#what gets me the most is that he's keeping this super down low to avoid giving any hints to his kid

[nico-di-genova]

Late Night Talks - Strollonso

Written for the prompt: [Lance and Fernando] dead-tired in bed, curled up to each other and they keep making dumb jokes and laughing at them

Warnings: NSFW, not super explicit, but mentioned.

@raapija hopefully this is sort of what you were looking for, I started with answering your prompt and then it just sort of got away from me.

Post Singapore is quickly becoming Lance’s least favorite post-race kind of feel, second only to Qatar which exists in a league of its own. He doesn’t do well in the heat, his body acclimated to colder climates and snow that comes up to his knees. Miami is about the closest he’ll come to acceptable humidity, and only when he can couple it with the lukewarm temperature of the ocean and the salty spray that comes from zipping through the waves on the back of a boat’s tow. But Singapore is the sort of wet heat that clings to you until you can’t breathe around it, it makes driving a car for two hours in on-the-limit conditions near impossible.

“I feel disgusting,” he complains to Fernando, drying the back of his wet hair with a hotel towel and grimacing. He still feels like he has sweat clogging his pores, embedded in his hair follicles, couldn’t seem to get himself clean no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin.

Fernando, who had taken a shower in his own room because if they had shared it wouldn’t have resulted in attempting to get clean at all, wears a matching expression of discomfort. He’s sprawled across Lance’s bed, in nothing but his boxers and normally that would inspire something in Lance. But sex, especially with Fernando, is a sweaty endeavor and he would like to avoid adding to his already uncomfortable state.

Doesn’t stop him from getting hard anyway, noticeably tenting the towel low on his hips.

Fernando arches an eyebrow, peaks down at Lance through heavy-lidded eyes.

“No, ignore that.”

“Hard to ignore,” Fernando quips, but he’s just as exhausted as Lance and it shows when he doesn’t make an effort to sit up and pull Lance closer. Instead he closes his eyes and readjusts his arm where it’s resting under his head, lets out a sigh that Lance knows is a prelude to quiet snores.

“Don’t fall asleep there,” he complains, shucking off the towel long enough to slide on his own underwear, “You’re taking up the whole bed, asshole.”

He still needs to brush his teeth, probably make an attempt at skincare before the grime of the day sets in and breakouts quickly follow. But standing is beginning to take a lot of effort. It’s like he can feel the weight of the heat bearing down on his shoulders, even though they’re inside, can still feel it pressing on his chest. It’s a good thing they have a late flight tomorrow because Lance’s future plans include nothing more but sleeping until the bone deep exhaustion makes its way out of him.

Fernando hasn’t moved, still lays with his knees hanging off the bed, one arm flung out beside him, legs spread just as wide, like he’s intentionally trying to take up as much space as possible. He nudges Fernando’s knee with his own and it’s the only warning the man gets before Lance is collapsing down beside him, the full weight of him landing on Fernando’s outstretched arm and half on top of his body. They’re laying sideways on the bed, and Lance is too tall for this, immediately finds it uncomfortable. But Fernando smells nice, and he’s warm where Lance presses up against him, so he allows it for the time being. Even if Fernando’s arm is bony and uncomfortable where it’s digging into Lance’s side.

“You are still wet,” Fernando grumbles, still with his eyes closed, still half-asleep, “Off.”

“It’s my bed, old man,”

They share a hotel room most nights now, the separate bookings nothing more than a charade, but they are still technically in Lance’s room. Ignoring Fernando’s griping, he presses closer, throws a leg over the man’s body, finds the crook of Fernando’s neck and nuzzles his nose there, lets his wet hair brush against Fernando’s cheek, until Fernando is wriggling away in discomfort. Annoyance is not a tactic he employs frequently, nor is it one that typically works on Fernando, but it works tonight.

“Like a soggy cat,” Fernando chastises, and then sits up, taking his comforting scent and presence with him.

Lance smiles, satisfied, shifts until he’s right way up on the bed and can let his damp hair soak into the pillows. Fernando lets him get comfortable and then he lays back down, this time with his head resting on Lance’s chest, an area devoid of the moisture from the shower. His breathing evens out pretty quickly, tells Lance he’s quickly drifting back toward unconsciousness. One of his hands splays across Lance’s bare stomach, low enough that his fingers brush along the hair there.

And now it’s his turn to be annoying, because Fernando knows he’s sensitive, uses it to his advantage when he lets his pinkie inch down further.

“This is a dangerous game,” he warns, feels himself grow harder in his underwear.

He can feel when Fernando smiles against him, prickly beard rubbing against the raw skin of his chest with the curl of his lips, “You don’t want to play?”

“Too tired. It would be pretty boring, anyway. I don’t wanna move,” Lance lying flat on his back, Fernando half asleep, both of them pawing at each other’s dicks with flagging interest until the exhaustion won out and the draining adrenaline finally took the last bit of energy they had left. He doubts he could even cum, as tired as he is. And if he did he’d have to trudge back to the shower because no way is he waking up in the morning with cum dried tacky on his stomach alongside the inevitable sweat from being pressed next to Fernando, the human furnace, during the night.

Fernando laughs, quiet, rumbling, “You are a pillow princess anyway.”

“Hey.”

“Is true.”

“It is n-“ he thinks of last night, how Fernando had tried to goad Lance into riding him and he’d made himself more at home on his back. He liked looking up at Fernando, liked burying his head in the crook of his neck and scratching desperately at his back. All things that were pretty hard to do if he was sitting in the air having to dictate the rhythm himself. Lance wasn’t lazy, he just knew what he liked, so sue him.

Fernando knows he’s won when Lance changes the subject. “How do you even know that word?” he’s absentmindedly threading his fingers through Fernando’s hair, the strands mostly dry where Lance’s was still soaking into the pillow. His hair is soft, always well-maintained, soothes something inside Lance because the texture is familiar.

Fernando hums, pleased. Lance tries not to preen at the sound. Pillow princess his ass, he likes to make Fernando feel good too. He can put in the work. If the work is done easily on the comfort of his back.

“I am only forty-two, Lance. Not so old I do not know things.”

“One foot in the grave practically.”

Fernando scoffs, pinches Lance’s stomach in retaliation, “Yes. We go shopping for my headstone tomorrow, pick out flowers.”

Age used to be a thing between them. Back when this started a year ago. When Lance was twenty-four and Fernando still looked at him like he was seeing that kid standing in the Ferrari garage. It had been a thing approximately until the moment Lance took matters into his own hands, took Fernando’s cock in his mouth with practiced ease and any internalized war Fernando was fighting went right out the window. And then it had resurfaced with force the first time Fernando fucked him so hard he was sobbing into the sheets, the sex quickly aborted when Fernando got scared he’d done something wrong, no matter how many times Lance tried to promise it was only that he’d been doing everything right. So they’d had to have a serious discussion, establish boundaries, ensure Lance was in the right headspace to be in a relationship with a man he’d known since he was nine. Now they could joke about it, had put in the work so that the gap in their ages no longer mattered.

“A suit too?” Lance teases, accompanying the press of his words with the pads of his fingers against the base of Fernando’s skull, a pressure he knows helps because of all the times Fernando has done it for him.

Fernando laughs again, more gravely, barely there, “We are planning a funeral or a wedding?”

Lance thinks, stares up at the ceiling and tries to think of a reply that won’t leave him sounding strangled. Wedding. He is startled to find he likes that word, likes it coming from Fernando’s mouth with the concept of Fernando being the person waiting for him at the altar.

“Both. Two birds with one stone,” and then the image of a funeral wedding, both of them standing in a half-dug grave, an arch being replaced with a gravestone, becomes suddenly so funny he can’t stop giggling at the thought of it. “We could leave the reception in a hearse.”

It maybe speaks to his level of exhaustion that he can’t seem to stop laughing at the nonsensical turn in the conversation.

Fernando is still smiling, Lance can still feel it, “You are weird.” He says, and Lance can hear the alternate meaning in the statement, how fond it sounds.

“Been called worse,” Lance jokes, makes sure it stays that, because they both know there’s an element of truth to it. “You almost podium and you are talking about funeral weddings. Strange.”

Oh, yeah, P4. Singapore maybe had taken so much out of him because he’d pushed himself to nearly P3 with nothing but pure spite to fuel him. .3 of a second back from Sergio, chasing the unfamiliar sight of a Red Bull to the finish. He’d felt the desperate need to make up for last year, shut up a certain faction of people that couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths. It wasn’t a podium though, only nearly one, so he still wasn’t particularly satisfied. Fernando had carried most of the excitement for him, praising him in post-race interviews and hugging him as soon as they climbed out of their cars. Lance had already seen pictures of the moment caught from his still active onboard, Fernando’s hand drifting to its natural place at his waist, the other on the back of his helmet. There was of course no sound, so no one had heard the praise Fernando showered him with before they went to be weighed.

‘So proud, cariño. So proud.’

“Almost a podium, Nano. It was P4,” Lance says now, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, slinking down further into the pillows. Fernando shuffles with the movement, until he’s beside Lance and then they’re both on their sides, parallel to each other. Fernando’s arm wraps around his waist, pulls him closer.

Lance studies the wrinkles forming at the corners of Fernando’s eyes, reaches out to trail the pad of his thumb along them. It is probably one of his favorite features, the mark of years’ worth of laughter. Lance likes to think of Fernando happy, likes when he can make Fernando smile enough that the lines deepen. He doesn’t like when Fernando presses his lips together as he’s doing now, a thin line of dissatisfaction.

“Still a good result.”

Lance concedes, “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” Could have been better, would have been if he’d been able to manage his tires better on the entry to turn seven like his engineer had requested.

He yawns again, curls closer to Fernando so now he’s the one with his head tucked under Fernando’s chin. If they were still outside, still in their cars, the warmth rolling off Fernando would be unbearable. But the temperature of the hotel has been set to freezing, so his body is beginning to return to a stable level of self-regulation.

“Next time you will get around Perez.”

“He’s in a rocket ship, man. You want me to teleport to P3?” He mumbles against Fernando’s neck, eyes drifting shut, weight of his body sinking further into the mattress.

“Lawrence can hire people. Make that possible. He would invent this for you, I think.”

They both laugh, and then Fernando is rambling something about holding Sergio back next race, letting Lance take P3, and then P2 and then, impossibly, they both know, P1. It’s half in French, half in the bits of Spanish Lance is picking up but is too tired to follow, and then it trails off into nothing because Fernando finally lets the exhaustion win. Lance follows behind not long after.

When they wake in the morning it is to the ringing of Fernando’s phone, to the frantic texts buzzing through on Lance’s. They missed their flight, which means the morning sex isn’t rushed. It means that Lance gets to lay on his back, lazy and selfish, while Fernando teases him but continues to thrust with measured accuracy above him. He lets Fernando mark the skin at the nape of his neck as compensation for doing all the work, lets him suck at the soft skin there until Lance is sure the hickey will take a while to fade.

And maybe Singapore isn’t that bad after all. Despite the heat. Lance thinks he could justify the humidity like he does for Miami, if P4, senseless late night talks, and Fernando’s smile when Lance pants his name are the reward for enduring the climate. It all feels worth it in the end.

#strollonso #strollonso fic #my fic #I once again ask #is this even anything? #at this point I think I write about them just to senselessly ramble #idk if this is even good tbh

[laughingcatwrites]

As a reminder that good exists out there, a coworker recently confessed to me that he found out his child is questioning their identity (kid's gender redacted for this post). The kid is keeping it from him, so he can't say anything to them or show that he knows, but he's doing his best to get mentally prepared and educated so that he'll be ready whenever his kid does feel comfortable enough come to him.

For context, this guy is a big, bulky middle aged dude who loves sports and typical outdoor "manly" activities. As his coworker and friend, I know he's a kind and sweet teddy bear of a person, but his kid probably views him as a stern, authoritarian figure, the way most teenagers view their parents. His family lives in a conservative area, so I'm sure between that, their dad's looks and interests, and the fact that their dad is a Figure of Authority, the kid is worried that they won't be accepted.

But you know what? When he found out about his kid, the first thing he did was reach out to his closest queer friend and ask for resources for parents of questioning children. His biggest fears are that his kid will be bullied or discriminated against and won't feel comfortable enough to be themself. His second action was to find himself a mentor in another parent who went the same situation (kid coming out in a conservative town). The other person is preparing him for some of the struggles his kid may face and the fights he may need to take on as a parent to make sure his kid is safe and treated well.

Something I want to emphasize for people focused on language as the primary method of allyship is that when we spoke, he used some outdated terms and thoughts about gender and sexuality. That does not make him bad. These were the terms and thinking used about questioning teenagers when he was growing up and he never needed to learn more current ones. But now that he does have that need, he's throwing himself in head first because that's his kid and he's darn well going to make sure that his kid feels welcomed and has a safe place to be themselves even if they never come out to him.

#I'm so proud and happy for my coworker and I've been trying to figure out how to let him know how amazing I think he is #what gets me the most is that he's keeping this super down low to avoid giving any hints to his kid #he has a lot of queer friends so he already is known as an ally but there's always a chance it will be different if it's family #and he took that chance and crumpled it up into a ball and slam dunked it into the garbage for three points #and decided that even if his kid wants to hide it from him for the rest of his life he will still do what he can to make their life better #pflag #parents doing their best #parenting win #good news #allyship

[traveler-at-heart]

Cat's out of the (super) bag

Summary: Natasha doesn't like going on missions with you. Learning the truth might make her change her mind.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Big thanks to @soggy-wet-cat for hearing this idea before I wrote it :)

--

Fury was going soft.

That was the only way to explain your presence on most of Natasha’s missions.

Rogers, she gets. He’s a super soldier and as capable as Natasha is, it doesn’t hurt to have an enhanced individual around.

But you.

Always slow, always too relaxed for Natasha’s liking. Insisting you could do more, but last week you weren’t even able to pick a lock.

Not to mention how much you avoid hand to hand combat. Natasha suspects it’s because your skill level is very low.

“She’d do better out of the field” Natasha complains for the tenth time. Fury smirks. “This isn’t funny. I’m risking my neck to protect her and she’s not even worried about getting better. I’m not doing missions with her anymore”

“Now, hold on” Fury protests. “That’s not for you to decide. And I thought you trusted me”

“It’s her I can’t trust”

“Too damn bad. You have a mission. No Rogers this time. And I better hear it went well, Romanoff”

Natasha rolls her eyes and leaves his office.

It will only go well if she convinces you to sit and wait at the jet.

—

“What did you do to piss off Romanoff?”

“Morning to you too, Nick” you smile, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “I don’t know. It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t like me”

“I know that. Have you done anything to upset her?”

“I barely speak to her and when I do she doesn’t answer” you shrug your shoulders, going back to every interaction you’ve had with the redhead. Her intense glare comes back to haunt you. “Do you think she knows?”

“You tell me. Did you screw up?”

“I keep a low profile. Like you asked me to” you nod, knowing how important this is for him.

“Better stay that way. You’re both leaving for a mission tomorrow” the man hands you a folder and you skim it. “Keep your head down and don’t make her angrier”

“Is that even possible?”

“You don’t wanna know”

—

It’s a mess from the start. You try to stay away from Natasha, but every time your attempts go in the worst way possible. Like when she’s walking down the jet, and you move aside so she has space. Except you end up pushing a few buttons on the console and Natasha has to come back and straighten the ship.

“Stay still” she mutters, glaring. You nod and sit on your hands, more concerned with the woman’s temper than about the mission.

“Wait here” is all she says after landing the jet.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a very simple mission” Natasha says, without looking at you, focused on adjusting her widow bites. “So, if you really want to help, stay out of my way”

“That’s not the plan. I’m supposed to watch the south entrance”

“They’ll never even noticed I inflitrated the building”

“You’re not my boss. Fury is. And if he wants me to stand outside and watch the south entrance, then that is exacly what I’ll do, Natasha”

The redhead finally turns back to look at you, surprised. This is the first time she’s seen you upset. You’re walking past her, not bothering to look her way… have you always been this tall? It always seems like you’re trying to look small.

“Hey” Natasha tries to make you turn, grabbing your arm. She’s surprised by how strong you are. “You better not screw up. Or I’ll make sure you’re on desk duty for the rest of your career, Y/L/N”

“Oh, now that’s funny. I’ve been here far longer than you” you lean forward, whispering. Natasha tries to understand what you mean, her eyes scanning your features for a sign. Aware of how close you are to her, you take a step back and jump out the door, ignoring the ladder.

Ridiculous, to think that you (you!) are an incompetent agent.

Maybe Fury was wrong for asking you to do this.

You’re kicking the ground, huffing every few minutes, still fuming at Natasha’s words. All this time, you thought she didn’t like you and though it sucked, you could live with that. But saying you were bad at your job when it was the exact opposite makes you see red.

“Y/N?” Natasha says over the comms.

“Here” you answer.

“A little help”

Those three words make your stomach drop. Natasha asking for your help?

This must be life or death kind of bad.

“Tell me where you are” you ask, breaking into the building.

“Intelligence room. Surrounded by at least 20 guards”

“Use the vents to go out and grab one of their vehicles. I’ll distract them”

“You’re gonna take down 20 people all on your own?”

“Just do as I say, Romanoff”

It feels good to finally use all your strenght. You practically rip open a door that sets off an alarm, and then you throw a couple of grenades around.

Now, all eyes are on you.

Sure enough, it takes them a few minutes to come find you, but you’re ready to shoot at the first guards, and when the second wave has gone through their ammo, you prepare for hand to hand combat.

“I’m out but there are two individuals after me. Towards the east, away from the jet”

“Got it. Gentleman” you turn to the man. “Change of plans. Let me go or die. Whichever is fine by me”

They laugh, until you send one of them flying across the room, his neck snapping.

“Who’s next, ladies?”

—

How could this mission have gone so wrong? Now Natasha is navigating the snowy road on a motorcycle, being chased by two of the guards and dodging their bullets.

The cold air is stabbing her hands and face but she has to keep going. She is too far away to communicate with you, but hoped you had the good sense of going back to the jet.

She’d find a way to survive.

Or maybe not, as she notices a third motorcycle joining the chase.

Through the rearview mirror, she sees the new person approaching one of the guards. A fight ensues and an exchange of shots. Next thing Natasha saw was the motorcycles colliding.

“Y/N?” she tries the comms, hoping you aren’t stupid enough to be knocking down people. Whoever those two were, the force of the hit was enough to kill them.

And yet, one of them begins to run after Natasha and the man still chasing her. The figure is fast approaching, which is ridiculous, considering Natasha was going 150 miles per hour.

The brute is clearly scared, as his movements become more erratic, trying to get rid of Natasha and the mysterious figure at the same time. He shoots behind him and then at Natasha, getting to one of the tires in her bike.

She tries to keep the handle steady, but can’t turn on the curve ahead of her. Natasha is sent flying directly to a river, the cold water making her momentarily paralized. The currents confused her, and she couldn’t tell up from down. She swam and swam, until her arms were too tired.

She began to drift, and the last thing she saw was a shadow hovering above her.

—

“Natasha? Nat?” you plead, doing CPR as gently as you can. You don’t want to add cracked ribs to her list of injuries.

Finally, after what felt like hours but were only seconds, Natasha lunges forward, coughing and throwing up water. You hold her head, helping her until she can breathe again.

“I’m freezing” Natasha complains, looking around. “Did we lose them? How did you…” she then turns to you and widens her eyes. “You’re bleeding”

“Yeah, he shot me. It’ll stop in a second. And yes, we lost them. Though I’m sure HYDRA is sending more people to track us down. Come on” you stand up, offering your hand. Natasha takes it and is once again surpised by how strong you are.

Your body is also warmer than hers, even if you dived to rescue her. On pure instinct, Natasha comes closer, practically melting against your body heat.

“You’re hiding something” she states and you chuckle.

“Now’s not the time. Come on, I’ll carry you. There must be a safe house close to the river”

Natasha climbs to your back, and as if she weights nothing, you walk down the river, trusting she’ll keep an eye for any place to hide.

Sure enough, after ten minutes of walking, the redhead gets your attention and points at the right. There’s a small cottage hiding between some trees.

“Here” you say as you kick open the door, not bothering to find a key. You set Natasha down and go around the place, looking for blankets and anything that will make her warm.

“Did it stop bleeding?” she asks, looking at your abdomen. You nod, placing a blanket over her shoulder and checking for other injuries. “Are you a super soldier?”

You smile, thinking that Fury will be up in arms. But technically, you didn’t tell Natasha. She figured it out.

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who else knows?” Natasha says, pulling the blanket closer, as if it will help her cover from you as well. It’s clear she doesn’t trust you right now.

“Fury asked me to keep a low profile. He’s the only one that knows. I think he’s concerned about the integrity of SHIELD. You know him, keeping an ace up his sleeve”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Thirty years, give or take. My existence is top secret, and I spent some time away from the job. My father died, and he was the last person that I knew before everything, so… it was hard, I guess”

“I’m sorry”

“Me too. I didn’t like lying to you or pretending to be something I’m not”

Natasha kicks herself for not noticing sooner. It’s so glaringly obvious now that she has to roll her eyes at herself.

Your build, the fact that you never seem to be tired or catching your breath. Hell, the fact you never train with anyone else.

Natasha made an assumption and ran with it, instead of trying to see past it.

“Hey, you ok?” you ask, craddling her head in your hands. “Did you hit your head? Feel dizzy?”

“I’m just cold”

“We can’t start a fire” you regret, looking out. “Here” you pull her closer, your arms going around her shoulders. She tries to protest, but whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as soon as she feels how warm you are.

“This suit is all wet” she says, pulling away and taking it off. “Don’t look or I’ll kill you”

“Uh… what is going on?” your eyes dart to the ceiling, blushing. Then, you feel Natasha’s cold skin against you. “Jesus, Nat. You’re freezing”

You bury the both of you in more blankets, and feel her melting against your side. On instinct, your arms go around her waist and bring her closer, to which she responds by burying her face on the crook of your neck.

“So I can’t look but I can touch, huh?”

“Glad we understand each other”

—

“So…”

“So” Natasha says, landing the jet back home.

“Can we be friends? Friendly, at least?”

“No” she stands up, walking towards you. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you’ve been looking at me for the entire ride home”

“Can you blame me?” your eyes drift to her cleavage, remembering how she was practically naked and clinging to you as if her life depended on it.

“Wine and dine me, Y/L/N. And we’ll take it from there”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Am I interrupting?” Fury shouts from the hangar.

“Yes” you say, but Natasha leaves, glaring at Fury on her way out.

“I’ve known you for thirty years and you still can’t keep it together around a pretty lady. And now I’m in trouble too” Fury says, clearly displeased.

“Hey, at least you don’t have that problem with Rogers, huh?”

“For now, Y/L/N. There’s always some trouble waiting around the courner”

You laugh and clap his back, leaving the jet. His plan may have failed, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Not when you have a hot date waiting for you.

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Y/N #Natasha Romanoff x You

[the-cryptographer]

i ran low motorics for my first pt of de and imbetween all my save spamming i came to a really weird place coming into the tribunal. like, i really wanted titus and as many of his friends as possible to survive, and i was looking at a near impossible hand/eye coordination skill-check. and up until that point i had been super careful to avoid having harry do drugs anywhere where kim could see him and judge him for it, but i was falling far short of the save and the obvious thing was to snort up some speed to give myself the edge, so i did. and i felt like that was in a way the truest moment of the game.

like, i’m playing an addict. i’m going through withdrawal. my hand is shaking. my hand is shaking and i need it steady. ruining my physical and metal health in the longterm don’t matter rn, bc it’s my job to run into an impossible and impossibly violent situation and save as many people as i can, and if i can’t do that, what am i here for at all? more people are going to die unless i make this shot, and i can’t if my hand is shaking, and it’s not going to stop shaking until i get my drugs, and so the only reasonable choice to make is to take the drugs, and oh- that’s why he can’t quit! beyond all the difficulties and pain and emotional trauma of the withdrawal itself, there’s no way to keep doing this job (with an abnormally large case load according to kim) and to walk into life and death situations and not botch them, while under the strain of trying to quit. and, sure, because you won’t quit you’ll have breakdowns and go on benders and give yourself brain damage and crash your car, and they’ll dress you down and publicly humiliate you for it. but no matter how much they humiliate you, they’re also not going to give you proper medical care or lessen your case load or stop throwing you in life or death situations that require you keep using, so you can’t quit.

idk, just like... it’s very strange to me bc i keep seeing people throw out the idea that it’s a moral responsibility that Harry go sober (and beyond that a moral responsibility as the player to keep him sober) but this was honestly probably the best and most thought provoking moment in the game for me, and i feel like people are really cheating themselves out of it by getting so caught up in their personal feelings about addiction that they refuse to engage it.

#disco elysium #spoilers #idk this is something people have a lot of personal feelings about for a reason #just like... the game was def in a large part about being trapped in addiction and abusive systems #and i think the game was pretty in the real about how keeping harry sober for 6-10 days #has not saved him from the hell that enabled his addiction to begin with #and i'm not sure what you're taking away from the game without looking at that

[beskarandblasters]

Apotheosis Part One: The Capture

Sith!Din Djarin x Rebel Spy!Reader

Apotheosis; the elevation of someone to divine status; deification.

Apotheosis Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Series summary: Din Djarin is a force-sensitive bounty hunter, working for the remnants of the Empire. He's on the hunt for you, an ex-rebel spy who has key information; the location where Luke Skywalker is building his Jedi training academy. But when you're captured, you're not going to give up the location easily. Din will have to utilize “alternative methods” to turn you over to the dark side.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, dark!Din, switches between Din and Reader’s point of view, eventual smut, Star Wars lore (not super heavy), (more warnings will be added as story continues)

Author’s note: Welcome to the first installment of this silly little trilogy! I hope you all come to like this different take on Din! ❤️‍🔥 Thank you to @jupiter-soups, @kajashe, and @pedgito for beta reading this for me!

Summary: Din Djarin is sent by Moff Gideon to capture you and Grogu.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: just an introduction of our two main characters, the reader gets captured at the end, reader does not know Din’s name yet, canon typical violence, force sensitive!Din, no use of y/n

You

Life used to be good. Back in the day when you had your friends in the Rebellion, you felt like you had a sense of community; a sense of belonging. But when the Empire was destroyed the need for the Rebellion dissipated. So, you chose to live out your days on the planet Corvus, in the village of Calodan. It’s a stark difference from your old life. Gone were the days of being a rebel spy, acting as an imperial officer while the Empire was constructing the second Death Star. You were someone important, reporting back to the Rebellion with information that was vital to the Rebellion.

And for what? To toss you aside as soon as they stopped needing you? Surely for someone as vital as you were to the Rebellion, they would’ve made sure you were well taken care of, living a relatively comfortable life. But the reality is quite the opposite. 

Calodan is rough to say the least, living under Magistrate Morgan Elsbeth’s oppressive rule. She’s walking proof that there are still fledgling pockets of the Empire scattered across the galaxy. This time of peace will surely come to an end. And when that time comes… Wouldn’t the Rebellion call upon one of their most trusted spies?

Maker, that’s awful. You’re wishing for unrest in the galaxy just so you can live an exciting life again. The reality is, you’re wishing for more than just some thrill. You’re wishing for stability, friends, food in your stomach, a sense of community, and belonging. That’s what you’re after. 

And it’s all so far out of reach. 

-

You’re walking back from the market, your small bag of the little food you could afford slung on your shoulder. You’re always on edge here, even in your own home. It’s only right when Calodan isn’t necessarily the safest place to live. Morgan Elsbeth and her guards have people chained up in electrical cages in the village center on a whim, regardless if they did anything wrong or not. Kriff, if someone looks at a guard the wrong way, it’s straight to the cages. This causes everyone to move through the streets quickly, keeping their heads low and avoiding eye contact with others. It’s for their own safety but you can’t deny it’s also made the village lonely and secluded. You’re not living here; you’re merely surviving, just barely. This isn’t the life you pictured for yourself. 

Lost in your own thoughts again you barely notice the presence behind you. Just as you turn your head to look, the figure is gone. All you saw was the edge of a dark cloak, turning a corner and heading down an alley. You don’t linger. You know better. You’ve been able to stay out of trouble ever since you moved here. And you’re certainly not going to start now. 

Power walking and extending your strides, you head home, holding your breath and keeping your head low. Once you get home you lock the door behind you and finally breathe. You slump down into a chair at your kitchen table and set your bag of food on the tabletop. That could’ve been nothing. It could’ve been your imagination. Or someone else trying to mind their own business. After all, you weren’t attacked, the person didn’t say anything to you. They were behind you and then gone an instant. You’re just being paranoid again. 

That is until you’re emptying your bag and you notice a small piece of paper folded up and resting at the bottom. With shaky hands you grab it and before you unfold it you try to think about what it could say. It can’t be credits that someone is after, you don’t have any. You don’t entangle yourself with the wrong crowd here. You keep to yourself, only leaving your house when it's necessary. But the idea that someone is watching you, taking note of your routines, what route you walk home every day, knowing when to plant the piece of paper in your bag without being noticed… That scares you. It makes you feel like the walls of your house are about to close in on you. It makes you feel like someone is lurking in the shadows, ready to strike when you’re not looking. If they know where you live, they will wait inside your home and strike. They could-

Breathe. Unfold the kriffing paper. 

So, you do. And you’re… somewhat relieved? 

The note reads; 

Come to the edge of the forest at the north side of Calodan at nightfall… alone. 

At the bottom of the piece of paper is a hand-drawn symbol of the Rebellion. 

Maybe you’re getting that action you wished for. But you’re still hesitant. Anyone could write this note and pretend they’re associated with the Rebellion. 

It is tempting, though. You have a blaster hidden deep in your closet. It hasn’t been used since you moved here. Tonight seems like the perfect night to dig it out. 

You’re kneeling on the floor, rummaging through your closet. In the back, there’s a wooden box, containing your blaster and other things from your time in the rebellion. You feel it with your hand and slide it towards you, lifting the lid and being flooded with memories. Inside the box is your old imperial disguise, a pin in the shape of the Rebellion symbol, your grappling line, and your blaster. You take the blaster in your hands and rub your thumb under the cool, black metal.

You can do this, you tell yourself. 

Rising from the floor, you tuck the blaster and grappling line in the waistband of your pants and set off into the night. The wall on the north side of the village is the least guarded at night. The person who left the note must’ve known that. 

You’re swift on your feet, moving quietly and keeping your head in a constant swivel, on the lookout for any witnesses. But everyone is home like they should be. It’s past curfew. If you were to be caught you’d be subjected to the electric cages. 

You can do this, you remind yourself. 

You reach the north wall and aim your grappling line at the top of the wallet, retracting the line and pulling yourself to the top. Your landing is a little shaky but you still got it. It feels like old times again. You reattach the grappling line to the other side of the wall and slowly lower yourself on the ground. You made it. You did it. 

But there’s still this strange person to meet, a stranger who for some reason knows who you are, knows your past. Taking a deep breath, you walk towards the forest, anxiety brewing in your stomach about just who this person could be. The forest is misty and it’s hard to see. You replace the grappling line in your waistband and draw your blaster, on high already for any attackers or one of Morgan Elsbeth’s guards who somehow noticed you leaving the village. 

“You made it,” a woman’s voice calls from your right. 

You turn and look who it is. You can make out a figure standing in the fog, wearing a dark gray cloak. Her hood is on her head but you can make out blue and white head tails peeking out. 

“Do I know you?” you ask. 

“No, but I know of you.”

“Oh?”

She removes her head and you're certain it’s Ahsoka Tano. You’ve never met her but you’ve heard stories during your time in the Rebellion. She was never associated with it, laying low and in hiding. So why would she leave a Rebellion symbol on the piece of paper?

“Ahsoka Tano?”

“Seems like you know of me, too.”

“Why are you here? And why did you leave me that note with the symbol?”

“I knew it would get your attention; get you to trust the anonymous sender. It worked, didn’t it?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“For Luke Skywalker.”

Kriff, Luke Skywalker? The Luke Skywalker?! You haven’t seen him in forever. You gotta play it cool, though. You can’t seem too eager. 

“What does he want?”

“He doesn’t know about it yet but… I need you to watch over someone very important to him.”

“Well, how can it be important if he doesn’t know about it?”

“He’s building a Jedi academy on Ossus and I rescued a force-sensitive child from the Empire-“

“The Empire is still around?”

“There’s always remnants; sympathizers left in the galaxy.”

“Right.”

“I need you to watch over him until I can take him to Luke. I have to make some repairs on my ship before I can go and it’ll take me some time.”

“That’s all you need me for?”

“I needed someone I could trust. Leia said you’d be the perfect person here.”

Leia. Maybe you need to do this. 

“When will you be taking him?”

“Two rotations from now. So you’ll do it?”

“Fine. If it’s to help Luke then why not?”

She smiles and moves her cloak to reveal a pouch hanging over her shoulder, hitting her at her hip. Inside the pouch is a small creature, pastel green with large black eyes. He looks to be of the same species as Yoda, whom you've never met. But you’ve heard stories of him. 

“This is Grogu,” she says, taking off the pouch and walking forward to hand it to you. You take it in your hands and wear it on your shoulder, looking down at Grogu who’s peering up at you with questioning eyes. 

“She’s a friend, Grogu,” she reassures him. 

“How old is he?” you ask.

“About fifty. But for his species that’s still pretty much a baby.”

“So… How do I take care of him?”

“Don’t let him out of your sight. He can find things to get into if you’re not looking. Just make sure he’s fed and he should be pretty good for you.”

“Okay… Am I meeting you back here when you’re going to take him?”

“Mhm. Meet me back here in two rotations, same time.”

“Alright…”

“May the force be with you,” she says, turning and walking deeper into the forest, her cape billowing in the wind. 

You sigh and look down at Grogu. He doesn’t say a word but you don’t expect him to, instead, he cocks his head to the side, looking up at you with a blank expression on his face. 

“Alright, kid. You’re going to have to be quiet on the way back to my house. Got it?”

He babbles a strange noise that you can only assume is a noise of acknowledgment before you set off back toward the village. You grapple up and over the stone wall as you did when you left, landing softly on your feet and retracting the line. The coast seems to be clear. And just like before you’re light on your sweet, moving like the wind. Once you’re home, you let Grogu out of his pouch and onto your bed. All you know about him is that he’s young and force sensitive so he’s going to need a watchful eye at all times. This is going to be the longest two rotations of your life. 

Din

Moff Gideon recruited Din to join his cause several cycles ago, but it wasn’t willingly. He knew Din was special back then. Force-sensitive Mandalorians are hard to come by. But it took some “convincing” to turn him over if you could call it that. Most people would call it torture. 

“Please bring me Din Djarin,” Gideon says to one of his officers. 

He bows at the command and leaves the cockpit, setting off down the hallway. Gideon has a task for Din, a special one this time. For a while now, Din’s been working as a bounty hunter for Gideon’s small remnant of the Empire. He’ll go after anyone Gideon tells him to, and he normally doesn’t ask questions. But this time, Din needs to know the full scope of who he’s going after. That someone… being you. And also the child. The Empire knows Luke is out there somewhere, building a Jedi Academy. They plan to stop Luke in his tracks and capture any force-sensitive students he may already have, turning them over to the Dark Side as soldiers for the Empire. 

The cockpit doors open once again. It’s the same officer as before but this time Din is behind him, stance strong and ready to take on a new mission.

“I have a task for you, Din Djarin,” Moff Gideon says. 

“To where?”

“Corvus, more specifically the village Calodan. One of our own, Morgan Elsbeth is the Magistrate. I’ve just received word from her that an ex-Rebel Spy has crossed paths with Ahsoka Tano and has taken the child into her care until they leave for the Jedi Academy. I need to go there to capture the spy and the child. If you talk with Morgan Elsbeth she’ll tell you when to strike.”

“I understand,” Din says with a tip of his helmet and nothing more. 

He turns and leaves the cockpit, thinking about his new mission and how he’s going to capture you. If he can, he’d like to sneak up on you when you’re sleeping or walking down a dark alley. You’re an ex-spy. He’ll have to be smart about how he goes about this. But once he captures you and tries to get you to talk? That’s when the fun begins. 

-

He leaves the docking bay in his ship, a Razor Crest, punching in the coordinates for Corvus and setting a course. On the way he thinks about how he’ll get you. Sure you’re an ex-spy, but that doesn’t mean anything to him. He’s never missed a bounty and he’s certainly not going to start now. Moff Gideon is confident in him, too. He is sending Din with no backup after all. This is all routine for Din, nothing to lose sleep over. 

Din is a force to be reckoned with… literally. There are not many force-sensitive Mandalorians out there. He could’ve chosen to be a Jedi, to follow the Light Side of the force. But the Dark Side was calling to him in a voice louder than the Light Side could ever appeal to him. He’s never felt so much raw power before, tapping into abilities he never knew he was capable of.

But for a fleeting moment when he thinks about the other Mandalorians, the covert he left behind, he feels bad about what he did. The feeling doesn’t last long though. Instead, he feels sorry for them, sorry that they’re weak. If they’re so weak, then maybe… they don’t deserve to live at all. 

He grips the gear shift on the Razor Crest a little tighter and makes the jump to lightspeed, hyper-fixated on you and your demise. 

You

It’s been two rotations since Ahsoka delivered Grogu to you. You’re due to deliver him back to her tonight and honestly… you couldn’t be more relieved. He’s adorable but he’s also a handful, getting into things when you’re not looking, moving things with his mind, hiding on you, the list of mischief he gets into goes on and on. When you were wishing for more action and excitement in your life, babysitting was not what you pictured. 

Part of you wants to ask Ahsoka if you can go with her but the other part of you is embarrassed, worrying that you’ll look desperate seeking out any chance of an adventure. 

Alas, all you can do right now is wait until tonight. 

Din

Din parks the Crest in the forest before heading to the front gate of Calodan. The guards at the watch tower take notice of him and let him in. They knew he was coming. One of them meets Din down below and escorts him to Morgan Elsbeth. She’s waiting for him on her pathway to her house, surrounded by water and her garden; a beautiful place to discuss something so grim. Her front gates open and Din walks towards her on the path. Her lips curl into a smile when she sees him. 

“Welcome,” she says.

“I was sent by Moff Gideon,” he says, standing with his hands hooked on his belt. 

“I’ve been expecting you.”

“You say there’s a spy in possession of the child… How are you so sure?”

“I always have at least one of my men patrolling the forest surrounding Calodan. One of them overheard them talking. She’s meeting Ahsoka Tano tonight at the forest on the north side of the village.”

“When?”

“At dusk tonight.”

“Understood. I will capture them then,” he says, turning and walking to leave. 

“So confident,” she says in a somewhat hushed tone so he wouldn’t hear. 

But he does, stopping in his tracks and turning to look at her one last time. 

“I never miss.”

And with that he’s gone, walking back out of the village and into the misty forest. For now, all he can do is wait for you and Ahsoka to meet up and ambush your little meeting. 

You

The sun has finally set. You’re placing your blaster and your grappling line in the waistband of your pants again, the same as you did two nights ago. Grogu behaves on your way out of the village, staying quiet as you weave in and out of the dark alleys and hop the wall with the grappling line.

Stepping into the forest you’re on high alert, anxious to hand him off to Ahsoka already. You swear you hear a twig snap somewhere. You turn to look in the direction of the noise to see… nothing. It’s just your imagination. You’re being paranoid. 

Pull yourself together. You were a spy for many years in the Rebellion. And now you’re jumping at the snap of a twig?

A figure appears in the mist. You can’t make out who it is, blinking a few times. 

“Ahsoka?”

But then a lightsaber is drawn, illuminating the figure and the mist surrounding them. It’s not Ahsoka. It’s… a Mandalorian? He’s wearing pure Beskar armor, vibrant and silver in color, with a black cape billowing in the mist. His stance is strong and menacing, making you feel small and inferior. And the lightsaber he’s wielding is one like you’ve never seen before. It’s black and its blade is one of a traditional sword. It sounds different, too, emitting a higher-pitched sound than that of a normal lightsaber. 

Without thinking you draw your blaster, aiming at the Mandalorian and moving Grogu so he’s behind your back. And then, the Mandalorian begins charging at you, running at you with full speed. You shoot at him but it’s no use. Every blast is defected by him. You scramble thinking about what to do next. But Ahsoka’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“Over here! Throw him to me!” she shouts. 

She’s on your right, hands outstretched and ready to catch him. You slide the pouch off your shoulder and toss him over to her. There’s no way he’s going to make it but Ashoka catches him, using the force to carefully pull him towards her. 

But before she can take him into her arms the Mandalorian stops and does the same. And now you can’t believe your eyes. He’s pulling Grogu towards him with all of his might. But Ahsoka’s strong, not letting go of him that easily. It’s like a game of tug of war between them with Grogu stuck in the air. If they do this any longer it’ll hurt him. Without thinking you aim your blaster at the Mandalorian, somewhere his Beskar isn’t protecting him, and shoot at the side of his thigh. The Mandalorian yells in pain and lets go of Grogu, sending him flying into Ahsoka’s arms. She takes him and runs, light on her feet as she runs through the trees. The Mandalorian will go after her next if you don’t stop him now. You keep shooting at him now that his attention is on you. But same as before, he deflects every single blast. 

Your next instinct is to run, either after Ahsoka or back towards the walls of Calodan, somewhere, anywhere just away from him. You take off running as fast as you can, into the forest and narrowly missing rocks and tree roots. You don't dare look over your shoulder to see if he’s chasing after you. 

All of a sudden you feel something around your legs, closing in on you. You look down to see a fiber cord whip, not too dissimilar from your own grappling line, encircling your legs. Within an instant you’re down on the ground, head slammed against a rock. You try to wiggle free but it’s no use, the cord is tightening around you rapidly. The last thing you see is the Mandalorian standing above you, piercing into your soul with the stone-cold glare of his visor before the world around you fades to black. 

Follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications to be notified when parts 2 and 3 come out!

Banners/dividers by @saradika-graphics! Still searching for credits for the art used!

Tagging anyone who interacted with the announce post/masterlist!

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #dark!din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin #sith!din djarin #sith!din djarin x reader #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedrostories #apotheosis

[grandlinedreams]

Can we get relationship hc for law?

Curious abt ur opinion since u write him so well

Oh absolutely, I can do that! I hope that this is to your liking!!

[Heads up!: some fluff, some angst-ish things, talking realistically abt Law and i can never be normal abt him]

Truthfully Law is definitely reserved with his emotions. Even after the events of Dressrosa as he gets used to the idea of living for himself, it's going to take him a good while to open up to anyone.

While he does have his hot buttons in terms of things he acts first and thinks about later (see: his crew and their safety), in terms of a relationship? He puts a lot of thought into it before he even considers telling you how he feels.

Not only does he weigh the chances of you feeling the same, but he also thinks about what to do in both scenarios. If you don't feel the same way? It's awkward because there's only so many places on the Polar Tang you can use to avoid someone successfully, and you also draw the others into it because he'd definitely be more reserved while he compartmentalizes/works through that rejection.

If you do have feelings for him? He's figuring out how this is going to work because again, there are others around you that are going to eventually notice. He keeps it simple and subtle ㅡ lets his attention linger on you more than thirty seconds, gives you more than one to two word answers, even goes as far as to find reasons to touch your shoulders, your arms, hands ㅡ if you're lucky, you get the occasional headpat.

He's not super physically affectionate but as long as it's in private and he's not doing something extremely important, he won't turn you down. Hugs are something it takes a while to get used to so the early ones definitely feel like hugging a scarecrow, but he tries. The more comfortable he is in your relationship, the more likely he is to initiate physical contact. One of his favorite things to do is to either pull you into his lap or sit behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder. If you're standing? Your head is his new chin rest.

Personally I hc him as being somewhere on the spectrum, so he also strikes me as a big fan of parallel play. You don't talk, but you do your thing, he does his, he considers it bonding with you.

Kisses also take time for him to come around to, the first time you kiss his cheek? Blushes, pulls on his hat, mumbles about you being annoying. He doesn't mean it though, he just has a hard time coping w the fact that he likes the feel of your lips on his skin. Kisses also are short and chaste for the most part but no less sweet ㅡ he just doesn't want anyone to see.

As far as people knowing about your relationship, Law is an intensely private person who only doles out information about himself if he feels it important to the situation at hand. ie, it's either something close to a year before anyone even gets an inkling that you're together, or it's absolutely never. No in-betweens. He values his privacy, he values yours ㅡ and he values safety. He doesn't need the stress of an enemy knowing his weak spots, or yours.

And finally, in terms of saying "I love you", you have to have the utmost patience with him. He also values the weight of words, especially with things as vulnerable as love. But he does love you, and he makes sure to convey that even if he isn't saying it. The first time he says it, you more than likely are asleep, unaware of it. He's testing it out, making sure it fits how he feels ㅡ and once it does? He says it. It's low and quiet, for your ears only ㅡ cherish it, because he won't say it for anyone else.

#ㅡmine. #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #smthing sweet ish

[catsfor2]

hands ellie x artist!fem!reader

pt2 but can be read standalone  pt 1 an: shocked to see the interaction on my first post (also super, super happy, ty :))honestly, i like this part more than the first one i wrote. pls. pls request/submit asks, i will gladly do them ! !

@prettyplant0

warnings: UNEDITED, mild smut, fluff, hand + finger kink, mild drug use (alcohol + weed)

You were undoubtedly not a party person. Not that you'd really had the chance to figure that out too many times, but after the first 20 minutes of tonight, you knew for sure.

Ellie however? Not the life of the party or anything, but the loose and confident energy she held was undeniable. She had the ability to make you swoon from across the room. And clearly the rest of Jackson has also noticed, as they huddle around her almost magnetically.

You absolutely were not trying to avoid anyone, but somehow, you have been left out. Sidelined. Othered. It's strange, as most of the town had quickly familiarized themselves with you and your creativity. But now, in this tattered party shack off the edge of the woods, you were nobody again.

"Hey! Hey! Are you fucking listening?"

Suddenly, Ellie's in your face, waving her bottle of beer around as she shouts. She laughs before taking another swig. "Are you thereee?"

"Oh fuck, sorry. Kind of zoned out I guess." You say.

"I see that. Why are you over here?" She asks.

"I don't know, I kind of-"

She cuts you off by grabbing your arm and hoisting you off the low couch. She pulls hard enough to hurt.

"Doesn't matter- we're playing pong. You don't need to do anything, I just need a partner, so..."

"Yeah, fine. Are you, like, drunk drunk? Right now?" You question, almost regretfully, not wanting to overstep. It's just that her hands are climbing up and down your arms, mindlessly, almost like she just can't help but to feel your skin.

"Well...ha...kinda," She rolls her eyes, "why?"

Before you can answer she speaks again, the hand resting on your shoulder starting to drift upwards towards your ear.

"Actually- don't tell Dina- but I'm kinda high right now also," She says, her voice getting quieter as she continues. Her fingers fiddle with the jewelry on your left ear again. You changed them for the party, (something almost unnoticeable to the average person) but Ellie can't seem to keep her hands off of them.

You pause.

"Um, why shouldn't I tell her?"

Ellie stares at you for a moment, like she's deciding on whether or not to tell you the truth. It almost hurts to see her not automatically say what's on her mind.

"Cause last night I got fuckin- I got fucked up, basically. Dina made me promise to not drink and smoke together again,"

Her hand inches up to your forehead as she talks, where her thumb starts to fidget with the clips spread through your hair.

"And Dina always tells me, 'Ellie you're like an insecure guy when you drink. Always trying to pick people up and lift random shit,'" She takes the last swig of her beer before tossing the bottle on the couch.

"And yeah, I do that, but at-"

"Get in here dicks, pong's starting!" A voice yells, cutting Ellie off.

Jesse whips a ping pong ball at the back of Ellie's head, successfully taking her attention from you. He quickly picks it up before letting out a warm drunken laugh.

"Oh shit, is Ellie putting the moves on you? Y'know more than three beers and she's-"

"Shut the fuck up Jesse. Y/N, lets go.

Jesse just laughs again while Ellie grabs your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

"You didn't mention that Ellie," You look up at her, hyper-aware of how often she stares at your lips ever since that morning in her house. "are you a player?"

She scoffs before flicking your head.

"Uh, no. I just...like talking to pretty girls at parties," Her flannel whips behind her as you finally enter the kitchen. "is that a fucking crime or something?"

People crowd around a table, set with various cups, all filled slightly with some sort of liquor. Dina and Jesse stand at the other end of the table, attempting to un-dent the only ping pong ball they've found so far.

Ellie's arm snakes around your waist before you hear her voice beside you.

"I might need to hold onto you, by the way, I've had--like--four beers and a shot."

Your face heats as you think of all the people in the room seeing her arm wrapped so tightly around your midsection. As you fumble to say yeah, of course Ellie, she glues the side of her body to yours, making sure her hand stays firmly on your waist.

Ellie almost falls over trying to get closer edge of the table.

"Hey everyone! Hey! From now on, y/n is my designated pong partner! No fuckin' arguments."

A shocked laugh escapes you immediately.

"Ellie!...Jesus..."

"What? You're my girl right? I've got to let 'em know you're my girl," She assures.

"Well with the way you've been holding me..."

Ellie's smile widens.

"I feel like they'd figure it out..." You finish.

"Yeah? And how have I been holding you?"

Your eyes dart back to Dina and Jesse and all the other people in the room before meeting up with hers again.

"Like...like I'm gonna...run away, or something," You say.

"Yeah, well...what if you do?" Her grip on you loosens just a bit. "You did the other morning. You were all yes Ellie, touch me, and then when I went for the pencils and came back you were gone!"

Your blushed cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. Your voice comes out slightly shaky when you talk.

"I--I got nervous! I'm sorry! And with the way you were so mad at first?"

You let out a breath of air you didn't realize you'd been holding. "I was questioning if you really wanted me there at all."

Her eyebrows crease. Then, almost as if to block you from view, she turns the both of you so that your back is facing the wall closest by. Her face gets near enough to yours that you smell the yeasty tang of those four beers on her tongue.

"Oh sweetheart. I almost fingered you after knowing you for like, 10 minutes. You think I don't want you?"

Your skin warms as you process what she's saying. You want to back up and let her crowd you against the wall. The way her hips shift against yours, not touching but close enough to feel every jut sets your insides buzzing. You can't repress a shiver from the sensation. Or the cold- your skirt is on the shorter side.

"Reeally cute when you get speechless like that," Ellie breaths out, tugging at the neck of her flannel and taking it off. "here. Since you wanted to wear something you know you'd freeze in. Like an idiot."

You spacily grab it out of her hands, and as you do, she takes it back from your grasp while shaking her head.

"I got it. Arms out, c'mon," as she starts to put her flannel over your shoulders, she continues. "I have an idea. How about weee...ditch this party. And smoke the joint I have hidden in the shed right now."

"Are you sure? You're already pretty drunk-"

"I won't smoke that much. Maybe a hit or two. I'll let you have most of it," She grins.

Reluctant to make her miss the rest of the party and lively night in general, you keep pushing.

"Yeah, but, the pong game? Right?"

Ellie laughs, throwing her arm around your shoulders and resting it there. Her bicep being so close to your face makes you dizzy. It feels dirty to admit you don't mind how strong she smells there--unsurprising after a night of partying.

"Just let me treat you, alright? High under the stars. Forget about your worries. That kinda shit." Her finger twirls a strand of your hair as she waits for you to answer.

"Yeah. Of course. That sounds really...lovely." You say, too focused on the weight of her body across your back.

"Ok. Good. Great. I'm gonna tell Dina we're going."

Instead of walking over to Dina, Ellie simply screams over the jumble of conversation until Dina hears, and responds, also screaming across the noise.

"Perfect. Let's head out, pretty lady."

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

You've only taken three hits, but you know you feel something. The greeny ash taste in your throat hasn't gone away, despite you consistently sipping your water.

"How's it feeling?" Ellie asks you, relishing in her fourth puff despite telling you earlier she would take less. You don't mind.

You'd both been slouched on the floor upon a blanket, picnic style, Ellie leaned against your side and her hand starting to creep up the outside of your thigh.

"Good...I guess. I feel warm. Like, cozy." And you did.

Truthfully, you were also a bit on edge. Like, sexually on edge. The blanket heat of the weed with Ellie's presence has you constantly wet and burning. Aching. Of course, that's not something you'd tell Ellie.

"Are you gonna teach me how to roll it?" You ask. "I want to do it next time."

"Next time?" She questions, dramatically opening her eyes.

"I, I mean, you want to hang out with me again...right?"

"Obviously! I'm fuckin' with you," she covers her mouth to laugh before grabbing your hand.

"And, no, I'm not teachin' you how to roll. I'll do it for you. No need for you to learn sweetheart."

When Ellie says things so simply like that, especially in that tone, you have no choice but to go along. You can't bring yourself to push back against something that makes you feel so tingly.

"Oh. Ok." You mumble, staring at her hand encompassing yours.

"It's far easier to just let my hands do all the work," She squeezes your thumb. "right?"

"Yeah-yes. Far easier." You say.

Ellie drags her thumb across your knuckles. Her eyelids droop slightly, eyes shaded a light pink, and her is face flushed from the alcohol. She's so, so beautiful, and you wish you could will the courage to tell her.

"I wore the skirt 'cause I thought you'd like it." You voice, eyes unable to meet her's as you talk. "Do you?"

She lets out a breath.

"Fuck. Fuck, of course I fucking like it. You're so pretty in it." Her hand inches under your skirt, finally grasping towards your upper thigh and edging the hem of your panties.

A brisk exhale escapes your lips as her fingers drift, navigating the plush of your hips expertly. As if she's already planned on where and how to touch you.

"Hey where'd you go? Keep your hand on mine," Ellie grabs your loose hand, which had wandered to your side, and places it firmly on her hand grasping your underwear. "and don't let go."

"Ellie..." you huff, burning hot all over.

"What, this is too much for you? I haven't even done anything yet."

You feel her palm, big and warm, cup you through the fabric and knead, forcefully but slowly rubbing your clit and watching your face for a reaction. Your hand still clutches over hers and you can feel her muscles flex in tune with the heavy pressure on your folds.

Your mouth parts open, lips shiny and untouched as your head looms closer to Ellie's. Her eyes remain locked on yours as her fingers move faster, and it becomes difficult for you to keep your hand on hers as she speeds up.

"Hah--Ellie," You gasp, eyes a bit watery from the sudden stimulation.

Something in her eyes shift and her face is moving closer to yours, her free hand enveloping one side of your face. Ellie kisses you hastily, smearing saliva over both of your mouths. Your teeth clack together, and her tongue is rampant, licking deeply into the kiss. She sucks and bites at your lips, ravaging them, while her other hand still palms you consistently, the strength of her entire arm grinding against your pussy.

The hand on your face reaches to fondle your breast, clawing at your shirt with force to feel underneath your bra. Her hand, despite its size compared to yours, still can't grab your entire breast. Ellie lets out a groan at the sight of you spilling out of her fingers.

Interrupting the both of you, a small metal trinket falls out of the band of your bra and onto the floor.

"Oh--shit, I forgot I was keeping that there," You say, immediately picking it up and holding it to your side.

"Uhm...what is that?" Ellie asks, eyes still partly drawn to where your skirt has ridden up, exposing a part of your ass.

You notice her gaze and mindlessly fix your skirt before picking the item up. The star-shaped rock on the front of the ring took you hours to tediously chip down due to the tiny size. It was worth it to possibly please Ellie.

"It's--well, remember the ring?" You rotate it forward, showing off the small star emblem like its a priceless diamond. "I made it. For you."

"Holy-holy shit! That's so fucking cute! You're so fuckin' cute!" She says in between short laughs. "I can't believe you actually like...made it." She puts the ring on the middle finger of her left hand, pleased with the way it fits perfectly.

"Y'know, now, you jus need to wear something that has a star like mine. So we match."

Her words make you smile wide, also while painting your face rose.

"I actually—my belly," You lift your shirt a tad, exposing the bottom lace of your bra but also the tiny piercing on your bellybutton. "the shape is a star, but-I swear, completely unintentional."

"Oh, shit. That's...cute." She murmurs, leaning closer to your stomach to give it a kiss. "Yeah, 'unintentional', my ass."

You slap her wrist lightly. "Oh shut up,"

Her hand again travels up your legs to reach your thigh, only to pause and retract for a moment. Ellie then takes the ring off of her left hand and triumphantly places it onto her right.

Oh.

"Ok, Ellie, that's like a tiny bit gross-"

"I'll clean it. I promise. I just feel like- I need to baptize it, or something, y'know?" She assures, lips curving up into a sly smile.

"Shut up." You quip. "You really must be high or something."

“We’re both high babe. It fucking reeks in here.”

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie fic #ellie x fem reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #lesbian #catsfor2

[laundrybiscuits]

Found myself reading some old Inception fic and felt the urge to poke at an AU idea—I know ST fandom skews a little young, so I genuinely don’t know how many people will even get this. If there are Inception primers out there, I haven’t bothered to find them, so…you’re on your own, kids. 

“Absolutely not. I do my own forges.” Eddie sweeps the file off the table and directly into the trashcan; admittedly, it’s not the most mature thing he’s ever done, but Henderson’s getting on his last goddamned nerve. 

The little twerp has the fucking audacity to roll his eyes and groan, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable. “I know this guy, don’t be a dick. He can do it. Don’t you wanna focus on your super special architect stuff?”

“What you and every other dumbass dilettante drowser don’t seem to grasp is that my architecture is alive, and I breathe life into it via my meticulously crafted characters. I create richly textured worlds, Henderson, and I populate them myself. That’s why I’m the best in the fucking business: because I understand that the people and the setting are one and the same, and I can handle both.”

“Eddie.” Henderson crouches to grab the file out of the trash, and smacks it back down on the table. “I’m running this team, and I’m saying I don’t want anything like what happened in Munich to ever happen again. Okay?”

“Low blow, kid,” snaps Eddie. “Munich wasn’t on me.” 

“I know, jeez. I just…” Henderson takes a second to tap the loose sheets in the file back into place, then stands there with his lips pressed together like he’s keeping something in. After a moment, he just says, “This isn’t going to be Munich. Because Steve’s going to be here.”

———

It’s not Munich. It’s not Munich at all. It is the furthest fucking thing from Munich possible. 

Eddie’s never had a job go that smoothly—and it’s not down to Henderson’s obsessive prep, because it should’ve been a slippery one. The kind of job that twisted partway through into something frustratingly unexpected, forcing them to improvise and take whatever half-win they could squeeze out of the mark’s subconscious while dodging completely unexpected security. 

Instead, it’s so incredibly not-Munich that the client gives them a fucking bonus, and when was the last time that happened? The bonus is generous enough that Eddie’s share can cover a whole new safehouse in Melbourne, which should have been great news, something to celebrate, except for the absolutely unholy amount of smugness now radiating from Henderson.

Eddie avoids the I-told-you-so conversation as long as he can, but he can’t run forever.

“I told you so,” says Henderson, flopping unceremoniously into the dark wooden chair next to Eddie.

“This is a library, dude. Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” says Eddie, without much hope. He’d heard Henderson was supposed to be meeting up with Sinclair in Lima this week; so much for that intel.

Henderson waves a dismissive hand, gesturing vaguely at the domed skylight high overhead. “It’s not like a library library. It’s basically a museum.”

“The goddamn State Library of Victoria is absolutely one hundred percent a library library, genius. See all the books? But also, do you think people go around yelling in museums?”

“Maybe they should! What we should be focusing on now, though, is that I was right about Steve, and I think it’s important for our working relationship that you acknowledge I was right.”

“I don’t have to acknowledge shit,” says Eddie, slumping down and ignoring the glares they’re starting to get from everyone in the atrium. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an egomaniac, kid? I don’t even get why you’re so hot on the guy, anyway. He’s like—the least imaginative forger I’ve ever met.”

It comes out a little harsher than he’d meant it. It’s just that forgers, as a people, tend to be easily swept into flights of fancy.

Eddie’s always sort of thought it was a requirement of the profession: when he’s inhabiting a character, part of his mind is always working to generate the little details that make them feel like a whole person. Their secret fears and even more secret hopes. How they deal with boredom or anger, what their gut reactions are. The small gaps between how they see themselves and how others see them. That’s where Eddie thrives, and he thinks that if he were less hooked on the magic of spinning up entire worlds for marks to wander through, he might forge full-time, just for the thrill of riding that uncertainty. It’s how he was taught, but clearly, Steve learned something different.

What Steve does isn’t really classical forging—not in the way Eddie thinks about it, usually. Steve just…walks into a situation, says some stuff, maybe gives the mark a smile all warm and private like a whispered secret. And then the mark folds. It’s maddening how easy Steve makes it look. Oh, he’ll pull on the right costumes and tweak his physicality a little, but it’s always still just Steve underneath. 

Maybe that’s the trick. Eddie’s forges work because he crafts lavishly detailed lies; Steve’s forges work because there’s some kind of real, solid honesty at the core. 

“I’m going to ignore the hurtful thing you just said because I know you hate to admit it when I’m right and you’re wrong,” Henderson informs him. “You really gotta work on that. More importantly, I’ve got a lead on a new job, and Steve already said yes.”

It’s not like Eddie needs the money. Henderson’s a nightmare to work with. And there’s the, y’know. The Steve Harrington of it all. Eddie has a million reasons to say no.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says instead. “When do we start?”

#not the start of a new thing! just a napkin scribble! #weirdly I think the most challenging part of writing this was shifting my core concept of the boys away from Just Some Guy #personally I'm not super drawn to rockstar or royalty AUs for them bc they're so intensely Just Some Guy to me #more specifically I find it fascinating how they deal with the absence of social validation in different ways #Inception AU

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab!bounty!reader

Chapter word count: 7.3k

Chapter summary: Being on the run is harder than you thought...

Chapter tags/warnings: angst, canon-typical violence, cliffhangers bc I like chaos, stuff I'm forgetting

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so, so sorry this took so long to get out! I think I had gotten used to writing shorter fics, so doing a long chapter was just kind of a pain for me. I'm super happy to get this updated though. Gonna go ahead and say that this will likely be a short series with less than ten chapters purely because of the length of each one, but that's not set in stone. If this is your first time reading this series, there are four parts before this! <3

****

It’s easy to get lost in the crowd once you step off the Crest. Mando had landed fairly close to the open market but, unfortunately, a good bit away from the spaceport. You immediately get sucked into the throng of people browsing the shops, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. The only thought that settles your ridiculous pulse is that you must be pretty damn hard to find mixed in with this lot. Though, of course, you know Mando, and you know that if he really wanted to spot you, he would. Bounty hunting fucking bastard.

You can't help but look over your shoulder every couple of minutes. Each time you do so, you fully expect to see Mando trailing behind you, cuffs in hand. You choose to ignore the pang of hurt in your chest when you think about him—about how easily he betrayed you. It didn’t even seem like he gave it a second thought. You curse yourself for dwelling on the issue and shake your head. You can't afford to waste time on facts you have already accepted. 

You stumble as a man knocks into your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts and making you lose your balance. You narrowly miss running into a woman holding hands with a young boy as you struggle to keep yourself up. You flash her a sorry look in response to her dirty one. You really need to figure out where you’re supposed to be going. You’re unfamiliar with Nevarro’s layout so you have no idea what direction you should go.

You walk straight for a few minutes before you decide that isn’t going to get you anywhere. This part of the planet is so ridiculously congested that there's no point in even moving your feet if you don’t have a set path. There's no telling which way you might be swept. kriff, a few minutes from now, you might realize that you had been traveling in a circle, and hadn’t even noticed.

Deciding that you would like to avoid such a circumstance, you push your way out to the side of the crowd so you can find somewhere to get a better view. You have to be quick about it—you know you’re low on time as it is, you can’t waste precious seconds trying to figure out a game-plan. You need to come up with a quick and easy route in a quick and easy fashion. 

Fortunately, as you push your way out of the heated blob of people, you spot a building that looks easy enough to get on top of. It's not super high up, so you won’t attract any unwanted attention, but it’s just tall enough for you to be able to spot the space-port. 

You figure it’s the best plan you’re going to be able to think of for now, so you quickly scramble to the side of the building, stopping in front of the ladder that goes all the way up to the top. Grabbing the first wrung, you begin to climb up, glancing back every now and out of paranoia. Of course, Mando’s never there, but you can’t help but check just in case. 

On the roof, you find that it’s easy—just as you suspected—to spot the port over the thousands of people. You easily map out a path before rushing back down the ladder. It shouldn’t take too long to get to the port, most of the roads you picked out were clear of people for the most part. 

Once your feet are back on the ground, you take off toward the first turn in your plan. It looks pretty busy, but from here it should be smooth sailing.

You become part of the market crowd the second you turn onto the street. Your jaw drops at the sight of so many people in one place. And you had thought there had been a lot of people around the crest… that was nothing. It definitely didn’t look like that many people from above. 

The throng of people is quick to take you into its embrace as you hastily make your way into the streets filled to the brim with shops. Everywhere you look, there is some kind of cart or stand offering some kind of merchandise. You ignore it all as you try to push your way through the crowd. 

It’s a bit hard to do when there are vendors shouting in your ear and popping out in front of you, making you stop briefly as they shove their product in your face. You resist the urge to push people out of your way. You really don’t have the time—or patience—for this right now, but you don’t need to draw unwanted attention. 

You look for signs posted with directions, letting them guide you until you’re able to push your way out of the main strip and into a less crowded street. You let out a breath of relief as you take in your surroundings, noticing the port close by. It’s not a straight shot, but it should only take you another few minutes or so. 

You try to stay discreet as you cling to sides of buildings and use hanging awnings for cover. It’s surprisingly hard to act nonchalant and unsuspicious if you’re trying too hard to do so. Having a price on your head is a real pain in the ass.

Adrenaline starts to sneak into your system as you grow close enough to the ships to decide which one to take. You need to be quick and choose one that will be leaving within the next few minutes. You know well enough to be aware of the fact that security will start to check passengers if there’s word of an escaped bounty. You can feel your breath starting to grow thinner and your body getting hotter. 

There’s a passenger ship near the back of the port. It seems smart enough to catch something like that so you don’t seem like you’re, well, on the run. You look around again before starting that way, breezing past people to find the line for tickets. You cross your fingers that there will be spots available on such short notice. 

As you approach the stand, you discover that there are only a few people waiting to purchase a seat. By the time you’re standing still, there’s only one person in front of you. A warm feeling rushes through your body, making you almost light-headed. You’re so close to escaping. Nobody ever does that.  

“Next!” 

You take a breath as you step up, trying to calm your nerves. 

“Hi, I need to get one ticket to…” you glance at the sign hanging from the stand. “Coruscant.” You wince internally. That probably isn't the best place to go in this situation, but at least you’ll be off of this planet. 

The woman looks at you skeptically, obviously confused by why you didn’t even know where the ship would be going. You flash her what you hope is a disarming smile as she squints and tells you your total none-the-less. 

You quickly swing your bag around and unzip it, pulling out your money. You’re handing it over when you hear your name called from behind you. 

Your heart drops to your ass as you turn, wide eyed, to see Mando running full speed at you. You don’t even have a second to think before you’re running too, scanning the area in front of you for an escape route. 

Curses repeat themselves endlessly in your panicked mind as you spy a ship getting ready to depart. It’s beat up and seedy looking, but it’s also likely your only chance. With one more glance behind you, you turn sharply to the left and make a bee-line for your escape. 

You try to focus on your breathing instead of the Mandalorian quickly gaining on you. The ship you’re headed toward is already starting to descend, and you just about triple your efforts. 

You hear your name again, and it makes you wince. A dull throb starts in your chest. Being this close in proximity with Mando again, but now as official enemies, hurts in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

You’ve been betrayed before, but not in such an intimate way. The fact that he pretended to have genuine interest in you—to engage in sexual acts with you—when he knew the entire time that he would be turning you in for a reward, digs deep into your chest like a rusted knife. 

Tears are obstructing your vision before you can deny them, but you push through until you’re only a few feet away from your ship. The gangplank is still open about halfway, but it should be enough for you to squeeze through by the time you reach it. It’s maybe five feet in the air right now, so it’s going to be tough to get up there.

Mando is only a few feet behind you now. You lunge for the plank with everything you have, and your fingers grasp on by just a few inches, the jagged metal stinging as you pull up enough to get both arms up. 

You look at the ground, seeing Mando coming to a stop from where you just jumped. You’re up too high now for him to jump after you, but you forget he has his jetpack until it comes to life. You scramble up the plank as it continues closing to avoid getting cut in half. 

In the end, it’s your only saving grace. You and Mando are able to see each other face to helmet briefly before you’re closed inside, and you make sure to let him see the raw anguish on your face before it does so. You almost wish he had that stupid helmet off so you could see for yourself if the asshole has any kind of remorse. 

A shuddering breath escapes from your lips as you wipe your tears. You turn around on your knees to examine the ship. It’s dark, dingy, and smells absolutely horrid. There’s no crew in sight, to your absolute relief. 

Resisting the urge to gag at the stench, you begin to crawl quietly away from the closed hatch. There are crates everywhere, taking as much floor space as possible and stacked as high as they can go. You’re confused for a moment as to why there needs to be so much product on board, but then a heavy realization dawns on you. 

These chests are filled with spice. 

You’ve seen these come in at your job at the junkyard. Old ones that had surpassed any kind of use for runners. Never in your life though, have you ever seen so many in one place. You absentmindedly hold your breath as you crawl forward, trying to find a place to hide. 

You stop in your tracks when you hear laughter coming from the cockpit—at least two men. 

Shitshitshitshitshit

There’s no getting out of this if you’re discovered. Your heart races in your chest as fear overtakes your body. You really can’t seem to catch a fucking break, can you?

You look around frantically until you see a small space toward the ceiling. It’s partially covered by a crate, which will make it harder to get to, but better for hiding. You scootch to the end of the crate you’re currently behind, peeking your head out just enough to make sure the hull is clear. 

As soon as you’re in the clear, you bolt as quickly and quietly as you can toward the concealed space. As you approach, you map out the notches and grooves you’re going to use to climb up there. 

Step by shaky step,  you pull yourself up, ignoring the stinging cuts in your hands and forearms from the plank. They’re not very deep or wide, but the strain on them hurts almost just as much. 

The crate at the top wobbles as you put all of your weight on it, the entire stack swaying slightly. Your eyes flutter shut as you mutter a silent prayer. It’s much too precarious for your liking as you swing one leg onto the edge of the cubby. You’re way too close for this plan to fail now. 

You’re only able to take a full breath once your entire body is safely tucked within the small space. It’s cozy, barely enough room for you to sit comfortably. You don’t even think it’s big enough to lay down if you wanted to. 

Chatting and laughter continues from the front of the ship as you slowly pull the crate in front of you to conceal you better. It’s heavy as hell and you have to nudge it inch by inch so as to not make a screeching sound against the one below it. 

Once you’re satisfied with the placement, you lean back against the cold metal wall behind you. Now that the exhaustion is beginning to seep into your bones, you can’t help but think that the feeling reminds you of sitting in the Razor Crest. 

You don’t stop the tears that run down your cheeks now. You deserve to cry after the week you’ve had. 

****

You realize much too late that you have no idea where this ship could be going, nor how long it’s going to take to get there. You have food and water in your bag, but you don’t know how you’re supposed to go about your other…needs. 

Thankfully, it seems that the destination is close enough to only be in hyperspace for what you assume was about half the day. You’re half asleep when you feel the tell-tale jerk of the ship coming out of it. It startles you enough to wake up the rest of the way, and you silently scold yourself for letting your guard down for so long—though you can’t remember exactly when you last got some decent sleep. 

The ship rattles as it cuts through the atmosphere of whatever planet it’s dropping this shit off at. The thought crossed your mind at one point that you could have possibly inhaled some of the spice lingering in the air. 

How great would that be? Trying to plead guilty of whatever crime you supposedly committed and then failing a drug test. Really screams “I’m innocent!” You roll your eyes, tired of your brain making up scenarios to throw you through more hoops. 

The ship stops rattling after a moment, and you can feel the glide as it lowers to the ground. The crates rattle once again as the ship plants itself. The walls of the craft creak and groan as a swaying starts, which is strange considering you’ve definitely landed. 

The motion makes you sick to your stomach, but it’s almost a welcome distraction from the fact that you’re about to piss yourself. You need to find a way off of this death-trap before one of the runners discovers you. 

You hear the gangplank starting to lower, and as it does, a gust of heavy rain pushes into the hull. A cold spray hits your face, making you flinch and cover yourself with your arm. From the sliver of scenery you can see, the sky appears to be dark, but not enough so for it to be night. 

You’ve heard about places like this; planets that storm every day of the year and never see the sunlight. They’re usually only used for fishermen, junk yards, and spots for spice traders to meet up. Which absolutely makes sense at the moment. 

You back into the cubby as much as you can, making yourself scarce as two men walk out of the ship and into the dreadful weather. They appear to be dressed for it, both of them wearing rubber boots and thick raincoats. You watch them until they’re out of sight, and then wait a few minutes before climbing back down to the floor. 

You get low, bending enough to be concealed by the chests until you get to the opening of the ship. You let out a breath of relief upon seeing that there’s no threat anywhere near at the moment. You’re so sick of luck not being on your side. This is definitely a welcome change. 

The rain is bone-chilling as you step out into it, immediately soaking you. It’s so thick that you can barely see in front of you. A couple buildings are within view every couple of seconds when there’s a break in the sheets of rain due to the heavy wind. With no other options, you decide to head that way. 

As you trek through the unforgiving storm, you can’t help but compare the way the fat drops of water hit your face to being cut by shards of glass. Though even if you were being cut, you would never be able to tell with how fast the blood would be washed from your numb skin. 

When you reach the closest building, you don’t waste a second before pushing the door open. The loud atmosphere of a cantina immediately welcomes you into its warmth. Despite the heat, you still shiver as you make your way through the main room and to the back. You rush into the bathroom and wait until a stall empties. 

As you wait, you get a couple strange looks, but you’re too tired to do anything about it. You just want to pee and find some directions to get the hell out of this place.

****

When you get out of the restroom, you spot an empty stool wedged between a burly looking man with a beard and a plump woman who seems to have had one or a dozen too many. Every other spot is full, so you hop up and lean forward, trying to catch the bartender’s attention. 

She works quickly, cleaning glasses in between serving replacements and taking orders. It takes a moment for her to come your way, but when she does, you have her full attention. 

“What can I get you, hon?” 

The bartender is a clean but busy looking woman with frizzy hair and a stained apron. You clock the kindness in her eyes immediately, and decide to put your trust in her. She looks like one of those women who would offer up a pad or tampon even if it was her last one. 

“Hi, uh, I’m actually not looking for a drink,” you say, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You’re not sure if it’s there due to the cold, the exhaustion, or the anxiety. “Can you tell me–”

You stop talking when the woman purses her lips and shakes her head. 

“Sorry, babe, I can’t hear you over this damn ruckus,” she gestures to the people around you, and then points to a corner where you assume the entrance to the bar is. “Meet me right there.” At least she can tell you’re not here to party. 

You slide down from your stool and squeeze your way to where she pointed. She’s already there when you get there. She’s taken her apron off, which confuses you slightly. 

“Hey, I–”

“Honey, you need to get out of here,” she cuts you off, hanging up her apron. 

“What, why?” You ask through your stomach dropping. She flashes you a sympathetic look and you return a defeated one. You’re so fucking tired. How long are you going to have to put up with this shit? 

“Bounty Hunter’s Guild just sent out a high stakes bounty warning. Picture looked just like you, babe.” She raises her eyebrows and gives you a pointed look.

You nod at her. Great, so not only do you have pucks out for any hunter that’s willing to find you, but every being in the galaxy has gotten an alert to look out for you. 

“Yup, That would be me.” 

“Mhm, figured. C’mon, let's get you out of this place. I’ve got somewhere you can stay until you can get off-world.” She exits from behind the bar and takes your hand, attempting to pull you with her. 

You give her a wary look, confused as to why she’s helping you. 

“How do I know you’re not turning me in?” 

“Humor me for a second, just come outside at least. Please?” She stops and looks at you, a pleading look in her eyes. 

You lick your lips but decide to follow her. It really doesn’t seem like she wishes you any harm, but you can’t be sure—you never would have thought Mando would, after all. Just outside, like she said. No further until she spills.

You allow her to pull you back the way you came, into the rain, and then down an alley next to the bar. There’s a flickering street lamp tucked under an awning between the two buildings, which the two of you huddle beneath. 

“Look, I’m gonna make this quick,” the woman says before you have a chance to speak. She pauses and watches you intently. You nod at her, signaling for her to continue. 

“I know how this bounty hunting shit is. My sister was hunted for a good while because she was seen outside the scene of a robbery. She was just a pedestrian, but she got taken in and questioned pretty thoroughly and then ended up spending a few nights in a cell. It’s fucked, to put it simply.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” you tell her, your voice cracking just slightly as you shake your head. She gives you that same sympathetic look from the bar. 

“I know. I read the reasoning for your bounty. It was bantha-shit.” 

“Great,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re well aware that 90% of the population doesn’t care about that—all they’ll see is the pay for turning you in. 

“There’s a place on the outside of the city, it’s been abandoned for a couple years. I’m pretty sure the heat and water are still connected, but nobody ever goes there. It’s an outdated complex. You okay with staying there for a bit?” 

You nod at her, not knowing what else to say. Maybe a thank you? She’s talking again before you get the chance to do that though. 

“Alright, you stay here for just a second,” she instructs before running back into the bar. You lean up against the building, listening to the rain as you let out a shuddering breath. The woman is only gone for a few seconds before she re-emerges with a piece of paper in her hand. 

“These are the instructions to get there from here,” she says, grabbing your hand and shoving the paper into it. “I’m here if you need me, but please don’t try anything if you don’t have to.” 

You look at her, and then the paper, studying the scratchy writing. 

“Thank you, really,” you tell her. She just nods and releases your hand with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Be safe, hon,” she says before ducking back into the bar. 

The trek to the safe house is absolutely miserable. Everything on your body is soaked down, and the paper the woman gave you was starting to fall apart. You had to keep ducking under buildings and awnings to memorize what you could of the directions. 

You’re glad you did, because by the time you reach the place, the paper is non-legible. The building itself is pretty isolated. It appears to have been apartments at one point, but is now just a tall junkyard. There’s piles upon piles of trash around it, but you suppose that only gives more of a reason for people to not go inside. 

Unfortunately for you, you don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You run up to the first door you see, and curse when you try to pull it open. It’s locked, of fucking course. 

You walk around to the side of the building until you see a window that’s not boarded up. Your palms slip against it as you try to get some leverage to push it up, but with some persistence, it comes loose. You almost fall when it springs up, but at least it’s towards the room inside. 

You glance behind you one more time before pushing yourself in. You close the window behind you and take a deep breath as the deafening storm is somewhat quitened. It’s cold in the room you find yourself in, but it’s far better than being out in that shit. 

Looking around, you spot a stove surrounded by counter space, hanging cabinets, and a small, round table accompanied by four outdated chairs. Definitely a kitchen. There’s what appears to be a hall to your right. You walk toward it, trying to hold back your shivering. 

It’s not super long, but you notice how eerily quiet it is as you walk though. On the other side, there’s a room with a bed and a couch. There are three doors, which you can only assume lead to a bathroom, a closet, and the main hall of the building. 

You open the first door, which goes out into the hall. It sends a gust of even colder air into the room, making your teeth chatter as it envelops your wet body. You look left and right, and then reluctantly step into the freezing hallway. It’s dark as shit, but the occasional uncovered window allows enough—albeit dim—lighting to lead you toward the stairwell. 

There’s a sign tacked on the wall there, and you sigh with relief as you spot the directions to the maintenance room. That must be where you can flip the heat on. It’s not far, just down the first staircase and down the hall a little. Without the windows, the room is even darker than the rest of the building. 

You mutter a curse under your breath, figuring that your best bet is going to be blindly running your hands around the walls until you find a switch. You put your hands out and start to glide them slowly left to right, and then up and down until you find an abnormality in the wall. 

You shudder, trying to ignore the cobwebs that have accumulated on the panel which are now sticking to your hands. As long as they’re not spiders, it’s okay. You hesitantly flip the first one, and then the second. Nothing happens in your area, but you swear you hear a click come from one of the floors above you. 

In quick succession, you flip the rest of the switches, and a light finally comes above you once you reach the second to last one. You huff out a breathy laugh at your luck. Now that you aren’t in total darkness, you can clearly see the other panels around you, along with their labels. 

You flip the switch for water, and then another for heat. A low humming starts above you as you do so, indicating that at least the latter is working. 

A piping hot shower and half a ration bar later, you’re laying on top of a bed under a heater, still trying to warm up. You feel the most relaxed you have since you found your bounty puck, although it still isn’t enough to fall asleep without keeping an eye open. Eventually, though, the humming from the heating system lulls you enough to fall into a half-sleep. 

****

You spend three days on what you’ve learned is Attera Bravo before you run out of luck. Word of a Mandalorian bounty hunter is quickly spread, and you catch wind of such as you pay a visit to town for more rations. The panic which had ebbed away after the last few days is suddenly back in full force. 

You really thought you would have a second to catch your breath, but you’re quickly learning that there is no such thing when there’s a price on your head. While you’re in town, you pick up a few rations on the outskirts, and that’s it. You had wanted to find a rain jacket on your trip, but you decide not to risk being in town for too long. 

So you begin to make the trip back to the safe house without a cover from the cold, biting rain. It sucks ass, but it’s better than carbonite. Even though you’re on the outskirts, you still hug the sides of buildings as you make your exit. Your head keeps snapping towards the slightest movements; a flickering street lamp, a closing door, a flash of far away lightning. 

You break off into a sprint as soon as you’re a few feet away from the cover of the nearest building. You don’t look back as you push yourself, not wanting to risk slowing down. All you can see is the terrifying image of Mando catching up with you like he did on Nevarro. 

You glance at the spaceport as you run past, seeing if you can get a glimpse of the Razor Crest. You don’t see it, but that’s probably for the best. There’s no mistaking that the Mandalorian bounty hunter the town’s people are talking about is your Mandalorian bounty hunter, but seeing the Crest would probably crack something within you. That would mean that the kid is likely with him, and you can’t afford to think about him right now. 

You can hear your heavy breaths over the sound of the rain, and you choose to focus on that instead of the icy chill. You try to take breaths in through your nose to calm yourself, but you just get a nose full of water, so you scratch that and continue your panicked breaths through your mouth. 

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out, breath in–

Your breath hitches. There’s a buzz coming from behind you, steadily growing louder. You spare a glance over your shoulder, and you can just make out the headlights of what looks to be a speeder bike. The pathetic “no” that leaves your mouth would be extremely embarrassing if anyone were around to hear it. 

You try to pick up your pace, but almost trip with your effort. The bike is getting closer, you don’t have to look again to know. There’s no way you’re going to outrun it. You have an idea, but it’s going to be risky. You grit your teeth, thinking it over, and decide that the risk is better than definitely getting caught. 

You stop suddenly, just for a second, until the bike is almost to you. Then you turn around, seeing Mando atop it, only a bit away. He didn’t anticipate your stop, and doesn’t register the fact that he needs to slow down until you’re running past him and back toward town. 

You don’t get much of a head start, but luckily the space port is still close enough that it’s not absolutely necessary. As soon as you’re close enough, you dive around a crate to get out of the way of the speeder. Mando arrives right behind you, quick to hop off it and start on foot after you.

You make your way to where you remember the ship you came on had landed. The last time you passed here, you remember seeing the gangplank open. Either they make routine stops, or they’re here for a while. Either way, it means that your escape will be aided by the same ship that helped you the first time. 

By some incredible luck, it’s still there. There’s a group of relatively shady people gathered a few yards away from it, standing under a wing of another ship, but you’re getting used to dealing with shady things at this point. You run past them, not intending to stop until you’re alone without the threat of Mando. 

Without stopping to turn around or even check if there are people in the ship, you run up the plank, slamming your palm over the button to close it behind you. You hear a couple panicked “Hey”s from behind you, which you can only assume is the protests of the guys who own this ship. You run into the cockpit, which is thankfully empty. 

You start to flick switches and pull knobs, everything you can try to get this thing off the ground in the fastest amount of time. If you learned anything on the Crest, it’s how to work a ship’s panel. You hear pangs coming from the closing door, and look out the window to see that half of the group from earlier has run off, and are likely the source of the sound. 

You looked out just in time to see your Mandalorian coming to a stop in front of the other half of the group, who are blocking him from getting further toward you. You huff out a tiny laugh. Take that, asshole. The ship starts to ascend just as Mando throws his first punch. 

****

Once you’re back into space, your heart gets the memo that it can stop working overtime. You decide you’ll just cruise for a bit while you figure out where the best place to go would be—assuming Mando will be occupied with his opponents below for a moment. It needs to be somewhere pretty isolated and unknown for the most part, but also not painfully obvious. 

You consider going back to Jakku for a moment, but scratch that idea quickly. You would for sure be turned in by someone there. And besides, Mando would look there eventually. 

You sigh and lean back in the outdated pilot’s seat, staring at the stars around you. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this view. It’s quiet and peaceful, and it almost makes you forget everything you’re dealing with right now. A lump catches in your throat at that thought. 

You really don’t understand how you’re going to get through this. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life running; that’s no life at all. To be in constant fear of being caught, never being able to settle down, never able to make connections. It genuinely makes you sick to your stomach. 

You lean back and put one hand over your eyes as you try to think about what your next step is. It also needs to be somewhere where you can get more supplies. You need more clothes since all yours have been pretty weathered by the constant rain. You’re also going to need money at some point. 

How are you going to do that? Something tells you that you won’t be able to just snag a job along the way. You sit forward in your seat again, shaking your head. The air con on the ship has kicked on, hitting your drenched body and making your teeth chatter as you pull up the navigation system to browse nearby planets. 

You’re only pressing the first button when the ship suddenly jolts, a crashing sound coming from the back. It scares the shit out of you, your hand clutching tightly to your chest as you spring up out of your seat and look behind you. 

An alarm sounds, frightening you more as you realize that you’ve just been hit. The impact didn’t seem like enough to do a lot of damage, but you have no idea how to work the cannons on this thing—if there are any cannons at all. Judging by the looks of this thing, if it is equipped with a weapons system, it’s likely out of date and of no use to you. 

You speed up and grab the steering to quickly turn to the right, trying to get out from in front of the offending ship. Maybe if you can get behind them and far enough away, you’ll be able to get into hyperspace. It seems that your best bet is going to be running. You’re sensing a bit of a pattern at this point. 

You grit your teeth as the ship tilts slightly with the momentum of your turn. A couple of left over bins in the hull spill over, making you wince at the crashing sounds. There’s suddenly a sweet smell, and you close your eyes briefly as you pray that there wasn’t any spice in those crates. 

It was only for a split second, but when your eyes open, you’re face to face with another small craft. You swerve again to keep out of its way. As you do so, another pops up in your path, and then another, each of them coming out of hyperspace in quick succession. 

Your heartbeat picks up with your panic as you realize you’re surrounded. You can’t see behind you, and there’s no way to go forward. There’s got to be at least five or six of them, and they’re probably carrying between at least four to eight people a piece. They could take you out right now if they wanted. 

Gulping down your anxiety, you do the most rational thing you can think of in the moment, and reluctantly slow down to a gentle drift. As the ships come in closer with your surrender, you think ahead. If they take you onto one of their ships, you might be able to—

Your train of thought is stopped as you get an alert of an incoming transmission on the dash. You breathe out a shaky breath and press the button to accept it. 

A holo-image of an extremely pissed looking Weequay sprouts from the com. You stand tall and put on a brave face. He stares at you, his eyes narrowing. You gulp, hoping it goes unnoticed. There’s a sour taste in your mouth, and a sick feeling in your stomach. You don’t know if you’re getting out of this one. 

To make matters worse, the spice that had spilled with your turn is starting to creep up to the cockpit in a thick fog. The rusty-orange looking powder floats higher with every second, the effects quickly making you dizzy. 

“Okay, girl,” the rugged looking creature drawls with a weird accent you can’t quite place. “I personally was having a good day today, and I think you should know that, first of all.”

You furrow your brow but don’t interrupt. The creature starts to pace slightly as he speaks in a casual tone. 

“Everything was going great, I was making good sales, had deals going for that spice you have in my ship—which I’m sure you’ve discovered at this point. I was just about to have my guys deal with it—and then I got the call that some bitch stole my ship containing the goods. Would you know anything about that, sweetheart?” 

You wince lightly at the insulting pet name, a stark difference from the way Mando used to say it. The dust around you is starting to pick up to the point where your eyes are stinging. You wish you could think of something to say back, but all you can focus on is the bile crawling up your throat. 

“Hm, I think you would,” he stops to say flatly. “Now, my initial plan had been to force you off my ship and maybe take you out to have a little fun! Told my guys they deserve to have a little treat on me after their hard work the last few days. We’d just need you for a little bit, I’m sure these guys don’t have much stamina if you know what I mean…”

The man continues talking, but you’ve frozen in place. Your stomach twists at his threats, and you suddenly feel the need to throw up. The spice growing thicker around you is definitely not helping that factor. 

“...would have been such a good time,” you zone back into the man’s vulgar words. Letting your gaze drift back to him from where it had fallen to the floor. You find yourself wishing for Mando, for the safety you felt as you laid so briefly within his comforting arms. You want to punch yourself for thinking that. 

The pirate, obviously annoyed with your lack of response, continues rambling about this inconvenience, but you can hardly hear him through the ringing growing louder in your ears. The truth that you’re finally trapped is just catching up to you. 

 “Anyways, when I found your bounty poster, I thought just for a second that it must be your lucky day! But then, I figured that whoever wants you probably doesn’t give a shit about what kind of condition you’re in.” 

He laughs at the increasingly panicked look on your face. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart! We won’t go too hard on you now. As long as you cooperate, of course. Just be good for us and we’ll send you to Nevarro without so much as a—”

There’s another crash from behind you, but this time it’s not your ship taking the damage. The man in front of you swivels around, straining to see the source of the sound. His eyes widen, and so do yours when you see the fear in his eyes. You take a step back. 

“What the—” 

The pirate is cut off again as his ship abruptly explodes right in front of you. His holo-image glitches out as you scream, falling back into your seat. Your ship is knocked back slightly at the same time you feel two other crafts quickly flying by you, chasing the shadow of the one you see above you. 

Two ships emerge from either side of you, and your heart skips a beat once you catch a glimpse of the one they’re chasing. You know that ship. Two of the smaller crafts race after the Razor Crest as it trails them away from you. 

That doesn’t mean you’re surrendering to anybody today. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you scramble to push the thrusters, planning to get as far away from here as you can. The two ships that aren’t tailing the Crest suddenly change direction to follow you instead. Shit.

You continue forward at full speed, making quick turns and dodges to throw off the idiots behind you. Unfortunately, it’s not working in your favor. You feel your ship jolt as a blast lands on the surface of it. You hear the sound of something powering down. 

Your craft slows to about half its speed, making you cry out in frustration. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Crest take out one of the ships that had been pursuing it. Another hit comes to your ship, and this time the hit is so great that you jolt forward and almost hit your head on the dash. 

Another one immediately follows, and this time you do slip out of your chair and smack your head on the edge of the panel. Your vision blacks for a second, and you know it has to be at least a small concussion. A ringing starts back in your ears again as your vision blurs slightly. A big flash blinds you momentarily as—at least you assume—Mando takes out the other craft on his trail in front of your ship. 

For a second, nothing makes sense. There’s another blow to the side of your craft, and then one more, one right after the other. You get rocked back and forth forcefully, only making you more confused. There’s too much going on at once for you to process; time’s moving too slowly and the spice is making you hazy and the alarm’s too loud and there’s another big crash and muffled explosion as another ship is annihilated. 

You scramble, trying to stay up straight as you use your chair to push yourself up. You need to find a way to get out of here before you’re left alone with Mando. Does the hyperspace still work on this thing? Too bad you won’t find out, because as you reach for the dash, you get sent forward and smack your head again. This time, everything goes black.

***** Thank you for reading!! I'm going to try to have another part out in a few weeks!! I'm also making a taglist for this series if anyone would like to join.

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #fluff #the mandalorian #din djarin #angst #angst with a happy ending #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal smut #mando x you #mando fanfiction #favorite bounty #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #mando smut #the mandolarian #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal angst

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.89 Lose control

During our conversation about pre-wedding activities, Sophia and I found the idea of having a party appealing, but we had reservations about the traditional bachelor and bachelorette party. I'd never been to one, but I'd heard stories about them. Getting wasted and dancing with other women didn't appeal to me at all. My party didn't have to follow that formula; we could spend the night however I wanted. But the real reason we were anxious was because we both we both had a small circle of friends. We loved kicking it with our respective squads, but a party with just one or two sims wouldn't be lit.

"What if we did a joint co-ed party?" she offered.

That was the most brilliant idea, and it relieved us both. I mean, the whole point of a bachelor/bachelorette party was just to hang out with friends and have a good time, right? Who's to say we couldn't do that together? Our friends and their plus ones were enough sims for a fun, intimate party.

We tried to take Mama's advice and not show up early this time and walked in with the first wave. Heh, if Sophia had agreed to my offer earlier, we could have been super late, but let's not dwell on that. While getting a drink, I saw Alessia. I was low-key pissed, to be honest. Not enough to make a scene or even snub her all night, but we were definitely not okay.

Dub snuck up on me, and I almost dropped my drink.

"This is a nice place," he said. "The food selection is...interesting."

"Yeah. I guess I should have been more specific when I requested light refreshments."

"It's all good. Nothing like a little natural sugar to get you pumped up!"

"That's right. I expect to see everyone dancing, Dubstep."

"Dubstep??"

"Yeah! I think it's about time I gave you a nickname."

"But Dubstep though? I can't stand that music! It's everywhere at home!"

"Sorry, dude. I'm not often this clever. It's sticking!"

"Ugh! You better be glad your name can only be shortened, or I'd come up with something annoying for you too!"

"HA! Thank you, granddad I never met, for a boring name."

"Oh, hi Dub," Sophia said. "Thanks for coming!"

"Of course I'd come. I gotta make sure my boy Luc stays out of trouble!"

Sophia laughed.

"That's kind of you, but totally unnecessary."

I loved she said that. We had several conversations about my female friends, and she always expressed her acceptance of them. I believed her, but part of me wondered if she was actually cool with it or just trying to avoid conflict. Those conversations triggered her sometimes, and I knew she was still dealing with scars her ex-trash man inflicted. I never gave her a reason to doubt me, and I intended to keep it that way. Even so, her display of trust touched me deeply.

Less and Justin were chilling in the corner, probably relieved that I was busy. Did they keep in touch? Probably not. Regardless, I was happy they maintained a small connection, even though I still believed he was much too old for her. Once Rashidah and her husband showed up, Sophia hit the dance floor and got the party going. I sat down and watched her, mesmerized by the thought that tomorrow she would be my wife.

Chi Chi latched onto Maia as soon as she arrived and did not let her go. When Dub noticed, he not-so-casually got closer and watched their every move. I don't know why I thought it was funny, but I laughed anyway. Seeing him transition through this relationship, going from uncertainty about pursuing it to worrying about someone encroaching on them, was fun to watch. I knew Chi Chi was harmless, but he didn't, so I didn't laugh too hard. Still, what was Maia thinking? She was so gracious to endure all that talking for two nights straight. I knew all too well how draining it could be, trying to keep up with all the words that flew out of her mouth.

I eventually finished my drink and got out there to shake it with everyone. Poor Dub didn't even take one step and spent the whole night watching Maia and Chi Chi. I made a mental note to talk to him about it before we left, so it didn't become a big deal later on.

The fruity drinks were lame, so I invited everyone to the bar downstairs and bought us a round. The thumping bass from the DJ downstairs reverberated through the walls, injecting a surge of energy into our group. Moving the party downstairs was a genius move. The room was buzzing with excitement. Lively conversations and laughter filled the air. In the midst of all the excitement, I spotted Less trying to slip away, but I quickly caught her eye and called her out.

"Where were you last night?"

"What?"

"The engagement dinner? You didn't show."

She shrugged.

"I didn't want to go."

I needed a moment before replying, because her response struck a nerve. Her indifference was no stranger to me; I'd been dealing with it my whole life. It annoyed me then, and triple annoyed me now. I usually coped with it by ignoring her, but this was something I could not shrug off.

"You couldn't at least call and tell me you weren't coming?"

"I guess. Why are you so upset? You had the dinner and now this party. They're pretty much the same thing, so why do I have to come to both?"

I was teetering on the edge of losing my cool, and it caught me off guard. Despite all the challenges I faced in my life, I could never truly feel angry. I could've been mad at Dad taking us away from Mama, but I was just a little kid and more scared than anything. I couldn't bring myself to be angry with Mama for breaking up our family because my love for her was too strong. Less always got on my nerves, and I could've been mad at her countless times, but I felt pressured to always be in control as the oldest, especially since she always copied me. I just wanted to experience losing control for once, but was that the moment to waste my chance? In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that serious. Less was just being Less, and as much as it pained me to overlook it again, I just took a few deep breaths and re-centered myself before responding.

"You're my sim of honor, Less. Does that even mean anything to you? We were doing toasts, and you weren't there. Dub did a toast for me, and we just met. Maybe I should have asked him or Maira to be my sim of honor."

"I'm sorry, Luca! I thought it was just a casual dinner or something. I didn't think you'd be mad."

I sighed and shook my head at her.

"You never do, Less."

Speaking of Dub, I saw him stewing on the sidelines, so I let Less go and went to de-escalate him.

"Am I crazy?" he asked as I sat down. "Is she really that bold that she would try to take my girl in front of my face?"

I was glad to have something comical to take my mind off my annoying sister.

"She's harmless, man. A bit of a flirt, yes, and she talks a lot, but she would never do that to you. She's sweet."

"Brooo! The talking! I thought maybe she liked me too because she had me hemmed up all night last night. I barely escaped in time to make a toast!"

I laughed.

"Believe me...I am aware. I feel like she has a word quota she has to reach every day or she'll explode or something."

"Yeah, and she's spending it all on us!"

"Seriously... But for real...I really appreciate you doing that last night. My sister should have been the one making that toast, but she wasn't there, and that really hurt my feelings."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got you, bro. Whatever you need."

"I appreciate that, Dubstep."

"HEY!"

Dub and Maia by @mysimsloveaffair

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #wade banks #maia tilley #luca winston murillo #alessia amina murillo #sophia aguilar #xochitl luna #banks collab

[davestridernb]

@duskyashe​ here is my Raven (eldritch Nightwing) design from Encryptid/Calling All The Monsters! Drawn in sketchbook & colored on the computer. Feat. colored sketch and concept of how it looks in the dark. Very long details below the cut.

Firstly, the pose and drawing style used on the left is inspired by Lilo & Stitch, because of the description "He held his ready stance for a count of eight, then started relaxing parts of his body opposite how one would normally relax their body, starting with his legs and working his way up to his shoulders." which reminded me of how character weight was drawn in the movie opposite of how it usually is, keeping the weight rooted low with gravity and pulled towards the ends of the limbs.

The coloration concept is based off of animals that have direction-dependent color, the most famous of which is the blue morpho butterfly, but one which most people have probably also seen is the super black bird of paradise. So the idea of how that works in the wild is that tilting movements or seeing it at the right angle causes a disorienting flash of color, which I hoped to use here for Raven!Nightwing's eldritch illusion.

His fingerstripes aren't strictly straight but more inspired by tree bark/veins/cirque du soleil costumes, where lines that curve across limbs make the poses look more twisted and fantastical rather than emphasizing the actual direction of the limb, which is what the straighter lines in most hero costumes are supposed to do.

His wingsuit structure as described is a snap-out style that he holds the ends of when he flies, which I've augmented with small electromagnets to seal the airspace between his arms and the wings, which can turn on and off with a current. The structure itself is similar to the draco lizard in nature, where the draco lizard has modified rib bones that hinge at the top of its wings and fold back down to its sides when not in use. The edges on the wingsuit have a soft tattered texture that helps silence the wings like owls' feathers, as well as obscure the outline a little.

I wanted to avoid showing human skin, so I used a full face mask and repurposed the Nightwing V into an abstract suggestion of a beak. His real eyes can either be disguised with colored lenses that match the stripe or can be white, but there are also decoy eyes scattered in different spots on the suit that have cameras. At first it was just the two on the sides of the head to increase peripheral vision, but I thought it would be super cool if Raven could just see in a bunch of directions and into small spaces like Emily Eyefinger just because he has several small working cameras in different locations on his body. Ravens and eldritch beings are both associated with eyes so it works? ^u^

Regarding the wing coloration, this was the last addition to the design. I considered eyespots, just as I considered larger wings, but I really wanted to avoid the design getting mistaken for Mothman from a distance. The premise of the AU relies on the power of belief, so people need to recognize Raven on sight and also believe he's an eldritch being, so I went with one big solid eye that no one expects just opening out of the darkness when you’ve done something wrong. Yikes. Raven knows where you sleep.

#duskyashe #dp x dc #nightwing #encryptid #calling all the monsters #my art #character design

[shmolish]

Yan! Prune Juice Cookie x GN Reader. HEAD CANNONS

Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, drugging. (He's a Yandere, so those types of things.)

When he first saw you, he didn't think much of you. He didn't think much of anybody, actually.

Prune was slightly arrogant and believed himself to be above others.

It was only after you started hanging around him more, and complimenting him did he really start to adore you.

Trust me, praise is the #1 way to his heart. That and little touches, like holding hands.

He would start to stalk learn more about you.

First it was basic things, like your schedule or the general things you like.

But it soon became more.. obsessive.

He learned not only your dorm number, but it's entier layout. What kinds of food you ate, when your roommates came back. Everything you liked and everything you disliked.

Even what kind of hygiene products you used.

Man was WHIPPED. Completely obsessed with you.

Of course, everyone was oblivious to the types of things Prune was up to. He's a very sneaky and calculating man.

Eventually, Prune would start putting certain potions into your drinks and foods.

They were nothing bad, just small doese of a potion that would make you think of him.

Completely harmless!

It worked, of course. You two met much more often.

You couldn't figure out why he was appearing in the back of your mind so much more..

He swore to himself that he wouldn't go past that.

He was wrong.

He got super jealous when you were still hanging out with other friends.

He considered just poisoning them, but he knew you'd just be upset.

And he couldn't kidnap you and give you a potion to make you love him, since he wanted something real.

That's when fake, and especially nasty rumors started to circulate about you.

Strangers started to avoid you, and all of your friends left you

Except for Prune Juice, of course.

He would stay with you, since he knew they were fake.

He was the one who started them, after all.

But you don't need to know that.

He was the only person who stayed with you, thus the only person who you could depend on.

That's all he wanted.

You two got really close, and started dating. He didn't even have to drug you more since you were enthralled by him and him alone!

I mean, he's the only person who still treats you like a normal human being.

Those rumors isolated you from basically everyone.

If, for some odd reason, someone else still tries to talk you, he'll take care of it.

Will gladly inform them about the rumors in private, and if that doesn't work, he'll drug your food so you're in a very snappy mood.

You end up yelling at the new person, and they start to avoid you.

You feel really bad about it, thinking it's all your fault.

You even end up getting letters sometime afterwards that says you deserve to be alone since you're bratty and rude.

Prune sent them, of course, but he keeps it on the down-low.

Will comfort you after saying that he'd never leave you.

Will kiss you to make you feel better and gives you the most innocent smile.

Even after pulling a stunt like that..

In conclusion, he's a pretty shit yandere who manipulates you into being with him. Makes you feel hopeless and alone and then will be there for you when everyone else leaves. He even drugs you into sending some people away yourself, which makes you feel really bad.

He's a horrible person, but he puts on a very convincing show that makes him seem like a perfect and innocent angel.

(Haha, idc though, he won't have to manipulate me, I'll still date him 😍)

#crk #Cookie Run Kingdom #Cookie Run #Cookie Run Kingdom x reader #Prune Juice #Prune Juice cookie #Yandere Prune Juice #Yandere Prune Juice x reader #prune juice hc #prune juice x reader #prune juice cookie x reader #prune juice crk #prune juice cookie crk

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 312. brb x oc

a/n: bada bing bada boomccc(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/267/268/269/270/271/272/273/274/275/276/277/278/279/280/281/282/283/284/285/286/287/288/289/290/291/292/293/294/295/296/297/298/299/300/301

/302/303/304/305/306/307/308/309/310/311

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

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@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

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-

How was he going to do this? Should he talk to Cyclone? No he needed proof or else the vice-admiral would toss this away.He sat alone in his bunk, towel on his shoulders since he just left the shower, allowing the solitude to reach his thoughts.

He needed a plan—something concrete to address the growing tension within the squadron. The encounter with Mark had left Rooster with a gnawing sense of unease, and the need for proof became more apparent. Without tangible evidence, any accusation against Mark might be dismissed, and Rooster couldn't afford to let the internal discord persist.

He opened a drawer beside his bunk, retrieving a small notebook and a pen. As he flipped through the pages, he paused at an empty one. Rooster began jotting down his observations, creating a timeline of the incidents involving Mark.

His mind traced back to the encounters in the locker room, the condescending remarks, and the private conversations. Rooster scrutinized each detail, searching for a way to connect him to the breach.

Fuck he was nervous.

He never dealt with stuff like this before. Annoying pilots? Sure. Possible threat that could ruin a lot of lives? Never.

Rooster continued to document his observations, creating a meticulous record of each incident. His thoughts drifted to the cryptic conversation Mark had with McAllister. It was a potential lead, a thread to pull, but Rooster needed to approach it cautiously. He considered talking to McAllister directly, seeking more information without revealing the gravity of the situation.

But he also wanted to make sure McAllister wouldn’t be harmed if he did talk…he rubs his chin, still thinking about what he should do. How do you prove that a pilot, a Lieutenant just like he was, was involved in such a thing?

Rooster's fingers drummed on the notebook as he mulled over his options. The weight of responsibility bore down on him, and he couldn't afford to make a misstep. 

He decided to start with McAllister, someone he trusted and who had inadvertently given him a glimpse into the mysterious conversations. Rooster closed the notebook with a snap, tucking it away, and made his way to find McAllister.

The squadron's common area was relatively empty as most pilots were still wrapping up post-mission tasks. Rooster spotted McAllister reviewing some mission data on one of the computer terminals. Approaching quietly, Rooster cleared his throat to get McAllister's attention.

"McAllister, can I have a word?" Rooster asked, keeping his tone low-key to avoid unnecessary attention.

McAllister turned toward him, after jumping in surprise a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Sure, sir. What's up?"

“Not here, follow me.”Rooster motioned toward a quieter corner of the room, away from prying ears. Once they were a bit secluded, Rooster leaned in, his expression serious. "You mentioned Mark and the breach,what did you get?"

McAllister's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of nervousness crossing his features. He hesitated before responding, "Well, sir, recruit Haltzman and I were talking after the mission, and he seemed... agitated. He mentioned something about the breach, but he didn't go into specifics. I asked him why and…he said that Mark was bothering him about it."

Rooster's brows furrowed as he absorbed the information. "Did Haltzman mention anything else?" Rooster asked, his voice low and focused.

McAllister shifted uncomfortably, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "He said Mark was pressuring him to share information about the breach. Haltzman seemed spooked, sir, like he didn't want to get involved. At all."

Rooster processed the revelation, his mind racing with the need to connect the dots. "Did he say how Mark approached him? Any specifics about their conversations?"

McAllister nodded, recalling the details. "Haltzman mentioned that Mark cornered him in the locker room after the mission. He wanted to know if Haltzman had overheard anything about the breach, and when Haltzman didn't give him any answers, Mark got... intense."

“Did he hurt him?"

McAllister shook his head. "No, sir. He just scared him. But he didn't want to say too much. I didn't push him, didn't want to make things worse for him."

"You did the right thing, McAllister. It's crucial to handle this delicately. We need to gather more information before taking any action."

Fuck.

McAllister glanced around, ensuring their conversation remained private. "Sir, I don't want to sound paranoid, but do you think Mark might be involved in the breach somehow?"

FUCK

Rooster sighed, rubbing his eyelids. "I don't know, McAllister. But we can't ignore anything. We need to find out more, discreetly, without tipping our hand."

"I'll keep my ears open, sir. If I hear anything else, I'll let you know," McAllister assured.

"Good. Stay vigilant, McAllister. We can't afford to underestimate the gravity of this situation," Rooster emphasized. "And for now, let's keep this between us. We don't want to create unnecessary panic until we have more concrete information."

McAllister nodded in agreement. "Understood, sir. I'll be careful."

As Rooster walked away from the conversation, his mind raced with thoughts and strategies. The need for evidence became even more crucial, and Rooster realized he had to tread carefully to avoid any potential backlash.

He noticed the Daggers sitting together and he beelined over to his friends, leaning down to the table and muttering a ‘a word?’.  Payback and Jake shared a look before standing up, then Phoenix tried to be as subtle as she could, busying herself with her watch while Bob followed behind them, adjusting his glasses.

Rooster led the Daggers to a quieter corner of the hangar, away from the prying eyes and ears of the squadron. He leaned in, his voice low but firm. "Alright, listen up. I need your observations, discreetly. Something's off with Mark, and it might be connected to the breach."

The Daggers exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from casual to alert. Payback, the intuitive one, spoke first. "What happened, Rooster?"

“Too much.”

Rooster quickly briefed them on McAllister's encounter with Haltzman, emphasizing Mark's suspicious behavior and the potential connection to the breach. If they were surprised…they didn’t show it.

Phoenix crossed her arms, snorting. "I knew it."

“You did?”

“Well…I had a feeling.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow at Phoenix. "You had a feeling? Care to share?"

Phoenix leaned against a nearby crate, her expression thoughtful. "Mark's been acting strange for a while now. I thought it was just the stress of the missions, but if there's something more..." she says, “Besides we wouldn’t do that shit.”

Jake chimed in, his voice low and serious. "...what should we do then?”

Bob adjusted his glasses, a glint of determination in his eyes. "I'll discreetly check the network logs, see if there's any unusual activity that might be linked to Mark. If he's involved in the breach, there could be a digital trail."

Payback crossed his arms, his expression grim. "I'll talk to the recruits, see if anyone else has had strange encounters with Mark. We need to gather as much information as possible."

Rooster nodded, appreciating the initiative of his team. "Be discreet, and don't escalate the situation. We need to find out what's going on without causing a panic. Jake and Nix, what will the two of you do?"

Jake glanced at Phoenix before turning his attention back to Rooster. "I'll keep an eye on Mark during the next mission. See if there's anything unusual in his behavior or actions. If he's involved in something shady, I might be able to pick up on it."

Rooster nodded in approval. "Good plan, Jake. Just stay subtle and don't provoke anything. We need evidence, not confrontation."

Phoenix, her arms still crossed, chimed in. "I'll help Bob." and that was it, “What about you,Rooster?”

Rooster sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I'll talk to Vice-Admiral Simpson. Inform him about the situation without revealing our suspicions. We need his backing if we're going to investigate this properly."

The Daggers dispersed, each embarking on their assigned tasks  and Rooster? Rooster made his way to Vice-Admiral Simpson's office, and he had to elaborate on a few things.

-

Beatrice could feel the earth sticking to her gloves as she dug into her garden, digging enough to create a little hole in her front yard so she can plant the newest addition to her plant family: begonias!

It was one of Shells’ gifts…as in the plant she got thinking she’d care for but didn’t, so she gave it to Bea. Shells was still in her house, being a great babysitter for the babies and the dogs by napping on the couch with the twins on her chest and Nicole on her stomach all the while being surrounded by Jack and Eleanor.

Meanwhile, Jolene was lying next to Beatrice’s feet outside, keeping her company.

The sun bathed the garden in a warm afternoon glow as Beatrice continued planting the begonias. She carefully placed each seedling into the soil, patting it gently to secure their place. The occasional chirping of birds, and the distant sound of laughter from down her street made this a perfect day.

Truly.

Rooster was safe while deployed, the kids were safe, she was safe…

Nothing could ruin her day.

“Hello Beatrice.”

Miranda.

Beatrice’s back straightened up like a rod as she kept her eyes forward, clenching the hand trowel tight and not turning around to greet the woman but muttering a “Hello,Miranda.”

Miranda's voice held a peculiar mix of sweetness and a subtle undercurrent that hinted at something unsettling. Beatrice's pulse quickened, but she maintained her composure, focusing on the begonias before her.

"What a lovely garden you have," Miranda commented, her footsteps approaching.

"Thank you," Beatrice replied, her tone polite but distant. She continued to work on the begonias, avoiding direct eye contact.

Miranda, undeterred by Beatrice's reserved demeanor, circled around to face her. Dressed in a flowing, elegant dress that seemed almost out of place for a casual neighborhood encounter, Miranda observed Beatrice with a piercing gaze.

"Begonias,hm?" 

"Yes, begonias," Beatrice replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She could sense Miranda's eyes on her, probing and searching for who knew what. "They're lovely plants."

Miranda smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Lovely indeed. Such delicate flowers, yet resilient. A fitting choice."

Beatrice continued her work, planting the last begonia with a deliberate focus. She saw Jolene move forward and place herself between the two women, with her back against Beatrice’s, keeping her eyes on Miranda.

"How’s Rooster doing in his mission?" Miranda said, her voice carrying a note of feigned concern. "Good?"

“Yep. How’s Mark? Good?”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about Mark.” Miranda tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. "He’s an amazing pilot,after all."

Beatrice suppressed a sigh, her patience wearing thin. "That's good to hear. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some gardening to finish."

Miranda stepped closer, seemingly unfazed by Beatrice's attempt to create distance. "You know, Beatrice, I've always found gardening to be such a therapeutic activity. A way to nurture and tend to something, watching it grow and flourish."

Beatrice shot her a sidelong glance, her tone cautious. "It is. It helps clear the mind."

Miranda's eyes narrowed, the facade of friendliness slipping for a moment. "Clearing the mind can be a double-edged sword, Beatrice. Sometimes, it's better to confront the things we'd rather avoid."

Beatrice tightened her grip on the hand trowel, her patience fraying. "I'm not avoiding anything, Miranda. Now, please, I'd like to be alone."

Miranda's smile returned, as if she hadn't just veered into unsettling territory. "Of course, dear. I won't keep you. Just remember, should you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. We're neighbors, after all."

Beatrice licked her lips, then tilted her head “...you know Miranda.” she looks up at the woman, Jolene’s head turning to look at Beatrice, “...Rooster is a great pilot too.”

Miranda's expression remained calm, but there was a subtle tension in her posture. "Of course, Beatrice. Rooster is indeed skilled. But sometimes, skill alone isn't enough to navigate the challenges life throws at us."

Beatrice shot her a quizzical look, her suspicions growing. "What challenges are you talking about, Miranda? "

“Well I–’

“Do you know our challenges Miranda?” Bea stood up, placing a hand on Jolene’s head when the pittie tried to move forward “Do you know what me and Rooster went through before?”

Miranda's facade faltered, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features. Beatrice's direct question seemed to catch her off guard, and for a moment, the poised demeanor cracked.

"Beatrice, we all have our struggles," Miranda replied, her voice attempting to regain its previous composure. "I meant no offense. I only offered an ear should you ever need to share your burdens."

Beatrice crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she studied Miranda."I appreciate the offer, Miranda, yet again" Beatrice said, her tone measured. "But I don’t understand what you want here, you think I’m not aware? Do you think I’m dumb?"

Miranda's composed facade wavered further, and a subtle bead of sweat formed on her forehead. Beatrice's direct confrontation seemed to have rattled her, and she took a step back, her eyes momentarily avoiding Beatrice's probing gaze.

"Beatrice, you misunderstand me," Miranda said, her voice a touch strained. "I never implied—"

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, unyielding. "Then what did you imply, Miranda? You come into my garden, talking about challenges, offering an ear. What's your game?"

Miranda took a steadying breath, attempting to regain control of the conversation. "There's no game, Beatrice. I'm merely expressing neighborly concern. We're part of the same community, after all."

‘Are we?”

It was like a vocal slap against Miranda who just stared flabbergasted. “It’s the…fourth time you say stuff like that, and honestly, I don’t buy it. I don’t like how you think I should flaunt Rooster’s abilities against Mark, I know that’s your plan.”

"Beatrice, I assure you, there's no ulterior motive. I'm here as a concerned neighbor," Miranda stammered, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route.

"Concerned neighbor, my foot. I–” she pauses, “...I love Rooster. I love him. And he’s not a trophy I toss around…he’s my husband, he’s the one man I’d break bones for…his happiness and wellbeing are what matter to me…so if you are here trying to…I dunno, be weird, you should go.”

Miranda's attempts at maintaining composure fell apart like a house of cards in a gust of wind. Beatrice's raw honesty, fueled by her love for Rooster, had dismantled any facade Miranda had tried to construct. The air between them crackled with tension, and Miranda, for the second time, seemed genuinely unnerved.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Beatrice. I'm not here to—"

"Don’t lie to me," Beatrice cut in, her eyes unyielding. "I can see through the act. Whatever game you're playing, it won’t work. Rooster and I have been through enough. We don't need someone stirring up trouble."

Miranda's eyes darted around again, searching for a way to salvage the situation. The serene facade she usually wore had crumbled, revealing a woman who was uncomfortably out of her depth.

Beatrice took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. "I love my husband, Miranda. He means the world to me. I won't let anyone jeopardize our peace."

Miranda swallowed hard, a nervous tic playing on her features. "Beatrice, you're misunderstanding. I have no intention of causing any trouble. I—"

"Save it," Beatrice interrupted, her tone firm. "I don't know what your game is, but I won't entertain it." Beatrice turned away, focusing her attention back on the begonias. Jolene, sensing the tension, remained vigilant by Beatrice's side, her eyes never leaving Miranda.

Miranda, flustered and off-kilter, struggled to regain control of the narrative. "Beatrice, I assure you, there's no ill will. I'm only here to—"

"You've said enough," Beatrice replied, her voice unwavering. "I think it's best if you leave now."

Miranda hesitated, her eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and anxiety. "I—"

"Now," Beatrice reiterated, her gaze piercing.

Miranda, realizing the futility of the situation, nodded reluctantly. She turned on her heel and made a hasty exit from Beatrice's yard, leaving behind a trail of unresolved tension. Beatrice watched her go, shoulders finally relaxing as she just allowed herself to drop on the soft dirt…and groan out.

She’ll have to talk to Rooster.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[thinkingaboutbones]

Yellowjackets Characters Ranked from Most to Least Likely to be a Communist

The ghost of Karl Marx possessed me and made me write this.

Young Nat - I mean come on just look at her. Girlie hates the system!! My anarchist queen!! I love her.

Lisa - She's part of Lottie's intentional community, putting in the work to better herself and the community! You could tell me she's canonically a communist and I would not be surprised.

Adult Lottie - Now I don't think Lottie is a full communist. Like she's running an "intentional community," which is like basically a commune, but she also deliberately positions herself as a leader. You can even see it in the clothes she wears. Like put on the heliotrope comrade!!

Adult Van - Idk I know she criticizes Lottie's community but she just has comrade vibes to me. She's a small business owner (a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do under capitalism) keeping physical media alive!

Adult Nat - She's a bit more jaded than her younger self. Originally, she questions Lottie's community. But she does buy in when she sees and experiences the benefits!

Laura Lee - So I originally had Laura Lee pretty low because of the correlation between Christianity and conservative beliefs in our society. But our queen isn't like that!! She learned how to fly the plane for the good of the community! Helped Lottie cope when she ran out of her meds! And you know maybe neither of those things totally worked out but she was doing her best!!!!!

Crystal - If Crystal can get along with MISTY she can get along with anyone. And she was SHOOK when she learned that Misty had destroyed the black box, aka done something literally so selfish/bad for the group. I think she would do very well in a world where everyone worked together and shared resources for the good of the community.

Akilah - Idk man this is a long list they can't all be well thought out. @lottiesacolyte said she seems open to anything, so I'm just kind of putting her here. Sorry to the Akilah stans.

Young Lottie - Initially I had young Lottie super low on the list, since she's kind of a god/idol to the girlies in the woods. But upon further consideration, she doesn't actually Want that. She goes out of her way to try and Avoid becoming their leader. She just wants everyone to work together and survive. AND she said that if she died they shouldn't let her body go to waste.

Young Van - Young Van's vibes are very similar to her adult self's, but she does kind of buy in super hard to Lottie as leader. I think that under different circumstances she would be more of a communist.

Young Taissa - Young Taissa is a tricky one. Because she is soooo against the Lottie as leader stuff that everyone else is buying into. But at the same time, I feel like She wants to be the leader? Which tracks considering her adult life. I think that her and Van could have been happy living as communists together, but that's not the way life panned out for them.

Adult Shauna - Shauna is fed up with her boring suburban life. And you know what would make you happier, queen? Communism!

Randy - Okay this one is a little silly goofy. But he's just sooo down to help Jeff. Help him with blackmail, help him seem like Shauna is cheating on him. He's a real one. I don't think it's likely that Randy would be a communist but like if Jeff was doing it? Maybe!

Jeff - Very similar to Randy, I think that he would just kind of go with the flow with what everyone else is doing. He's pretty traditional, but if Shauna wanted to try communism he'd give it a whirl with her.

Javi - Javi is a child. He's an icon and I choose to believe he would adjust to communism, but let's be real he's gonna just go with the flow.

Sammy - Sammy is also a child, even more of a child than Javi. He'll do what his parents tell him to do.

Gen and Melissa - Okay I put them together because I don't know a single thing about either of them. They're side characters, they'll do whatever everyone else is doing LOL.

Mari - Mari is kind of a hater. And that's so relatable. She's kind of a go with the flow girlie. But also because of her hater energy I feel she would not immediately adjust well to communism.

Jackie - Jackie is a traditional girlie. She's used to being queen bee. She doesn' adjust well to living in the woods, and she wouldn't adjust well to communism. I think that she could if pressed! But she would be resistant, let's be honest.

Young Shauna - While Jackie's alive, Shauna will do whatever Jackie does, regardless of her own thoughts on the matter. After Jackie dies (rest in peace my girlfailure icon queen), Shauna's a little more ambitious. You think a girl who's mad she didn't get to be antler queen would be immediately down with communism? Absolutely not. I think she would adjust, but not easily.

Callie - Callie's in her edgelord, I'm cooler than everyone else era. Perhaps one day when she is older she will embrace the radical joy and love communism can provide, but for now she would Not be happy with a change in the status quo. She has big Jackie queen bee energy, and she doesn't want that to change.

Adult Travis - Travis' response to the trauma of the wilderness was to move to the middle of nowhere, so I don't think communism would quite be his vibe. But I do think that he'd be more open that his younger self, just due to life experience and Hopefully being less misogynistic now. But we don't really see a lot of him so who's to say!

Young Travis - Travis buys into so much heteronormativity and toxic masculinity nonsense that I think it would be really hard to shake it out of him.

Simone - She's married to Taissa, so she's clearly bought into the idea that a liberal government can somehow liberate us.

Adult Taissa - She's literally part of the system. Also she can eat dirt for free under capitalism, so why bother being a communist? She's a deadbeat dad, acting like providing for her family monetarily is the only thing that matters and not Love and Quality Time.

Adam - Adam would tell people he's a communist. He might even think it's true. But when push comes to shove? That man is not going to radically change his life. He's fake woke and I hate him, good riddance.

Adult Misty - She was NOT on board with Lottie's intentional community. She abuses the elderly. She murders people. Misty wants power and control, and communism wouldn't allow her to have that.

Walter - This man is RICH but instead of redistributing his wealth he bought a big fancy house and all he does is go on Reddit and be crusty and lame.

Coach Ben - They're literally stranded in the middle of nowhere and this man keeps trying to act like he's in charge? Like you only have one leg my dude, just let the girlies take care of you. And then instead of talking things out when he disagrees with the collective, he BURNS THE CABIN DOWN. Evil evil man.

Young Misty - I hate her. She's a creep. She broke the black box just because she liked feeling important. She killed Crystal to keep her secret, and doesn't even want anyone to eat Crystal's body even though everyone is starving. Keeping valuable resources from the community is NOT very communist of her.

Kevyn - ACAB!!

Jay - ACAB ACAB HE'S SO CRUSTY I HATE HIM HE'S A CREEP!!!!!!!!

#if u disagree with me pls be nice #also to be so honest i am a vibes communist not an educated in theory communist so sorry if this is wrong somehow #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #lottie matthews #van palmer #misty quigley #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #taissa turner #jeff sadecki #communism #laura lee #jackie taylor #javi martinez #travis martinez #ben scott

[melloween-candie]

You did it WRONG! [P.P]

Angry Peter x Reader

Imagine: Peter finding out you lost your V-card to one of the lost boys...

Warning! Sex, cussing, belittling, mentions of branding, potential kidnapping, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1,909

[LEMON!!18+++]

Once Upon A Time Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

***Narrator's Pov***

Being on the verge of childhood and adulthood at the same time was no easy feat. Most of the teenage boys in Neverland were always horny, and most of the younger ones were always rowdy.

But what's worst was that you were stuck in the middle of it. You were a teenage girl who was stuck going into puberty for the rest of infinity. However, it wasn't all that bad.

As a 'child,' you tried your best to be a good girl. To avoid drugs and to keep yourself 'pure.'

But life wasn't easy for you, and you ended up here, in Neverland, when you hit the age of 16. So yeah, you hit a few bumps in the road, but today wasn't a day for gloomy memories.

***Y/n's Pov***

Today was a day to celebrate! A new arrival just came in! He was a tall, somewhat built teenage boy. Peter didn't intend to have this celebration, but everyone persisted. They all wanted a beach day since it was super hot out.

My first interaction with him was a little uncomfortable... I was barely wearing any clothes, and I wasn't really used to him. This could just be me being self-conscious, though; after all, when I got a closer look- I realized he was really cute-looking. I think Peter noticed...

Now, no one really said this party was for the new kid, but it made sense. He was amazing! He managed to pass all the tests Peter put him through. Peter, of course, wasn't really happy about that. He didn't really look forward to any of this.

Time Skip!~

I was the last one to arrive at the lagoon. I saw everyone having so much fun. Then I saw him. He told me his name was jack. (Not an actual character from the show. You can change his name if you want.)

Our eyes met, and something pulled me towards him. As I walked, a few groups of teenage boys started whistling and catcalling me. To most, it would have been annoying, but I liked the attention.

Before, back then, when I was still relatively new, I dated Peter. That's right, Peter Pan. When I did, no one dared catcall me, let alone flirted with me. Some were too scared to even talk to me. It was nice to feel respected, but it was also getting too annoying. Peter started getting too controlling, and he barely ever agrologic me or my needs.

So, getting this attention now felt great. One because of Peter's face and the way he reacts, and two because I finally feel pretty again.

Mind you, my body isn't perfect, and I'm sure I'd get self-conscious if a new girl were to arrive, but that'll never happen. Consider it low of me to think this way, but I was considered the hotshot here! A lot of people wanted a piece of me! How do I know? Because of Peter! The way his mood changes every time he hears someone talking about me... and the fact that the little ones can never hold a secret.

"Hey, Y/n. You're looking a little hot...." Jack smirked. "Wanna go for a swim?"

"Um. Sure." I already knew what he was planning on doing. It was obvious, but I played this innocently. I wanted to play it through. I mean, he's hot, and this is a party.

And I know it's horrible. I never wanted to lose it to anyone while I was still young. But I'm never gonna grow older, and Peter never wanted me... he was always too busy, so that's his loss.

Time Skip!~

We have been swimming in the water for a good while now, and one thing's for sure: he isn't shy at all. Those hands I feel roaming around my body are definitely not mermaids trying to drag me down. Trust me, I had enough experience from them...

"Mhm..." You groan. That wasn't a moan. He just squeezed my hips a little too hard. I looked at him in the eyes.

"You look thirsty~ Care for a drink?" He smirked.

"Um... Yeah. I'd loved one!" I gave him an eye-closed smile. Then he left. When he did, I saw someone through the corners of my eyes. It was Peter, I know it. He stood at a branch way up in the trees. Not a minute moment did he let me look at him. Clearly, he was watching me. I smirked.

Mind you, our breakup wasn't long ago... I swam towards the shore, sitting down on a beach lounge chair. Finally, Jack came back with the drinks. He handed me a cup. The liquid was purple. I could smell it, too... It was clearly spiked. He made a worried face when he saw me smell it, but I only smiled as I drank it all in one sip. He smiled.

But all I could focus on was Peter... He was up on a different tree. No one noticed him at all, but I did. I saw how his fists tightened as I walked with Jack.

"Hey, Jack. I have a great idea!" I said so eagerly. I grabbed his arm, pushing it in-between my breasts. He smirked.

"I think I have the same idea that you do~" Clearly, he was drunk. I don't think he knew that I wasn't a lightweight. But that doesn't matter.

I knew it was bad... but I had a plan. When I dated Peter, he'd always brush me off, but now, when I was up for grabs, he'd act like this?! Clearly, it was high time he saw the mistake he made for leaving me ignored all this time.

I walked towards the woods with Jack in my hands, and things got a whole lot of steamers. The best part was Peter watched it all! I don't even think he blinked!

Though, it wasn't what I expected... it hurt like he*l, and Jack was too drunk to stop for me. He cum, and I had to fake it. Mainly because I wanted this to end... I only did this to fuc* with Peter. I wanted to show him that he would never be able to be my first ever again... And I know how important it is for him to be first every single time.

Though, he did something I never expected...

***Peter's Pov***

So, she thinks she can play mind games with me...?! That little slut. I allowed them to finish. I waited patiently... though she didn't make it easy. Her moans were so god dame loud that it was clearly fake. What's worse was the guy was completely clueless about all of this.

However, that doesn't mean he isn't a part of it... I intend to make them BOTH suffer!

Time skip!~

Finally, that shi* head left...

"Wait!" Y/n called out of nowhere... What is she up to now... "Don't you..." She wiggled her naked body, tempting me... "Want to go again?" She smirked. She was looking directly at me, but that lowly dim whit never realized I was standing right behind him, up on a tree branch. So, in the end, he thought she was looking at him. He dropped his clothes once again, smirking as he turned around. He started walking towards her.

I could have killed him right then and there. All because he turned around... I couldn't let it happen again. I jumped down in between them. He was clearly off guard. That smirk vanished now. I only blinked at him. Staring him down, he was clearly uncomfortable. He tried covering himself up pathetically. I only turned around- I'll deal with him later.

As he ran, I gave Y/n a death glare, and she knew what was coming to her. She wasn't acting all high and mighty now... I walked closer to her as she backed up against a tree. I watched as her virgin blood dripped down her legs. My breath became heavy, and she clearly noticed... my little friend was poking out.

"This is what you wanted right- Y/n?" Her knees quivered as if she couldn't keep herself up any longer. She didn't even bother apologizing.

My face was inches away from her now. I'm sure she sees the red in my eyes. I towered over her, my arms caging her in. My eyes didn't move away from hers as I said- "Do I need to brand you? Just so you'll understand... That you'll never belong to anyone else but me."

The birds rustled the trees as the wind howled. It was getting late, but I didn't care. She needs to be reminded that she isn't human. That- all she is is my toy, and that I get to choose whether I want to play with her or not.

I bite her neck hard, causing her to squeal. I squeezed my teeth into her skin, that I felt blood... her blood- touching my chin. While that happened, I pulled my pants down.

I saw that she had her eyes closed the entire time. I grabbed onto her throat, squeezing it tightly. I wanted to make sure she looked at me the way I looked at her while she was getting fuc*ed. I could tell she was scared. She kept her hands close to herself, and her eyes started watering. It was probably because she couldn't breathe. I giggled. I had a big smile on my face as I shoved my di*k into her tight pus*y.

"Ackk!" She yelped in pain as her back arched.

"Tch. Tell me why I should have craved this again?" I smiled. To her, I probably looked so evil as I thrust myself into her. "After all, this was your plan, right? To make me regret not wanting you the way you wanted me. To make me jealous, to make me beg for you!?"

She didn't say anything but moans and groans. The only answer I liked. Our s*x was so messy. Clearly, the other guy didn't pop her cherry fully because more blood kept coming.

"Now, if you're going to fu*k someone... at least make sure they do it right!" I said with a massive thrust, causing her to moan my name. At this point, saliva was dripping down her mouth. It was a huge turn-on. I connected my lip with hers as I kept pounding her into this tree. When I left her lips, a string of saliva connected us. As I felt her blood dripping down my legs... "God, this felt so good," I muttered through gritted teeth. As I listened to her moans and our skin slapping each other... I almost came... however, I realized something.

"Look at that- you got your nasty blood on my shoes!" I slapped her hard. Her cheek turned so red I couldn't help but laugh as I continued fuc*ing her throughout the night.

BONUS

The Next Day

***Felix's Pov***

"Jack!?" I was knocking at Jack's door, trying to wake him up so I could show him how to do all the chores...

Screw this. I bust open the door out of frustration. "JACK!" I yelled, but he wasn't even here... weird. Where could he have gone? I mean, he doesn't even know Neverland, so why would he just flat-out leave.

I rolled my eyes... why do I have a feeling that Peter's behind this...?

#once upon a time #once upon a time peter pan #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader #lemon #ouat fandom #ouat felix

[sapphicsaints]

Can I request Tamar x reader where it’s super angsty and reader is seriously hurt, maybe she gets thrown overboard and drowns but Tamar or Tolya is able to revive her, just super sad.

Thank you for requestion! I did my best, I hope this is close to what you had in mind :)

almost too late

Warnings: graphic descriptions of injuries, character death

Word count: 2.8k

“Having a woman on crew is bad luck” He said to her, as she was leaning on the rails, looking out into the horizon. It’s mid-day, the sun is bright above head, and there’s been shark sightings in the area. She’s always loved sharks - they’re magnificent and dangerous creatures, and they fascinate her. All it takes is one person to tell her they saw one, and she’ll spend her free time that day trying to spot it. 

“What are you going to do about it? Throw me over?” The condescending tone in her voice made his nostrils flare.  

“Maybe I will.” 

“You won’t do it.” she said, egging him on. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe she should stop, but he’d gotten on her nerves for too long. Too long, even though he’d only been a member of the crew for a few weeks. As one of two women on board, he picked a fight with her almost immediately, he saw Tamar spar once, and avoided her like the plague. Y/n didn’t make a fuss about it, being a woman on board she’s learned to hold her own - and most of the crew treats her with respect. She wishes he’d be more bold about it, yell something in front of people, but instead he keeps whispering in her ear - nasty, hateful things. Y/n turns her head to snap something nasty at him, but before she can she feels a shove on her shoulders, and screams. She’s flipping through the air, overboard. He actually did it. Actually pushed her over, and there’s shark sightings in the air. For Saint’s sake, this has got to be some sort of nightmare. Y/n figured out very quickly that it was not a nightmare but in fact would be the longest ten minutes of her life. 

-Tamar POV- 

She heard y/n’s scream and immediately ran to the last place she saw her, up by the rails. Dmitri is leaning against them, looking over with his eyes wide open. 

“What happened?” She yells, snapping him out of it. All he does is point towards the water. Y/n is flailing in, panicking, waving her hands above her head. The ship is going fast, and leaving her behind. The waves are gentle but there’s been shark sightings. 

“Shit.” She curses, before turning and bellowing orders. There’s more to the story with the deckhand, but right now she doesn’t have time for that. The ship slows, coordinates are called to turn back, and a small boat is deployed, Tamar and Tolya are on it, along with a tidemaker, two squallers, and some more crew. They must’ve gone at least a mile from her last spotted location. Their tidemaker, Hendrik, is calming the waves in front of them, while the squallers push at full speed. It’s only been eight minutes, she should’ve lasted that long. Tolya puts a calming hand on her shoulder, 

“We’ll find her.” He says in a low tone. Then, they hear the screams. They spot her 200 feet ahead, thrashing around, one hand punching some kind of beast next to her. 

“It’s a shark.” Hendrik yells. 

One of the other crew on board grabs a rifle, trying to aim for it. 

“No.” I yell, “it’s too close.” 

Tolya’s hands come up to feel for the animals heartbeat, I can tell it’s difficult for him without a clear line of sight, and I join. We’re able to slow the animal's heartbeat, enough that it’s having difficulty moving, but with the water we can’t get enough of a grip to kill it. I spot y/n’s other arm reaching back - a piece of metal glinting in the sunlight. Her arm launches down, and she stabs the animal right between the eyes. I know how much that must’ve cost her. Her favorite animal, dead by her hand. Instead of hurt for her, I feel pride. She killed it, despite the pain, she fought through and killed it. 

-Y/n POV- 

I knew I only had to hold on for about 10 minutes, I knew someone would come, that they wouldn’t abandon me to this fate. But, I couldn’t stop the dread from sneaking into my heart. What if they didn’t? I focus on my breathing, steadying my heart, and floating on my back. It’s no use trying to swim, the waves might be gentle now but I have no sense of direction. Seven minutes pass and I feel the water shifting around me. A force knocks me back, and all I feel is pain - pain on my forearm, a strong bite of something. 

A shark. A fucking shark. This has to be a joke, a nightmare, but I’ve never felt this kind of pain in my nightmares before. Fight, flight, or freeze? Thankfully my instincts choose to fight. I threw all of my effort into punching it’s nose, screaming involuntarily at the top of my lungs. I feel the animal slow, out of the corner of my eye I see the boat, Tamar and Tolya with their hands up. They’re slowing the animal down but they can’t kill it. I feel cool metal against my waist - a knife, I’d tucked one in there earlier. Why didn’t I think of this before? I reach my arm back and stab right in between the eyes, the sharks grip loosens and i’m able to yank my mangled arm out. The shark sinks, lost to the giant depths of the ocean, I watch it and my knife go. I turn my head, the boat is getting closer. Tamar is saying something, shouting something, but the words blur. 

My mind is screaming not to, but I turn to look at my arm. The sight of it - mangled, barely hanging on below the elbow, twisted with bone and blood showing. The water near me is tainted with blood - my blood. I try and fight for my consciousness, but my eyes roll to the back of my head, and I faint - the ocean taking me under. 

-Tamar POV- 

I’m screaming to her, at the top of my lungs, screaming out instructions. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” I yell, I need her focused, and calm, if she panics it’ll make the situation worse. I’m able to push the anguished part of me away, lock it deep in my heart for now, it won’t help anything in this situation. I watch her head turn in slow motions, watch her look at her arm. I notice every detail - her face paling, the freckles brought on by the sun, the small curve of her nose, her hair splayed around her, blood pooling around her body, and with horror I see her eyes tilt back, and her body sink. 

Without a second thought, I dive in. There’s a splash, Tolya is behind me. She hasn’t sunk far but I fight to keep my eyes open against the sting of the salt water. I grab her good arm, and start tugging back up, my legs fighting against to get us to the surface. With a gasp I break free, Tolya is right there and he takes over, quickly tugging her back to the boat. Hendrik helps tug her on and I see his face pale as his eyes notice her arm. 

“Turn around.” I snap, “Get us back.” The last thing we need is another person passing out. They listen without question and quickly we’re sailing back towards the ship. I turn my eyes back to her and start drawing the water out of her lungs. I see Tolya trying to stem the blood flow, trying to stop it as best as he can. Time ceases to exist as I work on bringing her heart rate back up, there’s no pulse. I push everything I can in, artificially keeping her heart alive, hoping for a breath, a natural rhythm, anything. 

“Please, please.” I whisper. There’s so much I haven’t said - so many chances I haven’t taken. ‘Stop’ I tell myself. I can’t think of that. Not now. 

Tolya is cursing next to me - that catches my attention, my brother rarely curses. 

Her heart is beating again, I breathe out a sigh of relief. “There’s a heart beat.” I tell him, and hold my hand over her mouth, she’s breathing. The breaths are shallow but they’re there. A little bit - not all, of the tension in my shoulders relaxes, until I turn my gaze over to her arm. 

It’s mangled beyond repair. With the bones that splintered, the flesh missing, the bleeding, theres no saving it. Tolya already knew that, and he’s stopped the veins and arteries near the elbow. His hands are bloody and I gulp slightly, tears pricking my eyes. 

“I can’t save the arm.” He whispers. 

I feel us moving up, the squaller are bringing us back on the ship. I know it would be easier for Tolya to carry her, but I gently scoop her into my arms, bringing her back on deck and down below. Sturmhond is there with one of the crew explaining what happened. I see the deckhand from earlier slouching in the corner and my eyes narrow, I'll deal with him later. We make it below and there’s a cot set out in one of the larger rooms. Thankfully she’s still unconscious, and her heart is still beating. 

“Can you save the arm?” Sturmhond asks, he trailed us below decks. 

“No.” Tolya says, his face set in grim determination. I lay her on the cot and drag a short table up to prop her arm. My hand reaches for an axe, better to get it over with. 

“Don’t look.” I mutter to the others and they listen. I take a deep breath and a few tears start streaming down my face. With one slice her arm is off, the thunk on the floor makes my tears stream slightly faster, and my hands are shaking as I rest my axe on the floor. I crouch next to her to start healing, start stitching the remaining skin back together, but I feel a hand on my shoulder, Sturmhond is standing behind me. 

“Tolya’s taking care of the arm.” He says, I hear the door shut, but my gaze doesn’t waver from the task at hand. Once her arm is sealed, I sit back on my heels with a sigh, checking her heartbeat again. 

“It was close.” I say. 

“I know how much she means to you” his voice is low, but not a whisper. My head snaps back to meet his eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My heartbeat raises, how could anyone know? I haven’t told anyone. 

He rocks back on his heels, his face contemplative. “You’re discreet, but don’t forget I was raised in a royal court. I notice these type of things. She feels the same way. Now that she’s almost died, maybe it’ll be enough motivation to tell her.” He winks and leaves. Always the dramatics. But he is right, I sigh and drag a chair over next to the cot. I don’t know if she can hear me, but i’ll say it anyways. It’s easier when she’s unconscious, I grab her hand. 

“I like you.” My words are hesitant, I don’t know where to start. “We’ll get you through this, and after. After, if you’ll let me, next port visit I'll take you on a date. A proper one. Celebrate your survival.” She says with a dark chuckle. Her breath catches when she feels her hand squeeze hers slightly. Her eyes don’t open, but she knows. She heard. 

“So you can hear me. Can you squeeze my hand again?” 

Another small squeeze, weaker this time. 

“Squeeze if you can open your eyes.” 

There’s no response, nothing. I feel her heartbeat start to weaken again. She breathes in heavily - a gasp. I know that sound, it’s the death rattle. 

“No, no, no.” I say, my hands moving quickly to keep her heartbeat steady. “Not now, not after I told you all of that.” 

When Tolya comes back, ten minutes later, I'm still working to keep her heart beat steady. “Almost lost her.” I say, like i’m still not working to keep her alive. Maybe speaking it into existence will help. 

He takes over. After the better part of an hour, her heart starts to beat again on its own, and I can breathe easily again. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” I tell her, taking her hand in mine again, her arm draped across her stomach. Tolya gives me an incredulous look, “She can hear me.” I say to him in Shu.” 

I hear a groan and she shifts again, her eyes blink open, adjusting to the light. I can’t help the big grin that spreads across my face. 

-Y/n POV- 

I heard everything, well after what Sturmhond said, I'm not sure about before that. Even laying in bed I feel strange, a bit off-balance, but I can’t tell what it’s from. My eyes blink open and the first thing I see is Tamar’s hand holding mine, the next is the big grin on her face. 

The first thing I feel is a strange pain coming from my left arm, I lift my arm up. My eyes widen. Half of it, gone, missing. I switch my gaze to Tamar’s and I see the pity and sadness in her eyes. My eyes well with tears and I can’t help the sobbing that starts wretching through me. I’m sore but manage to prop myself up, it’s gone. Tamar’s hand leaves mine, and I feel around the edges of my stump. It’s sore, but I press anyways, feeling each edge of the newly healed wound. I feel weight shift beside me, and an arm come around my shoulder. I don’t need to look to know it’s her. Automatically, my head leans into her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything when her shirt soaks through with tears. Her thumb brushes the tears from my face, I need a distraction - anything. 

“So a proper date?” I mumble through the tears, my words coming out in an embarrassing croak. Tamar’s face flushes, and my eyes gaze across the room. Tolya is in here, I grin. “So he didn’t know about your deathbed confession?”

“Don’t say deathbed.” She mutters through clenched teeth.

Tolya, thankfully, ignores my comment. “What happened?” He asks instead. 

“Dmitri pushed me over.” I say without hesitation. Their bodies tense, eyes taking on a glint of something dangerous. 

“Tell me you’re joking.” Tolya says. 

“I egged him on.” I try to backtrack. 

“That doesn’t matter.” Tamar replies. “How long has he been bothering you?” She’s perceptive, i’ll give her that. I sigh, there’s no point in lying to them - they’d be able to tell. 

“Pretty much since he got here.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tolya’s face looks murderous, but not at me. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.” I mumble. 

“Anyone being harassed onboard is a big deal.” Tolya turns, heading to the door. “I’ll deal with it.” He says over his shoulder, the door swinging shut behind him. 

“He’s lucky it isn’t me.” Tamar says and I chuckle. She’s right about that. 

“Did you mean it?” I ask

“Mean what?” 

“When you said you like me?” 

She doesn’t reply, instead one hand coming up to cup my cheek. 

“Yes, y/n. I meant.” She leans in slowly, hesitantly, and looks to me as our lips are close together. I nod, and she closes the gap. The kiss is soft, barely a graze against my lips, before she pulls back again. 

“You should be resting.” She says. “Your heartbeat is fast.” 

“Don’t spy on my heart.” I reach with my good arm to cup the back of her head, crashing our lips together. I feel her smile when I kiss her. 

– 

Y/n survived another few months, but the loss of her arm hit her hard. Once they hit the next port, they searched out a Grisha healer to take a look at the wound. The healer told them she’s lucky to still be alive, but that the type of shark that bit her has a slow-acting venom. 

Y/n’s face had blanched at the news. The healer gave her a few months, maybe a year, left. 

“Well.” She said with a shaky voice, “Looks like i’ve got some things to cross off my list.” 

To everyone’s surprise, she stayed on the Volkvolny till the end. She had no other home to go to. Although she couldn’t do much besides help with navigation and the lines occasionally, Sturmhond kept her on, and refused everytime she asked if he wanted her to leave. 

When the time came, it was Tamar who said the prayer. “Let the sea carry her safe harbor, and may the Saints receive her on a brighter shore..” Tamar’s eyes shone with tears, more streaming down her face, but nobody mentioned it, nobody said anything.

“Saints receive her.” the crew replied. 

#tamar kir bataar x reader #tamar x reader #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse fanfic #shadow and bone #imagine #fanfiction #grishaverse one shot #one shot #angst #tamar x y/n #tamar kir bataar x y/n