolen’ from guys in the last three years?”

It was a rhetorical question, that much they knew. But Choso’s mind wandered as he tried to recall just how many angry boyfriends and girlfriends have tried to fight Geto over the lovers he’s conquered unabashedly. In college, there were too many to name but Choso didn’t know about high school. Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Geto all went to high school together and are the only ones who know each other at that stage. Maybe it was something from then.

“What about high school?” The quieter boy asked, interrupting the audible brainstorming that was happening in front of him. 

Geto scoffed, “There’s no way he’s fucking Y/n over because of some petty shit in high school. No way.” 

“Actually, there was one guy that was really pissed at you. Remember? You fucked his girl and took her virginity.” Nanami thoughtfully recalled, the pieces slowly coming together. 

Shit, this guy was a fucking menance Choso thought of Geto as he processed Nanami’s words.

“Oh. My. God! That’s fucking Kenji?! Shit, he was so goddamn mad at you, G. We really thought he was gonna kill you that day.” Gojo exclaimed dramatically just as Toji entered the off-campus apartment complex. 

Choso frowned as he caught Kenji’s unsuspecting form leaving his place with two friends with him. A dry chuckle left Choso’s mouth, making quick work of unbuckling his seatbelt while Toji parked in the middle of the street. “Doesn’t fucking matter. He’s dead.”

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫...

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @solarisxu @kennyackermanswhore @chaoticevilbakugo @indiecursor @gabzlovesu @desiray562 @brownmochii @knjkitten @sweeneyblue1 @namjoonswifeyy @nyxeclipse @rubinocore @uniquelybeautiful @somerandompipzsxh @dabilovesme @histarean @hannas16 @caribbeanwifey19 @emonaculate @po3ticb3auty @hufflefluffwh0re @waka-umm @wilsonsbuck @Thtprettygoddess @ctrlstar @jealousfuckingcunt @mikinyi @savagemickey03 @dukina @svlims-blog @sisnot

[dominimoonbeam]

Promises Promises

Another Sam/Vincent fic... I love the idea of these two.

Alexis has just turned someone and William drags Vincent along to check on things... only to find a terrified Sam.

tags: angst, non-con turning, hurt/comfort, blood, aftermath of violence

Promises Promises

Vincent followed William onto the elevator, going straight up to the penthouse. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Alexis had never been his favorite person and he almost never went to her apartment, but William had told him to bring a car around tonight, so he had. William had gotten into the passenger seat, so Vincent had gotten back into the driver’s. On the way, William told him that Alexis had turned someone tonight—that she and a friend had been in a car accident.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. They stepped out right into the foyer of her apartment. She rushed to meet them, sensing William.

Vincent gawked. He’d never seen her so… frazzled? Her clothes were bloody, dirty, and torn. Her hair was a mess and her eyes wild. There were empty blood bags on the floor of the hallway leading to her bedroom.

William cooed at the state of her, opening his arms to her.

Vincent saw the relief flash across her whole body when he showed her affection, as though she’d been expecting something else. Why? William had always been sweet with her, even though she rarely deserved it. She pressed into his arms and let him fuss over the state of her.

William met Vincent’s eye and then flicked his gaze toward the hall.

Vincent didn’t second guess it. He disappeared down the hall and through the open door of her bedroom. It was dark inside, but his eyes could see through even the thickest shadows.

The reek of blood, death, and fear almost repelled him as soon as he entered. The covers had been tossed off the bed and a man lay on the sheets, shaking in tight, strange convulsions. Vincent came closer, staring down at him. The man’s shirt had been ripped off, his side smeared in blood with a thick, fresh scar beneath. From the car accident? His breaths came ragged, almost choking, and Vincent realized suddenly that the man was awake and staring back at him. Why was he shaking like that? Why was he breathing like that? Was it part of turning? He didn’t remember much about being a newborn himself. Was this normal? William probably should have sent someone else to check…

He was about to step back when the man let out a choking cry, stopping him cold. He strained, as if he was trying to arch off the bed but was strapped down. “I can’t… I can’t…” he wheezed out words, panic almost tangible in the air now.

Vincent leaned closer, gaze flashing around to try to find what was holding the man down. There was blood on his mouth from feeding, and blood on his neck from dying.

“She said I can’t move and I can’t… Oh god…” he said, barely a whisper and accent thick, but it was all thunder in Vincent’s ears.

No. He wasn’t strapped down by some invisible force. His maker had told him he couldn’t move, so his body wouldn’t. “She invoked you.”

“Kill me,” the man asked, almost demanded, breaths so tight that even that seemed to be a struggle under the hold of whatever she’d commanded. He stared up at Vincent, meaning it. Begging for it.

Vincent wanted to throw himself away from this stranger, the request too much of a reminder of things he had said only a handful of years ago. But this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t his fear and pain. This was someone else’s. This wasn’t the fear of being a vampire—it was fear of Alexis and being bent to her will.

“I told her not to turn me,” he choked out, shaking so hard against her invocation that he looked like he might pass out. “I told her. Please. Make it stop.”

Holy shit.

“Vincent, get out of there!” Alexis snapped from the other room.

Sam flinched on the bed, breathing faster, trying to stay conscious.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Vincent promised without another thought, the words jumping from his soul and past his lips.

“Vincent!” Alexis shouted, boots clipping the floor on her way toward the door.

No. He couldn’t let her in that room. He couldn’t let her near this guy again.

He was at the door as soon as she opened it, pushing her down the hall and back into the living room. “What did you do?” Vincent hissed under his breath.

She snapped teeth and shoved him off just as they reached William, who look appropriately surprised but not shocked that his children were fighting.

“What is he talking about, Alexis?” William asked, always calm.

She hissed at Vincent because she couldn’t say “nothing” and lie to her maker.

Vincent pointed back at the bedroom. “He didn’t want to be turned. He’s fucking terrified of her!”

“Shut up!” Alexis yelled back.

William had gone still, focus fixed on Alexis. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

She glared at Vincent and, for a second, he thought she would lunge for him.

“Alexis,” William called, voice low and deceptively gentle. “Look at me.”

Vincent tensed, something dangerous in William’s voice that he’d never heard before. Vincent realized then that he’d never heard him angry before.

She turned, trying to look sweet now. “He’s disoriented. We were in a car accident. I will present him to you in a few days and you will see—”

“Did he ask you not to turn him?”

Her lips pressed shut.

“Alexis…” Her name came out of him in a wave of disappointment. “He was empowered, yes? He understood the decision. We agreed to respect that.”

“Was I supposed to let him die? He’ll be grateful when he’s through the blood lust.”

“Will he be grateful, or will you invoke him to show gratitude?”

The silence that stretched screamed her answer. Alexis didn’t see the difference.

“She’s invoked him already. He can’t move,” Vincent said.

She shot him a glare and he knew suddenly that he’d have to watch out for her for the rest of his life. “Snitch,” she spat like a curse.

“Release him from any invocations, Alexis,” William said. It wasn’t a request. It was a command from a maker to progeny. Suddenly the weight of just how horrific this situation was hit Vincent. The power William had over them…She would have that over this person?

“Vincent,” William spoke without taking his eyes off of her. “Take our new friend to the car.”

“What?” Alexis was already shaking her head. “No! He’s mine!”

William hissed low and she jerked a step back from him. “You are going to tell me what happened. Would you like to do it on your own or must I make you?”

Vincent took steps back from the scene, ducking away down the hall to that dark bedroom again.

He was surprised when he walked in and the bed was empty, but only for the split second until he saw the shape of a man pressed into the corner. He dragged deep breaths, still shaking but not in the same way. He flinched when Vincent came closer, so he slowed, holding out his hands. “We’re going to leave,” he said clearly. “You, me, and William.”

The man’s face pinched, confused and struggling, and then smoothed with alarm. “Solaire.”

Vincent sighed, at least he knew that much. This wouldn’t all be entirely new and impossible to him. “I’ll keep her away from you. We’ll fix this.” He winced. It was the wrong words and he knew it instantly. They couldn’t fix this. This man was dead and turned. There was no reversing that.

But the stranger didn’t point it out, he didn’t look right at him either, seeming to weigh his very few options.

Vincent waited for that tiny nod of consent. “Is it okay if I carry you? I can get us out of here fast. You won’t have to see her.”

He still wasn’t looking at Vincent’s face, but he nodded again. “Alright,” he said, voice rough and the word rounded in his accent.

Vincent crouched down and easily scooped the other man into his arms, not missing how he tensed or tried to curl in on himself and away from him. He moved fast, through the apartment and down the stairwell. Alexis was too busy with William to even make a grab for them.

He got him down to the parking garage and into the backseat of the car. Thank god he’d taken one with a backseat… “I’m Vincent,” he said, crouching in the open door. He didn’t even know his name.

The guy’s gaze lifted almost to his eyes and then jerked away with a wince. “Sam Collins.”

Vincent’s heart squeezed in his chest when he realized why he wouldn’t look at him. “I can’t trance you. No one can.”

Sam’s heart beat faster. “Alexis…”

He nodded slowly. “Makers can invoke their progeny.”

He cringed.

“William will handle it,” Vincent promised, surprising himself with how much he believed it. They’d had plenty of rocky years, but he knew William wouldn’t let this go on in his clan. It was wrong and cruel, and William wouldn’t ignore it.

Sam nodded, seeming to at least be trying to believe him.

Vincent could sympathize. He had had to take a lot on faith when he died, and it all looked so impossibly terrible in those first days, weeks, and even months. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. “Sam?” Vincent waited until he looked back at him, meeting his gaze for the first time that night. He wondered what those eyes had looked like before he was turned, but knew he’d never ask. It would never matter. All that mattered was what happened now. “I know this is awful, but I’m going to help you in any way I can. I won’t let her near you, if you don’t want her to be. I promise.”

Sam stared at him, still shaky, but slowly relaxed. He nodded tightly, once. “Thank you.”

Vincent stayed with him until he fell asleep in the backseat and William returned to the car. “She won’t be able to invoke him again,” the king said before getting into the front seat.

They drove home without another word and Vincent put Sam to bed in William’s house.

It was almost dawn and William told Vincent he could leave, he didn’t have to stay. William would untangle the mess and get Sam through his newborn phase. Alexis would not be a problem.

But Vincent didn’t go home, not yet. He’d stay at the main house for a few nights…maybe a few weeks. He’d made a promise, after all.

[ragingbookdragon]

A Lifetime In The Dreams Between

Hal Jordan x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: Explicit Lanuage, Angst!

Author's Note: I have completed an idea! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He didn’t know what happened. One second he was throwing up a shield to protect himself from the blast and the next his eyes were widening as the black magic passed through the construct and hit him straight in the chest. Shouts echoed all around him, but all Hal understood was that the world was swirling black and blue around him, figures blurring faster and faster, and he finally understood what it was like to see the world when Barry would run. And all he remembered was feeling the blood drain from his face as he dropped to his knees, and pitched forward, falling into darkness.

***

He could hear voices above him, stressed and frantic.

“He’s going into cardiac arrest!” Barry.

“Shit! Flash shock him!” (Y/N)?

“He won’t survive that much generated electricity!”

“Hal won’t survive if you don’t! Damn it, Barry! Shock him!”

Hands pressed to his chest and a shock jumped Hal’s chest, and he descended back into darkness.

***

His eyes snapped open, and he winced, raising a hand to his head, but someone grabbed his arm. “Don’t try to move, Hal.”

He lolled his head, eyes rolling as the metal ceiling flowed above; he felt so far away and so weak, brain fuzzing, and Barry appeared in his sight, searing his gaze.

“He’s having a seizure. His brain can’t handle the stress.” He looked at the woman across from him. “We have to get him to the med bay.”

She nodded, folding Hal’s hand back to his chest as she worried, “Hang on, Hal. You’re going to be okay.”

(Y/N)’s voice was so comforting, so warm, so trusting, and all Hal could do was shut his eyes, his brain imploding on itself.

***

He rolled over onto his side, burrowing his face in the soft pillow, exhaling deeply. Sleep welcomed him again and he was about to fall off the deep end when someone’s hand caressed his hip, lips pressing against the space between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” they murmured, trailing kisses up his back to his neck and to his ear. “Sleep well?”

He moaned lowly in his throat and turned his head, blinking blearily as their face came into clearing—actually her face, and suddenly his eyes went wide as he flailed, pulling away from her. “(Y/N)!”

She cocked a brow as he fell over the side of the bed, immediately shooting up, eyes shocked and very confused. “That’s my name, Hal.” Propping herself on her elbow, she asked, “Everything alright?”

Hal’s mouth opened and closed, and he looked down, his eyes widening all over again as he realized he was nude; he jerked the sheet to cover himself, an action not really in his repertoire. His coffee eyes went to her body, and she was there too, bare as the morning day.

“You’re naked. We’re naked,” he blurted out and she huffed a laugh.

“Yeah? Traditionally, married people typically get naked every other night when they make love.”

“Married?” Hal’s eyes shot to his left hand, and he almost collapsed on the floor again; sure enough a gold band was around his ring finger. “Holy shit,” he breathed, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be more shocked about, the fact that they were married or that he didn’t remember it.

“Hal?” (Y/N) was crawling over the bed, her hand coming to cup his cheek. “Is everything alright?”

He gazed into her eyes, so stunned that this woman that hated his guts was so concerned for him. “I…I don’t know.”

Her brows furrowed and she shuffled, sitting on the edge of the bed, and maneuvered Hal’s head until it was resting in her lap, his back against the side of the frame. She carded her fingers through his hair and bent down, gently pressing kisses where she could reach, to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips, everywhere; then she smiled against his lips. “Something tells me you and Barry got so drunk last night you forgot you married me.”

“What?”

(Y/N) snorted, pulling away and with her free hand, she caressed his cheek. “You and Barry went to Aviators last night and came back at like three AM hammered out of your minds.” Her smile was ridiculously bright, and it made Hal’s heartbeat flutter against his rib cage. “You,” she started, but broke into a giggle. “You looked at me and said, ‘Hey pretty mama, wanna fly with me?’.”

Laughing again, she continued, “And when I said that I was your wife, you went, ‘Holy shit, I scored.’.” (Y/N) sighed wistfully and kissed his forehead. “Barry collapsed onto the couch, and you left a trail of clothes from the living room before collapsing in the bed.”

Tugging a strand of his brown hair, she said, “I had to maneuver the covers underneath your body in order to get into bed last night.” She pressed one more kiss to his forehead. “You’re still hungover though, so get back in bed and sleep a little while longer while I go make sure Barry’s up and awake, okay?”

Hal could only nod and when he tipped his head up to let her stand, he stopped her and pulled her down, pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) responded eagerly, already forgoing checking on the Speedster as she lowered herself into his lap, and Hal immediately wrapped one arm around her waist, the other planting itself on the bed as he shifted his legs, giving himself some leverage to pick the two of them off the ground and shuffle back onto the bed.

And the second Hal’s thighs connected with the mattress he found himself being shoved down onto it, (Y/N)’s hands smoothing down his chest and abs, a flirtatious look on her face.

He couldn’t help but feel cocky. “See something you like?”

She grinned, splaying her fingers on his abdomen. “Actually, I feel something I like.” (Y/N) ground down on his hips and Hal inhaled sharply, causing her grin to turn into a downright evil smirk as she quipped, “And it seems like you feel it too.”

His hands came up to grasp her hips when someone stumbled through the bedroom door. “Hey, do you guys have any toothpa—oh dear God, you guys are fonduing!” They both jumped and looked at Barry who was busy shoving a hand to cover his eyes, the other fumbling for the door frame. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t see anything, (Y/N).”

Hal snorted. “How come you’re not swearing you didn’t see any of me?”

“Because I’ve seen all of you before, Hal. Multiple times in fact.” Barry retorted, speeding out of the bedroom.

(Y/N) chuckled and pressed a kiss to Hal’s collarbone, starting to shimmy out of his lap, only stopping when he started whining at her. “What?”

“Why are you leaving?” he questioned, and she flicked his shoulder.

“Because you need to get up and cook some breakfast before all of us have to get back out and go to work.”

Hal blanched. “Work?”

(Y/N) tossed him a look as she pulled on some pajama bottoms and one of his t-shirts. “Yes, Hal Jordan, you have to go into space and be a space ranger.”

“Oh, Green Lantern, right.” He sighed in relief. “I thought you meant the airfield.”

She snorted. “Oh, that too. Carol called and asked if you’d come down and fly one of the new F-18’s they got recently.”

Hal perked up. “How fast?”

“Fast, fly-boy. Now get up and go cook while I shower.” And she was off into their bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

***

Hal wandered into the kitchen, watching as Barry lifted his head from the refrigerator. “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” he replied, flicking on the coffee maker. “So…can I ask you a question?”

“I’m not checking your dick again to see if it’s above average, Hal,” Barry deadpanned and Hal about fell to his feet in laughter.

“What! No!” he chuckled and wiped his eyes, pouring water into the top of the coffee maker. “About last night…what…exactly happened?”

Barry looked at him, pulling out the pack of roast beef. “You don’t remember?”

“Well, from what (Y/N) said, I’m surprised either of us remembered how to get back here.” He met Barry’s eyes. “Everything’s a little fuzzy. I was just wondering if you could fill me in.”

The Speedster nodded, shoving a piece of meat in his mouth. “Well, I got off patrol and came over here, and then you said we should go out. But (Y/N) had some things to take care of, so she told us to go have fun. And then we went to that military bar you like, and we got dared to drink some marines under the table, and you can’t say no to a dare from ‘warthogs’, so you just had to drink more pitchers than they did.”

He snorted. “I barely had enough functioning brain cells to remember how to get back, but we just crammed into a cab and drove back here.” He wiped his eyes. “You kept telling the cabbie to play Danger Zone the entire time.”

Hal wasn’t somebody who was embarrassed easily, and as much as he loved Top Gun, he felt flustered that he was drunkenly belting out the main song the night before.

“And when we got here, I fell asleep on the couch, but (Y/N) was already chasing you down the hall because you were stripping left and right.”

Barry had all but fallen into hysterics as Hal merely set the coffee pot under the drip. “Yeah…about that too.” He felt confused. “You didn’t happen to like…change the timeline again, did you?”

The Speedster stopped laughing at that, blue eyes wide and concerned. “What? No. Why do you ask?”

Hal shook his head, twirling the gold band on his finger. “Because I don’t really remember marrying (Y/N)? But I do remember how much she hates my guts.”

“Well, yeah, but that death scare you gave her a few years ago really made her realize that as much as she hated you, she loved you just as much.” Barry rested a hand on his shoulder. “Now that I think about it, you did take a bad blow a couple days ago. Maybe you’re still reeling.”

The pilot nodded, listening to the coffee pour. “Yeah…maybe.”

Footsteps sounded from the living room and (Y/N) appeared in the entryway, a towel wrapped around her head, a bathrobe around her body; she scowled. “Hal, you were supposed to start breakfast.”

He blinked. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“Lazy,” she griped, yanking the roast beef out of Barry’s hands. “That’s for sandwiches, not to eat out of the package, you bottomless pit.” Shoving the meat back in the refrigerator, she said, “There’s eggs…ham…I could omelets?”

“Omelets sound good,” Barry replied, taking the coffee mug out of Hal’s hands who in turn glared at the Speedster. “Do you have onions and peppers to add?”

“Mmm…I dunno…Hal used the last of the onions and peppers the other night to make steak with.” (Y/N) looked back at him, lips parting to speak when a beeping came from the living room.

Barry darted out and back in with a blinking device in his hands. “It’s the League Communicator.”

Immediately, she and Barry suited up and her eyes found Hal’s behind her blue mask. “Highball, get your head in the game. We’ve got a mission.”

He shook himself out of his stupor and the green suit formed to his body, though he muttered, “I still haven’t had my coffee yet…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Race you guys to the Watchtower.”

“You’re on.” Barry chirped, the two of them disappearing in flashes of yellow and blue.

***

It seemed like much more routine patrol than it was a mission, but still, when Hal and (Y/N) finally made it back to Coast City, they all but collapsed onto the couch. Her suit faded from her body, and she rolled onto her back, laying her head on his thigh.

“I’m so tired,” she groaned, shutting her eyes.

Hal stared down at her, the green suit receding. “You look tired,” he murmured, resting his arm comfortably on her chest, his fingers rubbing soothing circles in her collarbone. “I still can’t believe you socked that bank robber in the face like Guy.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Hey, that man can teach anyone to throw a good punch.” Her eyes opened, and she reached up, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. “You look more tired than I am, husband of mine.”

Hal smiled, turning his face to press a sweet kiss to her wrist. “I’m just glad we’re home for the evening.” He expected her face to rest in relief, but it only clouded, and he murmured, “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember what we talked about a couple week ago?”

No, he did not.“You know I have a terrible memory, babe.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a knowing sigh passing her lips. “Your memory is almost as bad as Barry’s ability to be on time.” Blinking at the ceiling, she said, “You know, what we talked about…having a family? How you said you wanted to try?”

Hal’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Yeah? What about it?”

She looked up at him. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” His eyes immediately darted to her stomach, and he reached down, pressing his hand to her abdomen. “Are you really?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah. Took a test last night.” Snorting, she added, “I was going to tell you, but you went out and got drunk, so I figured I should wait.”

Hal simply stared at her stomach. “Holy shit. You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, Hal. I’m pregnant.”

“I did that?”

“No, Bruce did.”

He scowled at her. “That’s not funny.”

(Y/N) winked. “No, it’s not. It’s hilarious.” She rose from the sofa, stretching her arms above her head. “I say it’s probably time for bed.”

Hal watched her. “You go on ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

“Yeah?” he nodded, and she bent down, pecking his lips. “I love you, Hal.”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” he replied, watching as she walked down the hallway, disappearing into their bedroom.

It was so weird. To be married to her. He knew this had to be some giant hallucination from his subconscious desires of wanting her, but still, even this “dream” seemed so real. Usually, she and Hal were at each other’s throats; they’d fight at the drop of a hat just because the other looked at them funny, and yet, other than him and Barry, (Y/N) was the only person that could keep up with Hal. To keep him on his toes. The only person smart enough to keep in his six. The only person he trusted to be his wingman. And he realized through all their fights that he cared for her.

Hal looked down at the band on his finger, and something warm spread through his chest when he thought about a little kid running around the apartment dressed in a baby flight suit, squealing “daddy!” at the top of their lungs. He wanted that. As much as being a father scared him, he wanted that. And he wanted it with (Y/N).

He smiled widely and got to his feet, but the second he did, the world shifted, and his vision darkened, body becoming weightless as he dropped to the floor.

***

Something was stroking his hair, gently smoothing it across his forehead, and a voice whispered, “Wake up, Hal. C’mon.”

He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy.

“If you wake up, I’ll watch Top Gun with you until you’re thoroughly convinced I could fly a jet.”

That made him want to smile and the hand shifted, cupping his cheek.

“Just open your eyes for me, Hal. Please. I…I need you.”

“You do?” he murmured, managing to crack one eye open, taking in the sight of (Y/N) sitting there beside his med bay bed, tears in her eyes.

She gave him a watery laugh and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Yes, you stupid ass.” (Y/N) pulled away, running her hand over his cheek. “You’ve been out almost an entire day.”

Hal inhaled deeply as she helped him sit up. “What happened?”

“You took a blow of dark magic to the heart and almost died on us. Twice.” She took his temperature and heart rate. “You went into cardiac arrest on the field and then had a seizure when we got you here in the Watchtower.” Meeting his eyes, she said, “You owe Barry a thanks for shocking your heart and J’onn for getting your mind to calm during your seizure.”

He blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wow…that’s…I took a lot of damage, huh?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed with anger, and she socked his shoulder. “You’re damn straight you did. What the fuck were you thinking? Using constructs against a black magician?”

“Well, what’d you want me to do? Stand there like a jackass?” Hal retorted with a glare.

“Maybe you could’ve moved?” she met his glare head on. “You almost got yourself killed.”

“People die every day, (Y/N). I’m going to die one day.”

“And who would you leave behind if you did, huh? You’d leave behind your family and friends. You’d leave behind Guy and Kyle and John. You’d leave behind Barry. You’d leave me behind.” (Y/N) searched his eyes. “Don’t you know how heartbroken we’d be if you died, Hal? How devastated I’d be?”

Hal’s jaw went slack, and she shook her head. “This is just like you. Always flying headfirst into danger without a single regard for anyone else. You are so foolish and stupid and—”

He grabbed her chin and pulled her to him in a searing kiss. It was over as fast as it happened and when he pulled away, he smirked at the stunned expression on her face. “Oh? So that’s what it takes for you to quit yelling at me? Man, I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

(Y/N) blinked in shock, one hand coming to press against her lips. “What…what was that?”

“That was a kiss, (Y/N). You see when two people care about each other very much they—”

The meeting of a palm and a cheek echoed through the med bay, and he grabbed his face, gaping at her as she scrambled up.

“You don’t just kiss people, you ass!” (Y/N) shouted, though she looked more flustered than angry. “That’s—It’s not right!”

She spun and ran for the med bay doors, and he called out, “Wait! You didn’t tell me if you loved me!”

“Go to hell, Hal Jordan!” she shouted in return and Hal grinned wide and smug as he reclined on the pillows, eyes directing to the glass window, giving him the view of space.

That dream didn’t seem too far out of reach now.

[fangorl-trash]

In the Dark

The Mandalorian x fem!Reader

Summary: you and din have an intimate bonding moment...in the dark.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: SOFT. SHY. MANDO. uhh... slight mentions of a dark past, but it’s vague af, like not even warning worthy BUT JUST IN CASE LOL. curse words. there’s no smut, but if yall want a part 2, lemme know ;) if i forget anything, lemme know lol

A/N: first of all, this gif makes me FEEL things jfc wow i adore din. secondly, hi there lol! this is definitely a self-indulge piece lmao, but i hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! i can promise there are no season 2 spoilers, cause i’d like to think it takes place between the two seasons. aaaand this was all based off a brainrot hour i had (you can read it here, if you really want!) so...yeah lmao. Enjoy y’all! :)

The night before was just like any other night. Chuckles and giggles and stories whispered and shared back and forth. Hands itching to get closer, to connect wholeheartedly, but never having the courage to do so. The calm before tomorrow’s storm of bounty hunting.

A small, yellow-tinted light above the shared cot illuminated the two. She thought he looked like a guardian angel, the way it shone off of his armor dully. He thought she looked like a goddess, the soft light giving her a halo.

They were hopelessly in love.

Y/N and the Mandalorian. A dynamic duo, of sorts. Two different puzzle pieces from two different puzzle sets, yet they somehow fit together perfectly. She loved him for his tenacity, his fierceness in battle, and his big heart he only showed to her. He loved her for her kindness, her empathy, and the way her eyes sparkled when he came back to the ship after a long day.

They were hopelessly in love with one another, yet neither has said it. Maybe to both of them, saying it was not enough; the actions and moments shared between the two was what truly defined it all. The way he purchased antique books for her to read, because she mentioned it once. The way she grabbed extra blankets from the closet because he got cold at night easily.

The night before was just like any other night. It was calm and quiet and pleasant; almost too pleasant for Din’s liking. In the line of work of a Mandalorian, pleasant never lasted long. But Maker, he swore that time stopped when he saw you that next morning.

When he looked over to see your sleeping form, his breath hitched in his throat. The yellow light above you was dim, but showcased your features brightly and beautifully. You laid on your side, arm tucked under your ear and other hand laid at your side. Your hair fell over your forehead and cheeks.

You looked like a dream.

His gloved hand reached out and tucked a strand or two behind your ear, so he could see his beautiful girl. After all you’ve been through...you were still Y/N and Din. Din and Y/N.

A feeling of gratitude overcame him suddenly as he gazed upon your angelic form. You deserved everything good in this world. The prettiest of jewels, that sparkled in the starlight. The largest of feasts with your favorite intergalactic meals and beverages. Whatever novel that you craved to read next.

He would go to the ends of the galaxy for you. Anything to see that smile.

He prayed everything he did for you was enough, even if it was all so small and minute. You deserved so much better than what he was giving you.

His gratitude took a negative, insecure turn. He knew what you really wanted, what you really deserved that he couldn’t give you: physical love. He can’t kiss you. He can’t hold you. He can’t look in your eyes and tell you how much you meant to him.

He thought of himself as selfish. He wanted all of those things and more. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to look in your eyes, and your eyes only. He wanted to hold you close without beskar separating you. He wanted to feel your skin against his fingertips, because holy fuck, you just look so soft and so fucking warm.

With a soft sigh, his leather-clad fingertips brush down your cheek and over the curve of your arm. Dank farrik...what he would do to hold you. Hold you properly.

Something clicked in his brain all of a sudden. Why is he being such a pussy? He’s THE Mandalorian, for Maker’s sake. He knows just the solution.

~~~

That night, you dreamed of your past life. Before you met Din. Before you both met the Child. Though your dream wasn’t a nightmare, it was still dark and dull. You honestly couldn’t wait until it was all over.

And then you felt lips on the inside of your wrist. Slightly chapped and slightly wet, with small hairs tickling you as well. A gentle hold on your fingers. The kisses slowly trailed up the inside of your forearm, curving against your elbow before continuing their trek up the rest of your arm to your shoulder. It tickles, you thought, shifting under the stranger’s hold.

Your eyes fluttered open with a soft groan. A blanket of pitch black overwhelmed your vision. Panic struck your heart. What in the world is going on right now?

“Good morning,” a voice spoke, breath fanned across your exposed shoulder. Shy, but certain. A low grovel, but not due to a helmet’s voice amplifier.

“D...Din,” you mumbled, fingers grasping his tightly. Your heart skipped a beat at the feeling of...of him. “Wh-What...what’s going on? I-I can’t see.”

He took a pause. “I turned off the lights.” Another pause. “I just...wanted to...”

Even though his voice trailed off, you knew exactly what he wanted to say.

This was new territory for the both of you. Neither of you were scared, per say, but...nervous, cautious. Your voice and your actions matched how you felt. After you sat up and crossed your legs, you reached out with your vacant hand on bated breath. “M-May I?” You requested quietly, hesitatingly. Your eyes scanned about, but you couldn’t find him within the dark ahead of you, even though you were barely a foot apart.

You learned that in certain situations Din’s silence meant yes.

Your fingers made purchase with his bicep, but you backed away just as quickly as you touched him.

Okay, so maybe you were scared. Just a little.

You both sat there silently, slowly counting the moments before one of you made a move. The ship thrummed around you two, but the blacked out bunker was quiet overall. After the bounty hunter released a shallow breath, he lifted the hand that held yours, bringing it to his cheek with a Din-like grace and sureness. A smile stretched both of your lips at the feeling; the feeling of you actually touching. Wholeheartedly Connecting.

His stubble was a pleasant surprise. It felt scratchy under your soft fingertips, but it felt...it all felt like home. Your fingers cupped the back of his neck tenderly, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. His own fingers brushed against your left upper arm and shoulder delicately, feeling your goosebumps rise slowly as he brushes against the strap of your tank top.

You shuffled a bit closer to Din, now in between his open and bent legs. You didn’t know you were holding your breath in until you let it out, shaky and soft. His own breath reached your forehead, delicate and quiet. Your other hand lifted up, hand finding its place on his chest. Once again, you were pleasantly surprised to touch his bare skin; soft and warm to the touch. Your fingertips yearned to travel, and before you could stop your curious thoughts, your middle and ring fingers brushed against a rough scar. It was a jagged, diagonal line, only about three inches in length. Dry, scabbed-over skin, a story untold. You suspected he had battle scars galore, but actually feeling one was...shocking.

The reality of this man’s career suddenly hit you like a shot from a blaster. This man...this man that you loved.

How many of these untold stories were near deaths? How many stories would have ended without Din back in your arms?

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat before your fingers continued their journey, a confident spark behind their actions. They ventured across his beautiful canvas, blindingly mapping out the divets, marks, and bruises of his skin. Your hands gripped and caressed at his shoulders and arms, your fingers brushed against his cheeks and jaw. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and the banging of his heartbeat. You couldn’t help but smile at that. Other than the fingers on your arm, Din remained unmoving under your touch; if he was being honest, he had no clue what to do.

You finally smiled as you felt his hair, fisting tufts of it gently. It was coarse and curly, but you didn’t mind. “What color is it?” Your voice was hoarse, crackling softly in the dark room.

“Brown,” he said after a moment, a small smile of his own. His own fingers made their way up your arm, past your shoulder, and cupped the back of your neck like you did to him. His pointer finger rubbed back and forth in a small motion, a small habit the bounty hunter grew over the months. It was...very different, to feel you under his touch like this. He’s held your hand and stroked your hair and cupped the back of your neck tenderly, but..touching you this way was new territory for the Mandalorian. It was scary, in a way, especially for him.

He ventured on with a brave face.

His other hand found it’s way to your calf, slowly and carefully kneading the skin. You wondered if this was the first time he’s...he’s felt skin since he was a child. You wondered what he was thinking in the moment, if he thought you were beautiful or not. You dismissed those thoughts to the best of your ability. This was your moment, and you’ll be damned if your own brain ruined it. His hand cupped the back of your knee, his whole chest craning down to press a sweet peck to your knee cap. His eyes closed for a brief moment, embracing the feeling of your skin on his lips in the brief moment they were in contact. A shiver ran up your spine; now you remained unmoving, frozen solid by Din’s hot, pillowy lips against your skin. His hand then trailed up the outside of your thigh to your hip. He skirted over your cotton shorts to your waist, gently caressing...you.

He thought you felt enchanting under his touch. You were absolutely perfect. And he loved you so much.

Nerves pierced his heart. His small smile fell. He lifted his hand to cup your other cheek, both of his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. Your hands stopped in their tracks, the nape of his neck under one palm and his right shoulder under the other. “Can I...may I...”

You didn’t let him finish. The way you leaned in was carefully calculated, nerves an underlying color of it all. Din sat straight-backed, unmoving once again. He was so scared to mess this up for you. I mean...your first kiss shared. He imagined how much that meant to you. It meant a lot to him, too.

You proceeded to lean forward until your lips were pressed against his as your eyes fluttered close. Just as quickly as you two connected, you were apart once again. A small and short kiss, a test for you both. Din leaned forward this time, without anymore hesitation, capturing your lips as he pulled your body into his.

You weren’t surprised Din’s first real kiss was going to be...well...Din-like. Methodical. Purposeful. Caring underneath all of the layers. You were surprised at the fact that Din’s first kiss felt...like destiny. Like this moment was written in prophecies years ago, and it’ll be written in history texts for years to come.

You were surprised because his lips moved against yours like he knew what he was doing.

Your arms found their way wound around his neck, and his wound around your waist. His kiss was patient and sweet and really fuckin’ good. His mustache tickled your top lip, but you didn’t mind one bit.

Right before he pulled away, his cheeks quirked into a smile against your lips before falling to their neutral state.

“I, um...” you began, eyes sparkling in the darkness. You wondered if his baby browns shone the same way, tracing your figure in the darkness. Even though you had so much to say, your voice became stuck, lodged deep in your throat. Tears sprung to your eyes.

He did this for you, didn’t he? He turned off the lights in your guys’ bunker. He took off his helmet. He...he kissed you. Dank farrik, he just kissed you. And he let you touch his hair and his face and...him.

Even though the pair of you weren’t doing anything particularly sexual, every bit of this moment that you shared in the dark felt more intimate and vulnerable than you could ever hope for, dream for, ask for.

The cotton in your mouth expanded slowly, ridding you silent and helpless in the arms of the man you loved. Of the man you would sacrifice everything for. Does he feel the same? Would he do the same for you? A tear tugged down the apple of your cheek as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him tighter. You sniffled softly as his hands caressed your back and hips.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He questions, holding you close to his chest. His right hand rubbed small circles in your back and he sat patiently awaiting your response, but the cotton continued to expand into your mouth.

“I...I, uh...” You begged the cotton to be rid, you prayed for your tongue to move and say the words. The three words that have been dancing around the two of you day and night, for months now, being said over and over again in your mind.

Somehow, Din knew what you were going to say. He was positive you could hear his rapid heartbeat, but if you did, you didn’t show it. He craned his neck down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then, he leaned down to your ear and kissed your lobe, his breath hot against your skin. The lumps in your throat melted away.

“I love you,” you finally said.

The buzzing energy in the bunker seemed to still and quicken all at once. The humming you heard before silenced. Din pulled you closer to his chest, his arms tightening their grip around you. He didn’t say anything for awhile; you were sure he fell back asleep, leaving your confession unheard.

“I love you too,” he said.

You couldn’t see his eyes or his mouth forming the words. But you could feel his love, feel his dedication for you. Under his fingertips, in his arms. It was all love for you. Tears returned to your eyes. You hugged him even tighter, burying your face into his shoulder even more. Anything to bring him closer to you. Anything to feel him more.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours. You actually fell back asleep, filled with more content and love than ever before. Din put you back to bed quietly and carefully, tucking you under the wool blanket you pulled from the closet the night before. He lifted one hand to cup your cheek, craning his neck to plant a lingering kiss on your other.

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to get back in his armor. He wanted to lay here, beside you, mask off and lights on. He wanted to see your smile as his eyes reached yours. Responsibility tugged at his heart and his brain. He knew what he had to do, what he was born to do, even if he hated it in this very moment. This is the way.

When you woke up again, you were alone in a dimly lit bunker. A hefty sigh fell past your lips. Maybe it was all a dream. You touched your lips with the pad of your fingers as your eyes fluttered close. You thought to yourself, if it was a dream, then why did his lips feel so real?

You changed into your normal garb and climbed out of the bunker. After lacing up your boots, you climbed the ladder into the cockpit. Like every morning, the Mandalorian was at the helm and the Child was in his designated seat. Din pressed buttons and steered the Razor Crest stoically, and the youngling played with his small metal ball. You approached the child with a smile and a pat to his head, in which he gurgled and grinned at your touch.

You then walked over to the Mandalorian’s right side, boots slowly and softly padding against the metal floor. His head remains forward, even when you place your left hand on his shoulder. Cotton fills your mouth again. What are you even supposed to say?

It takes you a moment before words form on your tongue. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I...I care for you...a lot. I...I love you. And I appreciate you. Thank you.”

His head turns now, looking right at you. You wondered if his baby browns were looking into your eyes right now, calculating what to say and what to do. Din lifts his left, gloved hand to your cheek. Underneath the leather, you can feel his warm, delicate touch that you were able to feel this morning.

“Anything for you, my love.”

[grantiskeith]

Baby Wolf Cub (Davidxreader) Part 2

I don't know about anyone else, but this stopped being about ASMR a long time ago. Redacted's storytelling ability and world-building skills are fantastic. I would 100% read a book if he wrote one.

Here is part 2 of the first fic I have ever written.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: dad vibes, blood, gunshot

"Hello?" I picked up my ringing phone "what! Who is this!" David picked his head off the floor, ears perking up. The little pup yawned and stretched against David's fur.

"Where? Tonight?" Click. 11:14 pm. David shifted back into his human self which prompted the sleeping cub into a sleeping baby with its butt in the air. "What's going on?"

I dialed another number without answering him."Milo, hey I need you to come over. It's an emergency. No, no one's hurt but we need your help. Yeah, thanks"

Click. "They followed me from Chicago, they want the kid back." I walked to the little one one and bent over to pick him up. David stuck his hand out in front of mine.

"Don't touch him, let him sleep. Shifting takes magic and doing it as often as he is would be exhausting for a full grown adult. He'll figure it out, but he needs sleep. Now what the hell are you talking about? Who called? Stop! don't put your jacket on"

"I don't know who, all I know is that there's a lead on the corner of South and Maple and I'm going to figure out what's going on." I did put my jacket down but only to grab a light blanket off the couch and draped it over the baby's legs.

"Angel, that's too dangerous, they could be vampires or murderers or..."

"They're most likely kidnappers, which is why we need to stop them"

"Listen to yourself! You're not Sherlock Holmes, you're not Batman"

Angel put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes, "you're just a fragile human and you need to stay here and be safe."

"It's not your job to protect me"

"Actually it is. As soon as you became my mate you became part of the pack. As the Alpha and your mate it is my duty to take care of you" he backed up from me and rubbed his hands over his face. "I love you Angel! I would give my life for you without question"

"I would never ask you to!" I said that a little louder than I should and the baby turned over before it started crying. I went over to pick him up but David got to him first and subtly bounced him on his hip.

"Why are you putting something so special to me in harm's way? You are a fucking danger to yourself and the more you get involved in these messes the more likely you are to put me and my pack in the line of fucking fire. There are things about the magic world that you don't understand and there are more threats than you can see. Let's ignore that call and just take this trouble maker to the department."

I put my head down to the floor. It was late and I was tired. Almost a half tempting offer. But there was a mystery to be solved here and possibly a larger crime.

"Sitting in bed and watching tv does not help anyone," I told him. "I am the mate of one of the most influential wolf pack's alpha. You know I'm tough or else you know I wouldn't last long. I was made of something durable and built for being more than a fucking house wife!"

David put the baby on the couch and laid the blanket out next to him. Carefully, he wrapped the little one up into a burrito and scooped him up to cradle him.

"Before you go and get your life sucked out by a damn shade or something. Throw a cup of milk in the microwave for a few seconds" David said, sitting down on the couch.

"Uh sure" I said. "I am not a complete dumbass, I know I shouldn't go alone. If you won't come and back me up then I will ask Milo." I handed him a lukewarm glass. "How did you get so good with infants anyway?"

Silence from David. I hate it when he just shuts down. He propped the baby up against his chest and titled the cup up until the little one could drink.

"Instinct, basic life skills, common fucking sense. All things you don't possess, clearly" he put the cup down on the table. And took a deep breath. "My dad… he would make me help out new moms in the pack. He used to say I needed to spend time with women since my mom wasn't around. It was a way of helping the pack feel more like a family"

I sat down next to him. Coat on, shoes on, ready to jump out the door.

"Angel, I have lost so damn much. Just from life already being as fucking dangerous as it is. If something happened to you... I just... I don't know what I would do... I fucking..."

I cut him off, "I know. I love you too. Unmistakable fact of life. I love you."

A knock at the door, "hey guys it's me." I got up and opened it to Milo's anxious face, "What's wrong, that's the emer.. Holy shit! is that yours" Milo stared in disbelief.

"Yes, it is, in the 48 hours I was gone I went and had a werewolf baby and now you're the designated sitter so we can go make another one" I was monotone in my sarcasm. I stepped out the door, "you coming Davey?"

David carefully slipped the baby into Milo's arms, "support the head and neck here," I heard him say. "Yeah, remember when we used to do this with Ginny's baby a few years back?"

He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and followed me "of course I'm coming you dumbass." He yelled down the hall at me, "Oh Milo, if he starts whimpering just shift and lay with him, he's docile. There's warm milk on the table and more in the fridge if he's crying. He didn't mind the couch but feel free to lay him on the bed"

"Let's go!" I yelled to David down the hallway.

"What the fuck is going on" was the last thing I heard Milo say before David shut the door.

South and Maple was a quiet intersection, although most are at the ungodly hour of 2am. Surrounded by three or four story buildings with alleyways and parked cars. There was no shortage of places to hide or spy down on the intersection. David and I stepped onto an alley between two buildings to discuss a plan. Unfortunately we didn't get the time.

"Where is he?"

We both turned to a tall lanky woman at the end of the alley. She was dressed in a pantsuit, real realtor vibes. Two men ran around the corner and took their place behind her. David growled but I put my hand out in front of him, "hold back" I whispered.

"Who are you and what do you want? Where are the parents?" I yelled down the alley.

"Where? Honey probably at the bottom of the the lake considering the rocks tied to their ankles"

David started growling again but I told him again to wait. This conversation was not violent yet.

"You stole that baby!" I accused

"Baby?" She laughed, "that was not a baby, what you have hidden somewhere is a freak circus animal that many are willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for."

"You bitch!" I yelled

"I have bids lined up" the men besides her both shifted in werewolves which prompted David to do the same. The sudden magic and chaos of growling and barking filled the air. David was significantly larger than the other two but he was outnumbered. There was a mix of growling, barking, and biting. I was bewildered that I didn't even hear the shot. The lady whistled and both the other wolves ran to join her. They walked around the corner.

David shook himself off and ran to follow. Water fell down the side of my leg. Water? I looked up trying to find a leaking gutter or rain. No rain. I looked down and saw a red stain on the side of my shirt growing. I balled up a chunk of shirt and held it against my side.

"Davey'' my voice cracked. "Davey!" I couldn't get it to be as loud as I needed. My left ear started ringing loudly. My head was full of sawdust and my vision became the static of an old tv. I felt a hand over my own behind me. Fuck, Davey. Where did he come from?

"Can you ..." was all I heard before I felt my knees give out. David picked me up bridal style and ran to the end of the alleyway. I heard the car door open and the next thing I saw was the ceiling over the back seat. David climbed in the back with me and shut and locked the door.

"Just.. drive" fuck, talking hurt.

"Classic triage Angel, stabilize then transport." He tried to move my hand away from the wet spot I was holding.

"It doesn't hurt that bad! Just drive" I was using whatever I had left to keep him away.

"That's cause you're going into shock" he grabbed my denim jacket from the front seat, "hey, Angel look at me. I'm going to lift your hand up just for a second and put your jacket under it ok?"

I winced and nodded. It actually didn't hurt that bad. I couldn't feel anything and everything had a vague cold numbness. He drapped his leather jacket over my shoulders.

I took a deep and painful breath. I closed my eyes for a moment but then I felt David snapping his hand over my face. When did he get in the front seat? When did he start driving.

"Hey! Keep your eyes open"

"I'm fine, I'm ok. I just blinked"

"You're pale. Are you nauseous?" David put his eyes back on the road, "if we go back to the apartment they'll follow us and find the kid" he said, "but if we go to a human hospital they'll ask too many questions. So we're going to.. Hey Angel! Open your eyes and keep holding that jacket down. We're going to Milo's mother's place. She'll be ready for us. Angel! Are you listening to me? Asher and Milo have the baby. Christan is leading the pack to hunt down that woman."

I was barely making out the words. Davey was the alpha for a reason, that's the only thing I understood. Cool under pressure, rallying the troops, delegating orders. I nodded, at least I think I did. "I love you" were the words that I tried to get out of my mouth. I felt the engine of the car rev louder.

[mikefrawley]

All of These

A winner one mistake from a fall a lost lonely soul waiting for a call  a child at play underneath the sun a warrior inquiring what he’d won a wrongly treated social dissident  a tyrant for whom all rules are bent  a decision its maker cannot forget a lover adrift amidst tears of regret a mother grieving who’s lost a child    a goddess seeing her planet defiled a holy man praying for world peace a prisoner pleading for his release a general relentlessly waging wars a poet spilling sighs in metaphors a great explorer with flag unfurled a spirit trapped in fear of the world a marionette wishing he was real a wounded heart that can’t yet feel Who am I, you may ask I am all of these, and more Inspired By: Thich Nhat Hanh Please Call Me by My True Names - Being Peace

[celticcrossanon]

Full Order of Service (as the one below is missing pages)

from https://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wireStory/order-service-funeral-prince-philip-77134393

LONDON -- This is the Order of Service for the funeral of Prince Philip on Saturday:

ORDER OF SERVICE

All stand. The Coffin is removed from the Land Rover and is carried to the West Steps where it rests at 3pm for the one minute National Silence.

The Coffin is then carried to the Catafalque in the Quire.

Members of the Royal Family who have walked in the Procession are conducted to their places in the Quire.

Meanwhile, the choir sings

THE SENTENCES

I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.

John 11. 25-26

I KNOW that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.

Job 19. 25-27

WE brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

1 Timothy 6. 7, Job 1. 21

William Croft (1678-1727)

All remain standing. The Dean of Windsor shall say

THE BIDDING

WE are here today in St George’s Chapel to commit into the hands of God the soul of his servant Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. With grateful hearts, we remember the many ways in which his long life has been a blessing to us. We have been inspired by his unwavering loyalty to our Queen, by his service to the Nation and the Commonwealth, by his courage, fortitude and faith. Our lives have been enriched through the challenges that he has set us, the encouragement that he has given us, his kindness, humour and humanity. We therefore pray that God will give us grace to follow his example, and that, with our brother Philip, at the last, we shall know the joys of life eternal.

All sit. The choir sings

ETERNAL Father, strong to save,

Whose arm doth bind the restless wave,

Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep;

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea.

O Saviour, whose almighty word

The winds and waves submissive heard,

Who walkedst on the foaming deep,

And calm amid its rage didst sleep:

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea.

O sacred Spirit, who didst brood

Upon the chaos dark and rude,

Who bad’st its angry tumult cease,

And gavest light and life and peace:

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea.

O Trinity of love and power,

Our brethren shield in danger’s hour;

From rock and tempest, fire and foe,

Protect them whereso’er they go:

And ever let there rise to thee

Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

Melita by J. B. Dykes (1823-76) William Whiting (1825-78)

Arranged by James Vivian (b. 1974)5

All remain seated.

THE FIRST LESSON

Ecclesiasticus 43. 11-26

read by the Dean of Windsor

LOOK at the rainbow and praise its Maker; it shines with a supreme beauty, rounding the sky with its gleaming arc, a bow bent by the hands of the Most High. His command speeds the snow storm and sends the swift lightning to execute his sentence. To that end the storehouses are opened, and the clouds fly out like birds. By his mighty power the clouds are piled up and the hailstones broken small. The crash of his thunder makes the earth writhe, and, when he appears, an earthquake shakes the hills. At his will the south wind blows, the squall from the north and the hurricane. He scatters the snow-flakes like birds alighting; they settle like a swarm of locusts. The eye is dazzled by their beautiful whiteness, and as they fall the mind is entranced. He spreads frost on the earth like salt, and icicles form like pointed stakes. A cold blast from the north, and ice grows hard on the water, settling on every pool, as though the water were putting on a breastplate. He consumes the hills, scorches the wilderness, and withers the grass like fire. Cloudy weather quickly puts all to rights, and dew brings welcome relief after heat. By the power of his thought he tamed the deep and planted it with islands. Those who sail the sea tell stories of its dangers, which astonish all who hear them; in it are strange and wonderful creatures, all kinds of living things and huge sea-monsters. By his own action he achieves his end, and by his word all things are held together.

All remain seated as the choir sings

THE JUBILATE

O BE joyful in the Lord, all ye lands:

serve the Lord with gladness,

and come before his presence with a song.

Be ye sure that the Lord he is God:

it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;

we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

O go your way into his gates with thanksgiving,

and into his courts with praise:

be thankful unto him, and speak good of his Name.

For the Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting:

and his truth endureth from generation to generation.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the Holy Ghost;

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be:

world without end. Amen.

Benjamin Britten (1913-76), in C

Written for St George’s Chapel, Windsor at the request of The Duke of Edinburgh

All remain seated.

THE SECOND LESSON

John 11. 21-27

read by the Archbishop of Canterbury

MARTHA said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. And even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, he who is coming into the world.”

All remain seated as the choir sings

PSALM 104

The Duke of Edinburgh requested that Psalm 104 should be set to music by William Lovelady.

Originally composed as a cantata in three movements, it was first sung in honour of His Royal Highness’s 75th Birthday.

MY SOUL give praise unto the Lord of heaven,

In majesty and honour clothed;

The earth he made will not be moved,

The seas he made to be its robe. Give praise.

The waters rise above the highest mountain,

And flow down to the vales and leas;

At springs, wild asses quench their thirst,

And birds make nest amid the trees.

The trees the Lord has made are full of vigour,

The fir tree is a home for storks;

Wild goats find refuge in the hills,

From foes the conies shelter in the rocks.

My soul give praise unto the Lord of heaven,

In majesty and honour clothed;

The earth he made will not be moved,

The seas he made to be its robe. Give praise.7

O Lord, how manifold is your creation,

All things in wisdom you provide;

You give your riches to the earth,

And to the sea so great and wide.

You take your creatures breath and life is ended,

Your breath goes forth and life begins;

Your hand renews the face of earth,

Your praise my whole life I will sing.

My soul give praise unto the Lord of heaven,

In majesty and honour clothed;

The earth he made will not be moved,

The seas he made to be its robe. Give praise.

William Lovelady (b. 1945) abridged and arranged for choir and organ by James Vivian (b. 1974) with the composer’s permission

Words from Psalm 104, adapted by Sam Dyer (b. 1945)

The choir sings

THE LESSER LITANY

Let us pray.

All sit or kneel.

LORD, have mercy upon us.

Christ, have mercy upon us.

Lord, have mercy upon us.

THE LORD’S PRAYER

OUR Father, which art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name;

Thy kingdom come;

Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive them that trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation;

But deliver us from evil. Amen.

THE RESPONSES

ENTER not into judgement with thy servant, O Lord.

For in thy sight shall no man living be justified.

Grant unto him eternal rest.

And let light perpetual shine upon him.

We believe verily to see the goodness of the Lord.

In the land of the living.

O Lord, hear our prayer.

And let our cry come unto thee.

William Smith (1603-45), adapted by Roger Judd, MVO (b. 1944)

The Lord’s Prayer, Music by Robert Stone (1516-1613) from John Day’s Certaine Notes 1565

THE COLLECT

The Dean of Windsor shall say

O MERCIFUL God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life; in whom whosoever believeth shall live, though he die; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in him, shall not die eternally; who also hath taught us by his Holy Apostle Saint Paul, not to be sorry, as men without hope, for them that sleep in him: We meekly beseech thee, O Father that, when we shall depart this life, we may rest in him, as our hope is this our brother doth; and that, at the general resurrection in the last day, we may be found acceptable in thy sight; and receive that blessing, which thy well-beloved Son shall then pronounce to all that love and fear thee, saying, Come ye blessed children of my Father; receive the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world. Grant this we beseech thee, O merciful Father through Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Redeemer. Amen.

THE PRAYERS

The Archbishop of Canterbury shall say

O ETERNAL God, before whose face the generations rise and pass away, thyself unchanged, abiding, we bless thy holy name for all who have completed their earthly course in thy faith and following, and are now at rest; we remember before thee this day Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, rendering thanks unto thee-for his resolute faith and loyalty, for his high sense of duty and integrity, for his life of service to the Nation and Commonwealth, and for the courage and inspiration of his leadership. To him, with all the faithful departed, grant thy peace; Let light perpetual shine upon them; and in thy loving wisdom and almighty power work in them the good purpose of thy perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Dean of Windsor, Register of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, shall say

O LORD, who didst give to thy servant Saint George grace to lay aside the fear of man, and to be faithful even unto death: Grant that we, unmindful of worldly honour, may fight the wrong, uphold thy rule, and serve thee to our lives’ end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

GOD save our gracious Sovereign and all the Companions, living and departed, of the Most Honourable and Noble Order of The Garter. Amen.

O GOD of the spirits of all flesh, we praise thy holy name for thy servant Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, who has left us a fair pattern of valiant and true knighthood; grant unto him the assurance of thine ancient promise that thou wilt ever be with those who go down to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters. And we beseech thee that, following his good example and strengthened by his fellowship, we may at the last, together with him, be partakers of thy heavenly kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Archbishop of Canterbury shall say

O LORD God, when thou givest to thy servants to endeavour any great matter, grant us also to know that it is not the beginning, but the continuing of the same unto the end, until it be thoroughly finished, which yieldeth the true glory; through him, who for the finishing of thy work laid down his life, our Redeemer, Jesus Christ. Amen.

ALMIGHTY God, Father of all mercies and giver of all comfort: Deal graciously, we pray thee, with those who mourn; that casting every care on thee they may know the consolation of thy love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.10

All sit as the choir sings

THE ANTHEM

GIVE rest, O Christ, to thy servant with thy Saints:

where sorrow and pain are no more;

neither sighing, but life everlasting.

Thou only art immortal, the Creator and Maker of man:

And we are mortal, formed of the earth, and unto earth shall we return.

For so thou didst ordain, when thou createdest me, saying,

Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

All we go down to the dust; and, weeping, o’er the grave,

we make our song: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

Russian Kontakion of the Departed

Translated William John Birkbeck (1859-1916)

Kiev Melody, arranged by Sir Walter Parratt, KCVO (1841-1924)

All stand.

As the Coffin is lowered into the Royal Vault, the Dean of Windsor shall say

THE COMMENDATION

GO forth upon thy journey from this world, O Christian soul,

In the name of God the Father Almighty who created thee;

In the name of Jesus Christ who suffered for thee;

In the name of the Holy Spirit who strengtheneth thee;

May thy portion this day be in peace,

and thy dwelling in the heavenly Jerusalem. Amen.

All remain standing. Garter Principal King of Arms proclaims

THE STYLES AND TITLES OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE PHILIP DUKE OF EDINBURGH

THUS it hath pleased Almighty God to take out of this transitory life unto his divine mercy the late most Illustrious and most Exalted Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth and Baron Greenwich, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Knight of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Member of the Order of Merit, Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order upon whom had been conferred the Royal Victorian Chain, Grand Master and Knight Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Lord

High Admiral of the United Kingdom, One of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council, Admiral of the Fleet, Field Marshal in the Army and Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Husband of Her Most Excellent Majesty Elizabeth the Second by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, Sovereign of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, whom may God preserve and bless with long life, health and honour and all worldly happiness.

Thereafter, the Pipe Major of The Royal Regiment of Scotland plays

A LAMENT

The Buglers of the Royal Marines sound

THE LAST POST

After a period of silence the State Trumpeters of the Household Cavalry sound

REVEILLE

The Buglers of the Royal Marines sound

ACTION STATIONS

Then the Archbishop of Canterbury pronounces

THE BLESSING

All remain standing as the choir sings

THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

GOD save our gracious Queen,

Long live our noble Queen,

God save The Queen!

Send her victorious,

Happy and glorious,

Long to reign over us,

God save The Queen!

All remain standing in their places as Her Majesty The Queen, Members of the Royal Family and Members of The Duke of Edinburgh’s Family leave the Chapel via the Galilee Porch escorted by the Dean of Windsor and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Music after the service

Luke Bond, Assistant Director of Music, St George’s Chapel, will play

Prelude and Fugue in C minor BWV 546 Johann Sebastian Bach

END

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Six: Go Alone

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I hope you all are doing well. We get a touch salacious in this one, you could say. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @eli-bourne

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

"So…" you began, swinging your legs back and forth nonchalantly from your customary spot in the co-pilot seat.

"If you have something to ask, then ask." The Mandalorian replied curtly.

Well that was encouraging. "I know it's none of my business, but I was...um, you and Xi'an, did you guys ever…" You trailed off, the reflection of your face in the back of his helmet reminding you anew of the prudence of silence. "You know what, f-forget I even asked, I'm sorry, I know I-"

"We did not." He interjected stiffly.

"Oh!" You hated the relief that bled into your voice, over-certain that he had picked up on it. "But...I mean, the way that she-"

"Ran asked some...things of me to, er, maintain the status quo on the team when we operated together. Xi'an was a...a loose cannon, too useful and dangerous to be left to her own devices." The bounty hunter explained. "She enjoys the hunt. So I was the unattainable quarry."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure what to make of that. "She...hunted...you?"

"Not literally. She'd be dead." He said flatly. "Figuratively."

"But you guys didn't like...y'know." You barely refrained from making some weird, suggestive gestures. You were relatively certain that would get you slabbed immediately, despite his assurances to the contrary.

He shrugged. "Nope. Wasn't interested in the compromises she offered, and she, even if she didn't know it, preferred the mystery over the man." His voice was soft. 

You wondered if he had wanted her to know him. Really know him. Asking that would be incredibly invasive though, even more so than you had been already, so you bit back the query in lieu of pretending to check the munitions terminal.

"Why?" 

You jumped at his question, even though he hadn't been overly loud or sharp. "I uh-! I just...I was just curious, that's all." You blustered, rushing to unbuckle the seat harness. "Sorry, excuse me, I hear the-"

He reached back and touched your wrist, halting you mid-flight. He didn't say anything. Hell, he didn't even turn in the seat. 

His fingers slowly wrapped around your wrist, squeezed once, and then he released you. 

Confused, flushed, your heart hammering in your throat, you escaped down the ladder into the sanctuary of the hold. 

Once there you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest after a moment. Your face felt like it was on fire. What was that?! you asked yourself in a panic, your hands curling into tight fists over your knees. Was that his way of chastising you for being so nosy? Or was it something a little more difficult to define?

You could still feel the weight of his armored hand on your wrist, the gentleness of the squeeze that belied the raw strength he had displayed numerous times.

The child yawned awake in their bassinet and you lunged upright, more than ready for the distraction.

…

"Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right." You began to sing several hours later, poking the frowning child and grinning when they burst into giggles. "And wherever you are and wherever you go, there's always gonna' be some light. But I gotta' get out, I gotta' break out now, before the final crack of dawn."

You scooped the kid up, swaying them back and forth in time with your singing.

"So we gotta' make the most of our one night together, cuz' when it's over, you know, we'll both be so alone…" You dipped the child, laughing through the chorus as they squealed and waved their tiny hands in glee. "Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes! When the night is over, like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone. Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes!"

You paused, posing dramatically and then continuing your madcap choreography with the child. They were clearly enjoying themselves, babbling along as you belted out the next part of the song and twirled through the hold.

"But when the day is done, and the sun goes down, and the moonlight's shining through...then, like a sinner before the gates of Heaven, I'll come crawling on back to you…" You gently tweaked the baby's nose, "you, youuuuu-" 

You spun around while taking a deep breath to carry on with the next verse, only to be met with the featureless stare of one Mandalorian bounty hunter. Your tune abruptly ended with a sharp hurk.

"You do cantina shows?" He asked casually after you had turned every shade of red imaginable. "You and the kid would be a hell of a performance." He slung one ankle over the other and leaned against the wall. "Came down to tell you that we're about ten minutes out from Sorgan."

"H-How long…" you trailed off, not sure if you really wanted to know. 

"Chorus." He answered the unfinished question. 

"Good. Great. Wonderful." You ducked your face to blow a raspberry on the child's cheek, using the time to effectively hide. Maker, this was so embarrassing!

"Was about to join in, but I prefer to leave singing and dancing to the professionals." He shrugged. "Singing is easier with a group of people who also wear armor and can't carry a tune to save their lives."

"You're not funny." You replied weakly.

"You sure about that, stowaway?"

"Positive. Unless you mean funny-looking."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "That cuts deep." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, giving you the impression that he was studying you. "I've set up a rendezvous location with Dune. Hopefully, I'll be there and back by tomorrow morning."

"Oh! She agreed?" You exclaimed, more than a little surprised.

"All I had to do was tell her the Imps were involved and she was chompin' at the bit." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "That being said, I'm gonna' take the kid with me and have you mind the ship."

"W...What?" You asked, uncertain if you had heard him correctly. 

"Look, it makes sense this way. Tracking fobs will be on the child. If I have him with me, both myself and Cara can keep him safe. Meanwhile, you have the ship primed and ready for takeoff. The failsafe."

"But…"

"You have to see it the way I do. If someone came after you and the kid while I was gone-" He cleared his throat. "I don't want to consider the outcome. So I'll bring him with me."

"No, I get it." You said shortly, moving past him to secure the child in their bassinet for the impending landing. They pouted, seeming upset that their playtime had come to such a sudden end. "I know, little one. We'll have more fun later. I promise." You whispered.

"Please don't be angry." The armored man sighed.

"I'm not angry." You retorted, "I'm...I'm peeved."

"Sounds kind of like you're angry." 

"Well that just...shows how much you know." You grumbled, latching onto the ladder and hauling yourself up into the cockpit (theoretically to escape from the bounty hunter). But of course, he followed. It is his ship, after all, you reasoned begrudgingly.

With the two of you standing awkwardly in the cockpit, it was more than a little cramped. The Mandalorian shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want anything to happen. To either of you." He sounded tired. "Whether you like it or not, the kid's a magnet for trouble. And out of the two of us, I'm the better fighter."

"I know that." You whispered, staring at the floor.

"I'm not...look, I know you care about him just as much as I do. Probably more. I barely remember blowing a hole in that droid and just praying that I shot it before it shot you." He muttered. "The idea of something happening to y--to that little womp rat is...dammit, I don't know. Maybe Xi'an was right. Maybe the Creed has made me soft." His tone was more frustrated now.

"I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

He huffed incredulously. "In my line of work?"

"Well, you may need to get new business chits." You allowed. "Ones that say things like 'bounty hunter, father of one'." 

He took your hands in his own, ignoring your pointed ribbing in favor of staring down at you. "I'll keep him safe." He assured you.

"You…" You shook your head, and then dropped your forehead to rest on his breastplate. "You had better." You whispered harshly.

The drive system beeped rapidly, signaling that the Crest was preparing to drop out of hyperspace. 

Which it did immediately. 

With extreme prejudice. 

You lost your balance and stumbled bodily into the Mandalorian, who lost his own footing and met the rear cockpit wall with a resounding clatter of beskar. He quickly shifted himself to press your back to the flat surface, his knees bent slightly to keep his balance and arms holding you steady while the ship's trajectory smoothed out. 

"You alright?" He finally asked, sounding a little breathless. He hadn't let go of you yet, probably waiting to make certain you were secure.

"Yeah, are you?" You responded in kind, worriedly looking up at him. "I hit you pretty hard, I'm sorry."

He swallowed audibly, taking an inordinate amount of time to reply, "I--I'm fine." 

"I guess this means it's time to get ready."

"Yeah." The Mandalorian nodded. Something strange lingered in the way he had his head bent low and slightly to the side, how soft his voice was. It settled into the pit of your stomach, leaving you tongue-tied in his arms. 

Early morning sunlight poured through the cockpit's transparent shielding, warming the steely blue of his armor to a fiery bronze. What would it be like to kiss him? The thought skittered through your mind and you felt a rush of shame, averting your eyes out of the nonsensical fear that he might be able to read your thoughts. Was it wrong to wonder about something like that if the object of the fantasy was a Mandalorian? 

"You...you can let go of me now." You pointed out quietly after several seconds. "I think we've evened out."

"Oh!" He exhaled sharply, scrambling to remove his hands. He bumped his helmet into your chin in his rush, flinching when you yelped in pain. "Shit, shit, hang on." He cupped your face, carefully framing your jaw so he could examine your mouth. "I'm sorry, that'll probably bruise." He said ruefully. 

"I'll be okay. Serves me right for treating you like a landing pad." You tried to joke, waving off his concern.

His thumb swept carefully beneath your split lower lip, the motion achingly cautious. "You're bleeding." He murmured, following it with another quiet, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'll be fine." You answered just as quietly. "It was an accident."

"I know, I just...I'll go get something for that."

…

A comlink was dropped into your waiting palm, and then the Mandalorian tapped the side of his helmet. "That's rigged to my in-ear. Just be careful with the talk button, it sticks sometimes."

"Of course, yeah." You said absently, closing your fingers around the small tube. 

"You're not listening." He observed, his shoulders sagging a little in resignation.

"N-No, I totally am!" You protested.

"You're concerned."

"...well, yes."

"Don't be." His helmet pressed to your forehead.

"You know, as much as you want to be an infallible constant or some...untouchable warrior, you're not." You closed your eyes. "I'm scared because things seem to be getting tighter and tighter. Like a noose." There it was. The honest truth. The low-lying panic that had your stomach in knots.

"That's the plan, yes." He stated ever-so-helpfully. His hands hovered warily for a second before gripping your shoulders. "Nothing will go wrong. And even if it does, I've gotten out of worse scrapes than some Imps trying to kill me." Maker, he might be the least capable person alive when it came to the task of reassuring someone.

"Is it so bad of me to not want you to have to get out of it in the first place?" You retorted. 

"No, of course not." He replied, sounding a little confused. "But this is how it's always been."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm being dumb again." You sighed. "Don't mind me."

He shook his head, then tipped it to the side. "You're not being dumb," He chastised, the tone of his voice strangely gentle again. "You're being careful. It's not your fault that I fight like I don't have anything to lose in nearly every situation." He hesitated for a moment. "It's...good of you to remind me. Makes me remember that I have others depending on me now." 

The smile was evident in his voice, and you felt your face light up despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral expression. "Well, good! You'd better stay safe, then. Promise me you will?"

The Mandalorian drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped his fingers twice against his chin. "I promise." He said solemnly.

"What does that actually mean?" You asked curiously, gesturing at his chest.

"Thought in heart," He repeated the motion, "said with mouth. Two taps with two fingers on chin to indicate solid, rigid. Firm like beskar." You pulled your thumb down your chest and then tapped your chin in an approximation of his own gesture. He chuckled, moving forward and folding your fingers a little differently. "Just the first two of your hand. Index and middle. Trigger fingers." 

"D-Do you guys have other signs?" You queried, trying valiantly to hide how his touch had made your breath shudder.

"We wear helmets." He replied bluntly. "A lot of times we have to rely on gestures or body language instead of expressions." After a moment's pause he deadpanned, "this is the Way."

"Like what?"

He touched his hand to the side of his head, then fanned his fingers out. "Aru'e, enemy ahead, indicate how many with your fingers." He instructed, "So if there's three, you tuck your pinky, like this."

"What about this one?" You attempted to mimic the motion you had seen him direct at the child many times, startled when you heard him inhale roughly.

When he finally answered, his voice had a strange rasp to it. "Ad'ika. Little one, or Foundling. Start by pointing with two fingers. Again, solid, rigid, then one finger, for youth. Drag the thumb up from the corner of your mouth, for smile or joy, keep your hand open to indicate happiness." 

You clumsily tried to follow along, running through the gestures a few times until you didn't mix them up. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you realized that he had been silently referring to the child as a Foundling, as his Foundling. Possibly this entire time.

"Very good." He praised, thumping his armored knuckles against your own. "But just wait until we get to the difficult ones."

"How difficult are we talking?"

"You have shaadlar and nari, both of which mean move, but only one of them means to move. The other means move, just in general. So the gesture is like a shove, you put your whole arm into it like this…"

...

After he and the child left, you did your best to occupy yourself with some light repair work. The day stretched on like an interminable expanse, boredom and wariness combined to settle like a block of beskar in your stomach. 

You tried not to think about it, you really did. You didn't so much as touch the comlink. You kept yourself busy by sweeping out the hold, restacking and shoving the numerous crates into some semblance of order that wouldn't topple onto you in an emergency. Hell, you even used the cargo nets to actually secure the cargo. What was the world coming to?

Rain started to fall as the sun set, clouds tinted pink and orange from the fading rays. You squinted up at the sky and heaved a sigh, loathe to close yourself up in the Razor Crest but not incredibly eager to get rained on. 

You cast one last glance out towards the darkening woods as you waited for the hatch to close, shaking your head ruefully at your own behavior. This was pitiful.

You then proceeded to hang upside down in the ladder port long enough to give yourself a headache, staggering a little when you got to your feet. You fell into the captain's seat sideways, almost toppling off the other side of it with a quiet snicker. 

You wondered what he would say if he could see your antics. Probably something like, "get out of my chair, stowaway." Or maybe all you would get is that particular sigh he seemed to reserve just for you, the one that smacked of extra exasperation. You bit your lip, one foot on the floor moving the chair slightly side to side. 

How annoying. Right back where you started.

You cracked your knuckles and spread your fingers wide, imitating his sure motions as you hovered a safe distance above the toggles, switches and buttons on the control panels in front of you. You then shielded your eyes with your hand, staring studiously out from beneath your palm at the coniferous greenery that surrounded the Crest. 

"Hmm, yes stowaway, I see the problem." You mused theatrically, pitching your voice low to mimic his modulated tone, "the T of my visor appears to limit me to only seeing things that start with the letter T. Like tree." You turned your head, narrowing your eyes. "And troublemaker." Drawing an imaginary blaster, you sauntered over to the ladder port. "Alright quarry, you got two choices." You drawled, crouching by the port. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in-"

You stopped dead, straining your ears. What was that noise? It sounded like…

It came again, louder this time. Like a wet boot hitting the floor with a dull splat. Your heart began to pound and you reached for your knife. I'm trapped up here. How did they get in? I set the proximity alarms-!

If it was Klatoonians, you could kiss your ass goodbye. They would be out for revenge, probably assuming that the Mandalorian was onboard. But you weren't about to give them an easy time.

You waited at the top of the ladder, holding your breath for what felt like forever. Every once in a while, you would hear that sound again and it would send a new rush of trepidation through you. You waited, and waited.

And waited.

The suspense was going to kill you before whatever was in the hold could.

You finally let your breath out in a slow rush, steeling yourself. The hold was still illuminated with the running lights. You should have a fighting chance against whoever was down there. At least, you wouldn't be fumbling totally in the dark. That was kind of like having an advantage, right?

Before you could think better of essentially throwing yourself at the enemy, you slid down the ladder and whirled to face your aggressor. "I'm warning you, I'm-!" You trailed off in confusion, looking around warily at the seemingly-vacant hold. "...armed?"

Down at your feet, there was a quiet splat and a mudjumper bumped into the side of your boot.

You sighed, "you've got to be fucking kidding me." You squatted down, scooping up the befuddled creature. "You little bastard. I ought to feed you to the kid." You threatened, giving it a tap on the snout. "I thought you were somebody coming to destroy me."

The mudjumper blinked up at you, and then licked one of its eyes. You grimaced. 

"Yeesh. Alright, I'm evicting you." Elbowing the button to open the bottom slat of the ramp, you tipped the amphibious beast back out into the woods. "And good riddance." You huffed, brushing your hands off on your tunic. 

...

Late that evening you sprawled out on the floor of the cockpit, just enough room between the seats and the door to keep you comfortable. You could have slept in the bunk, of course, but you had been avoiding it. The memories of that droid staring you down were a bit too fresh at this particular juncture.

You had the comlink on the floor next to your head in case you needed it. You had checked and doublechecked the proximity alarm system. All was quiet in the woods around the Razor Crest. The only thing left was to shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.

Half an hour later you huffed in aggravation, rolling over onto your back for what felt like the hundredth time. Overhead, rain pattered softly against the clear cockpit shielding. 

Your gaze lingered on the comlink, picking it up after a momentary debate and pressing the button on the side. "H-Hey, are you there?" Your throat was so dry all of a sudden.

"Yeah." He replied almost immediately. "Trouble?"

You closed your eyes in relief at the familiar sound of his voice. "No, sorry. I just…figured I'd check in before I go to bed. Status update."

"Made it to the rendezvous point. Set up a post here for the night. Will head out at dawn if no contact." He said quietly, static softening his modulation. 

"How's the baby?"

"Tired." There was a muffled rustling noise. "He conked out as soon as we stopped moving."

"Make sure he eats, please."

"Copy."

You sat there awkwardly for several seconds before clicking the button one last time to wish him a peaceful night (which he didn't respond to, of course) and placing the comlink carefully back on the floor. You wrapped your arms around your legs, thumping your forehead against your knees in frustration. "Why is it so hard to talk to him?" You mumbled. "Gods, I just…" You trailed off, rubbing at your eyes. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid." You berated yourself, sliding down onto your back even as you spoke.

You stared up at the rain-speckled shielding for several more minutes, chewing on your lower lip feverishly while you replayed his voice in your head. Even when he didn't speak, he somehow managed to say what he needed to. You thought of the tilt of his helmet when he was studying something, the way his hands hungrily devoured his environment. He could be as bad as the kid sometimes when it came to touching things. 

Then, there was the soft hitch of his breath when he had to speak a little louder; his vast library of groans, grunts and sighs. For being so stoic, he certainly made a lot of noises. Noises that, should your mind be so inclined towards thinking in a more lascivious manner, piqued your interest.

A wicked thought came to you, riding on the memory of him being poisoned. Honest words tumbling out of his mouth in a frenzy, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. You could feel his stare even through his visor, "nice t' look at, too."

Did he really think about you like that? And earlier, when the ship had dropped out of hyperspace...

Born of your loneliness, or maybe just touch-starved infatuation, your imagination conjured up a racy scenario for you to enjoy. The idea of him settling in between your legs with a modulator-filtered curse had your breath quickening, and you warred momentarily with your guilt. Ludicrously, you came up with the justification that as long as you didn't imagine him without his helmet, it probably wasn't that offensive. 

Effectively granted permission for your thoughts, you undid the clasps on your placket and shoved your pants down around your ankles. Tonight, you decided, you would take your time. You were truly alone for the first instance in what felt like a short eternity, and it was time to indulge. 

You rolled over and got your knees beneath you, arching your back. Your trembling palm traveled down the length of your body, the slightly-colder skin making you dream of the slide of beskar on your sensitive belly and thighs. The first graze of your fingers had you whimpering into your blanket, gods it had been too long. You were barely even wet yet and already you were aching. You sobbed out a breath, your chest rubbing against the blanket with your motions. 

In your mind, however, it was the Mandalorian cupping your breasts, the Mandalorian's fingers that tortured you in near silence. You canted your hips, whispering, "please," already begging for more. Would he keep his gloves on during the act, stain the leather with your arousal? Or would he be too hungry to resist touching you barehanded? "Stars, please-" 

You plucked at your nipple with a soft little whine and teased yourself with your fingers at the edge of your entrance. How full would he make you feel? Would he shove himself in all at once, or make you beg for it? Would he tease you?

Your fingers plunged in and you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head when you curled your index. Just thinking about him touching you in this way was enough to have you in spasm! Stars, you had it bad. 

But what if he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? What if, what if...

"Oh please fuck me…" you moaned. "I need you, pl-please-" It felt silly, but also infinitely hotter to finally say it out loud, almost as if you were practicing for the real thing. "Gods, fuck me open with that Mandalorian cock, please please please-" you rambled, giving in to the urge to be as filthy as you wished. 

Your own sense of touch faded away, replaced with the scuff of imaginary leather or the sleek glide of beskar. What would he sound like? Would he be vocal? Or would he be stoic, silent, just taking what he needed from you?

"I'm so wet for you." You crooned, spreading your legs a little wider. "So wet, just for you…" Slick pooled in your palm when you ground your clit down against the heel of your hand, the heated noise it made startlingly loud in the quiet of the cabin. "I want to feel your cock, want to know what you feel like inside me, gods, please…"

You had never felt so boldly lewd in all your life as you fucked yourself with your own fingers, your mouth running away from you when you sped up.

"It's not enough." You panted. "Not enough, my fingers aren't enough…gods, I need my Mandalorian to fuck me right. Please, please please I need you." You bit down on the blanket, rocking your hips against your hand frantically. "Please, please, fill me up, please, fuck me, fuc-k me…" you begged into the fabric, your thighs quivering as your body pulled tight in anticipation.

When you came apart, it was like stars filled your eyes. You writhed against your own hand, hips shuddering out of sync. You wished that he was inside you, you wished more than anything that you could feel him-

"I'm coming, please-" You whimpered through your orgasm, relaxing boneless on the blanket as exhaustion finally dragged at you.

When you could move again, you wiped your fingers off on your thigh and stretched, moaning in self-satisfaction before tugging your pants back up. Then, you shakily got to your feet to go clean yourself up in the refresher. 

You barely remembered getting back to your blankets, slumber already encroaching even as you climbed the ladder up to the cockpit.

…

The next morning you awoke early, feeling incredibly refreshed and chipper. Clearly that evening of hands-on indulgence was what you had been missing from your life, and you vowed to make more time for yourself in the future.

After your hearty breakfast of canned meat and some vegetables you managed to scare up, you retrieved the comlink to check in on the Mandalorian. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, all clear on my end. ETA?" 

No reply. 

You frowned, turning the small tube over in your hand. The button to talk was still depressed even after you had released it, effectively silencing any message that might have been directed at you. You pursed your lips and tugged out your knife, carefully using the tip to free up the button. Then, you tried again, this time being more delicate with the button so it didn't get caught. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, sorry for any feedback. Technical difficulties. All clear on my end. ETA?"

"I told you the damn button would get stuck if you weren't careful." He griped, making you grin.

"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" You teased.

"Didn't sleep well. We're fifteen minutes out, Dune walking drag. No pursuers yet, but get everything stowed and ready." He ordered curtly.

"Will do." You replied, saluting even though he couldn't see you. 

It didn't take much time for you to have all equipment squared away in preparation to launch, and you waited impatiently at the top of the loading ramp to spot the gleam of his armor through the trees. 

Soon enough, out he and Cara strode with the child in tow. The little one was babbling wildly as they toddled along beside the two adults, obviously carrying on quite the conversation. "Dune!" You greeted the ex-trooper happily, getting pulled into a rib-cracking hug for your trouble. "And I missed you!" You sang to the kid, scooping them up off the ground to briefly fly overhead. "Were you good for your papa?" You asked, beeping their nose softly. "Didn't cause him any trouble, right?"

You heard the Mandalorian sputter strangely, the armored man suddenly struck by a fit of coughing. Cara thumped him on the back worriedly. "Tadpole's an angel. Eats all his vegetables and everything." She assured you with a grin.

"Enough small talk. There's still one more stop after this." The Mandalorian managed to say, straightening back up and fidgeting with his gauntlets.

"Are you alright?" You asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. He actually jumped at the contact and you pulled back, confused.

"Sorry, I...I didn't get much sleep." His chuckle sounded forced, but he still bumped his helmet briefly against your forehead before he headed up the boarding ramp. 

Carasynthia cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed at the armored man's back. But all she did was huff out a breath and follow after him, leaving you to bring up the rear with the child. "All that battle-rattle must be scrambling his brain." She muttered to you, making you snicker.

"Sit down and strap in." The Mandalorian called, already halfway up the ladder to the cockpit.

"Well pollywog, you heard the boss." Dune shrugged at the child, smirking when they started giggling. "Stars, why can't human kids be as nice as this one? Human kids always look like angry piglets."

…

The final stop between Sorgan and Nevarro was on Arvala-7.

An old Ugnaught came to greet you all at the door of what was clearly his modest moisture farm, his deep-set eyes roving over the group laid out in front of him. "I see your family has grown, Mandalorian. More Foundlings?" He asked dryly.

"I need your help." The armored man rasped, getting right to the point.

"I assumed as much. Why else would you return? Come in, all of you. Whatever you need, I'm certain it can wait until after supper." The Ugnaught urged, waving for you to follow.

The small dwelling was somewhat cramped with everyone squeezed into the common area, and you kept accidentally bumping elbows with Cara. After the Ugnaught had plated some strange-looking concoction (which ended up tasting surprisingly good), he settled down into his chair with a grunt. "I too have gained an addition, my armored friend." He mused, gesturing towards the doorway.

A tall, thin droid carefully bent nearly double to enter the structure, a tray gripped in its digits. "Would anyone care for some tea?" It enquired.

Before it had finished speaking the Mandalorian had his blaster out and aimed. You blinked up at him, a little startled. The Ugnaught raised a peaceable hand. "Please, please, lower your blaster. It will not harm you."

"That thing is programmed to kill the baby." The Mandalorian snapped furiously.

"What?!" You shrieked, hurrying to unsheath your vibroblade. Cara's elbow slammed against your bicep as she pulled her own blaster out and you yelped, almost losing your grip on the knife.

The droid's multiple sets of eyes whirred in the silence that followed, the metallic being observing the weapons leveled at it. "That was its intended purpose, yes. But I have rebuilt it." The Ugnaught answered serenely.

"How much of it, though?" You waved your hands, sputtering, "I don't mind droids, but hell."

"Your Mandalorian trusts me, or at least my work. IG-11 no longer poses a threat to the child." 

"I trust it under certain circumstances." The armored man muttered, his blaster staying exactly where it was. "Is it still a hunter?"

"No. But it will protect."

The IG unit seemed to be staring at the Mandalorian, who was glaring back at it harder than you had ever seen him glare. Really putting his shoulders into it.

"Tea?" The droid offered him a steaming cup, clenched in spindly fingers. You heard the Mandalorian exhale hard as Cara nodded in his stead, holstering her blaster and gingerly accepting the cup. At least one of you could be polite!

The Ugnaught rose from his chair after several tense moments had passed, stating that he needed to feed the blurrgs. The Mandalorian stalked out behind him, the armored man transparently attempting to have a private conversation. "Watch that." He ordered you curtly, gesturing at the droid.

You nodded, gamely turning to stare intently at the machine that was currently standing in a...well, not very menacing fashion. You imagined most individuals, even trained killing robots, wouldn't look particularly threatening while balancing a tray of tea-things. 

"I appear to have upset him." IG-11 commented after a moment of enduring your stare. "This was not my intention."

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Cara remarked with a touch of amusement. "He's got some weird thing about droids."

Your mind flew back to Z, the droid that had cornered you in the bunk. "I kind of understand why." You said quietly. "There was...well, an incident, with the kid and I." Cara raised an eyebrow. "We got...we were, um. We were trapped, in the bunk."

"Oh." The ex-trooper said weakly. "Well. I guess I can...I guess I'll give him that one then. Someone was going after the tyke?" She asked, reaching out a gentle hand to said tyke. The kid babbled happily, their little fingers grasping at Cara's.

"Yeah, it was a droid. One of the compound-eyed ones, too fast for me to stop it." You mumbled. "All I had was my knife."

Cara was quiet for a while, just swinging the baby's arm to and fro. "If you do not require further libations, I shall go and assist Kuiil." The droid announced stiffly, breaking the silence. 

"Wait!" You exclaimed, rushing to stand. "Just, um, wait until they come back, please?" You went on to hastily suggest, "can you, uh, show me where to put the dishes? Maybe we can clean this up while they're busy."

The droid's head rotated on a strange axis, so it took you a second to realize that it was nodding at you. "Of course. It is part of my normal duties to clear the table. It would be wise for me to accomplish this task before attempting a new one."

Inwardly you breathed a sigh of relief, almost positive that you had saved this droid from certain doom. You couldn't help but wonder how the Mandalorian knew this particular IG unit was programmed to kill the child. Perhaps they had crossed paths previously?

…

The Mandalorian's discussion with the Ugnaught Kuiil secured him not only his support, but the help of the droid as well and apparently, several blurrg. 

You were certain this trip would be a logistical nightmare. Good thing you had spent nearly an entire day cleaning out the hold! Even with the room made by stacking things properly, it would no doubt be a snug fit.

Kuiil insisted that you all stay the night either way, the Ugnaught's tone brooking no argument. The Mandalorian had heaved a sigh, but acquiesced. 

The child was already drowsy, the potent combination of a full belly and busy day working overtime to ensure a restful night. Kuiil actually rustled up a small crate for the kid to sleep in, his large hands remarkably careful as he swaddled the yawning child in an old quilt.

You were just settling them into their makeshift bed for the evening when you heard the familiar rattle of beskar. The armored man poked his head into the room after a momentary delay, his voice quiet when he requested your presence in the Crest as soon as possible.

You glanced up at him, a little confused. "Me? But-" You began to protest, indicating downwards at the child.

Cara nudged you towards the doorway, her lips quirked into an odd, almost smug smile. "I can manage tucking in the pollywog for tonight. Go help him out." She urged.

Part Seven

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

OC Kiss Week 21 - Meddling

Day 2 is dedicated to the ever-lovely @bladeverbena! Smith, I did my damnedest to research Dym as much as possible but pushing myself out of an art block might have warped him a little bit and I apologize in advance if it did! But I know Fizz is a favorite of yours, and I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of making her Dym’s problem for just a little while. ;) Hope you can forgive me!

~1300 words, set where nebulous worlds collide.

---

The man sat alone.

That wasn’t entirely usual, Fizz reasoned with herself. People stumbling into taverns at every hour of the day, hells-bent on getting lost in their cups, were often the only thing keeping a struggling tavernkeep in business. From her place seated atop the table nearest the stage, she could see no less than four others huddled around their drinks, sullen and silent as the grave. The man that Fizz watched took no drink at all though, no food, no entertainment. Even Casimir rousing the crowd into a bustle of dancing feet and clapping hands seemed to have no effect on him. He had just sat amid the chaos of the swirling crowd around him, chin propped on one hand as he fingered a little square of paper that he had almost certainly memorized by now. 

That was damn near an invitation for meddling, as far as Fizz was concerned.

Hopping down from her perch, she strolled around the dice game that Sarai was most certainly not cheating at, and down through the thick forest of knees around her towards the man's table. He didn't so much as blink until she cleared her throat.

“Hi!” she said, when he wheeled towards her. And then, with a gesture to the chair opposite him, “Mind if I take a seat?”

It wasn’t a question, not really, and the man was either too surprised or not quick enough to stop her. The paper in his hands vanished into a pocket as Fizz hauled herself into her newly claimed seat.

“Hello,” he said, when he'd collected himself enough to try for a smile. “Can I, ah, help you?”

“Nope,” Fizz said brightly. Then she turned and raised her voice above the din to hail the nearest barmaid. “Excuse me! Two, please! Of whatever the bard had, for me and my friend here.”

She gestured up to the stage by way of an explanation. Cas never drank much during a performance, but neither did he take anything that didn’t suit his decidedly refined palate. Whatever he had ordered would be suitable enough for a peace offering. The barmaid gave her an odd look but nodded, and then disappeared into the crowd.

“I’m not much for partaking,” the man warned her, his tone inching towards protest. Fizz just waved him off.

"It's the principle of the thing. Tavern tables need drinks on them, or they start getting fussy. And no one should spend all of his time in a pub alone."

“But I’m not alone,” the man said, smiling like he had started to catch onto her game. “Not really, anyway. My traveling companions have all just retired for the night. It was a….long day.”

Long and trying, said the sudden brush of hardness across his face. Now that she was sitting still, now that the candles had brightened along his face, Fizz could see the dullness of the man’s skin, the bloodshot red of lost sleep around his eyes, the tangles in his long, long hair that had clearly been given a cursory brushing before weariness settled too deeply in his bones. Her heart staggered with sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “We’ve had some of those too, recently. I know what it’s like. If any of your friends are still feeling off, I can offer a little pick-me-up.” 

She held up both hands as he looked up, wiggling her fingers as flickers of radiant energy sparked off of them, scattering into the air like fireworks in miniature. The man’s eyes widened for a moment, the bloodshot whites of them standing out against his dull grey skin. Then he smiled again, and Fizz watched as he raised his own hand, and a curl of the same magic swirled around it, thick as woodsmoke. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline.

“You’re a cleric!” she exclaimed, leaping up onto the seat of her chair to lean further across the table towards him. Her enthusiasm seemed to have banished some of the poorer memories of the afternoon; the man managed a laugh. 

“I am, yes.” He reached across the table and offered a tattooed hand. “Endymion Metus Flood, in service to our Mother Night. Dym, if you prefer.”

Fizz pushed herself onto her tiptoes and clapped her hand in his. “Fizz, favored of the Laughing Rogue Olidammara, at your service!”

As if summoned by the name, the barmaid returned with two heavy bottomed tankards filled to the brim with some rich amber liquid that looked more like wine than beer. Fizz slipped a full gold piece into her hand as she set them down, and grinned when the woman scurried away, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Am I to assume he’s the one that took offense to my empty bar table?” Dym asked with a wry smile, graciously accepting one of the tankards as Fizz pushed it across to him. She shook her head.

“Nah, I just thought you might like some company, is all. And besides, I can make it up to him if he did take some kind of offense. Watch.” 

She turned towards the stage, where Cas was slowly warming the crowd back up to a dancing tune, and snapped her fingers. Instantly, a shimmering duplicate of herself appeared behind his chair, scrambling wildly around the stage in something that could almost be described as a dance, with enough squinting and a forgiveness for tempo. The chattering voices around the stage paused for a moment, and then suddenly rose into a collective roar of laughter. Cas’s head swung around behind him like he already knew what was happening and then whipped back towards her, scowling.

“Fizz!” he called, warning in his voice. She blew him a kiss in reply.

“And that’s repayment for offense, is it?” asked Dym from across the table. He sounded very near to laughter himself.

“I like to think it’s more like balancing the scales,” Fizz said with a thoughtful nod. And then, grinning, “I'm sure that’s something even your Lady can appreciate.”

They fell into idle conversation after that, exchanging stories and holy tenants and commiseration - with wildly different levels of melodrama - over how often they found themselves pulling loved ones back from the brink. Once or twice, Dym said something that made Fizz’s whole body shiver, but she only nodded politely and hid her shuddering behind a roll of her shoulders. After months of combing libraries for stories of hellish pact-makers and dismantling cults on the side, she knew only too well how tightly darkness clung to the victims it found.

They were halfway through the story of the dragon’s ball - Dym’s intrigued listening and Fizz’s wild retelling - when a shadow suddenly fell over their table.

“We’re good for this round, thanks,” Fizz began, assuming the probing of a barmaid. The words died to a squeak in her throat as she looked up into the eyes of the half-elf stood barely an arm’s length away, lute slung over his shoulder and arms crossed over his chest.

“Fizz,” said Cas, his face drawn into a steady line of irritation. So he remembered the duplicate, then. Fizz shrank down in her seat with a nervous giggle.

“Well,” she said, slipping down from her chair on the opposite side of the table, “it has been lovely, Dym, really, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you for the night. It was a pleasure, grand time, all that shit. If you could just -”

And then she darted behind his chair and vanished.

Cas swore and spun on a heel, casting around for the shimmer in the air that would betray her. It gave Fizz just enough time to leap onto the seat of Dym’s chair and press an invisible kiss onto his cheek.

“Thanks for the chat,” she whispered as he wheeled towards her. “Here's hoping your next days aren’t quite so long, huh?”

Then she sprang into the air, visible once again, and fled out the back door behind them, laughing the whole way out.

[yankyo]

Sugar Sugar - Part three

Was Sugar Sugar only supposed to be three parts? Yes! Am I going to have to write another chapter? Yes!! But!! After much waiting, the next installment of the Sugar Sugar series

Warnings - reader gets hit on by a creep and Beej saves her

~~~~~~~~~~

If she looked into the mirror one last time, perhaps she would chicken out and decide to just stay home, but it had officially been more than six weeks since Beetlejuice had last stopped by and she was starting to get frustrated. Doubts and insecurities had begun to fester, but every so often she would see one of his lookalikes creeping by the store, as if to check up on her but they always vanished before she could try and question them. There was also the rumor that Beetlejuice was no longer welcoming lovers like he once had, in fact she had heard there were quite a few people who had attempted to seduce the greaser, only to be swiftly and brutally shot down with a glower and a hiss. 

Was he turning them down because he had settled down with some else? Or was it because of her? There was no way to find out but to ask the man and the only way to do that was to go to the bar he frequented herself. The candy maker squared her shoulders and avoided looking at her reflection as she settled on her recently fixed up bike, taking only a single moment to try and rally herself before she finally took off. As irritated as she was that Beetlejuice had ran away, that irritation had proved quite useful to her, she was able to throw all of that frustration into fixing up her bike until it was running  good as new - and if tonight went horrifically, hey, she could always go with her original plan, pack up her stuff and finally leave town. She just couldn't leave until she had at least tried to figure out what things were with Beetlejuice - and maybe finally pinned the slippery bastard down and had her way with him. She just had to square her shoulders, steel her nerves, and just go for it. No more trying to subtly seduce him or mincing around her words - this time she was going to be straight with him and find out once and for all how he really felt. 

----------

"Boss, if you're so worried, why don'tcha just check up on her yourself?" While Bee had been dubbed his right hand, the idiot was about to lose that status if he kept asking such stupid questions. He couldn't just go see her himself. Not when he was still picturing her bent over her counter, skirt flipped up over that perfect ass while he - well, until he could stop thinking with his stupid dick, he had to stay away. Surely he misread the situation last time. Surely she only saw him as a convenient friend, his status around town making it so no one messed around with her no more. That was the only logical explanation, after all, why would such a beautiful and smart girl - someone who clearly had their shit together- want anything to do with a bonafide mess like him? He should just be glad she treated him like a friend and crush this stupid infatuation he had for her deep deep down. Usually, he would've just found someone new to play with - there was no end to the people who tried using sex to get in good with him after all and perhaps he could chase her sweetness from his veins with someone else. There was just one problem though - he couldn't muster up even the slightest bit of interest in anyone else. No, every single time someone came to try and play around with him, he found himself comparing them to her. The eye color wasn't right. The hair wasn't short and curly. Their smile wasn't as bright. Their scent wasn't sweet. They didn't sound like her. They didn't move like her. They weren't her. And that was all he wanted! The demon growled low in his throat, sending a sideways glare at his second in command. 

"Just go check on her again, make sure she's ok." He hissed, Bee raised his hands in surrender and stood as if to leave before he paused, his head tilting with confusion as he stared ahead in the bar. 

"Um boss? She's uh.... she's right there." Beetlejuice's head snapped up, his eyes locking on to the figure his second was talking about just as that sweet scent swept through the bar. She was actually here, his sweetness. Almost instinctively, the demon rose to his feet before he saw something that made him freeze in his spot. Someone was flirting with his girl! From his spot, he could see some slimy son of a bitch leaning over her, his eyes trailing over what was obviously Beetlejuice's - and worst of all, even from across the bar he could smell her sweetness being tainted with discomfort and fear as that slimeball drew ever closer to her. Oh hell no. 

----------

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to try and drink to recollect her courage, but when she had walked in the bar, she could see Beetlejuice sitting all the way in the back, his expression very much less than pleased. And call her cowardly, but that expression made all the confidence she had spent all day building up shrivel right back up. She picked something sweet and strong, planning to just have a drink or two before she went back to meet him, unfortunately she was halfway through the first drink when a hand settled on her waist and a man smelling very strongly of alcohol and smoke idled up far too close for comfort. 

"Well, hello there, don't think I've ever seen you around." He purred, seemingly indifferent to the way she had stiffened. 

"Hah, yeah, this kinda place usually isn't my scene." She tried to give a polite laugh, but it came out strained. His hand was still on her waist. She didn't like it, it was hot and heavy and firm - holding her fast so she couldn't take a step away.

"No doubt, a pretty girl like you? A place like this probably looks like a dump to you." Why was he leaning in closer? "But I bet that's why you're here, yeah? Pretty thing like you all dolled up, hoping to catch the eye of some gutter trash to take home? Them uptown boys not taking care of that pussy?" She blanched at his crudeness, finally attempting to squirm away, only for him to grab her chin in his other hand and yank her face his way. "Oh come on, no need to be shy. I can tell what you want. I can give it to you, if you're good." Protests gathered and died at her lips, fear and disgust making her mute even as she tried to yank herself back. 

"Doncha see that the lady doesn't like you?" A heavy hand settled on her shoulder, cool and gentle as she was easily pulled away from the drunkard and behind a familiar figure. 

"Beetlejuice." The word escaped unbidden, a relieved sigh, even as the drunkard stumbled back fearfully at the sight of the red hot anger burning in the demon's eyes. 

"J-just a casual spat with my lady, y-y-you know how it is. Let them get outta line and they walk all over ya." Despite his obvious fear, the drunkard kept talking, even glancing over Beetlejuice's shoulder to look at her. "C-come on babe, we really should be going." He reached out a hand to her, as if to urge her forwards, but jerked back quickly as a harsh growl sounded from her protector. 

"Get. The fuck. Out." Beetlejuice hissed, his voice dripping with venom as his hair burned a brighter red. The man didn't need to be told twice. For a tense moment, Beetlejuice was still, watching to make sure the guy had left the bar before he slowly turned around to face her, his hair still tinged with red, but his expression softened. "Sweetness, what are ya doing here?" Ah. Fuck. Moment of truth. Just tell him the truth. Tell him you're here to see him! Before she could even open her mouth, Beetlejuice was looking her over, finally seeming to notice what she was wearing. Form fitting torn jeans, a black and white striped top and high heeled boots. "Damn, sweetness, you look good in my stripes!" His eyes trailed over her body hungrily, making a shiver jolt down her spine. "You know, you're missing something..." he took a step closer, his body less than a hair away from hers. 

"Wh-what's that?" She asked, cursing herself for her stammer. Without a word, he shed his leather jacket and set it on her shoulders, his smile only growing at the sight. The jacket swamped her small frame, but she didn't hesitate to push her arms through the sleeves and pull it tight around her body. The smell of oil, leather, and smoke mixed with his own musk clung to the fabric and enveloped her - fuck, she never wanted to take it off and.. his hair was pink. A soft, cotton candy pink she hadn't yet seen before. 

----------

Holy fuck, god, satan, whatever - he never wanted her to take off his jacket. The sleeves were so long they covered her hands and the jacket was clearly much too big for her - but dammit she looked so good. He could just see it, her publically being his girl, riding on his bike, cuddling together on the couch, going on those stupid sappy dates he usually made fun of - always in his jacket, her hand in his. Fuck, he had it bad, didn't he? He was in some serious trouble here, he couldn't go getting all mushy for her like this. If she wasn't into him for sex she definitely wouldn't wanna be the subject of his stupid lovey lovey affections. 

"Hey, Slick?" His head snapped up as she began talking, this time he was the one stumbling over his words as he rushed to answer her. 

"Y-yeah babes?" 

"Your hair is pink, what does that mean?" Huh? Fuck.

[snorlaxlovesme]

Loathe You/ Love You

The 38747 times Maka and Soul hated each other and the 0 times they actually meant it.

I’m trying to imagine explaining to a-month-ago me that it would take a literal quarantine to get me to start writing regularly again. tbh I think past!me would have believed it

there’s no plot to this or anything. it’s only the beginning of what I assume to be 3 weeks worth of drabble-dumping. so here’s some domestic SoMa. lightly edited. cheers.

---

She always burnt her toast. Always.

“Pleaaaase, Soul?”

“I’m not making you the literal easiest thing to make in the world! It’s BREAD and HEAT, Maka!”

She laid her face down on the counter and groaned loudly. “But you make it better!”

He hated her. How was it fair that everyone considered his meister to be one of the smartest and most capable people at the Academy when she sucked at the simplest tasks? He couldn’t even make fun of her in public for it because no one would believe him if he tried. She was Maka fucking Albarn. She was the top student in her class. She was a member of Spartoi. She helped save the world on the moon. She was pretending to cry into her arms because he wouldn’t make breakfast for her.

Soul rolled his eyes so hard it physically hurt. “Fine, I’m gonna show you. One. More. Time.”

Maka beamed. He hated her.

“First you turn the dial setting to three…”

---

“Stopppp!” Maka squealed, squeezing her eyes shut and slapping at Soul blindly. “I just took a showerrrr!!”

She could feel Soul’s fingers carding through her hair, still goopy from the gel on them. “It’s a good look for you! You’re not even giving it a chance!”

Maka kept her eyes closed, refusing to look at the awful things he must have been doing to her hair. “You’re gonna make it all crunchy like yours!”

“Yeah, but you’ll finally look cool!”

Their bathroom was too small for her to have many places to run without falling into the bathtub. She felt around the counter for her hairbrush but Soul was too smart for her. He’d hidden all her potential weapons before he started his hair product assault. Maka was tutoring NOT students in less than an hour and she needed to get READY, dammit.

She peaked one of her eyes open, but he spun her dramatically with a cackle before she could catch more than a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.

Was it worth him to punch him in the gut? She felt him begin to slick her hair UPWARDS and decided it was.

Her punch was more of a dramatic poke, right in the center of his tummy, but it had the intended effect of slowing down his attack and turning his demented cackling into uncontrollable giggles.

“Stop—Maka stop, no that’s not fair—I GIVE UP I’M SORRY—” he cried, hardly containing his breathless laughter.

Maka harrumphed in victory and turned around to see her reflection. She caught Soul Eater’s look of fear above her head before he ripped open the door and ran.

Maka levelled her gaze with her reflection. She allowed herself three serene heartbeats. Then she tore after him.

She HATED him.

---

Soul lay very still on the couch.

“You’re not gonna touch my butt, are you?”

The blush on her face was worth it. She scowled at him. “Could you be serious for one second?”

“What, pray tell, about this situation is serious?”

“I wanna know if I can do it!”

“Look, we’ve already gone over that you’re very strong. I never argued with you about it! I don’t see what this is proving.”

Maka puffed her cheeks out in determination.  Soul sighed in resignation.

“I want. To know. If I. Can. Do. It.”

“Fine!” Soul waved his arms flippantly. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Stop moving, then! You said you’d be dead weight.”

Maka squatted in front of him on the couch, steely gaze fixated on him in determination as she slipped her arms beneath his bent knees and behind his shoulders. Soul closed his eyes and shot his tongue out of the side of his mouth to look the part.

“Stop trying to make me laugh,” she said with a grunt. “That’s not even how dead people look and you know it.”

“I could stab myself if you wanna make it look more realisTIC—” Soul’s voice shot up an octave when he felt himself rise from the couch. Holy shit. She was really doing it!

He dropped his “dead” act and opened his eyes so he could see Maka’s red face. He pretended he wasn’t seriously impressed and idly reminded her to breathe as he felt himself levitate another few inches from the furniture. She puffed a hot breath into his face that he ignored because he was rising higher and higher, her grip on his shoulder turning into straight-up claw marks.

When Maka finally rose to her full height with her weapon cradled in her arms they were both cheering.

Soul almost forgot how annoying she was, right until she unceremoniously dropped him back on the couch and collapsed dramatically on top of him before he could complete his second bounce. Then he remembered how much he hated her.

---

“I feel violated! No, worse, I feel used.”

“Come on, Soul, you know I didn’t mean it like that!”

“How else could you have meant it?! You literally called me ‘useful’!”

“Poor choice of words?”

Soul was many things! He was a great partner, a skilled pianist, an incredible artist, the best toast maker Maka knew, etc. There were many wonderful qualities about him that she adored, and she told him on a daily basis, as was custom of friends and partners. So why not praise him on this other, handy talent he had? Maka was pretty sure anyone else would think it very sweet of her to acknowledge his abilities like that.

“Nope, I’m not transforming for you. AGAIN. If you want your phone back so bad you shouldn’t have dropped it in the first place.”

“You sound remarkably like my dad when you speak sometimes, you know that?”

Well now she definitely misspoke. If Soul was huffy before, now he looked straight up maniacal. He left the kitchen in a fit of rage while Maka stared forlornly at the space between the stove and the fridge, too slim and far back for her arm to fit through, but maybe not too small for someone else.

“Fine!” she called, letting her voice echo from the kitchen to the living room. “I thought that maybe my KIND and GENEROUS partner would want to help out his meister, but I guess he’s too busy.”

Silence.

Maka glared over her shoulder once before calling out idly. “Only HANDSOME and SWEET weapons are thoughtful enough to help out their meisters in their times of need!”

“Not working! You’re still a jerk!”

Maka didn’t want to have to do this. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I guess I could ask HARVAR.” She heard Soul rustle. “I know he’d be COOL ENOUGH to come help me get my phone. In fact, he might be the COOLEST—”

Maka almost had to duck from how fast Soul was flying towards her, turning end over end in his scythe form. She snatched him from mid-air with a smile.

“You’re so predictable,” she said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Soul grumbled.

She turned him over and stuck him in the crevice, shuffling her phone towards her with his handle until it was close enough for her reach down and retrieve. Soul was already transformed before she stood back up.

Maka wrapped her arms around him in a snuggly hug she knew he did not appreciate. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Best?”

“Coolest,” she corrected.

Soul finally smiled. Maka tightened her grip and lifted him a few inches off the floor, just to remind him she could.

“Haaaaaate you,” he said as he kicked his dangling feet out for purchase on their kitchen floor.

“Love you, too!”

[tourism-pages-of-colorado]

How to Hockey Skate Like a Pro

Thank you to the players, coaches and parents who submitted their top skating tips in the last couple weeks.

Rhymes, hand signals, games and more all add to the fun while improving skating skills. Read on for a sampling of tips.

Rhyme & Reason

When skating backwards kids have a real tendency to look down at the ice. This inevitably leads to a loss of balance and the player falling. To remind kids to keep their heads up, I’ve learned this little saying that works well:

“Look at your toes, land on your nose!”

The kids recite it and it seems to work.

–Andrew, Coach** **

The ‘Model’ Skate

To emphasize heads-up skating and a proper skating stance with bent knees, along with isolating the legs and thighs for power, I have the kids line up at the goalie line and skate the length of the ice with one of their gloves on their heads! This is very tough to do, but the kids love the challenge and at the same time it is teaching them to keep their head up, knees bent and skate using their lower body. The first person to skate end to end without losing the glove on his or her head wins a pizza! I learned this drill at Heartland Hockey camp from an instructor we call “Hollywood.”

–Jon, Coach

Instant Feedback

Give skaters immediate feedback on the quality of their knee bend while striding. As we all know, developing skaters will occasionally go through spells of skating with their legs far to straight or an exaggerated waist bend. To help correct poor skating posture in a timely manner, coaches and parents can use visual clues for the skater rather than having to stop or slow the skater to a conventional speed.

A hand placed on the head will remind a skater to keep her head level while skating.

Patting the top of the head will clue in the skater that he’s too tall and needs more knee bend.

A hand to the chest will communicate to the skater that he needs to keep a big chest while skating backwards rather than an exaggerated bend at the waist.

Visual clues give immediate feedback to the skater while minimizing down time. There is no stigma attached (like when coaches pull players out of a drill for not doing it correctly) and allows the skater to develop a feel for the correct skating posture as compared to a poor one.

–Brad, Coach

Dryland Matters

I asked my Grandpa, Chuck Grillo, for his best skating advice. The tip is: Ultimately off-ice training is the difference maker. Professional mentors and scouts have known this for years. Once the technique fits your body physiologically, your goal should be to get bigger, quicker, stronger and faster. Technique should be repeated in warm up drills.

This is a simple, but not easy process. Jump, sprint, lift and skate on the same day and you have four different muscle groups, with four different ranges of motion, working and growing together. The end result is a bigger, quicker, stronger, faster skater capable of acquiring all of the agility and mobility skills incorporated in to the drills required for success. This also gives you a psychological advantage on your opponent in life knowing you paid a bigger price to succeed. Injuries sustained during competition heal quicker.

–Monique, Player, Age 11

The Walk-and-Chew-Gum Concept

My son learned early that the most important thing about power skating and hockey is this: To be able to skate with your bottom half and, at the same time, using your upper body to control what happens on the ice. Basically, the walk-and-chew gum concept of hockey. We had to train his bottom half to work differently from his top half. So I had him work with a skating instructor to help him work on this. I see so many hockey players that stop skating when they have the puck, so being able to skate while having the puck increases players enjoyment plus increases goals.

–Jeff, Parent

You Can’t Score If You’re Not on the Ice

I think the most important tip that I learned was that you have to fight through the exhaustion in a game. I learned this from my dad and used this advice in a tournament. There were only two minutes left in the championship game and we were down by one point. We beat the same team the day before, but this day they came back stronger. My line was on the ice. Everyone was exhausted. My team had the puck and was going up the ice. I thought about going to the bench, but then I remembered my dad telling me that even if you’re tired you should fight through the pain. So I skated up the ice with my teammates. One of my teammates passed me the puck, and without having time to think, I scored! The game was tied and we went into overtime. Now, the whole team had energy! A few minutes later, another one of my teammates scored and we won the game! I’m really glad I didn’t take myself out of the game!

–Rachel, Player

**Go For It! **

I learned from my mom and dad to skate hard and extend my stride. It has helped me a lot this year mom, and made me faster and helps when I am trying to outskate someone with the puck and score my team a goal. I told the other kids to try it, too, and it helped us all score lots of goals for the team.

–Wyatt, Age 8

Character Counts

The No. 1 skating tip I learned and taught to my two boys over the years was in Brett Hull’s acceptance speech into the Hockey Hall of Fame: “Have fun playing the game or it isn’t a game anymore. And it doesn’t matter how many goals you score on the ice, it is what you do off the ice that counts.”

–Trent and Tammy, Parents of a PeeWee and Bantam

A ‘Holy Cow’ Moment

I had a “holy cow that’s simple” moment when I was helping with an early bird session for Mites and Squirts. A coach was telling the kids how to do a power turn. He told them to just bend the knee on the side they wanted to turn to and straighten the other leg. It worked for all of them, the first time.

–Steve

**Limbo **

Teach them to do the limbo on ice! Instead of bending over backwards to go under the bar, use the proper stride stance to go under the bar (a pretend bar will do). Then mark it out where they need to do it in a certain number of strides, not too many not too few.

–Kris

Quick Start

My older sister told me that the first three steps make a huge difference in your stop-to-start speed. Those three quick steps can change your game.

–Jenny, Player, Age 13

**Flat Blades **

Keep your blades flat on the ice when performing turns to give better control and maintain your speed. I learned that from Shjon Podein.

–Charlie

Catch an Edge

Analyze and visualize how to get the best use of your edges.

–Mark