#put in the middle of the sea? able to be locked down in these cases?

[pokemon-ash-aus]

if you were to have a hypothetical infection au, what kind of disease would it be and who would go bye-bye first?

Hypothetical, but i love the thought of it cementing in Pokerus. A disease that can't help but NOT be transferred, lasts 3 days then is gone for good- you can never get it again.

Except it goes wrong.

You notice it in your Charmander, a spunky little guy you caught recently in the academy. You see the purple haze of it's eyes and the near lethargic sway of it's body.

Excitement courses through your veins- you know of Pokerus- you have a few pokemon that have gotten it in the past- this is nothing for you.

So you send your Charmander in battle, call commands to it even though it doesn't really listen.

It uses bite... A lot. Small pokemon, big pokemon- you're not sure why, you aren't even sure Charmander HAS bite in it's normal moveset.

Day 3 rolls in fast and leaves in faster.

Your Charmander still has purple eyes and a lethargic sway.

There aren't screams, nothing that tells you of the impending doom crawling down the walls of the academy. Nothing that could tell you how wrong this was.

You set your Charmander in a healing box, let them sit there for a day or so.

The other students and trainers get angry- they are furious with you that you're taking up the only healing box in the biome you are in.

But fear courses through your vein, hints of purple echoing the peripherals of your eyes. Your chest burns, you feel tired and you don't know why.

The day ends and night is falling, so you shakily let out your Charmander.

It lays in the grass, labored breathing reaching your ears.

It suddenly comes to your mind that it hasn't eaten much in the past 3 days.

It comes to mind that you haven't eaten much either.

You stumble away, leaving your charmander at the edge of the healing box, leaving it's purple eyes and pooling drool to lay in the grass.

Rapid attempts have you throwing your pokemon around, the red light drawing your attention and has you staring at them.

You don't recognize them easily. It takes a few minutes of labored breathing before your eyes land on your Florges.

It shows no signs of the Pokerus. It's had it once before and it seems it wasn't eager to pick the desease up again.

Your other pokemon don't bear the same weight.

Your Lechonk hadn't moved since you released it.

Your Sandile was swaying, steadily crossing away from you.

Your Rotom was floating eerily still, orange and blue body coated in a purple hue.

Your Grimer wasn't really there either. It's body inflating as raspy breaths echoed it's body.

It's eyes never left you.

4 days had passed. It takes pokerus a few hours to infect those around it, but it never infects the same pokemon twice.

Your arms feel numb come morning, you've been staring at your pokemon for hours apparently.

The 5th day you don't remember your name, you don't even know if you remember who your pokemon are.

You stumble into the tundra, your body warm and your stomach heavy even as your fingers turn blue in the cold. You wander and wander, watch as Pokemon sway in the same tempo as you.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

The hunger hits you out of left field, soft at first, then a startling monster that makes your mouth salivate, drool prickling at the edges of your mouth and douse down the front of your shirt.

In the cold, it should be painful. Tiny ice crystals popping and blistering against blemished skin, it should hurt.

You don't feel a thing, but you're hungry.

You're so hungry.

Your wandering, your slow lethargic swaying turns into one of desperation. You're running through the cold tundra, jumping into freezing water that don't bother you none.

There's something at the beach.

It looks like a Pokemon, but it could also be human, you're not sure what it is, but it's too slow to move.

You forget that cooking was an option, forgo all the items in your bag that are fresh and ready to use. You forget that you are in a dome, and food is still readily available to all.

Your teeth sink into flesh as the Pokemon-Human thing writhes beneath you. Warm liquid presses against your tongue, sweet and savory all in one go.

Your mind screams at you- it should taste metallic in some way- but you ignore it for another bite.

One.

Two.

Three.

That's all you need before you pull away, the creature was still living, still writhing and screaming.

You stand and begin to wander again, back through the tundra and into the open plains.

There is a light- you don't recognize it.

The Charmander of before steps to your side, and as a duo, you wander and wander.

The dome is closed.

--

Anyway, if i had a thought on who would be infected first, it's gonna be Ash with how much he lvoes and helps pokemon. It's inevitable ToT

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 21: Exuent, Pursued by a Bear? - Okatsu’s reunion with her brother and Sasuke is postponed as they all prepare their attacks on Iekane’s army. Mitsunari heads out on a dangerous mission.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Personal comments: I am no longer able to continue researching military theory, as events have conspired to throw us all into the middle of a military operation. Assets: One scout/archer; one Princess/archer; one ninja of self-described ‘moderately awesome’ abilities; one healer; and one small boy. Assets promised, not yet acquired: twenty vassals; a dozen servants; an unknown number of women archers.

Missing asset: Lord Mitsuhide.

Opposition: Upwards of three hundred men – some of whom may be paid mercenaries.

Mission: Prevent above three hundred men from overrunning Genba castle and killing Lord Nobunaga.

Keep Okatsu alive.

Kissing Okatsu should not be on this list, as it is no longer a priority.

Kiss Okatsu.

Was I still asleep and dreaming? Was I dreaming that both Sasuke and Toshiie were here?  No, because right before my brother yanked me into a hug too tight to be a dream, I saw Sasuke and Mitsunari standing behind him.

Toshiie’s hands were strong on my back, and he babbled nearly incoherently. "Katsuko. Oh God, I'm sorry. They told me you were dead. I swear, I never would have stopped looking if I'd known. I never would have gone back. I’m sorry. I should have protected you."

Dead? Me? I mean, even when I was locked in the crate, I hadn’t reached the point of ‘mostly-dead.’

His words didn't make sense, but did it matter right now? His hair was shorter, he looked a little thinner, there were new lines in his face, he wore a different pair of glasses ... but it was Toshiie "Sh. It’s ok. You found me... or did Sasuke find you?" Where had he been all these years? How had Sasuke found him?

I double checked to make sure that Mitsunari was out of earshot. Ok, he and Sasuke had politely withdrawn to give Toshiie and I privacy for our reunion. Further beyond them, Hikosane and Shohime were busy -- were they making ground spikes? In any case they were all far enough away to not overhear Toshie and my conversation.

"Actually, I found Sasuke in modern Kyoto. Katsuko, I was only in this era for a few months. The same wormhole that brought us here, sent me back to modern Japan almost seven years ago." He put his head in his hands. “I thought you were dead. The bandits said you were eaten by a bear."

"A bear? What?" I clapped my hand over my mouth to prevent laughing in his face. But seriously. I had encountered one or two bears in my time here and they never showed any interest in eating me. If Toshiie had spent more time here, he would know the bears were shy of people, "Never mind. Go on, I always thought you were on a ship of some kind. Guess that was as wrong as the bear."

“That’s right. I was on a ship. We'd been at sea about six weeks," he made a face (Toshiie always had had terrible motion sickness), "when we sailed into a storm. And I could tell it was the same kind of storm that brought us here. That fog bank moved right off the port side, and while they were all dealing with the storm, I dove right into it."

"Wow. That was…" Stupid. He could have drowned. "Brave."

"The next thing I knew, I was back at Togakushi, alone, in the middle of winter. I was messed up for a while.” He paused and looked down at the ground. In my family, the three of us had never used words like “depressed” or “anxious.” Even though psychology courses were required for his studies, Toshiie had nearly always avoided talking about mental health with me (well, until the day that we’d ended up sucked into the wormhole). So for him to even use ‘messed up?�� Things had been bad for him. “Anyway, eventually, I pulled myself together and went back to school." He lifted up a medical bag that looked far too anachronistic to my eyes.

"Look at you. Are you a doctor now?" It was hard to take in. While I'd had a life here, Toshiie had - eventually - picked up where he left off. It felt jarring, like we were two pieces of a puzzle that looked like they would fit but didn't.

"Not yet. Close. I have another year of residency." He glanced at Sasuke. "A couple weeks ago, I saw an announcement for a lecture about time travel. Since I've never had anyone to talk to about it, I went, and that’s where I met Sasuke. After he was done talking, I followed him out of the lecture hall, and said, you're not going to believe this, but what you described happened to me. We went out for a drink, and I told him everything.”

Sasuke and Mitsunari had made their way over in time to hear the last bit of Toshiie’s story. "And I told him, I do believe you... and I know your sister. She's not dead. I had already been making plans to return to-" He sideeyed Mitsunari. "To this part of the county."

"To this era. You may say that. I am aware Okatsu is a time traveler." Mitsunari spoke as casually as if he were offering tea.

He knows?

I must have looked stunned, for Mitsunari patted my arm before continuing. "I was already aware that Mai is from the future as she mentioned it on the day she arrived, and after observing her actions for a few days, I concluded she had not been lying. As you once noted you are from the same place as Mai, the logical conclusion was that you are also from the future. Since you did not mention it to me, I presumed you did not wish to discuss it." The words were mild, but his tone sounded hurt.

"I never mention it to anyone. Even Aki, who I've worked for for many years, doesn't know." Then because I wanted to give Mitsunari something of myself, a truth he could hold onto, I added, "My name actually is Katsuko. Mitsuhide changed it when he made me a princess." I put the word ‘princess’ in air quotes, although probably he wouldn’t understand the gesture.

That dazzling smile came out. "Katsuko." It sounded like he was tasting the name on his tongue. “Katsuko,” he repeated, and coming from his mouth it sounded like a song. "It is a pretty name. It suits you." Then he sighed. “I am terrible at remembering names though. I apologize in advance if I forget and call you Okatsu.”

For the sake of our charade, he likely should continue to call me Okatsu anyway, but it was nice to know that I was no longer lying to him about one thing.

Toshiie gave him a ‘back-off dude,’ big brother type look, then picked up the story. "Sasuke has a friend who is very ill, so he asked if I would also come along to-”

"- Where I work," Sasuke jumped in very quickly. Yeah, it wouldn’t be a good idea to advertise to an Oda that you worked for-.

"I'm also aware you work for Uesugi Kenshin. Do not censor yourself on my account." Mitsunari calmly sat with his hands resting on his knees as if he was doing nothing more than discussing the best brand of tea, instead of chatting with an enemy.

"Er. Alright then." Sasuke pushed glasses further up nose. "In any case, as Toshiie and I came through a wormhole at Honno-ji, it was simple enough to detour to Genba, but Mitsunari has briefed me on your current situation, and clearly it's not that simple."

"You'll help us though." It wasn't question. I knew he would do that for Mai. And I suppose given that he also was aware of Japan's future, it was vital that unification happened.

Sasuke nodded. "Mitsunari has been discussing strategy with me." He began pulling all manner of ninja tools out of his pack. "I understand we'd be practicing guerilla tactics to carry out attacks on the enemy until reinforcements arrive."

Finally, Mitsunari looked confused. "Gorillas... we need monkeys?"

"Um... it's just another word for Ewok." I didn’t know why it was called guerilla. I’d probably skipped school that day.

"Ewoks!" Sasuke looked at me. "If I had known you were also a time traveler earlier. I imagine we would have had some fascinating conversations."

Now it was Mitsunari's turn for that 'back off' look, and he directed it at Sasuke. However, he continued in a pleasant tone of voice. "Now is not the time for that. Okatsu, Katsuko.” He sighed. "As I said. I am not very good at remembering names.”

"Might as well leave it at Okatsu so as not to confuse anyone." We really didn’t have time to keep explaining a name change to Hikosan, Shohime and the Kanamori vassals.

Susumu had rounded up thirty-five vassals and servants, an additional six women archers, and all the spare weapons and ammunition he could find. Once everyone had gathered in our camp, Mitsunari outlined his plans. "I intend to split us in three groups." Susumu, you and I will take the largest force and to capture as many of their supplies as possible." He used a stick to draw out the military formations in the dirt. "We’ll isolate and outflank the supply chain here."

"Okatsu, you are to lead the archers, with Shohime and Hikosane to the top of the northermost signal tower. There you are to defend our rear guard and the-” he nodded at Toshiie, "medical facility for the injured."

“Hang on! I’m not part of this fight. I came back for my sister and nothing else. Sasuke promised he could get us home.” Toshiie tugged on my arm. “I couldn’t help you before, but I’m here now.”

This… was not the brother I remembered. What had happened to him? And while on an intellectual level, I knew that Toshiie hadn’t undergone the seven years of survival training I’d been through, but even without that, did he really think I’d abandon my friends now? “If you really want to help, then listen to Mitsunari.”

Toshiie turned to Mitsunari… and said, “Look, I didn’t go through all this just to watch my sister get killed. She’s impulsive. She’s unreliable. She’s-”

“Standing right next to you.” I elbowed him in the ribs. “I can speak for myself, and I’m not going anywhere until this is over.” One way or another.

With a calming hand, Sasuke patted Toshiie on the back. “I will get you and your sister home, but we can’t leave until Nobunaga is safe, or there may not be a home to return to.” Given all these witnesses, Sasuke couldn’t bring up quantum theory and temporal paradox, but the unspoken message was clear.

Although he clearly didn’t like it, Toshiie grudgingly accepted Sasuke’s statement. “Fine. As long as I’m stuck here, I will provide medical care to my best ability. Under these conditions.” That last part was muttered under his breath.

Calmly, as if Toshiie hadn’t been possessed by the spirit of Debbie Downer, Mitsunari continued his instructions.  "Sasuke believes he can find a way into Genba castle and potentially sneak Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, Mai… and Mozumi out. But if he cannot, he will at least be able to return with valuable information about guards and troop movement.”

His expression serious (although his expression always was serious), Sasuke saluted him and nodded.

"Based on how much Susumu’s forces can obtain or destroy, and what Sasuke learns," Mitsunari continued, "We will refine and move on to phase two of the plan."

All that was great and all... but I was a bit... peeved... that I was going to be stuck on top of a tower. Not that I would say anything to Mitsunari in front of anyone else (unlike my brother I understood the military chain of command… and unlike my brother I also had manners). Instead, I waited until everyone dispersed and Mitsunari finished relaying instructions to Sasuke, before approaching. "Lord Mitsunari." I bowed.

"Okatsu there's no need for formality.” Then he looked at me for a moment before frowning. "You... are upset?"

"Are you trying to protect me by putting me in beacon tower?" I thought I had proved my worth by now.

"I see. No. That isn't it. I want archers on top of that tower, and you are the best archer I know." Then, even though no one was looking, he took my hands in his. Instantly at his touch, I felt calmer. Mitsunari always could soothe the noise in my head. "I was treating you as a warrior and placing you where you are needed."

"Oh. Alright then. Thank-you." I paused, then withdrew my hands from his, feeling the cold as I did so.

The beacon towers were part of a network of towers that Takeda Shingen had built all through the territory when it was his. Since the primary function was to send smoke signals from tower to tower, the structures were crude, mostly open to the elements, wider on the ground floor, and tapering upward to the beacon level. The one we planned to use had been abandoned for months, although to be certain, we had one of Susumu's men with us (the Redshirt), to check things out.

On the ground level, Toshiie set up the ‘medical tent,’ in one corner, grumbling all the while about medieval medicine.

"I realize you’re being sarcastic, but this literally is medieval Japan," I reminded him, as Shohime, our girl-power archery corps, and I prepared to climb onto the higher level to set up the defenses. "You don't hear me grumbling about the lack of binoculars, do you?"

Toshiro reached into his pack and handed me a set of binoculars.

"Wow. Really?" Not taking a gift anachronism in the mouth, but… "Does Sasuke know you brought those?"

Tosh shrugged. "We weren't planning to be here that long. Just get you, help his friend, and hop the next wormhole out of here." He kicked at the dirt and leaves that littered the ground since the tower’s sides were partially open to the elements.

"Too bad you couldn't sneak a handheld vacuum huh?" I broke off a branch of a nearby tree, then flipped it leaf side down. "Here, Macguver this into a broom."

Tosh rolled his eyes (and to think I missed his sarcasm?) but grabbed the branch and got to work.

I joined the others on top of the tower, they were milling around and it took me a moment to realize that they were waiting for me to tell them what to do. Mitsunari had effectively made me commander of this team. I looked them over.

Though a couple women were around my age, there was one who had to be at least a grandmother, if not a great grandmother. Shohime went right over to the woman and hugged her. The woman whispered something in her ear, and Shohime laughed before turning to me. “Lady Okatsu, this is Ushi. She used to work in Genba castle and she taught me everything I know about archery.”

Well, that was good information that I hoped I’d know what to do with. I'd never been in charge before. It looked like I would need to rely on Shohime, whose transformation from airhead to semi-capable warrior had left my head spinning.

Alright. Speech time. Hopefully I would not suddenly develop stage fright. "If our luck holds, and of course we can't count on luck, we can remain undetected until Susumu and Mitsunari launch their raid. But as I said we can't count on luck. We'll start with four people, one keeping watch over each direction.” The top of the tower was only about four square meters, narrowing from the larger room below, so even though we all faced different directions, we would be able help to each other.

“Four up here watching. Two asleep. Two guarding and helping medical. We'll rotate in shifts every quarter watch." Given Shohime’s recommendation, I put Ushi in charge of the other shift, then sent them back to the main floor, telling them to determine for themselves who would sleep first. And… feeling like I ought to add some kind of inspiring words to fire them up, I said,  “And… um, clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.”

After the other shift retreated to the base of the tower, all was quiet. I sneakily used the binoculars to see if I could get a sense of what was happening at the castle, but these glasses had been meant for bird watching, and I couldn't see close enough for details.

"Shohime, how long have you been pretending to be..." I bit back the word 'stupid,' as I didn't want to insult her.

She understood what I meant. "Since I was eight. I saw Lady Yone about to smother Hikosane with a cushion! He was just a baby! I interrupted her and asked her to help with a dance I had been learning. It was easier protect Hikosane if she thought I was an idiot."

"I take it Lady Yone was pregnant with one of your sisters at the time?" Though Japan didn’t really follow the western tradition of primogeniture, Genba Castle's domain was on the small and poor side, especially before the silver mines had been discovered. Yone would not have wanted an unborn son to divide his inheritance with Hikosane.

"Yes." Shohine's shoulders slumped. "She steps up the efforts every time she is pregnant. Although this-" she gestured vaguely around the forest. "Was not something. I expected."

"I imagine Iekane helped her come up with this.... or maybe they found each other." I didn't want to discount the intelligence of another woman, especially, after misjudging Shohime. "Are your feelings for Mitsunari part of whatever it was you were doing to protect Hikosane?"

If she was sincere in her feelings, then maybe after this was over, after I went home, she and Mitsunari would get together after all. She'd shown herself to be resourceful and smart, although clearly she needed more education to be able to take advantage of that raw intelligence.

"How could anyone not love Mitsunari?" Shohime had a fond smile on her face. "He's smart and sweet and beautiful."

True, he was all of that and more. He would be very easy to love…

…if I weren’t catching the next wormhole out of town.

I must have looked upset or something, because Shohime leaned over and touched my arm. "But don’t worry Okatsu. No matter how I feel about him, it's obvious that the two of you are perfect for one another. Please don't worry that I will try to come between you."

At the moment, I was more worried about Mitsunari getting back from his mission with Susumu. They’d been gone a while… too long? I hadn’t been paying enough attention to the position of the sun to estimate how much time had passed. Something rustled in the trees below, and I took a moment to track and find it through the binoculars. It was just a rabbit. A regular rabbit, I presumed, and not a monster out of the imagination of Monty Python. “What about the poisoned tea? Lord Mitsuhide said you could have killed us all."

"I was afraid that Lady Yone was having me watched… that page that always follows me came to the castle in her entourage.” Oh. Huh. I had wondered why she hadn’t brought that seemingly loyal page with her when she ‘ran away.’ “So, I had to at least pick the flowers. But if the stable – er, Lord Aketchi had not already stopped me, I would have switched it out before I gave it to you - or to us, since I believe I was the intended victim. She wants Iekane to herself."

"Ugh. She can have him." I was years away from the naïve girl who had once found Iekane’s smile attractive.

"With a ribbon.'' Shohime and I smiled in a moment of simpatico. "Lord Aketchi said what I ended up giving you truly was a love potion. I suppose it was simply something like water?"

I shrugged. "With Mitsuhide, anything is possible. He might have truly handed you a temporary love potion because it amused him to do so."

"Interesting. Lord Aketchi sounds like a fascinating man. I imagine I could learn a great deal from him." There was a look on her face that made me suspect she might be willing to see him as a romantic prospect, but all jokes aside, I thought the age difference between the two was too great. Besides, I did not want anyone to get in the way of the great enemies-to-lovers romance that was Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi.

Any further conversation in this vein was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the ladder, as Toshiie and Hikosane climbed onto the observation platform.

"It's as clean as it is going to get,'' Toshiie dusted his hands on his hakima. "Though in an ideal world we won't have any wounded anyway."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was a muffled sound of gunshots, carried through the clear afternoon air.

Oh God. Mitsunari. That’s where he was. What if he’d been shot?

The gunshots were followed by a-

BOOM.

-that rattled the tower in its intensity.

My breath caught in my lungs as a plume of smoke rose over the trees above a dark orange glow.

BOOM.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

[mandoalorian]

Honeymoon [Din Djarin x F!Reader] - **SMUT**

Summary: You’ve been saving your credits for months in order to treat your husband to the surprise honeymoon you both deserve. He’s a little on edge though, despite the luscious, tropical environment he’s surrounded by. So, as his wife, you do everything in your means to get him to relax.

Warnings: unprotected p in v, riding, cockwarming, orgasm denial, cunningless, cum eating, spanking, anal fingering, breeding kink, slight sub!Din if you squint. 18+ only.

Word count: 2600+

Reblogs appreciated. 💙

Beyond The Sea Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Marrying Din Djarin was the best decision of your life. 

Standing dead centre in the middle of your hotel suite, your husband had never looked so out of place. The yon orange sunlight seeped through the crack in the voile curtains, and a warm, summer breeze waved gently through your hair. You could tell, even through his beskar Mandalorian helmet, that your husband was completely stricken by the beauty of the great outdoors. Your view from outside the hotel suite was a novelty, for sure. The beach’s water circled around the hotel and pooled outside into a tranquil, turquoise coloured ocean. A distance from your window, but not too far, was a growing jungle of vines and trees, habited by various reptilian animals that were distinct to the planet of Scarif. You couldn’t wait to meet them all.

You’d saved up credits, and it had taken almost a year, but finally— finally, you could afford this. A sanctuary. A small vacation. Something you could call your honeymoon. It was long overdue.

Din had warned you when you married him that a honeymoon wasn’t on the cards. It just wasn’t plausible. He was a bounty hunter and he worked every damn day, risking his life just so he could bring back enough credits to put food on the table for you and Grogu. A holiday of any sorts was out of the question.

But you’d been saving up in secret, and if he’d ever found out about your planned endeavour — well, he’d never approve. Good job he’d managed to keep out of your way when you bought the tickets for the five star hotel suite. What proved to be even more of a challenge, was persuading Din to take you to the remote and tropical island planet of Scarif. 

You left the kid with Peli Motto on Tatooine, much to Din’s disdain. You’d spoken to Greef and broken a deal with him in secret; that the guild master was not allowed to provide Din with any bounties prior to the week you were due to go away. Everything rolled out perfectly, just as planned.

For the first time in a long time, your clan of three was living a stress free life, void of any anxieties related to Din and his profession. You loved him with your mind, body and soul, and accepted him for who he was. But part of you, a small part of your heart, hoped that one day, maybe he’d give up bounty hunting for good. He was getting older now. You’d occasionally pick out the greying hairs in his stubble, and the crinkles in the corners of his starry brown eyes were becoming increasingly more prominent. There was a beautiful galaxy out there, and he’d only seen the bad parts. The parts that were rampant with crime and death. You hoped that this honeymoon trip to Scarif would show him the true beauty of the world -- and everything he was missing out on.

He couldn’t bounty hunt forever. One of these days, he was going to have to settle down.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Din announced, picking up some complimentary hotel chocolates that had been left on his pillow. He pulled off his mustard coloured gloves and began to fiddle with the red foil wrapper. “All of this. I can’t believe you did all of this without me knowing.”

“I was afraid you’d be mad at me.” you mumbled, subconsciously rocking backwards and forwards on your heels. Din couldn’t even begin to imagine how much this trip had cost you, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the exact figure. 

“I am mad at you.” He retorted, but you could sense the air of amusement in his voice. Din Djarin was an esteemed bounty hunter, the best in the Guild. He prided himself in being the best too. He was always one step ahead of everyone, always knowing what was about to come before others even knew themselves. Apparently though, his skill was lost on you. Part of him though, was proud. A pretty big part of him, to be exact.

He was chuffed to be able to call you his wife. He didn’t believe the day would ever come. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you pondered out loud, looking around the hotel suite. “Did you see those big colourful birds as we walked in? They were enormous. We should check out the gift shop and buy a disposable camera. I know Grogu would love to see the photos when we get back.”

Din tilted his helmet in acknowledgement of your comment, but opted to stay silent, his eyes fixated on you and only you. Yeah, he was sure Scarif was a beautiful planet (there was no doubt in his mind), but not even all the colourful birds or glistening waters in the whole galaxy could ever compare to the beauty of you. Your eyes snapped back towards Din when he didn’t respond, and you felt your mouth part as a knowing sigh escaped your lips.

“Tell me you don’t…” you closed your eyes, already mentally preparing yourself for his answer. “...Tell me you don’t have hunting mode initiated under that tin can helmet of yours.”

You knew that, under his black tinted visor, he was always in hunting mode. He had to ensure your safety one way or another. When he turned off hunting mode, everything was normal and in colour (despite this one glitch of pixels he had to get fixed). But when he was in hunting mode, his vision was a dull chiaroscuro. 

“We don’t know how safe this planet is,” Din declared, his voice stern as he tried to reason with you. “We just arrived and I’ve never been here before. I haven’t even done a recce.”

You extended your arm and shushed him. “You haven’t been here before because no bounty or crime syndicate ever comes to Scarif. Since the battle between the Rebellion and the Empire, it’s been under full surveillance by the New Republic. There is security on every corner.”

“That doesn’t exactly work well in my favour.” Din muttered, although deep down he knew you were right.

“Do you really think I would’ve taken you somewhere that wasn’t safe for either of us? I’ve been planning this honeymoon for months, Din. Please, trust me.”

It hurt, seeing your husband like this. After bounty hunting his whole life, he was so… on edge. He always struggled to relax. You thought a tropical vacation might’ve just done the trick but maybe he needed more.

“Okay, you’re right. I trust you.” Din sighed in admittance, and you cracked one of your sweetest smiles at his revelation. It was enough to ease Din, even just temporarily.

“It’s too late to do anything now,” you said, biting your lip as you peeked behind the curtains and watched the sunset. “We can just stay in the hotel room and order room service, if you’d like.”

Din nodded, following your direction. He didn’t know the first thing about vacationing. But if one thing intrigued him, it was the luxurious king sized bed that stood before him. It was dressed in ivory satin sheets and silk pillow cases, and it was certainly nothing like the plank of steel you’d both lay on, back in the Crest. No, this was a real bed. You’d caught him staring at it and couldn’t help but smile at the smirk that played on your lips.

“Take off your helmet.” You requested.

“I--,” Din hesitated. “Someone could walk in and see me.”

“The door is locked. We have privacy,” you assured him. Din fumbled around some more. His heart stopped when you planted both your hands on his shoulders and searched for his eyes beneath the visor. “Trust me.” you reminded him with a plea of desperation.

He nodded and slowly began to lift off his helmet. And there, he revealed himself. Your husband. Though you’d seen his face many times now, you’d still always get an out-of-body experience, watching him take it off. Like it was some kind of sin.

“I love you so much,” Din’s unmodulated voice announced, and his brown eyes bored into your beauty. You smiled, feeling a wave of heat wash over your cheeks as you leaned your head into his chest. You slowly began to undress his plates of beskar armour, dropping them to the ground as you discarded them into a pile on the floor. “Such a pretty girl,” he cooed, and you shuddered, feeling his warm breath fan over the shell of your ear. “My pretty girl. All mine.”

“All yours,” you confirmed, dropping the final plate of beskar to the floor. “You need to relax, my love.”

“That word is foreign to me.” Din told you, smoothing out your hair before dropping his large hands down to your hips.

“So let me help you.”

You guided Din over to the bed he’d been eyeing up all night and helped him out of his under clothes, stripping him down to his boxer shorts only. You straddled his hips, pushing him back down amongst the satin sheets and letting your hands wander along his broad, scarred chest. He groaned wantonly. Your tender touch combined with the unfamiliar softness of what lay beneath him was almost enough to make him enter a meltdown. You hummed softly, your voice lulling him in the most comforting manner imaginable. Your fingers dipped further down his body and traced the short tufts of brown hair that poked out the hem of his underwear. Feeling your fingers fiddle with his waistband as he lay on the king sized bed felt ethereal. It was almost too much, he had to stop himself from swatting your hand away. If Din could have it his way, he’d grab you and roll you over, so he was on top -- taking control over you. But you had done this, all of this, to try and help him relax. So, he just lay there and surrendered to you.

The sky was dimming as the minutes passed by. You made a good habit to take your time with him, missing this kind of intimacy. Truthfully, it was hard to ever catch moments like this with Grogu being around. You and Din practically always had to sacrifice loving, passionate sex for quickies in between his bounties; and it wasn’t always easy.

“You-- you look so pretty like this, on top of me.” Your husband gasped out, his already dark eyes growing shades darker with lust.

For a split second, you pulled off him and untied your tunic, letting your simple robe fall to the ground and revealing your almost naked body to him. He was obsessed with you. Absolutely smitten, and it was unlike anything he’d ever been like with anyone ever before. Straddling him once more, you began to grind over his half hard cock, moaning at the friction between his underwear and your lace panties.

You leaned down and pressed your soft lips against his, enveloping him into a sweet kiss. You drop your lips along his gruff jaw and down the column of his neck, making a conscious effort to suck at his sweet spot you’d memorised so well. Reluctantly, you pulled off him and hovered over his lap, signalling with your hands for him to pull down his underwear. He took his hardening cock in his hand and wiped the beads of precum that had developed at his head. Taking the salty seed on his index finger, he brought it up to your mouth and pushed the digit in between your lips. You moaned longingly, relishing in his taste before pulling off him with a pop.

Din pulled off your panties and began to stroke between your folds, groaning when he felt just how slick and ready you were for him. He squeezed your hips and nodded, illustrating that he was ready, and you took a deep breath, anticipating the delicious stretch his cock offered you. You sank down on top of him, your eyes snapping shut as you felt every amazing bump and ridge and vein of his manhood grind along your fluttering walls.

He seated deep inside of you, giving you a few minutes to adjust, and he began to rub tight circles into your clit. He was absolutely mesmerized by you. You chanted his name like it was a prayer, and Din wondered how he ever got so lucky.

Feeling you clench around him and sensing you were about to cum, Din removed his hand from your cunt and gave you a small spanking on the curve of your ass. Your gasp of shock from your orgasm denial turned into a wanton moan as you wiggled further down on him. You giggled, nudging your nose against his as you felt the same finger he’d used earlier on you, make its way to your puckered asshole. Anal was something you’d been working your way up to, but hadn’t tried yet.

“Do you want this?” Din asked, teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“Mhm,” you nodded desperately.

“Are you sure you can take it?” he beckoned, a wicked smirk gracing his soft pink lips.

“Y-yes,” you whispered.

“I can’t hear you,” Din growled, giving you another spank. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you cried, “P-please Din, fuck, please. I want it.”

“Dirty girl.” He gritted out, slowly pushing his digit inside of you.

Maker, you were full. In every way imaginable, Din was filling you up, stretching you wide, and it felt… amazing. You began to rock your hips over his cock as he lazily thrust his finger inside your asshole, and you felt yourself panting with every little stroke and movement.

“You look so good, like this,” Din gasped. “Won’t last long.”

And, he didn’t. The second he felt you cumming on top of him, your walls gripping his girth tighter than a vice, he came undone. His load was large, as expected, as his seed spurted in ropes inside of you. Din’s hands wrapped around your stomach and he began to rub soothing circles in your tummy. You didn’t lift off him, but instead, relished the feeling of his cock softening inside of you.

“Maybe this time it’ll work,” he grumbled. “And if not, we’ll keep trying. I won’t stop til I’ve put a baby inside of you, cya’re.”

You hummed and stretched out over him, resting your sticky forehead against his. “Good job we have all honeymoon.”

Din chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek with his hand. Well, if you’d accomplished one thing, it was that Din was certainly feeling more relaxed, that’s for sure.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[buckyownsmylife]

woman’s world - chris evans smut

The one where Chris pisses you off during a panel, but then finds a way to apologize

Warnings: age gap, famous!reader, oblivious Chris, smut, unprotected sex

Chris’ P.O.V.

The panel had gone well, or as well as it could go when everyone was trying to push the idea of Y/N and I together. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pursue something with her - quite the opposite in fact. I was completely infatuated with the young actress, but the problem was just that: she was young. Too young for me, probably. So it was becoming harder and harder to deal with everyone commenting on how great we would be together when it was already all I could think about, and there was nothing I could do to make it come true without looking like an absolute predator.

Still, there was no denying that my favorite part about this particular press tour had been getting to spend time with her. She was just the perfect company, especially in a situation like this, which frankly could easily become tiresome and irritating. She just had this way of being able to read me and know what I needed, so she’d easily take over when she noticed an interviewer was getting on my nerves or overstepping some boundaries. 

She was quickly becoming my favorite person, but unfortunately, the rest of our cast had noticed as much. And so that meant that for the last day or so, I’d forced myself to pull away from her, deliberately sitting as far away as possible and not even glancing her way whenever there was a camera around. I even managed to have a quick reaction when the panel moderator joked about us being the perfect couple, and I was proud of how my cry of “She’s a kid, for God’s sake!” had made everyone laugh, even my friends who had been keen on insisting I should ask her out. 

So needless to say, I was in a good mood. Such a great mood, in fact, that I’d decided to ask Y/N to come back to my room so we could grab a beer and watch some movies. Asking around for where she had gone, someone pointed in the direction I thought I’d seen her head to, and after a couple of seconds, I managed to see her in the middle of the sea of people. Then it was just a matter of smoothly dodging everyone trying to lure me into pointless conversations and then she was already within ear reach. 

Or so I thought, at least. I tried calling her name countless times, but she didn’t look back once. In fact, she even quickened her step, and soon enough I had to physically run so I could follow her into the elevator that could take us to the floor where we were staying. 

I didn’t think too much of it, considering she probably thought I was someone else and was doing the same as I was: trying to dodge anyone who wanted to make us stay a bit longer on the crowded floor where the convention was taking place. But then we were inside the elevator and she didn’t even turn to look me in the eye. 

More importantly, when I reached out to rub my thumb on her wrist, to signal that I wanted to hold her hand, the response I got was a harsh, “Is this your way of subtly hinting that you want to hold my hand? Because it’s quite cute, but I’m not in the mood for that at all.”

The attitude caught me by surprise in such a way that I was only able to snap out of it once the elevator’s doors opened, but before I could ask what the fuck was going on, she had ran out of it, walking towards her room with determination.

Oh no, she wouldn’t. There was no way I was letting her hide in her room, angry at me, when I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. I sprung into action, running after her and managing to hold the door just before she was able to slam it in my face.

“What’s going on?” I cried out, pushing my way inside the room as she just stared up at me with hurt eyes and a pout on her lips. “What did I do?” Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms while looking away from me, before I managed to pull her closer by her wrists when I pried her arms open again. “Talk to me, c’mon.”

She glanced at me with furrowed brows, quickly averting her eyes before looking back again with an unamused expression. “You’re really gonna act like you don’t know.” Anxiety coursed through my veins at a scary pace. It was clear that I’d hurt her, but I had no idea how!

“I really don’t know!” I cried out, begging her to answer me, so I could make this better. I couldn’t bear the thought of offending her, of possibly losing her… and her friendship. Since that was all I could get from her, I was gonna fight with everything to keep it. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

For a second, it seemed like she would relent. But when her eyes met mine again, it was clear that whatever she saw on mine reminded her of the reason that she was mad, because just when I started to smile, she caught a second wind, pulling her hands from me and turning her back. 

“I don’t know why you’re so adamant about making me feel better. I thought I was just a kid to you.” And then, suddenly, it made sense. Flashes of what had happened not even an hour earlier played in my head, this time her face being the focus of it all. Perhaps it wasn’t perceptible for everyone else that her smile faltered when I shouted that idiotic thing, but to me it was.

To me it was, and still, back then, I didn’t see it. I chose not to see it, because I was so scared to deal with the truth. Instead, I ended up hurting her. And that was literally the last thing that I wanted. 

“I-I’m sorry,” I immediately offered, raising a hand to scratch the back of my neck. “I just… I didn’t want them to start creating any narratives about us two together, you know? I mean… You know how they can get. And I can’t be… We can’t be... associated… like that.”

I knew I had screwed up even before it became clear that she wouldn’t answer. Despite how cautiously I’d tried to phrase it, it ended up sounding weird even to my own ears. And when she didn’t turn around to look me in the eye again, I didn’t know what else to do. I felt myself deflating, my heart beating desperately against my chest, terrified of losing her simply for being my stupid self.

“C’mon… You know what I mean,” I breathed out, trying to approach her and resting a hand on one of her shoulders, but she simply shook it off. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t be like that.” I made myself flinch with just how poorly I was handling that situation.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to do or say. Don’t be like what? “Like a child?” I asked, my tone icy enough to layer the tension in the room with one more level of awkwardness, and I didn’t need to see Chris to know that he was a mixture of nervous and confused, at the very least.

I knew it because I was, too. I was completely thrown off by my own behaviour, as weirdly as that sounded. I didn’t know why I was so defensive, except that I did. I did know it, I just didn’t want to admit. 

“Well, this child wants to be left alone. I’ll talk to you later, Chris.” And I stormed off into the bathroom, only stopping to take a breath when I was sure the door was locked behind me. I needed to put some distance between myself and him, otherwise I was gonna lose it - even worse than I already did. 

But it was too late to keep on ignoring my feelings. I was forced to deal with the reality of them, at least with myself, since I knew - especially after today - that there was no way I would ever get to reveal to Chris that I’d fallen for him.

To him, I was just a kid, and that’s all I would forever be.

Weirdly, I didn’t feel like crying as I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, decided to wash away all of the bad feelings that this day had brought me. I just felt… disappointed, like a kid who’s been dreaming about a Christmas present only to find out they’ve been given socks. I’d been hopelessly trying to ignore my feelings for Chris, but at least a small part of me still fed into the ridiculous idea that he could possibly reciprocate those sentiments.

Now that it was obvious it would never be the case, it was like a small part of me had died on that stage.

By the time I got out of the shower, some twenty minutes later, I decided to put on a loose shirt I had kept around from some ex and take a nap until it was time to be social again. Certainly my friends would want to hit the bars or at least grab some dinner, and it would provide me with the perfect occasion to apologize to Chris.

Yes, that was perfect. That would get me a few more hours where I could manage to fabricate some resemblance of control before I had to see him. And then it would all go back to the way it was: me, pretending I don’t have a crush, while he kept seeing me as a kid.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice the massive body hidden beneath the covers in my bed until I went to uncover it so I could slide in.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my bed,” I chastised, but Chris only gave me those annoyingly effective puppy eyes that had me groaning. “No. You don’t get to do this. I’m still mad at you, go to your room and we’ll talk about it later, but for now, just let me wallow in peace.”

But still, he didn’t let up. I tried to climb on the bed, but he was now smack down on the middle of it, still pouting with those perfect full lips of his. 

“Get. out. of. the. Bed.”

“Not until you tell me what I can do for you to forgive me. C’mon, baby girl, just let me make it up to you.” When I didn’t answer, making sure to avoid his eyes, he simply reached out and grabbed me by my hips, forcing me to sit on his lap. “Please?” He quietly begged, one hand cradling my face while the other maintained its grip on my hip. 

The movement had caught me by surprise, and my mouth fell open as I realized that because the shirt had ridden up, I was sat panties glued to Chris’ jeans. And if that wasn’t enough to throw me into a ridiculously horny state, the fact that I could feel just how hard he was certainly did.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be shy,” he pressed, and my eyes snapped up to meet his, finding a hazy lust that reflected mine and a very, very naugthty smirk that didn’t help my current about-to-get messy situation. “Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I took a sharp inhale, thinking about what I was about to say. Could I really do this? Should we even do this? I still wasn’t completely sure about what the hell had happened, but one thing I was certain of, and that was that I really wanted him to, “Kiss me.”

For all the reservation I expected Chris to have about this, he didn’t hesitate a single second before pulling me to meet his lips, and it was everything I thought kissing him would be like. His lips were soft and as patient as he seemed to try to be, there was an undeniable edge of neediness in the way his tongue swiped my bottom lip, begging me for entrance.

“You’re not gonna let me in, honey?” He whispered against my lips, warm breath making me shiver in his arms before I was able to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” I shrugged, but by Chris’ teasing smile, I knew I had just given him exactly what he wanted. In a quick move, he had me sprawled on the bed underneath him, while he hovered over me with dark eyes that I never thought I’d get to see outside of my dreams.

“Let me show you why you’re wrong.”

Chris’ P.O.V.

I started by rubbing the outside of her thighs until she opened her legs enough for me to settle in the space between them. I paid close attention to the way her breath hitched even with the softest of touches, incapable of stopping the grin that made its way into my face.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sensitive, baby.” She whined as I lowered myself to replace my fingers with my lips, slowly making out with the delicate skin of her inner thighs. “You see? This is why I was scared to reveal my feelings for you. It’d be so easy to ruin you.”

By the way she bit on her lower lip, I knew I had reached my goal of making her even more bothered with what I had said, and slowly, I ran my hands up her legs and grabbed her hips to pull her further down, closer to my mouth. I ran my tongue over her lower lip, just barely gathering the excess moisture, and despite how clearly affected she was, Y/N managed to grab my hair and whisper, “I think you’re full of it, Evans.” It made me smirk, but before I could even offer a comeback, she just continued, “But even if you’re right… I’d like nothing more than to be ruined by you and only you.”

A sharp inhale later and a competition of stares, I pounced on her, devouring her little pussy like I’d wish to do so many fucking times before. She was sweet, but her moans were even sweeter, and the combination of sounds and taste and smell only served to intoxicate me, make me even more thrilled about finally having this gorgeous woman underneath me.

As her juices dripped from my jaw on the bed, she kept caressing my head, keeping me closely connected to her like I would ever dream of stepping away from this moment. I wanted to stay right here forever, away from people’s judgements and the overwhelming fear that she would think this was a mistake after it was over.

And right here, as my nose brushed her clit as I plunged my tongue as far as it could go inside her hole, she came right before my eyes, her honey dripping onto my tongue as I came up to toy with her clit before at last parting with her taste.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” I pointed out, stealing her lips with mine so I could share her taste with her, so she’d know I was right. “You’re sweet all over. Shit, I really want to fuck you.” My voice became nothing but a whisper, and soon her hands were cradling my face, thumb playing with my bottom lip before I sucked it. It was true. I craved to feel her from the inside, know what it was like to possess her in that way, too.

“Then fulfill both of our wishes. I really want to be fucked by you.”

Godfuckingdamn. This girl was just perfect. I knew right then, I’d made the right choice by deciding to stick around. When she appeared wearing nothing but that shirt, I forgot all of the reasons that were holding me back from simply taking her, and even now, they didn’t seem all that important anymore.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Your wish is my command.” I heard the words and braced myself to finally feel his cock inside of me, but still, the second that its head managed to fit, a long, drawn-out moan revealed just how impossible it was for me to restrain myself as Chris stretched me open around his member.

“Fuck!” Chris shouted, and it surprised me so much that it made my eyes widen as I stared up at him, hands still holding tightly on his muscular shoulders. “Sorry! Sorry.” He repeated as he bottomed out, forehead resting against mine as he seemed to catch his breath. “I just… I imagined your moans, but hearing them is a completely different thing altogether.”

The sentence had butterflies flying in my stomach and the reality of the situation suddenly hit me. I was lying in bed completely naked with a still fully clothed Chris Evans on top of me, and his cock was filling me in ways I’d never been filled before while he kept releasing these breathy little moans that had my heart skipping a beat every damn time my mind registered them.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who has been dreaming about this,” I settled for whispering in his ear before sucking on his earlobe, and a shiver passed through his body, making me giggle.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me quickly before deciding to do it again. “But I’m even more glad that this is actually happening right now.” What could I add to this? I didn’t think there were any combination of words possible. So I resigned myself to feel it, memorize every single thing about this moment when Chris started to pull out only to push back in again. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, and in that moment, I’d let him do anything to me, just as long as he kept fucking me like this.

His thrusts felt like waves washing over the shore, bringing the tide of desire higher and higher and I could feel it reaching the point where it all changed, the point where my life would turn upside down because I would know what it felt like to cum around Chris’ cock, and the anticipation was enough to have me writhing on the unmade sheets of the hotel bed.

“Shit,” Chris chuckled, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a soft look on his. “You’re unbelievable, sweetheart.” I could see the desire in his darkened pupils. I was sure it mirrored my own. “So beautiful, and you take my cock so well.”

Hearing him talk dirty was everything I’d always wished for, and I could feel myself getting even wetter around him, whines and whimpers escaping my chest as I held him closer to me.

“Fuck, I really wanna buy you a collar with my name on it. Make sure everyone knows I own you now.” The words, paired with the warmth of his breath had me clenching around him, and I fucking melted when I heard him meanly chuckle at my state - the state that he had caused me. “You want it too, huh?”

I really, really did. I’d never been one for external marks of possession, but something about this, about Chris and I, really had me going crazy for his proposal. Maybe because a part of me thought he would never want to admit this had ever happened. I thought he would try to deny it, and so to hear him wishing to boast about it… It really had me going crazy under him.

“Say it.” His voice cut through the haze, making me realize I was actually about to cum again. It took me a while to understand what it wanted, just enough to have him ordering again, in a tone of voice that made every single part of me tingle, “Say you want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“I do. I want everyone to know I’m yours and only yours, Christopher.” I don’t know if it was the desperation in my tone, my use of his full name or the fact that I came again, but that finally had him losing the control of his movements, quickly pulling out of me and jerking himself off until his cum was painted all over my stomach.

For a second, it was only our labored breaths in the bedroom, staring at each other like we couldn’t believe this had really happened. “Still think I’m a kid?” I had to laugh, biting my lower lip while trying not to show that I actually was really nervous about his reaction now that we were done. But his eyes softened, a quick kiss deposited on my lips before he cradled me in his arms, cum and all, and answered, “You’ll always be my little girl. I just want to do some very adult stuff to you.”

[morganaspendragonss]

lost at sea, swimming back to shore (3/?)

i never said this was going to only be three chapters what are you talking about tk parts by me, carlos parts by @tarlos-spain! ao3 | 1.1k | self-done first aid, (incorrectly) presumed character death

His eyelids are so heavy.

All of his muscles ache fiercely and the open wounds that must be littering his skin scream as sand mixes with salty water to create a burning agony. His body wants nothing more than to sleep, and his brain is struggling to come up with reasons to resist.

There’s nothing to fight against anymore, no waves throwing him around like a rag doll, no fear or panic to keep him awake. He can just lie here, feeling the ocean lap at his legs, weighted down by exhaustion and his soaked clothes, and let the darkness carry him away. It would be so easy, so simple…

But—

“Good morning, husband.”

Carlos’s face, lit up with a smile as they stand at the chuppah on their wedding day.

The taste of salty tears on his lips as they kiss as husbands for the first time.

The squeezing of a hand, the warm weight of their bodies pressing together, the whisper of his voice in his ear.

“I do.”

TK’s eyes snap open.

He has to survive.

*

TK is alive, Carlos is sure of it; he can’t let himself be carried away by fear and that little voice in his head. TK is somewhere, alive. He’d fallen from the boat, but he’d been able to find…something, anything to hold onto. The sea has to be full of stuff, and TK had found something and now he’s safe, or at least back on land, and he’s trying to get in touch with him.

He looks at his phone again; he checks it every minute, every few seconds, waiting for a message or a missed call — even a post on Instagram. Anything that would give him the hope he needs to believe that TK is okay.

But there’s nothing, just like the other hundreds of times he’d checked.

“Mr Reyes.”

Carlos looks up, his untouched coffee and plate of food still lying in front of him. “It’s Strand-Reyes now.”

“Pardon me, sir. The captain has decided that we need to keep going. We’ve been searching the area for a long time and there’s been no sign of your husband.”

“You mean TK is dead?”

Carlos looks at the man in front of him. He must be a couple of years younger than he himself is and he isn’t to blame for anything, but Carlos needs to take his emotions out on something, or, in this case, someone.

“No. It’s possible that the current took him in any direction, and there are lots of small islands around here. It’s possible that—”

“Can’t we go to those islands?”

“Mr Strand-Reyes…”

Carlos nods. “I know. We don’t know where TK could be and the cruise can’t waste more time on a wild goose chase.”

He stands up and walks out of the cafeteria. He’s tired of this corner of the boat, tired of people treating him as though he’s made of glass, and, what’s more, he just wants to go back to his cabin. If Carlos could have his way, he would lock himself inside.

He showers but, though he’s exhausted — and looks it — he doesn’t want to get into bed. He doesn’t want to sleep or dream; he doesn’t want nightmares. So, after what feels like an eternity, he puts on jeans and a hoodie, not realising at first that it’s one of TK’s. The smell of his husband makes him cry, and so Carlos hugs his legs and lets himself go for a while.

After, more tired than before — if that’s even possible — he picks up his phone again. No news is good news, right? Or, at least, it’s not bad news.

He thinks about calling Owen, but immediately thinks better of it. What could he tell his father-in-law? How could he tell him that TK might be dead somewhere in the middle of the ocean?

Then he thinks about calling his mother, but that’s not a good idea either. Calling his mother would mean more crying; crying until he falls asleep, until he accepts that he won’t see TK again.

Instead, he does something even more stupid. His phone is full of photos and videos of TK, so Carlos lies down on the bed and starts to scroll.

“You’re alive, TK, I know it, I can feel it. I’ve always known that the day you…the day you don’t come back to me, I’ll feel it. Something will change inside me and I’ll know. Today is not that day.”

*

In theory, TK knows how to make a splint. Improvising is half of his job; he wouldn’t be where he is now if he didn’t know how to work with what he had.

But there’s a difference between tourniqueting someone else’s wound in mid-air with a coffee pot, a seatbelt and a prayer, and splinting his own broken leg, alone, with whatever else washed up on the beach with him.

It’s a gruesome wound, and TK also knows how to deal with those — but not when it’s his bone sticking through the skin of his leg, and his blood turning the sand red underneath him.

His hands shake as he gathers everything he can reach from around him, the thought of moving more than necessary sending a rush of bile up his throat. He spits up on the sand and takes a moment to close his eyes and breath deeply, trying to mentally prepare himself for what comes next.

But no amount of preparation in the world would be enough, as TK quickly finds out when he tries to put his leg back in place. He can’t keep himself from screaming, though he supposes it’s one thing that can’t hurt — maybe it’ll attract someone’s attention, though, given his luck so far, TK doubts it. He fights through the pain to start wrapping the water-logged remnants of his clothes around his leg. 

Then the hard part, though it’s not like it’s been a cakewalk up to this point. TK doesn’t even know if he’s going to be able to do this, but he has to if he wants to see Carlos again.

That thought is the only thing keeping him going, the only thing that gets him through sandwiching his leg between two soggy pieces of driftwood and securing it with some fishing net he’d almost torn his fingernails off trying to untangle.

The effort leaves him dizzy, black spots dancing in his vision, and TK has to fight hard to keep from passing out. His entire leg feels like it’s made of liquid fire, the pain across the rest of his body a mere bruise in comparison. There’s no doubt about it though; he’s in bad shape everywhere, and he needs to get help soon if he wants to get out of this.

So, despite the agony, despite his leg, despite the blackness threatening to consume him, TK grabs a stick and levers himself upright.

He wobbles slightly, vertigo almost overpowering him, but he manages to stay on his feet.

TK takes a deep, shaky breath. 

And then a step.

[manikas-whims]

A Tantalizing Surprise

[Read on AO3]

for Kanej Week (@kanejweek) Day 5: Love (domesticity)

It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up..

• Friend 1: write Inej in a silk dress and some sexy Kanej moment Friend 2: No! Write injured Kaz being patched up by Inej Me: *an unbiased friend* mixes both requests into this fic ~♥ • I headcanon Liddies being a gang run by women :)

Kaz Brekker utterly despised private parleys. Majority of the time they were a farce. Excuses crafted in order to get him alone and put an end to his reign forever. Everytime a haughty barrel boss offered him a drink or a condescending mercher invited him for dinner, it wasn't for the sake of striking amiable business deals with him. But to drive a knife through his rotten heart or shoot a bullet into that scheming head of his.

And yet he had agreed to meet the leader of the Liddies in a small coffee house on the bustling streets of the East Stave. They were stirring up too much ruckus and if left unchecked any longer, they'd embolden every other gang to go against the Dregs. Dirtyhands couldn't let that happen, now could he?

As suspected, no pleasantries were exchanged. The door was jammed shut immediately upon his arrival.

Their lieutenant, a burly, middle-aged brunette, attacked first. She tried smashing her wooden bat into his face but thankfully Anika blocked in time with a crowbar. Two other females followed, swinging rustic metal pipes at him which he managed to counter with his cane. Roeder was struggling on the other side, engaged in a one-on-one with their spider.

"This ends tonight, Brekker." Their leader howled from her perch atop a stool. "Barrel needs a queen."

"Barrel already has one." He responded calmly.

"The little whore? The one who's barely in this city?" she grinned sharply, getting up.

"Careful." His gaze turned steely and his gloved fingers flexed tensely onto the crow head of his cane. "I can gut you and your ladies for insulting my Wraith."

"I'd like to see you try." She sneered, madly lunging at him with her bare hands.

He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

The fight lasted for an hour. Liddies finally ran off when more Dregs arrived on the scene and broke down the coffee house's door.

Kaz dictated his gang to double the security around the Crow Club and his other establishments just in case. He then dug his fingers into his right leg in hopes of quelling a little of the ache there as he dragged himself back to his place. Not the slat anymore but a luxurious mansion on the Geldstraat. He had purchased it under a pseudonym after Councilman Hoede had passed away three years ago.

Blame Wylan for making him waste his kruge on a deadman's house. Though the dark wood walls and coffered ceilings looked amazing upon his first visit, he did get a few things renovated. Such as converting the dilapidated Grisha workshop into an ordinary shed and the addition of wild geraniums to the vast variety of flowering plants in the gardens.

Despite his habits, he pulled out a key that he kept within the hidden pocket on the left side of his coat and swiftly unlocked the large, black, entrance gates. The next few minutes of the long walk through the front stone pavement didn't feel regal, atleast not to his leg. He retrieved another key upon reaching the main doors. It was an odd experience every time— to enter a house this big without utilizing his skills in lock-picking.

He didn't stop to admire the blown glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling or the stolen DeKappel displayed mockingly on the opposite end of the hall. He simply braced himself for the walk up the long staircase leading towards the more private quarters of the mansion.

His steps came to a halt only when he reached the master bedroom. And that too, not because it had been his destination all along but because he felt her presence.

He shook his head in disbelief. Maybe six months of being apart were taking a toll on him, playing tricks with his senses. Or maybe it was just an effect of blood loss due to the cut he'd taken during the fight with the Liddies.

He turned the knob and entered, the room same as ever. A bookshelf tucked in the left corner from the door, a vanity table with a full-length mirror right next to it; a door leading to the balcony and another door to the bathroom on the other end. And of course, the king-size bed atop which his eyes found her tantalizing form, aglow under the golden flame of the dimly burning lone candle.

Kaz regarded her silently. Her lithe frame was covered in a purple, silk nightgown that left barely anything to his imagination. Or rather, it was exactly the sight he envisioned every night. An ideal reverie where he pulled her onto his lap and kissed down the delicious curve of her neck. A fantasy where he relished in her whispers of his name. A fantasy where they did all the unholy things they're capable of now. A fantasy he had been yearning for yet kept locked in the darkest recesses of his twisted mind.

But this was different. This woman in his bed had longer hair and was far more breathtaking than any imagery he could will his mind to conjure. This was real. She was real.

"Saints!" She slid off the bed. "Kaz, what happened?"

Yes, she was real.

And she had chosen an interesting outfit for their reunion.

But it was unusual of her to dock in Ketterdam and not send a runner to let him know. Not to mention, she had somehow managed to sneak into their mansion without any keys.

"You're hurt!"

He scoffed at her concern and proceeded to discard his coat. After all the times they've fought and bled together, she should be used to witnessing him a little roughed up.

He peeled off his gloves with methodical ease and tossed them onto the table. Then he tentatively reached for one of her hands, his thumb stroking along the pulse in her wrist. There was no harm in confirming she was real and alive.

"Welcome back, Wraith."

She freed her wrist, completely ignoring his greeting, and placed her palms over his stubbled cheeks. Fortunately, no waves lapped up his skin. So he let her turn his face this way and that to check for any signs of injuries. When she found none, she smiled in relief and pulled his face down so their lips could meet. His arms immediately snaked around her waist. And he was glad her only reaction was a soft sound of contentment, not tensing or vanishing in his hold. It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up and worked together to get accustomed to one another's touch.

The contact overwhelmed him everytime, in a good way of course. It was exhilarating to be able to brush his lips against hers. A common gesture for most couples but a very big accomplishment for them. Just like everything else.

Everytime they shed a piece of their armor, touched longer, touched more, they counted it as a new milestone. He was thankful to their patience and to whichever of Inej's saints had blessed them for their persistent efforts.

The kiss deepened with every passing moment, all those months of separation provoking their dormant desires. But as soon as his tongue slid past her mouth, he felt a twinge of pain in his abdomen and broke away. "Fuck! What the hell, Wraith!?"

In trailing her hands along his torso, she had accidentally discovered the cut wound on the left side of his lower abdomen. She glared down at the small dot of blood staining his clothes. "You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation!"

He laughed at the furrow of her brows as she pushed him back until he was seated in a chair. "Takes one to know one."

He heard her huff before she disappeared inside the bathroom and returned seconds later with a roll of bandage, cotton swabs, and a disinfectant.

The blade of the knife had torn past both his vest and shirt but fortunately, barely grazed his skin. The cut wasn't deep or life-threatening, only seeping slow trickles of blood. However, that didn't stop his fiercely gentle partner from worrying. She began undoing the buttons on his vest and in the heat of the moment, he joked. "Someone is eager."

This time she glared at him directly and resumed her task. She was cautious in shrugging off the vest. Even more whilst removing his sweaty shirt.

As soon as the disinfectant-soaked cotton pad grazed his wound, he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Care to explain why I wasn't informed of your arrival?" He gritted out through the light haze of pain. He wasn't mad. But had he known, he would've cleared his schedule for her. Denied that parlay altogether and avoided being injured.

Her hands hesitated in cleaning the blood. "I wanted to surprise you."

Now his brows quirked.

"And was this part of the surprise?" He stared at the thin slip of nightdress snug on the curves of her beautiful body. His voice lowered an octave. "You put this on for me?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, a small action he had noticed her doing when in contemplation. "My intention was to doll-up for the King of the Barrel."

He shook his head, tugging on the hem of her dress. "Seems to me the Queen of the Seas was intent on arousing me with her alluring silks."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "You're bruised and bleeding and this is what you think?"

"Inej," He spoke earnestly, his ardent gaze focused on her as she continued bandaging him, "I always think about you."

"Aside from when I'm out there making money." He added as an afterthought.

She giggled.

He waited until she was done tying the last knot of the bandage to stand up. His fingers disappeared beneath her dress, glided tenderly over the flesh of her thighs in the moment he lifted her up. Her legs naturally came to wrap around his waist and she looked at him. "Kaz?"

He responded with a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back, his breath fanning her lips. "Still in the mood to surprise me?"

She nodded, her eyes averted shyly for once as he carried her towards the shower.

[onepiecereactions]

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration, OS

Smoker, Tashigi, Garp, Kizaru OS.

Humour.

Warning vulgarity.

2100 words.

English Version

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration

Smoker hated coming backfrom a mission. Don't get me wrong, he loves his job! But two things annoyed him the most about these moments.

On the one hand, that meant not going on the sea for at least a few weeks. Indeed, Marineford had established a complex system of turnover of vice-admirals so, with some exceptions, at least 3 vice admirals are always present on the base in case of necessity.

The feeling of freedom, feeling the air on his face, not being locked, that was what made Smoker happy deep inside him. That and the feeling of having helped the citizens and brought some justice back to this damn world, obviously.

On the other hand, returning to base meant a horrible administrative mountain. And just thinking about it, headaches were already migrating through the vice-admiral's head. Luckily, Tashigi was always ready to help him and do some of his duties to let him rest.

So it was with a heavy heart that Smoker set foot on the base for the first time after months of mission. While Tashigi was already rushing into his office with the firm intention of working all night to do her report on time, Smoker was walking mechanically to his private apartments. He threw his dirty jacket on the floor, took a long, hot shower, and get into his bed, already cursing tomorrow's hellish day.

The next morning the vice-admiral woke up in a bad mood. He grabbed his jacket that he had left on the soaked bathroom floor and sighed: it was ruined. As resistant as the clothes made by Marineford are, staying intact when you get cannonballs in your back is complicated. And Smoker, unlike many of the women on the base, hated walking around topless.

So his first resolution of the day was to go find a new jacket. And of course, he was going to ask Tashigi to do it for him. At first, as a man of integrity, Smoker was remorseful about leaving so many of his tasks to his colleague, even if the latter was doing wonderfully. But after several years in Marineford, honestly, now he didn't care.

So he grabbed his den den mushis and called the brunette. After several seconds of waiting, Tashigi did not pick up. Smoker worried, it was very unusual for the young woman who had a reputation for answering even when she was asleep.

He then quickly took two cigars from his desk, threw his dead jacket over his back, and walked quickly to his office.

Misfortune never happening alone, of course, on the way he passed Admiral Kizaru. The latter joined him in his race to his office and took the opportunity to discuss. The Yellow Admiral had the reputation of loving to talk, much to the misfortune of Smoker who loved calm above all else.

"Oh, tell me dear friend, are the holes in the jacket a new fashion? I know that I am no longer very young but still, I don’t understant. Is it to provide a ventilation system? Don't tell me you have a fever my dear friend? Do you want me to call the dear caregivers of the "

Kizaru didn't even have time to finish his monologue when he got the door of Smoker's office in the face. The latter had already crushed his cigars to refrain from hitting the high-ranking officer in the face.

Once he was sure he heard the yellow monkey leave, he got into the chair across from his desk and reached into the second drawer to extract two new cigars.

After a few seconds of enjoying the smoke reaching his lungs, Smoker grabbed the stationary den den mushi of his desk and, as he went to call Tashigi, a note stuck to the back of his device intrigued him.

"Even though I warned you last night, that I sent you an official mail 48 hours before and that I slipped a note under the door of your apartment, I want to remind you, just in case, that I am absent that day until 7:30 p.m. All the captains have a meeting. I wish you a very nice day. Captain TASHIGI. "

Oh shit. For a little Smoker could have cried. It was certainly one of the worst announcements he could receive. No Tashigi. No Tashigi for a whole day! One more day after a mission! All the calls and assignments she receives today will go straight back to him, her boss! In addition to her work he was going to have to do his own! With holes in his jacket.

Smoker decided to go on strike. The schedule for that day was already far too scary to be able to live it. A thousand times he would have preferred to fight against Monkey D Luffy rather than going through it.

He then decided he would do what was necessary. He got up quickly from his seat, crashed out of his office and almost ran towards Building C. It was barely nine in the morning but the Vice Admiral thought he was fainting when he saw the huge queue in front of the door. . Obviously, it was Monday, and those morons in the administrative sector never worked weekends.

He then did like everyone else, walked over to the door to grab a numbered ticket, sat down on one of the few free seats and waited.

To his left was an ordinary soldier, without a shirt and pants, just his underwear. Smoker could smell a familiar scent of magma. Akainu had made his own again during the training of his subordinates.

Smoker looked at his ticket, number 38 and sighed. As he was about to improvise a nap while waiting his turn, his portable den den mushis rang.

"Vice-Admiral Smoker, I'm listening. » He said wearily.

The soldier at the other end of the line looked surprised to find the Vice Admiral and not the Captain. “Captain Tashigi is in a meeting, her calls are being redirected to me. If it's not urgent hang up ". Without further ado, the soldier hung up to the vice-admiral's delight.

1 hour later.

"I swear in front of Gol D Roger that if that damn den den mushi rings one more time I will blow his head against the wall." Grumbled the marine for the third time in a minute.

After an hour of waiting and 15 calls, the Vice Admiral was finally called into the room.

He almost tore his jacket from his back, put it violently on the desk while trying to keep his nerves and glared at the woman in front of him who remained unmoved.

"Vice Admiral Smoker, registration number XXXX, I need a new model 3 series AB size 98 jacket with option 13". Smoker had been clear, to the point, and hardly angry.

The woman, who was well into her fiftieth, looked at him indifferently.

“It doesn't work like that, vice-admiral. She said in a weary voice, as if she was talking to the first moron in the area.

Smoker struggled not to crush his cigars again but revised himself to think it would be difficult to face this without cigars.

"So how do you do in this case?" He asked sharply.

The woman didn't even bother to answer him, she just gave him a form. Smoker thought it was a big joke when he found himself with a five-page double-sided document in his hands.

" Are you kinding me ? Five fucking pages for a fucking jacket? Can't you just write 22 fucking words on a fucking post it note and talk about it? Bellowed the Vice Admiral who was already starting to turn to smoke in annoyance.

"Blblblbl, blblblbl, blbllb" The den den mushi began to ring, straining Smoker's last strength to stay calm.

" It's not my fault ". The woman began in a slow, boring voice.

Blblblbl, blbllblb, blbllb

"If you are too stupid"

Blblblb, blblbl, blbllb

"To complete a simple form"

Blblbllbbl, blblbl

"That even Kizaru gets to"

Blblbl, SCRATCH.

The vice-admiral's den den mushi flew across the room, finishing its course into the wall.

To the slow voice of the woman was added the tears of the den den mushi.

"FUCK OF," Smoker yelled as he stormed out of the room to make sure his fist didn't end up in the woman's face. He went out like a madman and locked himself in his office to try to find calm and serenity.

He grabbed a third cigar and after about ten minutes of relaxation began to fill out the damn form. He was only halfway through when the door to his office slammed open, knocking out the lustrous wood that had already received quite a few knocks.

"Ah my dear friend, I went to the infirmary and got you some medicine to lower your temperature. But beware, this is a suppository! ".

Smoker felt his heart stop beating when he saw the yellow admiral's face in front of his nose.

Blblblb, blbllb

"Oh my dear friend I think someone is trying to reach you on your stationary den den mushi. "

Blblblb, blbllb

"Maybe you should answer, maybe it's urgent, don't you think? "

Blblblbl, blbllb

Smoker had a vision. The den den mushi stuck, smeared with haki, right in the middle of the admiral's face, his nose bleeding.

It took phenomenal self-control for the vice-admiral not to reproduce his impulses. For the second time, he chooses to escape.

He took a pen with him to finish filling out the damn file that had become completely unreadable so much he had massacred it.

He found himself in front of the lingerie door, walked past all the soldiers and walked into the office. He barely had time to put a foot inside when he felt a stapler cross his face with its smoke.

"I DON'T THINK I CALLED YOUR NUMBER!" Yelled the woman who had "briefed" him earlier.

Smoker crushed the doorknob but stayed calm. He turned around, took a ticket from the machine, and sat down in the only seat available: the one next to Vice-Admiral Garp. "

Smoker sighed and prayed to all the gods that this old fool would leave him in peace.

So he settled down next to him and inspected him discreetly. He then realized that the old man's uniform was impeccably worn if the traces of grease were omitted from his shirt from all the donuts he had. But the Marineford hero wasn’t wearing socks.

"Don't ask questions kid." The grandfather simply told him when he met Smoker's gaze.

"Hey Smoker, I heard you're after my grandson. Did you know that when he was young he used to have fun sticking his finger up his nose to eat his boogers? Except that this stupid pirate, as he is elastic, he always ended up bleeding from the nose. Suddenly he would start screaming and running in all directions. Most of the time he would smash into a tree or a wall and fall apart, by the time the bleeding ended. Did you also know he got clean very late? I had to buy him pyjamas with an opening pocket on the buttocks because he never managed to undo his buttons and ended up pooping on himself? Ah and also the time when ”.

Smoker wanted to: die.

Blblblb, blbllbl

A mirage ? a hallucination?

"Vice-Admiral Garp, I'm listening. Ah hi Sengoku, how are you? A fishing trip? Now ? Ah I'm coming. By the way, don't you have pairs of socks to lend me? »And so the Vice Admiral disappeared through the maze of hallways, much to Smoker's delight.

It took no less than forty-five additional minutes of waiting for Smoker to finally put the damn file in the damn good drawer which, by chance again, was in building A and, as it happened, no administrative soldier was available to take the paper which he therefore had to deposit himself.

The same day, at 10 p.m.

"A call for you Vice Admiral Smoker." The bartender handed the den den mushi to the vice-admiral, who took a last sip of sake before answering.

"Good evening Vice-Admiral, I hope you had a good day! » Tashigi began. "I was wondering why you weren't answering den den mushi... I received an official document for you. It involves a fine for "disrespecting an administrative colleague" as well as a two-week ban from returning to the lingerie office. Is everything okay ”.

"I STILL PREFER TO WALK NAKED THAN TO RETURN TO THIS OFFICE".

[royalreef]

@bestconqueror​ inquired:  🐶 If I may- Muses as Merfolk - NOT Accepting

(( I think Dahlia would work best as an Arctic merfolk! When the Merkingdom turned their eyes upon conquering the oceans and the various other merfolk located within, there were two major “holdouts” that put up a longer fight than the others : the various governments around the Arctic and the Mediterranean Sea. I’ve already talked about the Mediterranean, and how the Merkingdom used the geography of that location to keep them locked off from any potential help, but the Arctic is nearly the opposite. Namely, in that it’s already very well-connected to the other oceans, making it impossible to really trap off. It’s also, as you may be aware, very cold up at the North Pole. It has unique challenges presented in ice floes and sheer depth alone, and while the Abyssals themselves are good at handling water at near-freezing temperatures, most of those sent in to enact the Merkingdom’s will were not Abyssals. Even for the migratory merfolk who would visit the Arctic and Antarctic Oceans here and there pointedly visited during the summer months, and this was a multi-year-long campaign.

Similarly there was the issues of the Arctics themselves. While the Mediterranean Sea got closed off and the Merkingdom could work directly with and forcibly sway the hands of those in charge, leading to more infighting and more disagreements amongst each other — it’s much harder to do that when your own people can hardly venture far inside and are much less protected by an entourage. In fact, there were many more cases of various groups within the Arctic banding together to try and throw off the Merkingdom, since they couldn’t encourage instability and mistrust in the same way. Because of being still able to contact other merfolk, food and supply lines remained intact for most of the Merkingdom’s campaign, and extended the fight even moreso.

Even when the Merkingdom did conquer the Arctic territories ( done so mostly by making more risky moves with technology that they possessed that others did not ), they did not exactly take it lying down. To this day, there’s much more cultural resentment against the Merkingdom than anywhere else within their borders. Folk tradition often recounts tales of how they beat or outlasted the Merkingdom within the war, those who cut a blow against the Merkingdom are oft treated as heroes, and common sayings make it clear how much they still detest the Merkingdom and consider themselves forced under their thumb.

The Merkingdom’s response to this lingering rebellious sentiment is far from kind either. Getting caught doing any of these things means harsh punishment, alongside stricter punishments all-around that usually extend to unrelated parties too. Food shortages are put in place, they’re purposefully kept as far away from positions of power as possible, much-needed resources are hard to obtain, and more recur again and again to try and break their spirits. This all makes a very convenient chance for the connected religious branch of the Merkingdom throne to come in, offering food and shelter and necessities, and placing them under the watch of the Crown with additional pressure to make them give up other cultural and religious practices.

In addition, the structure of Royals within the Merkingdom often leads to further instability. Middle Royals are encouraged to effectively go to war with each other, fighting other Middle Royals for the chance to improve their positions within the Merkingdom through greater territory and reach, and it’s no secret that the Merkingdom wants rebellious intent within the Arctic stomped out for good. They incentivize Middle Royals to fight over dominion of the areas within, especially gifting portions of territory to other outside royals to further muddy and destroy extant Arctic cultures within, usually resulting in a populace ruled over by those who weren’t even born inside of the Arctic.

On the biological slant, Arctic Merfolk are the second-largest species of merfolk ( only behind Abyssals ). They have extremely reduced outer scaling, though they keep an internal series of bones under the skin to act as armor, and their fused fins have also shrunk to minimize exposed surface area. They’re the singular merfolk species closest to being warmblooded, though they aren’t true warmblooded animals. Internal genetic tinkering like this has made them lose the darker pigmentation inside their mouths, making them the only mer species to do so. Teeth are much like most other merfolk, but are shorter and sharper, adapted for cutting and slicing meat.

They are also the specific merfolk group to have very good history with taming pods of orca.

Most scars merfolk leave on other merfolk are... nasty. Clean cuts are rare, even when using bladed weapons, and use of claws and teeth are similarly common, combining with their natural tankiness to leave very jagged scars. While the Merkingdom’s dominant culture highly praises scars on the face as being the mark of the warrior, and highly condemns scars on the tail as the mark of a coward, it doesn’t apply in the same way to every culture. Regardless, to the point that any merfolk is covered in scars, the idea of scars on the tail being the mark of a coward gets much overshadowed by the general thought of them being a brawler.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: My drabble for Writer Wednesday. I haven’t edited or had it beta read so apologies if you find any mistakes! @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: Angst, denial, mention of war.

Word count: 2671

Respite. It never lasted long but you would take it when you could. Your squadron had just finished a successful supply run and Leia had given you all leave for a few days. You looked down the beach seeing the X-Wings haphazardly placed among the trees at the base of the cliff, this small moon really was a find. Covered in white sandy beaches and enough foliage to hide the space craft, breathable air and not a massive predator in sight. Also no settlers so if you were found by the First Order no one would get caught in the crossfire.

Laughter was carried on the breeze towards you, the squad sat round a large fire listening to Poe as he tuned his guitar, a bottle of spotchka was also being passed around. You stepped forward, letting the warm sea water lap at your toes burying them in a layer of sand. The rich red and orange tones that spread across the sky bathed you in all its fiery glory, clouds marked the sky creating a purple grey blanket to try and dull the blazing sunset, but nothing could contain the wonder of nature. You watched the sun dip below the horizon, still casting the warm rays even though you could no longer see it. You turned slightly, Poe’s velvet voice rose above the chatter and everyone stopped to listen, who wouldn’t want to listen to him? Your gaze wandered, desperately trying not to look at him because if you did your heart was going to race. It was going to expand to immeasurable proportions and it was going to ache deep in your chest. You looked up at the clouds hoping the tears wouldn’t fall as his melody weaved it’s way into your soul.

He had a permanent place there, nestled inside you filling you with love and he didn’t even know it, the man was so ingrained within you, it felt like every word, every touch he gave you forever beat in your body, refusing to give them up. You had no idea if he felt the same, you didn’t want to know because if you knew it would make the pain ten times worse. Knowing that he wanted to touch you, to love you as much as you loved him….no. Not in the middle of a war that had no end in sight. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs to the maximum with the fresh salty air of the sea, grounding yourself. Your name being called made you turn round, the smile back on your face as you watched Jess approach.

“Come and join us!” Poe had started a jaunty tune to which Snap yanked Kare up and started making her dance even though her protests rang loudly down the beach. You took the bottle off Jess, taking a bigger mouthful than you wanted but you needed to feel something other than this deep routed ache that festered inside you all the time. You watched Kare throw her head back in laughter as Snap twirled her round and your eyes were drawn to Poe. His expression full of love for his friends as he watched them enjoy themselves, his hands moving expertly along the strings. He finished the tune with exaggerated flair, his face split with a large smile and a rich laugh burst from his chest at something Snap said. He rested his guitar against the log, his deep brown eyes falling on you and his expression dropped slightly. You shoved the bottle back at Jess, your hands suddenly sweaty.

“I’m gonna go for a walk. I just need to calm my mind.”

“Yeah ok, I’ll tell the others.” You took off, not looking back. You thought you heard Poe ask a question, maybe he was enquiring after you but you shut it out. You clutched the front of your top as you tried to breathe through the pain that had gathered in your chest, you had to leave the squad. You couldn’t keep going on like this, you were going to slip up, make a mistake and then the whole squad would be at risk. This couldn’t continue. Leia would understand.

“Hey slow down!” Oh! Oh no!

“Poe not now!” But the emotion in your voice just made him speed up.

“What’s up, what's wrong?” He asked as he drew level, falling into step alongside you. Your mind refused to work, stuttering a stop as everything you wanted to say filled your mouth but you couldn’t. “Come on, can you tell me?”

“No, I can’t.” You sounded so rough, so abrupt he didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t his fault you felt like this. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m just so tired.” He stepped in front of you bringing you to a halt and you had to look up into his kind face. The stubble that lined his jaw was prominent even though you knew he shaved this morning, his curls were unruly and fanning over his furrowed brow. He placed his hands on your shoulders, his warmth seeping through the thin material of your top.

“You can tell me anything,” he spoke softly and the urge to spill everything was filling you once again. You opened your mouth to speak when your eyes caught something, a shape among the trees. You grabbed your blaster and Poe tensed. “What do you see?” He whispered.

“I don’t know, but there’s something in the trees. Like a building?” You squinted into the gathering dusk trying to make sense of it but you knew you had to get closer. Poe sidestepped and pulled his blaster out, letting you take the lead as you quietly advanced. On closer inspection it looked like a hut, with a row of rickety wooden steps leading up to a closed door. Poe motioned for you to go first and you tested each step carefully before putting your weight on it, sometimes the wood would creak alarmingly and the pair of you would freeze. But nothing happened. You locked eyes with Poe, your hand ready to open the door, he nodded, his hands gripping his blaster tight. You flung the door open and he rushed past you but the small room was empty.

“Clear.” You entered, taking in the shadowy surroundings.

“I thought this moon was settlement free?” You asked, sliding your blaster back into the holster.

“Well it is, Snap did a life sign scan and none of them came back with a species that could have built this.” You looked around noticing the thick layer of dust that covered the surfaces, the flora that had worked its way through the cracks in the wooden structure. “Look at this.” You went to stand next to Poe, he gently swiped dust off the old radio to reveal the worn Rebel sign on the top.

“A little Rebel hideout.” You mumurmed turning over the depleted fuel cells. A small bed was set against the other wall and a crate which you crouched down next to.

“We shouldn’t open that.” You looked up at Poe and smirked.

“Commander Dameron, are you afraid of what I’ll find?”

“No, I just don’t think we should disturb anything else.”

“There might be something useful in here?” He sighed and crouched down next to you.

“What could be in here that we wouldn’t already have back on base? Let’s leave it in case we need it one day.”

“Fine. But you’re ruining my fun.”

“Isn’t that my job as your Commander?” He asked cockily, the crooked smile you loved so much appeared and you pushed away from the crate. Your heart thudded loudly as you turned away wanting to head back to the squad but his hand caught your arm. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Poe…” his hand slowly drifted up your bare arm, your eyes closed tightly as goosebumps erupted all over your skin.

“Because something is upsetting you…” he whispered. He was right behind you, his breath ghosted over the back of your neck and you could feel his chest rise with each breath. “Please talk to me.” You didn’t miss the desperate, pleading tone to his voice and it made you turn around, his hand still touching your arm as his eyes roamed over your face.

“I don’t know where to start,” you murmured, highly aware of his closeness in the dark room. The scent of him clouded the air around you, filling you everytime you inhaled, his questioning gaze drew your attention and it wasn’t until his nose bumped yours that you realised he’d leaned into you.

“Start at the beginning,” he whispered. His lips brushed yours and every fibre in your body was screaming at you to reciprocate his advance but you didn���t. You stepped back, pulling your arm from his grip and hugging yourself.

“No.” You heard him sigh in the darkness and you imagined the way his shoulders would slump in defeat. “I can’t do this Poe. We can’t.”

“You must know.” He stated simply.

“Know?”

“How I feel about you.” This couldn’t be happening. You felt your chest constrict at his words, you had no idea he returned your feelings. “If you don’t feel the same…”

“But I do.” You interrupted him.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful and it hurt you that everything you’d ever wanted was here before you, but you couldn’t take it. You stood in the doorway listening to the sea gently lapping at the sand, stars littered the wide expanse of the sky reflecting in the ever moving water below. It was beautiful, breathtaking but you didn’t see it as tears filled your eyes. You flinched when he came up behind you again, his hands either side of you, rubbing your arms. He tried to turn you round but you stood your ground. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice loud in your ear.

“We can’t!” You choked against the rising emotion in your throat. Now he did spin you, putting more effort into his motions, his hands firm on your face as he cupped your cheeks.

“We can….I don’t see what’s holding you back if…if we feel the same.” You smiled sadly and unfolded your arms to run a hand against his face. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing in bliss as he turned and kissed your palm.

“I’m sorry Poe. When we get back to base I’m going to request a transfer.” He stilled, his fingers flexing slightly against your skin as he processed what you had just said.

“What…why?” You held in a sob, your lips trembling as the tears finally spilled down your face.

“I can’t—I can’t go on missions with you feeling like this, I’m going to make a mistake, if you get killed I wouldn’t be able to come back from that.”

“But having you halfway across the Galaxy….” He started but you put your thumb over his lips.

“We can’t feel like this and fight the First Order together. It’s too risky.” His hands fell away and immediately you craved more of his touch, his expression fell into a blank mask and the atmosphere shifted noticeably.

“What about Snap and Kare?” He asked and you frowned.

“What about them?” He pulled away from you turning back to the small table that housed the radio, his fingers nudging the fuel cells slightly.

“Why do they get their happily ever after and we are denied?” You thought your chest was going to split open at the pain in his voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. Because you are one denying us this.” You heard him move, his hands on you once again but this time so were his lips. The kiss was rushed and desperate as he walked you up against the wall with a thud, it was everything you had ever dreamed it would be. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue licked deeply into your mouth and you moaned quietly. “Are you telling me we can’t do this…” he kissed you again. “And this,” he whispered as he trailed his lips down your jaw. “Because we are afraid to lose each other?”

“I…” you clenched your fists. You couldn’t concentrate with him on you like this, giving your body everything it had ever wanted. “I can’t think…”

“You don’t need to think…” he murmured into your neck as he pressed his body against you. “Damn baby you smell so good.”

“Poe.” Your hand buried into his curls as your body arched into him, he nipped at the top of your shoulder, his hands roaming up your back fisting in your top.

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracked. “Please don’t leave me, we can do this.” You rested your head against the wall with a sigh, both your bodies heaving in unison as he rested against you.

“If anything happened to you because you felt the need to save me I’d never forgive myself. I can’t, we can’t put ourselves through that.” You tugged his head up. “If I saw you in danger, I would jump to your rescue no hesitation, I would die for you Poe Dameron.”

“I can’t lose you,” he sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “I’ve kept these feelings so tightly boxed up for so long not knowing if you felt the same, but I saw the way you looked at me at the fire and I knew.” He paused and took a shaky breath to try and gain some control over his voice. “I just knew,” he breathed over your face. Placing more delicate kisses on your wet cheeks.

“Poe, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. It’s—it’s just the wrong time.”

“What if I’d said something earlier?” He asked urgently.

“No…”

“Would it be different? If I’d spoken up before you were in my squad?”

“Poe…”

“If I’d said nothing would you stay? Maybe we can forget this ever happened?”

“No. It wouldn’t have changed anything.” His face fell and he pressed it into your neck, his arms crushing you to him and you could feel it. The hurt that radiated from him because you felt the same.

“You’re all I want, it kills me I can’t have you,” he mumbled into you and you sniffed loudly. “Just let me love you, please?” More sobs wracked your body and the tears fell unchecked as you clutched him tightly.

“You have me, you have my heart, you always will. I just…please Poe this hurts!” You both stood there in the dark hut, listening to the quiet sounds of the beach, the soft rustle of the flora in the breeze, when he broke the stillness.

“I can’t change your mind can I?” He asked quietly. You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak anymore because you could easily backtrack. You could so easily tell him you’d changed your mind but visions of him being shot out of the sky in front of your very eyes was a nightmare you didn’t want to live. He pulled away, refusing to make eye contact. His finger grabbed the chain around his neck and pulled it over his head, he pulled your open palm towards him and deposited the ring and chain in it.

“No Poe, this was your mother’s!”

“I know. And I was saving it for the woman I love. If you’re so set on leaving then you are going to take this,” he closed your fist tightly around it. “You either stay, or you take this and when the war is over I will find you.” His free hand slid round the side of your neck and he leaned forward to rest his forehead heavily against yours. “I promise. I will find you.” He kissed you, this time it was gentle and lingering until he broke off with a sob. His hand slowly left your skin and then suddenly he was gone, leaving you weeping against the wall of the hut, clutching the ring to your chest.

I promise. I will find you.

[hualianff]

Untethered

Mountains – Hans Zimmer

When he was young, Xie Lian despised being out at sea. He would often get seasick by the steady back-and-forth rocking of the ship. The saltiness of the air and feverish heat from the sun didn’t help, so young Xie Lian would stay cooped up in his cabin below deck, holding his nauseated stomach.

The royal family frequently traveled across the oceans to maintain strong relationships with allied kingdoms. Therefore, Xie Lian wasn’t spared from the dreadful sailing trips. He eventually got used to the long days on the water without worrying himself ill, though it took many restless days and nights distracting himself from the surrounding stretches of blue that went on for ages.

Now, Xie Lian barely notices the subtle bobbing of the ship’s movements, cradled by the natural currents passing through. It’s not exactly peaceful, per se, but a mere constant that he welcomes with a numb mind. Currently sat at the vanity inside his chamber, still on the lower deck, Xie Lian stares wordlessly into the mirror, the intricate embellishments around the frame creating an illusion of warped vines and limbs.

His reflection blinks back tiredly, mouth set into an unhappy frown.

If his mother and father were to see him now, their disapproval would twist Xie Lian’s insides until the corners of his lips lifted to resemble a perfect smile. After all, princes must be charming and cordial, self-assured and righteous. Being anything less than an utmost pleasure to the public’s eye was unacceptable.

Until the day he weds, that is. After that, his behavior is expected to change to best accommodate his wife and the promise of children, his kingdom’s prosperity, and a long, honorable life. This was Xie Lian’s pre-conceived future, one that he had accepted years ago, but which felt like lifetimes away.

Alas, time waits for no one. Only one month prior had Xie Lian’s father informed him of his arranged engagement to a princess from a faraway kingdom.

***

“Father, I’m not ready,” Xie Lian pled, kneeling in front of the king, who sat on his throne in the private hall.

“Nonsense! You are beyond ready,” his father declared resolutely. “We cannot put training above your marriage any longer. A twenty-five-year-old prince with no spouse is a disgrace itself.”

Before Xie Lian could respond, the queen jumped in with words of her own.

“Your father is right, honey. It’s time you get a wife and begin the next chapter of your life. Don’t you want that?” she asks, placing her hand atop her husband’s, giving it a small squeeze.

It’s an indirect question: “Don’t you want to make us proud?”

Xie Lian trained his eyes on their feet so they wouldn’t see the devastation brewing within his irises. Appealing to the Xianle people, he could do. Taking on various studies to become the top educated prince, he could do. Practicing gratitude, discipline, and heavenly worship, Xie Lian could do.

But to be in a loveless marriage...a part of Xie Lian would die through a union of duty. While Xie Lian could wed a wonderful princess with the kindest soul and most clever mind, he would never come to love her. Not like a husband should love a wife.

That’s what saddened him the most. Xie Lian would end up locking him and his wife in superficial wedlock with the responsibilities for both kingdoms weighing down on their shoulders. Despite that this was how most arranged marriages went, Xie Lian knew that he ultimately wouldn’t be able to give his wife what she needed.

But his parents would hear none of it.

“You will set sail to the South to retrieve your soon-to-be-wife, as it is not appropriate for a princess to travel the seas by herself. Do you understand, son?” The king questioned with a tone of finality.

Xie Lian didn’t hesitate in lowering his head in acceptance, a quiet “Yes, father,” slipping effortlessly from his lips.

In those fifteen minutes, Xie Lian had sealed his fate in a path he did not choose.

***

Long hair. Pale foundation. Gem-stoned earrings. Satin robes.

Xie Lian scrutinizes his image in the mirror, dissatisfied, even though this presentation was well-acknowledged among commoners, nobility, and royalty alike. Someone once told him what mattered is not the state of oneself, but simply living as oneself. To be true. To be real. The feelings of guilt and shame arise when an outsider judges one’s surface, and to directly quote this person, “Who gives them the right to determine your worth?”

Regardless, Xie Lian was born into this life. He lives per the demands of others, and in return, he receives their love. Craning his head around, Xie Lian observes his fully furnished cabin for the thousandth time. Clothes of the finest fabrics hang from inside his closet, vivid blues and rich purples a stark contrast to the plain, white robes Xie Lian currently wears. There are antiques and collectibles from around the world, offered as tributes from people of all places. Not that Xie Lian has any use for them other than admiring such detailed craftsmanship.

His gaze sweeps over the bundle of books crammed into a sturdy, bamboo bookshelf. The queen had insisted Xie Lian take them on his journey to pass time by while still being productive. On top of the shelf sits the basket of his favorite snacks a fellow friend, Shi Qingxuan, had sent him with. Finally, in a large glass case tucked next to his bed, a magnificent sword lies strapped on a velvet cushion. It was a gift from the king when Xie Lian turned ten years old–a weapon to be treasured until the prince could properly handle its size and weight.

With a detached sigh, Xie Lian turns back to his vanity, now taking in the numerous beauty products, calligraphy brushes, and jewelry. His fingers find a gold ring with a dozen diamond-encrusted ornaments in the middle. Holding it up to the mirror, Xie Lian carefully slides the ring onto his ring finger, flipping his palm away to gauge the visual of wearing the ring.

It looks stunning.

But it feels wrong.

Xie Lian quickly slips the ring off, shoving it back into the small box. Looking back into the spotless mirror, the prince practices smiling as if it were his wedding day. But the harder he tries, the tighter his teeth clench and the more his throat clogs up. Xie Lian shakily exhales, shaking his head as he gives up.

For now.

Unconsciously, Xie Lian touches his hair, his earrings, his neck leading down to the parted collar of his robes, getting more frantic as his fingers rub along each area. The frame of the mirror constricts his reflection, and the wealth Xie Lian adorns as a representation of his character feels awful. It’s suffocating, but for some reason, Xie Lian’s breath quickens, his heartbeat speeding up at an ungodly rate.

The ship suddenly jerks sideways, startling Xie Lian as he flinches in his seat. When the ship tips the other way, he knows something is wrong.

On cue, a series of hasty knocks sound on the prince’s cabin door. Xie Lian allows his features to relax into a dejected expression before he stands up and opens the door. Two royal guards greet him with panic-stricken faces.

“My prince, our ship is under attack,” one of them informs, bowing his head in respect. “We advise you do not come out of your chambers until we rid the ship of all threats.”

“I see,” Xie Lian mumbles softly, bowing his head in return, even though he’s of a much higher status than his guards. Nevertheless, they are the ones who dedicate their lives to ensure his well-being. “Who has invaded our ship?”

Both guards share a nervous look, then turn toward their prince with a newfound urgency.

“Crimson Rain,” the second guard says gravely. Xie Lian’s breath stutters at the title, and his hands ball into twin fists. He still feels the phantom pressure of the ring on his finger.

“Do not worry, Prince Xianle. We will take care of those scoundrels. For now, keep your door locked. Don’t come out until we say it’s safe,” the first guard rushes out.

They bow once more, but Xie Lian barely processes their words. He only manages a weak, “Please be careful,” before turning around and shutting the door.

Xie Lian goes back to his vanity but doesn’t sit down. Instead, he prepares himself for battle, switching his fancy robes for lighter, tighter-fitting attire suitable for fighting. Next, he ties his hair back, keeping his signature white ribbon by wrapping it around the top bun. Xie Lian finds the most worn-out pair of boots he has, lacing them up mindlessly.

When he stands in front of the mirror, Xie Lian looks like a completely different person. Though his face remains smooth and his complexion flawless, the rest of his appearance renders him aggressive and even lethal.

He relishes this image.

Xie Lian waits a few more minutes for extra measure, then takes out the sword he’s had since he was ten years old, now able to put it to good use once again. Xie Lian pushes his cabin door open and walks directly out into a morbid battlefield brewing with danger and destruction.

《II》

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.4

WARNING OF DEPICTION OF A PANIC ATTACK and mentions of drugging. 

////////

The rest of the day went by pretty uneventfully. That is after Nate lectured you about stranger danger and how you couldn't just walk forty miles in two hours. You really have no clue how you messed up the math that bad or how calling Nate for a ride never crossed your mind. Nate made you promise not to get into another stranger's car, especially without knowing their fucking names.

“I mean seriously YN, you just hopped in their car because they had a dog?! That's literally the first thing they tell you not to do when you learn about stranger danger!” he said munching on a boston cream donut. It was a good thing you'd brought donuts because you caused this man to stress eat...or was that a bad thing?

After you agreed to having better stranger danger instincts, Nate told you things would be run a little differently around the shop. Apparently the camera out back had died on Sunday, which although weird could be explained away as a camera that hasn't been updated or switched out since the shop was opened, maybe even before then too. So unfortunately Big Jo and Nate still didn't know who broke into your car or if they had been looking for anything. But Big Jo still wants to take precautions like the two of you leaving together and in the morning one of you waiting in their car with the doors locked for the other to come and then entering the building together.

Nate also mentioned a few other things, shipping and inventory related, that wouldn't really pertain to you or change any of your current tasks. It's really just to limit the amount of people coming through the back room. The back room was the emptiest you've ever seen when you went to check on your deer skull. You wonder if you hadn't been hired who would've gotten this position and how long they'd be able to keep their mouth shut about the obviously illegal activity going on. But you remember the person who had this position before you had been Bambi, a sweet if not oblivious girl. So, had you not come along the Cowells would have probably found someone else who didn't have an ounce of perception for their surroundings.

The week goes by slowly and with no further incidents. The deer skull has been completed and you plan on taking it to Maddie's Workshop next week to get a mount for it. In the time that you were bleaching and polishing the bones Nate took it upon himself to clean around the shop. Even though he's made it clear you just have to do your task list here, which takes about an hour maybe two depending on the tasks, he's always working on something.

Nate's the type of guy who's never content to just chill he needs to keep moving always chasing that high you get from accomplishing a goal, whatever he's made his that day. He's probably just substituting whatever he did daily with these new deep cleans of his.

Even with the lack of incidents following your car's break in the two of you have kept to the new precautions. Nate even going so far as to remind you tonight that on Monday if you arrive before him you'll need to stay in the car. At this point you think it's less about safety and more about the security of the store's extra curricular activities. Either way you don't really mind.

Things seemed to return to normal, you were back to driving yesterday and after you rearranged furniture in your house you felt a little less on edge. And every night this week you'd been able to get a good night's sleep, which although not too strange did stand out to you. Maybe another thing that had kept you on edge this week, because it meant when you saw a shadow pass by you during the day you couldn't write it off as quickly as you normally would.

But tonight it seemed your luck had run out. You sat on your bed with your sketch book in hand just doodling strange squiggles till your eyes were so tired they couldn't focus. Putting the book down to rest your eyes and crack your wrist, you sigh not feeling tired at all. The thought of a hike isn't really appealing right now, plus if you made a run into the mini mart you'd probably see either Ronnie or even Tim working behind the counter, that thought set your ears a flame. While the night life in Kepler was decent especially for a Friday night in summer, you just felt the need to be alone.

A drive was the best answer you had. You'd just choose a random lane on the interstate and take a random exit till you found a diner or something, order a tea and a slice of pie. Like you were a background character in someone else's story longingly staring out the window as your dreams slowly slipped through your fingers in this cold cruel world. Ok, you'd been joking about that because you saw a TikTok saying that, but your melodramatic ass actually thinks that sounds fun.

Throwing on some jeans and a flannel over you muscle tee, you were out the door. When you were checking the lock you'd heard rustling coming from around the house where your bins were. Worse case it's a stalker, best case just some raccoons. Either way you decided to calmly but briskly walk to your car, locking the doors immediately. Once in you drove around the side of your house, luckily, you assume, you spot the chonkiest raccoon you've ever seen digging through the bins. His tiny little person hands drawing an awww from you even though his demonic gleaming eyes should send a chill down your spine.

Hissing at the car Chonk returns to dig through your garbage. Weird how he only comes on your pizza weeks. Probably has a thing for Leo's homemade pizzas. You sure as hell do, as much as you love it you do save a slice for this little guy. You haven't put it out yet though, eh you'll do it tomorrow.

Having solved that mystery you sit in your car and link up your phone so you can have your driving playlist. It's mainly Folk Punk and Sea Shanties and while most might say it's a weird combination you say it's the same genre just different fonts. You could drive hundreds of miles into the middle of no where listening to this playlist and you'd be just fine...maybe have an emotional break down or two but expressing your emotions is suppose to be good for you. Mouthing along to Jim Bogart as it comes through the stereo you set off on your little excursion.

Just like when you have the urge to hike at night the urge to drive is nearly one in the same. Momentum taking you forward and not looking back as you do, needing to just go forward with no real destination in mind. Tonight however would be a little different you'd stop at the first diner you see that's out of Kepler bounds. Or turn right back around at one in case you hadn't found anything. There've been times that you kept driving straight through morning and didn't know where the hell you ended up. Not to mention you rarely remember the ways to get back after going for so long, and gps can only get you so far in some of the towns that also border the Monongahela Forest. You'd just have to rely on dumb luck tonight.

Unlike hiking, which gives you a burst of adrenaline as you push your body to its limits to move as far as you can and as much as you can. Driving gives a much more relaxed feeling, it's a feeling a weightlessness that gets lighter and lighter the further you get from home. Some may describe that feeling as a wanderlust or nomadic calling, but you've never cared for either of those things. You've only ever wanted to stay in one place for as long as you could remember. Moving around so much in your youth really messed you up, and you promised yourself this would be the last time you uprooted your life. And you've really come to love Kepler in these past few months. You can't imagine how you'll feel next year after getting to know the community more, but so far it's been really compassionate and understanding, a few rocky spots here and there but nothing like your hometown.

Without realizing it you've picked up your speed, you're doing 75 in a 55 zone. Even with no other vehicles around you slow down to just above the speed limit. While there might not be any cops around looking for easy tickets you don't want to risk dissociating at 75MPH or more. That could only end horribly. Though dissociating behind the wheel at all would be horrible. In the middle of shaking yourself from these thoughts you catch sight of an exit sign, which holds the logo for Denny's on it, and the exit is coming up in five miles. Switching lanes you cross over and get ready to hop off on the next exit.

You're pretty sure the only pie Denny's has is the dry apple with a scoop of ice cream. That isn't very appetizing to you, but then again you aren't really a fan of pie, a fact you seemed to gloss over when you made the decision to drive out here this late at night. Not too bothered by the fact, you remember Denny's has a salted caramel and banana pancake which should work in place of pie.

Pulling into the parking lot there are only three other cars, peering into the diner you don't really see anyone so the cars must belong to the skeleton night crew. Entering the Denny's you see there actually is one other patron, you only see the back of his head as he makes no move to look at the new arrival.

“Hun, seat yourself, I'll be out in a bit.” is the motherly voice that rings out from the kitchen, truly something you've only experienced in the south. Walking into a diner in the dead of night and  being treated like a daytime regular.

Seating yourself near the TV mounted to the wall you let the sounds of the soap opera playing drown out any buzzing you feel in your head. The waitress is out within minutes and though she startles at your masked face she regains her composure very quickly.

“I'd like the salted caramel pancakes if it's alright.” you say declining the offered menu.

“Just the pancakes?”

“Ah, yes please. And water's fine too.” it really pays to know the menu prior to coming in. Gives you ample time to run scripts over in your head.

Viv, the name on her name tag, nods and gives you a smile as she spins right round to the kitchen. Probably happy she won't have to run out so many times for just one order or maybe to spend time with the cooks in the back. You remember working food service sucked but the line cooks made it so much better at the end of the day. Even if they said you were too quiet and called you 'mouse'.

It might not have been exactly what you set out to do but this little midnight self date was really nice, you should do this more often.

Pancakes finished and mask back on you waited for Viv to bring out your check,  then you notice the other patron also making his moves to leave. You're sat facing the door so when he turns and comes closer dread fills your veins like burning cold dry ice. It's David, a local from Kepler you briefly met when you first moved. He gave you really bad vibes and over all was just a very skeevy dude.

What made you feel worse about him was when he left town to “help his sister” right after Bambi disappeared. Those in your circle told you she always talked about leaving Kepler one day but you trusted your gut in saying she didn't leave by her own choice. It got made for her, and David leaving just furthered your theory. You look away hoping he hadn't noticed you but unfortunately you could hear his footsteps falter and then pick back up by passing the door completely.

“Hey...YN, right?” fuck he remembers you, alarm bells are ringing at this fact. Why would he remember someone he briefly met months ago?

“It really is you, still as quiet as I remember.” what did he mean the two of you only met a handful of times and that had been because of your mutual friendship with Bambi.

Where is Viv with the check? You'd really like if she saved you from this painful situation right now. But you aren't sure what's worse having to sit here and listen to David tell you everything he's been up to these past few months, like you even care. Or the thought of leaving with David having him follow you and maybe doing whatever he did to Bambi to you.

“Yea so my sister's better now, I should be seeing you around soon. We should catch up maybe do Saturday Night Dead. Does the Crypt still do that?” great a fucking rhetorical question, he knows the Cryptonomica still does it's weekly movie nights, it's only been two months he's been gone. Not to mention it's a big hit and a huge source of revenue for the shop.

You haven't said anything this whole time, fuck being polite to a potential killer, and fuck being polite to this creep. He's just been talking nearly nonstop for the last few minutes. He must really love the sound of his own voice or thinks he's the most charming person to ever grace the Earth with his presence. Since he's not really caring that you aren't proving to be a stimulating partner in this conversation. He really does love hearing himself talk. By the time he's said his own goodbyes Viv finally makes it out from the back.

She apologizes for the wait, had to go on her break sometime you supposed. You take your time finding your wallet, it's in your back pocket but you wanted to stall for time since you could still see David's car out there, you were also keeping an eye on your own car. Only relaxing when you saw him pull off from the corner of your eye. Oh look you've “found” your wallet,  handing Viv your credit card you just want to get out of here quickly now.

You pay and leave a nice tip for Viv, while she didn't save you from that creep it's not like she could've known. You sit in your car for a moment or two just breathing in and out in the glow of the diner lights. Almost meditating before you begin your long drive back to Kepler with all these thoughts of David, Bambi's disappearance, and how it can't be coincidence that David is coming back at the same time that you have a break in. Could you be his next target? Were you just over thinking things? Just blaming this poor guy because you didn't like him? But you've always been intuitive and bad vibes aren't something to ignore. David appearing now meant something.

Just that thought alone put you on edge as your skin begins to crawl. With a few calming breaths you go to start the car and sync your radio when you notice the glow of the lights changed from the slight yellow to a sterile blueish white. Looking up where the diner should be you see the mini mart back at Kepler...how on earth did you get here? You didn't drive! You couldn't have dissociated while driving, you never even turned the car on and you can barely take a hike dissociating let alone do something as complex as drive a car.

It happens before you can register it, on shaky legs that move on their own you are passing the threshold of the convenience store and catching the tail end of a conversation.

“ppened to not feeding into delus...” the voice cuts off as the door shuts behind you. You know that voice why is it so hard to focus?

Something warm brushes your hand and you see someone in front of you. Who is that? You can't see their face, they've got a mask covering their face. Like you but that person is not you. You might know them...Tobais?

“Yea? You good there?” confusion, you blink hard and see you are standing in the mini mart now, Connor standing under your hand, Toby hovering close by and both Brian and Tim watch with unease over by the register.

“...I don't know how I...how I got here.” you register movement in the background but not consciously.

It's the shifting of Brian's head as he looks out the front windows and spots your Kia.

“You drove.” shaking your head, “Maybe...I don't...I dissociated?” in your confusion you can register Toby stiffen in front of you.

Fear, fear, uneasy, breath....are you breathing? Your head's so jumbled right now.

You scan the shop trying to look for answers that may help you but you find none. The more confused you get the more worked up you get, chest rising and falling rapidly. You take a step back or try to and end up falling on your butt. It's starting to get hard to breathe with your throat constricting, you bring a hand up to your larynx.

“..re.....have..attack......”

        “could be o...me..”

“.....pressure...”

Is all you can make out with your fuzzy consciousness before a heavy pressure is piling on your chest and knocking you fully on your back. The pressure is actually pretty lifting as contradictory as it may seem. Instead of restricting your breathing more it seems to be kick starting your lungs to exhale and inhale. With oxygen coming back into your body you can feel your toes and the tingle behind them. You can feel your fingers and the fur under them. Fur?

Taking in a big breath you move your head and come face to muzzle with Connor.  You give a nod of recognition to the dog before lying flat again and staring up at the ceiling. After about ten minutes you're thinking more clearly than before, which isn't saying much.

“Thanks.” you aren't sure who it's directed at but you still mean it.

It's silent until Toby breaks it, “I'm taking you home.”

“Car.” it's all you can manage to say but the message though distorted got through.

“I'll drive it, Brian follow behind.” there is no room for arguing, driving under any influence must be a touchy subject for Toby. Or maybe you're really fucked up right now and just can't comprehend how bad.

You use Connor to get up, he seems ready and no one else makes a move to you. Toby pushes past and holds the door open as Connor guides you, still holding onto his vest with one hand, and Brian murmurs something to Tim before following you three.

Outside Toby already has your keys in his hand, when did he get those? Did you give them to him? Your hand is risen, you must of...how on earth did you even drive like this. Had you really driven? There's a lump in your throat again and you're breathing's gone shaky, god you hope you didn't hurt anyone. You must have been zoning out for too long, not only is Connor pushing your legs but Toby has a grasp on your forearm coaxing you forward.

His grip isn't suffocating, honestly even seeing it there you still don't feel it. Maybe it's because you're so numb, or maybe it's because he's genuinely helping you but you can't feel the pain that  usually comes with being touched. The sharp jab that feels like you've been struck with a fire poker where ever someone laid their hands on you. After he's pushed you into the backseat, more like nudged you, even making sure you didn't bump your head, he buckles you in then snaps and Connor jumps into the car and lays across your lap.

You're shaking, actually trembling as you look at Toby. What's going on? Why can't you figure out what's happening? The brunette doesn't say a thing as he gets into the driver's seat and buckles in to drive you home. That's strange you think, how does he know where to go? You told him right, just follow the road...or maybe he guessed from the other day. What happened to you? Why the mini mart? You were at Denny's.

“This town doesn't have a Denny's.” did you say that out loud?

“I...I went for a drive, a town over...up...no.. north I think...” you start blinking barely able to keep your eyes open before your eyes lock shut. It's sending you over the edge even more in your confusion.

“Hey, hey just focus on the Denny's. What'd you do once you got there?” is he trying to distract you? Calm you down? Or is he trying to piece together what happened like you are? You can remember Denny's just fine, the dull yellow glow of the inside the skeleton crew murmuring in the back, the pancakes you had, and the “conversation” with David. Did David do this, had he put something in your water glass? Did you even touch your water glass after he left? Breathe. You need to breathe. Toby's waiting.

“Pancakes...I had pancakes. Then that creep came over...and he started talking. Didn't like. We aren't friends, I don't know him. I don't understand why he'd talk to me. Didn't like. Didn't like.” finger back to pressing down on your larynx and the weight of Connor preventing your legs from striking out at the seat in front of you.

“Wait, were you drugged?” Eyes flash to the rear view to lock with your own teary stare.

“No, maybe...I don't think so.” you barely feel the pain in your throat right now, this is all so overwhelming. “He left, I...I watched him drive off before getting in my car... I had an episode while the car was off then..” then you were at the mini mart. You never touched the ignition.

“I didn't drive, I never started the car. Didn't, didn't, didn't” Your attack is probably stressing even Connor out now, but this is all so confusing.

You're so focused on the fuzzy events you don't notice Toby bristle. Or how he grips the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles grow white despite his already translucent skin. He might not be able to feel or see it in the mirror through his mask but he's probably gnawing off more of his face. He'd deal with it after he dealt with you.

You've made it to your house and he's waiting for the headlights from Brian. When he sees them in the rear view he gets out but not before telling you, or maybe Connor, to stay put.

It's a few long moments before he comes back. But in the silence and darkness of your car, growing colder by the moment, you start to ground yourself. You aren't calm by any means and you're still very unfocused. But you aren't crying as the numbness overtakes you, you don't even jump when the door beside you opens. With a snap Connor is out of the car and soon you're being pulled from the car, that same weightless touch gripping your forearm. Toby guides you into your own home, and walks towards the hallway looking into the bathroom, the only other door, before finding your room.

Seemingly understanding your catatonic state he sits you on the bed and gives some order to Connor before he leaves the room. And you just sit on the bed staring into dead air as a silent guard sits in wait. You aren't sure what he's waiting for or why he's still there but the numbness has taken over too much and you can't find it in you to give a single fuck.

[megalony]

Met his match

This is a new Murderer! Ben Hardy imagine that should have a follow-up imagine soon when I can get round to it, I hope you will all enjoy this one feedback is always lovely to have.

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Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben is a hitman tracking his latest target, and he is getting ready to kill them but things get tricky when his conscience gets the better of him. And the situation unravels when soulmates are involved.

Enjoy.

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Reaching his calloused hand into his back pocket, Ben pulled out the phone that was vibrating to show someone was calling. Taking a scan of the phone case, he sighed at seeing it was his personal phone which he couldn't be bothered to answer right now.

He'd been in the game for a two years now and had managed to pick up many tricks of the trade. Rule number one was to have seperate phones so if he got caught, he could give the police his normal phone that was just for friends and family. The innocent phone. All the implicating and cryptic messages were on his work phone so he could keep things separate and in order. His normal phone was white and his work phone was black as a teasing reminder of his life like day and night.

Switching the rather annoying item off, Ben slipped it back into his pocket before turning his attention down to the glass resting on the shining polished wooden surface in front of him.

This was a very different experience for Ben considering that for the past three months he had been in hiding.

Laying low wasn't all it was cracked up to be and Ben hated it. He hated having to disappear underground, to go to dingy, disgusting bars for a drink and to make sure no one would find him. He hated having to scan the bars to make sure they were the kind that didn't have CCTV so he could stretch the truth about how long he was there if an alibi was needed. He hated being around the cringy, loud-mouthed people that bustled about and spilt their drinks on one another.

Ben couldn't abide by the hotels and the small B&B's that he had to go to when he was out of town and needed to go unseen.

Laying low was the part of being a hitman that he despised because in order to keep the job he had so graceously decided to take, he had to cover his tracks and give himself alibi's. He had to make sure his face was never in papers or on websites. He had to make sure only the right kind of people knew who he was so he wasn't known to the posh people or the ones in contact with the police so he wouldn't be caught. He had to make sure the people who knew what he did weren't informants for the police or traitors.

But his job was something he found great pride and achievement with, even though he knew he shouldn't. Killing people wasn't the kind of job that someone should be proud to have and yet Ben was. He had pride that he had been doing this for two years and no one had caught him yet. He was proud that people respected him in the underworld and that people paid a high price for the job that he did. People went to the trouble of finding him to get his help, they risked a lot to find him with the knowledge that he could turn them down.

The thrill that it gave him, the planning that he got to put into it and the risks he took made laying low all that much better.

But to finally be out of his hiding and back in the world of the living was something that he enjoyed immensely. Ben enjoyed being able to come to the bars and restaurants that were more appealing to the eye and soul. To be able to act as if he fit in with the higher society when really, despite how he hated to lay low, that was where he belonged.

The thin black button-up shirt he was wearing was rather itchy around the collar and he had to refrain from scratching his neck every ten seconds but he had to act formal since he was technically at work right now.

Turning his head to the left, Ben locked his bored eyes onto the man he had seen wandering around the restaurant for the past hour. He went around hitting on any girl that walked in and every time he had got rejected which wasn't surprising given that this wasn't the most high class place but it certainly wasn't of low standards. The women here were more refined and didn't take to a drunk man wandering the bar asking them if they wanted to go home with him for a 'night-cap'.

The drunk man seemed to get more riled up and annoyed with every rejection he got until he was starting to get aggressive. If the guy would take each rejection with his chin up then Ben would have said good on him for taking it in his stride but the hitman was getting fed up of the idiot's persistence with anyone in sight.

Hunching his shoulders forward, Ben leaned his head down but let his eyes lean around the idiot a few feet at his side, trying to get a look at the poor victim the man was now pestering.

Ben had to refrain himself from growling in sheer annoyance when he realised that the victim this drunk idiot was pestering was Ben's next target. Rubbing his hand over his face, Ben scratched at the corner of his eye with the pad of his thumb as he tried to stay calm and unnoticed.

It was always a surprise to Ben when he found out that his victims were women because eighty percent of the people he was told to snuff out were usually middle aged business men. With the odd exception of a young inexperienced boy who had taken something he shouldn't or who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But killing a woman was never hard for Ben, a hit was a hit and it didn't matter who it was as long as the job was done and Ben got paid at the end of it.

The only times he ever refused to do a job was if he himself deemed the hit unnecessary. Maybe there was a young boy who just didn't need to be killed or a woman who was only wanted dead because her rich husband wanted her out of the way.

Other than things like that, Ben usually didn't care the reason even though he always asked. It was part of his invisible policy that Ben was to be given all the details, the reason and half the payment up front before he went through with a hit.

For the past two weeks Ben had followed his victim, got to know her routine and what she did and he knew that tonight was the one opportunity that he had to get the job over and done with.

Tonight was a night where she was most vulnerable because she was alone, away from home and her family and friends thought she would be away for another week so the timeline for her disappearance would be vague at best. Ben had already disabled her phone signal from afar and he had ensured that he wasn't on any security tapes.

All he had to do was find her after she left the restaurant and he could pounce.

Ben knew the reason why he had to kill this girl.

She had smuggled a lot of money from her father's account and placed it into a lot of other accounts ranging from her own to her father's victims who he had complete control over. What she had done was completely legal since she had access to the account and had unsuspectingly gotten her father to sign the documents allowing the transactions. He had lost out and now his daughter was a threat to his rather secretative dodgy dealings.

She was a threat he wanted rid of and the police couldn't do anything, nor could they get rid of her in the sense that her father wanted.

But Ben could.

He applauded his victim's reasons and what she had managed to do but at the end of the day, she was a hit and Ben had taken the job.

Turning his head to the left, Ben glanced his eyes over at his victim as if making sure that she hadn't disappeared without him knowing.

His victim had her rather long hair folded and pinned to her lower head just at the top of her neck but she had two short strands of hair hanging loose framing both sides of her face. And her vibrant eyes were shining for everyone to see. Her head was tilted to the side and the distant look in her eyes made her seem as if she was in a world of her own. She had one arm resting on the circular wooden table and her other hand circled around the half empty glass of red wine in front of her.

She looked as if she fitted in so well here with her baggy button-up shirt tucked into her high-waisted trousers that skimmed over the top of her ankle boots. Her appearance and her smile and the way she held herself made her fit in so well with the upper class people in the restaurant. But there was just something about her that made Ben feel like she was an outcast. Someone desperately trying to fit in when really, she didn't belong anywhere at all.

Just like him.

The pick up line that the drunken man used on Ben's victim washed over Ben's head just like it did the girl's head because she didn't spare him a glance. She seemed to be used to people trying to gain her attention and she seemed very good at choosing who deserved her attention and who didn't.

When the man didn't persist anymore and left in a huff, Ben felt like doing the exact same thing. He had been in this restaurant for two hours now and had had no interaction or conversation with anyone but the bartender who simply kept refilling Ben's glass the moment Ben pointed at it.

As much as Ben enjoyed being at places like this, it did get boring when he had no one to talk to because talking to people could potentially ruin an alibi if he needed one. They could say the exact time he left, who he had been looking at, what exactly he had told them. Ben would never say anything to incriminate himself or make himself seem untrustworthy but interactions were just as harmful as doing the job he did.

As bad as it was that he sat and talked to no one, it was safer.

"Any good?"

The new voice broke Ben out of his consuming thoughts, much to his relief, but when his head turned to his left he felt a spark of adrenaline bursting through his stomach when he saw who it was talking to him.

"The whiskey here, is it any good?" (Y/n) pointed her finger towards the circular glass of whiskey resting in front of Ben that he was holding with a vice grip in his left hand. It was the only thing she could think of to spark up a conversation with the one person here who seemed to feel like an outcast here the same as she did.

It seemed to take him a while to respond, she could see his eyes studying her as if he didn't exactly know what to make of her or how to take her question.

Ben observed the way that (Y/n) leaned her elbows on the counter with one arm outstretched like she was trying to reach behind the bar and grab one of the bottles. Whilst her other hand was resting against her neck like she was trying to prop her head up. Ben couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her, noticing how her hips were pushing against the bottom of the bar counter and her knees were straight like she was trying to make herself look a bit taller than she really was.

"Better than most places I've been to."

Ben didn't usually talk to his victims.

In theory, Ben could tell his victims anything. He could tell them his bank details, his name and address, his age, his national security number. He could tell them anything and everything about him because his victims always ended up in the same place; a grave. And dead men tell no tales.

But this was different, Ben talked to his victims when he was about to force a bullet into their skulls or make their deaths drag out. He didn't normally jave a chat with them before they knew that he was their personal grim reaper about to steal their life and soul. He never talked to his victims like he was trying to make a new acquaintance or even a friend.

Talking to his victims could often make him feel sorry for them or make him regret killing them. Ben didn't need them haunting him in the dead of night disturbing his sleep or making him think over his life choices and his choice of jobs.

"That's enough for me." (Y/n) didn't even get chance to speak when the bartender approached them both before her new acquaintance pointed to his glass before holding up two fingers indicating he wanted two glasses this time. It always fascinated (Y/n) how people like him were willingly in places like this when they clearly didn't want or need social interaction.

It would clearly be a lot easier and cheaper for him to just buy a bottle of whiskey and take it back to wherever he resided. But then again, if he liked to be around people he wouldn't get that if he lived on his own. Some people like to be surrounded but not interacted with, they liked to people-watch but not be watched themselves. (Y/n) didn't know him or why he was here and she wasn't usually one to judge a book by its cover.

"Thank you." (Y/n) generously took the drink placed in front of her, a curious but appreciative look in her eyes to which the stranger nodded in understanding before downing his drink.

It was her last night after all, the least he could do was buy her a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breathe.

The one thought rattling through (Y/n)'s mind was telling her to do something that she normally never had to think about. Such an automatic process that happened thousands of times every day was something that (Y/n) was now having to remind herself to do in case she suddenly forgot or held her breathe for so long that she endangered herself even more by fainting.

Breathing was the only thing that (Y/n) was certain of right now, everything else was an illusion that she couldn't see past and it was frightening to say the least.

But even breathing was becoming hard when (Y/n) could feel her lungs pushing uncomfortably against her ribs ten times faster than usual. Her chest was heaving, her body was aching and none of her muscles were back under her control yet.

(Y/n) didn't even know where she was and the more she thought about what had happened, the worse her head started to ache because she didn't understand it. One moment she had been walking down the street aiming to get back to her hotel, the next moment an arm had secured around her waist and a cloth was smothered to her lips. When she awoke, every part of her was aching and she seemed to be laid on a sofa if she had guessed right. Unsure where she was, what was going to happen or why she was even taken in the first place.

She could tell that none of her limbs were tied up, her kidnapper had relied solely on the medication on the cloth that had knocked her out and the blindfold wrapped around her head to stop her from seeing anything if she woke too early. But (Y/n) couldn't move, her body was still asleep even if her mind was now awake meaning getting away was impossible right now.

"I can tell you're awake."

A small maon escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to get her body to come back under her control, but the moment those words registered in her ears she could feel her blood running cold.

She knew that voice.

"W-whiskey." (Y/n)'s voice shook and her head spun as she felt waves of horror creeping up her spine causing her muscles to shiver. It was the man who had bought her a drink at the bar. The man she had spoken very few words to and shared a drink with before heading back to her table. The man who had left the restaurant way before she herself had done.

What on Earth had she done to him to make him want to kidnap her?

"I'm honoured you remember me, love."

(Y/n) could feel the whiskey man getting closer, she could feel the way he cut through the air ever so slowly like he was slowly piercing the atmosphere with a knife. And when she felt him leering over her a whimper escaped her lips that were numb from whatever had been pressed against them earlier to knock her out. He hadn't looked the most harmless man in the bar but he didn't give off the vibes of a kidnapper. (Y/n) didn't know him, she'd never seen him before in her life, what did he want with her?

When his fingers slowly trailed against her cheek and up to her hair (Y/n) wanted to cower back in fear but the most she could do was shift her shoulders a little.

She could feel his hand slowly brushing the loose strand of hair behind her ear before he slowly grabbed the material covering her eyes, pulling it away to reveal her tired eyes that were blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim light. (Y/n) almost jumped when her vision cleared enough for her to realise that the whiskey man was crouched down on his knees in front of her. A serene yet almost intrigued look on his face as he stared at her with his lips turned up at the corners.

(Y/n) tried to move her uncoordinated limbs and managed to press her right hand down on the sofa before pressing the back of her left hand down against the cushion to try and lift herself up. The whiskey man had laid her down on the sofa as if she had just fallen asleep and he had carried her here- wherever here was. He didn't tie her up or lock her somewhere or even dump her somewhere, he had taken time and care with her. And when (Y/n) tried to manoeuvre herself up, he even leaned and placed his arm under hers with his hand resting on her back to guide her up.

Ben didn't miss the way that (Y/n) flinched when he touched her and he didn't exactly know why he had let her live so long.

He brought her to a hotel that he knew had no security in the reception or in the corridors so he couldn't be seen or caught on camera. He had the room already set up and paid for in advance and simply told the man on reception that his wife had gotten drunk and he was carrying her back. The young man believed him, who wouldn't?

But Ben could have killed her by now.

He could have put a bullet in her or even a knife if he wanted to get creative and he could have left through the fire escape without anyone knowing. No one knew she was in this hotel, it wasn't booked in her name so they wouldn't know who she was and Ben had taken her purse and phone. It would be a mystery and he could have given her some peace by killing her whilst she was asleep. It would have been kinder.

But Ben just couldn't do it.

He brought her in here, laid her down, locked the door and closed the curtains. But when he thought about just killing her and leaving, something stopped him. He had spent at least twenty minutes or so just watching her sleep, wondering what was going through her mind and when she was going to wake up and beg him for mercy.

He didn't have a problem with killing her, there just seemed to be something about her that made him want to talk to her and make her beg before he eventually took her life from her.

"What... why am I here? I don't know you..." (Y/n)'s speech was slow and her words were slightly slurred from how delirious her mind seemed to be after being drugged. She didn't know where she was but she didn't even know why she was where she was, let alone why a stranger had taken her.

"No, but I know how you are, love. We're both here on business and very soon, that business will be finished."

(Y/n) couldn't help but whimper, unsure what kind of business this man wanted with her but she had a few grave ideas. But the moment her eyes set on his right hand, she felt like she was going to be sick. He had a gun in his hand with a silencer on the end. If she tried to scream he could shoot her and no one would be any the wiser. If she tried to escape then he could shoot her before she even got off the sofa and by the looks of things, he was going to shoot her regardless of whether she tried to get away or not.

She was dead no matter what she did.

"No... no p-please... why would you kill me?"

A pang of pain struck Ben in his heart as he watched the way her lips couldn't help but pull down at the corners and when the tears fell from her eyes Ben almost felt bad. But this wasn't personal, he didn't have a vendetta against her or hate her or want to hurt her just because he randomly picked her to be his next victim. This was calculated and decided by someone else, Ben was just the paid method to get rid of her. This had nothing to do with him.

"This isn't personal, darlin'. I'm afraid this is what I'm paid to do, your daddy decided it. Don't worry, you won't have to feel anything unless of course, you want to."

He could see it in her eyes. She was desperate to beg him to spare her, to lie to her father and tell him she was dead but secretly let her live. She would disappear, she would go far away if he would spare her life. But it was clear in his eyes that he wasn't going to let that happen. As he said, this wasn't personal, this was clearly a job for him and he seemed like the kind of man that didn't stop until the job was done. The whiskey man didn't care for her and therefore her pleas were going to fall on deaf ears because he wouldn't be fazed by her begs for mercy or he wouldn't have agreed to do this in the first place.

Ben watched in curiosity as (Y/n) moved her hands to rub her arms like she was trying to give herself a comforting hug before she died, knowing it was inevitable.

She wasn't like the rest of his victims, begging, pleading and sobbing loudly or trying to attack him and make their escape. Most of the time Ben killed from afar, he stalked like a predator then suddenly shot them in a dark alley or stabbed them. Some of the worse ones were the ones he dragged out, he tortured them before leaving them to die somewhere. But just recently he started talking to a few victims or letting them wake up like now before he killed them.

But none of his victims seemed to sit and accept their fate like she was. This one was special, she was smart.

Ben let his eyes wander down to the gun in his hands as he slowly stretched up until he was hovering over her, looming like the grim reaper ready to snatch her soul. He checked the bullets left in the gun knowing full well he had five rounds though he only needed one or two at the most if he felt cruel. He then twisted the end of the silencer to make sure it was properly fitted, not wanting to make a surprising sound and let anyone know what he was up to in here.

(Y/n) needed him to do it now and get it over with.

She couldn't handle waiting and watching like this, death was always something that scared her but she always thought it would be unexpected or hoped she would pass in her sleep. Knowing it was about to happen now made her skin crawl and sent her mind reeling and this whiskey man was just prolonging it even more.

But as she watched him click the safety off the gun, her heart rocketed in her chest and started to spasm achingly when he began to whistle a quiet tune like he was preparing himself for an audition rather than a killing.

Oh God no.

(Y/n) knew that tune, she knew that tune all too well. It was the tune she had had in her head since she could remember, it was her song. That tune was the song that belonged to (Y/n).

Everyone in the world had a soulmate somewhere out there. People say that they know their soulmate from the first glance or just by looking or talking to them. But the one definitive way of knowing your soulmate is the song. Everyone has a song in their mind that is their own, not a song from the radio that they choose, but a certain rhythm, a humming or a whistling song in their head that they share with one other person in the world. Their soulmate. They are the only two that know the tune.

The whiskey man was whistling (Y/n)'s tune.

The only way that he could know that tune was if he was her soulmate. But he was trying to kill her, why would he whistle that tune if he was trying to kill her? Who whistled or even thought of their song when killing someone? She was going to be murdered by her soulmate and no one was going to come to her aid or her rescue.

Did this man even believe in soulmates?

Ben's lips curved up into a rather sinister grin that made (Y/n)'s skin crawl but she whimpered when he turned the barell of the gun towards her, aiming it at her temple. He could feel a small wave of guilt washing over him but he knew it would be taken away with the tide soon enough. His whistling grew louder as he got ready to pull the trigger, knowing he would have a lot of cleaning and tidying up to do very soon.

"It won't hurt, love. I promise."

But Ben's hand shook and his arm suddenly recoiled to his chest in horror when he heard her response.

His eyes blew wide in his sockets when he heard the rhythm she was shakily humming against her chapped lips. Her wild, rabid eyes locked with his own as she started to hum a bit louder, showing how uneven and timid her voice actually was because this was her only chance at survival. Humming his own song back at him.

"How do you know that tune? How?!"

The words bellowed around the room, resonating back at Ben as he suddenly jerked his arm out and pushed the barell of the gun against (Y/n)'s temple. Hating the way she cried out and cowered back at the feeling but still tried to hum the tune to prove she wasn't copying him, she knew what tune he had started to whistle.

"I- it's my s-song." Her chest quaked and her whole body trembled like she was undergoing an electric current before she tried humming the ending of the tune to keep herself alive, at least for now.

What the Hell was he supposed to do?

Ben's job was to murder people for cash and get away with it. He had no morals or code or rules he lived by and he certainly had no partner or wife waiting at home for him because he couldn't have any weaknesses or strings attached to him.

But that was his tune. He recalled his mother telling him about how she met his father and despite what Ben did for a living, his home life had been a good one. He knew his parents had been in love and he knew that soulmates existed purely because of the way his parents had been when he was growing up. No one had loved or appreciated his mother more than his father did.

A soulmate was not what Ben was looking for, he simply assumed that whoever out there shared his song was someone that he would never find. He wasn't looking for them and he didn't need a soulmate in his life, his life was perfect as it was right now.

But she was here right in front of him, cowering away because he was about to snatch her life from her.

But he couldn't.

If he took her life right now, all Ben could think about was what he would have done if his father had taken his mother's life. What would have happened if his father had killed his mother at any one point in their relationship?

(Y/n) didn't ask to be his soulmate, maybe she wasn't even looking for her soulmate either. Ben couldn't do it. The one thing in life that he wanted to believe in and abide by was a soulmate, he didn't necessarily want his soulmate right now but he knew it was real and he believed it happened. He couldn't ruin that by killing his soulmate, (Y/n) did not choose to have her fate be entwined with a murderer. She didn't choose to have her soulmate be a brute who was about to kill her.

"You... fuck! Fuck!" His voice suddenly rocketed around the room before the gun was launched out of his hand and violently hit the wall opposite him. "Why?! Why did you have to have my song? Why did you have to fucking hum it? I could have killed you by now- I should have killed you by now!"

"Y-you would rather kill me... not knowing you killed your soulmate? You could have killed me i-if you hadn't of whistled our song."

It wasn't just his song, it was their song. They both shared it and (Y/n) didn't know if it would have been better if he killed her because he would have gone through the rest of his life wondering why he never met his soulmate. People didn't always end up with their soulmates, they got tired of waiting around and just settled with someone else or settled on their own and made a new life for themselves. Some people chose not to believe in it and others met their soulmate and were too stubborn to want to be with them. But everyone met them at one point in their lives and knew about it.

Ben would have been more confused if he went through the rest of his life and didn't meet his soulmate.

"But I can't fucking do it now! I can't... for fuck's sake! I can't tell my client I haven't killed you because it turns out your my shitting soulmate!"

"Then kill me!"

"I can't!"

Ben all but screamed the words back at (Y/n), knitting his hands into his shortened hair before he turned his back on her so he could try and gather himself and think it through. Ben couldn't bring himself to kill her now, not now he knew there actually was someone out there for him. A soulmate was different than just finding someone and falling in love. (Y/n) was his match, she was someone that would love him and take him as he was. She was his soulmate and therefore their fates were entwined, it meant that she would love him despite him being a hitman and murdering people for a living.

He didn't deserve love but now he had a chance at it and this was his one and only moral. He couldn't bring himself to kill her, it had been hard enough to convince himself to do it before but now it was impossible.

"I can't kill you now... as weird as it seems, I just can't do it. I've failed this job and now you'll go and leave me because I've tried to hurt you." Ben smoothed his hand over the back of his head and neck before he bent down on his knees in front of (Y/n). He didn't know how else to explain it and he was desperate for her to see this from his point of view but it was virtually impossible. He had kidnapped her, told her he was going to kill her and now he couldn't because their fates were entwined.

Ben could see it now that if he didn't kill her he would have to let her go and then he would lose her because he couldn't follow and stalk her for the rest of his life. It wouldn't be right. She would leave him and he would lose her all because he couldn't kill her.

"I don't- I can't leave you... I mean, your my soulmate too."

(Y/n) had her proof that this man wasn't going to kill her, he didn't have the mind-set or the courage or the will to do that. The worst he could do was be rude because he clearly didn't intend to hurt his soulmate which meant he had some very warped morals. (Y/n) believed in soulmates, she had been waiting for him and now he was here, albeit in the worst of circumstances. She wasn't just going to walk away from him yet.

"What do we do now?" As bad as this situation was, (Y/n) couldn't quite see where they went from here.

"Isn't it obvious? I was supposed to kill you but I can't do that... now I need to protect you instead."

[northwestofinsanity]

80s Rock Bands represented by Deadliest Catch Quotes:

Dokken: "If you're gonna have a calamity, I'd say that's about the best we could call for." -Captain Keith Colburn, Wizard

(note: This may not be the only quote Dokken will get for this. We'll see...)

This quote comes from a more recent season, where a heater in the wall of the Wizard's galley caught fire. The wires got the insulation going, smoke came up and the wall got blackened, but luckily, engineer Roger Schlosstein found it, put it out, and turned the galley breakers off before the fire could take off anywhere. (Of course he disconnected the wires to that one heater before turning the power back on). Keith said the line after that ordeal, with as many things that can go wrong on a boat in the middle of one of the most treacherous seas, and with as many ways that situation could have been far worse (fire is one of the biggest dangers, because escaping a burning boat is extremely dangerous when the water is cold enough to kill someone in three minutes), they got pretty lucky. Worst thing was some singed insulation, and having one of a few heat sources down. Not great with the eventual repair costs and being down a heater in the arctic cold, but *far worse* things could have happened here.

Speaking from the days of my biggest obsession with Deadliest Catch, I'll admit, Captain Keith is not one of my favorites. (Albeit, like George Lynch, his temper has gotten better over the years and he seems to be a better person than he once was, so we've already got *that* for modern day Dokken often reuniting with him for one-off shows). So why would I represent one of my absolute favorite bands with one of my least favorite captains?

It comes down to a point a friend of mine made in a conversation on a Rockfic forum back in 2016 (when I was in the height of my longest-running Dokken hyperfixation following the reunion.) Considering things that have happened with other 80s bands in the same category with Dokken, for as much drama as the Dokken guys had, and for the rough things they did go through, far worse things have happened to other bands in that time period. Sure, they fought with each other, but maybe not on the level of their closest cousin band (Ratt). Sure, some of the guys had problems with drugs. Don would drink to cope with anxiety and panic attacks, and George, Jeff, and Mick had their own problems with alcohol and cocaine. Jeff has been honest about the extreme of his case of locking himself up and drinking, doing a ton of cocaine at once, and getting*incredibly* paranoid... BUT, we never saw Jeff get screwed up on the level of someone like Glenn Hughes, to the point of not being able to perform live for years or remember anything coherent of the time period. Nobody had an alcohol addiction driven by anxiety that led to a tragic death like with Steve Clark or Gary Richrath. Nobody overdosed and died while shooting up heroin -or got a deadly long-term illness from it like Robbin Crosby. They had some tough tours (and even cut the European tour in 86 off after many months and some of them crashing out from exhaustion when concerns of being near nuclear radiation in eastern Europe became an issue). But even that wasn't the worst, compared to instances like Deep Purple faced in Jakarta the decade prior. Despite what Dokken faced in the 80s and what critics say about them, compare their history, and they really didn't come off too bad. And maybe breaking up at the height of their speed (like Roger killing that electricity) really *did* keep them from facing a true calamity.

Perhaps the WORST thing Dokken actually faced came in the 90s, where it's rumored George was on steroids (though he'll deny it, avoid-drama-at-all-costs Mick has even suggested it), and he became more physically violent, rather than just having a battle of wits with Don. His time ended with him physically choking Don on the bus, after he'd admitted to trying to sabotage the band with how he wrote Shadowlife. We can only speculate what else happened when there are interviews from 1999 where you can see how uncharacteristically bitter even Jeff is toward his best friend when asked about him. Despite all this, Dokken did make somewhat of a recovery with Erase the Slate, and eventually, everyone made amends -Jeff by 2002 at the earliest, Mick somewhere before 2012, and Don around 2016. It may still be soon to speak on Don and George, but for the others, even this is better than the pattern of some band mates who have "made amends" only to end up fighting and separated in just a matter of a couple years -if that. So, has Dokken had a calamity? Hell, yes. More than one. Did they end just about as well as they possibly could have? Given the situation, and the outcomes of similar cases, very likely so. (And I think they deserve credit for that, just like I'll give Keith credit for his good moments, even if I'm not a fan of his)

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Awakening' : New chapter for "Always for the greater cause..." is out !

Chapter Summary : After days of preparation, tests & recovery, it's time for the Perseus agent 'Bell' to wake up...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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

18th February 1981

Freya 'Wraith' Helvig, Ex-NIS, Perseus

'Wraith' personal quarters in the Solovetsky monastery

Today was the final day for the tests we had to make on 'Bell' as we needed to know in which domain she was specialized and what we saw proves that she's very good in cryptography, having decrypted a simple message in a few minutes. After that, we put her back to sleep, now waiting that she will wake up without remembering what happened to her in the last month. The only thing I could say is that the process was long to realize but I'm sure it was worth it.

Now, I was writing down a report about 'Bell' and the final test of today as the night was falling on Solovetsky through the window of my quarters, sit on my chair at my desk. These reports were important for me to make, having supervised with Stitch the whole process and having volunteered the tests on 'Bell'. As I thought like each day of testing at the same time, I could hear knocks at my door, knowing that it was Stitch coming in to check on me and my reports.

"Come in, it's open," I spoke up in a clear & raised voice as always and a second later, the door opened and I didn't turn around, still focused on writing down my report. "You came here for my report as always, Stitch?" I asked him

"Exactly, how the tests were today?" He replied before asking me another question, hearing the door getting closed behind me.

"Perfect, the asset is proving great capacities in cryptography & her implanted memories are working well," I responded, putting my pen down on the desk to look around to see Stitch, leaned against the door, his left feet on it, arms crossed. "The tests are done, she should be awake in two days, without remembering what happened at all to her," I added to him.

"Good, like I planned," He muffled through his mask, looking down. "You remember what's the main things to do with her,"

"Rig her food, drinks, making sure that she doesn't try anything against us and staying close to her in case," I said, knowing that I also volunteered to do all of this: rigging her food & drinks with the necessary drugs to keep her still & loyal. "What if she asks about her past?"

"We'll try to find a way to make her think of something else, her past isn't the main thing for us," Stitch answered to me. "We both know that she knows Adler and she could tell us where exactly, that's the main thing important here," He continued, sounding obsessed with Adler to get him for good, everyone around knows that.

"But as we know, she's going to help us to get control on Greenlight, Adler is important too, her skills are needed for Greenlight," I make him remember Perseus big plan of taking the Greenlight arsenal across Western Europe as we have some troubles to deal with some details. "Any news from the others? Aldrich? Rudnik?"

"Aldrich is taking care of our business in the US while Rudnik is trying to make his agents ready across the numerous Western governments and I'm making sure that they're both going to help us too about Greenlight." He told me, moving away from the door, hands on his waist now. "Since the tests are done, you will be joining Knight at East-Berlin at the hideout, you're leaving in one hour,"

"What about you?" I demanded to him, getting up from my seat.

"I'm going to stay here, waiting for Bell to recover..." He started before he moves to open the door of my room, opening it wide open before he stops in his moves to look at me, seeing his face through the mask, making a smile...

"After all, Bell needs someone close to her when she will awake,"

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

20th February 1981

Yirina 'Bell' Grigoriev, EX-KGB, Perseus

Bell's quarters in the Solovetsky monastery in the Barents Sea, north of Russia

The first thing I could feel inside of me was a little pain just in my chest, hurting me right near my kidneys as I was slowly opening my eyes and it was weird like if I didn't open them for a large amount of time as the process was very long but after almost 30 seconds of trying to get them open, I succeeded after passing my hands through them to make my vision clear and discover where I was exactly, not remembering the place at all.

I was on a bed, covered by a green blanket in a sort of bedroom that was almost empty of belongings, with just only a desk, a chair, a wooden dresser, and a window giving on the outside that was just behind me, seeing the sun rising upon the place, looking like a military base hidden inside...a monastery...It was bringing me a lot of questions but mostly one that was always here: where I am?

That pain near my kidneys was still here when I got up from the bed and I looked up close below the white shirt I was wearing, seeing bandages covering my chest and the places that were hurting me. I didn't know how I got them but I needed to know. I wasn't fully dressed and by looking around the room, I could see some clothes on the chair near the desk, prompting me to dress up in those clothes that were casual: blue jeans, a black vest, a pair of black shoes, and when I was dressing up...

"Bell!" I heard someone knocking at the door of the room two times, saying my name, it was a man's voice muffled by the door. "Bell, are you awake?" The man asked as I was finished to put the blue jeans on me.

"Uhm...yes?" I said, stopping to put on the black jacket on me to see who it was, going to open the door that wasn't locked and I opened it. "Stitch?" I muttered, seeing the man with a black mask & hoodie, black & white military pants & black boots, and mostly, his right eye blue & left white.

"I see that you didn't forget about your old friend, Bell," He exclaimed, sounding happy through his mask. "Can I come in?" He asked me, gesturing inside the room.

"Yeah, sure," I let him pass the door to enter the room I was in before I closed the door, now finding myself with him.

"I'm sure that you have a lot of questions to ask me and I will answer," He guessed right about me, checking myself as I was moving to get to the black jacket I put aside and him, going near the window, next to my bed.

"I do, where I am?" I started, sitting down on the chair of the desk, the jacket in my hands.

"Back at our base in Solovetsky, it's been almost a month that you were out of action," He revealed to me, causing me to put my head inside my hands in despair.

"One month?" I whispered in a sad voice, wondering what did make me lose one month of my life and as he said, he was going to give me the answers I needed for that. "What happened, Stitch?" I demanded.

"You've been wounded in one of our operations in Turkey, a traitor to the cause shot you three times and somehow, you survived," He said, slowly raising my head to look at him, leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "It's hard, I know but we both know that we faced worse," He added, taking off his mask to make his voice clear. "We thought to have lost you but looking at you now, you're in great shape,"

"Well, yes & no, happy to be alive but bad because of the revelations you just make to me," I clarified as it was how I was now, staying one month in bed isn't the best thing to hear and to do. "Shit, there's things I can't remember," I continued, trying to remember simple things in my head.

"It's normal, our doctors said that you may have trouble remembering some parts of your life but we're sure that it will come back one day," He told me, looking down at his mask in his hands. "I know that you may be still recovering but...are you ready about a new mission?"

"Tell me," I demanded to him, wanting to know more as I took the jacket to put it on.

"We're planning to rob a project from the CIA's hands called Greenlight and I need you for that, I'm pulling a team of the best agents of the Collective," He explained to me, putting his mask on his face, not before seeing a smile on his face about telling that to me. "I ask you this because of our past together, you've been loyal to me for years since Rebirth Island," He added, moving away from the wall as I was now standing in the middle of the room.

"Count me in," I affirmed my will to participate in that mission with him, nodding to him.

"That's all I wanted to hear," He exclaimed, nodding at me back, seeing his face making a smile through his mask. "Come, Perseus would like to talk with you before we left the place to join the team," He ordered in a clear voice, walking towards the door to open it.

Without any hesitation from me, I started to follow Stitch out of the room, staying behind him as we were now walking through the hallways to meet up with Perseus himself and during the walk, I could see that I was like the center of the attention of the few soldiers I was passing by with Stitch, thinking that they were seeing a ghost walking in front of them and honestly, it was something that I wasn't disturbing me at all.

After only a minute of walking inside that building, we arrived at Perseus's office but as I thought to meet with him with Stitch, instead, I was going to be alone for this, Stitch letting me enter the office alone before he closed the door behind me, leaving me alone to talk with Perseus himself, sitting down at his desk, dressed in a sort of soviet general uniform.

"Bell, nice to see you back on your feet," Perseus greeted me, staying sit after Stitch closed the door.

"It's a pleasure, sir," I said, staying up like a soldier would do with a superior, hands behind my back and looking right at Perseus.

"I knew that one of my best elements will recover this fast, how are you now?" He asked me, putting his arms on the desk in a curious way.

"Well, troubled about the fact that I was out for a month, not been able to work on the field for that time wasn't so pleasant to hear, sir," I told him straight my thoughts about the situation. "But now, I feel like I can get back to work," I added, enthusiastic to get back to work.

"I know and all of us know that it's more pleasant to have you," He affirmed in a good voice before he stood up from his chair, walking to get in front of his desk. "Has Stitch...talked about Greenlight to you?" I nodded to him.

"Yes, a few minutes ago, sir," I replied to him.

"You know well that this project that the CIA is making can help us to fulfill the vision of our Greater Russia and as Stitch said, you're one of the best we can count on to make it happen," He admitted, leaning against his desk, joining hands together and not even moving his eyes away from me. "Your skills as a cryptographer and a fighter are needed,"

"I know, I'm doing my best for the Collective," I told him in a clear voice.

"Mmhm.." He mumbled, looking away from me for a second, passing quickly his left hand through his lips. "Anyway, everyone is counting on you & Stitch team to make our vision a reality, you have a lot to fight for," He asserted and I nodded to him.

"As I said, I'm doing my best to accomplish our objectives," I proclaimed.

"That's why you're one of my best agents, Bell," He insisted on it before he removed himself away from his desk to sit back on his chair. "You can go now, you'll be leaving this place for East-Berlin in an hour," He ordered in a serious tone and I saluted him before I walked to leave the room, getting greeted by Stitch.

"How it was?" He demanded at me after I closed back the door of Perseus's office.

"Well, it went good, been back in action feels good," I commented, a smile on my face, looking back at him. "So, we are moving to East Berlin for joining your team, is that right?" I asked him as we start to walk away from the office, taking another direction to leave the building.

"Exactly, I'm going to give the details once we will arrive at our destination, we have a lot to discuss about that," He told me, tapping to the back of my left shoulder in a friendly way as I was just near him to walk away, bringing a smile on my face...

"I'm pretty sure that we will do a great work,"

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH20 (FIN)

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Angst but also teeth rotting fluff

WC: 4111

A/N: This is the end guys. I hope you had a blast reading it as much as I had fun writing.

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST 

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

Y/N wakes up to the sound of her alarm. It takes her way too long to realize where she is. 

She opens her eyes and takes a look around. Her room kind of looks small compared to the room she called her own in Dean’s apartment.

Today is Monday, which means that she’s supposed to go to work and she kind of doesn't want to. She hasn’t heard from Dean. He didn’t text her, nor did he call. Maybe it’s over before it’s over. Maybe today, he’ll say that she can get out if she wants. He and Sam have the evidence and they can build up their case around it. There’s really no need for him to fake it with her anymore.

Yesterday she had to go out and buy clothes because all her stuff is still at Dean’s, and she didn’t want to go there. She spent the rest of the day in her bed, buried in her novels. It would have been relaxing if she hadn’t  thought about Dean so much.

She’s so nervous about meeting him again that she has had an awful night’s sleep. She’s nervous, when it should be easy. He’s her boss. She’s his employee. It should have always stayed like that, she realized. She should have never let them talk her into crossing the line. 

Her anxiety peaks as she takes the subway to the office. She feels nauseous. It doesn’t help knowing that her period is a little late too. She hopes that she’s not pregnant. She’s been taking her pills regularly. It shouldn’t be a problem and honestly, she doesn’t need to add it to her pile of worries. 

Arriving in the office, she sees that Ruby’s already there but it’s awfully quiet. She sits down and starts her computer. 

“Psssst,” Y/N hisses at Ruby who’s engrossed in a paper.

“Oh, hey! How was meeting with the parents?” Ruby grins.

“Sam didn’t tell you anything?” She frowns, wondering why Dean hasn’t updated Sam on what happened. On how she walked out of there and left him behind to hole herself up in her own apartment. 

Ruby shrugs, “No?”

“Ruby, I’m late.” She says, because she wants to get that off her chest first. 

Her friend raises her eyebrows and she sees that Ruby’s eyes travel to the clock, “I’d say your early, Dean’s not even in yet.” 

“No, I’m late!” She hisses, her eyes widen as she tries to get Ruby to understand. 

Ruby’s mouth forms an ‘O’, “Ooooh, shit.”

“Yeah,” She sighs. 

“How many days?”

“Three.”

“That’s nothing, right? Maybe it’s the stress? You’re under a lot of pressure.” 

Y/N knows that Ruby’s just trying to cheer her up, “Yeah, maybe.” She says and types in her password.

“Lets work, alright, we can think about it on our break. I can go get a test for you. Now, I want you to distract yourself with work or else you’ll go mad.”

“Yeah, okay,,” She tries to smile at her friend. The last thing she wants is for Ruby to be worried about her and Ruby’s not wrong. If she throws herself into work, it’ll definitely help distract her mind from all of the things that’s making it hard for her to breathe.

When her computer starts up her email box begins to fill itself. She sees that she has an unusually high amount of emails. Half of them are from Dean. Sent during their fake honeymoon. She wonders why, as they were practically together all the time? 

She opens up the first email.

Saturday, [00:24AM]: I’m sorry that I’ve upset you.

Saturday, [01:12AM]: Do you think I’m crazy when I tell you that I can’t fall asleep without you next to me?

Saturday, [05:21AM]: You’re the cutest crankiest person I ever laid eyes on.

Saturday, [08:31AM]: You fell asleep right after take off. I’ve taken a picture of you. Sorry not sorry. 

Saturday, [09:23AM]: You’re sleeping again. You really do need a lot of sleep, don’t you? Or maybe it’s because you’re too nervous of flying. I’m sorry I didn’t even ask if flying would be okay for you. I never took it into consideration that you might not like flying. The thought had never crossed my mind. I’m trying to help you through it, though.

Saturday, [11:42AM]: You’re cute when you’re all giddy about being here and I’m happy that you let me bring you here. Can’t wait until I can show you our room. I have a feeling that you’ll like it.

Saturday, [01:12PM]: You didn’t need to ask if you can take a dip in the sea but you still did. That’s what I like about you. You don’t take anything for granted. 

Saturday, [02:57PM]: For god’s sake, you fell asleep on the lounger. You’re going to get sunburned!

Saturday, [04:32PM]: You’re still distracting me. But I kind of like it. Maybe I’m a closet masochist.

Saturday, [09:22PM]: You know what I absolutely love? I fucking love how you taste, how you want me to fuck you harder. How wet you are for me. I love how you look when you’re laying on the bed, spit slick and pink all over.

Saturday, [11:46PM]: Jesus, you’re laying there, pink pussy in full view. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.

Tears start to pool in her eyes but there’s more. 

 *

 Sunday, [11:21AM]: It was nice waking up to you beside me. I can get used to it. Would love for it to happen every morning.

Sunday, [03:42PM]: You really love snorkeling, don’t you? Don’t even want to get out of that water. You’ll be sunburned if you’re not careful, baby.

Sunday, [08:23PM]: You fell asleep before room service arrived. I had to take a picture. I don’t think you know how much you affect me.

 *

 Monday, [03:12AM]: I woke up thinking you’re not here, but you are. 

Monday, [09:34AM]: You locked yourself in the bathroom because I woke you up. Definitely the crankiest person ever. Wonder why you think that I’m the grumpy one here.

Monday, [02:22PM]: I’m working inside and you’re distracting me again. Stretching yourself half naked on the lounger. It’s not really fair. 

Monday, [11:43PM]: Would you think I’m crazy when I tell you that I have fallen for you? Because I think I have. More so than I already had.

Yeah, those are definitely tears that streak down her face. She tries not to make it obvious to Ruby but she has her nose buried in the paper, so she should be good.

 *

 Tuesday, [11:43AM]: You woke me up with a smile. I’m the happiest when I get to be inside you. I urged you to send a picture to Ruby. But in reality, I want her and Sam to see it too. Little do you know that I already have many pictures of you in my phone. By the way, I love how you get wetter when I talk dirty to you.

Tuesday, [12:01PM]: I think I might love you. 

Tuesday, [01:59PM]: Gearing up for my conference call but all I can think about is you in the pool.

Tuesday, [03:44PM]: I’m hearing your moans while you get massaged. This is torture.

Tuesday, [05:02PM]: I can’t stop myself from showering you with affection. I hope you don’t mind.

Tuesday, [07:23PM]: Waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. You take your sweet time but I don’t really care about it anyway. I’m sure you look stunning whatever you wear or put on your face. Prettiest thing if I ever did see one. I don’t know how I can make you understand that this is real. This is all me, and all of me wants all of you.

 *

 Wednesday, [02:11AM]: You looked absolutely stunning tonight. I’m sorry that she pulled your brother into this. That was never my intention. I was never going to hurt you or your family and I’m doing my best to help you protect him. And I try my best to protect you, too. You know, you managed to calm me down. I don’t know how you did that, but you did. I remember hearing your faint voice in my rage. And when I turned around, it’s only you that I saw. I told you that you’ll be able to go back to your old life soon. That’s true. I don’t want you to think that you can’t. I’d just prefer if you’d stay, but that’s not on me to decide. 

Wednesday, [03:02AM]: Yeah, it’s definitely love.

Wednesday, [05:34AM]: I’m up because I’m partly nervous about meeting your brother.

Wednesday, [10:27AM]: You looked so peaceful in your sleep. I might have taken another picture. You asked if we can stay in bed a little longer and honestly, all I wanted in that moment was to cancel everyone and stay in bed with you.

Wednesday, [03:11PM]: On my way to go fishing with Jack. He’s a great guy. I like him a lot. He reminds me of you. 

Wednesday, [07:18PM]: We’re back. We talked things through. He’s very protective of you. We both are. He knows how I feel for you. That’s all I want him to know. I want him to work at the company, he’s more than qualified.

Wednesday, [11:18PM]: Currently waiting for you to wash your face and come to bed. I love seeing you happy. It literally makes my day. Some might call it love. I think I do too.

 *

 Thursday, [02:24AM]: Can you tell why I’m always waking up in the middle of the night? Mostly it’s because I have to make sure that you’re still here. I meant it when I said that Jack could live with me. I hope that by that time you’ll still be living with me too. I’d love that, because I love you.

Thursday, [05:52AM]: I don’t know how I should feel about the new development. It means that what we have will be over soon, doesn’t it? What if I don’t want it to be over? Would you be game?

Thursday, [06:31AM]: I’ve made a decision. I want to keep you a little longer. Even if it’s only for two weeks. I know that I told you that you can go back into your old life. It’s because I’m a coward and can’t tell you the truth. If I had my way, I’d keep you forever but you make your own decisions.

Thursday, [10:34AM]: I lied about getting back and building a case. It’s only partly true. I want to take you to my parents, I want them to understand that there’s nothing fake about what we have. I want them to get off my case so I have one less thing to worry about. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish.

She has to pause to blow her nose. Ruby still doesn’t notice that she’s sobbing, because she’s on the phone now.

 *

 Friday, [04:21AM]: You’re still here. Thank god.

Friday, [04:21AM]: I love you.

Friday, [02:11PM]: I watch you splash around with Jack and Ruby. I can get used to seeing your genuine smile more often. I want you to be happy. You deserve everything good in your life.

Friday, [06:44PM]: You’re getting ready in the bathroom. I’m sad we’re going home tomorrow. I want you. I want you so fucking bad. 

 *

 Saturday, [03:03AM]: We’ve made love but I’m up and I want more. I want to stay inside of you. I want to show you how much I love you.

Saturday, [07:10AM]: The alarm has already gone off twice. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. I don’t even care if we’ll be late. It’s good like this. Waking up with you in my arms.

Saturday, [10:32AM]: You’re talking with Jack. I like that. I like to see you happy. Like to see him happy. It literally makes me happy seeing how you two treat each other. Jack knows that I only want the best for you. I hope he doesn’t tell you what we talked about, though. Because we would both have to kill you if one of us does.

 *

 Sunday, [02:01AM]: That backfired, didn’t it? You left and I didn’t hold you back. Not because I don’t want to. It’s because I don’t want you to think that I haven’t given you any options. I don’t want you to think that you’re not allowed to walk away, even when we have a contract. I want you to know that you can get out any time you want. I don’t care about the Amara case anymore. All I care about is for you to be happy. 

Sunday, [04:33AM]: I can’t sleep. You’re not here.

Sunday, [10:28AM]: I don’t want you to think that me not calling you is because I don’t care. I do. But I want to give you the space you need, even if it kills me.

Sunday, [08:47PM]: It’s weird around here without you.

 *

 Monday, [03:49AM]: I’m still awake because I don’t know if I should go into work. You probably don’t want to see me, so I’m taking the day off. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you on Tuesday.

Monday, [03:51AM]: If you see your emails when you get to work, you’ll probably think that I’m crazy. It’s just… I’m not really good at expressing my feelings, and it’s especially hard when it comes to you. I get tongue tied and my heart does somersaults. I know that it’s unlike my work persona but that’s just how I am. That’s why I’m sending you emails, hoping that I can get you to understand how much you actually mean to me.

Monday, [04:00AM]: I wish you were here.

Monday, [04:01AM]: I love you.

 Y/N’s full on wailing and even Ruby notices it now, how can she not?

“Babe, are you okay?” Her friend stands up and walks over to her, sees her screen with all the opened emails and reads some of them, “Oh my god, the boss is such a fucking sap!” They both have to chuckle.

Y/N fishes her phone out of her purse and thumbs over a number, “Tell me what he told you, Jack. I need to know!”

Her brother sighs on the other side, “Fine, but don’t tell him I told you!”

“I won’t,”

“He made sure that I understood his feelings for you. That it was never a fake marriage to him. He was just too nervous to ask you out and when that thing with Amara happened, he saw it as an opportunity to do the right thing. He’s thinking about marrying you for real if you want that in your future. But I told him that he had to get my blessings first — which I gave him by the end of the finishing trip.”

“Jack!”

“I’m sorry. He’s good, Y/N. You know how I’m always overprotective and I was with Dean, too. But his intentions are good. He told me how you met. He knows every little detail. He could even tell me what you wore that day. Dean knows more about you than you think he does. Hell, he knows more about you than I do!”

“Well, then he’s a stalker.” She scoffs.

“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what’s good if it hit you in your face.”

“Did you talk to Ruby?”

Jack laughs, “I don’t have to talk to Ruby to know that about you.”

“Okay, thanks, Jack.”

“Anytime, sis. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hangs up and stands up from her chair to look at her friend, “Ruby?”

“Yeah, I can manage here. Go get him!”

 *

 Dean’s on the terrace, his hands on the railing. He’s already dressed in trousers and a button up shirt even though he has taken the day off. Old habits apparently die hard.

She slides the door open quietly.

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” He says and he turns around, rests his lower back against the railing. He’s not smiling.

Y/N walks closer, takes off her suit jacket and leaves it on the ground, feeling hot from running here. She already took off her shoes by the door. She’s sure that she’ll have blisters tomorrow. 

His eyes are on her as he watches her clutching the railing next to him. She’s looking out when he’s looking towards his penthouse.

“How could I not?” She says after a long while and she hears him exhale. 

“You’ve seen the emails.”

She nods, “I have,”

Dean turns around and moves behind her, places his hands on either side of hers and presses his body closer, caging her in. She feels him lowering his face, feels his lips on her throat. He kisses her and leaves them there. Her heart’s almost exploding.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard before you left,” He’s talking about the dinner at his parents' place, she knows, “If you’d have stayed and listened longer, you would have heard me telling them that even though it’s fake, it feels fucking real to me. You would have heard me telling them that I wanted to ask you out properly and they would have to accept that I want you. That we were going to get an annulment and maybe one day I’ll get to pop the real question,”

“Would you want that?” 

He chuckles, “More than you know. I’d love for you to come back and spend the next two weeks here until this is all over. And after that, I’d love for you to stay. But also I’m not holding you back. If you want out, I’m gonna tell Sam to release you out of the contract.”

She turns in his grip and wraps her arms around his waist, places her cheek on his chest. Dean’s heart is beating as fast as hers.

After a while, she looks up at him, stands on her tip toes and kisses his cheek. 

“I hope that means that you’re coming back,” He smirks at her. 

“You want me to come back.”

“I’m lonely when you’re not here. I want you to move in, for good, if you want. Come on, tell me what it takes for me to get you to come back.”

She thinks about it. It would be too soon to move in with him and right into his room, no? She raises her eyebrows, “I still want my own room.” 

“It’s yours. You can have all the rooms you want.Maybe you want a room for your novels?” He’s laughing and she punches his chest.

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, “I want to take Fridays off occasionally because I want to see Jack more often,”

He purses his lips into a thin line and grins, “Granted,”

She looks at him, squints her eyes.

Dean chuckles, “Come on, what else? We’re negotiating. I like that,”

“Okay, when I say I want my space, you gotta give me that,”

“Of course,”

“No making fun of my books.” She’s pouting.

“I would never. At least not anymore.”

She looks at him to see him holding in a laugh.

“I don’t want you to treat me different to the other employees,”

Dean frowns, “You contradict yourself, because you basically just asked me for Fridays off.”

“That’s different,” She grins and he throws his head back to laugh, and she adds, “I don’t want you to wait for me every morning, because I don’t want to start as early as you do.”

“That, I can do. Try to be quiet so as not to wake up cranky — got it.” He winks, which earns him another punch to the chest.

“I might be pregnant,” She drops it like it’s fucking hot and Dean’s smile disappears. She goes on before he can utter a word, “And I know that you don’t want kids so I don’t even know what to think of it.”

Dean’s brow meets in the middle of his forehead, “Who said that I don’t want kids?”

“You? When you were telling it to Chuck and Naomi to excuse my outburst.”

He breathes out a weak smile, “That was just that, an excuse,” He kisses her forehead, “I would take full responsibility if you are. Maybe I’m hoping that you really are? Would it be bad?” 

“Well, yeah? I’m not ready yet.” She gestures wildly with her hands.

Dean pecks her lips, smiling before he digs around in his pants, goes down to his knees and she’s full on frowning.

“Do you wanna marry me, for real?” 

“No, Dean,” She says but she smiles, “I don’t want that. At least not yet.”

If Dean’s surprised by her saying no to him, he doesn’t let on. He stands up, takes her hand and slips the rings back onto her finger anyway because they’re still pretending for the next two weeks. His arms come around her and she hugs him in return, pressing the side of her face against his chest, listens to the staccato beat of his heart, “I won’t stop asking, though. You know I can be persistent.”

Oh yeah, she knows that. She buries her face into his shirt, breathes in his scent and mumbles, “Why do you want to marry me for real?” She has to ask. She’s too curious now.

“Because,” Dean holds her a little tighter, kisses the crown of her head, “You deserve good things and I wanna be one of them.”

She chuckles, “Jack told me what you talked about.”

“And he didn’t kill you?” Dean squints his eyes at her. He looks comical, it makes her smile, and then he adds, “That’s not what we agreed on, dammit, Jack!”

Dean’s laughing and she punches his chest, “Is it true that you know every detail of how we met?”

“Yeah,” He moves to kiss her forehead when she looks up, “When I told the reporters on our first social outing that I fell for you the moment you bumped into me, and I told you later that I fell for you when you smiled at me? That’s all true. It took me a week to go into that damn coffee shop, always backed out before I got to the door so many times. And then, when I finally found the courage and stepped in, you greeted me with a smile. However, the smile disappeared when you saw that it was me.”

She grins at the memories, “I was scared that you want me to pay for your ruined suit. I don’t have that kind of money,”

He chuckles, “That’s okay. I was going to ask you out then, but I chickened out. So instead, I offered you a job, thinking that if I’m too nervous to ask you out, maybe I can have you close and see you every day. Your smile is addictive. I thought that I was going to work on my courage in asking you out. Or maybe I thought that seeing you every day might put me off, maybe I thought that I’d see a side of you I don’t like, but that never happened. I liked every fucking thing about you. It had been a year and I still hadn’t asked you out.”

Dean lowers his forehead to her shoulders and her hand goes up to stroke his head.

“You’re so good with words, how come you couldn’t?”

“Because,” He looks up again, kisses her, “I had such a huge crush on you, and every time I was around you, I was angry at myself for not being able to ask you out.”

“‘S that's why you were so grumpy all the time?”

He lets out a huff of air, “Yeah,”

“You’re the worst,” She smiles.

“I know,” Dean says, “But I’m much more confident now,” He kisses her again. His lips feel familiar on her own, “What do you say. Reckon you can skip work for the day? I’m taking you on a date, I heard you like aquariums?”

Y/N really does. How does he even know?

Frowning, she looks at him, “I don’t know, my boss can be a dick sometimes. He probably won't give me the day off.”

Dean grins, licks his lips before they curve into a big and wide smile, he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, “Baby, I’d give you the world.”

FIN

EPILOGUE

[jadethest0ne]

Alive

Summary: “Donnie is in trouble. Shelldon had seen the containers begin to tip over. Donnie isn't in a position to get out of the way in time. The thought that immediately rushes through Shelldon's head? Gotta save Donnie. So he moves as quickly as he can. He is a fast drone. Nearly won at the drone races, after all. Donnie had saved him then. Donnie had given Shelldon life to begin with. And Shelldon would do anything to return the favor. “ Word Count: 3435 Rating/Warnings: General Audiences; Injury, Self-Sacrifice, Hurt/ Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending Notes: Oh look, I can write prose, too, I guess. It’s just been a while... Read on AO3. Related to this idea.

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

"Is this the safe, Draxxy?" Mikey flashes an excited smile in the direction of the formerly villainous yokai as he gestures at an unassuming, yet still obviously solid looking container hidden under some sheets amongst the machinery in Draxum's old lab.

The yokai lets out a grunt of affirmation. "Yes it is. Now move aside while I input the code."

Mikey skips out of the way to stand beside his purple-adorned brother who had accompanied them.

Donatello was not particularly pleased to be asked on a mission with their now semi-reformed creator, but he was needed "in case anything science-y happens", in Michelangelo's words. Truth be told, they really only needed the help of Shelldon, who is perfectly capable of being by himself, thank you very much. The drone in question hovers by his own creator with an easy expression on his robotic features.

"So you left a whole jar of ooze in your lab where just about anyone could get their hands on it?" Shelldon remarks, sharing a sarcastic smile with the softshell.

"Not very smart for a warring warrior scientist," Donnie monotones, and both he and Shelldon share a fist bump of sorts, looking smugly at the sheepman.

Draxum lets out an irritated humph and says, "I kept it in a secured location where no one could easily find it and kept it locked up. See, it's here." He gestures at the now open safe with a container filled with glowing green liquid inside. "Have your drone pick it up for me and we can be on our way. When we get back, I can find a way to safely handle and dispose of it."

Donnie lets out a dry "uh huh" and waves to the drone. "Shelldon, if you would be so kind."

"No problemo broseph," Shelldon says, floating over to the container and securing it with a clamp on his back.

"I just need to finish shutting things down and wiping the information from my systems. Then we can be out of here before the police resumes their rounds of investigation,” says Draxum.

He walks over to some computers and begins typing away.

Donnie's eyes remain narrow and unhappy as he pulls aside Mikey and mutters to his youngest brother, "Remind me again why we're helping him wipe his records of this place? It's like we're helping him get rid of evidence."

"It's not that," Mikey's voice changes to that of his Dr. Feelings cadence, "I thought it'd be a good way for Draxibald to cleanse himself of his past, by letting go and deleting all of his evil experiments." His voice shifts back to something more natural and cheery. "Besides, this way no one else can find this information and use it for bad stuff ever again!"

"Fine," Donnie huffs out.

Mikey looks at his older brother with some concern. "What's wrong?"

Donnie looks away. "It's nothing."

"Donnie."

Something seems to catch Donnie's attention then. "Hey, look at that."

"Donnie, what did we say about avoiding your feelings?"

"Scoff! I'm not avoiding anything," he says, crossing his arms defensively, obviously avoiding something.

Mikey raises his brow, unimpressed.

Donnie ignores this and points to a corner of the lab. "Really though, look at that."

Mikey's narrowed gaze shifts to one of awe as he follows Donnie's pointed finger to a couple of large containers filled with aged looking yellow liquid with some solid forms floating inside. Though shriveled and pale, the forms were unmistakably that of large sea turtles.

Shelldon lets out a long "Wooaaaaah" at the sight and quickly hovers himself over in that direction. “Neato!” he exclaims.

Mikey and Donnie follow, also looking on in amazement at the sheer size of the turtles. They are much larger than the two youngsters. Even larger than Raph. And the size of the containers holding them must require gallons upon gallons of liquid to accommodate their giant bodies.

Upon closer inspection, however, the site is a little less wondrous as the large turtles are obviously dead and preserved in the large vats. Mikey's face scrunches up in discomfort and quickly clings to his brother, whose snout wrinkles in disgust.

"Planning on mutating more than just us, huh, Draxum?" Donnie calls over to the scientist.

Draxum looks on, expressionless. "I had at one point considered making a more solely aquatic group of warriors, but I was worried that the size of the leatherback turtle would be too difficult to deal with. Now please step away from there. I'm going to cut power to the specimen preservation units and they may become unstable."

Not eager to stay near the somewhat morbid sight, Mikey scampers over to where Draxum is. Donnie lingers, however, giving the specimens another once over before slowly turning away.

That's when the shift happens.

It is all too quick. A hiss of escaping steam. A light clinking of glass as the containers tip over.

Donnie isn't nearly out of their range and he looks on in horror as the large containers loom over him.

He barely registers his brother screaming his name before he feels a sudden thud against his side, and he is pushed out of range by the small purple figure that is his drone.

"Shelld--" Donnie isn't able to finish his cry before many tons of glass and preservative chemicals come crashing down on his beloved drone.

--------

There is a stillness in the air as the tinkling of glass and the trickling of liquid comes to a halt.  The leatherback sea turtles are all but disintegrated after having been kept for who knows how long in the vats, and their pieces are scattered about in the mess of the oozing yellow liquid. Donnie stares wide-eyed into the middle of the wreckage where Shelldon lays. A large shard of glass has pierced straight through his robotic body. Sparks of electricity buzz out of the small drone, but other than that, he does not move.

The purple clad turtle lets out a strangled yelp as he calls his drone’s name. “Shelldon!” Donnie rushes over to the drone, not caring about the glass or debris scattered about. He reaches out for the small bot, but something catches him around the middle and holds him back, right before he can get to him.

Donnie yells angrily, “no, NO! Let go of me!” He turns around to see Draxum holding him in place with one of his vines.

“I told you the containers were unstable,” Draxum chides, expression flat.

Donnie tries again, “Let me go! I need to check on him!” Donnie squirms in the grasp of the vines trying to reach out for the drone.

Draxum continues, “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

Donnie spits fire back at Draxum, “How dare you tell me what I do with my drone! This is your fault!” His voice cracks as he turns back worriedly to Shelldon. “I need to see if he’s--!”, but Donnie is cut off by a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“He’s right, Dee,” Mikey says sadly. “Look.”

Donnie’s watery eyes focus on Shelldon. The ooze container that was clamped onto his back earlier had shattered and the mutagen now covered the drone’s entire body, seeping into his cracks, causing his normally pink glow to be tinged with a sickly green.

Donnie stops struggling, but his hands still linger in the air over Shelldon’s body. Hovering and unable to touch him. To either help or provide comfort.

Draxum slowly releases Donnie from the vines. Mikey goes to stand next to him, holding onto his brother’s arms lightly - half in a hug and half to prevent him from getting any closer to the dangerous ooze-covered drone. Donnie’s hands lower in shock and defeat and he leans a little into Mikey’s touch.

A robotic whine then comes from the scene in front of them. Shelldon’s head twitches and his eyes open, but the light that illuminates them flicker unsteadily.

“Shelldon?” Donnie says hopefully.

Shelldon’s gaze focuses on his creator, but his eyelids droop a little and he stutters out a weak laugh. Did he always sound so robotic? Donnie wonders vaguely. “I, uh.. really beefed it this time… didn’t I, Dee?” Shelldon says in an attempted lighthearted tone.

Donnie shushes him and leans down towards him. He wants to hold onto his drone so badly; to pat his head, to give him a scritch behind the ears and tell him he’s okay. But he forces himself to keep hold onto Mikey’s grip instead. He plasters a smile on his face and uses the uncharacteristic soft tone that he only seems to use when he is sorry about something. Or when he’s scared. “No, no buddy, you did- You did great!” His lower lip trembles. “You saved me!” He holds a hand to his chest for emphasis. The hand forms into a fist as if to put a clamp on his breaking heart. “And- and I’ll make sure to- to bring you home, and fix you up, and I’ll even let you charge until noon!” It’s getting harder to smile.

Shelldon blinks, or perhaps it's the lights in his eyes flickering on and off. “My core is damaged, Dee…. Contaminated liquid… leaking into my memory systems… Probability of recovery is minimal...” Shelldon’s normally laid back tone being replaced by more purely technobabble sounds unnatural and unnerving to Donnie. But he doesn’t remark on it. Instead he shushes the drone again. “Shh, don’t, talk more, you’ll drain your power.” His smile stretches into something almost hysterical and his voice pitches higher. “I can fix this! I can fix anything!”

“Yeah…” Shelldon’s eyes droop tiredly, and he says, as if from rote, “You are the greatest turtle, Donatello…” The flickering of the lights behind Shelldon’s eyes stutter once more before fully going out.

Donnie sinks down to his knees. Mikey follows him to the floor, supporting his weight. Tears start streaming from Donnie’s eyes and he buries his face into his younger brother’s shoulder. Mikey clutches Donnie’s shaking form tightly as his body is wracked with quiet sobs. Small tears form on the box turtle’s own features, but he holds onto his older brother and tries to whisper words of comfort as best he can.

The quiet sadness is broken by Draxum’s voice. “Why are you crying over a piece of technology? You can always make a new one.” It is all too cold and uncaring.

Donnie stiffens in Mikey’s grip, and Mikey stares wide eyed at the sheepman. Donnie lifts himself out of Mikey’s hug. “‘Make a new one?’” He straightens himself up. “‘Make a new one,’ he says!” He turns to look at Draxum, hot and angry tears pouring from his eyes. “Make a new Shelldon? His memory chips will be flooded! Corrupted by YOUR ooze! I can’t get that back! How DARE you suggest that I REPLACE Shelldon?!”

Draxum’s expression falters slightly, suddenly aware that a nerve had been touched. But unsure of exactly what he had done wrong, he remains stoic. “It’s just a drone. Don’t you have more?”

Donnie’s eyes widen and his face contorts in rage. “He is not just a drone! He is Shelldon! He is our family! He’s my---” He shuts his eyes and grinds his teeth, throat constricted with emotion. “But of course,” he continues, in a low and dangerous rumble, “someone who only sees his creations as weapons to use for his own gain wouldn’t understand.”

He glares at Draxum challengingly. Draxum’s eyes widen a hair and he stares back, not saying a word.

Mikey is left watching them, eyes shifting nervously between the two, unsure of what to do or say, with no small amount of grief tinging his own heart. But then a glowing something catches his eye.

"Omigosh, guys, look!" he whispers with astonishment.

The two scientists pull their gaze away from each other and look over to what Mikey is staring at.

The ooze that had covered Shelldon's body is now giving off an otherworldly glow, and is seemingly pulsing with energy.

Draxum leans closer with his own look of astonishment. "Fascinating," he exclaims. "The ooze seems to be trying to initiate a mutation..."

Mikey looks at the sheepman curiously. "You mean he could be mutated?"

Draxum lets out a thoughtful hum. "The ooze shouldn't be able to mutate inorganic material... Yet nothing's ever been exposed to this large of a dose before... And perhaps it is also reacting due to the leatherback samples that the drone has been exposed to..."

Mikey perks up. "Could this help save him, then?"

Draxum closes his eyes and shakes his head, "No. Even if it is able to mutate the drone, there is no way it would be a stable mutation. The only organic DNA available is from these leatherback specimens which have been long dead and are now largely destroyed."

"What if we combined it with DNA from a stable mutation?"

Draxum and Mikey turn to Donnie who had remained quiet during the whole exchange. Donnie's expression and voice are strained, as if not wanting to indicate hope, but his jaw is set in quiet determination. "What if we used my DNA to help stabilize the mutation?"

Draxum put a hand to his chin, scientific intrigue getting the better of him, "Hmm... that could potentially work..." But he quickly waves his hand as if waving away the thought. "No, starting up my machines again could alert the police and I'm not risking getting arrested again for some drone."

Donnie is about to retort, but Mikey beats him to it. "Please, Draxum!" He places a hand on Draxum's own. "Shelldon's not just a drone. He's family!"

Draxum looks at Mikey, expression faltering under the young turtle's imploring gaze. His eyes move over to Donnie whose determined look is more firmly set on his face.

The yokai lets out a defeated sigh and says, "If we're going to do this we must be quick about it. And then leave as soon as it is over and I've shut everything down."

The two turtles share a triumphant smile. "Well, we are ninjas after all," Mikey says smoothly. "Speed and stealth are our middle names."

Draxum rolls his eyes before turning to the purple brother. "To make this work you will have to go through the same procedure as your father did when I transferred his DNA to you." He locks eyes with him and gives him a serious look. "It will be painful. And I cannot guarantee that it will work, or that it will be the same Shelldon that you know."

Donnie stiffens, but clenches his fists at his sides and does not falter. "I don't care. I have to try."

Draxum's eyebrows arch and a small hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He looks almost impressed? Proud, even? But the moment is over and he turns to his machines saying, "Let's get started."

--------

The machines are turned on, and using his vines, Draxum maneuvers Shelldon's broken body into a liquid container. Donnie is strapped below it, and he vaguely wonders if this is what it was like for Splinter. Because if he's honest with himself, he's terrified. But looking up at the drone that had saved him, he swallows his fear and nods to Draxum. Draxum nods back and starts the machine.

Shelldon is not just a drone. Shelldon is family. Shelldon had saved him. And Donnie would do just about anything to return the favor.

Draxum was right about one thing though - the procedure was very painful.

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

Donnie is in trouble. Shelldon had seen the containers begin to tip over. Donnie isn't in a position to get out of the way in time. The thought that immediately rushes through Shelldon's head? Gotta save Donnie. So he moves as quickly as he can. He is a fast drone. Nearly won at the drone races, after all. Donnie had saved him then. Donnie had given Shelldon life to begin with. And Shelldon would do anything to return the favor.

--------

Everything is dark. Like a blank screen with nothing on it.

His memory is fuzzy. It's not usually like that. His memory systems are normally flawless. But right now he's struggling to remember just what happened and why he currently feels like his battery is drained almost all the way. Like he can't get out of sleep mode. Not cool. Flashes of a lab, some large containers, and a humanoid turtle in purple cross his mind. That turtle is important, he's pretty sure. Something twinges at his core at the thought of him. Who was he again..?

He hears a voice.

"Shel...n… cn… y... he.r.. me?

The voice is familiar. It's nagging and he's pretty sure that it's ruined his fun on more than one occasion. Yelling at him to stop charging so late or to stop drone racing around the lair. But it's... comforting. Safe.

He tries to concentrate on it.

"Shelldon!"

Shelldon? Was that the purple turtle's name? No, he's pretty sure that's his own name. Man, his memory is really jacked today.

The nagging, fun-ruining, safe voice is still there, calling him. It sounds desperate, and a part of Shelldon is desperate to answer it. It is important, like that turtle. Is this that turtle? The turtle... The greatest turtle. Something in his thoughts click into place.

Shelldon opens his eyes. He looks up at the purple-adorned softshell holding onto him. There's a lot of pain and worry in the turtle’s eyes, and Shelldon is reminded of why he went through the trouble of saving his beloved creator.

When he speaks his voice is quiet and weak, and without any hint of mechanical reverb, but the name is now clear in his mind. "...Donnie?"

Donnie's expression turns into one of pure relief and joy. Tears form in his eyes, but he smiles widely and lets out a hiccupy laugh. "Shelldon! It worked! I can't believe it worked! You're okay! You're alive!"

Shelldon is enveloped in a tight hug. It is impossibly warm; one hand cupped lovingly behind his head. Shelldon still feels weak, so he can't do much to hug back. But he sinks into the touch. Donnie always did give great hugs, even if they were rare, but this one feels different. It is warm and soft, but not in a way that Shelldon could calculate by numbers. No temperature reading comes to mind. No pressure sensitivity indication. Just. Warm. And soft. And somehow that means more. It feels like more.

Suddenly Shelldon becomes aware of a word that Donnie had used. Alive.

Shelldon looks around. He sees Draxum and Mikey off to the side. Mikey has a bright smile on his face, his hands clasped in front of him. Draxum looks almost downright flabbergasted, as if he doesn't believe what he's seeing.

Shelldon blinks for a second and tries to move. To take stock of the rest of his body. He had been sure he was damaged in that accident. And everything feels off. But for some reason his systems aren't sending him any indications of the damage.

Donnie, perhaps sensing the movement, releases Shelldon from the hug, but still holds onto him for support. From this angle, Shelldon is able to actually take a look at himself.

He looks down, but what he sees confuses him. There are no rotors, no purple metal. What? There's a yellow plastron. Dark green arms with three fingered hands. Legs. These aren't Donnie's. The color is wrong. And besides, Donnie is holding him and he is in Donnie's lap. The arms move and Shelldon realizes that the one moving them is himself. He can feel them. He wiggles the fingers then brings them to his face. It is fleshy. Scaly. Turtle-like.

That word that Donnie used comes to mind again.

He looks to Donnie again, eyes wide with wonder. "I'm... alive..?"

Donnie cracks a half smile and huffs out a tired laugh. "You're a real boy now, Shelldon."

Shelldon's mind has trouble wrapping around the concept. It's a lot to take in. He quickly becomes aware of various new sensations. Breathing. Touch. The absence of ones and zeros. The presence of intangible emotions. It is very overwhelming, and along with the tiredness - that's what it was, not low battery - that he felt earlier, it is almost too much. His body starts to shut down - no, fall unconscious - again.

But he likes this word.

Alive.

And all he can say before he passes out again in Donnie's arms, with a wobbly smile on his face, is "Radical!"