#the uh the ship name not the injury

[fukia]

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Hello, this is 🦈 anon ◉⁠‿⁠◉. Um.. if you still open request, please can i have TF 141 together x F! Reader who has high (possibly extreme) pain tolerance that whenever reader's injured, she almost doesn't react or show she's in pain. When TF 141 found this new information, they couldn't be not worried because what do you mean you don't feel anything while bleeding heavily, sweetheart?

TLDR: "Ayo yer bleeding?!", "Uh, um..yeah, should I scream?"

hello 🦈 anon!!! nice to see you again :D ty for the request!! I hope u would like this one since I think it was sweet :) have a nice day/night!

word count: 2.3k

ship: TF141*F!Reader

tw: pet names (love etc.)

The first time they found out was on a mission.

The explosion made you fly and hit hard on the wall, you could hear Soap yelling at you.

“Yer okay, lassie?!” You brushed away the dust, Soap running over and checking on you, blue eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, alright.” Standing up from the wreckage, you simply responded to him. Though Soap doubted if you were truly fine under that big impact, but your face didn’t express thoughts other than focusing on the mission, so he just nodded and signaled to keep going.

The rest of the mission succeeded without any incidents. Price, Ghost, and Gaz are already waiting at the exfil place. Through the smoke and deafening sound of the helo, they saw you and Soap walking towards them.

“Y’all okay?” Hadn’t gotten close to the helicopter, Gaz already run towards you two, relief was obvious on his face when he didn’t see any injuries by a quick scan, but then Ghost came over too.

“Wait, your shoulder.” He pointed at your shoulder, leading everyone’s gaze to land on it, including yourself.

“oh... looks like it’s dislocated.” You evaluated.

“What do you mean ‘oh’?! don’t you feel any pain?!” Soap yelled at your words. His hands try to inspect your shoulder, but afraid to trigger the pain.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal, just...”

You put your hand on the shoulder, and with a loud CRACK, which made Gaz jump and Soap gaped, even Ghost’s eyes widened at your sudden motion.

“I think it’s fixed now.” You looked around at your teammates, confusion clouded your mind “Ummm... is there any problem?”

“You...” Ghost stuttered, but he regained his composure fast. “doesn’t that hurt?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean, LT.” You shrugged, “But actually, I feel a little bit dizzy...”

Just at the moment you finished your sentence, the dizziness became more severe, and your vision started growing blurry...

“Oi! Call the medic!” Catching your slumped body, Ghost yelled at the sergeants, but the last thing you hear is Soap reassuring you and Gaz calling for help.

So quiet... Where am I?

You thought as you slowly opened your eyes, what came in your eyes first was the stainless white ceiling, and a low voice coming from aside.

“you awake, sergeant?”

Turning your head, your eyes met with the man’s ocean-like ones, who sitting on the chair beside and holding some papers.

“Captain.” The whisper slipped out when you recognized him

“I guess you don’t know you were seriously injured, love.”

“What happened?”

“The explosion.” Price leaned closer to the bed now “The impact caused your bone fractured and slowly internal bleeding. We have no idea how you were able to walk to the exfil and looked like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t feel any pain, so I assumed I was okay.” you avoided his attention when Price raised his eyebrows. You knew he was worried and it kind of made you guilty.

“since I was young I rarely feel pain, so...” staring at the catheter of your IV drip, you mumbled quietly.

Price didn’t reply, he just stared at the paper written with your injuries and health state.

The room fell into silence for a while, before you open your mouth again.

“Sorry, Captain...” You murmured, still don’t dare to look at him.

The man let out a long sigh, you snapped your head up when you felt your hands were covered by Price’s.

It’s warm, soothing, calming down your still hazy but full of thoughts mind.

“You should be sorry, dear.” He rubbed your hand in a repeated rhythm. “You make us worried. Me, and the boys...” he pointed his chin at the bedside desk, and you finally notice the flowers and your favorite snacks are placed on it.

“We’ll keep an eye on you every time the mission is complete, since you can’t feel pain, this is not a request, it’ s a command, got it, soldier?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” The composed grin eventually appeared on his face, and you smiled too when he ruffled your hair.

“Sleepy?” His comforting voice rings against your ears when you let out a big yawn.

“mmhmm.”

“Then sleep, Gaz will be here when you wake up.”

Price watched your eyelids struggle to stay open but failed, little snores leaving you when you fell drifted into dreams again.

What you didn’t know is he brushed off the hair on your face and placed a tender kiss on your serene face.

Weeks after, to your happiness, you could go back to your own quarter and start hitting the training room for some simple practice.

Except there was someone who insisted on following you every time when you went to the training room, even if you tried to sneak into the room, he was always there as if he knew your plan.

“Soap.” You sighed at the man sitting on the bench spotting you.

“Aye, lassie?”

“I’m okay, really.”

“I don’t trust ye anymore. I should check it mahself.”

You understood why he was acting like this. Price told you Soap had been blaming himself for not finding that you were injured in that mission until your body gave up due to blood loss.

“I’m just doing some easy weightlifting now, I won’t pass out just because of this okay?”

You concentrated on his figure as he strode to your side. You chuckled when he still looked at you with doubtful eyes.

“How ‘bout you spar with me? Go easy on me though, the doctor said I still haven’t recovered fully.”

“You sure yer okay?”

“You’re like my mother now, Soapy.”

“Aye, 'cause we got a naughty kid in our team.” He laughed. “If I think you should stop, then ye stop, aye?”

“Yes, mama.”

You both burst into laughter and stepped on the training mat. Soap really went easy with his attack, unlike the usual training with the tension as if you two were about to devour each other.

“Oh!” When Soap swung out a punch, you abruptly lowered your body, and with a swipe of your leg, Soap fell onto the mat, followed by you sitting on him and securing his hands.

“Checkmate...? Soap.” You smirk at the man lying under you.

“Won’t complain if I was lost to you, but.” he huffed out a laugh, but your world spun the next second, and you met your gaze with the man now on top of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous.

“It’s a tie now, bonnie.” He flashed out a dazzling smile at you.

“Okay okay, it’s a tie now.”

A lazy grin spread along your lips when you poke at his chest.

“How about we go get some lunch together, handsome?

“Aye, ma'am.”

“The bones and the wound have healed very well, can say you are the most well-behaved patient in your team.”

The doctor smiled at you, and you turned to shoot a glimpse at Gaz, only to find his face written with embarrassment.

“What did he do last time you treat him, doctor?”

“oh, I forbid him to go training, but he still went and tore his knuckles, so he came back and stitched them again, making me call Captain Price to scold him.”

“Sorry, he’s a dumbass.”

“All of you guys are stubborn, sometimes I really want to tie you to the bed.” The doctor grinned “Well, since you’re fully recovered, you can go back to train and go on missions. Remember to be careful next time, don’t come back too soon, okay?”

“I will, Thank you, doc.”

Returning the smile, you and Gaz stepped out of the infirmary.

“I can’t wait to have you back next mission, need ya to bear Soap’s nonsense and Lt.’s bad jokes with me.” Walking beside you, Gaz sounded excited, and it’s hard not to be affected by his warmth.

“Need a helper to deal with those troublemakers?”

“That’s one reason.” He chuckled “Actually...”

“We all missed you.”

You halted to a stop when his words flowed into your ears with a bit of sadness.

Now face to face with him, you were able to see the concern on his face.

“You didn’t know when you just passed out without any warning, I felt like my heart almost shattered.”

It was close to midnight, so no one was nearby, and his words were gentle yet distinct, echoing softly in your mind.

“Not just, me, Ghost, Soap, Captain... we all are scared, you know?”

“We thought we lost you.”

You opened your mouth, mind still processing, managing to find a word, but nothing came out except an apology.

“Sorry, Kyle...”

The dusk light showered you two in an awkward peace, but it didn’t affect the sentiment Gaz conveyed to you.

“Just be careful, okay? You should tell us that you can barely feel pain, so we can help you check out, alright?”

“Okay.”

Giving your hands a little squeeze, Gaz accompanied you back to your quarter.

“We’re more than a team, more than family, we’ll always watch your back, just like you always do.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tilting your head, your lips curled mildly. “Goodnight, Gaz.”

The honey-like smile inched towards you until you felt his soft lips pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, lovie.”

Your first mission after months ended smoothly. You were glad that you didn’t become rusty after the long rest, seemed like the practice and training with Soap and Gaz were worth it.

Soap and Gaz were chatting loudly, while Price sat in front and was checking details regarding the mission. You listened to the boys bantering, sometimes quipped back when their target turned to you, but you could feel someone observing you, and you tried to ignore the chill sending through your spine.

Because you knew it was Ghost, sitting just across you and scanning you like a robot.

You silently wished to arrive at the base faster, so you could ask him what was wrong or if you had done something incorrectly.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you let out a sigh of relief when you jump off the helo. Got rid of the gear and placing them back in their place, you straightly head back to your quarter, craving some hot shower to wash off the soreness and dirt.

On your way back to the quarter, you could hear footsteps following you, almost imperceptibly, but you noticed and immediately went to a stop.

“LT.?”

Your LT. loomed just right behind you, seeming not surprised that you were aware of him, or maybe that was just what he was planning.

He hummed at your recognition but didn’t stop his steps, until he was side by side with you.

“I’m just about to ask you, did I do something wrong? You kept staring at me when we were heading back.”

“You did it pretty well.”

“Then why did you...?”

“You’ll know when you get into your room.”

He placed his right hand on the small of your back, ushering you to your room, and you just obliged, letting him lead you.

Closing the door behind you and Ghost, you turned around to face the man now with his balaclava on.

“So what’s the issue?”

“Clothes, off.” The command came out from him unexpectedly.

“What—“

“I said clothes, off.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, what the fuck does he want? you thought while kicking off your cargo pants and tossing your shirt on the chair, leaving only the sports bra and underwear with you.

“What now?”

Ghost didn’t form a word as his eyes traveled from your head, slowly through every inch of your body, under his meticulous search, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“turn around.” You did as he told, and now you were unable to see him, anxiety crawling to your mind until he finally stood up.

His calloused hands touched your shoulder, circling you to face him.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing now?” You asked when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Checking.”

“If I’m injured?”

“yeah.”

“Oh god” You poke his pec with a frown “you all are overreacting. I’m okay, really. Don’t you guys trust me?”

“We trust your ability, but not your ability to tolerate pain.”

“I’m fi—“

“We can’t lose you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Ghost was looking into your eyes. He might be good at concealing his emotions, but they said, a person’s eyes can’t lie.

and all you see is sorrow, love, consideration.

All the retorts were swallowed back when his eyes conveyed how important you were to him — to them. You studied the man towering over you, tracing his scars and wrinkles in your mind.

“Thank you, Ghost.” You pulled him into a hug, which he didn’t back off, instead melting in your arms, head burying in the crook of your neck. “I will be careful, okay? I will tell you if I got hit and not sure if I was injured.”

He nodded while staying in your embrace, and you just patted his head.

“Now, I need to shower” Pulling back, a smile bloomed on your face “See you tomorrow, LT.”

“Don’t oversleep again, sergeant.” He scoffed, but petted you before letting you go to shower.

When you came out, with relaxed muscles and fresh clothes, you jumped onto your bed, but something on your desk caught your attention.

Picking it up, you shook your head in disbelief.

“Fuck you, Ghost, I already brushed my teeth.”

grumbling to yourself, you still opened the snack—your favorite one— and gave it a huge bite, while snickering at the paper placed under the snack.

‘Goodnight, luv. (remember to brush your bloody teeth again.)’ — Ghost

next chapter

[theemporium]

okaaaaaaaaaaay i just the new dialogue prompts so prompt no. 1 with sirius but please feed us with a lovesick fool!sirius <33333

1.”Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”

.

Sirius Black loved to do anything that would piss his mother off and take her a step closer to an early grave. 

Whether it was proudly sitting amongst those who weren’t purebloods or part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or wearing his house colours with pride despite the stain it left on the Black name. Whether it was embracing muggle culture, or picking on every little fight he could when he stayed under her roof. 

Sirius liked to push her buttons. He liked to poke the bear and he liked watching that vein on her forehead look as though it was seconds away from exploding. In fact, it had been another one of her fancy dinners that he attended on a whim in hopes to find a way to piss her off. 

What Sirius hadn’t been expecting was to meet you. And what he certainly wasn’t expecting was to fall head over heels for the girl his mother would ship him off with before he could even blink. 

He had tried to fight his feelings for as long as he could. He reminded himself that you were probably a pureblood elitist like the others in that room, that you were a Slytherin and you probably turned your nose down at people who he considered his closest friends. 

But then he started noticing you around Hogwarts and quickly realised that wasn’t the case. And it became a quick—and borderline pathetic game—for Sirius to find any excuse to be near you, to be on your radar.

He made jokes whenever he knew you were in the room and eagerly sought out your reaction to see if you laughed. He would make funny comments in classes you shared together to see if you’d lift your head from your textbook to notice him. He would throw peas at you during dinner to see if you would turn around to find him in the chaos of the Great Hall. 

His most recent attempt wasn’t even meant to be anything grand. Just a simple question he made up so he would have an excuse to walk over to you during potions and talk to you. 

But then Snape had made a point of kicking his bookbag in Sirius’ path and the wizard didn’t have enough time to catch the movement before he was stumbling forward, crashing down on a table full of potion bottles that smashed around him.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Sirius blinked, the blaring lights above slowly being covered by your face as you stared down at him with a concerned expression, eyes glancing over him to make sure there were no physical injuries. 

There was a slightly bitter, citrus-like taste on his lips that he didn’t have a chance to question before he was blurting out the first thought that came to his head when he saw your face in his line of vision. 

“You are really pretty!”

You paused, glancing down at the boy with a slightly surprised expression. “What?”

“Like, genuinely one of the fittest witches I have ever seen in my life,” he kept going, unable to stop himself. “Maybe even the fittest.”

“Thank you?” you said, a little unsure by the bold statement. 

“I think you might actually be the girl of my dreams but you make me nervous to talk to you and I have never had that with a girl before,” he told you, his eyes widening a little at just how easily that confession slipped from his lips. 

Sirius quickly scrambled to sit up, not caring about his soaked uniform or the mess around him as he glanced down at the bottles smashed on the floor. His eyes landed on a certain label and he tried not to let out a string of curse words.

Of course out of all the potions he could have possibly accidentally consumed, it had to be a truth potion.

“You feeling okay there, Black?” you asked cautiously.

“I like the way you say my name!” Sirius blurted out before slapping a hand over his mouth. “I—uh, pretend I didn’t say…anything that I just said in the last few minutes.”

However, to his surprise, you smiled and let out a small laugh. “Anything else you like?”

“You!” Sirius said confidently, though his face and ears burned as red as his house tie. “I…fuck. Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what? You’re pretty and smart and you make my heart feel funny.”

“I make your heart feel funny,” you repeated, sounding amused by his confession.

“Yeah, like a good funny,” Sirius continued even if his hands were clenched into fists at his side, nails digging into his sweaty palms. “Makes me wanna kiss you.”

You raised your brows. “Yeah?”

Sirius contemplated if a sinkhole swallowing him up would be too far-fetched to occur right now. “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t need a potion to tell you I wanna kiss you too, Black.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” you told him with a grin. “But it’s cute.” 

Sirius grinned back at you. “So, if I asked you out on a date, you’d say yes?”

“Ask me, Black, and then you’ll see.”

.

[pixiesfz]

It make me so sad that’s there is not much lotte or Teagan content on here 😭

I’m gonna mix my two requests for teagan together!!

take the punch t.m

plot: you take a hard punch in a corner kick, turns out it’s from the girl you’ve been talking to for months.

warnings: injury, aggression from teammates, Player gets hit in the face and player is only given a yellow also I am NOT a doctor

You stared at your phone and the messages that were on it.

More specifically the girl behind the messages.

You had met Teagan at the start of the season on her debut as Liverpools goal keeper.

She had been a pain in your ass.

saving your shots left right and centre, it annoyed you but impressed you so much that you went up to her afterwards.

“Teagan is it?” You ask, walking up to her and she nodded “uh yeah, your y/n” she responded and you nodded “you know your really good” you told her “wasn’t fun for me but you know” you laugh and she laughed with you.

“I was honestly very scared to go against you” she admitted and you rose your eyebrows “really?” You ask and she nodded “watched you in the World Cup when Australia versed you, got those goals past us like it was nothing”

Oh yes, you remember that day.

“Sorry for kicking you guys out” you said softly and she shook her head “nah it’s all good, had me mesmerised to be honest”

You blushed, “yeah?” you ask and the goal keeper nodded “definitely”.

Before you could response you felt the hands of your teammate drag you away “Chloe!” You complained as she smiled at you

“No fraternising with the enemy y/n/n”

“Shut up”.

When you went to bed that night you didn’t expect to wake up to a dm from the Australian.

‘I really hope this is your account and not just a very popular fan account’

And for the first time in a while you woke up with a smile.

After a month or so of talking online with the girl your teammates noticed a change in your behaviour.

You were smiling in the morning, trying new things for breakfast and pestering Mary and Alanna for Australian facts.

One day Alanna turned towards you “Alright who is it?”

“Who is what?”

“Who is the girl that is getting you all…giddy”

You stepped back “there is no girl”

“There is such a girl, who knew our little German could find love?” She grinned and pulled you into a loving headlock.

“Fine” you grunted “there is a girl” you admitted and cheers filled the room.

“Who is it?”

“Does she play?”

“Do we know her?”

“Please don’t let it be a physio”

You turned to Jill weirdly “what?” You asked and she just shrugged before you turned back to your teammates.

“I’m not going to tell her name yet just in case it doesn’t go well, yes she plays and yes some of you know her well”

You gave away your hints before the team realised it could literally be anyone in the WSL.

“Can you at least tell us the team?” Mary asked, using her power of being one of the younger, cuter members of the squad.

“No.”

You were on a FaceTime with the Australian when she made the first move “Do you want to go on another date with me?” She asked after the topic of your worst date ever came up.

You smiled bright, a blush burning on your cheeks but you were so ever happy “I would love to, we can walking on the beach again”.

“Well we have the Liverpool vs City game coming up next week so after that” she declared “nah, I was thinking something fancier, we can go on a nice dinner and-“

“I want you to surprise me” you cut her off “I want to know what your creative Australian mind thinks of”

“Well mostly it’s you” she chimed in and you groaned, rolling your eyes “oh shut up”

Teagan laughed at your reaction, smiling at the way you reacted to her cheesy pick up lines.

Texts back and forth between the two of you did not help your nerves for the game ahead of you. But mostly you were more nervous for the activities afterwards.

You had ended up confiding to your national teammate Lena about your situation ship with the Aussie, not letting your club teammates know just yet.

But when the game ends and the girls see you walking out the doors with Teagan they'll find out who your mystery girl is anyway so with your blood rushing and head spinning you finally and well accidently tell your man city teammate and unfortunately Teagan's international teammate Mary.

"Really?" she responds to your quick words as you laid them out quickly, you just blushed harder before she gives you a thinking face "well that makes sense".

You furrow your brows "how-why- how does it make sense?" you ask, your arms moving with your words "well last international break she seemed much happier and that was after we versed Liverpool and if we weren't at trainings she was like stuck on her phone"

You stepped back at your friends words, You and Teagan had only successfully been able to go on one date together by the time the first international break came over, it brough a smile to your face realizing that she was in a similar state as you afterwards.

"I can help you two!"

"Mary I will not allow this to become a primary school relationship!"

Soon the game was here, you were lined up with your team in the tunnel, not in the starting XI but still in your gear as a sub. Mary was behind you, still the only teammate who knew about Teagan.

"look who's watching" she teased and you turned red, quickly turning around and smacking her arm "stop" you instructed and turned towards Teagan who was near the front of her line, she was already smiling at your interaction with Mary but gave you a small wave which you copied before you all walked out.

"that hurt" Mary rubbed her arm "deal with it".

You weren't subbed on until the second half, City were up by one as Lauren sent one through Teagan's fingers and into the net. You saw Teagan dust herself off as you ran on, her eyes fell on you for a second before going back onto the play which you joined in on quickly after.

Jess had scored not long after and you cheered after her, jumping onto her back with a smile. You wanted to look back to Teagan to see if she was doing okay but you were in your element, playing the sport you love and in this case winning!

In the 87th minute Kerstin weaved through the midfield and in between defenders as you lead towards the goal, her eyes darted towards you and sent you the ball, you jumped to header it in and then black.

The crowd watched as you jumped in the air, the ball hitting the front of your forehead and unfortunately the fist of Teagan's hands hitting the back, causing you to fall forward straight on the floor which you stayed.

Teagan all of a sudden didn't care about the ball that hit the back of the net and quickly dropped down to you, rolling you on your back so you faced up to her. "Oh my god-"

Teagan was cut off as your teammates pulled her away "Get off of her Micah" someone called out, Mary, cringing on the sidelines as she couldn't split her teammates and her friend apart. The words were catching your ears as you stirred awake to whatever had just happened to you.

Teagan ignored the man city players pesters and kept her eyes on you "please I just want to see if she's okay" she told them but Alanna pulled her back as medics ran on "Teagan she's not going to want to see you" she told her and Teagan crossed her head "I was supposed to ask her to be my girlfriend tonight" she told Alanna and the tall Australian stepped back and looked back over to you with wide eyes.

"let her go over".

Teagan ran over to you as the medics sat you up, The referee also showing her a yellow card but she didn't care.

"Hmm- Teags" you slurred as the girl came into your view "what happened?" you ask and the girl pursed her lips.

"Kinda punched you in the face"

"Oh" you said, not really gaining the information, a clear concussion on your behalf

Teagan watched as you were taken off by medics and went back into her box, the game quickly changed in the last ten minutes, the crowd was quiet and the teams weren't playing as hard, Liverpool excepting their defeat and man city not celebrating their win.

Not without you.

You were taken into the medics room before they quickly decided to take you to the hospital for a CT scan.

Meanwhile at the game, some of the players skipped the walk around the field to talk with fans and checked to see where you were. Hospital was what word was heard and Teagan along-side with Man city players were on their way.

Teagan drove herself, maybe going a bit faster than usual but you were on her mind, this was her fault.

She had had a concussion before, a bad concussion, it took her out for months on the team. She didn't want the same for you.

She was the first to arrived still in her kit, your teammates walked in five minutes later, quickly seeing the girl and walking up to her "you don't have to take pity on her" Kerstin said, Lauren quickly following "a quick DM would have been fine for her", their words were filled with pettiness which Alanna and Mary quickly shut down.

"They're not strangers" Mary said quickly and they all turned their heads "what?" Chloe questioned, Leia still stepping up to the Goal keeper "then what are they?"

"She's the girl".

Leia stepped back as Chloe gasped "oh my god, we are so sorry" Teagan just nodded, she ignored their comments her mind strictly on you "she was gonna tell you today after the game"

"before you punched her"

"useful information, thankyou Mary"

All the girls sat down, waiting for you "do you think she'll be mad?" Teagan asked Alanna who shook her head "she knows what she signed up for when she took that header, she knows the game" the blonde said and Teagan just nodded, still not convinced you wont cuss her out when you see her.

You sat in the room, looking at the scans, you would have a month off which you nodded your head at "I know it's not ideal but you have to be on a bed rest for about a week and you will have to miss the next international break for Germany" the doctor told you and you once again nodded your head.

"But you will be well enough for the Olympic but if you don't make it to the finals then you'll be out until the end of the season"

You sniffed, rolling your head back to stop any tears. You were sure Man city would make it to the finals with how they were playing, but if you missed a month you weren't sure if you would get any minutes on the film.

You had seen how time off had done for others, you didn't want that to be you.

You walked out of the room looking defeated as ever, your teammates were the first to walk to you, checking up on you with little questions before Kerstin gave you a hug, silently apologizing for her kick which you told her was not her fault.

It was nobodies fault.

When they all walked away, Mary softly turned your head towards the Liverpool keeper who had left to grab flowers from one of the stalls nearby.

"I thought you would have gone home" you said, relieved at the sight of her "and go to the dinner by myself?" she joked and you softly laughed.

You touched the back of your head "I don't think I look nice enough for a fancy dinner right now" you said and Teagan stepped forward her arm raising towards yours "Well personally I think you look amazing"

You blushed as she she tucked your hair you had taken out behind your ear "how long are you out for?" she asked "only a month" you smiled "that's really good Y/n" she started before looking down "I'm really sorry I just wasn't thinking and-"

You cut her off y quickly pecking her lips, distracting her completely as she widened her eyes "I don't blame you Teagan" you said, grabbing the flowers with one hand and grabbing her other hand with the other.

"So you're not mad?"

You creased your eyebrows "of course not" she let out a sigh of relief "well that's good, might have to cancel our plans though" she said and you smirked "how bout we order take out at mine?"

"yeah?"

"yes."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Pairing: Megumi x F!Reader

Content: mild sexual mentions, fluff, loving Megumi hours.

Summary: Megumi has it bad for you. That's it. That's the prompt.

Megumi often dreamed of this moment.

Your fingers linger on his stomach, right under his belly button. Whether you’re afraid to let that touch grace the skin hidden further up his shirt or you’re savoring the moment, he doesn’t know; both scenarios leave his brain feeling pleasantly yet frustratingly fuzzy all the same. 

He’s never known the pleasure of someone’s touch in such an intimate place, not unless they were sealing his wounds. Your touch is softer than he’s imagined, warm and familiar but new and frightening. 

Megumi told himself that if there was ever a day he was alone with you like this then he’d be ready. He wouldn’t be too quiet, too heavy in his thoughts, or too rough around the edges. Someone like you deserves smooth and rounded, a person who knows what they want. He can be those things for you in time and wants to be that for you now more than ever.

However, he was never good at the mental aspects of things so it’s as awkward and quiet as always but also loud because he swears he can hear his blood swishing in his ears. Nobara would probably laugh at him if she was here, say he’d never get a girlfriend if he didn’t learn to lighten up and stop overthinking; Gojo would definitely agree, tell him this is one of those times he should take what he wants with both hands; Itadori, well, at least Itadori would be on his side.

“Megumi?”

You lean into him, mouth inches from his, and all he can focus on is your lips and the painful way they tug. He wants to apologize for bringing that frown to your face when all he wants to do is make you smile. You have such a gorgeous smile. 

“Something’s bothering you.” Your hand leaves his waist, trails past his ribcage, and finds a home above his heart. “Do you not want to do this?”

Megumi does. He wants to do this with you so bad that his chest is burning. He pads his thumbs against your hips to keep you from feeling how hard he is when all you’ve done is sit in his lap. He wants to be inside you, to hear your breathless voice whispering his name; he wants to show how desperately he loves you; he wants you to know that he loves you so much, much more than you could ever love him back. 

But how could he when every time he embraces someone making a space for him in their heart it goes wrong? An injury, a death. What gives him the right to curse you too?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he manages, somehow.

“You won’t.” Your voice goes soft as you teeter on the edge of shy honesty and embarrassment, “I, uh, I’ve done a few things before so it’s okay if you’re a little rough.”

“That’s not what I mean, I…” He closes his eyes tight as if it would wake him up from a terrible dream. “I’m not good at relationships.”

Megumi is so painfully inexperienced. He knows well enough that he looks mean at first glance, like he sets oil-sulked gulls on fire, and it’s true that he can be cruel, and selfish, and his moral compass is about as good as a ship without a rudder at times. There’s no doubt that he’ll make you cry more than once but he’d be willing to make up for it again and again until you’re sick of him and the shadows that blanket him. When that day happens, he isn’t sure how he’ll pick up the scattered pieces of his heart but your fingers rowing through the tangled mess of his hair and your lower body closing the gap he once made between you is enough to make him not care.

Your eyes are gossamer, bright, and delicate as they take him in. “I told you I don’t mind if it’s a little rough.”

To prove your answer true, you slot your lips against his. His fingers dig tighter into your hips, clothes crumpling in his fumbled grasp. He slumps then melts against you, and the happy sigh leaving you fully sears your name in his mind and your fingers settling on his collar bones brand your touch into his skin.

You don’t realize it as your tongue slides into his mouth and his hands disappear under your dress, skimming the back of your legs, but this moment would ruin him for anyone else.

When the two of you separate, he can see nothing in the room but you.

Megumi doesn’t care about the looks of others. He cares more about what lies underneath, and underneath you is compassion, kindness, and himself, but in this position, with your body flush against his, his hands cupping your backside, he might have to call Todou, tell him that he lied, that he did have a preference after all.

“You’re so perfect.”

Megumi will have to apologize to Itadori as well for grumbling at him to stop saying such corny things about his own girlfriend when they’re together.

“And you’re so pretty,” you say in hushed whispers, and when you connect again, it’s with your face nuzzled to his neck, layering kisses down the curve and over his shoulder.

It’s so warm; his head won’t stop spinning; the weight of your body on his is overwhelming in the best way, and he blurts out unceremoniously, “I like you.”

When you pause to look at him, he finds himself repeating it.

“I like you,” he announces, even then the words aren’t quite right. He more than likes you, so he repeats it again as if you aren’t already aware that he has it bad for you (as if Gojo hasn’t made it so clearly obvious time and time again). “I really like you.”

You giggle at him, and he groans. 

It’s so embarrassing that he’s almost blushing, but the sound is still so silky sweet, and he’s the one that made you do it. So, he doesn’t regret it as you lovingly return, “I like you too.”

[nn-ee-zz]

What are your other OC's like? I'm interested in hearing about the stories you came up with for them.

UH OH youre gonna get me talking!

My OCs are NPCs by origin. I was (still am) the DM of my friend group and to get their characters moving along I had to create my own.

Unexpectedly, my friends loved them.

ILYA - unwell henchman

i know its a boys name,

An aiding hand to an ambiguous villain, Ilya was introduced as sneaky, smiling, and untrustworthy. The facade collapsed once she vomited inside a cup after accidentally touching the liquified remains of (unbeknown to her) her younger sibling. The villain is a wizard of great power and transported all the liquid from their body to put out a fire, mummifying and killing the person in the process in an attempt to save several.

She seeks her sibling amongst the city. The tingling awareness of their demise at the hands of the guild she encouraged them to join and growing panic and grief led her to start a fight with someone who is spiraling as well.

She ends up at the local clinic, heavily injured and minus one eye, and spirals further from her injuries, her guilt, and the knowledge her family was correct about her being too mentally fragile to be in the city. Until....

(For now. The overall arc for this character is of recovery and improvement instead of pain and self-destruction. Forgive your past and find value within you that goes beyond self-sacrifice. With the help of others, of course.)

Despite her questionable moral position, a lot of characters feel the need to protect her.

Art - Her wearing another characters shirt and her getting a widdle kiss from said character, because even I (the monster freak artist) have my lovely ships

ED - emo organ trafficker

''Nez, I want my oc to be kidnapped and rescued by another oc'' ''Hm, I'll make up a guy to kidnap them then''

Originally meant to be a minor antagonist that would kidnap a character to harvest their organs and be easily defeated. Villain of the week type.

However, his snarky behavior, violent temperament, fancy victorian-boy-esque looks captured a lot of attention. He is a little freak but his direct words seem to bring out a lot of honesty in other characters.

Fun facts; His name is inspired by Edward Hyde. He is roomates and best friend/adopted sibling to Ilya. He makes an effort to be fancier than he is because he was born a bastard child and forced to be his fathers servant before he murdered his siblings and father and joined the army to escape (where he met ilya and ultimately got adopted into her family <333)

Art - Him, and him as a chibi fighting the guy who rescued the person he kidnapped. They also fall in love

REDD - funny bully

I recently made an oc just to mess around with the players while they were in jail! Well, now one of them drank his blood and is forever connected to him. The other one got her finger broken cuz she poked him. He also had the prision keys the entire time but pretended to be a prisioner as well. What a menace! I love making horrible pests. His name is red cuz thats how the others refered to him, because I described him as having red hair and red eyes.

Isnt it funny how despite being a DM I never use my monster designs?! I find it a lot more interesting to make characters specifically meant to alter the course of the character development of my players. I love to change deeply and irrevocably! : D

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.10 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 9. Chapter 11.

Mayhem and Chaos

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

As predicted, Fives and Hardcase were causing trouble. Were you going to stop it? No. Would you get involved? No. 

Would you standby and watch? Absolutely. 

At some point Kix had also joined in, aiding the troopers in their toying with the starships. 

You sat back, hoping you didn’t have to use life saving measures on any of these lovable idiots. 

“All right…” Fives typed away at a console next to the ship Hardcase had chosen. After some tinkering, the ARC trooper looked back up, “Okay, there. Should be a little easier.”

Hardcase rolled his wrists, adjusting to the controls. After a few moments to prepare, the Umbaran fighter lifted into the air, hovering unsteadily.  You weren’t entirely sure what they had changed from the first time, but you really really hoped nothing was going to explode.

After a couple of moments however, the ship jerked forward and the trooper inside overcorrected backward. One of the wings slammed into a stack of crates, sending them flying into the far side wall. Fives ducked, narrowly avoiding getting struck by the ship as well.

“Hardcase! What are you doing!?” He shouted up. 

“If I knew I wouldn’t be doing it!” Hardcase snapped back, clipping another umbaran fighter and dislodging from its holdings. 

You grabbed Kix and dove out of the way, barely dodging the thing as it hit the ground and knocked over shelves of metal boxes. The ship was out of control, spinning in the air and nearly hitting two other troopers. 

“Look out!”

“Move!”

Fives gripped the console and shook his head, “Great. This can't get much worse!”

As if on command, an intercom from a different dashboard buzzed before Krells voice boomed out, “Trooper, what's going on down there?”

The ARC trooper shoved the soldier out of the way, “Er... Yes, sir. Everything's fine in the hangar, sir.” He answered sounding as unconvincing as possible, 

Hardcase slammed into two other starships, sending them to the ground with loud clangs. You flinched, knowing this was going to be hard to explain.

“Then why have the alarms been triggered?!” The Jedi snapped over the console.

Fives stuttered before barely coming up with a response, “It's just a drill, a safety drill, sir!”

You and Kix managed to get behind a knocked down pile of crates. Both of you watched helplessly as Hardcase spun out of control, ramming into the wall and bouncing off of it. 

“Safety check occurs at 0600. Who authorized this drill?!”

The ARC trooper choked on his words before coming up with another excuse, “Uh...We are decrypting the alien hardware, sir. Standard operating procedure!” He finally found an answer to tell the General. 

Clones can not lie for shit! You threw a dumbfounded look at Kix before running to another spot for safety. 

Hardcase hit an already downed ship, sending it bouncing in one direction before screeching to a halt. Apparently things could get worse because the damn starship began to rapidly fire green bolts everywhere. 

“Shit!” You ducked down behind an open metal crate, next to Jesse “Hardcase, can you land the fucking thing!?”

“Let me try!” He called down to you. After a twist of his wrist, one of the large cannons attached jerked slightly and charged up a bright bolt, “No, no, no, no, no!” Hardcase desperately tried to undo…whatever he triggered, but was too late. 

The bolt launched, hitting directly into the hangar doors, causing a burst of light and the metal to melt into ash. 

“They’re dead. Krell is going to kill them.” Kix mumbled, sitting next to you, and Jesse, who was laughing too hard to speak. 

You had your face in your hands when Hardcase managed to land the Umbaran fighter, “Got it. I got it. It's easy. Just level your hands.” He had a proud smirk when the ship was fully on the ground and the cockpit opened. 

Five dashed forward, exasperated at what happened, “What, are you crazy? You could've gotten us killed! Not to mention ruining our hopes of flying this mission!” 

“It's a malfunction, no harm done.” The other trooper tried to calm his friend. Before he could say anything else, another voice cut through the air. 

“Explain this,” Krell demanded as he stomped towards the clones, “Now.” He was followed by captain Rex who looked more concerned and confused than mad.

Fuck! Clones really can’t lie for shit! You shot up, instantly speaking, “It was a trap, sir!” You could hear Jesse repress his snickering as you continued, turning the Jedi’s ire to you, “They were decrypting the enemy craft when what appears to be some sort of preventative failsafe went off.”

Rex’s eyes widened at you, but he remained silent, praying the Jedi wouldn’t see right through you.

“A trap!?” The General leaned forward at you, glaring. 

“Yes sir,” Hardcase spoke up, covering for your lie, “The fighter went haywire and had I not been able to get control of it, and aim the missile at the doors, something worse might've happened.” He was standing at attention as the besalisk stared him down. 

You kicked Jesse who hadn’t managed to stop his laughing. Rex, on the other hand, looked damn near stupefied. Kix had his face in his hands and you swear you could hear him praying.

Krell put his arms behind his back, a critical gaze on the troopers in front of him, “Is this true?” His question was directed at Fives who flinched at the sudden attention. 

After a second to stutter he nodded, “Yes, sir. That is what happened, no doubt.” 

The jedi General huffed, “Well, Captain Rex, looks like I was correct. The Umbaran fighters are dangerous and not fit for flight,” He turned and began to walk out of the half-destroyed hangar, “Lock down these fighters. I don’t want anything else exploding.” 

Rex shook his head and cast a look at Fives and Hardcase before turning to follow the general. 

You sank to the floor, putting your face in your hands. Jesse managed to calm down enough to get up and give a friendly clap to the two soldiers, “I thought the plan was to destroy the enemy ship with the fighters, not blow up our own hangar.” He had a grin as he put a hand on his hip. 

You were about to say something when your comm beeped, “Doctor, you're needed in the medical bay. A patrol’s been injured.” Without waiting another beat, you dashed out of the hangar, Kix close behind you.

The two of you had arrived to a broken patrol of 5 men. 

The most healthy was Cloud, holding a broken arm. But he was standing, and not your concern at the moment. 

Blue had a hand over his charred shoulder. His helmet was off and he was breathing, awake and aware of his surroundings, However, next to him was a trooper laying on the floor. You could see the blood seep from under the helmet and pool onto the sterile white tiles. 

Forty. His name is Forty. You remembered, spotting the ‘40’ he had written on his helmet. 

Bind was on the floor, normally white plastiod stained a deep red. His helmet was off, jaw barely hanging on to his skull by shredded muscle and ripped tendons. It looked like he took a blaster bolt directly through the mouth, melting his tanned skin. 

In his shaky arms was Thrall, heavy amounts of blood streaming from his stomach and chest. It looked like he had been ripped open by a beast and then thrown around. He was unmoving, and you weren’t even sure if he was even breathing.

“Kix, take Forty!” You commanded, immediately leaping into your training. Within minutes you had Thrall on one of the medical beds and hooked up to life support machinery.

Visually, you assessed the damage. To be safe, you used your new umbaran scanner to confirm. 

Broken ribs. Ruptured diaphragm. Collapsed right lung.

Your medical mind put the pieces together. You prioritized. 

Stabilize the lung, restore oxygen. Then, control the bleeding. Repair the diaphragm. Stabilize ribs. 

So you got to work. Your hands were fast and efficient, setting the chest tube correctly to inflate the lung. From there, you focused on the sources of bleeding. However, your repairs weren’t quick enough. 

Thrall’s heart rate took a nosedive. You fought against his death as long as you could, using a cardiac massage and other life restoring methods to keep him alive. As hard as you struggled and tried to save him, his body gave out. 

Thrall succumbed to his wounds, and the list of the dead forced its way into your head. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Thrall.

“I’m sorry, He’s gone.” You informed the others before getting to Bind’s side. Kix was still working on Forty, and you couldn’t see exactly what the medic was dealing with.

Bind was breathing heavily, clearly in agony over the damage that was done to him. He was trembling, terrified and now grief stricken from losing Thrall.

“Bind, don’t worry, I got you.” Your voice took a soft tone as you injected him with the strongest painkiller available to you, “What happened to you five?” 

“Krell sent us to a backroad West of here,” Blue responded shakily, “Said it could be used as a supply route, but…”

“He didn’t tell us traps were set over there.” Cloud finished his comrades sentence, “When we commed him for a scanner to sweep the area he said there wasn’t time. We needed to secure the road.” 

“Krell…” You growled.

Bind flinched, jumping slightly when your finger brushed over an exposed nerve. 

Immediately you felt sympathy. As someone who, just a rotation ago, had your own nerves exposed to open air, you knew his pain, “I’m sorry Bind.” you murmured softly, “I know it hurts…”

He stared at you, brown eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Soldier bravado…of course…

“Blue,” you called to the trooper, “Come here, and let him squeeze your hand. He’s in a lot of pain.” You hid the true intentions of your request. 

Hold his hand so he doesn’t feel alone. 

Blue did as asked, clasping his trembling brother's hand. 

Kix slammed his hands down on the surgical table. He swore, sweeping the medical supplies onto the tile floor where they clattered, “He’s gone.” His voice was trembling from emotion. 

Forty.

Cloud slid onto the floor and ripped off his helmet before throwing it. It bounced a couple of times on the ground, “I fucking hate Krell!” He snapped. You didn’t comment when you saw the tears on his cheeks, “He’s purposely trying to get all of us killed!” 

Kix sat down next to you, aiding in Bind’s jaw. This time, Blue spoke up, “How many men have we lost?”

“Too many.” Your answer didn’t seem to make him happy, so with a sigh you told the truth, “Assuming any MIA are casualties…almost a third.” You’ve seen the numbers. You’ve seen the names. The list you replayed in your head were only those who died under your hands that you blamed on Krell. There were many more. Those you couldn’t get to. Those who perished in the field that would remain as they decomposed. Those Kix lost. 

There were too many that have died on Umbaran soil.

With Anakin and Ahoska, these numbers would never get so high. When they would lead, Kix and you were enough to handle the 501st with the Venator on standby to take the more seriously injured off the field. 

But with Krell? It was clear that two medics wasn’t nearly enough. 

If you had known this was going to happen, you would have contacted those you knew in other legions for support. You were sure General Plo would have gladly given his medics in the 104th to support the 501st. 

Fuck, if General Plo was leading the 501st, you were sure Kix and you wouldn’t even have injured to help.

“One third.” Cloud whispered, “one third of our brothers…”

You stabilized Bind’s jaw and let Kix finish up. Wordlessly you went to the emotional trooper's side to begin to help his broken arm. Before you did so, you reached up and wiped his tears from his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “When we get out of this, and we will get out of this, I’m going to reach out to some contacts to punish Krell for all of this.”

“Will that even work?” Blue asked from where he was, now being tended to by the clone medic. 

With a sigh you gave an honest answer, “I’m not sure,” you admitted, “But I know some senators. Even helped a few, so I’m sure they’d be willing to at least listen to me.”

“Just give up, Doc.” Cloud sniffled, looking away from you, “No one cares about us. We’re clones. We’re meant to be thrown onto the battlefield and then thrown away like trash.” 

“Not if I can help it.” You responded, “I’ll become a senator just to stop that from happening if I have to.”

Blue snorted, “I’m gonna tell you, Doc. it's talk like this that has Captain Rex in love with you.”

Oh, shit did they know? Play dumb. Kix glanced up at you before looking back down at Blue’s shoulder. 

Your words were steady and calm as you spoke, “He’s not in love with me, we’re just good friends.”

“You might see that,” Blue continued before wincing at something Kix had done, “But every time you turn your back, the Captain gets this lovestruck look in his eyes. He looks like a puppy, I swear to the Maker.”

Bind nodded in confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. Oh if only they knew the truth.

Then an idea came into your head.

“What else does he do?” You asked playfully, taking full advantage of this. 

“Well, that last planet, on Sataran.” the trooper continued, “there were three women and two men that tried to get with him. And not only did he turn them all down, he was looking for you directly afterward.”

You remembered that. Poor Rex had been so flustered to have been flirted with so aggressively. 

“He’s in love with you, doctor.” Cloud chimed in quietly, “You make him happy.” 

These guys needed a distraction from their grief. That much was clear. It's why Blue was so quick to start gossiping about their captain. All you could do was smile softly.

“All set,” you stood once Cloud’s arm was stable, “Bind, I want you to stay here, take the bed on the far left. Blue, Cloud, you two can go to the barracks to rest.” They all gave you a salute before following your command. 

Once Bind was under the effects of painkillers and sedatives, you took a deep breath, “How long was that?”

“Couple hours at least,” Kix murmured, sitting down on a stool next to one of the medical consoles, after a few moments he sighed, “So one third of the 501st is dead?”

You confirmed with a nod.

“Maker, we suck at our jobs.” He mumbled, rubbing his face in his hands. 

With a bitter snort, you began to evaluate the other soldiers. You use the scanner you cracked earlier. Their wounds differed of course. Severe burns, broken bones, head injuries, but the anomaly in their brains was consistent. 

Perhaps it’s just a clone thing…

As you were working, the doors opened again. Dogma and Tup walked into the med bay. The longer haired trooper looked tired, as if he had been woken up against his will and dragged here by the former. 

“Are you two alright?” You spoke first, thinking perhaps they needed something for their sleep. It wasn't unheard of for troopers to need medicine in order to get a proper amount of rest. 

“Well, doctor,” Tup cleared his throat, “We-”

“Where did Hardcase, Jesse, and Fives go?” Dogma demanded. 

Oh boy…

“If you two are just here to waste our fucking time, you may as well leave.” Kix snapped, standing to face them. 

Dogma, however, didn't seem entirely phased by the medic, “If you know where they are, you need to tell the General. Otherwise it's insubordination.”

Poor Tup looked like he didn’t want to be here. You noticed the trooper looked extremely uncomfortable and unsure. 

Your anger spiked, “Fine,” You approached the demanding trooper and grabbed his wrist, “Let me show you what we’ve been doing.” Your steps lead you to the surgical table that Thrall was laying on under a sheet. Still holding his wrist, you threw back the white cover, revealing the dead trooper. 

“That!” You snapped, glaring at Dogma as he yanked his wrist back, eyes wide. “We don't know where those three are because we have been trying to fix that!”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall.

Your emotions surged. Your vision blurred with tears. 

Fuck. Calm down. Keep yourself together!

“Your ass kissing of an incompetent General hasn’t done anything to help us.” you seethed, “So get the fuck out of my sight and don’t bother me unless your fucking dying!” 

He scrambled out of the medical bay, most likely to find Rex. Tup stopped in front of the door before looking back, “I think you're doing the best you guys can.” He sounded genuinely sorry for the situation, “Thank you for working so hard, and…I’m sorry.” He left quickly after Dogma, maybe hoping to talk him down. 

Kix sighed and shook his head, “You ok?” He asked quietly. 

No. I’m not. You thought before lying to your medic friend.

“Yea, just…yea. I’m fine.”

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VI : Sisyphus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Blood and Gore; Explicit description of injury; Use of misogynistic language; Threat of SA but none occurs; Ass play; Anal sex

A/N: It's all downhill from here, baby!!!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 10K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VI : SISYPHUS

DEATH: Why the bow, if you’re breaking no laws?

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

You’re in the dark again, warm and sated, together. He’s propped up on one elbow, practically half on top of you while you lay on your belly, pressed into the soft blankets and the blistering heat of his body; your cheek, smooshed into the ball of his shoulder while you let him explore your skin at will. He’s been biting and licking and kissing all over for what seems like hours after having fucked you halfway to delirium, and you can do nothing more than hum and whimper when his teeth get too hungry, his bite too sharp, listening to the sounds he makes. Low rumbles of appreciation deep in his chest that you feel vibrate into the bones of your back, breathy huffs where he takes in your scent, mingled with the flavor of his own sweat and come. You’re damp and sweaty and a little sticky in the soft crevices between your limbs, and maybe it should be disgusting, but he tastes you everywhere anyways.The tip of his nose dragging down the line of your spine, a soft nip to your waist, a sharper one to the inside of your bicep, that vulnerable and ticklish swell. He rolls you slightly further towards him to expose your breasts to his explorations, and you feel the tickle of his armpit hair on your cheek where your face is tucked into his side. He sniffs below the damp line of your hair at the nape of your neck, mouths wetly at the satiny skin, and you drag your fingertips up his arm, barely there, pulling a shiver from him and a soft moan. “What’s your favorite place in the galaxy?” Your voice barely a break in the silence, the soft song of your breathing.

A wet suck to your nipple, “Balls deep inside of you,” entirely serious in that monotone way of his.

“Disgusting.”

“Nuh uh, delicious,” a long swipe to the other nipple, pad of his thumb brushing over the dip of your navel. A whine of his name, and he gives you a laugh, the sort of laugh that changes the trajectory of a person’s life, the sort of laugh that is so real it could almost be confused as imaginary. He moves up, lets you savor the sound of it, and there is no better taste than this: someone else’s laughter in your mouth. You twist your fingers in his curls, run your tongue behind his teeth, belly pressed to belly. “I’m being serious,” you remind him.

He buries his face in your neck, a soft hum, “Here, on the ship.” With me? You want to ask. “What about yours?”

“I like water.” You always had, had always been a swimmer when the moment allowed.

“Then we shall have to find some water for you, won’t we?” His fingers have snuck down to your bottom, and he kneads your soft flesh, the line of his once again swollen erection trapped between your bodies. Yes, you’d like that, you think, to be in water with him. You dig your fingers into the rock hard muscles of his shoulders as his mouth resumes its explorations.

“I want a loth cat,” you tell him next.

Mhmm.

“Din?” His mouth is once again latched at your breast, and his cock has begun to thrust and grind against your belly, sticky tip drooling against your skin.

“Please, be quiet,” he says with your breast still in his mouth. “I’m very busy.”

You ignore him, twist your fingers tighter in his curls, arching your chest further into his mouth. “Will you get me a loth cat?” Voice all soft and breathy and breaking as you lift your thigh around his naked hip.

Distracted: “A what?”

The man really, really does not listen. “A loth cat. Will you get me one?”

Finally, he pulls his head back. “No. What is that?”

“You’re saying no, and you don’t even know what they are!”

“You’re not bringing any animals on my ship,” and even though he can’t see it, you roll your eyes at him.

“It’s a pet. Not an animal.”

“Explain the difference to me.” He bends his head to your breast again, all teeth now.

“A pet is fluffy, and I will love it.” But he brings his cock back into the mix then, and there are no more allowances for ridiculous requests for quite some time after that.

-

“Now you’re going to be good and stay here like I’m asking you to this time, right? Where you’re safe.” He’d landed the Razor Crest a conservative distance away from Niima Outpost; didn’t want you too far isolated in the sand dunes while he left you to go out and fetch his bounty, but not so close you’d be easily noticed.

“Oh, you are soooo stern,” you pout up at him from where you’re curled up in your bed.

His only response: a long suffering sigh, hands on his hips. You roll your eyes at him, nuzzling into the pillow that smells just like his hair. “Yes. I promise I’ll stay on the ship this time. Where it’s safe.” He comes to one knee beside your shared bed, he’d never crawled back into that tomb of a bunk again after that last time together, this was your shared place now. He brushes a gentle thumb over the pout of your bottom lip, tipping your chin up to the dark tee of his visor, “What a good girl you can be… when you set your mind to it, little one.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him again, but feel your cheeks heat and your lower belly go tight and fluttery. Your pussy clenches with a slight twinge, and you feel the slow thick drool of his come seep out of you. He’d taken you hard earlier, savage and rough and without restraint – like he was angry at having to leave you and taking it out on your cunt.

“Only when I try very, very hard,” you tell him. He dips his chin once, and then unfolds to his great height above you, another nod, another paused moment to take one last, long look at you, and you want to beg, so badly, for him not to go. It feels like the first time he’d left, all those weeks ago. Your first experience staying on the Crest without him while he went out to hunt his bounty, and at the same time, all the worse. You know him so much better now, you need him, you… You what? No, you can’t think of it now. It’s a non possibility, something you aren’t capable of. But a pesky, perilous corner of your mind whispers, like the Force healing? A non possibility of that sort? You want to ask him to take his helmet off and kiss you before he goes, you want to beg him to stay, you want to ask him why he’s not called you that sweet name again since that last time, the only time, in the heat and damp darkness of the fresher when he’d whispered it into your skin, cyar’ika, and you want to cry, just a little bit, if you think on it too much. On the fact that he’d not repeated it, at the possibility of it having been a mistake or a slip in the heat of the moment. But you say none of those things, and ask for no kiss, and look after him with regret and an inkling of unsettled trepidation as the broad expanse of his back lumbers down the lowered plank and then disappears with the closing of the hatch into the scorched badlands and marching dunes of Jakku.

The hull is left dark and serene with his departure, quiet, and yet it sends a small shiver up your naked spine, bare and wet beneath the warm covers like he’d left you. He keeps the space meticulously clean, but now it’s littered with small signs of your presence in his life, of your life together. Your tunic thrown over the lone stool where he forces you to sit when you take your meals with him crouched at your feet, obsessively watching to make sure you have your fill, strange and lovely man that he is. He has a complex about the food you consume, as if it’s imperative to him that you eat as much as you can, that you’re always satisfied in the ways he cannot, or will not allow himself to be. He doesn’t eat enough, never as much as you know he’d probably secretly like to, and for a man of his size and brawn, surely not enough as he needs to, and it’s slowly fostered an angry kernel of resentment within you. He should always have all the things that he needs and wants, as much food as he desires, always, and anything that would keep those things from him you’re bitterly coming to detest. It even, in a strangely convoluted way, makes you angry at yourself, that your presence here with him prevents him from freely and comfortably discarding his helmet to take his meals. If you weren’t here with him he could eat as much as he wants whenever he wants without worry of being seen, and sometimes, try as you might, you can’t let go of the thought.

He’d left the pair of his thick socks you’d appropriated for yourself draped over one of the steam pipes that are warm to the touch, so that when you’d put them on they’re nice and toasty for you. The sight of them makes your heart kick and flip and burn in your chest, and you turn over to face the other way, towards the wall so that you’ll not be forced to look upon the empty hull and the warm socks and the Din-less space and remind yourself how much you hate when he goes away. He’d said he’d be back quickly, only a few hours he estimated, and you comfort yourself with this as you tuck your hands beneath your cheek and slowly drift off into a restless sleep.

-

“Hello, beastie.”

You’re thrashed into wakefulness by an agonizing grip twisting in your hair trying to rip the very strands from your scalp. You screech, disoriented trying to kick out, get your bearings, but the hull is still darkened from the way Din had left you. You feel another pair of hands trying to grasp at your ankles, and you kick out savagely, bracing yourself against the cold floor, and then the sickening crunch of the bones in your hand as a heavy boot slams down on your fingers, agony, agony, what is happening? An alien dialect in a language you can’t discern, rough and grating is spit back and forth between several voices, and then the first voice comes again and an old, hunched female steps into the dim light from the shadows. You recognize her reptilian Thalassian aspect immediately, and your heart drops into your stomach. Slavers. You double your efforts, kicking and screaming and trying to claw at the hands in your hair, to rip yourself away while your crushed hand screams in agony. The old female comes closer, beastie, beastie, we’ve caught ourselves a beastie, she sing-songs in a hollow voice. Another boot to your belly, kicking the air out of your lungs, sending fire through your ribs and bile up your throat, but when you turn your head, you make eye contact with one of the old crones henchmen, another Thalassian, and with a single thought you send him slumping to the ground, brains oozing out of his ears in a melted, bloody mess.

“Murderous little beast!” the female screeches, and she’s unraveling a whip from around her forearm, and before you can even brace yourself, snapping it at you so that it’s splitting open the meat of your cheek. Searing agony spreads across your face, your vision goes in and out, and you try and shake it away, but then more of that guttural unknown language and an order from the crone, and your arms are being jerked forward so harshly it feels as though your bones will be wrenched from their sockets, and they’re clamping something around your wrists. Something cold and sucking and terrible. You slump forward, tangled in the soft blankets of yours and Din’s shared bed, still naked beneath, and you try to reach for the Force, for your strength, for Din’s mind out there in the desert, but there’s nothing. Acute silence, unbearable nothingness. All your strength zapped and stolen away in the blink of an unguarded moment, like an amputated limb.

The female is hunched over the body of the one you’d killed, leaning heavily on a thick walking stick, spitting hissing sobs, and when she turns back to look at you, you can see there are tears marring her ugly, wrinkled face. “You killed him! Creature! Dark creature!” She spits. “Pull her back, let me look at the little whore’s face.” Unforgiving claws in your hair again, and your head is ripped back and angled towards the weak light of the fresher, the blanket covering your modesty slipping to reveal your nakedness beneath. Fear and shame and fury curdle and burn within you like acid. If he comes back and finds you gone, or worse dead, he’ll be devastated, so hurt, so angry, he’ll blame himself. They can’t – they cannot put him through that. You have to think, calm yourself, get out of these binders they’ve put you in, some sort of Force suppression technology at work. The things glow a sickly purple color, nothing like the lovely warm violet of your saber. But before you can even get a firm grasp on your thoughts, collect yourself, the woman slides the walking stick in her grip, and pulling it back behind her shoulder, swings it forward with all her might to hit you in the face with the heavy, bulbous end of it, right over the split from the whip. You feel the very mass of your brain jostle within your skull, a sickening crunch, the vision in that eye going completely dark. Maker, they’re going to kill you if they’re not careful. A terrible sound rips from your throat, something worse than a mere cry, going slack jawed, whacked further into the pit of unconsciousness. One of the others says something to the old Thalassian and turning away from you, she hisses something back. She goes still for a few moments, leaning on her stick heavily once again, the sound of her wet panting breath, and when she seems to have finally collected herself she turns back to you again. In basic she says, “I know what you are. I’ve heard what they’ve been trying to do to your ilk. How they mine you for that sweet little nectar that runs through your veins, through all of us – the Force. There are rumors of you circulating the Outer Rim, did you know? We heard of you and came searching. Received word from our Huttese friends, whispers of a Mandalorian mercenary and his dark pet roaming about the dunes of Jakku, an old gunship spotted lurking where it should not be. We’ve been searching for you, beastie,” she whispers, coming closer to inspect you, voice maniacal with cruel glee. The pain in your face, your head is a numb throb sharpening to acute fire, vision fading and then glowing bright white and burning. Your head, Maker, they’ve knocked it clean off your neck. “There are many clamoring to get their hands on you. Tell me, what does it feel to be whittled down to nothing more than the worth of an invisible and illusory thing? The Force,” voice contemplative and disgusted, all the same. “To be worth nothing more but that unseen ether flowing through your veins. How does it feel to be nothing? Look at you – playing the whore to some Mandalorian brute. Pretty thing…” She pushes back at your shoulder with the butt end of her stick, “Before you went and made me angry. Hmm… perhaps, I shall sell you with that same offering, as well? Would you like that? I wonder what will fetch a higher price, your blood or your cunt.” She laughs and her thugs join around her. You can feel the wide split in your face drooling blood, throbbing in agony, the sound of their raucous and cruel laughter creating a painful symphony above the pounding of your blood in your ears. “A magical whore!” She cackles, flashing her rotting grimace. “Yes, I quite like that idea. Stealing you away from that murderer – mercenaries, the lot of them, those Mandalorians. They hide behind the conflated righteousness of their Creed and their failed history, but they are nothing but another murderous cog in the wheel that would subjugate those of us they deem lesser.” The laughter leaves her suddenly, going serious, and you feel such fear in that single pause of silence. He’s going to

be so angry when he finds you gone, and you– you cannot be enslaved again, you can’t, you won’t. You’ll kill yourself before you allow it. “Monster,” she hisses, “This is nothing worse than what a thing like you deserves after the sort of evil your ilk spread. Imperial slut,” she spits at you, and her saliva lands like a glob of acid on your bare chest, burning. “Grab her. We’re going before her Mandalorian brute returns and kills us for taking his pet.” Her underlings say something in that unknown language, gathering to grip you under the arms and around your ankles, and a frenzy ignites in your heart. Through your broken and torn face you begin to howl, writhing and kicking your legs with as much strength as you can muster despite the broken ribs. “No, no! I will not go!” You screech, getting one in the face. He jerks away and lets your bottom half hit the hard floor with a harsh thud. “Let me go! I will not– I will not go!” You won’t be taken from him, you won’t, you won’t. The one holding your upper half shoves you painfully to the ground, your poor, battered head slamming once again, and another brutal kick lands to your ribs. Maker, you’d not missed beatings like this. The crone begins to scream at them, garbled sounds you can’t make out, and you lay your head on the cold floor. You just need a second to breathe, that’s it. You can endure much, much more than this, it’s only the binders stealing your strength, you just need a moment, and then you’ll fight again or break out of these terrible things and kill them all, but your head, Maker, your head feels as if it’s been split open down the middle. Their yelling reaches a crescendo, an added shrillness to it that was not there before, and then one of the henchmen is toppling painfully over your prone form, a heavy knee to your spine as he lands diagonally over your body, but his weight is instantly ripped away from you. More screaming and oh, the sound of blaster fire, the piercing screams of the old Thalassian, you turn your head slowly, slowly to the side and there, through the bloody and matted strands of your loose hair, that bright and familiar gleam, a flash of burnt red. You bring your manacled wrists slowly up to your chest, hunching into as small a ball as you can make yourself, cradling your broken hand to yourself. 

He’s here. 

He’s here, it’ll all be okay now. 

You let your eyes flutter shut and listen to the Thalassian’s screaming reach a crescendo, and it sounds a little like that long ago familiar sound of flesh tearing from flesh. You don’t want to see. You don’t want to see him commit atrocities in your name. It’s a funny thing, you think, the nature of his violence. He is a Mandalorian, and like the Thalassian had said, yes, perhaps, mercenary, and so it would stand that he is a man who commits violence, but you’d found – Maker, you hurt – you’ve found… that a thing that commits violence is not always also, or at once, a violent thing by nature. The moment makes of us what it needs us to be, but that does not always indicate our true selves. Violence committed in an instant of necessity, the peril of threat, does not always mean that we are bad or violent in our hearts, and Din… your Mandalorian does not have a violent heart. Beneath all of that uncompromising beskar is a soft heart, a good heart. It’s why you–

The scream stops.

-

No, no, no, no, no– “Look at me, look at me, cyar’ika. It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here now. They’re gone, it’s okay.” You’re a crumpled, bloody, broken heap on the ground. He’d left you. He had left you here alone for this to be done to you. There is something hot and terrifying crawling its way up the inside of Din’s chest, searing his throat, turning it to char. He turns you over with all the gentleness he can muster, his shaking hands slippery with blood, the broken, dead bodies littered around the two of you as he pushes your bloody hair from your face and takes in the way they’d savaged you. 

And Din– Din feels a fury the likes of which he’s never felt before in his entire life. And in the wake of a sort of fear he’d never experienced previously either, not even at the sight of his child self watching his mother and father murdered, the image of their crumpled and broken bodies becoming smaller and smaller as he was taken away into the unknown by the Mandalorians who’d saved him, it leaves him unbalanced and of tremulous control as he pulls you into his arms. You’re cupping one of your hands strangely in the other, and when he takes your manacled wrists you let out a painful, garbled sound. Your hand is mangled, fingers darkening already and bent sickeningly in incongruous angles, and he wants, very badly, to look away from the sight of your pain. It causes a physical ache inside of him, nausea and fire and thunder, like a blaster bolt to the belly, a knife to the lung. “Look at me, cyare,” and your eye blinks open, the darker of the two, the one that whispers silently at him when he looks at it too long, the other, the bright one like a scream, is too swollen to open, but you, miracle of miracles, for you are a miracle wrapped in the shape of a girl, give him the tiniest of attempted smirks; something like the creation of myth unfolding before him. The side of your face not broken and bleeding, lifting into a crooked little half moon, and bloody smile full of sharp, menacing teeth you croak, “I knew you’d come.” 

Din knows in this instant that he is going to love you for the rest of his life. It is not a question, or an uncertainty. It is simply fact. Truth like his Creed, like The Way. 

 “I’m here. I’ll always come for you,” he tells you in lieu of saying that which sits heavy on his tongue now, which is that he’d let you eat his very heart out of his chest if you so desired it, that he belongs to you intrinsically. “I’m so sorry. I’m here now.” The hand not mangled grips the fabric around his throat and Din feels a sob in the shape of your name build in his chest. The Mandalorian, on the verge of tears. He gently presses you closer, tries to breathe, tries to swallow his howls. They were slavers, he’d marked them from the moment he’d spotted them through the open hatch of the Crest, dropping the long dead bounty he’d found half buried in the sand to sprint towards you. He’d worried about the possibility of this for some time now, the threat of someone coming for you, recognizing what you were, thought he’d prepared for it. Rumors were difficult to avoid or quell and despite his attempts to keep anyone from getting too close to sniff you out, you attracted attention. It was inevitable. Too beautiful, too alive, too alluring. He’d been afraid of something like this happening, and he’d thought the best way to keep you safe was to keep you here, hidden away on his ship, security system set and impenetrable. He’d been a damned fool.

He takes in the sight of your bare limbs, the beginnings of nasty bruising over your naked abdomen. The idea of someone taking you from him, severing his claim, keeping you away from him… and like this, when you were supposed to be safe here in this place the two of you’d made a home of together, while you were bare and waiting for him as he’d left you, when you were still full of his semen, potentially full of his– 

He swallows the thought. There are certain things you believe about yourself that Din is doubtful to agree with just yet…

“Take them off,” you whisper up at him, “I’ll–” a pained swallow, “I’ll heal. It’s okay, Din. Don’t be afraid,” you say with such earnestness, a tiny life of an eyebrow, but he is anyway. You shouldn’t be the one telling him not to be afraid right now, split open as you are, but you do anyway, and Din is deathly afraid – of this, of you, of everything, of not being fast enough, strong enough, good enough to protect you, to keep you. Din feels more afraid now than he has ever felt in his entire life.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It’s not that bad,” and at the same time, your words make him so angry. At what life had made you believe, at what the galaxy had made you believe was okay. This is not fucking okay. Seeing you hurt like this is not okay. He moves to gently, as gently as he can possibly be, disengage the binders from around your wrists, careful to not jostle your broken hand too much. 

“It’s not okay.” He looks at your mangled face, the blood running into your hairline, your swollen eye, that lovely and luminous eye that makes his heart feel split into a million different pieces, all engraved with the etching of your name, “This is not okay.” And then his gaze lands on the blood splattered gem of your earring. This sight he must close his eyes to, he cannot bear it. That tiny sparkle, the significance of your relationship made material, covered in your own blood and his failure to protect you. 

He opens his eyes again to take in your wet gaze, unseeingly staring up at him, dark and fathomless. It shutters closed, long lashes clumped together in the sticky mess of your blood and tears. “It will be. I’ll heal soon. This is not the worst that’s been done to me,” voice thin and reedy, as if you’re embarrassed, ashamed to say the words out loud. As if you recognize them for the travesty they pose. He has to look away, swallow another sob. Din can’t remember the last time he cried, the last time he felt like crying, but he feels it now. Eyes hot and pinched and uncomfortable. 

He should have never left you. He will never leave you again. 

Wrapping you in the blanket, he makes sure your modesty is covered, and with as much care as he can, takes you in the cradle of his arms and moves you back into your bed. 

“Where’s your bounty?” You croak.

“That doesn’t matter now. Rest. I’m going to–”

“Of course, it matters. It’s–” a pained swallow.

“Don’t talk, cyare. It’s okay. We can–”

But you press on, cut him off. “That's the whole reason we came here. We’re not going to let this be a waste.” This being your savaging, split open, almost stolen. Din feels his heart drop down into his stomach. He nods once, swallows, tries to cough up the knot of agony lodged in his throat. 

“I dropped it when I saw them. They did something – fucked with the system and deviated the signal so I wasn’t alerted when they broke in. The bounty was already dead. Beacon signal still going. I found him and came straight back – saw the open hatch and knew something was wrong–” You give a soft, pained moan, brow folding into an agonized frown. Maker, he’s not going to survive this. He feels like a fucking coward. Terrified, sick to his stomach, angrier, weaker than he’s ever been in his entire life. 

“Slavers. Thalassians,” you whisper, resting your head against his chest plate, broken hand clutched against your chest. “I need you to reset my fingers before they heal wrong.” Fuck, he’s never had a panic attack before, but he worries he might be having one now. He tries to swallow the scream for you, thinks he whispers something like, alright. Shifting you in his lap, he pulls his blood soaked gloves from his hands, and when he reaches for your hand he takes in the tremor of his own fingers, feels a humiliating wash of shame curdle inside of him. He’s a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake, a warrior, and yet the sight of your pain, your hurt, leaves him unraveled, as frightened and green as a child. He has never experienced the dilemma of having someone he– someone that matters, hurt. Carefully propping your back up against his bent knee he pulls you in close so that your hip is tucked up against him, he grasps your wrist tenderly between his fingers, soothes the pad of his thumb against the soft inner slope of your wrist, the webbing of blue beneath the thin skin is comforting somehow, you’re alive. He made it in time, he’s going to fix this, take care of you. “It’s okay, Din,” you whisper again. 

A sharp jerk of his chin, “I know. I’m going to make this right.”

He smooths his thumb up the base of your palm, trying to settle, comfort you, the both of you, he rubs a gentle circle into the center, feels you tremble and jerk against him, and he hums low in his throat, a deep sound to remind you that he’s here, he’s got you. “It’s alright, little one. It’s alright, it’s alright,” keeps murmuring low reassurances in your ear, unsure whether they’re more for you or for himself, as his fingers slide up slow and light and grip your ring finger first, grasping it at the base to hold it securely and pulling on the tip to straighten it out, quick and efficient movements, a muted snap. There’s one. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”. Moves to your pinky next, so tiny gripped between his own large, rough fingers. He has to grind his molars together, bite the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. He holds the base of that vulnerable little finger, the fine bone almost nothing beneath his touch and straightens that one too, listens to the hollow pop of the joint righting itself back into place. That one pulls a swallowed screech from your throat, you turn your face sharply away, and he sees your legs shuffle and kick in his periphery, your breathing fast and shallow. 

“Hurt– That one hurt,” you choke, and he watches a single tear squeeze out of your swollen eye and make a slow, devastating track down the slope of your mangled cheek, losing itself to the shredded gash. 

“What did that to your cheek?” He grits at the same time that he rights your index finger into place, tenses his knee to keep you steady and upright as you jerk. Panting wet breath hiccupping, trying to swallow back your cries for a moment, he cradles your bruised hand in his, wishes he wasn’t wearing this fucking helmet so that he could kiss the back of it, lick your wounds. He feels like screaming. 

“A w– a whip.” You don’t turn back to look at him, and Din feels his blood turn to frost. Something so painful moving through his chest he struggles for breath.

“They whipped you in the face?” He looks at the pieces of Thalassian surrounding the two of you and curses himself for killing them so quickly. He should’ve been smarter, more patient, drawn it out. Made them suffer. 

“It’s okay–” voice short, tense. “I’ll heal.” Face still turned towards the open hatch and the hot Jakkuian night, he watches another tear fall. 

“It doesn’t matter–”

“I’ll heal. I’ll–”

“That doesn't matter–they hurt you. You can be hurt. Just because you can heal, just because you don’t care about what happens to you doesn’t mean that I don’t.” He cups the back of your head, begs you to turn back towards him with his touch. “You being hurt hurts me, do you understand me?” Voice soft as he can make it go, trying to make you see what he’s saying in the only way he thinks will penetrate the fog of your painful history. 

And you do turn back at that, finally, thank you, thank you, he can see the edges of the wound start to knit themselves back together. A girl and a miracle and a myth all woven into one. “Do you understand me?” He asks again, cupping your chin, gathering the wet of your freely falling tears now, pressing the pad of his thumb to the corner of your eye.

“No, no, I don’t understand,” face crumpling, you press your forehead beneath the edge of his helmet. They hurt me, they hurt me, you cry over and over, and Din knows that you don’t only mean the Thalassians. He wishes he possessed the hand of the Maker. That he could reach across to the far corners of the galaxy, the most shadowed depths, the blackest pits, and wipe away any speck of darkness that’s ever touched you, anything or anyone that had ever done you harm. He wishes he could give you his very heart as an offering, anything that would settle the sound of your anguish. But then he thinks that an impossible sort of thing, for his very heart is held right here, sobbing in his arms, living on the outside of his chest. 

-

After he insists on you allowing him to spread bacta along your cheek and hand, despite your protestations that it’ll close on its own, that you’re fine, you remind him that his bounty is still lying dead and forgotten out in the sand sea beyond the ship. He goes out to retrieve the pitiful thing, felled by the wrath of Jakku, most likely, and you make an agonized attempt to stand and dress yourself. Your ribs and back ache, the line of your spine feels on the verge of fracture from the last blow you’d taken, and you shuffle about slowly, trying to force yourself to hurry and get yourself covered before he returns, not wanting him to see the extent of the damage done to your ribs and back. You manage to get on a pair of underwear and one of his shirts before he’s stomping back up the gangway, dead bounty slung over his shoulder. He bends to shuck the thing off, the limp body hitting the durasteel with a harsh thud that snaps your mind into focus for a millisecond so that you’re taking in the carnage surrounding you. The release of gas from the carbon freezer sounds around you as you find the old Thalassian – her head seems to have been ripped clean from her neck somehow, you cock your head slowly, taking the sight in. He’s moving about, dragging the pieces of the bodies and chucking them out the hatch, and your mind feels like a piece of elastic snapping far out and away from you, and then shooting back in a painful reverberation, vision going hyper focused, too bright to bear, and then murky, as if viewed through a broken pane of glass. You hear the whirring, metallic shifting of the closing gangway, and your head swoops, belly twisting with nausea. There are pools of blood coagulating thick and disgustingly viscous on the floor, and you reach out for the wall to steady yourself as your blood rushes in your ears, but he’s immediately there, gentle hand to the curve of your waist and the bend of your elbow to pull you to himself. “It’s okay,” he says again. And he keeps saying so, but seeing this, what he’s done for you, something feels distinctly not okay. 

You think of the Corellians who’d attacked you all those weeks ago, the Corellians you'd slaughtered for him. And the memory somehow makes the sight in front of you worse, some sort of horror. You’d turned him into you. You’d forced him into repeating your own horrible actions. In a moment of startling, sickening clarity, you’re confronted with the reality that he is only encased in beskar, he is not made of it. And one day they will go through him to get to you. Because there will surely be more, there will surely be another day, another time, another planet; more slavers or dark siders or someone of equally low measure will come for you again, and he can’t protect you forever, nor you him. 

This time, please, let it end differently. 

It’s all you ever do, you think, beg and plead for a different sort of fate. The duel of the fates, over and over again, but it is only ever you, alone, at odds with destiny itself. Fighting against what must be, what already is, what always has been. Your own sick ouroboros; eternally destroying and recreating yourself and the things around you. 

He leads you back to bed, grabs his socks from where they’d lain draped over the warm steam pipe, and you return his own past words to him while he kneels before you, pulls them over your cold feet, looking over his shoulder the world seems inverted, mirrorlike, the black puddles of blood filled with dark mercury. They would have taken you from him. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.” Your voice sounds hollow and cold, unlike yourself.

He pauses his care of you, helmet tipped down, and you wish you could see his eyes right now, you feel, strangely, like you need them, like it would make everything better, more clear and stable. Taking one small foot in hand, he wraps his fingers around the entire thing. “You’re right,” he tells you, and your stomach flips with bile and fear again. “I shouldn’t have had to do it because I never should have let it happen. This is on me. I shouldn’t have left you alone for this to happen.”

You reach for his wrist, wrapping your fingers around the thick of it to feel his pulse beat against your fingertips. Something furious in the fluttering thrum of it; something of a monolith about him, steadfast, unmovable, the strongest thing in the entire galaxy. There’s a tinge of crimson rage swallowing him, and you can tell he’s doing everything in his considerable strength to keep it under reign for your sake; the proof is in the strew of bodies he’d littered the floor of the ship with. “They’ll always come for me, Din. As long as I’m alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they’ll come for me. They’ll never stop.”

The helmet snaps up, the yawning tee of dark transparisteel whispers its rage at you. “Then I’ll make them,” he grits. “I’ll find a way. I’ll protect you. We’re going to fix this. I’m going to fix this.” And you feel so–so strange. So sad. Devastated. The wave of fate swallows you whole, and that dark red thread crumbles to dust. You feel so unbearably sad for the both of you that your tears are renewed. Sad and old and at the end of your line. 

And again: A person without a soul cannot cry. And so this must only be proof of the fact that you still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must. 

It’s his now. Undoubtedly. Whatever of your soul has bloomed back into life belongs to him now. You bring your trembling fingers up to the face of his shining beskar helmet, warring wishes wrapped into a strange tangle for what you know will not be the last time: that it wasn’t there, that you could have all of him, and, at the same time, that you too had something of such strength and conviction to protect you as his Creed protects him. What a comfort it must be. “I know you will.” Lie. 

He goes to initiate takeoff and get the ship into hyperspace after that, and you can hear the uncharacteristic frenzy of his movement echoing in his rushed steps as he flits about the cockpit. Settling into your nest of blankets, you face the wall so you’re not made to look at the mess that’s been left, and when he returns, you listen to the sound of him divesting himself of his armor, the rustle of falling clothes, you can feel his panic now up closer, pressing against the confines of your skin like some living thing, trying to sneak its way into whatever break in you it might find. He was frightened, he is frightened. For you. If you weren’t struck stone cold you’d perhaps laugh at the idea of it, but strange memories flash in your mind, highlighted by painful bursts of bright light behind your closed lids, memories of darkness and pain and being so alone another person, a real person, existing in the entire galaxy seemed too far fetched a thing to be true. The sort of loneliness that forces you to forget that other living things exist. You curl in on yourself, still tucking your now halfway mended hand close to your chest, cupping your other palm over your eyes to hide yourself away. Shocked into a subdued, humming terror. A peripheral thing, the reality that you should be afraid or shaken, and you are, kind of, but interrupted by that memory of similar or much worse things that make this small mishap seem inconsequential in the shadow of all the rest, all the past. 

You listen to him move towards the fresher to throw the two of you into darkness, and you panic, “Don’t turn the light off, please,” you murmur, still hidden behind your palm. If you cannot see the world, perhaps the world cannot see you either. “I’m sorry to ask – I won’t look, I promise.”

He pauses, silent for a moment. “Don’t apologize. Don’t. It’s okay. Anything you want.” What you really wish he’d say is that he doesn’t care if you look or not, a selfish and rotten and horrible feeling rolling in after the thought.

He crawls in behind you, sliding up against you bare and burning hot; an entire sun held inside the heart of a single man. He keeps his hands to himself at first, and you enjoy the brush of his chest up against your back on every one of his inhalations, the symphony of his breathing, but eventually he braves the salted earth and passes a gentle hand down the line of your spine. 

“What do you need?” His voice is the deepest thing in the entire galaxy, you think. Space has nothing on it. 

You press your hand tighter over your eyes. “Nothing.”

“You are strong and capable,” he says after a moment, and you worry you might vomit. “But you don’t always have to be. I don’t want you to have to fight when you’re with me. I only want you to be comfortable and cared for and well. Let me help you.”

“Okay,” barely a sound breathed through the part of your lips. And it takes several hours, but eventually that thing they’d come for, the very thing they’d attacked and tried to take you for, heals you. The Force. What is it to hate the very thing that makes you up, the very marrow of you, the sustenance of your life? Agony, madness, bitter, bitter resentment. Loneliness. To be alone within yourself. Terrible pain. Every bad thing that’s ever come to you throughout your entire life has been done in its name. And you’re angry at the fact, you think. For years and years things were done to you to honor that invisible giant, and it built an anger within you that is incoherent, unidentifiable, inconsolable.

You ache like you’re recently made. 

But he holds you so gently while you knit yourself back together, seam by seam, so that the possibility of pain is removed entirely from the equation. He holds you like he loves you, and you want to ask him if he does, if he thinks he could ever love a thing like you, even if you do not deserve it. Even if he does not deserve it.

You fold it away instead.

Tell me, what does it feel to be whittled down to nothing more than the worth of an invisible and illusory thing? To be worth nothing?

Like spitting salt through an open wound, the agonized phantasma of an amputated limb. 

You’re nothing. 

And Din? He’s everything.

From behind your hiding spot you tell the quiet: “Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you. I want you to know that.”

“Do you?” His hand slides up the line of your vertebrae to cup the back of your neck, and you tremble beneath his heat, as if he were anointing you with the power of a sun. 

“Yes.” You wish you had the courage to say more, to say everything. A real confession, the cutting sort: I was made to be nothing more than a weapon, but now I am a human, now I am alive. Now I am only myself. And I hurt, and I wish I were a girl again: only half savage, unmarred and free. But despite all of this, I am still only yours. 

“I know already.”

Cyar’ika. Cyar’ika.

And so what does it matter if you hurt when he calls to you so sweetly? And yet, a quiet and unused part of you whispers back that it should not be so, that the thought is not quite right. Focus, focus, call them growing pains if you must. Focus only on him. And you realize that there is something about him that makes you fragile in the face of his strength, for some reason and most importantly, in a way that you like, in a way that is appealing to you like nothing else you’ve ever experienced before. Something that tells you that you need him to be strong in ways you’ve never had or needed to be strong before, a strength that is soft, something that is unyielding for the vulnerability you allow yourself with him. You can’t understand it.

“And I will let you take care of me.”

“I’m going to. This means something,” he says very quietly, the words bouncing off the back of your neck, and you know it is true. “This means something.”

It does. Everything. The two of you mean something together.

You finally turn to face him again, eyes closed, seams more securely knitted together and press your forehead to the notch of his throat, cracking your eyes open to look down at the expanse of his abdomen. You run a flat palm down his belly, feel the strength of him. If there is nothing else, perhaps, there can be Din. 

“Close your eyes,” he threads his fingers through the back of your hair, “Let me kiss you,” and you feel your heart break and melt into desperation all at once. You press your eyes shut tightly and tip your face up towards him, parted mouth and bated breath, ready to receive the taste of him. He licks into you, pulling a moan from your belly and onto his waiting tongue, and you wish there was something more you could give him, something deeper, more significant that could translate all you feel for him. “I need you to forgive me,” he licks the words into your skin. “I need you to tell me you forgive me for letting this happen.”

“Don’t say that. There’s nothing to forgive. There’s nothing–”

“I should’ve been more careful. Smarter, more prepared. We shouldn’t have wasted time in that fucking desert for so long.” But you’d distracted him, kept him from going out, seeing to his responsibilities. 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you say again, tipping your head back to bear your throat for him. 

He licks a line up the slope, tasting your pulse, the proof you’re still alive. Plants a kiss at the hinge of your jaw and then presses his forehead there. “I’ve failed you,” he whispers. 

“Din, listen to me, listen to me. You could never do that. Never. Do you understand me?” If he only knew all you’ve not told him, all the ways in which you’ve failed him. You’re sure he’d see you in a very different light. 

“It’s not going to happen again,” he promises, and you’ve not the heart to tell him again that they’ll never stop. That the life of a hunted creature is the only sort of existence you could ever live. You pull his mouth back to yours, kiss him with a renewed fervency. If you cannot give him anything more you’ll put everything you have into this. 

“Just kiss me, please,” you beg, twining your arms around his neck and opening to him. He drags his mouth along the inner slope of your bicep, ending at the dip of your elbow and laving his tongue at the sensitive dip. Gripping the bend of your knee he hitches it against his hip and rolls the two of you over. Settling between the cradle of your thighs, he levers himself up off you, careful not to demand you bear his full weight, and finally, you feel ready for the dark again. With a single thought you submerge the two of you into the almost dark again, a weak stream of light coming from the fresher, rattle of the Crest moving through hyperspace sounding around you. He prepares you to take him softly, slowly, with intention. The gentle pad of his thumb to the slick seam of your cunt, parting your folds to get to the wellspring of your desire for him. A single finger and then another hooked against that place inside of you that seems now branded with his ownership over you. Nothing like this has ever existed, and you press the thought into his mind as he tastes your tongue, brings you to orgasm for him with slow and exploring fingers, the slick slide of his thumb over your swollen clit, and the whisper of your name to the shell of your ear. When he feeds his cock into you, slowly, so that you’re made to feel every curve and ridge and then meeting the end of you, so deep you can’t tell where he ends and you begin, it brings tears to your eyes and all sorts of confessions to your tongue that your more rational mind knows should be kept in the shadows. But very like the sun, he shines a light on all the dark and derelict parts of you better left unseen. 

When you come for a second time, thick cock splitting you in half, there’s a screaming desperation for more urging you on. “Remind me–” you beg him.

“Of what? What do you need?”

“That I’m yours. That I belong to you. That I’m alive.”

“Do you need reminding of that?” He squeezes your bottom, presses you tighter to himself, his wet mouth sliding against the slope of your shoulder. “Don’t you know always? No matter what?”

“Yes.” Soft, soft, soft, but you don’t need it like this – you need it more– “Remind me anyways.”

You’re as close as can be, but he tells you anyway: “Come here, come here. I’m going to take care of you.” He pulls out, a wet and sucking sound, and turns you in his arms so you’re back to belly, and pulls you open again, thigh thrown over his hip. He runs his hands over the hills and contours of you, cups and squeezes your breasts, rough fingertips softly at your nipples, and you feel your cunt clench and gape, hungry for filling. He cups you over that soaked, ravenous place, slides his hand back and forth over the wet, swollen mess, and then further back, his fingers pressing and prodding gently at your ass. “I’ll have you here now, little one. Yes?”  All you can do is nod back against his shoulder where your head is propped, a tightening so intense it’s almost painful strangling your throat, your heart, your cunt. Nothing more than a knot of abandoned want. A thing that doesn’t know how to take without devouring, and you do, you want to devour him. You think he might even let you. He presses a slow finger into the knuckle, and you go tight, bearing down around the invasion, spitting his name out in the shape of a wail into the quiet hull. 

“It’s alright,” he gently thrusts that probing finger, hooking and wriggling it. Making space within to fuck you open on his cock. “You’re so tiny here, little thing. But you’re going to take me so well. I know you are.” He pulls his finger out entirely, and then there are two pressing back in as slow as possible, petting first, stretching second. “How’s that? How does that feel, my sweet girl?”

“I don’t– I don’t know,” moaning and shifting, trying to plead for more with little hitched arcs of your hips. “More, please.”

“You want my cock?”

“Yes–”

“How badly do you want it? Tell me–” He twists his wrist, stretching, claiming, all while the hill of his palm rubs against your cunt, so wet you can hear the slick sound of its desperation echo in the quiet. 

“So badly,” you moan and sob, “More than anything.” He pulls his fingers from you and grips the root of his cock, fat head at your ass and starts to press in slowly, slowly, stretching you open around the incredible girth of him. Your breath comes in puffs and gasps, an unbearable heat flushing through your body, pulsing in your face and swirling in your belly, tightening the tips of your breasts into painful knots. You moan out his name, please for more, for harder, for faster until he’s buried to the root and you’re strangled into a hiccuping silence. Overwhelmed and overwrought by the feel of him buried in your ass so deeply. There’s no space for anything else inside of you, stretched to the brim and so full you can barely breathe. He’s everywhere. Gripping your hip you feel his breath against your cheek, the sweating, curling hair around your ear ruffled as he pants and groans, gritting his teeth and rumbling deep in his chest as he starts to thrust slowly into you. 

“How’s that?” Voice strangled. His other hand comes around to thrum gently at your clit, the swollen mass of bundles pulsing with each punch of his hips. Your cunt leaks down to where the two of you are joined, and he picks up his pace, fucking up into you harder, faster, that strumming thumb flicking more quickly. He flattens his fingers against you, rubs at the length of your leaking sex, and you’re beyond words. Impaled and cock drunk. All you can give in return is an approximation of his moaned name, and he gives a quick, sharp slap to the top of your mound. “I want you to tell me how it feels,” voice ragged, almost broken. You tighten almost impossibly at his roughness, clenching down around him so he’s gasping, shocked ah, ah, ah’s, ending on a ragged groan. He brings his forehead to your shoulder, and you listen to his overwhelmed sounds. The first time you think you’ve heard him so close to the precipice of losing control. “Most perfect fucking ass in the entire galaxy,” he grits. All mine, mine, fucking mine.

“Feels–” His fingers resume their exploration of your cunt, “Feels so– so good,” your voice is nothing but agony made pleasure. 

“Yeah? Feels good?” The sound of his hips slamming against your ass, wet and lewd, the press of his heavy balls to the round of your bottom. “What about this?” He begins to slowly press two fingers into your gaping, grasping cunt, and oh, it’s too much, your orgasm hits like an exploding star, singing all coherent thought along the way. You feel your pussy gush, go tight as a knot, and he snarls at the curve of your ear, bites down on the line of your shoulder, not halting the thrusting of his fingers inside of you. “Fuck, yes–fucking come for me. Come for me while I fuck your ass–”

“No–no, I can’t anymore, please, I can’t,” you cry.

“You can–you can. I know you can. My fierce little cyar’ika, soft only for me. Aren’t you?”

And how can you deny a man such as this anything. One that holds you so, one that fucks you like he loves you. You’ll lie to yourself, like so many other lies you tell, and pretend that this is the touch of love, that it’s something you deserve. His fingers, his cock are ruthless within you and they force another soaked orgasm out of you, shaky and weak, before he’s following suit, fucking the searing heat of his spend deep inside of you. He rolls you over onto your belly, levers himself up over you and slows his thrusts until you feel the last spurt of his cock kick inside of you, the low reverberations of his pleasure sounding from his chest. When he pulls out he spreads you apart, thumbs at your swollen skin. “It gapes so pretty for me,” he murmurs as he plays with the milky white drool, smears it into your slick, stretched skin. “This is how you should always be, covered in my come, beautiful thing.” All you can do is bury your burning hot face in the blankets. 

When the two of you have finally settled later, cleaned yourselves up, and he’s made sure you’ve had enough water and a snack, when your panic has gone dormant, you remember your earlier request. A sniffle, and then voice broken and wet, just for added insurance: “You’ll get me my loth cat now, won’t you?”

A long suffering sigh, but he squeezes you tighter to his chest, presses a kiss to the crown of your head you feel sizzle all the way down to the tips of your toes. “I’ll get you anything you want, anything.” You smile into his skin, a miracle all of its own, that after everything he still provides you the ability to smile. 

But later, right before he falls off the precipice of consciousness into the ebony deep and serene lake of sleep, you whisper into the thrum of his life force right at his neck: “We will take care of each other, won’t we?” Again – the both of you, together. 

“Always,” he says, and it rings with such promise, in a way you know only someone such as he could swear, and you’ve always been a liar, but you do not want this to be a lie. 

This time, please, let it end differently.

Chapter VII

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[prettypiscesgal]

Just call my name - Din Djarin

Summary: After Mando suffers a head injury, you’re quick to go help, even though he denies he needs it

Warnings: none

Listen while reading:

Ain’t no mountain high enough - Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell

“Mando!” You shout, watching him lay on the ground, groaning in pain, his head was lolling back and forth as if trying to keep himself conscious.

He managed to take down the bounty, but not without taking a few blows. You watched as he collapsed on the floor once he completed the bounty. Now, you were sprinting towards him.

“Mando.” You say, collapsing on your knees beside him and shaking his shoulders. “Come on, time to get up. The kid has been whining for you.” You say, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and helping him up.

He groans as you bring him to his feet before he pushes away from you, “M’fine.” He gruffly replies, straightening himself out.

You scoff at him. He always just wants to seem so tough. You know he took a hard blow to the head, you only hope it’s not too bad. You don’t know how to treat it when you couldn’t take off his helmet. “Mando.. You’re stumbling around. Just let me help.”

“N-no, it’s fine.” He stutters out, stumbling towards the ship. “Just need to take a lil nap..”

He sounds drunk and you’re nervous. Why’d he always have to be so stubborn? “Mando, you’re not fine. And you can’t go to sleep, you could have a concussion.”

“Pfft. Concussion? Nuh-uh” You almost want to laugh at how he tipsy he sounds. He turns around to look at you, motioning to himself, “I’m in perfect condition.”

“Really?” You cross your arms, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes. Watch.” He does a couple spins, as if that is supposed to prove anything. Then, he begins to fall toward, catching himself as you reach out, ready to catch him.

He giggles to himself and now you’re really concerned. Tired of his antics, you grab his hand and drag him towards the ship. He stumbles messily behind you, trying to keep up as you drag him.

Stepping onto the ship, you throw him into a chair and go search through the medicine cabinet. The most you can do is find some pills for him to take. You hear a soft cooing and turn around to find Mando on his stomach, feet kicking in the air and he plays with the kid.

“Aww, you’re so cute aren’t you?” He whispers to the little child, rubbing his ears as it happily coos.

You smile to yourself, pulling Mando up by his cape and plopping him back into the chair. Him and the child both whine at the fact you have broken them apart.

“Okay, I found some medicine I need you to take. It’s our best option. Do you have any other injuries?” You asks, wanting know if there is something you can treat without breaking his creed.

“No, ma’am.” He replies, you can hear the smile in his voice and if makes you flush.

“I’ll leave you alone to take it then. Do not fall asleep.” You point a stern finger at him. He nods once in reply.

You pick up the child on your way out, glancing back one more time before climbing into the cockpit. You hear him mutter what sounded like, “Night, mesh’la.”

-

“Mando?” You call out. No response.

You curse as you climb down from the cockpit. You hope he isn’t asleep, but you know deep down he probably is. You just hope his helmet is still on.

You thank Maker when you find him passed out, helmet still on, but at least the medicine is gone. You smile softly, walking over and shaking him.

“Mando?” You whisper, “C’mon, time to get up.”

He groans, shaking his head in protest before turning to look at you. You give him a soft smile, thankful that he isn’t dead.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask.

“Better.” He grumbles, seeming like his old self again, “Sorry about..”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s quite funny to see the big bad Mandalorian giggling and spinning around.”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle and you know if you could see his face he would be beet red. “Yeah..”

“I’ll go get you some water.” You say, starting to walk away before a hand grabs onto you.

“Thank you.” He says softly, the softest you’ve ever heard him say anything. Your whole face flushes at the sudden intimacy.

“You’re welcome, Mando.” You mutter back at him sheepishly, eyes trained on his helmet as if you could see his eyes from underneath it.

“Din.” He replies.

“Gesundheit.” You reply, turning to leave again and he chuckles.

“No. Din. That’s my name.” You turn back to him in shock.

“What?” You gasp, running back over to him as he stands up on wobbly knees.

“Mando, why would you tell me that?” You rush out nervously, “Is that breaking your creed-”

“Shh.” He replies, cutting you off as he holds your arms, trying to calm you down. “Don’t worry about it, mesh’la”

“You said that last night.”

“Said what?”

“Mesh’la.” You murmur, looking up at his helmet and seeing your reflection in it, “What does it mean?”

He goes silent, just staring down at you. The only sense you have that he hasn’t knocked out again is his hands, which are now brushing down your arm to hold your hands in his. You look down at the gesture with a blushing face.

“Beautiful.” He finally speaks and it catches you offguard.

“Huh?”

“It means beautiful.” He admits, bringing your hand up to his helmet and holding it against where his cheek would be, sighing as if he could feel the touch.

“Are you sure you’re not shitting me and it actually means dickwad or something?” You whisper and smile brightly when you’re met with a deep chuckle.

“I would never lie about something like that.” He whispers in reply and you feel your face heat up. “You’re a little red. You alright?”

You can hear the teasing in his voice and you roll your eyes at him, “Fuck you, Din.”

“Not what I expected to hear when you first said my name, but it still sounds so good coming from you.” He admits and you’re not sure you could get anymore red.

“You know, you should get a concussion more often. It makes you such a romantic.” You tease him and he laughs, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, the cool metal a harsh contrast against your burning skin.

“As long as you take care of me after.”

“You know I always will. Just call my name, Din.”

“I always will, Y/N.”

[reality-detective]

* * * Las Vegas Shooting * * *

Part 3

On the Thursday night that followed, the White House press pool was unexpectedly called in to witness a “photo op” that was taking place with President Trump…and included various military officials & their spouses.

As cameras were rolling, President Trump said, “Maybe it’s the calm before the storm. Could be, the calm…the calm before the storm.”

As reporters shouted questions, he said,

“We have the world’s great military people in this room, I will tell you that. And uh, we’re gonna have a great evening.”

Then, when asked what he meant by “storm,” he ominously answered,

“You’ll find out.”

MEGANON, the anonymous 4chan poster that I referenced the other day posted this on 4Chan after Trump made his “Calm Before the Storm” warning...

Then 👇

It is interesting to point out that the very next day after Trump made his cryptic remark, a fire broke out at the Federal Reserve Bank Building.

Here is an excerpt from a 10/7/17 Zero Hedge article titled “Fire Breaks Out on the Roof of the NY Fed.”

“Dozens of firefighters are fighting a blaze which broke out on the top of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, NBC New York reports.

Contrary to recurring rumors that the fire was created from excess money creation, the FDNY said that a generator on the roof of the building caused the fire in a chimney, although the severity of the damage to the building is not known.”

☝️ Was it possible that Trump’s warning “You’ll find out” was taken seriously enough…that it lead to an emergency bonfire of incriminating documents right on the roof of the Federal bank building?

Guess what happened after that???

On October 26th, 2017

The JFK FILES WERE RELEASED by PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP!!!

Funny that he releases the files on October 26th!! That’s the birthdate of Hillary Rodham Clinton!!

Reversing the curse!!

By the way, October 28th is a date with a lot of significance.

By choosing this date,

God/Trump/The Alliance/White Hats are reversing the curses that were placed on our society by ((these)) people.

((THESE)) people are the Occult/Witches/Warlocks/Satanists/Luciferians/Illuminati/Jesuits/Crypto Jews/Khazarian Mafia/Banksters/Deep State/Cabal/Black Hats/Rothschilds/Rockefellers/Clintons/Bushes etc. etc.etc!!

Löök up famous people born on October 28th you'll get a better picture of what I'm saying. 🤔

FUN FACT: Remember, Q started posting on October 28, 2017.

Facebook was originally launched as FaceMash on... you guessed it... October 28, 2003, (before changing its name to Facebook on February 4, 2004).

THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES!!!

The PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT began during the summer of 1943.

On OCTOBER 28th, 1943,

The Navy Destroyer—USS Eldridge—was placed in an electromagnetic field and disappeared…not only from the screens…but also from our reality.

During this second experiment, the ship disappeared from the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard.

Simultaneously, sailors stationed 375 miles south at the Norfolk Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia, reported the ship’s appearance for several minutes before it vanished.

Many believe that the USS Eldridge traveled through time.

Time traveling is a real thing and so is "Project Lööking Glass"

I hope this sheds some light on the Las Vegas Shooting Event, it was no random solo shooter acting out. It was all a staged event.

All links connected 👇

[starrywooyo]

treasure: four

synopsis: when y/n gets whooshed into an alternate universe, an adventure: one with pirates and monsters and much, much more

pairing: ot8! pirate ateez x fem! reader (hongjoong / wooyoung focus towards end)

genre: pirate au!!

!!warnings(per chapter)!! - [bellow cut!] alcohol, drunk!teez, implied bullying (not actually) swearing, mentions of blood, mc is too nice for her own good, guns, knifes, jealous wooyo.

notes: finally a new chapter!! whoop whoop!!!

word count: 4.4k

tag list: @toxic-babexe , @sunnyhokyu

(if you wanna be added or removed to the taglist just lmk)

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“so, you can fight. you know how to use a sword. So I'll cut to the chase. I was talking to my crew and given your situation with your family, and the fact I lost some of my crew today, I'm still against the idea of having a woman on board but my crew seems to like you. so, I'd like you to join us. and Second, I wanna thank you for saving my life. I could've been heavily injured or dead if it wasn't for you. don't get me wrong though, just cause I'm thanking you and asking ye to join my crew doesn't mean i like you nor trust you.” he stands making his way to the door, opening it and just before he leaves, he turns to you again.

“you've got till we dock to give me your answer, what'll you do? join the illusion or you can get off my ship the next time we dock” he says still cold before leaving out the door to let you ponder your decision. 

what will you do...?

Join his crew? 

join him after how rude he's been to you? after all his insults... and all his sexist comments about women and ships... 

you couldn't deny the fact these thoughts made you not want to join his crew.

you just don't get him. How could he be so rude, cold, practically despising your presence one second and the next he saved you  and helped you through a panic attack... 

Does he have a split personality or something...

Despite these thoughts of the cold captain, the positives about joining the crew outweigh his bad points.

joining his crew could mean you can figure out how to get home!!... if you can get home that is.. and besides, you quite like the rest of his crew. they're nice and some are sweet. you can't just get up and leave them.  

so, you make your way out of your room and up the stairs onto the main deck, there were still traces of blood from the fight

you really wonder what happened and why those people attacked...

“Y/n~~” you heard your name being called, turning your head towards the voice.

oh? It's Yunho...?

looking at him you notice that he too has a few injuries of his own, he has a few cuts on his face and arms and it looks like he's got a bit of a busted lip...

“Oh Yunho... hi”

He makes his way down the rigging and walks towards you.

“so…” he begins. ”i uh overheard the captain saying he wants you to join us to seonghwa earlier,” he said.

you slightly nod gazing out towards the water.

Yunho tilts his head in your direction.

“are you going to?” he asked

he raises his hands in defence 

“I mean I'm not forcing you or anything but I think you should. We enjoy your company on the ship. and you're nice to be around, and… you might not know it yet but everyone in this ship is here because of a reason. So just think about it, okay?” he said and pats your shoulder. walking away to go elsewhere. 

you stand and watch the waves a bit more, the sound of them crashing against the ship calming. 

sighing you push yourself away from the side of the ship. and make my way inside. 

...

standing In Front of the door your palms began to sweat and slightly shake as you raise your fist to knock on the door

you knock, its quiet for a minute before someone sighs 

“Come in” a voice calls out.

opening the door you enter and the door swings shut behind you as if sealing your fate.

there he sits. map rolled out in front of him on the desk of a dark coloured bottle sitting on the corner. 

he shakes his hand angrily through his red hair 

“What” he spat out coldly. his eyes burning holes into me 

you clasp yor hands together in hopes to get them to stop shaking.

“i- i have my answer” you voice hoping it was loud enough for him to hear. 

he sighs out and rests his chin on his hand. 

“And what is it?” he asked.

“I'd like to join,” you say more confidently. 

He stands placing his hands on the table.

“Alright then. you may leave now” he said, still cold as he started to look over the map again. 

“yes sir” you quietly said and turned for the door.

“Stop” you heard him call out. you turn to face him. He makes his way to the front of the desk.

“If you're gonna be a part of my crew you best learn to address me properly” he spoke.

you just stand. blinking at him.

“Seriously” he sighs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It's the captain. c a p t a i n. captainnnn.” He said drawing out the last captain.

oh.

“ah, yes c-captain sorry” you apologised 

“good. don't apologise, just do it and get out and leave me be now” he spoke cold and proceeded to push you out the door.

you stand and turn back to face the now closed door that you were just shoved out. eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly parted.

asshole. 

...

“Land hoooo!”

and there indeed was the island, it didn't take long to sail towards it nor dock the ship. and Soon all of you were on deck.  the captain giving out orders of who's to fetch what while on the island, you on the other hand didn't have a role. 

you were to simply fetch yourself some clothes for you to wear. if you were a part of the crew then you'd need your own instead of borrowing. and the person who was tasked to go with you was seonghwa.

so here you were walking with seonghwa as you looked at and bought various shirts, pants and even a skirt for some reason. Now you were just browsing the vast amounts of stalls.

you walked past a stall showing different styles of corsets, now you weren't gonna lie a few did catch your eye but you couldn't possibly wear one of those besides how would you breathe? 

“See something you like?” 

you jumped and turned to the voice 

seonghwa..

“yeah but I was just looking. I couldn't possibly get one” you told him. 

he tilts his head

“Why not?” he gestures to the countless women around you both, every one of them wearing a corset of some type. “they're all wearing one,” he said.

you laugh and shake your head.

“I just wouldn't feel comfortable wearing one,” you said. a half lie. you wanted one that's true but at the same time you thought you wouldn't feel comfortable with the constriction of your lungs while trying to breathe wearing one. 

he nods to your explanation 

“Okay” he said.  then you both start walking away from the stall

“Seonghwa~~~!!! Y/n~~~!!!” you and seonghwa stop at the sound of your names being called and you turn to where you heard them being called.

and there was wooyoung running towards you both, San and Yunho promptly running along after him.

Once he reaches you both. He flings his arms around both your necks pulling you both close to him.

“Hey you two!! Having fun? did you get some clothes for yerself y/n?” he asked, wide eyed looking at you.

Seonghwa shakes his arm off as San and Yunho catch up

“What’d you thinks in the bags woo?” he says to him waving the paper bag in his face.

“Okay, okay. Let's not argue. let's say we drop these bags back at the ship and~~” Yunho says pull you from wooyoung's grasp by your hands. pulling you close to him and wrapping his arm around your shoulder

“we all go get a drink at the tavern huh” he finishes looking between you all. biting his lip slightly. 

no one answers. seonghwa seems to be thinking about yunho's suggestion while wooyoung's eyes linger on yunho's arm that's around you.

just as you're about to open your mouth San pipes in.

“sounds like a great idea! besides, we could all use a drink couldn't we?” he said. 

everyone ends up agreeing and you all head back to the ship to drop off the bags and the things Yunho, wooyoung and san had bought. telling the others on the way about your plan to go to the tavern.

though you all forgot to do one very important thing...

...

Now here you all are sitting around a table in the bustling tavern, music slightly playing unheard over the countless men being loud and rowdy. you lightly sipping on our drink every so often. you didn't drink alcohol much.

while the others... well let's say they drank, and by drank you mean a lot. 

you don't know how long you were there for, but the table slowly but surely started to fill up with empty pint cups. you were all sat listening to jongho tell a story. Most of the guys tried their best to listen but most were dazed and out of it. eyes hazed over. poor seonghwa looked as though his head would hit the table any minute. 

jongho moving his arms ecstatically in his drunken state nearly hitting a poor guy walking past

“And there I was!! the criminal trapped right at the end, nearly had the sucker. THEN!! he socked me one and he would've gotten away but that's when i met the captain and-” 

SLAM 

jongho's story is interrupted by a heavily drunk wooyoung standing and slamming his hands on the table. He winces from the sting and staggers as he points his finger with his whole arm. 

“I'll tell you something about the captain,” he says, his speech slurred from drunkenness.  and goes on to tell his part.

you however being the only sober one notice something that everyone else doesn't in their drunken state of mind. 

a familiar mop of red hair entering the tavern and scanning the place until his eye lands on you. you feel yourself sinking into yourself trying to hide and as he marches to your table you focus back on the group and current drunken story teller: wooyoung.

“now. don't get me wrong. I love our captain but.. he can be a real mean asshole sometimes. makes me wanna take my dagger and ram it up his a-” he pauses mid-sentence and is looking at you. 

his eyebrows furrow

“what? what's with that face?” he asks his voice cracking at the start

and your eyes as well as the rest of the crews slightly shift to the furious red haired man standing behind him with his arms crossed

you forgot to tell the captain...

“what are you…” wooyoung begins and then follows your stare and everyone else's at the table and slowly oh so very slowly turns to face the captain

“Oh” he says.

the captain just stares at him, nose slightly flaring from anger.

wooyoung nervously smiles.

“hi hongjoong” he says

the captain or hongjoong raises his eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” he begins. His voice is laced with so much fury it makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He eyes all of you at the table.

“do.. do you all know how worried I've been!!?” he says, raising his voice as he slams his fist on the table as wooyoung did before only this time with more force as it tips over a few cups. 

“I came out of my room to find my crew. My crew. gone. no one seemed to bother telling me. Hell you didn't even leave a note.  I thought anything could've happened to you all. anything. I.. I thought you'd all been fucking captured or something!!” he yelled gaining the attention of other tavern goers. and the tavern goes slightly silent 

hongjoong laughs out in anger

“but no.. you're all here..” he says a bit quieter looking at the table now. the others looking down in shame but you. you saw something on the captain's face..

“drinking.. laughing.. and making fun” he added.

sadness 

That was what was on his face.

you could've sworn you heard him whisper out 'of me' at the end of his sentence.

He lets out a bit of a laugh 

“Whatever” he said biting his lip and wiped his face,

“Just hurry and get back to the ship. It's late. and we start planning our journey to find the Cromer tomorrow” and he made his way to the tavern door before shouting

“What are you all looking at! mind your own damn business!!” and then he was out the door.

...

After the outburst, most of the crew seemingly now sober after the scare from Hongjoong. Everyone was trying to tidy the bar table. but you. you had questions so you pestered seonghwa for the answers which he gave most likely because though looking sober he was still pretty drunk. 

you wanted to know about this Cromer thing the captain mentioned and all seonghwa said was it was the treasure they needed to find before it got into the wrong hands.

wrong hands. who could possibly be after this thing and if it's in the wrong hands then why are these people bad...?

but there it was. the beginning and plan of your first adventure...

you quickly leave the tavern, slightly shivering from the cool of the wind and make your way back to the ship.

only you don't get to the ship, you see hongjoong sitting on the beach watching the waves.

he sits, knees tucked up. his jacket discarded on the sand and his shirt's sleeves rolled up slightly.

carefully you tread your way towards him and settle on the sand beside him.

you stare at him. He makes no move to look at you and keeps his stare on the waves peacefully crashing in.

it's quiet for some time, nothing being spoken between the two of you. until it wasn't.

“What” falls past his lips ever as cold as always.

you suck in a breath about to answer him, but he speaks again.

“Why are you still sitting with me?” he says.

you're confused.

“after everything they were saying at the tavern.. I'm sure you agree with them” he says with a sniff.

he's... crying!!?

you softly smile to yourself.

“I think you've misunderstood, captain” you begin.

he side-glances at you confused.

“Your crew weren't bad mouthing you at all! they really care about you. In fact, they were telling me about how you saved them. how you saved each one of them and they're really grateful for you…” you finish

This only made the man cry more.

“hey hey” you say in a soothing tone and take his hands in yours and try to look at his face.

you gasp.

“y-you're bleeding!” you say. as you watch the blood seep out from underneath his eyepatch.

removing one of his hands from your hold he touches his face, and sure enough there's blood

he laughs slightly

“Oh. This just happens sometimes. it's nothing to worry about.” he tells you

nothing to worry about!!?

you stand and pull him to his feet

“What are you-” he begins but is cut off from you, starting to walk back to the ship and pull him into san's medic study.

you sit him down and search for some things. and once you find the things you turn back to him only to find more tears rolling down his cheeks.

“why” he says.

“Why are you being so nice to me when I've been a complete asshole to you…”

“well you are an asshole but I think you're more broken and kind than you let on captain” you explain to him as you wipe the slowly drying blood from his face

“hongjoong” he says.

you look at him.

“hmm”

“hongjoong. call me that” he says

you slowly nod. 

“okay. well hongjoong. Does it need to be cleaned under your eyepatch?” you say as you reach for it. he grabs your wrist.

“it's okay i can do it.. thanks y/n.. y-you can go.” he says. 

you stand and put a hand gently on his shoulder

“Are you sure?” 

he just nods ever so slightly.

and with no other option if he's not comfortable, you leave the room.

...

A few days had passed since the moment you had with hongjoong on the beach and in Sans study and it was sort of safe to say he was slowly changing his way of acting towards you and now you were also back on the waves beginning the search for this treasure.

 you were yet again leaning on the side of the ship watching the waves crashing on the wood, then a familiar mop of red hair pops in your peripheral vision.

turning to the side you see hongjoong also leaning on the side 

he looks at you and smirks a little

“enjoying the view,”  he asks.

you nod. 

“yeah, i am it's so peaceful” 

he smiles

“yeah it is. it's so freeing to me y'know?” he says, holding onto the side and leaning back as the wind blows through his hair.

he looks at you, only to find you looking back at him. His eyes looking conflicted in the next second.

“ah! yeah i was going to say. This voyage is most likely going to be dangerous. Now I know you can fight but you're missin a few points. I'd also like to train you up on using a gun and cutlass better if you're comfortable?” he says

your brows furrow

“you mean... you.. train me?” you ask to which he nods

“yeah.. if that's okay..” he adds

you agree

he claps his hands together once. 

“Great training starts tomorrow, okay?” he said and began to walk towards seonghwa who was at the wheel.

so training with the captain. How fun. if only you knew.

not long after the captain left you, another crew member saunters over to you 

wooyoung.

“so..” he begins

“training with the captain huh?” he asks 

“y'must be dreading that. with the way he treats you” he added

wooyoung lets out a nervous laugh ”you could.. always train with me.. y'know?”

you smile.

“That's sweet of you Woo. Thank you. but…” you say as your gaze drifts from him to where the captain stands now at the wheel 

“i'll have to get back to you on that one”

you miss the hurt that flashes on his face 

“no, no. That's okay. I was just saying because of how rude he is to you but whatever” he says and walks away.

what. what just happened.

you stand still looking in the direction wooyoung left in. perplexed.

shaking the feelings away, you make your way to yeosang's study. knocking on the door and entered once you heard his quiet 'come in'

you find him at his desk looking at the large map

“hey” you say to which he says hi back. you watch as he makes markings and little notes which you assume is for hongjoong about this journey.

“so..” you begin. “where are we going anyway?” you ask him 

He points to an island on the map.

“captain wants to go 'ere and thinks we'll find somethin useful there.. i disagree nothing but bandits there.” yeosang spoke his opinion. 

“maybe he knows something.. maybe there is something there” you tell him.

yeosang looks at you and sighs

“perhaps but its awful dangerous”

dangerous.. so that's why he wants me trained up you thought

...

Wooyoung sits in his crow nest with yunho.

yunho looking with his spyglass actually doing the job of a lookout, while wooyoung... well his spyglass is long forgotten on the planks of the crows nest. 

he sits with eyes fixated on you and the captain..

he watches as your cutlasses clang off each other and how hongjoong stops to adjust something about your stance or just giving pointers  

he doesn't fail to take notice of hongjoong's smile on his face nor the one on yours.

he sits arms crossed, tongue poking his cheek as he lets out another sigh

yunho sighs too

“wooyoung. why not instead of sitting and sighing. you do your job?” he says as he chucks the spyglass at him.

wooyoung lets out a laugh

“technically I am Yun. I'm observing the crew” he says

yunho shakes his head and continues to look through his own spyglass out a the waters

Yunho's words fall short as wooyoung continues to glare daggers at the pair below on the deck.

...

“again!” hongjoong said as he took his position, you followed suit, sighing. 

your whole body hurts. you've been doing this training for hours.. all day for the past 3 days. and let me tell you. hongjoong is not a lenient teacher. you definitely see why he's the captain. 

your cutlasses clang against each other and yet again he disarms you.

“Y'know if this was a real battle you'd be dead” he says throwing his head back running his hand through his red hair. when doing so he catches a glimpse of something or rather someone.

he lets out a chuckle

“Oh wow. this is great” he mutters under his breath, a small smirk making its way onto his face.

you stand and pick up your cutlass, hongjoong smirks

“again”

the metal crashes against each other

The cutlass again slips from your hand and pain shoots through you as you land on your butt.

the captain laughs and his sword points at your throat

“dead.. again” he says

nope he's still an asshole 

he holds out his hand for you to take it, you smack it away picking yourself up and your cutlass

“again” you say

hongjoong smirks again

“okay... determination i like it” he says and ready's himself 

and the clanging of metal begins again

he's being cocky you thought, and it was then that you saw your chance 

using your foot you slip it under his own making him fall on his own ass. 

“YESS” you hear being shouted. your eyes immediately flicker about to see who it was. then your eyes go up to see yunho with his hand over wooyoung's mouth as he raises his hand in apology

you shake your head with a laugh and turn back to the captain who's still on the floor glaring up at wooyoung

you lean yourself on your sword and then extend your hand to the captain

“well now you're dead captain” you say teasingly

he takes you hand and lets out a “ha ha”

he was about to say something-

“captain! land ho!!” yunho shouts from the nest. 

it was now that you took notice of your surroundings 

There it was! an island with rainforest looking trees. very dense looking. you're brought out of observing by hongjoong explaining what was going to happen.

“alright crew. we'll camp on the beach for now and some of you will stay 'ere and guard the ship. I don't think we need to worry about the bandits right now as we're on the other side of the island and at first light we'll make our trek to find her” he says 

and then the 9 of you plus a few extra pile into a few row boats after gathering some supplies and make the row towards the beach of the island. 

after getting to shore you all set up camp. and got started making a stew

“y'know there's still a few hours of light left. how'd you feel about training with one of these?” hongjoong asked you holding a pistol “you don't have to. i'd just feel calmer if you knew how to at least get a shot with one”

you reluctantly agree to do more of this training.

so now here you were a little ways further down the beach with some empty glass bottles on some crates.

“you ever shot one of these?” he asks

you shake your head 

“no.. we don't have guns back home or so to speak we're not allowed them” you say

“oh.. That's odd, nearly all towns and villages allow them here that I know of.. Right then.. well i'll show ye first then you can try okay?” he says and you nod.

and then hongjoong points the gun and bang! the glass shatters

you jump from the loud noise 

he notices and places a hand briefly on your shoulder

“You okay?”

you nod and then he places the gun in your hand

“now you try” he says 

and let's just say it's not going well. you've shot everywhere except the glass bottles. you've shot the sand, the crates, water even the tree just behind the crates

“y'know what” hongjoong says. ”I think I might have something that'll help you. i'll be back” he says as he makes his way back to the camp.

... 

again wooyoung sits eyeing the both of you still huffing and puffing. only this time instead of it being yunho its poor jongho that's getting the sigh’s in his ear.

that is until jongho's had enough.

“Why don't you just go over there and help her hmm? instead of huffing over here? Yer giving me a headache” he asks him, ”Look the captain’s coming back here so you go help her instead of whining to everyone about the captain being the one to help her.”  and with that jongho shoves the blonde in your direction down the beach.

“okay. i will just.. distract the captain for a bit will ya?” he says to jongho and then saunters his way down to you.  

... 

“Need some help?” 

startled from the sudden voice you turn to face them

“oh wooyoung.. yes please hongjo- ah the captain just disappeared on me” you say.

he takes the gun from your hands and settles himself on the sand patting the space next to him

“i feel you can't use a gun properly unless you understand how it works” and then he began explaining the different parts of the weapon to you

by the time he finished explaining the sun was starting to set

“okay now show me how you shoot, so i can see what it is you're doing wrong” he says

so you take aim and again miss the glass.

he nods

“hmm i see, 'ere try this and take aim” he says and passes you a smaller pistol. 

you take it and it feels much better in your small hands and then you aim for the bottles like he said

“you're also aiming too low.. try and aim just above the place you want to shoot” wooyoung spoke

he stands behind you almost flush. he gently touches your shoulders

“relax.. you're too tense you'll get hurt if you're too stiff” 

breathing in and then out trying to calm yourself, your shoulders visibly relax.

“good” he says

his hands slide from your shoulders down your arm to your hands where he raises your aim

“okay.. hold it there” his hands glide back up your arm and fall to rest on your waist

“shoot” he orders

BANG

his hands on your waist steadied you from the recoil 

the glass had shattered!!.

“better?” he whispered

you nod

“thank you” you turn to look at him his hands still on your waist

he was so close..

you saw how his eyes looked into yours, how he took in a shaky breath

“y/n I..” he whispered

you both were so close that your noses where almost touching, that you could almost ki-

a loud terrifying shriek comes from the forest.

wooyoung's quick to grab the pistol from you and aim it in the direction the noise came from

“w-what was that!?” you ask trying to steady your breathing

“the beast” hongjoong said eyes bore into you both. 

a/n: hihi!! I don't normally do a/n's but I just wanna apologise for how long this chapter took to get published-

I'm very deeply sorry I've just been writing wips for other little au's, oneshots and series I wanna post for you all!! I also just had no motivation to write for the treasure series. I don't wanna get burned out. hence been writing some wips!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter though!! till next time!! <3

previous | next

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

WIP Re-Intro: Herald At Dawn

Title: Herald at Dawn

Genre: Steampunk fantasy murder mystery

Status: 30k, draft 0 mostly finished

POV: Third person limited, multiple POVs

Setting: A steampunk city called Volimere, loosely based on victorian/edwardian london. Fashion is 1890s based, technology is, uh, wherever I think is coolest before the 1940s. Technically, its set in september & october of 1891, but thats largely because any later and the sleeves on women’s shirts get unmanageable. 

Universal TW/CW: Murder, corruption, legal systems being really really shit at their job, implied homophobia, cheating/affairs on spouses (past), bribery, death, implied past sexual assault, severe injury

Plot/Synopsis: 11 years ago a woman named Marisol Ekker was murdered by the wife of her son's father, Evelyn Belmont. Despite all evidence, Evelyn Belmont was acquitted and faced no punishment. Nearly a decade later, investigative reporter Alexandrina McLelland approached Marisol Ekker's son, Nathaniel Ekker--who was 12 at the time of her death--, to write an article about the corruption in the case. It is published in The Clockwork Herald, the newspaper where Alexandrina works, and exposes the dirty laundry of one of the city’s wealthiest families, the Belmonts. Soon after a string of murders begins. At first suspicions point to someone entirely unconnected with the Ekker trial or Alexandrina’s article, but as the pressure mounts (and the danger gets much closer to home), it becomes clear that the article and the deaths are far more connected than anyone initially thought.

Main Characters & Important Side Characters (Character Into links to be added):

Alexandrina "Alex" McLelland. 31, she/her, aroace. Investigative reporter at The Clockwork Herald and the narrator for this story (most of the time. sometimes there's another narrator)! Possesses a strong sense of justice and a weak sense of self preservation. Firmly believes in pockets. She wants to finish what her father started and expose the crimes of the city’s wealthy and powerful. This is, unfortunately, going rather slowly.

James Blakely. 32, he/him, gay, editor at the Herald. Alex's childhood friend, and Leo's partner. Is best described as a golden retriever with anxiety. He worries too much for his own good. James inherited editor-ship of the herald from his uncle 10 years ago, but he had been working there in various capacities since he was a teenager.

León "Leo" Rivera. 33, he/him, bisexual & bilingual. Writes the pages on politics at the Herald & is James' partner. Leo wrote the original articles on the Ekker trial 11 years ago; he used to be a court reporter. He does his best to not get hurt by his job, but sometimes he’s terrible at it (Chapter 10. Chapter 10 is when he’s really, really terrible at it. Though to be fair it is not in any way his fault). 

Nathaniel Ekker. 23, he/him, queer. Tailor, and the son of the woman whose murder was the focus of the Ekker trial. He agreed to do Alex's article on the condition it would be anonymous (and it was). He was 12 when his mother was killed by his father’s wife. His aunts raised him, and he only returned to Volimere 4 years ago t0 reopen his mother’s shop. 

Arthur Hall. 30, he/him, cishet. Investigative reporter at the Volimere Daily, and Alex's (mostly friendly) rival. Also one of her closest friends. Despite this, they have a lot of disagreements. He was supposed to co-write the article with her but ended up not doing that.

Ronald Wilks. 65, he/him, bisexual & polyamarous. Sports & Entertainment reporter at The Clockwork Herald. He used to work with Alexandrina’s father (Donovan), before Donovan died. He was not supposed to be as plot relevant as he is and I do not have a lot to say about him (yet).

Taglist maintained below the cut, ask to be added or removed!

@thelaughingstag @gr3y-heron @another-white-void @amethyst-aster @akindofmagictoo

[ourghoststories]

Recovery [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

I wasn't a fan of Bucky, I never liked the idea of super soldiers, even with Steve Rogers

We never got on and now wasn't any different, even if I liked him, doesn't mean I had to literally like him.

He had recently gotten hurt on one of his high priority missions, and it made me feel a sadness in the pit of my stomach that only meant one thing, I had to care for the super soldier.

As much as I'd tried or I'd like to deny it, those jittery feelings I felt betrayed me to the reality of that and I couldn't fight it, especially not now that he had been shot in the stomach, it was pretty serious, even the doctors were putting him under strict conditions, he couldn't do much and I was the one who had to look after him.

"Hey Bucky" I smiled caringly, despite having preconceived ideas about him.

"Oh, you're the help... Nice to meet you, you already know the name" he chuckled.

My walls were up and I couldn't help but feel like he was a good person, but I wasn't made for looking after anyone, not even myself.

"Yeah hi, uh I'm y/n" I mumbled anxiously.

For the first time I actually felt scared, what if I screwed up or what if he did? It was a 50/50 effort, it needed to be.

"I don't need looking after, gunshots take a few days, minimal bruising and they go away, no help necessary" he argued, putting up his defences.

"Bucky, I was sent to help you for a reason, you may not need any help but I'm not a quitter and you got sent me for a reason, it wasn't just one gunshot injury, you were fired on multiple times and it's worse than usual" I said sternly.

"I'm fine, I don't need someone looking after me who- no offense - knows nothing about me or what I've been through, especially now" he said abruptly before he pulled his bedsheets up higher.

"Seriously Barnes, that's not gonna cut it- I know what you're doing and why you're doing it and also that you don't trust me one little bit which is infuriating because I also feel the same way, trust is a hard thing for me too, so don't act like a insolent child and just choose the easy way out- not out, but through- damn it" I stammered, trying to do the right thing.

"I don't need help, seriously, you could get yourself killed don't you know I'm the Winter Soldier, a train assassin who takes lives mercilessly" he spat sarcastically.

"I know that's not you, it never was. I've been made privy to your case file, I know what your situation is, I know you on paper... I just don't know you in person" I said softly, making my way to the bed.

"You mind if I" I gestured towards the bed so he could move his feet and I could sit there.

"Look, I know we barely know each other but you work so hard in the field, it doesn't mean you can't work hard while we're spending time together, we can do more research into the people who are the targets right now... I know Sam's pretty keen on you resting and letting him steer the ship for a while and by the way, just because you're hurt and you need a break that you don't mean anything to anyone, that couldn't be further from the truth" I argued passionately, not caring if he liked it or not.

I just needed to take my role seriously, even if he was some big, scary, super soldier that I needed to be wary of.

The case file and notes contained a lot, but they were no way descriptive of who he was, it was just informative data that didn't have anything about who he was as a person.

"Please just... I don't like trusting new people, I barely contact anyone and I stick to myself, I know you've been around me and proved yourself more than a little bit about being a good agent, but if you want to know me you're gonna have to persevere, I'm not easy to get along with" he said shyly, looking down at the ground and avoiding eye-contact.

"I know how this goes, Barnes, just let me complete my mission, as you do all of yours. You're an inspiration to so many people" I mumbled.

"Yeah and another group of people are equally convinced I'm a killer, I was only pardoned because of Steve, he did all the work, he rescued me, heck, if it wasn't for him I'd never be myself. 90 years I fought and fought and took countless lives, people with families and loved ones, how's a guy like me ever gonna make up for that", he spat, getting angry at himself before he tensed and winced in pain.

"Argh" he groaned, obviously overdoing it.

"If you'd just listen Sargent, this wouldn't be so difficult, for either of us" I lectured as he grunted, this time out of stubbornness.

"I'm taking that as a yes" I smiled, before I squeezed his hand and saw a flicker of hope in his eyes, even though he was trying to hide it.

"Don't call me that, it's not right, I haven't been that fo-"

"For 90 years. I get it, stop being sorry for yourself, I know this sucks but we can work past this. Your therapist has instructed me to be stern with you, you know that you're doing a great job right? I'm impressed with how you've been going. You're allowed to struggle with what's going on, I'm not taking that away from you Bucky" I comforted.

I could tell Bucky secretly - or maybe not so secretly - liked being called Sargent, even if in his mind he didn't fully associate with it, it was the opposite of a trigger, a positive association word.

He took a breath in "okay, I'll give it a go, I will- but you gotta help me and work with me, especially with the new arm, it takes a while to get adjusted to. It's been playing up since a bullet got lodged in the vibranium, but I assume you know how to help with that?".

"Yes I do, I can help with the arm in multiple ways, but it's gonna be good for you to do some physio and manual manipulation for the rest of your aches, after all, you keep throwing yourself in the deep end with these missions. The government are only letting you off the hook because you're providing them with a service. The rest of the world aren't necessarily happy about that, you should be careful" I said calmly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm aware of the consequences... The government want me as long as I have some ideas about their assets and when they're being targeted I'm considered one of them. If I work with you, what do I get in terms that we'd both understand?" He smirked.

"Careful what you push for soldier- what happens if I was up for grabs, what would you say if I said 'just say the words'" I winked.

"Oh shit, you're not even joking. Doll I think I'm too old for you and miserable but I'd take you up on the offer for a bit of fun" he chuckled, the first time id seen him genuinely smiling the whole time id been around.

"Oh wow not that kind of fun- I'm not saying no, I just-", he paused "shut it Barnes, yeah I get it, sorry y/n" he said, mentally facepalming.

I giggled "you're not too old, you're just right... But let's see how things go first, and how much of a crack you're willing to give it".

"Got it, you won't hear two words from me" he fake saluted.

"James, you just said more than two words" I chuckled again, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"You're gonna make me blush" he fake swooned.

So the journey continued with the Sargent and I.

---A/N

hello I hope everyone is doing well, Darcy is the one writing these Bucky stories because I can't get enough lol, are they gonna release more tftws? because I loved it so much

[nian-7]

"How much do you truly love me?"

Hifumi Izanami x merperson!reader

✧kinda angsty but fluffy, cw: mentions of injury (you get smashed in the head with concrete...)

Storms usually were never a problem for you. Always just swimming through them and dodging all of the sudden trash that plummets into the ocean from the ships trying to tough out the storm above. Anchors sliding off from the ships, wood, supplies, you name it and it has most definitely fallen off during the harsh storms that this ocean brings.

Today, you'd rather swim to shore to wait out the harsh currents and what a mistake that turned out to be... As you were approaching land, an anchor of a ship sailing above you slid off the deck. Followed by panicked yelling from the sailors as their whole anchor went off the deck, they didn't realize the other kind of damage it caused. To you. The anchors sudden departure from the deck made for a rude awakening for you when it flew down right beside your arm, skidding against the skin as you jerked your arm away. The concrete block that was meant to keep the anchor on board soon flew down after.

Well, no matter! Even after passing out from... the impact, you still managed to wash up onto the shore by sunset. So that's good, right? Wrong. Although your vision is hazy, you can see a blonde human running towards you before your vision goes blank again.

...

It feels like only a moment later that you jerk awake again, your vision still blurry as it slowly adjusts again. The artificial florescent light beaming down as you awkward shifted in what seemed like a bathtub meant for a human. The whole place seemed as if it were for humans. Okay, stupid observation... Obviously it was made for humans if that blonde human had picked you up and brought you to his home. The tub you were in was uncomfortably small for you and it barely fit your scaly tail without having to hang it over the edge.

" Ah-! You're awake! I've got another bucket of seawater! " A blonde human walked into the room, struggling to hold a large bucket as he hobbled over to the tub and dumped the water in. " Phew! Is that enough for you? " He put down the bucket beside the tub and sat down next to it.

" Uh.. yeah, that's good, thanks? " Hesitantly thanking him, you sat up and pain shot through your back, causing you to jolt.

" Right... Doc said I've gotta make sure none of your bones broke, can I do that real quick? " You nodded, confused by this human helping you so randomly. He poked and prodded at your spine, apologizing whenever you hissed out in pain. " You can still move everything though, right? " He confirmed as he watched you test out your movement capabilities.

" Seems so... But-- "

" Phew! Then that means you probably just bruised your back! " He leaned back onto his hands as he sat on the tile floor, sighing in relief with a smile on his face. " Doc says-- "

" Enough about what 'doc' said! Why're you helping me so willingly?? " Your face turned into an expression of annoyance as you stared at his dumbfounded look.

" Hmmm... " He thought for a moment. " I don't really have a reason, just kinda did it, y'know? " He reached out a hand towards you. " Doc said to keep you here till you heal more so you can give me a shout if you need something! Just yell like 'Hifumi!!' and I'll come! "

" Got it..? " You looked at his outstretched hand and mimicked him, putting your hand out towards him as he suddenly grabbed it and shook your hand. You concluded it was some sort of human greeting... Guess you'll be hearing a lot more from him.

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

[tomicaleto]

For the writing prompts

obikin and 18 or 22 or 45, whichever you like more! 😊

Hi Anon!

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I'LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

18. waking up with amnesia au

this is a direct continuation from this Sith AU, as in, this picks up a couple of weeks later. I strongly recommend reading the linked snippet first, and in general all the little snippets I wrote for this AU before reading this one.

That being said, let's go

The light bothered him enough that Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a frown. He was on a bed, a thin white sheet covering his body. Everything hurt and he groaned as the world slowly shifted into focus, his surroundings filled with bacta tanks and medical beds. A machine beeped close to him on regular intervals, and there was a line connecting his right arm to a serum bag. 

A body shifted, a young Mon Calamari with a holopad who took in the sign of Obi-Wan being awake and checked his vitals before greeting him gently.

“Where am I?” Obi-Wan asked, barely repressing the urge to snap the line out of his arm.  The Mon Calamari muttered as he typed on his pad. “The patient shows signs of disorientation corresponding with a long period of unconsciousness. Keep under observation in case the symptom persists.” 

Finally, he looked up towards Obi-Wan. “You are at the medic bay in the Jedi temple. My master will join us shortly and make sure everything is going well with your recovery.”  “Jedi temple? What happened to me?”  “You got stabbed by a piece of debris that punctured part of your lung and stomach. Lost quite the amount of blood and oxygen levels turned worrisome low. Would have died if they hadn’t brought you here.” 

Just as he finished speaking, a Togruta entered the room and smiled at the Mon Calamari before turning to Obi-Wan. “Now this is a sight I thought I’d never see again. How is our patient doing?” “So far his recovery is going according to plan, Master.”  “Excellent, the Council will appreciate this information. Has he shown signs of aggression?"  “Not so far, mostly confusion.” 

Irritation filled him. It wasn’t enough that he had woken up in an unfamiliar place, being talked about as if he wasn’t there was pissing him off. The Togruta turned towards him and leaned forwards, turning on a small lantern and cheeking his eyes. “Your reflexes seem to be doing great. I’m gonna ask you some questions to help you ease back into the living world. You almost became one with the Force!”

Obi-Wan grunted as an answer.  “Alright. First things first: do you know who you are?” “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi-”  “Haven’t heard that name for years,” interrupted the healer, only confusing him more. “Other names you identify yourself with?” “No.”  The questions continued, getting more annoying and more confusing as well. 

No, Obi-Wan did not know who the main general of the Separatists was. No, he did not know Count Dooku personally. No, he had never met the Jedi Council before. He did not know who Qui-Gon Jinn was. And most importantly, he did not understand why he had ended in the Jedi med bay to be treated after his injury.  The Mon Calamari took notes of everything he answered and exchanged a quiet look with his master once the questions were over. “I will notify the Council immediately.” The Togruta master said. “In the meantime, make sure our patient doesn’t get too overwhelmed with outside stimulus until we can figure out how to fix his memory loss.” 

The Mon Calamari nodded and then hesitated. “Uh, what should I do if Knight Skywalker visits?” The name tickled something in the back of Obi-Wan’s brain, like an unanswered question that escaped him.  “You let him in, of course, and take notes of everything they talk about.”  A couple of hours later, as a healer brought him lunch and a holopad with a novel to keep him entertained, the doors opened and someone walked in. 

At the healer’s sigh, Obi-Wan looked up from the holopad to see the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. The man looked up from where he was glaring at the floor and his expression eased, making Obi-Wan’s heart jump, the machine he was connected to betraying the effects the man was having on him.  He ignored as the Mon Calamari frantically tried to understand what was happening as the man finally reached the bed and sat down near him. “Hi,” he began softly. “It’s nice seeing you awake.”   Obi-Wan did not exactly know who this man was or why he was glad he was awake but he didn’t particularly care, happy to have his lovely eyes fixed on him. 

He did not appreciate the Mon Calamari approaching the man and leaning down to whisper something to him, and he actually frowned when the man’s face went from curiosity to confusion to… grief? He wasn’t quite sure and forgot to ask the moment the man took his hand between his. “Hi, Obi-Wan, you may not remember me right now but I’m Anakin.”  He looked at him with earnest eyes, and the name made something inside Obi-Wan warm with familiarity. Even then, the name did not spark any memory, and he simply smiled politely to Anakin. Something inside him, though, screamed at him that Anakin was important, that he needed to make a good impression. So, he sent him a smouldering look and said: “Hello there.” 

He did not expect Anakin to burst into laughter, startling the Mon Calamari. But his confusion over the reaction didn’t stop Obi-Wan’s heartbeat from accelerating again.

Thank you for sending me this! I hope you enjoyed it!

[pluckyredhead]

Red Hood and the Outlaws #1 (2011)

It's been a while since I've read RHATO, so I figured I'd reread it - and if I'm doing that, why not make you all suffer with me? I will probably get tired of this before I finish all the various series, but let's see how far we get.

Roy, that would probably work better if your bow had a string.

The issue begins with Roy in a prison in Qurac for trying to overthrow a dictator. He's rescued by Jason, in disguise as a pastor in a fat suit (sigh). There's so much wrong with these opening pages: the fat suit, the writing off an entire Middle Eastern nation as evil and corrupt, the fact that there's no way even a collapsed bow would fit inside a hollowed-out bible, the lazy way the panel layouts waste space...and yet. And yet.

These pages. THESE FUCKING PAGES. "His name is Roy Harper. He's an idiot. Nice guy, but an idiot." "His name is Jason Todd. A lot of people say he's crazy...Let's just say the Red Hood is my kind of crazy!"

This kind of parallel narration always makes me think of the 2003 Superman/Batman comic, which used it extensively, to extremely (and likely unintentionally?) homoerotic effect. After I read this issue, I told a friend that I got it now: Red Hood and the Outlaws was Superman/Batman for edgelords.

Which is to say, I'm pretty sure I started shipping these assholes just from these first terrible pages.

(But seriously, there are three pages up there and only five panels. Five panels! Plus some pointless maroon boxes that don't do anything! I want my money back.)

This panel is super misleading, because it implies that Roy and Jason know each other well enough for Jason to tease Roy about being a chatterbox, but later issues will show that barely know each other at this point. But then, trying to keep the backstories straight in this or any Lobdell book is like watching sand run out between your fingers.

And again here, it implies that they were already friends, a team, partners...something. But later we'll learn that they only met once, and it was years ago, when they were kids, so...what gives?

(This page is actually interesting, because Jason is constantly saying playfully mean things to Roy and Roy never seems to mind, but here he clearly hurts Roy, and he knows it.)

Siiiiigh.

To add insult to injury, Jason immediately announces that he's fucked Kori. You'll notice I aggressively ignore this in every fic I've ever written. Part of that is because I love Secret Virgin Jason, but also it just doesn't mesh with his and Kori's relationship throughout the rest of the series or his hilarious lack of game in general, and it's also so inextricably part of Amnesiac Sex Doll Kori that I just want nothing to do with it.

HATE. HAAAAAATE. The devious smile on Jason's face in the bottom row and Roy's calculating expression are so deeply disgusting to me. "This woman can't meaningly consent! She's like a cave fish with a vagina! Sweet!" Scott Lobdell is a vile human being and so is everyone who signed off on this piece of shit. (Fun fact: this was a HUGE controversy when the New 52 launched and the outcry was so loud they walked it back in a later issue when Kori tells Roy she...just lied about all of that for no reason? Okay.)

Also, "ask her about the gang you used to hang with." Uh...what gang is that, Jason? Because Donna didn't exist at this point, Wally was 12, Garth was a literal baby, Vic joined the League immediately upon getting his powers, and Gar was a child being tortured in a lab somewhere. So was it just Roy, Dick, and Raven? And they certainly weren't the Titans, because Tim's team was the founders in this continuity...which Lobdell should have known, since he was also writing that book.

The person asking to speak to Jason is Essence, his ex, who tells him something cryptic about murder victims with missing organs.

YOU DON'T KNOW MOST OF THOSE PEOPLE EITHER, ROY!!! "Remember Garth? The baby?" (Literally, he is a baby who shows up for one panel. In Atlantis.) And who the fuck is Dustin?

Anyway, Kori propositions Roy and he's like "Sure, why not." Did the target audience actually think this was hot? It's so depressing.

Essence tells Jason that something called the Untitled has attacked something called the All Caste, and Jason makes a surprised Pikachu face.

Elsewhere, a guy in a basement looks at a picture of Kori online.

I will admit to liking two things about this page: the fact that Jason's helmet is in the nightstand implies that Roy and Kori fucked in Jason's bed, which is either hilariously rude or an invitation that sailed right over Jason's head, and the red hand print on Roy's chest. It's the first glimpse of a recognizable Roy in this book; he did always like getting manhandled by scarily powerful women, pre-Flashpoint.

Jason goes...somewhere, to a temple of sorts with a lot of vague cultural appropriation going on, and kneels over the corpse of an old lady. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, Ducra," he says, before a bunch of people attack him. END OF ISSUE!

And that's Red Hood and the Outlaws #1! It's confusing, misogynistic, lazily drawn, and not very funny, and there's no reason to be invested in whatever the fuck happened at the end because I know nothing about Ducra, Essence, the All Caste, or frankly, this version of Jason. And yet I am absolutely going to read nine more years' worth of this shit. See you in issue #2!