#the last torture panel we swear

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 4: Girl U Want

[can also be read on AO3]

Summary: Rory and Nikolai are forced to hold off an attack on Botha's life, and its the return of an enemy the 141 has faced previously

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, canon-typical violence, swearing, stabbing, wound tending, flirting via facetime

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word Count: 3.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV. allusions are made to the mission "Recon by Fire", and it's the first appearance of Gaz in this fic!

October 29 2022 11:30 - Abidjan, Republic of Côte d'Ivoire

Weapons fire riddled the building, streaks of daylight breaking through the pinholes pricked through the walls. Bullets ricocheted, carving trenches into the wood panelling, popping the twinkling bulbs of the string lights and blowing through the speakers causing them to smoke and sputter out sparks while the music died with a low, tortured warble. 

The barkeeper ran for the backrooms, hiding out from the sudden burst of violence at his establishment, while Nik took cover by the door and Rory grabbed the edge of the table she was taking cover under with Botha, pulling it down hastily to flip it on its side, forming a barrier against the onslaught of lead being fired at them. “Fucking hell!” she snapped, tugging at her jacket to get the material off of her. Slipping her handgun from the now easily accessible holster strapped to her shoulder, she called across the bar room, “How much ammo have you got, Nik?” “However much they bring in,” he replied, tipping his head in the direction of the small force of soldiers headed in their direction, wearing matching outfits to the body that lay on the floor below the broken window.

Popping up out of cover, Rory took a brief moment to get a better look at what she was dealing with. Counting heads, checking what sort of firepower they were bringing down on her. 

“Bugger me sideways,” she muttered, dropping back down. “I count at least twelve heads out there, some of them armoured with plates, all carrying ARs.”

Last time the 141 had come up against Konni it wasn’t out in the open like this, they weren’t so obvious, they were disguised as police officers and paramedics. Apparently they’d dropped those rules of engagement when it came to dealing with a quick severing of a loose end. 

“Pick off the ones we can with what we’ve got,” she ordered, “Try to get them to waste their ammo on the way in, and we get close and personal as a last resort.”

“Close and personal with those fokkers?” Botha cocked his brow at her, less than impressed with her commands, staring at her as if she had gone mad.

“We wouldn’t be in this bloody mess if not for you. So kindly keep your gobby trap shut, and get into cover behind that bar so I have one less thing to worry about,” she barked before scuttling out of cover and patting down the body on the floor. 

Besides the blood that now stained her hands, she managed to collect a smoke grenade and stashed it on her as well as the handgun strapped to his leg. It wasn’t much, but every bit of assistance was critical in a one-sided fight like this where the odds weren’t necessarily in their favour.

Crawling up to the window ledge, she peeked her head up and more bullet fire went off, tearing chunks out of the walls. Ducking quickly, she glanced over at Nik. “Right. That’s it. On me.” She gave the signal and he was quick to follow her lead. 

Bullets volleyed back and forth, seeming to last forever, the car park becoming a war zone as casings tinkled on the hard cement, muzzles flared and sparked in the midday, and innocent civilians in the vicinity ran to take cover. Urban combat situations had always been her least favourite type of battle ground. Too many things could go wrong, too many variables left out of her control. Things could get bloody, brutal. And fast. 

Despite the ferocity of the firefight – projectiles tearing into clothing, kevlar, and wood – when the dust finally settled, enough of an invasion force of highly skilled soldiers still remained. 

Sharp shots of pain emanated down Rory’s arm from the pulsating, burning ache of her shoulder that was nowhere near ready to be dragged into a hand-to-hand combat situation. But alas, here she was. She caught herself reaching for the area where the left pocket of her tac vest usually sat carrying her brass knuckles, patting the phantom material and sighing. Unfortunately, in this case, she’d come ill prepared for such an eventuality. The carbon of her empty handgun would have to stand-in improvisationally.

As the first Konni operatives breached their makeshift fortress, Rory hung back, slipping into the dark hallway before rolling the smoke grenade into the middle of the room, using the element of surprise as an asset. Tucking the material of her shemagh up over her mouth and nose, she watched as grey smoke pumped into the room, coiling wisps of it curling up towards the ceiling and spreading out towards every corner. The compact room now a foggy mess, with limbs protruding from it cartoonishly as soldiers coughed and sputtered. Grabbing her jacket left crumpled on the floor, she moved silently into the masses. Wrapping the material around one of the enemy’s necks, twisting it tighter, the body in her arms acted as a human shield and her jacket the reins. Like a battering ram, she used the gasping soldier, clawing at his throat while choking for air and sucking back smoke, to break through the group of operatives. 

Tossing him back against the counter, slamming her knee up into his solar plexus, she rammed the gun repeatedly into his face with each forceful punch in the nose. Hot blood shooting out from his nostrils sprayed across her knuckles like the last glob of brown sauce from the bottle splattering onto the plate. Whipping the weapon back and forth against his face, the metallic stench hit her nostrils, struck by the coppery taste that followed sucking on a penny as she let the body slip free and slump to the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the streak of an unidentified flying object passing by, only to be met by a heavy crack and a groan from the other side of the room. Splinters from a chair hurled by Nik at the face of one of the Konni operatives scattered the floor and toothpick shrapnel blew out in all directions. The solid remains of the wooden chair quickly picked up and tossed like a shot put at another man’s back by the Russian, winding them. 

In the confusion, she was grabbed from behind, a large arm compressing her waist and squeezing. Entirely thankful for her sparring practice with Ghost, Rory found her entry, her elbow connecting under the operative’s ribs, notching beneath plates and bone to find the soft middle. Sliding the tactical knife from his vest as his grip loosened, she shoved it up and into his armpit, stabbing at the axillary artery deep within the socket joint, carving away at him as the blade disappeared into layers of clothing, muscle, and flesh, only to reappear dripping in syrupy claret. 

Each stab became simultaneously easier and more difficult as she continued to spear with abandon, the penetration lubricated, but the marrow deep throb in her shoulder made her grit her teeth with each grate of her bones through the muscle and tendon. Biting back a pain-induced moan, meeting with the chorus of grunts and wails of the man bleeding out on the floor, his ragged wheeze gave way to hitched breaths and then a wet, gurgling scream. 

Wiping the arterial spray from her face with her arm, her attention moved back to the bar. Botha might have been shit about following her orders before, but he was certainly paying attention now that his life was dangling from a knife’s edge – literally so, in this case. Hidden behind the wooden structure, he hadn’t popped up like a prairie dog yet, maintaining his position under cover instead. She wasn’t all that surprised he wasn’t playing hero, he’d already promised he was out to cover his own arse before anyone else’s. She moved through the ruckus and grabbed a bottle from the bar, tsking her tongue at the poor quality of the stuff served on premise, before smashing it against the wood countertop and slashing outwards towards the sound of the cracking tile under the weight of heavy boots behind her. Failing to land a hit, one large hand gripped tightly in her hair, her head slammed into the bar for her efforts, face dragged against the shattered glass littering the counter. A hoarse yell tore through her throat with the same shearing effect as the broken shards ripping through her skin. Wet, hot anger spilling forth from her veins drove her defense, and the bottle in her hand was promptly slammed into his thigh. Twisting it, she dug the jagged edges into the skin left, then right. 

“Сука!” The expletive was spat in her ear as she delivered the pendulum swing of torment to his leg and the back of her head collided with his teeth in a one-two punch causing the x ray to stumble back. 

Teeth bared, saliva stained pink, she smashed the broken bottle into his face, followed by a decisive punch to his throat. Fragile bone crunched and cracked under the force she used, crushing the windpipe. A slow, painful death at the hands of prey animal rage. 

Her heart raced, her senses numbed, her vision tunnelled to lock onto her targets. The blood thundered in her ears so intensely it felt like even her eyes were pulsating with each thump through the capillaries that fed them. Once the adrenaline wore off, she’d start feeling every wind up and hit. 

Tomorrow would be hell. 

Rory hissed and vaulted over the bar, grabbing a scoop of ice in a handful along the way, and held it to her shoulder. The numbing sting to her fingertips was almost a comfort – at least one part of her didn’t feel like it was falling apart. Blood streamed down her cheeks in rivulets where she wiped the bits of glass away with her arm. She was a mess, tattered and torn, her breathing made more difficult with the smoke that still floated in the air.  

Her focus was set on the weapons dealer sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and his gun in his hands, finger left curled over the trigger. Glaring at him and the waste of perfectly good ammo clutched in his grip, she scoffed. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to use your own bloody product.”

He glanced over at her, sweat dribbling down his forehead and soaking his brow despite never lifting a finger. “Course I do. But I’m not some bloody soldier, am I? This is for protection,” he said, shaking the gun in his hands. “It's defensive.”

“Defensive, my arse. It’s a gun.” She held out her hand for him to willingly place the weapon into, directing him with the curl of her fingers. “Hand it over.” 

Snatching the weapon from him, she checked the clip. Completely unused. “Might’ve come in handy if you’d made this available earlier,” she grumbled, slotting the gun back together. “Stay here.”

Crawling around the edge of the bar, she peeked around the corner, the force they had to contend with earlier had mostly been cut down, just the last few stragglers left who refused to go down. The heavies who had likely faced the same sort of environmental and physical survival training she had been through, the kind that taught a person to push through the pain. 

Lining up her shots, she took a steadying breath, her arm shaking under the strain of her shoulder. There was no point in going for fancy, it was better to go for effective, leaving her to shoot each enemy soldier in the chest. 

The rapid succession of weapons fire cut through the sounds of savagery, fists pummeling into skin and muscle. The ear-piercingly loud bang of each burst of gunfire was deafening in the small bar as each target left standing was taken down.

Ensuring no one was getting back up, Rory peeked out the open frame of the window, checking for anyone still waiting outside. But, just like upon arrival, it was a ghost town besides the bodies left to linger in the graveyard of the car park. “Right, coast is clear. Nik, mind grabbing Botha for me? The arm’s out of commission and our guest needs to be handed off.”

Without question, the Russian reached down over the bar and dragged Botha to his feet, his hand gripping the other man’s collar like an animal’s scruff. “You heard the Lieutenant. No point in arguing.” 

Swinging open the front door, walking out into the parking lot, Rory checked back over her shoulder. “Think you can get a clean up crew on this, Nik?”

He shrugged, his lower lip curling into a pout as he debated it. “Not a problem.”

“I see why Price keeps you on speed dial now,” she said, smirking back at him. 

October 29 2022 16:00 - Safehouse

A cigarette dangled from her bottom lip, the smoke curling in the humid room with the thickness of paste as she paced back and forth in the bedroom. The door left ajar, allowing her an eyeline to where Botha sat in an old armchair in the other room, swigging back on a bottle of beer. Everything remained sweat slicked in the cramped apartment. Clothes damp, made worse with the weight of a quickly thawing bag of freezer burnt frozen peas that had been there for God knows how long draped over her shoulder, the plastic bag crinkling and crackling with every movement as she got in contact with the CIA operative Laswell had linked her up with for the transfer of the arms dealer in question to place him under protection. 

The meeting was set for the next day, which gave them more than enough time for a quick patch up job before she’d finally get to return to Stirling Lines and have to deal with Sydney – or rather, Dr. Macallen as she was known now – tearing into her for living too dangerously. Rory was a far cry from the stick in the mud corporal Syd had once known. Only had herself to blame for that, really. If Syd hadn’t invited her out for drinks that night on leave, Rory would never have wound up meeting John.

With the call over, Rory walked out into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind her. The TV played at a quiet hum, the voices a droning whisper as they went over the latest sports scores on the news – English Premier League. It was like she had hardly left home at all. Tossing her mobile down on the empty seat of the couch beside Nikolai, she headed for the tiny bathroom. 

Musty and dark, she flipped on the switch and was met by the sight of herself battered and bruised. Her cheek suffered the appearance of road rash, the skin raw and ragged with sliver-sized abrasions. Sighing, she stubbed out her cigarette in the basin and grabbed a cloth, rinsing it under the flowing water at the tap. Hunched in front of the mirror, she pressed the cold, wet cloth to her cheek, and with a hissed inhale between clenched teeth, let it moisten the dried and clotted blood that clung to her flesh, loosening it in order to slough it away. 

The sting was the worst part, like a million little paper cuts all biting at her whenever touched by even the faintest of breezes. That same prickling twinge that chased up the nerves after nicking her leg in the shower with her razor but repeated again and again.

Could’ve been worse, she thought to herself, wiping away the flecks of blood. At least it didn’t look like it would leave a scar. Her shoulder, on the other hand, was going to have to be looked at again. Hell, might even force her to have to get surgery on it this time. Rory shuddered. Nursemaid Price was hardly something to look forward to. She was never a fan of how much of a stickler he was for the stringent schedule of taking her proper medications, handing out the correct dosage just shy of the little certified paper cup, and making sure to take them with food when required. She dreaded catching a cold when he was about, it made him twice the mother hen he already was.

Leaning down, she splashed water on her face and turned off the faucet, grabbing the first aid kit tucked away to bandage herself up when she heard the faint vibrations of her phone on the couch in the other room.

“It’s Price!” Nik’s low boom carried over to her as she aligned the gauze on her cheek, gluing it down with the available medical tape.

“Leave it. I’ll ring him back.”

Or not.

The muffled sound of Nik greeting her partner over the phone made her groan.  Bloody hell. As long as it wasn’t the usual video call her and Price took part in during the evenings. Coming out into the living room, she realized she had been far too hopeful, catching a glimpse of piercing blue eyes on the screen of her mobile. 

“What the hell happened, Ror?” Price’s voice thundered.

She sighed and walked over to Nik, snatching the mobile from his hand. “Thank you so much for that,” she muttered to the Russian quietly before heading back into the bedroom. 

With the door firmly shut behind her, she continued, “Ran into a spot of trouble. Apparently the missiles Hassan has weren't just a gift from the Russians.” She paused, sucking her teeth, waiting for the inevitable gruff growl as she dropped another thing in the Captain’s lap. “It’s Konni, John. They came for Botha.”

“Konni? As in Makarov? That Konni?” he snarled.

“Exactly that, yeah.” Nodding, her eyes fluttered shut as she winced and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes narrowed at her through the screen, at the way she grazed her hand against the bandage on her cheek absentmindedly. “You okay, sweetheart?” The distinct growl remained in his voice, but the way he looked at her softened. 

“Just a few scratches, nothing to fuss over. Should see the other guys,” she added with a smirk. 

He sighed and dragged his hand down his jaw, rubbing at the scruffy whiskers on his cheeks and the stubble on his chin. “Fucking hell.” His voice a low rasp, “How’d they get their hands on American missiles?”

“Don’t know yet,” she said with a shrug. “I’m playing catch up with all this just the same, love. I’m giving you answers as soon as I get them.”

“Somethin’ for us to keep an eye out for in Spain then. Wonder if Konni will be joinin’ in with the narcos and AQ,” he muttered. “Bloody brilliant.”

His snide tone not going unnoticed, the corner of her mouth started to curl into a half grin as she bit back on it. “Careful, you’re starting to sound just as sarcastic as I do.”

Brushing a hand through his hair, the lines in his face deepened as a smirk crept up on him. “Learned from the best, I s’pose.”

“You did, indeed.”

On the screen, dark hair popped up from behind Price’s shoulder, along with a toothy grin, as the Captain’s young protege leaned into frame. “There’s the missus,” Gaz goaded. “How are we this evening, Lamb?”

It didn’t take a genius to note that she had clearly been through the mill considering the bandage on her cheek stained with blooming rust.

“Just peachy.”

“Sure looks it.”

“Sod off,” Price gruffed, elbowing the sergeant out of the way.

Rory laughed. “What’s got our Gaz with a pep in his step?”

“Ghillie suits,” he replied flatly.

“Ghillie suits, eh?” Her brow lifted and she couldn’t stop the shit eating grin that pulled at her mouth. “Well, let’s just hope you aren’t left picking clay out of your beard like last time. I’m not there to suds you up and trim your whiskers, am I?”

Price rolled his eyes, his face stern as he sighed – a quiet grouse at her constant teasing. But that didn’t hide the pinkish hue invading his cheeks. With a sharp clearing of his throat, the cold, resolute Captain returned. “And what about Botha?”

“What about him?”

“Nearly washed your hands of ‘im yet?”

“Nearly,” she said, glancing at the door, looking forward to being free of the burden. “Hand off is tomorrow, then Nik’ll fly me back to Stirling Lines. Can only imagine how much paperwork in triplicate is waiting for me there.”

“The life of an officer,” he mused, heavy brow furrowing.

“Yeah, almost forgot that was part of it. Wanted to stay far away from a desk job, and now look at me.”

“It suits you, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, purring out his rank as if it were an endearment.

“And sweetheart’?” His powder blues locking onto her, the way they would when he was uttering a command. “Just make sure it’s not Nik greetin’ me on the screen tonight when I call again, yeah?”

She snickered, the implication clear about the type of call it might be. “Will do.”

“Tha’s my good girl.”

“I’ll see you later, my darling.” And with the blow of a kiss at the screen, she ended the call.

[babygirl-riley]

The Betrayal

Makarov has been located Task Force 141 is able to have the jump on him. So they thought, little did they know that there was a small detail that they have missed.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Swearing, Angst, and Mentions of Pregnancy

Yuri was correct, whatever he got out of Shepard led us to where the next meeting spot where be Makarov is going to be at. It was at Prague, Czech Republic, his convoy would be meeting inside a large building. Ghost and Price would be on the East side of the building, inside one across the street. Gaz and Soap would be outside, blending into the crowd. Yuri and I will be perched inside a constructed church, being the eye in the sky. My sister and Nikolai on stand by for emergency pick up.

It was cold outside, snowing just a small bit, I kept watching the smoke leaving my lips from the tempature. “I'll never forget my granddad's last words to me just before he died: "Are you still holding the ladder?"”

It was quiet for a moment before I snorted. “Really Sargent?” Price asked over the comms.

It has been 2 hours since we have been waiting. “Thought we could use a joke sir.”

“That wasn’t too bad.” Ghost added, I could see him shaking his head.

“You want another one?” Soap asked waiting for a responds.

“Do we have a choice?” Gaz asked sounding a bit annoyed.

I chuckled looking through my scope. “I don’t think so.” I mumbled looking over at Yuri who was dead set looking outside.

I took note when we arrived how Yuri wasn’t as talkative let alone looking anywhere but that building. He was tense, angry even. “You alright?” I asked looking over at him.

Yuri didn’t budge. “Just tired is all, wanting him dead.”

Him. He didn't have to explain who he was talking about. I have been wanting Makarov dead as well. “Same here,” I said quietly. “He has been torturing all of us enough.”

“Yeah.” He whispered, I looked at him, I could tell that he was truly upset about something. He looked down at me quickly getting it together.

I was about to say something before I could say anything Price interrupted us. “All Bravo the convoy is here, do you have eyes on Makarov.” I looked through the scope watching as 4 black SUVs pulled into the roads.

It was quiet for a moment until the second car, it looked like him, the black hair all messed up his beard. Got him. “I have eyes.” I said through the comm Yuri shuffling.

A bullet went flying pass my head. “Fuck!” I yelled glancing to see a shining spot. Sniper.

“What happened?” Ghost asked before shots were being fired.

“Ambush!” Soap yelled grunting.

I shot the sniper before he could pull the trigger and kept shooting through the windows of the building. They were everywhere, I heard as people were screaming below, running away from the fight. When I looked back at the SUV Makarov wasn’t there.

“All Bravo, Makarov is out of sight, does anyone have a visual?” I yelled shooting some men that were looking through windows that were shoot down at Gaz and Soap.

“Negative! Howev…” Ghost started to say before Yuri froze.

I glanced over at him for a moment. “Did you hear that?” He asked, I tuned everything out to hear it. Ticking.

My heart froze. My comm wasn’t picking up the others. There was a static then…“Yuri, you shouldn’t have come here my friend.” Makarov came through our comms.

I snapped my head, standing up quickly. “Yuri?” I asked before hearing the ticking stopped. I grabbed Yuri’s vest and threw him out the window. “Go!” I yelled as I jumped with him, however when the explosion went off, I wasn’t clear.

I felt the heat come on my back, I squeezed my eyes shut but opened them quickly. I saw myself falling onto wooden boards, feeling the wood break beneath me. I went through one panel and smashed my head into a pole. Everything turned black.

My ears were ringing and faintly heard screaming. I tried opening my eyes but couldn’t, it was cold. “Fox,” I faintly heard. “Fox wake up!” Yuri.

My eyes slowly opened and I moaned feeling faint pain. When I moved my head everything started to hurt, I tried to move my leg but it didn’t move. “You’re going to be fine.” Yuri said frantically looking everywhere.

I coughed tasting some iron, when I noticed it was blood, I looked around me. Horror is what I saw. My leg was beneath by some debris, blood stained my uniform, dust, dirt, the one thing that made me feel absolute panic was the bar in my side. It looked small, skinny, little tall, it looks like it broke off somewhere. Once I registered what was happening, I felt the most extreme pain. I screamed. “Soap!” Yuri yelled I looked over on the other side and Soap was running towards me. Tears streaming my face.

Panic was all over his face. “Steaming bloody jesus,” He whispered before kneeling next to me. I need to tell him about Yuri, he knows Makarov. I tried to grab onto him but he shook his head placing my hand down. “Not now Lass.” My hand was covered in black ash and blood.

His voice was faint, sure he was yelling but I groaned in response. “We gotta lift up this rubble.” Gaz.

I looked around but looked back up at Soap. “Soap,” I whispered but he stood up and helped Yuri and Gaz lift up the rubble. I screamed in pain as I felt something being pulled out of my leg. “Stop!” I yelled it hurt too bad.

“Fuck,” Gaz said as I felt someone put pressure on my thigh. “She is losing too much blood we got to get her out!”

“Ghost Price this is Soap we need to get out of here now!” Soap yelled, I still had the comms on.

“Where is Fox? Yuri?” Ghost asked panting, I heard gun fire in the background.

Soap knelt next to me looking at me. He was white, he didn’t look normal. “Fox is down, she is losing too much blood!”

“We have a van be ready!” Price yelled.

The pain was too much, it was cold, and now feeling tired. “Lass hey,” I felt light taps on my cheek. “Stay with me.” Gunfire came above us. “Yuri cover fire!” He looked up then back down at me.

I just mumbled, I need to tell him. “Soap. Yuri.” I whispered.

“He is right here,” Soap said before snapping his head up. “We got to get her up. Be careful of the bar, do not have it move in any way Yuri!”

Before I knew it I was lifted up, I moaned as I felt being bounced back and forth. The gunfire? What happened to the gunfire? The world around me going by quickly. I felt sick, I coughed feeling saliva leaving my mouth. “Soap,” He looked down leaning me closer asking to say it again. “Yuri knows Makarov.”

Before Soap could say anything I heard doors open. “Ghost.”

……………………………………………………………….

Hell broke loose way too fast, Fox acknowledged on seeing Makarov and then boom he was gone. The church she was in exploded and he watched as she flew out of the window and Yuri. Simon was panicking he wanted to run that way but was stuck, bullets flying past Price and his head.

“Do you have eyes on Fox and Yuri?” Price yelled through the comms.

“Not yet Cap, people are losing their min…” Soap said before grunting.

It was quiet for a moment. God please have her be okay, he was trying to stay focused. “Ghost,” He snapped his head over at Price. “See that van?”

“On it!” He yelled as he sprinted over to the van, hearing Price behind him.

“Passenger Lieutenant!” Price yelled as Ghost covered him to get into the driver seat. Once the enemies where down he ran behind the van and opened the doors.

“Where is Fox? Yuri?” He asked, truly all he cared about was Allison, is she alive.

It was a moment before Soap came through. “Fox is down,” His heart dropped. She is fine. “Losing a lot of blood.”

Before he could say anything Price started the van and slammed the gas. “We have a van be ready!”

He watched through the window, all of the debris and the bodies on the ground. It was a surprise. They knew they were here, how? Simon didn’t fucking know. They had the jump, maybe Shepard knew that they knew. “Ghost open those doors, we got to get them in here!” Price yelled, he nodded and turned to open the doors.

When he did, he felt like the world stopped. No. Allison was being carried by Soap, she was leaned into his chest blood coming out of her mouth, her forehead, but most of all a fucking bar through her side. She was covered in debris and dirt. He backed up as Yuri went around to the passenger seat and Soap and Gaz coming in. Simon moved over helping them place Allison down.

She was more pale than she usually was. “She is conscious still but we have to stop the blood!” Gaz yelled gripping her thigh.

He looked over her, her thigh had a gash it was up from her knee to the middle of her thigh, the fucking bar with blood staining around it, rips through her uniform was everywhere, black charcoal stains, dust, dirt, the gash on her head. When he reached her eyes were half lidded, she was looking at him, a bruise already forming on her cheek up to her eye, she slowly lifting her hand up.

“Simon.” she whispered, her voice strained, he grabbed her hand.

“Not now,” He grumbled placing it on her chest before looking over at Soap who was staring at him. “Make sure there aren’t anymore injuries,” He stood up looking for a rag anything. He saw a shirt folded on a seat behind the passenger seat. He pulled out his knife and ripped it handing it to Gaz. “Tie her thigh!”

“Simon,” He heard her voice. He couldn’t look at her, his heart breaking every fucking time he stared at her eyes, the skin fading her color. Bringing the god awful memories of his family. Everything he thought of a future with her was fading like her heart rate. Right now he has to keep her breathing. Keep her with him. Alive. Warm. “Simon,” He felt a small grip, he looked down to see her bloody hand gripping his arm. He saw that her hand was also forming a burn. He grabbed her hand and looked down. “I love you.”

Soap snapped his head up, Gaz glancing slightly before wrapping quickly, Price looking through the rear view mirror, Yuri didn’t move looking straight, but Simon, he stopped breathing. His world stopped. No she can not fucking say this now. Allison was smiling at him. “I love you.” She repeated reaching up to cup his balaclava, he felt the blood on her hand sticking to his mask.

“No,” He whispered shaking his head. “Allison, don’t say that.” He knew once those words left her mouth, she had to be saying it for a reason. The reason for not being able to say it later. The reason that she can feel herself dying. The reason to tell him she cared deeply for him.

Her eyes were starting to close. No. No. No. Panic was running through his veins. “Hey! Hey!” He yelled down at her, gripping her hand.

She smiled at him again, trying to open those eyes. “I lov…” Her hand falling from his grip.

Simon couldn’t process that her hand dropped out of his, no he cupped her face. “Baby,” He whispered leaning down close. “Hey open your eyes, come on.”

Simon searched for her eyes, to see if they would flutter open. Or move a least a inch but nothing. “Allison,” he whispered, he shook her a little. “Sweetheart, come on.” Panic was starting to set in.

She isn’t waking up. She isn’t waking up. Simon felt his heart breaking more and more. He can’t lose her not now. Please. Please. “Please.” He didnt noticed he was begging out loud but he snapped his head up. “Price!” He yelled.

Price looked behind him. “We are 5 minutes to the hospital!”

Anger boiled over. “Make that faster!” He demanded looking back down at Allison then at Soap. “What are you fucking looking at?! Look to see if she has more injuries Sargent!”

Soap snapped out of his trance, working on Allison’s arm. Simon looked back down and brushed a strand of her hair back. Her pulse you donkey. He placed his fingers on her neck, he was shaking. His heart stopped no. “Allison please.” He begged, he felt a small pulse, he sighed with relief, starting to rip more of the shirt handing it to Soap.

Soap looked up at him. “Lt, I don’t know if she will make it.” His voice was soft and low.

Not going to make it…Like death. Simon kept pushing in the back of his head of his family once again. He is failing her like he did with his own fucking blood. Yesterday, he wanted to say I love you to her, while he helped her shower after having her against the wall. The soap smell hitting his nose and his hands roaming her body. Her body close to him, he never had felt safe in his life before. He was content, he was…happy.

Now it was being taken away, all of it. He stroked her face with one of his fingers. He couldn’t lose her. She had to fight. He thought of that fucking Hallmark cabin. They could settle somewhere in the UK or hell even in the US. They would be sleeping in bed together, holding each other, giving small kisses, saying…His heart stopped. He didn’t even get to say how he loves her.

Price slammed the brakes as Yuri got out of the van. He could hear yelling and running. When he shot his head up the back of the van opened with nurses and a gurnee. Ghost got up and helped Soap pass her to them, they rushed in Ghost following close behind before one of them put a hand on his chest and shook their head, speaking Russian.

“They said you can’t go to stay.” He turned around to face Yuri.

Rage rolled over, Simon walked up to Yuri grabbing a handful of his uniform and slamming him up against the wall. “How are you fucking fine?” He yelled in Yuri’s face. He felt someone touch his shoulder, he elbowed off whoever it was before slamming Yuri into the wall again. “Answer me!”

“Simon,” Price yelled walking into the doors. Simon snapped his head over to see security was next to Price but he placed his hand out. “Stand down.”

Simon wanted to throw Yuri to the ground and fucking kill him. He wasn’t being passed onto the hospital staff. No he was fucking standing, not dying. Simon didn’t even notice that Yuri was off the ground until he let go of him. When he turned around to see Soap on the floor holding his nose before standing up, he felt guilt. More anger at himself.

Soap didn’t look angry more, upset? Sad? Mercy? Simon couldn’t point it out, he didn’t know what he was thinking all Simon could think about was Allison. The security guard asked a question and Yuri answered, they walked away leaving them alone. “I am going to find a private room yeah?” Yuri asked looking over at Price.

Price nodded before walking to Simon. “Take a walk.” He ordered before following Yuri. Soap placed his free hand on Simon’s shoulder as Gaz walked to follow Price.

“I will be here mate.” He said muffled from holding his nose.

Simon nodded before changing the channels to where Nikolai and Kat were on. “I’ll call Kat.” Before walking outside, he heard sirens going off, and the smoke in the distance where they were at.

Simon took a deep breath. He didn’t even know what to say to her. Come say goodbye? Come wait until we are told that she is gone? Your family is dead? You failed? He failed? A knot formed in his throat. He cleared his throat before pressing the button. “Bravo 0-7 to Hawk how copy?”

“This is Hawk copy.” She said through the comms.

“It’s Allison.” Simon said, trying not to make it longer than it needed to be.

Simon sent her the location of the hospital and Hawk was here before even an hour of Simon telling her. She walked in with pure panic, Yuri was able to get us a private room to discuss updates with Laswell. Simon was in the back of the room watching everything but not acknowledging anything happening. It was too long that Allison has been in surgery, 6 hours.

There could be problems that have hit, the deep cut in her thigh, could of hit an artery. Bleed out. The bar in her side spleen rupture. Bleed out. Her falling from that height she could have ruptured her kidneys. Kidney failure. Everything that could have happened or happened, could be the thing to have her dead. That’s all Simon could think about, is all the outcomes.

Hawk snapped her head over at Price. “How did this fucking happen?” She snarled, slamming the door behind her.

Price sighed before rubbing his hand over his face. “We wanted to wait until you got here to figure out exactly what happened.”

Hawk looked over at Yuri. “You were there, what happened?” She asked.

Yuri was about to speak before Soap mumbled something. No one heard what he said. “What was that Sargent?” Price asked, looking over at him.

Soap chuckled. “I think the question we should be askin is how do ya know Makarov?”

Simon snapped his head over leaning off the wall. “What?” He growled out.

Yuri looked over at Simon with panic. “I…”

Simon started to walk over to him but Price stood in between them. Price turned to face Yuri. “You better explain fast before I let Ghost kill ya.”

Yuri watched as Simon was ready for the word, oh how he wanted to fucking pounce, rip his throat out, gut him, anything. Simon has lost everything in his past, when Allison came into his life…He remembered back in Mexico when she asked what the sex meant.

“No strings attached yeah?”

He could tell that she didn’t want that but she agreed. Simon wanted more but he couldn’t give more. He didn’t deserve her. She was malicious when fighting their foes but towards them, the team, him…she was kind. Then time skip to the cabin. It was the first time in a very very long time he took all his clothes off while fucking someone.

Simon watched her eyes softened and looked at him with such love. Love…that is what she showed. He never had felt more comfortable around someone. Love towards someone.

That is what Simon has thought about the no string attached, if she asked now it would be something more. Wishing he did. However, it could change, she could be taken away and Simon…Well Simon would just be Ghost again. Right before Yuri could begin a doctor came in. “Captain Price?” He asked his accent deep.

Price looked over at Simon. “Come on.” He whispered then turned to Hawk. “You too, watch him Soap Gaz, if he moves you have permission to knock his ass out.”

“Aye.” Soap said watching Simon leave the room with the doctor, Hawk, and Price.

The door shut and Simon prepared himself. She is dead. She is dead. She is dead. She is…

“Stable.” Simon was snapped out of his trance as he looked over at Price.

The doctor waited for a response, Hawk sighing with relief. “However, she has a lot of recovery. Lots of fractures but no bones broken. The blood lose was extreme, since you are related to the patient and if your blood is…”

“We have the same blood type.” Hawk said interrupting.

“Good,” He said smiling. “Is she married?”

Price looked over at Hawk and she shook her head. “No.” Hawk responded.

“Boyfriend?” Hawk made a quick glance at Simon and shook her head. His heart dropped. “Well,” The doctor sighed. “Then this might become a surprise to you all.”

Simon mentally shook his head. He knew, why else would he mention the husband or boyfriend? “The patient is pregnant.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 316: We've Had One, Yes, But What About Second Explosion

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all “[powers up like whoa because it’s time to end the fight]”, and he saved Overhaul from getting not-shot, and then smashed up Nagant’s arm with the power of his new rechargeable super knees. Nagant was all “yoooo this kid is crazy strong whaaaat, it’s like he’s some kind of protagonist or something.” Deku was all “I AM A PROTAGONIST, ACTUALLY, DO YOU WANT TO JOIN FORCES AND FIGHT BAD GUYS WITH ME?” Nagant was all “ah shit why the hell no -- ” and then AFO was all “SURPRISE” and everyone was all “?!?!?!” and AFO was all “TIME TO EXPLODE NOW” and made Nagant explode because he’s an absolute fucking dick. And then Hawks showed up, because Horikoshi just wanted to stuff as many plot points as humanly possible into a single chapter I guess.

Today on BnHA: Hawks is all “good job giving motivational shounen redemption speeches Deku but I’ll take it from here” and screams very earnestly right in Nagant’s face until she finally wakes up. Nagant is all “oh hey it’s my successor, you seem surprisingly unfucked-up from your own HPSC tenure, how did you manage that?” Hawks is all “fandom is going to love hearing this one, but basically it’s because I’m very upbeat and also I had the world’s best role model Endeavor to look up to,” and I swear this man stirs the pot on purpose, but damn it I still love him so damn much. Overhaul is all “HELLO AGAIN, JUST A REMINDER THAT, THE BOSS!!” and Deku is all “MAYBE TAKE TWO SECONDS TO REFLECT ON HOW YOU TORTURED A LITTLE GIRL,” which, thank you, lol. Nagant is all “btw AFO’s hiding in a house in the woods”, and so Deku and the gang go to the house in the woods. Video recording!AFO is all “hi I’m AFO welcome to Jackass” and blows up the house. Sometimes I wonder if this manga is just a weird dream.

I am once again reading the Bean version because I think it was actually the best out of all three translations last week. and that is surprisingly including Viz’s. “faux” is not nearly as entertaining as “knockoff”, and also I have literally no idea why Caleb thought Deku was saying the Third’s lines lol

oh hey, Endeavor’s here too! not that you’d ever be able to tell from this first panel lmao

glad you received All Might’s call, mysterious unidentified glowing smudge

oh snap he says he’s weaker in the rain. is that why AFO told Nagant to attack then?? except that as we discussed the other day, I believe that AFO fully intended for Nagant to lose the fight, so him giving her info that would give her an advantage doesn’t really fit in with that. maybe he wanted Deku to be separated from Endeavor and the rest for maximum angst, though

btw Deku’s eyes are unsurprisingly back to the new normal here

alas, the angst continues. I say, pretending like I’m not totally eating it up each and every week and writing essay after essay about it lol

anyway so apparently Hawks can’t actually fly lmao. he was just yeeting himself with style

for some reason this is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen omfg. wave to Hawks, kids! say “bye, Hawks!”

j/k of course Deku is catching them. -- except???

wow so he was just running on fumes there at the end. well, good to know there is actually a limit to his shenanigans, particularly regarding this new “knockoff” 100% OFA. it will definitely not alleviate any of the discourse, but it’s good for my own peace of mind because it’s solid confirmation that he still needs his pals in order to win this thing

anyway, but on to the rest of this conversation, which is basically Deku deducing what we all deduced last week -- AFO implanted some sort of trap into Nagant when he gave her Air Walk. though I’d still like to get the actual details from AFO and/or Horikoshi, because this was particularly wild even by quirk standards lol

omgggggg

she still has a face after all!! so it’s confirmed, Horikoshi has no idea what “blowing up” actually means. we might have guessed, based on what happened to Toga in the MVA arc, and also based on everything Katsuki does ever, but shhh

so now Hawks is all “NAGANT PLEASE WAKE UP, IF I SHOUT MY NAME AT YOU WILL THAT DO THE TRICK”

this is actually kind of touching though because even though we all know (or most of us acknowledge at any rate) that Hawks is a pretty caring person, it’s rare to see him actually panic over someone’s welfare like this

oh shit Horikoshi is really doubling down on it

I wonder how much Hawks knew about what really happened between Nagant and the HPSC. regardless, he probably sees her as a kindred spirit of sorts, and I’m more than happy for Deku to pass the redemption torch onto him now that he’s on the scene. like no offense Deku but they actually know each other and stuff lol

DAMMIT NAGANT CAN’T YOU SEE HOW LOUD HE IS YELLING

apparently being freed from his HPSC shackles has finally given Hawks the space to embrace his own inner shounen protagonist. is there anything more shounen than trying to motivationally scream someone awake when they’re lying in your arms inches from death?? 100% guaranteed to work

!!! IS THIS NAGANT’S POV OMG

SO SHE IS ALIVE. THANK GOD. Horikoshi doesn’t want to meet with my emotional distress lawyer today after all

love how she’s all “just gonna stir up the weekly Hawks Discourse pot here by implying that he probably committed a lot of Atrocities just like I did, so now people can get all hopped up about that, even though there’s no evidence he’s ever killed anyone aside from that one horrible ‘damned-if-you-do...’ situation with Twice.” no one asked for your provocative speculation young lady!! trust me Nagant, our rabbles don’t need the rousing lol

but nice save there with the “so how are your eyes so untainted” well you see it’s because even when he was following the HPSC’s orders he always went to great lengths never to go against his own moral compass. which just to be clear was incredibly difficult, and led to a ton of pain and suffering on his part, because the life of a spy is basically just one impossible situation after another. but in spite of that he never stopped trying to do his best to help people. I don’t really know where this tangent came from or is leading to, lol, but anyway p.s.a. I love Hawks a lot and he’s a good kid dammit

oh shit??!?

how is the League always able to swing all these fancy forest mansions. where do they find them. how many do they have

so Deku’s dropping them -- very roughly, not sure if he was reacting to finally getting AFO’s location, or if his energy really is giving out -- and now Nagant’s saying that AFO hired other villains as well. well of course he did. gotta keep chipping away at OFA’s ninth successor little by little

now Nagant is asking Hawks how he’s able to keep making “that” face. I assume she’s again talking about the fact that he somehow didn’t let the HPSC wear down his spirit

oh my god???

thanks for stuffing this chapter to the brim with good nutritional Hawks Feels, Horikoshi. what a good. he just keeps on trudging forward undeterred no matter what bullshit comes his way. what a steadfast little guy. I WILL PROTECT YOU FROM DISCOURSE MY SWEET SUNSHINE

lmaoooo

“SPOTTED THIS DUDE JUST CHILLING OUT THERE ON THE ROOF WITH NO ARMS, SEEMED PRETTY SUS” good job Endeavor

anyway so you don’t really need me to tell you that Overhaul is immediately starting in with the “BUT THE BOSS WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME TO THE BOSS YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD TAKE ME TO THE BOSS” stuff again. but I will go ahead and tell you anyway. so yeah. he’s doing that

OMG YOU GUYS LOOK AT DEKU’S “of all the fucking assholes to just randomly drop in on my life once again why did it have to be you” FACE THOUGH, OMG

fun fact, if you go back to chapters 124 through 160, there was an entire story arc where Overhaul imprisoned and tortured a little girl. yeah, I know!! suuuuuuuuper evil. anyways just an interesting little anecdote for you all that’s somewhat relevant to the current situation

OMG, YES. FUCK YES, DEKU

THEN WHAT ABOUT SPARING ONE FOR HER!!! YES!!! EXACTLY!!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, SOMEONE GETS IT

HERE’S THE PANEL OF DEKU SAYING THE EXACT SAME THING I’M SAYING LOL

(ETA: so apparently there’s some discourse about this because some people are interpreting this as Deku saying “you should apologize to Eri”, which would obviously be a terrible idea even if Overhaul actually wanted to do that, because Eri shouldn’t ever have to see him again. however I just want to point out that there is a HUGE difference between saying “it would be nice if you could direct that feeling of regret/being sorry towards Eri as well”, vs saying “you should also apologize to her.” all Deku is doing is rightfully pointing out that Overhaul has hurt way more people than just his boss, and if he really is remorseful, then he should extend those feelings of remorse to Eri and the rest as well. it’s not a directive to take any specific action, and I’m 1000% sure no one at U.A. would let Overhaul within 100 miles of Eri ever again.

tl;dr “try feeling remorse sometime” =/= “do you want me to fly you over to U.A. right now to surprise the little girl you traumatized”, lol.)

[slings an arm around Deku’s shoulders] you’re a good kid. I like you. I don’t know if I tell you that enough, but it’s true

meanwhile here is Overhaul’s “spare... a thought... for Eri...???????” face sigh

the struggle is real y’all

(ETA: and that’s... the last we ever saw of Overhaul, I guess? well all right then. I assume Deku will make good on his promise, so we know he’ll get that little bit of closure before going back to jail or whatever, and I confess I’m more than fine with leaving the rest of it open-ended, especially given his character’s history. I think this was pretty generous all things considered.)

lmao holy shit

All Might what did you do to those tiki torch guys?? did you thrash them. did you give ‘em those hands. did you deliver their own asses to them complete with a sticker reminding them Amazon Prime Day is on June 21. we missed out goddammit

so Endeavor, who wasn’t the one he was asking, is telling him that they captured (well let’s be real, Deku captured, give the credit where it’s due) Nagant and Overhaul. and so I guess they’re going to take Nagant to the ER now

fire is no one’s weakness

-- oh my GOD I scrolled down and audibly gasped

[is politely but firmly approached and asked to remove my arm from Deku’s shoulder by the physical manifestation of all this Dekuangst] “we’re sorry, he’s not allowed to have visitors right now” oh shit, my bad. [goes to stand behind a police barricade]

lmao what. did you run out of room on the previous page

what an exaggerated fade to black lmao

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I actually can’t see what he’s reacting to so maybe I’m just seriously jumping the gun here lol, but THE HELL WITH IT. the next panel appears to be a cut to Haibori Forest, so I’m just gonna go ahead and declare that Deku ran off on his own all wounded to go have more Dekuangst, just like I manifested. now go call Katsuki goddammit

[scrolls three more inches down] oh

yeah so like I said, Deku is walking very slowly a few feet in front of Endeavor, who’s telling him to wait up. yep. we’ve all gotta be so careful to not just jump to conclusions. I know we’re excited but still

anyway, so! welcome back to Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods (ARE YOU GUYS DATING) and Edgeshot! have fun walking into this obvious trap lol

dammit Deku why are you so determined to tempt fate

[monkey puppet meme faces]

OH MY GOD THIS IS PURE GRADE-A CHEESY COMIC BOOK VILLAIN 101 SHIT AND I’M HERE FOR IT

that’s such a weird way of clapping who claps like that

unlike certain other people who shan’t be named, AFO doesn’t feel the need to inexplicably take his shirt off when recording sinister villain monologues. I think we’re all pretty grateful for that

high fives to everyone who called it!! yep yep

anyway so this whole scene has major booby-trap vibes, which I’m enjoying immensely even though I don’t think anything is really going to come of it lol. probably just another long-winded AFO Speech. but wouldn’t it be funny if like the ceiling started lowering down to try and squish Deku afterwards lol

(ETA: well the explosion was still pretty funny too ngl.)

ffff

[“Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies]

anyway so yeah. he’s just hitting up all of his usual villain talking points. we get it, you’re so smart and you see right through the thin veneers of society and people who don’t conform are left to fend for themselves and labeled as villains and history is written by the victors, and blah blah blah dude are you just jumping randomly from one soundbyte to another lol. literally what are you talking about. what does this have to do with you blowing up Nagant

-- holy shit??

[”Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies MORE?????]

LOL WHAT

BRO. WHAT IS WITH YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO LAY ANY OTHER KIND OF FUCKING TRAP GOOD LORD

“YOU’RE NEXT” THE CALLBACK?? THE PARALLELS?? THOUGH WHEN ALL MIGHT POINTED HE MADE IT LOOK WAY COOLER. AFO’S POINTING JUST LOOKS LIKE SMOKEY THE BEAR

HAS ANYONE CHECKED IN ON KAMUI WOODS I HEAR HE IS WEAK TO FIRE?? THE ONLY ONE WHO IS, APPARENTLY

r.i.p. to this particular forest mansion. don’t worry they have a ton of backups

remember last week when I said maybe AFO thinks explosions are gauche. well never mind. he fucking loves explosions

anyway so that’s the end of BnHA, everyone. hope you enjoyed. it was a good ride while it lasted. see you all, good luck in your travels

[creativeashproductions]

What's a Knife Between Onscreen Family // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Filming an emotionally wrought scene on the set of your current role as a regular goes very wrong very fast. Expecting the scene to be the most taxing of the day you find yourself in the ER getting a transfusion. It’s all fun and games until someone’s holding a sharp knife incorrectly, guess it’s just something in common with co-star Jared Padalecki.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fear, injuries, hospital, needles, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.5k (including lyrics)

A/N: I watched a part of a panel from a Supernatural con and found it hilarious that Jensen accidently stabbed Jared. So I had to write that for a Charlie Gillespie fic. Link to the video talking about the stabbing is right below this message.

Jensen Ackles Accidentally Stabbed Jared Padalecki during filming From 1:00-6:00

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

It had to be one of the most emotionally taxing scenes in your entire career as an actress on a physically demanding show. The scene had been incredibly mentally draining the daughter of a Winchester. It had been once season recurring, one series regular and now filming the third season. As the teenage Winchester, it threw a wrench in all the plans and the reckless character gave no shits.

“Okay, this is our last scene for the day!” Robert Singer, the director of his episode, called out from off stage. Standing at the top of the stairs in the Bunker, you jumped in close with a scrunched nose at the squishy sound.

Over the railing, both Jared and Jensen nodded their support from the ground level with concerned expressions. Ever since you joined the cast in season 13, they had become fathers to you. The sight of you drenched in stage blood was enough to churn their stomachs.

“I gave you the barebones of the scene so work with it. Briar’s traumatized after fighting for her life and has been gone for a while.” Robert explained, “Cas couldn’t find her. I want this to be a tribute like Dean in season 10 episode 14: The Executioner’s Song.”

Taking a deep breath in your emotions channelled into a hurricane in your chest, clenching your fingers on the knife.

“Action!”

Pacing the floor plan of the Bunker is two brothers bonded by sorrow, pain, sacrifice and love. Each throwing out locations on where Briar could be, Jack and Cas had been little help. Sam’s heart clenched tight bypassing images straight to torture. The kind of torture he had endured over the years.

Dean’s mouth opened to suggest another place when the Bunker door creaked open. The red converse appeared before the soggy jeans as the teen slowly made her way down the steps. Briar Winchester shook like a leaf staring off in the distance as the blood congealed on her face and hands.

“Briar.” Dean slowly spoke, moving towards the girl. His green eyes lit up in fury as the seventeen-year-old flinched back. Dean’s hand gently took the stained knife from the young girl.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it.” The meek voice appeared so unlike the usual confidence Briar talked with. In exhaustion, Briar’s knees collapsed, sending the teen right into Dean’s arms.

The stoic man gripped the youngest Winchester as his waist bearing her weight against his while Sam circled to be behind Dean. The choked sob echoed by another escaped the family huddle; one from Briar and the other from Dean.

“Dad.” Briar choked clenching her arms around the green-eyed adult’s shoulders, craving the safety of her father.

Ever since Dean could remember he had had a strict rule of always practising safe sex, he didn’t want a kid. Not in a world that had it out for Winchesters and not one where he might hold his child’s dead body in his arms. That all changed when Cas delivered Dean to a county jail where Briar was held just for a minor assault charge on a wealthy bully.

Dean never let himself want a future with the picket fence and the dog in the backyard but when Briar changed that. Dean would do anything for his family no matter the cost. Example: Selling his soul for Sam.

“Sh.” Dean spoke kissing the crown of her hair he savoured having his child safe in his arms, “I’ll help you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. We’ll heat some soup and toast.”

On autopilot, Dean helped Briar down the hall to the bathroom where she would freshen up and later burn the unsalvageable clothing. As Dean returned to Sam’s side, Castiel came with a sombre expression and an explanation.

“Dean. Sam.” Cas greeted them, flicking his blue gaze between the two brothers. The faint sound of the shower only picked up by the trained heightened sense of hearing from years of watching over their backs.

“Cas what the hell happened?” Dean demanded, “Why the hell is my little girl bruised and coated in blood?”

END FILMING SCENE

“Cut!” Robert called out to the large room with a big smile on his face, “I’ll watch it back. See if we need more takes.”

Jared and Jensen wiped the tears that fell from their cheeks just thinking on how wrought that scene felt. As fathers seeing a young adult in such a state severely agonized them. The duo jogged to see your back against the cold wall—a pinched expression marring your young face.

“How are you feeling after that?” Jensen asked, coming closer to squeeze your shoulders unfazed by the sticky fake blood. It was already all over his clothes from hugging you in character.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to have sharp objects.” You spoke glancing down at your knee that had been punctured by the knife. The dark jeans soaked in stage blood now concealed the real blood.

 “Jensen, did you really stab another person.” Jared deadpanned his best friend referencing back a few years. Jared shoved one hand through his hair, receiving a nasty glare from the hairstylist on call.

The glare on Jensen’s face blistered the taller actor, “I didn’t stab you. You walked into the knife.”

The two bickered as they guided you back to the main stage where Robert had reached a final verdict. He had watched the replay twice along with his crew finding the raw emotion to be perfect. The little detail the three had added was well played. Dean unexpectedly consoling his daughter in tears; no threats to kill or push her to tell him what happened. The first time Briar referring to Dean as her father. Lastly, Sam’s unsure actions in consoling a young girl sucked into life like he was in his youth.

“We got a one-take winner!” Robert called out sending the entire crowd into loud applause and cheers. Jared taking most of your weight as you hobbled to the costume trailer.

The lovely costume designers helped remove the sticky shirt, jewellery and the red converse that had once been white. Only the jeans remained on your body to not mess with the wound. As much as you’d love to shower the blood off, it was near impossible, moving your knee stung and it was best to avoid aggravating it.

“Someone needs to ban Jensen from knives. Just wait till his wife finds out about this, she adores Y/N.” Martha chuckled from her sketches she designed on her breaks for a future in fashion design. Often in your free time, you would be her guinea pig with her designs using refurbished material.

Normally the banter would continue but not when your leg was bleeding, and Jared was taking you to the ER. To make time faster, Jared had scooped you into his arms to the black car their driver waited in.

“Towels are in place. Sorry, you got hurt, Kid.” Clif spoke, opening the door to the backseat where Jensen sat patiently. Unlike usual, he had seated himself in the front so you could stretch in the back.

A weak chuckle met air in the packed car from the blood loss that wasn’t overly bad but enough that Jared took the towel. His pressure on the wound caused a yelp that had Jensen flinching in guilt.

“The knife must have been sharp to cut a mouse in half,” Clif muttered turning towards the hospital close to set. Coincidently the drive took you passed the set your boyfriend currently filmed at.

“Might as well call me butter.” You retorted wincing at the throbbing pain, “You aren’t allowed any more sharp objects, Mr. Ackles.”

“Danneel already threatened to hide all the knives in the house.” The on-screen father laughed as the tension decreased in the small car. Despite the dizziness, it didn’t hide the guilt in Jensen’s green eyes.

Time flew by as you found yourself in a bed for observation and pictures for the knee. It came as a shock when the doctor requested one blood transfusion for the blood loss. The hope of being in and out had evaporated like water beads on a blistering summer day.

Julie and the Phantoms Set

Charlie adored his life as an actor where he was free to visit places, he might not have had the opportunity to do. He made friends with everyone he spoke to and even met the love of his life as an actor as well.

That being said today had been the longest one with a full schedule and barely time for lunch or snacks. Even a nap was unachievable, and he desperately wanted one for being awake for hours by now.

“Charlie! Did you know you’ve got missed calls?” Jeremy inquired, staring at the phone that went black once more. Charlie’s eyebrows came together at the mention. His family had the rough outline of times he would be unavailable to talk.

Stepping back from the craft table’s supper options, he lifted the phone from the table, bringing it to life. His lock screen showing multiple missed calls and voicemails from you, his family and two unknown numbers.

His jaw dropped further when Meghan called for the first time out of the group, “Megs?”

“Finally! Where have you been?” Meghan demanded pacing in the studio she had been using when she got the call. The pretty and successful young woman had gotten terrified at learning about Y/N.

“Filming? It’s the longest day of filming the show. It’s on the family schedule.” Charlie spoke, settling into one of the empty tables. His eyes watching the people entering and exiting the tent set up for food.

“Jesus. Mom called me when you didn’t pick up. Y/N’s in the hospital.” Meghan revealed sending the Canadian actor into a stiff posture. His hazel eyes blow wide and panic flooding his entire system.

“What?!” Charlie didn’t mean to shout nor turn paler than a piece of white paper, but it happened. The volume contracting looks from everyone in the vicinity. Owen even dropped the donut back in the box by the volume.

“She got stabbed with a knife. I sent the address earlier, and I haven’t gotten a lot of info.” Meghan told her older brother, “I know she’s getting a blood transfusion, but nothing else was released.”

Charlie couldn’t tell you what happened between Meghan telling him and reaching the hospital frantically. Nor could he figure out how Owen was in the back of the Uber with him guiding him through exercises; all thanks to Owen’s therapist for his anxiety.

His sneakers squeaked on the polished white floor in his mission to the receptionist transferring information from a chart to digital. Charlie’s painting brought him attention from the kind nurse acknowledging his presence.

“Just let me finish this one sentence.” The nurse hummed saving the information before turning their full attention to the frazzled male, “How can I help you?”

“What room is Y/N Y/L/N in? She was stabbed and needed a transfusion.” Charlie demanded deflating as Owen placed a hand on his shoulder. The Canadian’s eyes bright with panic and a deep fear

The nurse’s eyes softened, “I can’t give out information on patients unless your immediate family members.”

“I’m here-“

“Husband! He’s her husband, they eloped so she hasn’t changed her last name or updated her information.” Owen blurted out, rubbing the pad of his index finger on the black jeans he had worn for his role. The two hadn’t even bothered changing into their street clothing.

The nurse nodded their head-turning back to the computer to enter the name for the patient for the information. It took seconds before the nurse wrote on the miscellaneous sticky note of the ward and room number.

“My name is Riley. If you need any help, you can come back here, and I’ll do my best to give you answers.” Nurse Riley informed the duo with a kind smile nodding in the direction of your hospital room.

Owen’s long legs ate up the distance Charlie made in his sprint to the stairwell, “Shouldn’t we take the elevator?”

“My girlfriend is in a hospital bed. I can’t wait for an elevator.” Charlie rebuked the suggestion on the second flight. Owen’s sigh was the last sound made as the duo slammed into the door to the floor level.

Charlie and Owen appeared in the doorway of your hospital room panting from the exertion meeting the gaze of two actors. Charlie’s heart stuttered at the sight of the high volume of blood in your clothing and your hair.

The sharp gasp brought your attention to the shaking Canadian actor solely focused on scanning for wounds. His eyes barely staying on the two adult males you had been starring with for a few years. Schedule conflicts often led to no introduction to each other’s co-stars.

“What the hell?” Charlie choked stumbling to the chair beside your hospital bed next to the pole holding a blood bag, “Did you get mugged? Are you okay?”

“Char, take a breath, man.” Owen’s blue eyes shadowed with the worry as Charlie’s breathing shuddered. Owen could barely look at you covered in blood.

“Whoa! Charlie. I’m fine. This is stage blood. We had an intense scene, and there was a minor accident.” Your voice soothed the man gently taking Charlie’s hand to comfort him, “I lost a bit of blood. The doctor decided to give me a blood transfusion to bring my levels back up a bit before stitching it up.”

“How do you get stabbed accidently?” Owen questioned glancing at the two men standing silently in the corner. Due to contracts on the Supernatural set details of scenes and storylines was off-limits.

“Well, during filming, I took a knife from her, and she walked into the blade?” Jensen trailed off, shoving his elbow into Jared’s side at the scoff. It happened every time it was brought up.

“I-“Charlie blinked, shaking his head as he took a deep sigh in pushing that to the back burner to focus solely on you. His hand rubbed his face while he settled on squeezing your one hand in both of his.

The touch of your skin grounding him back to earth with the shattering visions of walking into the world without you. It would be both ways, the second his calloused warm skin brushed your hands; it was like the pain faded. Only a sense of content settled in your weary bones.

“Okay Miss Y/L/N.” Dr. Clancy walked into the room only halting to grab a pair of medical gloves, “I see your entourage grew. I’m Doctor Jim Clancy, and you must be Miss Y/L/N’s husband.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at the doctor’s words aimed towards the brunette actor turning a blushing mess. The words mouthed by Charlie to go with it gave barely any insight, but you did it. The moment you had a free minute with Charlie, you would interrogate him in the new title you had.

“Yeah, my husband.” You spoke flicking an expression to Jensen and Jared that caught on from the years together. They had taken you under their wing on your first day on set, and then you became family with their immediate family.

“I can confirm that my initial observation is that the wound doesn’t have anything that shouldn’t be in there. We stopped the bleeding, the x-ray came clean, we’ll set you up with IV fluid, and tetanus shot to be safe.”

“Nurse Gellar here will cut the rest of the jeans off, get you in a gown for a few hours of observation. Just a precaution for blood transfusions. We’ll have some scrubs you can wear when you can leave.” Dr. Clancy motioned to the tall redhead with a quiet demeanour.

Charlie’s lips lingered on your temple at the fear that flared in your expressive eyes, he would give anything to take your place. He softly sang your couple song as a whimper fell from your lips as the jean tugged the dried blood from the wound. The painful pressure felt as you guessed it had started to bleed again, the feel of liquid rolling down your skin, confirming it.

“I’ll sing anything.” Charlie whispered going through his mental catalogue of songs on your shared playlist, “Oh!”

I’m booking myself a one-way flight

 I gotta see the color in your eyes

 And telling myself I’m gonna be alright

 Without you baby is a waste of time

The tears falling no longer came from the pain but the sheer amount of love you had for the man there. Eyes glittering with pure adoration as his voice came off absolutely heart-melting. So, lost in each other neither of you noticed Owen had been filming from the moment Charlie had said ‘oh’.

Yeah, our first date, girl, the seasons changed

 It got washed away in a summer rain

 You can’t undo a fall like this

 ’Cause love don’t know what distance is

 Yeah, I know it’s crazy

Charlie’s hand slowly slid up your arms to cup your tear-streaked tacky cheeks in his warm grip. The hospital faded as it became just you and Charlie. Completely oblivious at the audience in the room.

“He loves her,” Jensen whispered to Jared out of the camera frame that the blonde-haired kid’s phone. It was such a pure moment it felt disrespectful to see this exchange but also honoured to see it firsthand.

“I’ve only seen the look in your eyes for Danneel,” Jared replied, cupping his hands over his face listening to the near inaudible wet chuckle you gave.

“As I have between you and Gen. They have the real kind of love.” 

But I don’t want “good”, and I don’t want “good enough.”

 I want “can’t sleep, can’t breathe without your love”

 Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn’t make sense to anybody else

“Charlie.” You sobbed at the best part of your life serenading you in such a romantic moment at the odd setting—his hazel gaze greener in what would come to be a very dear memory to reminisce about.

The calloused thumb caressing your cheek wiping a teardrop away he continued to see as the doctor finished suturing the wound. 

Nothing mattered other than the couple currently in a bubble.

Who cares if you’re all I think about,

 I’ve searched the world and I know now,

 It ain’t right if you ain’t lost your mind.

 Yeah, I don’t want easy, I want crazy

 Are you with me baby? Let’s be crazy

Charlie’s voice faded with the rest of the song bringing you back to reality with the nurse cleaning up around the wound. That’s how the rest of the day went on waiting for the blood transfusion and IV fluids to finish. You stuffed the tetanus shot while Charlie sang between different genres.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke with Charlie being the only one left in the room with you.

Owen had headed back to their set to finish a scene while giving the updates on you while Jared and Jensen grabbed food. J2 had been very clear they would get Martha to grab some clothing for when they came back. Jensen was determined to deliver you to your home as the first action to make it up to you.

“For what?” Charlie questioned as your index and thumb picked at the cuticles of the opposite hand. Your eyes were hidden from your boyfriend’s gaze.

“For dropping everything to be here.” The words were quiet in the room only filled with breathing and the heart machine you had to be hooked up to.

“My girl-“

“Don’t you mean wife?” You teased brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead taking in the man you had the honor of loving. Of waking up next to in the apartment, you’d been renting ever since you landed the role on Supernatural; overtime Charlie’s things had just accumulated there.

“It was the only way they’d let me in.” Charlie spoke sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, “It’s a little early to call you, but I’m excited to make you my last girlfriend and then my only wife.”

The chuckle fell from your lips, “So, you want to marry me?”

“In front of all our family and friends. Tucked away from the media to celebrate the love we have for each other.” Charlie spoke, “There’s no one else I’d like by my side for the rest of my life.”

A new flood of tears welled at the sincerity in his voice and the warmth laden in his eyes of kaleidoscope colours. Sometimes, depending on his emotion or his clothing, his eyes would be greener, or when he was happy, they had a blue tinge in the green in sadness or your favourite; brown with the swirls of green.

“How did I get so lucky to have the absolute honour to fall in love with you?” Your words created a swell of emotion in the Canadian’s heart.

“The same way whatever deities there are took pity on a boy from Dieppe by bringing him an angel.” Charlie words preceded the kiss on your lips with a grin as you chased his lips after. With one last peck, he leaned back with a fond expression.

“Seriously how do you get stabbed accidently?” Charlie chortled with that gorgeous smile lighting up the room more than the white lights.

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[an-anticlimactic-bass-drop]

Tall Part 2/?

Prompt: Tech is too tall for his own good. Constantly hitting his head on objects and desks as he works on projects. The other bad batchers make fun of him for this but you find it endearing.

Tech X Reader

Slow Burn/ Angst

Warnings: Mild 1.11 Spoilers, Deviates from canon

Word Count: 1.5K

Part 2/?

partly inspired by this gif 

(it won’t let me put it in but its the one of tech catching omega)

Omega nudges you awake from where you are napping in the pilot’s seat. The small girl’s blonde head peeks over the arm of the chair as she looks out the window. 

“Look!”

The sounds of explosions and blaster fire are erupting from the city center a few klicks away. You quickly lean forward and start firing up the takeoff controls for the Marauder. You are sure your boys are the ones behind the explosions and you smile gently as you imagine Wrecker’s gleeful expression as you see a cloud of smoke rise into the air in the distance.  They can’t be too far off if the nearing sounds of blaster fire are any indicators. Omega rushes to the landing ramp as Hunter’s voice crackles in through the comms. 

“Omega! Get ready to bring the senator aboard!” Hunter sounds a little winded and Wrecker cackles in the background as another explosion rocks the tunnel they were in. You remember the new security system Tech put in place and shake the last cobwebs of your nap out of your mind as you recall the specifications that he had told you about before leaving. Your hands fly across the panels as you disarm the system and lower the landing ramp. You head to the ramp as Omega jumps up and down waving at the men as they trek towards the ship. 

“Ladies! Meet the newest passenger of the Havoc Marauder, Senator Avi Singh.” Hunter introduced you to the senator and you looked him up and down. The senator doesn’t look like he’s all that happy to be leaving his planet in the hands of the Imperials. Singh is wringing his hands and has a look of worry on his face. 

“I should not leave my people. They need me here!” The senator says quietly. Echo leans in with a hand on the senator’s shoulder. 

“If you stay here you will be hunted down and murdered. It is better to live to fight another day than to die unnecessarily.” The clone looks almost defeated as he tells the senator this. Singh’s shoulders slump forward as he takes one last look around his planet before boarding the ship, nodding in agreement at Echo’s words. 

The trip back to Cid’s bar was uneventful to say the least. The senator and his droid are quietly sitting in the cargo hold. You offered him a cup of caf earlier but he graciously declined. The men are scattered around the ship as hyperspace speeds by. Echo and Hunter are attempting to sleep in the bunks while Wrecker and Omega are playing Saabac on the box that functions as a makeshift table. You just poured yourself a piping hot cup of the precious brown liquid that keeps you going through bouts of insomnia caused by the nightmares and the general lifestyle of the Bad Batch. Wandering up towards the cockpit, you aren’t expecting to trip over Tech’s long legs that are stretched out into the aisle. 

“Kriff!” Tech curses as your cup spills slightly onto the top of his blacks. He slides out from the wall he was buried in and starts looking around for a towel to wipe the hot caf off of his shirt. 

“Sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You frantically bend down to help him. You grab one of his grease rags from the toolbox you notice off to the side and dab at the stain on his shirt. 

“No worries. I will be fine.” Tech strips off his shirt and you swear you can feel the temperature of the air heat up several degrees as you realize just how close you are to the taller clone. “There. No harm done. Would you mind putting this in the laundry for me? I need to finish this last bit of wiring before heading back to check on the flightpath.” You flush as you tear your eyes away from the bare chest of the man in front of you. 

“Hm? Sorry! I’ll just get right on that.” You hurry away with the stained shirt and a blush on your face. You left your cup of caf on the floor near where Tech was working. He let out a small chuckle as he steals your drink. Not his fault if you left it in your hurry. 

The ship lands back at Cid’s bar without incident. The senator thanks you all graciously and departs into Cid’s office to discuss payment. Wrecker and Omega not so sneakily sneak off to get Mantell mix and Echo follows them at a distance to make sure they stay out of trouble. Tech goes to the bar to get a drink and you sit beside him to discuss the mission. You flush as you think about the previous night on the ship and you clench your jaw to avoid licking your lips at the thought of the bare chest of the taller clone next to you. You aren’t ashamed to say you dreamed of the expanse of skin and what it might taste like while you were in your bunk after that episode last night. 

“Am I boring you? I can stop if you would like.” Tech looks concerned as you zone back into reality and realize you have been watching him with a blank expression for a beat too long. You blink in surprise as you shake away the untamed thoughts that have been plaguing your mind. You really can’t be anymore obvious in your crush can you? At this point you might as well have a giant sign that follows you around that says “This person has a crush on the tall nerdy one!” 

“No!” You exclaim a little too loudly and get some irritated looks from the other patrons of the bar. “Sorry I'm just distracted today. The mission has me a little rattled. I am not used to being that deep into enemy space.” You say in a quieter tone.

“We are also not used to it. I always knew we would make it to Raxus someday however I never thought about it being to save the seperatist leader. Echo was most displeased about the idea and protested greatly. I tried to convince him that it was just a job and we need to pay off our debt to Cid but he does not see it this way.” Tech seems saddened at his brother’s inability to see the mission without the politics. You can see Echo’s point of view and point out to Tech that Echo’s trauma probably makes it hard for him to trust the separatists seeing as they had kidnapped and tortured him for 2 years before he was rescued. 

“The Techno Union treated him like a computer! An algorithm! Barely even human! I really don’t blame Echo for not trusting the separatists. He has barely recovered from the trauma of being in that machine for so long. He is still really pale and frail and you haven’t finished working on his new limbs yet so he still has the prosthetics they forced on him. Speaking of which, if you need help working on those I am always available. He has every reason to be upset about this mission.” 

You are fully involved in the discussion and don’t hear Echo and the others enter the bar as they make their way over to you and Tech. Echo catches the tail end of the conversation and tries to announce their presence with a small cough that turned into a hacking one that left Omega looking concerned. Her big round eyes are full of unspoken worry as she gazes up at him. Echo glances down at the young girl and forces a smile, patting her head. 

“I am fine little one. Don’t worry about me.” He says reassuringly.

Hunter leaves Cid’s office with her and the Senator. He comes over to where the group has gathered and steals Tech’s abandoned drink. He chugs the rest of it and gestures for the group to follow as he heads back to the ship.  Tech stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off of the bar stool. He has a habit of making sure none of the Bad Batchers fall over, a habit he has picked up from their upbringing on Kamino where the other 3 clones were not the best balanced due to their enhanced abilities. Your face flushes again as you become uncomfortably aware of how close you two have gotten during the conversation. He leans away from your touch as if he also hadn’t realized how close you two had gotten. Tech turns to follow Hunter out the door and has to stoop a little to avoid hitting the door frame, Echo cracking a quiet joke about not having to worry about hitting the top of door frames since he lost a few inches. Only Omega and you caught the joke and you give a chuckle as Omega just looks confused. 

“The legs you see? Lost a few inches? Oh well.” Echo gave up on explaining the joke to the kid and followed Wrecker out the door towards the ship. 

Once back on the ship Hunter announces that they have been given a few days off courtesy of Cid since the mission went so smoothly. The other bad batchers glance at each other, not sure of what to do with their new time off.  You were pretty sure they have never had free time in their entire life.

“We could visit Cut and Suu? See how they are settling in!” Suggests Omega. 

“Too dangerous for them. We attract too much attention. The last thing they need is to be recognized as republic sympathizers.” reasons Tech. 

“I think we deserve a few days of downtime! We can take a well deserved vacation and rest up before the next mission.” you say as you pour a cup of caf from the pot Tech started when you arrived back at the ship. “We can get some repairs done on the ship and maybe even explore the city! I know Omega has been dying to go to the museums in the city center since we got here and I'm sure you boys would enjoy it too.” 

Hunter thinks for a moment and nods in agreement. 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Taglist: @haloangel391 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

[beskarhearts]

Scars (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series pt. 4

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, mention of family members passing away, scars, torture from empire, some sexual tension

Word count: A little over 4.8K

Summary: The Mandalorian sees a part of you that you’ve been hiding and comforts you.

Notes:  Did I listen to drivers license by olivia rodrigo on repeat while writing this and tear up at least two times? Yes. Is this possibly the saddest thing I’ve written yet? Yes.

Last Part ____ Next Part

__________________________________________________________

“If you don’t take off your jacket and sweater, I will.”

And that is when you realized that everything the Mandalorian says sounds 20x more sexual than it ever should.

________________________________

You’ve said it once. And you will say it a hundred more times.

The Razor Crest was a hunk of junk. A total piece of trash. It may as well had been space garbage, just floating through the atmosphere. You swore it was a metal death trap that could just happen to fly through light speed. You told Din to get a new ship and he had very sassily remarked about how she was perfectly fine (yes, he referred to his stupid ship as a ‘she’ and you couldn’t stop laughing about it for five minutes straight).

Regardless of Din’s arguing, you knew deep down the ship was junk. And that is why you had to stop (again). You had rushed to fix the wing on the planet where you had been attacked and it’s been a couple days since then. It held up okay but you knew you were going to have to stop on a planet for probably a whole day, so you could fix the wing, as well as the heater which had broken down in the last day.

So you and Din had planned to stop on a remote planet. One without a lot of humans or any big civilizations near by, that way you wouldn’t have another surprise visitor like last time. One where you could fix the ship and where Din could take a day to relax, to sit back and not worry about the safety of you and the kid. To be honest, it sounded like a great day to you. You would keep busy with the ship, but Din would watch over the kid and talk to you. It would be like how life used to be almost. A taste of normalcy in an otherwise hectic world.

And then Din landed you in the middle of the damn desert.

“Din Djarin, when I said land on a planet, you couldn’t have chosen one with water or plants or nice, cool temperatures?” Din had just stepped back into the ship after checking the surroundings of where you had landed. His armored head faced you and the kid you had held in your arms. The child gurgled endlessly, his tiny fingers clutching onto the zipper of your jacket as you rocked him back and forth. 

“I’ve been to this planet before. There aren’t a lot of people. Worse there is are some Jawas. And Mudhorns, but they stick to the caves.”

“Mudhorns? Where are we?”

“Arvala-7. This is one of the first places the kid and I went together.” The Mandalorian walked towards the two of you, stopping right in front of you. One of his gloved hands reached out to pat at the kids head. The child’s attention drifted from your zipper to his father, a hand reaching out. Din wiggled one of his fingers at the kid, something you don’t even think he realized he did, and watched as the three green digits wrapped around his finger. You smiled at the sight before you, looking at Mando’s helmet which was tilted down, aimed towards the child. The moment felt so domestic, like you three were just a little family. You and Din parenting the kid, living life traveling through the galaxy, not because you had to run but because you wanted to. You could’ve easily let yourself drift into the daydream but shook it away. That was a reality a person like you could never have. A reality that Din deserved and maybe could have one day, but with someone else. Someone who was worthy of a man like him. 

“Well, I am so glad you and the kid are going to take a trip down memory lane here but I am going to die from the heat.” You heard the Mandalorian chuckle as his hands reached out to grab the child. You handed him over to his dad’s arms, which the kid seemed to very pleased about. You could tell that the kid liked his father’s embrace, even though most of his body was covered in beskar. He liked to be held by Din and lately you had been wondering what that would feel like. For his strong arms to wrap around you. 

Lately you had been thinking a lot of things about the Mandalorian that you shouldn’t have.

“Didn’t you grow up on Jakku? That place is even hotter than here.” The words were said with a hint of sarcasm, as his helmet turned as if to said ‘duh’. 

“Yes but that was different.”

“How? Just take off some layers and you’ll be fine.” 

He said it very matter-of-factly and you supposed that was a reasonable thing for most people to do. Most of the time when you were on Jakku, outside working, you would only wear a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top with a work vest. Light layers that kept you cool and allowed your skin to be kissed by the sun as you worked away on a ship. You remembered spending hours upon hours outsides, never being bothered once by the heat and desert environment. 

But things were different. You had lived on Yungbrii for so long now that you were used to the cold. And you always wore your sweater, with a jacket over it. Taking those off weren’t an option anymore. Wearing just the tank top underneath them wasn’t an luxury you could afford anymore. 

“I have a shirt you can borrow if you need to.” Din broke your train of thought with the offer.

An offer that nearly made you lose it. You had never once thought of wearing a piece of Din’s clothing. Hadn’t ever crossed your mind or been mentioned. And you knew he was only offering it because the temperature outside, no other reason. Not because he wanted to see you in his clothing or anything like that. Just to be kind.  But, the thought of you wearing a shirt of Dins, something his skin had touched and probably smelled like him and would probably swallow you... made you feel some things. And a part of you really, really wanted to take him up on the offer. But that would show too much skin.

“No!” You had inadvertently yelled it out, watching as Mando’s helmet whipped up from the kid to you. “I mean... uh, yeah. No thanks. I’m good.”

“Uh, okay. Yeah.” 

An awkward silence filled the room until the kid let out a loud giggle. You swear the little womp rat could tell when you had just done some dumb shit and always thought it was the funniest thing in the whole damn galaxy. You scrunched up your nose as the kids big black eyes looked up at you and you turned to look away from him and Din. 

You needed to ease the tension. “Don’t you get hot in the giant tin can of yours?” 

You couldn’t tell if Din found the tin can jokes funny or insulting, but every-time you made them he let out a little huff, one you couldn’t decipher as a laugh or a sigh. It was one of those times you wished you could see him face. You had gotten pretty used to reading him, despite the helmet and his quiet demeanor. But times like these you wish you could see an expression, an eyebrow raise, a smile, anything. “Sometimes.”

“I’d imagine you are sweating buckets under there.” You walked towards the bag you had stuffed in a corner of Din’s ship, reaching into it to grab your father’s box of tools. The cool touch of the metal against your fingers made a pain spread throughout your whole body. The tools were the only thing you had left of him. The only reminder that he had existed and that he had been there for you every day. The only reminder of the hours he spent teaching you about ships and how to fix them, ever since you were only a tiny little girl. Your mother thought you would be preoccupied with more feminine things. But even at a young age, you loved the feel of metal against your fingers, the sweat that would collect on your brow from the sun, the ache of your muscles from a hard days work. It gave you purpose, meaning. It was a way to help and to contribute. And all you had ever wanted to do was help your family, even in the end. 

But you had failed to do that.

You heard the clanking of Din’s boots behind you and he stopped behind you, bending down at the knees. If he didn’t have his helmet on, you probably could have felt his breath on the back of your neck, but now you only heard the sound of his breathing through the modulator. It was faint but it was there. “You okay?”

You could of broke down sobbing at the moment. At your father’s tools in your hand and Din’s worry about you. But, instead you shook your head and stood up, looking down at him still bent down. “I’m getting there.”

And it was true. For the first time in years, you felt like maybe one day you would be okay. That the pain wouldn’t be so gut-wrenching every day.

And that was only because of Din.

“I should probably get started on fixing the ship.” You gave the Mandalorian, your Mandalorian, a small smile and walked past him, outside of the ship.

_____________________________________

It was so hot.

You weren’t used to the heat anymore. You weren’t used to the way your sweat would seep out of every pore, drenching your clothes. You weren’t used to the fatigue that came along with a hard day’s work in the sun. And the sweater and jacket probably weren’t helping. But no way in hell were you going to take them off. No one was even around but Din kept walking back outside to check on you, probably cause your stupid ass was dying of heat exhaustion. 

Your sweater clung to your skin, the jacket slightly more durable but still trapping your body heat. You bent over a panel on the Razor Crest’s side, a tool tightly grasped in your hand as you worked away. The other hand reached up to wipe away at your forehead continuously. 

“You are going to kill yourself out here.”

Something you hated about the Mandalorian was that he could be so quiet sometimes and sneak up on you. The man was always covered in metal and you would think you would hear him from a mile away, but he could come up behind you without letting out a peep. Which made sense considering his job but it was so unnerving.

You jumped, turning to look at Din, who stood with his hands on his hips and his helmet tilted. “You look like shit.” The words were said gruffly, with an air of annoyance.

“Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” You were almost too tired and hot to let the joke out, but you didn’t want Din to know how horrible you felt. Which was probably useless because you couldn’t even see yourself and knew Din was in fact correct: you did look like shit. Your skin was flushed red, your hair pulled into a ponytail but tiny wisps of hair clung to your head, wet from perspiration. 

“You need to take off some layers. You are overheating.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“My helmet can tell your internal body temperature.”

Of course it can. “Well that feels invasive.”

Din let out a loud sigh at that, one that was loud and clear through the modulator. You were driving him crazy but he didn’t understand. “You need to take them off.”

“Nope.” You let your lips pop out the word, going to turn away when you felt Din’s hand reach out and grab your arm. He turned you back to face him, stepping even closer.

“If you don’t take off your jacket and sweater, I will.”

And that is when you realized that everything the Mandalorian says sounds 20x more sexual than it ever should.

You thanked the Maker that your face was already a bright red from the sun and tried your best to not start choking on your own saliva from the words. On the list of things you thought Din Djarin would say to you, you never would have put ‘threatening to take your clothes off’. 

You blamed the modulator. Something about the modulator made his deep, raspy words sound sexier than they had any right to (not that you frequently thought that Din’s voice sounded sexy, because that would be weird and inappropriate).  And Din was saying this to try to convince you to stop killing yourself in this unbearable heat, but your stomach still clenched at the threat. 

Damn you, Din Djarin. You had to come up with a good come back. Something so he knew his words hadn’t effected you. 

“Well, Din, if you wanted to see me undressed this badly, you should of asked sooner.”

You expected Din to step back, mumbling some lame apology and leaving you be but your Mandalorian was much more determined than you realized. “Sweet girl, no snarky response is going to make me leave this be. You are gonna die out here.”

Oh boy. Of course he said sweet girl. He had said it once last night while you had a conversation (the same conversation where you had told him a little about your family) and you had lamely teased him about flirting. Maybe because you were secretly hoping he was flirting. And you were afraid you had scared him away from ever calling you that again, because you honestly loved the way it sounded. Sweet girl. It was such a sweet thing, made so much sense that Din would call you that. It made you feel special and made your hands tremble. 

Oh, now you had to come up with something really good. Because not only was Din trying to get your to take your sweater off, but now you swear the man was teasing you. There was no way he had no clue what he was doing. And you were the only one allowed to tease people here. So you had to come back with something really snarky, really teasing, that way he’d leave you alone and let you breathe.

But he didn’t give you time to do that because his gloved fingers started reaching for the shoulders of your jacket, so he could take it off of you. And while you were sure in any other situation, if you were any other person with any other life, you maybe just might of let Din continue, you had to stop it.

“I’ll take it off!” you yelled out.

Din ripped his hands away from you, looking down at them for a split second before dropping them down to his sides. He stepped back slowly, like he was unsure what to say or what to do with the tension in the environment. 

“I’ll take them off. But you can’t be out here. You need to stay in the ship.” You said the words slowly and watched as the Mandalorian nodded his head in response, before turning away without another word. 

You were confused. You didn’t know what had just happened. You didn’t know if the Mandalorian was angry with you or if he was reeling from what had just happened like you were. But you didn’t give yourself much more time to think before you took the jacket off, letting it drop to the ground. Your fingers reached for the hem of your sweater and with a shakey breath and one more look around your surroundings, you lifted the fabric over your head. Leaving you only in a jankily cut tank top, with the scars littered on your back and arms exposed. The very scars you had avoided looking at were out for the world to see for the first time since you got them.

________________________________________

The child was most definitely a womp rat. 

It was like he knew when it was not the time to mess around, and decided to mess around. You had been bent down, working away at a panel mindlessly, not paying much attention to your surroundings. You were so close to being done and were consumed in the final bits of work. And the child had made his way out of the ship, waddling up behind you, reaching for you without you being aware of it. You were lost in the gruel of work, in the warm feeling of the sun on your skin. You didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. Until you head the footsteps. 

You flipped around, looking over to the child and then hearing the Mandalorians boots pound on the ramp leading outside. The child let out a squeak at the sight of his dad and it was too late. Din’s head whipped to look over right as your turned around, desperately reaching for your jacket or sweater to cover your skin. You knew it wasn’t on purpose. You knew the kid had probably escaped and Din was just worried about him leaving the ship. You knew he was just worried about the kids whereabouts. It wasn’t malicious or an excuse to look. It was just happenstance but it was still too late. 

“I’m sorry. The kid was napping and I turned around and then he disappeared and-” You heard the abrupt pause in his babbling and knew he saw. Knew he saw the dozens of marks on your back and arms that faced him. Saw the scars that were an almost white color but still very apparent. Saw the scars you so desperately tried to cover. 

You slowly turned around, feeling your chest cave as this part of you was exposed. Tears pricked at your eyes as you saw Din look at you. The child cooed with curiosity, not quite understanding the gravity of the moment. “Who did this to you?”

You heard the tone of his voice loud and clear. He was angry and sounded like a man ready to kill. You knew he wouldn’t like seeing it but even you didn’t understand how much this hurt Din to see. To see his sweet one so hurt and scarred. To see that someone did something so awful to you, something you would always keep as a reminder. “Din-”

“Tell me who.” He wasn’t messing around. He didn’t want to hear you try to calm him or change the conversation. He wanted to know who was responsible for your pain.

You let out a sigh. “Let’s go inside.” 

You picked up the kid, cursing him mentally for being so curious, and your other hand reached for your box of tools until you saw the Mandalorian reach for them. He followed you as you walked up the ramp, into the Razor Crest. You set the child into his little hammock, handing him one of his small toys to keep him preoccupied as the Mandalorian closed the hatch, locking out the outside world. The world that had caused you and him so much pain. You were back in your ship, your bubble where there was joy and love.

“Who did that to you?” He repeated, more evenly but you still heard the rage dripping off his words. His fists were clenched tightly and his helmet was aimed right towards you. You couldn’t see his eyes but you felt like they were burning into your skin.

“This Imperial leader...” You took a deep breath in and out before continuing. “When they found my family, my grandmother wasn’t anywhere around. And they wanted her most. So, they tortured me, hoping I would give up her location. But, I didn’t know and now... I’ve got this ugly, horrible reminder.”

The air was heavy around you as a single tear slipped out. Din didn’t say anything or move. Even the child sat quietly in his hammock, big eyes staring at the two of you. You went to finally put your sweater on when Din finally interrupted with a small “Wait.”

You looked up at the man in front of you. Din brought his hands together, slowing taking off one of his gloves finger by finger until he switched to take the other off. “Do you trust me?” 

You didn’t have to think about it. You just responded with a nod of the head and watched as Din dropped the gloves and slowly stepped towards you, like you were an injured animal he didn’t want to scare away. You still held the sleeve of your sweater limply in one hand, the rest of the fabric resting on the floor of the ship. Part of you still wanted to crawl into it, hide yourself, and pretend Din hadn’t seen a thing. But it was too late for that and in all honesty, you trusted Din Djarin so much. It had only been a matter of maybe a few months since you had joined him and the kid. But it felt so much longer. It had been the first time in so long that you felt safe and cared about, and you didn’t know how Din felt but you hope he shared the same feelings.

You almost gasped when Din’s hand reached out to grab your arm. It was surprisingly gentle, his fingers felt like they were just barely holding on to you. His fingertips were calloused but not rough. They gently traced the bare skin of your arm, one hand holding your wrist and the other beginning to dance along your skin. Din raised his helmet to look at you quickly and you nodded, letting him know what he was doing was okay. Not just okay, but welcomed. Din’s helmet turned back down to your arm as he watched his fingers trace the warm, sun kissed flesh.

Din’s fingers ran up the length of your arm, going from the forearm to your bicep. He moved your wrist slowly in the opposite direction, wanting you to turn around. You slowly turned, no longer facing the Mandalorian. His hands dropped from your arms and part of you wanted to whine at the lost of contact. But then Din moved your hair gently in front of your shoulders and you knew he now had a complete view of your back, besides the flimsy fabric of your tank top. His fingers returned to your skin, this time each one  to each of your shoulders. You closed your eyes, trying to hold back tears, as you felt one of Din’s fingers trace one of your scars. It sent a spark through your body. His touch was so gentle and so kind and it was like he was purifying the marks, no longer making them something so ugly and twisted. The skin to skin contact was minimal, but so electrifying and warm. It made your whole chest feel warm and you realized you had never had someone do something for this like you. You never had someone take your broken pieces and try to make you whole. Nobody had ever treated you so gently because you didn’t let this part of you show. 

But with Din it was so easy to. And so safe. 

“Sweet girl...” He barely whispered the words, but you heard them as he continued to work all over your back. 

A tear slipped down your cheek at the name, the name he made for you. A name you didn’t have to ask for and didn’t expect. But one he gave you, to make you feel cared for because that you deserved. And Din knew that. 

“Din...” You didn’t really have anything to say but you just wanted to feel his name slip from your lips. It was so comforting.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

___________________________________

Din sat in the cockpit with the child in the seat beside him, bundled up and asleep, as she took a shower. His hands were still shaking and his gloves were back on but his fingers felt like they were burning. He had stood there, probably for a good hour, just touching her skin. He didn’t even know why he had done it. Why that had seemed like a good idea for him to do. For all he knew, the last thing in the world she wanted was for him to touch him. But, as soon as he grabbed onto her skin with his bare hands, he felt himself melt into and felt like maybe she had too. 

The moment had been so vulnerable. She stood there, scars and all, and let herself be consoled by him. And he was vulnerable too. He exposed himself a little bit to her, letting himself delve into every part of her. She was so soft but so strong. He never doubted once her ability to protect herself and the kid. He didn’t think she was fragile. He just saw she was a human being, one who needed to be shown how perfect they were. How beautiful they were.

Because, Maker, she was so beautiful to him. Every part of her was perfect to him. And all he wanted was to show her that.

His train of thought was broken as he turned his head, listening as she made her way up the ladder to the cockpit. She stepped in and Din swore he could have stayed in this moment forever.

"I, uh, hope you don’t mind. I borrowed one of your shirts.”

Din didn’t mind at all. The sight of her in one of his shirts nearly gave him a heart attack but he still didn’t mind. The shirt was slightly too big on her, swallowing most of her midsection but fell by her thighs. Her hair was still damp from her shower and he was used to it being up in a pony tail. But now it fell down her shoulders and back. 

He realized he was staring at her and cleared his throat quickly. “No. Not at all.” He gave her a small smile without even thinking about the helmet blocking his face and felt silly. She couldn’t see his face but he could look at her whenever he wanted, bask in her beauty and warmth. 

“So, where are we going now?”

When she had been showering, Din had left Arvala-7 and put the Crest into hyperdrive. He had something that he wanted to do. Something he felt he needed to do. “Navarro.”

Her eyebrows scrunched up a little, in a way that Din adored. “Why Navarro?”

“I have something I have to do there. It will just be a quick stop.” He hoped his answer left little room for questions or further conversation and was content when she nodded and walked closer to him. 

“Okay.” She paused, looking over at the sleeping child and smiled at the sight. Din loved seeing her with the kid. She was tough but with the kid, she was so maternal. He could see how much they loved each other. It made him so happy that the kid had someone else beside him, someone who he could look at as a mother. “I should probably get him to bed.”

“Yeah. You need some sleep too. You worked hard today.”

“It was honestly kind of nice, working on the ship. Felt like the old days a little.” Her gaze drifted back to him, a warm smile still on her face. “Din, I just wanted to say-” She paused, seeming to fumble for words but he stopped her.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Din saw her turn, arms reaching out for the child when she suddenly dropped them and turned around. She stood in front of Din, looking down at his helmet which was tilted up at her. She paused before slowly lowering her head down, laying her forehead against his helmet with eyes closed. Din could tell she was shaking a little but he just reached forward and grabbed her wrist. His thumb drew small circles.

Din was pretty certain that she didn’t know what a keldabe kiss was or the importance of it. As far as he was aware, she had a very limited knowledge of Mandalorians and was always willing to learn. But her not being aware of how monumental this moment was for Din was almost even better. The fact that she was making him feel so cherished without realizing showed how good of a person she truly was.

She eventually pulled away with a shy smile and Din dropped her wrist lightly. She turned around, grabbing the bundle the child was in, and turned towards him one last time. “Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, sweet one.”

Din watched as she walked away with the kid in her arms, going down to the hull of the Crest. And that was when he realized something.

This must be what falling in love feels like. 

[joel-millerr]

The Change

Chaper Two of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9 K

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence. there is a scene towards the end that isn't exactly torture, but it is pretty graphic so please read with caution!, a bit of angst, and grief (talking about loss).... if there’s anything I missed please let me know so I can update it

Summary: You and Mando on your way to Nevarro so he can collect the bounty on your head but something happens, forcing you to land on another planet, and you begin seeing him in another light

Hope you guys like it!! 

Tagged: @1800-fight-me​🧡 // @tillytheslytherin​🧡

As the Mandalorian’s ship—Razor Crest, climbs higher and higher into the sky, the sun’s beginning to rise over the city. Taking one last look at the capital, you mentally add “getting snatched by a bounty hunter” to the list of things you hate about Kijimi.

Maker, the silence in the cockpit is deafening. The Mandalorian doesn’t acknowledge you at all, his helmet glued to the windshield of the ship. You think about saying something, anything to break the awkward tension that seems to be multiplying in the small area of the cockpit, but from the very short time you’ve been with him, you don’t get the impression that he likes to talk. So awkward silence it is.

Once in the atmosphere, the Mandalorian prepares to make the jump to hyperspace. The stars’ light twinkles off his chrome helmet, and you’re too busy staring at him to notice another ship zip across the windshield, and then within seconds, the radar’s alarm is blaring through the cockpit. The shrill sound is piercing your ears and your eyes wrench shut, as if to try to block the noise out.

Two green beams of light appear out of nowhere, skimming the ship’s hull, and as the enemy spacecraft comes back into your peripheral for just a few seconds, your jaw nearly drops to the floor when you recognize whose ship it is.

It’s your ship. Someone is inside your ship, shooting at you. “That’s my ship!” You shriek, jumping to your feet and quickly making your way to the window. The Mandalorian says nothing in response, just letting out a couple of grunts and huffs. Your ship continues to bombard you with green beams, but the hunter is sharp enough to evade each shot. The jolts cause you to lose balance, and because your hands are still bound, it becomes more difficult for you to keep yourself upright without falling over onto the control panel.

“Get back in your seat,” The Mandalorian says through his visor. His voice is calm but stern. If he was panicking at all, his voice doesn’t give you the slightest suspicion.

You open your mouth to protest, to beg him not to shoot your ship down, to plead with him, but you know it would be a battle you couldn’t possibly win. Fumbling back into the seat to his right, a shot narrowly misses one of the thrusters and hits just above the belly of the ship. It sends you flying out of the seat, and you land on the ground hard, your shoulder taking the brute of the hit.

You hear two more blasts explode against the ship. The Crest is taking a lot of damage right now, but the Mandalorian manages to stay quiet during the entire ordeal.

“Let her go, Mandalorian.” A distorted voice comes through the radio.

Time seems to stop. The sirens still blaring through the cockpit penetrate your ears less and less until they are just a bunch of muffled clamors. That voice can only be from one person. The only other person in this galaxy that knows how to hijack your ship, and actually be able to fly it.

Tye.

Without any warning, the Crest begins a steep incline, and just as you’re finally able to seat yourself back in the chair, pulling the seatbelt across your torso and clicking it into place, the Crest flips upside down. If it weren’t for you being strapped in, you’d be flailing around the cockpit. The ship does a full circle before straightening out right behind your ship. The Mandalorian begins firing, three shots immediately pierce the hull’s integrity. The dark nothingness of space is suddenly luminated by a giant inferno; your ship begins plummeting back down towards Kijimi. You want to scream, to rush over to the pilot’s seat and scream into the radio hoping Tye would respond, but your body feels weighed down, like your limbs refuse to work.

As you watch your ship plummet towards the city, life drains from your body. For a moment, everything is still and fast at the same time. You had come to terms with your fate, you aren’t an optimist—not anymore anyway, but when you saw your ship, a flame—no, a glint of hope started to build in your bones. Maybe the Maker was giving you another chance. You were dead wrong.

Once the blaring alarm quiets, the Mandalorian initiates the jump sequence. The whole thing is over within minutes.

The Crest doesn’t spend much time in hyperspace though, because now the hyperdrive alarm is blaring again and you’re both launched right out, the ship spiraling in open atmosphere. The Mandalorian swears under his breath and begins frantically pressing buttons in an attempt to get you back into hyperspace. Despite his efforts, he’s unable to make the jump.

“Dank farrik,” The vocoder comes out strained.

“One of the shots must have damaged the hyperdrive.” You find yourself saying.

“Yes.” Is all you get.

He changes course and begins descending towards a planet you’ve never seen before. From space, the planet looks mostly swamp green, nothing particularly breathtaking or enticing.

“What is that?” You’re not really expecting an answer, just asking out loud, and you’re surprised because he actually answers you this time.

“Sorgan.”

You’ve heard of Sorgan. Some of your crew had resided on the planet since there was a spice smuggling base located there. Given the fact that Sorgan was a relatively unobtrusive planet, it was smart idea to put a camp. It was mostly covered in thick, dense forest which enabled the camp to be hidden fairly easily. Landing on Sorgan was a blessing in disguise. You could possibly send a message to the base there and maybe, just maybe, get rescued. Almost immediately you could feel excitement tingle your nerves. Okay, maybe you hadn’t lost.

Entering Sorgan airspace, the Mandalorian searches for a forest glade. It doesn’t take long for him to spot a small clearing just at the edge of a foliage of massive pine. He descends slowly, making sure not to hit any trees on the way down. You can’t help but be impressed by his flying abilities. He pilots like it is second nature to him. Always maintaining his cool demeanor, even if he is being shot at. Despite the fact that you resent him for possibly murdering the only person left you considered family and stealing your freedom, that aviator part of you is enthralled by the Mandalorian.

Once firmly landed, he cuts the engine and steps out of his seat.

“Stay here,” His voice is as deep as ever, not bothering to meet your eyes as he walks through the door to the cockpit and begins to descend down the ladder.

You linger in your chair for a few minutes, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. You’re not sure how much time you might have to send a message to your fellow smugglers, but you also don’t want to waste any more time waiting on him to come back. Fumbling slightly with your seatbelt, you all but leap towards the pilot’s chair to get to the radio. You finger toggles over the button to record your message. Why are you hesitating?

Chewing on your lip, and letting a deep breath exhale through your nose, you fight the urge to retreat back in your seat. Just as you’re about to record, you hear footsteps on the ladder behind you.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuck,” you curse under your breath and you scramble to get back to your seat without the Mandalorian seeing you. You hear his boots hit the metal floor just as your butt hits the chair. The beskar helmet peaks through the doorway of the cockpit as if he’s just checking to see if you followed his orders.

“No, I haven’t moved,” you say to him, annoyingly.

“Come down.” He instructs, turning on his heel and already making his way down the rungs of the ladder.

“Why?”

The Mandalorian stops in his tracks, “Because I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re in the cockpit.”

You really don’t want to go down there. Not because you’re scared he’ll throw your ass in carbonite, but because if he gets you down there, you’ll have no reason to get back up here and send out a message to any smuggler who might want to help you.  

“You can trust me.” It’s a desperate attempt. Usually you can use your charm to bend others to your will, but the Mandalorian is unlike anyone you’ve ever met. You already know it won’t work.

“No.”

Pressing your hands down on your knees, you push yourself to your feet. You eye the control panel one last time and actually consider locking yourself in the bridge just long enough to get a message out. While the idea becomes more and more tempting by the second, you need to be smart about this. If you plan on escaping or getting a message out, it has to be perfectly timed and planned. It didn’t take him long to catch you, and you need to be a lot smarter the next time around.

So you head down the ladder like he told you to. The ramp is down, and your feet irk to run down the ridge and escape into the lush forest in front of you. Every instinct inside of you is screaming to run, to take your chances and hope to lose him in the fog of the greenery, but you have no idea where you are on this planet. You have no idea if the camp is relatively close to you or not. If you ran now, you’d have no supplies, no sense of direction, never mind the fact that your hands are still bound.

First things first then; get him to release the shackles.

He’s currently inspecting the damage Tye inflicted on the Crest. The hull of the ship is smoking, and there’s a few new dents on the sides of the ship, but there isn’t any damage that a couple days’ worth of work wouldn’t be able to fix. Luckily for you, that gives you a couple days to think of the best way to take off.

Not entirely sure where to go, you stay by the ladder, standing like an awkward kid waiting to be told what to do.

The Crest is much bigger than you thought it was. Most of the space inside the ship is housing the carbonite chamber with the three other companions you’re convinced you’ll end up joining. Next to the chamber is what you assume is a locker full of armory. You make a mental note to raid that locker before your escape. To your left, there’s a narrow, small cubicle that could only be used for sleep. Even though the door is closed, you can tell that it’s already too cramped for the Mandalorian, and you wonder how he can fit in such a tiny space.

Honestly, you’re more concerned about whether or not he’s ever had anyone in there with him. Surely if the space is too small for him, then he couldn’t possibly have had any lovers in there with him, right? Heat begins to coil in your stomach and the thought of that makes you shift in your stance. You really shouldn’t be thinking of whether or not the Mandalorian’s fucked anybody in his poor excuse of a bed, but you can’t help yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve had the pleasure of being with a man or even taken care of yourself and it doesn’t help that the Mandalorian exudes this ferocious confidence and control. Does that make you wonder if he’d still as controlling when he’s balls deep inside you? Would be still be quiet like he is now, or would he be a babbling mess?

“Hey.” The voice pulls you out of your thoughts and causes you to jump.

The Mandalorian is standing just arms distance away from you, and stars, he is an absolute sight. Built like a monument—tall, firm and fucking intimidating. In your everyday life, you always walked with your head held high, refusing to show any weakness, but right now? Your head is down, only peering up at him through hooded lids. Something about the Mandalorian scratches a primal instinct in you that you’ve only observed in animals. Predator, prey—you’re giving up control, and what’s worse is that you actually like it. When it came to lovers, you had always been the dominant one. Every run you’ve made since you can remember, you were the one calling the shots, ordering your comrades around, but in the very short time you’ve known the Mandalorian, you can tell he likes control, and order.

You should hate him. You shouldn’t feel this kind of attraction for him, but despite your efforts, it’s there. You areattracted to him—he basically owns you now; it definitely shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does.

“Sorry?” You manage to choke out. Your throat is bone dry and Maker, you swear if he was any closer, he’d be able to hear your heart fucking hammering in your chest. His gloved hand reaches out and grabs the binds on your wrists. It’s not even his fucking bare hand but it has you holding back a moan. You wrench your eyes shut hoping it will alleviate some of the tension building between your legs.

“I’m going to unbind you,” The voice behind the helmet begins to say. “But if you run, I will catch you again and I won’t hesitate to throw your ass in carbonite. Do you understand?” It comes our breathy, almost like being this close to you is affecting him the same way it’s affecting you.

You can’t find any words, now. All you can do is nod slowly because your mind is on fucking fire being this close to him and you want to rip off that helmet and crush your lips together but also you want to drop to your fucking knees and show him how much he’s affecting you.

The grip on your wrists relaxes and he’s taking the binds and tossing them to the floor of the ship. You continue to stand just a few feet from each other. The visor is too dark to make out his eyes, and you curse the Maker for it. You’ve heard stories about Mandalorians. How they never take off their helmets in front of others, how they swear to the Creed to live a life of anonymity. You couldn’t possibly imagine living that way. It sounds incredibly restricting, but you do respect it. Everyone has their own beliefs in this world, and you aren’t one to judge another for the path they’ve chosen. Look at yourself, you were a nobody mechanic and then you became a spice smuggler. The path you’ve chosen isn’t exactly noble, so who are you to judge how the Mandalorians choose to live their lives?

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize he’s no inches away from your face. He’s halfway down the ramp when he calls you.

“Let’s go.”

You stumble for a couple steps and then pick up a small jog to catch up with him. The walk is a little uncomfortable now due to the slickness between your thighs, but you push through it.

“Where are we going?” You ask once you’re by his side. You look up at him but when he answers you, he keeps his attention peeled to the landscape in front of him.

“The hyperdrive was damaged.” His strides are much larger than yours, and you need to trot to keep up the pace. “I saw a town not too far from here. Hopefully there’ll be someone there that can help.”

You spot the town—barely a town, it’s just a couple of huts and then a bigger one at the centre. You wonder how anyone would choose to live here. It’s too quiet, too uneventful. There are a couple merchants selling krill—you know Sorgan exports a lot of krill and is basically the only way farmers make a living here.

You enter the common house—maybe it’s an inn, you’re not entirely sure. It’s nothing like the cantinas on Kijimi or Tatooine or any of the other planets you’ve visited. It’s ridiculously quiet and charming. There aren’t any patrons playing sabacc and screaming at one another when one of them loses, or others getting incredibly intoxicated on spotchka and brawling on the floor of the bar. Just a couple of humble farmers, some making a pit spot, and other locals keeping to themselves. It’s refreshing and also unnerving. You’re used to the commotion of more lively planet cantinas, staying in the shadows and observing, making sure you’d be ready in case someone tried to pick a fight with you. There’s no need for that here. Not only does everyone in this place look completely harmless, but you’ve also got a fucking Mandalorian on your left, and you doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try to fight him.

Unlike your choice to sit in the back of the common house, the Mandalorian chooses a table smack in the middle of the room. That’s the difference between a Mandalorian and a smuggler. You would rather choose a quiet place to sit, not drawing any attention to yourself. He—on the other hand, doesn’t put that much thought into where they should sit. Smugglers are always being hunted. Mandalorians? No one wants to fight them.

Once seated, you tense immediately. There are voices behind you, and not being able to keep track of what they’re saying, or if they move really distresses you. Granted, you doubt anyone here has a mean bone in their body, but you stay on edge regardless.

One of the women behind the counter takes notice of your arrival. Patting her hands clean on her apron, she walks over to you.

“Can I interest you in anything, travelers?” She asks, all smiles.

Her immediate kindness puts you at ease—slightly.

Before you can ask for some spotchka, the Mandalorian’s vocoder cuts through the helmet.

“Is there anyone here that can repair a ship?”

Her brows pull together tightly, pressing a finger to her chin. “Hmm… I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Sorgan is a farming planet, and we don’t get many visitors around here.”

He sighs, and you peek down from the woman standing over you to see his fist ball up on the table. “Fine.” It comes out strained, like it’s taking all his strength not to blow up and scream.

“Would you like anything else?” She asks again. “Maybe something for you, ma’am?” Shifting her body to face you, you open your mouth to answer, but the Mandalorian speaks first. “No, thank you.”

You whip your head to face him. You may be a quarry, but you still have ­some rights.

“Actually,” You point out, still looking at the helmet that burns right into you. “I’d like a bottle of your finest spotchka, please.”

He tilts his head just enough for you to notice, fist still balled up on the table. The lady seems to take notice of the tension, but she says nothing further. She simply nods and retreats to the bar. Returning swiftly with a bottle in one hand—two cups in the other, she places them between you two. You reach into the side thigh pocket of your pants and pull out a handful of credits and place them in her hand. She nods in gratitude. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“Thank you.” The hunter grits through his teeth.

Immediately you pour yourself a glass and throw it back, a couple droplets leaking from the corners of your mouth. Using the back of your hand, you wipe your mouth clean. You know you’ll probably regret the little stunt you just pulled, but it’s been a long fucking day and you just want to relax for a bit.

Okay, so maybe you’re not entirely relaxed because there’s a Mandalorian just a few feet away from that seems to be getting more and more cross the longer you stay in the common house, but you also want to see how far you can press him before he snaps. Besides, he shot down your ship. You deserve this.

Three more glasses of spotchka later, and you’re feeling warm inside. The kind of warm that lowers your defenses and makes you giggle at everything. The kind of warmth that releases the tension that’s nestled in the deepest corners of your body, and makes your vision a little fuzzy. It’s probably early evening now, because the common house is getting livelier. They must be coming in for a meal.

“Get up,” The Mandalorian orders, rising to his feet.

“So soon?” You pout. You’re definitely feeling the effects of the spotchka.

“We’ve wasted enough time here. Now get up, we’re leaving.”

Normally, you’d fight till your last breath, but with the alcohol swimming in your blood, your inhibitions are lowered, and you’re way too relaxed to actually get your brain to fight back. Besides, there’s barely any spotchka left and you don’t have any more credits to spend.

Getting to your feet is a little bit of a struggle. Once standing up, the room starts spinning. Not enough to completely knock you off balance, but enough to make it difficult to stand without swaying. Turning on his heel, the Mandalorian heads for the door, cape mimicking his movements. Your legs aren’t moving as fast as you’d like them too, and the spotchka is really getting to your head, now. You drank a lot more than you should have.

Luckily you’re able to catch up to him, somewhat out of breath though. He doesn’t say anything to you—no surprise there. As you stumble through the forest, there’s a gentle breeze in the air. Tree branches creak as the wind passes through, and stray hairs from your ponytail brush across your flushed cheeks. You’re too preoccupied with enjoying the clean, fresh air to notice he’s now a couple feet ahead of you. The cape attached to his armour flows in the gentle breeze. Stars, you’re completely captivated by him. By the way he carries himself, like there’s not a shred of self-doubt behind that armor, and you want to know everything about him. Now that you’re pretty drunk, the thoughts you pushed away can roam freely in your mind.  When was the last time he took off that helmet? Why did he—a Mandalorian, decide to be a bounty hunter? How many quarries has he captured in his life? How old is he? Are Mandalorians allowed to have sex with non-Mandalorians? Your mind is coming up with an endless number of questions, but you never find the strength to ask.

“You know, you could have asked me to help with the ship,” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. The Mandalorian stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him. Once you’re at his side, he turns his head to look in your direction.

“What?” Deep, rough, and somewhat irritable.

Your shoulders shoot up and down twice, body swaying with the breeze. “I’m a mechanic.”

“Yeah.” He says, brushing off yours words and resuming his tread.

“No, seriously.” Chasing after him, you want to reach out and grab hold of his arm, but you catch yourself before you do.

“Just how much spotchka did you drink?” He taunts, voice condensing like he’s scolding a child.

“I… don’t know.” Holy maker, did you drink an entire bottle to yourself?

The Mandalorian actually scoffs at you. If you could see his face, you’re certain he’d be rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, well I used to be.” You clarify, still struggling to keep up with his gigantic strides. Kriff how fast does he walk? “Can you just stop walking for a second, please?”

“No.”

You let out a loud, childish groan. At this point you basically have to run to keep up with the hunk of metal heading back to his ship.

“I used to repair ships with my father on Tatooine.” Your tone is breathy, your lungs trying to get as much fresh air as possible.

This makes him pause. Turning around, the ‘T’ of his visor looking directly at you. Stopping at arm’s-length away from him, you bend forward, hands resting on your knees. He gives you time to regulate your breathing.

“I can fix the hyperdrive. I’ve been doing it since I can remember.” You try to assure him. You don’t even know why you’re offering your help. The longer it takes to fix, the longer your freedom lasts, but the alcohol has made you soft, more accommodating. Seeming to come out of nowhere, your vision becomes extremely blurry. You swear there’s now two Mandalorians in front of you. Blinking profusely, your eyesight doesn’t clear. You feel like you’re floating while simultaneously being pulled to the ground. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you feel your limbs cave in, and everything gets dark.

The sound of crackling fire wakes you up. It must be late, because the fire is the only source of light. How did you get here? The last thing you remember was walking through thick forest with the Mandalorian and now you’re laying by a fire, back near the Crest. You can’t remember the last time you actually passed out from drinking so much. The spotchka here has to be stronger than any other time you’ve had it. You can handle your drink, and this is downright embarrassing.

Wait, did he actually carry you back to the ship? Despite the little stunt you pulled back at the common house? He could have easily thrown you into carbonite once you both got back to the ship and you wouldn’t have even known it, but for some reason, he chose not to. You want to ask him—to show your appreciation, but you hesitate. Maybe just letting it slide is the right course of action.

Propping yourself on your elbows, you see the Mandalorian sitting on an old, mossy stump. There’s something between his legs, but you can’t make out its features through the fire. Pushing yourself to your feet, you notice another stump just to your right. He must have put it there for you to sit once you woke up. You have a pounding headache, but the fire’s warmth helps a little.

You can now make out a few more details about the creature sat between the Mandalorian’s feet. It looks like a child, but you can’t be sure. Your eyes must be deceiving you because it appears to be green, the type of green you’ve only ever seen on the plains of Naboo.

Stars, its ears. They’re massive, just like its eyes. Your mouth curls into a smile. It’s adorable. You’ve never been partial to kids. There was never something inside of you that longed for a child, or to take care of one, but this little thing at the Mandalorian’s feet is making you rethink anything negative you’ve ever said about babies.

“What…is that?” You ask as you sit down on the stump he placed for you.

From the embers of the fire, you see the little thing’s eyes find you and it coos. Kriff, he’s so fucking cute.

“He’s a foundling.” Oh, so it’s a ‘he’.

You wait for him to explain, but the Mandalorian isn’t one to talk or elaborate unless directly addressed or absolutely necessary. Continuing to examine the child from a distance, it—no, he, is also looking at you, almost like he’s studying you as well.

“How did he come into your care?”

“He was a quarry,” His voice is quiet, the modulator distorting his tone to make it raspier than usual.

“You haven’t delivered him yet?”

Your eyes shift between the man in armor across the fire from you, and the small green alien-looking child between his legs. The Child’s head tilts from side to side as he watches you, the reflection of the flames glistening in his big black eyes.

“I did.” He deadpans and leaves you to fill in the rest of the blanks.

You want to bore him to death with questions. Why did he go back for him? Does this mean he’s its father? How does he plan to raise a child being a bounty hunter? Does that mean this kid will also become a Mandalorian?

None of these questions actually come out of your mouth, though. Given the circumstances, you don’t think the Mandalorian even has a clue what he’ll do, and it’s not really your place to bombard him with your curiosity.

So, maybe this Mandalorian was different from the stories you’ve heard—not that you’ve heard much honestly other than them being amazing killers, but if he went back for the Child, then maybe there was a soft, kind heart under all that beskar.

“I can do it.” Your voice is just loud enough for him to hear you. You continue to stare into the flames, waiting to see if he’ll respond. He doesn’t, but that’s fine with you.  

You’re not entirely sure when you even fell asleep but when your eyes flutter open, you’re lying on the ground, back against the uneven terrain. Using the ground to push you up to your feet, you shake the dirt off your pants and begin stretching your back by twisting your torso until you hear a satisfying crack. Your mother used to scold you for cracking your back. “You’re going to hurt yourself one day,” she used to say. When you were a kid, you’d roll your eyes at her and then she’d give you a gentle but still stern slap across the arm, the kind of slap only a mother could get away with doing. You were never really one to listen to authority, so it’s a habit you never grew out of.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is beaming down on your skin, not a single cloud in sight. Sorgan is quite breathtaking, really. On most planets, no matter where you are, you can hear the commotion of city centres or see ships coming in and out of the atmosphere. Not on Sorgan, though. The only sounds you’re able to make out are tress swaying in the breeze, and the occasional bellow of the beasts in the forest.

The sound of the Child startles you. He’s at your feet, little arms extending out to grasp the material of your trousers. When did he get here? You crouch down and wave your index finger at him, little coos emitting from the green baby. His three-fingered hand wraps around your finger. This warm calmness comes over you, putting you at ease. Untensing all your muscles, your aches disappear, and the only thing that exists is you and the Child. You close your eyes, completely giving into the stillness. Maker, you swear you can hear the Child say something. Your eyes are still closed, and you don’t actually hear him say anything, but he is. You hear it in your mind—It’s faint and muffled, and you have to focus all your energy into narrowing down what he’s saying, and then it becomes as clear as day.

Grogu.  

“Good. You’re up.”

The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s headed straight for you, just as stoic as ever; the sun’s light ricocheting off the beskar. The Child’s grip slackens, and you straighten out to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze. Your breath hitches as he continues to make his way towards you. Something as simple as a walk shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. Shifting in your stance, you can’t help but notice the heat building in your lower abdomen. Stars, get a grip. He’s the enemy, you shouldn’t allow yourself to feel this.

Leaning over, he picks up the Child and holds him with one arm. Almost immediately, you observe the way the Child wraps his tiny hand around one of the Mandalorian’s gloved fingers. There’s no stopping the stupid, shit-eating grin that appears on your face.

“The hyperdrive.”

“Right.” You respond, the smile falls from your face and you stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. The Mandalorian turns his back to you and makes way for the Crest. You follow him like a lost puppy, keeping a couple feet distance between you and him.

Once inside, he sets the Child down on one of the cargo crates near the ladder leading up the cockpit. You head up the ladder first, and he quickly follows suit. To your left is a small cubby hole in the wall that accesses all the wiring to the hyperdrive. It’ll be a nightmare to crawl in and out of, but you offered your services to him, so you can’t turn back now.

“I’ll get straight to work, then.” Turning away from him, you crouch down to your knees to examine the damage. There are various wires that are disconnected and thrown around, smoke emitting from one of the panels hidden inside the wall, and looks just about as worse as it can get. You’ve never seen anything this bad, before. How the Kriff was he able to fly this ship in such a horrible state? You start by grabbing a blue and red wire that hang loosely off the wall. A bit of copper and aluminum cords are splitting at the end of the cable which makes you think they might have touched each other causing some kind short circuit. Shrugging off the idea, you start to work.

After working on the hyperdrive for a couple hours, you decide to take a break. Climbing down the ladder near the cockpit, there’s no sign of the Mandalorian or the Child. All of a sudden, you’re aware of how sticky your body feels. Dirty, grimy, and uncomfortable. Now would be the perfect time for a shower. You turn your head to the fresher behind you and consider taking one, but you don’t want to intrude. You’re still a quarry and you assume the Mandalorian wouldn’t appreciate you taking a shower in his refresher. On your walk to the common house yesterday, you had spotted a lake not too far away. Maybe you could take one there. Then again, if you were to venture off, he might think you’ve run off. Your eyes shift between the fresher and the outside.

“You can clean up in the fresher.” Despite his tone always been low and rough, it still startles you. You whip your neck to see the Mandalorian leaning against the wall of the ship. You swear he wasn’t there a second ago so to see him just a few metres away from you not only puzzles you, but sends immediate shockwaves to your cunt. You feel like you’re being stalked, and it shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. The Mandalorian is built like a goddamn Star Destroyer; one look at him and you’re instantly intimidated, almost scared. You’ve never met anyone who can be so big yet so quiet, so frightening yet also so caring. It’s actually quite impressive. From his demeanor, no one would be able to guess he’s got a fucking kid back in his ship.

At first you want to protest, not wanting to push any boundaries or make either of you feel uncomfortable, but you know he’ll end up winning any argument you try to make for yourself, so instead you give him a quick nod before turning on your heel to the refresher. You don’t turn back to see if the Mandalorian is still looking at you, but your cheeks feel red hot anyway.

The fresher is pretty small considering the size of the ship, but if he somehow manages to fit in here, you have no problem. The water is warm, and cascades over your skin, instantly relaxing you. It feels amazing until it suddenly doesn’t. Your arm is burning, it’s on fucking fire and then it hits you. Looking down at your arm, you see scorched skin and are reminded of your injury from… well you’re not quite sure how long it’s been since he captured you back on Kijimi. It’s maybe been two or three days since. In the same moment, you realize you never got to put any bacta spray on it to stop any kind of infection. The skin surrounding the wound is turning a deep green-purple shade. Not a good sign.

“Kriff…” You whisper. You were supposed to put some bacta on it once you got back to your ship but obviously, things went differently than you expected. You take the bar of soap sitting on one of the ledges inside the fresher and begin washing away the dirt and sweat from the last couple of days, being extra careful when cleaning the area around your injury. Realistically, you could stay here for hours, letting the warm water drip down your figure, completely soothing your sore muscles and calming your mind, but you don’t want to take up more water than necessary.

When you come out of the fresher, there’s a pile of clean clothes resting on the rungs of the ladder. Tilting your head at the garments in front of you, you take them in your hands and smile to yourself. He must have gone out while you were working on the ship and somehow was able to find you some clean clothes. You change quickly, out in the open, hoping he won’t walk in and see you—okay maybe you do kind of hope he’ll see you. Once you’re fully clothes, you’re pleasantly surprised to notice they fit you perfectly. The cargo pants hug your frame like a glove, and you can’t help but notice they make your ass look great. Your tunic snatches your waist and is low cut enough for just the smallest amount of cleavage to pop through.

Taking the ladder two steps at a time, you reach the top in record time. You can see the smooth convex of beskar in the pilot’s chair, so instead of immediately resuming your work, you poke your head into the doorway of the cockpit. The Child’s pram rests on the seat to your left. It’s closed which means he’s probably asleep in there.

“Thank you for the clothes…” You’re not sure what to call him, since neither of us have actually properly introduced yourselves. However, you’re sure he knows your name given there’s a bounty on your head.

He doesn’t turn to face you, just continues whatever he’s doing. “Mando,” He clarifies, somehow answering the question you were thinking. “And you’re welcome.”

You linger for a couple seconds, not entirely sure why. He’s not much of a talker, but you still want to hear his voice. Before you can conjure up with something to say, he breaks the silence.

“When will you be done?” There isn’t any annoyance in his tone, which is usually accompanied by that question. You heard it all the time when you worked back at the hangar. “Hey lady, when are you going to be done?”, “What the Kriff is taking so long?”. You’ve grown to let those condescending questions roll off your back, but the Mandalorian’s tone is surprisingly gentle. Maker, are you falling for the Mandalorian?

“Well,” You begin, taking a few steps into the cockpit. Your hand comes up and latches onto your forearm, squeezing it. “I noticed that the hyperdrive was only functioning at 50% capacity before it broke down completely, and I was going to ask if you wanted it back at 100% before we takeoff because that’ll take—”

“Just fix it enough for us to get back to Nevarro.” He interjects, the baritone coming out dry.

It catches you off-guard, but you’re quickly reminded once again that you aren’t just somebody fixing the ship. You are a prisoner, and he doesn’t actually owe you any more kindness. He was kind enough to let you live, let you clean yourself in his refresher, and give you clean clothes. You’re chewing on the flesh inside your cheek, wondering if there’s something else you should say, but nothing worth saying comes to mind. He must notice your presence still there, because he swivels the pilot’s chair to face you. You swallow the giant lump in your throat and shift in your stance.

“You’re hurt.”

You glance over to your arm and then back to the visor. “It’s nothing.”

Pressing down on his knees to stand, the Mandalorian stalks towards you. Nerves and arousal are pooling in your stomach, now. Your chest is heaving as he gets closer. Stopping just at arm’s length, a gloved hand reaches out and clasps just underneath your injured bicep. The touch makes you pull back, not because it hurts but because it feels too fucking amazing. You’re seeing stars and he’s barely even touched you. Mouth agape, your breathing is so fucking uneven.

“That’ll need more than just cauterizing in order for it to properly heal,” His hand now moves down, ever so gently caressing your elbow. Your head dips down, unable to look at him directly. It’s pathetic really. You’re usually a fairly strong-willed person, who doesn’t bend at the will of anybody. You stand tall, even despite your size. Others in the smuggling game have a huge respect for you and see you as a leader, but now you’re cowering under the Mandalorian. You’d obey every one of his commands if he ordered it. All the power you hold, your bad habit of resisting authority would vanish in an instant if he pushed you.

“There’s bacta spray in the medical kit near the armory. You should take care of that before it infects.”

Your brain is racing, and the ability to form words had completed disappeared. All you can offer is a barely noticeable nod. You want to stay in this moment for as long as you can. Just the two of you standing inches apart, the tension growing thicker and thicker in the small area of the cockpit. You wonder if he feels it, too. If he wishes for this intimate moment to last forever. Swallowing your nerves, your eyes shit from the floor up to the visor. Trying to gauge for some kind of reaction but even if he is affected by this, his body gives no sign of it. Must be all in your head, then.

The Mandalorian’s finally the one to break up your little moment. He lets go of your elbow and you fight back the moan that threatens to escape your lips. You want him to touch you again, anywhere and fucking everywhere. He sits back in the chair and rotates it towards the control panel, so his back is facing you again. You probably linger a little longer than you should before finally retreating back down the ladder to get the bacta spray.

Once the spray mists over the gash, you instantly feel relief. The strain you didn’t realize was still in your body dissipates and you let out a deep breath through your lips. Thank the Maker for bacta spray.

The next few days go by relatively fast. Despite the awkward/sexual tension that clearly exists between you and Mando, you’re able to endure it. The encounters don’t last that long anyway. Usually, he’ll ask you about the progress on the hyperdrive. The conversations don’t last particularly long, but it’s enough to work you up into a sweaty mess.

And if you’re being honest, you probably could have fixed the hyperdrive in two days. You’re a damn natural when it comes to repairs, and you’ve fixed hundreds of hyperdrives in worse shape believe it or not. But you’re were taking your sweet ass time, giving yourself more time to be with Mando. It’s silly and childish, but you truly enjoyed his company, even though the conversations are mostly one sided.

Unfortunately though, the job had to get done. Once Mando noticed the hyperdrive had been fixed to 65% capacity, he was satisfied enough with your work. He decided you’d spend one last night on Sorgan and then leave at first light.

You’re all sitting by the fire. The Child propped up on a stump between the two of you. The night is calm, not a single breeze passing through the trees. A clear sky showered in stars. Forgetting the fact that this is essentially your last night of “freedom”, you’re really loving this.

“Twenty thousand.”

You’re in the middle of sipping bone broth you bought off a merchant in town—with Mando’s credits, when his voice catches your attention. “Hmm?” You mumble, using the back of your hand to wipe the little dripples of soup that trinkle down your chin.

“You asked me how much your bounty was,” His helmet stares into the fire a few feet away from him. The orange hues reflecting off the beskar.

Your lips form a thin line. You didn’t know the New Republic had that kind of money to spend. Twenty thousand is a pretty generous bounty.

“Wow, that’s pretty high.” That’s actually really high. It’s hard to make an honest living, and the New Republic throwing around thousands of credits like that makes you uneasy. Instead of using that as an incentive for other to hunt criminals, it should be distributed to those less fortunate. The thought makes you chuckle to yourself. A smuggler explaining how a government should be run. How noble of you.

“I wasn’t born into this, you know…” Your voice trails off, unsure if Mando wants to hear you or not. The helmet turns in your direction, giving you permission to continue. The Child looks up at you and coos. Your eyes avert their gaze to stare into the flames.

Clearing your throat, you begin. “I was raised on Tatooine. My parents were lucky enough to own a hangar, so my dad worked there, and my mom was a seamstress. Just a couple of ordinary people.” You weren’t particularly less fortunate than anyone else in your town. Your belly was always full, and you always had clean clothes on your back. Most of the residents in your village weren’t as privileged but your parents were generous, offering what little excess they had was given those who couldn’t afford food or clean garments.

Early on, they taught you never to flaunt what you had, always be humble when speaking to others, and to always be respectful. You loved your parents more than you could say, and ever since they died, you shut off a part of yourself. Heartbroken and alone, losing yourself in work seemed like the only way to cope with the loss. The more sorrow you felt, the more work you forced on yourself. If it weren’t for Tye, you’re not sure if you would have been able to get through it.

And ever since then, you vowed never to let yourself experience any kind of love again. The risk was just too high. Not knowing if one day your loved one would come home or not, investing so much of your soul into someone, relying on them only to have it snatched away from you without warning; it just seemed foolish. When they died, you cried every morning and every night for months, until one night you vowed never to cry again.

And you haven’t since.

People called you heartless, scum, cruel, but their words never managed to pierce the iron exterior you mentally built for yourself when your parents died. No one would be allowed to access that sensitive, caring part of you. Not even Tye. You loved him like a brother, but once that loss had punched through you, you could never look at him the same. There was a distance, now. Whether he knew it or not, he never confronted you about it. He gave you space, and when you were ready to let him back into your life, albeit not really back in, he never pressured you or expected your relationship to go back to how it was.

“So when they passed, I just felt like I was lost. I needed to escape.”

“And smuggling was your only option?” There’s a hint of mockery in his tone.

“Yeah, I’m a smuggler and you’re a bounty hunter. We all make choices in life. I’ve made my peace with that.” Your tone comes out a little more defensive than it should, and you think about apologizing, but fuck it. You have nothing to lose anymore. Even if you thought he might not turn you in, the possibility of getting twenty thousand credits is too much of an opportunity to pass up on.

Neither of you speak for the rest of the night.

You’re awakened by Mando nudging your feet with his. You snap out of deep sleep, rubbing your palms against your eyes. Sitting up, you moan softly and begin trying to adjust your vision to the Sorgan darkness. The only light that the night offers is the moonlight reflecting off Mando’s armor. The helmet’s looking directly at you, and a finger comes up to where his mouth would be, signaling to be quiet. Still half-asleep, you nod.

Ever so slowly, you rise to your feet and quickly brush the dirt off your pants.

“Get to the ship,” He orders, voice low and gruff.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, still standing in place.

“Hunters.” He says. “Get to the ship.” Mando orders again, his tone becoming much more assertive. You want to fight. You’ve never run from a fight before, and you’re not about to start now.

“I can help.”

Before having the chance to respond, red blasts come flying through the trees in the distance. Mando grabs you by the waist and shoves you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Get to the fucking ship!” He yells.

You want to argue with him, really you do. Realistically, you know he could probably take care of this himself, but that doesn’t mean you want to cower away and hide in the ship while he takes care of business. Then panic swarms you.

The Child.

Your head whips back and forth, and the relief that comes over you when you catch sight of his pram just your left, the gloomy night shielding him from sight, instantly calms your nerves.

The shooting stops all at once, becoming eerily quiet. Mando pivots, trying to keep eyes all around him. Your body mimics his movements, even though you’re completely defenseless. Twigs snapping, bushes rustling—not from the breeze, but from intruders trampling over them, coming closer. One, two, three, four hunters come into view, flanking you from all angles.

Okay, so this worse than you thought.

“Ah, Mando!” One of them calls out, blaster pointed directly at Mando’s chest.

“We don’t want any trouble, Mando,” Another pursuer taunts. “We just want the girl.”

Fuck.

They begin drawing in closer. You don’t want to underestimate Mando’s ability to fight, but with four hunters closing in, and having only one blaster, you’re not seeing how he can win this. You’re conjuring a plan inside your head and praying that he’ll catch on. If someone’s going to get credit for your capture, it sure as hell isn’t going to be this gang of thugs.

“Fine.” You throw up your hands in defeat, stepping aside from the shield that is Mando. You face the man directly in front of you, assuming he’s the one who’s leading the charge.

“What are you doing?” Mando’s voice is fucking low, somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

“Trust me.” Your tone gentle, eyes pleading with him.

You begin taking slow footsteps towards the blaster pointed now at you. “I can assure you, I’m more valuable alive, so why don’t we put our blasters down before someone gets hurts?” Arms still up, hesitating to take any more steps forward.

“You think we’re stupid enough to listen to you?” One of them shouts behind you. You flinch on impulse. Your chest is heaving, but you need to a grip if you plan to walk away from this alive.

You can slightly make out the hunter’s features. He looks somewhat familiar, like when you see a stranger in a dream, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve seen him before. You’ve encountered plenty of hunters before, maybe they’re just all starting to look the same to you. Only Mando stands out, now.

The moon’s mellow and radiant reflection is starting to make out the hunter’s features. He doesn’t look entirely human, but you don’t manage to get close enough to actually see what he is.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The hunter sneers, his mouth curling into a malicious grin.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you remember who this is—but how? You shot him in the chest. You saw him fall. Sure, you didn’t actually check to see if he was dead but how could anyone survive being blasted directly in the chest? You must be remembering wrong. No, he shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.

“Surprised to see me?”

You refuse to show your disbelief, keeping your jaw tense. “No, it’s just more target practice.” You spit.

Eerie laughter erupts from deep inside the man opposite you. Never slacking on the grip on his blaster, he shifts the barrel from your chest to directly between your eyes. Okay…what the fuck do you do now?

Mando and the kid are still a few feet behind you. You’re running out of ideas, fast. If you went to attack your pursuer, he’d definitely shoot you before you got close enough to him, and the three behind you would shoot Mando down before he even had time to react. You need to play this out smart, maybe you could—

Before being able to finish your thought, you hear whistling, and bodies hit the ground. Instinctively, you want to look over your shoulder to see what happened, but there’s still a blaster pointed at your face, and you’d be dead if you wasted even a second to turn around. Charging at him, you narrowly miss three blasts as they come flying by your cheek, shoulder, and neck. Once you feel close enough, you lunge at him, knocking you both to the ground. Your body lands on top of his, the blaster rolling a few feet away from your conjoined bodies. Grabbing hold of the lapel on his jacket, you wind up your fist and connect it with his jaw. He cries at the pain, retaliating by slamming his knee into your abdomen. The air is completely knocked out of your lungs, but you stifle the wail that threatens to spill you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You reach out aimlessly for the gun, and the joy you get when you feel the gun in your hand is unmatched. Scrambling to your feet, and clutching the gun in your hand, you point it at him. Mando wastes no time rushing to your side, blaster also on him.

“Don’t.” You tell him. No, you want this kill to be yours.

For a moment, you think he’ll ignore you and shoot him anyway. The man on the ground, now resting on his elbows spits, droplets of blood landing on the ground, a small trail dribbling down his chin. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction, to see him bleed and completely at your mercy, but reason has escaped you. You want to hurt him; you want him to feel as much pain as any person can take. He threatened you, Mando, and the kid. He’ll pay for it, you promise.

“Go ahead, kill me.” The man swears. “But know that we’re only the beginning. You think you’re the only one who got a tracking fob, Mando?” A smile curls up on the corners of his lips. Your body is hot—it’s actually scorching. This surpasses any emotion you’ve ever felt before. The scalding need for blood and pain engulfs you. You’re not even sure why you feel so angry, but you are.

“Hunter scum,” You spit, kicking him hard in the stomach. More red fluid punches out of his mouth, causing him to cough aggressively.

“Hey,” Mando’s free arm grasps on to your bicep. “Stop.”

Your head’s shaking violently. No, he needs to suffer. “No, I’m gonna savour this.” You swing your leg back to kick him again, but Mando’s voice rips through the vocoder. “Stop!” It comes out aggressive, like he’s giving you an order.

Your jaw is tight, every fiber in your body is telling you to shove Mando out of the way so you can wreck this hunter scum that lies at your feet.

“You g-gonna let him order you around like that, sweetheart?” His last word cuts through you like a vibroblade to the chest. Your free hand balls up into a fist, white knuckling so hard, you’re sure you’re breaking skin with your nails. The man on the ground laughs, he’s fucking laughing at you and that’s the final straw, the thing you needed to push you over the edge. Unclenching your fist, your hand shoots up and flexes around what you imagine is his neck. He coughs, and starts gasping for air. Shaky hands shoot up to his own throat, as if he thinks that’ll somehow relieve the pressure you’re creating. It feels good, seeing him fucking struggle for breath, watching the light behind his eyes becoming dimmer and dimmer. It’s happening all too fast, and you want to take your time.

“Fuck this,” Mando shouts, his blaster coming up and shooting the man in the heart. Your grip slackens, and you drop to your knees. Struggling for breath, one hand on your chest and the other on your knee, you feel like you’re going to pass out. Mando’s drops to your side, a big, gloved hand resting on your back. Your body shudders at the touch and you pull away from him. Determined to put some space between you two, you straighten out, and take a couple steps back.

“What the hell happened there?” He tries not to startle you; his voice comes out a rough whisper.

Feeling your breathing evening out, your palms come out, trembling. You stare down at them, then to the corpse lying near Mando’s feet, desperately trying to understand why you couldn’t stop, why you couldn’t control your anger. The words aren’t forming, you can’t bring yourself to understand how it happened.

“I-I don’t know.” How could this happen? How could you let this happen?

A distorted sigh comes through the helmet. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I didn’t,” Your voice comes out as gentle as you can, given the circumstances. “I’ve just always had it.”

Mando takes a step closer to you and halts; he’s asking for permission to get closer. You give him a barely noticeable nod and within seconds he’s towering over you. His hands twitch at his sides, and you wonder if he’s going to touch you, but he doesn’t, and you start to believe that maybe a jail cell is exactly where you should be.

[humandisasterskywalker]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Torture, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Whump Series: Part 3 of Whumptober 2021 Summary:

Whumptober 2021

Day 3- Sticks and Stones may break my bones but...

taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

His Padawan was missing.

That was the only thought going through Qui-Gon Jinn’s mind. It circled round and round as he deflected blaster bolts.

His Padawan was missing.

.

.

.

His Padawan was missing.

That was the only thought going through Qui-Gon Jinn’s mind. It circled round and round as he deflected blaster bolts.

His Padawan was missing.

He thought about Rael. About what had happened to his Padawan. Qui-Gon was ashamed to admit it but part of him had always judged Rael for his reaction to Nyms death, and his complete refusal to even contemplate taking on another Padawan. Of course, the circumstances were particularly difficult but to speak in such absolutes… It screamed of attachment.

Now though, now Qui-Gon understood.

His Padawan was missing.

The security base was drawing closer, the security droids rate of fire was increasing. Qui-Gon deflected them with a single-minded determination, decapitating the droids as soon as he got close to them.

Obi Wan was only a child. What kind of monsters… he breathed. Getting angry and de-humanising those who had taken his Padawan would not be helpful. It was a train of thought that led perilously close to the dark.

This was not supposed to be a dangerous mission. They were only on Hosnian Prime as a representative of the Order at the inauguration of their new democratic cycle. It was purely diplomatic, not a combat mission. Force it was a mission within the Core. They were the safest missions that it was possible to be assigned. Safe enough that bringing along his thirteen year old Padawan was encouraged if not demanded. It was the type of mission where no one should come to harm.

And yet he had awoken two standard cycles ago to the sound of a clash and when he had entered Obi Wans assigned room he was greeted with the sight of chaos and no Padawan.

From his investigations, the Hosnian system had been having some problems with a separatist faction that wanted the system to split away from the Republic, which had recently turned to terrorism. Of course, the planetary government had not felt it necessary to disclose that to the Senate or the Jedi until his Padawan was gone. If he had known, if they could have put together the proper security precautions… Anger burned in his chest again.

His Padawan was missing.

He tried to centre himself again. He couldn’t deal in ifs. If he started to think in ifs then he would think on Obi Wans fate. What if he wasn’t only missing. What if he was…

No Qui Gon thought. There was nothing good to be found if he followed that thought train.

He cut through the last droid and the blaster fire stopped. The Dura-steel door stood tall and imposing before him. He ignored the chatter of the Hosnian security forces behind him. There was no control pad for the door, nowhere where any keys could be entered. This door was meant to be opened from the inside.

“That’s a blast-proof door,” the security captain said from behind him. “I’m sorry Master Jedi but there is no way we are going to be able to get through.”

Qui-Gon ignored him, relighting his light sabre and driving in through the door. The captain was right in some ways. The doors were blast-proof, and there was no way they would have been able to get through. 

But it certainly wasn’t Lightsaber proof. 

The door glowed orange and Qui-Gon felt the slight give as it emerged from the other side of the door.

He moved to cut through the steel as if it was no more than cardboard before a smaller door had been cut within the main door. He pushed it forwards and it hit the floor with an echoing bang. 

The hallway beyond was dark. The complex main lights had failed, a few still flickering before they died completely. The only light was the eerie orange glow of the few emergency fittings and the electric green glow of his lightsaber.

The hallway was empty. Qui-Gon could sense the panic of whoever had been in there, he could just about hear them scrambling for escape in the hallways beyond. He ignored them focuses on the small pulse in his head.

He could sense Obi Wan now. Their bond was worryingly quiet but it was there. It hadn’t died.

His Padawan was close.

He strode forward. His footsteps echoed in the metallic hallway, making it sound like there was an army behind him. He sped up, not checking to make sure if the security force was following him. Qui-Gon didn’t care. He only had one thought. He had to get to his Padawan.

He rounded the corner. Two further droids were stood in the space. They barely had time to turn towards him before he had swung his lightsaber and their heads had fallen to the floor. They crumpled where they stood, Qui-Gon stepping over their forms as he walked deeper into the complex.

The bond was getting stronger. He had to be getting closer. He tried to send a sense of reassurance to Obi Wan, to tell him he was coming.

He got no response.

Qui-Gon was able to pick up some emotions through the bond now. Obi Wan’s shields were failing, emotions bleeding into the force.

His Padawan was panicking. And in pain.

He felt another flare of anger. Someone hadn’t just taken his Padawan, they had hurt him.

He felt a desire for retribution, he wanted to hurt these people like they had hurt his Padawan. He had to centre himself again. He would be of no use to Obi Wan if he kept thinking those thoughts. His Padawan did not need a Master that was touching the dark.

He reached an intersection of the hallways. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, reaching out into the force. Searching.

Below. Obi Wan was below him. He set off down the left path, his steps quickening as the path circled downwards. The metal walls gave way to stone, the artificial hallways becoming a natural cave.  

The light was even worse here. There were no artificial lights at all. He moved forward, his path only illuminated by the green glow of his sabre. 

There were multiple small off-shoots of the cave but Qui-Gon knew which one he had to aim for. After all, it was the only one that had been fitted with a shining new Dura-steel door.

His Padawan was behind them. He was sure of it.

Qui-Gon drove his lightsaber into the door control panel, no longer having the patience to try and slice into it. The door sagged in its housing as whatever current keeping it sealed failed.  He pushed it aside, drawing on the force to help him move the heavy metal.

The inside of the cell was pitch black. 

He walked in lightsaber first.

His Padawan was sat hunched in the corner.

Obi Wan flinched away from him, away from the light and Qui Gon lowered the blade.

Recognizing him Obi Wan tried to stand, to move towards him but he barely made it two steps before he fell to the floor with a pained groan.

Qui-Gon rushed forward, forgetting about any of the adversaries in the complex, forgetting about the Hosnian Security Force, forgetting about all confines of their mission. His Padawan was hurt. That is all that mattered.

“Padawan.” Qui Gon dropped his hands to Obi Wans face. Bruises were marring his usually pale skin. He could see a bloodstain on his tunic, and one of his Ankles was twisted in a way that looked desperately painful.

This is my fault Qui-Gon thought dully It is my responsibility to protect a Padawan and look what had happened. He never should have taken one on. He clearly wasn’t capable enough for the job. 

“Padawan, who did this to you?”

Obi Wan didn’t seem to hear him.

“I didn’t tell them, anything Master.” 

Obi Wan seemed desperate. He grabbed hold of Qui-Gons arm, staring at him imploringly.

“I swear it. I told them nothing. I didn’t tell them any of the Orders secrets.”

At Qui-Gons shocked silence Obi Wan grew even more frantic.

“You have to believe me, Master. I promise they didn’t get anything out of me, please don’t leave me. I didn’t betray the order. Please let me come back.”

At this moment Qui-Gon could not have cared if Obi Wan had told his captors the detailed schematics for the Jedi Temple’s security system. He just wanted him to be safe.

“Of course I believe you, Obi Wan.”

Obi Wan deflated as if all the strings that had been supporting him had been cut. 

“Master… I’m Tired Master.”

“You have to stay awake Padawan.” 

Qui-Gon glanced around. There was still no sign of the Security Forced. He had to get them out. There was no way he was leaving his injured Padawan on this damp stone floor any longer than he needed to.

He scooped Obi Wan into his arms. His skin was hot to the touch. He had a fever. They needed to get out of this complex quickly.

His Padawan instinctively curved into his body, mumbling incoherently. 

He walked back into the cave system. Without his lightsaber, he had to squint to see anything. He moved forward, trusting that the force would lead them to safety.

Obi Wan groaned, shifting slightly. His head nodded down to his chest. 

“Awake Padawan. I need you to stay awake!

“Mm…awake” Obi Wan mumbled “Can we go back to the temple Master. I’m tired”

Qui-Gon’s boots hit the metallic floor of the complex. He breathed a sigh of relief as the orange glow of the emergency lights began to illuminate the room. 

He looked down at Obi Wan. The non bruised parts of his skin were deathly pale. 

“We’ll be back soon Padawan. You’ll be all right. We’ll be back soon.”

Qui-Gon Jinn desperately hoped that the last thing he said to his Padawan would not be a lie.

[septnautical]

Anti’s First Fireball

SD-004 looked around the enclosure he was ushered into with curious eyes. It felt… strangely nostalgic. Like he’d been here before. But, that wasn’t possible. The white suits scientists had told him he was a fresh creation, just now being put into testing enclosures. And yet… the sea dragon felt a heaviness in his chest he didn’t understand, being in here. He swears when he closed his eyes… instead of these prison like walls… he saw bright blue open waters- the sun shining in large rays down on the sand. Colorful swarms of fish and… laughter- laughter and smiles that made SD-004 feel warm inside. But, whenever he thought like that- a piercing pain would spear through his temple. It made it hard to think. He’d been having way too many thoughts like that lately… 

Even then- this enclosure was familiar in a bad way. Thinking about it… he felt a sense of dread and slight fear being put in here. The walls were stark white, almost painful to look at. There was only one window to look through, unlike the tank where he was most days where he was surrounded by glass. The sea dragon anxiously picks at his scales on his arms, wondering why he was brought here. The scientists had been saying he was doing good… better than he had been. The disks lodged on the edge of his ears itched and stung- but they had seemed happy that they were ‘working properly’. Whatever that meant… 

Anti’s muscles bunched up in reaction to the mic in the tank sparking up. Someone was here. He turned back to look at the window to see a scientist smiling tightly at him. Chief Demerci… She was the head scientist in charge of him. He didn’t like her at all… not that there was anything he could do about it. 

“Hello SD-004,” Demerci greeted, “How are you feeling today?” 

The sea dragon’s fins bristled in agitation just listening to her speak. A fire that was dormant until she came back in lit up. The adolescent sea dragon bared his fangs and snarled at the scientist. 

“Don’t waste my time acting like you care. Why am I here?” 

The scientist doesn’t look surprised by his hostility- but she does look disappointed. She tsks, then reaches for a button on her control panel. A shock runs from Anti’s ear attachments and down his spine, making him go rigid and cry out. 

“Anti,” Demerci sighed. The simple mention of that name had him seizing up more as if expecting something else- “Say Goodbye.” 

The phrase has Anti’s eyes drooping- his expression going slack and body held at attention. The scientist looked bored as she addressed the tranced hybrid. 

“Punishment will come when you choose to be aggressive to your superiors, SD-004. You are to address them with respect.” 

Anti hardly blinks as he replies, “Yes, Chief Demerci.” 

“Status report,” Demerci says shortly. The hybrid shifts slightly as a yellow glow comes to his eyes. He talks a bit more robotically, his voice slightly raked with static. 

“Vitals normal. Anxiety levels at a medium. Mild headaches o-o-occurring from memory deletion. Command chip integration at 56%.” 

Demerci makes a tch sound and leans back in her chair. “That would explain the attitude. We’ll have to work on that conditioning after this experiment.” She takes down a couple of notes before addressing the static hybrid again, “Alright, Anti, see you soon.” 

Light comes back into the hybrid’s eyes quickly and he blinks sluggishly back awake, his body relaxing. Demerci studies him smugly. 

“So Anti, how are you feeling?” 

Anti goes stiff again for a second and yellow flashes in his eyes before he deflates and looks away from the scientist, picking at his scales again. 

“F-Fine I guess…” 

Demerci frowns but nods regardless. They can work on that more later. 

The scientist sighed heavily before a small sadistic smile spread across her face. She leaned over her mic and grinned at the tiny sea dragon like a lioness stalking her kill.

“Well I’m happy to hear that SD,”  she cooed with false sweetness, “Because you’ll need to be in ship shape to take on today’s test.” 

Anti’s head jerked up, color draining out of his face. “W-What?” He whispered in fear, backing away from the glass to try to curl up against the wall. He knew what that meant- it usually meant pain… lots and lots of pain.

DeMerci showed no sign of remorse as she smiled cruelly and went to press a finger against another large button on the dashboard in front of her. 

Something creaked loudly from the walls before a large creature emerged. But… it wasn’t just any creature.

It was another hybrid. 

Looming over Anti was a reaper leviathan hybrid with dark skin, covered in red markings and blue scales. It had long flowing red hair. 4 soulless black eyes with gray sclera glared down at the young hybrid as it gnashed its razor sharp teeth. It’s mandibles spring out and aim at the merman. 

Anti stared at this thing in increasing horror. His mind was screaming at him- something about this wasn't right- this was all wrong!! 

Jackie Jackie! Where was Jackie?!

The creature didn’t care for its prey’s fear. It roared so loud it rocked the tank they were in before diving down at Anti like a torpedo. 

Luckily, Anti was quick and he easily dodged. His body seemed to know how to fight this thing- knew of its weaknesses. He watched it prepare to loop around him- trying to attack his back. But. Anti kept in its path, blocking its attempts to maneuver around him. 

“No fair Anti! That’s my big move!” A young voice whined in his ear

The hybrid gets frustrated at not making headway and roars before trying to tackle Anti to the ground with its long claws. Anti dives to the sand though- watching with a smirk as the thing barrels into the tank wall and disorients itself above him.

Demerci watches with a fascinated smile. “Your instincts are benefiting you greatly SD- you are the reaper’s natural predator.” But, then she sighs dramatically while picking up a remote off her desk. “However- I specifically stated you were going to use firepower today-“ 

Without another word- she presses a button. Anti feels his body spark up painfully and he screams and convulses on the floor. The shocking lasts for a couple more torturous seconds before Demerci relents. Anti slumps for the floor and breathes through gritted teeth- trying to push himself back up as the creature prowls back and forth in front of him. 

“Use your fire breath, Anti,” Demerci hisses at the boy. “Or you’ll never be able to protect SE-002… and you don’t want that, right?” 

Anti freezes slightly at that. His eyes spark with yellow orange light and he twitches, claws digging into the sand. 

“No…” he whispers, eyes widening and looking distant. “I will protect SE-002… That’s all I was made for.” 

Demerci smirks, happy to see the brainwashing slowly but surely leaking in. “Then, that hybrid is trying to hurt SE, Anti. Don’t let it succeed. Burn it-“ 

With a wild scream, Anti launches himself from the sand and barrels into the reaper hybrid. They roar at each other, but Anti manages to bang the creature’s head against a rock and drive it to the ground. The thing wiggles and screeches at Anti, trying to get free. 

Anti pants almost feverishly, eyes glitching between yellowish and normal. He digs his claws into the creature's arms and pins it hard against the sand so it’s mandibles can’t bend. Then, he opens up his mouth and tries to summon a fireball. 

It- it doesn’t feel right. His stomach bubbles uncomfortably hot and the feeling travels up through his throat. He gags slightly on the burning feeling- hot bubbles blowing in the hybrid’s face. The hybrid shrinks away slightly, seeming to fear what’s coming for it. 

But it doesn’t come. Anti let’s go of the hybrid to grab his throat, starting to choke on the hot foreign feeling. His scar- it’s irritated and starting to leak hot water which furthers his panic. Worse of all, as the fire starts to escape the young sea dragon is suddenly bombarded by flashes of things he doesn’t understand. 

He’s bent over in the sand while two other hybrids lean over him. They both look at him with concern- a concern that feels genuine and… brotherly. 

Chase? Schneep?

Anti feels a painful pang in his chest as he coughs up hot burning liquid. Nowhere near close to a fireball. He feels hot water coming from his eyes and he reaches up to touch it, startled and confused. 

Then, he curls up gagging and sobbing from the confusing sensations in his head and body. He starts to cry out names he doesn’t know why he knows, but for once- it feels right. 

“C-Chase! H-Henny! Jack!! Help me!!” 

The last thing Anti sees is Demerci’s enraged face before a powerful shock overtakes his body- then everything goes black. 

When the sea dragon next opens up his eyes… he doesn’t recognize where he is. The lighting is eerie and dark- the walls gray and beat up. Anti tires to move only to realize he can’t- his arms and tails are chained up to the walls. He starts to panic- pulling on the chains and trying to catch his claws on them. 

“W-What is this?!” He growls, but his eyes give away his terror, “Let me go! Let me out!” 

“Now Now, Anti…” Demerci’s silky voice purrs over the intercom, but Anti can’t see her. “You’re here so we can help you…” The restraints start to tighten on his wrists, pulling his arms taut. Anti starts to pant feverishly in fear. “I told you today was the day you would shoot fireballs… so we’re gonna give you a little… ‘stimulation’ until you fulfill your full potential.” 

“W-What?! Y-You’re crazy! You can’t do that-!” Anti tries to scream and thrashes as hard as he can. But, then the shocks start to come. Sharp and painful through his restraints- lighting every one of his nerves on fire. The sea dragon hybrid screams bloody murder, trying and failing to break free. 

Demerci watches mercilessly, humming under her breath as she casually cranks up the power. Anti can’t form a single coherent thought- all he knows is awful aching pain. He feels like he’s been stripped down to his very essence. The torture seems never-ending… even during brief pauses, Anti can’t even catch his breath to think. He’s assaulted by echoing commands and threats. They echo throughout the too warm water around him and buzz in his ears. You are a monster. Zap! You were made to be a weapon. 

Zap! 

You will protect SE-002. You will protect the Altera Arms. 

ZAp!

You are a ruthless killer. 

You know no mercy. You listen only to us- Zap Zap ZAP! Let your instincts rule you SD-004. 

Become the fearsome Sea Dragon you were made to be. Serve Altera. As more and more electricity enters his veins, a bubbling flame builds up in his mouth. Bigger and bigger- brighter orange that bubbles like lava. Until finally- Anti shoots his first fireball. And after a few more rounds of shocks in between, he shoots a couple more. No hesitation, automatically as he’s told. Demerci smiles. Their weapon is finally complete. SD-004 paces the length of his tank, back and forth swiftly as he watches the hatch in front of him with hungry yellow-tinted eyes. Finally, the alarm sounds and the hatch opens. The sea dragon hybrid grins and giggles madly in his throat as his opponent barrels through the water towards him. The imperfect warper hybrid tries to pin him down with long blue-tinted claws. SD easily dodges then headbutts them in the stomach, making them fly through the water. He doesn’t give them any room to breathe though as he catches them through their arc then slams them against the rock below them. Laughing madly, Anti sinks claws deep into their arms then drags them down, watching in satisfaction as the ugly thing screams robotically. These ones weren’t nearly as fun as the pure organic ones… but prey was prey. The merman tears into the other hybrid- showing no mercy as he cuts it to ribbons. Deaf to their screams. Ignorant to who they used to remind him of. All that matters is the thrill- the need to hunt. The need to hurt. He was a monster. He was a weapon! The water flows with orange hybrid blood before SD-004 finally backs up- and sends a fireball right on top of the creature. Putting it out of its misery. He giggled and licked the blood off his hand. He looked up to see Demerci smiling down at him, nodding her approval. “Excellent work, SD-004,” She praised, writing something down on her PDA before pressing a button on her dashboard. “Ready for the next round?” SD nodded with a crazed laugh, shaking out his tails and arms, watching the hatch yet again. “Lay it on me Doc~!” --------- Anti awoke with a start, clutching at his chest. His heart was beating too wildly, his skin feeling clammy and hot in the cool water of their cove. That… that was definitely a memory… A memory he desperately wanted to forget. He could still feel the sting of the shocks- the elation of ripping into his prey. He didn’t even care back then that those hybrids were like him and his brothers. He only knew following instincts… following orders. “Anti?”  A soft voice reaches his ears and the sea dragon jumps. Then, he sees Marvin swimming over to him, green hair loose and floating around his head like a halo. His mask hung loose in his hands. He tilted his head at the older brother in concern. “You okay?” Anti finds it hard to find his voice. “...n...nightmare-” He finally croaks out, feeling a shiver go up his spine and down his tails. Marvin hums then settles in the sand next to Anti, tucking his tails under him. He offers the sea dragon a sad smile. “Do you want to talk about it?” The older boy is quick to shake his head. Marvin knits his eyebrows together in concern, “Anti… you can talk to me. I mean… if anyone knows what you went through its-” “Shut up!” Anti suddenly shouts, hitting a fist against the sand. His eyes burn as he glares at Marvin and bares his teeth. “You have no idea what I went through! The shit you went through is nothing compared to me! So stop acting like you get it! You don’t! Now leave me the fuck alone!” The warper’s face falls, his gleaming blue eyes showing his heartbreak. Then, pink flashes in his eyes as he growls back, smacking Anti slightly with his tails in his haste to get up. “Fine! Fuck me for wanting to help your sorry ass!” Marvin cries, trying to look angry, but glints of his tears leak into the moonlit water. Without another glance or word, Marvin turns tail and rockets off into the midnight ocean. Anti holds himself after he leaves, hating the feeling of timid eyes on his back. He can’t tell Marvin- he can’t tell anyone about what he saw… what he knows… what he did. They’ll hate him- hate him more than they already hate him. He can handle this… they’re just memories. They can’t hurt him anymore…

[dent-de-leon]

VNC 50 IM GOING TO DIIIIIIIEEEEEEE

IM CRYING,,

Okay, so my thing with this chapter is...I think the reason why it hurts so much is because Noe and Vanitas are both victims here. I don’t think either of them is really at fault for the way things shook out, they’re both just struggling for survival and acting on instinct.

Even before we delve into character motivations and the effects of their respective trauma, one thing is made clear: when it comes to Noe, regardless of what he claims, Vanitas does care. Misha explicitly says so: “Oh, you’re worried?” You can tell Vanitas is concerned when he first sees Noe lying on the ground, when he demands to know what happened to him. And then, when Misha so casually reveals how Noe watched Louis turn into a curse-bearer and get slaughtered? Vanitas looks so pained by the knowledge of it, that Noe suffered such a heavy loss--and one he seems terribly familiar with. After all, he couldn’t save his own brother. 

But despite his sympathy, Vanitas deflects, tries to throw his relationship with Noe away. Even worse, he claims that it’s in Noe’s best interest to sacrifice Domi as well. What really pushes Noe over the edge here is Vanitas straight up offering to kill her for him, that crosses an entirely new line, and it’s something Noe just can’t bear to hear. So it’s understandable that he lashes out. Driven by his singleminded desire to save Domi at all costs, his conviction only sharpened by his newfound resentment for Vanitas.

Noe tried to bargain, tried to talk Vanitas into divulging his memories voluntarily. He outright didn’t want to hurt him, and painstakingly tried to avoid it. Which makes it all the more gutting when Vanitas forces his hand. You can tell he’s really heartbroken when Vanitas repeatedly dismisses their relationship, tries to convince him that all they’ve been through was for nothing. Noe has these lovely little flashbacks of their time together, and it just hurts to know how much Vanitas really meant to him. 

And it seemed pretty clear to me that, as hurtful as Vanitas’ words were, he was trying to talk Noe into walking away. To avoid any confrontation with him. Repeatedly telling him that this isn’t his fight, to just stay out of it, to forget about Domi. It’s not so different from Noe begging Vanitas to explain his past. Noe should run away, so Vanitas doesn’t have to fight him. Vanitas should admit everything right here and now, so Noe doesn’t have to bite him. They each try to protect each other from the inevitable in their own desperate way, pushed to the brink under cruel circumstances. 

And while Vanitas is a pretty good actor, there are definitely moments when that mask slips. Vanitas looks especially scared for Noe when he sees his friend on hands and knees, outright begging him to meet him halfway. It really drives home for Vanitas just how desperate Noe is, how terrified and hopeless, entirely out of options.

But of course, neither is able to concede. For Vanitas, losing his memories is a violation of free will, as unbearable to him as Noe losing someone he’s always loved, someone he’s always tried to protect. Hell, Vanitas is so closely guarded about his memories, so caught up in protecting whatever fragment remains of his own sense of self and identity, he still hasn’t told anyone his real name. Compromise just isn’t an option for either of them. 

I was given the impression Vanitas was trying to bait Noe this whole time, that he was just goading him on and had no real intention of actually attacking--until Noe goes in for the bite. Vanitas’ entire demeanor changes then, in that one single moment. And the overriding emotion that drives him into action isn’t anger or vengeance. It’s fear. In those panels, Noe looks more monstrous than human, and Vanitas is absolutely petrified in horror. You just can’t help but feel for him, just like you do for Noe. It’s a betrayal on some unspeakable level for Vanitas. Just as Noe is tortured by memories of Louis and Domi, you can see Vanitas viscerally reliving his trauma here. 

Worth noting: when Vanitas pulls out the syringe, he sounds as if he isn’t quite himself, like he’s repeating someone else’s words, a mantra to keep himself grounded when everything goes to hell. “If anyone tries to take my memories...no matter who they are...kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Without fail.” There’s no statement here indicating he’s really the one making this call, it’s not “I’ll kill them,” or “I have to kill them.” Just “Kill them” makes it sound like an order, like he’s following someone else’s instructions. Is it the oath a vampire made him swear, something akin to Ruthven’s command to Noe?

Or is this something the chasseurs drilled into him? After all, as soon as he goes on the offensive, he instantly reverts to his former training. He’s acting on autopilot here, all his survival instincts from the church kicking in. Not only does he administer the same drug carried by chasseurs, he also immediately shot Noe in the eye. As Luna noted in the previous chapter, going right for the eyes is a distinctly chasseur move. And his last thought isn’t “Kill Noe,” it’s “Kill that vampire.” Again, this sounds very reminiscent of Vanitas’ mindset in the previous chapter’s flashback, when he was well and truly under the influence of the Chaucer’s indoctrination and entirely bought into his mission to “kill all vampires” in blind vengeance. 

Also interesting, the phrasing “no matter what,” and “without fail” is used in Vanitas’ fascinating speech about his grand ambitions to rescue every vampire from their curse. “I’ll do as I please, use the methods I chose. And no matter what you people want, I will save you, without fail.” “No matter who they are...kill them. Kill them. Without fail.” Again, it sounds like the kind of phrase that someone else instilled in him. The kind of thing he could have internalized for years. 

Something else that really gets to me about this whole encounter is how Misha absolutely revels in his orchestration of it. At the beginning of the chapter, he claims he wants to live a happy life together with Luna and Vanitas. And yet, by the end of 50, he’s all too thrilled to see Noe and Vanitas at each other’s throats, gleefully cheering them on in hopes they’ll outright destroy each other. “Come on, come on, you can do it! Don’t lose either of you!” “...and try to kill each other for dear life!”

If he wants to be a family with Vanitas again, what does he have to gain by watching Noe kill him? Since he believes he can resurrect Luna, would he just regard Vanitas’ death as a passing inconvenience? Misha wants Noe to drink Vanitas’ blood, but he’s fine if Noe doesn’t live long enough to relay his memories? I have a feeling he doesn’t really care about the outcome of this match, so much as he just wants Vanitas to suffer as some arbitrary penance for Luna’s fate. It’s all very strange, and none of it really adds up. But it makes me worried about who Misha’s “friend” is.

Last thing, and it’s probably just me reading too much into it. But, when Vanitas shoots Noe, we get this interesting set of shots that just follows their steps--and missteps, Noe staggering back from him. This reminded me of something when I first saw it, and it took me a moment to remember, but...it brought to mind their dance in the masquerade. They’re even facing the same way. In the dance, they’re falling easily into step, side by side. Which makes it all the more striking when they break apart in the recent chapter.

Again, it could be nothing. But I feel like there’s some significance to the visual parallels, especially since Noe is the one who truly believed he was close with Vanitas, still circling in his orbit, a trusted partner and friend. He thinks they’re on the same page, and when he realizes maybe Vanitas didn’t think of him like that--saw him as a stranger, someone expendable--Noe’s illusion shatters. And he realizes this is a path they might never truly walk together. Vanitas isn’t even visible at all in the last few panels, he’s entirely out of reach. And Noe is left alone.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Well, that chapter title, combined with this being the last chapter of volume two, really comes off as ominous! 

Also, because there’s no good break point that I can see in this chapter, I’m just gonna do all of it. This is… gonna be rough, I think. Apologies for the long post in advance.

[No. 17 - Game Over]

We start out in the collapsed zone, which is basically a cityscape that’s been partially destroyed / knocked down. Kirishima and Katsuki are both huffing and puffing as they take a moment to breathe after taking out all the villains who had attacked them in the room they were dumped into. Katsuki notes that that was all of them, then calls them a buncha mooks. Kirishima wipes at his face a bit as he says they need to hurry and help the others - if they’re still in the USJ, after all, then everyone else must be as well! And he’s worried about those who don’t really have ways to attack.

Kirishima goes on to determine that Thirteen probably has her hands full since they rushed ahead like that, and that none of this would have happened if they’d let her suck in that mist man. So as men, they have to take responsibility.

Katsuki’s brusque reply is that if that’s what Kirishima wants to do, then go on alone - he’s going to go beat the warp gate villain to a pulp. Kirishima is surprised by this declaration, wondering out loud what Katsuki’s still pulling that ‘immature crap’ at a time like this, plus reminding Katsuki that normal attacks don’t work on the warp villain anyways. 

Katsuki snaps at him to shut up, and then points out that Kurogiri is how the other villains are getting around - if they bring him down, the others will have nowhere to run. And besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have a way to beat said warp villain.

While the two were talking about the stuff above, a camouflaged villain sneaks up from behind Katsuki on the ceiling. Considering the fact that a random mook villain with an ‘invisibility’ quirk was able to get an outfit that went invisible/camouflage with them, I wholeheartedly refuse to believe Hagakure can’t have a full costume that’s as invisible as she is what with UA’s resources. If she says she’s mostly naked, she’s just trolling people for shits and giggles. 

Anywho, the villain lunges, knife in hand as they become visible, thinking about how the kids should keep talking and let their guard down. Kirishima, however, does notice the attack, but-

Katsuki moves before he can even say anything, blasting the villain unconscious without stopping his explanation to Kirishima. He notes calmly that if all the enemy is sending against them are low-danger idiots, then they should be fine. Kirishima quietly admires Katsuki’s reflexes, while commenting out loud how calm Katsuki is all of a sudden, with an aside showing him noting that Katsuki’s like ‘die!’; portrayed with this is Katsuki’s same ‘evil face’ as Izuku pictured when he was worried about Katsuki being in the same class. 

Katsuki snaps that he’s always calm ‘you damn broomhead’, with Kirishima chuckling as he snaps his finger and says ‘there it is.’ Katsuki then clenches his gauntleted fist as he states that he’s out of there. Kirishima knocks his hardened fists together as he tells Katsuki to hold up, and that he (Katsuki) has to his pals, and to be a man. He then states that Katsuki’s convinced him. (Probably about the benefits of going after the warp villain again.)

Next, we shift back over to the entrance, with the door closed. Tenya is still making his mad dash for it, swearing through grit teeth as he tries to outrun Kurogiri. Kurogiri seems to be getting rather peeved himself based on the shape of his dialogue boxes getting more ragged; he calls Tenya impertinent, and states again that he won’t allow him to leave. 

Ochako dashes forward, a determined expression on her face, with Sero and Ashido watching her. Ashido is crouched over Thirteen, checking on her, but asks what Ochako is going to do. Ochako points out a bit of the metal brace just visible in the smoke to them, which they quickly spot as well. 

Tenya is getting close to the doors at this point, and remembers that they’re automatic doors, before wondering if he can kick them down, or if they’re too thick for that. We get a fun panel of his face as he seems prepared to just try and ram it anyways, shouting a battlecry - only to cut off as Kurogiri again looms before him, declaring that the kid has underestimated him. 

Also, the man fucking calls Tenya ‘four-eyes’. I cannot. The disrespect.

Anyways, Kurogiri tells Tenya to vanish, but Tenya manages to somehow duck underneath as Kurogiri moves upwards, much to the surprise of both of them. Why, you ask?

Ochako being a fucking badass is why. She has latched onto Kurogiri’s brace, noting that she’s not sure why, but if he’s wearing that brace, then he has to have a real body in there. She strains herself, but she manages to use her own strength and her quirk in order to toss him up, up, and away from Tenya, all while telling her friend to go. 

Kurogiri continues to woosh away from the ground as he realizes she got his body - then is alarmed again when a piece of tape manages to stick to his back. Sero tugs Kurogiri around on the end of his tape, also telling Tenya to get going. Tenya manages to get the door open enough to squeeze through while Kurogiri is distracted, dashing through the opening and towards the school while Sero detaches his tape and sends Kurogiri flying further with the momentum of the swing. 

Kurogiri is silent for a moment before swirling into himself, noting that if the kid calls for help, then it’s game over. Honest to god, why do I never see this stuff in fics, I cannot believe Kurogiri is saying this kind of stuff. Either it’s odd translation stuff, or else it was just cut from the anime, and if it’s the latter, then I am mad disappointed. 

(staring at next part) Yeah no, I think I’ll be pretty careful with my choice of image use. If this were a fic, this is where the ‘graphic depictions of violence’ would come in, if not sooner in this arc.

We go back to Eraserhead, Shigaraki, and the Nomu, with the first panel being a relative closeup of the Nomu crushing Eraserhead’s right arm. Like, that’s not hyperbole, you can see the arm being scrunched and the blood pouring from the arm, jesus fucking christ. And Eraserhead not making a peep for it? Talk about pain tolerance. I know this is a shounen and all that, but just. The arm is being CRUSHED. Lesser mortals would pass out at this point. 

Shigaraki wobbles back to his feet, noting that cancelling out quirks is pretty cool, but nothing special - up against crazy strength, he might as well be quirkless. Eraserhead manages to latch his eyes on the nomu’s left hand at it reaches for his left arm, but that doesn’t prevent the nomu from snapping said arm like a twig. Eraserhead can’t prevent himself from a pained shout. 

Eraserhead grits through the pain at he notes that looking at any part of the nomu’s body should have nullified it, which meant that was the nomu’s base strength - easily as strong as All Might. The nomu lifts Eraserhead’s head up while he’s thinking this, then slams him face first into the ground, hard enough to leave an impact crater. And, notably, Eraserhead is still alive and conscious. Jesus. Fucking. CHRIST.

Meanwhile, Izuku, Tsuyu, and Mineta look on, developing major trauma as they watch their teacher basically tortured for shits and giggles. Mineta is trembling with hands covering his mouth and tears in his eyes, Tsuyu’s partially submerged her face into the water, and Izuku is just. Frozen in absolute fear. Mineta realizes how bad this is, and practically begs for a change of plans from Izuku. Tsuyu ribbits in agreement, but Izuku just. Cannot think of a thing.

Kurogiri spirals into existence besides Shigaraki, giving Shigaraki’s full name for the first time in the manga. Shigaraki in turn greets Kurogiri, also the first time we’re seeing the name I think? Anyways, Shigaraki asks Kurogiri if Thirteen is dead. Kurogiri states that she’s incapacitated, but that there were students he couldn’t warp away, and that one of them escaped. 

Shigaraki starts scratching at his neck with one hand, then both, his irritation ramping up as he mulls this over. We get another shot of an eye between the fingers of the face-hand as he states that he’d turn Kurogiri to dust if he wasn’t their ticket out of there. They won’t stand a chance against dozens of pros, after all. He then states that it’s game over, and then corrects himself - it’s game over, for now.

He then tells Kurogiri they’re leaving. Mineta is surprised by this quickly glancing over to Tsuyu and Izuku, asking if he heard that right. Tsuyu says he did. Mineta leaps on her in relief, stating that they’re saved. Tsuyu starts to say ‘yeah, but-’ only to cut herself off when Mineta’s hand ends up on her boob (could have been accident or not here). 

She starts casually drowning Mineta as she continues her previous thought - she’s got a bad feeling about this. Izuku agrees - to do all this, and then just leave on a whim… 

He continues to think over the discrepancy to himself as he watches the villains talk a bit more. The villains had wanted to kill All Might; UA’s just going to be in more danger than ever if they get away now. He then notes Shigaraki’s use of ‘game over’, and is worried over what they’re thinking at that moment. 

As if Shigaraki had heard his thoughts, he speaks up again. Before they leave, they should leave a few dead kids… and he’s motioning right for the three who’d been watching up until then. 

Since I can’t really capture the moment of terror in words:

Just. Shigaraki moves so fast, the kids have no time to react to it. Tsuyu’s only just released Mineta from underwater. Izuku is just barely able to turn to see Shigaraki already in Tsuyu’s face, his mind empty but for the memory of what happened to Eraserhead’s elbow. And Tsuyu’s face is just. God, I cannot imagine how she must have felt, being so close to death like that.

There’s a moment of silence from Shigaraki as nothing happens. He then repeats his previous statement - you really are pretty cool, Eraserhead. As it turned out, he took advantage of the nomu living his head in order to activate his quirk, saving Tsuyu’s life. The Nomu proceeds to slam his head back down again, but I guess Aizawa’s managed to keep his eyes open, since it still doesn’t activate even as Izuku goes in for an attack. 

(Poor kid, his entire thought process as he goes in for that swing is just ‘no no no no no no no no no-’, like. You see this again later on when his close friends are in danger, how he just is basically so deeply tunnel visioned on just saving them.)

Izuku’s right arm buzzes with power as he thinks that Shigaraki’s nothing like the villains who’d been in the water. He mentally urges Tsuyu to run and save herself while he shouts at Shigaraki to get off of her. Shigaraki just casually calls for the nomu. 

His blow connects with something, the force fairly intense from the impact point. Izuku is confused as he registers that his arms’ not broken. He’s shocked and a bit annoyed (I guess) that now is when he managed to regulate the power. He then wonders if he really did it, since he knows the smash connected, he knows he did it.

As the smoke clears, we see the nomu lurking over Izuku, totally unharmed by the attack. We get a thin panel showing the nomu’s dead eye, as Izuku looks up in worry. His thoughts are a frazzled mess, first realizing the speed, then a half-finished thought on when the nomu moved, and then the slowly dawning realization (and fear) that the attack didn’t work. 

He flashes back to Tsuyu’s comment on the yacht, that the villains must have figured out a way to kill All Might, otherwise why show up just to get beaten. Izuku is in disbelief, because it’s one thing to accept that as theory, but another to realize it’s absolutely true. Shigaraki notes that that’s quite a move Izuku just pulled off… and with a ‘smash’ too. He then asks if Izuku’s a fan of All Might. Izuku tries to pull away, but the nomu already has him by the arm as Shigaraki shrugs off his own question with a casual ‘whatever’. 

God, just, the silence of this page and all the ‘in the moment’ snippets that show everything happening pretty much at once. 

Tsuyu shoves Shigaraki’s hand away as she lashes out ith her tongue to try and grab Izuku. Aizawa is shown to be passed out on the ground. We see Shigaraki reaching back out to kill both Tsuyu and Mineta as the nomu holds Izuku in place, Tsuyu’s tongue still not even managing to reach Izuku yet. 

The doors at the front of the USJ are literally blasted from the doorway like shots out of a cannon. The kids who were still up there by the door are all relieved as they look at their savior - All Might. 

And that’s the end of the chapter - and of volume two. Supplementary material to follow. 

Man, just imagine being someone who only reads the manga when the volumes come out. Can you imagine being left on this cliffhanger for who knows how many months? Couldn’t be me. And the cliffhangers are only gonna get worse from here on out!

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirteen- Variation One

(Prevoius chapter here)

(Discord Here)

This chapter was originally an RP with @ablackswansweet, and there are two versions- one from both character’s POV. I have Swan’s permission to post this.

Zane warily eyes the young adult who enters alongside Martha. Does she intend to hurt him to force him to do something?

“What do you want?” He questions, hating the resignation in his tone.

He really has begun to give up.

The blond seems oddly excited, considering the circumstances. It looks as though he’s barely containing himself as he comes up to Zane.

He leans into the nindroid’s personal space, studying him closely in a way that once again makes him feel like a studied lab rat.

"I want to learn how you work." The blond smiles deviously. He then grabs Zane’s face and moves it around to inspect it from different angles, and Zane tries to cover up his winces of pain as some of his exposed sensors are touched.

The blond takes a few notes in a notebook before returning to Martha’s side, still with an evil expression.

Zane tries to hide his sigh of relief when the teen leaves. It had taken a lot of impulse control to stop himself from attempting to bite the blond- being manhandled in such a way is a very unpleasant feeling.

“Haven’t you done that enough?” He protests, shifting in his bonds to the best of his ability. “With everything you’ve done to me, I doubt that any competent mechanic would need any more research.”

He glares at the two while he speaks, wishing he still had his faceplate- if only to better emphasize his look of displeasure.

The young man laughs a little, seemingly more to himself than to anyone around him. Yet once again, there’s still an almost cruel aura around him that puts Zane on edge.

"Thing is, Original, I'm not exactly a mechanic. I'm just really, really interested by your wires and gears. And how well they respond to… Certains stimuli," he says.

The teen takes a few more notes before looking to Martha, seeming to wait for approval. She gives it with a nod.

Zane doesn’t quite grasp what is happening until wires are hooked up to him, the blond still seeming to almost shake in his excitement.

He then steps in front of the control panel and looks back to Martha.

Zane feels a wave of unease take over him. Something about this situation is concerning him, and it’s more than the fact that they likely plan to hurt him.

They haven’t given any orders. They haven’t asked any questions. And yet it seems that they plan to hurt him anyway.

They claim that this is training, but at this particular moment, it seems as though this shaping up to be more torture than an attempt at teaching.

“To begin with, my name is Zane, not Original. Second, if you are so interested in ‘wires and gears’ perhaps a robotics course would be a more healthy outlet for you.”

He’s well aware that his words will make no difference, but he attempts to convince the teen to leave him alone anyway.

After a few moments, he adds, “Why are you doing this? I can assure you that I have never meant to cause harm on any innocents.” He glances over at Martha on the last words, noting her displeased expression.

“You can begin whenever you like.” She tells the blond, who hums in response.

"Hey, Original?" He calls out, waiting until Zane looks at him to continue. "You talk a lot."

The young man then pushes a button, and Zane finds himself squirming in his bonds at the uncomfortable feeling. This is far from the worst they have done or can do, but it is still not a pleasant feeling.

He watches as the blond writes something else down, and starts to try and reason with the teen, trying to convince him to stop. He even uses proper manners, but it still seems to have no effect.

When his requests to stop are left ignored, Zane decides to take a new track.

“I suppose I am talking a lot,” he admits, “but not nearly as much as an old friend of mine. Jay couldn’t stay quiet if his life depended on it.”

While starting up a friendly conversation might seem illogical, Zane hopes that it will perhaps give him some insight on the one hurting him. Information about the blond may give him an opportunity to convince him to stop- and perhaps small talk will help him prove that he is seintent.

"Heh, yeah. I had a guy like that in one of my foster homes." The blond smirks, seemingly at the way Zane is surprised. "Didn't end well for him either. No one like a constant source of useless noise, don't you agree?"

Zane isn’t quite sure why he finds him so humorous, but he chooses not to dwell on it, instead trying to find an appropriate response to the words.

"How is your old friend doing now?" The blond smirks as he turns up the voltage, staring Zane dead in the eyes.

Zane struggles to keep a hold of himself, gritting his teeth and trying to maintain the conversation.

And endless source of constant noise? That could be a way to describe it, but Zane has always been fond of Jay’s rambling.

“I haven’t seen him in a while- I’ve been a little…” He glances down at his chains, wincing. “... tied up.”

At this point, it’s likely that the blond has a game of his own if he’s still choosing to continue the small talk- and the large smirk on his face confirms it.

He pauses a moment before continuing. “I don’t think I caught your name, either. What do you go by?”

The blond wears a faux-surprised expression for a moment before answering. "My name's Kyle. He/him, I guess. But I don't think you're going to need to know that."

He returns to slowly upping the charge of the voltage, seeming to reveal in the uncomfortableness that he’s causing.

"Tell me about your other old friends.” Kyle still doesn’t look away. “You said you were dating, right ? How's it like ?" That menacing smile doesn’t fade, and while Zane isn’t quite sure where he’s going with this, surely playing along for the moment couldn’t hurt.

He forces any sign of pain down, attempting to keep up a polite and friendly facade even as the pain increases.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kyle.” He lies. “I don’t recall mentioning that I was in an active relationship, but I suppose that the background research you must’ve done would cover that.”

It is obvious that they know about his boyfriends- how else would they have known to show him what they did in the sensory manipulation?

The pain is still increasing, and it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend as though he’s not hurt.

His breathing has begun to grow heavy, and he’s sure that there are flickers of winces being shown, but he still does his best to maintain his friendly appearance.

"Yeah, I read your file before coming here. Big fan, by the way." Kyle still wears a cruel smile, but it starts to turn more menacing, an evil nature with more purpose. "Wonder how they feel about your self-sacrificing nature," he snarls.

But then he pauses, gritting his teeth. He seems to be trying to keep a hold on himself, but Zane isn’t quite sure what could have triggered it.

Unless… is it possible that his self destruct could have harmed more the way it did Martha?

Zane doesn’t have time to dwell on the thoughts, as he’s suddenly blasted with electricity, and he’s forced to bite back a cry of pain.

Thankfully, it’s only high for a few moments before Kyle lowers it, allowing Zane to regain his composure with a relieved sigh.

Kyle redirects the conversation again. "So, your old friends ?"

Zane decides to instead address the major concern of what may be a part of Kyle’s hostility.

“When I was fighting the Golden Master, I meant no harm to any innocent people. I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I… I understand that in some ways, I have failed this function, but I do my best to help those in need.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Keep calm. He can’t let the pain overtake him- he’s begun to sense that that’s what Kyle wants.

He debates saying more, but chooses to remain silent, waiting for a hopefully diplomatic response.

Kyle sighs and gives him a sharp glare that confirms Zane’s hypothesis. It was likely that his sacrifice had-

He’s cut off from his thoughts by a spike of electricity, and it takes quite a bit of willpower to prevent himself from shouting out at the pain.

Unfortunately, it appears that his pained reaction pleases Kyle, who is now smiling again.

"You didn't answer my question, Original. How was life with your… Boyfriends ? Kai Smith, Jay Walker and Cole Brookstone, yeah ?" He smiles as he emphasises the last names, a menacing threat behind his words.

Zane feels everything in his body go rigid, and with his concentration now centered on the others, he knows that he is having more acute reactions to the pain.

He hates the small whimper that escapes him, but he ignores it in favor of speaking, addressing the underlying threat of his words.

“You do not touch them.” He snarls. “If you hurt them, I swear on the First Spinjitzu Master that I will hunt you down to the ends of the-“ Zane finds himself cut off with a cry of pain as the voltage is jammed up.

"Calm down. I didn't even actually threaten them yet," The blond mutters to himself. Thankfully, it’s not long before he lowers the voltage, and when he does Zane is able to breathe again.

But his panic is still running high. He had all but directly said that-

"If I wanted to truly use them as hostages, I'd tell you I know which shop they go to every two weeks to buy supplies and food, which is the one at the end of the main avenue."

The voltage begins to increase, and Zane wants to be listening, but he can only just make out his words, in too much pain to think straight.

"I'd tell you we have live feed of them almost every day and everywhere they go."

Zane hates the loud screams escaping him, but he can’t even focus on them, all of his attention forcefully grabbed by the pain and the threats, the way he threatens the ones he loves-

"Or… I'd tell you how one of them already got arrested once, and how easy it is to transfer prisoners or fake an accident."

Zane can feel the way his body is reaching the maximum limits of what it can handle, he can’t handle much more of this, this will kill him, he can’t possibly-

When the power is shut off, Zane finds himself sobbing, thankful that it’s gone, the pain is gone, but he still has fear running through him, fear of what could possibly happen to the ones he loves.

Kyle walks up to him, and Zane hates the fact that he flinches, and he hates even more the smile the teen wears when he does.

"Don't you dare threaten me or her ever again. Remember who holds the power here," the blond mutters in his ear before going back over to Martha, checking his notebook.

Zane doesn’t have it in him to be ashamed of how much he had screamed when the voltage was on maximum power- or at least, what had felt like it.

He wants to retort, to tell the boy that will protect his boyfriends to the death, to tell him that he is more than a machine, to tell him that he will threaten him again if he has to.

But he can’t find the words. He’s too tired to come up with proper sentences.

The part of him that spends too much time with Kai urges him to tell the teen a string of insulting curse words, but Zane ignores it.

When the two leave the room, Zane doesn’t even bother saying a farewell.

What’s the point in it, anyway?

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 320: Deku vs. Class 1-A

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Kacchan was all “fuck Deku and fuck his stupid goodbye letters, I need to speak to somebody in charge.” Endeavor was all “hello, I am Somebody In Charge.” Kacchan was all “listen up asshole, you need to let us go out and collect our wayward nerd because you stupidly left him alone with All Might and that’s a fast track to disaster right there.” Endeavor was all, “[self-incriminating silence].” Rat Principal was all, “okay sure, have fun kids.” Back in the present, class 1-A was all “hi Deku” and Deku was all “I’M FINE!!!!!” and Kacchan was all “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YOU DUMB FUCKING NERD” and so the kids all got ready to fight, because OF COURSE they’re gonna fight. Sorry guys, but yeah it’s happening.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all “what’s up Deku you look like a possessed Rorschach test, so anyway how are the new quirks coming along.” Deku is all “they’re coming along like THIS” and uses Smokescreen to try and get away. Kacchan is all “PHASE ONE COMMENCE”, and Kouda, Sero, Jirou, and Ojiro leap into the fray to shower Deku with heaps of love and violence, because this is a shounen manga and kicking someone’s ass while simultaneously proclaiming your undying admiration for them is just how it’s done in these parts. The KoudaSeroOJirou squad then passes the baton to Satou, Momo, Tokoyami, Kaminari, and Shouji, who are all “fuck this mask” and do a bunch of stuff to tear Deku’s mask off because they’re the real heroes. Shouto is all “LOOK AT THE LITTLE CRYBABY, THAT’S RIGHT, GO AHEAD AND FUCKING CRY and by the way let us share your burden please,” and once again I swear this is all very deeply moving and touching within the actual context. The chapter ends with Tsuyu being all “look at me. I’m the cliffhanger now,” and damn.

lol what

I don’t think anyone was expecting that. I mean, not that I’ve got anything against Tsuyu or anything. anyways it’s a very nice cover and I love the colors and I hope this means Tsuyu’s gonna do something badass

also, “Deku vs Class A” -- pretty much the expected title, but it’s still got me hyped nonetheless fuck yeah let’s go

IIDA ANGST

Iida Tenya really said “fuck the uniform code, we’re leaving the helmet at home today.” sorry kids, prim and proper C-3PO Comic Relief Iida has left the building. can I interest you in some Serious Iida

meanwhile Kacchan is all “sup Deku, I heard you got a few more quirks, and might I just add that you look like the Snyder Cut of Detective Pikachu”

“you look like a tarred and feathered squid” okay easy there Kacchan. I mean it’s all true of course, but still

“thank you all for coming” OH EXCUSE ME SON, WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING SOMEWHERE. LET’S JUST SEE HOW THAT PLAYS OUT

yep and there’s Smokescreen, right on cue

okay Horikoshi, I leave it in your hands. hopefully you can come up with some more interesting combos than my dumbass predictions lol

LOL THIS ISN’T A COMBO AT ALL

“explosions solve everything” -- Horikoshi Kouhei, 2021. something something shockwave, something something handwave ta-da no more smoke. lol okay then

oh, ouch

he would know, wouldn’t he. nice application of one of your many hard-earned life lessons, Kacchan

by the way you guys, just as an experiment, I’m going to try to anticipate some of the discourse this week in the hopes of preemptively addressing it and thus saving myself some time later on lol. so here’s our first test run!

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “oh my god what a fucking hypocrite can you believe this fucking guy”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: it’s precisely because Kacchan has been in this exact situation himself that he’s able to recognize his past self in Deku now and call him out on it. just because it took him sixteen years to get it through his head that he can’t accomplish every single thing completely by himself doesn’t mean Deku has to go down that same path. so yeah, maybe it is a bit hypocritical, but if you insist that the only people qualified to call out stupid shit are people who have never done a single stupid thing in their own lives, then what you’re basically saying is that absolutely no one on earth is qualified lol. so yeah, I’d have to disagree

and one last unrelated note, I’m willing to bet the whole “you didn’t even say a word before you ran off” thing is possibly the first thing Kacchan’s said in this whole encounter that actually does stem from genuine hurt rather than his tough-love-harsh-truths strategy. I’M TAKING NOTES HERE HORIKOSHI. at this rate it’ll take twice as many chapters as DvK2 for them to hash out all the stuff between them, geez

anyway so I gotta say, so far Deku vs. Class A is looking an awful lot like a DvK3 wearing a hat, trenchcoat, and sunglasses lol

OH SHIT I TAKE IT BACK??

FUCK YEAH, YOU GO KOUDA. and I guess he ditched his mask as well! excellent

so far the strategy here seems to be “Kacchan says all the mean tough love shit while the rest of 1-A balances it out with warmth and kindness”, which actually works pretty well imo. Deku is one of those people that doesn’t usually need a Kacchan Translator anyway, but just in case, this is very efficient

mm but of course Deku is slingshotting himself away with Blackwhip. all right then, who’s up next!

FUCK YEAH

okay but seriously you guys, what is going on with Sero’s face in these last couple of chapters though, it’s really starting to unnerve me. is he trying to emulate Kacchan’s whole asymmetrical facial expressions thing?

in fact let me just quickly hit pause here because,

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “SERO IS TOGA??!”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: no

oh snap looks like Jirou’s getting in on the action too!

poor Jirou probably spent days racking her brain trying to think of something she could bond with Deku over. is Horikoshi doing these in reverse order of the kids who have had the most interaction with him? that would explain why poor Kouda didn’t get a flashback lol

omg. well that answers that

so by my count, Satou and Hagakure are the only ones remaining in this first tier of kids who Still Appreciate Midoriya even though they’ve barely ever spoken two words to him in their lives lol. so they’ll probably be next, and then we’ll get to the next tier of kids who are pretty good friends with him but not quite besties. and then we’ll move on to the IidaRokiRaka trio, and then lastly, to the boy who is in a tier all his own

BUT FIRST, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

and by “sponsor” I mean the Dekuangst. just in case that wasn’t clear. indeed, many thanks to the Dekuangst for making this all possible

(ETA: okay so this whole “take me away” line seemed pretty weird to me, and sure enough it’s yet another one of those cases where only the verb is specified, and the object is left to the reader’s interpretation. so even though the translation says “take me away”, I’m pretty sure that what Deku’s actually saying is “take you away” -- as in, his loved ones will be taken away by AFO.

and that is literally the way he phrases it, though -- the verb used is “奪う” (ubau), meaning “to snatch away; to dispossess; to steal.” which, god, that hurts my whole goddamn heart though, because for him to say it like that?? not “AFO will kill you”, but “AFO will take you away from me.” he can’t have nice things anymore because of AFO. he can’t be around the people he loves because AFO will hurt them. he can’t have happiness because AFO will take it away from him. anyway so where the fuck is AFO right now, motherfucker I just want to talk.)

by the way can Ojiro just extend his tail to whatever fucking length he wants or what because it’s like twelve feet long in this panel lol

WOOO FUCK YEAH TOKOYAMI

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!! BUT WHERE’S YOUR FLASHBACK? YOU’VE HAD A BUNCH OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, THAT’S NOT FAIR

okay so now Satou’s stepping in which is back to my anticipated order, so maybe Toko will finish his little moment afterward

dskfjfkk

“REMEMBER THAT TIME DEKU BORROWED SATOU’S FOOD COLORING” Horikoshi says, sweating. “AND REMEMBER THAT TIME HE, UM, SMILED IN HAGAKURE’S GENERAL DIRECTION”

actually I am curious about what Hagakure’s part will be because, you know, the whole traitor thing lol

(ETA: funny how we just skipped right over it huh. can we get a traitor reveal countdown started here? definitely getting close to that time.)

whoa lol wtf

MOMO??? THIS HAS MOMO WRITTEN ALL OVER IT DAMMIT

-- SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK

“SORRY MIDORIYA-SAN, I LEFT MY FUCKING CHILL AT HOME IN THE LOCKER NEXT TO IIDA’S HELMET” holy shit lmao

and here I thought she’d get a flashback to her time on the Baku Rescue Squad or something. but nope, no flashbacks from Momo, only terrifying sci-fi torture devices

poor Dark Shadow is such a trooper omg

“why am I the only one who has to make prolonged contact with his smelly disgusting self” taking one for the team there DS

FUCK YEAH KAMINARI NO JUTSU

THE PRICKLY BASTARD WHISPERER STRIKES AGAIN!! don’t suppose you brought any clean clothes you could sneakily force him into huh Kami

okay here we go, so now Shouji and Tokoyami are joining forces

um excuse me this is fucking awesome

wonder how he’ll break free? don’t think he’ll reveal Fa Jin until the end of the chapter, so maybe Air Force or something? idk

TOKO GETS AN EXTENDED MOMENT BECAUSE HE IS A TIER TWO PATREON REWARD LEVEL FRIEND YAY

WHY IS MOMO MAKING THIS FACE LOL YOUR THING WAS WAY WORSE

and Shouji just casually hitting him with what is easily the best comment from anyone yet. too bad Deku’s just gonna ignore it. you deserve better Shouji

KAMINARI OMFG

it only just occurred to me that Kami is currently trapped inside Dark Shadow right along with him lmao omg. realest one in the entirety of BnHA, right here. we will never forget your sacrifice

aaaaaaand Deku’s yeeting himself

do you really hate the thought of taking a bath that much my dude

oh shit the mask!!

-- oh shit the feels

o(TヘTo)

fuck. and I mean, we knew he was crying, that was a done deal. but still, to see him in this much pain is just...

and the acknowledgement that he knows they’re worried about him, but that it doesn’t change his mind one bit. this, right here, is why they have to be a bit harsh with him, you guys. because they’re up against the full, unbridled stubbornness of Midoriya fucking Izuku, and if they don’t match that stubbornness with an equal stubbornness of their own, they basically don’t stand a chance

(ETA: quick note that there is apparently another mistranslation here -- rather than saying that his friends are oblivious to the danger, what Deku is actually saying is that none of his friends have activated his Danger Sense once throughout this entire fight. which I had been wondering about, and it turns out Horikoshi actually confirmed it. so basically none of the kids bears any ill intent toward him, and there’s literal proof right there.

incidentally, as @class1akids​ pointed out, this also casts an interesting light on this chapter in terms of who hasn’t fought Deku yet. not to play the Hagakure Traitor Music for the billionth time you guys, but I’M JUST SAYING lol.)

anyway, but the good news is that they all seem to understand that. and the even better news is that we have reached the tier 3 friends!!

“OR ELSE” lol, great to see Shouto wielding his friendship just as aggressively as Deku once did towards him. I do love a good role reversal

p.s., ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “why is Shouto being so cruel to Deku can’t he see how hard this is on him”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: this is a callback to the classic “even heroes cry when they have to” Shouto line from chapter 137. Shouto is clearly following Kacchan’s lead here and going for the more ruthless approach, knowing that the gentle approach isn’t getting through to him (if anything it’s only making him more stubborn as we saw on the previous page). basically it’s his way of pointing out that even heroes are still only human, and so is Deku last time he checked

ah okay, and there Tsuyu is at last

okay real talk, I get why Tsuyu is included in the tier 3 friends, because she was one of the first people to team up with Deku going all the way back to USJ. but that said, this probably would have had more impact if their most recent interaction hadn’t been like 150 chapters ago

but anyway though it’s still a good speech. maybe not quite a cliffhanger-level speech, but a good speech nonetheless. in a way though, I’m glad to see that Horikoshi seemingly didn’t give a fuck whether he ended this on an actual cliffhanger or not for once

and that “headed toward the climax” part has me excited too, ngl. because if we really are getting to the so-called climax this soon, that makes me even more certain that there is indeed a DvK3 in the forecast. so I presume that next week (or I guess two weeks from now) will be the tier 3s along with the remaining tier 2s like Kirishima and Aoyama

and then after that, well... [orange and green banners being hoisted] [sound of screeching airhorns and vuvuzelas in the distance] [sound of All Might approaching in his car which I didn’t notice until I looked back at this page a second time whoops] THE PROPHECY WILL NOT BE DENIED

[writing-in-april]

Last Name

Vague Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral reader 

Starring- Reader, Hux, Poe (mentioned)

Warnings- Torture, blood, swearing, guns, normal Star Wars content just a little bloodier

A/N- This is a new fandom for me to write for so here’s to branching out! I’ll still post for Spencer Reid hopefully once a week but I have a bunch of other things I’d like to write for as well!! Thank you Discord for helping me with this especially my beta readers @agntprentiss @fanficlibrary82 and @onedirectionfansarelegends​ (This was the only way I could tag her for some reason) This idea literally came to me in a dream and I just had to write it down (it was supposed to be a blurb then came out to be 2k words 🤷‍♀️) Requests are open!! @april-14-blog​ is my main blog where I reblog smut and fluff.

My head felt like it was on fire, that was the first thought that shot through my head as I came to. I struggled to pry open my eyes, it felt as if I had the weight of a starsystem pulling them closed.

Slowly my senses started coming back to me, I could tell I was strapped to a metal chair with binders around both of my wrists. They were bound tight, tight enough that I could feel the harsh metal digging into my flesh. I must’ve been captured from my latest mission for the resistance, though I could barely recall the details. All I could evoke from my memory was landing on the planet Kashyyyk, I was supposed to meet up with a spy who had critical information for new hyperspace lanes.

Suddenly the metal panel slid open snapped me out of my memories. The harsh scraping of metal on metal setting my teeth on edge. The anticipation of who was going to walk through was like sitting on needles and the hairs of my neck where standing straight up. My eyes were still adjusting to the harsh lighting that was casting varied shadows throughout the room. A silhouette came into my view and I could immediately tell who it was even without being able to see the details of his figure.

General Hux, a smarmy high ranking officer of the First Order. Well at least it wasn’t Kylo Ren.

“Y/N Y/L/N data analyst for the resistance.” Hux sneered from the shadows. “We have a whole file on you, you hold key information about resistance tactics and locations. Resistance is futile, just give us the data” he stepped forward which allowed me to take in his slimy appearance. His eyes looked dead, no emotion was given away, I knew there was no weaseling my way out of this. I’d have to fight my way out.

I completely blocked out Hux’s voice, letting it play in the background like a broken audiobulb, which helped me absorb the blows that started coming at my stomach from a stormtrooper. Eventually they moved up to my upper shoulders and face when it was clear they were getting no reaction from me.

My mouth was steadily filling with crimson blood, which gave me an idea to further goad the general. I spit the blood at Hux spraying his face scarlet and delivered a devilish insult.

“Eat my shit, you flaccid son of of a street whore” I said with a bloody smirk, he was going to have to try harder if he wanted to get me to speak.

“You rebel scum” he spat out at me. Then with a raised fist he punched me in the nose with a sickening crack. “You’ll never leave here, you’ll rot in a cell. Even if you do attempt to escape it’s not like you know how to fly. We’re in the middle of deep space and you’re just a simple analyst.” He taunted at me, this was subtle confirmation that the pilot I came with was dead, at least it wasn’t Poe I thought selfishly.

Through the threshold of my cell a probe droid came through, I started to unconsciously squirm, I knew what was coming next. The black floating sphere droid hovered over to me and shot out a syringe which was surely filled with something they were sure would make me talk.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way” Hux sneered out- Kriff I wish he’d just shut his mouth. “What where you doing orbiting Kashyyyk?”

I shook my head in defiance, I didn’t care about pain, I just cared about the survival of the resistance.

“Very well” he grumbled before waving the torture droid towards me. The needle pricked my right forearm giving me a slice of the pain that was to come. It didn’t creep up on me, but hit me with full force, making me feel as if fire was running through my veins. Hux started screaming at me again to try and pry out the information, even though whatever they injected into me didn’t let me form a single thought. My eyes started to give way- I didn’t know if I was going to pass out or die- just that I needed to do something to escape the burning pain. Relief flooded through my veins as the galaxy around me faded to black.

———————

When I came to again my head was pulsing harder then before, plus there was a sharp ringing in my ears. Pushing my pain aside I promptly started to look for an escape route. Then I remembered how Poe and I had gotten out of being captured by Weequans on Felucia. I prepared myself to scream out to the troopers, I’ll fake being sick and hopefully they’ll let their guard down.

“Help please!” I shouted in the most convincing scream I could managet. “I’m going to throw up! You’ll have to clean it up if you don’t give me a bucket or something!!!”

The two stormtroopers stationed outside finally relented and opened the door with another whoosh. They clambered in obviously miffed that they would have to deal with me. One unlocked the binders and forcefully pulled them off me, giving some relief to my already bruised wrists. They shoved me out of the cell out towards the refresher that was reserved for prisoners.

“Hurry up.” The second one snapped at me in a brusque tone while they shoved me through the door.

I assessed my surroundings trying to find anything to gain the upper hand, sadly it seemed as if I would have to use brute force to escape. I hunched over the toilet pretending to make a gagged sound and called for one of them to help me again. Swiftly I kicked the trooper’s legs out from under them and grabbed his blaster, the second immediately put his hands up knowing that I had the upper hand. I decided to spare the two, by knocking them out with the butt of the blaster.

My legs were burning as I ran out of the detention block with black spots dancing around my vision but, I wouldn’t let myself stop for anything, I needed to get home. The Star destroyer I had gotten myself stranded on had an unnecessary amount of seemingly useless hallways. I was certain I had gotten lost in the deep dispensable cesspool, I had barely even run into any troopers, seemingly signaling that I was off course. Finally I saw the light of a hangar bag coming into view, then of course the alarm went off painting the col clinical hallways a deep red. They must’ve realized that I had escaped, my poor legs were close to giving up, the stress of being tortured had nearly beaten me into submission. Yet I willed myself further as I came in through the hangar doors, troopers were running around looking in every nook and cranny trying to find their lost prisoner. I hid my frame behind a stack of crates and peeled my eyes for a ship to pilot.

My pupils fixated on a tie fighter around the bend that luckily had no troopers snooping about. I made a mad dash towards the open hatch of the ship and hopped inside. Buttons and switches adorned the small ship looking slightly foreign to me. Instead of worrying about taking off I tried to apply basic flight knowledge that Poe taught to me and I got the ship hovering off the ground.

The troopers finally realized what was happening and started to fire at the ship, even though the tethering cable was still attached I grabbed the controls to swerve around incoming fire. I swung around until the end of the tethering cable came into my sights, I quickly swiveled over to the blaster controls. Aiming expertly I shot down the only thing holding me back from leaving this Sarlacc pit. I made my way back to the piloting controls and quickly passed through the exit out into deep space. Several tie fighters followed me trying to shoot me down as a crackling came through the comms.

“You’ll never outrun us!” Hux shouted through the comms, they must’ve still been connected through the enemy ships.

“Are you so sure about that Hux?!” My shaky hands were attempting to program the coordinates of the D’Qar base into the navicomputer which was harder without an astromech to aide me.

“Even if you did escape the star destroyer Y/L/N you wouldn’t get very far- you’re no pilot” his voice like steel scraping through the comms.

“ Did you know my name isn’t Y/L/N anymore Hux?” I mocked as I prepared to jump into hyperspace, I had him right where I wanted him.

“The name’s Dameron, Hugs” I slammed down the hyperspace lever and blasted off ready to go back to my husband who taught me how to fly.

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame : What If?

#2: If Taehyung Caught You (Chapter 6 Alternate Timeline)

Reader x Taehyung

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn

Warnings: Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Death), Language

↳ Summary: I do a lot of teasing in this series and my readers take it very well. So, I’ve decided to do polls for the public to decide which near-miss scenarios I write out as Alternate Universe/Timeline/whatevers. They do not take the place of scheduled updates, and are oneshots only.

Best understood as part of the Moth to Flame Universe

Masterlist Link

It’s a bathroom—huge and beautiful. The tiles are an eggshell blue, and the shower in the corner is large enough to fit four people easily. For example, yourself and three other beautiful men. Nope. Wrong. You shake your head and banish the idea, ignoring the lingering imagined sensation of wet skin and hot kisses. You’re escaping, remember? The biting? The pain in your neck flares briefly, as does the soreness between your legs.

There’s a tub on the far side, larger even than the one you and Jin bathed in together, and as you hold your breath and stare, you recognize the figure inside. It’s Taehyung. Blonde hair wet and shining as it sticks to his face, to his neck. His eyes are closed, his head inclined back and resting on the side, plump lips slightly parted. What is he…? There’s another splash and the accompanying movement halfway down the bathtub steals your eye. The noise that crawls out of his throat this time is unmistakable. Fire licks up your neck and cheeks and your teeth automatically clench at the realization. Immediately, you’re determined to leave, turn on your heel and go back down the hallway from where you came, but then he cranes backwards, the muscles in his neck flexing, lifting his hips out of the water, and you are rooted to the spot. Watching him clutch his cock desperately, achingly hard and red, stroking up his length in a way both leisurely and needful. He’s thick, even in comparison to his large hands, and briefly your mind drifts to how it must feel to have it stretching you, filling you up so well, having all his filthy promises made good on after all. Your mouth waters despite yourself. 

“Just like that,” he hums, encouraging, and you swear your answering swallow echoes off the tiled wall. He tugs on himself sharply, and his eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open. He whines, and it sounds so pitiful. “Just like that…what a good girl…” 

Your eyes widen, jaw going slack. Is he…jerking off to you? 

“Good, so good, sucking my cock for me,” he continues in a hushed groan, his whole body shaking into his palm. He twitches and the moan that slips from his lips is helpless against his own sweet torture. “You love sucking Taehyungie’s cock, don’t you? Just like that.

Please,” he breathes, pitch rising, but despite his pleading, his hand stills at the base of his member and his head turns to the side so you can see his face fully. His eyes are still closed, deep in the throes of his fantasy, but the consternation that pulls his brows close is real, the waver in his lips as he pants through gritted teeth, the pain of being left to the mercy of his own appetite. 

“Please,” he begs again, turning back away, hips thrusting up into his own hand. You can see him shivering, his fingers doing little else but brush against his length. He’s hoarse, twisting again as the bathwater laps at his tanned skin—it isn’t enough, he’s so hard and so close, you can hear the agony in his voice.    

“Suck me down again, suck me harder,” Taehyung implores his imaginary partner, and this time, he finally allows his hand to close into a tight fist, his jilted, surprised, moan leaving him almost as a keen, bouncing off the walls and echoing, as he drags it up and down. You watch, mesmerized, as the angry red of his cockhead disappears and reappears past the webbing of his hand, his thumb teasing at the slit when it emerges. His cry stutters and he’s almost sobbing as he thrusts, losing control of his slow pace, fisting himself in earnest now, bucking upwards. 

“Fuck, that’s perfect, just like that,” he gasps, growls, teeth catching on his lips, “F-fuck!” 

His other hand flies to his face, shakily slotting the outside of his thumb into his mouth as he bites down, his pelvis gyrating. He comes to a shuddering halt in midair, his cock twitching and pulsing as cum oozes over his fist, a few wayward spurts splashing into the water. Even from here you can hear him moaning, crying out brokenly, muffled by his skin. He rides out the last of his orgasm rutting into the air, humming and breathing heavy through his nose.

The hand in his mouth begins to seep dark red blood from beneath his lips, trailing down the side of his hand and down his arm. He suddenly pulls away with a grunt, visibly frustrated, and his eyes shoot open. You start, jumping guiltily, but he doesn’t seem to notice you watching from the doorway. His whole body slumps, the movement jerky and oversensitive, slipping down into his sullied bathwater. His head lolls back again, throwing a slow, disappointed blink to the ceiling before resuming a stare straight ahead, as if pondering deep and troubling thoughts. 

 Why are you still watching? What remains of your senses soaks slowly back into your brain as you realize you’ve sat here and played voyeur to a vampire as he masturbated in the tub instead of making your way out of this house. The insistent throbbing between your legs alerts you to the fact that the whole obscene fiasco has gone straight to your cunt and when you absently rub your thighs together, the heat inside of your belly kicks up so fiercely you have to bite back a whimper of your own. 

You cast one last look at Taehyung, pressing your lips into a firm line and holding your breath. You’ll leave him to his cum-bath. At least now you know for a fact that the other direction down the hallway has got to be the way out. 

 You begin a brisk walk towards the hallway opposite the bathroom. The entire surface of your skin tingles, senses heightened, almost anticipating the sound of Taehyung leaving the tub, the feeling of his hands on you, the sound of his voice dripping honeyed desires into your ears. But you hear no telltale splash of water and there’s no sign that he’s noticed you. Around the corner you can see the stairs now, and your pace quickens. 

The way out. The way home. An end to this fever dream, this weird place you’ve found yourself in. With all the bites and kisses and confusion. You’ll be home free. Wherever ‘home’ might be.

A warm arm slips easily over your chest as you walk, caging you backwards. A surprised huff leaves your lips when you stride right into it and bounce back. Wet. It’s wet, water trailing down the bare skin to drip to the floor. Why is it wet…?

Oh, fuck. 

“I thought I felt you.” Taehyung hums, his deep voice reverberating through his chest as a pleased rumble. “Did you like it…? Nasty little voyeur...” 

“I—“ you begin to stammer, mind spinning, trying to think of ways you could weasel your way out of this one, trying to ignore how hot he feels behind you, how heavy his breath is against your neck. 

Distantly, you can hear Jimin complaining in the hall ahead, followed by Jin. You weren’t gonna make it out that way, either, huh. But now, you’re thinking about running to Jin. Jin’ll save you. He’ll—Taehyung is already wrapping one wide palm around your wrist, tugging you back with him as he starts shuffling back to the bathroom, his head sliding into the crook of your neck as you go. There’s no point in struggling. The lithe muscles on display for you now are like steel. You’d have an easier time going through the wall. 

“T-Taehyung—“ you try, but he groans at the sound of his name, his hold on you flexing. 

“Maybe this time we don’t share right away,” he mumbles. “Lucky me, hm? I thought you were gone. Dead and gone…” He sniffs, nuzzling forward suddenly at your bandages. “Namjoon and Jin…?” He groans again, continuing to pull you back. You’re at the threshold now, and just as he’s pulling the door shut you consider shouting for Jin. For help. You don’t get the chance. Taehyung spins you around, pressing you up against the wood panelling, skin to skin, noses almost touching. You can see the expanse of skin he’s bared now, the way the water trails over his collarbones, drips down his chest, his dusky nipples pebbled. You glance lower, but with your proximity, it’s impossible to see anything else and you’re forced to meet his gaze again. He cocks his head, eyes half-lidded, looking you over with an expression that sends your stomach into flips. 

“Heard you screaming,” he says, conversational, and somehow his voice has managed to slink lower, deeper. “Everybody did, I think.” His tongue slides over his plump lips as his eyebrows flick upwards. “Fuck, it made me so wet.” 

He leans closer, and unthinkingly, you’re arching to kiss him, but he only pauses there, and you feel him smirking, his breath ghosting over your mouth. 

“Did you take them both?” he asks, excited. “Did they argue over who got your juicy little cunt, or did they share nicely?”

“Taehyung, th-they, I’m,” you try again, but your voice is going dry, mind already spinning maddening circles at the filthy implications.

“I bet Namjoon pinned you down, hm? I bet Jin kissed you all over. Did Jungkookie get to watch?” 

A gasp leaves your throat before you can stop it, pleasure streaking down your chest into your belly at the thought of Jungkook, watching, helpless, as Jin and Namjoon have their devious way with you. Would they let him join in? Eventually? Once you’re filled up and drained out, leaking all over the couch? You can’t help the way you squirm, and Taehyung definitely notices. 

Hot and slick, his tongue flits to your lips, licking you up, finally kissing you with a mouth like burning velvet, humming deep in his chest. 

“Gonna get in trouble,” he murmurs between sloppy, hungry kisses. “Again. Gotta make sure it’s worth it. Are you going to be good for me? This time I want more than your tits. I want more than just my fingers inside you.” You feel his hand brushing up the side of Jin’s pajamas, sidling up, sneaking into the front. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Jin said—” you start to protest weakly, cut off when he slips one long finger through your folds, caressing, beckoning forwards. He finds your clit with laser precision, circling and teasing at your entrance. 

“So wet already.” Taehyung groans, nipping playfully at your jaw. “Be quiet. Don’t want to get caught, mm?”

His haze tastes familiar against the back of your tongue. It wraps sure tendrils around your shoulders, sinking into your chest, easing your head back, heightening the impossibly good feeling of him stroking your pussy. Your mouth gapes at the ceiling, gripping his arms for balance as your spine arches into his touch.

“Maybe you do,” he continues, low. “Maybe you do want to get caught. Maybe that’s why you keep getting caught.”

He removes his hand from you too soon, tearing the pajama bottoms off you and immediately lunging for your top. You try your best to help him undress you, but you’re not moving fast enough for him and the next time he goes for a kiss, it’s impatient, all teeth and tongue. 

“Down,” he rasps. Your knees buckle, mouth flopping open as you come face to face with his engorged prick, already plump and red despite his recent orgasm. Your legs smart faintly from where you dropped so suddenly, but there’s warmth, glitter rising up through your limbs, coiling in your chest, in the air when you exhale, and the lights are beginning to circle above you. 

You feel his fingers curling sharply into your hair as he slides forward, inching his hot cock between your lips with a husky moan. 

“Perfect,” he coos as you struggle to acclimate to the girth of him weighing heavily on your tongue, nowhere to go when you try to lean back and end up pressing the back of your head to the door. “Shh, you’re okay.”

You moan around his length, relaxing around him when he continues his descent down your throat until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Your nose is pressed to his pubis, barely able to breathe with him like this, what little oxygen you can manage filled with the smell of him, the taste of his skin. But you’re okay. You’re good.  

“Fuck. That’s what you wanted, right? You wanted Taehyungie’s cock down your tight little throat? Hmm?” He shifts his weight to the other foot, twitching inside you.

You drool in response, unable to nod, unable to make a sound beyond a sick gurgle, vision spinning, pinned in place between him and the unyielding wood at your back. He makes a deeply pleased noise in his chest, hips rolling to slip his member out, and press back in. 

“Would you suck it all down for me?” he muses aloud as he begins to fuck your mouth, slippery and hot and heavy. Your eyes threaten to roll back, it’s starting to chafe, going raw, but you’re okay, you’re okay, and your neglected cunt is starting to leak, slicking the cool tile beneath you. “If I came in your mouth? Would you drown in it for me?” 

You would, you would, you want to, the very thought of his cum filling your mouth, out your nose, dripping down your chin has you writhing on the cruel hardness of the floor. 

“I think you would. Good.” In the corner of your eye, you can see when he throws his head back, snarling when you briefly choke as he prods the back of your throat. “Good.” 

He giggles, tearing his cock from you so suddenly that you almost collapse, held up only by his grip in your hair. “I would, too,” he muses above your wretched cough and ragged inhale. “I would pin you down and fill up every hole. I hope you know that.” 

You match his grin with yours, bleary-eyed, when he caresses the side of your jaw with his thumb. 

“But I want your pussy so badly,” he adds, nearly in a whine, “Jimin-ie said it tasted so nice, you know. So sweet on his tongue.” His other hand flies to his member again, stroking it slow. “Do we have time for that?” He doesn’t seem to really be talking to you anymore. 

The noise that breaks the brief silence between you is a sharp chime that echoes brightly about the bathroom. A marimba, you remember drunkenly, swaying, still watching Taehyung. It’s a marimba. He blinks, looking vaguely surprised and a little annoyed. When he lets go of your face, you whine under your breath, but he ignores you in favor of reaching for something on the floor behind the bathtub. His thumb taps deftly at the screen and he holds it up to his ear, licking his lips before speaking in a surprisingly innocent tone. 

“Jin?”

You’re distracted by the motion of his free hand resuming its pace down his cock, stroking himself like its a second thought as he listens to someone on the other end of the line. Jin, probably. Yeah, probably. Your throat feels so empty. Your pussy feels empty. Your body, untouched. You shift impatiently. 

“No,” Taehyung’s deep tone catches your attention again and when you glance up at him, his eyes are blazing straight through you, a smirk curling at his mouth. “No, I haven’t seen her.” 

The hand on his member suddenly points at you, then to the floor at his feet, his expression darkening. What…? He does the motion again, insistent. His brows shoot into his hairline. 

….Oh! You’re practically drooling as you finally understand, scrambling to obey quietly. You throw yourself in front of him like a bitch in heat, presenting your ass in the air, smothering an appreciative moan when you immediately feel his wide palms passing over your hips. He tugs you closer, sucking a breath through his teeth. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He sounds distracted, rubbing circles, fingertips ghosting over your nether lips. You back into him slightly, biting your lip, but he digs his nails into your ass as a warning, keeping you still underneath him.

“Just taking a bath.” Heat, velvety and soaking wet, brushing your inner thigh. He guides himself towards your core and begins pressing in at a glacial pace. His voice wavers and he disguises it by coughing, clearing his throat. “I’ll help look when I’m done.” 

Your head drops, sinking your teeth into your forearm to muffle the whines building in your throat as he glides further, sheathing his thick shaft until he’s heavy, hot, in your belly. He exhales behind you, under his breath, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from humping back onto him. You’re good. You’re so good. You mewl quietly when he rocks backwards, the stretch of his member dragging through your walls excruciating and wonderful all at once. 

“Nn, I know.” He’s still talking, but even his cool facade is wavering, his breath catching when he sinks back into you, every inch of his cock burning deep inside your gut. “I’ll be quick. Talk to you later, Jin.” 

There’s a clatter behind you as Taehyung drops the phone. A pair of hands on your hips, warming the skin, digging his fingers into your flesh, repositioning, tugging you with him as he snarls and grunts from the depths of his chest. He leans over you and begins fucking in earnest, punishing, bruising, his hips smacking against yours and sending you forward with the force, the sound of his testicles against your ass loud, echoing. 

“Ah, fuck,” he seethes, his breath coasting across your shoulders. “Fuck, I can’t believe Jin’s back already…” He giggles. “Guess we don’t have time for a lot.” 

Without any warning, his hand disappears from your flank, swatting your backside sharply. It reappears in your hair, tangling his fingers through the strands, forcing your head up, back, your glazed stare to the door as he pins you, takes you like a beast trapped underneath him. You keen, now uncovered, the walls of the bathroom answering, and he shushes you idly, laughing. 

 “There you go again,” he chastises with a grunt. “You wanna get caught? You want Jin to walk in? You want Jiminie to hear us? Kookie? You want everyone to see you like this? Bent like a dog, taking it for me.” 

It’s hard to breathe, much less speak, every thrust taking the air from your lungs, curling your toes with pleasure, but you try your best anyway, stuttering and stammering, dribbling around a drawn-out noise of affirmation. Your fingers scrabble at the tile uselessly, feet sliding out of position, legs quivering from his onslaught. 

“Hmm? Yes?” He’s excited at your response, trying to shuffle closer, trying to pull you more towards him, his pace growing unsteady. “Is that a yes? You clenched just now, just at the thought, huh? Your greedy little pussy wants to be filled up just like that? Could you take it?” 

Taehyung hums, rumbling, arm moving to help prop the two of you up, his front closing in on your back, pelvis crashing into yours, one arm hooking underneath you, fingers wandering to hold you open for him, stretching you sideways as he plunges his turgid cock in and out of your slick hole. 

“Good,” he groans, “So good for me. Fuck. I c-can’t...I’m gonna give you everything. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” 

He stutters, and you can feel his head bowing at your neck, can feel his deep inhales, breathing in the scent his brothers left on your neck. Even as your limbs shake violently from the exertion of keeping the two of you up, even with his free hand braced against the floor, you can feel the steady rush of your orgasm threatening to claim your body as he pumps violently, forcing himself so deep, almost too deep, and you cry out in need. He whines in answer, grunting, as his member twitches and pulsates, finally delivering on his filthy promises. Your cunt floods with his hot seed, your mouth falling agape as he holds you perfectly still, making you take it, all of it. You’re close, but not quite there, and when he exhales through his teeth, slipping his spent dick from you, you choke on a sob. But he doesn’t move to go anywhere, still holding you up even as your body threatens to go completely limp, drooping dangerously close to the floor. 

“Cum,” he rasps against your ear, catching the flesh with his teeth. Rough fingers suddenly circle your clit and it throws you forcibly off the precipice, your orgasm finally rising from your toes and washing over your entire frame, leaving you to shake and convulse in his unyielding grasp. He lets you down, still twitching from the aftershocks, onto the mercifully cold tile. It’s wet here, your combined sweat and juices making the surface slick, but comforting to the ache of your body as you gasp and jolt. 

There’s a moment of silence broken only by your panting. 

“They definitely heard that,” Taehyung muses, low, clicking his tongue. “How long until they open the door and we get in trouble, do you think?” 

 Do you think? You don’t know if you’re capable of thought. Instead, you crane to look at him, chest heaving. Your pussy is beginning to leak, his rapidly cooling release slinking down your thigh. He watches you breathe with a look that’s approaching thoughtful. 

Finally, he pushes up and off the floor, sitting up on his haunches. He reaches for the lock on the bathroom door and flips it into position. Why didn’t he have it locked to begin with?...

“How long until they break it down?” he adds, a grin beginning to grow across his face. “Enough time to stuff you again?” 

His hand slips to your face, dragging his thumb down on your lips. You huff at him, feeling sparks reigniting in your chest when he smirks crookedly. 

“And maybe again? Maybe we can convince them to join. Would you like that?”

You whine. 

[chick-from-nz]

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 9)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC. awkwardly written moments. Sexual tension. some NSFW content. Mentions of death,  child endangerment, TW: car crash. 

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so this chapter went a little darkish at the start and then very different at the end. not gonna lie a little bit giddy and proud of this chapter, hope you all enjoy, sorry for the wait between the chapters. would also love to hear any predictions about where the fic may go.

WORD COUNT: 5.5K  

CHAPTER:  9 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

** **

                                                  ~15 years ago~

“Ashlyn honey, come on, we don’t want to be late ”  her mother, Teressa, yelled out from the bottom of the stairs, laughing softly to herself when she heard the mad rush of footsteps on the wooden floors before seeing her eight year old daughter running towards her with all her might, only to halt army style and stare up at her with wide eyes.  There was not a single soul that could deny the resemblance between the two of them, they shared the striking green eyes and red-brown hair of the Sayer family, both had a boisterous take no shit attitude and the same little quirks and tells when they were upset. Which Teressa could tell was the case with her daughter right this minute.  She reached down and pulled her young daughter into her embrace, balancing her on her hip as she made haste towards their car, “what's wrong baby? What’s got you thinking, hmm?” 

Ash looked up at her mum, teary eyed and mumbled, “I don’t want daddy to get mad at me, I didn’t mean to hit that boy, he just said some mean things about daddy and I got really angry”. Little sniffles were becoming more and more prevalent as she continued talking, try as she might the little girl couldn’t fathom why people would speak bad about her family, they were all so nice!. She clumsily climbed down from her mum's arms and hopped up into her car seat, clipping her belt before pulling on it dramatically to prove that she was actually clipped in. Ash then let out a small gleeful laugh when her mum bopped her on the nose before walking around the car to get into the driver's seat to start on their journey to the principal's office to find out the punishment for the young girls justified behaviour. 

The journey to the school would take longer than necessary, unexpected road closures with no concrete explanations from the officers monitoring the road blocks had forced Teressa to take the back roads and add an extra forty minutes to their already long commute for a Saturday morning. Travelling along generally unused and quiet roads was somewhat of an unusual experience for Ash, having been used to seeing cars passing by every other minute and looking at houses rather than vast open fields. As they passed round a corner, entering a tree lined road with dense forest on either side of them, an unsettling feeling overcame the young mother, there was a strange darkness that clung to the air, setting off alarm bells within. She remained calm as possible as to not alert Ashlynn that something was wrong, as the young girl was far too perceptive for her age, a trait that she had inherited from her fathers side of the family. She glanced back at her daughter, noticing that she was rather quiet, but let out a small sigh of relief when she noted that she had dozed off, head slumped against the panel of the door and her hair covering her face, snoring away softly to herself. It was in this brief moment of distraction that Teressa failed to notice the truck approaching rapidly from behind, when she did she increased her speed well beyond the speed limit, keeping an eye on a sleeping Ash to make sure she didn’t wake up and begin to start asking questions like the curious little thing always did.

As her speed increased the blacked out vehicle behind them only got faster until it was a mere meter behind their car, seeing no other option she pushed the car to its limits, approaching the upcoming intersection at speeds that should terrify her beyond means, but in this moment she was focusing on only one thing, protecting her innocent daughter in the back seat. As she passed through the intersection a scream forced its way from her throat, just through the intersection sat a parked truck blocking the road. Teressa knew she wouldn’t be able to stop in time so she swerved sharply to the right, hearing the screaming of the tires as they went from smooth asphalt to the gravely uneven surface that bordered the edge of the road. The steering of the car locked up, Teressa tried with all her might to get it moving again but was forced to endure the inevitable pain from the collision that was about to happen, with what may be her final words to her daughter she turned to look at Ash, tears filling her eyes when she took in the terrified expression on the young girls’ face, and whispered “I love you baby girl”

When Ash woke up she was sprawled on the grass a few feet from the car, rain was pouring down putting a darker spin on the event occurring. There were people standing around her, albeit a few feet away and semi-huddled together, and something warm was running into her left eye. Reaching up and feeling a thick, sticky substance she pulled her hand down to get a better look, a terrified scream leaving her small body when she noticed her hand washed red with blood. Her scream drew the attention of the people huddled together but they dismissed her without some much as a disgruntled look, they weren’t there for her. Ash glanced around, frightened and searching for her mum, who she found in a heap a meter or so to the left of her. With great difficulty she managed to crawl over to her mum, gathering her head and shaking her when she wouldn’t wake up.

“Mummy please! I’m sorry, no mummy please! Please wake up mummy, I need you” Tears poured from the eyes of the young bruised girl, mixing in with the blood as she desperately tried to wake her mum up. Her little body was exhausted from the effort, shivering from the cold seeping into her bones from the rain, and the toll of the crash began to take effect, she was becoming drowsy, a sure sign of a concussion. Ash felt a small wave of relief was over her when the eyes of her mothers’ met her own, the tears never halted, dripping off her face and landing on the face of her mother, mixing in with the blood that was covering the once beautiful face of her mum, now marred by sliced and bruised flesh.  Her mum pulled her head towards herself, pressing a short but meaningful kiss to her forehead before her body began to go limp.  “Ashy, darling, hold Mumma close for a little while”  the broken voice of her mother rang clear in her ears.

Ash pulled her mums’ head as close to her little chest as possible, crying out and trying with all her might to keep her mum with her till help could arrive. With one last shuddering breath her mother passed, she was gone, no matter how tightly Ash held her. Looking down and seeing the closed eyes of her mother, she panicked, screaming out for the group of people to try and get their attention or at least their help.  “Please help me, my mummy won’t wake up! I need my mummy, please help me!” 

One of the men started towards her, dressed in clothes very similar to that of her father, before coming to a stop before her. He looked over the child thoughtfully, knowing the orders he was given deemed only that the woman be killed and the girl to be delivered to the hospital in a recoverable state, sighing to himself he reached down and hoisted the girl up and made haste towards one of the trucks. 

“Put me down! I want my mummy. Don't take me away from her! MUMMY!!!!”  the girl cried and screamed and beat at the man that was carrying her. She didn't understand. Why was the man taking her away from the one good thing in her life.  Ash watched as the other men made their way towards her mum, before picking her up and beginning to chain her to the tree. One of the men pulled out a large knife which had the young girl screaming at the top of her lungs, “Leave my mummy alone! Just leave her alone you bully! Dont touch her!”  the men just laughed at her, mocking her pitiful cries. She was unceremoniously thrown into the backseat of one of the vehicles, effectively cutting off her view of the men outside.

The young man climbed into the driver's seat, this was his first assignment within the force and he was disgusted by the behaviour of the team. His gaze travelled out the side window just in time to watch the team commander behead the young woman they had just killed, his stomach turned even further when the men began taking turns carving something into the body as they chained her up to the tree and left her there for someone to find. With the signal from his commander he started the car and made haste towards the nearest hospital to get the young, tortured girl seen too as fast as possible, her eyes were drooping and she was beyond pale which scared him. He felt for the young girl, having to go through so much at a young age because of the wrongdoings of her father. 

                                                      ~present~

Ash would never forget the sounds of the crash, the shattering of the glass or the painful scream that left her mothers’ lips the moment before both their worlds went dark that day. The final words of her mother were painfully etched into her memory, a grim reminder of that fateful day, and in tribute to her fallen parent the words “A little weakness goes a long way” were tattooed above her heart, words she stuck to as much as possible. 

**

**

She sucked in a deep breath of air in an attempt to re-center herself with her surroundings and shake off the ghostly shivers of her broken past. She rubbed her hand across her face, wiping away the tears before scoffing out a vacant laugh. “Every damn year, without fail, I get these... these dreams about it ya know?. It’s like I can’t escape my past. I’m constantly thinking ‘what could I have done better, why couldn’t I have been a more grounded child’. If I had just controlled my anger my mum might still be here today” 

The broken sob that left the young soldier had the Colonels’ heart clenching in his chest and his hands tightening on the steering wheel, almost uncomfortably so. He knew all too well the effects blaming oneself had on the mind. There were many things he took the blame for or blamed himself for as an inexperienced officer in his younger days, he would not allow the girl beside him to fall into that trap any longer given there was likely a deeply buried explanation to the event, one he would commit to finding. While keeping a close eye on the road ahead he reached over to wrap Ash’s hand tightly beneath one of his own effectively hoping to silence her racing thoughts and give her something more tangible to focus on. She was one of his own now, a team member that needed to be looked after as thoroughly as possible, but also someone that, dare he say it, was slowly becoming more than that. 

Ash’s head shot up in surprise when she felt the large warm hand grasp her own, it brought a wave of unexpected comfort to her being, warming her to her core. Turning her attention from the hand over her own to the face of the man beside her she gulped. His shoulders were drawn up tight, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his jaw was clenched to the point she could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding. His brow has drawn now and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, he was clearly displeased, no, angered by her past she just confessed, the anger that had settled in his deep brown eyes had a chill racing down her spine, it was a look of cold calculation, one she was sure many of has enemies had seen moments before their death. Gathering a small amount of courage she covered his hand with her other and began rubbing small unconscious circles into the side of his thumb, letting a small relieved breath when she saw some of the tension leave his body.

**

**

A short time had passed and they had reached the hospital; the tension had now left Ash’s body, with the weight of telling Carrillo about some of her destructive past now off her shoulders she felt like the awkwardness of the previous week had been all but forgotten. Her now unwavering trust in the man beside her somewhat frightened her, coupled in with the ever growing feelings she knew she was in far too deep. There was a silent agreement between the two of them that Ash would go to the medics while Carrillo would head to the archives to try and find files that would be useful to the team, they would reconvene at the car within the next two hours. 

Upon entering the hospital and being directed to the outpatient clinic Ash was greeted by a very familiar face, “Captain Lisa Ortiz, my god it has been too long”. The smile that graced her face was pure and genuine, seeing a long lost family friend after so long was a relief and a huge shock to the system, but a good one at that. Ash wasn’t even aware that the Captain had returned from deployment, the last time she’d seen the woman was at her graduation parade when Ash had not long turned eighteen. She had grown up down the road from the amazing woman and as it turned out the Captain was now dating her favourite Lieutenant, Lt. Henry O’Connor. 

“My god, little Ashy is that you, come over here girl” Captain Ortiz beckoned her over before wrapping her in a bear hug, she used to babysit the kid when she was a young tot, and furthermore after her mother had passed. Ash’s father, more often than not, would drop her on the Ortiz family doorstep and disappear for weeks on end, she had all but raised this girl and was proud that she had followed her dreams and joined the force. “Right, you, we have some catching up to do, head down to the third room on the right and I’ll be there after I’ve found your files”  she had pointed down the corridor signaling the direction she wanted the 2nd Lieutenant to go, a pleased smile gracing her face when she watched the young thing wander off with a new found bounce in her step. 

Ash was startled from her thoughts when the Captain entered the room before plonking herself down rather ungracefully into the chair beside her. “I read the report Greys, what the fuck! Have they found who did that to you? That's some messed up shit girl, glad you’re ok though kiddo” She reached over and ruffled Ash’s hair not giving her a moment to answer the questions thrown at her before standing up to grab some gloves and some tools to begin removing the younger officers’ stitches.  “Right up on the bed, shirt off, I’m sure by now you’ll be wanting those stitches out”

Ash only nodded, shaking her head with a brief laugh before pulling her shirt over her head and climbing onto the bed like she was asked, she was far to content to do as she was told given how much she trusted the woman before her, she’d admired her since she was a small child and inspired to be like her even now. Lisa began carefully removing the stitches from her side, poking and prodding here and there to make sure she was most definitely healed like she should be, when one particularly hard poke had Ash wincing, she knew the Captain had found the slightly marred skin from where she had pulled those stitches. 

“So...” the Captain began, “I heard a dit Greys. About you, a certain LT. Colonel and then a certain international guest. Care to share?”. 

The shiteating grin that was currently taking up Lisa’s face told Ash all she needed to know. The Captain already knew everything about the whole ‘Sinclair situation’ so there really wasn’t much to tell there, but from what she remembered about the slightly older woman, she always got the answers she wanted, Ash really couldn’t hide anything from her if she tried. “Damn it Lisa, just spit it out, what do you wanna know” she said with a jeering tone, she knew forgoing rank with the Captain wouldn’t drop her in the shit, the benefits of knowing someone since you were five years old. It was funny watching Lisa try and find the right words to say, the furrowing of her brow and the opening and closing of her mouth like a fish out of water nearly had Ash in tears, it was quite the sight.

**

**

“From what I’ve heard the LT. Colonel was a bit of an asshole to you, kid. But I also remember a certain eighteen year old having it bad for him when she attended my graduation parade. I wonder who that could be...” Lisa trailed off with a chuckle. She was sure that by now Ash had all but forgotten about her nagging antics involving the man she no doubt despised nowadays, but it was still a moment of great amusement for the Captain. “Little eighteen year old you just wouldn’t shut up about him. Sinclair this, Sinclair that, honestly kid I'm surprised you never tried to jump that dick near the end of training”  Ortiz paused for a moment, considering something before having a light bulb moment, “Unless it's because of a certain Columbian hunk I’ve heard so much about from some of the medics in your intake...”  She knew she’d hit the jackpot when Ash blushed beet-red from her hairline to her neck. “Awww, does little Ashy have a crush on the big bad Colonel?”

Ash didn’t know what to say, she had honestly forgotten about how she had crushed on the LT. Colonel before she really even knew him, embarrassingly enough her reactions towards him kind of made sense now. She was going to attempt to deny her ever mounting crush on the Colonel she now lived and worked with but given the reaction Lisa had given, she knew she’d been caught out.  “Even after all these years you’re still a gossiping teen” Ash choked out with a laugh, shaking her head with a big smile on her face, “And pffft no, I do not have a crush on anyone. Thank you very much”. Even to her own ears the lie was so evident in her voice, there was definitely no denying she did have a crush on the aforementioned man, but that was despite the point. 

“OH yeah, for sure. Definitely. You sound so sure about that Greys. Come on now, between friends, what's it like living with that god of a man? I’ve only seen some pictures but holy damn girl, if you don’t ride that dick that I’m going to get you sent to the block, because denying that man that would be a crime!” The pure childlike glee that passed through the Captains body at witnessing the utter shock of her words became clear to Ash and had her curling over in laughter. Never in her life has she seen someone look so offended yet also curious at the idea.

“Hey put it this way, if that man is cuffing me. I’ll happily go right to horny jail” Ash huffed out between laughs, god it was good to be around someone who thought like her and wasn’t afraid of talking shit at work, it was gold. It felt good to genuinely laugh with someone she knew and cherished, it had been far too long. 

“Anyway Greys, better get you all wrapped up and sent on your way back to your mans before he gets grumpy and you get told off. Although secretly I’m sure you’d just love that” She walked over to the desk and gathered up some papers that she needed Ash to give to her new Commanding Officer before writing out some prescriptions for more painkillers and nausea meds that she knew would come in handy in the future.  “I need you to give these papers to the Colonel for me” she pointed to the stack tucked into an envelope, “And these ones are for you little lady. Please do keep me posted about that handsome hunk you live with. And don’t let Henry annoy you too much when he gets to the house, I’m sure you’ll have your hands full though. Good luck Greys!”  and with one final tight hug she let the young officer go. Watching her plod down the hallway with a dopey smile on her face. Before she could forget she flicked her partner a text:

To: Future Hubbster

~ baby it seems you’ll have the perfect opportunity to have some fun in your new posting. Our little Ashy-bear has a crush on the Colonel, you HAVE to get them together somehow, we need our girl to be happy.

It was barely a minute later that her phone chimed, reading the message she had to shake her head with a laugh.

From: Future Hubbster

~ God I love you. Permission to make a certain Colonel jealous by any means necessary?

She quickly typed out a reply before hitting send and making her way back to the nurses desk to grab the papers for her next patient. She was sure that whatever her partner would do that it would for sure stir up some shit in the team, one of the many reasons she loved that troublemaker.

To: Future Hubbster

~permission granted, boy scout. Just don’t weird out our little Ashy or get kicked off the team. See you tonight baby xx

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From that day onwards the energy in the house was no longer awkward. Carrillo and Ash had fallen back into a rhythm of eating meals together and just genuinely enjoying each other's company in the moments when they could relax.  Every Night at around twenty hundred hours they’d both find their way into the living room, generally Ash with a book and Carrillo with some kind of file that could potentially be helpful for their missions, reading quietly in comfortable silence had brought a sense of peace to the both of them. With the events from earlier in the week pushed to the side, but definitely not forgotten by either of them, they were back to being a well gelled team, a small team nonetheless but it worked well for them. 

Ash had not so subtly started doting on the man. She’d bring him coffee’s to the office during the day because he barely left the room when he got stuck in a rut reading paper after paper, her heart always warmed that extra little bit when he’d happily accept the cup and give her a small grateful smile, she always left the room with a blush on her cheeks and an added skip in her step. Sunday rolled round and Carrillo had seemingly disappeared from the house, and with him nowhere to be found Ash took it upon herself to finally go for a run. 

The property definitely seemed larger now she was running around the outside of it, she was becoming exhausted much faster than she would have liked and her side was rather sore from the effort. It was on her third lap of the property, the lap she had named ‘struggle street’ that she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Gapping it towards the house in an attempt to act like she hadn’t just been breaking the rules she made it just in time, rushing round her room and heading to the shower as fast as possible. The both of them had obviously learnt one thing from their moment in the living room nearly a week ago, always take your clothes into the bathroom and come out fully dressed, definitely a less awkward situation. Upon leaving the bathroom, fully clothed, she noticed a fresh set of groceries on the bench, it now made sense as to where the Colonel had disappeared to. 

Ash started out putting everything away neatly and into the designated spots, putting her favourite foods into easy to reach spots because while she was average height, some of the cupboards were just that little bit too tall for her to reach up into.  Once everything was put away she beelined for the couch and flicked on a random movie on tv, not intending to do much more than nap due to being beyond tired from her run, the dull ache of her muscles was a welcome feeling. Ash skipped dinner that night, still feeling far too tired from her exercise and instead chose to retire to bed early, but not before delivering a fresh cup of coffee to a very busy Carrillo.

Ash was starving when she woke up the next morning, stomach was growling and her body ached more than it had in a very long while, the good kind of overworked ache. Climbing rather ungracefully from her bed and into the kitchen, forgetting to put shorts on under the t-shirt she wore while in a tired state. Growing bored while waiting for the pot of coffee to finish she dug into the cupboard to grab a bowl and spoon in preparation for breakfast, wandering over to the fridge to get the milk before returning to her previous place, just in time for the coffee to be ready. Pouring the cup and taking a quick sip she felt herself begin to wake up, she definitely functioned better after the first cup of coffee in the morning, placing the cup down she reached up to the cupboard she usually kept her cereal in to make herself a bowl, only to find it wasn’t where she had put it yesterday upon unpacking the groceries. Huffing to herself in frustration she began checking the other cupboards, each one she opened came up empty, the frustration growing more and more when all the ones in her line of sight and reach didn’t contain her beloved Creamy Oats. It was then that it occurred to her there was one cupboard left to check, the highest up one that Carrillo usually kept any of his favourite stuff in, reaching up on tippy toes and flicking one of the doors open and she struck gold. From her placement she could see the logo of her cereal staring back at her, now she just had to reach it. Somehow. 

Caught up in trying to reach her cereal she failed to notice the Colonel leaning against his bedroom door watching silently from afar. He’d woken to the sound of the kitchen being ransacked only to laugh at what he was seeing. His plan it seemed, had worked, from his vantage point he was granted with quite the sight, long muscled legs, and a well toned ass were revealed as Ash tried to stretch as much as she could onto her tiptoes to reach the box of cereal he had deliberately placed at the back of ‘his’ cupboard. Smirking away to himself he slowly padded over to the kitchen, taking special care to dare not make a sound to alert her of his presence. 

Ash jumped when she felt a hand land softly on her side, her body tensed before relaxing all too quickly when she felt the penetrating heat of the man behind her. He reached up over her head, muscles bunching and pressed tightly against her effectively caging her in, grasped the box of cereal she was desperately trying to reach and reached down and placed it in front of her. She expected him to move away instantly but instead he stood there trapping her between the hard wood of the bench and the increasingly harder wood poking her in the lower back. One arm was still gripping her side, the other wrapped around her front with his hand played out on the bench, desperately close to where she needed it most. 

Testing the resolve of the officer behind her might not have been her brightest idea but she craved any kind of interaction or touch she could gain from this man. Ash pushed back on him, letting out a small pliant sound of need when she felt him twitch against the curve of her ass, the resulting groan she received from him had her buckling at the knees. His head moved down, mouth hovering against the shell of her ear, she could feel the harsh uneven breaths and when she ground down on him again, harder this time, she was rewarded with yet another deep  moan, one that sent a delighted shiver down her spine. She made a move to repeat the action but the hand on her side clamped down impossibly tight, efficiently halting her movements, the last thing she expected was for him to speak.

“Do that again, and you’ll find out how little control I really have” His voice was a mere whisper but it had the desired effect. 

Ash froze, processing the words. The sleepy lust filled drawl sent a punch of arousal straight to her core and a moan escaping her throat. She was almost tempted to see how far she could push him, but settled for subtly maneuvering herself to grab for her coffee and bring it closer, her throat was impossibly dry now and he was not helping the situation. 

The subtle movement brushed so lightly against him that in any other state it may have been  imperceptible but in this highly aroused state it made him want to return the favour. He leaned down slowly, gauging her reaction, before gently and fleetingly brushing his lips behind her ear, smirking softly against her skin when she tilted her head slightly to accommodate him, mouth agape. Never one to turn down an advantage he slowly moved his right hand towards her coffee cup, distracting her further by trailing his lips along the edge of her jaw towards her own lips. He continued his journey towards her lips, stopping only when his hand found purchase on the hot cup of coffee before her, before he retraced his previous path, this time stopping every few centimeters to mouth at underside of her jaw, when he reached his intended target he sealed the deal. He nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear, sucking lightly to leave the barest of marks but one the both of them would know was there, he blew softly on the skin, lips once again pulling into a smirk when she threw her head back against his bare shoulder. He leant his head against the side of her own, gently nuzzling against her before he growled out lowly, “Thanks for the Coffee Ash” and then as if he wasn’t affected by the current situation, he stepped back, groaning at the loss of pressure against his painfully hard cock. 

To say Ash was an undignified mess wouldn’t be far from the truth, but even in her current state of dizzying arousal she wouldn’t let him have the last word. She spun on her heel, briefly stunned while watching the muscles on his back bunch and twist as he made his way back to his room, before she remembered her mission. “Sir..” she tempted in a voice dripping with sin, smirking proudly when she saw his shoulders tense and his head shoot up in a hurry, obviously not expecting her to speak back, “When you start something next time, I expect you to finish it” and with those as her final words she turned around, leaning heavily against the bench for support, barely resisting the urge to get herself off where she stood, Colonel be damned. 

Carrillo only just had his door closed and the coffee cup discard before he was desperately pulling himself from his shorts. In less than a dozen strokes and with a barely concealed yell he had spilled into his own hand, moving across the floor he reached down to pick up a discarded t-shirt to clean up his mess. Sitting down on his bed to catch his breath he had to laugh at the situation, he had underestimated the young woman, severely so, and now he’d crossed a line he never had before. He was in deep, far too deep to continue to deny his true feelings for the junior officer. He flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling before growling out a string of curse words in his native tongue. That girl really knew how to get under his skin.