#at first glance I thought there was a face somewhere in this panel

[rubysunnday]

when it's cold, i'd like to die

summary: they all fell victim to the datura meloxia that night, they all saw something - yet y/n's nightmare is unescapable, despite kaz's best efforts

a/n: haha, lol, i'm alive

Kaz pulled apart the doors, gradually revealing the room behind them. Y/N stood behind him, taking it all in. It was a beautiful building - the walls decorated with intricately patterned wallpaper and wooden panels. 

“Spread out,” Kaz ordered, his rough voice loud in the quiet of the room. 

Y/N stepped around him and into the room, taking slow, careful steps. Things were going a bit too well to her liking - they had yet to run into their usual chaos. 

“I can hear another heartbeat,” Tolya said softly, walking further into the room.

“I thought it was empty,” Jesper muttered, passing Y/N. 

“So did I,” she replied, glancing at him. 

“It’s fainter,” Tolya explained, “further in the house.”

Tolya took a step forward, almost reaching the other door that led further into the house. The floorboards under his foot sunk suddenly and something, somewhere within the walls, released and the doors on either side of the room slid shut with a resounding bang. 

Y/N ran back to the door they’d come through and tried to prise it back open. Her finger nails dug into the wood and she groaned, struggling to pull them at all, even with Jesper’s help.

Inej unsheathed one of her knives and stabbed the patterned screen. The knife bounced off it, leaving nothing behind. She tried again and still, nothing. “It’s impenetrable,” she said, stepping back. “Great.”

Kaz knocked on the wooden panelling with the head of his cane. His face dropped in realisation as, instead of a hollow wooden sound, there was a metal clang. “The frames are made of metal.”

Jesper pressed a hand against the frame, leaning his head in. “They’re Durast made.”

Y/N tilted her head back and looked around the room. It wasn’t big - it was smaller than what had been Kaz’s office back at the old Crow Club. But given that the frames were Durast made, and that Tolya had detected another heartbeat at the back of the grounds, there was more to the small room than it was letting on.

From somewhere within the roof, something metal clanked against something else, causing a ticking sound. Y/N’s eyes scanned the perimeter of the roof until they stopped on one of the small lanterns hanging on the wall. As she watched it, a red mist began to spray out of the floral shape above, spreading out into the air. 

“There’s something in the air,” Tolya said, looking up at the lantern too. 

It was, sort of, stating the obvious. They’d all noticed the red vapour by then and Y/N could feel her chest growing tight, the ability to breathe getting harder. She fell back, hitting the wall behind her, the room spinning around her like a spinning top she so often saw in the Ketterdam markets. 

Y/N felt someone looking at her and she had enough awareness left to turn her head, finding Kaz staring at her, his own face utterly impassive. Yet his eyes gave everything away - the slight widening showing the panic that had taken over the usual stoicism. 

Because whilst he may plan for things to go catastrophically wrong, Kaz Brekker couldn’t plan a way to cheat death when it came for them. 

Jesper went first, falling to the floor and falling still. Inej lasted a little longer - leaning back against the walls, struggling to stay awake. But even she fell, landing quietly and carefully even as she was dying.

Y/N felt her knees go weak and she braced herself against the wall behind her. She tried to keep her head up, to keep looking at Kaz. But it soon became impossible. Her vision blurred as her head pounded and her chest got tighter. Kaz became a black blur and Y/N fell sideways, the room spinning around her.

She didn’t feel herself hit the floor. One second she was suffocating, unable to breathe or think and the next she was standing in the middle of the Barrel, the sea spray from the harbour hitting her skin. 

“Y/N!”

Kaz stood at the other end of the street, a black shadow against the white lights of the street lamps. She could his cane, the metal crow’s head glinting in the hazy light. Y/N took a single step forward and as she did so, the building next to Kaz exploded. 

The force of the explosion threw Y/N backwards, the heat of the flames burning her face and her arms. She landed on the wet cobblestones, the force of the impact rippling throughout her entire body. 

For a while, there was just blackness. Y/N could see nothing. She could hear nothing. Then, gradually, her senses came back. First, she tasted blood in her mouth, then the pain ripping through her body and then the sound of the flames, of the rubble still falling. 

Y/N forced her eyes open, even as the smoke stung them. The street lamps had gone out around them - the fires burning within the rubble the only light available for the smoke had covered the moon. She coughed, her lungs burning, her breath getting caught in her throat. 

Rubble rolled off her and onto the ground and she struggled to get up, her legs bending, refusing to hold her weight. Y/N fell against a pile of rubble and pushed herself upwards, grazing her hands against the exposed masonry. 

As her mind finally caught up, the shock fading away, the panic set in. 

“Kaz!” Y/N screamed, coughing as the smoke invaded her throat. “Kaz!”

Her foot tripped over something and Y/N landed on the ground again, her face barely avoiding smacking the stones. She groaned, coughing weakly, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N.”

Y/N rolled over and she came face to face with Kaz. He looked fine - as if he hadn’t just been blown up and thrown aside. She inhaled as his bare hand looped under her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin, and he pulled her up. 

“Kaz, what -”

“It’s ok,” Kaz said, his voice rough. “Just an experiment gone wrong.”

His other hand pressed gently against her side and Y/N’s body tightened at the unfamiliar yet all too familiar sensation. She leant into him, her stomach brushing against his waistcoat. 

“We’re ok.”

“Kaz!”

Kaz gasped and sat up abruptly, his hands flying out in front of him. Someone caught his wrist and he fought against them, wrenching his hand free.

“Saints, Kaz, it’s just me,” Jesper said, ducking to avoid Kaz’s blind punch. 

Kaz blinked and the water, and Jordie’s face looming over him, fade away, replaced by Jesper and the room they’d been locked in. Jesper looked down at him, vague concern on his face as he watched him. 

“What -”

“Wylan said the butterflies are the antidote,” Jesper explained, grimacing slightly. “I had to… well.”

Kaz swallowed, his mouth dry and tasting of something not very nice. He stumbled to his feet, batting away Jesper’s offered hand, and all but slamming his cane into the ground. “Poison?”

“Yeah, some fancy sounding name,” Jesper replied. “Wylan -”

“ - knows, I’ve got it,” Kaz said.

He looked around the room, his eyes surveying the walls and the state of his crew. Kaz’s eyes widened a fraction as his gaze stopped on Inej leaning over an unconscious Y/N, a hand over her mouth. 

Inej, noticing that Kaz was staring at her, lifted her head and looked back at him. Her eyes were filled with fear. “She won’t wake up. I’m trying, Kaz -”

Wylan’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Something’s holding her in the nightmare.”

“Her heartbeat is slowing,” Tolya added. He was knelt beside Inej, a hand wrapped around Y/N’s wrist, his fingers pressed against her pulse point.

“Kaz,” Jesper muttered. “It’s gotta be you.”

Kaz didn’t need Jesper to tell him that. He knew. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because acknowledging Y/N’s need for him, meant acknowledging his need for her. His inability to live without her. 

“Inej, here,” Wylan said, sticking his hand through the hole in the wall, “another butterfly. But she can’t have more than two otherwise it becomes poisonous in itself.”

Inej stood and took the butterfly from Wylan’s outstretched hand and turned to Kaz. She held it out to him, her eyes locking to his. “Kaz, it has to be you.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, a muscle jumping in the corner. His leather gloves creaked as he gripped the head of his cane. 

“Kaz!” Jesper yelled. “If you let her die, I will kill you myself.”

The butterfly twitched pathetically in Inej’s hand. Kaz dropped his cane and limped over, gingerly taking the blue butterfly between his fingers.

“What do I do?” He asked, his voice a mere rasp.

“Put it in her mouth and force her to eat it,” Inej said, taking a step back. “Cover her mouth, pinch her nose - do whatever you have to do to get her to eat it.”

Kaz exhaled and knelt down on Y/N’s right side, wincing as his leg twinged in pain. Tolya shuffled back slightly but stayed on her other side, his hand still on her wrist. 

His argument was with his inner demons. Kaz would do anything for Y/N - and he had. He’d brought her out the White Lotus, he’d taken her into the Crows, he’d saved her life in Ravka on the skiff in the Fold - he’d told her more than he’d told anyone else. His demons had let him go that far, so why wouldn’t they let him go any further?

Kaz could feel the squishy skin of the dead bodies as his leg brushed against Y/N’s. He could taste the salt water of the harbour. Jordie was still in his mind. 

With one hand he prised Y/N’s mouth open, slightly startled at how easy it was. As gently as he could, he gripped it open and put the butterfly inside. Blue tinged her lips from the previous attempt. Kaz closed Y/N’s mouth and then put his hand over her lips, fighting the urge to let go and throw up. 

“Come on, Y/N, please,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. 

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he felt his nightmare fighting back. Kaz placed his other hand against the side of her face, his thumb trailing up and down her cheek, a feeble attempt to ground himself but to also tell Y/N that he was there. 

It had been a few seconds since Kaz had put the butterfly inside her mouth, but it felt agonisingly long - and nothing was happening. 

“Y/N!” Kaz yelled, shaking her shoulders.

Apparently aggression worked because Y/N inhaled sharply and sat up, her hands flying out to grip onto anything - anyone. One hand gripped onto Tolya’s arm, her nails digging into his skin. Her other gripped Kaz’s sleeve, her knuckles brushing against the skin of his inner wrist. 

She coughed, chewing on the butterfly in her mouth. “Urgh, what the fuck is this,” she muttered, grimacing.

Tolya patted her on the back, laughing. “You don’t want to know.”

He ruffled her hair and stood up, stepping back and turning to talk to Inej. Everyone had conveniently found something else to do as Kaz and Y/N stared at one another. Her hand was still gripping his coat sleeve.

“Are you ok?” She asked, her voice quivering slightly.

Kaz nodded once. “Fine.”

Y/N looked at him - properly looked at him. “I’m fine, too.”

“Everyone’s lost their minds.”

Y/N snorted softly, glancing back over her shoulder as Wylan and Jesper continued to kiss one another. “I think we all did,” she said softly, turning back. 

Kaz turned as well, looking at her as her own gaze caught his. They looked at one another as they walked, neither saying a word. 

“Maybe…” Kaz paused, elegantly stepping over a rock, “I did see something… through the haze of the poison.” 

Y/N nodded once in acknowledgment. Kaz stopped and Y/N did too, turning to face him. His eyes were full of so many different emotions and thoughts - but they were focused on her and her alone

“There are those who drown us,” Kaz said softly, “and those who pull us out.”

The early morning sun was beginning to rise behind Kaz - his black coat absorbing all the light. Y/N shifted slightly, using his head to block the sun from her eyes so that she could still see him. 

“What did your toxin trip reveal to you?” Kaz asked.

Y/N bit her lip gently, shuddering slightly as her mind went back. To Kaz lying lifelessly at her side to him suddenly being in one piece and knocking her out the way of Pekka’s bullet. Nightmares turned into dreams were weird. One moment she’s screaming and the next she’s in his arms, feeling his heart beating. Y/N knew that would never happen and that simply hoping for it was dangerous. 

Hoping for something that she could never have.

“Hope is dangerous,” she said quietly, resisting the temptation to avert her eyes from Kaz’s. “It clouds your judgement and makes you believe unrealistic things.”

Kaz’s face cracked slightly, his true emotion coming through for just a moment before it vanished behind the wall again. For just that second, Y/N saw the pain - the desire. But the it was gone.

“Y/N!” Nina yelled. “You coming?”

Y/N’s head turned sharply, looking over at Nina where she stood expectantly waiting with Zoya and Tolya. “Yeah,” Y/N replied. “Just coming.”

She turned back to look at Kaz but he’d walked away, heading backwards and to Inej. Y/N ignored the flash of pain that gripped at her heart and took a step forward, away from Kaz and everything she hoped for. 

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #fic #fanfic #six of crows fic #shadow and bone fic

[beansprean]

Some men will do anything except therapy

My Familiar’s Ghost part 53

Masterpost

New pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of vampire Guillermo and Nandor swordfighting with broken table rails on a red splattered background, the entire scene bathed in bright red light. Nandor pulls his sword up to hang right, blocking Guillermo's underhand swing, and shouts, 'You cared for me before London! I thought we finally wanted the same thing!' Guillermo just stares back, snarling. 1b. Repeat. Nandor is retreating in the frame, sword flipped over into an ox guard position to block an overhand strike from Guillermo. Nandor continues, 'Even after our year apart, I did not expect that to change!' 1c. Low shot behind Nandor as he makes a wide left handed slash, snapping, 'But it did! You did!' Guillermo flies upward to avoid the swing, one knee up, and raises his sword in a backhand position, ready to throw.

2a. Close shot of the floor as Guillermo's sword shoots in from above. Nandor dissolves into vapor, parting himself around the sword as it smashes tip-first into the ground where he had been standing. His vapor trail rolls off the panel and he keeps talking: 'You no longer cared for me the same way! I could tell!' 2b. Guillermo lands in a crouch on the ground, snatching up his sword and glancing around suspiciously for his opponent. Nandor's vapor trail winds around the back of the panel. 2c. Close up of Guillermo in profile as he brings his sword up to his face, inspecting the smashed tip and crack through the center of the wood. Nandor's voice comes from somewhere: 'You had your Freddie and your family...' 2d. Close up from behind Guillermo as he whips his head around, eyes glowing, sensing an attack incoming. Nandor's vapor flows behind the panel and begins to coalesce. 2e. Reverse shot from in front of Guillermo as Nandor reforms behind him in a puff of smoke, striking down one-handed with his sword as he furiously shouts '...and you kept me at arms length like a guilty secret!' Guillermo swings his sword over and around his left shoulder, blocking the swing, a loud crack ringing out as their swords slam together. /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #nandermo #mlm #vampire guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #blood tw #violence tw #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

[heistalto]

HI! I LOVE UR WORK SO SO MUCH!! can I ask for a Mattheo Riddle x fem! reader and they’re best friends but they’ve been in love forever but haven’t admitted it and it’s a slowburn and whenever the reader picks her hangnails bc she needs to fidget he always holds her hands and she gets really really overwhelmed on the first week back to Hogwarts and is really stressed and helps her calm down and handle her feelings and anxiety?

comfort crowd

auth. note: heyyy lovely, thank you for the request, i really hope i did it justice lmaoooo. sorry for that it took so long i had most of it written on my computer then it crashed and deleted literally everything so i had to recover and reflect on my actions 🌝. also i finished writing this at 5am and i have to wake up for work at 8 lets gooo

pairing: best friend!mattheo x fem!reader

summary: after the chaos of hogwarts at the beginning of your seventh year, the stress gets to you, but there’s always someone to soften the blow.

warnings: nothing really, smoking i guess.

┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

the hogwarts express is chugging on continuously, misting an opaque fog into atmosphere of the england countryside, much like the mellowness of the interior. every seat taken with students yet no dialouge shared and the bustling and laughing about future classes, professors and chocolate frogs a thing of the past. your head is lightly rested on the window, body pressed into the corner comfortingly and hands extended forward onto the table tightly. they’re cold. and mattheo’s hand, whom is sat in front of you, seperates them, putting his body in your presence and sharing his heat with you. simply because he wants to. his pointer finger moves towards the condensed glass, painting a small stick figure with a smiling face, and a flower next to it-which petals are already dripping downwards onto the damp surface. your glance moves from the glass and onto him, a hopeful expression on his face and lips spreading into a small, warm smile. “we’ll be fine.” he reassures quietly, only a quiet mumble so nobody else at the table hears, pansy humming peacefully asleep next to you and theo staring deep in thought somewhere, because it’s only for you. “i hope so.” your words are doubtful and you take in mattheo’s appearance. his dishevelled curling hair softly planting on his forehead, it slightly grew out over the summer, wearing a white long-sleeved top and the leather jacket you bought for him last winter in a small charity shop, thinking of him instantly-light purple hues highlighted under his eyes.

after professor snape was appointed headmaster, and the death of dumbledore a melancholiness has weighed upon the halls of hogwarts. students walking silently up the stairs and mattheo following behind you closely, your suitcase in one hand and his own in the other after insisting to take it-palm patting the top of your head endearingly while you sulk, “i don’t need your help.” he smiles. “i know you don’t.”

he waits patiently as you click open the door to your dorm, glancing at the strand of hair that you have tucked behind your ears, revealing your small star-shaped earrings and noticing the brownish lip gloss you wear every autumn, he’s missed you over summer. the kind of missing that is felt in the back of the stomach all the way down to your spine while doing everyday tasks, because it all reminds him of you. both suitcases thump loudly onto the wood panels when mattheo lets them go, and he slips his jacket off, throwing it limply onto the neatly made bed. he spins on the chair in the middle of your room, gliding his fingers across the random collection of trinkets on your desk, mostly random objects that hold dear memories for you. like an empty bottle of beer from the time all your friends got so drunk in the common room then got busted by mcgonagall in her red night gown with candle in hand, and had to run down the halls in the pitch black to escape. holding on tightly to mattheo’s shirt sleeve to keep up as all of you try to squeeze into a broom closet. or a random rock from a trip to the beach that mattheo had gifted to you after seeing you read a book about crystals, “i swear it has healing properties,” he tried to convince you, pressing it up against your forehead while you hold back a laugh, “do you feel it?” “no.”

“we’re meeting for breakfast right?” you ask quietly as his body darkens with shadow the further he walks down the hall, but his head still turns back to you, “of course. goodnight.” he reassures with a nod and you’re left to fall back onto your bed with a long sigh. with his presence gone the silence is too loud and you kick the black converse off your feet, bringing your legs up to your chest. your hand reaches down to a rough surface underneath your frame, pulling out mattheo’s jacket. he forgot it. with a small exhale in breath your hands burrow into the fabric lining inside it, spreading it out in front of your face and lips turning up into a smile. you could go out right now and chase mattheo to give it back to him, you can feel the box of cigarettes left in the front pocket, yet you still droop it over your torso, tucking it under your own arms and inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne. and somehow the warmth of mattheo’s body that not long ago filled it brings more comfort than the cushioned duvet beneath you, lulling you to sleep.

it doesn’t take long for the chattering at the long breakfast tables to return, pansy gossiping absent-mindedly and theodore shovelling granola into his mouth with a disdained look, dishes spread grandly everywhere but your plate remains empty. for no specific reason other than your eyes studying on a point on the back wall, allowing your own yarn of thoughts to unwind and your shoulders to slump further down-how are you supposed to act normal? wake up to the ringing sound of your alarm clock that’s on your nightstand, eat breakfast with your friends, go to lessons, study and then go to sleep to repeat it all when everyone is constantly under threat. snape unfairly ruling the school and the potential of death eaters crashing through the doors always looming and you’re supposed to just act normal? like you’re happy to be here when your survival is not guaranteed…mattheo’s hand pleasantly slips into yours, his glimmering eyes when you turn to him a grasping hand into your brain to relieve the anxiety. your fingers had been picking at a hang nail heedlessly, and his thumb smoothes over the blood that’s pooling at the edge of your finger from underneath the table. he’s usually the one coming to your dorm late in the night, bloodied nose and a bruised face after a fight with a pleading expression and he would be in your bathroom every time without a doubt. you would scold him harshly while tenderly pressing a wipe onto his face, moving the damp hair from his forehead with a soft swipe and he would stay silent-looking up solemnly at your concentrated expression. but ever since you’ve developed the habit of picking at your hangnails he’s taken it upon himself to grab your hand whenever he notices, always privately so others don’t see, as a small act to retaliate the care you endlessly provide for him. “eat.” he drones, picking up a piece of french toast loosely from his plate and placing it into yours. his body shuffles a little closer to yours for whatever reason, his shoulder connecting with yours warmly and you roll your eyes, “i was about to” you huff back to him, nudging your arm into his side and he tilts his head with a laugh, his hair grazing against your ear.

hours pass by hazily when you are staring at a textbook, tuning out the long talking of umbridge’s grating voice and mattheo’s studying eyes trying to get your attention, whispering your name lowly just so you can turn to see his smile from across the room. and after holding your tongue for hours you find yourself walking up the stairs to the astronomy tower for a break away from everything, sneaking out of your dorm in a pair of pyjamas and eyes already glossing with tears. the door creaks open and the sharp wind stings your cheeks. a familiar silhouette is leaned against the edge, smoke leaving a trail around him when he turns around. he says your name immediately, throwing the cigarette over the edge and taking a few steps towards you with brows furrowing upwards. you should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to be alone here, it’s been mattheo’s spot after second year when he claimed it his. but maybe in some way you yearned for him to be there like he always his, smoking, and approach you with a concerned look, placing his hands at your sides and asking you, “what’s wrong?” the words are stuck in your throat and the way his eyes widen at you, lowering himself to level his head with yours sends a tear rolling down your cheek. he whispers your name again. “i’m scared mattheo…” you admit quietly, “i’m always scared that he’s going to come and hurt us” your voice cracks and your breath hitches as mattheo’s grip tightens around your torso. his eyes glance away, chest becoming heavy in guilt. he knows he can’t do anything about it, and with voldemort being his father he can’t help but feel responsible for whatever reason. his helplessness warrants him to pull you into his body, wrapping both of his arms around your body so tightly he struggles to breathe himself, the blood flowing through his body expelling a heat he once again shares with you and only you. your face is pressed up against his chest where you sob into his shirt and his palm places at the back of your head softly, stroking your hair and pushing you closer into him. “i promise i won’t let anything happen to you” he reassures you, “i would die before you get hurt” he whispers into the thick air. he brings his head down to rest it in the crook of your neck, the lanterns hung on the wood pillars dimly illuminating the image of him silently curling around your frame with an endeaarance. he lifts his head hesitantly, bringing his face close to yours and planting a small kiss on your cheek.

you take a step away, straightening your back and furrowing your brows at him while his own expression drops, darting his eyes away from yours wearily. “im sorry.” he mumbles immediately and you continue to search for an answer in his demeanour. puzzled, you aren’t sure where this is coming from and why you fight the urge to ask him to do it again. a small murmur of his name escapes your mouth, moving your face closer to his again and tilting your head upwards to connect your lips for the second time, slowly moving to feel the ridges of them and the softness in the way he moves his jaw forwards to encapsulate your presence. you hum lowly, left hand driving up to cup his cheek while his own takes your right, closing in around it and dulcifying around your cuticles at your fidgeting wounds. the tears that roll down your face slip into the kiss and he tastes the saltiness, pulling away with regret and exhaling a high breath. “i don’t want to kiss you like this”

he runs a hand through his hair in stress, he hopes that you aren’t doing it just to make yourself feel better and that the crumbling of a seven year friendship around you isn’t just because he let a stupid impulse takeover. honestly it feels like he had just taken advantage of you, letting you open up to him at your most vulnerable and turning it into something lewd. “how do you want to kiss me?” your voice is nasally from the lump in your throat, and you swallow harshly. mattheo’s eyebrow twitches up momentarily, turning away from you. “i want to kiss you when you’re happy,” he turns back to you to hold eye contact, “after we win a quidditch game and you run down from the stands, under a mistletoe…anything other than this” he puts out, breath quickening and he steps towards you desperately. all the warmth he has shared with you over the years burns within you, journeying up to your face as your eyes flicker all over his face. “i love you” he expresses, and his eyes widen as if he doesn’t realise what he just said. you exhale a quick breath, “i lo-” you want to leap forward and kiss him again, wrap your hands around his neck and let him know how much you really mean it.

“no. not like that” his fists ball up tightly, “i love you. not in a friend way.” his knuckles are turning white from how hard hes clasping around himself, face softening when meeting with your open mouth, wide eyes and glistening pupils that are dilated so purely he could look at his own face.

“i love you too mattheo, not in a friend way.” it spills out of you, like the smashing of a piggy bank after years of building it up. “you do?”

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #harry potter #slytherin #harry potter headcanon

[the-little-ewok]

Only yours

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 3700 (ish)

Warnings : Explicit / PIV (unprotected sex) / praise kink / mild possessiveness / mentions of oral sex (m&f recieving) / dirty talk / thigh riding / brief fingering / mild Dom Din/ fluffyness / pinning / finger biting (idk is that a warning?) / The helmet comes off / consent is sexy/ aftercare

Prompts / Summary : I love it when you talk dirty, Open your mouth, I'd hold onto something if I were you / A second of playfulness leads to a night of passion with the Mandalorian

A/N: Please go easy on me this is the first time I'm writing smut for Din… sorry it got a bit well … you've seen the warnings….

Also I slightly changed one of the prompts because it sounded better. Just changed a word that's all :)

Dedicating this to my absolute angel of a beta @beldroxramscal ! Thank you for putting up with me!

If you enjoy this fic please reblog and tell me your thoughts! Reblogs keep writers writing :)

—--

Honestly, what had you been thinking? Time, place, person, all wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

All the Mandalorian had tried to do was shush your chattering, pressing his finger against your lips as he watched the bounty in the distance. And you, in all your wisdom, had decided to open your mouth and playfully bite down on a gloved finger.

His head had snapped around so quickly you're surprised he didn't injure himself. And you, you still had grinned at him, his finger trapped in your teeth, as your reflection in his helmet grinned back. What exactly was the reaction you were hoping for? Certainly not the one you got.

The long moment of silence that followed had made your grin falter, and you opened your mouth to release his finger. The Mandalorian had stepped away from you without a sound, going back to hunting his bounty in silence.

And he hadn't said a word to you since. He'd been silent, stoic, and well, stampy.

Even now you can hear his pacing footfalls ringing out against the metal hull of the ship. Each one seemed to ring out how stupid you were. The Mandalorian. Of all people to do that to, you just had to pick him.

Clunk. Stupid. Clunk. Stupid.

You had tried to go to him and apologise, but he was clearly avoiding you, and each time you tried to speak with him, he made excuses to busy himself somewhere away from you.

After everything, after working your way up to an easy friendship, after finally getting him to relax a little, you had to go and throw it all away because you couldn't help your childish behaviour; because you couldn't stop thinking about him in ways you really shouldn't.

You toss, kicking the covers off for the thousandth time since you went to bed, turning the pillow, punching it for good measure and trying to settle down to sleep.

But sleep isn't coming. And all you can hear is the clunk, clunk, clunk, of the pacing Mandalorian.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It's all you can hear and Maker, it's irritating. Can't he go and be mad away from your door, instead of reminding you with every step of your colossal fuck up.

With a growl of annoyance, you roll out of bed and slam your hand on the control panel to open the door, letting out a yelp of surprise when you're met with your shimmering reflection in the Mandalorian’s helmet.

You try to recover quickly, fixing him with a stern frown, trying not to glance down to fully take in the fact he's dressed only in his undershirt and pants.

"I-I can't sleep with you pacing up and down!"

"I didn't realise I was keeping you awake. I apologise." It's the most words the Mandalorian has spoken to you since you arrived back at the ship, and it softens your annoyance just a little. After all, this was your fault, and there was no point taking it out on him.

"It's okay. Did you need something?"

"No. I was just… walking past." Both the Mandalorians' hesitation, and the fact your room is the last on the ship with nowhere else to go, tell you that is a bare-faced lie.

You twist your hands nervously in front of you, trying to figure out what he could need from you in the middle of the night, and come up with only one thing.

"Did you want to talk about what happened earlier? Because I'm really so-"

"Open your mouth."

"rry-what?" You frown, watching as he slides off one glove, then the other, slowly.

"Open. Your. Mouth," he states again, his modulated voice dark. It's not a question, it's a command. It's how he speaks to his bounties. It should scare you, but it doesn't, he doesn't.

But even so, your breath catches, your heart hammers against your chest, and you feel a prickling heat creeping up the back of your neck. From desire or concern, you aren't sure.

The silence stretches out for a long moment, neither of you moving, before swallowing hard, you take a breath and open your mouth.

"Good girl."

Kriff. How hard your pussy clenches is almost painful.

Closing the distance between you the Mandalorian raises his hand and slips two thick fingers between your parted lips.

You don't wait for further instructions before you swirl your tongue around his digits, sucking hard before biting down softly, listening to the hitch in the Mandalorian’s breathing.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock."

The surprise at his words makes your eyes widen at first, but then a flood of heat follows, the mental image of you on your knees for him making you moan around his fingers.

"You like that Cyar'ika? You like thinking about my cock down your throat?"

His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, and he waits. He's actually waiting for you to answer.

You stare at your reflection for a moment before your eyes slide away, looking off across the ship, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"I just like it when you talk dirty," you admit quietly, all too aware that out of the corner of your vision, you can see your saliva glistening on his fingers. Not that you minded the thought of taking him in your mouth either. But there was something deliciously naughty about the Mandalorian speaking filthy words.

"There's no going back if we do this." The Mandalorian states suddenly, changing topics faster than he shoots. "I won't let you go if this happens."

It's such a strange contrast from the tone he used just moments ago it throws you for a loop. Your brain scrambles to catch up with not only the change in pace, but his words.

At your lack of response the Mandalorian takes a deep modulated breath, his shoulders slump and he turns on his heel to walk away from you.

Panic scrambles up through your chest, making it tighten uncomfortably.

"Wait, Mando, wait," you beg, reaching out to catch his arm. Your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt, keeping him in place but he doesn't turn back to you.

"I don't want to go back," you admit, desperate for him to be close to you again. "I don't want there to be a going back."

The way he slowly turns to face you once more feels dangerous, intimidating.

"There's no going back for me now," you whisper as he steps close to you, crowding you back against the doorframe.

"No," he agrees, raising an arm above your head to lean over you, trapping you in place, as the other reaches up to cup your cheek, "there was never any going back."

Your dazed reflection blinks at you in silver and black as his thumb traces your lower lip. You have so many questions, but none of them seem right to ask now. You hope there will be time for them later, that what he says is true, and there is no going back, that there is only forward now.

"Close your eyes," the Mandalorian commands, "and keep them closed."

You do as he tells you without question, shutting your eyes tightly, accepting the inky black and burst of colour behind your eyelids.

At first, his thumb continues to trace your lips, pressing between them briefly to drag along your tongue before his touch disappears.

There's a hiss, a clunk, then absolute silence. All you are left with is the sound of your own heavy breathing.

As the silence stretches out you start to worry that perhaps this is some revenge, some power play to teach you to listen to instructions, to teach you a lesson for your earlier playfulness. Your eyes flicker, almost opening for a moment before -

"Don't."

You squeeze them shut once more, your breath catching in your throat, forgetting how to breathe as the unmodulated, crisp, deep voice warns you.

"Don't open your eyes." He reminds you again. "And breathe."

You're suddenly all too aware of the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. You take an embarrassingly gasped breath, sucking in all the air you can, desperately, as though you've been suffocating for hours.

"Slower," he instructs. You slow your breathing to a more normal pace, or as normal as you can manage given the sudden change in situation.

You can feel the heat from his body as he steps closer to you, forcing you to try and concentrate to keep your breathing steady. For all the times you've imagined this, him, you had not expected him to have quite the powerful effect on you that he does.

He cups your cheek again, his palm warm against your skin. His thumb traces your bottom lip slowly, and you feel him leaning into you, his breath fanning out across your lips.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" He asks.

You nod, not trusting your voice to waiver with thick desire.

He obliges without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours, gentler than you were expecting, as though testing the waters, expecting you to suddenly pull away and put an end to this.

Instead, you press yourself up against him, moulding your body to his, opening your mouth to press your tongue to the seam of his lips.

It's clear at that moment, he has been holding back, perhaps giving you the space to adjust in the turn of your relationship, but the moment your tongue presses against his lips, he snaps.

His arm slips around your waist, holding you tight against his chest as his tongue presses against yours, his kiss insistent and demanding.

Your hands tangle in his hair, exploring previously uncharted territory. As you tug the soft strands lightly the Mandalorian groans into your mouth, pulling back to bite sharply at your lip.

"I should have thrown you to the ground and let the bounty go," he growls passionately, pressing you hard against the doorframe, slotting his thigh between your legs, drawing a gasp from you as he presses it up against your core. "Is that what you wanted? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted me to fuck you then and there?"

It wasn't, not entirely. Well, maybe it might slightly have crossed your thoughts that in the heat of the moment, he might have done something. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that exact scenario had passed your thoughts more than once. So, maybe. Maybe you had wanted that.

"I wouldn't have minded if you had," you admit.

The Mandalorian hums, and without being able to see his face, it's impossible to tell if your answer gives him satisfaction or not. Either way, it doesn't seem to matter as his mouth crashes back into yours.

As his tongue dips once more between your lips and you can't help but cant your hips against his thigh, grinding down as his tongue licks into your mouth. It's like your body has a damn mind of its own and is hell-bent on finally getting the high you need from him.

You groan into his mouth, the friction against your aching core just feeling too damn good. The Mandalorian presses his thigh tighter against you as he pulls away, growling lowly against your lips.

"That's it, take what you need."

You don't hesitate. You grind yourself harder against him, aware of the wetness soaking your sleep shorts, and the stain you must be leaving on his pants. Your breath comes out in short gasps as you feel your body tighten, the coil of pleasure inside you winding tighter and tighter.

"Can you cum like this pretty girl?"

Could you? You're certainly pretty close, the material of your shorts dragging up against your clit in just the right way. His next words almost send you hurtling over the edge.

"Then after I'll make you cum on my cock?"

You whine. Any other time you would have been embarrassed by the noise that escapes, but there's no room for that here. There is only you and the Mandalorian, who is making your body sing in ways nobody else has.

"Let go. Let me see you cum for me." It sounds almost like a beg, but you know it isn't, it's a command. You have to cum for him.

Your body reacts before your brain has caught up. You tremble, crying out as the wave of pleasure takes over, the coil snapping, throwing you high in your climax as you ride it out against his leg, shameless in your pleasure.

You barely have time to come down before the Mandalorian removes his leg, and suddenly pulls away from you.

"Bed," he orders roughly.

For a split second, you go to open your eyes, acting on pure instinct to look where you are going, before he stops you a second time. "I'll guide you."

He takes your waist, and slowly walks you backwards, step by step. You have no choice but to trust him and follow, your legs still trembling from your orgasm.

As he pushes you down, you sit tentatively, reaching out your hands to feel for the edges of the bed, slowly backing up onto it. You feel the thin mattress sink with the Mandalorian’s weight as he joins you.

He takes your chin in his fingers and turns your face towards him before he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

"Do you want this?" He asks softly, keeping your face turned to him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Maker, you absolutely were not going to survive the night if he keeps asking these types of questions. Your pussy clenches in anticipation.

"Yes." You manage to pant out.

He wastes no time in undressing you, practically tearing your shirt over your head before guiding you to lie down. You move your hands to remove your shorts but he stops you, pushing them down onto the mattress and hooking his fingers into the elastic, sliding your shorts down slowly, exposing you fully to his gaze. There's a hitch in his breathing and wish you were able to see him, take in his expression, watch him lick his lips as he surveys you.

Instead, you have to make do with your imagination.

You jump involuntarily as his hands suddenly grip your thighs, sliding his palms up your skin until his fingers rest just below your throbbing core, spreading your legs wide.

"You are soaked for me, pretty thing."

There're no words coming that you can answer him with, just the gasped breaths and the lift of your hips to encourage him to touch you.

He tuts at your actions with a sigh.

"Next time, we will work on you using your words to ask for what you want."

Next time? There was already going to be a next time? You almost forget to breathe again, but at that exact moment, the Mandalorian runs two calloused fingers through your wet heat, making you suddenly suck in a gasp of air, your hips arching towards his touch, even though you are still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.

He slips a thick finger into your wet heat, drawing a soft mewl of pleasure from your throat. The Mandalorian hums in appreciation of the noise, pressing a second finger to join the first, twisting and curling them as he stretches you open, filling you better than your own hands can.

"So fucking pretty," he praises as he thrusts his fingers, your soaked pussy making an embarrassingly lewd sound.

Suddenly and without warning his fingers leave you, and for a moment there is silence before the Mandalorian lets out a broken groan.

"You taste divine."

Heat spreads across your cheeks, prickling at your skin when you realise he must have tasted you from his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, fisting the covers as your body shudders in desperation. You can't wait any longer. You've waited long enough to be here with him.

"Fuck me, Mando," you burst out, taking his words to heart, that you should ask for what you need.

The Mandalorian lets out a dark chuckle before you hear the whisper of fabric, the soft flump of clothes hitting the floor, and then his weight is over you, pressing you down into the mattress, his thick cock pressing up against your core.

"You can call me Din, when we are alone."

Din. The name rings in your ears. Din. You don't know what this means, that he's given you his name, but something aches in your chest at the trust. There really was no going back now.

"Please, Din. I need you. I want you."

He groans as his name passes your lips for the first time, his cock rutting up against your wet folds, soaking himself in your slick.

"Good girl, finally asking for what she wants."

Lining himself up at your entrance he presses into you slowly, inch by inch, allowing you to adjust as he stretches your walls. Every feeling is heightened without your vision — his weight over you, his arms caging you in, the fullness of his cock as he bottoms out, splitting you open, the wet squelch of your pussy, the way his whisper sounds like a yell as he leans down.

"I've thought about you like this so much. Filling you," he delivers a devastating thrust that tears a moan from your throat before you can stop it. "Made myself cum so many times thinking about how you'd taste. How good you would be, all pretty spread out for me." Another hard, slow thrust. "How you'd cum on my tongue over and over until you can't take anymore. And then I'd fuck you, slowly."

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, desperate for him to stop talking before you cum too quickly, or maybe to keep talking, you aren't sure. All you know is nothing could turn you on more than the thought of him, cock in fist, whining your name as he thought about eating your pussy.

"Please," you whine helplessly as he rolls his hips deep and slow, pressing up against that one spot that makes you see stars.

"This is mine now. You are mine now," he growls, continuing his leisurely pace.

"Yours. Only yours. Always yours," you agree with a helpless nod, arching your back, pressing yourself against him, taking everything he offers.

Except it isn't enough. The unhurried thrusts press against all the right spots, but it's only enough to leave you frustratingly close to oblivion, but never enough to throw you into the abyss.

"Din, I need…i-i…n-uhh," you cut off into a moan as he delivers another deep thrust.

"I know Cyar'ika," he groans, pausing deep inside you to capture your lips in a messy kiss that's all tongue and teeth. You're not sure if the entire lack of movement is somehow worse.

When the Mandalorian finally pulls away he growls in your ear, a noise that makes your pussy clench around his cock.

"I'd find something to hold onto if I was you."

He pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you, before he thrusts back in, setting a hard fast pace that has you cambering for purchase on the bed. Your fingers curl around the edge of the mattress, trying to hold yourself in place as each hard thrust pushes you further up the small cot.

It's too much. When you think you can't possibly get any fuller, he somehow finds a way to thrust deeper, making your eyes roll behind your closed eyelids.

The pleasure at the pace and depth is more than you've ever experienced. It verges somewhere between pain and rapture. It's consuming, drowning, it's everything you need.

You all but scream his name as you finally cum, your body taunt and trembling beneath him, aching fingers gripping the bed for life. Your blood pulses in your ears, white explodes behind your eyelids, it's impossible to get enough air into your lungs.

You might black out for a moment, because when you finally come back to yourself, limbs heavy and shaky, Din is whispering soft praises in your ear.

"So good for me. Taking me so well. Pretty little pussy so good," he slurs, pressing deeper into you as you bury your whines against his neck, trembling with overstimulation. His thrusts are sloppy and mistimed as he rambles in your ear, whispering filth and praises, before he suddenly pulls out of you, letting out a long groan of relief as he splatters your stomach with hot bursts of cum.

For a long moment afterwards, there is only the sound of heavy breathing between you, then his lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

It's gentle and slow, it's more than just a kiss between lovers, it's a promise, but for what, you aren't quite sure yet.

"Stay here," he instructs gently. This time it actually sounds like a request.

The mattress moves and creaks as the Mandalorian gets up, leaving you alone, sweat drenched and covered in cum. It isn't exactly how you pictured your night ending, but you certainly aren't complaining.

Just as you are starting to get anxious that he's been gone so long, you hear soft footfalls and the bed sinks again.

"I'm going to clean you up," he informs you, before a warm wet towel swipes across your stomach, cleaning up the traces of his climax, before he moves down, to clean your slick from your thighs. You're thankful he doesn't make a meal of cleaning your sensitive cunt, clearly taking note of the way you hiss in overstimulation when he swipes the cloth over your folds.

When he's done he settles himself next to you in the small cot, pulling you to lay on your side, his arm thrown casually over your waist, keeping you close.

"So," you speak quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness that has settled around you, "you weren't mad about the whole finger bite?"

The Mandalorian chuckles, a genuine amused laugh, that makes your chest ache with affection. You want to make him laugh again. You want to make him laugh every day.

"No, Cyar'ika," he sighs, "I wasn't mad. Just frustrated."

"With me?"

"With myself," the Mandalorian answers quickly, his fingers softly tracing your skin. Since he doesn't elaborate, you decide not to ask anything further. Maybe one day you can both explain how this took so long, but this isn't the time.

"What does Cyar'ika mean?" You question, changing the subject, and if you were honest, using talking as an excuse to keep him in your bed a while longer.

"It's a term of affection. An approximation of darling I suppose. But I can call you something else if you prefer?"

"No," you shake your head passionately. "I like Cyar'ika."

"Good," he answers simply. "Now if you are done with your questions, open your eyes."

It takes a moment for his request to sink in and for the first time, you don't comply.

"B-but-"

"Open your eyes," he cuts in quietly, a hand wrapping around your thigh, pulling your legs open as he shifts between them once more, pressing you to lay back against the mattress. "I want to taste you, and this time, I want to see those pretty eyes when I make you scream."

Your heart jumps, your mouth is dry, your thighs tremble.

You open your eyes.

—-----------

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please take the time to reblog and let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from readers more than anything!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeants's Senator | Prologue

Summary: The Bad Batch has a newly added member of the team who can't seem to stop asking questions.

Warning: none

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 1.1k words

Series Masterlist

Note: In honor of the trailer dropping today, I have decided to release the first part earlier than anticipated! New chapters should come out consistently because the whole story is already written.

(THIS CHAPTER TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 AND DURING THE FIRST EPISODE OF SEASON 1 OF BAD BATCH FOR THOSE CURIOUS.)

The Marauder was flying silently through hyperspace with a final destination locked into the coordinates. The four remaining members of Clone Force 99 had just narrowly escaped Kamino, leaving behind one of their own. But luckily, they had gained another.

It was a little girl who was named Omega. She had taken an interest in Clone Force 99 upon the return of their mission on Kallar. It was later revealed to them that she was a clone just like them, which inclined them to bring her along with them as they fled Kamino and the newly established Empire.

Now, having just narrowly made an escape, Tech was flying the ship somewhere else. He put in the coordinates for a desolate planet and made sure to hold the wheel steadily as he steered. They'd be heading for Saleucami. Echo sat beside him in the co-pilot seat.

Behind the pilot's seat, Wrecker was sitting beside one of the control panels and Omega sat in the seat across from his. The two of them were talking quietly to themselves, sharing how exciting their escape had just been.

In the background, Hunter silently turned around in his place to exit the cockpit. He wanted to be alone, which meant leaving the others for a short time. Unbeknownst to him, Omega watched him walk away with curious eyes. She wondered if she should follow him.

Now Hunter walked into the backroom where their bunks were located. He lowered himself to sit on his own bunk, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs. He sat in silence even though a million thoughts and voices were filling his head.

In the background, Omega had poked her head into the doorway. She made sure not to be seen, but she wanted to see what he was up to. He thought a moment longer before reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a small device. His thumb brushed against the button, pressing it gently to activate the holo-photo.

From Omega's perspective, she wasn't able to see the face of the person in the hologram. She only saw the back of the person's head and the back of the long dress. Her eyes shifted upwards slightly to see Hunter's reaction.

For some reason, there were tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at the hologram. His shoulders hunched over; his head drooping low until his chin rested against his chest. He clutched the device tightly. A broken sob escaped past his lips.

Just then, Omega's shoulders seemed to relax at her sides at the sight. She forced herself to take a single step into the room with the desire of wanting to comfort him. However, at the sound of her approaching footsteps, Hunter clicked the hologram off and stuffed it back into his pocket quickly. He sniffled once to hide the tears that nearly streamed down his face. He avoided eye contact with her.

"Who is she?" Omega inquired innocently. Her eyes shined with sympathy for him.

With some hesitation, Hunter quickly glanced at her through the corner of his eye. The walls he built started to come back up once again. He chose to not say anything and redirected his attention elsewhere. But Omega pressed on.

"She looks pretty," Omega's voice hinted at a small smile. She took another step towards him. She tried to meet his gaze, but he continued to avoid her. "Is she a princess?"

"Look kid," Hunter interrupted her. He released a loud sigh. "I don't really want to talk about her."

"O-Okay," Omega nodded her head understandingly. She wondered if he was just tired since it had been a long day. "Maybe some other time."

"No, I mean...I don't want to talk about her," Hunter reinforced his words. He looked her dead in the eyes. "Not now, not ever."

Although Omega had a million questions circling around her head, she thought it would be better to remain quiet in this particular situation. She gave a single nod of the head understandingly, choosing to drop the subject despite her curiosity. She took a step back to give him space.

Leaving the backroom, Omega went back into the cockpit to join the others silently. The door slid closed behind her. She flopped down into one of the seats, which earned a glance from Wrecker who sat in the seat beside her. She took her time to glance at each of the three clones sitting in the cockpit, wondering how much they knew about the situation with the sergeant.

"Who was she?" Omega inquired one final time.

Upon hearing her question, Omega noticed how Tech's shoulders tensed and his grip on the wheel tightened. She also saw how Echo had looked over to Tech as if expecting him to provide an explanation. Now turning to Wrecker, Omega saw the blank expression on his face and how his eyes stared off into nothing. They pondered her question in silence.

"Listen kid," Echo spoke up first. He looked over his shoulder from his seat. "It's an awfully long story. And I'm not sure if we should be the ones telling it."

"Hunter won't say anything," Omega said rather sadly. She shrugged her shoulders. "It's like he doesn't want to talk about her."

"Well, I don't blame him. It's hard to talk about what happened. He's still processing it," Echo defended.

"He's been processing for a while," Wrecker claimed with a groan. He tried to recall how long it had been since it all happened. "It's been two years already."

"Some wounds never heal," Echo replied to this sorrowfully.

"What did happen?" Omega pressed again. She only received silence from them.

For a moment, Echo thought about answering the question. The wheels were turning in his head, processing what kind of response he could come up with. But it wouldn't have been a simple one.

"Let's just say," Tech interrupted his train of thought. "Clones are not supposed to form attachments. And Hunter did."

"With her?" Omega clarified.

"That would be the only logical explanation as to why he has a hologram of her, isn't it?" Tech replied as his usual self. He received a sharp glare from Echo.

"Did he fall in love with her?" Omega wondered. The three clones felt their breaths catch in the back of their thoughts upon hearing the weighted question.

"It...depends on how you define love," Tech tried to convince her.

"Tech," Echo warned him with a hard look.

"Fine," Tech brushed it off with a roll of the eyes. "He did love her...in his own way."

"So what happened to her?" Omega asked sadly.

"Perhaps it would easier if we did tell you," Tech thought. He contemplated for a moment. "We do have a long journey ahead of us."

With that, Omega sat up in her chair with a beaming smile on her face. She leaned forward with anticipation, lowering her eyebrows onto the tops of her knees. She listened intently as the clones began to tell their rendition of the story that happened so long ago.

CHAPTER ONE HERE

Taglist:

@totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl

#the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper hunter #tbb hunter #bad batch hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x senator #crosshair #tech #echo #wrecker #the marauder ship #tbb hunter series #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter angst #tbb hunter imagine #tbb hunter x fem!reader senator

[thedarkcoven]

You’re My New Addiction | JL x Reader

Jake Lockley x f!Reader.

Stalker!Jake Lockley. Dark!JakeLockley (obvi). Choking. Hair Pulling. Mentions of alcohol. Smut without Plot? Teasing. Biting/marking. P in v (no protection- wrap it before you tap it). Noncon/dubcon. Knife play. Bondage themes (ie: using duct tape to tie reader up, using fingers as a gag). Semi-public sex (Sex in his limo). Jake is a rough man (Marc like to get to the point). Some Dark!Steven x Reader. Some Dark!Marc x Reader. Noneducated depiction of DID (MCU writing- also not a Spanish speaker so sorry if its incorrect)

No edit/nothin but word vomit. Sorry for any mistakes lol

- Dark themes. This writing isn't for everyone just an fyi so if you're not into that sorta stuff then don't read- i want everyone that visits my blog to feel comfy with what they like. Sorry if its not the best. Was kinda rushed and this is my very first Moon knight writing <3

  Word Count: 1,487

Taglist:

@restless-mama​

@charmed-asylum​

@melodygatesauthor​

If anyone wishes to be added/removed please let me know

The sound of the bassy club music was deafening, making your body vibrate with each beat as you and some of your female friends danced together, drunk and giggling from downing a shit ton of your favorite drinks. You told your friends you were going to call for a cab as you gave them goodbye hugs. You knew you were at your stopping point and there was a man making you feel uncomfortable.  

You let out a shaky breath as you pulled your jacket close to yourself, looking around nervously as you began to walk quickly, going into a nearby alleyway that you usually took for a shortcut to your apartment. The sound of footsteps echoing behind you made you shiver as you reached into your pocket to grab your keys to use as a weapon. Before you could wrap your hands around them a leather-gloved hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes widened as the smell of cigars and cologne filled your nostrils. A dark chuckle vibrated against you as someone held a knife against your throat.  

"Now now, sweetheart. No fighting me, alright? And I won't hurt you. I promise." He smirked as he began forcing you back to where you came from toward a white limo.  

The interior was cherry red leather. The seats squeaked slightly under your weight as the man quickly placed you into a seat. He grabbed the duct tape that was in the seat beside you and taped your wrists together. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of the man in front of you. His eyes were dark as chocolates, his skin sun-kissed, his lips in a tight line of concentration before using the same knife from earlier to cut the tape.  

Your eyes widened as the man's eyes met yours with a smirk on his face. He tutted his tongue when you quickly averted your gaze away from him but he wasn't stupid. He gripped your jaw firmly, forcing you to stare at him, his smirk widening into a grin as he stares you up and down as if to size you up; his tongue swiping across his bottom lips to wet them.  

"Oh, we're going to have so much fun, Cariño" The man spoke, sending shivers up your spine and a pool of arousal straight to your core.  

You jumped slightly as he slammed the door shut before climbing into the driver seat, opening the window panel that separated the front from the back, and glanced back at you before driving. You could hear him rambling on to himself as he kept glancing at the mirror.  

Something inside of you was telling you to try and escape. Call for help from the window. But something inside of you was telling you no. But why? What if the man decided to end you after he was finished getting what he wanted. You were most likely going to be used as a toy and thrown into a ditch somewhere.  

Amid your thoughts, you were unaware of the man stopping in a dark wooded area that was a few miles away from the town. He opened your door and fixed his leather gloves causing them to squeak slightly with his movements as he grinned down at you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and quickly began scooting away from him to scream for help. Would anyone even hear you? Before you could get a sound out the man climbed on top of you, placing his hand around your throat as he held you close. His mouth centimeters from your ear as he pressed himself into your ass making sure you could feel his erection that was struggling against the fabric of his black slacks. He let out a deep groan as you squirmed against him, causing you to rut against his cock that so desperately needed to be buried deep inside the warmth of your soaked channel. You let out a loud whine as he pushed you onto your back, a sadistic smirk on his face as he pulled his knife from his pocket.

Your eyes widened as he brought the face up to your face, dragging the sharp tip down your sensitive skin down to your chest and dragging it slowly along your clavicle leaving a trail of red welts in its wake before pushing under your left strap of your dress and pulling it toward the side making the strap fall loose in two pieces exposing your black lace bra. A low guttural growl vibrated his chest as he took in the sight of you after doing the same to your second strap and tossing your dress off to the side.  

The man gripped your hips and began grinding his hips into yours, pressing his lips to yours before he tensed, throwing his head back and his eyes rolling back. He looked down at you, his demeanor changing as his brown eyes scanned your body.  

“Holy hell, love. Arent you just a fantastic sight? So-Sorry about all these. Just couldn’t help ourselves now could we. M’name is Steven with a V. Thank the gods Jake finally got you where we wanted you.”  

“The hell?”  

“Sorry yeah um, the body is shared by three different people. Marc is the host, Jake and and I are an alter, and who ever fronts is who you get a joy of bein’ with, love. Hope this doesn’t affect your thoughts on us. I-I mean of course they won't. We’ve been watchin’ you for quite some time. Bit excitin’ innit? We just had to get you. You’re our new addiction after all.” He gripped your thighs as his eyes rolled back again.  

When he came to his appearance seemed to change again. He seemed more dark and mysterious, his thick brows furrowing together as he clenched his jaw as if he was pissed off. And boy was he. He snarled as he flipped you onto your stomach, ripping your lace underwear off as if they were nothing, pulling your ass back against the erection that was begging for attention roughly as he shoved two thick fingers into your mouth.  

“You know the thing about Steven and Jake... they like to take their sweet ass time and draw things out. Work you up where as I...” he quickly undone his belt and pants with one hand, pulling his aching cock free before pushing the thick leaking head against your tight entrance. Slamming his hips into yours not letting you adjust as he slammed his hips into yours over and over at a punishing pace. The sound of wet noises and your muffled sobs rang through the car, fogging up the dark glass. “I like- to – get – to - the – fucking - point.”  

Marc groaned loudly as he used his hand that still had two fingers in your mouth to pull you back until you were on your knees and your back pressed against his front. It was painful yet gave a deliciously new angle that he abused your cunt with. Your drool drenching his arm as he reached his free hand around to rub your clit as he pounded into you. While your brain melted, Jake fronted, Spanish profanities slipping from his lips as he continued what Marc was doing. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and moved his hand down to your throat, squeezing hard but not enough to block your breathing.  

All you could do was whimper and beg, nonsense falling from your tongue as they made a mess of you. Jake smirked at the cute noises you were making, their names leaving your beautiful swollen lips as tears streaked your face. His hips snapped harder up into you, the tip of his fat cock brushing against your special spot that made you lose control repeatedly until you were gushing, soaking his pants and the floor of the limo.  

“Holy fuck, Princesa. Your cunt just made such a big fucking mess on my cock. Such a good girl for us, aren't you? Letting us tear you open and being obedient for us. Gonna fill – fuck- gonna fill this tight little hole up until you can’t hold anymore. You’re our now, sweetheart.” Jake’s thrusts became sloppy as he rubbed your clit faster, making you clench tightly around the base of his throbbing length, the girth spreading you open a bit more as he began twitching inside of you.  

He pulled whimpers from you as you felt the warmth of his hot spend filling you to the brim while he rocked your hips into his softly until you were both cooled down from your highs. Jake smirked as he placed you onto your back and fixing his pants before giving you a quick kiss to your lips.  

“Now. It's time for us to go home. Got to get some rest so we can continue breaking in our new little toy. When I’m done with you. You’re not going to be able to walk for a few days.”

#Moon Knight #moon boys #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #dark!moon boys #dark!moon knight #dark!marc #dark!steven #dark!jake lockley #sorry this got posted a tad bit late #tumblr gave me issues cause it didnt wanna post lol

[ro-is-struggling]

Hello Hello & Congratulations

Recently gotten back into some Bucky feels & wanted to ask for him with lyric prompt 2 please! Made myself laugh with a friends to lovers idea where you're cooking for Sam & Buck & Sam slides a magnet into your back pocket cause obviously he's the best wingman (& tired of the pinning). Then I found comic panels with Buck & a little white cat & if that's Alpine!! & that first show prompt is open... Don't want to over ask but just know if it's down to the wire & no one asks for it...someone asked for it >.> Thanks for reading and stay hydrated!

Hi beautiful! Thank you so much for participating in the celebration and I’m so sorry it took me so long to post this! I LOVED this prompt and the little twist you gave it so much I wrote this in like a few hours. It’s short and sweet, I hope you like it💜💜💜

More Than Friends || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sam is tired of always getting caught in the middle of the flirting and nervous glances you and Bucky subject him to every time you're in the same room, so he comes up with a plan to give you two the little push you so desperately need to confess your feelings —and laugh at you along the way.

Warnings: set somewhere after civil war where team cap is on the run together, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, humor, Sam being tired of your shit 

English is not my first language

Word count: 2000

Notes: I'm pretty sure this one is gender neutral? but I wrote it with a fem reader in mind so I'll tag it like that just in case some description slipped my tired brain while editing

This fic is part of my 600 followers celeration

Sam was tired of watching you and Bucky dance around the feelings you two clearly had for each other. Sometimes he thought you were doing it on purpose, like some kind of elaborate prank to torture him as revenge for the times he made fun of you. It was the only logical explanation he could find for your attitude. Otherwise he didn't understand why you would continually refuse to face the obvious. You were in love and everyone seemed to see it but you.

Life on the run was torture when he was stuck with the two of you. Watching you two get flustered from being crammed in the back seat of the car, Sam really thought that maybe he should have taken the Clint and Scott route and made a deal with the authorities. Home detention sounded so much better compared to the heavy tension in the air that seemed to follow you everywhere. On particularly bad days - like that time a man flirted with you in a bar and Bucky was in a bad mood all day - even traditional jail seemed like paradise in comparison. 

Sam had tried everything to help you. He used to leave you alone on missions, put you in the same hotel room under the pretense that they had no more rooms, even made you sit together in the back of the car when you traveled. But despite all his efforts, you were no closer to facing your feelings than when he started. Even his subtle comments and pep talks didn't help. Every time he even dared to bring up your feelings, you acted confused and dismissed his words. He had tried it with Bucky and with you separately and you both had had almost the same response, which only proved Sam's point. 

The rest of the team was tired of you too, but since they didn't have to spend half as much time as he usually did stuck with you, they didn't care. Wanda would disappear from time to time to see Vision, and Steve and Natasha were usually together in their own little world, figuring out what the next step would be. Which left him stuck with Bucky, you and the unbearable tension in the air. That's why no one understood his suffering and therefore no one was willing to help him. 

Steve and Nat had told him that he should give you time, that eventually you would figure out your feelings and everything would get better. But Sam was beginning to think that would never happen. You had been dancing around each other since the day you met and showed no signs of changing. He had done everything he could to help you in subtle ways —talking to you privately or creating certain situations without your knowledge— all so as not to expose you and embarrass you, but apparently that was exactly what you needed, for something to expose your feelings and force you to confront them. And he had the perfect idea.

It came to him suddenly as he watched the two of you struggling to get comfortable in the back seat of the car. It was way too small a model, clearly not meant to comfortably transport a super soldier, so Bucky ended up taking up more than half the seat. Sam watched as he fiddled nervously with his hands, adjusting his position every five minutes to make sure his legs didn't accidentally brush yours. And as the sunlight beamed on his metal arm, Sam chuckled to himself at the thought that maybe next time he should give you pants made of magnets just to annoy Bucky. 

It was like a light switched on in his head. It was the perfect way to get back at you while helping you deal with your feelings. A hilarious idea all around that made Sam proud of his creativity. It wasn't hard to execute either, he just bought some magnets and waited for you to leave the bag with your belongings unattended to slip them into the back pocket of one of your pants. 

Not knowing when you would end up wearing said article of clothing added a layer of spontaneity to the situation. Even Sam had forgotten which pants he had chosen and when he saw you emerge from your room in the morning he didn't even realize his plan had been set in motion.

It was the first time in a long time that you hadn't slept in a crappy motel. Thanks to an old contact of Natasha's, you were able to stay in a safe house that had several rooms, good water pressure and a large kitchen. It wasn't the Avengers compound, but it was much better than the places you'd become accustomed to living. So, to celebrate you decided to prepare breakfast for the whole team.

You didn't let anyone help you, the very idea of someone else hanging around the kitchen while you worked on the pancakes made you anxious. You weren't a great cook by any means, but you found it easier and more relaxing to work when you had total control of the kitchen. So you sent everyone to wait elsewhere while you finished cooking. Steve opted to go out for his morning run and Natasha went back to bed, mumbling something about being woken up when there was food on the table. That left you with Sam, who settled down at the kitchen island with a glass of water to chat and keep you company. And not long after, Bucky popped his head through the door frame.

"Bucky! Just the guy I needed right now!" you said with a smile as you saw him enter the kitchen, dragging his feet as he rubbed his eyes to shake off the sleep. "Breakfast is almost ready, could you get the plates from the cabinet, please?"

Sam didn't think much of it, only that he would have to prepare himself for a morning of uncomfortable looks and flushed cheeks since you were in Bucky's way and to help you he would undoubtedly have to get closer to you than he seemed to be able to handle normally. Sam didn't remember his little joke until he felt the unexpected gasp you let out when Bucky's metal hand made contact with your backside as he reached behind you for the cabinet. He nearly choked on his water, laughter getting stuck in his throat as he watched Bucky panic, not understanding what had happened.

"I-I didn't... I mean, I'm sorry, I..." The super soldier tried hard to form a coherent sentence, but his mind was short-circuiting and his cheeks were turning a vivid shade of pink as he pulled his hand away from your body with difficulty. There was an inexplicable pull that drew him to you, making his metal arm move of its own accord, seeking to cling to you again. Bucky had to take a few steps back from you to make sure that didn't happen again. 

"Well, the cat is out of the bag. Finally!" Sam exclaimed with a mischievous grin that told Bucky everything he needed to know. "Although to be honest, I was hoping you'd find a more subtle way to confess your feelings, Buck. Or at least do it in private."

"You did this?" Bucky asked, though he already knew the answer. Sam simply let out a long laugh as he rose from his seat and disappeared out the kitchen door. "You're dead, Wilson!"

“What is he talking about?”

The sound of your voice snapped Bucky out of his angry state, his gaze softening as it settled on your confused expression. The urge to murder Sam faded as he panicked, searching for an answer to give you. This wasn't the way he would have liked to confess his feelings for you, but he couldn't lie to you either-Sam had made sure of that.

"I..." Bucky hesitated, having trouble finding the courage to tell you the truth. He could hardly remember when he had last been in that position of vulnerability, having to search for the right words to express feelings he didn't know how to describe. He was rusty, the skills and confidence that characterized his younger self had been buried in the past and now he had no idea what to say to you.

"Yes?" You spoke as he fell silent, looking up at him with glittering eyes waiting to hear that thing you'd been dreaming of since the moment you two met.

Bucky sighed, defeated. "I like you, doll, like more than just a friend." He said finally, cringing at his poor choice of words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out this way. It's just that Sam figured it out and has been pressuring me to talk to you about it and I guess he got tired of waiting and did all this to fuck with me."

Bucky was rambling, talking at a speed that was not normal for him. He was also having trouble making eye contact with you, his eyes looking at everything but you. You'd never seen him this... nervous. He was nervous. His cheeks turned a darker shade of pink with each passing second and he spoke so fast that his tongue threatened to get stuck halfway through each word. He was so adorable that you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"I'm glad that he did." It took Bucky a few seconds to process your words, his flustered expression slowly morphing into a frown of confusion.

"What?" he muttered and you smiled. 

Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled the magnet out. It rested flat in the palm of your hand as you got closer to Bucky. In an instant, his metal hand was on top of yours, cold against the soft, warm skin. You intertwined your fingers with his, your smile widening as he copied your movements.

"I might have to thank him later because, you see, I kinda like you too. And I've been trying to do something about it for so long but I just couldn't, so Sam kinda saved me there cause I was starting to lose it." You let out a chuckle and Bucky joined you, completely understanding the sentiment.

The room fell silent, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable like other times. Although you could still feel the tension in the air as Brucky's gaze traveled from your eyes to your joined hands, lingering on your lips for longer than necessary. He took a step toward you and your breath caught in your throat, your insides vibrating with anticipation.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was a soft whisper. His warm breath collided against the sensitive skin of your face as he rested his forehead on yours, looking up at you through his eyelashes with a hint of desperation. He was waiting for your consent, needing to hear it from your voice before proceeding.

"Please." It was all you could say before Bucky's lips crashed against yours.

It was a soft, slow kiss. Bucky's lips moved with torturous sensuality over yours, a gentle brush that barely satiated your need for him. But despite that, you let him guide the kiss to ensure his comfort. Bucky wasn't usually comfortable with physical contact —not after all he'd been through— and you knew this was a big step for him. So you embraced the softness of his kisses, quieting that voice in your mind that was screaming for you to grab his face and intensify it. It was tempting, yes, but you would have time for that.

Bucky didn't pull away from you immediately when you broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed against yours as his flesh hand traveled upward to caress your cheek. He looked at you with complete adoration, his fingers gently stroking your skin, as if he couldn't believe what was happening, as if he was afraid of being too rough and breaking the fantasy into a thousand pieces. Then he let out a chuckle and a smile broke out on your face as you heard such a sweet melody.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, is just that... Sam is never gonna let this go."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #ro's 600 followers celebration

[watercolorfreckles]

Glass Havan part 5 would be lovely!!! This is such fun to read and really brightens my day!!! You're super talented ❤❤

Thank you! Sorry it has taken an eternity. Thank you to @creweemmaeec11 for helping me brainstorm.

Part 4

Glass Haven Part 5

cw: threat of violence, taser, slight mention of blood

The arms on the clock ticked on as if tallying the dull hours that passed. It was annoying, at first. Eventually, the staccato tick-tock faded into the background, a sound steady and constant as Civilian's heartbeat.

Time seemed to crawl.

Civilian had nothing to do but get lost in her own thoughts. She imagined Villain striking down his enemies, the ones who threatened her, and using their bones as decorations as he had so morbidly suggested with that passive expression. She pictured their blood staining his clothes. Break them, he'd said. He'd said it as if it were nothing at all.

It made her feel very lucky she was not the one in his way.

Perhaps he only said it to see Civilian squirm, to remind her he was no hero.

And yet... Here she was: perched on a soft bed, safe, instead of bleeding out in an alley somewhere or tied to an interrogation table.

The air conditioning chilled the room, tugging Civilian's thoughts back to the present. Goosebumps prickled her skin. Sitting up, she finally slipped her arms into the holes of Villain's leather jacket.

It felt wrong to put it on properly. She was not some over-the-moon girlfriend gifted a jacket by a pining crush. This was Villain's jacket.

It felt some invasion to wear it, like stealing the robes of a king.

The fabric was warm and inviting against her skin, smelling faintly of Villain's expensive cologne; of fine spices and a withering fire.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Her shoes squeaked, still damp from the rain.

Civilian opted to wander the halls for the third time since Villain had left her alone.

Ambling into the hall, Civilian started trying door knobs. As expected, most were locked. Apart from the cozy communal space at the end of the corridor, the passage stretched white-walled and empty, devoid of personality or furnishings.

Still, it far outweighed the dark dungeons she'd imagined a villain's lair to hold.

Civilian paused.

Well, she'd only seen the one wing. Who's to say there wasn't a medieval torture chamber somewhere?

Her veins sloshed icy again at the thought.

Jiggling another locked doorknob, Civilian sighed.

Who knew a Villain's base could be so boring.

Civilian froze at the sound of the air sizzling behind her, sharp and cracking.

"Well, looks like Villain not keeping track of his pet very well, mm?"

Civilian turned around to face the- not stranger. Todd.

He held a stun baton, the end jumping to life with blue static when he pressed the button.

His face was still bruised, red lines in the process of healing from when Villain had tossed him through her greenhouse. So easily, as if he weighed nothing.

"You're not what I'm here for, but you may be useful."

Todd stepped toward Civilian and she stumbled backward, away from the glowing end of the intruder's taser.

"Imagine my surprise," Todd continued closer, ignoring her retreat away from him, "when I sent my men to pick you up and Villain swooped you to safety instead. At first I thought you were working for Hero. But now... 'You Villain's lover or something?"

Civilian's back hit metal. She glanced back, startled, at the door sealing her off from the rest of the base.

Sealing her fate, too, in this case. She felt dizzy.

Civilian swallowed. "I don't even know him, really," she said, voice wobbling only slightly. "H-He said it was the principle of the matter. You going after something you presume to belong to him... Or... something like that." She grew quiet at the end, staring.

The smile on the criminal's face was cold. It split his features like it didn't belong there. "Well, then. By the principal. I can't let him humiliate me, can I?"

Her gaze darted to the panel requiring a handprint and password in order to allow entry. Useless to her.

Todd seized her arm and Civilian panicked, jerking back.

When that only succeeded in ramming herself into the steel door, she flailed and stomped on Todd's foot. He cursed, letting go.

She ducked beneath his arm for escape, but the intruder looped the arm across her neck, yanking her back hard enough to steal her breath.

Civilian squealed, breathing hard.

"Quiet, now," Todd hissed against her ear. "Don't want to alarm anyone, do we?"

Civilian bit down hard on his hand.

He dropped her--and the stun cane--with a growl.

Snatching the taser up from the floor, Civilian pressed it against the code panel, holding the button down. It lit up blue, electronics sparking as the screen blipped to black under the surge of electricity.

The door opened.

Civilian's stomach leapt.

She dove through the doorway, running into the first room she saw. With trembling fingers, she slammed the door shut.

Todd's footsteps skidded to a halt outside the door, his fist pounding it once.

Civilian jumped.

"No matter. Thanks for getting me in, civi. I'll just let you hang out there for a while." Todd's voice was muffled through the thick metal.

Something slid against of the door on the outside.

Civilian's pulse lurched. She pushed on the door once, then again. It wouldn't budge. She was trapped; in a restricted area, no less.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

What would Todd do when he came back?

What would Villain do?

Once the footsteps retreated down the hall, Civilian flipped on the light. It flickered on, bathing the room in a fluorescent wash of white light.

Civilian's gaze landed on the plaque above the door, reading Lab #3.

She turned around to study the contents of the room, from blackboards covered in scrawlings, gurneys of supplies and beakers, to-

-to a table of rare plants, a mortar and pestle, and a vial of something dark and swirling.

Despite herself, Civilian felt a twinge of excitement at the sight of several plants she had only seen in books. Moving closer, she examined them.

Foxglove, wolfsbane, Nerium oleander, dracunculus vulgaris... all highly poisonous.

Civilian's insides fluttered all the same, admiring the flowers from a safe distance. Even touching some of them would result in a reaction.

What does a villain with super strength need poison for?

She lifted a small stack of papers, sifting through them. Different combinations of poisonous plants and their effects were written line after line, some crossed out.

Minutes passed, then an hour.

Yanking on the door again brought Civilian nowhere. She raised a hand to pound against it, when she heard the sound of something being pushed away from the door.

Grabbing the stun cane and brandishing it in front of her, Civilian stood back as the door swung open.

Adrenaline alight, she lunged, electricity crackling at the head of the taser.

Villain's arm looped around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest, the other hand twisting the baton out of her grip.

The sparks fizzled against the air again when Villain's fingers brushed the button in the scuffle, the end mere inches from Civilian's neck. He yanked it further away, sparing her from the crackling shock.

Civilian froze, unsure whether to be relieved or very, very frightened.

"Villain," she croaked, panting. "I didn't know it was you. Sorry."

She felt him smile against her ear. "Kitten. You're not trying to kill me in my own base, are you?"

"N-No. Definitely not. I thought you were Todd." Civilian felt a little breathless.

"Oh, I took care of him."

"Took...care of him?"

Villain let go of Civilian, letting her turn to face him. She stared at a small spattering of blood that decorated Villain's collar. Certainly not the drench of carnage she'd envisioned earlier, but, well, blood all the same.

This was all very real, wasn't it?

Villain's smile stretched higher, green eyes catching the light like the glass of a broken bottle. "He's in the dungeon, dearest. Still alive. For now."

Civilian swallowed. "Right."

Right, right, right.

"This is a restricted area."

"Really? I hardly noticed while I was fleeing for my life."

Civilian stopped, remembering again who she was speaking to.

A low laugh rumbled in the Villain's chest. "I suppose I'll let it slide...just this once. Since you're very pretty."

Heat flooded Civilian's face. She opened her mouth to speak.

Villain's attention flicked behind her. "You didn't touch those, did you?

Civilian followed his gaze, turning around. "No. I know what they are. What are you trying to make?"

Villain surveyed her, as if deciding whether he should indulge her.

"Other Villain and Todd are working together. Todd used to work for me until he began spilling my secrets to them. Well, you can imagine he needs to reconcile for that. My strength is only of use to me at close range, and close combat is not effective against Other Villain. That," he continued, straightening his own jacket on Civilian's shoulders, "is why alternative methods are required for the rest."

"Oh gods, sorry," Civilian said with a jolt of embarrassment, beginning to tug the jacket off.

Villain stilled her with a hand on her shoulder.

A hand that could crush her bones to dust...

"Do keep it, won't you?" Villain purred. "It suits you. Like a kitten in a blanket."

Civilian found herself staring again, wide-eyed and charmed. She knew it was foolish and would only get her burned, but he was so...entrancing.

Civilian cleared her throat. "Those plants won't work together. The red one emits the smell of rotting meat to attract flies, it'll be traceable in food. The other two together would make even touching the...the corpse...toxic. You don't want to harm innocent people. Do you?"

"Not when I can avoid it," Villain said, leaning a hand against the table beside her.

Civilian fiddled with her sleeve.

"Well... if you used henbane in a small enough dose, it would knock them out long enough to capture them. Then you wouldn't have to kill Other Villain. Or anyone else along the way."

"Henbane?"

"Hyoscyamus niger."

Villain lifted her chin with a finger, coaxing her gaze to meet his again. "You are clever," he said. "You're sure you want to help me?"

Civilian looked up at him.

"Todd nearly killed me or took me or worse today... I'd sooner help you than be bait for any of them. I'm not a prop. I'm a person. Just a gardener. The sooner all of this can end, the better."

"Oh kitten," Villain murmured, head tilting slightly. That fond smile graced his artistically carved features. Even in the harsh lighting, cool and pale, he resembled a marble statue. "You're not just anything. What the hell. Let's give your ideas a shot, shall we?"

Super nervous about this. I pushed off writing it forever bc soo many ppl wanted it and i didn't want to mess it up. I'm semi-happy with this but i know its not perfect! I hope you enjoy it anyway and take a look at my other stuff as well :) Thank you SO much for all the kind comments and asks I've gotten, they mean so much to me. <3

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted , @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee-blog , @deflated-bouncingball  @maybe-a-cat42 , @m0chik0furan , @mercurymom, @fairysprinkless , @vuvulia , @classicplesiosaur, @amongtheonedaisy , @dabi-s-whore, @rose-pinkie , @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000 , @xxkitsurikaxx, @moonquires , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm , @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @pickleking8, @a-person-who-likes-musicals , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaotic1917 , @deckofaces,

#civilian x villain #glass haven #villain x civilian #civillian x villain #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writeblr #my writing #writers of tumblr #flash fiction #short stories #supervillain #villain #writing snippet

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: warnings: Mentions of abuse, drug use. wc: 2,840

The sun was beginning to set by the time the pair arrived at the trailer park. Heather would cast a glance towards the girl in the driver's seat, anticipating a look of judgment but nothing ever comes. Autumn merely squints and presses herself forward for a better view through the night. The tall lights flickering and providing little to no help through the shadows. She seeks guidance from the passenger, who directs her along the path until they arrive at their destination. At the rear end of the Jeep, Heather pulls her bike from the trunk and wheels it up to the porch, where it lays without chains.

“Welcome to the Hunter abode,” she speaks in a drawl, keys jingling in her free hand as she fumbles with the lock. She mumbles in annoyance. Confessing the key always manages to get stuck, so she has to wiggle it around until there’s a seamless fit. There’s almost a relieved sigh as all falls open - welcoming the two girls into the cozy, dimly lit home. Wood paneling hides behind framed photos and patterned curtains, the light from the television flickering across every surface. It holds a familiar feeling; like a home. Old cigarette smoke pouring out from the fabric, the smell of fried food working hard to disguise it.

“Give me a second, okay? I’ve got t’get this t’my mom.” The other girl gestures down to the brown paper bag, grease darkening a few scattered spots at the bottom. In a matter of seconds, she’s gone. Moving into the small kitchen and down the empty hallway, calling out for her mother who replies in delight at her daughter's return. Their conversation is buried between the walls that separate them—incoherent words paired with a few sudden fits of laughter.

Jealousy stares back at Autumn through reflections in the glass. An ugly thing that mocks and stews in misery. It points a finger and reminds you of what you no longer have, and if it would ever be that way again. She finds herself loosely trailing after her friend, lazy steps carrying her towards the canary yellow fridge decorated in magnets and polaroids. Some hold people she cannot recognize.

Grandparents, unknown family members, or strangers as they linger in the background. Others are all too familiar. A group of boys with wild outfits and wide smiles, or the many versions of Heather as she grew into who she was today. Pictures of her and what she believes to be her mother out at the beach, bucket and shovels in hand. Pictures of Christmas morning and Halloween night, or something a little more recent as they stand in front of a moving truck.

That jealousy begins to simmer out into nothing. Its haunting face is now stoic without harmful words spewed. It drinks in the unknown world of Heather Hunter, finding similarity in ways no one should. Heather is almost breathless when she reappears, face red from smiling for too long, not once faltering as she finds the girl's focus locked on a particular picture. “I know what you’re thinking,” she begins, finally catching Autumn’s attention. “What went wrong?”

The girl snorts, shaking her head in disagreement. It’s nowhere near close - but the thought brings a feeling of guilt. Yet still, it falls off of her tongue. “Has it always been you and your mom?”

She’s hardly phased, blowing a raspberry at first as her body shifts. It had become clear Autumn wasn’t the first to ask. “Nah. Dad’s out there, somewhere. Doin’ what he does best. Being an absolute piece of shit.” Her arms are crossed, her side resting just against the chilled surface as she waits in anticipation for a response. But her friend is left speechless, lips parted as if wanting to speak but unsure of what to say. Heather opts to fill the emptiness. “Mom and I had t’leave him. It just wasn’t safe.”

It’s all so casual. She even spares the shrug of a shoulder as if she hadn’t spent years of her life in physical and mental anguish. As if he never bruised her skin or broke glass at her mother's feet. Jealousy had shifted into something sorrowful. Reaching out to console another wounded bird, though she hardly seems unable to fly. She stands tall with wings at the ready, taking flight off into the freedom she had fought hard for. No more bars to cage in something once delicate, now a force to be reckoned with.

Something in the distance steals away their attention, eyes shifting to the concealed window as heavy equipment moves past, gears squeaking and pipes rattling from within. Autumn chances a look as she leans across the sink, prying back the short curtain to watch as a two-toned van comes to a stop not far from them. A dark figure nearly stumbles out, his silhouette recognizable even now. “Is that Eddie?”

The other leans in just at the girl’s side, eyes narrowed to peel back the darkness. Soon, a smile is etched into place. “Sure is.”

“That’s convenient. Being neighbors with your best friend?”

She shrugs, not seeing the importance of her words. “S’how we met. Want t’go say hi?” Autumn can barely register the thought, let alone reply before she’s dragged back the way she came. Heather shouting out to her mom that she would be at “Munson’s.” Along the way, Heather is suddenly struck by an idea as a few lights come to life from within his home. She instructs Autumn to crouch and follow her lead, creeping along the path until they can hear his music bouncing off of the walls. The pair move along the siding, looking all too suspicious. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of neighbors watching as two shadows stalk around his home, phone at the ready to call for police.

“What are we-?” The question is silenced as a hand cups her mouth, a single finger held midair to keep her from speaking.

Slowly, their skin parts and she watches in continued silence as Heather slowly stands before a closed window, the glow from within illuminating a look of pure joy. Without warning, her palm slams against the glass, immediately forcing out a shriek of fear from the boy. “Bitch!” he calls out from within, angered steps carrying him towards the window. “Let us in!” Heather cries out, still wearing a smile of pride.

“Us?” The curtains are pulled back and the window latch is flicked, ring-clad fingers gripping at the edge as he leans out for a better view. “Who is-? Oh,” he pauses, barely taking in the sight of a familiar girl at Heather’s side. “Hey, Reid.”

Heather doesn’t waste another second. Hardly letting Autumn return the gesture as she boldly states, “Put your porn away and open the door. We’ve got a situation.”

A small smile of amusement is seen in the shadows, yet a look of confusion in his eyes as he wasn’t entirely trusting of her words. “Yeah? What kind of situation?”

The bright eyes of Heather look back to the girl, a smile to suggest secrets on her lips. Autumn does nothing but cross her arms in wait, unsure of what was happening. “We’re in desperate need of some fun.”

His fingers tap against the siding, biting at his lower lip to resist mimicking her joyous expression. But he stands back, arms held out in good faith. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Eddie soon hurries off once the window is shut, his frantic steps heard echoing as he races for the front door. Without a word, the two girls follow after, waiting another moment beneath the porch light. Though the time was short, it was enough to tug on Heather’s interest as she spared a curious look at Autumn in suspicion.

The door is swung back, fingers hastily combing through his mess of hair with rings threatening to tangle in the strands. Once settled, his arm is outstretched as an invite, a mocking bow in his posture. “Ladies,” he says dramatically, waiting until they both settle into the warmth of his home. It’s a stark contrast to the Hunter’s. All beige and brown. The only color coming from a collection of mugs and caps from around the world.

“Were you actually hiding your porn?”

He tuts in disapproval, his finger waving in the air. “A gentleman never tells.”

But the girl knows better, turning to face her friend to confess the boy’s secrets. “He’s got about five magazines under th-”

“That’s enough!” Eddie cries out, a large hand moving to clamp over her face. He tucks her back against his chest, now dragging her through the small home and down the hall. All protests are muffled as she stumbles along the way. “C’mon, Reid.” He calls out. “The fun is this way.”

She doesn’t follow in their steps upon his command. She instead lingers, arms tight around her torso as she considers what the fuck she’s agreed to. With a steady intake of breath, she braces for what's to come. She’s in it now, and it would be even more painful to make an excuse and bail. So, with one forced step after another, she inches closer to his bedroom, where Heather cries out in disgust. “Your hand tastes like ass!”

There’s a brief pause between the two. “You know what ass tastes like? Ow!” The punch to his arm is hard enough to hear. A muted ‘thud’ followed by clumsy feet as he works to catch himself. The room is exactly what she imagines, matching his personality, or at least what she knows of it. Posters of familiar bands hang up on the walls, his guitar resting up against the dresser that's cluttered with everyday items. It's careless and free, just like him.

He rubs at the unseen injury, a look of agony on his face until he finds Autumn standing in the doorway. The flip seems to switch, then. A bright smile to light up the room as he gestures out to the small space. “Make yourself at home.” Heather is already making herself comfortable, the desk chair pulled out with legs kicked up onto the mattress. She can see the hesitation in the other, giving a kind smile and nod towards the bed. Autumn does as suggested - first just at the edge out of uncertainty. With further encouragement in the silence, she pulls her legs up to cross over one another, finding easy comfort.

Eddie keeps his back to them, mumbling to himself as he digs through the top drawer. She can hear the crinkle of plastic, his deep eyes studying the contents with care before dropping it all back into the depths. Once he finds what he’s looking for, he turns with a victorious cry. “Ah-ha!” The bag contains numerous, rolled joints. Tape across the surface marked with a date and a specific plant name. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Fuck yes it is,” Heather replies with a grunt, her body now stretched out to rip the contents from his grip. She pauses once the seam is torn open, eyes cautiously looking back to Autumn who has remained mostly silent. “Unless you don’t want to? We can have sober fun.”

She’s not left in the silence for long. The girl before her is already painfully aware of the ache in her ribcage. A heart turning to heavy stone before it shatters to rubble, unable to withstand the pressure life adds upon it. “I think it’s exactly what I need.” It’s all either two need as they settle down, smoke soon filling the air with every exhale. It’s all casual talk in the beginning, waiting for the high to creep in like a growing shadow. Eddie mentions Dungeons and Dragons, looking at Autumn expectantly from his place on the carpeted floor, body stretched out and relaxed.

“Oh, no, no-” She says in panic, waving away the cloud that spills from her lips. “I’ve got t’much going on t’be playing that.”

The boy’s head falls back in a fit of laughter, his linked feet swaying from side to side in pure bliss. “You say it with such disgust.”

The joint is passed across the way to an eagerly awaiting Heather, a smile on her lips as she watches her two friends dive deeper into a genuine friendship. “It’s not disgust.” Autumn corrects. “Doesn’t that game last, what? Months?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, a subtle shrug seen as a shit-eating grin grows. “Or like, years.”

“Years?” she practically shouts, eyes wide with disbelief. Eddie’s form is slowly becoming hazy. The colors around him slowly melting into one another, creating an abstract painting before her eyes. “You’re nuts.”

“Best way t’be.” He retorts. The boy follows after the lit embers, a moth to a flame. His torso is sagged forward, heavy as he carries the universe's weight on his shoulders. The inhale of his chest moves in near slow motion, a stupid look on his face as he surrenders to nature's beauty. Giving himself over to whatever she desired.

The room becomes a chaotic storm. Wild conversations and shouts of delight rebound off of the covered walls. Snacks spilling out onto the floor as heated debates began, with pointed fingers yet joy in their eyes. Laughter was always just around the corner. Even through the swarm of madness, and violent winds ripping the world away - it’s hard to miss the way he gravitates to her. An anchor to keep him steady as the eye of a hurricane tears through his sanctuary. Deep brown eyes linger on her when she’s not paying attention, and hers do the same. It’s painfully obvious even through the fog that threatens to blind them all. Autumn wonders if they even know what’s happening between them.

“Fuck.” Heather suddenly blurts out as an idea strikes her like a bolt of lightning. “D’you bring your cards?”

Autumn shakes her head, an effortless laugh rumbling within her chest. “It’s at home.” It’s the first time in a while that the word doesn’t carry a feeling of sorrow and longing. A feeling of emptiness as she wanders through life without a clear path.

“I wanted you t’scare him again.” His eyes roll dramatically, thinking back to the time he spent cowering away from the girl once she depicted his past and future. All written throughout his flesh.

“That’s not hard.” Autumn retorts, watching the way his focus snaps back at her, clearly offended while the girl at his side wears a look of pride.

“I think she just called you a ‘pussy.’”

A narrowed look aims in her direction, a feigned look of anger and a scowl on his lips. “You’re honestly a terrible friend.”

“I could read palms again. Things can always change.” She offers with a small shrug, watching as their eyes light up with excitement. But they never get that far. Heather had scrambled her way across the small space between them to sit at her friend's side, asking for a demonstration on reading palms and what it all means. She holds her hand out to Autumn, and with a delicate touch, she points to every curve and loop of chains. Heather can barely focus, eyes squinting as she pulls her skin closer, not truly seeing what the other could but playing along out of fascination.

Then, the confidence kicks in. She’s slipped from the bed and down onto the floor, where Eddie waits in silence. Heather is muttering to herself, studying both of his hands before taking favor of his left palm. Given the encouragement she needs, she studies through the haze of her high. At first, the action renders the boy pink in the cheeks. Wide eyes flickering elsewhere to ignore the embarrassment of such an intimate moment put on display. She doesn’t notice, but Autumn does.

Heather’s thumbs push and pull at the skin, looking for something that sparks with light in her mind. Then, a trembling smile comes to the surface, holding secrets hostage as she begins to speak. “I see something.” The pair share a look of wonder, though the girl on the bed remains a little more disbelieving, but doesn’t stomp out his fire as he leans forward with intrigue.

“What? What is it?” She has to bite back her smile before forcing it all to fall flat, keeping on the mask for the sake of the game.

“I see,” Cheeks hollow and without warning, she spits into the dip of his palm. A look of pure horror dances across his expression while she continues to bask in her success. “A pool.”

The metalhead is nearly frozen in place, staring down at the dampened spot in his hand in shock. When she begins to snicker, it's then that he retaliates. The hand is ripped away from her grasp to then smooth its way across her face, nearly tackling the girl as she tries to fend him off. “It's your spit! Take it back, you nasty freak!”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things ff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington ff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x original female character #steve harrington angst #steve harrington slow burn #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own

[m0r1bund]

[image description below the cut because it's Big]

◆◆◆

Bwahh.

Tubby baby Ximone is @soulfullofold's Charr character, Trahearne is Trahearne. “xyz will now die for you” is a reference to the ever-iconic Hiimdaisy Persona comic.

I have two competing thoughts about swerving on Trahearne getting fridged. One of them is self-actualized water spirit who is haunting the shit out of Orr, and the other one is blighted vessel that killed and ate mordyboy while he was locked in his psychic prison, but nobody else knows that, least of all Trahearne, so everyone just wants him dead.

though I guess maybe these could become the same thing somehow.

…I just think he’s neat.

◆◆◆

[Image: a sketchpage of altogether too many shitty little Guild Wars 2 doodles. From left to right, top to bottom, roughly:

One Trahearne hoisting up the inordinately huge Caladbolg / Caladcholg, and looking ominous.

The Lastborn, comically minimized and running away from Trahearne with his Big Sword ™.

The Lastborn brooding and hugging his knees, with his sharp blades of yucca hair standing on end. He says ‘No talk me I’m angy.’ The next doodle shows a much softer-eyed and mellow Lastborn saying ‘No longer angy. I want to be loved now.’

Yuri shaking hands with Trahearne. A narration box says ‘You became friends.’ Nothing changes in the next panel, not even their expressions, but a deathly pallor falls over everything. The box says ‘You will now die for each other.’

A minimized Yuri sitting next to a minimized Lastborn. The Lastborn crouches on the ground, reduced to a yucca puffball with little mitts for hands. He looks up at Yuri through big, catlike eyes. In the next doodle, he bonks his head and whole body into Yuri’s shoulder.

Two drawings of Ximone as a fierce little cub. She looks appropriately ferocious in the first doodle, arcing her back and prowling around on all fours…. Though she’s about as threatening as a pudgy puma kit. In the next doodle, she’s shocked up onto her hindlegs by an equally surprised kid Yuri. He rolls on his back to avoid her sharp claws.

A shitty little Mordremoth getting confronted by Yuri and Trahearne. Mordremoth points at Trahearne and says ‘I WANT THAT TWINK OBLITERATED.’ Yuri and Trahearne exchange glances, and he slams his claws down and roars ‘NO!!!’

The Lastborn sitting in the great palm of the Pale Tree’s hand and desperately pleading some sort of case, as he typically finds himself doing around her and her company. She’s big mclargehuge and intimidating because I said so.

One blighted Trahearne, touching the thick scars on his arm. Much of his face and body is scarred as well, the whorls, lines, and ragged edges tracing his ill-fated death throes with the dragon.

The Lastborn delicately changing some linen bandages on blighted Trahearne’s face. They’re saturated with blood; He seems to have re-opened earlier wounds. He is uncharacteristically angry with the Lastborn’s efforts to attend to him, and asks ‘Why are you doing this?’ The Lastborn recoils, slightly. He sheepishly answers ‘All things have a right to grow.’ Trahearne strains, raising his bandaged arm to stop the Lastborn from working any further. He says ‘Don’t—Don’t quote him at me. This is different and you know it.’

Yuri and Trahearne taking a combination bath-nap in a body of water, somewhere. Yuri makes a good improvised pillow, it seems.]

#yuri six-cants tag #trahearne tag #ximone atropos tag #lastborn tag #guild wars 2 tag #content warning: injury #content warning: blood

[radiantlyrey]

TRON Week Prompt Day 7: Glow

On the End of Line Club Discord a few weeks ago, we brainstormed some ideas to celebrate TRON’s 41st anniversary (which is TODAY, July 9). Someone came up with a list of prompts for the week preceding, so here is my response to the seventh and final prompt.

I could not come up with a good idea for a drabble for this one, so.... I wrote a whole little fic instead. This is an Uprising fic, set sometime after the end of the show (which I am STILL not over). Paige finds out that Tesler's been lying to her, and comes to the only program she can trust--Beck.

~~~

Beck lowers his disc when he opens his apartment door and sees Paige standing there, but only a little. He wipes the initial shock off his face and says coolly, “Commander Paige. To what do I owe the house call?”

She only glances at him, her gaze much more focused on the hallway behind her, back towards the lifts. Her disc is in one hand, her cloak still rippling around her shoulders. “I—I didn’t know where else to go,” she says, looking at him for just a moment. “I understand if—can I come in?”

His grip on his disc relaxes minutely, but he does not lower it. “That depends,” he says, and he sees, suddenly, the fear in her eyes. But what could she be so afraid of? “Were you followed?” he asks.

Paige finally meets his eyes. “I know how to lose a tail,” she says, her eyes flashing. “Are you letting me in or not?”

This could be a mistake, he thinks. A trap set by Tesler or Clu. But she’d said she didn’t know where else to go. And she is afraid like he’s never seen her. Before he overthinks it, he steps aside and waves her in. Half the tension in her shoulders relaxes, and she hurries inside, her cloak brushing his shoulder as she passes. Beck hits the panel beside the door to close it, and hits a code sequence to lock it as well. Then he turns to Paige.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, placing his disc back on its mount.

She’s pacing now, still holding her disc, her cloak fluttering behind her. “I was lied to,” she says, as if this explains everything. “For—for cycles. By someone I thought I could trust.” She stops pacing and meets his eyes. “Can I trust you? You’re the only program I could think of who hasn’t lied to me, or tried to kill me, or—” She breaks off, reaching up to cover her face with her free hand.

And then Beck sees it—the tracery of fine red lines along her wrist, emanating from a blue-gray patch of injury at the crook of her elbow. “You’re hurt,” he says, stepping forward, concern in his voice even though he knows he should be cautious.

Paige glances at her arm as though she’s just noticed it. “It’s fine,” she says quietly. “Nothing I can’t fix.”

Beck’s gaze goes from her wrist to her eyes. “But… who did that to you? The Renegade, or…?”

He only brought up the Renegade to throw her off, and because he knows how much she hates him without knowing it’s him. But Paige laughs. It’s a hollow laugh, mirthless, but it is a laugh.

“No,” she says. “That, I could almost understand from him. It was… General Tesler. He did it, and… Clu watched.” Her expression hardens for a nano, and then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I thought I knew what I was fighting for. I thought—” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Doesn’t it? Beck thinks. Out loud, he says, “What do you need from me?”

“Somewhere to lay low, so I can heal my arm,” she replies. “I’ll be out of your way before next millicycle starts, I promise. And if Tesler’s guards come—”

“I didn’t see anything,” Beck finished. “Got it.”

For the first time since her arrival, Paige smiles. “Thank you,” she says, and she sounds like she means it. Then she opens her disc in her hands and begins the work of repairing her own code.

Beck watches her warily, unsure if he should ask her any more questions. He wants to know why Tesler injured her, why Clu, whom she was so proud to serve, watched on. He wants to know how she escaped them both and made it here. And he needs to know if she has any hopes of returning to Clu’s army, or if that bridge has been burned so thoroughly that she cannot return.

Paige drops her disc suddenly, and only a quick move by Beck keeps it from clattering to the floor. He straightens, holding the disc flat between them. “You all right?” he asks.

“I’m losing strength in this hand,” she says, clumsily flexing her injured wrist. “Can you hold my disc? I need to make a few more adjustments, they just require a fine hand.”

Beck nods. “Anything you need.”

Their gazes lock for a moment, and then Paige returns her attention to her code. Her good hand is deft as she fixes the injuries in her arm. Beck doesn’t have the slightest clue what exactly she’s doing, but eventually she seems satisfied and closes out the disc. He hands it over, and she replaces it on her back, closing her eyes as the adjustments sync.

“Better?” he asks.

“I will be once the repairs complete,” she answers. She steps past him, retracting her cloak as she glances around the apartment. “Do you have anywhere I can sit down? I haven’t stopped since—”

“Right through here,” he says, leading her into the apartment’s other room, where a pair of low couches face each other beside a window overlooking the harbor. “If you need to lay down, I can recline one,” he adds, glancing back her.

“No, thank you,” she replies. “Can you opaque that window?”

“Sure.” He crosses the room and does so, and Paige walks in and sits the moment the glass darkens. “Can’t be too safe, huh?”

“Something like that,” she says. She tilts her head back and sighs as she closes her eyes. Beck watches her from the window, his gaze lingering on her injured arm, which is pulsing blue and slowly repairing itself. Again, he wonders: how did she get away? He can guess what caused the injury—Tesler’s in-built hand weapons. But he’s been in that vise-like grip before, and he knows how it feels, and how lucky he was that Able got him out of that tight spot. So how is Paige sitting here now, instead of crumbled to cubes at Tesler and Clu’s feet?

Before he can overthink it, he says, “Can I ask you something?”

Paige opens her eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking.”

“I just… want to understand something.” He leans against the wall, folding his arms. “Why are you on the run from Tesler and Clu? The last time we really talked, you seemed… happy, working for them. So…” “So what changed?” She meets his eyes; he nods. “What changed is that Tesler lied to me. About something important. And if I hadn’t been so—” Paige breaks off, looking away from Beck. “It doesn’t matter.”

He wants to go to her, to comfort her, but he stays where he is against the wall, letting the silence stretch between them. After a micro or more passes, he says quietly, “From where I’m standing, it seems like it matters to you a lot.”

Paige doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at him. But as the silence grows, she leans forward, he head bowed, her shoulders slumped.

Beck straightens up and takes the seat opposite her, on the other couch. He doesn’t want to pry too much, but he can tell there’s something she won’t say. Something more than Tesler simply lying to her, something that might explain why a medical program became an army commander, and why an army commander might defect and call on a mere mechanic because she can’t trust anyone else. And it may be the same reason a mere mechanic decided to stand up against an occupying army, and become a persistent thorn in its side.

Still quiet, still gentle, he says, “Will you tell me about them?”

Her head shoots up, and she glares at him through narrowed eyes. “About who?”

He meets her glare calmly and spreads his hands. “Whoever it was that you lost,” he says.

Paige holds his gaze in silence for nearly a micro before she bows her head again, covering her face with her good hand. She takes two shaky breaths, then says, her voice soft, “Their names were Rox and Sy. They were my best friends. We started a medical center together. We… we teased each other. Laughed together. And I believed Tesler when he said the Isos killed them. I believed him,” she continued, her voice growing in volume. “And I worked for him. For cycles! For cycles I worked for the program who ordered them derezzed and I—” She brings her fist down on her knee with a thump. “I can’t believe I was so naïve. I can’t…” With another uneven breath, she shakes her head, her shoulders slumping further as she leans back in her seat.

Beck stares at her, not sure at first what to say. He leans toward her, his wrists on his knees as he thinks. He knows the grief he felt (still feels) after Bodhi was derezzed; he imagines Paige is feeling some of the same grief anew for her friends. So he reaches out toward her, offering his hand in the space between them. “I know this won’t really make you feel better,” he says, “but I’m sorry about your friends.”

Paige turns her attention back to him. She stares at his hand, and then at him. “You’re the first person to say that to me,” she says slowly. “Tesler didn’t even… Thank you, Beck.” And she reaches out and takes his hand in hers.

As she grips his hand, her circuits flicker one by one, the red light going out and being gradually replaced by a pale white glow. Paige smiles at him, and after a moment, Beck smiles back. “Thank you,” she says again.

“Of—of course,” he replies. “You’re not going back, then?”

Paige’s smile turns sly. “No,” she says. “But you can be sure I’ll make Tesler sorry he ever lied to me.”

Beck chuckles. “I believe you,” he says.

#tron #tronblr #tron: uprising #tron fanfic #tron fic #beck #paige #beck x paige #(a little bit anyway) #my fanfic #please enjoy!!!!!!! #happy troniversary!!!!

[august-writing]

Crash course intro - draft

Kinda just imagining a fun scenario to put Edmund and Rhyin through together

Rhyin glanced around at the space craft's arched walls with glowing panels flashing red. A low wail rattled through the floor. The window blurred against the rushing air as a sound like thunder beat against them from all sides. The floor vibrated up into his bones, jarring him like a pebble in an earthquake.

"We're gonna crash." Rhyin braced himself against the railing.

"Ah," Edmund said, "first time?"

"Can you reverse it?"

"If you're cool enough. Like me." A series of sharp clicks followed the wave of his hand as he neatly flipped a row of switches. "Lucky for you you're with me." Lacing his hands together behind his head he swiveled the chair around to face Rhyin, an eyebrow cocked in triumph. 

The craft halted in the air and sent Rhyin forward into the railing. It shuddered a moment, a buzz surging through the panels, and fell back into its flight to the ground. A cheery error message hummed.

"How was that supposed to help?"

Edmund sighed and turned back to the switch board, squinting at the display screen. "I knew I was cheated."

"Do you know how to work this?"

"How else could I get us this high in the air." 

"If we can't fix this we are going to slam into the earth and the weight of this metal box with crush to death." Rhyin's grip tightened as he leaned forward to emphasize his point.

Edmund raised his eyebrows, gaze still fixed in his task. "Take a seat there and pull that break stick down." He gestured to beside him. "Hold it as far down, focus on it."

"You broke that. Remember?"

"Ah, you're more observant than I thought." 

"You're trying to keep me distracted." 

"It would be easier for me to focus—" He pronounced the words in time with his deliberate typing. "—if I didn't have your critique to ignore."

The error message hummed once more

Rhyin frowned and took a seat. "But what are you doing?"

"Supposedly there's an extra set of wings. They should act as a buffer enough to get control." Edmund's tone was nonchalant as he frowned at the screen. "The problem is, the man I bought this from has included a password. Rather creative but a little overkill." 

"Why would he do that?"

"Well I'm not the most popular guy apparently."

Rhyin snorted.

"I know, hard to believe. It took a few years for me to accept it." 

"So this is it then. If you can't give the password we're dead."

Edmund hummed absently. "There are options. Press that green one right there, yeah the biggie." 

Rhyin obliged him, an eyebrow lifted in quiet question. The lighted panels flashed blue in a wave sweeping from each side of the craft, spreading through the backlight of the control boards and meeting at Edmund's display screen. The computer hummed as its face lit up.

"What's that."

"The whole thing is riddled with bugs. And I'm kind of bored with dismantling all the ridiculous stuff he "updated it" with. I'm going to start it over. Let's try the old turn it off and on trick." He gave him a quick grin as he punched something into the keyboard above his head.

"Wait, is that a good idea? Won't that kill us faster?" Visions of the ship crashing into itself, exploring in the air, burning through the clouds, hitting cities and bringing death in its path filled his sight. It would not be a pretty end.

"Oh we won't suffocate instantly. Especially if we put these oxygen masks on." Edmund's free hand searched blindly by the side of his chair. "Eh, they're somewhere around. You'll have to find them." 

Rhyin slipped out of his seat and onto the floor just under the control panels. Compartments lined the lower wall, their doors flesh with each other. He banged his fist against the corner. 

"Don't break anything important looking. I'm thinking about selling this off." 

An extra thud popped the door open enough to let his fingers get a hold and pry the rest of it. Three packets hung in a row along the top above a case with a red cross symbol. Rhyin grabbed it all and crawled out and back into the chair. Edmund spared him a glance and a nod.

"What do I do with these?"

"Open them. Just tear the packaging, I bet it's a disposable type." He gave a snort. "He's so cheap."

Rhyin ripped the plastic outside and the contents dropped into his lap revealing cartoon instructions and a mesh cloth face mask. He gave the package a shake and a chipdrive freed itself from the corner.

"So the good news is that we're coming up to the outpost satellite station on our right." Edmund reached over and picked up the mask. With one hand he slid the chipdrive into the pocket along the side. "Put that on and hand me the other one."

"And we can land in there?" Rhyin handed the package over while hooking the loops over his ears and pulling it up over his nose. He turned to check on Edmund and found him already masked with one arm draped over the back of the chair.

"No, but we can ride their gravity field around and use up our speed." 

The craft jerked to the right, pulling forward to the outpost and sending Rhyin sideways out his chair.

"Ready steady here we go. Now it's shutting off." 

The computer chirped an obnoxious high note and the lights went to a low orange for a moment before plunging them into dark. The background buzz and rattle cut quiet leaving only the roaring wind outside. An eternity of tension stuck in the empty black.

Edmund drummed his fingers on the edge of the control panel, a nervous ticking in the space dropped between death and fire. Blood soaking ashes.

A harsh hum caught like fire in the engine and shook up the floor. Blue lights swept through the system, like a sunrise bringing hope. Lines chased each other across the panels of the wall like arrows pointing to Edmund's display screen. The same obnoxious chirp sounding as the screen lit a blinding white against the dark craft. 

"Please connect to the web to continue your setup," an inhuman voice stuttered.

"Oh come on, seriously." Edmund threw his hands into the air. "Why is this still a feature?"

"Um. What is a web." Rhyin gripped the side of his seat.

Edmund hunched over the screen, brow furrowed as he typed. "Nah it's fine I'll just break into the wifi."

"Hello, I'm starbeetle075," the voice continued. "The United Galaxy welcomes you on the first steps of your exciting adventure."

"Is it giving us a speech?" 

"Would you like to begin your tour of the new craft?"

"No, no, tell it to stop." Anxiety bled into the rise of Rhyin's tone.

"Ehh, tell me later." The rhythm of Edmund's drumming picked up speed and detail.

"Okay then." The voice glitched into that of a cheery woman's. "First we'll run through a safety check."

"No. What? That's not what 'later' means." Edmund leaned forward, teeth gritted as if he was wrangling a wild beast.

A chart flipped on to the display, outlining glowing boxes. "Life support; working. Self gravity; working. Engine one; working. Engine two; working."

The craft launched forward with renewed speed, sending Rhyin's head slamming into the back of his chair. Edmund jerked backwards. He rode the momentum, rolling under the control board.

"I hate this thing." He hit his fist against the upper panel, popping it open and spilling colored cords out into his waiting hands.

"Engine three; working." The craft barreled forward without heed to either passenger.

Rhyin wanted to scream.

"How do we stop it?"

A tsking came from Edmund's general area. "I can't get into it during this protocol."

"Stabilization; working." The most horrid noise Rhyin heard blared from the inhuman voice. "Breaks; nonfunctional." A red box flashed in the display, blinking for help. 

"Edmund? Edmund?!" 

"This craft is not fit for flight. Disengage and depart." The screen blinked dark before glitching into a warped red and blue. Flashing in and out.

Edmund jumped up to his feet, hitting his head on the control board's edge on the way up.

"Well now that that's over maybe it'll help." He hit the side of the display screen, scattering the glitches like leaves across water, and went to work on the buttons.

"Secondary flight running. Wind buffet opening."

The craft lurched, as if yanked and flung to the side. A groan eased against the roaring tempest pressing on the walls. 

"You ready to crash?" Edmund leaned back against his chair, smirking casually at Rhyin.

"Wait what? I thought you were stopping us from crashing!" Rhyin sat taught and braced in his chair. As if every nerve was strung tight and cooled into iron.

"Oh, no. There's no way to avoid it but maybe we won't die in the process."

Rhyin bit down on his lip and locked his eyes forward. "What is your plan?"

"Well we're being pulled on by the outpost's gravity field—which we're getting out of range of, mind you—and if I cut the engines…"

The roaring bit off, spitting a hiss.

"Why did you not turn them off earlier." Rhyin felt static rage buzz across his blood, racing across his taught nerves.

Edmund shrugged. "I was turning on a different setting."

Rhyin redirected his sight to his comrade, piercing at Edmund's wandering gaze.

"But now we're sitting between the grip of two gravities, which will tear us apart. But luckily we're dropping out of the outpost. They're wifi was too slow, I'm not a fan."

"So now we just fall and hope to not die."

"Hm, yeah. It'll be fun, don't worry. We just jump before it explodes."

"Explodes."

"It'll be fun."

A shrieking gripped itself to the side of their craft, jostling it in its path. Cloud smoking passed in seconds as the planet surface came into view. And grew in detail by the second, revealing their destination to be a wasteland of sand and dust. As good as any for a graveyard. The sound reached through and sunk into Rhyin's ears, hollowing the world of sound and washing a quiet into its place.

Rhyin sucked his breath in. Holding out his heartbeat, slowing the pounding rhythm out to a calm. A gentle pulse. 

The craft made contact with the ground with a nudge. Lapsing back as if caught in a haze before settling into the sand. White noise slowly claimed the eerie quiet as it sifted into reality. Rhyin let out his breath. He glanced at Edmund who sat stunned. 

The front of the craft just beyond the glass exploded into smoke.

"Oh I guess we didn't avoid the explosion." Rhyin eased off his grip on his chair.

"We didn't crash." 

"What?" He glanced toward Edmund.

"I—" Edmund blinked as if he just woke up. "I don't know what just happened, but we didn't crash. We slowed down."

Smoke curled against the glass and faded out and above in the air.

"Maybe all those stories about someone looking out for people are true. I think we got handed a freak miracle." 

#text #writing #my writing #my story #keepers #ageless war #scifi #oc #original character #original story #rhyin #edmund #writers on tumblr #salt and light

[cabezadeperro]

Hiiiiii,

Ever since I read your other Niner/Boss snippet I've been head over heels for that ship!

Would you feel up to writing another one for them with uhmmm number 3? :D

hiiii! the song was cubs in five, by the mountain goats.

this turned out pretty bittersweet, but with a hopeful ending. post-order 66 fic, post/pre-established relationship. they're going to be just fine; they just don't know it yet. (also. it got.... long.)

---

Boss reviews the navcomp’s calculations for the third time and breathes out. The cockpit of their stolen shuttle is tiny and cold, and the harsh blue light that fills the viewport makes his head hurt worse than it already did. The hum of the hyperdrive fills his ears, and the vessel’s so quiet it’s hard to remember he’s not alone. Boss glances at the navcomp one last time, anxiety burning a hole in his stomach, and then he exhales and makes himself push the pilot’s seat back, away from the panels.

This is usually Fixer’s job. He’s better at it than Boss has ever been, because Boss never had to learn to be perfect at it in that way he never had to be the best shot in the squad because that used to be Sev’s job.

The hallway beyond the cockpit is empty and very dark. Boss blinks, gives his eyes some time to adjust. The whole ship stinks of engine grease, from the hold to the tiny fresher tucked between the two berths, and everything feels sticky-smooth to the touch, even the recycled air Boss now forces into his lungs with every single measured inhale. 

It is actually a pretty good ship. Not too small, with a functioning hyperdrive and decent sublight engines and a row of tidy little cannons tucked close to its spine. It beats an Imperial shuttle, and it’s certainly better than staying with the army, caught behind enemy lines.

At first it wasn’t too bad—it was more of the same, really. And then it wasn’t. 

Boss shakes himself. He starts walking again, and then realises he doesn’t know where to go. Fixer and Scorch are in one of the cabins, what’s left of Omega will be in the other. He is unsure of his welcome to any of those two places. The knowledge hurts, but it’s such an old pain. Boss makes himself look at it, poke at it, standing alone in the dark hallway. He knows grief is like a bruise: you just have to give it time. And he used to think of himself as a patient man, but there’s something about the rawness of new hurts, especially when they are not so new: Sev has been on Kashyyyk for two years.

In the end, he returns to the cockpit. He takes a seat on the uncomfortable pilot chair and  leans back, hands knitted together over his belly and legs awkwardly folded against the panel in front of him. Boss rubs his hands together, cold despite the katarn, and stares into the blue, his headache growing sharper, deeper, worse.

He just wanted to sleep. A few hours of uninterrupted sleep in a cot somewhere. 

Something rattles at his back. Boss turns to look over the back of the seat at the door; half a second later it opens on its own to reveal Niner. The smell of caf—cheap, bitter, warm—fills the cockpit, tries and fails to drown the stink of engine grease; Boss feels his mouth fill with spit in turn.

He accepts the offered mug of caf without a word, feeling off-balance, caught by surprise. Niner pauses there, eyes thoughtful. He looks tired, older. The last time they saw each other he was smiling.

Boss missed him: he accepted Niner’s was just another absence he had to grieve, and got to it. Now he finds he does not know how to deal with Niner’s presence.

He knows he’s staring. Niner looks back calmly, steady. He expects nothing from Boss, not really. The certainty is—freeing. Boss exhales. He grunts his thanks and turns back to the viewport, hot mug of caf cradled in his hands. It’s bitter and full of dregs, but he sighs into it, burns his tongue and his lips.

In the end, the caf just makes his headache worse. Boss falls asleep in the pilot seat: Fixer wakes him up three hours later, face blank and eyes flat, bare hand heavy on Boss’s shoulder, and Boss allows himself to be herded into a cot in an empty cabin, into someone else’s bed.

Darman stares at him from the other cot, but Boss’s too tired. He buries his face in Niner’s pillow, breathing him in, and falls back into dreams.

#bossniner #cloneshipping #boss #niner skirata #repcomm #maría writes #song prompts 2.0

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 7: The Order

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: Mentions of blood.

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

Read from the beginning.

-- -- -- -- --

Wrecker’s mouth gaped open in amazement as he marvelled at the sleek craft parked beside the Marauder. Hunching over, he gripped the lowered steps and inspected the weapon hatches. “Lina designed this? From scratch?” 

“According to Barro, she was rather specific with what she wanted,” Zeraphine said. “There are blueprints if you want to check them out. They’re loaded into the archival system.” 

In a burst of energy, Wrecker bounded up the stairs with Omega close on his heels and almost collided with Tech as he left the cockpit. Quick to apologise, they shuffled around him and huddled together to get a look at the detailed floor plans. 

Tech descended onto the cliff side they’d commandeered as a landing site and squinted at the blare of sunlight. Keeping to the cool shade, he lifted his datapad and eagerly awaited the fresh stream of information from his exploration of the craft. 

“What do you reckon?” Zeraphine asked as she strolled to meet him. “How do you fancy being the pilot for her first adventure to the stars?” 

“I would…” Despite his mind’s insistence on accepting the offer, he paused long enough to adjust his goggles and clear his throat before answering. “I think that honour belongs to you, commander. This is your ship, after all, and I feel that Amelina would have liked you to conduct the first trip.” 

“How about being my co-pilot, then?” 

His attention flicked up and lingered on the serene smile etched onto her features. Answering with a nod in affirmation, he traipsed to the other side of the ship to continue his examinations. 

“It’s impressive,” Hunter said, appearing from the rear engines and shielding his eyes to admire the upper stretches of the transport. “I’m sure you’ll get up to plenty of mischief.” 

He observed Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega through the front cabin window. Memories of his sister’s first space voyage came to mind. He still remembered how her face lit up with wonder, and how she refused to blink in case she missed a single detail. And seeing her now with that same look of awe, Zeraphine’s words called to him.  

‘We were told what our futures would be like, but it doesn’t have to be that way for Omega.’ 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it. Thoughts of settling haunted him until sometimes it was all he could do to shake the image of a little house somewhere by the sea with no worries about how far their supplies would stretch or who they were going to have to fight next. No matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind, recollections of their time on Pabu came rushing back, and he couldn’t help but think of the life they had rejected. 

“My last gift from Lina,” Zeraphine let out in a soft breath, catching the reflection of the shifting sands in the panels. “Now that I’m mended, I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“But you can’t go,” Omega said, swinging round the frame of the open stair hatch with an expression like a hurt loth cat. “Not yet.”

“I have to find my father and you all have business to attend to.”  

From the steps, Wrecker and Crosshair peered down at Hunter. Tech and Echo rejoined them, their faces stern and determined, and gave him a curt nod. 

The wordless communication between the clone brothers didn’t go unnoticed by Zeraphine. Mantle Squad had done the same. In certain situations, she’d spotted them exchanging brief glances, brown eyes widening, or narrowing, always passing unspoken words between them. They each knew what the other meant. And so did she. 

“I know what you’re going to suggest, Hunter, and we’ve talked about this before,” she told him. “I am not dragging you into my-”

“Zera, we want to help you,” the Batch’s leader said decisively. 

“But you’ve already done more than enough,” she insisted, nearing him with a plea in her moonlit gaze. It never failed to amaze her, the loyalty of clones and the lengths they would go to to keep that steadfast devotion alive. “My mission is incredibly dangerous.” 

Pressing the button on his holo-disc, Echo crunched over the dry sand and handed it over to her. Her father’s likeness shone from the wedge of neon light, long, greying beard and kind, violet eyes just as she remembered them. 

“If we do not offer the clones equal rights, what does that make us?” Kaller Viren said, as firm and astute as always. While his voice was low and gruff, Zeraphine had heard it speak only kind and determined words in his battle for justice and reconciliation. “They are living beings like you and I. Why should they not be seen as equals? They were created to fight our wars, and fight they did. Bravely. Loyally. We gave them little choice in the matter, a fact I have reiterated in this very hall countless times, yet each time it falls on reluctant ears. Not this time. The past cannot be altered, but we can decide on a better future for them now. Those men deserve to live out the rest of their days in peace with the same rights as every citizen of this new empire.”

“Senator Chuchi sent me this after I asked about your father’s disappearance,” Echo said. “I also asked Rex if he might have any information or contacts we could use to locate him. While he didn’t have any news on that front, he did tell me Kallar had provided him with a lot of resources to rescue other clones. Ships. Weapons. Food. Promises of safety on Phomina Nine. It was quite a list.” 

She understood why he’d done it. Why he fought so hard for the clone army. It was because of her, because of the fondness she held for her own squad. To him, they were sons. He had ensured they had their own rooms in his home and taken them on walks to his favourite places. He had asked for their opinions on certain matters and questioned them tirelessly on their interests outside of the war. Hearing of their passing, he’d spent days alone in mourning for them, grieving in the Phominian custom, as he was unsure how clones mourned for their dead. 

“Kaller Viren is helping our brothers,” Echo told her, shutting off the holo-disc and slipping it into his top pocket. “He is a part of our fight, and we don’t leave our own behind.” 

* * *

Every movement took on a life of its own. Fabric rustled and heels snapped, huffed breaths ringing in the vacant halls. Glass chimes licked the translucent walkways like a delicate symphony and led the way through Tipoca City in a glisten of twinkling notes. Boots stomped in unison and clones chatted, the occasional bout of laughter reverberating in the distance. 

Zeraphine recognised each voice of her squad. Their faces were etched in her memory, undeniably similar, yet each held its own unique traits.

They were so close in her heart their infectious amusement tickled her cheeks. But everywhere she looked, everywhere she stepped, an eerie, mournful emptiness infiltrated everything. Coiled grief mingled with the joyous mirth and she waded through the deserted city to the voices far away and long gone. 

They aren’t here, her rationality roared at her. Whatever this is, you’ll never find them. 

“Shut up,” she growled. “I will find them. I won’t let them down again.”

Curving walkways merged with cavernous corridors. The sounds grew louder with each passing moment, and once she’d located their direction, she broke into a desperate sprint. 

She could almost see them waiting for the caf machine to churn out another cup. Cleaning their weapons. Repairing the dents in their scratched armour. Slinging insults they didn’t mean and planning their next bet. 

In measured breaths, she extended her senses through the Force and followed the illuminated path in her mind. At the other end of the thread, home waited. Her thoughts raced with the possibilities of what she would say or do when she was finally with them again. She settled on bundling them into her arms like she used to. Although some generals and those of a similar rank disapproved of her behaviour, she never hesitated to offer them comfort, allowing them to speak to her as a friend and a confidant. And with Vesper… 

She wanted to hold him the most. In the depths of night, when the rain poured and her grief strayed on weary legs back to her time on Kamino, she wanted nothing more than to curl up close to her captain until the planet’s bleary star peeked over the watery horizon. Sometimes, she still felt his arms around her, remembering how he held her with a slight hesitation that thawed the moment she looked at him. 

‘Love breeds the strongest loyalty,’ her mother had once told her. ‘Never take it for granted. Cherish the love in your life, and it will cherish you in return.’

During those dark, hopeless moments, she’d found solace in the unwavering affection of those closest to her. Whether it was her mother’s protective embrace, her father’s comforting words, her sister’s empathetic ear, or her squad’s steadfast support, their love guided her to where she needed to be, whispering encouragement all the way.  

And it didn’t fail her. 

Bursting into Mantle Squad’s barracks, the raucous laughter came to an abrupt halt, and she took in the sight of the six soldiers she met often in her memories. Hayze spun to her with a toothy smile, and Vault’s gentle eyes widened in astonishment. Drift’s hands found purchase in his straggly dark curls. Kyrix and Lorn stared open-mouthed, and Vesper’s faded brown gaze greeted her with a warmth that could have melted an ice planet. 

As they approached, her eyebrows dipped and tears began to flow. Vesper halted. The calm sea outside boiled and lightning struck the waves. Long bulbs overhead blinked, and when they settled, his eyes bled. Deep red rivers ran down his cheeks and dripped from his stubbled chin. 

“Execute Order 66.”

The lacerating voice invaded the room with a bracing hostility, plundering every loving thought, and Mantle Squad locked onto their target. 

But Vesper trembled. Gun in hand, crying blood, knees buckling. Still, he summoned the nerve to aim his weapon alongside his brothers. 

“Run,” he begged. “Hide. Remember us.” 

Surging forward to help him, six shots rang out… 

And Zeraphine screamed. She screamed until the piercing wail woke her from her nightmare and her throat grated, snatching the glass weapons by her bedside. Rasped, primal growls escaped her parted lips, and steadying her breathing, she flicked the switch on the wall beside her. 

A warm glow ignited her new quarters. The wardrobe door remained slightly open, revealing the bare hangers inside, and the refresher pipes trilled. 

Breathe, she told herself. It was a dream. Just a dream. 

She sagged with exhaustion and propped her swords by the bed, dropping her head into her hands and releasing a gut-wrenching sob until her choked noises became hoarse. 

The crushing love within her ached. Ached to be with her family and her squad. The people she would never see again. Her connection to the Force did not bring solace, but instead, intensified her pain and heightened every emotion. 

A light gust from the ventilation played with her hair, and for the briefest of seconds, she swore she sensed Amelina in the room. That familiar, calming presence that never failed to put her at ease. At the most outlandish senate parties and in the fiercest battles, it was there. And it was with her now. 

“Hush, little sister,” she heard, distant and laced with compassion. A reassuring touch squeezed her shoulder, and she froze in place to avoid scaring it away. “Dry your tears. We love you and we are all with you. Stay strong.” 

#star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars oc #sw oc #tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #clone force 99

[msbarrows]

I had so much fun building this base. It’s on my underwater base world, Biorico, because I love the climate and the lack of sentinels and the pretty. Also my friendly neighbourhood sandworm. I’ve now encountered other members of his (or her, or its) species on other planets, but the one on Biorico will always be THE sandworm for me, since it was my first sighting, and I have since seen it leap by me at my base there so. many. times.

Anyway, every time I end up on a reddit post when looking up anything No Man’s Sky related, one of the “other posts you might like” recommendations that pretty much always shows up is a post where some guy found a point on a planet that was pretty much perpetual sunsets and sunrises, no nights. One theory mentioned for it in the discussion was he was at his planet’s north pole, and the NMS mechanic of the sun revolving around fixed planets (because it’s simpler from a programming perspective, apparently) means that he was standing at a spot that was, essentially, getting non-stop white nights (no precession in NMS either).

Sounds neat, I thought, and decided to check one of the poles of my own favourite planet to see if I had the same effect going on. So I jumped in my starship, glanced at the compass, saw I was already facing almost due north, and went thataway. For probably a good 15-20 minutes if not longer, with occasional stops to get out and drop a marker so that if pirates interrupted my flight I could resume it from more-or-less the same place rather than restarting at some random other point on the surface (thankfully they declined to harass me, though I bet if I hadn’t been dropping markers, they would have). Crossed a lot of ocean and then several mountain ranges, and eventually hit a point high up in some mountains where the N on the compass went off to one side and the S suddenly took its place. Landed on the nearest peak, found N again, and ran that way (not very far, just down one short slope) until I found a place where the N vanished and couldn't be found, but if I took a few steps in any direction, I’d suddenly be facing S again. It was on a very pretty shelf just down from the peak, so that’s where I chose to build this base.

The lighting thing? Not so much. My theory is that the N-S axis of the planets are a little tilted in relation to the axis around which the sun rotates, so while there is a point somewhere on their surface where you can find the perpetual sunrises/sunsets effect going on, it’s not necessarily right at the poles. I did note down how long full daylight lasts at the base (according to the solar panel it’s 15 minutes) and will check my bases elsewhere on Biorico to see if they have a different length of  day, because unless I’m misremembering what very little I know about orbital mechanics, the daylight should last for different lengths of time at different points on the surface.

While I’m disappointed about not getting white nights going on, I wanted to build a base there anyway. Decided to go with an aesthetic of “someone found a ruin that was in good condition and added on to it”, so part of the building is meant to be the stone ruin, and the rest is added on with wood. Lots of expanses of glass since being at a height means it has some pretty spectacular views.

Sectioned off the bits to either side of the tower to be a bedroom (to right as you enter the tower) and office (on the left). There’s also a living room area on the right, and a kitchen/dining area on the left. Utility area down under, behind the tower stairs. There’s a patio area built out from the bridge-like part of the ruin, with great views in two directions. The little squat stone building near the tower entrance is where I put the teleporter; I find they often do poorly in elevated structures, so I wanted it as close to actual ground as I could manage. And of course I added a landing pad, as there’s very little good real estate for a ship to set down on there otherwise.

Oh, and of course my really huge friend leapt by a couple times while it was under construction, wanting to see what I was up to way up north:

#No Man's Sky #Yet more building of bases #Biorico North Pole Base #Biorico Planet #I need to hunt down the portal address for this place #Euclid Galaxy

[evelynmlewis]

Kingdom of Heaven Chapter 32

I dont really know what I'm doing and something about this still feels off, I feel like the tension/stakes feel higher having written it this way but maybe it'll also feel like overkill to those who have read the other version.. not sure

Regardless, I have to post, I'm getting so close to the end and I don't want to keep you all waiting so long between updates

***

The next person who came down to my cell was not Jesse, but Administrator Jamison. That was as close as the Settlement would ever come to admitting they’d made a mistake. They shouldn’t have allowed me to liase with my former trainer.

Jamison’s hands floated awkwardly; not touching anything from the railings on the stairs to the bars of my cell. He looked around and up and down as though he’d never been down to the prison before. “Good morning?” he started. “Or rather, afternoon.”

I stared up, from the corner in which I’d settled, but made no comment.

He assessed me, squinting, and noticed the reddish line across my wrist. “What happened to your Biometric?”

“They cut it out,” I murmured.

“How horrible,” he said, with genuine apathy.

“Are you ready to begin co-operating with the investigation?”

I looked away from him.

I had already come so far. I wasn’t going to waste the hours I’d spent over the last several days, almost paralyzed, trying not to move or think, or give into emotion and sob—though I had once or twice. I would be feeling better soon.

“If you do change your mind, simply call for me. I have your drugs on the ready.” It was so bald faced, and yet so bland. Civilized. Disgustingly polite.

What we called “polite society”, I felt, was actually a thin skin stretched over the rotting corpse of what used to be a moral framework. Once there had been goodness and kindness and respect for other human beings beneath that façade. Now there was only a writhing mass of maggots and filth.

On the 8th day after I’d been shot, he came in to find me standing and walking slowly around the room of my own volition.

He looked at the capped bottle in his hand. “I was going to offer you this,” he said drily, “But it seems you are showing signs of improvement.” By comparison with his usual plastic demeanor, it seemed that he was slightly irritated. I allowed myself to feel smug.

The next words were less encouraging. “That’s good,” he said. “Administrator Dana Morris-Fletcher wants to meet with you.”

***

The top of the Central Tower was like before except in one way. Whereas previously, the vinyl curtains had begun stretched over the windows and were later retracted, today I entered to a flood of gray light and was promptly greeted by the closing of these curtains.

          I watched with a last bit of desperate greed. I had thought I’d never see the trees again, but here—just for a moment— there was a last glance; a reminder that somewhere out there the sun was still shining (though if I’d had to guess I’d have said it was overcast today).

          The corrections escort passed back through the door before it closed, and Jamison left my side. There were plenty of people in the lounge today. So many that I thought all the Administrators must be here, perhaps all thirty of them; but they were occupied as usual with their own affairs and scarcely looked at me.

          And now as the curtains finished their slow roll, it really was the end. There was a finality like being sealed into a tomb. The trees were gone; the room was lit only by the synthetic LED’s on the paneling.

          Someone rose from a chair at the far end of the room, a gray silhouette at first against the vinyl, but I recognized her. It was the statuesque, angular form of Dana Morris-Fletcher. Her shoes clicked across the tile.

          “Alex,” she said, and feigned friendliness a moment, which I despised more than open hatred. “Why don’t you come and sit with me?”

          I tried to keep the fear out of my eyes. As the Administrators had clearly run out of patience in their passive efforts to control me, I hoped at least they had decided to make it quick.

We walked over near the window, though it was covered. I kept looking at it.

“That’s right,” said Administrator Dana, following my gaze to the window. “You are never going back out there.” Her lips twitched slightly. “Ever. Just forget about it. None of that matters anymore.”

          I gave her a hard look. Unfortunately, her look was always harder, so I felt like a sullen child.

          “Sit down.” Administrator Dana gestured to the plush chair. “Let me show you something.”

There was a small table between us. She tapped it twice with a finger and a screen winked on between us.

A moving image appeared. It was a video of Cam and I, in the Medical Center, taken from a hidden camera somewhere in the ceiling. My blood ran cold.

But he said they weren’t watching—

No, I refused to doubt him. It was the bribe. One of his bribes must have fallen through.

At any rate, we were found out, for whatever that was worth.

“Can’t I just have that?” said the tiny Cam on the screen. To witness his distress again, from a different vantage point, was almost more painful. “This one time? Please.” He opened his hands toward the pathetic lump lying on the bed. “Just give me this one thing.”

          “Yes, Alex,” said Dana, smiling like a shark. “Just give him this one thing. Surely you at least care about him, perhaps more than your cultists, since you threw away your chance at life with them for him.” She hesitated only a moment, not long enough for me to interrupt. “You traitor.”

And for a moment, I wasn’t even sure what she meant I was a traitor to, and the words stabbed through my heart.

          I think she could see that she had reached me on some level. I could see the loathing in her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, “you are a traitor, Alex. Despite our explicit instruction and training, you embraced the cult’s beliefs. You were supposed to help eliminate them and the threat they pose. You signed on for that very thing. And now you are refusing to either complete your mission or reject their ideas. You, who were born and raised by the Settlement, have betrayed us for a foreign power. Through pure reactionary emotion, you sympathized to the bigoted, inbred idiots who spout their lies in the wilderness. Lies that could undo the very seams of our civilized society. You were sucked in and now refuse to even apologize.”

I had been staring at the tile, but I peeled my gaze off the floor like lifting a boulder. It was wrong to be ashamed now. She wanted me to feel that way. I’d always held myself back my entire life. Lack of confidence, self-censorship and uncertainty was how I’d stayed out of trouble. But it was no form of humility to feel shame for a righteous act. Why rebuke in yourself what you would never rebuke in another?

I forced my eyes up to her stony eyes. “You never were going to let us leave,” I said. “Were you.”

     “Never,” said Dana.

She knew exactly what I was referring to. That distant promise of Gaia’s restoration. The ornamental gates. “It was the plan,” she admitted. “Once. A long time ago. But it hasn’t been for centuries. Humanity will never change. That’s why we wall off areas of the Settlement and create incentives to shrink our own numbers.”

     “Why?” I asked. “What is your end goal?”

     She hesitated. “That is not for a traitor to know.”

But I was determined. I had her talking, I had little to lose, and wanted to stall my sentence. Beyond that, I really did want to know the reason for it all. “Why not?” I tried again.

“It was decided by our predecessors, and we carry it out.”

“But what is it?”

“It is a difficult a burden to bear. The public would not accept it.”

“You can tell me,” I said. “You have me in your hand and you know it. What am I going to do? Make a post on the Profile?”

She considered me for a moment with a side-eye before evidently deciding that I was right. She lowered her voice, so that the other Administrators, even if sitting nearby, would not listen in. “This Settlement will continue to shrink. In one hundred years from now, we will be one half our current size. In a thousand years from now, there will be less than fifty thousand people living on Earth.”

“And then?”

“Eventually humanity must face extinction.”

I had to protest the absurdity. “Surely at that point your lie that Gaia is overpopulated would be too difficult to maintain. You couldn’t even sustain the Settlement’s infrastructure on such low numbers.”

“Nevertheless, humanity must end.” But it was Dana who broke eye contact now. She would not look at me while saying this, but around at the other Administrators, milling or sitting.

“And you tell us it’s for survival. The greater good.”

“It is for the greater good,” she said. “We Administrators hold to a strict philosophy that pleasure and suffering must be weighed against each other in every decision. It is always better to minimize suffering and maximize pleasure.”

“Well in that case I feel like you could have treated me nicer,” I said mildly.

“We must think long term rather than short term. Collectively, rather than individually. Just as the prevention of birth prevents net suffering, some evils are necessary to prevent damage to the Settlement and to Gaia.”

I’d been a fool to ever think the citizens of the Kingdom would be willing to give up their freedom and way of life even under duress. Their religion was forbidden by the Settlement, and it was clear that they viewed it as more sacred than life. How could the Administrators possibly understand that, when they believed that life, and a comfortable life at that, was all that anyone could ever hope to have?

Dana continued. “How cruel it is that we are the one creature Gaia has evolved which is capable of reflecting on its own suffering! It is immoral to reproduce, because increasing the number of humans born only increases the amount of suffering in this world.”

“And the amount of joy,” I said. “And the amount of love.”

          “For Earth’s sake!” Her eyes flashed. It was a rare moment of genuine emotion, and the emotion was anger that was no less intense for the control she held over it. “Look around you, Alex! The immense scope of human suffering surely outweighs any pleasure that we might experience.”

“Try looking outside the Settlement,” I said recklessly.

          “And defile the only goodness that exists by corrupting it with our own misery?”

          I plunged on. “I’ve seen suffering and tragedy out there,” I said, “and I still find it preferable to the best you have to offer me in here.”

          Her face whitened, she spoke through her teeth. “You think you’ve seen suffering? I’ll make you think you’re in the cultists’ hell.” She pushed herself up by the armrest. “I’ll make sure to get enough pleasure out of it to compensate in Gaia’s logbooks.”

#koh #kingdomofheaven #wip #dystopia #my writing #writeblr