#mud crater

[crystalsandcrochet]

Darvaza, Turkmenistan

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: Falling Star💫

Continuation from this post

Steve felt discomfort squirming in his belly.

Though he no longer had the star–Eddie, he reminded himself–chained to him like a mule or a dog, he still felt like there was a power dynamic, a weight of responsibility sitting on him.

Eddie trudged along behind him through the woods, looking downright miserable, exhausted and covered in dirt and debris from where he had landed in the forest and the crater his body had created.

He was faintly glowing in the light of dawn, but it was much dimmer than it had been in the dark of the night, like his brightness was waning. 

Steve tried to think of how he would feel, dropping into a strange foreign world with the hope of finding love, only to be chained up by some guy from Hawkins of all places and told he was to be taken back as a… as a prize for who Steve hoped would become his finacé.

It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

Glancing back over his shoulder at Eddie’s tangled dark curls, ripped and muddy silvery cloak and robes, his pale skin spattered with a dark contrast of dirt, almost as stark as the tattoos adorning his arms and the dark bags under his eyes, he made a decision.

“We’re going to take a detour.” He announced as Eddie stumbled over another root in the ground.

“Why? The sooner I go meet your Nancy, the sooner I can start on my own journey. I’d prefer if we got it over with.”

“You’re exhausted—” 

“Well it’s past my bedtime already—” Eddie snarked back, waving at the rising sun.

“And you’re filthy.”

“You’re not looking so hot yourself, sunshine.”

Steve looked down at himself, also covered in mud and scratches from where he’d had to crawl through brambles and hedges just to get to Eddie’s crater site. 

“Exactly so… so we’re gonna head to the nearest town. It’s not that far from here, I think. We can wash this dirt off and we can get you some new clothes and a nap or something.”

Eddie frowned at him.

“Why do I need new clothes? We can just get these washed. That’s something you do down here, right?”

Steve blinked at him.

“Yes. We wash our clothes but…”

Well… it was now or never. Time to voice the other worry that he had sitting in the back of his head.

“I highly doubt I’m the only one out here looking for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… you…” He shook his head, not able to think of a way to make this sound not terrible. “Stars are valuable. You’re valuable. There’ll be some people like me, who will probably be looking for a big lump of rock, but I suspect in a land like this one, there’ll be plenty who know exactly what they’re looking for. Someone like…” Steve gestured over all of Eddie.

“If they’re looking for a star, I doubt they’ll be looking for someone like me, Steve.”

Eddie crossed his arms, leaning against a tree, his whole body drooping with some kind of bone deep exhaustion that wasn’t just coming from the daylight.

“They’ll be looking for someone pretty and perfect and bright. Shiny hair and unmarked skin and someone who isn’t so fucking weird.”

But you are pretty and perfect and bright, something in Steve’s head said and okay maybe that was a little too far for right now.

He’d only met the guy a few hours ago and he still had… Nancy was waiting for him.

“Your clothes are very star-like?” Steve hedged, unsure of what else to say.

“Only because I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” Eddie mumbled back.

“Okay, well… then I’ll get you something that feels more… you.”

Steve was forced to swallow as those dark and intense eyes looked up at him from their slumped position. Almost being pulled in by gravity.

“Why?” Eddie asked again.

Because I want you to be happy. I want you to be comfortable. I want to see what you look like when you feel more like yourself. 

Steve only shrugged.

“And your Nancy isn’t going to mind the delay?”

“She’s not my Nancy.” Steve huffed. “Not yet anyway.” 

Maybe not ever, if the hesitation on her face had been anything to go by, when he’d proclaimed he’d go and bring her back the star for her hand in marriage.

Eddie sighed and it seemed to take a lot of effort for him to push himself back to standing again. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

Sneaking Eddie into a village and then into a room at the inn was much easier than Steve had anticipated.

He’d heard whispers of the villagers about the fallen star but Eddie was correct in assuming people wouldn’t glance at someone who looked like him.

It also helped that his brightness was nonexistent under the midday sun.

So while Eddie bathed and slept off his exhaustion in their room, the only room available at the inn, one bed between them–what were the chances– Steve ventured back out to the local market to get him something to wear that was less star-like. 

Steve had noticed Eddie’s eyes catching on the shiny jewellery and dark leathers as they had passed, so he took a risk and picked a few of those pieces up for him, feeling a little fluttery about it.

Like he was buying gifts for courting or something, which was a ridiculous idea.

He couldn’t court a star.

But when he got back to the room, arms laden down with whatever he could carry, he was forced to reevaluate when Eddie was just lying there, face relaxed in sleep, beautiful and placid, breathing slowly and easily, clean and combed and glowing.

And probably naked as all hell under those sheets. They only came up to his hips and Steve had to tear his eyes away from the lean muscle and sharp bones sitting under delicate pale flesh marked through with a shock of black tattoos.

How anyone could think he wasn’t pretty and perfect and bright was beyond him.

Steve set the clothes and jewellery down on the desk and snuck his way around the bed, to the window with the heavy curtains drawn closed.

The room should have been dark, but Eddie was giving off enough light on his own for Steve to easily find his way around. 

He managed to sneak behind the curtains, sitting himself down on the little cushioned alcove seat beyond, and curled himself up into a little ball.

He stared out the window to the small village below and tried to remind himself of why he was here in the first place.

Eddie was ignoring him. 

Eddie had been ignoring him for the entire day. 

Steve didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Everything had been going great. They’d been talking about… well, nothing really.

It was one of the things he really liked about Eddie. That they could talk about anything for hours and every time they did, Steve inevitably kinda forgot what he was doing here.

He was supposed to be bringing Eddie back to meet Nancy. The girl he hoped to… to marry.

And… and then he was going to help Eddie find love.

And that was… that was fine.

That had always been the plan.

And okay, maybe he had mentioned that he wasn’t totally sure about the Nancy of it all anymore, so that might have been it? 

Maybe Eddie thought Steve was going to back out on his side of the deal now.

But he didn’t know because Eddie wouldn’t even look at him.

Whenever Steve tried to strike up a conversation, Eddie just hummed, turning his head away and staring ahead of them and Steve could practically hear him begging him to stop talking.

So Steve did.

But he couldn’t anymore.

“Did I do something?” He asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he looked out over the green fields and mountains, over the landscape while they walked the road leading them back to Hawkins.

Eddie didn’t open his mouth to answer, just made a questioning noise at him, still kicking rocks down the road. Still not looking at him.

Steve sighed and stopped. Waited for Eddie to stop too, which he did. He turned and looked with a furrow in his brow, silently asking why they had stopped moving.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve asked again. “If I said something to piss you off, I’m sorry for whatever it was but… can you just tell me so I don’t do it again?”

“No. It’s not-” Eddie shook his head, turning his back again. “It’s not you, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve took a few steps forward.

“There’s no problem, Steve.”

Not Stevie. Or sunshine. Or sweetheart. Just Steve.

“Clearly something is wrong, Eds, you’re not even glowing anymore. Just tell me so I can fix it-”

“It’s nothing you can fix.” Eddie snapped back, so suddenly loud and angry, Steve was struck dumb.

He reached forward, catching Eddie’s wrist up in his hand. Eddie didn’t try to pull away, but instead froze, face turned away and whole body tense.

“Eds, please.” Steve brought them face to face, a hand on his cheek.

Eddie looked somehow both angry and heartbroken at the same time.

“I can’t drag you down with me.” He muttered.

Steve could only shake his head in bewilderment.

“What?”

“I can’t drag you down with me, Stevie. We just need to get you back to Nancy and everything will be fine.”

“But… but I don’t even know if that’s what I want anymore.” He let go of Eddie’s wrist, brushing his fingers along Eddie’s, trying to take his hand. “I think… I thought… maybe—”

Eddie ripped his hand away.

“I’m a fallen star, Steve!” He shouted, his face crumpling. “I’m not just a star, I’m a fallen star. I can’t take you back to the skies with me, I can’t give you everlasting life, or magic or wealth or whatever else you humans might want me for. I can’t give you anything like that!”

“Eddie- what? I don’t care about any of that-!”

“It’s fine.” Eddie shook his head and started to stomp his way back up the road. “We’ll get you back to Nancy and you don’t even have to worry about helping me out on my side of things, I can… I’ve got it covered. We’ll get you back to Nancy and everything will be fine.”

“Wait- Wait!” Steve shouted after him, jogging to keep up and planting himself in Eddie’s path again. “I don’t want any of that stuff from you. I just want… I don’t want Nancy anymore. I want you.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Eddie. You know what my life has been like. Let me make this decision for myself. I don’t care that you’re fallen. I don’t care that you can’t give me all of that. Why would I want an everlasting life when I could grow old with you?”

“You would want that… with me?”

“Eddie.” Steve almost whispered, their faces so close together, Eddie’s big wet eyes staring at him, the faintest glow of hope coming off of his skin. “I want everything with you.”

Eddie closed his eyes with a little laugh, letting his head tilt forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

“God damn it, Stevie.”

Eddie pressed his face in that little bit closer, finally sealing their lips together.

[ilguna]

22 from prompt list 2 with Finnick please? Reader is taken by the Capitol after the Quarter Quell?

☼ anything for her (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, mentions of sex trafficking and prostitution, death, death mention, bomb mention, torture mention, a noose mention.

wc; 4.3k

notes; 22. "They won't take you away from me ever again."

--

“How did you meet Peeta?” Cressida asks Katniss.

She’s currently sitting on top of a fallen marble pillar, a result of the bombing that took place four days ago. Finnick, as well as many others, stand in the crater together, watching the Mockingjay. She has one hand in her lap, the other rubs the smooth rock while she thinks.

Katniss takes a breath, readying herself, and then breathes it out. “When I met Peeta, I was eleven years old, and I was almost dead.” She starts, before going on to tell the story of the awful day. She tells the camera that she had been trying to sell her younger sister’s baby clothes in the rain because they had been starving. 

By the time the market had closed, the hunting jacket that Katniss was wearing had been soaked through. She’d been shaking so badly that she dropped the clothes entirely, straight into a mud puddle, but instead of retrieving it, she left it there, afraid that if she bent over, she wouldn’t stand up again.

She didn’t want to go home, so she continued to stumble through the muddy streets of District Twelve, until she found herself behind the shops that served the rich. She explains that the merchants lived above their businesses, so she was basically in their backyards. She recalls seeing the garden beds not yet planted, a goat or two in a pen, and one wet dog tied to a post, hunched over.

At that moment, she decided that she’d tried to search the trash bins because they were fair game. She was hoping to find scrap, something that no one else would want except for her family. Unfortunately, all the bins had just been emptied. She still tried, going from shop to shop.

When she had gotten to the baker’s—Peeta’s family’s bakery—she was stuck. The smell of the bread was dizzying, the glow of the oven peeked out from beneath the kitchen door, and the heat held her there just long enough. Then the rain brought her back, she lifted the trash lid, and found nothing.

Peeta’s mother, the baker’s wife, appeared to tell her to move on, threatening to call the Peacekeepers. She told Katniss that she was sick of brats from the Seam pawing through her trash. And despite how ugly the words that came from her were, she had no defense.

She went to leave, but noticed him. Peeta. He was standing behind his mother, and Katniss recognized him from school, knew he was in her grade, yet couldn’t recall his name. He spent his time with the town kids, there was no reason for her to know who he was.

Katniss didn’t go far, only to sit behind the pen that held their pig, leaning against the far side of a strong apple tree. The realization that she would go home empty handed again had finally hit her. With this, she felt sick, sliding down the tree to sit on the roots.

Katniss’s voice is low when she speaks, “‘Let them call the Peacekeepers and take us to the community home,’ I thought, ‘Or better yet, let me die right here in the rain’.” 

She pauses for a second, and then says that she heard a commotion in the bakery, the wife suddenly screaming, the sound of a blow. She thought that it was his mother coming out to drive her away, but it was Peeta. In his arms, he held two large loaves of bread with crusts that were scorched black.

“His mother was yelling, ‘Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! WHy not? No one decent will buy burned bread!’.”

Peeta began to rip off chunks of the burned bread to toss them into the trough. His mother had been standing over his shoulder until the front bakery bell rang, which called her to the shop to help the customer. 

Katniss says that Peeta never glanced in her direction, but her eyes were on him. They were glued to the red mark that stood out against his skin on his cheekbone. While she began to wonder what she hit him with, he took one glance back at the bakery, returned to looking at the pigs, and then tossed a loaf toward Katniss. The second one quickly followed.

Without a word, Peeta went back inside of the bakery, closing the door behind him.

Katniss was stunned for a long moment, unsure if he’d actually meant to toss them at her feet. When she realized that he must’ve, she shoved them beneath her shirt, pulled the hunting jacket tightly around her body, and walked away before anyone could come forth as a witness. She says that the heat of the bread had burned her skin, but she wasn’t going to let them go.

The loaves had cooled by the time she got home, the insides still being warm. She made her mother and sister sit at the table while she cut off the burnt part. From there, they ate an entire loaf, slice by slice. 

“We had never even spoken. The first time I ever talked to Peeta was on the train to the Games.” Katniss finishes.

“But he was already in love with you.” Cressida says,

“I guess so.” Katniss has a small smile on her face.

"How are you doing with the separation?”

“Not well.” She admits, “I know at any moment Snow could kill him. Especially since he warned Thirteen about the bombing. It’s a terrible thing to live with. But because of what they’re putting him through, I don’t have any reservations anymore. About doing whatever it takes to destroy the Capitol. I’m finally free.” She tilts her head back, looking at the sky. At the same time, a hawk soars above. 

She continues, “President Snow once admitted to me that the Capitol was fragile. At the time, I didn’t know what he meant. It was hard to see clearly because I was so afraid. Now I’m not. The Capitol’s fragile because it depends on the districts for everything. Food, energy, even the Peacekeepers that police us. If we declare our freedom, the Capitol collapses. President Snow, thanks to you, I’m officially declaring mine today.”

Cressida holds up a hand, the recording stops. Katniss gets to her feet, brushing the debris from her butt while the camera crew regroups. When she glances in Finnick’s way, he gives her an encouraging smile.

A few feet away, Plutarch Heavensbee has a crease between his eyebrows, eyes staring at a chunk of the concrete a few feet away, gears turning in his head. While Katniss’s story about how she first encountered Peeta was sweet, it wasn’t captivating enough. At least to him. He needs a story that will keep the Capitol citizens glued to the television screen for every second.

His eyes physically light up, head rising. His eyes land on Finnick first, beckoning him over, and then Haymitch. Finnick starts forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets, but never letting go of the rope that keeps him occupied. He runs his thumb over the worn fibers, eyebrows raising.

“We need more.” Plutarch says as soon as they’re in earshot. His attention is set on Haymitch. “A story with more,” He motions with his hands. Finnick gets what he’s trying to say, he wants grand. Something that will have the Capitol scrambling. “I was wondering if you had anything like that.”

Haymitch’s face screws in. “What are you suggesting?”

“Something that the Capitol hasn’t heard of before. Your Games weren’t rerun the same way the others were. No one knows the full story.” Plutarch is trying to lay it on gently, but it’s fairly obvious what he’s asking for.

Haymitch’s stare becomes hard, eyes narrowing. “I’m not doing that.”

“Not even to save Peeta?”

“No.” 

Now Plutarch looks at Finnick. “I know you have some to tell, or at least one that will work.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.” Haymitch says.

“This will help to get (Y/n) out of the Capitol.” Plutarch emphasizes. “Not everyone knows what happens to the victors following their win. Only the elite has access to information like that. If it gets out, then this will have the Capitol scrambling to silence us.”

Finnick can feel the blood run from his face and begin to pool at his feet. He knows what Plutarch is asking for. He wants Finnick to open up about what had been happening to him for years. What he was instructed to do as soon as he turned sixteen, and what he carried on doing from then on.

His forced prostitution—the sex trafficking. It’s not something that Finnick talks about openly whenever he wants. In fact, he takes care to hide it as much as possible, to make it a minor factor of his life. As if it’s not as big of a deal as everyone makes it out to be.

Because of it, he purposely adopted the persona that everyone sees. It worked out in his favor, not even Mags knew what was happening to him. It wasn’t until he started to date his sweet girlfriend, you did the mask begin to fall apart. He had to tell you what was happening to him to keep you from thinking that he was cheating on you. 

For four years he had bottled that detail inside of him, and as soon as he spoke it out loud, the glass shattered. He couldn’t reel in the uncontrollable tears that overcame him, as you tried to console him. At the end of the night, he was sure he’d scared you off. But you came around the next morning, never speaking about his darkest secret until he brought it up himself.

It became easier to talk about the more you listened. It didn’t feel like a hot iron was burning inside of his body each time he thought about it anymore. When he was sure that he had passed the first hurdle, he finally told Mags. From then on, he was able to live with it a little easier because he finally had the support he needed.

That doesn’t mean it made it any easier to do. It was like a knife was being held to his throat. President Snow could destroy his life if he wanted to. One toe out of line and his family would be gone.

What Finnick never took into consideration was that he could turn it around to be a weapon of his own. Right now. He can expose Snow the same way he stripped Finnick down to his bare bones. And it would be a way to help his girlfriend, to bring her back to him.

“Okay.” Finnick slowly nods. “I’ve got one.”

Plutarch raises his eyebrows, holding a hand out to the pillar as a way to direct him over. “Good, good.”

Finnick moves to sit in the same spot where Katniss had been moments prior. The camera crew notices this, Cressida watches as Plutarch draws closer, telling them that it’s his turn to speak.

“You don’t have to do this.” Haymitch tells Finnick.

“Yes, I do. If it will help her.” Finnick balls the rope up in his hand. “I’m ready.”

The crew takes a moment to find the right lightning for Finnick, adjusting several times until it’s up to Cressida’s liking. When it’s perfect, she counts down from five, but Finnick doesn’t start speaking until the red light on the camera comes to life.

Regret hits Finnick like a truck.

This is for (Y/n), he reminds himself, this is to bring her home.

“President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is.” Finnick starts slowly, wanting to get this right. He watches as Cressida stiffens where she stands. “I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it.”

He presses his lips together, eyes wandering away. This confession does not feel the same way it did when he told you and Mags. Then, it was shameful. Now, there’s a drive of power behind it. And Finnick’s in control.

“I wasn’t the only one, but I was the most popular.” He looks at the camera. “And perhaps the most defenseless, because the people I loved were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment.

“Secrets.” He hisses the S, “And this is where you’re going to want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so very many of them were about you. But let’s begin with some of the others.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he goes over his experiences in detail so vividly that it’s impossible to think he made it up on his own. He tells stories of abnormal sexual preferences, betrayals of the heart, endless greed, and power plays that ended in blood.

They were drunk and high secrets that had been murmured in the dead of night. 

Finnick had been bought and sold for eight years, which he will never be able to get back. The innocence was stolen from him, and this is Finnick beginning his revenge. The longer he speaks, the more confident he grows. When he started, he didn’t want to list names, but once one slips, the rest begin to tumble from his mouth, followed by their offense.

Finnick knows he’s heading in the right direction when he watches Cressida’s eyes widen with every important name spoken. He knows how the Capitol works. All it takes is a bad tattoo or the wrong haircut, and a person’s reputation is temporarily tarnished as it’s passed around like a plague. 

What will come of accusations of incest, back-stabbing, blackmail and arson?

What will become of their leader? “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That’s all you really need to know. Poison.” Finnick emphasizes.

He starts from the beginning, using the pieces he put together throughout the years to paint a picture for those who will be listening. He points out every mysterious death that had happened surrounding Snow. Mainly his adversaries, but sometimes even his allies who appeared as threats in his eyes.

Figures that had died suddenly or slowly. Blamed on bad seafood, silent viruses, or overlooked weakness in the aorta. Snow would drink from a poisoned cup himself to deflect suspicion. Antidotes don’t always work. That’s why there’s a rumor on why the smell of roses is so strong. It’s to cover the metallic scent of blood from blisters in his mouth that will never heal.

They say that Snow has a list and no one knows who will be next.

Even when it’s clear to Finnick that there’s nothing else to tell, he has to be the one to say, “Cut.”

The camera crew hardly murmurs a goodbye before they’re scurrying inside to edit the material to weaponize it. Plutarch places a hand on Finnick’s shoulder, giving him a solemn nod. There were a few surprised reactions that came from Plutarch, himself. Despite the fact that he’d been a Gamemaker for years and might have known half of those facts.

“Thank you.” 

Finnick stands from the marble pillar. “Anything for (Y/n). Anything.”

“In that case, do you have any other stories to tell that might help with propo’s?” Plutarch begins to direct him to the door to go back inside of the bunker.

“I’d have to think about it.” Finnick says.

With their little quest being done, there’s nothing left for him to do besides wait for the volunteers to come back with the prisoners. Finnick spends his time with Katniss, as they move from place to place. They start in Special Defense, tying knots, chatting quietly. They push their lunch around their plates, appetite absent.

Together, they go to bother Beetee in the shooting range, where he’s shown a trident he’s never seen before. He learns how to properly wield a bow, albeit terribly, just to be able to send explosive arrows at the target. 

With how dangerous the mission is, no communication is allowed to or from the rescue team. In the evening, Katniss and Finnick gather back in Special Defense, standing on the far side of the room away from the screens and computer, watching as Beetee and his team go hack through. His usual twitchy demeanor is completely replaced by determination.

He uses as much of Katniss’s interview as he can, but it’s Finnick’s confession that is the main show. Beetee remarks that their counter-attacks are weak, they aren’t trying to silence the rebels as much as he thought they would. Still, for the next hour, they battle back and forth. With the Capitol trying to wall off the interview with the afternoon newscast or blacking out the feed altogether.

The black out fails, as the rebel team takes control of the feed and manages to control it for almost the entire attack on Snow.

“Let it go!” Beetee declares, throwing up his hands. He reaches to wipe the sweat from his face with a nearby cloth. “If they’re not out of there by now, they’re all dead.” He spins around in the chair to face Finnick and Katniss. “It was a good plan, though. Did Plutarch show it to you?”

No, he did not. So Beetee wheels in front of them to take them to another room, where the plan is fleshed out in full. With the victors being held prisoner underground, they had to get creative. They’ve used knockout gas distributed by the ventilation system, a power failure, the detonation of a bomb in a government building several miles away, and now the disruption of the broadcast.

Finnick and Katniss find the entire plan hard to follow, but Finnick gets the gist of it. With so many failures happening at once, that means the Capitol will be strung out and they’ll have to tackle each task one at a time. He’s just hoping that this was enough to give the rebels time to get the victors out of the prison without being shot down.

“It’s good news you found the plan hard to follow.” Beetee adjusts his glasses. “Because then our enemies will, too.”

“Like your electricity trap in the arena?” Katniss asks.

“Exactly. And see how well that worked out?”

There’s nothing else to do but wait, and this becomes glaringly obvious when they’re not let back into Command. They choose to stay in Special Defense, moving to the hummingbird room to wait for an update. 

It’s torture. 

Finnick tries to tie knots, going down the list of the ones he knows in alphabetical order. It’s a lot, yet not quite enough at the same time. He goes down the list five times before the dark thoughts begin to creep in. What if the rescue team failed, and no one’s coming back?

Haymitch comes in briefly to tell them that there’s no news, and then he leaves. About an hour later, dinner is served, but both of them deny having it brought up to them. Katniss begins to bleed from her knots, wiping the maroon liquid on her jumpsuit, continuing to tie her noose.

Finnick can’t go down the list again, otherwise he’ll go crazy. So, he stuffs the rope into his pocket and hunches over on the bench, teeth grit. Katniss begins to hum a tune, holding up her noose in the air to look at it, before dropping it down onto the bench.

“Did you love (Y/n) right away, Finnick?” She asks.

“No.” Finnick murmurs, because it’s the truth. 

When you first won the Hunger Games, you were fifteen years old. By then, he was already seventeen. He’d already had two years of experience regarding Capitol abuse. And all he could see in you was the exact same fate. This is why he took special care to keep a distance between you two.

With you being so young and naive—absolutely no clue that your actions could have consequences—you did what you thought was right. You were sweet, you were kind to everyone you met before and after your Games. You took every compliment with grace and took your time to return with one, even if it wasn’t heartfelt.

That doesn’t mean you weren’t smart, because you are. Enough to the point where you managed to trick the Gamemakers into giving you a higher score than you deserved, getting you sponsors. In the arena, you found out how to maintain the appearance that you knew what you were doing. Despite the fact that it was obvious to every other person from the districts that you were clueless.

And you were pretty. You are pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, every adjective under the sun. If Finnick could see it, the Capitol could see it. He heard your name mentioned almost every time he met with a client, and yet, you were never pulled aside by President Snow.

Finnick would like to say that he wasn’t jealous of you, but he was. Which became loathing, that only grew worse with time. You knew that he didn’t like you, and instead of taking the hint and leaving him alone, you purposely got close. You got to know him, his habits, his feelings. 

He hated it in the beginning, but the truth is that Finnick was lonely and he felt misunderstood by everyone because of the rumors. You never let judgement get in the way, you never let Finnick hurt your feelings. And you respected his boundaries. Whether he liked it or not, you were growing on him.

In the course of a year and a half, he went from considering you a pest to one of his closest friends. He was able to let down his guard. Before he knew it, he had feelings for you. Which he was sure weren’t reciprocated, but you surprised him. Ever since, you’ve been by his side. 

Which is why this doesn’t feel right. 

“She crept up on me.” Finnick tells Katniss.

It must be midnight when Haymitch finally pushes open the door. “They’re back. We’re wanted in the hospital.” Katniss opens her mouth to speak, Haymitch doesn’t give her the opportunity. “That’s all I know.”

She’s back, a voice whispers.

Finnick is frozen where he stands, staring at Haymitch with wide eyes. Katniss takes a step toward the door, but when he doesn’t move with her, she reaches back to grab his hand. Finnick lets her lead him through Special Defense, into the elevator, and on to the hospital wing.

As soon as they step foot through the doors, she lets go. The hospital is in chaos, with orders being shouted back and forth, the wounded volunteers being wheeled across the floor. Immediately, they’re sideswiped by a gurney holding an unconscious woman with a shaved head.

Finnick recognizes her, it’s Johanna. Her skin is blemished with bruises and oozing scabs, a price to pay for being a rebel. For not telling the Capitol what they’d wanted to know about the plan.

Is this how (Y/n) will look? The thought lights an intense fire in his stomach, and even worse, fear begins to creep up. Did they hurt you?

“Gale.” Katniss says, gravitating toward her friend. He’s stripped down to the wait to allow the doctors to work at his shoulder, pulling out shrapnel. There’s sweat dripping down his face. Katniss doesn’t make it further than three steps before she’s shut out entirely.

“Finnick!” A shrill voice calls—your shrill voice calls.

Finnick’s head whips in the direction, feet starting even without a certain direction. He finds you, throwing off a sheet, revealing that your delicate skin has been compromised with cuts. They must not bother you, because you’re on your feet, a wide smile spread across your face, arms out to him.

“(Y/n).” He breathes, picking up speed.

His body slams into yours, arms wrapping around your body to lift you in the air. He can feel your fingertips running through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp as you pull him closer. Finnick presses his cheek into your collarbone, feeling your kisses against his temple.

A swarm of butterflies escapes the cage in his chest when he hears your laughter, but they die quickly when he feels you begin to shake with sobs. Finnick lets you back down, allowing your feet to touch the white tile, yet he doesn’t let go. His heart squeezes when you look at him with tear-filled eyes, bottom lip wobbling.

“I’ve got you, honey.” He murmurs, brushing the hair from your face.

You’ve got a tight grip on the front of his jumpsuit. His eyes lock on your discolored knuckles, a sign that you must’ve gotten into a fight while you were being kept prisoner in the Capitol. His face screws.

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you again.” You admit with a wavering voice. “It was getting bad, Finnick.”

“I’d never let that happen, babe.” He whispers. “They won’t take you away from me ever again. I won’t let them.”

“I know.” A tear escapes, running down your skin. 

Finnick’s quick to wipe it away.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[icyowl]

The Eyes Tell Many Stories

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Synopsis: Six eyes wouldn't be what it is without you / Six eyes hasn't always been a blessing. The many times you helped Gojo master his eyes. 5k.

A/N: There might be some canon discrepencies, and that's okay. I have a thing for Gojo's eyes.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

FOUR

You were the one who found him missing from a clan dinner at the age of four. The adults were busy drinking ancient and expensive alcohol, but who didn't care when a four-year-old wandered off? He was at the pond, head down and back to you, watching the koi dance and shimmer in the setting sun. Thoughts of sneaking up on him or pushing him in the water disappeared when your outstretched hand was snatched in a second's fraction and his tumultuous eyes clashed with yours, declared battle, and won the war, all in under a second.

"Satoru, stop it!" You yelled, failing to pull away from the beastly eyes and steely grip betraying the strength of a mere child. His gaze shone like the sunset hitting the water behind him. Bright and untamed. The sight had you yanking your arm until there were bruises. "Let go!"

That seemed to get through to him. He released you in favor of digging his palms into his eyes, crouching down on shaky feet.

"It hurts." He bit out from behind his arms. His mouth was contorted into a painful grimace. All you knew at the time was the desire to help someone in pain. Now you know you'd been the one to awaken the six eyes with your lame attempt to sneak up behind him, and now his life would never be the same. His eyes would have eventually stirred without you, but even now, any time you saw him get lost in the euphoria of submitting to the monster behind his eyes, guilt bit at your heart.

NINE

You were the one who took a baseball bat to the back of a bounty hunter's head who had nine-year-old Satoru's throat in his hands and was shoving his pristine hair into the mud, your screams akin to a snarred animal. The wet crunch of bone was nearly as nasty as the blood the stranger puked onto Satoru's horrified face before he collapsed, wheezing and dying. Satoru's choked screams and the fear in his wide eyes kept you both up for days. The unimaginable price (at least, to nine-year-olds) on his head and all the other shit that came with being a Gojo meant games of tag were replaced with sparring and meetings and getting his eyes to activate at will.

Migraines interrupted the various funerals he had to attend until there were no more Gojos to mourn.

It was that night, after the last funeral, when you offered to stay up and watch movies or spar and got turned down for everything, that infinity kicked in for the first time. All you were trying to do was hug him from behind -- give him the chance to know someone was still there -- but when you looked down between your shirt and his and saw a gap that wouldn't close in spite of your efforts.

"Sa-"

"Just leave!" And, as if the air could follow the command, a sudden force pushed you across the room and into the wall with enough strength to split the wood at your back and make plaster fall from the ceiling. Satoru's eyes widened when he saw what he'd done and rushed to pull you from the crater. A couple of stitches in the back of your head was the price to pay for awakening the rest of his technique.

ELEVEN

You were the one who disagreed when someone said Satoru's Six Eyes were getting 'better'. The migraines became so bad at one point you were left yanking some random sunglasses from a rack when his mind betrayed him in the middle of a store. Flickering lights made the other patrons glance around warily. All you focused on was the boy trying to crush his head between his hands. The groan of pain was torturous.

Your fingers skimming his temples helped distract him some, but the hug of glasses on the bridge of his nose was downright confusing. Warily he risked a peek with one eye, and now your look of concern was a little darker, a little less painful. "Is it helping?" You whispered.

Satoru chanced a look around. The gouge of pain in his head was still there -- did it ever leave? -- but the cursed energy around the room didn't assault him nearly as much as before. "How did you come up with that?"

"It's bright in here; I read that makes things worse."

He caught sight of himself in a mirror. With a squint, he scrutinzed his reflection, turning this way and that. Count on the sight of his own face to distract him from his pain. "What kind of glasses did you pick? Am I some rock band member?"

Now your head was beginning to hurt. "They were the first I grabbed, shut up."

THIRTEEN

You were the one sitting under the massive cherry tree in the Gojo estate courtyard (one of them, anyway), enjoying the gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above you, trying to ignore the turmoil happening just a few feet away. Days had gone by this way, with a scroll delicately held between your fingers, your neck sore from looking down for so long, and the various groans and grumbles of the teenager opposite you. He swiped away some sweat on his cheek.

"Does it say anything else?"

You squinted. "I think it says to focus your cursed energy into a single point, like the tip of your finger."

"What do you mean, 'you think'?"

"It's 500 years old! The inks all faded."

Satoru glared at the tip of his pointer and middle fingers. His eyes blazed. The air warbled, rippled, and sparked, but returned to normal.

He threw his hands into his hair, swore vehemently, and trudged over to the bag by your knee, "this is stupid! We're getting food," he ground out, ripping the cap off his water bottle and jamming his glasses back on his face.

"But the principal-"

"I don't care. You coming or not?"

The shoppe was busy, but Satoru's beguiling words got you a table by the window, only big enough for two though, and you hid the giggle behind your drink as he methodically folded his spindly legs under the table.

It all seemed like an okay idea at the time; the weather was nice, the crowds weren't bad, and Satoru's jaw finally relaxed after a batch of desserts was laid out in front of you both. His insistence.

"Satoru, I'm serious. You need to try harder to activate Blue-"

"Why? So the adults can start sending me after curses? No way."

"You need to be able to protect people. . ."

He was in the midst of instigating a powdered sugar fight when the warm sunlight was abruptly blocked. Three burly high schoolers scorned you both, drinks in hand and eyes pinched when they saw you sitting comfortably.

"This is our table." One bit.

"Move," added another.

Satoru, to his credit - or his ego - leisurely peaked at them over the rim of his glasses. His fork clattered against his plate. Then, he began looking around, first on the table, then under it, then at the back of his chair. When he met their eyes again, his were alight, hidden behind dark lenses but obvious from your angle. The hair on your arms rose.

"Funny," he lied, "I don't see your names anywhere."

The third guy was too oblivious to feel the sinister twist in the air. Instead he snickered and pointed. "This one's wearing sunglasses inside. Albino freak."

You put a hand up to Satoru, attempting to keep his leash tight. This wouldn't end well if he got serious in front of civilians. "We're just trying to enjoy our day, please just leave us alone-"

"Ain't talking to you, bitch!"

You yelped at the searing scorch of coffee dumped on your chest, writhing in a vain attempt to keep your hot clothing off your skin. Satoru clocked the assault, and his eyes burned hot with rage. He stood, years younger than the goons but already taller, and finally they saw the azure inferno kindling when he removed his glasses. They cowered while the air crackled.

You felt a change in the atmosphere. Your heart convulsed. Something was wrong.

"Sator-"

"Blue."

Every window exploded. The shoppe door erupted off its hinges and flew across the street. The walls split in every directions, chunks of ceiling fell to the floor, and picture frames shattered. Patrons and the tables they occupied were tossed violently. You shrunk when glass and wood pelted your skin. A cacophony of sound almost immediately gave way to complete silence. The only thing you heard was the kid Satoru had launched across the room into the opposite wall, gargling on blood. Alive, but damaged beyond recognition.

Satoru pulled you by the hand out of the rubble and onto the street. Onlookers gasped while Satoru merely grinned at them.

"They deserved it."

"No, they didn't!"

"They were weak."

"It doesn't matter!" You continued to chase the gangly silhouette. Three of your strides for every one of his. "You're strong, crazy strong, but I don't treat you any different. Am I beneath you, too?"

"I don't know, are you?"

His sentence ended with your scream. Your hand pulled from his, and when he turned, you were sitting on the rough cobblestone, cringing at the glass shards and wood splinters poking grotesquely from your palms and arms. Blood seeped from the growing wounds. A spike of wood stood up inches from its place in your thigh. Taunting him. Harming him, too, if only mentally.

"Crap," he swore, falling in front of you, "how'd you not notice this sooner?"

"A-Adrenaline, I guess." You sniffled. "You didn-n't give me much time to realize. . ." Words grew more difficult as the pain rose to a boil. His hurried inspection - turning your arms this way and that - made you whimper and flinch. Still, you managed to meet his eyes in a heavy stare; he needed to hear this. "Any of us can be more than what we were born to be. . . made to be."

He stared back, mute, for many seconds. His eyes changed shades of blue like waves in the deep ocean. Your cursed energy had always been eye-catching, but now, in the continuous onslaught of cursed energy from a city full of people (a mix of anxious, happy, depressed, infatuated, sick), it glowed soft, warm, and affectionate. It beckoned to him, begging for attention, a drug for his eyes. Looking at you, even with his level of perception, was always easy.

The rest of world had to intrude, though. A space behind his eyes grew teeth and bit at the nerve endings there. He flinched, groaned, and pinched his temples in a useless attempt to ease the pain. It did nothing. Only the graze of your knuckles on his forehead quieted the storm in his head. He watched as you diligently smoothed the lines in his brow. Satoru couldn't really see the color of your eyes anymore - one of the many 'blessings' of his technique - but nevertheless he stared at them for an unknown time, a man lost at sea using the sun for direction.

Something in his heart gave a fierce kick.

"It'll take a while for new glasses to come in." You mentioned.

He grabbed your hands and held them in his own. Azure sparks crackled between his fingers and yours. "That's what you're worried about?" He asked.

"Don't be dramatic-hey!" You exclaimed when he suddenly fell forward, head slumped on your shoulder. He was dangerously close to falling over had your hands not rushed to keep him upright.

"Sorry, just. . ." he whispered into your collar, "little tired."

"Yeah, well," you struggled to hold your phone on his back without bothering your cuts. His bulk made seeing the screen almost impossible. "Just close your eyes. I'll get us a ride."

You were the first to see Blue. In hindsight, you wished you hadn't.

SEVENTEEN

You were the one left to pick up the pieces when Geto left; it was like Gojo's own body was defending itself. Even you didn't know the extent until you ran into the gym some weeks later to escape a sudden downpour and saw Satoru, back to you, forehead pressed to the wall and shoulders hunched in discomfort. Something was horribly wrong. That much became apparent when you walked right up behind him and he seemed completely unaware. It would be one of the only times he'd let anyone sneak up on him, but it hurt so damn much-

"Satoru?" You called quietly. He flinched and quivered, but didn't turn.

"I can't get it to turn off, I can't, I. . ." he choked out between gasps. Overhead lights flickered and arcs of blue, red, and purple light traveled around him. The air buzzed, a warning of impending danger. Like the pause right before a lightning strike.

You pushed through the chill that had broken out over your skin. "It's alright, I'm here-"

"You need to go," he rushed, "it's not-"

"I'm not leaving you," you tried to touch him only to be stopped by an invisible force, "Satoru, turn off Infinity-"

"I can't!" Lightbulbs in the ceiling burst. You could feel your hair lift with static electricity.

A foreboding weight fell over your body. Infinity pressed on you form all directions, a dominating force, threatening to throw you back at best and crush your bones at worst. "Okay! Okay, just. . . just breathe. I'm not going anywhere."

All you could see was his back. Tall, lean, towering up between you. "I should have seen it," Satoru rambled, "stopped him, I have to save the world - I can't save my friend, I'm cursed-"

"Breathe, Satoru." You said with volume. Finally, his shoulders heaved and you heard a muffled, ragged exhale. The invisible barrier between your hand and the back of his shirt shrunk. "I know you're not used to hearing it, but there's nothing you could have done, and. . . I'd never let you be cursed." Your added with a thunderstorm in your chest. Too much. You'd said too much.

The gap between your hand and his back closed entirely. Sparks of static tingled where your fingertips grazed the fabric of his shirt. He was damp with sweat.

Satoru's chilling eyes - still activated - peaked at you over his shoulder. He knew what you meant.

You pulled your hand to your chest. Eye contact was impossible. "Look, it's going slower than I thought, but I'm getting stronger. Soon I'll be able to help you more, so you won't have to do so much by yourself."

He faced you. "Don't make me laugh." He replied bitterly. Unfortunately for him, you saw right through the facade. Your other hand reached to graze over the stress line in his forehead, and his eyes fell closed involuntarily.

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked.

"Last night." He said, eyes still closed.

"More than a couple hours."

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

His eyes opened again. This time they were dim, calm.

"Where are your glasses?"

"Broke." Satoru had you follow his gaze to where they lay a few feet away, frame twisted beyond repair and lenses nothing but a mess of shards. You delved into your backpack and revealed a crisp roll of white wrap. He shied away when you attempted to cover his eyes with it. "What are you doing?"

"You're eyes are getting stronger. I thought something like this would happen so," you held up the roll like it was its own answer, "sealing bandages to keep your eyes from bothering you as much - see?" You proved your point when his eyes began to flicker against his will. Satoru pinched them shut, hissing. He let you bring his face down to your level, mumbling childishly while you fiddled to get the bandages under his unruly hair.

"Least I don't get tired anymore."

Yes. How could you forget Toji's attempted murder and Satoru's new 'awakening'. Just thinking of the memory burned a pit into your stomach, but you words remained casual. "Only you would learn reversed technique on the brink of death."

Satoru frowned. Your cursed energy became tainted with worry. He nestled into your shoulder, enjoying the subtle skitter of your heart in response. "Like to keep you guessing."

"It's been a while. Do you still like temple massages?" You asked, your thumb rubbing the scar on his forehead.

He sighed, putting a little more weight on you. "I won't stop you."

TWENTY

Apparently, you didn't learn your lesson the first time Satoru's technique almost killed you. Where Blue took out a building, Purple took out a whole forest. You were in the hospital for days and Satoru barely left your room to shower. His six eyes never quit assessing you, and sensed you were waking a full hour before your eyes opened. Even with all that time to prepare, he still lost his breath when your hazy gaze finally - finally - set itself on his. It felt like he was able to use both lungs again.

"S'toru?" You garbled. How was it a chore to breathe?

His hands couldn't stay away from you. Cheeks, hair, eyelids, jawline, lips, every touch feathery, nearly soothing you back to sleep. Satoru's smile was blurry, but his voice was clear. "Took you long enough."

You would have brought him closer if your arms would cooperate. "Your eyes."

"Gotta see when you're waking up. You got pretty messed up."

"No," you denied, "they're bloodshot. . . got bags." As ethereal as they were, it wasn't the activation of the six eyes itself you were concerned with. His skin was ashen. He looked. . . normal. Human.

"Barely awake two minutes and already dishing it out." He smirked. It didn't reach the rest of his sunken face. Was it possible he lost weight?

"How long. . .?"

"Have you been here? Eight days." Satoru plucked a loose strand of hair and laid it behind your ear. "You lost a lot of blood, but Shoko said nothing should be permanent. That curse user won't touch you ever again. I made sure of it."

Oh. Like he didn't have enough to do already. Satoru never had help, even in the midst of his own death after fighting Toji. Sudden thoughts of mortality, grieving, love, and the torture you experienced looking at the reserved, melancholy look in Satoru's eyes were forcing tears onto your lashes before you realized what was happening. A soggy exhale was all you could do to keep calm. Your hands struggled to lift off the bed. "C-Can I ho-old you?"

"Of course," he said, pulling your arms up until they locked behind his neck. Poor thing, your cursed energy was a mess. "You're on a lot of medication right now, just breathe." He added before he pressed a long kiss to your forehead. Then your eyelids. Then your nose.

"Don't stop." You pleaded. It wasn't enough.

His lips finally fell to yours. Again and again he delivered you from life and to a euphoric heaven.

"Never."

A steady grip on your chin forced your head up and Satoru began to lovingly reacquaint himself with your neck. There was little else you could do than clutch his shirt in your fingers until your knuckles creaked and your breath ran away. Slow kisses, gentle lavs of his tongue, and the occasional rub of his canines over your artery were an intoxicating insanity. One of your hands had to cover your mouth to prevent the whole floor from hearing you, but judging by the wet, heaving breaths Satoru was gasping into your throat, you weren't the only one losing composure.

His own hand moved to the back of your head while the other delved under your body and crushed your chest to his. The bed barely contained his height, with one foot bracing him on the floor and the other hanging off the end of the mattress. Even then his shoulders were taller than yours and broad enough to cover both sides of the bed.

Between his weight and the mattress, you thought you'd get engulfed by heat and a dazed kind of insanity quickly drowning your brain.

The pressure on your throat mounted. Satoru rushed his words like he couldn't bear to be away from your neck longer than a moment at a time. "Thought I'd never kiss this neck again, you have no idea how much I missed this."

Teeth pinched at your skin.

"S-Satoru-"

He prayed into your neck, "so damn sorry. . ."

Crackles of electricity arced between him, you, and the bed, the very air growing excited, too. First blue, then red, and finally purple. The flourescent light bars swayed and jostled in an invisible torrent and the various machines flickered until they died or were simply forced away from the bed, skidding on their wheels.

His bites became more aggressive. Before, you worried about bruising, and now you felt like blood would stream down your skin and stain sheets. The softness of his hair tickling your chin was a stark contrast to the sharp points digging into your neck.

"Satoru. . . you. . . calm down," you barely managed with the static in your head. At this point, you were beginning not to care what he did as long as it meant he didn't let go. Public safety be damned.

A knee knocked its way between your legs. You yelped, and the sound of pain helped finally knock some sense into him. The EKG screen returned to normal, albeit with a few busted pixels, and read a heartrate close to exploding.

Satoru didn't look much better, though. When he could finally separate from you, finally lay you back on the bed so he could sit up himself, his eyes were pulsating and he sluggishly wiped a smear of spit from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. When his eyes saw the mark he'd left behind, they drooped, satisfied and quelled, if temporarily.

He was still out of breath when he found some words to string together, "I got a little. . . carried away."

TWENTY-TWO

You were dying. The curses foot-long claws in your stomach told you as much. Was the cold in your body from the loss of blood or from the nighttime rain soaking you to the bone? Now you couldn't be sure.

The darkness made the blue so much brighter.

Satoru appeared out of nowhere, cerulean electricity dancing on his clothes. Later, he'd tell you he somehow felt a change in the air even from a hundred miles away, and teleported without knowing he could.

His eyes blazed unnaturally bright - even for him - when he saw the curse's claws slowly pulling out of your body. The air turned purple, lightning in the clouds overhead brightened the forest for a moment, wind tossing your hair with a wild gust.

The next second, Satoru was beside you, and the curse's neck was in his hand. His grin was strange, but his laugh scared you the most. Usually he could never stop talking, but right now you'd prefer anything over the wheezy, broken cackle he couldn't help but release.

He squeezed his fingers just to enjoy the strangled garbles from the monster. "You? You thought you could hurt her?" Satoru rambled amidst his chuckles. Then he and the curse disappeared.

Next, the curse still in hand, he reappeared a ways away, several feet in the air, and let the curse fall to the earth. Satoru teleported under it, letting its back fall into his fist where he catapulted it back up. Again he moved in an instant, above it now, and kicked it back to the ground hard enough to open up a crater and blow you back to the treeline with the shockwave. The indomitable force of cursed energy crushing you to the ground made it impossible to get us or run away.

Satoru stepped in the crater with the grace of a dancer. "You know what? Do it."

The monster screamed when he held it up by its jaw and squeezed until the bone crumpled and gushed blood all over him. He dropped it freely, allowing it the chance to run. The curse scrambled for footing, made it out of the crater, and galloped towards you before Satoru teleported next to it and stopped it with one long leg pinning it down.

He kicked the thing several yards until it stilled a few feet away from you, gasping and writhing.

Satoru stalked towards you both. Each long stride was slow, meandering, barely disturbing the wet grass beneath his shoes. His head was down, and his hair covered his eyes. All you heard was a dark tone come from the shadow. "Try to kill her again. Try to defeat me by going after my one weakness. I'll even give you a hand, here."

He grabbed it by the scruff and threw it over your shoes. "Everything else has been taken from me, why stop? Come on. Try harder. What, spine broken? That's a pathetic excuse. Get up."

The stranger in front of you kicked the creature. It let out a feeble whine. "Get up." He said again with another kick. And another. And another. "Get up. Getup getup getup getup getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!!"

Satoru bludgeoned the creature with his heel again and again and again. Sickening crunches and squelches had you covering your mouth to try and keep from vomiting. Each stomp of his foot distorted the creature until it was little more than a carcass.

"Satoru, stop!"

Thunder growled in the sky. An ominous pause filled the air.

His eyes peeked sideways at you, then, he cocked his head in your direction. The tiny, calculated movement had your heart hitting the ground. He had assessed you and deemed you unworthy as a threat in the same second.

"You think you can stop me?" A fierce wind lashed at you. "Tell me - tell me how you'd stop me!"

Even the shouts of Nanami and Shoko and Utahime in the distance couldn't reach him.

He was losing himself. Perhaps forever.

Rain turned sideways in the accelerating torrent. Satoru tilted his head skyward, arms out and palms up, embracing the storm. "I can see everything, hear everything, be anywhere at anytime. With my thoughts, I make the universe."

Then, his gaze fell on you.

"Watch." He snickered.

With a roar from the ground, chasms carved open the earth all around you. A patch of dirt fell from under his feet but Satoru hovered above it, completely dry despite the downpour soaking you to the bone. He giggled, carefree, maniacal, and foreign. This wasn't the person who had stolen your first kiss.

A shadow erupted from him, blocking out all surroundings - the wind and rain and cold - until it was just you and him, alone in an imaginary world. Nebulae and galaxies filled the darkness until it was bright with starlight. Sound disappeared until you could hear your own blood in your veins.

Domain expansion.

Satoru was giggling while tears fell off his cheeks. For all his eyes could see, they seemed to be looking at nothing. Your heart felt the impending demise. This was it. No way you'd survive the domain of Satoru Gojo. You tried to remember the scared little boy by the pond 18 years ago. He was much happier then.

You almost enjoyed the tears falling down your own cheeks. Perhaps it was fate that you'd end up dying at Satoru's hand after all the close calls. You only hoped he wouldn't blame himself for this later, or that someone would call for his extermination.

With one remaining moment, you did the only thing you could think of.

"I love you." You said, and you closed your eyes.

The chaotic buzz in your body stopped. The fear quieted. You felt a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of tree leaves came back.

A raindrop fell on your cheek.

You opened your eyes, seeing the normal world around you in a wave of relief, but feeling fear all over again when you saw Satoru, his hands holding his head, shouting at the power warring within his mind.

"Make it stop!" He yelled.

"It's okay, Satoru," you gasped, holding your stomach and swallowing the grunt of pain, "just breathe, it'll pass."

Your body gave out. Without a choice you fell back into the grass. The dark, rolling clouds flickered with occasional lightning. You don't know how long you watched, but it was beautiful.

Satoru crouched over you, eyes downcast but still bright with his technique. A reptilian fear response kicked in a rush of adrenaline allowed you to scramble back. His hand hovered, outstretched, reaching for you. Satoru's eyes showed shock and hurt.

"You're afraid of me." He called across the vast space between you.

"I'm - I'm sorry." You said. You tried to crawl back to him but the injuries finally became too much and you collapsed just as he ran to close the gap, pulling you into his lap and trying to staunch the hole in your belly. You moaned at the pressure.

"F-Fuck, I can't remember, what'd I do-"

Your voice was quiet. He hardly heard you over the pounding storm. "You saved me. I'm fi-ine."

"No you're not. Your cursed energy's all over the place, damn it." Satoru smushed his forehead to yours, taking a massive inhale. "Don't you leave me, too."

"Hey," you called, raising a thumb to massage the worry line between his brows, "remember when I said I'd try to - heh - get better? So you wouldn't. . . have to worry."

"Yeah?"

"Well. . ." you added, putting your hand over your stomach. Slowly, a faint white orb covered your wound, and Satoru watched your cursed energy glow and the injury begin to gradually sew itself shut. "You're not the only strong one."

He watched in awe, a little smile on his lips. This time a familiar, genuine one. He held you softly in his gaze in a way that warmed you without touch. You nestled against his shoulder and prepared for the long recovery and the impending clinginess of the man holding you. Satoru's eyes always gave him away.

[tehrevving]

Vincent Valentine Week Day 4 - Monster

“Wake up. Fuck. Please wake up.” You shake Vincent’s shoulder roughly, but there’s no response. He’s slumped sideways against a tree, soaking wet from the rain in the middle of this stupid fucking forest. You can’t lift him, you can’t move him. You managed to drag him under this tree, to futilely attempt to shelter from the downpour, but that’s all that you’ve got in you. He’s too heavy, his limbs too long and awkward for you to lift.

You’d gotten separated from the rest of the group in the rain, the terrain growing slippery while you were stalked by fiends. You’d slipped in the mud and fallen, set upon by an obscene amount of disgusting bug-like things. You shudder, still able to hear the disgusting wet clicking of jaws in your ear. Vincent had ended up transforming, Galian beast clawing the bugs off you with a roar, large body slipping in the dirt and cracking the earth, eventually sending the both of you tumbling down a steep incline that you can’t climb back up.

His massive body had protected you from the fall, but he had crashed to the ground hard, landing on jagged rocks and crying out in pain. He had limped upright, carrying you in the crook of his elbow in an attempt to return to the others, or get out of the rain. It must have taken too much energy to heal the injuries from the fall, or maybe Vincent was weak to begin with, but he had barely moved from the crater he’d made when landing, when he began to transform back.

Vincent had set you down quickly, stepping away as bones cracked and skin slithered. He was filthy, cape brown from dirt and hair plastered limply to his face from the rain. He had looked up at you, exhausted, horrified, upset, and worried, so fucking worried as he’d slumped to the floor moments later, passed out and completely dead to the world.

You’re cold, starting to shiver in your soaked clothes. The rain is showing no signs of letting up and you know it’s going to start getting dark soon. It’s going to be too cold to stay out here in the rain once that happens, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive in the dark. You need to find shelter, somewhere you can light a fire, but you can’t move him.

He’d probably be fine if you left him, but he’d panic if he woke and you weren’t there. He’d fret over your absence and likely end up transforming again. You have no faith in your ability to find shelter either, you’d probably just end up getting more lost. You need to stay with him, you need him to wake up.

“Please,” you beg again, trying to keep your voice down but you’re almost hysterical. “Vincent. I need you. Wake up. Please.” You shake him, kiss his forehead, smack his chest. You try everything you can think of but it’s no use. You know that when he passes out after transforming, he’s out for hours.

“Fuck!” you scream into the rain, giving up and slumping on the ground next to him. You lean against his side, burying your face into your hands and try not to cry.

Something twists beside you, a shifting creak of leather and metal. You turn. Vincent’s eyes are open, wide open, too open. He’s staring right at you but the glow in them is yellow instead of red. You scramble back as he blinks, head tilting sharply towards you, cocking to the side like an animal. There’s something wrong in his gaze, it’s not human. You wonder if one of his other monsters has woken up.

“What is the matter, precious thing?” Vincent says, wrongly. His lips move but you don’t hear his voice. You hear something else, a dark, guttural thing, sliding and hissing over stilted syllables. A mimicry of speech, shaping sounds instead of words.

You scamper back further.

“Do not be afraid,” the voice lilts, darkness curling in the space between you. “Vincent is not here but I can help you.”

“Wa-wake him up,” you stammer, voice weak with uncertainty, with fear.

“No!” it snarls, forcing an aching, full body shiver down your spine. “It is me or nothing.”

You’ve made it angry, you’ve made it angry and you’re completely fucked. Energy surges, a crackling heat that steals the breath from your lungs. Swirling horns of an intangible, sludgy darkness crest over its forehead while shadowy skeletal wings crack against the tree, bark scattering to the ground. You gasp, suddenly recognising the creature.

When Vincent is emotional, when he’s overwhelmed and angry but not ready to transform. When his jaw is clenched and body tight with impending release, sometimes there’s a moment of stillness, a shadow of horns and wings. “I know you,” you say to the creature, to Vincent.

It cracks a foul grin, lips spread too thin, too many teeth exposed. It’s an abomination of a smirk, full of dark, suggestive implications. Its wings beat silently with glee. “Come here, out of the rain,” it purrs, voice sounding more natural, like it’s becoming accustomed to speaking. It lifts a shadowy wing, tilting it up, blocking the rain from a small patch of ground beside it.

You hesitate. You don’t know much about Vincent’s transformations. You’ve only ever met Galian before, and he is kind, thoughtful if not animalistic and instinctual. Vincent has never warned you against trusting his monsters, but he’s also the type to never mention it. You don’t have a choice, you’re still stuck, still stranded and lost. You inhale deeply and slowly make your way towards Vincent’s body, towards the shelter underneath a shadowy, bat wing.

You sit down, feeling energy and heat radiate from Vincent’s body. The wing curls above you, protecting you from the rain and wind. The creature looks down, yellow eyes fixated, pupils slit like a cat’s. You’re terrified, lost and afraid, and you don’t know what to do.

“How can I help you?” Vincent rumbles, voice sounding impossibly close to your ear. You jolt and the creature chuckles lowly.

“I’m lost,” you reply. You don’t know if you should tell this creature anything, but it’s offering help and it’s your only choice at the moment. “We’re lost and it’s raining. I don’t know where to go, I don’t know what to do. We need to find shelter but I can’t carry him.” You take in a deep, shuddering breath. You try to compose yourself, but you can’t stop the tears from falling.

“Do not cry,” The creature hisses, reaching out to you with Vincent’s gauntleted arm. He never reaches for you with that arm, always tries not to touch you with it. You’re not sure what to do, the action is so jarring. The hand presses to your cheek gently, the touch so soft and at odds with everything else that’s happening. Golden fingers carefully brush the tears from your eyes.

The hand recedes and the creature holds it up to its face. It licks your tears from the metal, tongue too long and wide as it laves over sharp fingers. It purrs with contentment, a deep sound tumbling through its chest. “I will find you shelter,” it hisses, “where you can wait for him to awaken.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling mistrustful, but not really having a choice.

“There is a price,” the creature cackles.

Your mouth gapes open, speechless. You have no idea what this creature might want.

Vincent’s face laughs, mouth open too wide, head thrown all the way back. It’s an expression he would never make. A slitted gaze snaps to you, lips peeled back with too wide of a smile. “A kiss,” it coos, voice curling like smoke.

You’re confused.

He snarls. “You kiss him all the time. I want to try.”

You don’t have any other options and a kiss is fine. It’s still Vincent, it’s still his face, his lips. It shouldn’t be any different to kissing him normally. That’s what you try to convince yourself of anyway.

“Alright,” you say, mind made up. You steel your resolve. You’re committed to this now, you’re not going to back down.

The creature laughs and leans towards you. Vincent’s gauntlet hooks underneath your chin, tilting up your head. Yellow, slitted eyes stare down at you, blinking unnaturally, one at a time. A too long tongue darts out to lick full, reddened lips, twisting its length as if to show off. “Call me Chaos, Sweetling,” it purrs, voice laced with innumerable promises as the foreign, broken face of your lover slips closer.

[primesquib]

Miniwi

ground

Kiwi Pokémon

The chicks protect eggs within a mud crater on their backs. When the egg hatches, they graduate to their parent's backs for as long as they're small enough to carry. Those who break the egg are starved as punishment.

Moavergrowth

ground

Moa Pokémon

If faced by a predator, it presents the young in its back. This sacrifice is for the greater good of the flock, as the other chicks would soon perish without a parent. They are related to dodrio.

[friendly-alien-fucker]

Cultural Differences

Warnings: non-sexual nudity, fluff

Pairing: yautja x gender neutral! reader

Summary: the beach episode, your yautja and you go for a swim and some shenanigans happen.

___________________________________

For hunters who regularly, and quite literally, bathed in the blood of their enemies, yautia were surprisingly hygienic.

It was one of the first things you noticed when you agreed to explore the galaxy with your lover. They could be rolling around in mud, get beaten up and bruised with blood running down their mandibles, but they always returned home to you clean and smelling completely neutral.

It was pleasant, really. Seeing as you'd already made peace with saying goodbye to your sense of smell when you met them, having only known them as sludge-covered barbarians back then.

You smiled softly as you admired your body in the one-piece bathing suit and swimming trunks you'd picked for today. There were many things you didn't know about their species, in fact you still find yourself surprised by the gentler aspects of their society.

Mothers asking politely if their pups could touch your odd-looking dreads, elders stopping in their tracks to tell you you did a good job when they see the small rodent skulls you cleaned up and hung on your belt, or that group of overconfident youngbloods that promised to teach any yautja that decided your inferior strength was grounds to get touchy a lesson. 

Their species was full of unexpected kindness. And the reason you were getting ready for a swim today was proof of it.

Yautja Prime, their home planet, wasn't quite what humans would call idyllic. The atmosphere was dense and hard to breathe in, the ground rocky with little vegetation. You'd compare it with a desert, except unlike a desert, their planet had a vast amount of water, stored in vulcano-like craters.

Only problem is, the temperature there is just barely below the boiling point of water. Way too hot for any human.

So after complaining to your mate for the upteenth time, they decided to surprise you with a little trip to another, much cooler planet. Your concerns about deadly creatures lurking being quickly shut down when they told you it was a place often sought out by elders to relax after they were done hunting.

So now all you had to do was pack your few things and board the small freighter you and a few other Yautja would be flying to get there.

The thought unnerved you a little, being so close to a bunch of strange Yautja, especially since your mate would be waiting on the planet already and therefore couldn't protect you if something happened. But even through your innate fear, you knew those thoughts were stupid.

These were trusted elders, not only were their hunting days over, but they would never bother trying to take down a lone, unarmed human. Especially since you were basically trapped, with nowhere to run or hide, and therefore way too easy prey, if they could call you prey at all.

So you grabbed your small bag full everything you'd need on your trip and made your way through the long halls until you reached a much smaller ship.

Standing a little further off, you watched as different Yautja conversed with each other and walked on board, feeling your dread rise regardless of wether it was logical or not.

You tried to make out what they were saying, but despite living amongst their people for a while now, their language still only sounded like random clicking to you. You sighed.

"Okay?" a deep voice interrupted your solitude.

You flinched as a big hand grasped at your shoulder, quickly disappearing at your reaction. "Sorry."

It was another Yautja, seemingly a little older than your mate, adorned with battle scars and markings and missing a tusk. Their voice sounded stiff and robotic, like they learned their English from computer recordings, which wasn't too odd. Many youngbloods had started to learn human languages to aid the relationship between your two species.

Which made you silently wonder why this elder was learning it. Regardless, you bowed your head respectfully, and used your basic knowledge in ASL to greet them. Hearing their rapid clicks, you couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Heeelo, hello." They huffed, placing their hand on your chin to make you look up at them. When you faced them again, their mandibles were spread widely - something you've come to understand as a smile of their own.

"Ooman. I know your language, speak with me." They growled, and you nodded sheepishly. Apparently learning the best through doing is a universal experience.

And like that, your little trip seemed just a little less terrifying.

Nin'tui, as you'd gotten to know them, had shared with you stories of their greatest hunts, occasionally switching to sign language when their English wasn't enough. And while, as expected, the other elders on the ship were less enthusiastic about your stay, they didn't bother to complain. There were even a few who'd join in to chat about their own battles and the planet you were about to visit.

All in all, the trip was less unnerving than you'd thought, and a lot shorter too. Your sense of time wasn't the best up in space, but you could swear it wasn't longer than two hours until the ship gradually slowed, before setting down onto rich brown earth.

Once you set your eyes on the surrounding scenery, you couldn't get out of the shuttle fast enough. If not for your traveling companion, you would've probably been scolded for the amount of Yautja you almost tripped by running outside as fast as you did. But there was no helping it- blue skies! Brown earth! And, most importantly, air that you could actually breathe in!

And when your feet finally hit the ground you couldn't help but let out a long and joyous laugh. "Aaaaaah, I can't believe we're actually here!"

"Believe it." a way too familiar voice called from behind you, making you spin around to throw yourself at them in excitement.

Without flinching, they simply caught you, holding you high in their arms as you all but assaulted their face with kisses and thank you's. Or at least that's what the other yautja must've thought, muttering amongst themselves as if they were viewing something scandalous, a few stepping closer to get a better view of the strange ritual.

But your mate simply purred, leaning into your affection as their voice rumbled against you "You should wait to express your gratitude until you've seen the waters!" they laughed, and you shook your head as you gave them a last kiss between the eyes.

"I'm just so happy to be here! Just look!" you jumped out of their arms, gesturing towards the fields of flowers "this planet is beautiful! Almost reminds me of some corners of earth..."

You smiled at the thought, and they chuckled as they put a large hand on your back. "We should walk with the others, the waters are not far."

And so the two of you walked slowly behind the larger group of yautja, them slowing their pace to match yours as you cheerfully took in your surroundings. Beautiful was truly the right word for it.

Tall grass with taller flowers that swayed gently in the wind, going on for kilometers until reaching a distant forest, that you imagined to be just as wonderful.

After about 30 minutes of walking, elongated by your habit of stopping to sniff every alien plant you could reach, you finally made it to the lake. About 500 meters of fresh water that seemed to almost glow in the sunlight.

Standing in awe, you barely registered your mate sliding your backpack down your shoulders and throwing it to the side. It was only when you felt a claw tug at your shirt that you snapped out of it, matching their equally confused expression.

"Don't you want to swim?" They asked, and you chuckled at the misunderstanding.

"Oh, yeah. These are my swimming clothes." you explained, yet their expression didn't seem to lighten.

"No, no. Swimming." they accentuated their words, pointing towards the water as if you simply didn't hear them the first time.

You nooded, dumbfounded, "Yes. Swimming." but as they continued to stare at you like an alien (heh), you shook your head "just- here, come on."

You took their hand, leading them towards the water and to your relief they followed without complaint. At the edge of the lake, you grinned up at them excitedly, before taking a leap, splashing them with the surprisingly mild-temperature water.

Though as you came to the surface and brushed your wet hair out of your face, you were not faced with the annoyed yet amused expression you'd expected on your mate, not that you were registering their expression at all since seeing them stand there in all their naked glory practically fried your brain within seconds.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you yelled, making them jump slightly and their mandibles flare.

"What?" they asked, way too calm for your taste.

"You're naked!" you whisper-yelled, and they simply nodded, before jumping into the water next to you.

"Yes. Swimming." They repeated your words back to you with a very deadpan expression.

"But- love, no!" you were furious as you tried to explain this to them "We're not alone out here there are oth-" but as you looked to gesture at the others around you, you were met with even more naked yautja, unashamedly bathing in the sun.

Blood rushing to your face, you try to cover it with your hands, glad to be able to stand at this point in the water. You felt a hand lay itself on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" your mate asked quietly, bending down to meet you eye-to-eye. "I didn't know you'd be bothered by this. You were fine with me disrobing, I thought..."

You simply shook your head at them, forcing yourself to be a grown up and pry your hands from your eyes. "No...no." you sighed "I'm fine."

"But a warning would've been nice, I uhm..." you couldn't help but grin at your own embarrassment "I-I guess I just didn't expect to ever see any nude yautja aside from you, you know?"

Thankfully they didn't seem to judge you for it though, as they simply looked at you with that ever present curiosity. "Humans arent nude around each other?"

"We are but....usually just around friends and family, you know." you bite your lip as you dare take another glance at your surroundings "and usually only around our own species."

You can see them nodding from the corner of your eye, "I understand." yet something still seems to bother them.

"You are free to do as you please, however... you always encourage me to partake in your culture. Perhaps you should try and see this as an opportunity to partake in mine."

Their words stung. They were said without pressure or malice, a simple suggestion- but it stung. They had always gone out of their way to make you the most comfortable, this trip was proof of it, and you liked to think you were doing the same for them.

But were you?

"But what if they'll look?" you asked, your face still a shade darker just at the thought. "Then let them look." they replied in earnest "You are very attractive. Let them see what they don't have."

And people did look.

Though, to your surprise, no more than they usually do. Seeing a human walk around and do human things could only get so exciting you guessed, and nudity truly was natural to them.

Over time and with a little coaxing you were even comfortable enough to briefly leave the water, if only to get your towel and wrap it around yourself.

Letting yourself relax in the sun that, even hours later, didn't appear to go any lower, you're interrupted by the low purring of your mate. Smiling, you turn to face them.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you begin, only for them to interrupt "Thank you for coming. And," they truly seem grateful as they incline their head "thank you for 'stepping out of your comfort zone.'"

You chuckle at the human idiom. "My comfort zone is wherever you are." you say earnestly, and they simply purr louder in response.

[kurithedweeb]

In my recent post about base game Minecraft mobs in MCD rewrites, I mentioned that I like to include random little scenes from canon and I got a comment from @lucky-guess asking if I’d include Aph eating rotten flesh. I thought “maybe I will, it’d be funny.” I remember the time Brendan startled her and she accidentally ate the zombie brains in her hand. I was thinking about this comment and I had a Very Good Idea.

You know how Garroth was pretty hands-off with Aph at the start of Season 1? They’d talk, sure, but he just let her wander around and fix things up, he had bigger things to worry about until he realized that, hey, she’s basically a Lord now.

Here’s how it goes:

You’re the head guard of a tiny rundown coastal village, and you’ve been scrambling to keep everything together ever since a mysterious fire killed your Lord. Your apprentice has been a great help and he’s the only one who knows the real scope of your worries, your guards have been stressed enough with all the suspicion and accusations and extra patrols and they don’t need to carry the same weight you have on your shoulders.

It’s another dreary day of rain, one of your guards is recovering from a bad injury, and you’re not halfway through evening patrol when a random maiden crashes out of the woods. She’s only wearing what amounts to underwear, drenched, barefoot, her arms and legs are covered in mud and there are twigs in her tangled hair. She looks half-feral and the look in her eyes does nothing to discourage that.

You, obviously concerned that she’s being chased, ask her what happened, is she injured? Please, miss, come inside and take a seat by the fire before you catch your death. The maiden does not care even a little. She says she was chasing a mysterious man in green and have you seen him because she wants to know what’s up with that guy. You have not, and the idea of some random man being chased by this tiny woman is slightly concerning, but all you’re worried about right now is getting this woman inside before she dies of hypothermia. She does not care about hypothermia, she just wants to chase her mystery man.

Suddenly, a sound! A man in what might be green, it’s hard to tell in the rain! That’s the man, the maiden cries! After him!

You will go after him. The maiden will be going inside with your apprentice, right now, please, please go warm up. Your apprentice manages to wrangle the half-feral woman into the nearest open building, the library, and you take off after the mysterious man in maybe-green. You chase him through the trees, down the slippery slope of a hillside, into a clearing. You’ve lost your lantern somewhere along the way, and in the dark you trip on the lip of a crater you’re sure wasn’t there when you last passed through. You know these woods like the back of your hand, but the crater and the mud and the rain have blinded you in a moment of confusion and the man is gone by the time you get your bearings. Any tracks he may have left are too murky to follow. You stumbled back to town in the dark to check on the maiden.

You can call her Anastasia. That’s all your apprentice has been able to learn from her while you were gone. She’s washed, more-or-less dried and in proper clothes thanks to Emmalyn the librarian, maybe you’ll have more luck now that she’s bundled in front of the fireplace with some warm broth in her stomach. She tells you again of the man, of a clearing she didn’t recognize, and nothing of any use. You leave her to rest, thinking maybe she’ll remember more in the morning. She’s gone in the morning.

You’re half-convinced you hallucinated the whole event, but the time you spent that night furiously scrubbing down your armor convinces you it’s true. Anastasia reappears a few days later, breezes past you without a word and starts doing something to the road on the edge of town. You’re a little concerned you’ve possibly begun to lose your mind from the stress except other people are stopping to stare at her too.

For weeks, it continues like this. Anastasia appears in town, drops whatever she’s collected while she’s away at the library (infuriating Emmalyn more and more each time), messes around with a broken-down road or some fences or digs through the bed farmland, and then vanishes for days or weeks at a time. No one knows what she’s doing or what to do about it, but so long as she’s not hurting anyone it’s fine, right? She even helps clear out monsters from time to time.

You think, wasn’t that fence broken last week? Wasn’t that road in disrepair last month? Was that condemned plot of farmland suddenly sprouting healthy grass? Weren’t these Anastasia’s projects? Oh, you realize, she’s been fixing up the village for some reason. She’s been doing a surprising number of Lordly things, actually. And that little hut up on the cliff—was that also her? What else was she doing? She was making her own gear, her own house, helping with farms and patrols, and also apparently taming wolves and teaching them to fish—where did she learn all this stuff anyway?

You ask. She says she doesn’t remember. She says it just seemed obvious to do it like this. She says it seemed like these are just things people are supposed to do. Aren’t they? No? Well, that’s the way she’s doing things. You think she’s joking about not remembering how she knows, well, everything.

And then, as she’s helping clear away the bodies of yet another small horde of zombies, Brendan startles her and Anastasia shoves the zombie flesh into her mouth. SPIT IT OUT, everyone who’d seen this tragedy yells, SPIT IT OUT SPIT IT OUT RIGHT NOW! But no, this crazy weird woman has committed to her mistakes and you can see the disgust on her face as she chews. And swallows. You are fighting the urge to jam your fingers down her throat and make her throw up because you know her well enough to know you’d get stabbed for it on reflex. Within minutes, she is heaving into a bucket, miserable, and saying that she wouldn’t have done it if she’d known it’d make her so sick.

You, holding her hair back as she throws her guts up, realize that she was not joking. She was not joking about not knowing anything. Anastasia, the half-feral maiden from the woods who's been doing basically half a Lord’s duties around the little town under your care, is an amnesiac. She has actual, literal amnesia. That’s the only explanation. Everyone knows never to eat zombie flesh for this exact reason, everyone, no one is that dumb. Oh dear Irene, she’s going to end up doing this again, isn’t she? Anastasia, the woman who’s been caring for this town just as much as you have, is going to die from food poisoning because she can’t remember which berries are bad for you. If not that, then hypothermia. If you leave her alone, she’s done for.

That’s how you end up personally guarding the new Lord of Phoenix Drop. And how you end up breaking her out of jail when she gets wrongly arrested for murder a month later.

[brighttears]

hi! back again with another request, i hope that’s ok! if not then totally ignore this. For the request: could we get a jealous reader? Im always seeing Fics where Joel is jealous and would like to see that changed up! Maybe she sees Joel hanging around another woman more his age and she gets insecure, idk it’s totally up to you how it happens. if you do take this request then thank you so much, if it’s not something you’re interested in writing then that’s ok too and thank you for your fics!! <3

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description except for having hair, leaning fem but no pronouns or explicit mentions, no use of y/n 

Warnings: age-gap, mentions of sex, drinking, Angst (happy ending), pet names (honey), you have a big fight :,(

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: omg love this idea. Thank you for the request you’re so sweet and I’m happy to do them !! helps so much with writer's block plus I get to do cool stuff like this lol. This was challenging so I hope it doesn't disappoint :P

P.s. if any of yall’s name is Emily i apologize just replace it with the name of someone you hate lol

—

Even from all the way across the bar, you’re burning up, watching the way the woman in front of Joel twirls her hair and flashes her teeth when she laughs over enthusiastically at his jokes. Thankfully his back is to you so you can’t be tortured by whatever his expression—or wherever he’s looking—may be. 

Ever since you got to Jackson women have been crowding Joel like he’s the only man on the commune and it’s been driving you up the wall. You want to go over and give Joel a big wet kiss and tell her to fuck off, but you and him have never had a discussion about ‘us’, so you have no real right to claim him. Still, it burns, and that woman, Emily, as you’ve come to learn her name, as Joel’s number one fan, has such a punchable face. A matching burn of the whisky from your glass is welcomed down to your stomach.

When she leans forward, showing off the goods, you can’t stand it anymore, down the dregs of your drink and storm out of the Tipsy Bison. The icy breeze cools you down some but you’re in no way calm once you’re back at the house. Stomping up to your room—you and Joel’s room, you strip your jacket and immediately grab your gun to deep clean. Icey pain drips from your heart down into the crater of lava in your chest and it hisses in your ears.

Sitting at the head of the bed, you’re almost done with the fourth cleaning when Joel’s recognizable stomps sound with the creaking and slam of the front door. You continue to clean, not looking up when he comes in. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, innocently. 

“Hm. I’m surprised you even came home.” you reply, still not looking up. Still aflame, you keep a mostly even tone but Joel easily catches the pointy edges. 

He pauses, then finishes kicking off his boots to straighten up and turn to you, “An’ why’s that?”

“I mean I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow morning on your walk of shame from Emily’s house.” you keep your focus on the final wipe down of your gun.

“What?” 

“What? Can’t blame me, I saw her eyefucking you. Basically shaking her tits in your face, too. Didn’t stay long though, it was actually kind of fucking gross.” 

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” you finally meet his gaze, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Go fuck whoever you want. I guess it’s none of my business. Would have been nice to know that that was the deal here before we started sharing an actual bed, though.” you go back to overpolishing the metal, trying to act nonchalant, but your chest is full of mud. 

“What makes you think I’m goin’ around fuckin’ other women?” 

“Well, now that you’ve got the pick of the litter, why settle for me?” you finally place your gun down loudly on the nightstand. 

Joel raises his voice in sternness, “What the fuck r’you talkin’ about?”  

You take a deep breath through your nose, refusing to let your anger go, but the icey, tight pain is tearing at your heart and you can’t stop it from piercing through your voice when you say, “I just—I just thought it was me, I thought it was me you wanted.”

“What—’course you’re—where’s all this comin’ from?” 

You stand to face him and scoff, “Please, you think I don’t see the way the women here have been looking at you? They drool all over you, and you just let them, you throw ‘em a smile.” you voice is teeming with attitude, “Never saying a word to me about it. What is it, are you ashamed of me? I have to be your little secret? I’m just some young—some young…” you stop yourself before you finish a sentence you know you’ll regret, no matter how much you want to stick him with it, but it’s too late.

Joel steps one foot towards you and shoves his finger out, glowering, “Good call not finishin’ that sentence.” he growls, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talkin’ to though cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

You pick your fire right back up, “I thought maybe I’d be good enough but there's things I don’t have, huh? Need a woman more your speed? Well, you’re free to let Emily fuck you better, just please don’t bring her back here, okay?” you end it with your voice drenched in sarcasm.

It’s Joel’s turn to scoff now, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I don’t give a shit about Emily! I’m not fuckin’ her! Wh—” Joel narrows his eyes, “You tryin’ to say I’m a cheater? Is that it? That's what you think a me?” 

“N–no,” you stutter, suddenly realizing that that is what you’re accusing him of. 

Near shouting, he continues, “You don’t trust me. That's what this is about.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you move towards him but he steps back.

“How the hell else am I supposed’t take that?”

“I’m just scared.” the confession jumps out of you.

“Scared of what?” he shouts.

“Of you leaving me!” your voice breaks and you choke back the onset of a sob, but Joel loses no venom.

“You’re scared of me leaving? After all this time—after everything, you think I’m—I’d—I don’t want to leave you! Talkin’ to Emily, I was just tryin’ t’be fuckin’ polite, be,” he takes another step towards you, “social, that’s all! You think I can’t talk to women without tryna get in their pants? Is that really the kinda man you think I am? Should I stop talkin’ to Maria, too? Cause I’m such a piece a shit cheater I’m probably tryna get at her, too, huh? My own brother's wife? That’s what you think a me?” 

“No,” you nearly scream, hitting your hands to your head to grab at your hair, “that’s not what I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

“Then what are you trying to say?” He yells back.

Your chest is starting to heave, beginning to be overwhelmed with emotion, but you try to keep it under control, not wanting to break down in the middle of an argument. “I just hate seeing it! I hate seeing the women here fucking crawling all over you like cats in heat and you just fucking take it, like you want it, you want them, not me, now that I’m not the only option, you’ve got all these pretty women just waiting for you to knock on their fucking door, and I was just—just—”

“What, just some young pussy?” Joel snarls.

“No one that mattered! No one special! And all of it was empty, all the words, the sex, the time we shared, I was just a placeholder for a proper woman, cause I’m not good enough, was never good enough for you…” your voice shatters as the whirling in your head and heart overcomes you and you step back until the back of your knees hit the bed, then flump down and put your head in your hands, trying not to sob.

Instinctually, Joel comes to kneel before you, his anger beginning to melt away when his attention shifts to you in pain. He takes your wrists to uncover your face, saying nothing, only focusing your eyes and his, now gentle, as you continue to try to control your jumping breaths. After a few moments of you unsuccessfully calming yourself, Joel moves his hand to stroke your cheek, over the side of your face, into your hair. When your breathing has calmed some, he looks over your face and wipes away the few escaped tears. “I hate it when you cry but you look so pretty when you do.” he tells you, soft and quiet, pulling a small laugh out of you. Once your inhales and exhales are at an even pace, he speaks up again, with a soothing tone, “Okay. Now I’ve calmed down, n’ you’ve calmed down.” he takes a deep breath and you do with him, like you’ve learned to, before he continues, “I know all a that was just outta anger. N’ we’re just not at an understandin’ here… Honey I’m in love with you.” 

His words make you take a deep, post-cry shuddering breath. Remembering you have to say something back, you whisper, “I’m in love with you, too.”

After a few silent but full moments with Joel stealing glances at your lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod your head as you’re already leaning in as a response. Your lips essentially smash together, want igniting in both of you. You lean forward until he’s on the floor and you’re sitting on top of him, both hands holding his face while one of his clutches your hip and the other slides over your jaw and into your hair. Then Joel pushes you up and onto the bed, nosing into your neck from above you, sticking wet kisses all up and down it while your hands tangle in his hair. He slows and drags kisses back up to your mouth. Sounding drunk, Joel finds time between your mouths to say “Don’ want no one else.”

Between kisses you continue to converse, “So can I punch Emily in the face?”

“Mmm, I don't think Maria would like that very much. Why don’tcha just give me a big sloppy kiss next time she won't leave me th' fuck alone?”

“I can do that. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah we can do that. Can I squeeze yer ass?”

“Only when someone’s looking. You can do it when they're not either but I would prefer if you did it while you know one of those alley cat’s watchin’.”

“Mhm. Every time. Let em’ all know.”

“You know, you’re gonna have a lot less friends once I scare all of them away.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me. I got everyone I need already.”

[geekedoutbunny]

Macaque x Fem! Monkey Reader - My-Happily-Ever-After

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Macaque x Fem! Monkey Reader - My Happily-Ever-After

Paring: Macaque x Fem! Monkey Reader

Rating: Rated M

Warning: Multiple time skips, Emotional neglect, touch starve, self-torture, sweet romance

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sunflower field was healthy and strong, the sun shined brightly, and the partly cloudy sky was beautiful, the little yellow monkeys lazed around on top of the giant sunflowers, some sleeping while others picked bugs off one another. On the ground, a few baby monkeys could be seen running through the thick stems of the flowers as they cooed to one another happily. You hummed a sweet little tune as you walked along the bridge that lays in the valley of sunflowers, you were on your way to water the more newly bloomed sunflowers, so you made it a habit very quickly to give them water first so that you didn't actually forget.

You stopped as you turned to look over the edge of the bridge, far down below you could see the newly bloomed flowers, they were young and they stood around your height. You smiled down at them happily as you continued on your walk coming to a 4-way crossroad in the bridge. Three going in two going in different directions while the last one came back towards you but went down in a slight slop. The bridge was built like a zigzag below you, while in front of you, it became a crossroad. You turned to walk down the zigzag, making your way down the slopes as you walked further down.

Once you were at a decent height over the flowers you raised your hands high above your head, and you cuffed them like you were holding water before you closed your eyes and your hands glowed, and out came water. It sprayed upwards from your palms creating a light 'rainfall' over the flowers. You stood there for a while, patiently allowing the plants to soak up as much water as possible. A few of the baby monkeys that were playing through the larger flowers came running to play in the 'rainfall'.

You chuckled at them sweetly as you watched them play under the light shower, a small twinkle in the sky appeared behind you, unaware, you continued to water the sunflowers before the small twinkle flashed again and like a meteor, a flaming object shot out of the sky in the distance landing far in your sunflower field. You tensed up in shock when the object landed hard on the ground making the earth shake. You turned around in confusion as you saw black smoke coming from the distance. You frowned as you stopped watering your flowers and you went to go investigate. You hopped along the top of the large sunflowers, taking the quickest route to the area.

When you arrived you stared on in curiosity as you saw a giant crater in the ground, not too far from the edge of the sunflower field. A few of the monkeys gathered around you as they too stared down in curiosity. "Stay here, I'm going to go and check things out." You told the monkeys as you jumped off the flower, you landed on the ground not too far from the crater, and you eased up to the edge of it, peering down into the deep hole. You checked for any impending danger in the hole before you slid down the slope of it.

Once at the bottom, you approached the smoking middle cautiously, there, you waited patiently for the smoke to clear, and it wasn't long before you saw a figure. You stared intensely as it became clearer for you to see and once it was clear enough your eyes widened when you saw that it was a black-furred monkey. You approached him cautiously, seeing that he was injured, his clothes were burned and torn, cuts ran along his body as well as matted fur from blood and mud. You frowned in worry before you summoned a sunflower underneath him, it gently bloomed around him before it closed and vanished. You looked around the crater before you shook your head.

"Property Damage." You said tiredly before you hopped out of the hole. You made your way back to the top of the large sunflowers, there the monkeys all cooed at you in concern and you smiled down at them. "Don't worry you lot, everything is okay, if he's nice then you'll have a new friend to play with soon." You said sweetly to them. They all jumped and clapped in joy as they began to coo among themselves. You smiled at their antics before you hopped along the top of the sunflowers.

In the center of the sunflower field, lay a large yet simple home, it was at the top of a gigantic sunflower, you ran along the vines that acted as stairs till you reached your front porch. You opened the door and in the center of your living room laid the giant bud of an unbloomed sunflower. You closed the door behind you as you held your other hand out to the bud making it bloom. In the center of the sunflower lay the unconscious black-furred monkey. He lay in the fetal position, a painful groan came from him but he remained asleep.

You stared down at him in concern before you walked into your bathroom, coming back shortly with a medical kit. "Don't you worry, I'll make sure you feel good as new when you wake up." You said gently.

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It's been a few hours since you've cleaned his wounds, wrapped bandages around him, and washed his tattered clothes. You'll have to repair them later. You were brewing herbal tea as you hummed softly to yourself while you scrubbed his dirty boots in the kitchen sink. A painful groan sounded out and you looked behind you, seeing that the black-furred monkey was rubbing his forehead. The petal that acted as a blanket slightly lifted itself off of his body while another petal gently petted his back. You smiled at the sunflower's actions before you picked up a hand towel to dry your hands.

You walked over to the sunflower, staring down at him patiently. You watched as he opened his eyes, he looked around in confusion and alarm as he took in his foreign environment, you watched silently as he suddenly moved to sit up quickly, but he paused when he grunted in pain and held his side. You remember seeing a nasty gash on that side so you weren't surprised to see him wince. You nearly chuckled when you saw the sunflower gently pet his head with one of its petals and he flinched back in alarm, he stared at the yellow petal in shock before he grew confused. He gently sniffed it and he arched a brow.

"A flower?" He muttered, he looked down to see that he was lying on a giant sunflower, your brow twitched at the language he used but that wasn't an issue for you. You watched as the petal that was acting as a blanket before gently laying back over his lap, he stared down at the petal in question before he gently rubbed it in curiosity. You chose the moment to speak up. "The flower really likes you, it can sense that you're a good-hearted soul." You explained gently. He whirled around in alarm and he winced but he didn't hold his side not wanting to show pain. He glared at you while you smiled at him.

"Who are you?" He asked. "I'm (Y/n), I'm the owner of this field and this house." You explained. He stared at you cautiously, he eyed you up and down. "Where am I?" He asked, he noticed that you hadn't moved an inch since he noticed you which made him relax slightly. "You're in Sunflower Field Forest." You explained. He arched a brow at that. "Huh?" He questioned, you smiled at his confusion. "I can tell from your language that you're from China, so I'm not surprised that you've never heard of 'Sunflower Feild Forest.'" You explained. He looked around himself for a second before he looked back at you.

"So, where is, 'Sunflower Feild Forest' then?" He asked. "Welcome to Mother Russia, the home to the most beautiful sunflowers." You explained as pride filled your voice. His eyes widen at that. "MOTHER RUSSIA!!! HOW DID I END UP HERE!?" He shouted in confusion. You shrugged your shoulders. "Well, from the looks of it, you were in a pretty bad fight and you fell from the sky, you were pretty banged up so I brought you here and I nursed you back to health." You explained. He looked away from you, his eyes bouncing as he thought over what happened before he landed here.

You decided to walk over to the oven, picking the kettle up as you poured some tea into a cup. You added some sugar to help ease the taste of the herbs and you carefully took the cup to him. "Here, blow, it's scalding." You said gently as you crouched next to him. He gently took the cup from you, heeding your advice as he blew the liquid. You watched as he took a sip and you smiled. "This is actually pretty good." He said. You closed your eyes in pride as you placed your hands on your hips. "It's my special blend." You proudly said. He took another sip. "Well it's pretty amazing, I might need this recipe." He said with a small smirk. You lightly chuckled at him before you walked over the the couch that wasn't far from his sunflower bed.

"I'll gladly teach it to you If you'd like?" You offered. He looked over at you with a pleased stare. "Would you really? It would help out quite a bit." You nodded as you shrugged. "Sure, I have nobody else to teach it to, so I might as well teach you." You said. It was quiet for a while after that, the sound of him sipping his tea sounded out while you gently hummed a small tune. He looked around your home, taking in the decor with a better understanding now, as the strange decor made sense. "You know, I wasn't expecting another 'Mystic Monkey' to be living way out here in Russia." He said in a cheeky voice as he gave you an amused smirk.

You smiled at him as you leaned on a closed fist. "I didn't expect there to be another 'Mystic Monkey' to land in my field from such a long way. Tell me, are you the famous Monkey King?" You asked. He gave you a sheepish chuckle as he smiled awkwardly at you. "Ah, no, that's my... long-time friend Sun Wukong. I'm Macaque, six-eared Macaque that is." He explained as he proudly introduced himself.

You stared at him with interest. "Six ears hmm? Interesting, your hearing must be amazing then." You said thoughtfully. He smiled sheepishly as he looked down at his lap. "Yeah, you can say that, my hearing is the best." He said. You observed him, taking in his meek actions, you observed his actions as his emotions were everywhere but his meekness was his rawest emotion yet. 'He's a timid thing.' You sweetly thought as you stared at him. He looked up at you in question. "What's with the staring?" He asked as he seemed to shrink in on himself as he became defensive.

You smiled at him. "Nothing, just admiring your uniqueness is all." You said. His eyes widened at your words before he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not that unique." He muttered. You chuckled at him. "I wouldn't say that, you literally landed out of the sky, if I didn't know any better I'd call you an angel." You teasingly said, he slightly blushed at your words.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You hung up his freshly repaired clothes on a clothing line, Macaque fell asleep once he finished his tea, as you weren't surprised, it was supposed to make you sleep so that it could do its job better at healing the body. You sighed happily as you watched his clothes gently blow in the soft breeze. His boots sat under his clothes also air drying. You looked out at your Sunflower, the sun that was once in the center of the sky was now at the 4:00 pm mark point in the sky, making the shadows longer. You sighed once more as you reached over to roll your shoulder tiredly, you weren't expecting anyone to come falling out of the sky, but it was in your nature to help any who came across your path.

You looked down when you saw a little monkey hop over to you curiously, and you smiled down at the little monkey. "hey little buddy, what's up?" You asked him sweetly. He tilted his head at you for a moment before he hopped over past you and towards your front door. You watched him curiously before you saw your door wide open. You walked over and peeked in curiously. You smiled as you saw loads of monkeys roaming around Macaque's sleeping body on the flowerbed. You watched in amusement as they crawled all over him, some snuggling up next to him while others poked at him curiously.

"Would you guys stop and let him sleep, I know that he's a monkey and that's different to see as I'm the only monkey you know of, but it's rude to do so." You gently scolded them as you pulled them away from him gently as you placed them on the floor. You watched as they cooed in complaint and you nodded your head. "yes, yes, I know, I know, but you have to let him rest first before you can play with him, he's badly injured and he needs to heal." You explained. They cooed some more in concern and you sighed. "Yes, I'm worried about him too, but all we can do is wait and hope that the herbal tea and medicine do their job." You said.

They all grew quiet as they stared up at you before they looked at one another and they all nodded before they began to make their way out of the house. You smiled fondly at them before you looked over at the sunflower bed, you watched as the baby monkeys snuggled up further into Macaque's side and back before they all dozed off with him. You shook your head as you walked away. "They're going to have a hard time saying goodbye once he has to leave." You muttered to yourself.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

It's been a few weeks since Macaque landed in the Sunflower Field Forest, he's grown to be quite popular among the monkeys that live through the forest, and he's also been a great help to you. He's taken a liking to gardening, your simple and quiet lifestyle, and he was beginning to grow addicted to it very quickly. He couldn't do much due to his wounds but he helped with what he could, such as helping you water, helping the smaller sunflowers get sunlight, and aiding in babysitting the baby monkeys when it was heavily needed, it was small but it was meaningful.

You really did appreciate him, and you've also grown to like his company, he didn't talk much but he did enjoy asking questions as well as listening, he enjoyed learning about your country and the stories that belonged to your life that the humans have told throughout the ages. You weren't a bragger but you did enjoy talking about your victories. And just as he would ask questions and learn, so did you. He was pleased that there was a person interested in hearing his backstory for once, it was refreshing.

His wounds slowly healed up and he was able to do more by the 3rd-month mark, he was honestly pretty much completely healed by the 2nd month, but he honestly didn't want to leave. He was growing to love this place as a real home. He had his own monkey friends now, a place to call home, and he had you... He didn't know how to feel about you. You were the first besides MK to show him any kind of real acceptance, but it was different from MK's, it was more... he couldn't explain it but he just knew it was more.

You washed his clothes, you cooked for him, you rubbed his fur as he relaxed on your lap, you'd spend time together in the garden and throughout the forest with the little monkeys, you'd laugh with him and sometimes even cuddle with him. You were like a missing puzzle in his life that he never realized he was lacking, you made him feel whole. His insomnia wasn't as bad anymore, he ate more, he trained with a purpose now... in fact, he was doing everything for a purpose now, and he wasn't sure when he started doing that.

You gave him happiness, joy, comfort, and love. You accepted him and all his flaws with no questions asked. He adored that about you. By the 5th month, he began to crave your constant attention, always wanting to hear your voice, whether it's laughter, talking, humming, or even just snoring, He always wanted to have you by his side, whether it was close or somewhat far, as long as he could see you he didn't feel alone. He began to cuddle with you at night when you'd both sleep on your bed, he started cooking breakfast with you, and his own collection of clothes began to build up.

Possessions from his old home that he could sneak over without your knowing, and even if you did, you never seemed to care. You never seemed to complain when you had to wash more of his underwear and socks than the one pair he used to have, you didn't complain when some of his weapons began to appear on one of your empty walls, you didn't complain when his shadow was being more playful with you, you didn't mind when he kissed your cheek good morning or good night, you didn't mind when he wanted to slow dance with you in the living room, you never minded, and that just encouraged him further.

The thoughts of MK and his friends would cross his mind, but the idea of leaving behind your sweet smile always made him put the group at the back of his mind with a fleeting thought. 'If they need me, then they'll come find me.' He'd think before he'd continue on with his new life.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

3 years have passed, and here he lives happily with you, the love of his life, his other half, the rings on your fingers shining brightly in the sunlight as you both sad outside on the porch on a small loveseat bench, his arm draped over the back of the seat while you landed into his side practically on his chest, watching over the newly born baby monkeys play with some of the slightly older ones, the little monkeys sat around you both as they enjoyed the quiet day with you both. Macaque chuckled as he shook his head and you looked over at him curiously. "What's so funny?" You asked, he shook his head with an amused smile as he looked out over the Sunflower Field Forest. "Oh nothing, just that I never knew what I needed until I met you." He said sweetly as he looked down at you.

You giggled at his words as you leaned further into him. "I'm glad you fell from the sky because you're something I never knew that I needed too." You said lovingly as you stared at the baby monkeys that played along the top of the sunflowers. His arm around your shoulder held you tighter to him. He sighed in contentment as he looked up at the sky, silently thanking whatever celestial being or god that brought you two together. 'It's my turn, to have a Happily-Ever-After this time.' He thought.

[miniwheat77]

Caught. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! Kidnapping, mentions of torture and rape, death, violence, angstyyyy, happy ending (lemme know if I missed any)

(Summary): After you're captured on a mission gone wrong, Price goes a little crazy.

"May have found something here, Captain." Gaz looks upon the old washing machine. "Give me a hand yeah?"

"I'll push, you pull." Price says lowering his rifle and walking around to the other side. Once it's been moved, Price raises up his gun again. He steps inside, looking upon the dingy room and crater in the floor. "Kate, we've found passageway."

"Good work." She says through the radio. "Look at this." Price says to Gaz. "Jackpot." Gaz laughs.

"Be advised, multiple boats approaching our position."

"Need help?" Gaz is the first to respond. "Could be fishermen, stay on mission."

Price's hair stands up upon hearing it. He doesn't like this one bit. He is first to descend, Gaz following close behind him. When they reach the ground Price takes out a man waiting there silently, after that they await more words from Laswell as they creep their way through the tunnel. "Cartels love their tunnels."

"Wish I could say the same." Gaz groans. "Age before beauty Captain."

They continue their way into the tunnel, curious as to where it leads.

"Bloody extensive." Gaz says, noticing the way the dirt turns to mud.

"Must lead out to water." Price says, lifting up his radio.

"Kate, I'm in the tunnels heading toward the coastline, you okay?"

"Boats are still closing, no trouble yet."

"I don't like this Kate." Price growls.

"Comes with the territory John."

"You shouldn't be out there alone just the two of you."

"We aren't alone, we're armed and dangerous Captain. Out."

Bullets flying past the both of them has them crouching down, firing back. Gaz raises up over the crate he'd hidden behind, firing at each of them until he doesn't see anymore movement, moving up. He doesn't see anymore cartel. "All clear." He says, lowering his weapon.

"Have a look at this." Price pauses. "Submarine."

"Fuckin' hell." Gaz says looking over it. "Cartel's using it for transport."

"Things big enough for a missile." Gaz sighs. "Barely. You couldn't cross the Atlantic in that heap." John raises his radio.

"Kate, we're in a cave just off the coast. No personnel, no missiles."

"Copy, I'm directly across... I think we've got problems here John."

John feels the pit of nervousness growing in his chest. "Copy, stand by. Gaz, get your gun up towards the ocean!"

"What is it?!" Gaz asks. "Boats are closing in- looks like AQ. They heave weapons."

"Contact, engaging!"

"KATE!" Price growls into the radio. The only thing Price could do is watch in horror, trying to pick each of them off but it's no use. "Fuck! They're boarding!" Price says. "KATE..! KATE..!" He yells into the radio but receives nothing. "LASWELL!" Gaz yells into his own radio. "FUCK! What the fuck- I can't see what's happening!" Gaz panics. “They have them hemmed in, they're surrounded!” Price growls.

"Al Qatala's on the boat, they're taking it, or us." They could hear men yelling at her in Arabic. Not being able to understand. They're yelling too loud for the radio to pick their voices up clearly. "Get your fucking hands off of me! Let her go!" They hear Laswell yelling. "Laswell! Laswell!" Price yells. "They're on the AQ boat, they're taking them!"

"They got them Captain." Gaz says, defeated. Worry sets in immediately. "Let's get off the X and talk to Shepherd." Price says crawling back up onto the ledge they'd both come off of to get to the entrance. "We need to get them back."

"Let's move."

---

"This is proof of life." Gaz says, looking at the laptop. It's a video of Al Qatala pointing a gun at Laswell. "Where did this come from?" Price asks. "Urzikstan." Shepherd says through the radio. "Look." Price says, pointing at the screen. "They're pointing east."

"Likely to Al Mazrah." Shepherd says.

"If they get them underground there we'll lose them for good." Gaz says.

"We'll lead the rescue team." Price says, patting Gaz on the shoulder as he turns to walk away. "That's not gonna happen John." Shepherd says, making him stop right in his tracks. "Say again, general." Gaz says. "This is a tug o' war boys. We need to pull back, not lean forward."

"Since when." Gaz says. "Since now. We can't just send in the cavalry, these things take planning and preparation." Shepherd says sternly. "These things take violence and timing, I can do both." Price growls. "Their lives are in a fuckin hourglass." He's furious.

"I know you're upset captain. This happened on your mission and that's a tough pill to swallow." Price's face is turning red. "Are you telling me we leave them?" He asks. "I'm telling you I can't help you… But I won't stop you." Shepherd says. "I'll have them back in 12 hours."

"Don't die doing this John, they wouldn't want that. I don't either."

"General, I thought Kate was your friend." Gaz asks. "War isn't about friends. It's about enemies. Good luck." They shut the laptop, turning to head in the other direction.

"We'd be going head to head with AQ on their home turf, they're gonna have hundreds more protecting them. We need an army." Gaz says, concerned. "I can get us an Army." Price says, bumping Gaz's chest with the side of his fist. Walking toward the Exfil Chopper.

---

Upon finding out you and Laswell had been captured, Price and Gaz knew they had to act quickly.

Price got all of 141 on board, everyone was acting fast to get to the both of you. They were on their way to the both of you in no time.

The only set back to that was, when they'd gotten into the car Laswell was in, you weren't there with her. Laswell was freaking out when they got her out, asking where they'd taken you. Only then did they realize, you weren't with her.

They had no idea at which point the both of you had been separated. They couldn't get in touch with you in any way whatsoever. They had no idea where they could have taken you, leaving them on a mission.

Shepherd told him it was no use, that you were probably already dead, but Price refused to give up.

After months of searching for you, trying to find any sign of you at all, Laswell told Price he needed to give up. She tried to break it to him easy, that Shepherd was right, you were probably already dead.

Price felt empty, he felt like he failed you and in a way, he knew he did. At the bar sitting with Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Laswell after Hassan had been associated. He felt nothing but anguish. Defeat. The rest of them could tell that he was off. Could tell that he was damaged by your loss. You and Price got along really well. Price was sick, they took down Hassan, killed commander Graves. He wanted to tell you everything. He loved talking to you. And you'd missed all of it. He wanted to see your face even if it was just once more.

You were quiet and followed orders well, didn't let anything bother you like the rest did. You were level headed, asked questions before acting. You were calm. Maybe that's why the both of you got along so well. You were good at soothing him. When he was stressed and you'd rest your hand on his shoulder or back, he would calm immediately. His heart would still in his chest. His blood would stop pumping. You were the calm to the raging sea inside of him constantly. He favored you by accident sometimes. The others never really seemed to notice but he did. You were always someone he could talk to. Someone he felt comfortable around. He remembers the conversations the both of you had shared on the rooftop changing watch. Your smile, your eyes.

As time went on, he started to forget. He'd forget some of the little things you would do. It hurt him even worse to know that he was forgetting. He'd dream of you, dream of finding you. And one night, the last dream he'd had of you. He knew what he was feeling wasn't just a Captain and a Sergeant. These were feelings, and the dream he had of kissing you after finally being reunited with you, is when he realized it. He realized the feelings of heartbreak he felt were real, he had actual feelings for you and had been so blinded by your loss he didn't stop to realize it. He remembers the night after the dream when Laswell seen him up at ungodly hours of the morning, seeming so stressed and exhausted. She ended up sitting down next to him, she was on base for just a couple days to aid in some more small missions. "It's Y/N isn't it?" She asks. He looks up at her, eyes glossed over. The first time Laswell had ever seen the man even start to look upset. "Keep having nightmares about her." She nods her head. "It's tough. I know it is." She looks down.

John doesn't know what to say. Should he hope that if they had killed you that it was a fast painless death? Al Qatala wasn't kind to other militia. They beat, tortured, raped. They did everything before finally killing them. Is he supposed to hope that you're alive somewhere? Battered? Broken? Or does he hope that you had a fast death? Which is the better of the two, because to him they're both fucked up. Laswell can see the back and fourth in his brain. She can see how he's struggling. "I'm worried I'll forget her." He sighs. One single tear falling from his eye, running down his cheek just slightly before he furiously rubs his eye. "You won't. I found this in one of her old rooms, thought you should have it." She slides the photograph over to him. It's his entire team. After a mission that had gone a little south. Everyone was dirty and covered in blood, the brightest thing about each of them was their teeth as they smiled brightly at the camera. You were to the left side next to Price, he had an arm draped over you and you were smiling so beautiful. His heart aches at the thought of you, that he'll never see you again.

He hates this.

-

He's looking through the scope at a group of men, lost in thought. It was dangerous for him to be in his head so much. He risked his team every time he did it, but he couldn't stop it.

Gaz is trying to flank them from behind. They need information and this is how they'd get it. He'd gone inside sometime ago.

"Clear." Gaz says over the radio. Price emerges from the bushes, walking up to the house from his spot outside. "Got his phone." Gaz breathes. "What's it say?"

"Nothing important." He sighs. "More cartel."

"Already?" Price shakes his head. "Yeah. Assuming Valeria has a second in command. Probably already in her spot. Same with Hassan I'd imagine. There's always more."

Something moving catches Captain Price's eye and he raises his gun, firing immediately. He rushes to the room the man had been trying to run into. "No! Please don't kill me!" He raises his hands. Price realizes he'd shot him in the shin. Price lifts him up to where he is sitting, aiming his gun at him. "Tell us what you know."

"I.. I don't know anything."

He tries to maintain silence, but Price pulling the slide back on his pistol has him freaking out. "Your friend! I know where she is!" He cries. Price's face drops immediately and he lowers his gun. "Who? Who are you talking about!" He roars. His sense of urgency has even Gaz flinching. "I.. I think her name is Y/N or something like that." He cries. "Where is she?" he growls. "I'll tell you but you can't kill me." He breathes. "Okay." Price lifts him up, Gaz zip tie's his hands behind his back and they lead him outside. They had to wait a while on exfil but they could manage to stay hidden until then.

They chose to hide in an empty vehicle until the chopper arrived, it being only a couple minutes out. "Where is she? Is she alive?" Price asks. Gaz missed you too obviously. You treated everyone in 141 well in the time you had spent with them. "She works for him. In a safehouse in Mexico." He breathes. "Show us." Gaz asks. "If she isn't alive, you're dead." Price breathes. This random man could see the death stare in his eyes. How serious he was about killing him. The only thing he could do was hope you were still alive, knowing full well most slaves didn't make it out alive. He didn't have his radio, couldn't call for help. Not like his boss would help him anyways, he was disposable.

When the exfil chopper arrives, Price rushes him up onto the ramp. "Stay there, and don't try anything or so help me god I will blow your head off." He growls. "Watch him Garrick." He orders and Gaz nods his head. "Laswell, this is Price." He says into his cell phone as she answers it.

"John it is 5am this better be good."

"We captured a man and he says Y/N is working in a cartel safehouse, she's a slave."

"Price..." she trails off. "He's probably lying." She sighs. "He said her name Laswell. He said it first." she sighs, he can't hear or see her, "Laswell. She's on 141, we need her, we owe this to her. I'll follow any lead I get, even if it takes me right to a dead end." He growls. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Laswell gets up from her bed. "I'm on my way down to the office, hold tight." He sighs in relief. He needs you back. So much worse than he ever thought he'd need anyone. Laswell sighs, throwing the blanket off of herself and standing up to change her clothes. Once she is dressed, she picks up her keys and bag, heading out the door to her car.

When they return to their base, Price can do nothing but wait anxiously.

He’s sitting on a bench, elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands. He was anxious. Bouncing his leg up and down, switching the position in which he’s sitting every few minutes. He wanted to come out of his skin. “Cap.” Gaz says sitting down. “You look distraught.” John sighs. “Just.. nervous.”

Gaz nods his head. “Please excuse my digging sir. But.. you’ve changed since she went missing. Do.. do you have feelings for her?”

“Garrick, she’s one of my own.”

“I know sir. It’s just that.. you seem to be more interested in finding her than anyone else. I just wonder if your feelings for her aren’t greater than even you’ve realized.” Captain Price shakes his head. “Garrick.” John stands up. “This a mission, treat it like one.” He says, going to walk away. Right as he does, his phone rings. “I tracked Y/N back to a workshop. I’ve got in contact with Alejandro and Rudolfo in Mexico. They’re familiar with the area. They’re going to meet you, and help you get her back.”

John breathes a breath of relief. You were so close. There was a part of him that knew this wouldn’t work out. That knew you were long gone and wouldn’t be there anymore. He knew for sure he’d never see you again. But he at least has to try. He knew not to get his hopes up. “Garrick! Get everyone else. We leave in 15!” He says, walking up the stairs and going into his office. He gathered up everything he thinks he’ll need, heading back down the stairs to meet with everyone else. “Y/N has been tracked down to a workshop in Mexico, she’s been a slave for the last few months. We’re not sure if she’s still there but we’ll be meeting up with Alejandro and Rudolfo. They’re going to help us.”

“She’s.. still alive?” Soap is the first to speak. “Unsure.” Price lowers his head for a second. “That’s what we’re going to check.”

—

“Captain.” Alejandro nods his head. “Alejandro, how are you?”

“Hanging in there. Ready to get your girl back?” He smiles. “Always.”

Captain Price and Gaz set up snipers. Soap and Ghost are creeping their way up to the buildings, looking for those Price and Gaz may not see. Alejandro is going to try to find another way inside, Rudy is waiting in a vehicle in case anything goes wrong. One by one, they’re each picking off members of the cartel. “I’m inside.” Alejandro says into the radio quietly. “I see a lot of women and children but the place is crawling with cartel. We’re going to have to attack.” He says quietly. Price and Gaz emerge from their hiding places. Slowly making their way toward the building from the buildings they’d taken post up on. They meet Ghost and Soap. “Okay. Each of us will take a different side. If they do not surrender, fire.” Alejandro is stern and everyone agrees. Price walks around the back, finding a dirty white door. “On 3. 1… 2… 3!” They each bust the doors open. “Mexican Special Forces!” They hear Alejandro yelling. Gunshots ring out throughout the building, followed by eerie silence. Price creeps up a set of stairs, hearing Alejandro reassure the women and children below that they’re going to be okay, that they’re safe now.

He continues up the stairs. Noticing a single door at the end of a hallway. He tries the handle, but it’s lock. He takes a deep breath, praying you'll be behind it. He kicks the door open, hearing a scream.

When he sees you, his heart stops. The heartbreak, nightmares, dreams. Everything. It’s finally coming to an end as he sees you sitting at a desk, trembling with your hands over your face. “Y/N?” He asks. You freeze, slowing lifting your head up from your hands. When your eyes meet his, a sob leaves your throat and he drops all of his equipment to get to you. “Y/N..” he pulls you into him. You’re hysterical, can’t get out a word. You’re a little skinnier than when he last seen you. Hair was longer, you had circles under your eyes. You were bruised, beaten. But you were alive. And you were in his arms right now. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I have you now, you’re safe.” He breathes. He lifts you up, holding you. He hears footsteps coming up the stairs, seeing the rest of 141. “Holy shit!” Gaz laughs. They crowd you, each of them hugging you, trying to reassure you. Gaz digs a candy bar from his pack, Soap passes you a water from his as you sit there. Alejandro calls for backup to get the place under control, he needed to keep everyone safe. “What happened?” Gaz asks. “They separated me and Laswell onto different boats. I was traded to the cartel, she went with Al Qatala. They bounced me between safehouses, and I ended up here.” You breath. “They.. beat me. Starved me. But.. I’m still fucking alive.” You laugh. “We thought Captain was going to go bonkers.” Soap laughs. “We have so much to catch up on. Let’s get you back home.” Price stands up.

“I think me and Ghost are going to stay here. Help Alejandro out with the women and children here until it’s secure.”

“Call for exfil when you’re ready to come home boys.” Price smiles. Gaz and Price help you out to the exfil chopper that had brought them in. The first place they took you was the nearest hospital. Captain Price never left your side aside from going to get you something to eat and showering. But he slept in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, stirred awake at the slightest noise, and on the night you’d have nightmares, he was there to comfort you. He was amazing to you.

He’d gone to shower and pick up food for Gaz, you and him. Gaz happened to be near so he decided to stop in and check up on you. You were doing good and healing well. He was sitting next to your hospital bed, talking to you about some of the missions they’d been on while assassinating Hassan.

“You know.. he likes you.” Gaz laughs. “What?” You ask. “He went crazy after you got captured. Barely slept, barely ate. Couldn’t focus on missions. I thought it was just because you were part of 141, but I realized he has more feelings for you than just.. being alongside you as a team.” He laughs. “He’ll never be up front with you. So I just thought I’d tell you.” Gaz laughs. He’s sitting in the chair by your bed, hands clasped together. “Are.. are you sure?” You ask nervously. “Oh, dead sure. When I tried to bring it up to him he got all stern with me. Bloke can’t express his feelings at all.” He laughs. You smile at him, and Price walks inside the door, bags of food in hand. “Ahhh. Captain Price, always looking out for his team.” Gaz smiles.

After you finished eating, Gaz told the both of you he needed to be heading back to base, and that he’d see you both there when you felt better. As much as Price wanted your safety, he also wanted you back on base. It was lonely there. He hated it without you. He sits in the same chair Gaz was in. The entire time. Refusing to leave your side.

“You can head back to base Captain. I’m sure that chair isn’t comfortable.” You laugh. “Nonsense. I’m here to watch over you, make sure you’re safe. I’m staying here until we can leave together.” He smiles. You send him a tired smile. “Get some sleep love.”

You roll over onto your side, pulling the blanket up to your face and getting comfortable. It was hard to imagine. He’d spent countless hours tracking you down. Looking, yearning for you. You figured he would, as your Captain. But you figured he’d given up. But he never did. You’d grown pretty fond of him too, the countless hours the both of you had talked about anything and everything. Getting used to each others presence. He’s who you thought the most about when you were kidnapped. The conversations, his warmth. He was comfortable and nice. He was safe. You always imagined him rescuing you light a knight in shining armor, and that's exactly what he did. That had to mean something right?

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you do remember being awoken by the sound of John talking. You stir awake, listening. He’s mumbling incoherently, you don’t understand. He lets out a gasp, “no, let her go!” He cries out in his sleep.

“John?” You ask. You wait a minute but receive nothing. You sit up from your bed, rubbing your eyes. He squirms in the chair, the nightmare he’s having he can’t wake up from. You swing your legs over the bed, grasping the IV pole and wheeling it toward him, limping your way over to him. “John?” You say quietly, placing your hand on his cheek. “No- no! Y/N!” He was having a nightmare about you getting captured again.

“John!” You say a little louder, shaking him.

He jolts awake, looking up at you. The small lamp on in the room allows him to see you. “Are you okay? Why are you up?” He asks. “You were having a nightmare.” You breathe. “Let’s get you back to bed sweetheart.” He stands up. You climb back into the bed. He covers you with the blanket, taking a step to go back to the chair. “John?” You ask. “Yeah?” You look down. “Will you lay with me?”

“Y/N.. I don’t know-“

“The nurse doesn’t come by until 8am, please?”

He sighs, looking down. “Okay.” He breathes. He walks around the opposite side of your IV lines. Climbing into bed next to you. The bed is pretty small so he has to be close to you. You turn your back to him, and he pulls you into him, wrapping his arm around your waist. It doesn’t take long before the both of you fall back asleep. John’s internal alarm clock has him awake a few hours later at 6am. A little later than usual. He’d slept better than he ever has as cliché as it may sound. Holding you, right up to him. You were safe.

You were able to leave the following day, you’d need to work on your strength. You were hurt and had to be careful. You’d gained a little bit of weight being in the hospital which was good. When you arrive on base, everyone greets you. Laughing and hugging you, so happy to see you doing better. John had a hard time leaving your side. He knew that these feelings he had for you would never go anywhere. He knew he needed to back away from you before he had anymore feelings.

-

The first night back, you couldn’t sleep. You laid awake until around one in the morning before getting frustrated enough, standing up. You crept down the hallway quietly until you reached his room. You knocked at the door quietly, hearing him rustle around inside. “Y/N?” He asks opening the door. “Can I stay with you? I don’t want to sleep alone.” You ask. “Of course love, Cmon.” He opens the door wider. You walk inside and he guides you to his bed. He yawns, rubbing his eyes. You lift his blanket crawling underneath it. He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you into him. He loves the way that your hair smells. “John?” You ask. “Yeah?” You breathe. “Gaz told me that you like me. Is that true?”

“What?” His heart freezes in his chest. He’s nervous.

“Because.. I like you too.” You breathe.

He pulls you to turn over, looking at you. “I think you’re tired sweetheart.”

“I think.. you’re the person I thought about the very most while I was gone. I always wanted you to come save me, as pathetic as it was.” You look at him. He takes a deep breath. “I do like you. I.. nearly went crazy when you were gone.” He chuckles. You lean into him, eyes traveling from his eyes to his lips. He takes the hint, pulling you into him and kissing you hard. At long last, he’s kissing you.

"I don't want you to think you owe me something Y/N." He takes a deep breath. "Of course not John." The use of his first name takes him a little off guard. "I'm not tired, I'm in the right state of mind, and I like you. If I could lay here with you forever I would." You sigh. He smiles. "You've got a lot of healing to do Y/N. I want you to know that I'll be alongside you the entire time, sweetheart." You smile. "I'd love that." He pulls you into him and you rest your head on his chest. He was safety, and he'd always look out for you no matter what. "I've got you now, you can sleep." He breathes. In just a few minutes, your breathing has settled and deepened telling him you've fallen asleep. John's own eyes grow heavy, feeling you by his side finally.

You were with him, and he'd never let you out of his sight ever again.

He lost you once, and he never would again.

[hyukassubi]

🍪 02 | Of Roses And Cookies

♡𓂃 Pairing -> (Former) Knight! Huening Kai x Seamstress! Reader

♡𓂃 Synopsis -> Growing up, you never believed in purpose, nor destiny. Simply following the path of life, becoming a royal seamstress didn't at all seem like a bad idea. Only thing is, it wasn't your idea.

Your best friend who just so happens to be the crowned prince knows what it's like to grow up having limited choices, and Prince Kang Taehyun doesn't want the same happening to you. The commander knight, in turn, has other plans for the future. After Huening Kai closes a profound chapter of his life, he seeks refuge from the chaos of his past, opting for a cozier lifestyle instead.

... And it just so seems that those plans wouldn't be fulfilled without you.

♡𓂃 Wc -> 628

Tabby hands, scrappy clothes, Mary Janes strapped to your feet where ever you go.

Unlike Taehyun, just like Hueningkai, you did not grow up with a royal background.

Two high school sweethearts that started off as a fling had an accident, that accident being you. Your parents didn’t give up in raising their happy little accident, though. Sure, marriage wasn’t a privilege they had until way later, but you had a great time staying over at your mother’s bakery and your father’s florist nonetheless.

You always did.

The kids at preschool kept talking about the way you smelled.

How, every day, you’d be smelling of sugar and frosting, chamomile and roses, cookies and flowers. Seatmates betting on whether or not that girl will come in smelling like chocolate today, or perhaps pistachio, but then they get it all wrong and the room starts fuming of a lavender haze.

The attention was nice until you begin to notice how talk was all talk and no one really talked with you.

Except for one person— Kang Taehyun.

Boba-eyed, impressively pearly white grin, the face of a baby pumpkin, three year old Kang Taehyun was too adorable to be real.

The baby prince who, to everyone’s surprise, landed in a montessori preschool for toddlers who can barely spell their names instead of a high class Royal Academy for Babies. A small boy like him hadn’t yet any responsibilities bared upon him, anyway. There was absolutely no need to learn basic etiquette nor book-balancing on the top of your head at four years of age. And so, lucky was Taehyun for eating mud in playgrounds and zooming past the teachers in scooters when he should be tucked in a pillowed-up rectangular cribs for naptime.

For now, he was surrounded by village toddlers his age with sacked diapers and snot all over their faces. So, yes, perhaps the girl in the corner of the room dressing up chewed up barbies was a refreshener.

Taehyun whiffs the air, nose pointing to the ceiling, nostrils flared like volcano craters. “You smell nice.”

She looked at him for a second, and then went back to putting paper eyelashes on dolls in skirts and clay blobs for shoes.

Taehyun tilted his squishy-cheeked pumpkin head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in adorable concern. “Do you talk?”

No response.

“Don’t be shy, I think you should talk more. To me.”

You sat quietly for a moment, and… snuck a cookie out of the pockets of your denim overalls.

You split the huge chocolate covered goodness into two uneven excuses of semi-circles.

You gave the bigger piece to the baby prince.

You had always liked keeping the bigger piece to yourself.

The baby prince looked at the cookie, and then you, and then his relatively clean toddler hands, and then back at the cookie.

He grabbed it.

He never left your side since.

You thought you had to get on your knees and bow too after dismounting the carriage to meet the King and Queen at the corridor of the Grand Palace like your parents did.

And then Taehyun said, “It’s okay, a ‘Hello’ is enough for us. And no need to call me ‘Little Crowned Prince Kang’. ‘Taehyun’ is what I go by.” ‘Taehyun’ is enough.”

“What he said.” The King patted his son on the shoulder.

He must’ve been proud.

Your parents did not move.

You had no idea who you were, or what you want or could’ve been besides being the daughter of a florist and baker and the walking aroma therapy in your kindergarten, but you knew the prince had a warm heart and his actions might’ve left you feeling touched.

“Okay.” You replied. “Hello, Taehyun.”

The little prince smiled, and happiness never left him since.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

♡𓂃A/n: My personal favourite line: baby Taehyun sniffing the air and his nostrils puffing up like volcano craters.

What the little toddler reader saw that day:

FJKHKAUJJEHFOAI I cannot wait for you guys to devour the following baby reader chapters because they're sooooo cute

♡𓂃Tags: @sweetheartsaku @imcringebutimfree @i-like-to-read-at-4am @pengningie @marloree @stormy1408 @blossommi

Reblog & review if you like my work !!

[beautifulmars]

HiPOD: Muddy Ejecta Flow

This small 2 kilometer-wide crater was sitting around, minding its own business when a meteoroid struck the ground just to the west and created a new, larger crater almost 10 kilometers in diameter (not pictured).

The ejecta spraying out of the new crater landed back on the ground and then continued to flow away from the new crater, and the smaller crater was in the way of that muddy flow. You can see where much of the muddy material flowed around the crater’s uplifted rim and forms a squiggly ridge, but you can also see where the mud flow slid over the rim and ponded down in the bottom of the crater.

One question we don’t know the answer to is: “how wet was the muddy ejecta?” Ongoing observations like this and laboratory-based experiments are trying to find the answer to that question.

This image also illustrates a common theme in geology, namely, the law of superposition. Because the crater has been affected by ejecta from the larger crater to the west, the small crater had to be there first and then the second, larger crater and its ejecta had to form. This allows planetary geologists to decipher the relative ages of different landforms. Because a central goal of geology is to understand past events from present-day clues, geology is sometimes compared to forensic science.

ID: ESP_046843_1940 date: 24 July 2016 altitude: 275 km

NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Day 6 - Alfie Solomons

Alfie Solomons x male!reader

Prompt: Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that."

Trigger warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries, death, the brutal conditions of ww1, rats, swearing,

Summary: A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no man's land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

With every passing moment, the cold of the mud was seeping further into your bones. The frigid water the filled one side of the fox hole was already beginning to soak your legs.

German bullets still whizzed over head, picking off the rest of your squad as they scrambled for cover, and the safety of the trenches they would never reach.

Beside you Miller's shaky, gasping breaths were coming quicker and quicker. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to ignore his hands pawing at you, begging for help you couldn't give.

"Please- ple- pl-"

His last shuddering breath gave out, and he was still beside you. You kept your eyes screwed shut, struggling to force your lungs to work again.

For a moment, the bombardment stopped and you peeled your eyes open long enough to catch a glimpse of the ash gray and smoke filled sky.

Once, there had been blue skies here. Blue skies, and green fields, eaten up and spit out by the war machine. Eaten up and spit out, just like you and the other men scattered across the smoldering, toxic land that laid between the two trenches.

Had any of your squad made it back? You had barely started to move, in an attempt to peer over the top of your hiding spot, when the return fire began, leaving you trapped, pinned down by your own men.

As afternoon turned to late evening, the bullets whizzing overhead remained constant. Somewhere, a few yards from your fox hole, you could hear something un human letting out grunts of pain. You tried not to think of what injured beast, or dying man was laying there, and why no one would put it out of its misery.

You couldn't stop yourself from shivering now, even huddled close to Miller, and your breathe hung above you, in great white clouds. Your feet and ankles had long since gone numb in your soaked boots.

As night fell, you knew that there was no chances of anyone coming for you. Even if any members of your squad had made it back, how could they report you alive? When they'd last seen you, you'd been being dragged head first into a shell crater by a wounded Miller flailing for balance.

Something small and dark skittered over your leg, and it took all your strength to keep your stomach from heaving as you heard small, sharp teeth beginning to tear at the wound in Miller's side.

You couldn't stay here.

~~~

Half a mile away, in the so called safety of the officers quarters, Alfie found himself staring down at the report he'd never wanted to make. He'd known the attack was a bad idea.

Well. He'd had a bad feeling about it anyway. Of course the intel had turned out to be bad. Of course he'd gone and lost the only thing he had to lose in this whole damn thing.

He'd gone and lost you.

The report in front of him now was detailing the extent of that loss. The list of names he was jotting down was long, and mostly uncomfired, but the worst was the last name on the list, which he couldn't bring himself to copy onto the official report.

Your name sat there, staring up at him in smudged graphite. Taunting him, and all the decisions he'd made that had brought the two of you here. All the times where he'd had the opportunity to send you home and out of harms way that he didn't take.

A knock on the door frame pulled his attention away to find Peterson standing in the doorway, "Captain?"

He let out a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face, "What is it?"

"Duggan's spotted something. Coming this way."

Alfie groaned, starting to stand up, "'f it's more fuckin krauts wha-"

"No krauts, Cap- 'e says it looks like someone's crawling through no mans land."

That had Alfie on his feet, and moving away from the makeshift desk, "One of ours?"

"That's what we're trying to find out Captain."

Alfie motioned for him to lead the way, following the private through the narrow passage of the quarter and out into the main trench. Duggan's position was in the outer defense line, and it took a few tense seconds to reach the sniper.

"There you are- I finally got a clean shot on the bastard," Duggan scoffed as they came around the corner toward him, "And guess what I see?"

"What?" Alfie asked gruffly.

The sniper gave him a half assed salute, "It's one of ours. One of those poor fuckers what got sent up the middle."

Alfie motioned for Duggan to move, taking his place on the perch and grabbing for his binoculars.

"Really?" Peterson was asking, "Thought that most of them boys got shot up."

"Yeah. Shot to god damn pieces. I mean split down the middle by fire, caught between a rock and a hard place, with that mess to get back through?"

The words grated against Alfie as he searched the field, allowing himself to hope against hope. When he caught sight of low movement, he could make out no more than the edge of a helmet, and dark mud stained khaki.

"I don't know how anyone could survive that." Duggan was saying.

"How far out do you reckon he is?" Alfie asked abruptly.

Duggan shrugged, "Couple hundred yards, maybe. Problem is the second we go over the top for 'im the German's 'ill have eyes on us."

Alfie frowned, considering the possibilities.

"You're not seriously thinking....?" Peterson hazarded.

Duggan gaped at him, "Captain with all due respect-"

"I never said we were doing anything," Alfie snapped, "You're right, there's no way to get to him. Keep me posted."

The wait was agony. Alfie paced back and forth along the narrow passages of the officer's quarters, a hand worrying through his beard.

It seemed like an eternity later, when he stepped out into the main trench again, unable to wait any longer when he heard a yell in this distance.

"Christ it's (y/l/n)! Get the Captain!"

He was already halfway out to the outer line by the time Duggan was crashing into him, stammering your name, and all but dragging him to come.

"How is 'e?" Alfie demanded as they lumbered along.

"Not a more than a fucking scratch on 'im!" Duggan laughed bitterly, "The lucky fuckin basatard."

The relief of making it back to the trench was so immense it almost beat out the feeling of Miller's phantom hands grabbing at your arm, his choked voice in your ears. Almost.

You'd barley been hauled to your feet by an astounded Peterson when Alfie was shoving his way into the circle of men crowding you, the relief barley hidden on his face.

You looked at each other for a long moment, a thousand words passing between you without either of you needed to open your mouths.

Alfie threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the crowd, "Let's get you cleaned up, matey, eh?"

You leaned into his touch, silently praying that no one around you would notice, or think it anything but a friendly touch between friends who had nearly lost each other.

[voices-in-dark-violets-head]

Pouncing Shadow

-----

"I'm setting off to see my boyfriend!"

The words taste sweet and spicy on your lips, and you can't help but grin as you climb into the little boat, the cats ready at the oars.

Do others know the full extent of your meaning, you wonder?

The palicoes? Ah, who can tell? They're happy enough to integrate with civilization if it gets them a big fish at the end of the day, and their food is to die for, if you can mind the odd hairball.

The hunters guild... perhaps. There's banter and jokes aplenty around the dango counter, a reduction of your work to casual terms and easy-going euphemisms, to the point that 'boyfriend' could mean anything - but you know that more than a couple take nighttime excursions to the flooded forest only to return supposedly empty-handed, and that's not even considering those that sprint off with their Palamutes after every hunt...

The questgivers? ...They had exotic tastes. You'd given more than one married woman directions to a Khezu in your time...

But - as you step onto the lush grasses of the old shrine, and leave your feline oarsmen behind the dense treeline - you wonder about what he knows...

It's not hard to track the gouges of claws in the earth, the ripped branches from trees. The ground rumbles with an echoing rrrrrrowwwwlll as you clamber over moss-covered walls, half-fallen and swallowed by bushes. So, it's not long before...

SLAM. Your head rings, sparks dancing in your eyes, and you're briefly disorientated until the paw pulls away from your head. The last few moments are missing from your memory, and you're gradually, staccato-like, reaquainted with the mud under your cheek, the warm air rolling from above you, the shaft buried inside your rear, sparking waves of aching, painful pleasure...

Nargacuga are relentless. Territorial. Envious. Proud, too - and you've learnt to lie down, grit your teeth, and let your moans be drowned out by his ground-trembling snarls. You let him indulge in your body, and delight in how he carves tree roots in twain like they were twigs, as he fights to force every inch he can inside your warm walls. The last thing that interrupted him was a Great Izuchi, and the crater-like crack in the nearby cliff is still visible, still stained.

You grab pawfuls of grass, warm pre running like a river down the inside of your thighs. And the thought once again rises to the top of the blurred mix of pleasure and pain in your head.

How much does he know...?

He no longer attempts to fight you. You don't need a stinkmink to lure him where you want him, nor a kunai on hand in case his hungers drift...

But does he know what a boyfriend even is? Does he know you as a hunter, see this is a rare reaching across a battleline? Does he see you as a mate, and desires to claim you as such? Or is he merely a beast, a monster - indulging in a warm, fluffy body he can throw to the ground and use...

And honestly...

You're not sure which you find hottest.

[deepspaceboytoy]

The Suit

They don’t really tell you just how hot it gets under the armor. That’s what you notice first, the buildup, the whine of the fans, whir of the cooling systems. You tell yourself, before your first drop, that it’ll be the gunfire that gets to you, the booming of naval artillery and the guns of Imperial armor. But it’s the sound of your suit trying to stop you from dying from the heat that stays with you. Reminds you just how human you are. Surrounded by three thousand years of technological advancements, you can still get fucking heatstroke.  

-First Decanus Aksinya Ramirez, 1st Cohort 127 Legio “Ironmongers”, 12th Fleet, on deployment to Operation Sector Ramesses, Eastern Fringes, Provinci Nomitius, January 7th, 2732 

First drop worst drop, that’s what people tell you. Combat nerves and first-time jitters, all that stuff, that’s what’s supposed to get most rookies. Your 47th drop, though? Your hands still shake, teeth still clench, nerves still fray. No conditioning exists that can mentally prepare a human being to drop from low orbit into an ocean of enemy fire at 1400 meters a second, surrounded by less than an inch of armor in any direction. You just point your feet at the ground and hope that when you land you can reach your gun faster than the guy trying to kill you can recover from the shock. Even once you’re on the ground, you’re not much better off. A Legionary is pretty goddamned well equipped all things considered, but combined arms still rules the day. Now, instead of rolling hot with tanks and APCs, you’re on your own in hostile territory, and the other guys don’t play by your rules.  

They call it Ionia. Pretty world, if you ignore the global firestorm we touched off when we dropped the orbital artillery. Global weather patterns have turned these wildfires into a wall of heat and flame a mile high roaring along at well over 50 kph. Perfect environment for a drop assault. Our carrier, the IHNV Long Time Coming, sits in low orbit, drop bays open. Her shields are down, allowing us to take the plunge without being incinerated down to our constituent atoms, and she’s taking a hell of a beating for it. But that’s fine; it takes less than 10 seconds for all 10 cohorts to drop through the bay, and then she’s hightailing it for the protection of 12th Fleet’s Strike Flotilla 34, a shoal of escort frigates and heavy cruisers that envelop her in their shield profiles. They’ll be sitting overwatch for us and the two other legions dropping today, the 546th and 1232nd, waiting until we need them to drop some more kinetic kill vehicles on some poor unsuspecting Aberinian fuckers. Before the end of this, there’ll be a lot of poor unsuspecting Aberinian fuckers who’ve learned to dread the low moaning those cannons make as they breach atmosphere. They’ll dread the sounds we make even more.  

At 1242 hours Terran time, we jump, 15,000 fully armored Legionaries dropping in total synchronicity. 32 seconds later, 14,500 of us land in newly formed craters. The air is on fire. The ground is on fire. If it weren’t for the environmental seals on our armor, we’d be dead in minutes. With the seals, we barely notice it.  

First objective is a local Aberinian firebase coordinating aerial defenses over Ionia’s primary continent. Take it out, and Fleet can drop another couple hundred thousand Legionaries with impunity, shipping down troops and materiel at will. Fail to take it, and any transport ships closing within 2000 kilometers of the continent get turned into aerial fireballs. Simple, you might think. The Aberinian defenders have different ideas. Immediately after I land, I’m under fire, maser beams and plasma rounds turning the alpine undergrowth around me into smoldering, runny mud and patches of fused glass. Abs love their energy weapons, and in those first few seconds after we land, they reap a punishing toll. But it only lasts a few seconds. On solid ground, we thunder into action. The nearest weapons position to me, a dugout full of automatic weapons, is my first target. 1st Squad, with me leading, takes to the charge, armored boots pounding the dirt and fallen trees around us as we rocket up to almost 80 kph, arrowing down on this enemy position like lightning. Two hits, three, four, I stop counting, my shoulder armor not even glowing yet from the dispersed energy, and then we’re on the Aberinians, shouldering into the charge.  

There’s a big burly bastard standing in my way, so I choose to go through him. Impact, and he’s down on the ground, where all that famed Ab muscle mass does him no good. I look him in the eyes as I put six rounds into his brain, hearts, and redundant nerve cluster. Dead in less than half a second. Next one is smaller, smarter. This one has fought Legionaries who were on the bounce before, and they know they can’t absorb the charge. They don’t even try, immediately beating a retreat from the edge of the firing position, trying to steady themselves for a good shot on me or one of my people. A hasty shot cleaves their right arm off at the elbow, and then I steady, putting three more rounds into their chest. They punch out of ragged holes in the Ab’s back, ending up lodged in the rear of the dugout. 

1st Squad is equally clinical. Engagement time in the dugout is sitting at 6 seconds, and there’s probably ten or twelve dead Abs littering the ground. Weapons position silenced, onto the next one. We leap the back wall, throwing ourselves back into the hurricane of defensive fire. My commswoman, Gauria, takes a hit to the head, but she’s back up before we’ve even set off; her combat helm is bubbling but otherwise no worse for wear. The first Legionary mortars land near where the shot that hit her came from, and the Ab who took the shot is definitely worse for wear. We’re through the cloud of dirt and arterial spray before the Ab troops have had a chance to recover, and they’re all dead by the time we reach the back wall of their trench. 15 more dead defenders, no casualties. Engagement time, 17 seconds. We’re slowing down, I realize. The key moments of any drop landing come now, in the first minutes. Either our forces secure enough room to consolidate gains, establish a beachhead, or the entire drop force dies. Imperial Legion timing allows no errors, brooks no mistakes. We take this firebase here and now, in the next 10 minutes, or I watch the troops under my command and three whole elite legions worth of soldiers die. No pressure.  

Resistance is struggling to keep up with the speed of the assault. Elements of my 1st Cohort, along with 2nd, 5th, and 9th, have secured most of the approaches to the base. Now it’s just the bastards inside. Time to crack this thing open. First up is my squad, along with the rest of 1st Cohort. 487 of us left. Far more than enough with three more cohorts backing us up. Marilene places a demolition charge against a central span of the perimeter wall, and I nod to blow it. We’re already thudding inside as the wall is falling, reinforced layers of synthrock and steel showering us as we simply drive over top of the first defenders we encounter.  

The inside of the firebase is divided into quadrants, with barracks closest to us on the eastern side. Reserves are still suiting up outside it as we gun them down, single shots blowing craters in unarmored Aberinian torsos. Some, we don’t even have time to draw down on. Instead, single unarmed strikes pulp limbs and crater skulls. We’re pounding the interior asphalt, well on our way to the command post on the western edge of the base, when defensive fire finally reaches us. Pelted with energy bolts like rain, we gun down anyone who pokes a head up. The sleeting defensive fire slackens as 9th Cohort breaches, taking the hastily repositioned defenders in the rear. Engagement time, 1 minute 20 seconds. Casualties, 22. Dead Aberinians? Hard to count the splotches on the ground where bodies used to stand. We’ve liquified anything in our way.  

We take stock outside the command center. It’s a synthrock blockhouse, windowless, fortified and reinforced entrances. There were guards, but they aren’t combat effective with rounds drilled through their torsos. More Legionaries are streaming inside the compound, following up on breaches set by the other assault teams. Colonel Melody Moriconi, Legion commander, is pounding her way down the central asphalt thoroughfare towards us, armor shedding beam rounds and plasma like rain drops. At the compound's weapons depot, a few Abs have managed to put up a fight with the heavier artillery, but now the Legion breaching teams are inside the firebase, and they use their heavier armor to simply roll over the depot. Fighting inside the base is brief and brutal, Legion speed overwhelming the Abs’ famous resilience and feral aggression.  

Colonel Moriconi comms us halfway to the command center, giving us the go ahead to breach. Marilene places two more det charges, and we’re inside, plowing through guard and command staff alike. Quarles takes three plasma bolts to the chest, stumbling forward a few more steps before the superheated ammunition burns through his chest plate and eats his torso away. He gets two rounds off before his brain reminds him he’s dead, and he crumples. We’re stuck in it now, charging down cramped hallways and bursting into hastily reinforced rooms. Doesn’t matter what they put in front of us, we run over it, daring the Aberinians to try and slow us down. Outside the doors to the central comms room, they give it their best.  

An Ab Headhunter pack is waiting for us, heavy armor laced with trophies and tally marks. These things are Legion-killers through and through, and for the first time since drop, the Abs meet our advance. A fist bigger than my head bats my rifle away, so I lower my shoulder and shove hard, getting some room for myself. Deploying the combat blade from its port in my forearm gauntlet, I thrust with the blade, a glancing hit to the big bastard’s ribs. I can feel the crunching, but he’s barely fazed, swinging another huge paw for my head. Ducking under it, I lever a fist into his knee, hoping to shatter it, but he pivots away at the last damnable second and the best I can manage is some solid contact with his armored thigh.  

The squad is in the thick of it now, combat blades out or sidearms drawn, locked in melee with the Aberinian pack. Marilene takes a huge Ab claw to the thigh, arterial blood spraying from rent armor even as she spears the Ab through the skull, blade punching out of the crown of its head.  

The big bastard in front of me is back on me before I can survey the rest of the squad, his fangs bared and nostrils flaring. Two quick swipes pass by my head and then I’m reeling from a brutal kick to the stomach, his hoof connecting with my amor in a vicious thud. The Ab presses his advantage, trying to skewer my face on his clawed paw, but he can’t leverage the force he needs to get through my armor, and in this tiny moment I seize my chance, pushing upward and bearing him to the ground. My combat blade is buried in his chest.  

Kang, our demo expert, is first out of combat after me, putting a full sidearm mag into the brain of one of the Headhunters. The rest of the squad finishes off their opponents, minus Bannon, who is missing an arm and three quarters of his head, and we line up to breach the comms and control room. Gauria and Vento are first through, soaking up fire as a distraction while Kang chucks an armed fusion device into the room. Device armed and landed among the Abs, we fire off what’s left of our magazines and beat our retreat out of the firebase. Not 30 seconds later, we watch the fusion device make a crater of the firebase sixty feet deep. Time from drop, 6 minutes 48 seconds. It’s an overwhelming Legion victory. It will be repeated across the continent at 16 other points, although none of those strikes will be as singularly fast and brutal as ours. 127 Legio will lose 311 troopers. The Abs, though? 7200 dead and counting.