#I need you to know the cover and description gave no indication that’s what it was about

[dearest-nell]

charmed

e. munson x reader, 3k

summary: eddie comes home from a long day at work to discover wayne has a pretty surprise for him includes: established!eddie x reader, wayne being the sweetest paternal figure, mumblings of a found family, wayne manifesting a daughter in law by years end warnings: afab reader, non descript

a/n: writing from the boys perspective is always way more fun. i have so many thoughts about wayne and eddie's relationship.

Eddie had intended to be home earlier, a far cry earlier than the 9:30 that blinked hazily on his vans dashboard as he pulled in before the trailer. He was meant to be home hours ago, hoping to enjoy a Friday night the way that a young person ought to – out with the people he loved. Instead he sat in his driver's seat, covered in oil and grime and god knows what else from under the hood of some deadbeat richman from the other side of town. The apprentice had fucked the repair of a rather pricey car, one that was to be picked up first thing monday, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to let the little guy drown under the barrage of abuse from an intimidating customer. 

So he stayed back, and now he was paying the price. Dinner would have been long over by now, and it was unlikely that Wayne was still home at such an hour. He usually had the night shift on this pay cycle, but Eddie couldn’t tell one from another these days. The lights were still on, his indication that he’d gotten his weeks wrong. 

Worn leather boots beat against the gravel as he trekked towards the door, hand running through the curls that hung low on his forehead; wild, in desperate need of a trim. He was spent, body weary and limp from the extra strain. He wanted to call his friends, to call you, to ask for good company, but he knew even now he was too tired to go anywhere. 

The door was unlocked, so he slipped into the warmth of the trailer with an involuntary shiver, eyes blinking tiredly to spot the figure propped up on the couch. Wayne. Beer in hand, chin shadowed with stubble; Eddie’s hero, if anyone were to ever ask. The old man was his favourite person, whether he knew it or not. 

Wayne gave a gruff smile, tilting his chin up at his nephew. “Long day, boy?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, voice more gravelly than he’d realised. “Got stuck back, sorry I didn’t call.” 

Wayne shrugged. “I figured, though there’s a surprise in your room f’you.” 

A surprise? Eddie couldn’t possibly guess what. “You’re joking.” 

Wayne simply smiled in response, shaking his head. “You go have a look ‘n tell me if I’m joking. Just be quiet about it.” 

Eddie gave a quizzical sort of look, boots resounding against the floorboards as he moved towards the room, a quick mumble from Wayne catching his attention again. 

“Quieter than that.” 

Eddie scoffed, his demeanour still playful despite his disbelief. He took more careful steps this time, readjusting the band wrapped clumsily around his bound tresses, trying to alleviate the steadily subsiding headache from two hours ago. Wayne had never been much of a secret keeper, nor was he one for dramatics. He was a pragmatic, realistic, nonfrivolous sort of man, which made that excitable little sparkle in his uncle’s eyes all the more amusing. Wayne didn’t play tricks, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel he was walking into one. 

With a slow turn of his door handle, Eddie eased the gap open, his eyes scanning the silent dark until his gaze settled upon the mountain of blankets upon his bed. There, buried under three blankets of comfort, was you. It might have been hard to tell under any other circumstances, but even half asleep and exhausted out of his mind, Eddie knew he could recognise your silhouette anywhere. He softened instantaneously, body slackening slightly under the slow wave of adoration that overcame him. You were here to see him. Talk about a surprise, he hadn’t expected to see you today, and now he felt his ribs pressing in tightly together, chest constricting with a glad sort of giddiness. 

He was gentle in closing the door again, his smile bemused at his now grinning uncle. “And how’d my girl end up in there, hm?” 

He toed off his boots, movements suddenly precise and careful under the presence of your company. Even through the closed door, he had no desire to rouse you just yet. Not until he was ready, clean and showered and shed of all other obligations, able to dedicate himself to your company. 

“She came by at 5,” Wayne explained, turning down the quiet shout of the television set with a well worn remote, “thought you’d be home soon, wanted to surprise you. I told her she was welcome t’wait, thinkin’ you’d be round earlier. But y’weren’t, so we had some dinner.” 

Wayne paused, nudging his chin towards the fridge, which Eddie took to mean there was leftovers waiting for him inside. He began rustling through, finding what was left of a roast and vegetables wrapped up neatly in foil. It was a little more extravagant than he had expected, and Eddie chalked that up to your aid in the kitchen. He could see the container of biscuits on the counter, too, with little hearts and flowers piped onto the tops. Pinks and blues and reds and whites, this wasn’t a house for sweets and softness, though Eddie welcomed your charms in any way he could get them. He sat at the table to feast, unbothered to even reheat the feast. 

Wayne continued on. “Thought she might go lookin’ for y’, but we got a’talking. She’s a real sweet thing, y’know, made a real effort to chat. Even offered to sit down ‘n watch a game with me, thought I didn’t have the heart t’put her through it. Ended up watchin’ some Antiques Roadshow thinkin’ she’d like it better; you ever seen me watchin’ that before? I ain’t never had much care, but we had good fun.”

“No shit!” Eddie piped up, astounded by the softened edges of his Uncle. You’d charmed him, he thought, with your curious questions and kind smiles. For Wayne to sit down and talk to anyone was a miracle, one that only an angel could perform. His Angel. 

“We got guessin’ and everythin’.” Wayne added, wiping roughly at his smile. “Seemed tired, though, so I told her to crash in your room. She’s been out maybe half an hour.” 

Astounded was an understatement. Eddie had brought girls home before he met you, though none had bothered to exchange more than polite pleasantries with his Uncle. He’d never been serious about them, so he’d never thought much of it, and then came you. Three months into this new connection, a relationship born of spring flowers and whisky nights and loud music and soft touches. Eddie had never been serious until now, until you, and now he couldn’t picture being anything else but. 

He was glowing, beaming from ear to ear. “So you like her, then?” He was so hopeful in his question, a sincerity Wayne only ever saw reserved for the most heartfelt of Eddie’s dreamings. 

“I do.” Wayne announced, washing down his contentment with another swig of his beer. “I hope y’re serious ‘bout her, she’s real soft on you, and I think she’s a good one. Seems to make you happy enough, you ain’t mopin’ nearly so much these days.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning with faux annoyance, rolling foil into a tiny ball to toss across the room, missing Wayne by a good foot of space. “I don’t mope.” 

“I don’t mope my ass, kid, you mope plenty. Just not anymore.” He was laughing now, worn lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “I said she should come back f’dinner another night, we can all eat together. She was tellin’ me ‘bout this story she was readin’, and I’ll be damned if I don’t know how it ends.” 

Eddie knew how this story ended; it ended with you. It began with you, too. It was all you, he couldn’t see any other ending for him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good, old man.” He was doing his best to stomach the meal, but his words were caught around hastily eaten mouthfuls half chewed and uneasy to swallow. He’d give himself heartburn if he wasn’t careful, and it would have been worth it. 

Eddie took a moment to pause, swallowing thickly, belching unceremoniously in a way he was glad you weren't there to witness. “I am serious, y’know, about her. Real serious. I got a good feeling.” 

“Yeah?” Wayne questioned, sinking back into the sofa. 

“Yeah. She could be the one; ain’t that somethin’? I always thought it was bull when people said you just know, but…” he laughed with astonishment, “I think I just know.” 

“Well shit,” Wayne exclaimed, clearing his throat, “that’s real good, Ed’s. You just be good and treat her nice. Be a gentleman.” 

Eddie wasn’t too sure he knew how to be a gentleman, but somehow, he knew you liked him all the same. He didn’t need to be anything but himself around you, and that was a one in a billion kind of feeling,

He was quick in his cleaning, fumbling around the kitchen to pack away a still soaking plate, his mind skating over the plastic drying rack by the sink entirely. “I’m bein’ good, I swear.” 

“Bullshit.” Wayne teased, shaking his head. He braced himself on his knees, slowly rising to his feet with a groan. “I’m goin’ to bed. Tell her she’s welcome to stay whenever she likes, okay? Show her where the spare key is.” 

“I will.” Eddie nodded, barely able to fight his slow building excitement. He could feel himself getting restless, hands flexing just at the thought of holding you. “G’night, Wayne.” 

“G’night son.” He echoed back, disappearing into the quiet of his own room. 

Eddie made sure to lock up on his way, switching off the tv and lights as his own sort of wind down ritual. They’d be on all night if he wasn’t careful, and he’d spied the last bill long enough to have a mind for the electricity now. Besides, he needed to be calm when he woke you. He’d half frightened you to death last time he came barrelling in. 

Once again, he retreated towards his room, slipping into the dark like a shadow of the night, slowly shucking his way out of his overalls to kick to the side of the room. He didn’t mind staining his sheets with oil, but not you; you were something worth caring for. He knew he should have showered, but the sweat on his skin could hardly deter him from the need he had to be close to you, to ease away the troubles of his way with the balm of your skin against his, your whispers ringing in his head. 

He fumbled his way to the edge of the mattress, your sleeping body facing away from him to the back wall of the room. He peered a little closer into the darkness, a sliver of moonlight cascading across the bare curve of your shoulder, arm wrapped around something small, something fuzzy…

“Well shit, Ted, what’re you doing in here?” Eddie hadn’t thought to consider where the ragdoll cat had scampered off to. Teddy had been adopted only a few weeks after Eddie came to live with Wayne, his Uncle’s way of easing the boy into this entirely new world together. Teddy had been his childhood companion, and by the way he was burrowed into the pudge of your stomach, purring louder than a car engine, Eddie could see you’d won him over too. 

The cat barely stirred, rather giving him a grumbled sort of chirp at being disturbed, before wriggling his way further under the blankets. You, however, made the softest of whining noises that left Eddie’s heart near strangling in his chest. He lifted a ring clad hand to that moonlight shoulder, brushing callouses across the line of freckles that dusted your skin, watching as your eyes began to flutter open, head turning slightly to face him. 

“Eddie!” No one in the world had ever been so enthusiastic to see him before, not one. His name wasn’t the kind to roll off the tongue, to be begged for or shouted out or held tenderly on someone's lips. Never before, but the way your mouth wrapped around the letters seemed to change the word entirely. Nothing had ever sounded so tender, so wanting, so pleased. You were always pleased to see him, a feeling he never had to doubt when he could see it so plainly reflected in your irises. 

“Honey.” He cooed back, tugging up the corner of the bedsheets to slip beneath them, curving his body to fit the shape of your own, nudging his knee between your two just to feel your skin pressed against his own in every possible way. The hair on his body was just as wild as the hair on his head, but nothing felt like home to him more than the brush of your skin to the mess of his. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You exhaled a lengthy yawn, muffling the sound into his pillow with a hum. Your hair, once styled, now seemed mussed and flattened under the weight of your head. His bed linens were already tattooing precious creases into sleep warmed skin. You were too beautiful for him to even comprehend. 

You turned in his arms, careful not to disrupt the grumbling cat beside you despite your eagerness. He felt arms press their way around him, your nose nuzzling at his chin. “Wayne let me in. I hope that’s okay.” 

Literally nothing else could have been more okay in his mind. It was perfect. This was perfect; coming home to you. “Come by anytime, baby. I’m just sorry I wasn’t back sooner. I made you wait.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t mind. Wayne’s really cool. He kept me company.”

“So I heard.” His voice was edged with an air of amusement, his hand lifting to brush back the strands of hair falling across your face, leaving his palm to cup at the plush of your cheek, his eyes admiring even in the dark. “Antiques Roadshow?”

You let out a giggle. “We panicked! I was trying to make a good impression, and he suggested it so I thought why not. Honestly it was pretty fun, I could totally watch another episode.” 

“Mm.” His lips met the button of your nose dotingly, his voice slackening to a syrupy smoothness. “He’s impressed, I’m impressed; you’ve got us Munson men wrapped around your pretty little finger. Even Teddy’s on your side.” 

“I do not!” You chided, helpless against his onslaught of affection. He left you preening and giddy, a little lightheaded when he loved on you like this, and Eddie never had any intention of stopping. “Teddy just wanted a cuddle.”

“Him and me both.” Eddie asserted, snaking his other arm beneath the arch of your waist, wrapping around the small of your back to tug you in further, his smile resoundingly bright at the way you hummed happily. “We’re not too young to be asleep by 10, are we?” 

The way you eased into the very fabric of him, your bodies so close and so connected, wrapped tightly in the warmth of his room, was enough assurance to him that you were just as content here as he was. “No. I’m not leaving this spot. You just got home, and I’m all sleepy, and Ted’s gonna get mad if we move.” 

Ted chirped an affirmative sound, leaving Eddie to rasp a laugh. “Well we can’t make Teddy mad, can we. Gotta stay here all night with my girl.” 

You chuckled softly in turn, your voice quieting under the weight of exhaustion. “I was meant to keep you company, but I’m so sleepy.” Another yawn parted your plush lips, leaving Eddie with no choice but to press his own to the corner once they came back together again. 

“You are keepin’ me company. Think I’ll sleep a bunch better with you keepin’ me warm. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow, hm? After a big sleep in?” 

“You’re so sexy when you talk like that.” You mumbled, your lashes fluttering shut to rest against your cheeks. “I’d kiss you stupid if I could move.” 

Besotted was not a strong enough word for what Eddie felt in that moment, but he was overwhelmed with the urge to litter a smattering of kisses from the edge of your cheekbone to the corners of your forehead, each one softer than the last, lulling you into that sweet place of slumber you were already drifting towards. 

“Kiss me stupid tomorrow. Sleep, sweetheart.” You didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Eddie watched the light in your flicker to a dim, pale glow, your breathing evening out to something unhurried. Peaceful. It didn’t matter to him that he had only had those brief moments with you tonight. Five minutes with you was enough to chase away all the strife of a day otherwise written off in his mind. And that was what his life had been missing, after all. Someone who made going to sleep at 10pm look like the greatest moment of his life. He wanted to keep you to himself, a greedy kind of possessiveness stirring in his gut, for as long as he was able, knowing full well that less than twelve hours from now, Wayne would without a doubt be waiting to make you both breakfast on his morning off. 

Like he said, you had all the Munson boys charmed.

[cain-apologist]

What’s the word for when you see a witch blog you haven’t seen in a while and at first you’re like “Aw yay I remember them from a while back when I was just starting out on witchcraftin, I think I liked their posts a lot at the time, nice to see they’re still around :)” and then something doesn’t feel right and then it clicks:

You unwittingly read a book that was your very first exposure to Atlantean alien ‘what if the pyramids…weren’t made by the people who lived there’ bullshit once because that blog specifically recommended it based on an ask you sent; said reading filling you with a new form of thermonuclear wrath that made you physically sweaty?

Asking for a friend.

[sailor-aviator]

Road to Perdition: Chapter Two

Road to Perdition: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Police, FBI, Self Deprecation, Jake being a scoundrel, Suggestive Comments, Cursing, Attempted SA, Derogatory Names being thrown at reader, Guns, Descriptions of Blood. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

The ache to your temple had dulled, but still throbbed enough to be noticeable even after two days. You had woken in the alley, head aching from where Hangman had struck you as the police officer gripped your shoulder to steady you.

“Are you alright, miss?” The officer had asked, concern shining in his brown eyes as he looked you over. You had been dazed and disoriented, looking around to try and piece together what had happened. You glanced around and saw the bank manager already on his feet speaking with another officer. A particularly hard throb had you wincing and grabbing at your temple, and the officer before you offered you a sympathetic smile and a hand to help you up.

“It looks like they got you pretty good,” he muttered, eyeing the growing bruise on the side of your head. You grimaced at him, eyes wandering again and landing on a tall man pushing his way through the throng of police. He was older, his dark hair graying at the temples and making him look even sterner than his hard expression already made him look. His blue eyes scanned the area, and you wondered when the last time he got any sleep was, the dark circles under his eyes indicating that it had been quite a while. A shadow of stubble outlined his hard-set jaw, emphasizing the look of irritation that covered his handsome features. His eyes met yours, brow arching at you as you met his gaze.

“Do you remember anything, miss?” The officer next to you asked gently, and you turned to look at him. You opened your mouth to reply, but stopped as a figure walked up into your peripheral.

“I’ve got it, son,” the man dismissed gruffly, sparing the young officer a look before fixing his attention back on you. The officer seemed put out by the dismissal, but he nodded at you, tipping his cap with a final “miss” before walking off to join his fellow law enforcement. You watched him go for a moment, feeling the newcomer’s gaze on you as you pointedly refused to meet his gaze. The man cleared his throat, and that’s when you looked back over at him, keeping your face neutral as you met his gaze once more.

“The name’s Agent Beau Simpson,” he started, eyes roving over you as his lips twisted into a frown. “What’s yours?”

You gave him your name, sizing him up as you did so, a habit you supposed you picked up from the days when your father would take you out on some of his runs during prohibition. You needed to know the measure of people just in case.

“I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he continued, sliding his hands into his pockets as he allowed his eyes to wander across the alley. You let out a snort that drew his attention back to where you stood.

“What’s the FBI doing in a shithole like this?” You questioned. Agent Simpson raised a brow at your coarse language, earning an eyebrow raise of your own in challenge.

“The Bureau has tasked me and my partner,” he pauses to gesture over at an older looking man who’s stopped to talk with the bank manager, an easy smile on his wrinkled face as he listens to the other man attentively, “Agent Kazansky, with investigating the activities of the Dagger Gang.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Now it made sense. You had heard some of the nicknames whispered around town as Everyone had heard about the notorious gang of criminals roaming the rural areas of this and the neighboring states. The group was heralded as a godsend, robbing the crooked banks and giving the money back to the working poor. You weren’t sure what to think of them to be completely honest. It seemed to you to be too good to be true, and the bruise at your temple throbbed in agreement.

“The Dagger Gang, huh?” You muttered, bringing your fingertips to press gently against the pained skin. You winced at the contact, and Agent Simpson watched you with an unreadable expression.

“Looks like they left you with a parting gift,” he commented. You shot him a look before letting your hand drop.

“Did you need something, or am I free to go?” You huffed, crossing your arms. Agent Simpson said nothing for a moment, but you thought you caught a glint of amusement in his eyes before he took out a small notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. How he was able to wear that many layers in this heat was beyond you.

“You mind telling me what happened?” He asked, and you let out a sigh, recounting your tale to him as he wrote down every detail.

“And that’s all I remember,” you finished, picking at the seam of your skirt as you watched Agent Kazansky finish up with the bank manager. The police were starting to clear out the area as well, having finished bagging as much evidence as they could find.

“You’re sure?” Agent Simpson prompted, brow raised as he finished a note. “Nothing else happened?”

The flash of jade green eyes and soft lips on yours had heat crawling up your neck and to your cheeks. You took a sharp breath, steeling yourself and willing the memory out of your head as you offered him a nod.

“Positive,” you muttered, looking away. Agent Simpson stared at you for a moment before nodding.

“Alright then,” he sighed, putting the notepad and pen back into his jacket and pulling a small, white card out. “If you think of anything, give this number a call. The people at the Bureau will be sure to get the information to me.”

You took the card with a small frown, placing it into your bag with a nod.

“Will do,” you agreed, fingers resting on your camera as a thought struck you.

“Say,” you chirped, catching Agent Simpson’s attention as he was walking away. He turned back to give you a curious look. You held up your camera, waving it for added effect. “You mind if I take some pictures for the paper?”

Now you sat in the parlor of your oldest friend, Alice, in the home she shared with her husband of two years, Frank. It was a lovely home, much nicer than your own at least. Everything was kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dirt or mess in sight. You took a tentative sip from your teacup, a family heirloom of Alice’s, as she prattled on about the luncheon with the ladies from her parish.

You loved Alice dearly, having known her as long as you could remember, but since she got married, it seemed the two of you had been drifting further and further apart. You supposed part of that was your own fault, recounting the number of times Alice had invited you out to spend time with her and Frank. It seemed like they were always a package deal, and while you were fond of him, you couldn’t help but feel that you had been replaced as Alice’s partner in crime. The two of you used to do everything together, but since she had gotten married and settled into her fairytale life, you found yourself more often than not serving as the proverbial third wheel on their excursions.

“So what do you say, Moonie?” Alice chirped, eyes wide with excitement as she leaned forward to rest her palm on your knee. You stiffened for a second before relaxing, racking your brain for hints as to what she was asking you as you sipped your tea. It seemed that your time spend in self-imposed exile had made it hard for you to keep track of conversations.

“You have no idea what I just said, do you?” She sighed, leaning back with a swish of her long, blonde curls. You refused to meet her gaze as she let out another sigh, leaning forward once more to touch the bruise to your temple gingerly. You winced at the contact, setting your cup down on the table in front of you as you turned to look at her.

“I suppose it’s not your fault,” she mused, dropping her hand to take hold of yours. “It must have been so scary what you went through. And the nerve of those brutes to leave such a mess of your pretty face.”

“Alice,” you sighed, giving her a look that begged her to drop the line of conversation. She gave you a wry smile in return.

“Well, anyway,” she continued, mercifully dropping the subject as she let your hand go to place her own cup on the table beside yours. “I was asking if you wanted to come dancing with Frank and I tonight.”

“Alice, I don’t-” You began, but she waved your dismissal off with a brush of her hand.

“It won’t just be the three of us,” she said. “Frank’s friend from Wichita Falls is in town for some business, and I thought it might be fun to do a double date.”

You didn’t respond, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you studied her. You knew she only wanted you to be happy, to have the same kind of life that she lived now, but there was a part of you deep down that knew it would always be just outside your grasp. Still, the idea of getting to spend more time with Alice was appealing, and with Frank’s friend in town, you might actually get to spend some actual one-on-one time with her.

“What did you have in mind?” You relented, earning an excited grin.

Hours later, you were stepping foot into one of the hottest clubs in the Dallas area. You fought the urge to scratch at your face, not used to the makeup that Alice had dolled you up with. Rouge tinted your cheeks and a deep red painted your lips for the first time in years, and you could hardly believe your eyes when she had shown you in the mirror of her vanity earlier that evening.

“You look gorgeous, Moonie,” she had chirped, squeezing your shoulders as she dipped her head down to look at you. “Charlie is gonna be blown away!”

She had practically shoved a bright, red number into your hands as she pushed you towards the restroom to change. Your fingers brushed over the silky fabric in question, letting out a nervous breath as your small group entered the club. She had been right. Frank’s friend, Charlie, had looked gobsmacked when the two of you made your way to the foyer where the two men were waiting, and you let yourself bask in the warm feeling of being noticed by a handsome man.

Charlie’s hand rested on your waist as he guided you further into the room while trailing Alice and Frank. The club was in full swing, several people already on the dancefloor as the band played a jazz number that had you almost giddy. Alice and Frank stopped at a table close to the dancefloor, Charlie pulling out a seat for you as you gave him a grateful smile.

“Don’t get too comfortable!” Alice hollered over the noise, a delighted grin spread across her face as her eyes darted between you and your date. “After the first drink, we’re all headed to the dancefloor!”

“Oh, Alice, you know I don’t-” You began, brow furrowing in uncertainty, but she fixed you with a look that cut you off mid-sentence.

“No,” she stated firmly, arching a brow. “You do. You just haven’t. Come on, Moonie, let loose and live a little! There are no worries tonight!”

You sighed in defeat, casting an awkward smile to Charlie as he let his fingers brush over your shoulders. Alice gave you a knowing look before turning to say something to Frank, and you jumped as Charlie leaned into you.

“You look real pretty tonight, sweets,” he murmured, breath fanning over your cheeks, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol nearly making you gag.

“Thank you,” you managed, allowing your eyes to wander around the room. It was a beautiful place, it’s reputation doing little to prepare you for the majesty of the interior. Deep reds accented with golds lined the walls, artificial shadows cast across the room to offer the illusion of privacy in the crowded space. You wondered who or what lurked in them.

A waiter came around to take your orders, and while everyone around you ordered a cocktail, you stuck with plain water.

“No spirits for you, sweets?” Charlie asked with a lift of his brow. You gave a wry smile, mind flashing briefly to your older brother.

“I’m not one for alcohol,” you supplied, picking at the cloth of the napkin that sat in front of you.

“Shame,” he muttered, giving a smile to the waiter as he came back with everyone’s drinks.

You all chatted amongst yourselves as you sipped at your water, feeling yourself grow more and more stifled by Charlie’s presence as he crowded around you. The feeling of eyes on you tickled at the back of your neck, but you brushed it off as jitters about being out and about for the first time in who knows how long. Before long, Alice was on her feet and tugging Frank towards the dancefloor with her signature grin and bat of her eyelashes. Frank followed her eagerly, the two of them falling into an easy foxtrot.

“We should join’em!” Charlie called over the music, not waiting for protest as he took your hand and dragged you towards the dancefloor. You bit back your sigh, falling into step with the music, allowing yourself to get lost in the tempo as your feet moved. The feeling of eyes on you grew, and you allowed yourself to scan the room for the source of the uneasy feeling. You were pulled back, however, as Charlie stepped on your toes, causing you to wince with a hiss as he flushed a deep red.

“I’m so sorry, sweets,” he grumbled, attempting to guide you along the floor once more. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him, moving your feet once more as the music continued. The air between the two of you was silent and awkward as you continued, and you started to wonder how you were going to make it through the rest of the night. Perhaps you could feign illness…

“Frank told me you had a bit of a run-in earlier this week,” Charlie said, eyes glancing at your temple where, despite Alice’s best efforts, the bruise was still slightly visible beneath the layer of powder covering your face.

“Yes,” you sighed. “I suppose I did.”

“You must have been frightened, sweets,” he pressed, hand stroking along your waist as you gritted your teeth.

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” you muttered as the song came to an end. You pulled away, forcing a smile on your face as Charlie allowed you to withdraw. A slower number came on, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat, shifting on his feet.

“I’ll, uh,” he swallowed, “I’ll go get us another round of drinks.”

You nodded but didn’t respond as he spun on his heel and retreated. You let out another sigh, starting to make your way back to the table when a hand grasped your wrist.

“Where’re you going, dollface?”

You whirled around at the familiar voice, eyes meeting jade green that sparkled with mirth. You stood frozen for a second as the blond’s face split with a cocky grin.

“Let go of me,” you hissed, attempting to pull your wrist free, but his grip remained gentle but firm.

“Come on,” he drawled, pulling you closer, the smell of tobacco and mint making your stomach flutter. “Just one dance.”

He left you no room to argue as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him with a devilish grin and taking one of your hands in his. He began to sway along to the music, and you begrudgingly followed.

“See? Isn’t this nice?” He crooned, looking down at you with hooded eyes. You glared back up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line as he whisked you around the dancefloor.

“I think you’re already having a better time with me than you were lover boy over there,” he grinned, nodding over to where you were sure Charlie was. His hand on your waist began to venture lower, and you reached behind you to drag it back into place. You cast the man in front of you another glare, but he remained unperturbed, leaning forward so that his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Been thinking ‘bout you,” he murmured, sending a shiver up your spine, one that didn’t go unnoticed judging by the smirk that graced his lips. “Been thinking about those pretty lips on mine.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your face warming at his words. How could this man stir such conflicting emotions in you?

“Been imagining how soft you’d feel against me,” he continued with a hum, lips trailing down towards your cheek, sending chills across your skin that had your insides twisting. “Been thinking about the pretty noises you’d make when I-”

“Don’t be crass,” you snapped, pushing against his chest. You only put about an inch or so of space between the two of you, your glare only a fraction of how fierce it was at the beginning of the dance. He chuckled, pulling you close again as he continued the dance.

“Sorry, sugar,” he smirked. “You’ve just been driving me crazy these past couple of days.”

“You don’t even know me,” you muttered, looking down at the floor. Hangman dips his head to look at you once more.

“No,” he acquiesced, “but I want to.”

You looked back at him at that, shock coloring your face.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t like the free spirited girls who flitted around town. You didn’t own nice clothes or worry about the latest trends. This man was beautiful, he could have anyone he wanted. So, why you?

“What do you mean ‘why?’” He laughed, stopping when he saw the serious look on your face. He offered a shrug. “I dunno. There’s just something about you, doll. Something that once I saw you, I knew you were something I’d never want to let go. Been thinking about it nonstop since the other day, and now here you are looking like an angel down from heaven itself right in front of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you groused, earning another chuckle. You gulped as you felt his hand begin to wander south once more, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Maybe,” he hummed, leaning into you so that his lips ghosted over yours. Your gaze flitted down, remembering the softness of his lips on yours, cursing how much you wanted to feel them again. “But you say you want nothing to do with me, that you don’t feel what I feel? I’ll be out of your life for good, dollface.”

Your eyes flickered back up to his, studying them for any signs of deception, but there was none to be had. Your mind whirled with the possibilities. It wasn’t smart to get mixed up with someone like him, especially when you weren’t planning on sticking around. You let out a shaky breath and Hangman cooed at you, stroking your cheek in a brazen show of intimacy.

“Use your words, honey,” he murmured, and you let out a quiet whine, cheeks heating at the pathetic sound.

“I-” You started, stopping as you heard your name. You whipped your head around to see Alice pushing through the crowd towards you. You pulled away from Hangman, refusing to meet his heated gaze as your best friend stopped in front of you, her husband right behind her.

“Moonie, honey,” she smiled, eyes glancing at the man beside you curiously. “Where’s Charlie?”

“He, um,” you stuttered, eyes looking around wildly for your date.

“Hi,” Hangman greeted, offering his hand for Alice to shake. “My name is Jake. Jake Seresin.”

“Oh, hi!” Alice greeted, taking his hand in a polite shake. “I’m Alice, and this is my husband, Frank.”

“Sorry about stealing your friend away,” he drawled, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “I saw her from across the room and just knew I had to have at least one dance with her.”

You couldn’t see, but you were sure he was flashing her a mega-watt smile with the way she looked so flustered. You took a deep breath, anxiety licking up your spine as the room suddenly felt too loud and too crowded.

“I need some air,” you blurted out, already turning towards an exit, not bothering to wait for a reply. You pushed through the throngs of people, earning several dirty looks, but you couldn’t be bothered as you pushed your way through a door and into the cool, night air of an alley. The quiet enveloped you as you sucked in huge lungfuls of air, the sweat on your skin feeling like ice in the cool breeze.

What was going on with you? You had never been so affected by anyone in your life, and this man, this stranger, waltzes into your life and suddenly you’re making a fool of yourself. He must have hit you harder than you thought, that was the only logical explanation.

You were so busy in your spiral that you didn’t notice the door open as someone stepped out with you. You jumped as a hand clutched your shoulder, spinning to see Charlie looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Oh, Charlie!” You exclaimed, placing a hand over your chest to try and calm your racing heart. “I didn’t-”

“You know,” he interrupted you, a look of disdain flooding his features, “had I known you were so easy, I wouldn’t have bothered taking you out on a date.”

“What?” You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He let out a bark of a laugh, taking a step towards you, and you took one back.

“A dame like you? I should have known,” he sneered, backing you up towards the wall of the alley. You grunted as your back met the brick wall, heart beating erratically for a different reason now. “Girls like you are too easy, the way you were putty in that guy’s hands just from a single dance. So, come on, sweets. Open those legs for me like the good slut I know you are.”

The slap echoed in the empty alley, your hand stinging from where it had connected with Charlie’s cheek. You were frozen in shock, which was all the time it took for him to recover, your head bouncing off the brick as he gripped your hair and slammed you back.

“Bitch,” he snarled, other hand reaching up to grip your dress. He pulled, and a tearing sound met your ears as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I was going to be nice,” he hissed, his horrible breath washing over you as you continued to struggle, “but now I’m going to make sure it hurts.”

His hand came up to wrap around your neck, and you let out a cry as he squeezed. You pressed your eyes closed, waiting for his next move when a click sounded over his shoulder.

“Let her go,” came the deep timbre, and you opened your eyes to see Jake standing behind Charlie, a gun in his hand which he pointed at Charlie’s head. Charlie let out a low growl, but obeyed the command, his hands falling away from you. You nearly crumpled to the ground, but caught yourself as Jake held his hand out to you, not taking his eyes off of the other man. Hesitantly, you moved passed Charlie, taking Jake’s hand and allowing him to push you behind him. Once you were safe behind him, Jake reared the hand holding his gun back, bringing it forward sharply with a sickening crack. You gasped as Charlie groaned, clutching at his nose which was now leaking blood through the cracks of his fingers.

“You sorry piece of shit,” Jake growled, the sound of the door opening behind you catching your attention. You watched as Alice and Frank made their way into the alley, eyes wide with shock as Jake stood over Charlie.

“I catch you even looking in her direction again, and you’ll leave with more than a broken nose,” he spat, dragging Charlie up by his collar and practically throwing him down towards the mouth of the alley. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Moonie, oh my word,” Alice started, rushing towards you as Charlie scampered off. “What happened?”

“I…he…” You tried to talk, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Your head hurt, and you were feeling dizzy. Your fingers played with the skirt of your dress as you tried to formulate a sentence. You were vaguely aware of Jake and Frank speaking in the background, but you were too distracted by the hole you came across. “Your dress…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alice hushed, pulling you close and leading you down towards the street. “Let’s just get you out of here, honey.”

Once again, you allowed yourself to be guided, the decision being made for you. You paused at the mouth of the alley, looking back to see jade green already looking at you.

A/N: It's been a while since I updated last, but here it is!! I'm still so excited to continue this story, and this Jake is quickly becoming a favorite of mine, I can't lie. I'm hoping to have the other three updates out this week, but more likely than not, it might just be one or two, so let me know what you want to see next!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 2 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, domestic abuse, murder threats, graphic descriptions, noncon turned dubcon, fingering, degrading, knife play

I’m in a field, not sure what kind. There are no flowers or crops. The grass is long enough that it whips at my face every few steps but I’m not bothered by it. In fact, I think I enjoy the feeling. The lush green blades are like hands reaching out to caress my skin as though encouraging me to keep running. 

  Running? I don’t know why I’m doing that. It’s a beautiful summer’s day, maybe around lunchtime. And yet, instead of a soft blue, the sky is glowing a hazy orange that shimmers off the blades of grass and is gradually becoming a deep red. I’m not concerned, there’s no need to be. Though I do sense that something is following me, and has been for a while. I wonder if I know them. Perhaps they’re trying to give me a message. I laugh, they’ll have to catch up with me. 

  The field goes all the way to the horizon. I’m not sure how far I’ve come but I’m not tired and have no desire to stop. That is until I’m made to. One of the blades tangles itself around my ankle and I fly through the air and land with a thud. The lushious grass stands above me now, leaning over as to hide me from the world. Another blade wraps itself around my ankle. It was no accident. They pull at me and pull and keep going. They have the strength of ten men. They’re dragging me into the dirt and I now see this place is not a safe haven. 

  I am being sentenced to an early burial, no one around to say my eulogy. I’m waist deep now and more blades are pulling me down. They cut me out of spite. I try to scream but I cannot form a syllable. There is no noise from anything in this world, even as I scrape the ground on the surface. 

  My face is submerged into the darkness now and all that is left of me is two arms scrambling for something to anchor onto and save me. Until, finally, two calloused hands grab my arms and pull back. 

  You woke up with a start, too fast for your body to react that you’re  immediately hauled back into bed. You paused to give yourself a chance to adjust to the transition between sleep and wake. More importantly, you let the blurred lines between dreaming and reality become clear enough for you to know that your nightmare was just that and assure yourself that you were safe. 

  Once that clarity set in, you allowed yourself to open your eyes again and immediately felt all lucidity disperse. You had no idea where the fuck you were. The room was one you didn’t recall ever being in, especially not the night before. You racked your brain for some kind of explanation as to how you could’ve ended up in a stranger’s bed but found the only plausible answers to be pretty unlikely. 

  You weren’t the kind of person to hook up with strangers, even if you sometimes wished you were. There was no one else in the spacious bedroom and with a quick scan, you couldn’t see any photos of the owner. Another answer was that a friend had invited you over the night before, you’d gotten drunk and they insisted you stayed the night. But you had no recollection of any such events nor did you have friends close enough in the States to offer that kind of invitation in the first place. Whatsmore, you  didn’t know anyone who lived in New York, as indicated to you by the floor to ceiling windows covering the entirety of two sides of the room that overlooked the city.

  Tentatively, you pulled the covers back and slipped out of bed, presenting the baggy vintage shirt with a print you weren't familiar with to yourself. You thought of grabbing some shorts to put on too but weren't sure of the social etiquette of putting on the clothes of a stranger whose bed you just woke up in and didn't remember. The shirt covered half of your thighs anyway. 

  You steadily made your way around the bed, taking in your surroundings as you went. There was nothing personalised in the room. The bed had no unique blankets or pillows, there were no ornaments or shelving of any kind or even any photos. But in all fairness, anyone who stepped into that room would immediately be drawn to the windows that you drifted towards yourself. 

  It was only upon closer inspection that you realised several of the windows were sliding glass doors leading out onto a personal balcony. Along it was a lone table and chair. You imagined that if you had a balcony like that, you’d have a multitude of different flower pots scattered along it. You tried to open the balcony door for a better look but it didn’t budge. 

  Judging by the wisps of yellow peaking over the horizon, it looked as though it was the evening, alarming you to question how long you had been asleep in a stranger's home. Though you couldn’t hear the city below, you could see the frantic life buzzing below as the general gleam of traffic moved as one disorganised swarm. You had only visited New York a handful of times, but you guessed you were in the centre based off of the multitude of skyscrapers around that you seemed to be almost level with. 

  With a shaky breath, you turned away from the illuminated city and cautiously made your way across the cold floor towards the door, only considering finding some shoes or socks for a split second before turning the handle to present the rest of the apartment. 

  “Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath as you took in the space in front of you. From a mere glance, you could only assume the penthouse was the rough size of your workplace. The practically empty, vast space before you certainly screamed New York, not to mention wealth. It had the same dark minimalistic design as the bedroom as though the owner had bought the showroom along with it. 

  The wall to my left and opposite me had the same, slightly overkill, windows to observe the whole city as far as the eye could see. Except they must have been at least forty feet taller to accommodate the second floor that seemed to cover about two thirds of floor space. There was a wide, single level staircase leading up to the landing and as you made your way along the perimeter of the penthouse you could see that not only was there a solid wall along the edges, but there was also a locking door at the top of the stairs with a keypad next to it, similar to the ones at work. 

  Just next to the stairs was a large kitchen area and island with several chairs around it, all of the same design style. It looked hardly used, by the owner or any guests. Even in the main space, there was a large corner sofa that could easily seat about ten people but seemed to have never been touched. You wondered if the television in the centre had ever been turned on either, or if the coffee table had ever had bowls piled up on top of it. 

  Beep. Click.

  You spun around to face the door at the top of the stairs, awaiting the reaction of whoever came through them. A face you certainly didn’t expect to see was that of Natasha Romanoff, sauntering down the stairs in sweatpants and a tank top. Her hair was hanging loosely over her face as her head was dropped to the stairs. You couldn’t find the voice to call her attention, too stunned to even move. It was only once she reached the final step that she glanced your way with a casual smile. 

  “You’re up,” she commented. “I was just about to make dinner.” 

  You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish as you watched, dumbfounded, as the Avenger wandered over to the kitchen and started filling pans with water and prepping equipment. You observed her for a single minute until you were finally able to find your voice. “Natasha?” 

  “Yeah?” She called back over her shoulder. You didn’t respond after a beat, not sure what to even say. 

  “What am I doing here?” You said, only knowing how to be blatant. “Where even are we?”

  “We’re home, of course,” Natasha said matter of factly. You frowned.

  “Your home?” You tried.

  “It’s yours too now detka, you know this.” The redhead chuckled and turned back around to you. 

  “I don’t…know what…what do you mean?” You stammered as the hero started strolling towards you leisurely. 

  “A few days ago, you told me you wanted to go home. Well here you are,” Natasha stated simply, an easy smile still across her rose lips.

  Beat.

  “Is this a joke?” You asked plainly, squinting slightly as you looked Natasha in the eye for any signs of...anything. “Natasha, I don’t remember getting here,” you continued, trying to show the redhead your worry. 

  “That’s too formal for this, call me Nat. And I’m not surprised you don’t remember anything, you were asleep the whole way.” You could feel your eyes widen as your brain screamed more questions at you. “Don’t worry, detka, Strange said it doesn’t affect your sleep schedule because it keeps you tired enough to fall back asleep whenever you want to,” Natasha continued. You didn’t feel particularly tired at that moment. 

  “What is this? And what is it? What the fuck’s going on?” You demanded, feeling suddenly very trapped in the vast space. Your eyes scanned the room around you for any kind of clarity or answer, anything that could give you more than Natasha was. When you eventually looked back at the older woman a chill raked its way down your back. 

  “Watch your mouth,” the ex assassin warned, eyes boring into your own. You were just then aware of how little space, and apparently air, there was between you. You released a shuddered breath as Natasha’s intense gaze didn’t waver, as though she was daring you to even think of getting more wound up. But you just couldn’t ignore the fight or flight instincts screaming at you to get away from the unpredictable redhead. 

  “I just want to go home,” you said carefully. Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “You are home. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Her frustration was rising as rapidly as your anxiety. 

  “But I mean…my job,” you tried. Natasha’s gaze eased marginally.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. You were only going to be there a couple more weeks anyway,” she pointed out.

  “But-”

  “Your job is me now.” You could feel a lump the size of a walnut growing in your throat as your mind raced with possible explanations of what that could mean. Natasha took a confident step towards you and you took one back.

  “Where’s my phone? And my clothes?” You asked, only just able to stop your voice from breaking. You took a couple more steps away for good measure but felt the chilled window bite into your back. You didn’t miss the corner of Natasha’s lips flicker at the dull impact.

  “You don’t need them,” the older woman stated and strolled towards you. “You just need me,” she explained once she was right in front of you, close enough for you to see the shadows across her eyes that watched you with a kind of fascination. She lifted her hand and you flinched. She didn’t seem to care. Natasha placed her somewhat rough hand against your cheek and watched for a reaction. 

  You couldn’t quite give one. You hadn’t felt a woman’s hand on you like that before. Ever. It was…nice. Your skin heated up under her touch as though it ignited tiny bolts of electricity to shoot across from her to you. This made Natasha’s interest grow and she began stroking her thumb just under your eye, almost making them shutter close. But before you could enjoy the sensation any more, the redhead drew her hand away and brought it back too swiftly for you to comprehend. 

  Your head whipped to the side and your cheek suddenly heated up again but in a way greatly differing from a few seconds prior. It was burning red. “What the fuck?” You yelled, in too much shock to think of what you were saying. You tried to bring your hand up to your sore skin but Natsaha was on you before it even left your side. 

  In an instant, the ex assassin had your front pressed firmly into the glass with your arms trapped painfully between your back and the redhead. She lodged her thigh between yours, pushing herself into you as much as possible and only requiring one hand to hold you while the other grabbed your jaw. You struggled against her but even with the aid of the most adrenaline you had ever experienced, Natasha held you easily. 

  “I told you to watch your fucking mouth,” she hissed, nails digging into your flesh. “I hope you’re not so dumb that you forgot already, or you’re not going to last very long here, malysh.”

  “But you’re an Avenger,” you choked out as tears began rolling down your cheeks and onto Natasha’s hand. “You’re meant to be one of the good guys,” you cried as your hope started to shatter. 

  “Oh I am,” Natasha cooed, condescension dripping from her husky voice. “So I think the people I save should give something back to me.” With that, Natasha withdrew herself from you and sauntered back towards the kitchen like nothing happened, leaving you slumped against the window a whimpering mess. 

  “Go sit at the table,” she ordered. You figured it best to obey and gradually made your way over with your eyes trained on the assassin every step of the way.

  You sat at the table in silence for a while. You weren’t sure for how long because there wasn’t a clock on any of the white or aegean walls. The only indicator of passing time you had was the spread of the orange wisps in the sky that were almost upon you and the bright glow of the sun, just peeking over the horizon. 

  Natasha was busying herself in the kitchen making a dish you didn’t recognise the smell of. You wondered if it was Russian. You hadn’t had Russian food before. At the few moments you risked a glance towards her, she drifted seamlessly between counters as though in a routine she had practised for years and could conduct without any conscious effort. 

  You mostly sat in shock, trying to wrap your head around what exactly it was that you were doing there. Natasha’s answers were far too vague for you to understand though you didn’t feel like enquiring anymore into it. Instead, you just wanted to get out and it seemed the only way to get there was through the locked door at the top of the stairs. You didn’t fancy your chances of trying to get through with Natasha so close by and when you played it in your head it ended with you on the ground again. 

  At some point you began pondering if there was any chance in hell you could think up a plan smart enough to escape. Escape. It was an insane concept. Escaping from an Avenger. On the off chance you even managed it, what would you do once you got out? Tell people you had been abducted by the Black Widow? Who would believe you? Perhaps you could just keep running until you hit the border and crossed over to Canada, surely Natasha didn’t have as much power there. Who were you kidding? Natasha wasn’t just going to let you get far enough to find out. She was the Black Widow. 

  The redhead placed some cutlery and a plate down in front of you before retrieving her own, giving you a chance to assess the meal. It looked to be a kind of stew or soup with beef and beetroot as the sole ingredients in making it a bold red. On top of the dish was a spoonful of cream and some herbs you couldn’t name on the top of your head. You couldn’t deny, to yourself at least, that it smelled enticing and you were curious to try. 

  You waited for Natasha to be seated before you picked up your spoon and watched for her to do the same, only taking a small mouthful after she did, an act she was pleasantly surprised she didn’t have to teach you. The older woman observed you as your tastebuds gave an approving cry for more and you were immediately aware of how hungry you were. Despite feeling sick with anxiety just a few moments prior, you had to stop yourself shovelling mouthfuls of the moorish dish into your mouth at once. It was amazing. 

  As you ate, you tried to take little notice of Natasha. While you were still on edge, your body insisted that the food was your priority at that moment, allowing the redhead to survey your every movement. You liked her cooking, that much was clear. She liked that. If there was one thing Natasha despised in a guest was when they didn’t appreciate what she gave them. 

  “Borscht,” Natasha said, continuing with her own plate while you polished yours clean. “That was the dish.” 

  “It was good,” Was all I managed to say, your throbbing cheek reminding you to at least try and appease her for the time being. It was enough for the spy, for now. 

  You glanced around the penthouse awkwardly as Natasha finished her meal, avoiding her awaiting stare. When she stood up with her plate and strolled towards you you stared down at your plate until she took it from its place and lingered next to you.

  “Thank you,” you muttered. The redhead praised you internally and hummed. 

  “Would you like anything else, detka?” There were several things you wanted, none of which would be accepted. 

  “Some water…please?” Natasha smiled approvingly and turned away. It was only once she did that the thought came to mind and before you could even think rationally, you leapt out of the chair and towards the spy. 

  You made it perhaps half a step. Natasha whipped around immediately and a blur of white came hurtling straight towards your face, knocking you down upon imminent impact. The smash only registered in your ears once you were on the floor and the pain along the opposite side of your face than before set in once the spy was standing above you with an amused expression. 

  You groaned, blinking twice, as Natasha set the intact plate back down on the table and placed her combat boot on your wrist and pressed down. Hard. You cried out and grabbed at her ankle with your free hand as you felt the textures from her shoe ingrave themselves into your bones. “Stop!” You screamed, hitting at her ankle with no effect while the redhead watched you struggle in a pained panic. Again. 

  “I knew you had more fight in you,” she chuckled and squatted down, her uneven footing proving no challenge to her balance, even as your hits grew more desperate. “You wanna play, puppy?” She continued to taunt, wrapping her hand around your throat and constricting without any hesitation. 

  Your free hand immediately set about grabbing and clawing at hers as she watched you choke with a look of intrigue. Your eyes darted between the spy and her boot as the pressure built to the point of snapping. You wouldn’t put it past the sadistic hero to break your wrist, but you also weren't sure what it would take to get her to let up on your throat. 

  “What’s it gonna be, pup?” Natasha teased, highly amused by the conflict across your face. “Three…” she started and your eyes widened, darting back to your wrist for the final time before you focused all your energy at scratching your attacker's hand and wrist. “Two…” You gave a gargled cry of protest as your vision began to blur, depriving you of seeing the drops of blood you managed to draw from the spy. “One…” Your eyes rolled back just as Natasha let go. 

  The Avenger stepped back as you rolled onto your front and gasped to regain control of your lungs between strained coughs. You felt at your throat and cradled your bruised wrist while attempting to draw as much air from the room as you could, though it still felt in short supply. 

  “Smart choice,” she chuckled as you curled up around the broken shards. “Now clean this shit up.” You just about heard her walk back towards the stairs over the sound of your heart pumping in your ears. 

  You took a hold of a large shard next to you and pressed it into my palm, contemplating the two choices you had with it. Use it on yourself or use it on Natasha. You didn’t have guts for either, so instead, you hauled yourself up from the floor and collected all the broken pieces. Luckily, the plate hadn’t actually shattered and there were only a handful of pieces to put in the bin under the sink. 

  You went back to the table for the remaining plate and washed it up along with the cutlery, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, going through the motions on autopilot while trying to process the enjoyment Natasha had gotten out of the scene. You wondered how many more like it you would undergo. 

  Having completed Natasha’s request and not knowing what else she expected of you, you took the chance to start looking through her cupboards and drawers to explore the penthouse more. After all, you had no idea how long you would be there. 

  Her food cupboards were filled with organic and wholly natural ingredients, mostly labelled with brands you had never heard of. Pastas, rice, cereals, all looking different to what was sold in supermarkets and no doubt double the price. She had no savoury snacks and guilty pleasure foods except for a lone jar of peanut butter on the top shelf. The one sweet thing she owned you were possibly allergic to, having never been properly tested but had a suspicion of when you last tried.

  There was a cupboard filled with spices that you didn’t get a good look at because you were overwhelmed with the strong smells as soon as you opened the door. Another cupboard was packed with a sizable collection of different alcohols, none of which you recognised the labels of. There was nothing else that stood out to you as you looked through the remaining drawers until your eyes landed on a vegetable knife. 

  Twice you had attacked Natasha and twice you had failed. It wasn’t surprising. She was an Avenger and perhaps the most lethal spy in the world. But it allowed you to learn. She was quick, so there was no way you could make a move fast enough to catch her out. She was also undeniably stronger than you so relying on brute strength would get you nowhere and you concluded that stealth wouldn’t be your best option either.

  However, with a weapon? Things could be different. If you waited and bought your time, perhaps an opportunity would arise where the knife could make all the difference. You didn’t want to kill Natasha, just do something to help get you out. Perhaps she would let you go if she knew you could actually hurt her back. 

  You glanced back over your shoulder to ensure she hadn’t reappeared without your knowing but Natasha was nowhere in sight. You slipped the knife, blade down into the waistband of your underwear and grimaced at the feeling of the blade pressing gently into your hip. All the more reason to be careful. 

*

The knife was a bold choice. An exciting one too, for Natasha, not you. For you it would be anything but when the redhead got her hands on the flimsy weapon and used it the way she had been itching to. The moment she saw your eyes land on that knife she knew it would be promising, she was looking forward to seeing how you would fail and the fear she would practically be able to taste when it would be used against you. 

  She wanted her sheets stained red by the end of the night. 

  An eye for an eye, she mused to herself as she examined the scratches along her hand. Cat scratches. Kitten scratches. Like any good owner, she’d train that out of you soon enough. They didn’t sting, of course. Infact, Natasha quite admired them. To her, they were a medal of how easily she could overpower you and the fear she could bring out. 

  The redhead continued to monitor the screen for a while, watching as you made your way aimlessly around the apartment again and eventually perched on the sofa as you bounced your leg, appearing deep in thought. It didn’t seem to cross your mind at any point that Natasha had cameras covering every square inch of the apartment and that the S.H.I.E.L.D issued technology allowed her to zoom in enough to count the hairs on your head. She could see you from every angle, any time, anywhere. 

  Eventually, Natasha switched off the monitor and made her way out of the office and to the main door, entering her four digit, fingerprint sensitive code into the keypad to open the heavy barrier and see your head shoot around to face the spy. She didn’t miss the way you pressed your sweaty palms against the hem of the baggy shirt, subtly checking the security of the knife as you stood slowly. 

  “It’s late,” Natasha stated. “Go brush your teeth,” she nodded in the direction of the bathroom that you had looked in when you were alone. You didn’t object and instead made your way cautiously across the living area. Natasha had to stop herself from laughing at the sight, knowing that if she hadn’t seen you grab the knife, seeing the way you walked then would have given it away enough. 

  Amateur.

  When you left the bathroom and Natasha slinked in after you, you stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for further instructions. “What are you doing?” Natasha asked plainly.

  “I don’t…know,” you said, knowing you probably sounded like a lost child but not knowing that Natasha soaked up the view. 

  So needy. 

  “It’s bedtime. Go to bed,” she stated, nodding towards the other door that connected the two rooms. You glanced around and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “You know where it is.”

  “Yeah but…” you trailed off. Was she going to sleep next to you? Had she the night before? Natasha raised an eyebrow in question as she began brushing her teeth. Right. Don’t object. 

  You lingered just past the doorway, wondering which side you were meant to lay in. You had never lain in the same bed as someone before. At least not someone you weren't friends of five years with. You weren’t sure of the etiquette. Luckily, Natasha was willing to show you when she placed an unexpected hand on your lower back and gave you an encouraging push. You hadn’t heard her come back in. 

  She led you to the foot of the bed and pushed you to continue round to the other side while she pulled her top and trousers off. You quickly averted your eyes as she threw on a loose shirt too and slipped into bed. On any other occasion you would be starfishing naked in the king sized bed, but you stayed as close to the edge as you could without falling off.

  Just as you made yourself as comfortable as possible on your side, you felt Natasha’s arm sling across your stomach, narrowly missing the knife, and hook onto your waist to pull you against her. You kept your eyes trained on the window despite feeling Natasha’s breath on your neck that put your hairs on end. The redhead made small circles on your waist, shaking up your mixed bottle of emotions and hoping she wouldn’t take the cap off, and started venturing further up your side and away from the knife. She rested on your neck a while, tracing the area her hand had been before as though she could remember it better by doing so. You could too and your neck heated up under her touch, making Natasha feel as you gulped. 

  She liked that and inched further until her lips grazed your sore neck, softly at first, as though testing that your skin wasn’t hot enough to burn, before kissing the spot her thumb had been. You shuddered at the sensation and willed your eyes to stay open and to not enjoy how it felt to have Natasha’s mouth on you. But it proved harder the firmer she became, hand glued to the back of your neck as she kissed as much of the area as she could and finally started sucking. 

  When you had to bite back a moan, you knew you couldn’t let her continue and frantically reached for the knife only to find it wasn’t there. Instead, it was against your neck, gleaming slightly with spit. “Uh oh,” Natasha grinned, pressing into your back just as she had done the first time. 

  “You like making trouble for yourself, pup?” The spy husked and took your lobe between her teeth. “You haven’t even been here a full day yet and this is your third attempt at hurting me? I thought the last time scared you enough to at least hold off for a couple days,” she teased further and you began squirming in her hold. Natasha only pressed you tighter against her and pushed the blade closer. “You looked so cute getting choked like that.” At that, you tried to elbow Natasha but she caught you with ease and twisted your arm behind your back, grabbing the other while keeping the blade against all your major blood vessels. 

  “Stupid little thing,” she smiled against you as she began sucking small patches of your neck again. “It’s gonna do you no good to keep acting like this, you know? And it’d be such a shame to have to carve up this pretty body just to show you that,” she pouted as your guts churned and you found myself freezing in place. 

  “Then again…” Natasha continued, “this is the third time so maybe you’re not worth the hassle of keeping.” Stupidly, you felt your spirits rise at the hopeful words Natasha muttered, thinking your plan had worked and that the spy didn’t want to deal with the continuing defiance. “I suppose the only question left is how best to kill you.” Your heart stopped.

  “Sure, I could slit this pretty throat and let you drain out on my bed then dump you somewhere, but that sounds like a hassle and a very uncreative one.” She pondered as the room’s temperature suddenly dropped to below zero. “Perhaps I could cut into those small wrists and then drive you home, make everyone think you were just too weak to handle your big adventure.” Natasha pretended not to hear the small whimper that left your lips. “Or maybe, as you’ve wasted so much of my time and energy, I take my time with it to make this all worth it. Start out with small little cuts and rub salt in them; make larger ones and burn them shut; rip your guts out and make you watch. So many possibilities. Any of those sound good to you, detka?” She asked with a small kiss to your cheek.

  “Please,” you sobbed, tears soaking Natasha’s sheet while you felt like a lamb being prepped for slaughter. “I’m sorry…please don’t kill me,” you begged as you suddenly recalled all the adventures and accomplishments you wanted to use the rest of your life to achieve. You wanted to laugh more with friends, you wanted to cry with them, you wanted to have stories to tell people. You hadn’t even felt a woman’s touch yet. 

  “So precious when you beg for your life,” Natasha mused as she pressed the small blade further into your skin until you felt a sharp sting.

  “I won’t try anything again, I swear!” you pleaded, fighting against every instinct in your body screaming at you to fight back. You knew doing so would only play into the spy’s hands. 

  “I just don’t believe you, lapachka. There’s so much fight in you,” she pondered. 

  “I’ll do anything,” you cried.

  “Yeah?” Natasha’s lips turned up against you. “I think you might have to let me fuck the fight out of you, meelaya.” 

  “I…” Words escaped you. You racked your brain for any kind of legible response but your mind was blank, only filled with images of what the redhead could possibly be planning. 

  “Has anyone ever touched you before, pup?” Natasha queeried as she watched a drop of blood drip down your neck and let her free hand roam down. 

  “No, you whispered and felt Natasha smirk against your sensitive neck again, not knowing how excited the truth made her.

  “Then I’ll make sure to ruin you for anyone else.” She husked, as she groped at your breasts and squeezed your nipples between her fingers. You gasped at the foreign feeling that you …didn’t hate. That was until Natasha’s knife dragged across your neck and left a scarlet line in its path. 

  “Fuck!” You grabbed at your neck and the spy let you as she trailed the knife down to your breasts and circled it around your hardened nipples, making the occasional scratch as she went that made you whine every time. 

  Natasha’s free hand didn’t take long to find itself at the hem of your underwear, pulling the band back and snapping it against you as she mouthed at your neck, growing more desperate once she got a taste of your blood you had smeared across yourself in panic. It was as though the metallicity was making her hunter drive go wild as her scratches turned to cuts and littered them across your torso. The more she did, the more you grew accustomed to the sudden sparks of pain and started to ride the high your brain forced you to perceive them as and had to bite back your moans. This was until Natasha dragged her nails down your inner thighs and you couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped your lips. 

  “Oh?” The redhead chuckled and repeated the action, giving her the same response with the addition of you arching into her against your better wishes. “If I didn’t know better I’d be willing to bet those underwear of yours have become a little wet, hm?” She queried as her hands went up to investigate. You didn’t answer, far too embarrassed by the fact you were fairly sure she was right. The deep sigh you heard from Natasha once her fingers danced across your covered slit was confirmation enough. 

  “You’re a twisted little thing, malysh. Did you get wet once I started cutting you or was it when you thought I might kill you?” She continued, genuinely curious. She knew you liked it when she kissed your neck and knew you enjoyed the pain of her nails, but she hadn’t expected to find you that wet between the two. You had clearly been working yourself up for a while. 

  “Answer me,” she demanded with a sharp slap to your cheek.

  “I don’t know,” you whined honestly. Luckily, Natasha seemed to believe you.

  “And there I was thinking I was going to have to make you get my fingers wet for me,” she paused. “Though I suppose there’s no reason to sacrifice one good thing for another.” You didn’t resist when she pushed her fingers against your lips and began sucking on them the moment you could, missing the shaky exhale from Natasha. “Good puppy,” she mused as she fucked your mouth with her fingers, your brain far too foggy to object. 

  Once she deemed them coated enough with your saliva, Natasha wasted no time in slipping them past your underwear and across your slit, sighing deeply when she could finally feel your wetness against her skin. “You’re soaked, puppy,” she groaned as she teased your clit with her fingers. You could only whine a response and buck your hips into her. “God, you’re a little slut too, aren’t you meelaya?” 

  “Yeah,” you admitted, enthralled by the fact you were finally feeling someone touch you in such a way. 

  When Nataha’s fingers pushed inside you, your head fell back against the redhead’s shoulder and you gave a breathy moan that made the spy start fingering you without any ease. You winced at the sudden pain, expecting her to at least start off slow but that seemed to be the last thing on Natasha’s mind as her fingers reached your depths and curled, making you reach back to try and grip onto her for support. Out of the generosity of her heart, she let you. 

  The room is quickly filled with the sinful sounds of Natasha’s fingers pumping into you and you actually enjoying it. You never would have guessed that your first time would be under such dubious circumstances and that you didn’t even care. Perhaps there was a part of you that loved the immorality, to put it lightly, of it all. But that part would have to be investigated another time because at that moment, all you could think of was how good Natasha's fingers made you feel better than you thought possible. The redhead was thrusting her digits in fast succession that still managed to swipe all of your nerve endings in a perfect harmony. It made your head spin so wildly that you were left disorientated, only being able to anchor yourself to Natasha and allowing her to take whatever she wanted from you while you gave her your most vulnerable state. 

  The spy dug her knife into your burning skin again and the coolness of it was gladly welcomed. She cut and you knew that one was deeper than the rest but you were far too overwhelmed by the additional finger Natasha added to care. Your walls protested to the stretch that your body wasn’t prepared for though it proved no issue for Natasha as she murmured orders to “take it” into your ear and straight to your cunt, instead making you appreciate how full you were. Fuller than you had ever been from the limited times you had ventured there with your own fingers, too afraid to pass the limits Natasha had no care of. 

  Once her knife was soaked in red up to the handle, the ex assassin held the top of the gripped part and brought the end down onto your throbbing clit. You rolled your hips into the weapon smeared with your blood immediately with a desperate whine at the intense pressure of it all. “Getting off on the knife that’s dripping with your blood? You deprived whore,” Natasha husked, voice low as she circled your clit with the edge of the handle. This only worked you up to your peak and soon enough, you were gripping onto Natasha like a lifeline as tears sprung to your eyes from how close you were. Of course, the redhead knew the signs and pressed on your clit harder to match the firmness of her strokes inside you, coaxing you to your orgasm. 

  You were drowning when you came, held down by a pressure you couldn’t see but could feel with every fibre of your being. Your whole body was pulsing red hot and you couldn’t breath under the intensity of it all. Thankfully, Natasha was there to bring you out to the other side and slowly pumped her fingers into you as you squeezed them tight. She tossed the knife to the side as the haze in your mind began to clear and your whole body finally relaxed. You didn’t even notice the spy pulling you onto your back, your body too focused on the newly awoken nerves in your cunt that started to ache. It was incredible. She was incredible. 

  She…

  You hoped my eyes to the sight of Natasha kissing the streaks of red that were littered across your chest. You felt your rib cage constrict at the view as the reality of what had happened came crashing down on you and threatened to pull you back under the waves. The spy had been carving up your body while she fucked you and it made you cum harder than you ever had in your life. She smirked up at you, as though she was peering into your mind and could hear your conflict over the things she had made you feel. 

  That look was almost enough to distract you from the fact that she was pulling your underwear down and settling herself between your spread legs, even though your breathing hadn’t yet evened out. “I can’t,” you started, reaching down to push her away but Natasha just slapped your hands back. 

  “You can and you will,” was all she said before her mouth was on you again, tasting the pleasure she had given you. You whined and tried to crawl away but Natasha wrapped her hands around your thighs to keep you where you were with your legs either side of her head. 

  She took her time with her tongue, making sure to let it venture to every inch of your overstimulated cunt while you lay there and took it all. Feeling her hands so firmly on your thighs, her moans vibrating through your body, her hot mouth on such a sensitive area. It was all too much and it didn’t take long before you were falling over the edge again, except this time you kept plummeting and didn’t hit the ground.

  Natasha was lying besides you when you came back around, her watchful eyes lifting as you did. “I lost you there for a second, detka,” she chuckled, running a hand across your hair that covered your face and pushed it back behind your ear. You were too tired to even flinch. Nor did you object when she pulled your head into her chest and kept her hands there. Instead, you listened to her heartbeat and let yourself drift off to the rhythm.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.4 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 3. Chapter 5.

Injured

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets shot, POV of getting seriously hurt, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

You hated that you were right.

It was a total of 15 hours of marching before the battalion was commanded to stop. A quick survey of your surroundings told you that the platoons had made it to a main road. 

Ah yes, Anakin’s plan. Follow the road after probing the city's defenses. The scouts ahead would tell the rest of the 501st what to expect. From there, Rex and Krell would be able to plan ahead. Knowing what to expect would keep casualties to a minimum. 

“Are you questioning my order!?” 

Nevermind…

You sighed, looking up from where you tended to Jock’s broken leg. You were close enough to listen to Pong Krell tear into poor Rex again. He had a holo up, showing a map of the area, and the proposed plan, “this Battalion will take the main road straight to the capital. you will not stop and you will not turn back regardless of the resistance you meet,” He threw his hands up, shutting down the map, “we will attack them with all our troops. Not some sneak attack with a few men! That is my order and you will follow it explicitly. Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

You could tell from Rex’s stance that he wasn’t confident in the new General’s plan, in fact, you could tell he flat out hated it, “Yes, General.” but, Rex was a captain, and Krell a general.

“Now engage!” The Jedi commanded, earning a stiff salute from the captain.

You stood, after treating the ARF trooper’s leg. It was a tad more complicated treatment, as you needed to perform a surgery to put the bone back in place. However, after using about a liter of bacta, and some well placed sutures, Jock’s leg should heal fine after some rest. To be safe, you kept him in a medicine induced sleep for the next few hours. 

Kix dealt with Oz easily. The medic expertly put the kneecap back into place. The soldier gave an experimental kick and stood, “Good as new, Kix. Thank you.” Oz nodded, sounding rather happy to be back to walking. Or it was the painkillers. You watched him drape an arm around Ringo.

Definitely the painkillers.

You cast a glance over to your lover. His helmet was on and he was already informing the men. Even from where you were, you could see Fives and Jesse ready to argue. It was a stupid plan, and they all knew it. 

With a sigh, you got back on the speeder. Since Krell wasn’t going to march at the front, you’d need to stay near him. From what you’ve seen, he’ll probably be at a vantage point overlooking the road. If things went south, which they most likely would with such a careless plan, you’d be a safe distance away to tend to the seriously wounded away from the battlefield.

“Doctor.” The Jedi approached, almost as if your thoughts summoned him. His hands were behind his back, “You will be with the men on the main road.”

You furrowed your brow, “General, my training and rank dictate I always remain behind cover. Usually away from any battle if I can help it. I’m not supposed to be on the front lines.” 

Marching with the men was one thing. Marching with the men directly to a battle was another. Plus, you were supposed to maintain the medical supplies and keep an eye on Jock.

“Plans change, as a soldier you need to be prepared to adapt to the situation.” He shot back, tone indicating that he wasn’t going to argue.

“Sir, Jock and the medical supplies-.”

“Will remain with me. Such supplies are too important to be guarded by anyone but me.” Krell stated coldly. You were getting on his nerves and he wasn’t going to budge.

You looked dumbfounded, but saluted, “Yes, General.” Your words were defeated. Still, you had to suck it up and your steps lead you away to where Fives was seething alongside Jesse and Kix.

Rex wasn’t going to like this. You knew he took comfort in your position away from the front lines. Of course, he trusted you could handle yourself but you were a doctor first before a warrior.

“So…I’m marching with you.” You informed them as you all began to walk to the main road.

The ARC trooper practically exploded, “What!?”

“What about the supplies?” Kix sounded downright stressed. He looked back at Krell, who had gotten Appo to drive the speeder. This General wasn’t doing anything to help his nerves. Good men would die if anything happened to that vehicle and everything on it. 

“Fuck the supplies, what about you? You're our doctor. Kix won’t be able to handle all of us on his own.” Jesse chimed, “especially if this goes as badly as I think it will.”

You rubbed your temple, “Krell thought it better the supplies would be near him. Keep them off the front lines. I am to remain with the battalion.” Your foot met the flat, glasslike road. If it wasn’t so fucking dark on this planet, you assumed it would look pretty, “I’m pretty sure this is him punishing me for earlier.”

“What?” Your lover had overheard and approached, steps hurried to your side, “Why?”

“Enough, what's done is done.” You sighed, crossing your arms, “If things get bad I’ll do my best to slip away and get to safety.”

“Mesh’la, let me talk to him-.” Rex’s emotions got the better of him and he slipped out a term of endearment. He didn’t want to wait, turning to find the General again. You grabbed his arm, halting him. 

“So he can yell at you again?” Your voice was steady, “No, it’ll only piss him off. Besides, I’d risk getting shot if it means spending time away from him.”

Fives snickered, but Rex didn’t seem amused, “I don’t want you getting hurt.” He admitted quietly, “It’s dangerous.”

To be honest, you were nervous. Yes, you’ve seen combat. Yes, you could defend yourself. But you weren't trained for front line combat. You were trained for medical care, potentially even surgery, on the field. You were afraid of becoming a liability. Something for the others to worry about. 

And Rex…clearly feared you getting hurt or killed. 

You looked around before brushing your hand against his. In response, he grabbed it and squeezed before letting go. 

Fives, the ever great friend, stood behind you both, blocking anyone's view of your brief moment of affection.

“Kids, behave.” Kix joked, earning a small laugh from you.

“Oh I absolutely knew something was going on with the both of you,” Jesse snickered.

The clone captain cleared his throat, “I don’t know what you're talking about.” 

“Sure, sure.” Fives joined in on the teasing, “No sleepovers between you two. And if you go out, be home before curfew.”

Oh, his brothers did love to tease. 

Rex let out a deep sigh and shook his head. You knew under that helmet he was blushing. He was most likely flustered, so you did him the favor of shushing your friends, “That's enough you three.”

The slight jovial mood was ended quickly by another voice, “Sir,” Looking back you recognized Tup walking up  next to Hardcase. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen or heard anything between you and the captain. Though, judging by his next question, he most likely didn’t, “why aren't we sticking to the original plan, and probing the city defenses first?”

“We can do this. Let's take them.” The hyperactive trooper raised his weapon slightly. 

Jesse scoffed, “Yeah, leave it to Hardcase to dive in head first.”

Fives let his thoughts be known by speaking up again, “The General's new plan is reckless.”

“I agree.” you nodded, “It seems like he doesn’t care about strategy. Or the lives it’ll cost.”

Another trooper interrupted you all, “You ever think that maybe the General knows what he is doing?” Dogma snapped. 

“Watch the tone.” Kix retorted, silencing the rather obedient soldier. 

“Enough.” Rex stamped out the small quarrel.

Fives turned to him, completely ignoring Dogma’s words, “I know you think this is a bad idea.”

“I raised my objection to General Krell's plan, but he didn't agree.” There was a sigh in the captain's voice, “So, this is it.”

You wanted to hold your lover's hand again. Comfort him. Tell him he was doing as good a job as anyone in this situation. He sounded so…tired. More so than previous battles and planets.

Krell was getting to him.

The ARC trooper argued, “What if he's wrong? Then what?”

You were about to silence him, but Rex spoke again, “This isn't the time for a debate. Right now, we have to stay alert.” He shut down any future objections. 

It worked for a time. The men remained silent, paying close attention to their surroundings. It was only broken by Tup muttering, “Eh, it's too quiet out there.”

He was right. After everything you’ve seen on Umbara so far, you should have been ambushed by now. Your hand drifted to your pistol and you pulled it from your holster. 

You had the worst feeling.

It didn’t go away, so you kept your head down. Your eyes had adjusted to the low light of Umbara, and now you were able to make out certain details of the road. The tiles were hexagonal, and looked glass-like. You guessed the material was this planet's version of marble. Every step you took was slow and deliberate, however, you stopped. 

One of the tiles ahead of you had a very, very minor glow. It was easy to miss if you weren’t looking down. 

“Doc?” Fives stopped next to you, keeping a grip on his rifle.

A cold feeling washed through your blood. The quiet made sense. The fact that you hadn’t been attacked yet made sense, “I think-” your warning was cut off.

The ground shook as two explosions went off behind you. The sky was temporarily lit up by the green fires of the traps that were set off. Two troopers cried out, getting sent flying before hitting the ground. 

“Mines! Nobody move!” As if on cue, everyone hit the ground, keeping low. Rex had his hand on your back as everyone waited for something else to happen. 

Your captain got on one knee beside you and pointed behind him. You stared ahead and listened as two troopers checked on their downed fellows. 

“Oz is down.”

“So’s Ringo.”

“Damnit.” you hissed, looking back. Even from where you were you could tell they had died in pieces. Even if they survived, they wouldn’t have lasted long based on where half of Oz’s body lay and both of Ringo’s legs landed, “Didn’t even get a chance.” 

Such gruesome, violent sights didn’t cause nightmares anymore. Instead, they only fueled your anger at this war. And right now, you were enraged by this careless plan Krell had thrown at the battalion.

“Can you sweep ‘em?” Rex helped you up as he spoke to Fives.

The ARC trooper scanned the road carefully. Within the rays of the scanner, several of the hexagonal tiles reflected the light, “There are more over here,” He informed the soldiers, “Looks like the whole road’s been boobytrapped. Watch your step.”

The march would have continued, but it felt like four steps later when another explosion went off. The ground shook violently and Umbarans burst from the thick, dark foliage. It seemed like they just teleported around you, immediately shooting. Blaster shots came from all sides.

You dove, getting behind Rex. Your back was to his, and your pistol was in your hands. You matched his steps and he matched yours with skill. If he stepped back, you stepped forward. If you turned he turned. It was a small dance the two of you entered, watching each other's blindspots, and shooting any approaching adversaries. 

Above the chaos, you heard Tup cry out, “We’re completely exposed!”

“Hold your ground!” the clone captain ordered the men. He focused, shots firing rapidly all around him.

An explosive shot from one of their cannons landed too close. The shockwave knocked you down, landing next to Hardcase, who was surprisingly upbeat, “You want a piece of this!?” He called out, laughing.

You were too focused on not dying to join in on his chipper attitude. Using the trooper as cover, you managed to get up on your knees and continue shooting.

Another shot rang out, the cannon bolt hitting North directly off his AT-RT. The transport collapsed into pieces, and the ARF trooper remained still on the ground. 

Using the smoldering metal vehicle as cover, you rushed to his side. It didn’t really occur to you that his head was 3 meters away until you knelt by his body, staining the lightweight plastoid armor on your legs with his blood. 

North. Dead.

You mentally checked him off, needing to shut down and work. Someone screamed in agony behind you, so you hurried to them. A shiny was down, gripping his burning side. 

“Come with me.” you grabbed his shoulders and rushed back to the downed AT-RT. The hunk of metal and wires was your only cover in the middle of an ambush. Your training took over, blocking out all the noise and chaos. So you worked. 

Third degree burn. Bacta can fix it. Cover in bandages, but not too tight. It was a quick treatment, less than 2 minutes you had the shiny back up and fighting. 

Another cannon blast, “We’re blown!” someone cried through the loud bang. The ground shook when another boom followed. 

“The Umbarans are advancing!” 

“Make them eat heat!” 

You had to get away. Lay low until the fighting stopped. Maybe Krell would let you get back to the medical speeder…

Looking around quickly, it was clear that wasn’t an option. The Umbarans were closing in, completely surrounding the soldiers. It seemed as though for every enemy that was shot down, two more would take their place.

Dogma skidded down next to you, “They’re coming from all directions!” He shouted, wordlessly giving you his burnt wrist. 

Rude, but OK. This wasn’t the time to correct the soldier on his manners, so silently you treated his wound. Once you were done, he got up again and continued to shoot. You were going to follow him, but the force of a nearby cannon shot knocked you into the downed AT-RT, hitting the air out of your lungs. The hit was hard enough to disorient you for a second. 

However, you got your bearings quickly and spotted an Umbara advancing on your position. 

You attempted to raise your arm, but failed. Your hand wasn’t cooperating, you couldn’t shoot. A different soldier shot the Umbaran down, saving you. Looking down, you noticed blood. Dogma’s most likely, or North’s, but why would their blood stop your arm from working?

Come on, work! You tried aiming your pistol only to drop it. Your hand wasn’t closing properly. You were shaking. 

Why…?

Your brain finally comprehended what happened. The blood was yours. Your arm had been hit. A blaster bolt had knocked you into the AT-RT, not cannon fire. 

Calm down. Breath. Assess later. You were conscious. You were breathing. The shot to your upper arm most likely wasn’t that bad. You quickly wrapped the wound in a bandage, deciding to deal with it later. Or shock prevented you from thinking clearly.

“We don’t have any cover!” Fives cried out, throwing an Umbaran down and slamming his fist through their glass helmet.

Rex, thankfully, was still alive. His aim was impeccable despite the stress. Everywhere he looked, he shot and everywhere he shot, he hit the target. His tone was stressed but steady as he spoke, “We need to pull back! Get them to follow us. If we draw them out, we can see them!” 

“If we can see them, we can hit ‘em!” Jesse stepped backwards, continuously firing at the enemies. He paused to look down at where you were kneeling. He went noticeably rigid, “Doc-!”

“All squads, pull back now!” The captain’s command cut off the trooper. 

Without much thought, you grabbed your gun with your functioning hand and ran. You followed Jesse, as he was the closest to you. Your pace matched his as everyone retreated, following the main road back out of the forest where you entered.

A cannon rang out, hitting one of the trees beside you and Jesse. The glowing plant crackled and fell, slamming to  the ground with a boom. The smoking trunk offered some much needed cover. Fives leapt over it, turning and landing on his feet to continue to shoot, “Get ready, here they come!” 

A soldier close to you, running with the men, was launched back. He cried out in pain, hand going to his neck as he hit the ground.

Neck shot. Graze most likely. Your training kicked in again. You were a doctor. You had a job to do.

You pushed yourself out of the cover and dove to the injured trooper's side. Above you another ARF trooper was firing from his transport, keeping Umbaran blaster shots away from you as you dragged the poor man behind a collapsed AT-RT. 

“I-it’s nothin’ doc,” The trooper kept his hand on the side of his smoldering neck. 

“That's for me to decide.” you responded, carefully taking off his helmet,“What's your name, soldier?” He had a scar over his lip, and a blue left eye. A blaster shot nicked the metal cover and the both of you flinched down.

“Noct.” He responded, moving his head slightly to give you easier access to the wound. 

“I got you Noct.” Your words were calm and collected despite the raging battle around you. Your one hand worked as quickly as you could, getting bacta and bandages on the trooper. A cannon shot again, shaking the ground, but you adapted, being as precise and careful as possible. 

It was hard, since your arm still wasn't listening to you, but you got the job done, earning a “Thank you, doc!” from him.

Once Noct had returned to fighting, you took the chance to run further back. You stopped behind Hardcase, who, respectfully, was fucking insane by standing in the middle of the road and mowing down Umbaras with his minigun, “HAHA! Where are you going!? Get back here!” 

Fuck it. You remained behind him instead of finding cover, aiming your pistol and firing at the now retreating enemies. Through your haze of tunnel vision and adrenaline, you realized that more forces had joined you. Krell must’ve sent in reinforcements.

Fives stood from his location behind the downed tree, “They’re pulling back!” he cheered. As he spoke, the shots died down. Soon, it was only your side that fired their weapons until the enemies were gone, leaving only silence. 

You raised your com to your lips, “Kix, triage,” Immediately, you and the medic got to work. Neither of you had time to rest as you weaved through the soldiers, checking those on the ground. Kix went to the other side of the field, tending to those there. You found a survivor, knocked unconscious with a bleeding shoulder, without pausing, you went through one of your packs and began to bandage him up. 

Star on his chest. This was Pointer. You identified him. Single shot. All the way through.

Despite your focus, the yelling of Krell hit your ears, “CT-7567!” He stomped towards Rex, “Do you have a malfunction in your design!” the besalisk jerked forward, getting an inch away from the captain's face, “you've pulled your forces back from taking the capital city, the enemy now has control of this route!” He shoved one large finger into Rex’s chest, causing the clone to step back, “This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You wanted to yell at the Jedi. tell him to shut up, but your energy was sapped, your injured arm was starting to hurt and good soldiers were dying because of his fucking plan!

Fives spoke up where you couldn’t, “General Krell in case you haven't noticed Captain Rex just saved this platoon surely you won't fail to recognize that.” He spat, venom and hate dripping from every syllable. 

The Jedi turned slowly, facing the ARC trooper, “ARC-555,” His words became cold and furious, and he raised one large lightsaber, “Stand down.” The glowing weapon rested extremely close to Fives’ neck. So close, in fact, you looked down, expecting Krell to flat out kill him. 

Thankfully, he backed down, “Sir, yes, sir.” The ARC trooper growled, walking away.

Rex finally fought back in his own way, “Sir if I may address your accusation I followed your orders even in the face of a plan that was, in my opinion, severely flawed,” He stepped forward, keeping his eyes on the General, “A plan that cost us men, not clones, men!” Your lover ripped off his helmet to yell, finally snapping under the pressure of an incompetent leader. Even from a distance you could see the fire in his eyes. 

Times like this, you remembered why you loved him. His passion. His determination. 

Still, the captain continued, “As sure as it is my duty to remain loyal to your command, I also have another duty, to protect those men.” He was seething, but kept his anger under control. It was impressive as, if you were in his position, you might’ve just shot Krell and blamed the Umbarans.

His words seemed to quiet the Jedi. So you stopped listening, praying maybe he finally understood. Krell could say whatever he wanted, right now you had to focus on the injured soldiers. And there were a lot of them.

Your arm started to hurt again, so you took the chance to inject some painkillers.However, it wouldn't matter, as you didn’t have time to do anything to treat yourself. The Umbarans regrouped and attacked again. 

You and Kix would have to wait before you could do your jobs and save the men.

[melishade]

prompt # 23

This ask game

Marco getting his wounds checked out after Part 5: Airachnid Arc in the War Timeline. Also this is the written out scene: #31

Marco still felt pain in his head, even days after he received medical treatment after the debacle with Airachnid. It was the first time any of them had encountered a metal titan that was hostile and deadly, but Jack's initial panic had indicated that more like her were here on their world, and they would stop at nothing to destroy the Autobots, and in turn, them.

They knew they had to deal with Airachnid, no matter how reluctant Marco's group was after Jack's description, but they couldn't let Airachnid return to the Decepticons with whatever she had discovered. They were successful in stopping her, but Airachnid had ripped out Marco's right eye for the fun of it. The thought still gave him vivid nightmares, and there were still phantom pains, but he was still alive, and that was something that he should be grateful for. Not to mention, Airachnid was successfully contained due to Jean and Mikasa's efforts.

Marco blinked a little bit when a strange light was flashed in his left eye. His vision cleared when he saw the Autobot medic's human form examine his vision before looking at the stitches that covered his right eye socket.

"I know my knowledge on human anatomy is still developing," Ratchet began as he turned off the flashlight, "But your wounds seem to be healing naturally. No signs of infection or inflammation. A few more days and the stitches should be removed. You'll no doubt need to wear something to cover your right side now."

"Thank you, sir." Marco nodded. Marco mumbled a little when Jack began to wrap clean bandages around his head to cover up his wound.

"If that is all, I'll be heading back to Optimus," Ratchet informed the two of them, "Airachnid has become a rather...interesting study for Hanji."

"Do what you gotta do." Jack gave a 'thumbs up' before Ratchet's holoform disappeared.

"You don't have to stay here and tend to my wounds," Marco insisted.

"Look, you were willing to put your life on the line like that. It's the least I can do," Jack reassured.

"Thanks for helping me heal up...and for visiting," Marco said, "How's Mikasa and Sasha?"

"They didn't get any injuries," Jack explained.

"And...Jean?" Marco pressed.

Before Jack could answer, the door swung open and Jean bolted into the room, looking out of breath and concerned.

"You didn't tell me he was awake!" Jean shouted at Jack.

"Look there's been a lot going on, and I can't give you clearance like that," Jack proclaimed, "You're from a different branch in the military."

"Jean," Marco began, but his friend walked over to him rather quickly and hugged him tight.

"Thank god, you're okay," Jean sighed with relief.

"I'm glad to see you too." Marco couldn't help but be surprised. Jean was acting so kind to him. Especially since majority of their previous interactions have been arguments. He supposed maybe the near-death experience was a blessing in disguise.

Jean let go of Marco before turning to Jack. "What happened to that spider bitch?"

"Airachnid's been captured," Jack answered, "She's not going anywhere. The problem is now that other Decepticons might come looking for her. We know the Decepticons came here to this world with us, but...what they're planning, we don't know."

"How do we counterattack?" Marco asked.

"Marco, you should be thinking about recovering!" Jean exclaimed.

"Jean, this is bigger than us!" Marco reminded.

"We don't know yet," Jack answered, "The Decepticons have always had an advantage over the Autobots, but now the Autobots have even less resources. And based on Airachnid's talks, the Decepticons have to be aware of how the power of the titans works."

Jack rubbed his eyes. "There's just...a lot to consider."

Marco looked down at his hands with his remaining eye. "...then...I guess I'm going to have to learn how to see with only one eye."

"You're seriously thinking about joining the fight?!" Jean demanded.

"I don't have a choice," Marco insisted, "If I sit by and do nothing, these Decepticons might come for us anyway. I have to play my part as a member of the Survey Corps."

"But you don't have to be!" Jean reminded, "You ranked in the top ten and you've been injured in the line of duty! You could transfer to the Military Police or just live a quiet life!"

"Damn it, Jean! Why are you acting like this when I told you that I'm staying to fight?!" Marco demanded.

"Because I almost lost you!" Jean yelled at him, "I almost lost you because I was a coward! I didn't react fast enough in that cave and now you're reduced to this! You say that I can be relied upon but look at you! I caused that! You're my best friend and I hurt you!"

Jean grabbed Marco's shirt. "Just stay out of the fight! I'm begging you! I don't want you to die at the hands of monsters like those!"

Marco was almost touched at that, and he couldn't help but think to transfer or run away, but...he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to live a life he could be proud of if he ran and served the king. Marco almost laughed. What king? The king turned out to be a sham that was killed by Airachnid. His dreams of innocence and honor were gone. Now he needed to survive and live so that no one ends up like him.

"...I can't walk away," Marco relented, "No matter how scared I am, I can't walk away."

"...There's no shame in doing that," Jean insisted.

"...I still can't," Marco declared.

Jean's mouth formed a thin line and his face contorted into a grimace. "Then I guess I have no choice either."

"What?" Marco blinked in confusion.

"I...I have to join the Survey Corps!" Jean declared.

"...wow." Jack couldn't help but utter.

(So 28 has been asked, but everything else is free game.)

[cheapsweets]

The Abominable Dulyamra

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge, from @maniculum

Pencil sketch, then lines in Sailor fude nib fountain pen, using Diamine Sepia ink.

Thought process under the cut…

"Dulyamras are called [redacted] in Latin because [explanation redacted]. Dulyamras are keenly aware of the elements; they rejoice when the moon is new and are sad when it wanes. A characteristic of the Dulyamra is that when a mother bears twins, she loves one and despises the other. If it ever happens that she is pursued by hunters, she carries the one she loves before her in her arms and the one she detests on her shoulders. But when she is tired of going upright, she deliberately drops the one she loves and reluctantly carries the one she hates. The Dulyamra does not have a tail. Although every part of the Dulyamra is foul, its rear parts are disgusting and horrid enough. The name [redacted, cognate with previous redaction] is Greek, meaning, [completely different explanation redacted] Hence we call the Dulyamra [redacted] because they have compressed nostrils and a hideous face, its creases foully expanding and contracting like a bellows."

Okay, so for starters this definitely feels like a Beast rather than any other type of animal; we have an indication of live birth for starters, which is generally a good indication. We also know it can walk bipedally or quadrupedally, which also narrows it down a bit… Now, I have an inkling what this prompt might be, so I went in a slightly different direction and figured I would go with a bear (or at least bear-like creature)…

Also, the writer of this entry really isn't keen on this beast; it's "foul", "disguisting", "hideous" and "horrid"… how rude! How to reflect this? I figured I'd make it mostly hairless for starters - patchy hair on its upper limbs, and a hairy chest and belly (mostly because it made it a bit easier to draw, and read more as a beast that a weird person…! As an aside, I still need more practice drawing fur/hair with a pen, I may need to do some research…).

Not quite sure what kind of environment the Dulyamra lives in, but of it is a warm environment, I wonder if it wades into water, and the wet fur on its belly keeps it cool?

For the face, I figured giving it inflatable cheek pouches (for display, most likely) would cover the 'expanding and contracting like a bellows' - you can see them inflated in the close up sketch of the head, and creased and folded in the other drawings. I wasn't quite sure how to interpret the 'compressed nostrils', so I gave it quite thin nostrils, and slightly loose, creased skin on its snout. I imagine meeting a Dulyamra on the night of a new moon would be somewhat terrifying…

As for its rear parts, no tail and utterly horrid? I figured that bears have small tails anyway, so this beast may have secondarily lost it. Why is the rear so horrid? Good question, but I figured I'd reflect that by taking some inspiration from broad fat tailed sheep, and assume that it stores most of its fat reserves on its buttocks. Depending on where in the world the Dulyamras live, it may or may not hibernate, but if it does, it's going to need those reserves, so I figured giving it a large, slightly wrinkly posterior could work. Did I just draw a semi-naked bear with a fat butt? Yup!

I originally drew the side-on full body sketch on its own after the head close up and the standing picture, before realising that I'd missed the opportunity to add in baby animals (which were specifically mentioned in the description, no less!) so I did go back and add them in!

[whileyouwait-dm]

1

So it begins...

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.  Miriana had been crossing the street with a group of people one minute and the next she was in a strange dark forest.  Obviously she was at least unconscious and this was some kind of dream; at least that was what she was hoping.  The alternative was that she was dead.  Were that the case, then where exactly she was confounded her.  This certainly did not resemble any description of Heaven that she had read of, but it didn’t exactly resemble Hell either.  She hadn’t read up on all mythologies though, but she doubted Hell as supposed to look like a dense forest with lush vegetation.  So, exactly what happened and where was she?  Two questions that she hoped would be answered by someone in at least some kind of decent timeframe.

Miriana turned in a circle, but saw no path or anything that gave a clear direction out of the clearing that she was in.  There was just this jagged oval of a clearing where the underbrush was lower, then it grew higher again and the trees were closer together.  The canopy was still lush and green, keeping everything below in shade and relative darkness.  There were no sounds of birds or active wildlife that she could ascertain, which seemed odd for the middle of the day, but she wasn’t any kind of wildlife or forest expert.  Trying to decide which way to go was not easy, since she had no idea where she was and there were no ambient noises to guide her.

Finally, she just picked a direction and headed into the thicker underbrush and darker canopy cover.  There was no better or worse option, none of them seemed any different than the other at this point since there were no indicators of where she would find someone else.  Hopefully when she did find someone else, they’d be able to tell her where she was and how she got them from the middle of a busy intersection with no memory of it.  She’d never been camping or hiking, so this definitely wasn’t one of her friends playing some messed up kind of a prank, they’d know better than to drop her city girl ass out in the middle of the wilderness. Fending for herself meant using the microwave to heat up leftovers, not making her way through the wilderness.

****

“SIRE!”  A messenger came running into Djall’s  office.  He was out of breath and flushed, looking almost on the verge of panic.  This could mean nothing good for the ruler of the underworld, so there went his afternoon. “Yes?  What is it?”  He asked, leaning back in his chair.  Hopefully it wasn’t something too bad and he could get back to organizing the newest batch of arrivals according to what demon would be overseeing them.

“There was a problem with the afterlife routing algorithm and we’ve received…………a mistake.”  The color seemed to drain from the demon’s face.

“A mistake?” Djall’s dark eyes narrowed at the demon, who was nodding and simultaneously looking like he wanted to become one with the wall behind him.  “What kind of mistake?”  His head cantered to one side as he tried to figure out how they could receive any kind of mistake.  This was Hell.  Mistakes didn’t happen in Hell and you didn’t end up in Hell by mistake.  You earned your way here.

“Sir, the algorithm sent a murderer to Paradise, and an innocent human girl here.  She just landed in the forest of beasts.  She was supposed to go the other way.  There are a few beings arguing over whose fault it is, but we need to find her before the beasts do.  She’s done nothing wrong to be here, Sire.”  The demon’s back was pressed against the wall and he was truly terrified that his liege was going to cause him great pain from the look of displeasure currently upon his face.

“I have a completely innocent female IN THE FOREST OF BEASTS?!” Djall almost roared at the information.  Of all of the places for her to land, the one that was the most violent and vicious.  Of course, because having her land someplace “safe” in Hell would be to easy when the pompous pricks upstairs fucked up.  Instead he was going to have to go find her before she was hurt and he had to put a bunch of pieces back together.  Had he fucked over some deity that he’d forgotten about?  He didn’t think so, but the day was sure shaping up that way.

Pushing on the armrests of his chair, Djall came to standing.  “I will be off finding this female.  Can you please find out who I’m supposed to call once I have her back here to the manor?  Getting her out of Hell promptly is, I'm sure, on the top of everyone’s agenda.  And, also, find out how the fuck this happened!”  He gave the demon a tight smile and teleported to the forest.  This was not going to be fun, and someone would definitely pay for the inconvenience later.

[angelbroad]

"It's alright, I'm here now."

Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Mortal Kombat

Characters: Kakkō, Lui Kang, Ashrah, Hanzo Hasashi

TW: Descriptions of violence/mild gore

The fires of the Netherrealm seemed as if they would never go out, deadly pits of pain and agony that would never be extinguished. Kakkō turned their katana in their hands, the blade jagged, dirtied with blood, and just about ready to break. They were covered in the foul smell of that blood as well, and so was Ashrah. It seemed the deeper they were traversing inside the Netherrealm, the worse everything around them became.

 One week earlier

 “Are you certain you are up to the task? What you are asking of me is dangerous.”, Lui Kang expressed, Kakkō already in their armor.

 “I am aware, but I won’t be alone! I have Ashrah with me.”, the shapeshifter said, gesturing at Ashrah who gave a nod.

 Lui Kang sighed, preparing to open a portal.

 “I do not understand why Kuai Liang would trust you with this.”, he said, “He must have a lot of faith in you.”

 Kakkō smiled at the gesture. Ashrah placed a hand on their shoulder.

 “We should still be carefull.”, she explained, “The Netherrealm is not a welcoming place.”

 Kakkō nodded with a serious look, “I know.”

 The portal to the Netherrealm had finally been opened, and Kakkō gave one last look at the fire god before traversing the barrier with Ashrah on her side.

Now

 The demons’ flesh was cut like butter by Ashrah’s kriss, their screams cut short. She looked over at Kakkō.

 “Hurry. We are almost there.”

 The shapeshifter nodded, transforming themselves into a protective tornado of knives around Ashrah and killing every demon around them. Once their way was mostly cleared, they both ran for the Fortress. This is it, they were closer now than ever. Demons swarmed the gates, Kakkō violently attacking every one on sight with their kunai spear. Ashrah noticed the demons’ shock at the sight of her companion’s odd choice of a weapon. The blood on Kakkō’s body was actually flinging off of them because of how fast they were moving, though blood still caked their clothes, face, and armor.

 Screams and curses were thrown as the two had to climb up the waves of demons to get to the other side. They won, the demons stood no chance against a kriss and a shapeshifter. By the time they had finally entered the Cathedral, Ashrah’s white clothes had turned red, and Kakkō was covered in demon gore, stained from head to toe. The shapeshifter thrashed around to get the blood off them like they were a dog that just got out of the bath. They staggered forward, breathing heavily and almost falling to their knees. Ashrah held them in her arms, trying to bring back Kakkō, who continued to try and walk forward.

 “I’m......almost...there..”

 Ashrah looked down at Kakkō with pity in her black eyes, helping them walk further inside. They could hear the clinking of chains above, and Kakkō removed themselves from Ashrah’s arms to run towards the noise, Ashrah running after them. 

 Kakkō had to lean on the walls to continue walking. They were so exhausted, it had been days at this point. 

 They persisted, walking through the twisted halls to find him. They started to call out his name, trying to hear any indication he was actually here, and that theirs and Ashrah’s journey had not been in vain. They finally collapsed in the hallways, Ashrah thankfully close behind.

 “I..need to sit down for a moment.”, the tiredly said, Ashrah placing a reassuring hand on their back.

 Then, the clinking of chains returned, from down the hall this time. Ashrah readied her kriss, standing protectively over the younger shapeshifter. It was an armored, dark figure, drapped with a black cloak. The armor crimson red and gold, the mask shining behind the figure’s face a golden scorpion on a black surface. Ashrah could not help but shiver at the sight of both the man and the familiar weapon at his side, chains clinking with every sway of his arm. He stopped a few feet away from the two, his head lowering to look down at the shapeshifter, who jerked their head up in surprise.

 Kakkō slowly rose to their feet, the two staring at each other for what felt like eternity, and then finally, Kakkō’s face looked like it was ready to burst in tears. The figure removed the hood of their cloak, revealing a scarred man with long black hair tied to a ponytail. The man removed his mask to speak.

 “.....Kakkō..?”

 “Dad!”, Kakkō could not contain themselves anymore, running straight into Hanzo’s arms. The man dropped the weapon to embrace the shapeshifter in his arms, both falling to their knees as they continued to hold one another,

 Hanzo squeezed his long lost child in his arms.

 “It’s alright, I’m here now.”, he said.

[penitent-stranger]

(Jan 05-06) - Used As Bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt" 

special thanks to @darthcoakley for his help on this one heehee

(cw: blood, death, guilt/self-loathing, brief mention of vomit)

“I still don’t know how you’re not even shivering.”

Red chuckled lightly from his position next to Jaye. Their shoulders rubbed together in their shared sniper’s nest, sandbags and foliage providing scant protection from the biting wind. She knew she’d have to scoot away once he actually started shooting - couldn’t risk bumping him and throwing off his aim - but for now she stole whatever extra warmth from him that she could.

“I told you to dress accordingly when I described the conditions,” he said.

“We're wearing the same gear.” She flashed him an incredulous look. “Can't you just fake being cold to make me feel better?”

He spared her a brief glance and a smile before turning back to his rifle scope. “We can go over the sectors again if you’re bored.”

Jaye huffed a sigh. “As if we haven’t done that twice already. I’d rather you start quoting Ayn Rand at me again.”

That earned her another chuckle, more playful this time. “What’s the matter, not in the mood to discuss the rousing merits of objectivism?”

A strong gust of wind buffeted the cliffside where they’d set up, and Jaye burrowed deeper into her coat as she pouted.

“Oh, save the sarcasm,” she said. “You hate her philosophy just as much as me. The only reason you brought it up last time was ‘cause you knew it’d make me angry, you dick.”

“You say that as if it’s hard to do.”

She smirked. “Not when you’re involved, it isn’t.”

Taking a lead from Red, Jaye set her eye against her telescope again. The shantytown came into view a kilometer below them, along with the makeshift camp this group of mercenaries had set up. 

Aside from familiarizing herself with the landscape and defining sectors for communication, Jaye usually avoided observing too much before the job started. She noted landmarks and terrain, of course. Watched for anything out-of-the-ordinary. But aside from a cursory scan, she didn’t really need to focus on the targets.

Working as her squad lead’s spotter didn’t offend her as much as it did the first time around - not as much as she thought it would. Same as piloting a mech, the distance provided a certain degree of separation. She kept an eye on the broader picture. Helped Red line up his shots. No emotions necessary. Now, after however many missions together, she found the steps and protocol of the job ritualistic, almost comforting. And if she took her place beside Red, she wouldn't have to worry about finding herself in his crosshairs.

The mercs understood how vulnerable the surrounding cliffs made them to shots from above. They’d planned their hideout accordingly, covering windows and piling barriers to make safe paths between buildings. Jaye noted all of the cautious measures she and Red would have to work around, and she frowned.

“Not a lot of open space here,” she said, still peering through the telescope. “Gonna be hard to get a good bead on them.”

“Not so hard,” Red replied.

Before Jaye could poke fun at his cocky attitude, another voice came in on both of their comms. 

“Position secure. 0-1, 0-2, ready when you are.”

“That was Theo,” Jaye said.

Red nodded and brought a hand to his ear. “Copy, Empress. Keep us posted on any incoming.”

At the all-clear, Jaye inched away from her teammate to assume her position. The wind immediately cut through the space between them, and she tensed at the loss of shared body heat. She covered the eye not pressed to her telescope with her hand.

“Sector three alpha,” she said. “Looks like a good spot to wait for a target to show themself.”

Red shifted next to her to angle his sights where she indicated. After a moment’s pause, he gave a verbal description to make sure they were both looking at the same thing. A gap between two buildings, deceptively exposed and in full view of the rest of the camp. Jaye confirmed.

Red hummed his agreement. “We wait.”

They laid on the ground in silence for the next few minutes, eyes locked on the same opening. It could have been longer; Jaye easily lost track of time on sniper missions, especially when they relied on the target to make the first move. The dusty stone of the cliffside stole warmth from every point of her body that made contact with it, even through her tactical gear. She regretted not putting anything down first before hunkering down.

Movement through her telescope made her snap back to attention. One of the mercenaries stepped into view, ducking into the relative shelter from the wind to light a cigarette.

“Target in range,” she said. “Do you see them?”

Red adjusted his aim. “Contact.”

Jaye led him through the firing sequence. Calibrating his scope. Factoring in wind speed to calculate the angle of the shot. His breath evened out into a hypnotic rhythm, pausing right before he fired. Waiting for her confirmation.

“Go for,” Jaye said.

The gunshot echoed off of the natural walls around them. Jaye watched the delayed hit from her perch a thousand meters away, watched the red mist as the bullet pierced the merc’s body armor, watched as their face twisted and the force of the impact sent them stumbling back. Sound didn’t reach her from this far away, but her brain filled in the strained cry of pain as they collapsed to the ground, still breathing.

Her eyes narrowed. “Miss. You got them in the stomach.”

A toothy click sounded from Red’s rifle as he reloaded, the motions calm and unhurried as anything. “I didn’t miss. Tell me when the others come into view.”

Like a monstrous, poisonous insect, slow horror crept up Jaye's spine as understanding dawned on her. He wanted to draw them out. Use their own teammate as bait and pick them off one by one. Nausea curled in her stomach, and she glanced over at him with unease.

Red never broke focus. He didn't notice or acknowledge the look she gave him, instead keeping his cheek pressed to the stock of his rifle.

“Bluebird. I need your eyes.”

Jaye swallowed hard. She resumed her position and forced herself to look at the dying target again. The man gasped and dug his heel into the ground, his body twisting in pain and blood already pooling underneath him. The encampment bustled with panicked activity, all of them alerted now to the presence of a sniper. A head poked above one of the barriers.

“Target incoming. Two o’clock.”

“Confirmed.”

He made a clean kill with his next shot. And the next one. Jaye watched shot after shot find their mark, one just a meter away from reaching their teammate. The corrective patch fell from their hand unused. 

The hunt stretched out for twenty minutes. A heavy numbness set into Jaye's bones, and she hardly noticed the chill from the wind or the pebbles digging into her ribs anymore. The words to correct and confirm tumbled past her lips without her realizing she'd even said them. Both her and Red tallied the bodies, until none but the first remained.

“That’s nine by my count,” Red said.

Jaye forced a steady exhale through her mouth. “Confirmed.”

“Taking aim on the last target.”

A grip of panic seized her, and before she could think it through, Jaye grabbed his rifle. “Wait- don’t shoot!”

“Bluebird, what are you doing?”

She pushed herself off of the ground and away from her telescope, about to scramble to her feet. “I have correctives in my field kit, I can-”

Red latched onto her arm before she could get up. She froze.

“He’ll have bled out by the time you get there,” he said, ice blue eyes meeting hers. “And if he doesn’t, he will hate you for killing every one of his squadmates, and for making him watch. It doesn’t matter if you pulled the trigger or not. He won’t make that distinction. He will kill you the second he is able, regardless of the medical supplies in your hands. Is his life really worth putting yourself in danger?”

Jaye’s blood ran cold. Red still held her above her elbow, and her hand clenched until her forearm shook. That familiar voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, warnings from her captain and her family that sent revulsion prickling down her arms and spine. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and the voice screeched loud enough to echo inside her skull. Are you sure you know when it’s just him talking?

Her words came out thick. “That’s not for you to decide.”

Red blinked at her, his cold gaze impassive. He didn’t react to the horror on her face she knew she couldn’t hide.

“Kindness and mercy aren’t always the same thing,” he said. “You told me that, once.”

Jaye clenched her jaw. Every second she stood here was another second she wasn’t helping - but she knew she couldn’t argue with Red. As soon as she’d seen the man through her binoculars, she’d signed off on his death. She’d made her decision the second she hesitated. Her pulse squeezed in her neck hard enough to make her choke. 

“Take the shot,” she said.

Red held her gaze for a second or two, but when she didn’t move, he let go of her arm and settled back into position. She watched him fall into the practiced routine of aiming his rifle, running through the checks and bringing his eye back to the scope.

She snapped back to herself and lowered herself to her telescope. She still had a job to do. The encampment came back into view, and she scanned the ground for her target. Her skin burned under her gear where Red had touched her, but she tried to ignore it. 

The mercenary lay where she last saw him, sprawled out in mud made from his own blood. His chest still rose and fell, uneven and shallow. She avoided bringing the crimson mess of his abdomen into focus.

“I’ve got sights,” she said. “Go for.”

Red set up his shot. He fired. The bullet hit a few seconds later, the mercenary’s body jerked with the impact. Jaye could almost hear the snip of scissor blades as they cut the tether binding his life to this plane. She refused to flinch. She waited until she didn’t see his chest rise again before pulling away.

“Confirmed.”

Red nodded and pulled back as well. Another successful mission. 

They packed their equipment in silence, Red pulling apart the pieces of his rifle with as much precision and care as when he set it up. Jaye shoved her telescope and tripod into her bag and swallowed against a lump in her throat. Who gave her the right to feel this guilt? Did it really take the suffering of another person for her to regret?

Her mother’s gun she kept on her hip didn’t offer a kinder death than Red’s. A shot fired in anger or passion killed just as bitterly as one fired with indifference. Neither one would have comforted that mercenary as he lay dying. How could she ever think herself better than Red, just because she had a cause? How dare she?

Red sent out a message to global comms to let the rest of their squad know they’d finished the job. He and Jaye picked their way back down the cliffside, taking a different route than the way they’d come. Jaye’s thoughts tumbled around each other the whole way down, pressing against the inside of her head. After a few minutes, she couldn't ignore the nausea churning in her stomach. She fell to her hands and knees to be sick in the grass.

Red stopped beside her and passed down a canteen without saying anything. She rinsed the taste of bile out of her mouth and spat it out, then threw her head back for one long gulp. She drank until the breath stopped shaking in her lungs, then took another swig for good measure.

When a hand rested tentatively on her shoulder, Jaye flinched away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Red pulled away, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fold his arms and turn away to give her space. Good. She’d hate herself until it made her sick, but she’d sooner snap her own fingers before she let him see it. She allowed herself a few seconds to get a grip, then dragged herself to her feet. She wordlessly passed him back the canteen.

Red clipped it to his belt and offered her a quiet, searching gaze. Jaye ignored him by reaching behind her head to adjust the bandana covering her hair.

“This…what you’re feeling,” he said. “There’s no shame in it, Bluebird. Don’t ever be ashamed of compassion.”

She rolled her shoulders and winced at the stiffness in her muscles. She still didn’t look at him. “Save it for debrief.”

Red simply nodded, and took the lead down the rocky path. They continued without another word.

[gamerbearmira]

Porcelain skin

As the day wore on the hardened skin only spread further. they wouldn't be able to hide it much longer.

Mirabel didn't know what scared her more, what was happening won't stop or telling abulia. 

After another it was lunch and they were both getting hungry. 

Stopping Mirabel brought out the lunches she'd packed for both of them. Antonio finished eating quickly and started playing with his new animal friends that had come to join them. This made her happy it was a good distraction for him.

  For the next few minutes Mirabel just sat there eating watch Antonio run around till he fell

Antonio was able to catch himself, for the most part all except for his knee that slammed into the ground.

Mirabel shot up rushing over with some of her mama's food in hand.

Dropping down next to him Mirabel rapidly start asking questions Antonio are you ok, does it hurt, what happened 

The next words that Antonio spoke made her stomach drop

"Mira Mirabel i can't move my leg!" Fear was evident in his voice flipping antonio over and taking a look revealed that his knee was completely fine the reason why was obvious and much worse

The hard glass-like skin had grown to completely cover the joint making the leg unmoveable. 

Inside Mirabel was terrified but she didn't let it show that would only make Antonio more scared. 

With her support She got him on his feet problem was that with only one leg Antonio was forced to jump around well holding on to her kind like how people with crunch moved well at least that's what she'd read no one ever need crutches in the encanto

Lucky for theme a solution quickly protected itself parce Antonio new jaguar friend crochet down indicating for Antonio to get on his back 

Lifting Antonio up Mirabel succeed in getting him on parce back

Packing up there lunch Mirabel could only think of what she was going to do

quickly coming a decision she desired to tell abulala what was happening after dinner tonight 

If it was just herself she could handle what was going on but she wouldn't risk Antonio.

no matter what happened to her she would make sure Antonio was safe. 

Hi there couple of things first I'm back from vacation seconds I thought I would send in something I have been working on hope you like it 

Also if you have any tips to improve my writing and lengthen my chapter that would be greatly appreciated

Sorry one more thing that picture you made gave my an idea may I use it don't worry I will give you credit also I may not use it just thought I'd ask I didn't want to steal your work

-----

Ok one. AMAZING❗❗ Love it so far. As for tips ummmm, I would say? Maybe add some more dialogue, or even descriptions when you don't want talking. AND AND. Something I do a lot: explore characters point of views. You know, write it from their eyes, that's what I do; it explores what they're thinking and it helps add more length <33

ALSO I AM SO SORY FOR NOT SEEING THIS SOONER. I don't get notified of submissions, and I often answer asks from my notifications board, so I often don't see things like this u til I actually go to the inbox itself. Sorry <333

And yes❗❗ You can use my art, I don't mind as long as you credit me. Even if you don't end up using, I don't mind.

[danplansfwtickle-blog0]

Title: dolls

description: Daniel finally gets the upper hand on Jay after a long while of being jays prey, he will no longer suffer being his victim now.

(Please consider that when I involve Dan it will be taking place before……you know…😬 so please know that I never want to make anyone uncomfortable)

(Dominant) Ler: Daniel

lee: sociopath

——————————————————

Jay gave the small doll in hand a smile, placing one last needle into it and gazing it over, he had finally perfected the voodoo doll and was ready for use. The small figure resembled Daniel, his vibrant green hair, his pink sweater and he was even able to make another doll that was made to look like him aswell, not for any voodoo reasons of course, that doll shall not be touched by such whichcraft.

In fact if someone where to put a curse on such an innocent toy, then he would have their head rather darn quickly. But jay had misplaced the toy and he was nervous, if someone were to find it. Even if it wasn’t for any dark magic.

Jay wanted to test the doll, so he stood from his desk and walked over to the wall and pressed against it, his bedroom door ajar and yet just wide enough space to look down the hall and saw Daniel sitting on the couch talking to hosuh, something about some nonsense that probably involved Stephen in the matter. Jay watched carefully, making sure that even with the slightest movement he wouldn’t be seen.

There was no indication that he would be seen, no matter what he did.

Jay smiled slyly, then started give pressure on the dolls side, at first he thought it was a fail. But then noticed Dan start to flinch. Daniel placed a hand on his side to which hosuh asked what’s wrong, Dan didn’t answer at first until Jay had gone to poke the other side, Daniel started to smirk a little.

“Heh, not so tough are you, Dan?” Jay mumbled proudly.

Jay proceeds to poke fun (pun half- intended) at the doll, prodding repeatedly at the dolls sides and ribs, making Daniel fall into fits and giggle before hosuh spoke.

“Uhh Dan? Look..” Hosuh said, pointing his finger down the hall, Dan turned to see Jay on the other side of the slightly opened door.

Jay then ran deeper into the room and Dan knew that he was probably gonna hide some where and so he stood up from the couch as he made his slow pace towards the door with a nonchalant expression, saying to hosuh: “I’ll be right back, gotta deal with a trouble maker”

Hosuh snickered before sauntering off towards Stephen’s room, perhaps he could find more entertaining conversation there.

Jay who was in frantic mode, knew that Daniel would be here any second, so the options he had were the closet, behind the chair in the corner and jumping out the window. He chose the closet and closed both doors and sitting down in the deepest part possible before hearing the door open to the bedroom.

Dan had obviously known it was the closet door that shut just before him, but Dan wanted sadistic pay back.

Dan then reached behind his back as he spoke calmly, though there was a hint of malice in his voice.

“You know jay, I was the one that took your doll” Dan then pulled it from his back pocket. “And now your gonna get a taste of defeat”

Jay covered his mouth with the plush at his side, fearing the worst out of the evil dungeon master.

Jay started to feel a sensation in his side, Dan was scratching that spot delicately.

“How does that feel?”

Jay didn’t reply, but then he heard slow menacing footsteps around his room, taking his time to make suspense.

“I know you’re hiding here somewhere, I just need to figure out what would make you break~” Dan teased in wonder, attacking both sides of the doll with his one hand.

Jay tried his best to keep as still and as quiet as possible. The best he could do was bite his arm as if the gag himself, while clenching his his other fist.

“Now where could jay be? Hmm?” Daniel asked to seemingly no one, dragging his fingers into the ribs of Jay.

Daniel walked over and looked under the bed but was found to be absent.

“Well, it seems like jay is not hiding here, how about…” Dan then moved over to the chair in the corner and looked behind it swiftly, saying aloud: “HERE! Hmm”

Jay flinched at the sudden shout, but to his dismay, the shift had caused a loud fabric against carport rubbing sound, to be heard from out side the closet. Daniel was still tickling the doll, but now he was becoming more evil and dominant with it, slowly tracing a finger down the dolls ribs, down to the sides and getting to the belly in a slow process, this was making Jay just barely hold back any giggling that made him sound like a child playing hide and seek.

Dan turned and made his way to the closet and kept his finger at a slow pace, while also teasing Jay to death.

“Was that a giggle I just heard? Did jay just giggle? I don’t think I ever heard him giggle before?~” dan asked, he was about half way to the closet when he reached the dolls stomach when he heard extreamly but noticeable muffled laughter from the closet.

“DAHAHAHAHANIEL!!” The yell was more clear than it seemed.

Dan ran after the closet door and saw Jay laying there with his arms over his stomach, his expression was once happy, but was now embarrassed.

“There’s jay! It’s almost like you the idea of hiding was a bad idea” dna mocked, jay was about to get up but Dan noticed him unblock his stomach and Daniel immediately poked the doll again.

Jay fell on his tailbone and started laughing again, covering his stomach, even though it didn’t do anything good. He startled rolling around, like a chinchilla talking a dust bath.

“Awww, jay has a ticklish tummy~ does Jay like his belly to be tickled?~” Daniel teased playfully, using two fingers that danced around on the dolls stomach.

Jay repeatedly slammed his fists into the ground, wishing that he had the strength to get up and tackle Daniel to the ground and take that damn doll away from him.

“DAHAHAHANIEL STOHOHHOHOP TIHIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHEHE!” Jay yelled, rolling onto his back and bending backwards, as if moving a certain way would deflect the tickling sensation.

“But this is my chance I’m taking to get back at you for being my persuer” Daniel replied. “But for someone who is normally nonchalant and chill, your very squirmy”

Daniel then put a hand down to start scribbling at jays real stomach found more pleasure in that.

“Hmm” daniel hummed amusingly before tossing the doll and started to analyze jays torso. “Let’s see, now that I have this jay doll..” Daniel looked at Jay with a wolfish grin. “And these needles..” Daniel raised his hands to reveal ten fingers. “I can finally pin the cushion”

Before jay could do or say anything, Daniel started to rapidly jab and wiggle his ten fingers into jays sides, making him jump and squirm.

“WAHAHAHAHAIT!! STOHOHOHOHOP IM TOHOHOHHOO TICKLISH HAHAHA!!” Jay pleaded.

“Well, then what about here?”

“NOHOHOHO! NOT MY BEHEHEHELLY!” Jay cackled when ten hands made contact with his stomach.

“Seems like this sociopath has become a tickishpath, the ticklish symptoms being the…” Daniel then poked or lightly scribbled and scurried his fingers across jays body with each word that came out. “Sides…”

“And the ribs…”

“NOHHOHO!”

“Oh! And of course, the belly-“

“NOHOHO!”

“And this little guy here…” Daniel then placed his finger on jays navel making him jump violently, already in a set of giggles. “Has a habit of being so sensitive that it makes it easy to tease with just the point of my finger…as..I trace my, finger tip around the edge of the center”

Jay covered his mouth and startled laughing uncontrollably through his hands.

“HMHMHMHMMMHMHMHMHMM”

“Why are you laughing?~” Daniel asked light heartedly. “Awwwwww, Does it tickle?”

All jay could do was scream/laugh into his hands, while Dan teased his soul away into the void of his mind.

Jay shook his head, trying to block out Daniel’s torment.

“No? Then why are you laughing? Daniel is just playing with you~ he just wants to hear you laugh” Daniel couldn’t help but giggle a little bit, still tracing the edge of jays navel a little longer.

After a short moment Daniel stopped and got off jay, letting him breath. Once Jay was at least able to speak, he spoke.

“Evil….son of a gun..” Jay said roughly, clenching his stomach.

Daniel laughed, knowing he may regret this somewhere in the future.

@ghostlee

Man I’m just throwing these at you! 😂 but I enjoy writing them as much as you enjoy reading them! I feel I’m getting better at ideas for these!

[goddess-aelin]

Little Did I Know

Chapter 8: The Rescue

Masterlist | LDIK Masterlist

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: language, description of injury

ROWAN POV

Let it be known to the entire kingdom that Prince Rowan Whitehthorn of Doranelle was freaking the fuck out. He left Aelin in the gym room after sparring with a promise of breakfast the next morning, knowing that both of them needed to calm the fire that was roaring in their blood. He slept fitfully the rest of the night, having an overabundance of emotions rolling around his head. Every time he’d close his eyes, images of Aelin’s smooth creamy skin would flash through his mind. He would hear her heavy pants as they sparred in his ears. Could practically taste each of the beads of sweat that rolled down her neck and into her cleavage. 

It really was a blessing when morning came. He barely had any good sleep and the only way to calm the raging fire was to see the match that caused it. 

Only, then, she was a half hour late to breakfast. And then 30 minutes became 60. And after that, Rowan started to worry. Aelin liked to sleep in, sure. But she had never been this late without sending some kind of word. He hoped that he didn’t scare her off last night. Hoped he hadn’t pushed things too far. 

He got up in search of her, finding Lysandra already on her way to Aelin’s room.

“Lysandra!” The woman in question turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a small smile. 

“What can I do for you, Prince? On your way to see your betrothed?” She gave him a knowing smirk.

“Yes, I suppose so. Aelin was supposed to meet me for breakfast but she never showed. I was getting worried.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about. You know how Aelin is. Would sleep until the sun set if the kingdom allowed it.” They arrived at her rooms, Lysandra grabbing the door handle. “Wait here. I’m not sure Her Highness would want you to see the rat's nest that is her hair in the morning.”

Rowan appreciated the attempt at humor and calming his anxiety but he couldn’t quell the horrible feeling that something was very wrong. 

He heard Lysandra calling Aelin’s name once, twice. And before she could say it again, he muttered a fuck it and pushed his way inside. The bed was empty. And from Lysandra’s repetition of Aelin’s name again, it was safe to say that she wasn’t anywhere in her room. The bed was pristine and unruffled, the sheets cool, indicating that even if she did come back here at some point last night, she hadn’t been here for a while. 

Lysandra returned to the main bedroom with a look of alarm on her face. “It’s not unlike Aelin to sneak out but she always, always comes back or at least tells me before she leaves.” Rowan’s panic was close to overflowing. But nothing would get done if he let it take over. He had to find Aelin. He had to. He and Lysandra rushed to find Aedion, hoping the tall, blond man knew where his look-alike cousin was. But it was to no avail. The General looked as if he was about to throw up when they told him they couldn’t find her, imitating how Rowan was feeling. Each one of them tried her cell phone a few times only to get no response.  

With quick efficiency, Aedion dispatched a few different patrols through the castle and its surrounding grounds. Rowan, instead of waiting around, volunteered for the patrol to the Oakwald, knowing that Aelin favored those paths for walking and horseback riding. He was paired with a few members of the famed Bane, the elite group of military combatants trained by Aedion himself. Rowan had confidence that if anyone would be able to find his fiance, they would. 

In the end, they split up to cover more ground. All three members of the bane and himself spread out in a fan shape, each of them scouring a path through the heavy brush. His emotions were all over the place at the moment. His fiance was missing and if he didn’t find her soon, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. With each step they took into the forest, his fears of finding her body lying prone and broken worsened. 

After hours of searching, a sharp whinny sounded from his left. A horse came bounding through the thick copse of trees. He immediately recognized the blanket laying across the horse’s back, its bright yellow color indicating it was Kasida, Aelin’s horse. 

“No,” Rowan whispered. All of the air left his lungs in a whoosh and he could hear his heart beating a thunderous beat in his ears. It was all he could do to grab onto Kasida’s mane, holding tight so that she wouldn’t run away.

With tenderness, he stroked the side of her neck, whispering, “Where is she, girl? Where is Aelin?” He dug his forehead into the side of Kasida’s mane, praying to any Gods that were listening. Kasida gave another huff and whinny, grinding her hooves into the ground. Slowly, she began moving forward, Rowan still holding onto her reins but allowing her to lead the way.

It could’ve been miles for how slowly it felt like they were moving, but eventually, Rowan came upon a path with hoof marks. The marks were seemingly fresh, the muddy terrain providing a visible trail that led deeper into the forest. Rowan’s head emptied of all thoughts as he spotted golden hair peeking out from under the brush in the distance. 

“Aelin!” He sprinted over to where she was laying, his breath coming in heavy pants. It was all he could do to control the fear that was again rushing through his blood. As soon as he crouched down, he felt bile rising in his throat. She could’ve been sleeping for how peaceful she looked. But the pool of blood underneath her head painted a different scene. 

“Shit. Shit! Aelin!” He gently pressed two fingers into her neck, searching for a pulse. He could’ve cried for the relief he felt when he felt the faintest flutter beneath his fingertips. He pressed his forehead to her own. “Aelin. Please wake up. Please.” He didn’t expect a response with her state but he was still disappointed when she stayed quiet. “Help! Over here! I found her!” Rowan kept yelling. But the other members of his search party were too damn slow. 

He knew a little first aid from his time as a soldier, remembering that he probably shouldn’t move her given her injuries. But he didn’t know how long she’d been out here and his desperation eventually got the better of him. Picking her up, he ran as fast as he could back towards the palace, Kasida luckily following on his heels. In his haze of fear, he noted to himself to give the horse an extra treat later. 

As soon as he reached the palace grounds, Aedion came bounding down the stairs from the front entrance. 

“What the fuck! Aelin!” Aedion’s tone was frantic with worry. “Is she okay?!” 

Rowan didn’t answer, only concerned with getting his fiance to her rooms and getting a doctor. Ideally, she should be taken to the hospital for evaluation but given that the palace doctor would be closer, he chose that route. “Get the doctor and send him to her rooms,” he ordered Aedion. The other man hesitated, eyes wide. “Aedion! Now!” At Rowan’s commanding tone, the commander took off running just as Rowan resumed his own. 

Gently, he laid Aelin down on her bed, not caring that her still weeping wound would tarnish the crisp white sheets. With the utmost gentleness, he brushed her muddy and blood-covered hair away from her forehead. He suppressed a sob at the wounds he uncovered as he took her face in. Her forehead was covered in scratches and bruises were beginning to form on the apple of her cheek. 

A lone tear escaped and ran down his cheek, only to land on Aelin’s own. He buried his face in her neck and allowed himself a moment of weakness. A sob escaped his lips. He wasn’t sure how it happened, nor when, but Aelin weaseled herself deep into his heart. The woman who he couldn't even stand to be in the same room with at first somehow became one of the most important people in his life. He should've been startled at the realization that she was quickly becoming his best friend and closest confidant. But he wasn’t. Because caring for Aelin felt like one of the most natural things in the world. He appreciated her more than he could ever say, more than he could ever find words for. But if– no, when— she woke up, he sure as hell was going to find innumerable ways to show her how much she meant to him. 

The doctor arrived in a whirlwind, sending Rowan out into the hallway as he checked Aelin. Rowan would’ve fought the man on leaving if it wasn’t for propriety’s sake. He knew he would eventually see all of his future wife, anyway. But he wanted that to be on her own terms. So he swallowed his worry and fear and allowed the doctor to do his job. 

Aedion eventually came to sit aside of him and Rowan could feel the ire radiating off of him. Rowan felt the same way. While there was a chance that Aelin simply had fallen off of her horse, Rowan’s suspicions said otherwise. The wound on the back of her head pointed to someone hitting her from behind, the scratches on her face indicating somewhat of a struggle. So no, he didn’t think one of the most athletic women he ever met fell off of her horse. The horse that was an absolute sweetheart and was the reason he found his fiance in the first place. 

Which begged the question: what happened?

The doctor came out into the hallway, gently shutting the door behind him. Both Aedion and Rowan waited with bated breath for his assessment. 

“Her Highness will be fine. She has a concussion from the wound on the back of her head. I wrapped it as best I could but it was mainly already healed over. Given that the bleeding has stopped and the cut is simply weeping, I don’t think she has any internal bleeding but it may be a good idea when she wakes up to get a quick scan of her brain.”

“But she was in a pool of blood when I found her.” Rowan hated how his voice shook. 

“Head wounds tend to bleed a bit more,” the doctor reassured him. “But she does have a few contusions on her ribs and she will have a very sore tailbone for a while. It’ll be good for her to take it easy for a few days to a week once she wakes up.”

“Do you have any idea what caused the wound on the back of her head?” Aedion picked the question right out of Rowan’s own mind. 

“The wound seems to have been caused by blunt force trauma.” The doctor’s eyes were downcast, understanding what this meant. But Rowan needed to confirm. “Blunt force trauma. So that wound is not from a fall off of a horse, correct?” The doctor gave a nod of assent. “And do we have any idea what sort of object could cause that?” 

“My best guess would be something similar to a baseball bat. The wound has a wide berth but no puncture marks, which indicates its bluntness. Something perhaps like a cane, though I think that might be a bit too small for this type of injury. A block of wood or stone could also have been used.” 

Rowan took a deep breath in and out, trying to quell the fury that was beginning to swell in his veins. Someone tried to kill, or at the very least, hurt his fiance. 

The doctor left with a promise to return in an hour to check on Aelin. Both Aedion and Rowan murmured their gratitude but waited until he was out of earshot to discuss the bomb he just dropped.

“Aedion...I don’t presume to have any command over your or your soldiers. But the area where I found her needs to be searched. I have a suspicion we’ll find more than what I initially saw there. I wasn’t….I wasn’t thinking clearly when I found her.” Aedion was nodding along with what Rowan was saying.  “Why did someone hit her over the head once and leave her there? It just doesn’t add up. If someone wanted her dead, you would think they’d finish the job. Not that I’m complaining that she’s alive but I just…It just doesn’t add up.” Rowan could feel the weariness settling into his bones.

“I’ll dispatch soldiers from the Bane and if need be, I’ll go myself. I promise you that I will figure out what the hell happened. And whoever did this will be brought to justice.” Rowan felt a slight twinge of peace in knowing that Aedion cared for Aelin just as much as he did. 

“But man, while I go do that, you have to go get some rest. You look like hell.” Rowan huffed a laugh at the other man’s words. 

“I’ll rest here. I’m not leaving her, especially when there’s someone out there trying to kill her.” 

Aedion nodded and with a clap to his shoulder, headed off to give orders to his soldiers.

Rowan took that as his cue to go back to Aelin. She was exactly as he left her, though it looked like the doctor cleaned some of the gashes on her face and changed the soiled pillowcase. Rowan settled into a chair by her bedside. The chair was incredibly uncomfortable but hell if he was going to leave her side. He gently took her hand in his, pressing a feather of a kiss onto the back of it. 

Rowan’s voice was barely above a whisper when he said to her, “I promise you, I will find whoever did this. We’re going to be just fine.” He wasn’t sure if the words were more for her benefit or his own. But he was sure of one thing: whoever did this to his fiance would pay and he would go to the ends of the earth to find them.

A/N: This is the only chapter in Rowan's POV. We're already over halfway done with the fic and I'm both sad and excited for you guys to read the rest of it!

Tagging: @cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 In Darkness I Found You 🔞

Chapter 4

Tags: Description of labor, more smut, & more sex slavery

The pain was almost unbearable. Yoongi was practically blind from it. He vaguely registered that he was being moved. Mostly he was focused on the pain in his abdomen as the contractions got closer together. He’d done this once before, but he didn’t remember it hurting this much. That had only been one pup, though. He knew there was more than one pup this time, but he didn’t know how many. If the pain was any indication, it felt like there was a whole litter in there. Litters weren’t common in younger Breeders. This was only his second pregnancy. He was 19, but he only knew that because he overheard them giving one of the Alphas his Breeder information. They might not even all belong to the same Alpha. He’d been heavily bred nine months ago. At least, that’s what they told him was happening. 

Yoongi felt the stick of a needle in his arm and a tiny bit of relief. The drugs were never strong enough to stop the pain, just dull it. He thought on some sick level they liked watching the Omegas suffer while they gave birth. He couldn’t pass out from the pain, so they gave him only what it took to keep him conscious. His head was swimming as he pushed. One pup, then two, then three. Two girls and a boy. His first one had been a girl. He was up 3 to 1. They kept track of that, too. Yoongi found that funny because he had nothing to do with what sex they were. That was all on the Alphas. It didn’t matter. They’d still use it as a selling point. “You want a beautiful fair skinned girl? We recommend Yoongi,” He never got to see his pups. He didn’t know if he actually did have fair skinned girls or if they came out looking like their Alpha fathers. All he knew was pain, stitches, and maybe a month of recovery before he was available for breeding again. Though since he’d had a litter this time, he might get longer than a month off. He could hope. 

“Yoongi, love, you need to wake up. You’re having another nightmare,” he heard Hobi’s voice. Yoongi looked up at him. 

“What happened?” he blinked.

“You were yelling to not take your pups away,” Hobi told him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said. 

“I wish I could take your nightmares away from you,” Hobi kissed him and rested his hand on Yoongi’s belly. 

“No, you don’t,” he sighed. Hobi started scenting him. 

“Then what would make my love feel better?” he asked.

“Feeling you. Knowing you’re here. Knowing I’m safe,” Yoongi told him. 

“Is that with or without pajamas?” Hobi asked. Yoongi put his hands on Hobi’s cheeks and kissed him deeply. 

“Without,” he replied.

“Of course,” Hobi grinned.

They wriggled out of their pajamas and Yoongi lied on his back with Hobi propped up on his elbow rubbing the bump. 

“I know something that will help you sleep,” he grinned. 

“What's that?” Yoongi looked at him.

Hobi positioned himself between Yoongi’s legs and kissed his way down to Yoongi’s inner thigh. 

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked. Hobi could smell slick as he kissed inside one thigh, then the other. 

“Patience, love,” he replied. 

Hobi took a long lick up Yoongi’s crease. Yoongi started breathing more heavily. Hobi teased his opening with the tip of his tongue. Yoongi grabbed the blanket.

“Fuck Hobi,” he groaned. 

“You like?” the alpha asked.

“Yes,” Yoongi squeaked.

Hobi gently licked over his entrance again. Now it was covered in slick & waiting for him. He stuck the very tip of his tongue into the opening. Yoongi let out a tiny whimper. 

“Does my love want more?” he questioned.

“Yes, yes please,” Yoongi whined.

Hobi ran his hands up Yoongi’s thighs before sticking his tongue into his opening. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. Hobi held on to Yoongi’s hips as he curled his tongue inside him like he was licking the last of a dessert off a spoon. He put his lips around his mate’s entrance and lightly sucked. He had slick dripping down his chin. Hobi took his tongue out of Yoongi’s hole and took a long, slow lick up his crease. Yoongi was moaning & clenching his fists against the blanket. 

“Are you close, love? Should your Alpha finish you?”

“Please, please finish me,” he whimpered. “I’m so close.”

“I’m going to suck the slick out of you until you’re dry,” Hobi wiped his face on a towel quickly. 

“Oh?” was all Yoongi could manage. 

“Absolutely, love,” Hobi smirked.

Hobi took a hold of Yoongi’s hips and teased his hole. The only reason his mate was staying relatively still was Hobi’s grip & the bump. Hobi put his tongue all the way in, closed his lips over the opening, and began to suck. Yoongi was practically screaming into the pillow at this point. Hobi felt him twitch around his tongue. He sucked harder. Yoongi grunted and tried to squirm around when he came. He released even more slick that Hobi sucked up. He kept his tongue in Yoongi’s hole as he came. It contracted around his tongue. Hobi’s face was practically covered in slick when Yoongi finished. He wiped an impressive amount off his face on the towel again. Hobi pulled himself up from between Yoongi’s legs and kissed his belly. Yoongi smiled down at him.

“Hi pup, it’s your Alpha daddy. I’m sorry if we bothered you, but I wanted to make your Omega daddy happy. Your Alpha daddy loves your Omega daddy very much. Your Alpha daddy loves you very much,” he said to the bump then kissed it again. Yoongi reached down and ran his hand through his mate’s hair. 

“Omega daddy loves Alpha daddy very much, too,” Yoongi smiled.

Hobi rubbed Yoongi’s thighs. 

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I could sleep for a year,” Yoongi replied. 

“Good,” Hobi smiled. He got out from between Yoongi’s legs and cuddled up behind him. 

“I feel like we’ve already mated,” Yoongi said. 

“Just because we don’t have the marks doesn’t mean we aren’t mates, love,” Hobi replied. 

“Hopefully soon,” Yoongi said. 

“Pup comes first, though,” Hobi told him. Yoongi wrapped Hobi’s arms around his belly. 

“Yes, pup comes first,” he agreed. “It should start moving soon if I’m almost 5 months.”

“Really?” Hobi asked.

“I’ve had some who were real kickers and others who were quiet. I feel like this one might be a kicker,” Yoongi told him. “Which sucks for me, but you’ll get to feel it.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Hobi said. 

“I don’t really have much say in the matter,” Yoongi told him.

“Be nice to your Omega daddy, pup. He’s had it hard enough,” Hobi rubbed the bump. Yoongi rolled over and faced Hobi. 

“One day, I’ll tell you,” he said. 

“Only when you’re ready,” Hobi replied.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said.

“I love you, Yoongi,”

“I love you too, Hobi,” 

In spite of Hobi’s relaxation technique, the pup still parked itself on Yoongi’s bladder in the middle of the night. 

“Pup,” he sighed. He carefully got out of bed so as not to disturb Hobi. After he washed his hands, Yoongi took a long look at himself in the mirror. He’d filled out considerably from what he remembered himself looking like before he escaped. His cheeks weren’t hollow anymore and he couldn’t see ribs under his shirt. Well, Hobi’s shirt. He’d need clothes of his own soon. He’d been okay in Hobi’s sweats and tees, but now that he actually had a pup bump, he needed new clothes. They only put the Breeders in real clothes when they were taking them to one of the Breeding Rooms. Otherwise they were in hospital gowns if they were pregnant or scrubs if they weren’t. Yoongi would rather die than be in a hospital gown again.

He pulled up the shirt and examined his belly. He’d be 5 months in 2 weeks, but he still barely looked pregnant. This pup might be small, but that didn’t mean anything. It was probably a girl if his pattern held. He’d had 6 girls and 2 boys when he escaped. “You want a beautiful fair skinned girl? We recommend Yoongi,” Yoongi shook his head like he could rattle the memory out. If he did have a girl who looked like him then it felt almost spiteful. The pup he’d escaped with was one of his selling points. He was hoping for exactly that. Spite the bastards who turned him into a pup factory, got their kicks watching him suffer, and stole 8 years of his life. 

“Don’t worry, pup,” he said to his belly. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

He put the shirt back down and went to get back in bed with Hobi. He lied facing him with the pup between them. 

I’ll love you no matter what. 

[remidyal]

Wing!

A snippet I daydreamed about or was really looking forward to writing. Hmm, well, I don't have any of those in the bank (stuff like this gets written pretty quickly!), so this is actually going to be something that's already written and published, and probably the scene that absolutely most was fully formed in my head before even starting the fic and I was REALLY looking forward to getting to - this is as spoiler free as I can get from this section - from Lunacy Chapter 31 (which chapters 29-31 as a whole are a sequence that fits this description):

Adaine knew, immediately, that something different had happened than was supposed to happen with Detect Thoughts.  Whether it was for weal or for woe, she was uncertain.

She was standing on the edge of a city that had been at war, in winter.  Everything looked destroyed, fragmented.  Cracks in the ground and pavement below, no life anywhere...  There were free floating clouds of toxic-looking gas hanging in midair.  Even as she looked out, another brick fell from the husk of the nearest building.

This place must be Aelwyn's mind, but if so, it wasn't exactly promising.

Adaine walked forward, glancing up.  It was the brightness of daylight, but it was the moon hanging overhead, a waning half-moon that matched its current state in reality whether by luck or as an indication that even out of her mind Aelwyn had the same sort of awareness of the moon that Adaine and Tracker and Jawbone did.

There was a flash of motion in the corner of her eye, over near one of the ruined towers.  "Aelwyn?"  She called over, cautiously.  Something had to be left of Aelwyn in here, something that at least knew Adaine's name and seemed to know that she should be sorry for something.  Adaine approached, reaching a hand out and touching the tower to steady herself along the way, and...

She was in a place that she did not remember and yet was somehow familiar.  It must have been huge, anyway - the halls were enormous, the doorways wider and taller than even a giant, the carpets plush beneath her bare feet.  She was not in control of this body, and she was not the one feeling everything, and yet she was.  A passenger, for this moment.

An infant was crying, through the nearby doorway.  Adaine felt herself moving to peek through it, hands holding to the doorframe to keep on her surprisingly unsteady legs.  There was a crib there, enormous, and an infant with pufts of blonde hair was screaming out for anyone to come and look at her and help her.

Adaine felt a hand on her shoulder, tugging at her roughly away from the door.  Angwyn Abernant was there, enormous but otherwise looking just as he had right before she had thrown a lightning bolt at him not too long ago, and his expression was neutral.  "Aelwyn, love, you mustn't reward Adaine with attention when she's being unreasonable like that.  Your mother's unseen servants check on her regularly; she has everything she needs."

But I want to see her was the thought that Adaine could feel as though it were her own, knowing for certain that it wasn't but that it was Aelwyn's, even as she gave a nod, and a quiet "Yes, father" instead.  At absolute most Aelwyn was three and she was already talking like that and somehow sounding so polite and walking away after Angwyn instead of doing what she'd wanted and looking to make certain Adaine was truly okay.

A flash of light, and Adaine found herself back in control, back in her 'body', such as it was.  A projection of her body, somewhere else in this ruined city, no longer along the outskirts but instead surrounded by ruined buildings on all sides, the ruins forming a maze.

Aelwyn was there, next to her.  Sort of.  She was maybe ten, in the lower school uniform for Hudol that Adaine had worn and then worn a knockoff for for her first few weeks at Aguefort, before she'd been kicked out of home.  Thick scars covered her arms around her wrists, and her legs near her ankles, matching the ones she had in reality.  "Oh."  She said, eyes wide as she looked at Adaine.  "You're alive, after all."

"Did you think I wasn't?"  Adaine asked, uncertainly stepping forward, trying to approach the kid version of her older sister.

[reflectedthings]

5839-1304-24xG

[what if people lived in the worst mall you ever saw and it was also in space]

The notes they gave me are sparse. A string of letters and numbers, some keywords, a brief description of the tragedy coached in the most clinical terms I can imagine. 5839-1304-24xG, off-planet, single community, no survivors, maintenance issue, avoidable.

It’s the avoidable part that gets me. How do you define that? What criteria do they have for what makes something a regrettable tragedy, instead of a unavoidable one? Are they not all dead either way?

The scientist showing me around gave me the abstract of the situation, the facts they’ve found all compiled into a single narrative of destruction: a moon base, populated by the rich who wanted off-planet when things started to get unpleasant there. Records indicate the base operated as intended for a few decades, but as inflow of new residents and new resources stalled, the operations equipment began to need more and more repairs it was deemed too expensive to justify.

Root cause of the destruction: failure of an airlock in the maintenance area, leading to violent depressurization of a room containing essential equipment.

Horrified, I asked if that meant that they’d lost all their air. The scientist said yes, but that the real issue was the violent drop in temperature which had a cascading effect on their systems, one shutting down after another.

The real answer is that everyone had enough time to know they were going to die, and not enough time to do anything to prevent it.

Walking the halls is at once the most luxurious and most horrifying experience of my life. We start in the residents area, where the agency’s off-shoot transport created the discovery link. The first room is a lovely, wide open space—an indoor park with a small pond in the center, plants and benches all around the area, and a huge skylight looking up into open space. I can see the Earth, or at least what I presume is the Earth—it’s dark, and the small sliver I can see, where the sunlight hits, is covered in a layer of reflective clouds.

I look away. The park is a more pleasant sight, though barely so. The pond is completely empty, water evaporating into the vacuum that the base has become. The plants that remain have been desiccated, long dead and completely withered. The human bodies—well. They look much the same.

“You didn’t move them?” I ask, trying to avoid looking at the nearest example; a figure wearing jogging clothes that lies next to a sealed door, along with two other figures that seem to also have been trying to escape through the same passage.

“We’re just here to record,” says my guide, laying a hand on my shoulder and ushering me along. “This way; you need to see the epicenter.”

We walk through several hallways and down a surprising number of stairwells. The halls are all ornately decorated; some have plush red carpet and gold light fixtures and rows of residence doors that reminds me eerily of a dozen different hotels I've stayed in, others are more open and lined with open-concept offices or shops. One is a skybridge, where a thin layer of glass and steel is all that separates those who walk it from the bare, open desolation of the moon.

They have street signs, which I focus on more thanks to them being slightly above eye level than due to any real interest in what they say. Some are major cities back on Earth, some are references to the stars or the solar system, others are names I don’t recognize but my guide says are to thank major investors in the project.

The base itself is a maze. There are maps at every intersection and stairwell—at least according to the lettering on the blank, burnt-out panels—but I doubt I’d be able to find my way around even if they were still functional. Instead, I stare at the back of my guide’s protective gear and start coming up with the words to describe how massive and hollow and strikingly claustrophobic this empty shell of a place feels. I try to imagine it as it would have been, how the figures now lying scattered and terrifyingly preserved would have looked living their lives, but I can’t. There’s an air of unreality to it all, even as I step over the detritus of the lives that once lived it.

It becomes clear, eventually, when we get to the epicenter of the issue. One stairwell begins in an office block that is slightly more cramped than the others and ends in much dingier room lined with pipes and burnt out led panels, a sudden transition not unlike stepping backstage in a theatre. There’s rust on the pipes and stains on the walls and rubber mats falling apart on the floors, the wear and tear necessarily for the luxury above us.

These hallways are narrower, more uncomfortable. The further we walk along them the more signs of destruction I see; wires hanging loose, pipes pulled from the wall, glass lying shattered on the floor. Eventually we enter a large hanger-type room. One wall is completely gone; a large round door that presumably one stood in the center of that wall can be seen in the distance. The hanger itself has been completely trashed with the sudden depressurization; vehicles lying on their sides, storage scattered every-which-way and pulled out onto the surface.

Compared to the silent devastation of the rest of the base, this blatant destruction comes as a relief.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” My guide asks, and she points to various parts of the hanger. There is the original flaw in the design that routine inspections should have caught but didn’t. There is the part of the backup oxygen system that froze over. There is the electrical fault that killed the grid and didn’t turn the backup generator on in time. Over there is the temperature indicator that relied on another system that also got lost somewhere in the cascade.

I can’t follow all the details, but I don’t really need to.

“I think I’m good,” I say, cutting her off. “I have what I need.”

“It’s all in the report anyways,” she agrees. “Quite fascinating, really, when you see the mechanical details next to the memos breaking down the decisions by the people in charge.”

I just nod. I think I know what they mean by ‘avoidable’, now. That doesn’t make anything I’ve seen any easier to grapple with.

What a waste.

*

After, when I submit my preliminary description to the agency for review, the director who hired me swings by for a chat.

Can you flesh it out a bit, he asks, quick to clarify that they liked what I did, they just wanted a little more… connection, to what I’d seen.

“Each off-shoot is its own world,” he says, excited, face lit up with his passion for his work. “We want to emphasize that, how close and yet how far each of they are to the world that we know.”

It’s important, he clarifies, for the agency to be able to show the real impact of its work to the public.

The next off-shoot they’d like me to write about will have a team headed there next week. They look forward to seeing what I make of it.