#and even further with localization crews | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

Text

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

While gazing down at you, his ringed finger drifted down your chest and along the seam of your blazer. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve.

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place.

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.”

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.”

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?”

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.”

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.”

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over.

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side.

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks.

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum.

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear.

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip.

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez mingi #ateez x reader #san smut #san x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung smut #yunho smut #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #kpop smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut

5K notes · View notes

thethief1996 · 2 years ago

Text

Israel has just bombed a hospital where hundreds of wounded and refugees were taking solace. Journalists in Gaza have reported there was hardly a single body whole in the aftermath (If you can stomach it, there's a video of a father holding what remains of his child). At least 500 people killed by IOF soldiers, who planned this action, got into an airplane and dropped that bomb willingly. The deadliest attack in five wars, according to the Ministry of Health.

Israel has denied ownership of the attack and said it was a misfired Hamas rocket. Originally, they celebrated it on their social media, saying they had destroyed a Hamas target, treating the deaths like an unfortunate collateral. After international backlash, they posted videos to their social media claiming it was a Hamas rocket. The video, though, shows a second explosion 40 minutes after the airstrike, and they edited it our of their tweet in a pathetic attempt at covering up.

Israel has said multiple times that they were going to bomb hospitals. They told doctors to evacuate and leave their patients to death because they were going to bomb, namely: Al Shifa, Shuhada Al Aqsa and the Quwaiti Hospital. Al Shifa housed at least 10.000 refugees and wounded, and worked as a hub for the press because it was one of the only hospitals that still had working generators. Medical crew worked with sirens blaring to signal the hospitals were not empty. This was a purposeful massacre. These people died hungry, thirsty and in pain because of the Israeli government's cruelty.

CNN and other media outlets already tried to pin the blame on Hamas, parroting back the pathetic propaganda being sold by the IOF. Even in death, Palestinians can't be respected and are used to further their own oppression. These people's deaths are not going to be in vain. Within our lifetimes, Palestine will be free.

Take action. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting today after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN GERMANY: Here's a toolkit to contact your representatives by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN IRELAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN POLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN DENMARK: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SWEDEN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

Protests in support have already erupted in Beirut, Madrid and Rabat in response to the shelling of the hospital. Join your local protest and raise your voices. For people in the US, Israel has just asked for additional $10bi in aid on top of the annual $3.8bi already given to them. Palestinians are asking that you refuse this loudly, with their every breath.

Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

USA calendar

Here are upcoming events:

WASHINGTON, DC: Outside Congress on 18/10 at 12 PM

WASHINGTON, DC: NATIONAL MARCH in front of the White House on 4/11 at 12 PM

SAN DIEGO: 2125 Pan American E Rd. (Spreckles Organ Pavillion) on 18/10 at 7 PM

NEW YORK: 72nd st. And 5th ave., Brooklyn on 21/10 at 2 PM

NEW YORK: CUNY Grad Building on 18/10 at 2 PM

NEW YORK: Oct 18, 5pm, Steinway & Astoria Blvd.

DALLAS: 1954 Commerce Street (Dallas Morning News Building) on 19/10 at 3 PM

[CAR RALLY] KITCHENER-WATERLOO: Fairview Park, 2960 Kingsway Dr. on 18/10 at 6 PM

KITCHENER-WATERLOO: CBC Building, 117 King St. W on 19/10 at 5 PM

HOUSTON: Zionist Consulate, 24 Greenway Plaza on 18/10 at 4 PM

OMAHA: 72nd St & Dodge St on 18/10 at 6 PM

SAINT PAUL, MN: Oct. 18, 5:30pm. State Capitol, 75 Rev Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.

BALTIMORE: Oct 20, 6pm. Baltimore City Hall

DUBLIN: Leinster House, Kildare Street, Dublin 1 on 18/10 at 5 PM

THURLES: Liberty Square on 19/10 at 7 PM

LURGAN: Market Street on 21/10 at 3 PM

PORTO ALEGRE: Rua João Alfredo, 61 on 18/10 at 19h

RIO DE JANEIRO: Cinelândia on 19/10 at 17h

RECIFE: Parque Treze de Maio on 19/10 at 17h

MANAUS: Teatro Amazonas, Largo de São Sebastião on 19/10 at 17h

SÃO PAULO: Praça Oswaldo Cruz on 22/10 at 11h

FOZ DO IGUAÇU: Praça da Paz on 22/10 at 9h

TSHWANE: Belgrade Square Park, Jan Shoba Street on 20/10 at 10 AM

VEREENIGING: Roshnee Sports Grounds on 21/10 at 14h30

Feel free to add more resources

#save palestine #save gaza #free palestine #save sheikh jarrah

9K notes · View notes

ecrivainsolitaire · 1 year ago

Text

Humans have the capability of perceiving when they're being stared at, even if they can't see it.

Dr. T'Chem was staring at Lieutenant /θkɡɾɑːˈŋæ/ (or as his current fling affectionately nicknamed her, "Tucker-Annie"), whose dorsal spikes were still rattling after the incident at the holodeck. It was his first time at the witness stand, and he didn't want to ruin a young star sailor's life.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie was the combat specialist in charge of the training dojo of Federation Vessel TSN457, named after the Terra-Saturn-Ceres coalition where Dr. T'Chem currently served as the xenoanthropologist charged with facilitating human integration to the local Federation of Fraternal Planets and Satellites. The FFPS had the goal of finding planets with intelligent life to trade resources and technology, and due to their recent incorporation, local research vessels were fitted with diverse crews to acclimate everyone to each other's cultures and biological needs. Dr. T'Chem was the human expert in the ship, and was tasked with helping smooth over interpersonal relations among the crew.

The relations were, at that moment, as bumpy as Lt. Tucker-Annie's dorsal spike line.

An incident had occurred during a training exercise. The squad consisted of a Venusian, two Saturnians, three Ceresians, two monks from the Transcorporeal Temple of Robotic Ascension, and five Terrans (two humans, two dogs and a cybernetically enhanced cat). The exercise consisted of getting through a generic jungle scenario and, unbeknownst to the squad, avoiding a team of ninjas lead by Lt. Tucker-Annie trying to take them out one by one. It was supposed to test the way they would react to a surprise attack.

It was not supposed to reveal that humans could sense when they were being stalked.

Of course, any trained sailor would have an ingrained knowledge of potential threats and how to spot them. Look for the shadows that are too dark, listen for the spot air isn't blowing from, things like that. Basic things most people don't think about but that can be identified if you think about them.

This was not that.

"Something's watching us," said Crew Johnson, in that sloppy way only creatures with lips spoke.

"What do you mean? There's cameras everywhere, of course they're watching us," responded Crew Hessikh, slithering over the vines on a tree branch to cross a river. She grabbed the axe in Crew Johnson's belt with her telekinesis and took down a small tree to serve as a bridge.

"Crew Flufflepaws, could you please take a look?" Asked Crew Johnson, nervously looking around. Crew Flufflepaws got on the tree as well and scanned the terrain from above.

"I can't see anything, or smell anything. And my hearing isn't what it used to be. I'll stay on the lookout for—" a horrendous hiss interrupted the automatic translator's feed. Crew Flufflepaws' comm line cut off.

Hessikh and Johnson looked at each other. That was the strongest fighter of their team, gone. They knew it was a simulation, but it still gave them chills.

The rest of their crew mates were split into two different teams further along the path. Crew Fanning's voice came from the comm line.

"Johnson, Hessikh, are you okay? What happened to Flufflepaws?"

"We don't know, Johnson said something was watching us and it went to check, then we lost comms."

"I felt it too. I know this isn't that kind of exercise but I think— AAAHHH!"

Two blaster shots were heard, then a thud.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie, who was watching Hessikh and Johnson from the mud pit behind the latter, had her tranquilizer dart ready. She got ready to shoot down Hessikh, but then heard a voice over the comm line.

"Code Lithium, we have a Code Lithium, we have to end the simulation, I just took down- I can't-" the breathing was sounding heavier and faster, too fast for a human.

"Fanning, calm down, remember your sutras. We need you focused, what happened?"

"I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around and saw this thing and it scared me and I jumped and I thought it was on stun mode and-"

"It's alright, we're calling it off. Captain, we have a Code Lithium! End the simulation now or- fuck, there it is again. Hessikh, do you see any heat sources?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary- why haven't they shot it down alre-"

The next thing Lieutenant Tucker-Annie remembered was the sound of a heel turn over the mud, followed by darkness.

Lt. Tucker-Annie woke up in the hospital bay, getting her tail regenerated by a robot nurse. She looked over and found her underling on the next bed, with a huge bandage on the side of his neck and a wing in a cast. Thankfully, he would be alright as soon as the stem cell bank was reprogrammed after her treatment.

The disciplinary board was called, an investigation was open, and both Crew Fanning and their captain were put on paid leave while the investigation was ongoing. Dr. T'Chem was called in as an expert after a review of the holodeck footage revealed there was no way Crew Fanning could have heard, seen or smelled the hidden sailor.

It was the first time in a while he hadn't helped himself to a glass of Venusian whiskey for breakfast. He really didn't want to mess this up.

"And would you care to explain how this is possible, Doctor?" Asked the prosecution, staring him down with an unnerving amount of eyes.

"I am as astounded as this court; our firm has been looking into Terran medical literature and we're still trying to figure out how it works; they don't even know, but they know it does happen, it's been documented for thousands of years. I have a hypothesis, but I don't know if it's even testable."

There was a murmur in the court. The judge asked him to elaborate.

"The way eyesight works is the light bounces off of opaque bodies and in its way it collides with the lenses in our corneas, which send it to the brain as electrical signals to be interpreted. The light that doesn't go into our eyes just bounces off our bodies and other opaque objects as well, the photons go everywhere and anywhere. This is the same for most species in this constellation, including humans. But even other Terran species don't have these abilities, as Crew Flufflepaws has testified."

A begrudging meow was heard from the audience.

"Order in the court, please. Dr. T'Chem, what do you suggest is the origin of this mysterious sense?"

The camera drones all hoovered around him. Dr. T'Chem straightened his fins and got close to the microphone.

"I believe it's possible that humans have a sense of touch so sensitive that they can feel the photons that don't bounce back. The ones that go into an eye instead of an opaque body. I think humans can actually feel in their skin when they are being watched."

There was an uproar in the crowd. His paramour, a dark skinned young human from the human settlement known as "Colombia", grabbed the religious symbol on her necklace and made a gesture with it he hadn't quite figured out yet.

The trial had to go on recess.

The implications were incalculable. Three dozen biologists from six different planets, including Terra, had emailed him before the end of the day to ask him to justify himself. Multiple human religious leaders took the chance to link it to demonic possession or moral evils. By the end of the week, four different labs were trying to figure out a way to double blind test shooting a photon cannon on a human's back and trying to get them to sense it.

But most importantly, the news made it outside of the Federation. The rumours about this new species that couldn't be stalked got so far, it ended up affecting the outcome of a border conflict with the Betelgeuse Libertarian Army on the Federation's favour.

Humans were terrifying.

If this is what they evolved to be, what was their planet like?

#Dr. T'Chem's Office #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #open art guild

2K notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 6 months ago

Text

The Crew Heads with Reader: The Keeper

G/N. This is dumb. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo). Masterlists

If you turn left at the traffic lights, then continue on the path for another mile, you'll arrive at a block of apartments.

The facade is a little dated, the area unremarkable though safe. To the right is a sleepy high street, and the other side are more residential buildings.

It's peculiar in how unpeculiar it is. There's nothing that stands out-

Hold on.

That's not entirely true.

Dig further below the surface, past the stuttering lights of the convenience stores, the ajummas nattering on the sidewalk, the mom and pop diners favoured by the locals and you'll find that, in fact, the area is deeply peculiar and odd.

Maybe everything was built where ley lines connect.

It's a magnet for gangsters, congregating in groups and hanging around menacingly. Frequented often by freakishly strong people, whose monstrous strength strikes fear into the heart of many.

Yet here, they just loom quietly in the shadows, causing no harm and presence intimidating enough that there is very little crime committed under their watchful eye.

That's because what is known about this particular place to a specific and violent subset of people, is that it's neutral territory.

Peaceful territory.

No blood can be spilled. No gang fights. No violence.

Unless it's committed by yourself, of course. It's the number one unwritten rule amongst all the other unwritten rules.

(As agreed to and acknowledged by all parties. Thank you for your cooperation.)

When one of the men stretches your patience too thin and you want to slap them upside the head, then surely it's your god given right.

Not that you would but no-one could or would blame you.

Maybe oddest of all, however, is the collection of strays you have acquired.

One by one, they have come across your path and fallen for your questionable, awkward charm. Found you during their time of need, whether that is looking for someone who listens and empathizes, tells them to cut the crap, or can simply make them smile.

Managed to begrudgingly strike up a makeshift sort of truce with the other men, if only for your sake.

And you, well.

You're known as The Keeper.

For most who hear about The Keeper, it conjures up terrifying images of a beast of a man. Muscle-bound and able to snap necks without blinking an eye.

The Keeper is actually none of these things. Although you don't mind the rumours that swirl about you.

What The Keeper is, is very very bored and yawning, you scratch your left asscheek as you wait for your strays to select their lunch.

Look-

You don't get paid from your job for another two weeks and you really can't expect Sammy to foot the bill for everything.

He goes above and beyond to give you the best of the best, but if it was up to him, would give the other three straggler-ons nothing and tell them to fuck off.

It's only because of you that he reluctantly ignores the way Johan sneaks dog treats into shopping trips, Eli adding cute little dresses, and Jake an extra something or other for a member of Big Deal.

(Not that Samuel minds too much about the latter though he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it outloud.)

He pays for it all with little complaint - actually no, that's not right. He complains a lot and holds it over their heads (but not yours) at every opportunity.

But he pays.

So today's lunch is your treat.

Even if your meagre bank balance only stretches to four ramens and maybe a sad drink to share between all of you. It's the thought that counts, ok.

"Yenna has a cream for that," Eli says, clocking your itchy butt, "you want to borrow it?"

You shake your head no and tell him thanks anyway.

"Your hair looks good," you add with a smile, ruffling his blonde wolfcut mullet with the hand that was on your ass a second ago.

Eli doesn't notice, or decides not to comment, instead runs his own fingers through his hair self consciously and clutches his ramen (Carbonara Buldak - a rare spicy treat when he doesn't have to share with Yenna) tighter.

"You think so? I thought it might be too light."

"You could pull anything off."

You force the smile to remain on your face, not that you're bitterly jealous or anything.

"Thanks!"

"Buldak?" A familiar voice sneers and you both sigh and turn your head to the duo still standing in front of the display.

"What's wrong with Buldak?" Jake responds, frowning.

"Nothing." Samuel reaches pointedly for the 2x Spicy packet.

Jake's eyes narrow. 'Nothing, if you're a pussy' was silently insinuated by Sammy and heard loud and clear by Jake.

He replaces his Spicy Chicken Buldak and matches his choice to Samuel's.

"This might be too mild," Samuel adds nonchalantly, grabbing the 3x Spicy instead and wanting to one-up that bastard even with something as juvenile as this.

"You win. Hope your asshole burns, asshole." Jake gives him a playful smirk, returning the Buldak for a Shin Ramyun.

Samuel raises his eyebrows in surprise at Jake's choice. His face turns proud and victorious. "I'll be fine."

As Jake walks away, Samuel glances nervously at his own noodles.

"That jjajangmen smells good," you comment besides Johan, both cooking your ramen on the machine in the store.

On instinct, he moves closer, defensively, protecting his own food, shielding it from hungry eyes-

Then clarity hits. It's you.

"Wanna share?" He offers, willing all the survival instincts he has honed from the last couple years to be quiet.

"Nah, I'm good." You bump goodnaturedly into Johan as thanks and rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for the food to finish.

He shrugs and averts his gaze. "You're the one that paid," he mutters by way of explanation.

You see through his deflection and notice his ears turn crimson.

The five of you are a sight to behold.

Slurping noisily on noodles; Samuel bright red, beads of sweat down his neck as he tries to choke down his ramen, Jake and Eli chuckling together at that poor pathetic moron, Johan growing restless as his was finished a good while ago but nevertheless finding Samuel a source of entertainment too.

All sitting side by side, taking up the window seats that provide a perfect people-watching view.

The roads are almost bustling at this hour and the buzz of the streets spill into the store.

"That's The Keeper," A small group of men whisper to each other, bowing in respect to you as they pass through the entrance.

You smile back pleasantly, hiding your confusion. They must just be friendly.

Mid-mouthful, you spy a blonde walking on the other side of the road.

He's hard to miss, with a spring in his step and whistling. His suit is equal parts expensive, impeccably tailored, and tasteless.

Your eyes connect.

Goo Kim gives you a cheery wave, a loud, joyous 'HEY!' and calls out your name.

You wave back and his grin grows when he spots your companions.

His arm moves even more erratically and he cackles, the loud hyena shriek heard despite the distance and through the glass, when the Crew Heads grumble and flip Goo off.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #jake kim #eli jang #johan seong #samuel seo #jake kim x reader #eli jang x reader #johan seong x reader #samuel seo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

359 notes · View notes

niqhtlord01 · 9 months ago

Text

Humans are weird: Human cameramen are crazy

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The greatest decision Intergalactic Wave 6 ever made was hiring Reggie Bradford.

At the time of Finch’s hiring IW6 was a relatively small news organization based in the outer worlds. Barely reaching four systems on a good day compared to the top contenders like Celestial Times which was broadcasted in inner core systems and pulled in an average of twenty to thirty systems each broadcast. The anchors for IW6 were locals, a Temrelien that needed a third grade translator unit just to be barely understood and a Myporie which couldn’t see the color green.

As the underdog’s underdog, IW6 more often fed off larger stories reported by other stations or small local stories relevant to a handful of worlds. Nothing interesting happened in their corner of the universe so as long as they broke even they were fine to never reach further than the length of their arm.

Reggie Bradford was a hired on as a cameraman to work for one of the planetary studios on Orbin VIII. You’d find him either working in the back making sure the camera bots were functioning or, more often, when they weren’t he’d be manning the forty pound cameras himself. The studio crews were always amazed how this seemingly out of shape man could heft the heavy outdated camera unit like it was as light as a pen.

They wondered what a lone human was doing so far out in the boonies as he would say, but he would always shrug and say that he felt like this is where he belonged; a notion IW6 would be most grateful for in the coming days.

When the Intherax/Coalition war broke out it was the biggest news story to hit the plasma streams since the death of Empress Karen III when she was eaten by her own corganai.

The Intherax were a militaristic society, trained from birth to kill before anything else, and spanned some fifty star systems not including client kingdoms and vassals. General galactic dealings with them often boiled down to standing aside from whatever they wanted and hoping it wasn’t you or your world, lest the invasion armadas would descend and obliterate what little civilization your people had been able to achieve and then be sold into slavery.

This time however when the Intherax made a proclamation to annex the colony worlds of Jense, Shatu’a, and New Hamburg the current occupants politely told them to bugger off and formed a Coalition for mutual defense. From there dozens of governing powers flocked to the coalition and added their strength to it in what they saw as the best chance of finally checking Intherax aggression once and for all.

Ever one for a challenge, the Interax declared war on this new found coalition and opened the conflict by orbital bombarding Jense until it was little more than a cold husk of rock trapped in the decaying orbit of its system’s sun.

What followed was best described as two sides of no holds bar warfare as the Coalition retaliated with the first ever invasion of Intherax territory against the world called Kai’de.

Naturally every news organization wanted to be seen covering the war, including IW6. Sadly they did not have anyone either brave enough to send so they settled on sending someone they believed was stupid enough and sent Reggie.

They expected to get some b-roll of soldiers marching or shots of fleet warships in formation. They never expected nor asked him to go into active combat. So when the first feed came back during their late night broadcast they were surprised to see that Reggie was onboard an assault ship breaking through atmosphere.

“Reggie,” the Temrelien spoke with every other word shifting tone from the broken translator, “where are you?”

“I’m currently with brave members of the 27th Dragoons as they head to take the fight to the surface of Kai’de.”

Reggie waved a hand at the soldiers who in turn gave a rousing cheer and slammed their feet against the metal decking.

“Orders came in late last night for a massed landing to take the enemy by surprise. From what I understand the Intherax military had not expected coalition forces to invade their territory and have not had time to establish proper defenses.”

Both news anchors looked at each other in confusion.

“If that’s the case isn’t this broadcast putting the entire attack at risk?”

To their surprise Reggie laughed as the camera shook.

“The plan was to get them by surprise, but judging from the amount of anti-air fire,” he said as the assault ship rocked back and forth, “I don’t think they were fooled.”

The camera panned right suddenly as one of the armored dragoons grabbed it and spoke directly into it.

“We want them to know we’re coming! Because we’re going to kill them all!! AHAHAHAH!!”

Another chorus of cheers and whoops came from the soldiers as the soldier let go of the camera and Reggie readjusted it. The anchors wanted to continue their questions when the leader of the dragoons shouted out and interrupted them.

“60 seconds!”

With the order given the soldiers stopped their foolery and began hefting their weapons. Reggie panned the camera over them as they slapped in fresh clips or attached power cables from their backpack generators to their more heavy weaponry.

In awestruck silence the anchors and their viewers watched as the assault shuttle slammed hard into the surface and the boarding ramp flew open.

“GO GO GO GO!!!!” the dragoon leader shouted as the soldiers poured out screaming their battle cries. Reggie waited and filmed them as they disembarked but did not join the first out the ramp. A inclination that saved him as enemy gun fire began raking the ramp striking several soldiers down in clouds of viscera and gore.

The censors barely had time to cut the feed while the horrified anchors composed themselves to resume the broadcast.

In the hours that followed IW6 confirmed that Reggie had survived the battle and had been with the unit of dragoons for the entire duration. During those hours he had recorded the entire engagement from ramp down, to storming city streets as the Intherax deployed building sized walkers, to the hoisting of the coalition flag over the central governing building at the heart of the city.

With this footage viewership numbers for IW6 skyrocketed overnight as none of the other networks had been able to capture such stunning footage. In fact, by the intake of broadcasts none of them had been able to attach an anchor or cameramen to the initial assault save for Reggie. When asked how he had been able to get approved for such a deployment he did not say which only further added to the mystery. Yet for the moment IW6 was far from ready to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Reggie’s footage was shown over and over on IW6 and was soon sublicensed to other networks and shown there. Exploits of the dragoons became known galaxy wide as Reggie followed them through battle after battle; never afraid to risk his life to capture the perfect moment.

When the Intherax fleet arrived in orbit and began to bombard the planet while also fighting the coalition fleet Reggie had forgone sheltering in nearby bunker complexes to film the orbital strikes as they hurtled down all around them.

Thick columns of pure energy shattered buildings and mountains alike as the ground quaked and there stood a lone Reggie filming it all. Even when the anchors begged him to find shelter he simply panned the camera over the city to show entire skyscrapers be reduced to molten mounds the oozed and sludged through the city streets.

By the time the battle had finally ended thanks to Reggie’s footage IW6 climbed the viewership charts to be the third most watched network galaxy wide. Much to the dismay of IW6 it also drew the attention of Reggie the cameraman to the other outlets who began showering him with ever more lavish offers for employment.

Too their surprise he denied them all and said that he was right where he belonged.

#humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #cameraman #news broadcast #space news

461 notes · View notes

eatmyheartoutjpg · 2 months ago

Text

ACCIDENTAL ;; In which you work as Silco's second-in-command and seem menacing to everyone, but you're actually a super anxious, awkward person with no fighting skills whatsoever.. but you have sheer luck!

04.04.25 Masterlist

You were second in command, one of the most feared individuals in the entire underworld of Zaun. You never asked for it. You didn’t want it. But you had it. And you had no idea how to get out of it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to do your job. You did your job just fine. Or at least, that’s what everyone else thought. In reality, you had no fighting skills to speak of. Absolutely none. You had somehow earned a reputation as an exceptional bodyguard and an untouchable fighter, but that was all a misunderstanding.

The truth? You were a walking disaster.

It all started with your tendency to come off as intimidating without meaning to. You weren’t a loud person. You rarely spoke at all. In fact, when you did, your voice came out as a low, monotone hum, often so soft that people had to strain to hear you.

And yet... they feared you. Even Silco, your boss, who was terrifying in his own right, never quite seemed to know what to make of you. He trusted you completely, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might accidentally upset him one day.

The rest of the crew feared you too. But it wasn’t your fault. You had this... aura about you. Your tense posture, your twitching hands, the way your eyes darted around the room as if you were constantly on the verge of a panic attack—it all gave off the impression that you were a time bomb ready to go off, itching for a fight. And every time someone bumped into you or said something mildly threatening, you do in fact, get into one.

The problem? You had no idea how to fight.

Take the time you were in the middle of an argument (one sided lecture) with a local merchant who had failed to deliver a shipment on time. The guy was loud, demanding an apology from Silco himself, and you were standing in the corner and back against the wall. You wish you could be the wall so the man would stop his tangent. You really wish you could go home.

Your hands were twitching, a nervous habit you couldn’t control. The merchant sneered at you and took another step forward, pointing a jarring finger at you. He was ready to berate you face-to-face.

You wanted to back into the wall even further, your feet shuffling a couple inches backwards, but that’s when your foot slipped on the wet floor. You stumbled, pushing yourself off the wall in a panic, but your arm flung out to steady yourself—and the merchant happened to be in the way. You hit him square in the jaw with an elbow that sent him flying backward into a stack of crates. The crates toppled, and the merchant was knocked unconscious from the impact as blood began to trickle down the back of his head from hitting the crates.

You froze. Everyone in the room stared at you.

You were standing, tall and looming over a downed, bleeding man. You were silent with your hands curled into fists, you were twitching as if you wanted anyone else to try lecturing you.

It was intimidating to everyone.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt everyone's gaze on you.

The next thing you knew, the crew was cheering. "Good one, second in command!" someone shouted. They had no idea you had just slipped and accidentally knocked the guy out. They thought it was just your patience thinning. They thought you meant to do that out of anger and exhaustion.

Sevika, your terrifying, scarred colleague, watched the scene unfold with a raised eyebrow. “Contain yourself next time,” she reminded, You blinked, still frozen in place, not quite sure what to do.

Everyone believed you hated being talked down to, that you don't tolerate anything unless it was your boss, Silco. You only have loyalty pledged to him, not to Zaun. You were a powerhouse.

And that was the moment you realized: no one knew you couldn’t fight. Not even Sevika. Not Silco. Not Jinx.

Jinx.

She was another source of anxiety. Jinx, the unpredictable, chaotic force of nature. She loved to hang around you. You didn’t mind. You liked her in your own awkward way. She never judged you for your silence, for your strange tendency to go from zero to “fight-or-flight mode” in a matter of seconds. She just liked to talk—endlessly. And you, too scared to tell her you didn’t really want to be involved, just listened. You listened as she ranted about explosives, the latest scheme, or what color she should paint her hair next.

You were too scared to tell her to go away, so you didn’t.

“I was thinking,” Jinx said one day, practically bouncing off the walls, “that maybe we could rig the whole building to explode. I mean, not like in a bad way, but in a cool way. Like, surprise the enemies with a big kaboom!”

You nodded slowly, unable to form anything more than a soft grunt.

“That’s what I thought!” Jinx exclaimed. “You get it! I knew you’d get it, second in command! You’re so strong and smart and, like, so unstoppable!”

You winced at her words. No one knew that you were the furthest thing from unstoppable. You could barely stand up without tripping over your own feet. But instead of running away, you just stood there, nodding silently, hands twitching at your sides. Jinx didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, though. She was too caught up in her excitement.

“Don’t worry, second in command,” she said, throwing her arm around your shoulders like you were best friends. “I totally got your back!”

You wish people said your name, but then again, you don't think you could handle it.

People just called you second in command, while it could be seen as disrespect, it's actually out of acknowledgement and admiration about your prowess and status in the Undercity.

You flinched, but nodded again. It was fine. You could deal with Jinx. You could barely breathe around Sevika, but Jinx? Jinx was just... too wild to be as scary as Sevika or Silco.

And yet, somehow, her enthusiasm pushed you into even more ridiculous situations. A few days after her explosive idea, you found yourself standing in front of a rival gang’s hideout, the crew surrounding you. Sevika was giving orders, her usual growl of authority ringing through the air, but she kept glancing at you. Her face softened just a little, as if expecting you to do... something.

"Well?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You ready, second in command? We could use your 'skills' here."

Your hands twitched uncontrollably. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. A gang of armed men stood across from you, glaring in your direction. You had no idea how you were supposed to fight them. But you were standing there, shaking, trying to appear confident.

Then the unthinkable happened. You accidentally bumped into Sevika, causing her to stumble forward right into one of the gang members, knocking him out cold. Without realizing it, you grabbed a loose piece of metal from the ground and swung it in what looked like a perfectly executed defensive maneuver. The rival gang member ducked, but you barely grazed him, sending him tumbling into another. They both hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

The crew gasped. “See? Second in command is untouchable!” someone shouted.

Sevika blinked in surprise. “Not bad,” she muttered, though you could hear the underlying amusement in her tone. “Maybe I’ll have you handle the next few meetings.”

Handle the meetings? You panicked. You hadn’t planned for any of this. You didn’t know what you were doing. You just wanted to disappear back into the shadows.

As the rest of the crew celebrated, you retreated to a corner, hands twitching violently as your heart raced in your chest. You never wanted to fight again. But the more you stood there, the more people believed in you.

Eventually, Silco came over to congratulate you. “Good work. You’ve outdone yourself.”

You couldn’t help but smile nervously, the tension in your body so thick you were afraid you’d pass out. “Thank you,” you responded, hoping your trembling voice wasn’t giving you away.

“You’re an important part of this operation,” Silco said, a rare note of pride in his voice. “I’ll be counting on you even more.”

And there it was: you, second in command, trusted and relied upon by the most dangerous people in Zaun, all because of a series of mistakes and clumsy accidents. No one knew the truth—that you were just a shy, awkward mess who was constantly waiting for everything to fall apart.

But you didn’t mind. Not when they all thought you were a badass.

You just kept your head down, kept pretending to be strong. After all, who needed fighting skills when you had luck on your side?

A/N ;; This was in the drafts for 4 months.. my bad!

153 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 7 months ago

Text

chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?”

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #matt smith #matt smith x reader

381 notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 11 months ago

Note

Would you feel comfortable writing for Kid? If so, could I request him falling for fem reader that's the total opposite of him? She's more on the quiet side and doesn't really speak first until someone comes and talks to her. Doesn't have a lot of confidence, but is friendly, just a little awkward.

DESCRIPTION: You’re his opposite

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Kid

WORDS: 1,056

A/N: Thank you for this request and sorry it took so long to do this one. I hope it was worth the wait and I hope I got the vibe for the story that you were looking for.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

If anyone were to look at the entire crew of the Kid Pirates it would be clear that you’re the odd one out. While they’re a bunch of loud misfits in their own way, to an outsider it would seem as though you got lost and found yourself caught in their crosshairs. There’ve even been cases when some people have assumed you were kidnapped by the Kid Pirates. However nothing could be further from the truth, you’re a key part of the crew despite your differing personality compared to the others. While it doesn’t make sense to outsiders for you be there, to the crew you love it makes sense to them and you. You didn’t need to be as loud as them, you didn’t need to be as quick to blowing a fuse and getting into a fight as them, you didn’t need to have the outward confidence and intimidating aura they had. You were you and none of them would change that. Kid especially.

Kid couldn’t help but be drawn to you from the very first time he saw you on your home island. While you’d been helping out in the local bar he noticed you straight away, watching you work silently and diligently to serve the other patrons. It was clear you were shy but being shy doesn’t mean you are weak or a pushover, as one patron quickly found out. When they tried to push their luck with you, you dealt with them swiftly and just as fiercely as anyone on his crew could. Kid’s interest in you only grew then as he watched you single handedly put the drunk in his place and then went straight back to your work as though nothing had happened.

It was that moment there that Kid wanted you on his crew. Over the course of that night he’d asked you to join the Kid Pirates. At first you ignored his offer with a simple ‘no thanks’ believing it to be a joke but as the night wore on and his request was just as earnest as the first time, you began to consider it. The morning he left the island he was smug to see you walk towards the ship. ‘Knew you couldn’t resist my charms.” He’d joked as you wordlessly climbed aboard.

Ever since then it was beginning to dawn on Kid that it was he who couldn’t resist you. While he was everything harsh and sharp and short-tempered, you were soft, warm and patient. Having your calm manner amongst them helped assess situations and served as an anchor for the crew when they were getting too worked up. You were able to talk freely to him and the crew but still you usually waited for them to engage you first, always speaking kindly and listening intently to their words. Kid found he could talk to you about anything and everything, mostly in part to just be around you and talk but also to just allow himself to indulge in the way you looked at him with undivided attention and small, encouraging smile curving your lips.

Kid knew he’d fallen for you and the crew knew it too and they all collectively agreed that until he actually confessed to you or acted on his feelings they were going to tease the hell out of him and use the information to their advantage. On days he was in a bad mood, they would ask you to go and relay any further bad news to him, smirking at the sound of his yell choking in his throat when he realised it was you coming into his workshop to tell him. Almost every meal they would coincidentally leave the seat next to Kid’s free for you to sit in. When they docked on a new island, most of the time they made sure you and their fearless Captain were paired together, but when it was a group of them, the others would clumsily get lost so it would leave just the two of you for a couple hours to explore or shop for supplies.

One afternoon while you were helping Kid in the workshop, and by helping it just meant you were both sitting in comfortable silence while Kid worked on. Idly you toyed with a screwdriver in your hand and you observed your Captain quietly. Kid knew you long enough to know when you were just merely staring in his direction or if you were actually looking his way because you wanted to talk to him about something. “What’s up?”

“I’m curious…” you began carefully deciding on how you wanted to phrase things. “Why do you let the crew tease you the way they do?”

“Tease me how?” Kid asked, his eyes still trained on the mechanism in front of him.

“You know how. With me.” You glanced up from the screwdriver you were still fidgeting with to meet his gaze, his attention now fully on you. Your lips twitched slightly to see his expression. He looked apprehensive, cautious of your reaction. “They aren’t exactly subtle, Kid and their covert planning on how they can get the two of us alone isn’t ever whispered.”

“Are you mad?” He asked, he also feared asking if it made you uncomfortable but he knew you’d never let them force you to do anything that would cause you discomfort or anxiety.

“Mad for getting to spend time with you without the others hanging around?” You asked softly, returning your stare to the tool in your hands. “Can’t get mad at something I like doing, can I?”

Kid watched you with a slowly growing grin, even with how shy you were, you’d somehow managed to admit something he’d been too scared to face first. Quickly he activated his Devil Fruit power and commanding the screwdriver in your hand he coaxed it towards him, causing you to be pulled along in your seat until you were pressed beside him, the perfect fit he thought. Kid stared down at you and smirked when you slowly look up and offered him a sweet smile of your own. He took the screwdriver out of your hands and slipped his hand into your loose, gentle grip. It looked like the rest of the crew would have to find something else to entertain themselves with now.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld

438 notes · View notes

opbackgrounds · 1 month ago

Note

Dont hold our on us, what's your narrative game idea?

lol if you insist.

Imagine with me the game starts with a recreation of the Reverie from Vivi's flashback, so like 10 years pre series. We get through all the royals worried about Dragon, but after we get the part where Cobra humiliates Wapol it shifts to the Elder Stars giving more info about Dragon. His Revolution has been going on for 10 years and its starting to get serious, if they dont nip things in the bud now they're going to have a major problem on their hands. It's time to make taking out Dragon a true priority.

Smash cut to the character creator. Make your PC and chose your starting class, with different stats for what background you pick. The game starts on an island where you're just some dude, and as you start a few tutorial quests you're introduced to the three factions of the game: the marines, the revolution, and a local pirate crew. At the end of the tutorial you decide which you like best and join up. The marines with Cipher Pol have the best intel but least freedom when doing quests, pirates having the most freedom but least reputation with NPCs, and the Revolution is somewhere in the middle.

The main plot of the game is a treasure hunt. During Jaya, Bellamy mentioned several mythical treasures along the City of Gold, one being the Emerald City. This is where the journey leads, and it ends up being a cool underground city, the "Emerald" part being the giant gems and cryatals that decorate the city walls. Half the game is quests that get you there with plenty of weird One Piece goofiness on the side, half is a One Piece-style arc plot for once you arrive involving the people of the city going through some kind of crisis.

Canonically, Dragon was strapped for cash after starting his Revolution, which explains why that faction is treasure hunting. The pirate crew just wants treasure, and the marines are trying to stop them both. It's the same story told from very different POVs, with NPCs reacting differently based on who you are, and the quests having different outcomes, while still overlapping at key points. And of course certain loot and quests are locked depending on your route. Once you reach the Emerald City there's one chance to switch factions, but you'll have a hard time getting anyone to trust you if you do.

Your ending depends on what you do with the treasure once you get your hands on it. If you're a pirate, do you keep it for yourself and mutiny or be loyal to your captain? If you mutiny but don't take the time to gain the approval of the other officers you successfully steal the treasure but fail taking over the crew, and the game ends with you on the run from a powerful enemy.

For the Revolution, do you give it to Dragon, or another actor within the Revolution who wants a more extreme and violent fight against the WG, kind of like Zephyr from Film Z (if you want to bend canon you can just make it Zephyr from Film Z). Again, if you fail to adequately promote the extremist viewpoint and chose that option, you end up creating a schism within the RA, weakening it from within and making it easy pickings for the WG.

For the marines, do you do what the higher ups say and pursue Dragon and the RA at the cost of civilian lives? If you do, you're hailed as a hero of Absolute Justice and your career is launched into the stratosphere. If you chose the civilians you become known as a hero of the people, but work in relative obscurity as you'll never be promoted even as Garp saves your ass from further consequences. In this route, if you fail to help enough civilians access the game you end up court marshalled for your failure, Garp seeing you as too wishy washy in your Justice to be worth sticking his neck out for.

Like the previous scenario, there's enough canon characters from this time period to flesh out the roster, while also giving plenty of room for non canon NPCs and exploring some of the world and themes of One Piece on a deeper level. The "canon" ending would be Dragon getting the treasure to fund his Revolution on a massive scale, causing the Elder Stars to label him the most wanted man in the world, as he is in the manga.

#sarc talks

100 notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

Note

This is regarding your post involving making friends. I have had a spectacular amount of failures in meetup groups, particularly involving men from multiple meetup groups trying to take advantage of me or using me. In addition to that, the other members of the groups tend are often quite rude. Also, many meetups in my area tend to fall into one of the following categories: professional seminar, mommy & me, or the other members are double my age or older. What would you advise?

Volunteering - find something you care about and see if there is a local volunteer opportunity; you might want to look into food banks or mutual aid projects.

Crafting - this will likely be an older crew, but making friends with older people is cool honestly.

Sports - see if there's a kickball league or some other variety of low-key sport that you can sign up for.

Get super into the local music scene. Go to bar shows, go to basement shows, go to backyard shows. If you go to places where they have local music and hang out a bunch you will get to know local music people eventually, which includes both people in bands and people interested in bands.

Become a regular at your local library. Go once a week at the same time of day and you'll start to get to know people.

Become a regular at something else local. If you go to the same coffee shop three times a week for a few months and are polite to the employees you will probably eventually have friends among the people there; even if you do this by walking around the neighborhood park at the same time of day you will start getting to know the park regulars people love habits and if you can become a chill part of their daily scenery they will eventually want to investigate further.

Start your own club of some kind. Maybe start a book club for a particular genre of book that you like, or start a movie group where you meet up to see a movie together twice a month. You can post things like this on meetup websites or facebook, but you can also make fliers to put up in places that you think people you might find interesting would hang out.

Join a gym and go regularly. Sometimes a random person you see all the time in a gym can go from being a reliable on-the-spot spotter to a good friend.

Take a class locally. See if your town has a community center that offers cooking classes or computer classes or any kind of classes even things you already know. I keep making jokes about improv but improv people are great; see if you can take an impov class. See if your local music store offers music classes (I made weirdly good friends with the folks at the music store where I took vocal lessons; this was a pleasant surprise!)

When you try any of these places make friendly smalltalk with the people you encounter and express interest in them. If you are speaking to employees, make sure you're giving them lots of conversational outs because attempting to befriend people who are working can feel like you're cornering them, I'd actually say don't try to befriend the employees at a business unless you go there and they attempt to befriend you, however as someone who worked in coffee shops for ten years if someone randomly started showing up for six hours a week I would almost certainly have gotten to a friendly shoot-the-shit level with them within a month; if you go out among people who are sociable and are around them enough sometimes the sociable people go "aha! new friend sighted!" and do the hard work for you, but you do have to go to places to let yourself be found by the sociable ones.)

I do not, generally speaking, use meetup groups as a generic thing as much as I look into what groups exist locally that I am interested in. If a local game store is running a weekly Magic tournament, that's a better place to meet people in my opinion than a one-time bowling event.

936 notes · View notes

trippiexlove · 9 days ago

Text

Echoes of Us -Prologue

Main Master List

Story Master List

August 1999 - Escambia High School

The first time Amani Wilson collided with Joshua Fatu, it was literal. Freshman year, a Tuesday morning, first day of freshman year. She was running late for homeroom, textbooks clutched to her chest, when he rounded the corner of the main hallway like a human locomotive.

Bam!

Books scattered, papers fluttered, and Amani landed on her backside with an undignified thump.

"Oh, damn! You aight?" A deep voice, laced with a hint of a southern accent, boomed above her. She looked up, rubbing her head, to find a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a mischievous grin and eyes the color of milk chocolate. He knelt, gathering her scattered geometry notes. "My bad, I won't looking where I was going."

Amani blinked, a blush creeping up her neck. Even covered in sweat from football practice, he smelled faintly of fresh laundry and something musky, undeniably male. "I-I'm fine," she stammered, taking the offered hand to pull herself up. His grip was firm, warm. "I wasn't either."

He chuckled, a rumbling sound that made her stomach flutter. "I'm Josh, by the way."

"Amani."

From that clumsy collision, something unexpectedly graceful bloomed. Their first date was a Friday night at the local cinema, seeing some forgettable teen comedy. Amani remembered more of the nervous laughter that bubbled between them, the accidental brush of hands reaching for popcorn. Later, walking her home under the sleepy glow of streetlights, he stopped on her porch. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He leaned in slowly, his eyes soft, and his lips, surprisingly gentle, met hers. It was awkward, sweet, and utterly perfect – her very first kiss.

Soon, Fridays became football nights. Amani, bundled in school colors, screamed herself hoarse from the bleachers, watching Josh, number 92, tear across the field. He was a force of nature, powerful and driven. She'd wait by the fence after games, a small smile on his face as he spotted her in the crowd, sweat-slicked hair curling around his temples. He'd sling an arm around her, pulling her close, and in those moments, with the roar of the crowd fading and the crisp autumn air around them, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

July 2001 - Pensacola Beach

The summer before junior year melted around them like warm caramel. Days bled into lazy afternoons at the beach, the sun baking the sand, the ocean a cool balm. Amani, Tameka, Shawna, Josh, Jon, Joe, and the rest of their crew would spend hours splashing, laughing, forgetting about impending responsibilities. One afternoon, Amani drifted a little further out, the waves tugging playfully at her ankles. Josh followed, wading through the knee-deep water until he was beside her.

"Careful, Mani," he teased, flicking water at her. "Don't want you getting pulled out to sea."

She splashed him back, giggling. "Like you'd let that happen, Fatu."

He grinned, the afternoon sun glinting off his wet hair. He didn't reply, just wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her effortlessly until her feet dangled. She shrieked, half in surprise, half in delight, as he spun her slowly in the gentle current, his eyes fixed on hers, a silent promise in their depths. The world felt boundless and safe in his arms.

April 2003

Senior year prom. The air thrummed with youthful energy, flashing lights bouncing off sequined dresses and slicked-back hair. Amani, resplendent in emerald green, leaned into Josh on the dance floor, his hand warm at the small of her back. Then, the opening notes of "Dilemma" by Nelly and Kelly Rowland filled the gymnasium.

I love you, and I need you...

Amani's voice, a soft whisper, joined Kelly's. Josh looked down at her, his lips curving into a smile. She gazed up at him, singing directly to him, every word laced with the raw, untamed emotion of a girl deeply, irrevocably in love. He pulled her tighter, swaying to the beat, a silent understanding passing between them. That night, the promises they'd whispered under the covers felt carved in stone. Futures were discussed, dreams of children, of a life built together, were painted in vivid colors.

June 2003

But those colors faded, then blurred, then shattered into a thousand pieces.

The argument happened weeks after graduation, the harsh summer light streaming through her bedroom window, unforgiving. NYU was a world away from the University of West Alabama. New York City versus rural Alabama. Her dreams of becoming an HR Director, his and Jon's relentless pursuit of NFL glory. The distance felt like a canyon they couldn't cross.

"Mani, it's not fair," Josh pleaded, his voice thick with unspoken emotion, hands running through his close-cropped hair. "Long distance? We're talking about four years. Four years of us being miles apart, trying to make phone calls work, seeing each other twice a semester if we're lucky."

Amani felt tears sting her eyes. "So what? We just... give up? After everything? After what we said?"

"It's not giving up," he insisted, though his voice cracked. "It's being realistic. We're going to different worlds. We need to focus on what's next. On our careers. On college."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. They held each other, bodies trembling, the silent agreement hanging between them. The promise of forever, of children, of a life built only with each other, unraveled in the face of logic and impending independence. With aching hearts and tear-streaked faces, they agreed to break up. To go their separate ways. To start over.

To erase us.

2003 con't...

The weeks that followed were a blur of numb preparation for college. Packing boxes, saying bittersweet goodbyes to friends, trying to reconcile the gaping hole in her chest with the excitement of a new beginning. She tried to focus on NYU, on the future, on anything but the absence of Josh.

Then came the morning she missed her period.

And the next.

The pink line stared back at her from the plastic stick, mocking her.

Amani sat on her bathroom floor, the world tilting precariously on its axis. Pregnant. She was pregnant. With Josh's baby. The boy she'd just broken up with, the boy who was moving hundreds of miles away, the boy who was her first love and first everything. She was heading to NYU in a few weeks, a scholarship waiting, a future laid out.

She didn't know what to do.

Her first call was to Tameka, then Shawna. They were at her house within twenty minutes, faces pale, eyes wide as Amani, still in shock, shoved the test into their hands.

"I don't know what to do!" Amani whispered, pacing a frantic path across her small living room. "How am I going to go to college? How am I going to take care of a baby? I can barely take care of myself!"

Tameka sat beside her on the bed, pulling her into a hug. "Mani, breathe. We'll figure this out."

Shawna, ever the practical one, chewed on her lip. "Mani, are you going to tell Josh?"

Amani stopped, turning to stare at her friends, her mind racing. Tell Josh? The boy whose heart she'd just broken, who was already focused on his own new path? The boy she was supposed to be erasing from her future? The thought felt impossible, another burden on an already collapsing world. She just shook her head, tears finally escaping and running down her face.

"No," she choked out, the word feeling like a betrayal and a desperate self-preservation all at once. "No. I can't."

The secret, heavy and suffocating, settled in her chest, a phantom weight that would follow her for years to come.

-If you would like to be added to the tag list please comment on this linked post-

📓 Taglist: @dollface110-blog , @therealh18 , @skyesthebomb , @moxley99 , @fafomama , @queeny23 , @duhitzkay380 , @xbriexx , @mindairy , @tribalchief2112 , @theusotwinzcom , @yana3sworld , @baybehkay , @jazzyboo123-blog1 , @uceyliyahh , @transparentphantomface , @bossbitch-25 , @sheaabuttaababyy , @emotionalhottiee , @jeyusosqueen , @pinkwithhearts , @purplementalitybluebird , @moxley99 , @reginawhorge01 , @wrestlingprincess80 , @raya-hunter01 , @justazzi , @mamis-girly , @shanthefemalerapper

#jey uso #jey uso x black oc #jeyuso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso smut #wwe #jey uso x black fem oc #trippiexlove #talks with trips #main event jey uso #EOU x trippiexlove

76 notes · View notes

workersolidarity · 11 months ago

Text

[ 📹 Scenes of chaos and destruction following the bombing of the Israeli occupation forces across the Gaza Strip on Saturday, resulting in dozens of civilians killed, and scores of others wounded, including women and children. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

WAR OF EXTERMINATION DAY 260: HEALTHCARE WORKERS CONTINUE TO BE TARGETED BY OCCUPATION ARMY, NEW MASSACRES KILL DOZENS AS MASS SLAUGHTER INTENSIFIES ONCE AGAIN

On 260th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 101 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 169 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Speaking with the local Palestinian media, the Director General of the Ministry of Health in the Gaza Strip, Munir Al-Bursh, said that the Israeli occupation continues to be intent on murdering healthcare personnel and still targets Gaza's healthcare system.

The Director General also called for an international investigation and asked that the international community intervene to protect medical personnel in the Palestinian enclave.

Further, Al-Bursh called for the investigation to be conducted, including an autopsy on the bodies of those killed by the Israeli occupation, and for the release of all detained medical personnel from the Gaza Strip.

Meanwhile, the Zionist occupation army continues mass murdering Palestinian civilians, even as the occupation army admits it is unlikely Hamas will be defeated in the way the occupation's politicians believe the resistance group can be.

A recent statement by occupation army spokesperson, Daniel Hagari, noted that “saying that we will destroy Hamas and make it disappear is just a speck of dust in the eyes of the Israelis,” adding that “Hamas is an idea, and whoever thinks that we can make it disappear is mistaken.”

At the same time, the Israeli occupation's leadership continues pushing for war with Lebanon, while the head of Israeli energy company Noga recently warned that "the country is not ready for a real war" with Hezbollah.

Netanyahu, for his part, refuses to acknowledge the realities on the ground, insisting this week that the war will not end until Hamas is eliminated and the hostages freed, adding angrily that "This is my position, and whoever opposes that, let him oppose it publicly."

Meanwhile, Palestinian civilians in Gaza continue to be mass slaughtered as the genocide continues unabated.

In just the latest example, the Zionist occupation army committed two new massacres overnight in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, northeast of Gaza City, as well as in the Al-Shati (Beach) Camp, west of the city, resulting in the deaths of more than 42 Palestinian civilians.

Speaking of the massacres at a press conference on Saturday, director of the government media office in Gaza, Ismail Al-Thawabta, confirmed the slaughter, telling Al-Jazeera News “24 Palestinians were martyred as a result of the targeting of 7 homes in the Beach Camp, and 18 Palestinians were martyred as a result of the Israeli bombing in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood.”

According to local sources, the Israeli occupation forces bombed 3 residential buildings in the vicinity of the Sousi Mosque in the Al-Shati Refugee Camp, west of Gaza City, killing several civilians and wounding a number of others.

In a previous assault, on Friday, occupation fighter jets bombed two residential apartments in the central areas of Gaza City, killing at least 5 Palestinians and wounding several others.

According to the Palestinian media, local civil defense crews managed to recover the bodies of 5 Palestinians and a number of wounded after Zionist warplanes bombed two residential apartments belonging to the Mushtaha and Abu Al-Atta families, behind the Deir al-Latin School in the Old City area of central Gaza City.

Israeli fighter jets also bombed a residential house belonging to the Salah family in the Al-Shati Camp, killing upwards of 10 civilians and wounding at least 17 others.

The wounded were immediately transferred to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital, while the occupation's artillery shelling continued hammering the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

In another bombing, the Israeli occupation forces targeted a gathering of civilians in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, while several others were wounded as a result of an occupation air raid near Wadi Gaza in central Gaza.

South of Gaza, Israeli aircraft bombed the Khirbet al-Adas area, north of Rafah, killing two Palestinians and wounding several others.

The genocide continued with the Zionist army's artillery shelling, which targeted the tents of displaced Palestinian families in the Al-Mawasi area, northwest of Rafah, an area the occupation army previously told civilians would be a "safe" zone, killing upwards of 25 civilians, and wounding a number of others.

According to reporters with the Palestinian news agency WAFA, Israeli aircraft broke the sound barrier in two locations, after which, local residents and displaced civilians gathered and were immediately targeted by an Israeli missile, resulting in the massacre of 25 civilians and wounding many others.

The Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) also reported that its personnel were dealing with large numbers of casualties after the Israeli occupation forces bombed the tents of displaced families.

The Zionist army also bombed a house belonging to the Al-Sharif family, east of Al-Nuseirat, in the central Gaza Strip, murdering a number of Palestinians, and wounding others, including children, who were transported to Al-Awda Hospital, where an infant girl who was wounded in the strike was said to be in critical condition.

Similarly, the Israeli occupation forces stationed tanks and troops along the so-called Netzarim Corridor, an Israeli-built infrastructure dividing the Gaza Strip into its northern and southern constituent halves, firing shells towards the Al-Zaytoun, Tal al-Hawa, Sheikh Ajlin, and Al-Sabra neighborhoods, resulting in a number of casualties, including women and children, who were also taken to Al-Awda Hospital, while simultaneously, Occupation Apache helicopters fired on civilian homes in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood.

The slaughter continued with the occupation bombing of a home in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood that resulted in the deaths of two young men who were quickly taken to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza City.

Another civilian was killed, and others wounded, when Zionist artillery shelling targeted the power station north of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 37'551 Palestinians killed, including upwards of 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 85'911 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 22nd, 2024.

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

367 notes · View notes

sun-snatcher · 3 months ago

Note

could you write "i know i'm a monster, but you treat me like a man." from your prompts with shay cormac/f! reader? I discovered your profile recently and been loving your writing🫶🏻

( all credits to @bankaizen for this delicious gifset! )

✠ | of monsters & men ; shay cormac

summ. Your secret is revealed. The Captain of the Morrigan doesn't seem to mind. w.count. 2k. a/n. f!reader , but reader is pretending to be a man , james kidd who? , slow-burn , mutual pining , friends-to-lovers , just reader & Shay being love-struck idiots . (I also understand that traditional sloop-of-war’s much like the Morrigan wouldn’t’ve had a crow’s nest due to her size, but for the sake of the fic, allow me to wave a magic wand over canon!)

ST. ANTHONY’S RECEIVES the Morrigan with loving arms.

With the ship lain to, and half the crew offboard, the Northern squalls billowing downwind into the dank, creaky port does little to stifle the riots of songs livening taverns and inns. All this, yet—

“Birdie!” calls a voice, floating high somewhere by where the topsails have been furled secure. “Haven’t frozen y’toes off there, have you, lad? Be a shame if I lost the finest Navigator the seas have yet to offer.”

Sitting slouched in the crow’s nest, you let out a snort. “Aye, lost ‘em all to scurvy just yesterday, I fear,” you lament, voice timbre. "Go away!"

Shay’s delighted laugh fills the air—

And you quickly tamp down that flutter you feel in your chest before it could get too treacherous.

“Also,” you note, once he hauls himself from the mainmast and lands with a perfect perch at the nest’s guardrails, “I’m the finest Navigator the seas will ever offer you, Captain, thank you very much.”

“Aye, that y’are. Dare I say the finest Mariner there is—”

“Oh-ho?”

“—right after me, ofcourse—”

“Little Irish bastard,” you scowl, failing miserably at hiding your grin, and swatting childishly at him when he scoots to settle into a comfortable seat next to you. “So. St. Anthony’s women not t’your fancy? What’re you doing all the way up here, Captain?”

“Funny that. Was going to ask y’the same thing after I saw y'run off. An’ Christ, call me Shay. I’m beginning to forget my name after all these months sailin’.”

“Well, I was drawing, Captain,” you deflect, easily. Better than confessing you don’t want to be stuck in a stuffy room brushing shoulders with rowdy drunkards, and feeling your own heart bleed out watching pretty ladies bat their lashes and sidle up freely next to Shay.

Your answer is hardly a lie, anyway. The only reason the crew had taken to calling you Birdie in the first place is because you bide your time up in the nest scratching away in your papers (or dozing off one too many times, as Gist so likes to point out). That, and the fact it proves easier with your slightly build to pull your weight in the lines or riggings up above.

“Rum?” he offers, and sets it by you. It feels alot like a peace offering, even if it's unintentional.

Shay’s gaze falls on your tattered, leatherbound journal. A curious trinket; he’s never seen you an arm’s length from it, nor the pencil you keep tucked on your ear. He’s seen you sketching away into its water-logged pages more oft than not, cheeks stained with graphite and a furrow between your brows. “S’that your woman, birdie?” he says, glimpsing the unfinished markings of a face. “Now I see why you're not tasting the local cuisine. She’s a beauty.”

You can't help but break into a knowing, private smile. “Aye… Something like that.”

"How mysterious."

"She's my sister," you lie, if only to chase him off your scent.

"Oh? Well, does she have a man?"

"Fuck off," you bite, though without heat. The chance compliment settles nicely in your cheeks. "She’ll only be a trouble t’you. She's not your type, anyway, Shay.“

"Isn't she?" he hums cannily, but doesn’t broach the topic further. He’d never dared to ask to look in the book— isn’t exactly his business, after all— but you shrug and trade it for his drink. “Y’sure, birdie? I don't pry.”

“Go on, then, 'fore I change my mind.” There isn’t anything damning written about you in there; You know better than to risk that.

“So?” you take a swig, just as Shay begins parsing hrough the pages. "What is it? Surely you didn't climb up here t'keep warm. Come t'bother me?"

“Is it a crime for a Captain to want to spend time alone with his good friend?” he muses, distracted by the drawings— nay, Masterpieces, these are masterpieces, birdie. Y’ve a future in this, y’know?— of intricate horizons, coasts, constellations and isles on the weathered pages.

Shay recognises them all: Asian archipelagos and spits of the lesser Antilles or the Caribbean reefs you’ve both voyaged to, dated and signed; alongside notes of headings and longitudes penciled under stipplings of navigational celestials like the North Star, the Dipper.

“If the Captain is you, Shay,” you answer, “Then any man with sense.”

“Oh, I mean the Morrigan, birdie,” he teases, only to earn a sharp smack at his knee.

“Ha-ha. I reckon all your good friends are women, aye?”

“So it seems,” he agrees absent-mindedly, and you wonder if the sideways glance at you had been your imagination.

Shay turns to the still-lifes. Breaching humpback whales and dolphin pods arcing over whitecaps; a bird’s-eye-perspective of the crew on a sunny day aboard the Morrigan, and countless, bustling ports across the world you’ve visited. There are portraits of the crew too: of deckhands, gunners, or of Gist, and even a stern profile of Haytham Kenway looking portside in the distance.

And in-between it all—

Him. Captain Shay Cormac. Immortalised in blink-and-you-miss-it moments: manning the steer while holding conversation, or perched at the bow afore the setting sun, or peering through his spyglass from the sail riggings. “I ought to commission’ you. These are bloody incredible.” He traces a finger over one of the more detailed portraits of him, looking serene despite the menacing scar splitting his face. “Y’ve done me a justice, lass.”

You choke on the rum.

“—Aye,” you cough, willfully ignoring his mistake. Or had you misheard? “Perhaps, ah, one day.”

(Regardless. He couldn’t possibly know, surely. You’ve been careful for this long.)

You clear your throat. Shake your head. “You haven’t properly answered my question, Captain.”

“Right,” he relents, and closed the journal before handing it back to you. “I was just curious—”

You steel yourself for the worst.

“—why’ve y’stuck around for so long?”

Oh. “You mean, aboard the Morrigan? With you?”

“Aye,” he nods, levelling your curious, critical look. “I’m sure y’ve heard rumors an’ chatter about me, birdie. Isn’t hard t’miss. Master Kenway, Gist, an’ I’s line’a work, that is. I’m here to confess it isn’t all hearsay, that what I do isn’t a pretty thing.”

“Didn’t fancy you the type t'care about what other people think, Shay.” No one needs to earwig that to know it’s true. It’s quite known that Captain Cormac is an unflappable creature who’s earned his place in the world both on and off-land, to toe the thin line between confidence and arrogance wherever he goes. Though you suppose he’s just a man, at the end of the day, if he’s this consumed over a little mud-slinging to his reputation.

“I don’t,” he agrees, truthfully. “But I do care what you think.”

Something soft curls in your heart. Damn you, Shay Cormac, you curse. You handsome, quick-witted—

“I know it isn’t pretty. And fortunately for you, I’m no priest, and we’re not in a confessional, so,” you sniff. “Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

He huffs out a polite laugh. “Well said.”

“Listen,” you sigh, more serious now. “Other men may have come and gone with the tide, but I’ve voyaged with you the longest because I wanted t'stay, Captain.”

“Exactly. You’ve seen what I can do. I know I’m a monster, birdie, but y’treat me like a man, an’ noble men don’t— do what I do.”

Ah. So there’s the root to all of this banter, then. A crisis in faith, somewhere. “Shay,” you narrow. “I’ve never met someone who’s a stout heart as you; Kept every word like bond, and never traded honour for prestige. Now, most monsters are men, and it’s all the same to the likes of me—”

(To the likes of me, Shay catches the slip.)

“—but I think you need to ask yourself: do you kill without cause?”

“No,” he says, affronted. “I fight for the people.”

“Then you’re twice the noblest man any could ever dream to be.”

A beat.

Shay drops his head back to the mast with a glittering look in his eyes you can only describe as fond. (Perhaps, if you dared to indulge, affectionate—) “You’re a bloody gem, birdie, y’know that?”

The cuff of his sleeves brush against your pinky, and you can feel the toe of his boot against your own. You try not to focus on either of it, try not to focus on the proximity. “Aye, most women call me a diamond in the rough.”

He doesn’t laugh and take the bait this time, much to your surprise. “My Da once told me, birdie: It’s not enough to give people what they need to survive, you need to give them what they need to live.”

“Aye,” you nod, after a subdued moment. “I’ve stayed because you’ve given me that, Shay: purpose. Sailing the seas on the Morrigan is the freest I’ve ever been.”

“Y’ought to sail with your true self, birdie.”

You seize. Feel your blood run ice cold. “My… truest self is by your side.”

“Is it?”

“Isn’t it?” you bristle, and you are cutting now, Shay can see, because you’re frightened. “Captain, how much have you had to drink—?”

“I’d make a poor Irishman if half a bottle’a rum is all it takes to end me. Now take it easy, lass—”

You scowl, and move to sit up. “I’m not a—”

“It isn’t a fret to me at all, birdie,” he says, firmly, the back of his hand nudging your shoulders to lean back. “At ease. I’ve known you’re a woman for ages, now.”

This time you can’t school the look on your face.

“How long’ve you known?” you swallow, after you gathered your wits.

Shay cocks his head in thought. The confirmation now only pieces together what he’d always had a sneaking suspicion of, sensed even beyond his own second sight. Your gear, your mild stature, your peculiar mannerisms; nimble-handed at the riggings, fleet-footed in every brawl. But, if he’s to put a time on it—

“Singapore. When y’knocked that Portuguese sap’s teeth right out his head an’ put the heart crossways in him after he fretted the poor barmaid. Looked right personal t’you. I gathered then.”

A pause. Careful calculation. You’re trying to piece your reality back now that it's been shattered: the moonlit hush, the whistle of the winds, the lap of the tide against the Morrigan. Finally:

“Pretty sure he was Peranakan,” you correct, uselessly. Your hackles aren’t raised anymore. Shay would’ve acknowledged the look of defeat in your eyes had he not been so captivated by hearing your voice— real voice— for the first time.

(It’s gentle. Beautiful. If he’d been any more loose-lipped he might’ve pleaded you sing for him.)

“Captain, Singapore was… a long time ago.” It’s a loaded sentence, and had he not known you well enough he might’ve missed it: Why didn't you say anything?

“Aye. Like y’said earlier,” he waves, dismissively, “Doesn’t change a damn thing. Only, what’s your real name, lass?”

You tell him. It’s been unspoken for so long, that for a moment it sounds near foreign to your own ears when he rolls the syllables back to you in his accented tongue. “Lovely name. I’m guessin’ the woman in your journal is you, aye?”

“To be a dame in a boatful of men is a death sentence, Shay,” you laugh, distant. It isn’t pleasant. “Ill omen to have a woman onboard, you know? Or so they say.”

He knows what you really mean.

“An’ yet here we are, after all these years, alive an’ well,” he challenges, raising his and your shared rum to the pale moon. “Besides, y’know I make my own luck, lass. So don’t think of leavin’ the Morrigan now, aye? Would be a right shame if I lost a sailor fierce as you.”

Another stumble in your heart. You bite your tongue. Shay’s trying to get a laugh out of you, you realise. To lift your spirit.

“Your secret’s safe with me, birdie. The Morrigan doesn’t discriminate, an’ you’ve earned your place on this ship a long time ago. Tell y’what, if anyone lays a hand on my finest Navigator, y’have my word to unman them yourself.”

That does it. Now you do laugh. Bell-like. Bright and sunny and warm—

And it knocks the wind right out of his lungs.

Aye, you'll be trouble indeed, birdie.

134 notes · View notes

hellothereobiwankenobi · 12 days ago

Text

retribution | chapter two

⟢ summary: The group arrives at Jackson, but everything isn't what it seems.

⟢ tags: DDDNE, jackson! joel, graphic descriptions of violence/torture, death/murder depicted, noncanon complaint, angst, found family dynamic, mention of sexual assault/rape, mention of slavery, religious guilt, purity culture, no beta reader we die like men

⟢ pairing: joel miller x afab!reader (femme with hair long enough to put into a ponytail but no other descriptions)

⟢ wc: 5.6 K

⟢ authors notes: Thank you everyone who has been so supportive of this story. It is being received much better than I ever expected! I sincerely hope you all enjoy this update.

With each chapter, please read the tags/warnings. I would classify many of the topics explored later in this story to fall under DDNE. Some may be very triggering to certain individuals. I'm looking forward to exploring darker themes in this story, but I don't want anything I write to do unintentional harm. If you have any questions, please comment or inbox me!

⋆ previous │ navigation ⋆

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

You twist your soaking shirt between both hands, ringing out the excess water. Kneel on the riverbank, completely bare to nature, you scrub away the caked-on dirt and blood from the threadbare clothing. If you must go to the settlement, you want to look as presentable as possible.

Lying your clothes across a flat rock to help them dry a few feet from the water's edge, you watch Santiago and Safiya scrub their bodies with a bar of beef tallow soap. You wonder what someone would think if they were to stumble upon your little band of misfits at this moment. Oil paintings of water nymphs from Greek mythology, fully exposed in reflective bodies of water, come to mind.

Years ago, this amount of nudity would have shocked you. Your body was a sacred gift and exposing it freely was to make a mockery of its bounty. Damnation awaited those foolish enough to take advantage of their mortal flesh. At the time, you believed every word. It was all you knew.

You stand to your feet, clutching your own soap bar. They were given as payment for slaying the raiders devastating the small communities of Northern Arizona. While traveling to the Grand Canyon, you witnessed the raider crew's brutality. They declared everything east of the Navajo Nation and north of Flagstaff as their domain. They believed they could rob, rape, and enslave anyone taking up residents on 'their land'. After correcting the raiders' false assumptions, your group initially tried to refuse the locals' gifts. You tried to explain knowing men and women like that no longer breathed the same air as you was rewarding enough. But they had replenished your supplies despite your protests. Your group was given dried meats and fruits, clean bandages, the tallow bars, and four sets of new boots.

Adriana's giddy laughter rips you from your thoughts. She runs past you, splashing into the rushing river water.

"COLD!" She shouts, immediately regretting her hast.

You chuckle as she turns to flee the chilly rapids. "Just give yourself some time to adjust."

The teenager reluctantly steps further into the water until her waist is submerged and wraps her arms around her bare chest for warmth. Even while standing on the riverbank, you can hear her teeth chattering. "I-It's s-summer… Why i-is the water f-freezing?"

"It's snow melt." You toss her your soap bar, forcing her to release her arms from her chest to catch it. "As the weather warms, the snow on the mountains melts. Gravity brings the water down and it flows into the surrounding rivers and lakes."

It's your turn to brave the icy chill, stepping one foot into the river and clenching your teeth. She wasn't exaggerating; the water is frigid, and goosebumps manifest everywhere the water meets skin. You force yourself to keep moving forward until you're beside your young friend. "Do you want me to wash your hair?"

Adriana hands the bar of soap back to you. Pinching her nose, she dunks her head into the river. After a few moments, she shoots out of the water with a loud gasp of air, chilly water droplets splashing onto your naked front.

Rubbing the soap against your palm, you gather the suds and massage them into her curls. You lather each tight coil before detangling with your fingers. This was much easier when she was still a kid and about a foot and a half shorter than you. Now, she has several inches on you and more hair than you thought possible.

Adriana leans her head into your touch as your fingertips massage her scalp. A relieved sigh escapes through her nose. "What’d you think they’re like?"

"I don't know." You tell her the truth. You have met so many different people while traveling. They could be similar to the kind, defenseless townspeople in need of protection in Arizona. Or they could be like the raiders that plagued the area for years. They could be a combination of both.

"Finally found something you don't know, professor." Adriana teases. An unmistakable sound of teasing pride fills her tone.

You roll your eyes as you continue to rake your fingers through her hair.

Adriana suddenly becomes uncharacteristically quiet. Her voice is just above a whisper, "As long as it isn't like the Ark."

Your fingers freeze in place at the mention of your first home after the outbreak. Just the thought of that life still makes the blood in your veins run hot. Visions of the night the two of you ran away are forever burned into your memory. That night started the adventure you two have been on together for the past decade.

"We never have to go back there." You remove your hands from Adriana's hair and wrap both arms around her shoulders, pulling her toward you until your chest is pressed to her back.

I made sure of it; that was the part you never spoke aloud.

The sentiment calms Adriana, her body relaxing into your embrace. She brings her hands up to hold on to your forearm. The two of you stay close like this, comforted by one another's touch, until you're both ready to pull away.

Once the group is scrubbed clean and your clothes finish drying in the sun, the four of you return to the riverbank. You pull on your clothes, the same pair of brown cargo pants and fitted black t-shirt from last night, and crouch down to tie your black leather boots. Being on the road for so long has taught you that packing light is essential. An extra outfit or spare pair of boots would only weigh you down.

Safiya pulls on a tattered green and brown camo U.S. Army jacket adorned with a staff sergeant insignia on the left arm. It had belonged to her mother during the early 2000s, and was now the only thing she had left of her. Adriana pulls her hair into two puffs atop her head after dressing, as you tie your own back into a single ponytail.

Santiago tightens the strap of his tactical backpack, clipping the plastic buckle of the chest strap into place. He checks his semi-automatic shotgun for ammo before snapping the bolt back and loading a round into the chamber. Safiya slots a bowie knife into the holder fastened around her left upper arm. Holstering a 9mm pistol to her right hip, she brings the strap of her M16 over her head, letting the assault rifle rest against her chest. Adriana counts the bolts on her recurve crossbow before slinging it over her shoulder. You secure the bronze buckle of the thick brown leather strap that holds your double-sided axe around your waist. You carry a sidearm, a 45 caliber pistol with an extended magazine in a holster that encircles your right thigh. Finally, you pull on your pack. It primarily contains extra ammo, food rations, and a few personal effects you justify to be worth the extra weight: a well-worn leather-bound journal, your current read, and a few pieces of jewelry you may or may not have looted from abandoned museums.

Hiking to the settlement at the bottom of the valley takes about two hours and is mostly downhill. You eventually find a well-defined path trailing from the town into the forest. It looks to be used regularly by those in the area to explore the surrounding territory. The group stops to take one final look before exiting the dense woods.

Santiago holds a pair of black binoculars to his eyes, scanning the settlement for any activity.

"See anything good?" Safiya asks, standing beside him.

Santiago hands her the binoculars, and she gazes through the viewfinders.

"Shit." She murmurs, "The place is crawling with guards. Maybe six or seven just patrolling the north wall."

She hands the binoculars back, and Santiago tucks them into his pack.

The group continues onward, and every step closer puts you on edge. The mouth of the valley is filled with a great emptiness. The area around the settlement is completely deforested. If something went wrong, there was nowhere to run. Your imagination plays every worst-case scenario like a movie in your head. Right now, you were sheep walking directly into a lion's den.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears overcomes your senses as you approach the settlement's tall wooden gate. You're about fifty feet from the entrance when a man's voice rings out across the valley.

"Stop!" he orders from a vantage point atop the wall, "Put your hands up!"

The four of you do as instructed, holding your hands level to your head. Hoping to give a show of good faith, demonstrating you're not a threat, you shout back, "We're travelers! We were hoping to trade with your settlement!"

A long silence hangs over you as the man processes your request. From this distance, you can make out his features: mid to late forties, white, balding, and holding what looks like a bolt-action hunting rifle. A younger female joins the man, long blonde hair hanging loose around her face. They whisper back and forth, but it's too far to decipher what they are saying. The man is mid-sentence with the blonde woman when something behind him pulls his attention away. He turns to look behind him, as if someone below him is speaking.

He returns his scrutiny to you: "Do not move!"

He and his female companion disappear behind the wall. There is no tell as to whether this is a good or bad thing. It is silent as you wait for their next move.

A moment later, the gate's hinges creak as they open just enough to allow a group of five men and two women outside before quickly shutting behind them. The blonde from before holds the leash of a German Shepherd, its sharp teeth bared.

You swallow hard as the group approaches, hands still raised. From the corner of your eye, you inspect the expressions of your friends. Safiya's stance is rigid, her shoulders pulled back as she tries to suppress a sneer. Santiago's posture is more relaxed, but his eyes don't leave the group slowly approaching you. Adriana is trying her best to stay calm, but her collected demeanor is betrayed by her chest's rapid rise and fall. She is the most optimistic about the settlement, but she knows this could go bad in an instant.

The settlers stop, leaving a wide gap separating the two groups. The blonde woman holding the leash calls, "Are any of you bitten?"

You shake your head, "No, we're all clean."

"He's gonna make sure of that," she states as a matter of fact, "Don't move or he will rip you apart."

The bald man from the wall stands before the other six, plainly displaying himself as the leader. He gives a sharp nod, and the dog is released from its leash. The German Shepherd bolts across the gap separating the two groups and heads directly toward you. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as your hand itches to grab your pistol, but you push down the adrenaline-fueled fight-or-flight response.

The dog circles your legs and sniffs up and down your body before moving onto Safiya. He repeats the same actions for your other two group members. He mustn't smell anything because no one is, how the handler put it, 'ripped apart'.

The bald man is satisfied with the dog's findings and whistles again, signaling to the canine his job is finished. The dog snaps his attention to the group and races back to his handler.

"You'll need to hand over your weapons if you want to come in." The leader calls out, seeming more at ease after knowing no one is infected.

You drop your hands down to your sides, agreeing to the demands—he motions for your group to start walking toward the gate. The settlers wait for your group to pass them, then follow behind. More settlers wait just outside the wall's entrance. You assume they must be guards as they are all well armed. Slowly, take off your backpack and rest on the ground. Adriana, Santiago, and Safiya follow your lead and begin to remove their own. Unholstering your pistol, you place it in the outstretched palm of a young man who you’d guess is no older than late teens. You pull a wooden handle switchblade from your waistband, unbuckling the leather strap hanging low around your waist.

As the young man reaches for it, you scan the faces of each guard. The group is more eclectic than you initially expected, with a wide range of age groups and races. Your gaze halts on an older man whose focus is solely on you. Or rather, the double-headed axe you just removed from your person. His deep brown stare jerks up from the weapon to meet your eyes.

He looks to be in his late fifties, aged from a life of cruel survival. Silver hair accents the corners of his jawline and streaks throughout his mustache and hair. A few scars mark his skin, the most prominent on his right temple. The intensity of his eyes makes you feel like he can see directly into your very being, observing every hidden secret you have kept buried over the years.

With much effort, you break away from his gaze and see that each group member is stripped of all things sharp, pointy, or deadly. A brunette guardswoman steps forward and informs you she needs to perform a thorough pat-down before they open the gate.

She searches your friends with relative ease until it's your turn. Moving to stand behind you, she is blocked by the graying man who was watching you so intently.

He grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you forward. You reach your hands forward to prevent yourself from colliding with the wooden perimeter wall. You feel his broad palms gliding across your body. His calloused fingers trace across the exposed skin of your arms, along the underside of your breasts, down your sides, across the flat plains of your back, and the curve of your inner thighs. His touch is forceful, jostling you around as his hands explore every possible hiding place. The search feels far more intense than the ones your friends received. You weren't concealing any weapons, but this man seemed determined to find something anyway.

"Alright, Joel." An accented voice interrupts nervously, "I think she's good."

The man's hands cease their investigation and leave your body. The gate opens, and the group ushers you inside. Walking into the settlement, you straighten your clothes, glaring over your shoulder at the older man.

"Pervert." You spit, just loud enough for him to hear, before rejoining your friends.

Safiya hands you your pack. It had been searched while the graying man, Joel, had been all but assaulting you outside the walls.

Adriana can see your frustration as you aggressively pull your arms through the straps of your pack. Trying to lighten the mood, she says, "That wasn't too bad."

"You weren't the one who got felt up by some geriatric creep." You mumble under your breath.

Before she can respond, a woman comes to speak with your group.

"Sorry about all that." Her skin has a rich darkness like Adriana’s. She’s dressed in soft linens, perfect for the summer heat, and her long twists of hair are pushed to one side of her head. "We only want to ensure we aren't letting danger in our front door."

"This is Jackson." She continues. She holds herself with a well-practiced sense of confidence that you admire. "My name is Maria. I’m a member of the governing council. One of the guards mentioned you were interested in trading with us?"

"Thank you for welcoming us in." Adriana steps forward, admiring the woman before her, an excited smile painted across her face. Maria holds a polite smile as Adriana introduces each member of the group.

"Why don't I walk you four to our market?" Maria motions to follow her into town.

The deeper you get into Jackson, the more impressive it is. Maria explains they are fully self-sustainable. They have seasonal crops growing outside the walls, a fruit tree orchard, running water, electricity, and a democratically elected government. Your friends try to soak in every detail of settlement with wide eyes. You had heard that the only places like this were the quarantine zones run by what was left of the previous government. You had never been inside one, but you've heard a myriad. Even the good ones hold their own set of horrors.

The streets are decorated with hanging planters, string lights, colorful banners, and the flags of nations that no longer exist. Children play in the streets, teenagers laugh among groups of friends, and old women sit outside the general store exchanging the latest small-town gossip. It all makes this place feel permanent, established. Everyone who calls this town home feels comfortable setting down roots. That is a luxury you didn't know still existed in this world.

An open lot lined with several vendor stalls between two buildings on the main street. They all prominently display different items and goods for sale: fresh fruit, handcrafted candles, fragrant bars of soap, dried herbs, knitted hats and gloves in assorted colors, cut wild flowers, and golden loaves of fresh baked bread.

"We don't use currency here." Maria turns to face the group. "You work for everything you take," Maria explains.

Work? That means staying. That is the last thing you want.

"We're only interested in trading." You speak up for the first time since entering the gate. "We have rare items we've collected from our travels."

"Unless you have medicine or a few bottles of cabernet packed away, there isn't anything we need." Maria states, "You can restock your supplies, but you will need to work to pay it off."

"We can do that." Adriana purks up "We can work. Santi is a great cook. Safiya is the best shot around. I'm a good hunter with my crossbow." Lastly, she looks at you. "And she knows pretty much everything about… well, everything."

You shake your head, "That wasn't our agreement. We have to keep moving."

"Come on, professor. Staying a couple days won't kill us." Safiya interjects without looking at you. Her attention locked on a basket stacked high with glazed pastries dotted with some kind of berries.

"If you four are interested in staying a while, we can certainly discuss possible job placements." Maria says, "And we will get you placed in one of the empty houses."

You want to say no. This wasn't the plan. There are still so many things you want to experience in this abandoned world. Playing house in a strange town isn’t one of them. It would be best to leave now and keep moving.

But, this isn’t just about you.

"Fine." You take a deep breath, swallowing the burning sensation in your throat, screaming at yourself for not running. "But only until we pay off our debt. That's it."

· · · ────────── ⋆ ────────── · · ·

Tommy and Joel sit high in their saddles as their horses trot toward Jackson's main gate. They aren't on today's patrol schedule, but they both decided to return to the site of yesterday's grizzly discovery.

Tommy leans down to give Maria one final goodbye kiss.

"Be careful out there." She wishes her husband. She knows he's one of the most capable in Jackson when dealing with infected, but any trip outside the walls can prove dangerous.

He gives her a charismatic smirk and a quick wink. "You know you ain't gotta worry about me, baby."

As the brothers wait for the gate to open, one of the guards levels his rifle at the possible threat outside the wall.

"Stop! Put your hands up!" Brian, an aging, bald guard standing atop the wall, shouts at whoever is outside. A much younger blonde woman, Hannah, rushes over to join him.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Tommy shouts up at Brian. He and Hannah turn to look down at him from their vantage point.

"It's a group of kids. Say they wanna trade with us." He states.

"Kids?" Tommy runs his hand down his jaw, and his eyebrows furrowed close together. He takes a moment to think, "Alright, let's check it out."

Brian and Hannah descend the stairs connecting the wall to ground level. A group of wall guards have come to cluster around Joel and Tommy at the foot of the stairs. The younger of the two gives the order to open the gate, and the group exits.

Joel can see the travelers standing with their hands up as they approach. They do look like kids, but he knows not to underestimate anyone due to their appearance. He takes a mental catalog of each group member and any firearms, knives, and projectile weapons they carry: one young man and three young women.

You stand in front of the other three group members. If he had to guess, Joel would say you were the leader, not just because of your position in relation to your friends, but also because you look to be the oldest of the young gang.

Brian whistles, signaling Hannah to release the sniffer dog trained to identify anyone bitten. The dog races over to the group and inspects each individual. When Brian is satisfied, he whistles again, and the dog returns.

"You'll need to hand over your weapons if you want to come in." The group is still alert, but noticeably more relaxed, knowing no one is infected.

Your group drops their hands and begins walking toward the gate. As the travelers pass by, Joel still searches them with his eyes. He catches signs of something he wasn't expecting hanging from your hip. A double-headed axe, the metal engraved with a braided design that makes it look like it would be more at home in a museum rather than being carried around for protection.

He looks at the long curve of each side and how the sharpened edges reflect the light. He has a feeling it isn't intended for chopping firewood. Joel thinks back to the three men he and Tommy had found on patrol, specifically the man posed to hold his own head in his hands. He didn't get a great look, but he could see it resulted from a swift and clean cut.

When the two groups reach the gate, the travelers remove their belongings and weapons. Beatriz, one of the guards on duty, pats down each member as another guard rummages through their packs. She gently smooths her hands over their arms and legs and down their backs.

Joel steps forward, blocking Beatriz before she can reach you. He grabs your shoulders and tries to shove you against the wall, but your arms instinctively reach out and make contact with the wood. He runs his hands over all of your body. If his suspicions are correct, you're far more dangerous than you look.

Deep down, he knows you aren't the type of person with no backup plan. Despite the aggressive way he works over your body, he doesn't feel anything. He presses his fingers under your breast, down your stomach, into your pants pockets, and in between your thighs. Nothing is hiding under the fabric, just supple, warm skin.

"Alright, Joel. I think she's good." Tommy speaks up, looking a bit embarrassed for his brother's sake.

Joel removes his hands from you and meets his brother's eyes. When he looks back at you, your expression is twisted into something sour.

"Pervert." You breathe, the scar dividing your face pulls taut.

Pervert? Pervert! You have a lot of fucking of nerve. Joel opens his mouth to speak, but you rush through the open gate to rejoin your friends.

Knowing the ones responsible for the managed bodies yesterday are now walking through his home puts Joel on high alert. He wants to stay and keep an eye on you, but Tommy insists on leaving Jackson to investigate. As the brothers climb back into their saddles, Joel's eyes never leave you.

It takes several hours to arrive at the sight of the three deceased men. The corpses remain in the same positions as yesterday, but it's clear animals have started to eat away at the bodies. Bite marks from the scavengers leave small gashes in their discolored flesh. The smell of rot and bloat hangs heavy in the blazing summer air.

Tommy retrieves a bandana from his saddlebag and ties it behind his head, protecting his nose from the foul stench. Joel leans in close to examine the decapitated man. It's exactly how he remembered. The skin where head was separated from body is cut cleanly across.

"Give me a boost." Tommy points up to the branch supporting the two other men. He wants to cut them down. Joel ignores the popping in his knees as he squats down low under the branch. Lacing his fingers, Tommy steps one foot into his hands and grabs the low branch for support. He seizes a knife from his belt and saws at the first rope until the final fibers snap, corpse falling to the forest floor.

They repeat the same process with the second hanging man. Tommy steps out of Joel's grasp, and his boots meet the ground.

"These dumb bastards got on the wrong side of somebody." Tommy slides the knife back into the sheath on his belt "Maybe a warnin'?"

From this angle, they can see the extent of the men's wounds much better. The man with "RAIDER" cut into his forehead looks worse off than his friends. The nail beds of both hands are bloody and raw, like his fingernails had been ripped from the skin while he was still alive. Under the bloat and decay lay dark purple bruises and deep lacerations. His right eye is nothing more than a black void, the edges of the socket scorched and burned.

Since the outbreak, Joel has taken more lives than he can count in order to survive. He also wasn’t a stranger to bring pain to others for information, but he never found pleasure in it. Everything he had done was the means to an end. What you did to these men wasn't out of self-preservation. It was done with a sadistic desire to see their suffering.

"Definitely was personal." Joel's eyebrows pinch together.

They decided, while still in Jackson, that the best way to dispose of the bodies was to bury them in a shallow grave. It's the dry season in Wyoming, and a fire could rapidly get out of control. The pair retrieve two long handle shovels they had attached to their saddles. It takes until sunset to complete the burials.

· · · ────────── ⋆ ────────── · · ·

When your packs are full from the market, Maria brings your group to an empty house several streets deep into the neighborhoods of Jackson: a two-story, three-bedroom home with a large porch. Maria ascends the porch stairs and pushes the door open. Adriana bounces with delight, entering after her. The other two follow, but you stand outside, feet planted on the wooden porch. Every act of kindness shown here causes anxiety to weigh low in your stomach like a stone.

You pass through the threshold and take in your surroundings. The living room is a cozy, lived-in feeling despite sitting empty for over twenty years. A fireplace already burning lines the interior door wall opposite the door. A long brown leather couch and matching loveseat mark the perimeter of a red and gold Turkish rug, and a glass coffee table sits in the middle. You gravitate towards a light wood bookshelf, tall enough to reach the ceiling, its long rows of shelves stuffed with miscellaneous titles pull your attention. Your fingers run across the spines of each novel, some of which you recognize, but most of which are unknown.

"We don't keep the kitchens stocked as people prefer to eat at the dining hall." You whip your head around to look at Maria, her voice pulling you from your thoughts. "The house is only three bedrooms, but there is running water and electricity."

"That's okay," Adriana links her arm with yours, "we can share."

When you two had first left the Ark, you'd slept next to each other every night under the stars. Being alone in the open wilderness felt daunting after spending so long on the same few acres. As she grew older, Adriana's need for personal space also grew. It was nothing outside of the normal pubescent need to be alone, but the arduous task of adjusting to the new normal had taken an unspoken toll on you.

"I'll let you all get settled in. Dinner is served until 8 pm," Maria checks her watch, "so you have an hour or so to get something."

With that, she leaves. The room is quiet as she shuts the front door. A clock resting upon the mantelpiece above the fire ticks with the passing of time. It's now only your small group in your temporary lodging.

"I'll just say it." Safiya breaks the silence "This place is pretty fucking great."

You pull your arm from Adriana's grasp. "We barely know anything about these people. Don't let your guard down."

Safiya opens her mouth to comment about your 'unbearable paranoia', but Santiago taps his wrist and rubs his stomach. You're all suddenly aware of how empty your own are.

"Yeah, me too." Safiya replies, "We should head down to the dining hall. See what else they've got to offer."

"I'll meet you guys there." You tell the group, "I need a minute to myself."

You watch the three leave, and walk down the neighborhood street the same way you came.

You don't allow the kindness you've been shown after walking in the gates of town to lull you into a false sense of security. Racking your brain, you can't decipher why anyone would give all this to strangers. Either this town is filled with trusting fools who have survived this long by the grace of God alone, or there is more to the story they aren't telling you.

Walking the perimeter of the first floor, you tug hard on the windows and doors. The clocks on each appear to be working, keeping you from pulling them open from the outside. You throw back the blankets of each bed, verifying no boogie men are hiding under them. The closets and wardrobes are empty, and pulling back the shower curtains reveals only earth tone tile walls.

It's dark outside when you finally make your way to the dining hall. You navigate the streets to the best of your knowledge.

Stepping onto Jackson's main street, a shuttering shock of ice travels down your spine. The frozen chill is replaced by two burning pinpoints searing your back. Like prey about to be torn apart by sharp claws and shining teeth, your mind screams at you to RUN. You whip around and instinctively grab for the axe that resides on your hip, but your fingertips only find the smooth leather of its holster.

With no way to defend yourself, the adrenaline coursing through your veins incites your feet to race to the assumed refuge of Jackson's dining hall. Pushing the double doors open, try to compose your ragged breath and wide eyes before yourself before joining your friends. You sit in the chair next to Safiya as the three devour fragrant plates of seared venison and roasted vegetables. A stack of licked clean, mismatched ceramic dishware is stacked high in the middle of the table.

"Everything okay?" Adriana's worries pull her away from the meal before her.

You've never been very good at repressing the physical manifestations of your true feelings. This fault had gotten you in trouble more times than you could count in your younger years. And after spending every day of the past ten years together, Adriana could read you like a book.

"Yeah," You try to think of an excuse for your flustered presentation. "I got lost."

"You're not gonna eat?" Safiya asks through loud chews of game meat.

Shaking your head, crossing your arms over your chest, "The more we take, the longer we have to stay."

"Come on, don't be like that. A little vacation here could be good." She impales a roasted carrot on her fork and brings it to your mouth. "The food sure as hell is. Million times better than Santi's rabbit stew."

Her words hit Santiago like a harpoon to the chest. The corners of his mouth turn downward, eyes glassy like a puppy who's just been scolded for chewing on their owner's shoes.

Adriana rests a reassuring hand on his upper arm "Don't listen to her, Santiago. I like your rabbit stew."

You push away Safiya's hand with a roll of your eyes.

The dining hall is nearly empty by the time they're done eating, sated hunger clear on their faces. Adriana leans back in her chair, eyes half closed as she rubs her stomach, "I don't think I've ever been this full in my life."

Santiago is the first to stand from the table, grabbing the stack of plates and silverware. You stand to help him, taking half the load and walking to an open window off the kitchen, a large sign reading "DIRTY" hanging above. You both deposit the overwhelming amount of dinnerware in a gray plastic tub. As Santiago turns to meet the other two at the doors, you sneak a quick glance over both shoulders. After confirming no one is looking, you grab a discarded steak knife from the bin and slip it under the front of your belt, obscuring the handle with your cotton t-shirt.

Rush to your friends, and walk back to your temporary housing. A full stomach has put them all in a much better mood than usual, and you almost forget you're in unknown territory, surrounded by strangers you know nothing about. That is, until you feel the same predatory gaze as before.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

⟢ tag list: @elz-zalarrr

⟢ authors notes: For a little personal update, I'm three weeks away from finishing my first year of dental hygiene school. This has always been my dream job, and I can't believe I'm finally getting so close to achieving my goal.

I again want to thank everyone who has engaged with chapter one. That being said, updates to my stories will be pretty sporadic for a while. I'm hoping to have a much more regular update scheduled during summer break, but until then I can't guarantee when updates will come.

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #tommy miller #ppcu #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fics #maria miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #maries library

63 notes · View notes

in1-nutshell · 4 months ago

Note

And this is sort of where it turns into X-men ‘97 fanfiction. What if Swerves is playing Magnetos trail. What if this is the most tense and uncomfortable fearless has ever been seen. The general conclusion is that they were probably caught in the crossfires of one of Magnetos' attacks. But let's take this idea a step further. Shenanigans happen, maybe you’re local x-men villain starts to fuck with the lost light, maybe the crew is on earth during local less then natural disaster, either way LOOK WHOS WORKING TOGETHER NOW! With Magneto now leading the X-men, things are gonna get interesting. Fearless is immediately hostile to Magneto. Which is fucking crazy to everyone, because even when Fearless and Megs were on less then friendly terms, their pranks were just that, pranks. AND NO ONE KNOWS WHY. its not like they dont like mutants, not only do they work on a spaceship full of aliens, they’re plenty friendly to the rest of the team. Magneto is confused because they are close with megs but it's him they have a problem with? Is it personal? He starts trying to make a mental timeline to see who he's screwed over before in the past and try to figure it out. The lost lights confused, and as far as they are concerned, secrets are for losers. There is now the giant robot equivalent to a cork board with 10 different theories and evidence. The X-Men are just enjoying their newest form of entertainment.

Y E S ! ! !

You have no idea how long I have been waiting to write for this new AU!? Thank you so much for the ideas!!!

Hope you enjoy!

AU: Magneto is Fearless's Dad

SFW, Platonic, Mention of injuries' and weapons, Mentions of X Men 97, Angst, Familial, Human reader

MTMTE/X MEN 97

Fearless didn’t think much was going to happen today.

It was a slow day after all.

Maybe Rodimus would get bored and try something to liven up the place.

They weren’t expecting Swerve to put on the Magneto trial in the bar.

Their eyes widen seeing the man on screen.

It had been many years since they had seen that man.

Apparently, space wasn’t far enough for them to go to escae this man.

Fearless looked down at the juice box in their hand.

They raise an eyebrow at the minibot.

Fearless: “Really Swerve? What happened to the other juices?”

Swerve: “Don’t blame me. That’s what was in the crate, besides don’t you like juice boxes?”

Fearless: “… Touche.”

The strike of the gavel reminds them of what was going on the screen.

Suddenly the juice box labels looks very interesting.

Whirl sits by them.

He notices them staring at the box.

Whirl: “Hey Fearless did your drink commit war crimes? Cause your looking at it like it did some war crimes.”

Fearless: “I’m fine Whirl.”

The voice…

He started talking.

It had been a long time since they heard him.

Not since…

SQUISH!

Fearless clenches the juice box too hard, spraying it everywhere, dripping on them and on the table.

Blood rushes to their ears from embarrassment and of something else they couldn’t pin point.

Whirl: “Umm… Aren’t you supposed to drink that?”

Fearless wordlessly gets up from their seat, cleans up most of the juice with some napkins before speed walking out of the bar.

Swerve and Whirl look at Fearless’s direction confused.

Swerve: “You know what that was about?”

Whirl: “Not a clue.”

Fearless sudden behavior caught the attention of many bots on the ship.

Even those who weren’t in the bar.

Fearless dodges questions left and right.

Theories are made by some of the bots who were in the bar when they first saw Fearless acting weird.

There is a general conclusion made by most bots that, while on Earth, Fearless came across Magneto at some point.

Clearly it hadn’t been a good interaction.

A couple days later Fearless is called to go back to Earth alone.

No further instructions, no nothing about Megatron or the bots.

Just to come to Earth, alone.

On hearing the ominous message, it was agreed that some bots would accompany Fearless back to Earth.

Fearless had an uneasy feeling about this trip back to Earth.

It was clear on their face as they glared at the windows with their arms crossed.

Not even Whirl or Swerve’s jokes seemed to crack the tension in their tiny body.

Fearless is called to go to the human’s only sector.

They promise to scream for help if someone tried anything.

This was supposed to be meant as a joke.

The second they enter the building; someone immediately tries to get the jump on them.

Now Fearless knows how to fight, they lived on the Lost Light for crying out loud!

But it had been a while since they had to fight someone their size without a suit and when more people coming in.

Fearless is pinned down on the floor.

On of the people in dark ski masks has a knee digging deep into their back.

The air had momentarily knocked out of their lungs leaving them dizzy and breathless.

CLICK!

Fearless was now staring at the barrel of a gun.

Ski mask 1: “Hope you enjoyed your few seconds here on Earth, alien sympathizer.”

Fearless struggles more but their face keeps being pushed to the floor.

All they need is one scream…

BAMF!

The weight was suddenly tossed off their back, letting them finally breathe.

They gasped for air as someone grabbed them and tossed them over their shoulder.

Fearless: “Hey! Let go!”

Logan gets elbowed in the face.

Logan: “Gah! Will you quit that! We’re trying to save you little—”

BAMF!

Kurt grabs them both.

Fearless: “WHAT THE—”

BAMF!

Fearless, Logan and Kurt are now outside the building.

Fearless looks around seeing some other X men talking with the bots.

Megatron looks over at a very disheveled and injured Fearless.

Megatron: “Fearless!”

The bots look over at Fearless.

Fearless is just looking around very confused.

Fearless: “…what the—"

After the bots check that Fearless was relatively okay, it was time for introductions.

Most of the X men had already introduced themselves to the bots while Logan and Kurt had gone inside to get Fearless.

The group had gotten a tip that someone wanted to ‘unalive’ the human liaison for Earth and Cybertron relations.

Neither team has the slightest clue who would want them gone.

But if Fearless was unalived and the bots didn’t know, it could have caused a rift in Earth and Cybertronian alliances, especially with Fearless being a part of the crew and part of a family unit.

Did anyone ask for a team up?

That’s when Magento makes a dramatic entrance.

Fearless immediately goes stiff and straightens their back.

Magneto: “Greetings. I am—"

Fearless: “Magneto.”

Magneto looks over at the human standing in front of the bots with their arms crossed.

Magneto: “I take that you’ve heard of my reputation?”

Fearless: “Kinda hard not to hear about a mass murder of both human and mutant kind.”

Magneto: “Hm, and here I thought we were going to have civil conversations as equals. Human to Mutant.”

Fearless: “What? Wait, wait. You think I have something against mutants?”

Rogue: “Well by the tone ya using, there’s some room for interpretation.”

Fearless sighs and face palms.

They gesture to the bots behind them.

Fearless: “I live with a giant crew of dysfunctional alien robots. I’m not some heartless monster who’s going to judge or chase you down with a pitchfork because someone can light a candle with their pinkie. Just as long as you aren’t messing with my family, everything will go well.”

Jean: “Wait family? You work with your family?”

Fearless: “Raises their eyebrow.

Fearless: “They are right behind me you know.”

Magneto grunts a bit before reaching out his hand to Fearless to shake.

Ratchet registers a sudden increase in Fearless’s heart rate.

Fearless looks at the hand like it committed first degree murder before shaking it begrudgingly.

Magneto: “I never got your name.”

Fearless: “My name is Fearless, Magneto.”

The bots are very much concern for their human.

Besides the obvious assassination attempt shaking everyone up, they had never seen Fearless this hostile and tense before.

Not even Megatron received this treatment!

The most he received was pranks and some comments here and there.

This was a full on seething hatred.

Fearless is polite with the other members of the X men and tries helping them as much as they can.

After cloaking the ship, it was agreed to head to the X mansion for further development on the case.

The mutants had to do a double take once the bots turned on their holoforms to get inside the building.

Friendships are formed.

Rodimus and Cyclops end up having a friendly rivalry.

The Co-Captain thinks Scotts beams are cool.

Scott gets flashbacks when Rodimus shows off his flames.

Flames that also get Jubilee attention.

Fearless is half certain that he is going to try and smuggle her on the ship.

Thankfully Magnus is keeping an optic out for him and Jubilee.

Drift tries to adopt Kurt, but Ratchet keeps telling him no.

Kurt is fanboying Drift’s massive swords and hearing about his beliefs.

Ratchet somehow develops a sixth sense knowing where the blue mutant was going to pop out.

Rodimus holds Scott out.

Rodimus: “Mine shoots beams out of his eyes!”

Drift holds Kurt out.

Drift: “Mine’s teleports, swings swords around and has a tail!”

He gently pats Kurts head.

Drift: “And he’s fluffy!”

Kurt and Scott look down to Fearless.

Fearless: “Don’t fight it, you’ve already been claimed.”

Kurt: “Vhat do you mean vy that?”

Fearless: “You’ve been chosen that’s all I can say.”

Scott: “You speak from experience.”

Fearless: "I ended up with one of the most trigger-happy bots as my best friend for life. The system works.”

Scott: “What system!?”

Beast gets passed between Brainstorm, Perceptor and Nautica.

Yes, he is a bit confused at first, but quickly gets over it on realizing these were some fellow scientists.

Brainstorm wants to upgrade some of the team’s technology… Beast is thinking about it.

Storm gets stopped by the minibots.

They love her powers!

Ororo indulges them with light rain and little wind funnels.

Rewind is filming everything while Swerve fanboys in the background while Tailgate splashes in some puddles.

Cyclonus in the meantime was taking notes on Storm and Jean’s fashion choices to later upgrade his holoform.

Beast: “Do you think that with enough electricity it can disable your weapons?”

Brainstorm: “…One way to figure that out!”

Storm: “I am not about to blast your weapon with a bolt of lighting. There is no telling what it could do to you.”

Brainstorm: “That is precisely why we need to find out!”

Fearless: “Trust me on this one, just give them a little bit.”

Storm raises an eyebrow.

Storm: “And they will be all right?”

Fearless shrugs.

Fearless: “Wouldn’t be the first time Stormy’s done something like this and it won’t be the last. This is pretty tame of an experiment for him.”

Jean walks over.

Jean: “What do you mean ‘tamest’?”

Fearless: “Well there was the time traveling briefcase.”

Jean: “The what?”

Rogue and Gambit end up in the company of Skids and Rung.

Skids finds Rogues and Gambits powers to be amazing.

Rung offers a good listening ear to Rogue who finds his presscene very comforting and vents.

The orange mech desperately want this woman to book an appointment with a therapist.

No scratch that, get everyone an appointment.

Gambit tried teaching Skids how to throw cards.

He is surprised when Skids gets it on the first try.

Lastly, Logan and Morph end up with Whirl.

Whirl keeps shouting suggestions for Morph to shapeshift into.

Morph happily obliges.

Logan can’t seem to get the strangest feeling of de va ju.

A reminder of a certain merc with a mouth…

Whirl: “Hey Whiskers! Do the claw thing again.”

Logan: “No.”

Whirl: “Do it!”

Morph: “Logan its just a little bit.”

Whirl: “Yeah listen to your outlier buddy and do it!”

Logan: “Outlier?”

Whirl: “Hang on I’ll get a translator. Fearless!”

Fearless comes over.

Whirl points at the two.

Whirl: “Explain what an outlier is.”

Fearless: “An outlier is… hm… how do I explain this… An outlier is kinda like you guys.”

Logan: “What?”

Fearless: “They have special abilities that separate them from the average bot.”

Fearless points over to Skids who was copying Gambit’s card tricks.

Fearless: “Skids over there can near perfect any instruction or action given to him on the first go. If I’m not wrong, Skids and some other bots I know went to a school that helped them with their abilities since society deemed them--”

Morph: “Dangerous?”

Fearless has a bit of a somber look on their face.

Fearless: “With all the former caste systems and alt mode prejudice it was nice for them to have a place to call their own. Sadly, when the founder of the school, a senator, was arrested they dispersed.”

Logan: “Hmm.”

The second Fearless spots Magneto talking with Megatron, they quickly grab Megatron by the arm and pull him away.

This goes the same for any bot that goes anywhere near Magneto.

The glare never leaving their face.

Fearless was offered a room to stay in the mansion, but they insisted on leaving with the bots.

They grab Megatron’s hand and leave.

Megatron felt how tight they were grabbing and the slight tremble in it.

They ignore the questions about their behavior and calls in a night.

Too bad Papa Megatron wants some answers.

Fearless struggles in his loose grip.

Megatron: “Are you going stop acting like a sparkling and start talking sense.”

Fearless lets out a tired sigh as they trace small circles on his digit.

Fearless: “As you might know I’m… not exactly fond of Magneto.”

Megatron: “Understatement of the century.”

Fearless squints their eyes at him.

He places them down on the berth and sits next to them.

Megatron: “… You never acted like this. Not even when I came on this ship and by the way this Magento speaks and his goals… he sounds like me—”

Fearless slaps his leg.

Fearless: “Don’t you EVER compare yourself to him!”

Megatron: “A simple observation and you cannot deny there are similarities between us. But why hate him and not me?”

Fearless: “Your both very different from each other Meg’s! That man is a heartless monster! A murderer! You—You—"

Megatron: “The same.”

Fearless furiously blinks back their tears and looks down.

Fearless: “But you changed!”

Megatron: “And isn’t he trying as well?”

The mech gently runs a digit up and down Fearless’s back.

Megatron: “He is at the start of his redemption Fearless. Don’t you think that it is wise to give him the benefit of the doubt?”

Fearless shakes their head and pulls their legs up and leans on Megatron’s side.

Megatron: “… He did something to you didn’t he?”

Fearless hugs themselves tighter trying to appear smaller.

They start to shake a bit.

Megatron carefully picked them up and hugged them to his chassis.

He can feel the tears running down his chassis.

Megatron: “You don’t need to tell me now if you don’t want to.”

Fearless sniffles a bit before looking up at him.

Fearless: “I-I want to Dad… I really want to—to. But everything that just happened…”

Megatron hushes Fearless while running the digit up and down their back.

They try muffling their sobs in his chassis.

He wonders if they can feel his spark clenching through the armor.

Days are passing by as the teams are still trying to figure out what is going on.

With the assassination attempt and why Fearless hates Magento’s gut so much.

The crew has made a giant board filled with red string trying to figure this out.

Even their new fellow X men friends come and join in on the theories.

The x men are enjoying their latest source of entertainment.

Especially once Fearless starts getting more comfortable around them and their chaotic side starts showing up.

Magento was having a hard time.

He has no idea what he did to this person to make them hate them.

Sure, it’s nothing new, but still!

It doesn’t help that they look familiar to him.

The older man is determined to figure out what he did to this person.

So far no one has managed to have a lick of luck on their side.

Not even a clue.

…

…Well, there is one person who does have a clue.

Logan.

Fearless and Magento had a similar scent.

Too similar to be a coincidence…

…But he’ll keep quiet for now…

#magneto is fearless's dad au #maccadam #marvel #x men 97 #mtmte x reader #mtmte x platonic reader #fearless buddy #transformers x reader #human buddy #transformers

100 notes · View notes