#job hunt griping

[telanana]

so, I've started looking for a job because it's well past time for me to have one and I just have one minor, teeny-tiny, very small gripe about job listings

why the FUCK is something like being a lawyer or nurse practitioner listed as "entry level" do you people not understand that I am looking for things that don't require years of highly-specialized training and an expensive degree????

[sablegear0]

Wow I actually just turned down a contact from a recruiting agency. A younger me would probably not have done that.

But a younger me would definitely still have been annoyed by getting "hey come join our team can i connect you to our manager on whatsapp?" texts unprompted at 7:30 pm.

I had to pry what source this person got my info from out of them and they kept trying to close on the link up between answers. Like bruh. No. You contacted me unprompted from a source I haven't updated in AGES and am no visibly active on. In the late evening. Go away.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

The night we met ♡ Sam Winchester

As a young girl it was drilled into you to never be alone in the woods.

As a woman the same sentiment was echoed.

But as a hunter, you found that that warning couldn't be one that you listened to. For the sole reason of what if there was a young girl or a woman in the woods at the mercy of the very things that you were trained to hunt. Trained to kill.

You'd been a hunter for as long as you could remember, grew up on the road with your mother. Never went to a real school or met anyone your age. It was just the two of you.

Untill it wasn't.

One particularly bad hunt with a nest of vamps left you to mourn the loss of your mother, and you were alone.

And that's how you stayed.

That's how you liked it.

Sure you came into contact with men, it was always men, who thought they knew more or were better than you. But you were still standing, and they, well they were not.

Life expectancy wasn't particularly high in your line of work, it would be a miracle of you made it to your 30th birthday. It seemed that hunters either died young or seemed to live forever. You didn't know what was worse.

That being said, the earlier option seemed very likely right about now.

You were alone in the woods, in a deep fog, after killing three vamps.

It was dark and there was probably other creatures lurking in the shadows, knowing your luck there would be a vamp nest right around the corner.

What made matters worse is that the exit wasn't exactly clear. You'd lost your map, couldn't hear a road, and (rather inconveniently) there was no sighn posts anywhere.

All you could do is walk in a straight line and hope that you were going in the right direction.

Hope.

You knew the irony.

Hope wasn't worth much. Hope was a damn sure way to get yourself killed. Hope was for young girls who wished on stars, but after learning the myths behind them you had lost faith even in the night sky.

Hope wasn't somthing you would bet your life on, yet you had no choice. It was better than a prayer you supposed.

Suddenly you became aware that your footsteps weren't the only noise in the darkness. There were voices.

Two distinct low voices. Voices of men. Why was it always men?

Familiar warnings rang through your head. You knew it wasn't just monesters you were to be afraid of, sometimes there are more sinister things that lurked in the darkness. Sometimes death wasn't the worst fait to face.

Your hand griped tighter around your knife, your free hand rested on top of your gun.

The voices stopped after a rush of feverish whispers.

You were going to do something stupid.

"Who's there?" You shouted, trying to sound as stoic as possible. If they didn't know you were there they sure did now, along with anything else lurking in the shadows. It really was a stupid decision, but making stupid decisions was part of the job description and it had gotten you this far, or at least you were still alive to tell the tale.

"I'm armed and you've lost the element of surprise so why don't you do us both a favour and stop hiding!" You shouted once more, slightly more urgently this time, even you could hear the slight panic in your own voice.

A tall figure emerged from the shadowy fog, arms raised in surrender. He was tall, almost abnormally so. 'Go for the legs if necessary' you mentally told yourself, just incase he want so friendly. He took slow, purposeful steps towards you in an attempt not to frighten you, you appreciated the gesture but it did nothing to settle your concern.

As he drew closer you could look him in the eyes. And that's exactly what you did. His eyes were Hazel, almost green with a touch of gold with a sense of softness and sensitivity about them. It felt like you were reading a book, being continually drawn in till you don't even rember who you were before you picked it up. Looking at him gave you a sense of comfort you hadn't expericed before on the road. It was nice. It was terrifying.

You cursed yourself for staring too long.

"Who are you?" You questioned, bringing the tip of your knife to rest against the base of his neck, the blood from the vamps, which still coated the blade, sticking slightly to his neck. He stopped in his tracks, his arms still up in surrender.

He looked unfazed, he looked as though he understood.

"My name is Sam winchester and I'm a-" he began but you cut him off, realisation hitting you.

"Winchester? Where's your brother?" You asked lowering your knife. You knew they hunted together, and you didn't want to be ambushed unwittingly my the other.

"Hi sweetheart." Another figure said as he sauntered out of the thick trees.

You rolled your eyes at his remark, making a menal note to stay clear of him if your able to.

You could tell that the one that approached you was the younger of the two, Sam as he introduced himself, the boy with deamon blood, or at least he was.

Meaning that the older of the two, and shorter, was Dean who, unsurprisingly, greeted you slightly condescendingly.

You turned your attention back to the brunette just as he began to speak.

"Wait how do you-?" He asked suddenly, slightly confused but also a hit of relief in his voice.

"Bobby is aways talking about you boys, I mean every hunter knows about you and your serious fuck ups, but Bobby keeps saying I should catch you boys and work with you or whatever but-" you rambled on before the younger winchester cut you off.

"You know Bobby?"

"Everyone knows Bobby."

"Wait so you must be-"

He was about to say your name before, who you assumed to be Dean, cut him off.

"Yes yes nice to meet you and whatever but Sammy and I have more pressing issues to attend to." He said with a wave of his hand ushering his brother over. Only Sam didn't move. His eyes were still fixed on yours. Your eyes still on him.

"I killed the three vamps if that's what you're doing out here." You commented, directing your answer to Sam.

He furrowed his brown in confusion.

"Three?" He asked, slightly taken aback.

"Yeah?" You responded, worry consuming you. You didn't miss one did you? You didn't make a mistake, did you? Everything was so matriciously planned out surely you couldn't have-

"We thought it was just a brother and a sister." Sam interrupted your thoughts, placing a strong hand on your shoulder. He clearly read the panic on your face, it was like he'd known you your whole life. His hand on you seemed to ground you, help you think, but it made you feel almost dizzy. It was an unfamiliar feeling, a feeling you weren't sure if you liked it or not. Regardless of the fact you relished in his touch as you composed yourself enough to explain what you knew.

"No they were hunting with their father, it seemed like this town was their first solo hunts, but it all lead back to him."

Sam finally turned away, his hand falling from your shoulder to look at Dean, in response he simply nodded his head to the side. There was some sort of unspoken communication between the two.

You felt left out. You longed to know what they were thinking. You specifically longed to know what the taller of the two was thinking.

"You're sure there's no more?" Sam asked as he turned to face you once more.

"I know that there are no more that are killing people in this area, that's good enough for me."

He just nodded in response.

"Well I guess that means we're done here," Dean commented clapping his hands together, "you crazy kids what to get out of here, maybe get some pie-"

"Shut up." You cut him off. It wasn't beacsue you were opposed to getting out of the woods, quite the opposite. But you heard something or at least thought you did.

"Sweetheart, I can tell you like my brother here more than me but there is no need to be-"

"Be quiet." You cut Dean off once more as you strained your ears again, you heard another rustling sound coming from near by. You gripped your knife tighter, your thumb drawing small circles on the hilt.

Turning in the spot to get a better gauge of your surroundings you clocked both of the winchesters expressions, they heard it aswell.

"You said it was a father and his two kids right?" Sam asked poised, now holding a large knife of his own.

"Yeah," you responded in a hushed whisper.

"Any sign of a mother?" He asked hurriedly, voicing the one thing you hoped not to be true.

Shit.

You hoped you would stumble onto another hunter, but you knew this time you wouldn't be so lucky. It had to be the mother and you cursed yourself for mot even considering her.

"Sam-" you began but were quickly cut off by a figure charging from the shadows.

She was fast, but worst of all she was smart. Thats probably why none of you picked up on her.

She launched herself at you first, the well known glint of vengeance alight in her eyes. "You killed them you bitch, you killed them all!" She sceamed in your face as you tried to bring your knife up to decapitate her.

But she was fast and her clawed hand dug into the wrist where your knife was Sam and Dean rushed to your side but they were quickly pushed away, falling on the ground too far away to reach you.

"Was this the blade that killed them?" She asked as you struggled against her, "didn't even have the decency to kill me aswell?"

Blood was gushing from your wrist from her claws as she twisted your own blade towards your chest.

From the corner of your eye you could see Sam pushing himself off the floor, disappearing into the fog.

Logically he was leaving you. He didn't know you. It was in his best intrest to get his brother and go, regroup and hunt tomorrow. You know logically that's what he was doing.

But something inside you told you otherwise. Something in your head was telling you that he was coming for you. That he would save you. That you just needed to stay alive for a few more moments.

It was more than hope that you had. You knew Sam was still there. You knew he wouldn't leave you.

You could feel your knife pressing against your rib cage, you were no where near as strong as her, you tried pushing back with all your might but it was no use.

You felt the blade as it began to draw blood. You felt the pain of the rapidly growing wound. You felt yourself slowing begin to loose grip on the world around you.

"Oh I am going to enjoy watching you die." The vamp said, her words venomous against your ear.

"Not as much as I'll enjoy this." As voice said from behind the vamp.

It was Sam.

Her was there, knife above his head as he swung it round.

The vamp was quick, but she wasn't quick enough to avoid the blow of Sam's knife as he swung it and swiftly decapitated her.

Blood splattered on you as you let out a sigh of relief. Sam was here.

Sam saved you.

Sam winchester saved your life.

You wanted to run to him but the corners of your vision blured. You were dizzy. You couldn't see. You couldn't stand.

"Sam..." you managed to whisper as the world fell from beneath your feet.

You felt two strong hands wrap around you and lower you slowly to the floor. Your head rested against something sturdy, something warm.

"Hey look at me I'm here," a voice said, it was muffled, distant almost.

"You need to just hang on for me, keep your eyes open okay?" The voice asked of you and you nodded or it at least felt like you did. Your vision was blurry but your eyes were open.

"Dean hurry!" Sam shouted, panicked. Sam was holding you. Your head was against Sam's chest and you were resting in his arms.

You tried to sit up but a sharp pain shot throught you. "Shit." You mumbled, you looked down and saw the knife still in you. It was deeper that what you first thought, but it can't have been that bad you could breathe fine, it missed your lung. You were fine, right?

"Sam?" It came out as more of a question, you didn't want to admit it but you were scared.

This is how your mother died in your arms, did she feel like this too? Was she scared? Did she know she was going to die, or did she foolishly think she would live?

"Hey, hey," Sam stroked your hair soothingly, "I'm right here love, I'm not going anywhere okay?" His touched seemed to ground you, soothe you.

"Dean is coming back with medical supply's, your going to be okay."

"Okay." You replied, all you could do was look at Sam. Even when he was blurry he was beautiful. Even when it felt like the world was going dark his eyes were bright as ever.

Thoes were the last things you rember seeing before the world went black, and you finally understood why so many people warned you not go out in the woods alone.

♡♡♡

Anybody want a part 2?

[dreamywriter143]

My Dearly Detested

Status: Prologue (7 part Mini-Series, 0/7)

Genre: Enemies to Lover troupe, Angst, Rude Neteyam, Comforting Lo’ak, some fluff, Romance, violence.

Warnings: Depictions of blood, Battles and cursing. Rude Neteyam😭. Reader is older then Neteyam by 1year.

Parings: Neteyam X Y/n (Reader)

Summary: Neteyam hates Y/n. He never liked how she always bested him in everything and never once sought the praises he was accustomed to. She had no one, yet she had everyone in the palm of her hand. He despised her, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. The but happens when the RDA threat comes and Jake tasks her with watching his sons? Neteyam can’t help but grow a newfound hatred.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: I know I said I would post this after I finished ‘Precious Tsyeym’ pt1 and pt2, but I just couldn’t wait!! So I opted to post the prologue in the meantime. Enjoy!!

_________________________________________

“Where are you!??!” Y/n calls, desperately trying to track her way through the foliage around her. Her steps are rushed and hasty as she tries to make her way to the clearing. Her heart rate quickens at the thoughts flashing through her head.

Where was he? Why did he disappear? Was he injured? Is he safe?

Feeling her steps falter she takes a deep breath in. She had to find him, she had to make sure he was ok. A boost of determination causing her to steps to speed up as the leaves and twigs beneath her feet snap at the force she ran with.

Just as she makes it to the clearing a large stick smacks her on the head, with great amount of force causing her to stumble backwards. Her hand reaches up to rub the wounded area, feeling the sting of the hit. Groaning in pain she glares at the perpetrator who smirks upon eye contact. He griped the stick tightly, standing above her at the staggering height difference.

“You have to be quieter Y/n! You gave away your position and you were running around like a baby Talioang. Just because you are in a hurry, doesn’t mean you can forget all your training.” Tarsem teases, his tone playful yet it still had an edge. He was her teacher after all.

Y/n huffs out, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “I kinda panicked! You vanished. I thought you left me, or worse. Got hurt!” She argues, her lower lip jutting out at the thought of Tarsem hurt. He was like a brother to her. She wouldn’t know what to do if he got hurt.

Her eyes furrow in fear as Tarsem tosses the stick away, taking a step towards her. His eyes softened at her words but the smirk has yet to leave his face. He ruffles his hand through her locks, effectively removing some leaves that was struck in between them.

“I’m a great warrior Y/n. You gotta have more faith in your teacher. One day, I’ll be the Ole’tekayan’s right hand man! You’ll see” He beams at the thought, causing a smile to twitch at Y/n’s lips. Y/n knew of his dream, and she believed it would come true one day.

Despite being 16 years old, Tarsem was a a force to be reckoned with. His skills separated him from all the other children in his age group, rivalling some adults even. He was allowed on hunts and raids due to all his accomplishments. Not only was he a great hunter, but also a great teacher. He had many students who worshiped him. He had also already gotten many blessings from his elders, Jake Sully included.

They nicknamed him ‘Tarsem the wise’. He was calm, collected, and ruthless when need be. He was wise for his age, which the Na’vi were proud of.

Y/n’s eyes gloss over with admiration at the boy, the boy who was a man now. The very same boy who took her in under his wing to train, to become strong like him. She was grateful.

Losing her parents to the Great War , Y/n had been raised by Tarsem’s parents. Their families were really close, and when Y/n’s parents bravery cost them their life they in-trusted their only daughter to Tarsem’s parents. Granted they did a great job raising her, but so did the clan.

The Omatikaya banded together to collectively raise her, she learned how to weave from Naya’il, she learned how to mount a Pa'li by Ma’luk and she also received Tsahik trainings from Mo’at herself. Who was very fond of Y/n’s mother. The girl was raised with love and affection in many manners, that’s why she felt so compelled to become as strong as possible. To protect her people, her clan.

All that was remanning was being a warrior, which she always wanted to be, ever since she had bagan watching Tarsem show great promise. She wanted to become like him, be strong and noble on her own so the aching hole in her heart can be mended once she is truly happy. Truly gaining her spot amongst her people.

She felt as though if she achieved the most, she could feel closer to her deceased parents. Her father was a great warrior, known for his strength and bravery. And her mother was a great healer, Mo'at's student who had been just as great. She grew up hearing their praises, which only motivated the girl to make her parents proud. Thus gaining the love and fondness from within the clan.

Even Jake and Neytiri were fond of her, though busy with Olo'eyktan duties and taking care of their children, they always included Y/n for training and even dinners. That being said, Y/n was a very friendly child growing up. Everyone was her friend, everyone ended up becoming her friend. She had this calming air around her, letting those near her feel at ease. She was very close to Kiri, and loved Lo’ak thinking of him as her baby brother though he was only 2 years younger. Then there is-

“Tarsem?” A voice calls, stepping into the clearing. His expression of question quickly turned to that of distaste once his yellow hues handed on Y/n. Scrunching his nose in mild disgust. His eyes trail from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. He snorts in annoyance at the leaves that were caught within her locks and the mud splattered all over her body.

He averts his eyes quickly with a prominent scowl. As if the mere sight of her caused his entire mood to sour. He looks up at Tarsem, who was waiting patiently for his next words.

“I was looking for you. I didn’t know you were….busy” he says carefully, rolling his eyes slightly. Y/n looks down at the mud between her toes. Shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably. She didn’t know what she had done, but the eldest sons distaste for her was very obvious. It was as if he never tried hiding it. And she didn’t know why.

“I’m sorry Neteyam. I was training Y/n. Did you need me for something?” Tarsem replies casually, not noticing the underlying tension in the air. Neteyam huffs disapprovingly. He glares at Y/n, a sneer almost breaking through.

“Why are you training her? She cannot even wield a bow” he points out causing Y/n to flinch. She looks up, her eyes meeting those of pure hate. She swallows nervously. She wanted to respond back, but something about Neteyam’s eyes and the stiffness in his posture caused her mouth to clamp shut.

Tarsem’s tail twitches at his tone but he chooses to hold his tongue. He was speaking to the figure Olo'eyktan. The very leader he hoped to one day gain the respect of. Neteyam was already doing great at 9 years old. Being able to wield a bow and his precision being out of this world. He seemed to have inherited his mothers archery skills. He was already starting off so strong, who knew what he would accomplish as he grew up to become a man.

“Well, Y/n is my student. I’m obligated to train her. You didn’t state why you are here? Alone.” Taresem takes a step forward standing in front of a shocked Y/n. Squeaking at the sudden movement she keeps her head low. Not bothering to see how the eldest son of Toruk Makto would react.

“I was hoping to train with you. Father wishes for me to polish off my skills. I don’t see why you are busy with her when you could be with me. I’d give you far less trouble” Neteyam says calmly. Tarsem nods in understanding. He didn’t want to argue. If Neteyam wanted to practice with him he’d do so in a heartbeat.

Tarsem looks over his shoulder at Y/n who realizes her session with Tarsem had ended before it even started. Her eyes wide with sadness as she awaits his final orders. She couldn’t help but jut her lower lip out in a pout, her ears laying flat against her head.

“I’ll stay back with Neteyam. Please get home safely Y/n. I promise to make this class up to you” he says softly. Y/n nods mechanically. She doesn’t spare Neteyam a glance before she sprints away from the clearing.

Her eyes stung with embarrassment and anger. Who was he to talk about her like that? Regard her in such a way? What has she ever done to him? She was older, why didn’t he respect her? And why did he ruin her training session, the session she’s been looking forward to all week.

Angrily wiping her tears away Y/n marches her way home. The only home she knew of, Tarsem’s families hut. As she disappears she couldn’t help but feel the burning sensation of someones eyes on her.

She knew it was Neteyam. It was always Neteyam, always glaring at her as if her presence was of that of a pest. Y/n's eyes squint with determination. She didn’t care when, she didn’t care how long it would take. She vowed to become the best warrior possible, for her people. To honor her parents. For her family that raised her. And so Neteyam could maybe one day learn to respect her.

As a warrior of the Omaticaya.

———————————————————————

A/N: HIIII!!! I hope you guys enjoyed the prologue of ‘My Dearly Detested’. It’s going to be a 7-part Mini Series, where each part will be roughly 1-3k words each. I also have some information that you guys should know for the next chapter:

There is a 10 year time-skip from the Prologue to Part One

The ages will be: Y/n (20) is 1year older then Neteyam (19) and 2years older then Lo’ak (18). Kiri is also (18) and Tuk is (10). Tarsem (26) has a 6year age gap with Y/n.

[yumeka-sxf]

I was surprised we got another Yuri-focused chapter so soon, considering we just finished the Mole Hunt arc...but it was a good chapter nonetheless!

Chloe is a great character to help with Yuri's development, the reason being because she not only knows his true identity, but she also has known him for many years, as this chapter reveals. Unlike his superiors, Yuri seems more comfortable with Chloe, probably because she doesn't have authority over him, but she's also not afraid to point out his flaws. So yeah, I'm glad she's becoming a reoccurring character. Yuri really needs someone he can talk to with whom he doesn't have to hide anything from, but who also sticks with him despite knowing how cringe his personality is. I do hope we'll see more of Chloe bringing out Yuri's relatable side in the future.

Speaking of which, Twilight has Franky (and Sylvia somewhat) who fills this role for him - someone he can talk freely with who knows his true identity, but they also sense the goodness in him that he tries to hide. Yor, however, doesn't have anyone like this, at least not yet. Olka filled that role well during the cruise arc, but it's very unlikely we'll see her again. While McMahon and Shopkeeper know Yor's true identity, their relationship with her has been very business-like, not casual like Twilight/Franky and Chloe/Yuri. It almost seems like Melinda could fill that role for Yor, except for the important detail that she doesn't know Yor's true identity...OR DOES SHE???

Anyway, back to today's chapter, we find out that Yuri can also withstand getting hit by vehicles, and both siblings can smell/sense the other's presence!? And yet, a slap from Chloe hurt Yuri more than getting hit by a truck?! I would say that's too much, but I guess it's not that unusual for characters in shonen series 😅But I have to agree with Chloe on this line...

I also find it a bit sad that Yuri thinks Yor wouldn't like the idea of him having a girlfriend. I wish they discussed more about this, but it just goes to show that, as close as Yuri and Yor are, there are some very obvious things about each other that they don't know. Of course we as well as Chloe know that Yor would be happy if Yuri is happy with a girlfriend, or any friend really. But to Yuri, it seems like having an intimate relationship equates to not being diligent enough at his job, maybe? Or maybe he thinks Yor would see it as a betrayal of his dedication to her? Either way, he's flat-out wrong about that obviously. Hopefully he'll realize it someday.

I cracked up when we got the glimpse of all the Yor photos in Yuri's house 😂 I hope Anya visits his home one day...would love to see her expression about this! (also he names his attacks after Yor too, I can't 🤣)

Even though Yuri misunderstood what Chloe meant when she told him not to be so reckless, by the end of the chapter he did have a thought on his own about how getting rid of Loid would make Yor sad. Of course he tries to deny that by bringing up the gripes she supposedly had with him, and of course Yor, who's always so flustered about her feelings, can't straight up tell him that she likes/loves Loid. So back to square one I guess...?

But even though this chapter may turn out like the last one and just be a standalone that doesn't lead to the next big arc, I can't help but think it's hinting at a "Yuri discovers who Twilight really is" scenario. For all we know that could be the first identity reveal of the series. It makes sense since, unlike identity reveals among the Forgers, this wouldn't necessarily result in the series heading towards an end. Even if Yuri discovered Twilight's identity, he could choose to keep it to himself for a while and nothing else would change. I don't like to speculate too much, but I feel this is a possibility with all the "Yuri vs Twilight" mentions we've had lately.

As always, just gotta wait and see!

[dykedvonte]

i think you and also me see a lot of "what if anya kills jimmy" au fanworks

for you do you wish that concept get explored more like how they deal with jimmy's corpse and the critical understaffing and curly has to do both job of being the captain and autopilot or just fine and simple as it is?

I am gonna actually deal with it in the fic because my only gripe with these sort of aus is that they only seem viable after the crash?

Like I understand wanting justice for Anya or wanting Jimmy to be stopped early but it’s just not in anyone’s character at that point. Like she would protect herself but she’s not going to hunt him. As much as we like to joke that the others would condone it they wouldn’t, not that early. It’s part of their inaction and the commentary. As for the dislike I think they should put him in the cryo-pod. It would be poignant that he’s preserved, the only one who had to use the pods and it’s job is null and void. Him freezing and already being dead is so parallel to Curly burning and somehow living.

In cases I do think about it I feel like it would such an interesting turn of events. Like imagine the game but set from the events of Anya having to be in forced lock up. She’s confined to medical and Curly regularly visits her. She killed Jimmy and it opens making you believe she dangerous. It slowly shows how the crew treat her kindly and with understanding. Talk about her as a good nurse even tho Curly is feeling guilt that Jimmy has died. Most of his hallucinations are of Jimmy, flash backs to the same scenes but longer, perspectives we don’t see. It stops before the crash, Anya in medical telling Jimmy and the shot. Curly has to decide if he turns in Anya or creates a cover story. The Captain in him says he must follow procedure but the person he is feels the guilt he let it come to this. Not doing more to stop it. Stop him. I think he’s sits on the feelings he’s not upset with Anya in the slightest.

I think it’s so interesting that Anya is both in the place of Jimmy and Curly post crash but inverted in this scenario. Confined but slaps free, guilty but she is not haunted by it, quite the opposite. I think her thoughts would very introspective and reflective. She’s still concerned about the baby but a lot of that dread was also factoring in Jimmy’s danger.

[animedaddymilkers]

╰⊰✿´A Knightly Salary

╰⊰✿´characters: knight!Nanami Kento x princess!f!reader

╰⊰✿´summary: Nanami has been the knight assigned to protect you, the kingdom's beloved princess. But, as you start wandering off frequently, Nanami begins to gripe about how he isn't getting paid enough to perform such a taxing job. Perhaps there's other reasons...

╰⊰✿´tags: royal!au, mxf, eventual smut in later chapters, fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, blood, flirty banter

╰⊰✿´wc: 4k

💖reblogs>likes💖

Nanami rolled his head and held the back of his neck as his mouth pulled down into a deeper scowl. The tension in his upper body muscles was always so high. It was a wonder he didn't get cramps through his shoulders more often. Though it was hard not to be tense when the person he was being paid to watch always seemed to find a way to wiggle their way out of his view, no matter how much attention he paid or how strict he was with communication.

"Where could she have wandered off to this time?" The blond knight grumbled to himself as he scanned through the marketplace. He already looked in the green house, in the palace gardens, by the hidden pond behind the stables, and now his scouring meandered all the way into town just in search of you. Though his hunt turned up fruitless thus far, serving only to irritate him further.

This job should've been an easy one. All he had to do was play good watchman, make sure no one tried to kill you, and get paid. Simple as that. But no, his little princess had to keep running off on him. And how was he to be a good bodyguard to someone who kept disappearing of their own volition? He wouldn't have minded nearly as much if you would've just told him beforehand where you were going. That way, he would know where to follow you to. Though every time he requested you do exactly that, you assured him you didn't mean to become separated with him, you just followed where your attention was focused and then before you knew it, you were parted from him. Nanami scoffed at the excuse that replayed in his mind and rolled his eyes as he peered around market corners. He wasn't paid nearly enough to babysit.

The further he traveled into town and away from the castle, the more it raised his blood pressure. Just how far had you "wandered"?! His heavy boots scuffed along the stone path as it transitioned into the dirt trail that led into the forest outside the village. He used his training techniques to quiet his movement and listen for any other noises that surrounded him. There was rustling to his left. His head turned to follow the noise, only to find a bunny making its escape away from him. Hmph, the creature reminded him of a certain princess who kept escaping him. Little bunny needs to stop hopping away from me, he grumbled to himself under a haughty breath. Again there was noise; this time to his right.

Your locks of hair were swept back in the breeze and reflected the rays of sunlight shimmering through the trees. A sight that would've captivated anyone else who was lucky enough to witness. But for Nanami, it just made him stomp towards you faster. As usual, you were caught up in your own little world that you didn't realize someone was approaching you until Nanami grabbed your left wrist in his hand and addressed you gruffly under his breath. Only then did a shout fall from your lips and a feeble fist was raised; one that wouldn't scare off any wolves in this forest- be it the animal kind or the human kind. Ditsy little bunny, Nanami thought to himself.

"Kento!" Realization flashed across your face, but instead of fearing his scolding that was no doubt coming, a wide smile spread across your face as you bounced excitedly and gestured to the wicker basket hooked into the crook of your elbow, "Look! I found some rare mushrooms! And wax myrtle and blueberries! And some poison ivy plants but don't worry I marked the bush so no one touches it by accident…"

You rambled on with enthusiasm, either ignoring or just plain ignorant to his scowl. His grip on your wrist loosened, lest a bruise accidently form and he end up losing his job. Despite not getting paid enough, he doubted that he'd get paid anything if word spread that he was fired for hurting the beloved princess. Not to mention the guilt he'd feel for hurting someone as innocent as you. He spoke low and sternly as he interrupted your tangent of detailing the stream that you found on your travels, "Princess."

The word didn't seem to phase you as you talked about the potential pollutants the village was putting in the water source and ways the castle might be able to reduce them. Nanami sighed and tried just once more. This time, more stern and more commanding. "Princess."

The second time he grumbled the word, it worked and your mouth clamped shut, instead peering up at him with your wide eyes, a look that always had his demeanor softening pathetically. "Why did you leave the palace this morning without telling me? You only said you were returning to your chambers to change your clothes, so tell me why 30 minutes later your chambers were empty?"

"Oh, Kento, you were in my chambers? If I had known that I would've stayed there." A giggle left your lips as you teased him. You were clearly deflecting the question, but Nanami refused to falter, deadpanning as he waited for a serious response. After realizing he wouldn't drop it, you huffed in a pout, nearly stomping your foot to boot. "I just wanted to go exploring without you breathing down my neck! And…and you always say how you don't like the woods… I didn't want to bother you. I figured you could take a nap instead. You've looked awfully tired lately."

Now, you were just plain reaching. The first sentence about exploring he believed, anything after that was you attempting to come up with a decent excuse. It was Nanami's turn to huff as he rolled his eyes. He always looked tired. But perhaps that could be chalked up to having to chase after his little hopping bunny princess. Hell, he should just quit this job and let some other schmuck who would fall for the way your eyelashes batted innocently have this job. Though every time he became serious about finding employment elsewhere, he was painfully reminded by the Knight's Guild that leaving a position before being reassigned was forfeiting his rank. And for some reason, you lavished your praise for him to the king, meaning Nanami wouldn't be reassigned for the foreseeable future. Maybe if a war broke out… or maybe if he just ignored your batting eyelashes…

"Did I upset you, Nanamin?" Your words stirred him from his solitary thoughts. Ugh, that stupid nickname. It made his chest tighten and his blood boil. Or some other emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint, he wasn't sure. What he did know was that your voice was so soft; it reminded him of a fresh winter's snow and he found the question more difficult to answer than it should have been.

Another sigh left his broad chest and he shook his head while retaining his steadfast expression. "You just worry me when you disappear. I've told you time and time again I don't care where you go just so long as you tell me, princess. Whether I'm tired or not is no concern to someone of your rank. My duty is to protect you and that's what I intend to do, your highness."

He didn't miss the way your nose scrunched up at his use of the formality; he knew you hated it when he used them. It brought the faintest bit of a smile to his face before he took your full scavenging basket from your smaller arms to carry it for you. He plucked one of the fungi out of the basket and held it up between the two of you. "Now, tell me about this mushroom."

"That one's poisonous." You said blankly before breaking out in a fit of laughter at his shocked reaction. "I'm kidding! It's just a shiitake mushroom. It's good for cooking in soups!"

You were going to be the death of him, he swore it. After Nanami's heart rate calmed once again he scowled as he listened to you continue to talk about the mushroom he picked out. The blond knight definitely could never say that you weren't knowledgeable. You knew more about forestry and scavenging than he did and he had to live in the forest during the War. The relationship between the two of you was complicated. Nanami detested your flight risk behavior and crude jokes at his expense, but he also enjoyed when the atmosphere between you was so casual as it was presently. He could talk openly around you and you around him. That much was revered in this odd wolf and bunny chase the two of you kept playing.

In the weeks that passed from your last bodyguard-free excursion, you really tried to be more mindful when you wanted to go. Despite this, everytime you expressed your desire to explore with Nanami, he shut it down. One day he wrote you off saying it was too warm out; another was that it had rained the night before. All things that didn't quite have very much to do with your safety. Still, you were determined and your cabin fever drove you to pester him further, hoping he would break at some point and at least meet you in the middle somehow.

"Can we go to the river today, Kento? I'd like to pick some blueberries that grow on the banks there." You questioned gently, knowing that Nanami always required a base question, along with a reasoning for the question in order for him to even consider the request.

His brown eyes met yours as he looked up from his solo game of chess. The expression on his face was almost one of confusion, as if he couldn't understand why you weren't content with staying indoors again, for the umpteenth day in a row. An eyebrow raised as he took in the sight of you, already dressed as if you were going out and the eyebrow then pulled down into his typical disapproving scowl. "I'm afraid the locals have reported the bugs have been quite bad in the recent days, princess. I'd hate to see your pretty skin all bit up by the pests."

It was your turn to scowl at his pathetic reasoning for not going out. You don't even think he talked to any of the townsfolk in the past few days, so how was he informed about the populace of bugs?! Not to mention, he very well knew that you could concoct a mixture to ward off the little creatures. "I'm sure they won't mind me any. I have a spray that deters them from pestering me. And I can make enough for you as well! Please, Kento, I haven't been outside the castle walls in so long…"

"No," He sighed and tried to turn his attention back to his game before continuing gruffly, "I've decided it's in the best interest of your safety that today you stay within the castle. I'm sure you could stand to have more etiquette lessons in the meantime, your highness."

His backhanded comment made you pause in the middle of the room and look at him with a sour expression. It was well known around the kingdom and surrounding lands that you weren't a…traditional princess in the sense that the stuffy manners and ways of the court just weren't for you. All things considered, your parents supported your decision and your free spirited personality. Though in recent months, they'd found it increasingly difficult to find a suitor for you, as if that really mattered to you. Your heart only had sights for a certain blond knight, not some nauseating prince from a foreign land. But it mattered to your parents, as the heads of the kingdom and the ones responsible for seeing their lineage live on. So, Nanami's comment only stung further, knowing full well that your parents gently pleaded with you to at least act more formally around the potential suitors.

The saddened look on your face made his jaw lock, and a pang of guilt spread through his chest at the fact that he was the one who caused you pain. But, it was the truth, and he wasn't one to shy away from that. You needed to act more properly in order to find a husband and take over the kingdom. Realistically, you didn't need a husband to take over the kingdom, but for Nanami's sake, he'd feel more reassured if you were married off. Married off and extra unattainable to him. As if you being a class above him wasn't enough. Apparently, that didn't matter to the organ in his chest that tightened, regardless of your position, every time you smiled at him. Perhaps that was a reason he purposely scolded you and went out of his way to pain you. Perhaps…perhaps if you weren't smiling at him, his emotions would solve themselves. He wasn't sure, but for now, he was content with being the big bad wolf, just in case it did work.

The days continued to pass in the same fashion: you begged to go out only for Nanami to again shoot you down in some way or another. He succeeded in forcing you to take more etiquette lessons with your tutor, much to your chagrin. You by no means enjoyed the lessons, but if it meant Nanami wouldn't be upset with you, you would suffer through them. Though, with each passing day, your adventurous side grew more impatient. You longed to feel the wild grass on your feet, as opposed to the ridiculously manicured grass inside the castle walls. After one more denial from the knight that nearly drove you crazy, you decided to go above him in order to get what you want.

The lunch with your father had been planned for a while now and you saw it as the perfect opportunity to get what you wanted. For all intents and purposes, you were a daddy's girl through and through; your father would do anything for you, including going to war and burning down cities if it meant it would make you happy. It was just one of the reasons that you were able to keep Nanami in a position so close to you, thankful your parents didn't read further into your request of wanting the blond knight to stay as your bodyguard when all those before him barely lasted two months.

"How have your explorations been?" Your father questioned and you sat wondering what deity you needed to thank that he brought the very subject up first.

With an innocently sad look on your face, you played up the situation and shrugged in defeat, "Well, I haven't been on any lately… Though I've wanted to so terribly… Kento has said the conditions haven't been ideal. But I believe tomorrow should be a good day to venture out."

"Then so be it! Tomorrow you'll go out and have the adventure of a lifetime, I know it! Tell Nanami he'll be escorting you out all day." Your father declared matter of factly and you had to contain your excitement at the finality of the declaration. There was no way Nanami could deny you now!

After that one remark and your father's decree, Nanami had no rebuttals. There was nothing he could say after the king said he was to take you out. If he did find something to say that kept you inside, he'd be implying that the king was wrong about his decision and Nanami wasn't about to piss off the man in charge of his paycheck. And, he had to admit, when you came to him to inform him of the news, your confident and no bullshit attitude had that same tightening in his chest spreading and his pulse quickened. Nanami rationalized to himself that at least this trip would make you happy, and hopefully satiate your adventurous desire for the next few months.

Now, you were trotting through the woods as Nanami shuffled behind you, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else than here. But, he always looked like that. "Oh. Would you grab that pear for me, please Kento?" You pointed upwards, gesturing to the fruit in the tree that grew above your heads, far too high for you to reach. But Nanami reached it with ease, plucking it out of the tree and passing it down to you with a blank expression. His clear lack of enjoyment almost made you feel guilty for forcing his hand to bring you out, but you knew that if you hadn't, he wouldn't have let you out of the castle walls, probably ever again.

"Are you ready to return, princess?" Nanami questioned in a way that was clear he was trying to ask it gently, as if he was indifferent to the answer, but you saw through that. You had barely been in the forest for half an hour, the sun only scooting across the sky slightly, and Nanami was already not so silently begging you to return. It was now that you were reminded why you didn't ask permission for these outings and instead just snuck off on your own. At least then, you wouldn't have a large, moping knight nearly stepping on the back of your heels every two minutes. You'd much rather have him stomping towards you after a few hours of peace and suffering through the scolding on the way back to the castle.

None of the other guards had cared to scold you, or maybe had the gall to scold you. But that's what made Nanami different. You weren't just a princess made of glass and sitting up on a pedestal to him, though his scoldings made it seem otherwise. He saw you as human and you appreciated that more than anything else. On the other hand, more than the other guards, he was also increasingly aware of your position as a political figure and never refrained from reminding you that it was expected you act a certain way, even with your parents' lax view of etiquette.

"No, not quite, Kento. I'd like to find something in particular on this trip to the forest and I've yet to see it. Though it'd be foolish to assume I would see it only thirty minutes in." You stated rather dryly and used the last sentence as a formal jab at his impatience.

His lips pursed and you smirked to yourself after seeing that your comment did, in fact, hit home. "What is it that you're looking for? Perhaps it will go quicker if I aid you in looking for it."

"Mm, it's a rare fruit, a reddish berry but not a bright red. They usually grow close to the ground." You absolutely bullshitted your answer to him and although he briefly doubted you, he did begin to help you "look" for it.

"Is this it?" Nanami wandered through the woods, bending at the waist to analyze every bush that you passed by, sighing when it didn't fit your fictional berry description. You trotted along next to him as time passed by and you offered him other fruit to munch on in the meantime. "Ah, no that doesn't quite fit, Kento, but we'll keep looking!"

The entire day was spent together. Though conversation was few and far between, mainly about the fictional berry, the atmosphere between you two was still relaxed and casual. You felt at ease next to the hulking guard, although you knew he was only with you because he was being paid to be. The realization occasionally hit you and reminded you of exactly the nature of the relationship between you and your knight. If given the chance, he'd run far away from the palace so he didn't have to deal with your antics. Several times you had overheard him talking with his captain in the Knight's Guild about being reassigned to a different job and although it was selfish, you always prevented him from being put into a different job away from you. Though cliche, it was true, the princess always got her way.

After Nanami searched for the berry for hours, and you picked other various foods that you found, the two of you decided it was time to start heading back towards your home. As the sun dragged across the sky, you grew weary, yawning and shuffling your feet behind Nanami, who somehow still had energy. "Keep up, princess, we need to get you back to the castle."

"Mmm, I'm trying, Kento. I didn't think we'd walk this far. Usually I stop in the middle of the day for a relaxing picnic." You grumbled and willed your feet to keep moving, though you ended up giving in and sitting yourself on a rock. Before you could call out to Nanami to alert him of your break, a low growl sounded out from somewhere in the darkness behind you. A squeak left you before you bolted up and began to run as fast as you could, frantically calling out to your protector in the meantime.

Hearing your screams, Nanami immediately prepared himself for the worst. The sword kept on his hip was unscathed and barred in front of him within seconds. He guided you behind him and braced for impact from the animal. The wolf ran straight towards him and took his blade on headfirst. You cowered in fear behind Nanami, your hands covering your face to hide the sight. Warm liquid splattered onto your skin, causing you to shake more violently. Grunts and growls from both sides rang out into the forest. Every sound of a hit and scratch made you cringe, fearing which side was on the receiving end. Only when you realized the wolf ceased growling did you remove your hands to glance at the sight.

Nanami stood before you, breathing heavily in the middle of the forest. His hair was disheveled from the fight and blood was splattered onto his skin and clothes, the same warm liquid you felt splash onto you. Laying before him was the giant wolf. You didn't know how you escaped from the creature unscathed but in the moment all that mattered was that Nanami was also uninjured. Rushing towards him, you needed to check for yourself that he wasn't hurt, cupping a hand to his cheek and looking him over.

"Little bunnies like you are perfect bait for wolves, you need to remember that, princess." His voice was gruff and so much more exhausted than it was before, though you could hardly blame him. Your eyes widened before the flood gates opened and you sobbed, hugging him tightly and nodding profusely.

"I- I will! I'm sorry!" You hiccuped into his chest and he rubbed your back soothingly before you pulled back slightly and asked in an almost demanding tone, "Are you hurt at all? Anywhere?!"

A soft chuckle thundered through his chest and feeling the reverberations had your cheeks heating up with an emotion akin to desire, but you chose to ignore that flame for now, "Don't you worry about me, princess. I'm just fine. Now let's get you home, yeah?"

You nodded in agreement and he sheathed his sword again before wiping your tears away and cleaning the blood off of your face. He was incredibly lucky that the wolf was a younger one, a more impulsive one. Had it been older and wiser…he didn't want to think of what it might have done to his princess. To shake the intrusive thoughts from his mind, he picked you up with ease, an arm beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. Using the event almost as a silent excuse to hold you close, he cradled you in his arms. The action made you feel so much smaller but yet, so much more protected. Welcoming the feeling, you embraced his touch and curled into him more as he began to carry you back towards the castle. The adrenaline wore off as the rhythmic feeling of Nanami walking lulled you to sleep and as he looked down at your sleeping figure, he felt that all too familiar tightening of his chest.

"Sleep well, little bunny. No more wolves will hurt you. Not as long as this wolf is around."

💖reblogs>likes💖

©animedaddymilkers ~{2023}~ you do not have permission modify, copy, repost, enter works into AI.

[lu-dao-writes]

— 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 (𝙈𝙝𝙞𝙣/𝙆𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙨)

｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ 🦢໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 Mhin finally lets their guard down thanks to a little push.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) hurt and comfort, stitches, arguing, mentioning of drinking to cope as well as having sex, crying, thigh riding/dry humping, hair pulling, afab!mhin, subby mhin that also gives switch vibes, maybe some oocness, maybe some bad grammar.

𝘼/𝙉 I love Kuras and Mhin as a ship, they just seem so cute, same with Mhin and Ais🥰. But sorry this took so long! Work is hard and tiring lol. | part 2.

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 job well done with the cost of a few scratches and a bruised noggin. But they get their pay from Leander, blow off his flirting attempts, and head off to Kuras’s clinic. Thankfully there’s no line and they walk right on inside.

Kuras is perched on his chair, his reading specs on as he reads his book.

Gold meets white and red and Kuras sets his book aside along with his glasses.

Mhin seats themself down with a soft groan and sheds of their torn cloak and shirt.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” Kuras asks calmly, setting out his needed instruments and solutions.

Mhin scoffs lightly. “Must I tell you when you already know? You do have a sick sixth sense of knowing stuff.”

Kuras doesn’t laugh nor smile at Mhin’s attempt of deflection. He sighs heavily and begins to disinfect the cuts. “I just thought you would tell me, is all…”

Mhin resists the urge to squirm at his disappointed tone, their belly twisting and knotting up.

They huff. “Got slammed into a wall and hit my head.”

“Thank you.” But he still sounds a bit disheartened, making Mhin itch and flounder for something to mend it.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Kuras adds, his tone back to being light, he’s even smiling a little now.

Mhin swallows, their pale face beginning to warm with the rush of blood. They say nothing, keeping their gaze trained elsewhere despite it being useless. They’re certain Kuras knows, because it’s seemingly virtually impossible to hide things from him.

Mhin continues to indulge Kuras by answering his questions regarding their hunt, what they do in the little free time they have, and about their curse… Mhin keeps their answers short and simple though.

They appreciate his care, but sometimes it’s too much. This overwhelming need clawing their heart. A want to be cared for.

Most days they’re capable of holding it back and mucking through it, but other days when they’re so tired and downtrodden it’s much harder.

Sometimes getting fucked wild and rough helps, aggressively hunting till they have no energy works too, and sometimes they just drink in the current place they’re lodging at and eventually cry themself to sleep.

They just wish Kuras would hurry up so that they can fuck off out of here already before they say something they’ll regret.

Suddenly they feel him squeeze their knee, staring at them with concern.

“You’re tense. Is something the matter?”

“It’s just the pain, I’m fine,” they grit out, avoiding his gaze.

Kuras frowns before focusing back on patching Mhin up, placing salve on the wounds and wrapping them up with bandages.

When Kuras begins to stitch up the claw marks on their shoulder he finally voices his thoughts. “Mhin, I know there’s something bothering you besides the pain, and I wish you’d trusted me enough to talk to me… You know I won’t say anything to another soul about whatever it is you tell me.”

Mhin clenches their jaw. It aches with guilt and frustration, feeling as though they’re being cornered.

“Kuras, what if I just don’t want to talk about it?” they gripe, giving him a weak glare.

“I understand,” he replies, his eyes casting off to the side, a shadow of uncertainty overcoming his face. “But I know you enough… You don’t like to talk at all, and bottling it up won’t solve anything.”

Mhin grips their knees and grinds their teeth together to hold back the poison in their mouth.

“And Mhin, you’re rather… Destructive when it comes to yourself,” Kuras continues.

Mhin scoffs and begins to slide off the the chair, but Kuras holds them back. “I’m not finished,” he informs gently but with a firm undertone, side eyeing them.

“Then just..!” they start loudly before sighing, their tone lowering. “Just stop pushing me… Please. Just stitch me up and I’ll be on my way.”

“Mhin, I’m not letting this go,” Kuras says firmly, stitching Mhin with elegant ease. “I care—.”

“You shouldn’t,” they blurt. “Don’t go giving me special attention. Just treat me as any other patient that comes in here and send me packing.”

They couldn’t have Kuras talking anymore. Mhin can see it. See how gentle and warm Kuras looks at them now. How far too fond it is for a hopeless case like them.

They need to cut it from the source, but it’s so hard too when this man has saved and done a lot for them, and is one of the few people worth a damn in Eridia.

“You’re more than just a patient to me,” Kuras implores, ignoring when Mhin bites out his name. “I care very much about you.”

“Kuras,” Mhin spits desperately.

“And you trying to deter me because you believe you deserve to suffer in silence does not mean I think you do, nor will I continue to let you.”

“Gods damn it!” they sob out, covering their face. “Why do you insist on caring!?”

“Why do you insist on believing you don’t deserve it?” Kuras throws back calmly, rubbing medicine on the stitches and wrapping up their shoulder up before taking Mhin’s trembling hand, rubbing circles into their pale skin.

“I will not be intimidated by any of your methods, Mhin. Please just trust me and let yourself be cared for. Trust me.”

Mhin lets themself cry, not pulling their hand away from his hold, even giving it a tentative squeeze, and Kuras in return bring their hand up, his lips kissing yellowed bruised knuckles.

“Will you let me in?”

“F-Fine,” they mutter, pale eyes staring at Kuras’s kneeling form before looking off shyly with flushed cheeks.

Kuras’s lips curl into a slight mischievous smile at their shyness. “Excellent… Now talk to me.”

Mhin watches as Kuras leaves to wash his hands, giving them time to sort out what they want to even say to him. They get lost in thought that they shudder when they feel Kuras rubbing at their head delicately, checking for a bump or any blood.

“My head is okay. You know I’m a lot sturdier than I look…”

Kuras only hums but look relieved there’s no serious damage. But now he’s back to looking at them expectantly.

“You’re… You’re serious??” they balk, blushing harder.

The doctor chuckles warmly and continues gazing at them.

Mhin’s eyes voice around once more as they think, but they end up back on Kuras’s pristine and elegant form. He’s so… Big, and warm.

“I want… I want you to hold me. W-While I’m in your lap.”

Mhin hates anyone poking fun at their height, hates their delicate looking frame since it made them an easy target when all they want to do is avoid others. Sure, it does come in handy at times, but overall it’s irksome.

But… Sometimes it’s tiring to act big and tough all the time. They want to feel small just this once, especially since Kuras was so adamant about them being more open. Mhin wasn’t ready to spill their guts out, but they will ask for physical affection.

“Very well,” replies the doctor, ever so pleased.

They swap places and Kuras mostly lets Mhin settle into him at their own pace. They straddle his leg and hesitantly leans into him, arms bound close and stiffly into their chest.

Kuras, ever so patient, gently rubs Mhin’s back, letting his gaze move to and fro around his clinic before returning back to gazing at Mhin, finding their shy and stiff expression amusing and adorable.

Sometimes the two meet eyes, Mhin being the first to typically look away and hold their tongue.

Eventually though, Mhin’s muscles being to unwind, adjusting their arms so that they allow themself to hold onto one of Kuras’s arms and the other more so on his shoulder.

A soft breath leaves their lips as Kuras gently toys with their hair and the chance a look at him again, not surprised to see him shamelessly gazing back at them still, that all to pleased smile on his beautiful face.

This time they try to hold his gaze, their throat bobbing and cheeks remaining flushed as they admire him back.

It proves to be a slight mistake as they continue admiring him. Kuras is so elegantly beautiful, it’s almost unfair.

And his hands…

They’re perfect and skillful.

Mhin does wonder about the identical scars on his palms, but they haven’t dared to ask that, because like everyone, Kuras has his secrets just like they have theirs. Maybe one day they’ll inquire about them.

Mhin suddenly feels one of Kuras’s hand at their lower back, a finger dipped a little lower. It sparks a scandalous thought that has them hiding again, their face being smooshed into his chest.

Kuras’s chuckle fills the quiet air and Mhin stabs him internally.

“Mhin, what has you hiding from me again~?”

“It’s nothing,” they mutter, resisting the urge to tug his hair.

“Now, now, we were making good progress on being open,” he chides, startling them by pulling them closer.

A pleasurable little gasp leaves their lips, gripping Kuras tight.

Both stare wide eyed at each other, frozen and both flushed in the cheeks.

Kuras’s little movement had caused the perfect amount of friction on their clit.

Mhin trembles and then finally makes up their mind since that just happened.

Kuras opens his mouth, more than likely to apologize. “I did not—.”

“Do it again. P-Please,” they whisper lowly.

“If you’re comfortable-.”

“I am.”

Kuras swallows, golden eyes slowly turning into pools of onyx and tightening his hold on Mhin. He starts out slow, guiding Mhin’s hips and allows Mhin to tuck their face into his neck, Mhin only allowing little gasps and bitten back moans.

Although it doesn’t take long to sink into the haze of lust, not feeling so embarrassed at how soiled their underwear is from arousal.

“Mhin, let me hear you,” Kuras breathes, his typically composed voice now heavy with want.

Mhin ignores him in favor of marking up his neck and under his jaw, enjoying the hiss and shaky breaths from Kuras.

They begin to move their own hips on their own, chasing their impending orgasm. “Nngh…!” they moan out as they feel Kuras tug their short, silvery hair, their head snapped in his direction now.

“I said, let me hear you.”

Mhin bites back a curse but does as they’re told, their long lashes kissing the tops of their cheeks as their every moan and whine is drawn out from their lips.

“That’s it,” Kuras purrs, pressing a sweet little kiss to their cheek and underneath their ear.

They whimper, wanting to feel his lips on theirs.

“Kiss,” they pant, looking at him imploringly. “I want you to kiss me,” they demand.

“Anything,” he murmurs, kissing Mhin like a man starved.

Just as they thought, Kuras’s lips are so soft, so warm, and so bitable.

Kuras groans, feeling Mhin’s teeth sink into the flesh of his lip before their tongues collide together in a drunken dance.

Mhin’s hands then strike, grabbing ahold of Kuras’s ombré strands and yanks them, causing the man in white and molten gold to moan and buck his hips at nothing, a very prominent bulge in his pants.

They both pull away for air, a string of saliva connected from their lips as they stare deeply into each others eyes, maybe even into the other’s soul.

“I-I’m… I’m gonna c-cum.”

Kuras only gazes at them adoringly. “Cum, and don’t hold back.”

Mhin shatters, clinging to Kuras and letting ecstasy burn them from the inside out while Kuras kisses at their throat, shuddering at Mhin’s still tight grip on his hair.

Kuras continues kissing Mhin’s skin, letting them come down from their high, and when they do they kiss his jaw.

“T-Thanks… That felt good.”

“I’m glad to hear.”

Mhin glances towards Kuras’s bulge and they slowly slide off him, not missing how he tries to stop them.

“Let me return the favor..”

“That’s not necessary—.”

“Kuras, just let me suck your dick,” Mhin replies bluntly, staring at him with a blank stare with blushing cheeks, before working his belt off.

“If you insist,” he whispers before a soft moan follows afterwards.

[handwrittenhello]

Don't Look

T, 3k, no warnings, suspense and hurt/comfort

"Close your eyes!" Geralt yelled as soon as they came upon the nest, realizing what creature they were truly in the sights of. "Don't look at it!"

It was a rare occasion that Geralt let Jaskier accompany him on a contract, and rarer still that Jaskier was in any danger, and so Jaskier slammed his eyes closed, pressing his palms over them like a child playing hide-and-seek, and waited to be torn apart by sharp claws.

read on ao3 or continue below:

Jaskier couldn’t see.

He sniffed—his nose itched—and swore as he stumbled again, the toe of his boot catching on a protruding tree root that seemed, like every other fucking plant in this forest, determined to trip him specifically.

“Lift your feet higher,” Geralt coached him, his voice always maddeningly out of reach. It was his damn job to guide Jaskier out of the forest, and if Jaskier were feeling uncharitable about it—which he was, ow—he’d say that Geralt was doing a rather shit job of it.

Of course, it was only thanks to Geralt that he hadn’t walked off a cliff or into a nest of ghouls by that point, so Jaskier kept wisely mum.

“Easy for you to say when I can’t fucking see,” Jaskier griped, but did his best to lengthen his strides, feeling a little like a dog forced into a pair of woolen socks.

The reason for such a charade was the strip of cloth bound tightly around his head, brushing against his eyelashes whenever he twitched and obscuring his vision completely.

“How much farther?” he asked, hoping that the plaintive note in his voice didn’t translate as whining. But he was tired, he was stressed, and he’d really have rather been in town safe in the inn, away from the creature hunting them.

Hunting Jaskier.

It had caught his scent, as Geralt explained, latched onto him like a cat zeroed onto its prey, and it wouldn’t be satisfied until it got its meal.

But he was safe with Geralt—safe as long as he kept the blindfold on.

Geralt had yelled, “Close your eyes!” as soon as they came upon the nest, realizing what creature they were truly in the sights of. “Don’t look at it!”

It was a rare occasion that Geralt let Jaskier accompany him on a contract, and rarer still that Jaskier was in any danger, and so Jaskier had slammed his eyes closed, pressing his palms over them like a child playing hide-and-seek, and had waited to be torn apart by sharp claws with his heart racing.

He had stood there quaking, wishing desperately to flee but not knowing where to turn, while Geralt had grunted and yelled and swung his sword, finally succeeding in driving the creature off—but not killing it, he’d said grimly as he tied the scrap of torn shirt around Jaskier’s head. “It feeds mainly on fear,” he’d explained. “It’s already chosen you. If you lay eyes on it, it will never let your mind go. Most go mad with it.”

“Most?”

“The rest die of fear.”

Jaskier, who quite strongly valued his sanity and his life, thank you very much, kept the blindfold firmly in place as Geralt guided him out of the forest.

“A mile, maybe,” Geralt said in answer to his previous question. “Watch out, there’s—”

“Fuck.”

“—a branch,” Geralt finished lamely.

“You know, if you just carried me, that would be much less painful for all parties involved,” Jaskier complained, rubbing at his cheek where the branch had caught.

“I need my hands free,” Geralt repeated, as he had the other two times Jaskier had suggested it—the first jokingly, the second, so what if he wanted to feel a little like a damsel in distress?

“Well, there has to be a better way to do this,” Jaskier said crossly. “Instead of you warning me two seconds too late and me gaining numerous cuts and bruises.” Plus, he didn’t say, he was scared at their slow progress. The creature was still out there, tracking them, and it made his skin tingle with goosebumps to think that it was watching him stumble around like a fool, easy prey.

Geralt sighed, stopping in his tracks—something Jaskier discovered when he ran into his back with a small oof. “Here,” Geralt said. Jaskier felt something prodding at his hand—Geralt’s own gloved hand, twining between his fingers.

It did make Jaskier feel some small measure better, the assurance that Geralt was right there with him, even if he couldn’t see him.

“Much better,” he proclaimed, gripping Geralt’s hand tightly.

“Hmm.”

They continued through the forest, twigs snapping underneath Jaskier’s clumsy strides, but there were considerably fewer injuries on his part—with little tugs to his hand here and there, Geralt directed him around the worst of the obstacles in their path.

Jaskier couldn’t tell how far along they were, but it felt like a couple hundred paces later when he heard it. A crack, a snap, a scrape—something was behind them. He broke out into a cold sweat.

“Geralt,” he said tremulously, though of course Geralt had heard it. He’d probably heard it long before Jaskier, even.

“I know,” Geralt said, though he reassured Jaskier with a quick squeeze of his hand. “Don’t turn around. Keep the blindfold on.”

Jaskier swallowed. “Right. Easy. Just don’t look.”

“Just don’t look,” Geralt confirmed. “It can’t hurt you yet.”

Jaskier laughed, a wild, panicked thing. “That’s really not comforting.” His feet itched to go faster, faster, to outrun the thing slowly hunting them down.

“Easy,” Geralt murmured, like he did to Roach sometimes when she spooked. Jaskier would be annoyed, had he any room for emotions beyond terror.

“Mhm, look how calm I am. I’m totally calm. See how totally calm I am?” Jaskier rambled. “Definitely not thinking about how a terrifying massive monster twenty feet behind me could rip me to shreds at any moment.”

“It wouldn’t. They prefer to feed slowly.”

If Jaskier’s right hand were free he might have punched the witcher.

“Keep talking,” Geralt suddenly urged, such an odd request that it fully knocked Jaskier out of his terrified thoughts for a second. “Tell me about the song you’re working on right now.”

“Erm, well…” Jaskier began, then cleared the tremors from his voice. “It’s—it’s a canso, an adaptation of Master Osterwitt’s second collection of love poems…” He described the song so far, how he’d split it into four verses to complement the theme of the four seasons the poet lived through, how he’d altered the slant rhymes to be more accessible to the public listener, how he’d started out composing for lute but had then switched to harp, and was planning on presenting it to the famed Johanna of Murivel if she wished to perform it at the Oxenfurt Yule festival.

As he talked, he realized that the soft grass beneath his boots was thinning, giving way to the pebbled ground of the road into town. “Geralt? Are we almost there?” he asked, aching to rip the blindfold away and see the blessed sight of a town lit by lanterns and candles.

“Nearly. Don’t stop,” Geralt instructed, tugging him forward.

Pebbles scattered underneath Jaskier’s boots, their hiss and rattle covering up the sounds of the slavering beast behind them. He felt his heels tread upon wooden planks, and then heard the swing of the inn door on its hinges, followed by a wave of warmth caressing his face. It felt like safety given form.

Geralt led him forward, whatever crowd there may have been parting easily beneath the witcher’s gaze, as it always did without Jaskier there to grease the wheels of social interaction.

“Steps, thirteen of them,” Geralt instructed, pausing for a moment until Jaskier tentatively lifted his foot and began to climb.

“Can’t I just—” Jaskier started to ask, swiftly cut off by Geralt.

“No. Don’t take it off, not until it’s dead.”

Jaskier swallowed heavily. “You’re—you’re going back out there, aren’t you.”

“Yes.” Another door swinging open, this one to their room, judging by the acoustics. Geralt nudged Jaskier forward until his shins hit the soft give of a mattress, then pushed lightly on his shoulders until Jaskier turned and sat. “Stay here.”

Jaskier knew there was no use in arguing or begging Geralt to stay—yet he wanted to anyway. Instead, he looked up to where Geralt’s face would be and smiled wanly. “Be safe,” he said, as he always did whenever they parted.

“Stay here,” Geralt repeated, and then his heavy boots walked off, leaving Jaskier alone in the darkness, with nothing to do but wait for his return.

He breathed in deeply, then out, then swung his legs up onto the bed and settled back against the wall, fingers itching for his lute or his songbook. He knew it would only make a mess of things if he stumbled around like a drunkard trying to find his things, though, so he sat and composed rhymes in his head, sketching out the beginnings of today’s tale—a creature fed by fear, a brave bard its prey…

Ten minutes had perhaps passed when a voice suddenly rose from the distance. “Jaskier!”

“Geralt?” Jaskier quickly stood, shuffle-feeling his way towards the window and wrenching it open. He shivered in the cool breeze that filtered in. “Geralt!”

He was sure that had been Geralt’s voice. He’d know it anywhere, gravelly and deep, yet always with an undercurrent of kindness.

Only the hoot of an owl met his call. Jaskier waited, tense, the hair on the back of his neck prickling like someone was watching him. Paranoia rose inside of him. Had Geralt shut the door behind him when he left? Anyone or anything could have entered the room without Jaskier even knowing. What if there was someone right there behind him, watching, able to just reach out and—

Jaskier whirled around, breath caught in his throat, and blindly lashed out. His hands met nothing but air.

Of course. He was only being stupid, getting caught up in his own mind. Of course there was nobody there, and he’d probably imagined Geralt’s voice too, just his mind playing tricks on him in his naked desperation for Geralt to return.

Jaskier took another deep breath and turned around to shut the window, when suddenly another cry split the night. “Jaskier!”

He hadn’t imagined that. “Geralt!” he called, half-strangled and laced with panic.

“Jaskier, help!” Geralt yelled, more fear and pain in his voice than Jaskier had ever heard before, and it sent ice straight through his heart. Oh, gods, Geralt was out there alone with the creature, likely wounded, maybe even dying!

Uncaring of how he stubbed his toes and sent things toppling over, Jaskier felt around the room until he felt the rough canvas of Geralt’s pack beneath his fingers. He almost ripped it open in his haste to dig out the sack of vials and bottles, valuable potions that Jaskier knew could save him from even the most gruesome wounds.

“Geralt, I’m coming!” Jaskier screamed, unsure if the witcher could even hear him. He stumbled gracelessly to his feet and down the stairs, the bag of potions clinking in his rough grip, like the bells that heralded newcomers to the afterlife.

“The door, where’s the door?” he pleaded to whomever was nearest him, not caring if he looked like a crazed man. Geralt needed him.

“What—this way, it’s this way,” a female voice guided him, and he stumbled in her direction, until he felt carved wood beneath his fingers and pushed the door open.

“Geralt!” he yelled again, running forward and nearly tripping over his own boots. Which direction, which direction?

“Jaskier! Here!” he heard distantly, somewhere to his left. He adjusted course, diving into the forest without a care for how branches whipped at his face and hands.

“I’m coming! Keep—keep talking, I don’t know where—” Jaskier shouted, then tripped over a rock and fell harshly to the ground. His palms scraped against rock, stinging and bringing tears of pain to his eyes. He scrambled back up.

“Jaskier!” Geralt screamed again, followed by an almost wordless howl, a pure vocalization of anguish and pain. Jaskier wanted to vomit.

They prefer to feed slowly echoed in Jaskier’s mind. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jaskier chanted, propelling himself forward until all he could feel was the beat of his feet against the ground and his heart against his ribs.

“Jaskier!” Another shout, this one echoing from behind him. Jaskier skidded to a stop. Had he gone too far? Fuck, fuck, valuable time was running out— “Jaskier, no!”

No what? “Geralt! Where are you?!” Jaskier shouted back, turning around but remaining planted in place, now filled with uncertainty. What a stupid plan this had been, running headlong into the forest blind with no thoughts except to find Geralt.

“Jaskier! I’m here, Jaskier!” This time coming from behind him again. Jaskier whirled around and started running, but only got two paces before Geralt shouted again from the opposite direction. “Jaskier, come here!”

There were two distinct, separate voices. One behind him, one in front of him. Both urgent, both calling to him. And he had no way of knowing which was the real one.

One was certainly the monster, or else some dark magic of some kind. Jaskier had heard of no spells nor creatures that could do such a thing, but there were many new and terrifying things in the world he encountered every day. The other might have been the real Geralt, or might have been another trick.

Perhaps the real Geralt had already bled out onto the forest floor. Perhaps the creature had killed him, fed on his soul, and stolen his voice, sharing it among others of its kind. Perhaps the only evidence Geralt had ever lived at all would be the echo of his stolen voice endlessly passed around by evil, hungry creatures.

“Jaskier! Jaskier!”

Jaskier sobbed once, pressing the palm of his hand into his mouth to muffle any further sounds. He would never know. He could never know.

“Jaskier! Help, please, help—”

“Jaskier! Get away from it, run!”

“Jaskier! This way, run, come here—”

Jaskier screamed, an explosion of sound tearing its way out of his throat. He jammed his hands over his ears and sank to his knees, Geralt’s endless cries still echoing around him, slightly muted but not enough to matter.

“No, no, no,” Jaskier sobbed, bending double over his knees, pressing his forehead to the mossy ground. “Please, stop!”

Over and over the voices cried out. Jaskier's mind was a whirl of sound and fear bouncing endlessly. He quaked where he knelt. He waited for his end.

There was no telling how much time had passed, if it had passed at all—if Jaskier had simply existed in a perpetual loop forever. Something touched the back of his neck, and it was enough to propel him out of his spiral of doom into action. Self-preservation and animal instinct won, and Jaskier scrambled backwards until his back slammed into a boulder. He stayed there cringing, expecting to feel death’s embrace, but nothing touched him again.

“Jaskier?”

Gods, no. Let it be over. Please let it be over, he couldn’t take any more of this—

“Jaskier, it’s me. The creature is dead.”

“It’s—it’s—it’s not you, it’s—it can’t—” Jaskier stuttered, his hands still clamped tightly over his ears. “It’s not you!”

Something crunched closer over the leaves. Jaskier’s breath caught. Something touched his face—

The blindfold fell from his eyes, cool night air rushing in and making his eyes water, but Jaskier kept them tightly closed. If he didn’t look, it couldn’t hurt him. If he couldn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt him. That was what Geralt—that was what he’d said, the very last time Jaskier ever saw him—would ever see him—

“Jaskier, open your eyes. It’s alright.”

It sounded like Geralt. It sounded just like Geralt, tired from a hunt but safe, whole, right in front of Jaskier.

If Jaskier was going to die, he decided, he wanted to do it with his eyes open, not cringing on the forest floor with his eyes shut. He forced them open, bracing for the worst.

In front of him was Geralt. Geralt, unharmed, spattered with black ichor, but whole and safe and in front of him. “G-Geralt?” Jaskier asked tremulously. This wasn’t another trick, was it?

He didn’t care if it was. He didn’t care if they were both dead. Jaskier threw himself forward into Geralt’s waiting arms, clinging to solid, warm flesh. He was openly crying, now, tears streaming down his face and clutching desperately at Geralt’s armor, his hair, his shirt, everything his could reach.

“It’s okay, Jaskier. I killed it. You’re safe.” Geralt’s voice, his real voice, rumbled against the shell of Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier could have wept to hear it if he weren’t already weeping.

“It—it—I heard—” Jaskier tried, but couldn’t gather coherent thought enough to finish.

“I know,” Geralt comforted. “It can mimic. I should have warned you.” A deep sigh, one that ruffled Jaskier’s hair. “Should have known you’d come after me.”

“It—you were hurt, you called for help,” Jaskier explained pathetically. Geralt sighed again.

“That explains why half my potion bottles are smashed.” Jaskier tensed up again, and Geralt clutched him closer. “It’s alright, I can make more. But don’t ever come after me again. If I die, I die. Don’t die too.”

Jaskier forced out a bitter laugh. “I think you know that’s not happening. I’ll always come for you. Always.”

“Hmm.” Geralt wasn’t pleased, but Jaskier couldn’t have been happier. As long as his witcher was alive, Jaskier would always be happy. “Come on. Back to the inn, so I can get paid.” He gathered Jaskier up and abruptly lifted him, carrying him exactly like a damsel in distress.

Jaskier was quite content to be carried to the inn like that, until Geralt stooped down to grab something else. Something that squelched. “What--?” Jaskier started to ask, then blanched. The monster’s head. He slammed his eyes shut, tucking his head into Geralt’s shoulder. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Jaskier.” Geralt jostled his shoulder a little nudging Jaskier out. “Look at it. It’s alright.”

Jaskier shook his head.

“I killed it,” Geralt explained patiently. “There’s no need for fear. This will help.”

Reluctantly, Jaskier peeled his eyes open, taking a few fortifying breaths. Then he looked, curiosity winning out.

It was… small. That was Jaskier’s first thought. About the size of an apple, partially covered in fur, bloodied, but surprisingly… underwhelming. No wicked teeth or crazed eyes. No sharp claws or poisonous fangs. Just… dead.

“It’s… it’s dead,” Jaskier said, feeling something deep inside him release. “You killed it, and it’s dead.”

“Yes.” Then Geralt bent, slung it over his shoulder, and continued on. “You don’t need to fear it anymore.”

Jaskier had been scared for so long, it felt like he didn’t know any other way to be. He was very tired, wrung out, and ready to spend a solid week in Geralt’s arms. They were both alive, the monster was dead, and they were on the way back to the inn.

Nothing else mattered.

[zippidi-dooda]

Man I hate this guy

But here I go with an idea and he's the first person who comes to mind

Anyway,

If Rook didn't follow many self-care, health, or beauty routines, he'd probably have many calluses from all the hunting he does. And has done in the past.

Though he does seem to wear gloves most of the time so you probably wouldn't get to see them regardless.

But if he didn't, he seems like a very touchy feely person *to the point where it gets uncomfortable* so each interaction you'd get a sense of just how often he's "active."

Hands wide and large, warm, covering yours easily, griping onto yours firmly - a natural display of strength and confidence. Feeling how rough and textured his palms and fingers are, even feeling it through your clothes when he places a hand on your shoulder.

Paying attention to his hands from then on, noting the uneven bumps marking his skin, the smooth and the blistered parts, redder and paler shades blending together.

And immediately looking away after noticing his *creepy* excited, cat-like stare is on you.

He doesn't know why you're staring, but it thrills him nonetheless. He isn't too shy to lean closer, placing his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers together.

"Curious about something? Don't be scared to ask, Mon Trickster!"

Ruggie would probably have similar hands, though significantly smaller and leaner than Rook's.

His hands are probably harder to feel since he tends to get out of situations quickly. "Don't watch the mouth, watch the hands" is extremely crucial with ruggie seeing as he's always trying to sneakily snatch something while keeping you engaged in conversation.

But if you do manage to get a hold of his hands longer than ten seconds, you'd notice how much thicker his skin is. Rough, yet is somehow unnoticeable during an encounter being jacked by him.

If you grasp persists for too long though, he may hiss out a smug laugh and tell ya, "Hold on any longer and I may have to start charing you a fee for it!"

One last person I may think has rough hands is Deuce. Probably not as noticeable after years of being a aspiring honors student, but definitely has some from fights back in his delinquent days. Would definitely short-circuit if you held his hands to feel his old calluses, very sweaty.

"P-prefect? Wha-what are you doing ...?"

Would have thought Epel but he seems to be blessed with good genes so as much of a farmer boy as he is, he may never get calluses. Much to Vil's approval and his annoyance.

Similar to Silver who, despite his training, will always have perfectly nice hands.

Sebek may get more calluses, but definitely tries to make them go away so he's in peak form for Waka Sama. If you mange to get a hold of his hands, he'd quickly snap, "unhand me, human! If my liege requires my help, I will not be hindered by your carelessness!"

Jack, maybe. But not much, probably just a few small ones from lifting weights and stuff.

Trey, I don't think so. He'd be unusually strong, but I don't think baking would give him many calluses. Maybe a few cuts and burn scars, but not many.

Jamil may have more than Trey, but his case is very similar to his.

Jade and Floyd?

Doubt it. Have definitely done stuff that should give them some but don't. Probably cause their "fish genes."

Azul as well with the "fish genes", but he also probably had his tentacles do most of the heavy lifting in the past and rarely uses his hands for strenuous tasks now.

These three are probably clammy. Not ideal for Azul's business man deal handshakes, but it gets the job done.

Lilia used to have many calluses but has had a lot of time to just kick back so they're probably all gone by the time you've met him.

Leona also has the good genes (but does not care for it), so perfect hands.

The rest of the cast seems to have dainty, elegant "I shan't lift a spoon for my frail wrists may strain too much" or "I am not allowed to touch crude materials" type of hands.

I don't remember every detail mentioned from in-game if there are any mentions about the boys' hands, but this is how I imagine it.

[corn-fanfiction]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Pt. 4)

(Pt. 3)

Rated: M

TAGS: language/past abuse/stalking/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/sensuality/reader is normal and likes to do normal things/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p

Mark can't sleep that night because of the one thought that turns over in head on repeat.

Who the fuck was at your apartment?

Compartmentalize.

1. Mark is Jigsaw

2. Mark is not hunting you

3. Jigsaw is not hunting you

4. Someone else is hunting you

5. The police think Jigsaw is hunting you

6. He'll likely have to continue watching you unless you put up a fight about it.

At the end of it all last night, you seemed to hate him

And for some reason, that's the part that bothers him the most. Did you somehow think he's the one stalking you? You have no reason to suspect him of anything.

Of course, he's not stupid. He saw the look in your eyes last night. You put up a nonchalant front, but you are terrified of something- someone. That's who has to be hunting you.

Mark feels a sort of tightening in his chest. Is it because he's somehow jealous? Like no one can commit such acts other than him?

Or, shock of all shocks, he's come to care about you in some small measure?

He has to admit, as he stares at his bedroom ceiling, that he's grown fond of you, in the ways he can. This, despite you intentionally antagonizing him.

His biggest gripe before last night was that his work as Jigsaw has been out on an indefinite hold, and now that hiatus will have to continue.

This puts Mark in two compromising positions:

Find who's stalking you.

Dispel any concerns that Jigsaw is hunting you.

Both are difficult but the latter will be impossible if he can't get away from you. Shit, maybe you should ask for a different officer.

The thought makes him feel strange. It haunts him until he steps into the precinct the next morning. With a heavy sigh and bags under his eyes, Mark stalks to his office with a cup of coffee in hand. But when he opens the door, he finds you standing inside, arms across your chest, staring out the window.

You turn at the sound and he clocks immediately that you didn't sleep, either. He hesitantly closes the door behind him and takes a seat at his desk.

“I'm gonna be honest. I didn't think I was gonna see you again after last night.”

You move your arms to wrap around yourself.

“Yeah. About that. I know that you only ever try to- that you only ever help me.”

You bite your lip and come to sit across the desk from him.

“I have a hard time opening up. Especially to men. Especially in positions of power.”

What a damn fool Mark feels like. He suddenly realizes how he recognizes you.

He sees the same strands building through you as he did Angie.

“So…what didn't you tell us? What didn't you tell me?”

“I wasn’t at the plant by random chance. And…I know who was at my apartment. “

“Not Jigsaw, was it?” It’s a statement, because of course he knows it’s not Jigsaw.

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“I couldn't tell the cops why I was really there that night. So I can't tell you.”

He’d laugh if he isn’t so genuinely curious what the truth of the situation is.

“You have to.”

“The fuck I do.”

Your abruptness forces the next words out of his mouth. “Don't force me to do something neither of us want. You tell me, and I'll decide if it's a secret worth keeping.”

You squint at him with scrutiny. “Why would you do that?”

“Personal interests. Why were you at the plant that night?”

He watches your eyes narrow at some middle-distance point.

“My ex-boyfriend. Cliche, I know. He was horrible in all the ways you could imagine him being. I think that, if he hadn't been arrested, I never woulda left him.” You take a shaky breath.

“What'd he go to prison for?”

“Assault, battery, theft, drug charges, you name it. And yet, before two weeks ago I never stepped foot in this building. He was released early on parole- good behavior if you can believe it. I never said anything. People like me don't often get justice and, no offense, the PD doesn't have the best reputation.”

Mark rolls a pen between his fingers and the desk.

“And? You went looking for him?”

“Yes.”

“To confront him?”

You take a breath. “I was gonna kill him. At least, that's why I went there. But once I was outside I just…couldn't do it. That's when I saw Jigsaw. Or, at least I think I did.”

Mark nods and mulls over your words. It makes sense so far, even if some of the moves are stupid. “Okay… I understand why you wouldn't tell the cops you were there to kill your boyfriend-”

“Ex-”

“But what if he's the Jigsaw killer? Ever think of that?”

That’s right. Get the target as far away as possible.

You shake your head too fast for his convenience. “No, he couldn't be.”

He can’t help the bite that comes with your words. “Why the hell not?”

“He's a bastard, and some days I do wish he were dead. The things he did…but he's not a killer. He's also not smart enough to pull something like that off.”

“What if he's muscle? Doing Jigsaw's dirty work?”

“He's not.”

“Then why the hell would he show up back in your life?”

“I think… When someone let slip that I was a witness, and what I saw and where…he probably figured out I was looking for him. It's stupid. But I'm still scared.”

“You said he's not a killer.”

The look in your eyes makes him sick. “There's things worse than death, Mark. Things I know he's not above doing. But he's not a meticulous serial killer. He just isn't.”

Mark takes a moment to think in silence, slowly turning his chair back and forth. You shift in your seat, antsy.

“Look, you don't have to believe me but that's the truth of it. The whole truth.”

Then, a thought strikes him.

“Well…what if you told the police you think he's the Jigsaw killer?”

You freeze. Your mouth falls open.

“What, lie again?”

He spreads his hands like it’s obvious. “There's a chance he'd end up in jail, probably get a life sentence. Then he can't hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

“I want him to answer for his crimes, not someone else's. And if he goes to jail, then the real Jigsaw killer would still be out there hurting people. And then he'd be let go anyway. Why would you even suggest something like that?”

A look of disgust comes across your face and he’s genuinely taken aback at your reaction. His next words are honest.

“I just want to help you. Protect you.”

“If Ted goes to prison and Jigsaw kills again because I lied, then I'm complicit in murder. You get that right?”

“So, what? We just keep doing this dance until…?”

“No. I know I lied and I’m sorry about that. You can tell the chief that you think I’m not in anymore danger-”

“He won’t believe me-”

“You can even tell them I lied. But…it’s not fair to you to be strung along because of something I said.”

He watches you. You…feel remorse? For protecting yourself?

The image of Angie mutilated flashes across his eyes and he squeezes them shut, shakes his head.

“I’m not going to do that. We’ll wait this out. You’ll stay safe. If Ted pulls something like this again, we’ll get him. That’ll confirm that he’s the one stalking you and then this whole thing can be put to bed.”

When he’s plotting, he doesn’t notice you watching him. If he had, he would’ve noticed the confusion and then the dawning realization on your face. He cares about you. He won’t tell your secrets. He’ll lie for you.

He looks at you and you nod your head.

“Y-yeah. Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Mark stands and you follow suit. He tries to gauge a reaction as he places hands on your shoulders. You don’t move, don’t tense. Then, carefully, he pulls you into a hug.

You sigh into him and the sound tightens his chest. Maybe he sees too much of Angie in you. Maybe he's glad to have someone else to protect. Or maybe…

You must be compelled by some strange force because when he pulls away, you've got your hands on his lapels, then one on his cheek.

And before you can get any further, Mark pulls your hand down, his palm dwarfing yours, and he sighs.

“It would be… problematic to take advantage of you.”

He's a serial killer. A sadist. Why should he care?

You bite your lip. “And how would you be doing that?”

“I'm in a position of power.”

And yet he doesn't move.

“Protecting me. Following me. Let's face it. You talk big shit but if I say jump, you don't even ask how high. You just do it.”

A growl reverberates from deep in his throat. He's uncontested. Always in control.

But here…he doesn't move.

You put your hands on him again. Your fingers curl under his lapels again and this time you use the grip to pull him down to you as you kiss him. You don't get too heated with it. Just to test the waters.

He returns the kiss, though. You feel good. Your lips seem to fit perfectly with his and, to his surprise, he doesn't mind you taking over.

At least, not first.

You back him up to the desk and with the impact he's forced to sit. He feels a hand snake down to palm at his hardening crotch and when he gasps, you take the opportunity to slip a tongue in his mouth.

“How many times have you fantasized about this?” You ask against his panting breaths.

“About this? Not yet. But me bending you over my desk and fucking you from behind? Plenty.”

“Wouldn't kill you to give up some control now and then,” you whisper, undoing his belt.

“It would, actually.”

He watches through lust-hazed eyes as you sink to your knees between his legs.

Christ, it's too good to be true.

He uses his hold on your hair to gently guide you away from his crotch.

“As much as I love this view- and make no mistake, I do love it. I think we should save it for later. This carpet’ll ruin your knees.”

He helps you up and pecks you softly on the lips.

“Let me take you out to dinner.”

You smooth down the front of his jacket where you rustled it.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Better than taking you straight home.”

“Not here?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and leans in to whisper.

“Because when you cum, I want it to be as loud as possible.”

He relishes in the way you shudder from his words. But you compose yourself quickly enough to catch him before he pulls away.

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

And you bite his ear and it takes everything in himself to not take you right here and now.

“You gonna get home alright?” He asks, his eyes softening.

“Yeah, I'll make it.”

“Nah, I'll drive you home. Gotta run an errand anyway.”

“Shit. You gonna become one of those possessive guys that never lets me out of your sight?”

“Don't tempt me.”

You gather yourself and he follows you out the door of his office, but not until he gives your ass one final squeeze.

[yesterdayiwrote]

https://www.reddit.com/r/formula1/s/44akH7yohv

Oh dear, oh dear. Toto and Susie could be in trouble.😂

So... I saw this yesterday and I started to write out a rant about it and i never got around to posting it, so this gives me a great chance to say it now.

I think it's really important to look deeper into this story for a moment because as much as I think Toto can be a jackass, there's a healthy dose of misogyny craftily baked in to this that makes me question its legitimacy.

A) Business F1 Magazine is owned/run by a guy called Tom Rubython and he is... not the best source. He was responsible for the article a few years back, defending Mazepin and saying he was a James Hunt-esque 'bad boy' and F1 desperately needed him to inject glamour back in to it. The magazine also wrote a multi page article detailing the love lives of each driver and it still remains to be seen what its relevance was to a Business magazine except to go, "Oooo look how much these boys fuck!"

B) This is framed as Toto being the problem, but it's quite categorically accusing Susie of being the one being indiscreet because surprise surprise, of course its the woman who spreads gossip. Susie is not the only person who speaks to Greg Maffei, and we've all seen how much these TPs like to bitch and complain.

C) We've also seen Stefano Domenicali hanging out socially with ALOT of these TPs. Why does the gossip pipeline he proposes have to be Susie > Greg > Stefano, when it is far more simple to be Random TP mouthing off > Stefano. Also notice how he brings up Shaila Ann Rao, who was an FIA employee so unconnected to Stefano. So the two strong, highly placed women that have links to Toto are gossips who spread rumours, and the catalogue of MEN in the paddock who all have close connections and existing work and business relationships with teams in the paddock couldn't possibly be guilty of loose lips? That would never happen. Jean Todt, Ross Brawn and Stefano Domenicali were all ex-Ferrari employees and all held the 3 highest F1 related jobs at the same time and noone batted an eyelid. Also... Zak and Mattia were the loudest voices about who had broken cost cap, not Toto so I'm not sure why it keeps falling back to him, except for the fact he had a connection to the woman they were randomly blaming.

D) Drive to Survive is scripted, but we've seen Christian and Gunther both discuss paddock business with their wives, so we know they ALL chat to people about stuff going on. That paddock is a fucking sieve. The fact this goes on about unnamed sources, and brings up the weird accusation about red bull employees kids being bullied again... sounds like this is a specific anti-Toto hit piece, and it's written by the guy who has already made it clear he hates women, so who better to try and bring down with him than his well connected wife.

It's bullshit, stirring up old gripes to try and create a drama and fill column inches after an incredibly dull and event less season and based on the bullshit notion that women gossip and men don't. Even reddit took the post down because it was deemed 'low quality'.

[monsieuroverlord]

Laura Kinney the Wolverine: Blood Hunt #1 Throughts:

It was excellent execution as a tie-in. It related to the overarching event really well, while still feeling grounded and character-focused as a one-shot.

Unfortunately, it appears my suspicion of Laura acting like a Logan stand-in was more or less correct.

Spoilers:

The plot is pretty straightforward: Laura's on a rescue mission to save Gabby, she does so, and then there's a "mutant" that also needs rescuing, according to Gabby. Turns out, Gabby fudged that part a little, and its really Xarus, one of Dracula's sons, that needs saving. The vampires were using Xarus as a guinea pig to test out mutant blood in giving vampires special abilities. Laura and Gabby argue, but they save Xarus.

Postives:

-- GABBY!!! (I missed her) She's a star here. She's the main character. She's the most perfect chaos gremlin child to walk the face of the earth -- conducted her own investigation, infiltrated the organization, and nearly completed the rescue all by herself -- with a few more years of experience under her belt, she'll be unstoppable. Doctor Doom himself will live in fear of her, lest she decide to stage a military coup against him just for fun.

Her characterization was absolutely on-point here and I missed her dearly.

-- The art was spectacular. Robert Gill did an excellent job in terms of dynamic action scenes and panel flow. Solid 10/10 suited the narrative well, it was perfect amount of blood 'n gore for a vampire book. Just superb.

-- It was fun. A good balance of hack 'n slash with a proper story and some sweet moments. Aside from my one major complaint (see below) it was a fantastic depiction of Laura and Gabby's bond, and I nearly forgot how much I enjoyed it.

My biggest gripe: Listen, I know Gabby is an absolute ray of sunshine who sees good in everyone despite going through some horrific stuff, and I love that about her, but like Laura should not be as much as a foil to that here. (I mean, maybe the story wouldn't be AS interesting without a little soap opera-y conflict between siblings, but still)

I know I oft use the shorthand term "Logan-esque" or "Logan Stand-in" but I haven't really explained what I mean by that, and this issue has some perfect scenes for me to elaborate.

Example: Laura telling Gabby "we don't save monsters."

That is 100% a Logan thing to say. In contrast, Laura fundamentally is separated in character from Logan by her compassion and level of control. She sincerely would (or rather SHOULD) be 100% on board with helping Gabby, due to the fact she spent her earliest years believing she was a monster herself and not worth saving. Since then, she's grown into a much more kind person (both to herself and others) and does try her damndest to do better. Both better than Logan and better than past self. (and she is better, dammit) She has a helluva lot more self-awareness than Logan does, and that's good! It should be one of the defining characteristics that separates her from Logan!

She doesn't need her past explained to her like Gabby did here. Laura arguably has already gone through the character growth of defining herself differently than Logan would. I mean, that was part of the whole reason she took Gabby under her wing in the first place! Whereas Logan would've dumped Gabby off with the X-Men or elsewhere, like he did with Laura (and don't get me started on all the retcon BS flashbacks where Logan was actually acting like a father to her. Originally, he was an absolute fail of a parent in different ways to all of his bio-kids, and Laura was not an exception. Gambit is the one who actually steps up, but I digress here.)

Example 2: The start of the issue, Laura being a sneaky berserk, much like Logan in Uncanny X-Men #133 (or around that issue. if I'm misremembering) It was Vs. The Hellfire Club and Logan has his Dirty Harry moment in the arc.

Its not completely unheard for a person to mentally fall back on old habits in moments of stress, but Laura's never been a "berserker" like Logan. Its just her being a bit of character here. She SHOULD be much more cold, precise, and calculated, like an assassin.

To paraphrase Domino's thoughts from the X-Force Days: Logan's a savage beast, but Laura's like a machine.

In summary, Laura's efficient as fuck, and not at all showy, if you wanna argue that she's "just worried about Gabby" or something.

Overall, while I loved Gabby in this, I think there's just a fundamental misunderstanding of Laura's character here. And this has been kind of an on-and-off thing since the Krakoa era started. Like, character growth is good, but this just doesn't feel like we've had a natural progression of Laura's character to me.

And I suppose, we have all-new Wolverine, where Gabby saves the cyborg-clone thing called S.C.O.U.T. (where Gabby got her newer codename, although I still like Honey Badger better). But that moment was also kind of out-of-character to me?

Like, even if you want to debate that "oh, Laura's done this before. In more recent years, she's gotten a lot harsher with certain things, etc etc"

I have to disagree and say it SHOULDN'T be that way. It directly contradicts her earliest characterizations. She should be distraught and questioning whether or not those things have a soul and in natural character growth progression, she should be saving them without question. It just makes no sense to me!

I know I complained a lot here, but I also want to clarify, its not just this one-shot that's guilty of this -- it seems like it's been a recent trend overall as of late, and I don't care for it. This one-shot was not the most egregious example by any means, and if you're really missing Gabby (like me) I recommend it.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 30: Out of Reach

You and Din start your hunt for the syndicate. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-29 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Light smut; canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ Only.

Length: 4.1K

“This is a lot of ground to cover, Mando.” 

You were standing next to the massive skull of a Krayt Dragon, the canyon wide and deep. There were pockmarks of caves and caverns, outcroppings and ledges. It would all need searching.

“It’s going to take some time,” he said, looking around. 

“How do we want to do this?” You asked, looking up at him. The kid bobbed in his pod nearby, watching the Mandalorian with curious intensity. “Split up and clear the caves one by one?” 

He looked down at you. 

“My hunt,” he reminded you. You rolled your eyes. “But no. You’re going to go up there,” he pointed to the top of the canyon, the side opposite the skeleton. “And keep watch.” 

“What!” You gaped at him. “No, absolutely not.” 

“My. Hunt.” You could feel him glaring at you. “You will sit up there and monitor the entrances. You’ll need your rifle, I’ll be relying on you to thin out any aggressors coming in, and send me a message on the com when you see them coming.” 

“Is a com link even going to get through that much rock?” You asked, frowning. “I don’t like this…” 

“You don’t like it because you’re not the one going into the caves,” he replied wryly. You glared at him. “You’re only happy if you’re the one taking the risk. But if the com can’t get through, all the more reason you should stay topside and take out who you can if need be.” 

“So you want me to just sit on my ass for who knows how long while you do the actual hunting.” Your voice was dripping sarcasm. Din didn’t care. 

“Yes.” 

Your eyes narrowed. 

“Are you getting back at me for saving your life on Toydaria?” 

“No,” he replied, his voice even. It made you madder, that he was just cool and calm when you could . “I’m telling you to do what I need you to do to complete this job. This was the deal, Doll. You’re welcome to take the kid and go wait aboard the Razor Crest if you disagree.” 

You glared at him for a moment before manipulating the control at your wrist, linking the child to you and stalking over to the canyon wall, climbing the steep path to the top. 

It took you an hour to make it to the top. Half way up, Din’s voice - almost amused - came through the com. 

“You know there’s a speeder bike,” he said. 

“Fuck off, Mando,” you griped back, breathless and sweaty. He laughed. You glared down the cliffside at him but kept climbing. 

“Tomorrow you’re taking the bike,” he said. “You’re taking too long.” 

“You could climb this and I could go searching caves,” you snapped. “Happy to trade.” 

“I’m sure you are.” 

You made it to the top of the canyon and perched at the edge, rifle on the ground beside you, the kid peering out over the side of the pod and down into the canyon’s depths. Mando’s armor glinted in the sun. 

“We’re in position,” you said over the com. 

“I’m starting with the lower most cave on the end,” he replied. “Only shoot if you see them going in the same system, don’t give away your position otherwise. Stay put unless it’s unsafe to do so. If something happens and you can get back to your parents’ house safely, we’ll rendezvous there. If you can’t, get to Mos Eisley and back to Peli and the Crest. Understood?” 

“Understood,” you rolled your eyes and watched as the glinting beskar went into the cave. You sighed and looked at the kid, his eyes wide. 

“Your dad is a piece of work, you know that?” 

He cooed. 

“We’ll try to keep you from inheriting that trait.” 

Sitting on the top of the canyon watching the horizon was… well, boring. You spotted dewbacks in the distance, banthas too. Some signs of the Sand People you used to trade with now and then. You noticed the different colors in the rock, the streaks of pinks and whites blended with the orange and yellow. You wished you knew more about what caused things like that. Wished you knew about things beyond politics and manipulation and how to kill people. There’d never been room for things like how canyons were formed when you were studying. You wished you’d been something besides a tool. 

You worked with the kid the best you could, moving on from trying to let him into your mind and shifting to what he could do physically. 

“Think you can catch it?” You asked, holding up the small, silver ball from one of the levers on the Razor Crest’s dash that he was so attached to. 

“Patu,” his eyes met yours and you felt just how much he wanted the ball. 

“OK buddy,” you said as clearly as you could. “I’m going to drop the ball. You try to catch it before it hits the ground, OK?” 

His eyes met yours, the wanting still there with some kind of understanding. Whether or not he actually understood you was another matter but it was a good enough place to start, you supposed. 

“One, two, three!” 

You dropped the ball and it fell to the sand. He started toddling for it but you picked it up and held it up high again. He frowned. 

“You have to catch it before it hits the ground to get it,” you said. “Like this.” 

You dropped the ball with one hand and caught it with the other. 

“See?” You said. “Do that, but with the force. OK?” 

“Patu.” 

“You’ve got this, Kiddo,” you held the ball up again. “One, two, three!” 

You dropped it and it fell to the sand, but it seemed to go a bit slower right at the end. Or so you thought. Maybe you were imagining things. 

You did it again and again and - on the 11th drop - the ball stopped about two inches above the sand, the kid’s face scrunched in concentration, his little hand outstretched. 

“You did it!” You clapped your hands and smiled at him, broadly. He squealed and the ball dropped to the sand. He toddled forward and grabbed it. “You little jedi you!” 

He clambered onto your lap, ball clenched tightly in his tiny fist and you held your arms up to keep him from falling off as he got settled. 

“Doll?” Din’s voice was scratchy on the com link. “Do you read?” 

“You’re hazy but I copy,” you replied, putting one hand in front of the child for him to hold and play with. “What’s up, Mando?” 

“Heading up now,” he said. “Nearly there. No signs of them here. Start heading down to meet me.” 

“Yes sir,” you said, a teasing edge to your voice. You gathered up your things - and the kid in his pod - and started the trek down the canyon. He reached it just before you did. 

“Did you ignore a com from me today?” He asked by way of greeting. 

“No,” you frowned. “Why?” 

He sighed. 

“We’ll be running silent for a lot of this,” he said. “The com can’t get through the rock once I’m about halfway into the caves.”

“Shit,” you sighed. 

“It’s not ideal,” he agreed. “We just have to be diligent.” 

You climbed on the back of the speeder, the kid tucked in between you, and the Mandalorian took you back to your family home. 

The small house on the dunes still gutted you when you saw it. You knew what it held, what had happened in its walls. Why you’d ever lived there to begin with. You tried to put it out of your mind, passing the kitchen with its blood splattered cabinets and disturbed place settings and heading straight for your room. 

You got out rations for you and Din, crackers and jerky for the kid. You tucked the baby onto your lap and faced a wall so the Mandalorian could eat something, too. The meal passed in silence. You didn’t really feel like talking. When the helmet had returned to his head, you handed him the child. 

“I’m going to go watch the sunset,” you said, not waiting for a response. 

You rushed past the kitchen and out the door, going to the side of the house where part of the wall had worn away and you could get an easy foothold. You scaled the wall to the roof, clambering up to the apex of the dome. You tucked your legs against your chest, resting your head on your knees as the sky changed colors. Vibrant oranges and purples and red met the sand. You watched them slowly shift and change, the light growing dimmer by the minute. The suns were almost down when Din joined you on the roof. 

“I always wanted to paint the sunsets here,” you said after a moment. “They’re so beautiful. All the color, the two suns, the way the sand plays with the light…” 

“Why don’t you.” 

You almost laughed. He so rarely actually asked. 

“I don’t know how,” you sighed. “Wouldn’t even know where to start. Wish I did but…” you shrugged. 

“Didn’t teach you that in queen school,” his tone was light but still curious. 

“For the people who might actually be queens,” you said. “I was too busy learning how to protect one to learn something like art. But I’d like to learn.” 

You kept watching as the last sliver of sunlight dipped below the horizon, the galaxy spilling out overhead. 

“We can find a new place to be,” he said after a moment. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept watching the horizon. 

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I want to be here. I need to be here.” 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“Can I help you?” 

You turned your head to him then. There was something about his armor, the gentle arcs and contours of it. It was graceful and lethal even in stillness. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Even if you never saw his face you knew he was beautiful. 

“Touch me?” You asked, voice quiet. 

He didn’t answer, just wordlessly moved so he was positioned behind you. He pulled your body back against his and removed his gloves, sliding his hands down your body. His fingers skimmed over your skin, leaving a trail of pebbled flesh in their wake. They worked their way down, one stopping at your waist, wrapping around you below your shirt, fingers splayed wide against your flesh. The other slipped into your pants, two fingers finding your clit. 

He worked you over slowly, gently, gradually building your orgasm until you were aching and desperate for it. 

“Din,” you whimpered, two of his fingers deep inside you, his thumb slowly, firmly working your clit. 

“I know, Doll,” he said gently. “It’s OK. I have you. You can let go with me. I have you. Just let go.” 

You came with a choking sob, all the tension leaving your body in a rush as he pulled you tighter against him. 

“I have you,” he said softly. “I have you.” 

When you went to bed, you gently pulled the child from his pod. You felt bad disturbing him, his eyes cracking open as he gave a tiny yawn, but you were too desperate to feel close to him and the Mandalorian. Din removed all his armor but his helmet and you held the child gently between you. He nuzzled into your chest and easily calmed and you fell asleep there, Din’s arms around you as you held his child close. 

Searching the canyon was time consuming. The next few days were more of the same. Din deposited you early at the top of the canyon and then he went to the bottom. On the second day, he was able to clear three smaller cave groups. On day three, just one. You kept working with the child on his force abilities, coaxing him to use his skills, build them up. 

You were practicing more of his skills with reading minds and projecting his feelings when you saw something on the horizon. You quickly put the child back in his pod and got out the binocs. It was a hoard of speeder bikes, a few dozen at least, racing towards Beggar’s Canyon. 

As you grabbed your rifle, you tried to calm yourself down. It could be anything. Kids liked to race the canyon, shoot womp rats from their speeders. Hell, they could even just be headed for Mom Espa. But something in you told you that wasn’t the case. 

The speeders came to a stop near the skeleton in the canyon, everyone dismounting. They were armed to the teeth, large and intimidating. You watched them, waiting to see where they were headed. Your stomach sank like a stone when they went into the same cave the Mandalorian had disappeared into hours before. 

“Dank farrik,” you muttered, readying your rifle. 

You started with the ones closest to the cave’s entrance, hoping to draw them away. They reacted immediately, your shot landing smoothly. They started to scatter, you saw them calling out on com links. You fired again, looking for those with the least cover. It took you a few shots but you felled another one. You fought to focus as they looked to find where to shoot, figure out what to do. 

“Mando, Mando, come in Mando,” you said into your com. There was no response. “Fuck.” 

At least three had made it into the cave. It wasn’t until the kid squealed that you realized you had a whole other set of problems. 

There was a second group of a few dozen men on speeders, racing up the canyon toward you. 

“Shit,” you muttered, still aiming for the people outside the cave. You felled another one. One leaned out to talk to some others, pointing in your direction. It exposed four of them and you got off four rounds, one right after the other, each shot landing and dropping one of them. You could hear the speeders now. 

“Mando, Mando, Mando!” you said again, lining up another shot. It missed. You fired again, hitting this time. Din didn’t respond. The child sent a wave of terror at you. “I know kid, I know! I’ll keep you safe…” 

You thought, as quickly as you could. There wasn’t a way you were getting out of this, that much was clear. You tried not to think about that right now, you’d have the luxury to break once you got through this part. You could get the kid out, get Din out. You couldn’t risk them, they were too important, you had to keep them safe, if anything happened to them you couldn’t live with it. You fired two more shots, dropping two more near the cave entrance, before yanking the control cuff Din had just given you off your wrist. You flipped the comm function to record. 

“Din,” you said quickly. “I’m overrun. I’m sending the kid to you, take him and get the fuck out of here. If I live, I’ll get to you when I can, I’ll get to Karga and send word through him. Take care of yourself, take care of the kid….” You paused for a moment, knowing you didn’t have the time but not able to say it without it feeling like there was a fist in your chest. But you had to. If you weren’t going to get another chance, you had to say it, you couldn’t take it to your grave. You had to say it. “I love you, Din. So much. Stay safe.” 

You quickly set up another shot and fired, quickly following it with another, killing two more before you tossed the cuff into the pod with the kid.

“I love you, little guy,” you said, holding his gaze. He felt so scared. “I’m going to keep you safe, OK? I’m sending you to your dad and I’m going to clear a path for you. You’ll be safe with your dad. Try to remember that I love you, OK?” You kissed his tiny forehead. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

You pushed the button on your cuff, switching control of the pod to Din, quickly sealing it before it started racing for his last known location inside the cave. You immediately dropped back onto your stomach, firing shot after shot, watching for anyone who noticed the pod and taking them down. You’d killed 20 men when the first one reached you. 

He grabbed your shoulder and you flipped onto your back, kicking him in the stomach and sending him stumbling back. You ripped your sidearm from its holster and shot him point blank. He dropped like a stone. 

The others you had about 30 seconds on. You quickly rolled back to the rifle, assessing where the child was. You fired another shot as the pod disappeared into the cave. More hands were on you.

“She needs to be alive!” Someone yelled. “The boss needs to know who she’s with, we need her alive!” 

You adjusted your grip on your rifle, wielding it almost like a staff, swinging the butt of it around and hitting one of the men touching you in the face. It caught him off guard and he stumbled. You took advantage of it, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. The other man tried to rip the rifle from your hands but you held firm, slamming your head into his nose. He yelped and released your gun, stumbling back from you. You took advantage of him being off balance and swung your gun into the side of his head. It was just enough to send him over the edge of the cliff. You scrambled to your feet, dropping the rifle and pulling out your blaster, gasping for breath. There were dozens of them, dozens, and they had your back to a cliff’s edge. 

“Don’t make this worse for yourself,” one moved toward you, cautiously, a knife in their grip. “You can’t escape us.” 

“No,” you panted. “But I can take some of you with me.” 

You shot him and he dropped. One rushed you from the left and you tried to get a shot off but weren’t fast enough, missing the person moving for you and clipping another on the shoulder instead. He grabbed you around the middle and you brought your elbow down into his liver. He groaned but held you tight. You slammed your head back, catching his nose and feeling it collapse below your skull. He released you, stumbling back from you and you took half a second to grab the vibroknife, stabbing it into his ribs as he went. He went down with a scream. 

While you were distracted with him, two more came for you, overwhelming you. You thrashed in their grip, trying to get off another shot or bring your knife down, but they held you firm. A third person appeared over you, a sickening smile on his face as he brought the butt of his blaster down against your skull, knocking you out cold. Your last thoughts were of Din.

***

He heard the threat before he saw it. 

This cave was the most promising yet, signs of regular movement through the system, especially as he got deeper. Of course, by the time he tried to tell you this, there was too much rock between you for the message to get through. He was getting close to what he thought was a storage site when he heard a voice - faint, in the distance. He drew his weapon and turned to meet them head on. 

There were just three at first. He kicked the first one in the chest, sending him flying back into the other two before he shot each one, leaving them on the floor of the cave. If there were people getting through… 

He started running for the cave entrance. Two more made it through and he killed them, too. Five more after that, their blaster bolts bouncing uselessly off his beskar as he shot them one by one. 

“Doll!” He was still too deep in the cave to get word to you by com but he had to try. “Doll, come in, Doll…” 

Three more this time. He killed them. He pressed on, running as fast as he could, the cave seeming so much longer now than it had when he had been finding his way through the first time. The next thing the cave is what terrified him. 

He went into one of the larger antechambers and the kid’s pod whisked over to him, sealed tight. There was a chime at his wrist. The pod had been switched to him. 

He opened it, the child safely inside, his eyes wide and ears low. Your cuff was inside, too. The kid whimpered. Din’s hand shook as he pulled the cuff out, and indicator light showing there was a recorded message. He pressed play. 

“Din, I’m overrun. I’m sending the kid to you, take him and get the fuck out of here. If I live, I’ll get to you when I can, I’ll get to Karga and send word through him. Take care of yourself, take care of the kid…. I love you, Din. So much. Stay safe.” 

His stomach dropped. His head spun. 

“No.” 

He dropped the cuff back in the pod and ran. He wasn’t sure for how long. 

There was no one left alive outside the cave when he got there but he could see a body lying at the base of the cliff you’d been camped out on. He jumped on a speeder bike, quickly attaching the pod to the back, and raced up the cliff to where you were. 

You’d been more than overrun. There was evidence of dozens of men up here. There were a few dead and the signs of a scuffle. You were gone. You loved him. You loved him and you were gone, they’d taken you…

There was a groan to his left. A man he thought was dead was still hanging on. He knelt beside him, looking the man over. There was a gaping knife wound at his chest, his nose broken. 

Din tried to focus. They had you. He needed to get you back. To do that, he’d need information. Which means this man needed to live. For now. 

He slapped the man’s face and he groaned, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Shit,” he breathed, eyes ranging over the Mandalorian. 

“The woman who was here,” he said, trying to keep his voice flat. “Where did they take her.” 

“Sure you’d like to know,” he laughed, gurgling on his own blood. Din growled, straightening his glove before he thrust two fingers into the knife wound you’d left on his chest. The man screamed, thrashing and wailing. He kept his fingers inside him. 

“Tell me,” he growled. “Now.” 

“Fuck you,” the man spat. 

Din’s free hand went to the man’s face, gripping his chin, forcing him to look at his helmet. 

“You can tell me now,” Din said. “Or you can tell me later. One will hurt you much, much more.” 

“Fuck. You.” 

Din’s fingers spread inside the cut. The man screamed as his flesh tore. Din didn’t care. 

“Where. Is. She,” his voice shook. His fingers spread more. The man’s skin gave way so easily. Or, at least, it felt easy. He couldn’t tell how much strength he was using. Everything was numb, every part of him doing anything but screaming to find you had no feeling. 

“There’s an old palace!” He cried eventually. Din’s fingers stopped spreading. “In the north, in the Dune Sea. Abandoned years ago, that’s where everyone goes, that’s where she’ll be….” 

Din pulled his fingers from the man’s injured side. The man was gasping, panting for breath. He looked the Mandalorian up and down and smirked, blood sticky between his teeth. “They’re going to interrogate her. You’d better pray you find her before they do or you might not want her back.” 

Din stood up, looking down at the bleeding man. 

“She is the only prayer I know,” he drew his blaster, aiming it at the man’s head. His voice was calm. Inside, he was raging. “And you took her from me.” 

He shot him. He holstered the weapon as he went to the speeder bike. He wasn’t going to do what you told him. This was his hunt. He wasn’t going to leave you here. He was coming for you and it was the syndicate who should pray.

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 25

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Angst! SOOO much angst!!! (Y’all gonna be mad mad). Talk of periods briefly. Language. Dean’s kinda a dick here. (Ducks from flying shoes). 

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67​​​​ Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist        Series Masterlist

One year later

“Dude, you drop that fucking car off of that lift I swear I’m going to—”

“I got it Dean!” Josh insisted. “Chill dude. I’ve done this for over a year now, I think I can get her up there and back down safely.”

Y/N chuckled to herself as she watched the pair. Josh was completely amused by his boss’s overreaction every time the young man decided to operate any sort of heavy equipment, and Dean stood by mumbling under his breath as he watched him. 

Dean never would stop being a mother hen to these young guys he had working for him. It was just his nature to take these young guys on and teach them what he knows. He taught Sam everything he could about hunting, and what he’d listen to about cars. That last one didn’t come so easy. Now that Sam was gone, he’d taken to hiring boys fresh out of high school, and allowing them to work for him in the shop while they sorted out their college decisions. Several of them loved Dean like an older brother. I mean, he was hard as fuck not to love, even if he was a little grumpy in his old age; some  stayed even after they got their engineering degrees. Josh was one of those boys. By far Dean’s favorite too, that’s why he rode him the way he did. It was Dean’s strange way of teaching him. 

“You gonna stand there and gripe at me all day, or you gonna go home with your lady and let me finish this oil change so we can close up shop for the day? Y/N’s been waiting for you for the past fifteen minutes. I got this, go home!” Josh pressed, and Dean tossed his hands in the air in surrender. 

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Dean voiced as he turned his back on Josh and started making his way towards the office where Y/N was standing at the doors waiting for him; her arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. 

“Done harassing the help?” Y/N teased as soon as he was in ear shot, and before Dean could even answer, Josh shot a loud, “No! He’s not!” from the garage, which caused Dean to turn on his heels and side eye the back of Josh’s head. 

“Little fuckers gonna be fucking cleaning this shop floor with a fucking tooth brush tomorrow,” Dean mumbled. 

Y/N tossed her head back in a full body laugh as Josh, who apparently has the fucking hearing of a bat, turned and stuck his tongue out at Dean in a very childish manner, and Dean growled in response. 

“Okay boss man, let the guy work,” Y/N suggested as she grabbed Dean’s arm, and diverted his attention to her instead of murdering his favorite employee. “You’ve been up here for over nine hours today, time to let go and get some rest. You’re gonna overdo it, and we have a long drive to Austin tomorrow.”

“That’s the thing,” Dean voiced with a sigh as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the office chair. “I shouldn’t even be leaving to go to Austin. I have responsibilities here and—”

“And every damn one of them will be right here when you get home,” Y/N cut him off, and Dean looked at her much like a sulking child. “Now, come on, your nephew is almost six months old, and you haven’t met him yet. You’re taking this trip Winchester, cut the fucking cord and let the guys you hired do the job while you’re gone.”

“I know, I know,” Dean relented as he looked around the shop office one last time, his eyes lingering on where Josh now had the Toyota on the lift, and was working on draining the old oil. “This is just the first time we’ve left everything and gone anywhere, and I seriously didn’t think I’d get separation anxiety over a fucking job and a house, but here I am.” 

There was a chuckle in Dean’s voice, but Y/N could tell he was anything but amused. They’d been together long enough, she knew his teles, and he was stressed as fuck. This is why Dean Jr. was going on six months old, and they had yet to make the trip to Austin to meet the kid. 

Y/N took a deep breath and crossed the floor to where Dean was still standing, staring off in Josh’s direction, but not really seeing him. She hated when he did this. The therapist said it might always be something that Dean had to deal with, but it didn’t break her heart any less. The fear, the anxiety, the nightmares, the horrible flashbacks. They had gotten considerably less, but when he was stressed out, they always seemed to rear their unwelcomed, ugly heads. 

“Hey, that’s because you’ve never really had anything to lose until now. Look at all you’ve gained Dean! You’ve got a lot to be proud of.”

Dean swallowed thickly, and she just knew he was standing there counting his breaths to calm himself down. She needed to get him out of here, get him relaxed. 

“Come on, let’s go home for the night. I’ve already got Baby all packed up and ready to go. All you have to do is get some sleep, and put some open road under her wheels in the morning. For tonight though, let’s just try to get some sleep. Okay?”

Dean nodded, allowing her to lead him through the shop and out the door to where her car was waiting. She’d dropped Dean off at the shop this morning, so that he could work while she did the stressful packing part. 

They were only going to be gone for a week, and a good portion of that trip was going to be driving. Dean and Sam were somewhat getting along. Their relationship was still undoubtedly a little tense. Maybe it always would be. Still, they were at least talking and not arguing, and that was a step. That didn’t mean that Dean wanted to be trapped for days in Austin with Sam and Eileen in a two-bedroom, one bathroom house though, so they were only going to stay for about two days with them before they headed back. 

“Have you talked to Sam?” Y/N questioned as they both clambered into her ride. Dean’s eyes still had that look about them. So, she was doing all she could to at least get him talking. Get him focused on the conversation and not whatever lies or horror show his head was telling him. 

“He’s called four times today,” Dean revealed. “I think they’re a little excited that we’re coming, and I think he’s kinda scared that I’m going to change my mind.”

“You need this trip Dean. You need to get away for a while, see your family,” Y/N insisted as she pulled onto the main road headed towards home, the street lights now on overhead, lighting the way in the twilight of the evening. There were kids playing out in their yards. Dads and moms sitting on porches and dogs running about. It was a suburbia paradise, almost picture perfect, and she’d love to know what Dean thought of it all really as she watched his pale green orbs dancing over the scenes playing out in front of him.  

“Sammy and I were forced to spend the majority of the better part of our lives together,” Dean said after a moment. “You’d think he’d be sick of me by now.”

Y/N snorted as she turned onto their road. She never would get over how Dean could just be flat out honest sometimes. No remorse, nor filter. 

“I’m sure by the time two days are up he will be ready to get rid of us,” Y/N chuckled to herself. 

“Did you pick up my meds from the pharmacy? We won't have time to stop and get them before we leave tomorrow,” Dean said suddenly, worry strung thick in his voice. He didn’t have to take the pain medication often, especially since he was a lot more active now, and had built a pretty good bit of his strength back up since the accident, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about sitting in a car for so long, and what that might do to him. 

“I did Dean, it’s all in your duffle bag right where you can find it,” Y/N assured him as she placed the car in park in front of their house. She turned to look over at Dean, and she could tell he was over tense just by the way he seemed to gnaw at his teeth. 

“Dean, I can literally see you stressing,” Y/N told him, and he chuckled to himself as he finally looked at her. 

“What can I say? I worry a lot in my old age,” Dean teased, but she could tell that his smile still wasn’t reaching his eyes. It wasn’t a good day for him, and she was kicking herself for not going and picking him up from work a lot sooner. 

This is the part people don't talk about often when it comes to traumatic injuries. Sure, you might survive, and even regain some sense of a normal life back. They don’t talk to you about the shit that your mind won't let you heal from. The mental scars that won't go away.

“You’re not old Dean,” Y/N insisted. “You’ve successfully aged well past what you were intended to. You’ve accomplished the age you’re at now, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dean’s hand raised  continuously  brushing at the light beard on his face, especially over the gray hair that was scattered there. Dean didn’t like them so much, Y/N on the other hand could help but think that the older the man got the hotter he got, so therefore she didn’t mind them at all. 

“Too old to get you pregnant apparently,” Dean affirmed with a tired, half smile. 

Her heart sank like a rock in her gut. So much so that it stunned her;  she instantly wanted to cry. Once again, as she’d done so often with Dean from time to time, she’d totally and completely misread the situation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave the house and the shop, at least not all of it. Some of it was that he didn’t want to meet his nephew because even though the pair of them had been sexually active for a smidge over a year, Y/N still hadn’t gotten pregnant. 

“Is that what this is about?” Y/N stuttered dumbly, still somewhat in shock. Dean just grimaced, and opened the car door. 

“It’s nothing Baby, forget I said anything. I need to go take a shower; I’m beat—”

“Dean!” Y/N said a little louder, catching his attention;  he froze in his tracks, bending down to look back at her after looking over the roof of the car at the neighbor's house. 

“Not here sweetheart, please, let’s talk about this inside.”

There was a seriousness in his voice that left zero room for argument, so she numbly climbed out of the car, once again, feeling as if she absolutely failed the man she loved, and she hated that. 

Dean unlocked the front door to their home, and stepped aside to let her in first before quickly following suit and closing the door behind them. 

“Listen, Y/N,” Dean voiced quickly before Y/N could even get a word out. “I don’t want to argue, please. I just can’t, not about this, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it. I spoke out of turn, it was stupid, and I’m sorry. It’s not even something we’ve talked about… well at all, and I really, really, don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“Dean, I’m not upset with you,” Y/N corrected him quickly, grabbing his hand before he could either run away upstairs, or before he could get uncomfortable and totally deflect the situation. “Hey, look at me. It’s not your fault that I’m not pregnant, or haven’t gotten pregnant Dean. It has nothing to do with your age whatsoever. It doesn’t even have anything to do with your accident.”

“I know we weren’t actively trying Y/N, but I’m not an idiot. We haven’t exactly been preventing it either, and by now it looks like—”

“Dean! Would you stop it! I’m on birth control, you dork!”

Dean’s eyes bulged almost comically out of his head, and his jaw shut tight with his teeth giving an audible click that seemed loud in the suddenly quiet room. 

“You’re right, we weren’t really trying, but I’ve been on birth control to regulate my cycles since I was a teenager. When I was a hunter, it was a hell of a lot more convenient to KNOW when you were about to menstruate when you were hunting monsters that can literally smell blood. I’ve been on it so long, that I just continued taking it. We never really talked about having kids, at least we hadn’t  seriously talked about it, and had I known that you wanted kids… Dean, I would have stopped taking it a year ago.”

Dean said nothing, just blinked at her before stumbling off towards the kitchen table where he  sat down heavily; the sound of the kitchen chair scraping across the floor echoed off of the walls and made her flinch. Her gut dropped even further;  her feet felt as if she weighed a thousand pounds as she slowly made her way towards him, as though he was going to explode or something. 

She didn’t know what he was at that moment. Mad? Hurt? Sad? Relieved? Shocked was an obvious one. She felt terrible! She never really thought about it, but now that she knew HE wanted kids, hell, she’d LOVE to have a little Dean Jr  running around. It wasn’t something she was opposed to at all; just something she didn’t think Dean ever wanted. 

As if she were dealing with an angry Viper, Y/N sat down across the table from Dean slowly, who was staring blankly at the wall, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Dean?” Y/N tried, her own voice trembling in the silent room. “Please say something…”

“You didn’t—you didn’t tell me you were taking birth control,” he said after a long pause, and Y/N felt as if there was something holding onto her throat and squeezing the life out of her. “Why? Why didn’t you say something?”

Y/N looked down at the table, picking silently at a rogue piece of salt that sat on the dark wood from where they’d eaten lunch earlier that day. If she felt horrible before, she felt even worse now.

“When we first got together, you had been hurt really, really bad. My sole focus became getting you healthy and where you needed to be. We didn’t even know at the time if a physical relationship was even possible and—”

“And we’ve been having sex for a year Y/N, a fucking year! You never thought that… ‘you know he’s not pulling out or bothering to put a goddamn condom on, maybe I should tell him I’m taking birth control!’

Y/N visibly flinched, she couldn’t look up at him, but she could feel his gaze burning holes into the side of her face. He kinda had a point, but she never thought of it, she really didn’t. She was far too focused on other things. Like making sure he was comfortable;  not in pain and trying to cover it up the way he liked to do. 

The loud, obnoxious sound of the chair moving across the floor made her flinch again;  she jumped as he knelt down next to her, moving her  chair to face him as if she weighed nothing at all, still, she couldn’t look at him, and she didn’t really understand why she wouldn’t defend herself on the matter. Why couldn’t she respond  when ultimately; it was her body, and her choice as to whether or not she wanted to carry and have a child. So why was she so upset over the fact that he was upset that she didn’t tell him she’d kept taking birth control? It was a silly thing really. It wasn’t like she was hiding it from him or didn’t tell him on purpose, she just seriously didn’t think about telling him. 

“Hey,” he said after a moment, his voice much, much softer than it had been a moment ago, which gave her enough boldness to glance up at him, even though she felt like her heart was in a vice and at any moment her chest was going to cave in on itself. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I shouldn’t have lost it like that. I should have talked to you instead of just assuming. I didn’t  have any right to yell at you. You know I suck at communicating. I just assumed that you weren’t on anything, and that I was the problem, which made me not talk about it because it’s embarrassing, and—”

Dean took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face again, struggling with his own emotions as she watched him in silence. For some reason, she couldn’t make the choke hold on her throat let go enough for her to speak, or even to confront him about it. Why did that hurt the way it did? She might never understand that one. 

“If you don’t want to stop taking the pills I understand. I wouldn’t want to have kids with me either. I should have asked you instead of just assuming and taking matters into my own hands. That was stupid. You won’t hear another word about it from me. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m gonna leave you alone now, and go take a shower, because I don’t know what to say to make the way I act better. I’ll be in our room unless you want me to sleep in the office.”

Dean gave pause for a moment, his green orbs searching her face, but only sighed as he stood to his feet with some effort, leaning down to kiss her on the top of her forehead, allowing his lips to linger there as he did so before he made his way out of the kitchen, and up the stairs. 

That’s when she allowed the tears she’d been holding onto in front of him to fall. 

He’d never done anything in the over a year they’d been together to hurt her. He’d never raised his voice at her. They’d never really even got in a fight. Hell, he just relented and apologized as soon as it happened, that was a big step for Dean, so why on earth did it feel like he just slapped her in the face, shattered her heart, and then tossed it on a burn pile?

Forever:

@bubsonnobx​​​​

@britnwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat​​​​​​​​​​

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnwoman​​​​​​​​​​​

@stoneyggirl2​​​​​​​​​​​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​​​​​​​​​​

@stixnstripesworld​​​​​​​​​​​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​​​​​​

@nancymcl​​​​​​​​​​​

@christycreature​​​​​​​​​​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​​​​​​

@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​​​​​​​​

@slamminmine​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​

@rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​​​​​

@chevyharvelle​​​​​​​​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyss-dw79​​​​​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​​​​​​​​

@lemondropirwin​​​​​​​​​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​​​​​​

@hobby27​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​

@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​​​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​​​​​​  

@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​​​

@emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​​​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​​​​​​

@flamencodiva​​​​​​​​​​​

@itmejado

@thoughts-and-funnies​​​​​​​​​​​

@teresa-67​​​​​​​​​​​

@hearteyes-j2​​​​​​​​​​​

@peaches007​​​​​​​​​​​

@bobbie3939​​​​​​​​​​​

@vulgar-library​​​​​​​​​​​

@writercole​​​​​​​​​​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​​​​​​​​​​

@sexyvixen7​​​​​​​​​​​

@spngi​​​​​​​​​​​

@b3autyfuldisast3r​​​​​​​​​​​

@donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​

@maliburenee​​​​​​​​​​​

@the-family-business67​​​​​​​​​​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​​​​​​​​​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​​​​​​​​​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​​​​​​​​​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​​​​​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​​​​​​

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites​​​​​​​​​​​

@herstarburststories​

@mimaria420​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​​​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​​​​​

@jxackles

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​​​​​​​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​​​​​​​​​​​

@ladysparks78

@sarahgracej​

[yumeka-sxf]

I feel like these last few chapters have been hinting at an arc where Yor finally realizes what she actually feels for Loid, like, we've had the whole gripes thing, we had Yuri straight out asking her if she loves him, and now we have the Authens who seem to be a foil to the Forgers.

Everything seems to be lining up for that moment of realization and what it could possibly mean for her job, kind of a parallel to Loid during the mole arc

It does seem that way, doesn't it? While I think it's still a bit early in the series for her to have any kind of plot-altering realization, I could definitely see her having thoughts akin to what Twilight had at the end of the mole hunt arc...realizing her feelings at least somewhat, but not sure what to do about it.

It's sad that neither of them have anyone they can truly confide in about their feelings - Twilight can't talk to any of his WISE coworkers or even Franky about his "real" feelings because that would show how compromised he's become as a spy. And Yor can't talk to anyone about her feelings for Loid because everyone she knows thinks she's been happily married to him for a year (except for Shopkeeper and McMahon, but she doesn't seem to have a casual enough relationship with them that she would talk to them about such things). So even if Twilight and Yor are starting to realize their feelings, they're in situations where it would be very hard to move forward...unless something really ground-breaking happens where they have no choice but to take their feelings to the next level. But again, I don't see this happening anytime soon, though I believe Endo is building up to it little by little!