#razor will probably be fine eating it

[bpcr3yes]

Hello again, lately I've been obsessed with Valeria Garza and I decided to write some headcanons about her because I'm tired of only talking to bots 💀

VALERIA GARZA HEADCANONS (realisct maybe?) (a little subjective??? I don't know)

She is a woman with a strong personality, fearless, focused, stubborn, arrogant.

She is el sin nombré, owner of the biggest cartel in Latina America, she certainly had many women. She has a preference for chubby women, she likes to squeeze, you would probably be an anti-stress ball for her.

I have a lot of doubts about her being bisexual or lesbian (or straight if we could even add that option) but I believe she is a lesbian, a furious one at that, about her relationship with Alejandro I believe she used him (she appears to have a personality narcissistic and manipulative) she used him to get information so her plan could work.

I believe that when she was a soldier in the armed forces, she was totally confident and determined, many men were around her because she was beautiful (and hot) so she had a razor instead of a tongue I believe, she was always shouting insults or belittling men, only with her commanders she was more... well-behaved.

In the interrogation part, we see her tell Alejandro that she didn't take orders anymore, but then you can understand that he was her commander, and she was certainly angry with him.

After she became owner of the cartel, her life became extremely stressful, she doesn't trust any of her men (I think Diego was an exception) she believes if something needs to be done it's perfectly fine to have a woman do it because she thinks men they don't think.

I like to think that she has a trophy wife that she only takes to events like parties, bars and meetings. The wife's only job is to stand there being pretty and not say a single thing.

Now let's talk about this truly passionate woman of ours.

If you are in a long-term relationship (5 or 3 years) she would be completely in love with you. The type of wife who comes home and gives you a long kiss and hug, to make up for lost time.

Every month you go out to eat at a fancy restaurant and then spend the night together. (a long night I can say)

In public, like at events or on the street when you go out together, she rarely shows any type of physical touch, she prefers to remain secret. When she's in the Cartel it's totally different, she makes a point of kissing and grabbing you in front of everyone without caring, she would probably touch you sensually in front of her men but if someone is bold enough to think they can have fun together, She shoots twice. One on the head and the other on the penis.

She is a possessive woman, she would politely (not so politely) ask you to have her initials tattooed on your hip. She would also have a tattoo about you on the back of her neck.

about Family, this part is a little confusing when I create the headcanons. Most of the hcs I read said that she had mommy issues, I believe she was a daddy's girl, while her mother was narcissistic to the extreme, always belittling her for simple things.

Her mother probably had a lot of problems with medication. I also think that Valeria always had an attitude, never lowering her head to anyone. No matter the occasion.

Her family on her father's side loved her and disliked her mother, she probably had kind and caring grandparents and aunts. I like to think that she spent a lot of time with her grandmother, cooking, helping her with everything.

She must have had cousins too, she and them would turn the house upside down.

There's a part in the interrogation scene where Alejandro is saying that she ruined the army and he says "and your brother too?" It makes me think that Valeria joined the army to prove that she had the same value as her older brothers (to prove to her mother that she was capable too)

I imagine her brothers being strong, big and courageous lieutenants, she could be close to one of the two, while she didn't even make a point of saying good morning to the other.

that's it for now ♡

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Okay so like, I’ve never requested anything so I don’t really even expect you to see this lol. But likeeee, can I possibly request a Din Djarin x reader, where neither the reader or Din know Grogu has the armor under his robe that the armorer gave him, and something happens where Grogu gets hurt and they both lose their minds before getting to him and realizing little dude is just fine. Please and thank you 🥹

Ooooh this is a good prompt. Speaking of, if you've asked for one then it's probably on my to-do list, but i am slow🤡. plus, updates of AFS and a couple other things come before random drabbles.

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k (i dont think I'm capable of writing less than a thousand words apparently smh)

AT FAULT

"don't let fear make your decisions." -Michael G. Manning

The quarry was laid on his back as a pool of purple blood began to settle in the sand under him. The twi'lek was motionless and your breathing was finally starting to calm. In one arm you held Grogu who seemed nonplussed by the violence at hand and in your other you held the still smoking blaster. When you managed to tear your eyes off the quarry's body they lifted to land on Din who stood stiff on the other side of the body.

"What the kriff was that?" Din snapped. His entire body was drawn taut like a wired rope pulled to tight. He was nearly vibrating in place and the anger that leaked into his voice was palpable. "Karking⏤ what the hell do you think you're doing out here!?"

His tone made your already irritable mood worse. You stuck the rarely used blaster back into the holster at your thigh. "Apparently, saving you! Maybe show a little gratitude!"

"Grati⏤” The word wasn’t even able to leave Din’s mouth. He stormed forward, boots passing the dead quarry, until he stood right in front of you. Close enough that the Mandalorian was forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him. You knew he stood that close on purpose⏤ he wanted to tower over you right now. “The two of you could’ve gotten killed! I told you not to leave the Razor Crest!”

“We’ve been on that ship for two weeks straight, Din!” You argued. “We just wanted a little fresh air⏤”

“I told you this quarry was dangerous, I said⏤”

“All your quarries are dangerous, Din. You⏤”

“When I tell you to stay on the damn ship,” Din grabbed your by the arm not holding Grogu, “I expect you to kriffing listen. Dank farrik, cyar’ika.” The way he spat out your usual nickname made you wince. “I told you this quarry was bad news⏤”

“And I told you that you shouldn't have taken the bounty!” You yelled and tried to yank your arm free. Din held on tight, and Grogu began to babble worriedly in your arms. “I told you we should take a break! Take a breath! We all need it, even you. Especially, you!”

You yanked your arm back again and this time it broke free. Din settled on placing his hands on his hips, but you could still feel his anger radiating off of him. Tempers had been running high the last few weeks, stuck on a close quarter ship while stressing over the Empire being on your heels, and it seemed the two of you were finally letting it come to a head. 

“It’s naive of you to think we have the time for a break.” Din seethed. “I take bounties so we can afford fuel to run, food to eat, and⏤” He shook his head, taking in a sharp breath before continuing. “You tell me to show you gratitude? Gratitude because you risked yours and Grogu’s life for me?” Din took one step toward you and you took two steps back so he stayed a foot or so away. He pointed to himself. “Everything I do, my only priority, is keeping you and Grogu safe. Away from the Empire. So, how about you show a little gratitude and stay on the damn ship when I tell you to.”

Grogu whined in your arms and you shifted him to the other in a poor attempt to console him. You weren’t ready to climb onto the Razor Crest quite yet. You weren’t done with this fight. Din’s anger and words only spurring you on further.

“You think I’m not grateful for all you do?” You spat. “Of course, I am, you ass! I just hate watching you burn yourself into the ground for us. You need to take care of yourself too, Din. That involves taking a break now and then! That’s why I suggested leaving this bounty untouched. I just want to help.”

Din nodded once then tilted his head. “Right. Yeah. Putting Grogu and yourself at risk was a lot of help. I feel much better. Thank you, cyar’ika.”

You scoffed, “You know what, Din? You are⏤”

The sound of an unfamiliar chuckle and your eyes snapped from the dark t-shape visor to the quarry sitting up with a menacing grin. It took less than a second. It happened so quickly that your mind couldn’t register the movements fast enough.

A blaster raised.

A blaster fired.

And, you didn’t have the time to spin away. The force of the blaster bolt knocked you right off your feet and onto the ground. 

You heard Din scream, the sound hoarse and raw and broken, then you heard another blaster go off. As you laid on your back, you realized you weren’t hurting. Your back was a little sore from landing on it, but you didn’t feel the sharp burning pain of a blaster scorching through your skin. That’s when your brain finally clicked. That’s when you realized. Grogu. Oh, Maker. Grogu. Grogu, baby⏤ Your eyes snapped down to see the little boy’s eyes closed and the front of his robe was blackened from the blow.

The scream that filled the air this time was yours. You felt the sound reverberate in the base of your throat, it rattled your chest, but the only noise you could hear was the racing heartbeats that pounded in your ears. You sat up, cradling him to your chest, and you could feel gloved hands pawing at your arms. Someone was trying to take him⏤ someone was trying to take him from you. You screamed once more, your body shook, and a gloved hand cupped the side of your face. Nothing registered until you saw Grogu blink his big eyes open. Your breath caught in your throat. That same gloved hand pulled aside Grogu’s ruined robe and the telltale shine of beskar stared back up at you. A mudhorn adorning the plate that Grogu wore at the center of his chest.

Grogu let out a soft mumble and smiled up at you. 

“Oh, thank the Maker.” Din breathed. “Cyar’ika. Cyar’ika? Cyari’ka!” A hand titled your face up, tearing your eyes away from Grogu who was wiggling in your tight grip. You met the dark t-shape visor of Din’s helmet. “Are you okay? Did it clip you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and opened your mouth, but all that came out was a ragged sob. Even after Din pulled you both into his arms, you continued to cry against his silver beskar plated chest until your own chest ached from how badly each sob racked your body. Grogu seemed content to be squashed between you and Din. 

Hours later, in the quiet of hyperspace, Din sat in the pilot’s chair with you on his lap, cradled against his body, while you held Grogu tight to yours. It seemed since the incident Din refused to let either of you go, and you had no desire to complain. Having his arms wrapped around you while you watched Grogu sleep was the safest you had ever felt.

“I’m so sorry, Cyar’ika.” Din whispered. His unmodulated words were muffled by the way he rested his face at the top of your head⏤ buried his lips into your hair to continue peppering light kisses anywhere he had access. In this position, your head tucked under his, you couldn’t see his face. “I am so, so sorry.”

You shook your head lightly. When you spoke, your voice was ragged from screaming earlier, “No, I am. I should’ve listened to you, Din. I should’ve stayed on the ship.” Your eyes began to water again. “I almost got Grogu killed.”

“No. No, that wasn’t your fault. Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut.” Din mumbled the end of his sentence in Mando’a. “You were right. I shouldn’t have taken that bounty. I can’t lose the two of you and I’ve grown… obsessive in trying to protect you.”

“It’s worked. You’ve kept us safe. If I had listened to you⏤”

“You’re not prisoners. I can’t lock you away from the world because of my fear.” Din cut in. You let your free hand trace down the small bridge of Grogu’s nose and he scrunched it up at the contact while staying soundly in his sleep. Nothing Din would say could rid you of this guilt entirely. If he wanted to claim the mistake he could, but that didn’t make it any less your fault as well. “Please speak to me.”

You closed your eyes and lifted your head so you could press a kiss against Din’s throat. He shuddered and sighed at the touch. “Can we just agree that this is both of our faults?”

“We can.” Din shrugged, his arms tightened around you. “But I'd rather you not take any of the blame.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately as we’ve learned, I’m not good at listening.” You mumbled.

Din chuckled. “Good. I don’t want you to blindly listen to me. Your ideas are equally as good as mind, if not occasionally better.” He closed the space to press a soft kiss against yours. It was sweet and tender. Not a declaration of lust or desire, but a reassurance that you were there. Din broke away to whisper. “But if you could at least let me know when you are leaving the ship, I’d appreciate it.”

“Only if you promise to take us somewhere pretty soon.”

“I’m already ahead of you, cyar’ika.” As he spoke, his lips brushed against yours and you had no desire to lean back away from him. Din moved his hand and you could feel his hand brush against the side of your arm every time he soothingly rubbed Grogu’s head. “Crest is on route to Naboo.”

You pressed another light peck of your lips against his before leaning your head back down against his chest. Din settled his head back on top of yours, and you felt the soft caress of his thumb against your arm from the hand that was wrapped around you. Din pulled you and Grogu a hair closer, and you reveled in the silence of hyperspace.

"Also, when did Grogu get a mudhorn beskar chestplate?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

mando'a translations

Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut. [My beautiful darling, this sin is mine.]

[mousy-nona]

Chronicles of Cursed Cat Alastor

One day, the hotel woke up to see Alastor’s perpetual “on air” sign had been turned off. His room was empty, his coffee ice cold. 

And in the middle of the lobby was a cat. Or what seemed to be the approximate shape and size of a cat, but with the strangest, most evil face any of them had ever seen. It grinned up at them and wagged its little stump of a tail, which made Charlie melt into a puddle of happy tears.

“Isn’t he adorable?” She squealed.

And that was that. The cat joined their weird little family – and Lucifer secretly resolved to get his daughter to an eye doctor. Stat. 

—-----------------

“Charlie, are you sure about this one? There’s something weird about that cat.” Lucifer eyed the red thing warily. “It’s looking at Keekee like it wants to eat it!” 

“Don’t be silly! Mr. Montgomery is probably trying to be her friend!” She frowned. “It’s so strange. Keekee’s never been this skittish around other cats before.” 

A thin line of drool was falling from the edge of Mr. Montgomery’s mouth. When he noticed Lucifer watching, he sucked it back up and graced him with a freakish, utterly too human grin.  

—-----------------

Lucifer’s wedding anniversary hit him like a truck. That is, he didn’t handle it very well. He got up, fully intending to make a show of his utterly fantastic mood – haha, look how great I feel! Your mother didn’t crush my heart and set it on fire with a flamethrower after all! – but found it was all too much of a bother, and sat promptly back down. He laid his head on his desk. Just a few more minutes. Then I’ll leave. 

He didn’t even notice Mr. Montgomery had waltzed in until the abomination jumped up onto his desk. The cat loomed over him, his razor teeth inches from Lucifer’s nose. 

“Can I help you?” He sniffled. Couldn’t a man mourn the end of his marriage in peace? 

Mr. Montgomery tilted his head with a sickening crack, his neck nearly bending into a right angle as he studied Lucifer’s red eyes, the mountain of used tissues accumulating by the desk, the ring he was clutching in his hand.

Stretching leisurely (in the exact same way he learned from Keekee, Lucifer noted), Mr. Montgomery strolled over to a picture of Lilith he had on his desk – and smacked it off. He stared at him the entire time, as if daring him to do something about it.

“Are you…are you power playing me right now?” 

“Meow,” Mr. Montgomery sneered. 

“That’s it, you little freak! Come to Daddy!”

When Charlie got home, she found Lucifer with his six wings fully spread and the hotel half destroyed by angelic bolts, panting and wheezing as he tore a couch apart. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” 

He whirled around, his eyes wild as he zapped a vaguely cat-shaped shadow into oblivion. “It’s that monster! That cat! I can hear him in the walls!”

“Isn’t he behind you…?” Vaggie asked.

And he was. Mr. Montgomery was sitting on a shelf over the reception, licking his paw and yawning. 

Lucifer deflated. “Ah. I guess he is.”

“Dad, isn’t today…?” Charlie trailed off, blushing a little.

“Oh! Right. Yes, it is,” Lucifer said. He’d been so busy chasing Mr. Montgomery around, he’d completely forgotten about his anniversary. 

“Are you doing okay?”

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. “Yes, I’m fine. I was a little sad at first, but then I got distracted.”

“Burning down the hotel?” Vaggie asked. Mr. Montgomery meowed and started purring, looking as pleased as a cat that had gotten the cream.

—-----------------

“That cat is trying to kill me!” Lucifer roared, pointing at the wholly unrepentant Mr. Montgomery.

The accused murderer jumped onto Charlie’s lap and started kneading her lap. Everyone let out a collective awww! Charlie nearly teared up, and Angel Dust snapped a picture for his Voxstagram. Even Vaggie, the sole voice of reason, was making what the kids called heart eyes at the monster. 

Lucifer nearly tore out his hair in frustration. “He’s tricking you, don’t you see? That cat has it out for me! This is the third time he’s tried to kick rat poison into my food!” 

“Don’t be silly, Dad! He’s just a cat. Cats knock stuff over all the time!” 

“Rat poison? Three times?” 

Charlie looked around, frowning. “Who keeps putting rat poison on the shelves?” 

No one fessed up. Mr. Montgomery let out a loud purr and fixed Lucifer with the most hair-raising, devilishly smug grin Lucifer had ever seen. 

“Did no one see that? Seriously, did no one else see that?”

—-----------------

A few weeks passed before someone finally broached the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“Has anyone seen Alastor?” Charlie tapped her nose with her pencil, frowning a bit. “It’s strange for him to be gone this long.” 

“Oh, oh! I’ve seen him!” Niffty raised her hand and waved it frantically. “He’s right over there!”

Everyone turned – but all they saw was a furry red blob warming himself near the fire. 

“Niffty, doll, have you been sniffing the toilet cleaner again?” Angel Dust asked gently.

“Nooo, silly. The cat is Alastor!” Niffty chirped, clapping her little hands with delight. Mr. Montgomery – no, scratch that – Alastor blinked his left eye, then his right eye, and smiled blandly up at all of them.

“But…but…how?” Angel Dust stuttered.

She shrugged, her shoulders going all the way up to her ears. “Dunno. He’s got a few weird friends who like to play tricks on him. Isn’t it great? He showed up all fluffy and cuddly! Perfect for hugs!” 

Alastor the Cat looked remotely nervous for the first time since he’d appeared. 

“How do we turn him back?” Lucifer demanded. He would rather die than admit it, but he sort-of-kind-of missed the sadistic demon that made his life Hell. It was getting kind of boring without him around. 

“Dunno! Ask him!”

Once again, they all turned to the cat, who opened his mouth – “Meeeeow.”

[merakiui]

RAHHH WAIT WHILE WE R ON THE TOPICS OF PERIOD SEX. CAN WE TAKE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT WHICH GENSHIN GUYS WOULD EAT OUT/FUCK DURING A PERIOD?

AAAAAAA OMG YES........ under the cut because I rambled a lot. ;;;;

The most obvious one who would do it in a heartbeat is Childe. He loves the sight and smell of blood, and the fact that it's coming from between your legs is even better. He'll have you crying out while he spends so much time between your legs, all too eager to taste you and listen to you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. He'll fuck you while you're on your period as well. He loves the way your blood stains his dick when he's thrusting in and out. Playfully cooing at you when you beg him to ease up because it's too much: "Aww, can't handle it? That's too bad... down here seems just fine. You're taking it like it's nothing." <3

This is my own personal bias seeping through, but I wholeheartedly believe Scaramouche/Wanderer would adore period sex. I think Scara enjoys fucking you while you're on your period, whereas Wanderer enjoys eating you out just a bit more. There's this whole power/control thing Scara wants to have over you, so he's probably not getting on his knees for you anytime soon. But he will fuck you for as long as he wants, teasing you the entire time. Having your blood on him is all too exciting. As for Wanderer, he'll pretend like it's a tall order, playfully scoffing at you and saying something like, "What would you do without me? You'd be helpless, wouldn't you?" But if you even suggest that someone else do this for you, he's quickly putting that smart mouth of his to work. Try saying that again through all of your moans. :)

ALBEDO OMG........ it's all for "scientific research" because he's curious and would like to know how the human body operates in more detail. Really, this is his own nerdy cover. He just wants to taste you and feel you, blood and all. orz of course he probably collects samples because there's this clinical side to him that wants to know you down to the alchemical level. ;;;;; he spends way too much time stuffing his fingers inside you and stretching you open, curiously observing the blood that coats his digits and making note of all of your reactions.

Razor....... this one is also obvious. He smells blood and assumes you're hurt, so his first instinct is to either patch you up or lick it better. The latter comes into use when he pins you down and spreads your legs to get a closer look at your pussy. Razor's a bit inexperienced and sloppy, roughly gripping onto your thighs, but he means well. He has to keep his mate safe and content, after all!

Xiao........ XIAO!!!!!!!! He's so determined to protect you. He's very accustomed with the scent of blood, so it doesn't take long for him to smell it on your person. Xiao's a little stern when he tells you to stop moving so he can check you for injuries, but he's sincere. Why do you seem so casual? Aren't you hurt????? He cannot fathom the concept of a period because he's never known about such a thing. He's about as virgin as they come. ^^;;;; but he'll do anything to ensure you're happy, forever and always, and so even though he may not know what he's doing at first he'll eventually fall into the rhythm. Karmic debt is cold and cruel, but pussy is warm and soft. <3

I feel like Kazuha would be into it........ he's so sweet about it, too. T^T maybe you're embarrassed to have leaked on the sheets while sleeping beside him, but he assures you it's fine. Things happen. Besides, there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's normal. He'll make you feel so much better about it, and soon you're falling apart on his fingers or mouth. He praises you all throughout it.

Gorou!!!!! This is also a Razor situation. He probably prefers eating you out more than he does fucking you, but the latter is also quite good. He's really such a sweetheart and he gets pussy-drunk SO FAST. OTL even more so when you're on your period.......

Itto!!! >:D truthfully, what won't Itto do? He'll do just about anything for his pal, best bud, partner, lover (you're all of these things to him hehe). He adores you omg. You only need to tell him that it hurts and he's ready to provide, whether that be by eating you out until your cramps are soothed or by fucking into you (he'll be slow and gentle; he promises!). Anything for you. <3

This may be unexpected (or not) but Ayato. I think he just likes the idea of staining those pristine clothes of his in your red. Or ruining white sheets...... there's something very thrilling about it. Also, you're just so sensitive whenever you're on your period and your libido has you begging him for even more.

Definitely Tighnari. He could just mix up something to help soothe your cramps, but why would he do that when he could indulge instead? Besides, this method works very well and you seem to enjoy it just as much as he does. Why would he ever trade that?

Cyno......... I can't explain it, but I feel like he would enjoy period sex... there's something so addictive about sinking into your wet warmth and getting blood on his cock while you dig your nails into his shoulders and rake his back bloody. >:D

Baizhu. Something something doctor's orders!!! Prescription to soothe cramps is not a calming herbal tea but the doctor working you open on his fingers or fucking into you sweetly and slowly!!!!!

Omg,,, speaking of doctors, how could I forget the man himself!!!! Dottore is a creature. He loves period sex. Perhaps some of his clones love it more than others. It's easy to tell depending on who's fucking you or eating you out. He has this deranged sort of smile as he watches you come undone.

PANTALONE.......... I just know he loves getting your blood all over his face and fingers and on his clothes. He's a big fan of simply cockwarming you while you're on your period and only getting you to orgasm by clitoral stimulation. AAAAAAA OTL

Wriothesley can and will spend his entire afternoon between your legs. He doesn't mind the mess. It doesn't bother him. Rather, he's busying himself working you towards your nth orgasm for the day. If you come to Wrio with a problem, you better be ready for him to solve it. He'll make sure you won't be feeling any cramps for the rest of the day after he's done with you.

Another personal bias, but I like to imagine Lyney also enjoys period sex. Maybe even Freminet, but he's too shy to ask you if you'd be okay with it...... >_< AAAA but Lyney!!!!! He reminds me of this audio. T_T Lyney sniffing out your period........ you seem to have cramps and that's no good. Allow him to ease them and this time there's no magic required hehe.

Another bias, but my beloved Gaming!!!!!! I think period sex with him is always a sweet activity. He's so gentle and caring,,,, so focused on making sure you feel good and that you'll have enough orgasms to get rid of the cramps. And of course he has plenty of snacks on standby for when you want to snack during breaks. Leave it all to him! You won't have to lift a finger. Just lie back against the cushions and let him make you feel good.

OH OH!!!! Capitano.......... I've seen some portray him with a long monster tongue and methinks that is very delicious and so true!!!!! Capitano using that long tongue of his to eat you out, and it can reach places that your fingers just can't and and and AAAAAAAA!!!!!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hi hi!! im in love w ur writing, and ur ‘alright’ fic was so good omg.. after reading it i just had to request something

i was thinking abt hobie with a gf that has a symbiote (like venom). like like maybe her hiding it from him?? either bc she’s scared of his reaction or scared of herself.. if that makes sense. probably an angst to fluff, but im down for anything tbh!!

Different

Warnings- Angsty, fluffy, fem! Reader, this is long I got carried away, not too angsty but I tried ):

If you’ve watched fantastic mr fox, that is what I based some of this off of. If you haven’t go watch it omg it’s so good

“What the hell are you?” You asked, panicked as you looked at whatever it was. The purple and dark pink sludge looking back at you, razor sharp teeth and small narrow eyes pointed at you.

“I am agony.”

“Oh great. What a great name. No, I mean what the hell are you? Like some sort of sludge toxic thingie?” You tried to get away from it, but you didn’t realize it was connected to you.

“I’m from another planet. You are my host. We are bonded.” Her voice was raspy, and sharp. She spat every word laced with venom:

“The fuck I am-“

The purple and pink sludge started to overtake your body, you helped in shock, trying to get it off. But soon, you were confused as your limbs weren’t yours, and you started to jump around. You were inside of the alien, or was the alien now you? You had no clue.

“What the hell..! Let me out!” You shouted.

“I’m hungry.” The alien snarled, and continued its adventure. It turned to a corner, jumping quickly and fast to an alley.

“What the hell is that!” One man shouted, and you heard the cries of multiple others. One man whimpered as the alien neared closer to him, he was backed up on a wall. Agony picked the man up, and bit his head clean off. You gasped and panicked inside.

Police sirens blared, the alien snapped its head back as it feasted on the brains of the man. Agony quickly realized what was happening, and started to run up a wall, and running far far away.

———————————————————

That’s how it had started. You and agony since then have established rules, no coming out near Hobie or anyone else, but especially Hobie. And no more biting peoples heads off, she liked chocolate now, along with some other meats.

Hobie and you have been dating for a year now, and you’ve only been with Agony for about a month. You didn’t wanna ruin the relationship because of it.

You had been on the down low for a little bit now, trying to find out what it all meant, and trying to figure out if there was others like you.

“So, we still up for that date tonight? (:” Hobie texted you, you picked up your phone and texted back. “Yeah, of course. Love you see you then (;”

“𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕...?“ Agony asked from beside you as she read your text message.

“What? That?” You pointed to the (; that you sent Hobie.

“𝒀𝒆𝒔.“

“It’s a winking face. Y’Know…” you winked.

She gave you a weird look.

“𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.. 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒊 𝒈𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘? 𝑰𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆.“

“No. I’ve already told you, Hobies a superhero, and if you get caught eating people I’m gonna get in trouble for it. And he’s still out looking for you. So no.”

You were scared to tell Hobie. Terrified. Especially since he was a superhero. Hobie seriously loved you, and you loved him, and you didn’t wanna ruin it.

——————————————————————-

You knocked on Hobies door, He opened it quickly with a smile.

“Hi.” You walked in.

“Hi, love.” He kissed you. “Been a while, sorry that I couldn’t see you or nothin’. Been busy.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Being spider man is probably busy.”

“Yeah.” He laughed as you sat down on the couch.

“So, how’s work and stuff..?” He asked you.

“Pretty good.”

“That’s nice.”

“How’s being spiderman?”

“It’s… a lot. Still got no luck with that weird alien creature.” He chuckled, sitting down next to you, putting his guitar down. He put his arm around your shoulder as you both caught up. He then put on a movie.

You heard agony say “𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒔.“ in your head but you ignored her.

Hobie got up and made some popcorn, and fetched you both beers.

He then sat back down, you both made yourselves comfortable against each other, and watched the movie with the bowl of popcorn in between.

You suddenly felt lightheaded. You went into the bathroom for a second.

“What is it Agony?” You said annoyed, shutting the door.

“𝑰’𝒎 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚.“

“I’m literally eating right now-“

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓.“

“For the last fucking time, no.”

“𝑰𝒇 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘, 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.“

Hobie listened in on the conversation, who were you talking to? He didn’t mean to be creepy but he heard you and got curious.

When he heard that sentence, it sounded like a threat he opened the door. And was met with something he didn’t expect.

The alien and you looked at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“The hell?”

“Look, I can explain. She’s like a.. a parasite or something-“

The alien scoffed and looked at her “𝑰𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒈!“

“Okay, sorry, she’s basically… an alien.. and you know, we’re kinda like bonded together, I can’t get rid of her or we both die.”

“Did you kill that guy?” He questioned in disbelief.

“She did, I had no part in it I swear. Hobie.. I love you, you gotta believe me-“

He stayed silent for a moment.

“Why didn’t you jus’.. tell me..?”

“Because.. I was scared you would see my different, I mean I am different but.. I’m still the same me, I didn’t want you to hate me..” you said truthfully, voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

“Well, I could never hate you. I love you, alright? Nothing, not even this… alien can change that. You may be different, but I’ll still love you.” He shrugged.

“And honestly, if anything this just makes you more hot. I looked into the guy that… what’s ya name?” He looked to agony.

“Agony.”

“Right, well then Agony, I looked into the guys who’s head you ate off, turns out the bloke was a pedo.” He said.

“Really?” You asked.

“He gave me that vibe.” Agony said, looking at you.

“Yeah, but the systems fucked so they let him out. Think we could make a great team.” He smirked, and leaned against the doorway.

“Seriously?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yeah. I mean, Agony can eat peoples heads off, and that’s real Justice, I mean.. the system ain’t helpin’ no one.”

“𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎.“ Agony said.

“I know you do, I can literally hear your thoughts.”

“So, you’re not mad?” You asked when you and Hobie sat back down on the couch.

“Nah, I could never be mad at you.” He kissed your cheek and smirked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I get it. I didn’t tell you I was spiderman, you-“

“I found you making a web hammock in your room wearing nothing but your mask and spider man boxers.” You laughed at the memory.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He threw popcorn at you and laughed with you.

———-

could you guys tell I actually tried on this one? 😭 LMFAOO I love this tho

Tag list: @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn @techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah h @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman

@chaoticevilbakugo

[svkahug]

once more to see you

[chapter three; ao3 link]

tags: slow burn, injury, forced proximity, quarry!reader, hurt/comfort

summary: On the run with the Empire on your heels, a bounty hunter seems to be your only option and your best bet to getting back home.

a/n: heard someone say tumblr has no fluff well i shall provide

---

Space is so… quiet . So empty. Sometimes there’s not another breathing creature for miles. Then you hit a planet. You’ve tallied all the planets you’ve been on recently as the Mandalorian goes on the search, relentless. Yavin, Geonosis, Lothal. Desolate and lifeless planets. But you never see them. The Mandalorian isn’t exactly a tour guide but he does talk to you more often as you strap yourself onto the co-pilot seat beside him. Him and the kid are gone for days at a time, no longer than a week. 

You eat, you sleep, you dream. You’ve snooped around every nook and cranny of the Razor Crest. It’s not as if he’s going to pop out of nowhere and chastise you. You can probably traverse this ship from memory alone. 

You find what you assume is his bed. But you don’t sleep in it. Not even on the days where he’s gone. It’s just as small and cramped as the ship and you simply can’t believe anyone even uses that thing. 

The worry that he might have perished out there crosses your mind. But you couldn’t let it get to you. He uses the ship's emergency comms to check in at night. Sometimes he doesn’t.  

You shuffle through the supplies, you use the fresher, you stare outside the windows of the cockpit then you sleep on the floor. Until on the nights that you don’t. You think it started when they left for Lothal. They were gone for four days and you barely slept a wink.

It was the nightmares, you think. Twisted and vile things that were a manifestation of your fears. 

You don’t like to think about it. When your ship crashed on Jakku. You lost people. Guardsmen that've been with you since childhood. People died violent deaths to protect you. 

The memories come in flashes, unwanted and painful. They chased you through that rocky and desolate planet. The Empire rained hell. You ought to be flattered seeing as how they would go through all this trouble for you. If not for the night terrors you had of being back in that rubble, of seeing people drop dead like flies, and smelling the stench of gasoline from their flamethrowers. 

You wake up, heaving and choking back sobs, the heat of the flame feeling too real and too close. On the good nights, you’re able to talk to the Mandalorian through the emergency comm on the console of the ship. 

You’re mulling around the cockpit, memorizing the console controls, wondering what each one does when a soft crackle gets your attention. You’re so used to the quiet that the soft sound causes you to perk up immediately. 

“Mando?”

“— Hello ?”

“Took you long enough.” 

“ How’s the ship?”

You look at the blinking communicator as if it’s done you some personal offense. “...I’m fine, thank you very much. Ship’s intact, at least. Old thing.”

“... And you?”

“Are you asking if I’m still intact? Because the answer is no. I’ve lost my mind. I think I can hear colors.”

“ Yeah, isolation will do that to you .”

“What about you? Any sign of her?”

“... No. I'm in a village. No one’s seen anyone matching her description. Fob’s no help either. ” 

“Oh.” It’s nearly been two weeks. Four planets and more parsecs than you can count. “A village?”

“ Yes. Almost a day’s trek from the ship, so I’ll be back there by tomorrow. ”

You hesitate. “Can you stay? Just for a bit?”

“ Have you been sleeping? ”

“Not really.” 

“...I can keep the line open for a bit. Try to rest. ”

—

Two weeks later.

Batuu was green. That was the first thing you noticed. As the ship geared closer to the surface you see that those are actually trees, densely packed together to form a jungle. 

The ramp lowers and you can’t help it, you stand on the mouth of the ship, admiring the life of the planet. They’re gigantic, with bark twice the usual size and vines hanging from their branches, unlike what you had back at home.

The Mandalorian falls into step beside you and you can already sense what he’s about to say so you beat him to it.

“I’m just going to look.” The crest is parked in a clearing in the middle of the forest, flattening the long grass. It smells like damp soil and you can hear birds cawing in the distance. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you as you slowly walk down the ramp, grateful for the fresh air. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s ancient.” He counters, his boots crunching on the ground as he flanks you. “These trees have been here for a thousand years. They’re sacred.”

You turn to him. “Don’t you think I should—”

“ No .” He says firmly. 

“She’s trained. Been in military command for as long as I can remember. She can outsmart you and she can fight….She wouldn’t run if she saw me.”

“Believe me, I can handle it. If she’s even here. I’m not risking you for an intel that could be weeks old.” He says, wading through a field of long grass, the little kid hovering nearby. 

“You’re no use to me dead.”

You make a face, smiling sarcastically. “ Charmed .”

“You’re welcome.” He deadpans. “Now get back on the ship.” 

—

There’s a storm outside when the Mandalorian comes back two days later.  You’ve fallen asleep to the sound of the smattering of rain on the roof of the ship when there’s a loud clang outside and you shoot up almost immediately.  

Suddenly, the ramp creaks awake as it opens, letting the water in. The sound of the rain is deafening now and you’re barely up on your feet before the Mandalorian sprints inside the vessel, the child’s pram zooming shortly behind him. He makes his way up into the cockpit immediately, firing up the engine before you can even hear the ramp shut below. Another crash comes from outside, and what sounded like an animal growling and clawing on the ground. Panic rises inside you as you stumble into the cockpit. 

“ What is that —?”

“Strap in now . We’re leaving.”

You do as you're told. “Did you find her?”

“No.” The ship lifts off the ground, and there’s something clanging on the side of the ship now. 

“ Who is that? ” They found us, you think. They fucking found us. 

“Bandits.”

“Wh– Seriously ?“

You’re in hyperspace when you finally notice it. You couldn’t help the gasp that escapes you, “ Holyfuckingshit , Mando—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He says, voice a little more ragged than usual, as if he didn’t have a knife sticking out of his fucking back.

You shoot up from your seat. “Shit , what— what do we do ? Holy —fuck .” It all comes out in a tumble. He’s facing you now but you can still see the knife sticking out of him. It’s really fucking huge. Especially because it’s halfway stuck inside him.

“Wait, wait here.” You’re practically flying through the ship when you come back with the kit, ripping it open on the floor of the cockpit and rummaging through its contents. “Here, what do you need?”

“The cauterizer.” His voice sounds thinner, even through the modulator, and it only adds a layer of panic to your already worsening state. “Look for the cauterizer— That— Yeah that one. Good.” You hand it to him. “You’re doing good. Now, you’re going to take it out—”

“What? No way .” You step back.

“Listen–”

“I don’t know how to — ”

“Hey, hey, breathe .” He grasps both your hands in his. His gloves are damp, and you see the droplets of water on his armor, his chrome visor staring up at you. “Calm down. It’s going to be alright. As long as I don’t bleed out, it’s fine.” 

“You’re kidding me right? How is that fine ?”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

Trust him? That’s literally something the two of you couldn’t get right for nearly a month now. Now he’s basically putting his life in your hands and asking you to— Fuck . “Fuck, fine. I—I’ll do it.”

“Okay, you’re going to take out the dagger. Then you’re going to cauterize the wound with this.” He flicks some sort of switch and it fucking zaps . He places it in your hands. “Are you ready? You’re going to have to be quick, alright?”

He makes quick work of his chestplate, the armor clanging on the ground just as you come back with the scissors, ripping violently through his undershirt. You don’t think, you just do it and to your horror and surprise, the blade comes out easier than you expected. He lets out a long and loud groan, doubling over and gripping the console just as the bloody weapon joins the rest of his armor on the ground. You place a hand on his back to steady him, his skin warm.

“Maker, I’m sorry.” You say sincerely, gripping the cauterizer in one hand and steadying him with the other. He barks out a shout just as the laser makes contact with his skin. “ Stars , I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry… I’msosorry .” Your apologies turn into a whisper under your breath like a mantra, staying laser focused on the task at hand as he makes pained, broken noises underneath you. His fisted hand comes down onto the edge of the console.

It’s done eventually. The process felt longer than it was and there’s a moment when all you can hear is his heavy breathing mingling with the peaceful hum of hyperspace. It’s a juxtaposition of sounds. You couldn’t possibly imagine the pain he’s in and all he’s got to show for it now is a fresh jagged scar on the back of his shoulder.

You want to sit, but before you can even move an inch, he beats you to it. Suddenly, he’s tipping forward, a little too much and you recognize the fact that he’s going limp. You move just in time to catch him, letting your entire body support his weight as his helmet digs into your stomach while you try to get him back up into the chair without hurting his freshly closed wound. You hear garbling coming from underneath the armor. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hands on his pauldrons to support him, smearing red all over the metal. “It—It’s okay, I have you.” Literally. You don’t see any other option on how to move an injured man twice your size without hurting him right now and you’re too tired to think of a solution. So, you let him rest like that; his head on your stomach. 

You take a deep breath, your dominant hand cramping and your limbs feeling like you just strapped weights on them. You’re also getting colder and colder as the water he brought in earlier mingles with your sweat. Your hands are bloody. He makes another pained sound, a gloved hand coming up to grip your hip. 

“You ok?” You whisper. 

“ Mhm .”

“...Th—That wasn’t them, right?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Relief washes over you and you hardly feel his thumb brush a circle on your hip. 

You stay like that for longer than a moment. At some point, he’s placed his elbow on his knees to relieve some of the weight on you, still keeping his hand on your waist to steady you as you whizz through hyperspace. 

You let out a sigh, trying to focus on anything but how uncomfortable you are. 

It dawns on you you’ve never been this close before and you’ve never touched him, let alone seen his skin. It’s the first time you see him underneath all that metal. 

Suddenly, to you, there’s a lot of him. Weeks of looking at him and seeing nothing but metal and now the large expanse of his back is exposed to the cool air where you cut through his shirt. He’s a little pale from the injury and you also think it’s something to do with not being exposed to the sun that much. Your fingers grip his bare shoulder as you push him up just enough to make sure he doesn’t slip. His skin is damp, and he vaguely smells of rain, and something earthy. He’s a man underneath that armor, you almost forgot.

You watch the steady rise and fall of his torso as his lungs expand, muscles contracting as he tries to take in more air, and you notice the moles on his back. Tiny and completely unnoticeable marks scattered on the expanse of skin unless you stare really hard. You wonder if he knows this. Without thinking, you drag a clean hand, from his pauldron, to the small spot on his back, tracing it. Then to the next, and next, careful of his bad shoulder. It seemed like something you should do naturally and with no hesitation. You’re completely out of it, then, gently running your fingers along his back in a trancelike state, like your action and him feeling anything were two completely separate things. You hear him release a breath underneath you but you don’t feel the shudder that runs up his spine. You don’t see him shut his eyes underneath the helmet, don’t notice him lean back into your touch. Mando tries not to feel the throbbing pain on his shoulder, instead he focuses on the feel of your hand against his skin. He wonders if you were doing it on purpose. Or if you were in shock.

“Are you okay?” comes his question. He sounds more full now. Like he’s back to his usual self.

“Yeah,” you breathe, hand stopping in the middle of his back like you just traced a map and finally settled on a location.

You feel a squeeze on your hip, his head resurfacing from where it rested on your stomach and you’re suddenly faced with the chrome visor of his helmet.

“I’m fine. The kid’s fine. It’s over.” He says, sensing your distress. You nod silently. You can see him, and your reflection on his helmet but you can’t really… see it. Everything feels so cloudy and far away. You don’t want to look at the blood staining your hands, on his back. 

After dropping out of hyperspace, you lock yourself in the fresher and don’t come out half an hour later.

—

You assumed he was passed out from where he sat on the floor of the hull, resting, when you got out of the fresher until he said something. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

“What for?” you whisper, meticulously laying out a fresh set of blankets on the floor. You were trying not to think much about anything right now. The baby is asleep, the hull is dark and silent, save for your whispers.

“I’m meeting with my employer, and we need supplies.” He’s changed out of his damp clothes now, and didn’t bother with putting the beskar back on yet.

You frown, listening to his attempt to get up. “You’re going to work for him?”

“Yes. I’m not made of credits.” You could argue that, technically, he was. But you feel like that would have been borderline offensive. He finds himself expecting you to say something back, but you’re quiet. He at least expected you to fight him on this, like you usually do. 

“Hey.” Comes the modulated tone of his voice, sounding hesitant. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” You chuck your damp clothes in the corner, not meeting his eyes—or rather, the chrome visor now staring in your direction.

“I think you’re in shock.” He takes hold of your elbow as you make your way across the other end of the hull. “Talk to me.”

You stop in your tracks, feeling oddly vulnerable in your state. “...You just scared me.” You state plainly and just when the words leave your mouth that’s when you’re able to pinpoint what it is you’ve been feeling all alone. Fear. An image flashed through your mind—limp bodies on the ground, eyes wide open but so empty and lifeless. The memories rears its ugly head at you tonight, resurfacing faster than you can help it. 

“ Maker —” You breathe out a puff of air, pressing the palm of your hand to your eyes until you can see stars. “I—I don’t want to do that again. Please don’t—don’t make me do that again. I—I don’t know why I’m—I mean, shit, you were the one with th—the knife in your back.” 

The Mandalorian’s hand drifts down from your elbow to grip your hand in a gloved hand, his filtered voice surprisingly really soft. “I think you’re just tired…. It’s alright.”

A wet sob fights its way out of you. Stars, it’s pathetic. It’s so fucking embarrassing . 

You wipe away your tears angrily with your free hand, a lump forming in your throat as you try to stifle a sob. You just stand there, frustratingly wiping away your tears as they come, sobbing quietly into the palm of your hands. It’s all really caught up to you now. How much the past few weeks—hell, months —really fucked you up. He was right. You were tired. You wanted to go home. You wanted to grieve . 

You suspect he might just leave you there, tell you to at least get some rest before going back up the cockpit to maneuver the ship to Nevarro but he doesn’t. 

The hand that’s holding yours starts to tug you closer, hesitantly and you go willingly, still wiping tears until you’re close enough to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his good shoulder, letting him soak up your fresh tears. He’s warm without the beskar, and you practically melt into him.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” You shook your head against the soft cloth of his black undershirt running down to cover his arms, now wrapping securely around you, albeit awkwardly like he really didn’t know what to do and was simply improvising. “...It’s okay.” He runs his hand across your back soothingly and you hum softly against his shoulder.

A part of you is surprised at the gentleness in which he handles you, something you only ever see him reserve for the kid, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away. While he never showed any ill intentions towards you, you could never really read him. This was a job. You were a job to him. And he never failed to treat you as such. The things he did, you always assumed, was to benefit him and the kid. Your protection was just a byproduct.  You had no qualms about it, but months on the run, weeks alone, and the uncertainty of it all was getting to you, you admit and you just needed… you needed someone that wasn’t hunting you down or trying to kill you. 

You stay like that until your sobs subside and you’re taking calming breaths against him, his hand lingering . It was nice. This was nice. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, where there’s a spot where a patch of skin is showing. You find yourself wondering what he looked like all of a sudden

Suddenly, a soft cry pierces the silence of the ship and you’re suddenly reminded about where you were.

Slowly, you part. “I’ll get him,” you say with a nod. 

That night, you fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

[iheartmalewives]

Since you're online again i was hoping you cpuld mayhaps open your requests again? :3 and if so could you perchance write an idia aquarium date?

Aquatic Sceneries are Enjoyed Best With the Right Company ☆

HI OMG 😭 THANK GOD IM BACK AFTER A WHOLE ASS YEAR OF DISAPPEARANCE. Ive been so caught up with everything that I totally forgot about tumblr 😓😓 Im back now and will be taking requests! I have deleted the old requests as they probably dont want to read it anymore hshsjd ;; so if you have any new requests, tell me in my inbox ^^

An aquatic date with a special someone was one of your dream dates. You loved seeing marine life and the habitat they live in through a glass, but seeing it with someone you love was definitely an added point.

And of course, you had to drag Idia Shroud on a aquarium date. You two have been dating for a while but you've only ever had your date nights indoors. Initially, you didn't mind it. You always wanted Idia to feel comfortable no matter what. But this time, you just couldn't resist going on this trip with him!

It took you 5 whole days to persuade him, 5 whole days of begging on your knees and giving him all kinds of limited edition items just to convince him. Thankfully, he eventually agreed.

In the serene Aquatic area, with only a few people around, the two of you stood, captivated by the sight of fish gracefully swimming. "I can't stand these things..." he mumbled, lightly tapping on the glass, causing the fish to scatter in fear. And in that moment, a look of horror washed over his face as he turned to you exclaiming, "Even the fish are scared of me!"

"No they're not. They're like that! See—" As you tapped on your side of the window, contrary to his experience, the fish didn't scatter at all. Instead, they became drawn to your finger, as if it were fresh bait, swimming closer with curiosity and interest. "Nevermind."

"S-See? They hate me." He pointed at the fishes accusingly.

"No, they dont." You provided reassurance by linking your arm with his before leading him to another area. The two of you continued to explore, marveling at the diverse species you encountered along the way. With each new sight, Idia's curiosity and interest grew stronger.

Certain fish were particularly drawn to his hair, which seemed to radiate various shades of blue, illuminating the room with vibrant hues. "Look, we can eat that." You playfully said, pointing at a humongous fish that swam around slowly.

"Ew. No." He frowned. "I hate seafood with like a BURNING passion."

"Is that a pun?"

"Maybe." He grinned, showing off those razor-sharp teeth that you always thought was endearing, even if it scared a few people alway. "But NGL, I could definitely catch these things."

"In what? A game?" You asked sarcastically, watching the tips of his hair turn a shade of pink. "Duh. Those types of games are easy win. GG fishies." He said, glancing at the tank next to you, the smirk on his face causing you to laugh softly.

"Right. Let's enjoy this rather than thinking about killing the fishes. Oh— What about a pic?"

"I don't do pictures!" He squeaked, his eyes widening in slight horror.

"Come on, Ids. Pleaaase?"

"I already came here. Isn't that enough? This is not a normal habitat for me."

"Pleaaaseee?"

"F-Fine!"

You grinned and took out your phone, taking a selfie, with Idia trying his best not to shy away; his hair was slowly turning pink.

But then again, this whole date was a dream come true for you and he couldn't care less about getting embarrassed as long as he makes you happy. (and get you to buy more figurines for him even though he can afford it all)

a/n: hoping this is enough for a come back 😭 again, open for requests

[roxy-writes]

GIRLY DO MAFIA BAKUGOU AND KIRISHIMA X READ AND MAKE IT SMUTTY!!!!!! It's fine if you don't want to😅 BUT IF YOU CAN THAT WOULD BE GREATTTTT!!! LOVE YOU BESTIEEEEEEE 🥰

OK IM DOING IT. also i've lowkey been putting off my asks so if i haven't responded i'll get there soon lol <3 sorry

warnings: not proofread, smut, reader sits on bakugo's lap, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader has a pussy, extreme dubcon, biting, reader gets spanked, noncon creampies, reader cries, dead dove: do not eat

You sat tied to a chair in Katsuki Bakugo's office. You didn't know a lot about what was happening, just that he was a fairly well-known mafia boss and this was very very bad for you. He sat in a comfortable looking chair on the other side of his desk, his right hand man standing tall beside him. Kirishima Eijiro, who appeared way less threatening than his counterpart. But you figured he's probably just as bad as Bakugo, if not worse. You knew pretty much why you were here.

You were taking a walk somewhere, you can't remember where. The alleyway you saw was a nice shortcut, sure, but you probably should've just gone the long way. You didn't really expect to see someone being brutally murdered when you turned the corner, of course. As Bakugo turned to face you, the unknown body slumped to the ground at his feet. You sprinted away in the opposite direction, but you weren't fast enough, and that's how you ended up here.

"I was going to just kill you, but my partner here convinced me otherwise. How lucky you are. Well, I don't really know about that. You'll probably think you're better off dead once we're done with you." Bakugo says. You wonder what the fuck that might mean. "We obviously can't let you go though. You'll have to be of use to us in some other way." You're pretty sure you know what that means, based on Kirishima's hungry look. "Untie her," Bakugo commands, "not like she'll be able to escape." Kirishima moves to follow Bakugo's orders and only then do you notice his teeth. They're razor sharp, and they look dangerous. You figure things can't get any worse from here.

But of course they do. Bakugo makes you sit on his lap, the bump that you feel from under his nice dress pants rubbing against your thigh. He's changed since you first saw him, thank God, so there's no blood on him. You're frozen in place, his hands planted on your ass. There was no denying he was attractive, but this was not a situation you wanted to be in. "Kirishima, what do you say we get he used to how it's gonna be here?" Bakugo says, and fear rushes through your body. You're bent over the table in seconds, your dress being torn off your body. You want to struggle, but you know it won't do anything except anger him. He rips off your bra and panties, and your nipples harden at the cold. He beckons Kirishima over, and the red-haired man crouches down so he's face-to-face with your cunt. You're scared of those teeth being so close to your pussy, but Bakugo keeps you from being able to tilt your head to look at Kirishima. Kirishima's first long lick up your slit has you holding back a moan. "Make some noise, bitch." Bakugo spits, so you stop holding back as Kirishima sucks on your clit.

His tongue enters your hole, making you clench and keen. You're nearly forgetting about what's really happening and starting to focus only on how he's tongue-fucking you. Then his tongue's gone and his teeth are sinking into your thigh. You cry out in pain and squirm, which only seems to egg Kirishima on as he marks your thighs up. One of his big fingers slips inside of you and curls, pressing against your special spot. You cum with a cry as Kirishima licks up the blood dripping down your legs. Fuck, it aches. You hate to admit you're sort of turned on by it, but it still fucking hurts. Bakugo's already pressing his dick to your entrance and pushing in. You're still sensitive and you moan. He's bigger than you thought he would be, but he doesn't give you any time to adjust to the stretch as you expected. He immediately begins pounding into you. He shakes the desk with every thrust, and the edge of it digs into your hips.

Bakugo slams into your cervix. You make a noise of discomfort, and he raises his hand. He brings it down hard on your ass, the sting making tears form in your eyes. He does it again on your other asscheek, and you try not to make too loud of a noise in fear of what he'll do. You just whimper quietly as he fucks you. He's gonna cum soon, you can tell by how much he's twitching inside you. Oh shit, you think, he can't cum inside. You're not on birth control, oh shit, oh fuck, you think. He's definitely not wearing a condom. "No, fuck, don't cum inside, please!" you yell, but he just spanks you again. You feel hot ropes of cum coat your walls and tears stream down your face. You can almost feel him smirk. Kirishima shoots you a sympathetic look from where he was watching. You press your face into the desk and sob.

this is my 100th post lol

[maspers]

Whether or not you can or should fight people based on the Element that best represents them:

Hydrogen: You can if you'd like and they'll totally fight you back if prompted but like why

Helium: They're so detached from everything you couldn't fight them if you wanted to. 

Lithium: Oh believe me they want to fight you but if you do you'll just feel bad for hurting them

Beryllium: They are dramatic and vaguely poisonous so you'd think fighting them would be a bad idea but trust us you really need to

Boron: You totally can and it's usually pretty easy but don't let your guard down because they're really good at last-second victories

Carbon: DON'T. Their defense is impeccable and their attacks are razor-sharp. You will be hurt. 

Nitrogen: Everyone wants to but nobody can figure out how

Oxygen: In most cases, you can and should. But in some cases you will sorely regret it and you can never tell which cases those are.

Fluorine: FETCH NO NOT EVER

Neon: You might need to, but they'll just laugh it off once it's over. 

Sodium: Please fight them before they get worse. You'll have a ton of fun too. As a side note, if you're fighting *alongside* them all you need to do is give them time to prep and they're the best ally you can ask for. 

Magnesium: You might not want to but you really should. Don't worry it'll be over quick. 

Aluminium: Nah. 

Silicon: Strike fast, strike hard, don't let them access the internet or call a Carbon for backup. 

Phosphorus: Do you like to gamble? It's basically a 1 in 3 chance of A) You could but it won't do much B) You can and should as soon as possible and C) DO NOT THEY WILL EAT YOU

Sulfur: You'll regret fighting them, but it needs to be done

Chlorine: Best not to unless you are truly prepared to combat their aura of doom. 

Argon: Good luck finding them in the first place, and even if you do find them it'll just be like Neon

Potassium: You should but it won't be as fun as fighting Sodium

Calcium: Why would you want to? They're busy contributing to society best not to bother them. 

Scandium: Ugh I suppose if you HAVE to

Titanium: Please do. You won't accomplish anything but at least you'll know you tried

Vanadium: It'll be difficult because they never shut up but once they run out of breath their fate is sealed

Chromium: You should fight them but watch out they have a good reputation so if you aren't careful everyone will hate you. 

Manganese: Please don't. Chances are they already feel like they've lost, so just pat them on the back and tell them it's gonna be okay. 

Iron: You shouldn't. You'll want to. You'll really want to. But they're too important and if you win everything will be ruined. 

Cobalt: Don't bother. They'll flee at the first sign of conflict and your victory will feel hollow. 

Nickel: YES FIGHT THEM AND TAKE THEIR MONEY

Copper: You should fight them, but don't destroy them too hard because defeat means friendship in their eyes and they're actually really really helpful in just about every context

Zinc: Why on earth would you they are precious babies who never do anything wrong and just want to help don't hurt them! 

Gallium: You probably shouldn't, seeing as they're always on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

Germanium: You won't want to fight them because they seem like Silicons or Carbons but it's all an act you should totally fight them to make you look better. 

Arsenic: Don't fight them. Even if you think you've won they'll already have put things in motion to ruin your life

Selenium: You totally should if only to experience the bizarre disorienting feeling of not knowing who won

Bromine: You can, and you'll think it was a really bloody defeat but actually they'll be totally fine and you'll get a headache an hour or so later once you realize what happened

Krypton: Bold of you to assume you can even hurt a superhimbo

Rubidium: You'll hear about them and think they're worth fighting, but then you meet them and discover they aren't. Fight them anyway as punishment for wasting your time. 

Strontium: You can and should, they seem normal but are secretly a menace. 

Yttrium: Don't, they're way too weird and all their weird friends will join in. 

Zirconium: Fire a shot and then run for the hills, #totallyworththepain

Niobium: Don't, they've lost too much already

Molybdenum: Really don't. They'll punch your face in then go back to whatever project they were working on

Technetium: It's a bot. It's a freaking bot. Why are you trying to fight a bot? 

Ruthenium: I'm not sure they even know how to fight

Rhodium: They're like Chromium but genuinely harmless, so while you can fight them there won't be much point to it

Palladium: Why on earth would you fight them, they're hot AND reasonably sane! 

Silver: Yes, please. They start by throwing your arguments back in your face, and then turn nasty before trying to finish you off with memes. But since they're really predictable once you've fought one you've fought them all. 

Cadmium: Not worth the sick feeling you'll get afterwards. 

Indium: PLEASE fight them. They're really easy to deal with, but if you leave them alone too long they start screaming so you need to fight them regularly

Tin: You can totally fight them, they'll sit there and take it with minimal complaining, but don't push them over the edge unless you want to deal with someone even more ruthless than Carbon

Antimony: Don't, you're just giving them more blackmail material on you. 

Tellurium: They sit on a throne of lies, so really really don't fight them unless you're trying to protect Gold. 

Iodine: DON'T FIGHT THEM WE NEED THEM TO MEDIATE OTHER FIGHTS

Xenon: You'd think fighting them wouldn't be worth the effort because they lurk most of the time but if you start a meme war you'll summon them and it'll be like fighting an epic secret boss in a video game

Cesium: You should NOT. They will overwhelm you quickly and then continue to harass you at regular intervals

Barium: They're really boring but you can still fight them to kill time

Lanthanum: Go ahead

Cerium: You can fight them but it'll really take a while for them to really get going. 

Praseodymium: Heck yeah. There's always two of them but neither should be a problem because neither knows what they're talking about. 

Neodymium: Heck no. There's always two of them and they both fight dirty. 

Promethium: You should, they make for good practice

Samarium: Only fight them if you want a lot of attention. 

Europium: Ugh, no. They won't fight back, just repeat everything you say really loudly and in a sarcastic tone of voice. 

Gadolinium: You can try, but they're usually busy listening to music. 

Terbium: They're one of Yttrium's weird friends. The geeky one. 

Dysprosium: Frankly you should just reward them for being willing to fight for whatever bizarre argument they're making. Sure you could defeat them easy, but letting them live is so much funnier. 

Holmium: Go right ahead. They are loud and precise and need to be stopped

Erbium: One of Yttrium's weird friends. The mystical one with the Crystals.

Thulium: Sure. You probably already have. 

Ytterbium: One of Yttrium's weird friends. This one actually can fight so keep them distracted while you deal with the other weirdos

Lutetium: Pfffft don't bother nobody takes them seriously anyway. 

Hafnium: Do it and do it soon, because otherwise they shall surprise attack you

Tantalum: YES. THEY DESERVE EVERY PUNISHMENT EVER. 

Tungsten: They are very very good at fighting, but have flaws you can exploit. Which is good, because it will be necessary. 

Rhenium: You'll never get the chance. They'll fly in, pepper you with obnoxious memes, then go back to lurking. 

Osmium: They are older and wiser and know more than you and any attempts at fighting them will just lead to them giving you advice and helping you learn. But you should still fight them because… 

Iridium: ...when you attempt to fight an Osmium an Iridium will show up to defend them, and you NEED to fight those stuck-up prats. 

Platinum: Everything bad that people say about Gold is a lie, because they're true about Platinum instead. You must fight them. It will hurt a lot but they really need to be stopped. 

Gold: You will never fight them because you will be too busy protecting them. They are too pure for this world and deserve love and support, regardless of what people may say about them. 

Mercury: They are a writhing mass of insults and memes. Approach them with cold logic and only cold logic, otherwise you will die. 

Thallium: You won't realize that you really need to fight them until it's too late. 

Lead: They've been fought and defeated in the past so just let them go about their business fixing their mistakes. 

Bismuth: No don't, why would you even want to. They're like the most helpful people, and even if you did fight them they'd just outlast you with a patient smile. 

Polonium: I guarantee you've beaten a bunch of them before without realizing. If they argue back then you'll definitely die but they never do

Astatine: NO. NO. FETCH NO. NO NO NO. DON'T EVEN ACT LIKE YOU'RE GOING TO. THEY WILL DESTROY YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU LOVE, AND EVERYTHING ELSE. JUST DON'T. 

Radon: It'll be hard because they seem untouchable but they are a cancer on society and must be dealt with posthaste. 

Francium: I mean you could but they'll totally destroy themselves if you give them a couple minutes so just wait it out. 

Radium: Idk I guess if you can if you want to but they're usually too busy reminiscing to notice

Actinium: Nah. They're just attention seekers. 

Thorium: Oh please like you could

Protactinium: You'll think they're an Actinium so you won't fight them, but if you did fight them it'd be very cathartic. 

Uranium: Do it, but hold back. They're loud and annoying but they're really just a kid who doesn't know better. 

Neptunium: No need, they're already playing damage control and dealing with everyone else. 

Plutonium: BEAT THEIR RACIST BUTT ASAP

Americium: You'll want to because of how loud they are, but don't mistake volume for anger. They're actually pretty chill and only get genuinely mad if there's already a flame war going on. 

Curium: Leave them to their science, they're busy. 

Berkelium: They're like cardboard. You could fight them but it won't mean anything. 

Californium: Please do, and bring me pictures. 

Einsteinium: You shouldn't. Because if you do it will be because they want you to and are recording your actions for future analysis. 

Fermium: You'll never need to because they only seek out and interact with people who like and agree with them

Mendelevium: They are social experts who know everything about everyone and would be very dangerous if they weren't completely stupid. OHKO them and then let them go back to their ineffective scheming

Nobelium: If you somehow manage to beat them everyone will love you for it, but that's never happened. 

Lawrencium: No need, they're busy spinning. Wheeee! 

Rutherfordium: You can and should, but be aware fighting them will reveal uncomfortable truths about yourself

Dubnium: In Soviet Russia, Dubnium fights you. You'll be fine. Probably. 

Seaborgium: DO IT. PLEASE. TAKE THEM DOWN A PEG. 

Bohrium: Hit them once to prove a point then let them go back to reading, because if you  interrupt them for more than a minute they will destroy you out of spite with their intellect. 

Hassium: If you want to, sure. 

Meitnerium: Don't. They've worked hard to get where they are today and don't have time for anyone's bullcrap, including yours. 

Darmstadtium: See Hassium, though make sure you don't lose because that would be REALLY embarrassing. 

Roentgenium: NO. They will target all your weaknesses and atomize you. 

Copernicium: Lolololol sure it'll be easy since they're in dreamworld half the time

Nihonium: You can, but only if you're willing to fight fair. They are always up for an honorable duel but the moment you try to fight dirty they will call you out and cut you down. 

Flerovium: Go right ahead if you like, no one will care either way

Moscovium: See Dubnium except they're more ruthless and cold so just fire a parting shot and back off

Livermorium: I actually don't really know what fighting them is like, but it's probably lame

Tennessine: DON'T. They will compose a song about you. A mean song. You will cry.

Oganesson: You totally can, but honestly that might be a bit cruel.

[lowkeyrobin]

hey!

idk if you’re still writing but if u are - and have the time - could you maybe write fourth grade or ray seeing the readers sh scars? totally understandable if not :))

ooo yeah sure! ; also I'm still active I promise haha, if I ever had to retire (which will hopefully never happen) I'd probably but a thing in my bio to detail that I'm gone temporarily/permanently ; but yeah, it's all cool, I've written ab sh plenty of times before and I'm fine with writing about it ; decided to do ray on this one cause I've given fg enough attention atm haha ; and thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy!

RAY ; don't hurt yourself again

summary ; he finds your sh scars

warnings ; language, substances, self harm & weapons (razors/scissors iykwim) used (slightly) in detail to cause physical harm

disclaimers ; pre-stevie era

word count ; 1.3k

masterlist

This hot, sunny summer day was no different than any other. Patsy Cline's Walkin' After Midnight rung in your headphones, your cassette player quietly whirring as it plays your mixtape. The summer vibe had finally hit you, inspiring you to get with the theme and listen to some more beachy/summery songs for the season.

Ray always found it funny how you had such a taste for music. He didn't get how certain music was only for certain seasons or only gave you the vibes of a certain time, but he wasn't against it. You were way better at making mixtapes than he was.

Speaking of him, you were on your way to meet him at an abandoned pool you'd found a couple months ago. It was around sunset, the heat wearing down against your back.

Trust, the pool was clean, you made sure of it. But you found it as some hole in the concrete by some unused project apartments, water just sitting stagnant inside. You pick up your pace a bit, wanting to hurry before the sun completely set.

As you arrive, you see Ray, Fuckshit, Fourthgrade, and Ruben, dressed down to their boxers as they fuck around in the water. You wave hello as they welcome you, watching as you strip down into whatever you preferred to wear in the water.

You join them as the moon illuminates the pool, the only other slight source of light being the mostly burned out street lamps.

You end up starting a little water war, with you, Ray, and Fourthgrade against Fuckshit and Ruben. It was mostly just a splash party, with lots of shouting and yelling. Said shouting and yelling earned you a noise complaint, causing police to come deal with you.

"Hey! Hands up, get out of the pool!"

As flashlights are pointed at you all, you quickly scramble out, grab your belongings, and run barefoot down the street to avoid the police. You laugh and yell to one another as you sprint down the road, adrenaline fueling you as you aren't able to feel the rocks in the road wedge into your feet.

You hide in a garden, lit up just enough so you'd be able to put your clothes on properly and be able to tie your shoes. You shove your dry clothes on over your wet ones, attempting to warm up before you begin to freeze due to the cold water soaked in your under clothing.

You notice Ray staring at you a little too long before looking away as you slide your shirt on. You brush it off, maybe thinking he was looking over at one of the other guys, and you happened to be in the way, or maybe he saw a rabbit or a squirrel run through the lawn.

You and Ray separate from Fourthgrade, Fuckshit, and Ruben, as the trio were planning to go to some 24 hour diner to eat dinner before heading home. You and Ray head the opposite way, wanting to go home as sleep slowly creeps up on you both.

Your walk home is mostly silent, warm street lamps lighting your way down the sidewalk. You slowly glide on your board next to Ray, who decides to walk. He shakes his locs out of his face to look up at you.

"Do you hurt yourself?" He asks bluntly, unable to word what he wanted to ask any differently.

"What?" You quickly look at him confused, almost shocked. "No"

"I saw scars on your arms earlier when we were in that garden," He speaks, "Those weren't cat scratches or just rush burns or some dumb shit, those were cuts. It's fine if you don't wanna talk about it, but it's not fine to bottle it up and just hurt yourself. Like, we're here for you, okay?"

You slightly shrug and look away, your foot hitting the pavement as you give yourself a little push. "I don't hurt myself anymore"

"Oh"

You hold back a light smile. "Yeah"

"When did you hurt yourself then?" He asks, almost disappointed in himself that he never caught onto it if it was in the past. "Why?"

You shrug as you give him a blunt explanation. "Long ago. They're just scars for a reason. Life got rough, and I didn't know how else to cope. I was too scared to drink or smoke like you guys, but I was somehow able to hurt myself instead."

He nods. "Sorry"

You nod, "It's cool. I was waiting for it to happen anyways. Just another consequence of my actions, but I've grown and yknow, sappy shit"

He chuckles, "Yeah, yeah."

He pulls a blunt from his pocket, like he'd pulled it from Mary Poppins' bag, considering he just randomly had it and a lighter. He lights it up, puffing it to feel a little calmer about what you'd told him. He was such an extreme empath when it came to shit like this because he knew what the bottom felt like after losing his brother. He understood but didn't know how to help, so he just listened.

The rest of the walk is fairly quiet, the smell of weed filling your noses while the sound of your board rolling on the concrete whirs in your ears.

He waves a slightly awkward goodbye as he walks up to his front porch, knowing you'd stay on the sidewalk until he actually got inside. He grabs at the screen door, pulling on it to realize it was locked. Within the Marry Poppins pockets he had, he surprisingly didn't have his housekey.

He turns back to look at you, giving you a look you knew all to well. You laugh before waving him down to you, offering up your bed for him. He jogs back down the sidewalk to catch up as you'd already drifted away, knowing he'd follow like a lost puppy.

He holds onto your hand as you trail down the neighborhood towards your house, trying to hide the fact that holding your hand was his only comfort that he knew you weren't currently hurting yourself.

You open your front door to let him inside, placing a finger over your mouth to tell him to hush as you walk toward your room. You close the door and hand him some clothes he'd be able to wear to bed, allowing him to go to the bathroom to change while you also change.

You both flop down on your bed, sitting in silence as you stare up at the ceiling covered in glow in the dark stars. A lamp illuminates the room, covering it in a warm blanket.

He turns to look at you. "Do you wanna talk about it at all? Get it off your chest?"

You shrug before answering, "Yeah. I mean, what do you wanna know?"

He shrugs in response. "What'd you use?"

"Scissors, razors, pencil sharpeners. Anything sharp, used a knife once."

"Damn" He mutters. "How often did you do it?"

"About multiple times almost every day" You answer. "I was at the bottom then"

"When was then?" He asks, "A few weeks, months, years ago?"

"Months" You answer carefully. "I'm not anywhere near depressed like that anymore, I swear"

He nods, turning on his side to look at you as you speak. "You know you can reach out for help, right? Like, we aren't gonna yell at you or something, we wanna help you, I promise"

You quickly nod. "Yeah, it's just, when you're that low, you don't think help will actually help. I was worried if I reached out, I'd just be thrown to the side or I'd be yelled at and lose everything I have left."

He nods. "Can you promise me you won't hurt yourself again?"

You smile, appreciating the thought of those words. You hold your pinkie out to him, allowing him to shake his with yours to pinkie promise on it.

"I promise"

[death-himself]

Masochism and Cannibalism

I've had this idea in my head for ages but I don't have any OCs that fit it, so I decided fuck it and wrote my first ever x reader fic

Summary: You are a proxy in Slenderman's forest, and want to help out your friend Jack a bit by having him eat you. In the process, Jack finds out you're a huge masochist. (gender-neutral proxy!masochist!reader) Relationship between Jack and reader is up for interpretation, could be friends-with-benefits, could be romantic, could be platonic idk

Content Warnings: masochism, cannibalism, graphic depiction of violence/gore, implication of religious trauma at the very beginning, vaguely NSFW? it doesn't feel sexual to me but it also kinda is but not really

Word Count: 1,760

You knew that Jack hated killing people. He hated what he had been forced to become. One night you had forgotten your jacket in his cabin, and had crept back in to grab it, only to find him kneeling by his bed, praying in a rapid whisper to a god he didn’t even believe in, the knuckles of his hands pressed into his forehead.

From that point on you had become the only one in the Slenderman’s forest to know of his turmoil. While you certainly weren’t one for empathy, considering the requirements of your job, you had always felt for Jack. The closer you got to him, the more you longed to take away his pain.

And then you came up with the perfect plan.

You knocked on the door of Jack’s cabin, hearing his quiet footsteps approach, pause on the other side, then open the door.

“Hello Y/N. Do you need something?” Jack spoke, his voice as steady as ever. You nodded, letting yourself in and sitting at his dining table.

“I’d like to make...an arrangement with you.” Jack’s head tilted to the side slightly; with his mask on it was the only sign of his confusion.

“What kind of arrangement?” He spoke slowly, giving you plenty of time to plan out your next words carefully.

“Well, I’m a proxy. I can’t die, and any injuries I get will heal in a couple hours, right?” Jack nodded, having fully studied every bit of proxy biology since entering the forest. “So...thoughts on eating me?”

“No.” He answered instantly, turning his back to you and stepping into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“What’s the harm in it?”

“There is quite literally nothing but harm in it, Y/N. I’m not eating you.”

“I’m giving you full consent and everything!”

Jack poured two cups of coffee, handing one off to you. “Y/N, there is no reason behind this arrangement. I am...perfectly fine with how I am operating now.” Though it was subtle, you heard the slight tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat and sat across the table from you, avoiding looking in your direction.

You stared down into your coffee cup. “Can we at least try it?” Jack looked up and stared at you for a long time.

“Why are you so insistent on this?”

“I just...wanna help a friend.”

“You are suggesting that I kill you and eat your organs.” He stated bluntly. “Y/N, I appreciate the offer, I do. I just…” Jack paused, mulling over the words in his head for a moment. “It could not be a permanent arrangement. It would simply be too much, I would never be able to repay you.”

“What would you be repaying me for?” You spoke before thinking, not realizing how weird you probably sounded. Jack stared at you fully aware of how weird your question was.

“I would be repaying you for the amount of pain I would be inflicting on you.”

“Right. That.”

“Not to mention I have a limited supply of strong anesthetics. I could use them on you once, but the rest I would prefer to use for patients in need of surgery, not to fulfill my own needs.”

You watched as he lifted his mask, taking a sip of his coffee. His claws were razor-sharp, the glimpse of his fangs you got were even sharper.

Goddamn, why’d he have to be so moral? If he were like Toby or Jeff or any of the other fuckers in this forest he would’ve jumped at the opportunity. You really wanted to feel those claws tear you open and his teeth bite into your lungs. You wanted to nourish him so badly.

“Can we please try it? You can give me a shoulder massage or something after I heal if that calms your conscience.” You tried your best to keep your tone calm and not desperate or pathetic, but he still seemed a bit confused by your insistence. He stared at you for a long moment, before standing up with a sigh.

“Alright. If you’re sure you want to do this. Let’s go down to my lab, it will make the cleanup easier.” You got up a bit too quickly from your seat, following him downstairs to the white walls and floor of his basement.

It was a small, makeshift hospital room, one that you had been in a few times before when a broken bone was taking an annoyingly long time to heal or a wound was dripping blood and making a mess everywhere. He pulled out a hospital bed with a thin, uncomfortable-looking blue mattress.

“I’ll take out your heart, lungs, and liver, starting with your heart so that you die quickly and won’t have to undergo as much pain. Once I am done, I believe it should take roughly five hours until you fully heal and come back to life.” You hummed in response, trying to hide your disappointment at the thought of dying quickly. He would still have to break your ribcage to do any of that. You wondered if he would suck on your bones. The thought of him chewing on one of your rib bones like a dog was kind of funny to you.

You took off your shirt and lay down on the hospital bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You heard Jack pull a medical cart over to your side, before washing his hands and pulling on some blue gloves.

“You don’t have to treat this like a medical procedure, that’s no fun.” He got close enough to stare down at you again. With his mask off, his confusion was plain across his face, eyesockets wide and brows pulled together. It was cute how expressive he was behind that mask.

“How would you like me to do this?” He seemed to slowly begin to understand what you wanted, looking over your relaxed body for a moment. He hummed. “Well, I suppose...when I am cutting open one of my victims I am usually on top of them.”

“Okay.” You responded simply, turning back to staring at the ceiling. You could feel his gaze on you, trying to judge your reaction. You heard him mumble “This is not what I expected my night to turn into,” before hearing him move, the bed shaking a bit as he climbed up, pinning your legs between his thighs.

As he stared down at you, he wore a look of hesitant acceptance, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You are absolutely sure that you want this?” He asked. You grinned at him and nodded. “Would you like to establish a safe word or—”

“Dude, oh my god, just do it.” His smile widened to the point that you could see his sharp teeth behind his lips. He took a scalpel and made his first incision.

The pain only came after the second cut. As he gently pulled back your skin you bit at your lip, trying to not scream out in pain. A wince left your lips as he examined your ribcage, and you felt his hands pull back for a moment. Your vision was swimming as you watched him pause and study your face, before turning back to your ribs. He laid his palm across them, and he pushed down sharply.

There was a loud CRACK as three ribs broke at once. Your body went limp as you forgot how to breathe. You felt him gently pick up each small fracture of bone, placing them on the medical table. There were pieces of your ribs scattered across your heart and lungs; as you took a shaky breath you felt each piece move up and down. Jack picked up what he could with a steady hand, moving it out of the way with as much respect as he could. You thought he was talking to you, but all you could hear by this point was blood rushing through your ears.

Then when Jack was satisfied with your ribs, you felt his warm hand loosely wrap around your pounding heart. He took his pointer finger and thumb and carefully felt for your aorta, before bringing his scalpel closer. You saw his lips move, and could just barely make out him saying “I’ll see you in a few hours.” You felt a sharp cut across your aorta, then others across your veins, arteries, and vena cavas.

Your brain immediately began to panic as your blood stopped moving through your body. You stared up at Jack as your vision dimmed, seeing him bring your heart up to his lips, taking a large bite, blood dripping from his chin onto your exposed stomach. You managed a final smile at him as the world went dark.

You woke up still on that hospital bed. You ran a weak hand across your chest, feeling tidy stitches going down the center. Jack had cleaned you off, you couldn’t find a single speck of dried blood on you. Your regenerated lungs filled with the sterile air of the hospital room, the air feeling fresh and new despite you being in the basement level.

You sat up, looking around. Jack wasn’t there. There was a twinge of disappointment in your new heart, but you brushed it aside, standing up on shaky legs and making your way to the exit door.

The door creaked as it opened, and a pleasant smell hit your nose: breakfast. You quickly climbed the stairs, finding Jack standing at the stove, cooking some scrambled eggs.

“You eat your fill last night?” Jack nodded, turning to you with a gentle smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Incredible.” You sat down at the table as Jack finished plating up your breakfast, placing it down before you.

“That’s good to hear. I’ll draw a bath for you, and then if you’d like I can give you that shoulder massage as well.” You had almost forgotten about that, still riding off the high of last night.

“Would you actually be down for that?” You asked.

“Your body is likely sore from the regeneration process.” Your body felt perfectly fine to you, maybe a bit weak but otherwise fine. But if he was offering it, it’s not like you were going to say no.

“Sure, why not? Feels like a bit much, though. I mean, I probably got way more enjoyment out of last night than you did.” Jack shook his head.

“I am more than happy to pamper you for the day.”

[chickenparm]

Tiny Little Teeth (cat!Scara/f!Reader) Pt 1

it's a rite of passage for anyone that writes for scara to at least do ONE scarameow fic. anyway, 3 chapters for sure on this one, maybe a 4th if i feel like party rockin.

---

AO3 LINK Next Part

cat(boy)!Scaramouche/f!Reader - Reader is Traveler 2,628 Words - SFW (future NSFW) (no warnings this chapter - smut tags on AO3)

---

“Traveler, pleeeeease?”

Paimon struggles to float under the weight of the kitten, her arms wrapped around his torso as he wiggles and wiggles and wiggles and hisses. You watch for a moment how his little teeth are bared, the pupils of his eyes wide enough that only the thinnest purple iris is visible as he glares at you. Can a cat glare?

This one is. You think you like him. 

“Alright, fine. But he’ll have to stay in the teapot, he’s just too little to travel around with us now.”

At the sound of your agreement, he starts writhing even more, and you reach out to take the kitten from Paimon to keep her from sinking like a rock. Holding him by the scruff, you lift the cat to look him over - ink-colored fur, pretty violet eyes with strange markings around them, the whitest feet and ears you’ve ever seen… 

“You’re a cute thing, aren’t you? What should we name you…” You use your other hand to support under his back legs, holding him closer to your chest as you release his scruff and instead run those fingers down the raised hair along his spine. “Angry little thing. Kinda reminds me of…”

“That’s what I thought! So grumpy!” 

Paimon already agrees before you get the name out, and the two of you giggle amongst yourselves. Ducking your chin to look at him, he stares up at you with a vicious little hiss, just before you say, “Oh, if he finds out he’ll be so mad. Let’s do it. You’re my little Scarameow now.”

Razor-sharp tiny claws sink into your skin at his visceral reaction to the name, teeth bared as his face scrunches up in rage. But it’s not frightening - only cute enough to make you coo and bend to press a kiss right on that angry little forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Paimon, can you watch the teapot for a while? Maybe take it to Nilou for safekeeping?”

“Can do! Oh, can you use the kamera and take a picture if he does anything cute? Paimon wants to see!”

The kitten grumbles, and taking a little pity on him, you falsely make the promise to her and withdraw the teapot from your inventory to head home for a little while. Paimon’s voice trails off with her goodbye as your navel is pulled, and the world shifts from one reality to another, leaving you in a field of wildflowers that wave gently in the breeze. 

The kitten goes slack in your arms, the whipping of his little tail petering out as his furry head turns left and right, taking in the sights of the field, the smattering of buildings not so far in the distance, and the backdrop of other landforms beyond it. Even if he probably can’t understand you, you still can’t help pride from filtering in your voice as you begin your walk to the main house and explain. 

“This is my home. Well, our home, now. You’ll be comfortable, safe, and warm. Nothing bad will ever happen to you here. You must’ve been awfully scared, being all alone like that.” You say, unaware of how the kitten’s head tilts up to look at you. “What sort of food do cute little kitties eat, anyway? Fish?”

Of course, he doesn’t answer, but he does prickle a bit when you refer to him as cute and little, like he isn’t aware of how small he is. Or how soft his tummy is on your forearm. Somehow, you feel like he’d be mortified if he knew just how much you wanted to put your face in his fur and blow raspberries. 

You’d probably lose an eye, you think. 

Stepping into the home and shutting it behind you, you don’t bother to lock it as you call out, “Tubby! You home?”

“I am always home, Traveler.” The bird sparkles into existence, the kitten’s fur stands on end as those little claws sink in again. Dipping your head, you shush him and scratch behind one of his tiny little triangle ears, but it doesn’t do much. It almost makes him madder. Narrow red lines well up on your arm from where he’s been scratching and biting you. Tubby waits patiently for the exchange to finish before asking, “Is this a new resident?”

“Yes! This is Scarameow, he’s going to stay here for a while. Do you think you can sift through the storage and see if there’s any furniture that will be good for him?”

“Miss Diona did pass along some of the furniture blueprints they use at the Cat’s Tail when they need to replace something too clawed-up…”

“Perfect!” You agree, holding the kitten awkwardly as you start to kick off your boots. Tubby doesn’t like it when you track dirt into the house, and you’re not feeling up to suffering passive-aggressive comments about your cleanliness today. Tubby flickers off, and you’re once more left with a kitty that’s wiggling desperately to be let free. 

Not just yet, though. You wander into what serves as the living area, a few couches near a fireplace that’s already lit. You grab a throw blanket and bundle it up on the couch, then carefully set him there. “That’ll have to do for now. I’m going to go and see what I can find you for food. I bet you’re hungry.”

Purple eyes look up at you, unimpressed. Your face twists in minor annoyance, “C’mon, I’m doing the best I can. If I expected to get a kitten today, I’d have prepared a little better. Maybe you should work on your timing.”

The kitten meows, a loud thing that can’t hold the weight of his own annoyance at you. Planting your hands on your hips, you bend a little and say, “‘Meow’ to you, too. Y’know, if you want to be menacing, you’ll have to work on not being so cute. If you keep being grumpy, I’m going to get your belly and it’s going to be very embarrassing.”

Another meow, teeth bared like needles, fur starting to raise on his tail. In fact, he stands, his back arching and the rest of him puffing up as if to look bigger, scarier. And you only laugh, reaching out with a palm and pushing him over into the blankets. “Cute little thing. Scarameow is a good name, you really do remind me of the Balladeer… uh, Wanderer, I mean. Don’t tell him I messed the name up, I’m still getting used to it.”

The cat pauses in getting up, head tilting as if curious. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to vent to him a little, he is just a kitten. It’s not like he can tell anyone unless he suddenly learns to talk like Neko. Standing straight, you let your arms fall to the side with a sigh, “It’s weird, he and I are the only people that actually remember what happened before. He’s kind of a jerk, but… I’d hoped that maybe, if anything, he’d be willing to let me… oh, I don’t know. Be his friend?”

Settling on the couch, you abandon the idea of food for now. The kitten doesn’t seem interested anyway. But he does settle down to sit on the blankets and seems to be listening intently to what you’re dumping out on him, even if he doesn’t understand. Leaning back against the couch, then letting your head roll to look at the ceiling, you continue, “I want to talk to him, but honestly, I’m not sure how to do it without him assuming I’m just taking pity on him for it all. I’m not, really, but he just seems kinda… lonely?”

No answer from the kitten. Maybe he’s fallen asleep already, maybe he’s not listening at all. 

“Despite everything, I kind of get it. Y’know, after everything he’s been through, I’d probably be the same way. So I can’t really fault him for a lot of it. Well, maybe I can, just a little. But people can change, and it seems like he’s putting in some effort.” Your hand reaches out to the blankets, searching for the kitten to try and pet him absently, but your hand comes up empty. 

Lifting your head, the blankets are empty, but in the space between your lap and the makeshift bed, the kitten is frozen mid-step, like he’d been sneaking closer. It looks up at you, and you look back, and carefully you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling. Maybe if you don’t give him so much attention, he’ll be a little more accepting of it all. 

And the idea strikes you enough that you speak it into the world, “Maybe that’s the key. I’ll give him some space, just make it known that I’m willing to accept him and then back off. If I come on too strong, he’ll just get annoyed.”

There’s a pressure on your thigh of a small paw pushing in, then the opposite, and as you covertly look down, you can see he’s making biscuits on your lap. Not quite sitting on you, just off to the side, but it’s a start and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. Biting your tongue, you don’t draw attention to it and instead bring one hand to curl around his back where he sits next to you, a warm presence against your palm. 

“Do you think that’ll work? Ah, you’ve never met him, how would you know. I bet you’d get along, though. Two angry little guys.”

Claws poke against your leg in a warning, and you laugh a little as you finally lift your head and look down at him. “Alright, alright. Hm… y’know, I have an idea. If I promise not to get your tummy, will you put up with me doing something else less demeaning?”

A head tilt, a cautious ask of what you’re planning before he accepts anything. You guide him away from the copious amount of biscuits he’s been making and settle him in the blankets again before getting up. “I’ll be back, just going to go to the workbench for a bit and make something. If you hate it, you don’t have to ever look at it again, but I think it’d be… cute.”

Scarameow growls, looks at you unsure, but you’re already walking away and leaving him alone in your home. Before leaving the room, you look at him over your shoulder. He’s sitting where you left him, looking suddenly very small, and a little coo leaves you that makes him bristle and stand, back arched once more. 

Your laughter is what remains in the room with him as you leave. 

The kitten waits while standing, then sits down to wait more. Then he lays, curled in a tight ball, eyes watching the doorway that you left through. The fireplace crackles nearby, lulling him into a calmness that makes him relax a little. Eyes drooping, he watches with disinterest as that weird little bird appears in the room, floating around and materializing what looks to be furniture suited for a cat. 

A little tower with multiple levels, a wooden bowl-shaped bed filled with soft pillows, a box with a paw print on it filled with unknown contents. Then, the bird moves to the window and opens the curtains, letting the sunshine in. Suddenly, the kitten perks up a little, getting to his feet and streeeetching before all but tumbling from the couch. Annoyed at himself, he wanders over to the window. 

There’s just enough of a ledge that he can sit up there, so he backs up and lowers himself, rear end wiggling a little before launching up. Still unpracticed, his claws catch on the edge as he undershoots the distance and has to scrabble on the rest of the way. Looking over the edge, he sees a few marks left in the wood, and his chest puffs up a bit. Good, serves you right.

Outside the window is that same view he was greeted with on arrival. Wildflowers fill the field, waving in unison as each breeze wafts over. His eyes follow the patterns as he lowers himself and tucks his limbs in, then his tail around himself. You said he’d be comfortable, happy, safe. He’s heard it often enough, but when was the last time he felt it?

Mildly disgruntled, he realizes he’s feeling it now. 

He’s not sure how long he looks out the window, feeling the sun warm his fur as it moves across the sky. But his ears twitch, your footsteps returning, and he doesn’t have time to get up before you enter the room and coo, “Oh, you’re loafed up. How adorable!”

You clasp your hands around something, then tuck your hands beneath your chin at the sight of him looking so comfortable in the window. You don’t miss the scratches left from his journey up there, but you don’t really mind. It’s not like he did it on purpose, and it’s an easy fix. 

Wary eyes watch as you approach and kneel at the window to be on an even level with him. With a little smile, you reassure him once more, “I made you something. If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it, but you really do remind me of him, so…”

You set the little object down in front of him. A bright red cord of expert make, looped into a necklace and tied with a red bow around a little white puff ball. And on the end a golden ornament lacking the depth of detail of the original, but still a good enough mimicry that you feel proud of it. The kitten stares and stares, almost as if his eyes are unseeing. Patiently, you wait, considering he hasn’t batted it away like you initially expected. 

And then, one of those soft white paws untuck from beneath his body to reach out and paw at it, tugging it closer. A quiet acceptance that’s solidified by how he doesn’t fight you when you carefully settle it over his head and around his neck, ensuring it isn’t too loose or too tight. “There, you could get it back off if you wanted, but…”

And then, with a little laugh, you fold your arms on the window ledge and prop your chin on them to look at him with a pleased smile, one that’s absolutely fond. “Anyway, don’t let him see you wearing that. He’d probably blow a blood vessel seeing you wearing it and having that name. Ugh, he’d probably think I want to keep him as a pet.”

The kitten looks at you unamused, one paw still resting out, claws starting to flex in a quiet warning. All you can do is grin, scrunching your nose at him, “And then I’d have to explain that I did it because I’m already fond of him. Is that weird? I’ve known of him for a long time, and we’ve been enemies for almost the entirety of it. One soul-searching journey and now I’m fond? I must be crazy.”

The kitten nods. A delighted laugh leaves you and you reach with one hand toward him, your cheek resting on your other arm. To your surprise, he doesn’t bat you away as your fingers start to scratch beneath his ear, but he doesn’t seem entirely pleased, either. 

“I think it’s been a long, long time since anyone was fond of Wanderer. After all he’s been through, don’t you think he deserves a little softness, now?”

The kitten doesn’t say anything, but if you hold your breath and stay very still, you swear you can hear a quiet little rumbling coming from him as his eyes start to droop closed. 

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #3: Life During Wartime

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by myriadimagines

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 3.2K (third post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

III. “Fucking farrick,” you grumble, trying to jam the locker door back onto its hinges. When it finally eases open, you grab your rucksack and head for the exit without changing out of your coveralls. 

You never remove so much as a shoe once you're inside the refinery. Showers were available, but no one used them. Cameras surveilled practically every inch of this facility. And just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t in here, too.  

Stepping out from under the dim artificial light, it takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the riot of color. It’s early morning, barely past midnight, but the sky is awash in brilliant yellows and oranges, alight with swirling pink clouds. 

Lakaran’s nearest sun only dipped below the mountains this time of year, never truly setting. When it sank behind the peaks at this hour, the ridgeline became a deep indigo against the horizon, its glaciers reflecting back the sky’s warm glow.  

Ehki is what the Lakarani called their star. Grandmother, it meant. Her daughter, Amular, was the world, and Ehki traveled around her in an unending circle to carefully watch over her children. So tonight, when the sun finally fell into darkness, and there would be several hours of real night for the first time in months, the Lakarani would throw a gigantic party while Grandma Ehki wasn’t looking. 

You know you should hurry up and leave before someone accuses you of loitering, but instead, you pause to take in the view. A small, inconsequential act of rebellion. The scenery is breathtaking up here. The air is thin and crisp. It’s the best part of your day to stand on this spot and take in the majestic landscape right before making that sharp turn toward the escalator. 

The view from the west side of the slope is decidedly less sublime. 

The scale of the encampments surrounding the processing plant is almost impossible to take in at first glance. The structures are a jumble of materials built on top of each other in layers that look more like debris washed up by the river than a deliberate settlement.

The skyline is dominated by the refinery’s cooling towers belching out steam that smelled acrid and made the air thick with humidity. The water used for cooling went right back into the river, along with the encampment’s sewage. Which is why you absolutely refused to eat anything fished or gathered downstream.

You step off the escalator and see Humia waiting for you outside the checkpoint. The security guard reaches for your bag, not bothering to look up or make conversation while she searches its contents. She doesn’t care to ask for your name either—just waits for the familiar beep of the transponder at your wrist to confirm your exit as you walk through the gate.

“How’d it go today?”

“Good,” you answer brightly, patting the bound folio strapped to your stomach. “I found this fire safety and evacuation handbook with a very detailed floor plan of level nine. Raceways, server rooms, access panels…I’ll have to ask my partner about the utility lines, but we might be able to bore into the operations center from an adjoining room.”  

“That is good,” she nods enthusiastically. "This is your partner, Nito? He’s the tech guy?”

“Yeah,” a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. Humia probably wasn’t envisioning a furry thirteen-year-old when she used the phrase tech guy, but that would be a fun little detail for her to discover later. 

Or sooner rather than later? You still haven’t heard anything from the Razor Crest about when to expect their arrival on Lakaran. Which is absolutely fine. Definitely not a big deal. Nope. Not at all something that you’ve been overthinking for the past eighteen days straight. 

Nope. It’s not at all distracting to obsess about how, after months of tortuous yearning, you finally had sex with the Mandalorian and have not spoken to him since. 

Gods, why is it suddenly so hard to breathe just thinking about him?

The fact that you spend most of your nights alone, willing yourself to recall the memory of his hands on your body while the tears can fall without shame…has been, you know, not great for your mental health. 

So that’s why, a few nights a week, you take a break from drowning in insecurity and play at the Sabacc tables. 

Guess that’s out of the question now. You’ll need to avoid Johar Kessen like the plague.   

“Nito’s been dredging through the Imperial archive for more information on the refinery. The stuff he’s found is incredible. All of the records from when they built this place.” 

“Good,” she smiles appreciatively. 

As you descend toward the encampment, the rocky mountain path splits into three parts. Two fanned out onto the raised perimeter wall made of poured concrete and scrapwood that traced a broad circle around the sprawling camp. It had been constructed by the Tagge Corporation to help with mudslides, but what it really helped with was surveilling the Lakarani. 

You and Humia take the main path through the center of camp. 

The hut you shared was higher up on the slope, which was a blessing when it rained but a pain in the ass when you had to walk uphill after eating your weight’s worth of bean cakes for dinner or hauling laundry back home from the wash house. 

“Another option is turning one of the technicians, but I’m not having a ton of luck in that department. I can usually wrap scientists around my finger, but engineers are so tricky. It takes them an ungodly amount of time to realize you’re trying to fuck them.”

“For what it’s worth, I would turn for you in a heartbeat,” you say, holding your face between your hands, eyes wide with adoration. “Those dark lashes are criminally lush.”

Humia swats away the compliment. “I could steal a key card, but I have no idea how long it would take for someone to discover it’s gone. That might hold us to a very narrow time frame depending on when it’s reported missing.”

You follow her up the winding footpath that leads homeward. The camp is much easier to navigate this time of day, when everyone is still asleep. “I like the idea of entering from an adjoining room. That way, there’s no exposure in the hallway. Even if we’re in uniform, five people on the cleaning crew, when there are usually only two, will be immediately suspicious.”

The Mandalorian’s solution would undoubtedly be to come in through the front door, rifles blazing, but that’s not an option in this scenario. You have to secure the operations center before anyone from the Tagge Corporation realizes the refinery is under attack. The risk that they would activate the facilities’ containment protocol is too great. It would condemn not only everyone on site but anyone within five leagues of the processing plant.

“We could stuff Serenio and Davik into the cleaning cart?” Humia chuckles at the implausibility of this suggestion.

“I doubt we could even push the cart with Davik stuffed inside. He’s built like a stack of boulders.”

“I told him to quit training in the fighting pits. He’s going to attract too much attention.” 

“Why does every population center in this galaxy require some kind of fighting pit? It’s a weird kind of calculus. One communal latrine per 20 persons. One fighting pit per 100 persons.”

She rolls her eyes, “Do you know a more straightforward way to earn money than two people beating the shit out of each other? Though, I don’t think Davik does it for the money. He’s just like a puppy that chews all your socks if he doesn’t get enough exercise.” 

“He’s so young,” you sigh, feeling suddenly guilty. “Him and Serenio, both.”

“Most soldiers are,” Humia scoffs. “Revolutions don’t offer a very robust life expectancy.”

“That’s true. I didn’t expect to make it out alive when I joined the Rebellion. And I appreciate the protection. But I can’t help seeing them as children.”

She tosses her head with a derisive laugh, “I didn’t expect you to be so tenderhearted.”

No doubt she thought it made you weak. But you’re wise enough to know empathy took far more bravery than cynicism. “Just because I can recognize the cruelty of this life doesn’t mean I’ve made peace with it.”  

“That’s rather noble coming from someone working with a Mandalorian.” 

Your neck turns sharply to catch the look on her face, but she’s already ducking around the pilings and cantilevered beams bracing your neighbors' houses against the mountainside.  

“You don’t like Mandalorians?” It seems like an odd prejudice. 

“No,” she sneers. “They say they are bound by codes and honor, yet they show nothing but selfish indifference toward the plight of others.” She stops abruptly on her heels to glare at you, brushing strands of auburn hair from her eyes. “And I like your Mandalorian least of all.”

He’s not my Mandalorian, your heart sighs.

The hateful disdain in her words is like a slap to the face. Humia rarely revealed the depth of her emotions. What could inspire this level of rancor from an otherwise inscrutable woman? And why bring this up now?

You cough, clearing your throat to mask the apprehension in your voice. “I didn’t realize you already knew him?”

“I don’t need to know him. I know what he’s done.” But it’s a reflexive response, not a real answer. So you wait. “They’re all mercenaries,” she says, compelled to explain herself. “Condemning their souls for money. They profit from the misery of others for the sake of themselves.” 

You can tell she desperately wants you to ask, What has he done?

It’s not the first time Humia had hinted at a bitter history between the Mandalorian and her leader, Ubaa Dir. But you don’t take the bait. If you’re missing some part of the story, you want to hear it from his lips, not hers.

Instead, you remind her with a wry grin, “Well, now you’re working with him too.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she concedes. “Wars make for strange bedfellows.” 

An image of them together flashes behind your eyes, and the irrational taste of jealousy fills your mouth. Don’t be absurd! Hadn’t Humia just admitted she'd never met Mando? 

Lucky for you, she lets the moment pass without escalation. Her tone shifts, and she places a companionable hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve heard Kessen fights in the pits. We could go to watch him sometime? Belen’s right, you know, he’s got a crush on you.”

“I have no idea why,” you begin, but Humia raises her hand to cut you off.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kasya. Hiding under workwear and bushy eyebrows won't change that.”

“Now, why would you bring my eyebrows into it?” You tease, as though it might erase her vitriol from moments ago. That is until you catch sight of the security guard standing on your front porch. “Is it okay that he’s waiting here for you?”

It’s the same guy she brought home last week. When he spots you walking down the path, his face breaks into a wide grin. He waves, looking giddy, as though he might jump off the steps to run for her.  

“This one, I can turn,” she mutters, slowing her pace. “I’m glad he told us how to block the transponders…but he’s fallen harder than he should. If he starts getting heartsick, it could be a problem.”

“Poor kid. You bat those lashes, and what hope do any of us have?” 

“See,” she looks at you askance, nudging you in the stomach with her elbow. “That shit is why Kessen likes you. You’re so sweet with your friends and no one else. He wants some of that honey for himself.”

You snatch at the opportunity to throw her off the subject. “Why Humia Fenrik, are we friends?”

“Why, yes, Kas,” her voice is laden with gooey sarcasm. “You’re my best friend. That’s why I got you this job, remember?” She adamantly refuses to change the subject. “Some men like a challenge. And Johar Kessen is very bored stuck out here with the likes of us, guarding all these soulless corpos.”

“So by challenge, you mean, like how I’ve given him absolutely no indication whatsoever that I’m interested?”

“Are you worried he might recognize you from the Rebellion?”

“What?! No, I’m sure he was much higher up the food chain.” Rumor was that Kessen had led special operations forces during the war. “Kinda sad that he went from Rebel hero to working for the Tagge family.”

“There’s your angle,” Humia says, snapping her fingers. “It would be good to have him on our side once the fighting starts. And Kessen might be elite for a bodyguard, but I bet they treat him like a piece of furniture, same as the rest of us. He must hear things.”

You cock your head at her. “Then maybe you should approach him?”

She’s probably already considered it, but come on! She didn’t have to rake her eyes over you like a bawd house madam ready to offer up her best girl. 

“I’m not the one he wants.”

“Listen, I’m flattered you think so highly of my charm, but I do not have the skill set.” You’re at least tactful enough not to say, I’m not like you out loud. This is Humia’s job. She’s very good at it. And it’s not your place to approve or disapprove of the way she went about it. “I’d be too nervous.”

You remember each time you had to quietly lock yourself in the privy to heave up the contents of your stomach whenever the Mandalorian asked you a pointed question, thinking, He knows! He knows I’m lying! 

Which…yeah, it turns out he did. “I think I’d have a panic attack and blackout.”

“Your cover story is a psycho ex-lover. Of course, you’re nervous.” At that, Humia gives you an appraising look. “You’re living under a stolen identity and seem to be doing just fine.”

“Exactly! Because I don’t talk to anyone.” A sudden knot lodges in your throat. “Have you asked Serenio to approach anyone?”

One of the refinery executives had an unsettling interest in her. You clean the facilities overnight, so there's rarely any staff on-site, but whenever he worked late, he made a point of saying hello to her. A good opportunity to practice his Twi’lek sign language, he claimed.

You know it’s a mistake to ask about it as soon as the question leaves your mouth. She immediately becomes defensive. “Serenio is loyal unto death. She would do whatever I commanded.”

Humia didn’t have to add, unlike you. It just hung in the air unspoken. 

“But Serenio is trained for combat, not espionage. And she’s green as a pea shoot.” 

“Ah, so I’m overripe?” You arch a bushy eyebrow at her. "Just falling off the vine. Thanks for that!"

“I’m just saying Johar Kessen is very attractive and likable. You wouldn’t have to pretend. It’s not much of a heavy lift, surely?”

“Okay, the sleeping with him part I could probably manage. But as soon as I ask Kessen a remotely leading question, he will immediately know what I’m up to!”

“There’s no need to tie yourself into knots,” she snaps. "Just be honest. You think it’s beneath you.”

Humia’s back is rigid, and her jaw is clenched tight. She looks so proud yet so vulnerable that it breaks your heart.

Is this why she’s so angry? She'd been seething all day, spoiling for a fight. It makes you question whether her anger about the Mandalorian is sincere or just an attempt to provoke you.

“Humia, this entire operation is built on your intelligence work. You think I look down on you because I’m horrified or judgemental about what you do. But it’s the opposite. I recognize what a dangerous game you’re playing and know I don’t have the courage for it.”

You wish you could give her a hug, but this was not the time or place to dwell on what was at stake. Or the weight of what she carried on her shoulders.

“Fine,” Humia huffs, shaking off the tension. “Just think about it.”

Oh, you’ve had plenty of time to think about it. Sleeping with Johar Kessen is not going to happen for a number of reasons. 

Chief among them is he would discover that—contrary to your fake documents—you are not human. Which would inevitably lead to the discovery that you are not, in fact, Kasya Hawat. That secret would give him leverage, and you simply refuse to hand someone that kind of power over you.  

But you can’t tell Humia this. Because then she would know that you aren’t human, and that is something you don’t plan to share with anyone here on Lakaran. At least not yet. It’ll be another fun little detail for her to discover later.

Kriffing hell! Now you’re doubly glad she doesn’t know. Given the course of this conversation, you have no doubt she’d insist that you use your influence to dig through Kessen’s thoughts and memories for something useful. That’s why Hapan courtesans were so highly prized—one of the few professions the Consortium allowed to leave the Hapes Cluster—and why they made the best spies. 

Amongst those other reasons…you have no idea how Mando would react. Though, if you had to guess? You’d guess poorly. 

While there’s the whole sworn warrior of Mandalore—I can’t call you mine—complication, you know how he feels about you. A man who struggles with trust would not find it easy to share. His sense of duty and commitment to the job might oblige him to accept it as a necessary tactic, but you aren’t willing to risk it driving a wedge between you. Things are already too delicate.

Aaand now you’re thinking about Mando again. 

Fuck, you miss him so much. You awoke every morning wanting him. You wanted to hear the sound of his laughter, to touch every inch of his skin with your fingers and feel his heartbeat under your lips to know he was really all right. You wanted to feel his body over you, under you, inside you… 

Ugh, you’ve already thought about him about a dozen times today. What’s once more.  

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” You lie, hoping she’ll let this go for now. “Will I see you later?” You ask, looking meaningfully at the security guard waiting impatiently on your porch.

“No. Unless you’re going to the bonfire tonight?” Her gaze became conspiratorial. “Kessen will probably be there. All those corpos love Lakarani culture if it means slumming it up with us. He'll have to keep them out of trouble. Your pocket is chirping, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, distractedly patting down the front of your coveralls. “Um, sure. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“If not, we should meet for morning prayers at the shrine tomorrow. Make our report.” Humia says, beckoning the guard over to join you. “Why are you smiling at your communicator?”

"Hmmm?"

The Razor Crest had just arrived on Lakaran.

****************

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me.

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

[seasaltandcopper]

vampire hunter AU Pt 3

[Prev]

Summary: Teddy takes a moment alone with Mal. She and Will talk on the drive home.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, (implied) torture, violence, manhandling, dehumanization

The truck’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness, spilling across chalky gravel, stubborn weeds, and jagged chips of concrete. Moths and bugs flit through the light, throwing flickering shadows as they knocked against the bumper of the vehicle, and pinged gently off its hood.

Out in the dark, past the lights of the truck and the old factory, beyond the high, razor-wire topped walls, a pack of coyotes yipped and howled. Crickets and frogs sang their nightly lullabies. Critters screeched.

A nice, mild summer night. Routine. Almost peaceful.

Teddy glanced to the side, giving the vampire another look over as she steered him towards the truck. Mal kept his head down as he stumbled along, every few steps needing her to tighten her grip when he didn’t lift a foot high enough and caught it on the loose gravel, either tripping himself or sending it skittering off into the dark.

It looked like the effort of even walking this far was about to put him on the ground. Or maybe the gravel just hurt his feet.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

When Teddy looked closer though, she noticed the dark red smudges trailing behind him, only visible because the loose rock out here was a dusty, powdery white.

She sighed. Even if this shit was rough to walk on barefoot, it shouldn’t cut him up that bad in such a short distance. Another lingering token of the hunters' hospitality, probably. Teddy briefly wondered if he’d tried to run recently and they’d taken steps to make it a little harder if he got it into his head to try again.

He didn’t look like a flight risk. But Teddy gleaned enough from the past half hour to agree with Brooks’ original assessment: Mal wasn’t broken. Not all the way; not permanently.

Not yet.

Teddy sighed again, face rearranging into something less pensive and more irritable. “Something wrong with your feet?”

Head raising so fast it might’ve been attached to a pull-string, Mal pushed out a sharp breath through his nose. Anyone else, any other context, Teddy would’ve called it amused; she didn't know what to call it with him.

He shook his head, brows pulled together in a deep line. “No,” Mal lied, voice hoarse from disuse. He swallowed, and tacked on a more automatic sounding, “Uhm—no, sir.”

Sir, huh?

Well, Teddy wouldn’t argue with that. It sent a weird, tingling thrill all the way down to her fingertips, like grabbing hold of a live wire. Wrong in the same way it felt right, the intoxicating high of knowing you had your oldest enemy completely under your thumb.

No wonder vampires got so drunk on that kind of power.

Uninterested in pressing him for the truth—anything and everything she wanted to know she’d get out of him later—Teddy gave Mal another firm tug, and pulled him to a stop beside the old, white appliance truck.

The open bed in the back was crammed full of various tools and equipment and (mostly Will’s) junk, but a good third of the space was taken up by a white, chest style freezer.

Not the fanciest transport, but for the hunter on a budget, it’d do just fine. Secure, for her peace of mind, and sun proof, for the vampire’s. Supposedly they felt safer in small, dark places, which had led to the whole coffin-sleeping myth in the first place. Regardless, Mal would be safe on the hours-long ride back, even if it was a tight fit. He might even enjoy the chance to rest, which was sure as hell more than he deserved.

Climbing into the back, Teddy reached down to pull Mal up after her, and hauled him bodily into the truck bed with surprising ease. He grunted as he landed hard on his knees, Teddy’s iron grip around his arm the only thing keeping him from eating shit.

The side of Mal’s jaw ticked, like he was biting down on something, but he stayed bizarrely quiet. Just like he’d been the entire time. The Mal she remembered had never shut up; it was disconcerting to see him rendered practically mute.

Whispering unease slipped through Teddy’s ribs like a cold wind through bare tree branches. It rattled and sighed with the voice of doubt. She shook her head and let it pass. Grimaced.

No, it was him. It had to be him. The tip, everything the hunters here confirmed over the call, even his own reaction to the name was all but proof.

But—

You’d feel pretty damn silly if you went through all this trouble and got home with the wrong guy.

“Alright, stop,” Teddy ordered, halting the vampire before he could get up off his knees. He’d been staring at the freezer uneasily, but one word was enough for his attention to snap back to her. “Hold still. I wanna get a better look at you.”

Reaching down, Teddy cupped his jaw, tilting his head back so they were staring eye to eye. She felt the subtle flinch, the way Mal’s whole body seemed to pull taut at the contact, how badly he obviously wanted her hands off him.

But other than the flare of nostrils as he pulled in a breath, he maintained a surprisingly good poker face. No fighting, no struggling. Not even a peep of sass.

Teddy grimaced again at the tackiness of Mal’s skin, built up residue of god knew what covering him. Patchy stubble scratched at her fingertips. She brushed loose strands of hair out of his face, roughly tugged a couple chunks free where’d they’d caught under the muzzle straps, ignoring his wince.

His hair looked longer than she remembered, hanging just past his jaw. Uneven in places, like he’d lost patches of it at some point, and was only partly regrown. With all the filth, the color was indiscernible—it could’ve been red. Or anything from medium blond to brown originally. And if he had freckles, Teddy sure as hell couldn’t see them beneath the filth.

Eugh.

A sigh. “Mal,” Teddy said, like she was testing the name against some metric. “You are Mal, right?”

She felt his throat work as he swallowed. The look he gave her reminded Teddy of a wild animal, caught in a trap. Slowly, Mal nodded. Then managed a raspy, “Who—who are you?”

“Teddy,” she answered flatly. A steel bite undercut the words. “But you know what, I kinda like the sound of “Sir”, so let’s stick with that.”

She noted the complete lack of recognition at the drop of her name. Mild confusion that seamlessly melted into acceptance, hastily buried under a glaze of apathy. Another jerky little nod at the second half of her statement.

Something about it pissed Teddy off; the surge of her own fury took her by surprise, capsizing her better judgment before she could reign in her temper.

Fingers curling, she dug her nails savagely into Mal’s jaw, wrenching his head back until she felt the tendons in his neck straining at the angle, needing—something. A real reaction. Anger, pain, fear, it didn’t matter, Teddy just needed to know the monster still felt something the way she did, some dim reflection of the turmoil raging inside her like a storm.

Mal made a sound, quiet, against her hand. He wasn’t looking at her with apathy now. Blinded by her own rage, all Teddy could think was that it wasn’t enough.

Both of them shook. Little tremors traveled between them seamlessly, like an electric current.

Just get him home, a more sensible part of herself insisted, you’re so close, don’t blow it all now for a cheap shot.

Teeth grinding, Teddy stared down, wild eyed at her captive.

Shit.

Teddy released Mal abruptly, shoving him away from her. He landed hard, metal rattling against the truck bed. “Just go.” A disgusted noise rumbled in her throat, and she scrubbed the hand clean on her dark jeans. “Fucking leech bastard.”

Rising, Teddy pulled Mal along with her to the freezer, ignoring his startled yelp and the clatter of limbs hitting the truck bed as he tried to help rather than simply get dragged. He ended up on his side, slumped against the freezer, wide-eyed and staring up at her.

“But you wanna know who I am—?” Shoving open the lid, Teddy paused long enough to answer Mal’s question. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

Teddy pushed out a rough sigh and slammed the driver’s side door closed behind her. Both hands braced against the wheel to stop them from shaking. She curled them around worn, familiar plastic, tightening her grip until it creaked, and the crisscross of white and pink scars stood out across the backs of her hands like lines on a map.

Her pulse slammed in her own ears. Too loud. Something under her ribs ached, like a stitch in her side from running too long.

Ten years. Ten fucking years.

And a whole damn lifetime of nightmares, jumping at shadows, wondering if she’d ever get closure for any of it.

Slouched quietly in the passenger’s seat, Will tapped out a cigarette and the world finally shook itself back into some kind of order. She waited for the familiar flickflickflick of his lighter, the sharp burn of tobacco and paper, before breaking the silence.

Rituals, Teddy came to realize over the years, were important. There was a reason magic thrived on them, that countless human societies were structured around them. Even mundane ones carried weight.

She breathed in deeply, taking comfort in the familiar burn of secondhand smoke. Let it out again, slow and controlled.

“Yeah, it’s Mal,” she said. The words came from someone else’s mouth. “Son of a bitch didn’t recognize me, but I got that much out of him. Shit.”

Teddy wished she’d kicked him in the teeth before locking him up. Given the bloodsucker something to think about on the ride home.

She’d stayed calm until her slip a moment ago. Cool, collected, distanced from it all—outwardly, at least. But once she gave it some slack, the dam keeping all those ugly emotions and nearly thirty years of pain and fear-fueled rage at bay started to crack.

“Dude looked pretty messed up already.” Spoken as mellow and unruffled as everything else that came out of Will’s mouth. He took a drag and blew the smoke out the window, one long, thin stream. “Guess these guys had him for a while, huh?”

Something sharp edged into Teddy’s voice. “I don’t give a shit what those hunters did to him.” She held the wheel in a death grip. “Hell, whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. That isn’t even close to what that leech deserves, not after what they did to us.”

Briefly, her gaze slid sideways, settling on Will. Unlike Teddy, he rarely bothered to hide his scars. On a warm night like this, a t-shirt left plenty of exposed skin. All of it told a story.

An ugly, bloody one.

Dozens of bite scars crawled from his wrists up past the crook of his elbows. More bloomed from beneath the neck of his shirt. And those were just the ones she could see—

Teddy sneered, then buckled her seatbelt. She threw the truck in drive and pulled out, flinging gravel and fishtailing for a second before she regained control. She flicked a salute to the hunters at the gate as they waved her through.

Humming in annoyance as the abrupt acceleration knocked a clump of ash loose onto his shirt, Will grimaced and brushed at it. It smudged, gray crushing into the warm yellow fabric.

“Jeeze, Teddy, ease off a little.” Sighing, Will abandoned the effort to save his shirt. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know why you need this.” Even if Will didn’t.

But he got it, and no matter how gruesome or bloody a path Teddy chose to walk, Will followed. She had no doubt he’d follow her to hell and back, something that brought equal parts reassurance and guilt these days.

Teddy knew all of that. Just like they both knew it wasn’t really him she was mad at. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Forcing herself to ease off the accelerator, Teddy fixed her gaze out the front windshield. Now that they’d passed out of the compound, the sky opened up overhead. Like the ceiling of a black cathedral, speckled with thousands of points of dim, distant light.

Here, in the swath of no man’s land between established territories, very few dedicated settlements persisted—human or vampire. Just hunters, lone wolf types without a coven to claim them, and a handful of civilians too stubborn to leave their homesteads, preferring to protect their land or die trying.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Just quiet. Dark. Empty.

Things most humans feared. Things that had frighted Teddy once, too, but didn’t anymore.

“Whoa, Teddy, check it out—you can see the Milky Way tonight. Awesome.”

Pushing out an amused snort, she glanced over at Will. “You can always see the Milky Way out here.”

“Not when it’s cloudy,” Will pointed out brightly, grinning. “Or raining.”

“Right.” A good natured roll of her eyes, and Teddy leaned back into her seat. Relaxed the white knuckled grip she’d had on the wheel and pulled off the gravel road onto a proper paved one.

Little tremors still zipped down her arms, but the distraction kept the threat of spiraling into darker memories at bay.

Picking a thumbnail at the wheel, Teddy kept her eyes on the road as she said, “Thanks. For staying.” For everything.

Nothing would go back to the way it was before. The kids they’d been, all those years ago, were dead and buried. Even vengeance couldn’t change that.

But maybe closure could give them a better future to look forward to, after.

Smiling, Will slouched lower in his seat and flipped on the radio. Only a couple stations reached out this far, and of those two only one played music. Old country. Blues. Folk songs that had a distant crackle to them even without the fuzz of interference.

Will’s easy-going chuckle drifted over the crooning of a singer who'd died before they were born. “Well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

AN: those of you who saw the teaser I posted a while back might be wondering where that went, and the answer is the second half of chapter three is now becoming chapter four because this is already so long lol

I want to lay the ground work now though, and start establishing these characters properly. Even if that means taking a little more time.

Taglist: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @thecyrulik @lookbluesoup @cinnamon-roll-whump @whumpwillow @bloodinkandashes @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

[prettiest-grrrl-inthemorgue]

Fix my problems with a blade

Pairing: Jake x johnnie

Summary: johnnie is going through it and jake doesn't really realize how bad it is until he sees johnnie doing something jake thought he stopped long ago.

Genre: angst/fluff

TW: self harm, eating disorder kinda, depression, disasosiating

Word count: 1386

No ones pov

Johnnie was having a shitty day, no a shitty week or maybe two. He couldn't remember how long it had been, he hasn't really left his bed, only to eat or use the bathroom. Not to mention when he ate he didn't eat much, it didn't matter though he couldn't keep it down anyway. Why was he feeling this way? Well there's a few reasons, one being his so called "fans” being assholes. They body shame him, tell him he's immature, make fun of every little thing he does, it's like people don't realize that he's a person too, and it shouldn't bother him, he knows that, but it hurts. No matter how hard he trys to ignore the hate it fucking hurts. 

Another reason he's been feeling this way is because Jake has been filming with Tara or Carrington or anyone other than him a lot lately. Jake is basically Johnnie's only true friend, so it's sad to see him with other people. Johnnie knows Jake has his own life though so he doesn't mention it to him. 

Johnnie has also just been really depressed in general for no particular reason, he simply just is. Johnnie is a mess right now, laying on his bed in his dark room, wearing the same clothes he's had on for days, hair messed up and makeup smeared on his face. The worst part is Jake hasn't even checked on him, hasn't asked him what's wrong or why he's been in his room all this time. He probably doesn't care, Johnnie thinks.

 

Johnnie's pov

I'm just laying here my mind going a mile a minute, I overthink one thing then immediately another thing. I wish my brain would just stop sometimes. It's so fucking loud.

 I don't think Jake likes me, he probably just has pity for me, he doesn't wanna be my friend, why would he? I mean look at me, fucking look at me. I wish I could be better. For him. Wait. My mind wanders somewhere else then I come to a realization. I like Jake. No, I love Jake. I would do anything for Jake. Fuck there goes my mind again, Jesus I wish my thoughts would shut up. I'm not fucking gay what am I thinking? But maybe I am...

I think a little more then I start crying. Why am I crying? I'm in love with my best friend who probably hates me that's why. I'm such an idiot. He would never like me back. Even if he wasn't straight he wouldn't like me. 

Jake's pov

I'm filming with Tara right now, but I can't help but think about Johnnie. He hasn't been doing good recently. I'm worried about him. I haven't asked him what's wrong because I don't wanna push him to talk about anything. But It's been too long. I'm gonna try and talk to him today, I miss my best friend. When I finish filming with Tara I make my way back home to mine and Johnnie's shared house. I stopped on the way home to get Wingstop for him and I.

 I unlock the door and yell out "honey I'm home" in my mama bear accent. No response. I lay the food in the kitchen "Johnnie? I got food for us" I yell out, still no response. I walk over to his door and as I'm about to knock I hear sobs. I decide to knock anyway "Johnnie? You ok?"

"Uh, yeah I'm fine go away, I'm busy" he says and I can hear the tremble in his voice. "Johnnie, are you sure you're ok?" I ask genuinely worried 

"Yes I'm fine Jake now go" he snaps at me, I walk away from his door and go eat my food, I wait for Johnnie to come out of his room but he doesn't.

Johnnie's pov

I get up from my bed to do the only thing I have the energy left to do. I know it's not a good idea but I need it. I go to my dresser and take out my razor blade. I look at it in my hand for a moment. Should I do it? No I shouldn't. But I need to. But I shouldn't. 

Fuck it.

I start dragging the blade along the skin of  my wrists and thighs, I leave more cuts then I plan to. Before i know it I'm bleeding all over my floor. I finally zone back into reality and realize what I did. Fuck. I start to panic a little but then I just stay sitting on the floor. I'll clean it up later. I'm too tired right now. As I'm about to fall asleep (or pass out from the blood loss) I hear a knock on my bedroom door it's Jake. I tell him to go away, he eventually does. I stay sitting on my floor in my blood thinking about everything and nothing, I don't know how much time has passed when I hear the door open. I've been in and out of consciousness the whole time. I didn't even realize he knocked. I look up at Jake and he looks mortified

"Fuck" he says before kneeling down next to me. I'm dissociating. I can't move.  He wasn't supposed to see me like this. 

Jake's pov

I walk into Johnnie's room after a little while, I'm not expecting what I see. My heart drops, and my eyes widen and I start to panic. Johnnie is sitting on his floor in a puddle of blood, he looks up at me and I drop to my knees beside him. 

"Johnnie I'm so sorry I should have talked to you sooner" I apologize as I hold his hand. He looks like he's frozen in time. He's not moving, If it wasn't for his rapid breathing I'd think he was dead. He's still actively bleeding so I take my shirt off and press it against some of his wounds. I start to cry. 

"I thought you were clean Johnnie, what happened?" He doesn't answer, it's like he's not all there. I clean him up, put him in some of my clothes and lay him in his bed. He looks at me.

Johnnie's pov

I look up at Jake as I come back to reality, I was wearing different clothes and I was in my bed, he must have moved me. How did I not notice? Jake sits next to me on my bed, he's crying. He's fucking crying. My heart breaks at the fact that I made him cry. He's crying because of me. 

"Jake..." I say softly

"Yeah?" He replies numbly. I lean closer to him "I'm really sorry, I feel like such a burden...and I need to tell you something" I talk softly. He lays next to me and looks in my eyes ready to listen, I take a deep breath. "I love you Jake...not just as a friend" I admit. 

He looks confused and shocked. Fuck he doesn't like me back why did I tell him. Fuck he hates me. What do I do? He's gonna kick me ou- 

My thoughts get cut off by Jake saying

"I love you too" 

Wait what? He must notice my confusion because he adds "what? You didn't think I felt the same? Johnnie we've literally kissed so many times and I've initiated all of them, and told you I enjoyed them" he says honestly. I listen to what he says, he has a point. I smile slightly and wrap my arms around him.

 

Jake's pov

I'm surprised as johnnie hugs me, he's not much of a physical touch person. I'm not complaining though, in fact it feels so good to hug johnnie. I wrap my own arms around him as well and I hold him close to my chest, I look down at him and he looks up at me, his eyes filled with love. I place a soft kiss on his lips. It's just a peck but it means so much more than any of our previous kisses. We lay in each other's arms as I pull the blanket over our intertwined bodies. I lean down and kiss johnnie once more before watching him doze off in my arms. I can't help but admire how beautiful he is. If only he could see how perfect he is inside and out. 

Title from "everything ends" by slipknot

[starlightiing]

Could you put together a top 5 or even top 3 drivers and why?

I - like my opinion I guess, obviously? I'm not sure I could narrow my faves down to three or even to five but I can try. I'm going to do top 6 I think. That would fit better for me.

George Russell

Alex Albon

Pierre Gasly

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

I don't really know if that's THE order because it changes around a lot. But...Those are my top six for sure. The why's are really silly and not technical and probably useless to explain but George for me is a world championship contender (not this year) but in general, in a good car. He has so much untapped potential we've not even seen yet. He's ambitious without being a cunt (some people think he's a cunt, idk, I don't see it), his heart is on his sleeve openly and proudly and I love that for him/about him. Show me more emotional men in sports pls. He has the talent, the drive, the ability - but not the car. I could see George, if put in a competitive car again, world champ in a few years really.

Alex is an AMAZING driver. Yadda yadda, he crashed 2x, yadda yadda, Williams, yadda yadda el oh el chassis, blah blah blah. I don't really want to hear all that when you look at the car he's stuck with. That kid can drive, he wasn't BAD with Red Bull he just wasn't up to their standards, but you put him back in a car like that and give him a year or two and he's there. I will never not talk about Alex's talent. He is incredible and I hate to say it but it is simply this: no one does well in that Williams car. He also needs to come out into a better team, better car, and start working his way up to where he can be comfortable driving with the big teams.

Pierre is another one with untapped potential. His story is tragic and I don't like to talk about him too long because it makes me sick. He himself I'm sure is just fine and having a great time and doesn't need/want defending, but I don't like it. I see it in him, that passion is so strong I can feel it radiating off of him. People don't like him because he's been bitchy and unhappy recently but can you blame him? Look what he's got to work with. He's a race winner and he's stuck back of the pack in a car that looked so goddamn promising when he signed his contract and ended up eating absolute dogshit. You can say Red Bull gave him a chance and they did (sort of), and maybe they were right in saying he wasn't ready for THAT just yet - but he is SO much better than where he is right now and has fought so much harder and gone through so much, and he deserves to be in a car that fights as hard as his heart does. Period. I could easily see him being in a place where Lando is right now, in a decent car.

Lando and Oscar I just think are good. Period. Lando has his moments where he chokes and I think people are really, really hard on him for it but I'd really love to see them hop in a car and do what he does :) Things happen. Literally all you have to do is accidentally turn the wheel a little more than you planned (which we've all done in our regular cars, I'm CERTAIN) but going as fast as he is, that can be a catastrophic mistake. That's the pressure they're all under, and they all make mistakes. And Lando is a nervous little bunny sometimes, so I think that doesn't help, but the point still stands: they all make mistakes. Lando gets too much shit for his, period. He's a fantastic driver. Oscar is incredibly talented - without even bringing up his age, because I feel like it's backhanded "wow he's great for his age" nah mate he's just great. He's working his way up and doing really really well and just getting better and better. He's a strong competitor, don't sleep on him.

I think we all know about Charles Leclerc's ability and potential, his heart, his passion, what fuels him and what his team does to him. I don't think I need to deep dive too far into this one. Loyal to a fault, gets his own heart broken too much by bad calls - but probably one of the most razor fast reflexes on the grid and overflowing in natural talent. And he's not a dick, which we love. Please don't confuse "sometimes being a dick" with being a dick overall as a person - they are not the same thing. I am sometimes a bitch, I am not a bitch as a whole. He can and hopefully will world champ before George.