#there's another 1.5k of this in the doc

[alteredphoenix]

An Unexpected Joyride (The Veleanor Modern AU #7)

A/N: While I'm thinking of which Celia/Michelle WIP I'm going to pull from the USB Drive and work on next (and given the month we're in, it'll probably something holiday-themed), I decided to open this guy up since it's last update in June 23 (to which it was created in May 23 of this year) after I received a lovely ask from an Anon last night about the Veleanor Modern AU series.

I had been thinking about this WIP on and off again since the last time I touched it, and I figure now would be a pretty good time to dust it off and work on this while (1) I am browsing my WIP list and (2) it's still on my mind before the brain decides To Go Brrrr and plunks it back into the far recesses of the thoughtful nether where all things belong and go to.

This is also the fic where Magilou makes her first actual appearance! But the WIP so far hasn't gotten to that point yet (but it's almost there!), so this little snippet will do for now.

Part of the summary goes as such: "(Or: Magilou has a busted muffler and it needs to be fixed last month, so Velvet, being the good convict that she is, decides to drive the damn car to the auto shop herself. As always, Magilou makes for...interesting company.

There are less than one-hundred ten hours to go.)" (I honestly might change this up as I go along idk, I kind of want to try fitting the countdown into the titles somehow)

(At the moment, the doc is sitting at 2.1k words. I get the feeling it might turn into a longfic, or close to it, so I foresee this maybe reaching around the 10k mark. Even if it doesn't, it's a good idea to set a tentative goalpost - Just To Be On The Safe Side.)

-

The first thing that Velvet notices that today is not going to be like any other normal day in this corner of hell upon waking up at six in the morning is there’s a distinct lack of music playing somewhere from the next block over. Only the fan churning quietly in the corner and the distant early morning traffic that would surely get drowned out by a higher setting could be heard.

Why the fuck...? is the first thing she thinks of after listening to the world, and then she frowns and glares up at the ceiling. No. It’s nothing. Quit being fucking paranoid all the time. With a grunt she pushes herself up onto her elbows and swings her legs off to the side of the bed. Just as she’s about to stand, she stops, and glances behind her, mattress creaking with the motion.

On his back, with his paws up in the air, Doodle snores gently, his smile eternal.

Velvet slowly shakes her head, gets up, and starts the day.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon when she’s refreshed, alert, and wondering once more how she’s going to spend her day off. The tiled floor on her bare feet say it’s cool, but one glance out the door into the world beyond the houses with their manicured lawns and the vehicles parked on the sidewalk next to their trash and recycle bins and then the street that’s plunging away down the decline and deeper into Pendrago proper and Velvet can already feel the heat is going to be a motherfucker.

This is the second thing that crosses her mind when she goes back into the kitchen to open up the fridge and crack open an ice-cold bottle of canned coffee that Eizen loves to call Aifread’s finest espresso on this side of the equator, grown and brewed straight from the coastal towns of Shining Blue: hot weather makes for a hot girl in all the wrong ways, and working in the garden, in all her pasty-ass white girl glory, makes for being hot in all the wrong places. At this rate, she’d welcome the rain. She’d even welcome snow, lack of shovels and snowblowers and extreme winter weather survival gear be damned.

Her hand is slick with the gathering condensation. Velvet sighs and halfheartedly knocks it back.

(It’s not the worse coffee she’s ever had. It could be whatever black magic the Katz Gang throws together in their labs, nicked off the boats and the warehouses in their raids from nearby Hellawes to distant Fennmont and Sapstrath in Rashugal – but knowing Eizen, and knowing Eizen’s luck, he’s probably had it and then some. The Reaper’s Curse as he calls it, and Velvet’s not sure if it’s from his time rolling with the Van Eltia Family before he got involved in her bullshit that made him miss death every single time or, as Edna puts it, is ungodly, recklessly stupid enough to somehow avoid going to an early grave by sheer circumstance every single time, without fail.

Velvet likes to think it’s the latter.)

She plugs in the toaster, jams in two cold Pharia cinnamon waffles from the freezer into the slots, and watches them slide out of sight as soon as she primes the lever down and mucks around with the settings (just enough to make it brown; she’d have to be out of her goddamned mind like Rokurou and Eizen are for wanting to have her grains black as sin). Then, after a pause, she walks across the island and turns the TV on. As always, it’s tuned to the news, the necessary evil in her life among the sea of reality shows, game shows spanning back forty years, and other programs that pad the airwaves for the stay-at-home parents, the retired elderly, and people that don’t have anything better to do with their lives.

Thankfully, it’s not about the weather (and anybody with a brain that’s lived in Pendrago, even just Hyland by itself, or the westbound border of Rolance, for more than a month would know that the forecast is almost going to be warm and dry as hell ninety percent of the time), so Velvet more or less ignores it in favor of getting her plate out of the cupboard and preparing the rest of the meal. The toaster hums away.

[sceletaflores]

𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐧, 𝐎𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡…

￫ PAIR: Remmick x fem!reader

￫ WC: 1.5k

￫ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, religious (sacrilegious) themes and imagery, nat taking some liberties with the established vampire lore, semi-light gore (in a flashback), murder (also in a flashback), vampirism, vampire/human, monsterfucking, established relationship...kind of, biting, blood play, spit kink, pain kink, period sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), blood drinking, a very obsessive/possessive relationship, corruption, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

￫ MINI NAT'S NOTE: i've contemplated posting this for literally so long and i've ranted about my woke/horny inner turmoil already...but i just can't stop thinking about the sexy vampire man and i just love some southern gothic themes DOWN so i had to. remmick as a character is so complex and interesting to me that i knew it would be an experience to write him, and i was right like this google doc really kicked my ass for a bit. let's hope it's not dog water! also this is totes inspired by @spikedfearn! i absolutely loved and died for under the blood moon and i've been clawing for an excuse to write some depraved period sex of my own so now's the perfect time. hope you love it, mwah!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

a monster dressed in the skin of a man lurks outside your window...

There's a man outside your window.

You know he’s there even as you face away from the panes. The moonlight casts his shadow along the wall of your bedroom, broad shouldered and still as a tombstone. You don’t move, continuing to lay on your side as you trace the shape of him with your eyes. Cicadas and crickets sing in time with one another, a sweet song that sours at the edges as he stands among them.

The longer you lie still, the heavier the room becomes. The air thickens like soup on the stove, slow to bubble. The shadow raises its arm, all you can do is listen as the sound of nails scratching gently along glass fills the four walls. 

He’s waiting.

He always waits.

You don’t need to invite him in, you haven’t since the first night.

He likes you to.

“Come in.”

When the pane creaks open behind you, slow and careful, you don’t flinch.

You breathe through your nose. The scent that rolls in with him isn’t human—copper and mineral, sweet like decay under sunbaked wood. It smells like the road, like blood, like the belly of something unholy. It smells like him.

“Remmick…”

Even now, as his boots touch your floorboards like thunder soaked in molasses, you don’t turn to face him. You’ve long since learned that looking at him too early gives him the satisfaction of watching your pupils dilate, your breath catch, your pulse flutter like a moth trapped in a mason jar. 

His voice is a rasp, smoke behind your ear. “You been waitin’ on me, honey?”

Remmick steps into the shine of the moon, eyes glinting dark and red-rimmed in the light.

He’s sin stitched in skin. Wears the allure of his very being like a preacher coming to warn you off temptation, but you know better. You’ve tasted temptation, bathed in it body and soul. Let it crawl between your legs and drip from your lips. 

You barely have time to breathe before he’s on you. Calloused hands, cold lips, teeth that drag across your neck but never pierce. There’s blood on his mouth already, you can feel the slickness of it as it stains your skin—it’s not yours, yet.

You watched him once. Stood by as he fed, watched impassively as the man beneath him writhed and choked on the blood flooding his torn throat, arms and legs scrambling in the dirt until the last traces of life finally faded from his eyes. He was left nothing but an empty husk, the color from his skin drained as the last few moments of horror were preserved on his face.

Remmick turned to look at you when it was done, blood drenched and nowhere near satiated. He fucked you for hours that night, right there on the dry dirt. Your face pressed into the earth as he took you from behind over and over again, cunt aching and abused around the ungodly stretch of his cock.

Your fingers shake as you curl them in the sheets, your body already aware of what’s coming. You’ve been craving it. Begging for it in the silence of empty, rotting pews.

Even as your mouth tried in vain to pray the memories away, your hips have been rolling against the mattress all night, slick with more than sweat, damp with more than fear. There’s a scent to it—ripe and hot, threaded through with iron. You’re bleeding. And he knows.

“I can smell you, baby.” You shudder as his lips brush your neck with every word, goosebumps pebbling over your skin as your cunt throbs shamefully between your thighs. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth, thick and hued in a dusty pink as blood melts into it.

Your body screams at you to reach out, to drag your tongue along the filthy mess and make it your own. Your lips part in a soft breath as Remmick smiles down at you wolfishly, sharp fangs catching the moonlight dangerously as it gleams through the open window.

“Sweet little wound. Givin’ it up for me already, angel?”

A broken sound blooms in your chest, caught in the lust and horror forming a knot in your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, soft breasts heaving with every shallow breath as big, frigid hands skate down the offered expanse of your body.

“Christ.”

A dark chuckle rings out over your head. “Trust me, he ain’t here, just me.”

Warmth burns at your cheeks, but the embarrassment has long been worked out of you after all this time.

Remmick likes it best like this. When you’re raw. Unclean. When there’s blood in your panties and God in your mouth.

He slides his hand beneath the thin cotton of your nightgown, and chuckles when he feels it—your cunt already bare, adorned with blood and slick, thick and messy, coating his fingers like oil paint. He brings it to his mouth and sucks them clean, the sound obscene, reverent. 

And the way he moans at the taste—full-throated, low in his chest, hungry and pleased and damn near feral—makes your spine arch. You swear you can feel your blood rush towards his voice like it’s called.

Remmick glides down your body like a serpent curling around the branches of a tree, urging you to bite from the forbidden fruit just as he will.

He never asks permission. Just parts your thighs with the heel of his palms and settles his weight between them like he belongs there—like he was carved from your ribcage in a past life to fuck the God out of you.

You feel it when his hand grazes the inside of your thigh, hot and slick. The mess between your legs has him inhaling hard through his nose, a deep growl tearing its way from his chest. His tongue comes out to wet the dry skin of his lips. Your heart stutters as his breath fans cool over your sweltering heat.

The first lick is obscene. A broad drag of tongue from hole to clit that has Remmick groaning like he’s starving. You think, a bit hysterically, that he is. He always is.

Although, you don’t know what he’s hungrier for—your cunt, or the blood slicking it.

He fucks you open with his mouth like he’ll be judged for it. Hands branding bruises into the soft skin of your hips. Forked tongue licking you until your thighs quake on either side of his head, until your breath hiccups into desperate moans that sound more like confession.

Your shaking hands fist in his hair, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. “God–”

Sharp pinpricks of pain bloom white hot between your legs. Your eyes dart down just quick enough to watch the way his nails pierce your flesh. Tiny trails of blood running in weak streams in time with the helpless pulse of your cunt. Fresh against the drying evidence of his red stained hands stamping their prints over your skin.

Remmick pulls back, mouth soaked. Your blood streaks his chin, his cheeks, his nose. It stains his teeth and tongue. He grins, and it’s terrible. “What’d I tell you, girl? God ain’t coming.”

He spits on your cunt. Thick. Filthy. Blood and saliva and slick mixing on your skin like a sacrament.

Then his mouth is back on your clit, rough and clever. He kisses the sensitive bundle of nerves once before dipping his head, thick fingers spread your lips apart, wide enough to watch your hole convulse and shake for him. A deep, evil sound fills the room as his lips descend onto you once more.

You can feel the blood trickle out as he sucks, feel his tongue move in tandem with the sharp press of his fangs. He doesn’t bite yet. He’s teasing. 

Tempting. 

Worshipping. 

You whimper. He groans. “Keep makin’ that sound,” he pants, voice hoarse. “That pretty little hurtin’ sound. Devil’s listenin’, baby."

You can't help but obey him, a symphony of pathetically sinful noises pouring from between your parted lips like hail mary’s. You writhe on the mattress, twisting the soft curls fisted in your hands tightly as your body trembles. Your rosary swings haplessly from the bedpost, deep red beads gleaming like an omen you’re blind to. 

Remmick pulls back once again, panting as he rests his soiled face against your thigh to peer up at you like a lonewolf stalks a lamb grazing far too close to its den. “Say you missed me, darlin’.”

You did. You hate it. You do.

“Say it,” he snarls, dragging his teeth along the vulnerable skin, breaking it so shallowly it stings.

“I missed you.”

He bites.

You scream.

You come on his mouth with your thighs trembling and your eyes rolled back far enough to strain.

Remmick won't stop. Not until he's drunk his fill, until your thighs are sticky and raw and he can kiss you with your own blood on his lips.

Outside, the cicadas resume their song.

MINI NAT'S NOTE: extra special shoutout to my husband @ebodebo for advocating for the posting of this fic with a near violent enthusiasm, she's to blame for this. thank you so much for reading!

[lalafral]

Take care of you

Husband!Lord!Satoru and Guard!Suguru x F!reader, no use of y/n

After an accident in the forest your personal guard and jealous husband check up on you. 1.5k words

You’d been deep in the forest with Suguru and that was the last thing you remembered before you woke up in your bed, blinking your eyes trying to gather your senses. It wasn’t long before Satoru immediately flittered to you, checking if you were alright. He looked frantic almost. You’d never seen him like that. He’d been pretty withdrawn in your marriage, spending most of your time around the grounds with the knight appointed to be your personal guard, Suguru. It wasn’t like that lately though, Satoru had become more interested. More attentive. Dinners together were nice, he’d ask about your day but he’d be irked with Suguru constantly coming up.

“You scared me.” Satoru was at your side immediately, looking you over for what you didn’t know. You didn’t remember much, or why he was so worried. You asked what happened. “My wife was found deep in the forest with another man. At least that's what he said when he came carrying you back after you collapsed.” Satoru grumbled. Not too pleased with the optics, or of Suguru. He paced a bit, trying not to get more upset. It was now you noticed his hair was particularly messy, not like usual, like he’d been running his hands through it. “I’ll call the doctor in, get you looked over.” He sighed. “Do you feel alright at least?” He asked with some care, truly caring, just hating that you were out there beyond where he could take care of you, especially with someone who wasn’t him. You nodded, trying to make sense of the incident he described.

He’d appointed Geto to look over you, make sure you didn’t get into trouble since you were alone most of the day. Complaining of loneliness too, but he didn’t think Suguru would be such a presence in your life. He was supposed to be a silent presence, to look over you. Now all you did most nights was go over your day with Suguru. Suguru! Suguru! You called him that too and it drove him crazy. You used to call him his title, Sir Geto, he didn’t know when it changed but it annoyed him. So much so that it forced him to spend more time with you, more hands on you just to remind your shadow who you were actually married to, and maybe you as well. Satoru hadn’t noticed a difference in you, not in your relation to him you were just as devoted as always, just less glum now. Excitedly, animatedly rehashing your days to him. He would’ve liked seeing you happy again if it wasn’t because of another man. Suguru though, Satoru noticed a difference in him. He saw the way he looked at you. His usual stoic face softened when he talked to you. Satoru knew he must’ve just relished taking walks with you, hearing you chat all day. It made his blood boil.

Satoru had left the room when the doctor started his examination. He waited outside the closed door, not surprised to see a familiar figure lurking around your door as he was made to do. He scoffed. “She seems to be alright, Docs looking over her.” He crossed his arms, his anger warring with how he knew you cared for him. “Doesn’t remember much of what happened, assuming nothing happened.” Satoru gave a pointed look. “I’ll have to alert everyone she's awake and resting. Should be finished up with her soon if you could look over her until I’m back.” That wasn’t exactly true, he would have sent someone else, his own attendant to alert the palace but he was trying to be more giving. He hated basically giving him an opening alone with his wife but he knew you’d be happy to see Suguru. Satoru didn’t wait for a reply, heading off before he changed his mind. The sooner he left the sooner he could come back.

Suguru waited outside your door until the doctor finished up and left your bedside, it wouldn’t be a good look to enter your chambers without your husband present. He entered as quickly as he could once the coast was clear, relieved to see your bright face and smile. So different than how he last saw you in the woods with your face drained of color, limp in his arms as he hurried back to the palace. Suguru! You breathed excitedly. You’re okay! “I should be saying that to you.” He said softly, almost worried if he made any sudden movements you’d get hurt again. I don’t know what happened, no one will really tell me anything beyond I collapsed. Suguru sat on the edge of your bed close to you. He went over what he’d experienced, much the same as you. The reason wasn’t clear yet he was just happy you were okay. Same bright smile he’d become so eager to see each day. Same one that made him brighter, you were just infectious like that.

Suguru wasn’t sure when he’d changed from being used to your presence to actually looking forward to the days you’d spend together. Mostly taking walks or playing games. He found your mind so interesting how you had a knack for strategy despite never having been put towards it. Each morning he looked forward to seeing you, having no idea what the day had in store, what crazy day you’d have ahead of you, he was just happy to witness it and glad you let him be a part of it. He reached his hand out for yours that was resting on the covers. An inappropriate move if someone saw, and rare contact from him as well, but he allowed himself this indulgence just once. “You really did have me worried, my lady.” You looked into his eyes, soft and beautiful as always but you could see he had worried. Small bags under his eyes, had you really been passed out that long? Wasn’t it still the same day?

You squeezed his hand back. I’m alright Suguru, I swear. You gave him a smile that quelled some of his worries. And I told you not to call me my lady, no need to be so formal. You both smiled. When you had switched from his title to his name you would ask him to do the same if he felt comfortable. It just started to feel clunky with how much time you two had been spending together. He was touched with the effort. To his credit he did call you your name when he knew you were alone, with no one to scold him, but in the palace, when a maid or godforbid your husband could come in, My lady just came naturally. “I’ll be sure to remember that.” He had a soft smile. You both sat in the moment, enjoying the rare touch. That was until Satoru opened the door. Suguru pulled his hand away hastily but not enough for it to escape Satoru.

Suguru scolded himself, of course he wouldn’t knock this is his bedroom as well. If he had seen.. He shouldn’t have dared to even touch you like that. Your hand was still resting where he was just holding it, outstretched for him. You were always inviting. To everyone, regardless of class or station. Satoru circled the bed, his eyes narrowed at your waiting hand on the bed outstretched in Sugurus direction. “I’ve informed the staff, they’re preparing all your favorites, my sweet.” He smiled at you sitting on his side of the bed beside you, in direct opposition from Suguru who had to settle for the edge of your bed, who couldn’t allow himself to imagine having that spot beside you for too long lest he’d want to live in it forever. Perhaps that was why Satoru made a point to show that you were his, his own jealousy about your private moments with another man, he couldn’t help but be so forward in his connection to you. His marriage to you. You were his and Suguru could never take that away, something the both of them knew.

“I’ll take my leave now, my lady.” Suguru stood up, not wanting to have to observe the two of you longer than he had to. Get some rest please Suguru. You smiled warmly at him, wanting your friend to be okay. He nodded, taking one last look at you. “I’m glad you’re alright, truly.” He tried to give his words the weight they were holding in him but he wasn’t sure he ever could. Not while Satoru was around. The meaning however wasn’t lost on Satoru and he had to hold back from rolling his eyes. As Suguru left the room he heard Satoru’s voice from the bed, he hadn’t even waited for him to close the door. “Can’t believeee you got hurt my love.” His voice rang through to the hallway, your laughter accompanying it. Suguru was grateful he couldn’t see what the other man was doing to cause you to laugh. Even how he flaunted you grated on him, Suguru had been suspecting your husband had been being more dramatic when he knew he was in earshot. No that he could blame him, especially if someone was looking at his wife the way he was looking at you. He walked off not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to imagine him closer to you than he had to. He’d imagine himself for now but he knew that would only lead to heartbreak for himself.

A/n: Thank you so much! my first time writing something longer so feedback comments likes anything is great!

[defectivevillain]

home where

pairing: Wally Darling/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar place. The only other occupant, a friendly man named Wally, seems to think it’s home. …You disagree.

word count: 1.5k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical derealization

author's notes: I know virtually nothing about Welcome Home and its characters. It seems really cool, but I just didn’t have enough energy to commit myself to another fandom when I first wrote this (and I still feel the same). Maybe I’ll come back to WH and do a deeper dive someday! Who knows. I certainly don’t.

On a related note, I’ve decided I want to do some sort of Halloween oneshot collection this October. I have quite a few drafts for various movies and series that I wrote up a few months ago in preparation for this Halloween… and when I stumbled upon this draft, I realized it would be a great way to kick things off. So yeah! I will admit, without shame, that many (if not all) of the works in this "collection" will be slightly unfinished (aka less detailed than I may want them to be). But I still wanted these fics posted, and I know that they’ll likely just rot in my docs forever otherwise.

Your eyes are stinging. You rub at them roughly, letting out a quiet sigh. It’s been a pretty long day. You stumble through your nighttime routine with a bit less finesse than usual, counting down the seconds until you can collapse into bed. When you finally get back to your room, you move to turn off the lights—only to realize you forgot to close your laptop. The screen’s vividness immediately sears into your eyelids. Blinking tears from your eyes, you close it and head back to your bed to go to sleep. 

Fortunately, you’re tired enough to find sleep rather easily. But even when your eyes slip shut, remnants of that bright light from moments ago burn through your vision. 

When you wake the next morning, sunlight stretches through the gaps in your curtains—illuminating your room in a dim glow. You blink several times to make your eyes feel less dry, before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself up to a sitting position. The bedspread is weirdly scratchy. You look down at it, entirely perplexed when you find a multi-color patchwork quilt instead of your normal comforter. You run a hand along it, trying to rationalize how you could’ve gone to sleep and woken up in a bed with different dressings. 

But your bedspread isn’t the only thing that’s changed—as you glance about the room, you realize that everything looks slightly different. The posters and photos adorning the walls are unusually colorful, and any harsh corners on your furniture have been smoothed over into neat curves. And as your hands investigate the quilt on your bed, you realize that you look strange too. The mirror on the wall casts a familiar reflection, but with softened edges and vivid coloring. Your clothes are far too bright than you remember them being—the same goes for your eyes. 

After a lot of exploring, you come to the unfortunate conclusion that your surroundings are drenched in technicolor. Even more surprising and inexplicable is the unshakeable fact that you’re not dreaming. Several hard pinches to the skin on your forearm cement that unfortunate reality. 

You step outside of your living space, only to find that the surrounding town is just as blindingly bright-colored. Vivid trees in neon colors surround the various buildings. With a churning stomach, you walk through the waving grass and desperately look for a clue to explain your unfamiliar surroundings. Some time later, you’ve explored the entire area—only to yield no new information. 

It’s only when you approach the outskirts of the humble town that you hear a voice. “Where are you going?”

You freeze. For a moment, you contemplate ignoring this new presence; then you realize this may be the only way for you to understand what’s going on. You turn around to find yourself staring at a man with yellow fleece skin and blue hair styled elegantly above his head. He wears a bright blue shirt and multi-colored pants. Looking at him makes your head spin. 

“I’m trying to go home,” you respond, watching as the sidewalk stretches into the distance. You shove your hands in your pockets to quell some of your restless energy. It doesn’t work as well as you’d like. 

“This is Home,” the newcomer frowns. He looks confused but sympathetic.

“My home, I mean,” you clarify. Surely, if this guy is a local, he should know you’re a stranger. You don’t belong here. 

“This is your home,” he insists. For a moment, his voice almost sounds forceful. “Our home!” he then chirps, as if attempting to distract you from his brief slip in composure.

You stare at him for a moment, unable to shake the strange feeling of foreboding running down your spine. “Who are you?” you finally relent and ask. 

“I’m Wally Darling,” he responds. “Who are you?” Wally peers at you curiously. 

You return his gaze, struggling to find an answer to the question. Who… are you? What’s your name? And, most importantly, why are you here?

You try to deflect. “Where is everyone?” you ask, looking around at the quiet town. It feels weirdly empty. There’s almost something… sinister about it: this cute little town, entirely vacant. How can something so colorful be so lifeless?

“They’re sleeping, I think,” Wally responds smoothly, breaking you out of your thoughts. You swear you see his smile falter for a second, but the expression vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. 

Adrenaline courses you at the thought of being trapped in this unfamiliar place with no one but this stranger for company. You try to take another step towards the forest, but it feels as if some invisible force is fighting against you. You’re then shoved backwards, colliding with Wally in the process. 

“Easy there,” he smiles, steadying you with hands on your shoulders. The gesture doesn’t reach his eyes. 

You nod and quickly excuse yourself from the conversation, citing your growing headache as justification. In your defense, you do have a rather painful headache growing to inhabit your temple and stretch through your cheekbones. Wally seems to sense that you’re telling the truth, because he just smiles and bids you good day, after one final remark welcoming you to the neighborhood. You continue to explore the town throughout the remainder of the day, despite the uncanny feeling of eyes on your back. 

As time passes, you start to notice that there’s a friendly sort of malice in the way Wally carries himself. He’s a bundle of contradictions: misery behind a paper-thin smile; glee behind a disparaging frown. He’s always lingering in the corner of your vision: when you’re getting up in the morning; when you’re taking a walk. He tells you virtually nothing about himself, yet he seems eager to learn anything and everything about you. You can’t help but be wary around him. 

But somehow, he wants to be friends with you. Wally’s idea of friendship seems to bleed into something far past platonic, though. He regularly makes remarks about how his life has changed for the better since your arrival; his eyes gleam with something close to envy when you talk about your friends outside this colorful town. You don’t want to overanalyze things, but then you notice the rapt attention he pays you when you speak. Then you notice the freshly trimmed flowers in the vase on your front porch—the one you’ve walked past every day without a second thought. 

Although Wally’s behavior is a bit puzzling, he dominates your thoughts for a different reason. Safe to say, he unnerves you sometimes. And you can’t shake the conviction that he’s hiding things from you. Sometimes he’ll look at the other houses with nostalgia in his eyes; he’ll reference people you’ve never heard of and then clam up when you ask about them. 

He greets you every morning, without fail. The first few times, you smile and wave back. But as time passes and you still can’t find a way out of this place, you start to ignore him. However, this behavior only seems to encourage Wally—as he begins to tag along on your morning walks. 

And it only takes you so long to break. After all, he’s the only other form of human (?) contact in this place. You need to talk to someone about something—anything—and Wally is your only choice. It’s only natural that you stop resisting. Not to mention, Wally is a superb listener. He��s almost too good at it. You get the feeling that he would let you talk for hours, content remaining silent and digesting all the information you give him. You’ve made sure not to reveal too many private details about your life—your real life, outside of this town—but Wally seems to know you anyway. He knows things about you that you’ve never told anyone; sometimes, he even references conversations you think you’ve had with friends over direct messages. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that Wally is the key to leaving this place. You’re not deluded enough to think he’ll let you leave, but you can’t deny that he knows more than he’s letting on. He is far from innocent in this whole affair. He must be pulling the strings from somewhere, somehow. You can only dismiss these thoughts as paranoid for so long, before the dots begin to connect and you’re faced with incontrovertible evidence of his malevolence.  

And while you relented and allowed Wally to join you on your morning walks, you never stepped foot inside his residence or took him up on his offers to spend more time together. 

At least, not until now, when you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Wally’s home with your heart racing in your chest. Despite the dread prickling along your skin, you extend a hand and ring the doorbell. You don’t understand what’s happening here, but you know one thing for certain: Wally is at the center of it. 

The door creaks open ominously. Wally stands in the doorway, an easy smile plastered across his face. You both know it isn’t genuine, and within moments, it starts to melt and slip off his face. A crooked grin shudders over his lips. “Hey, neighbor!” he says brightly. A thick tension descends across the space. A stiff breeze ruffles your clothes and sends chills down your arms. Wally’s dark eyes almost seem to engulf you; there’s a faint ringing sound echoing in your ears. “I’ve been expecting you.”

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[zeroseuniverse]

Trouble

Word Count:1.5K Summary: Her lips twitched into a smirk. “You think I’m the hero type?” Jungkook snorted from his post. “Hero? No. Trouble? Definitely.” “Again with the trouble,” She shot back, her grin widening despite herself. “I’m starting to think you like having me around.” Pairing: Jimin X Reader X Taehyung X Jungkook

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

Navigation

The clinic was chaotic, as always. Taehyung’s voice cut through the tense air, issuing sharp instructions to the assistants scrambling to keep up. Jimin moved like a ghost between patients, his touch soothing pain and panic with a quiet intensity. Jungkook was perched on the edge of a battered supply cabinet, his sleeves rolled up and his sharp eyes scanning the room for threats or opportunities to step in.

Then came the clamor from the entrance—shouts, hurried footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor. Jungkook leapt to his feet, Taehyung and Jimin freezing mid-task.

“Another one,” Jungkook muttered, already moving. “They better not bleed all over the floor again.”

The three of them reached the makeshift triage area just as a figure slumped against the cracked wall. Her ragged breath filled the room as she tried—and failed—to push herself upright. Blood streaked her side, soaking through a torn jacket.

“Move,” Taehyung barked, already assessing her injuries.

But instead of groans of pain or pleas for help, they were greeted with an unmistakable cheek.

“Well, isn’t this a welcoming party,” She said, flashing a wobbly grin. “Didn’t know I’d be getting the royal treatment.”

Jungkook snorted, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “You’ve got a real mouth on you for someone who can’t stand.”

“Try it, sweetheart,” she shot back, her voice dripping with humor. “I’ll still out-talk you from the ground.”

Jimin knelt beside her, his touch careful as he began stabilizing her wound. “She’s cheeky,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“She’s bleeding all over my clinic,” Taehyung snapped, though his hands were already moving with precision.

Despite the pain etched into her face, She winked at Jimin. “I could get used to you.”

Jimin blinked, flustered, while Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“She’s trouble,” Jungkook said flatly.

“No kidding,” Taehyung muttered, though his hands never faltered.

As they worked, her charm never faltered either, her humor weaving through every quip, even as she winced under their care. But beneath the surface, they all recognized it—a resilience that burned bright, unyielding despite the cruel world that had battered her.

And for reasons they couldn’t quite place, none of them wanted to extinguish that fire.

Jimin’s touch was steady as he cleaned the blood from her side, his hands radiating a soothing warmth that momentarily dulled the pain. Her bravado faltered for the first time, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. Jimin looked up, his expression gentle but probing.

“You don’t have to keep up the act, you know,” he said softly. “It’s okay to just... breathe.”

She blinked, her grin faltering before she huffed out a laugh. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

Taehyung’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “And those habits are going to get you killed one day.”

She turned her head toward him, arching a brow. “Haven’t yet, doc. Guess that means I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing something stupid,” Taehyung countered, wrapping a bandage around her side with practiced efficiency. “You’re lucky you didn’t bleed out before you got here.”

“Lucky or stubborn,” She quipped, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Probably both.”

Jungkook leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange. “Stubborn, for sure. You’re the kind who’d crawl in here with both legs missing just to make a point.”

She winked at him. “Only if it meant I’d get to see that charming face of yours.”

Jungkook’s stoic mask cracked for a fraction of a second, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Flattery won’t get you out of trouble.”

“Oh, but it’s working,” she teased, despite the wince that accompanied Taehyung’s final tug on the bandage.

“She’s stabilized,” Taehyung announced, stepping back and rolling his shoulders. “But she’s not going anywhere for a while.”

Her grin widened. “Guess I’ll be your guest, then. Hope you’ve got good room service.”

Taehyung groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make me regret patching you up.”

Jimin chuckled under his breath, adjusting her position so she could sit more comfortably. “You’re lucky we’re used to trouble around here.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at Jimin. “You’re too nice for this place, you know that?”

“And you’re too reckless for any place,” Taehyung muttered, already cleaning up the supplies.

Jungkook’s sharp eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering across his face before he straightened. “She’s not just reckless,” he said quietly. “She’s running from something.”

Her smirk faltered, and her gaze darted to Jungkook. For the first time, her charm didn’t come as easily.

“Who isn’t, in this world?” she said, her tone lighter than her eyes.

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them. Jimin glanced between her and Jungkook, concern etched into his features. Taehyung’s movements slowed, his back turned as he processed the implication.

Jungkook stepped closer, crouching to meet her eyes. “You’ve got people after you, don’t you?”

She hesitated, her grin finally slipping away entirely. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But if they come here, it’s not your problem. I’ll deal with it.”

“Not anymore,” Taehyung said firmly, turning to face her. “You brought it to our doorstep. That makes it our problem.”

“And we don’t abandon our patients,” Jimin added, his voice gentle but resolute.

She stared at them, her bravado gone and replaced by something raw and vulnerable. “You don’t even know me.”

Jungkook stood, his expression unreadable. “Maybe not. But we know trouble. And for some reason, we don’t mind keeping yours around.”

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a response. Instead, she leaned back against the wall, letting their words sink in as the chaos of the clinic swirled around them.

The tension in the room lingered, but the trio didn’t give her much time to dwell on it. Taehyung was already issuing orders to the assistants, his voice brisk and authoritative. Jimin gently helped her shift into a more comfortable position, his hands never losing their steady gentleness. Jungkook lingered near the entrance, his sharp eyes scanning the chaotic clinic.

“Alright,” Taehyung said, wiping his hands clean on a stained rag. “You’re stable for now, but if you don’t rest, you’ll tear those stitches and undo all my work.”

She rolled her eyes, the faintest hint of her usual cheekiness returning. “I’ll be the picture of obedience, doc.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Jimin, keep an eye on her. Jungkook, I need you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupted, her tone laced with suspicion. “What exactly do you mean by ‘keep an eye on her’?”

Jimin chuckled softly. “Relax. I’ll just make sure you don’t try to play hero and get up too soon.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “You think I’m the hero type?”

Jungkook snorted from his post. “Hero? No. Trouble? Definitely.”

“Again with the trouble,” She shot back, her grin widening despite herself. “I’m starting to think you like having me around.”

“Let’s not push it,” Taehyung said dryly, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Now, Jungkook, there’s a group coming in from Sector Seven. They’ve been delayed, and I want you to check on them.”

Jungkook hesitated, his gaze flicking to her. “You sure that’s a good idea? If she’s running from something, someone’s bound to come looking.”

“And if they do,” Taehyung said, his voice steely, “we’ll handle it. Go.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook pushed off the wall and made his way to the door. He paused just before stepping out, glancing back at her. “Don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t a free ride.”

She gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

With a shake of his head, Jungkook disappeared into the chaos outside.

Taehyung turned back to her, his expression serious. “I mean it. Rest. You won’t be any use to anyone if you push yourself too soon.”

“And if I decide to push myself anyway?” she asked, one brow arched.

“Then you’ll deal with me,” Taehyung replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She held his gaze for a moment before leaning back with a shrug. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Taehyung let out a long-suffering sigh before stalking off, leaving Jimin to tend to her.

Jimin sat down on a nearby stool, his gaze soft but searching as he looked at her “You really should take it easy. Taehyung’s rough around the edges, but he knows what he’s doing.”

She studied him for a moment, her smile dimming. “You’re not used to people like me, are you?”

Jimin tilted his head, considering her words. “People who act like they don’t need help? I’ve met a few.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And most of them do,” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain. “They just don’t know how to ask.”

She looked away, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the cot she was sitting on. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“Not yet,” Jimin said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But I think I’d like to.”

For once, she had no quip, no sharp comeback. Instead, she let the moment hang between them, the chaos of the clinic fading into the background.

[boobearymuch]

His Ghost on Film

Summary: Leon never talked much about his past, so it felt odd to see remnants of his life before you knew him as one of the government’s top agents. Before he ever faced off, again and again, with the world’s most dangerous minds and their monsters. You’re in awe of the younger Leon in your hands, and you quickly pick up another photo in hopes of seeing more. Tags: Leon S. Kennedy/gn!reader, older!leon kennedy, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcoholism Word Count: 1.5k Read on AO3

Notes: finally writing bc I'm sick and sniffly and gross !!1 hoping to get more writing out soon, I have so many ideas sitting in my docs 😭

The photos spilled out on their own, you swear. It’s not like you made it a habit of sifting through Leon’s personal belongings anyway – you respected him too much for that – so this small transgression would surely be forgiven. However, nagging curiosity kept you from returning them right away. Tucked away in the back of a sock drawer, the photos came tumbling out when you put laundry away and fell to the floor in a scattered flurry. You quickly lowered yourself to scoop up the unruly pictures, but a dazzling smile stopped you in your tracks. It was Leon’s smile. 

He posed alone, raising a hand to salute cheerfully at the camera while the other rested on his hip. The uniform he donned suggested the photo took place back when he trained as a police recruit, not for the DSO. Leon never talked much about his past, so it felt odd to see remnants of his life before you knew him as one of the government’s top agents. Before he ever faced off, again and again, with the world’s most dangerous minds and their monsters. You’re in awe of the younger Leon in your hands, and you quickly pick up another photo in hopes of seeing more. 

There are other recruits in this photo, each of them laughing and smiling like they were sharing a drink at a bar and not caked in sweat and dirt. Leon is laughing just as hard, clutching his stomach with a muddy hand. You can’t believe how young and carefree he used to look; the agent’s demeanor is a lot more serious now, hardened from years in the field. It’s difficult to imagine this version of Leon angry or upset, or a scowl ever gracing those pink lips. As you thumbed the photo, you admired the fullness of his cheeks, the haunted look in his eyes missing. In fact, they even seemed to sparkle.

“Having fun?” Leon’s rough voice is a murmur over your shoulder, and you start at the sound. The baritone in his words is rough with sleep from his nap, something you banked on lasting at least another hour or so. Leon’s hands settle over your shoulders, rubbing down your arms as he too kneels to the floor to peer at your hands. Heat rushes to your face instantly. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.” Your tone is truly apologetic, but Leon doesn’t say a word as he reaches forward to thumb the film of him smiling in your hands. His lips are stretched impossibly wide, teeth visible, and eyes squinted in what appears to be a moment of pure joy. You can’t remember a time he smiled that big. He analyzes it quietly, perhaps remembering something. “When was this taken?” You ask softly.

“1998.” He replies, and suddenly regret consumes you. Perhaps he felt you tense up because his hand promptly smoothes over the curve of your back. “This was early spring, I think. Can’t remember what was so funny.”

“You’re adorable.” You can’t help but say. You could practically feel Leon roll his eyes. 

“I suppose it’s better than the alternative.” He mumbles.

Feeling slightly better about getting caught, you pick up another photo. This one is of him squinting in the sun, t-shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal pale shoulders. “Your farmer’s tan…!” You say it with the utmost adoration for the discovery, but Leon only groans.

“Hmph.” Leon’s snort of disapproval only eggs you on.

“Was this the same year?”

“No,” He responds, “That was 2002.” There’s a beat before he hesitantly adds, “This was South America.” The apprehension he says it with tells you everything you need to know about the photo. It’s not a good memory either. You hum in acknowledgment and gently pick up another picture. 

“Oh my god? Is that the president?”

“And his daughter Ashley.” Leon adds casually, as if he hasn’t been keeping the most insane piece of information about himself from you. 

“How…How do you know the president and his daughter?” You’re ogling at the photo, but once you’re over the shock, you can’t help but appreciate how sharp Leon is dressed for this picture. Hell, his hair is even gelled back. You’ve never seen him do that to his hair for anything, not even the fancy banquets the DSO makes him attend. You whistle jokingly at the photo of him. “But more importantly, who is that fine gentleman on the right?”

This makes him scoff out a laugh, flustered by your antics. “I…did the president a favor. Let’s leave it at that.” His reluctance to reveal more sobered you a little. Now you looked too closely at the photo, at the way fists clenched at his sides, the heavy furrow of his brow, those tired, dull eyes. This couldn’t possibly be the same Leon from before, the one laughing in mud. “I hear Ashley is a researcher now.” He remarks kindly, “Hope she’s doing well.”

You only nod, unsure what else to say. Leon picks up the last photo on the ground and flips it over to reveal a fairly recent image. “DSO?” You question, and he hums an affirmative. You recognize the people in the photo as Leon’s coworkers and friends. There hasn’t been much opportunity to get to know each other well, but Chris and Claire do come around every once in a while. Leon wears a suit – jacket discarded to hang over his shoulder – but gives the camera a tight smile. The others in the photo are dressed just as nice, their smiles just as forced. 

“Our first banquet. Mandatory banquet.” He emphasizes with a chuckle. His hand then gives your arm a light squeeze. “This was just before I met you. We were practically running on fumes. I had just flown in from Europe, if you couldn’t tell by the dark circles.” You huff lightheartedly at the comment, but your eyes linger on his false smile. “Hell, I think Chris and Jill had just arrived from Central America too. Needless to say, it wasn’t terribly fun.” 

There’s a beat before Leon finally collects the pictures from you and stands before offering a hand to help you up. He didn’t talk much about his past, so you knew if the opportunity slipped by you now, you’d never muster the bravery to ask again. “Leon,” You say, grabbing his attention as he gently tucks the photos away in the drawer face down. 

“Hm?”

“Why do you keep them?” You ask softly, and he tilts his head at you. “I mean, they seem sad in a way. I know you don’t talk about these things much for a reason, so…why keep the reminders?”

The silence only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like it stretches for minutes. He seems to consider your question seriously though, taking the moment to tap on the closed drawer before exhaling through his nose. “In this line of work, we all have things we’d rather leave in the past.” His gaze remains low, eyes watching his blunt nails pick at the wood of the dresser. “And there was once a time I was so desperate to forget, I nearly…it just got too much.” His sobriety was not new information. You learned about it early on in your relationship, wanting to support him any way you could. But it seems there is more to the story than you originally conceived. “As much as I wanted to forget, I couldn’t. It took a while but I realized…if we don’t remember, then who will?” His palm now lays flat against the drawer, as if he could feel the magnitude of the photos that lay within. “I…owe it to everyone in Raccoon City.” 

Now, you understand. You understand why he doesn’t talk about his missions or his early days in the field. When he’s on the job, it’s all he does. Remember. And you can’t help but admire him all the more for it. The work is demanding – it takes much more than it gives – but Leon’s made peace with it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” His tone is self-conscious suddenly, and he’s trying to mask it with a teasing lilt to his words. 

“I don’t know.” You tease gently, “I think I’m in love with you. Just a bit.”

The corners of Leon’s mouth lift up into a boyish smile, and suddenly it’s like you’re staring into the same, sparkling eyes of that rookie police officer back in 1998. The Leon in the photographs never left, you think. He’s here, scarred and bruised, but grinning like it’s your first date. “Oh, really?” Leon mumbles as he pulls you into his warm chest to rest a pair of soft lips against your forehead, “That’s unlucky.” You pinch his hip playfully. “Ow.” His laugh is a rush of warm air against your skin, and he quickly soothes your anger with another kiss to your head. “I think I love you too. Maybe.”

You hide your smile in his broad chest. “You’re so annoying.”

Leon practically burns with adoration. “Only around you, sweetheart.”

[verdantglow]

Apple Staff Alignments & Other Notes from Retail Purgatory AU

Etho

Role: Genius

Alignment: True Neutral

Has been at this Genius Bar the longest (apart from Doc)

He's mostly here because he's good at it, they pay him well, & it's generally pretty tolerable. Plus it'd be like, a whole thing to find another job, & he's got other things he'd rather spend his time on.

At this point, he's gotten pretty good at slipping into work mode, so he's generally pleasant, if kinda unremarkable (in demeanor), if you get him for your appointment.

That said, he's very much doing just enough to stay in the managers' good graces & gets maybe a bit too much enjoyment out of seeing just how close he can get to that line.

Like he knows exactly how late he can be on how many days each quarter without getting official feedback & he will be late all of those days.

"Sorry I'm late for the team meeting, traffic was crazy out there!" [is obviously holding a full cup of steaming hot coffee from Starbucks]

So yeah, he's not the one starting shit, but he's definitely just gonna watch in amusement & not help if Doc's pissing off another customer.

Refuses to work any morning shifts ever. Schedule him every weekend day if you want, but if you tell him to show up for a shift before 1pm, you're going to be sorely disappointed.

Tango

Role: Genius

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Tango is an absolute fucking delight to have as your Genius. He's got this infectiously good energy & is just soooo hype to help you figure out whatever's wrong & show you like ten completely unrelated but very cool things in the process.

He is constantly going out of scope, doing software fixes & in appointment hardware repairs that he's very much not supposed to do. Not to mention showing off the most awesome accessories the store currently carries.

So his productivity numbers are abysmal & he's got the longest average appointment duration in the store (well. probably the local market, actually).

But he's also got hands down the best customer reviews. Plus all those $1.5k drones he keeps selling by flying them around the back of the store while in appointments.

Management has tried asking him to hand those customers off to a sales person so he can do tech stuff, but he always just says he couldn't do that because he was still in an appointment with them & he can't send people off without fixing their problems, can he?

& honestly, they really need his review scores to balance out Doc's.

Doc

Role: Genius

Alignment: Lawful Evil

He's been a Genius at the store since it opened & he transferred from being a Genius at a different location.

He has worked on pretty much every Apple product in the last couple of decades & remembers how to fix all of them.

Not that he's happy about it. He will bitch incessantly while doing repairs on newer iPhones & iMacs, spending the whole time complaining about the degradation of product design at this company. He'll do these more challenging repairs flawlessly, but he will not be happy (or quiet) about it.

He has the shortest appointment times in the store. It's part him being wickedly competent at identifying & fixing issues, part he just doesn't want to waste time in appointments with people with boring problems.

Not that his customers complain about the quick appointments. In fact, that's the only good thing they have to say in his reviews. Most of them are more about how he barely talked to them & when he did, it was to insult them, their problems, &/or their devices.

Doc'll routinely cherry pick customers out of the appointment list even though he's super not supposed to. Because if there's a problem weird enough to interest him, he will be taking that appointment.

He really doesn't actually need this job. He's been really into the stock purchase plan Apple offers for the whole time he's been there. He's got such an absolutely wild number of Apple shares at this point; he could sell some & retire & have plenty left over.

And yet. He's still there.

Impulse

Role: Genius Admin (Genius Bar/Repair Room operations plus miscellaneous other responsibilities)

Alignment: Lawful Good

When Impulse became Admin, management told him how the Repair Room & everything in it was his responsibility. What they meant was, "keep everything on track & the Geniuses in line." What he heard was, "okay you're basically Repair Room Mom, so take care of these idiots."

& he really took that to heart.

Like. Impulse can imagine every way that things can go off the rails & has plans for all of them.

He always keeps back stock of all the tools & consumable goods hidden somewhere in the store. Anything from sim ejector tools that everyone's constantly losing to those weird obscure tools used to fix the nearly unserviceble Mac Pros twice a year, you need it, he's got it somewhere.

While management expects him to enforce all the rules & tell them when they are broken, he is way more concerned with just holding the whole repair operation together. He's got so many irons in the fire as admin, he's not that bothered with rules that don't have an actual impact on getting things done.

However, he does remind them all about safety rules very often. You even try to touch the repair bench without being grounded, he will appear from nowhere to say that he knows you weren't about to do something that could brick a customer's device or start a thermal event. Because both of those involve a lot of paperwork that he's responsible for.

Tbh, he's actually pretty worried about their safety since things can go sideways fast with some repairs & either of those things would involve having to tell management. Okay, and he doesn't want do paperwork, but that's just because he's so busy keeping things going, he doesn't have time to get distracted by extra paperwork!

He works a lot of early morning shifts to do various inventory things & get things organized before the store opens. He's gonna be up anyway, might as well take the shifts no one else really wants.

Mumbo

Role: Genius

Alignment: Chaotic Anxious

Oh Mumbo. My sweet, sweet Mumbo. My anxiety baby. (I say as an anxiety baby.)

He's great with customers & at explaining things in ways that make people feel reassured, even if they have no clue how things work as soon as they leave the store.

However, he does get anxious easily when things are busy & the team is behind on appointments. So he gets sent back to do repairs when that happens before he flips out.

To be fair, he also gets flustered back there, which tends to lead to him trying to go faster & making mistakes that wind up making the repairs take longer.

But Impulse has a strategy worked out with Mumbo for when he's on repairs.

Because when Mumbo isn't flustered? He's the fastest repair person by a long shot, especially on iPhones. No one can perfectly replace as many phone batteries per hour as calm Mumbo can.

So when it's busy & there's a lot of phones to be done, the overhead lights go out with only the bench lighting on, classical music and ambient rain noises go on the speaker, & Mumbo works from a repair to do list that Impulse made just for him.

Seeing everything waiting to be repaired will just make Mumbo nervous & slower, so they decided that he only needed to see the next few at any given time. Impulse takes care of any priority rearranging that's needed on the full list & Mumbo puts on the blinders & only looks at the next three repairs & busts through a super human number of repairs.

(Even Doc is impressed. He just won't actually directly say so.)

[softxsuki]

Hello, congratulations on your milestone!!! I am not sure if there are any spots left, but if there are, can you please do the trope enemies to lovers with a tokyo revengers character? Have a nice day and congratulations again!!!

1.5k Follower Event Trope #1 Tokyo Revengers

Trope 1: Enemies to Lovers

This event is now CLOSED. You can check out the masterlist for this event here.

| Pairing: Baji x Gn!Reader | Genre: mmm fluffish?? | Post-Type: Drabble | Word Count: 760 |

Warnings: Slight mention of violence and being killed (baji says it once, no one actually dies)

Note: Thank you so much! I had this one sitting in my google docs for while because I didn't like it, but I reread it today and I think it grew on me after letting it sit there for a while lol. Enjoy :D

“Why are you here again?” Baji spits, not impressed at all.

You were another person Mikey had dragged in, finding you interesting and deeming you both friends, not that you minded. You hadn’t joined Toman, but Mikey always invited you over to their base, and you quickly became fond of many of them, including a certain black-haired man that couldn’t find it in him to accept you.

“Still suspicious of me? Seriously Kei, ever thought about loosening up?” You question, walking past him.

The nickname makes Baji’s heart flutter slighty, much to him mentally refusing to acknowledge it. “Oi, I told you about calling me that name. Stop acting like we’re so close to each other! I don’t want you here,” he grits, hating how unfazed you were by his  ‘hatred’ for you.

“Yeah yeah, I know you like it,” you tease, disappearing down the stairs to head back home for the day.

Since the first time Mikey introduced you to everyone, Baji had his suspicions about you. How could everyone just openly accept you to hang around them and listen in on their meetings? What if you were working for a rival gang, showing up to get intel for them? Why was he the only one suspicious of you? And why did you have such an affect on him? Your carefree attitude, your disregard for being surrounded by dangerous men. He felt so conflicted.

The longer you hung around, the more he let his walls fall, yet he kept that stubborn, rudeness whenever you were with him. He refused to show that he had somewhat trusted you, let alone that he may or may not have a thing for you–though he’d never admit that to anyone, he could barely admit it to himself. 

One day though, you had managed to gain all his trust. You had found a sneaky rat from a rival gang sneaking around Toman’s grounds, just looking for trouble. Could you fight? No. Were you still going to call him out and try and get him to leave? Yes.

You approach the man and begin to threaten him, talking big for someone who couldn’t defend themselves. Baji was watching the whole thing go down from afar. A tinge of suspicion grew as he watched you approach the man who was clearly up to no good and didn’t belong with Toman, but that all vanished as soon as he saw you try and make him leave.

“That idiot,” he grunts to himself, tying his hair up as he makes his way over to you, arriving just in time as the guy goes to throw a punch your way.

Baji quickly pushes you out of the way, and easily beats the guy up, mentally making a note of the gang attire he wore so he could inform Mikey of the situation later.

“Are you insane? It’s like you were just asking to get killed! You should have just shouted for one of us to help, we’d be able to hear you if you screamed loud enough. What kind of idiot who knows they’re weak, tries to fight someone off alone?” Baji went on and on, telling you off, yet all you could do was smile at him.

“Stop looking at me like that with that stupid grin, it isn’t funny”

“Heh, you care about me,” you smirk, egging him on.

“Of cour- What?! NO! No, I don't. What made you ever come to that conclusion?” He screamed, his face growing red at his almost confession. Why were you so irritatingly cute?

He could deny it all he wanted, but it was obvious how he felt for you. Now knowing that he could trust you, he started hanging around you more often. And after a few more months, he became the one who’d invite you over.

“You know…you could just ask me out instead of staring at me all the time. I’d say yes.” You say from beside him, feeling his eyes on you as you sit side by side on the shrine steps.

“What?! I-” He groans, feeling stupid that he was so obvious. With a sigh, he looks away from you. “Then let’s date.” 

You didn’t expect him to actually go along with it. Who knew the man who had hated you so much would be secretly admiring you and finally have the guts to ask you out.

“Sure,” you shrug, feeling your own face heat up.

It would take some time to fully warm up, but dating was the first step, a large step from where you’d been with each other before.

Posted: 1/2/2024

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

WIP Ask Game!

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips

tagged by @bloodsherry and @fortunately-pancakes!! thanks for the tags <333

i... have too many wips/ideas... list in order of oldest to newest opened in my docs:

Ghost

HBD Chuuya 2022

HBD Dazai 2022

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

College AU (Soccer AU)

17SKK Hurt/Comfortttt

16!skk meeting 22!skk (aka the 500 follower twt special that to lost to time)

pirate skk + daughter

When Our Heroes Fall (You Can't Be Happy All the Time)

Dream a Little Dream with Me

Waltz No. 2

The Heart Drop

Childhood Friends SKK

What If: Murase Lives

Recovery Ace Skk Fic

Reunion AU

Child Soukoku

Chuuya Hurt/Comfort

Idek anymore

FF Idea

Untitled Document (1.5k words)

Zess Prompt (this one's been complete for 1.5 years...)

Another Hurt/Comfort (also been mostly complete for 1.5 years)

(5+1) Times Skk Almost Do *It* (and the First Time They Do)

Untitled Document (based off a movie, a war tragedy)

guess fucking what, another wip!

Smol Dazai

Ranpo + Chuuya Sibling Arc feat. Father Fukuzawa

Gift Fic! (for m on twt for 1000 followers raffle)

Tired Dad AU (my newest obsession tbh)

Stripper Bitching

More Canon Divergence What-Ifs to Explore (contains three hurt/comfort fic ideas and a separate AU idea for odachuuzai)

assorted list of AUs sitting in my docs cause most follow a [word] AU as their wip name atm:

Grim Reaper AU

Good Omens AU

Music Majors AU

High School AU

Vampire AU

Friends AU

Olympics AU

Music Majors AU

Pop Group AU

AiB AU

Modern! AU

iiii don't think i could think of enough people for each wip so we're just gonna go off the top of my head and pray i don't retag people: @hibiscesque @clustersorrow @celestialunii @loulits @wildflowerteas @calmlb @minimafioso

[cozy2000]

i need to start raising money for actual psychiatric help.

sorry i keep doing this but im. going public with the fact that a free psychiatric screening (thanks to my doc!) told me i almost definitely have some form of OSDD(dont know which type but its encroaching on my everyday life either way), and to get psychiatric help without risking loss of my hrt im probably going to need to go out of network. either way i need some financial help to afford this and also be able to pay my financially controlling father and pay for gas and pay off credit card debt so i have good credit when i get away eventually

i havent been able to afford therapy for almost two years and i want to at the very fucking least do that

not really a goal in mind bc any goal i can think of has a very low chance of being reached (1.5k is my personal guess- not including the credit card debt) but anything helps. things are kind of getting worse real quick and its either this or i end up with another 20k bill from the psych ward

CA + VM: @cozicko

PP: zickocolin@gmail.com (has deadname)

[messenger-of-stupidity]

All You Need

I wanna actually sit down and write something. So I found a song. I'm going sit and write this and not stop until I'm satisfied that this won't count as a mini blurb. I don't know what direction this will go. Neither do you. We're on an adventure together. The only difference is that you're tied to the passenger seat and I'm doing 80 down the road. I hope you enjoy.

(Edit: I ended up using @vind3miat0r 's headcannon that you should very much look at. With permission ofc.)

(Edit 2: 1.5K words. I'm proud of myself hehe)

--- Here's the song btw, if you wanna listen ---

Desperation. A state of despair, typically one which results in rash or extreme behavior.

Need. Require (something) because it is essential or very important.

Infatuation. An intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something.

Possessive. Demanding someone's total attention and love.

Hush shut the dictionary with a frown. The clock on Doc's mantle counted the seconds, a metronome in the silence. Doc had left twenty-three minutes ago, to "get some food. I'm hungry, Hush, and I don't want more toast."

What was wrong with toast? Everybody liked toast, according to the commercials he had seen on Doc's television last time he was here with them. Before he had killed Vega, he means. Toast always put a smile on the humans' faces in the glowing shifting images. The frames that passed at a steady pace for a reason he didn't care to learn.

Regardless, Doc was at the store and Hush was supposed to stay here. In case Vega returned with that Inchoate again. They hadn't wanted to listen when Hush tried to explain that he was pretty sure that Vega would be able to find him just fine. They had shut the door before he could finish his sentence, leaving him standing there in confusion.

Granted he could have followed them. He probably should have. But instead, he had taken the time to fully explore Doc's apartment. He knew the living room and the kitchen well enough. But he had taken the time to explore their bathroom, their closet, their bedroom. Until he was fully familiar. It wasn't too different from his brother's home with that child of the land. His brother's... human had been a freelancer like Doc. Another way that he and I are similar.

Hush returned his focus to the dictionary in his lap. He had been trying to figure out why Doc's departure and insistence on being alone... bothered him. After getting distracted by just how many words there were in this dictionary (273,000 words) he had decided to look for the things that seemed to relate the best.

So far he had found four. Desperation, need, Infatuation, and possessive. Really, none of them should have suited. He wasn't meant to feel any of those about a human. Only about his purpose.

He only thought desperation might have fit because Doc had said killing demons in their entryway was a step too far. (He had only done it twice, and it was to protect them. He didn't think it was "rash" or "extreme" or "too much". But he had to take their opinion into consideration. They understood emotions better than he did.)

Need had seemed fitting since Doc was important to him. Essential? Probably not. But they were important. He could feel that, the same way he could feel that Avior and Vega were important.

Infatuation only partially fit. What he felt about Doc could be intense sometimes. It overwhelmed him more than once. It was short-lived. He hadn't known them for very long, after all. He hadn't existed for very long. Did he admire them, though? Sometimes. Passion? He didn't think so. He didn't understand passion. Maybe I should search for that in the dictionary next.

Possessive. Or, rather, possessiveness. Grammar was important, after all. Otherwise he might be misunderstood. And if he was misunderstood, then how would anyone be able to know when he was warning them? Everyone gets one warning. Except for Avior, Doc, and Vega. They got more than one warning because they felt important.

But back to the word. Possessiveness. He didn't demand their... love. His purpose wasn't to be loved. His purpose was to help the Sovereigns. But their attention... he liked having that. He liked being around them. He liked talking to them. He liked their embraces, especially. He wanted it.

Hush opened the dictionary again.

Passion. A strong and uncontrollable emotion.

Maybe he did feel passion for Doc. It overwhelmed him and he couldn't make it go away. He had tried since they weren't connected to his purpose. Not in the way that Avior's freelancer was. Maybe he was infatuated with Doc.

Hush shut the dictionary again and set it down on Doc's couch. His eyes returned to the clock. Thirty minutes since Doc had left. He slouched in his seat, frowning again. Although his focus was soon dragged by the energy in the air shifting. Soon enough, a rift opened and Vega appeared, the Inchoate at his side. Hush felt a sense of déjà vu. He didn't straighten up from where he was slouched. Vega raised a brow.

Hush. He greeted. Although, maybe it wasn't a greeting by the way that the Inchoate shifted nervously, tucking their body behind Vega. Vega sent them a glance but didn't say anything by the skittish behavior. Hush blinked slowly.

"Hello." Hush said to the Inchoate. They didn't answer him. He couldn't understand why.

Where is the human? Vega asked and Hush looked back at him.

"Doc went to the grocery store." He answered with a small shrug. "They said I should wait here for you to come back. With the Inchoate." He stood up this time, crossing his arms. He watched as Vega looked at the demon behind him, turning slightly. Hush noticed the way that the Sadism Demon kept his body angled between him and the Inchoate. He had done that before too.

You should go and feed, Warden. Vega said. The inchoate hesitated before giving a faint nod and rifting away. That left Hush and Vega in Doc's living room. Hush could hear the ticking of the clock again.

"You came back." Hush noted uselessly. Vega sat down in a chair - loveseat, Hush recalled. He could remember asking Doc why a seat loved and they had laughed. He liked their laugh - and crossed one leg over the other. Yes. Temporarily. Vega answered. It was a vague answer but Hush just shrugged in acceptance. He had more pressing matters than what Vega meant by "temporarily".

"How do you know that the Inchoate is your friend?" He asked, staring at Vega. The demon met his stare, unflinching.

I don't remember them. He pointed out languidly. Hush knew that, of course. But Vega still trusted them more than he trusted Hush. And Hush had been the one to bring him back (after killing him). He should trust Hush more because he could only remember Hush helping him. And yet, he didn't. He only trusted Hush enough to listen to him because of Doc.

Vega didn't even know Doc, but he had initially trusted them more than Hush. Hush sighed. This was all very confusing and his head was starting to ache again.

"But you trust them." Hush pointed out. Vega kept holding his stare for several ticks of the clock before he gave a small nod.

Yes. What about it? He asked. Hush's brow furrowed and he resisted the urge to dig his fingernails into his palms. This wasn't going anywhere. It was like when people asked him the wrong questions.

"How do you know you can trust them?" He pressed, and Vega leaned back in his seat. Despite his current state, he still made for an impressive figure. Hush was pretty sure that even Avior would be intimidated. And Avior had met the Sovereigns.

There are multiple reasons. Many of them are not for you to know. Vega responded, his voice a little tighter than typical. It reminded Hush of when he had pieced Vega back together with what he could scrounge back up, and Vega had talked about being incomplete. Was it connected?

"What about the reasons I can know?" He asked, not demanding to know them anyway. He had factors that other people couldn't know. It would make him a hypocrite (another word he had looked at in the dictionary) if he tried to force people to tell him their secrets. Although everyone always seemed very interested in Hush's own secrets.

... It's difficult to explain. Especially to a... thing... that doesn't feel the same ways. Vega responded, but Hush just watched him patiently. Vega sighed and continued, thankfully. There's an... emptiness where they were. An outline of their aura where it pressed into mine. Where only they can fit. He finished carefully.

Hush blinked. That... made no sense. "What?" Vega pinched the bridge of his nose.

If you can't understand emotions, I don't expect you to grasp the concept. Vega said, his voice growing tight again. Frustrated, Hush realized, Vega was getting frustrated with him. It wasn't Hush's fault.

"Try to explain it, please. It's... important." He pressed. Vega was quiet for a long moment, staring at Hush.

The human's core, you can feel it's shape within them, right? The shape of their aura around their body? Vega asked, only continuing after Hush nodded. It's that shape. That shape presses against the very deepest part of your being. It's more than your mind, more than just the feeling of their physical form. It's...them, that presses into your very essence. And when they're missing, they leave behind a void, an imprint that only they can fill. Being forgotten doesn't change the fact that something is missing in the very core of who I am. Something that is them. And they are all you need to feel... complete.

Hush stared at Vega for a long moment. Then, hesitantly, he asked his next question. "What's it... called? That feeling?"

Devotion.

[levi-llama]

Space, Time, and the Psyche (6)

⛧_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_☾_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_⛧

Series Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Blood and Gore, Illness

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist / Taglist

⛧_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_☾_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_⛧

He went to grab my arm and help me up, but I hissed as soon as his skin touched mine. The light from the bioluminescent monster faded as it lay still, making the deep red that seeped through my sweater almost invisible. He pulled his hand away as if I burned him, and quickly looked at his hand. He couldn’t see the blood, but he could feel the wetness and that was enough.

“Oh, Eddie, you’re hurt.” He gasped, concerned etching his face and staring at his hand as if he was able to see through the dark. While he stared in a trance, I helped myself up with effort that made me pant. 

“I’ll be alright, let’s just find a way out of here.” I patted his forearm with the hand on my uninjured side and walked past him, investigating the area the spider had fallen. I start to fiddle with the rocks behind it. Feeling the rocks had loosened; I tried to push some out of the way. I was so exhausted, too exhausted to shift the stone. “Doctor, help me push these rocks, please. They seem to be loose.”

“Ah, yes, coming!” He snapped out of his stupor to come to my aid, and with minimal effort on his part, they loosened and scuttled down to the cave’s ground. The revealed tunnel was dark, the glowing of the spider’s algae not penetrating the blackness within. 

“It’s dark, but it’s our only way out of this cavern. After you, Doc.” 

He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and it emitted a light, barely, but enough to keep us from tripping. 

The tunnel was narrow and cramped; my injuries occasionally brushing against the ragged, dirty walls. The sting of fresh scabs being reopened made me wince. For a while we trekked, searching for any semblance of sunlight. As of yet, we couldn’t find any indication of a possible way out. As time went on, my eyes started to adjust more, but with that adjustment my temporal lobe became confused. The pure darkness made time feel slow and fast at the same time. I was so disoriented; I understood that it couldn’t have been more than a few hours, yet it also seemed like it’d been days of walking in that tight, claustrophobic cave system. 

The terrain became more uneven as we continued further, the walls closing in even more during certain parts. Half of my body felt as if it was on fire from the constant irritation my tripping and tumbling had caused to my already inflamed injuries. My body was mad at the external forces making the start of the healing process near impossible. The tingling burn became so harsh it made me feel faint. Soon, though, those jagged rocks became cooling, slick surfaces. Condensation crawling down the sides in fat drips. The cold water calmed my raw flesh and made me sigh in relief. 

“Do you feel that, Eddie?” The Doctor’s echo-y voice fell on deaf ears. “Eddie?” He raised his volume slightly. 

“Mm, huh? What was that?” The rumble of my voice resounded around my head. 

“Do you feel that water? It means we’re by a natural underground water source.” He said matter-a-fact, the exhaustion evident in his tone, though his attempt to sound hopeful was obvious. 

Sure enough, he was right, after about another half kilometer the cramped, claustrophobic cavern tunnel widened into a bigger cave. The murmur of running water was audible as we approached. 

“Alright, let’s rest here, yea?” He declared. Though the light was still minimal, there was a patch of dried roots growing out of the far wall. The Doctor plucked them from the stone and started a small fire near the river’s shore. “If there’s a river flowing, there must be an exit at the end of it. We should rest for the night, and continue along it tomorrow.” 

I sat next to the fire, leaning against a large stalactite that erected from the ground. I closed my eyes immediately, I was sweaty, clammy, and cold. Teeth clattering and body shivering as I willed myself to relax. 

“Are you alright, Eddie?” Sitting with a small grunt, he plopped down next to me and the fire.

I just sighed a ‘yes’ in response, too tired for much more. 

A gasp came from next to me, nearly startling me to attention. “No, you are not, Eddie! Look at yourself!” He shuffled to his knees, leaning over me, his hands hovered above my torn clothes and patchy, peeled skin. “Why didn’t you speak up sooner!?” He yelled - or rather, lecture, is a better term. 

“It was so dark, I didn’t realize how bad it was.” My tone came more snappy than I intended. I blamed my exhaustion. 

“Oh, Ed, my girl.” I felt his sigh in my bones. He had enough on his plate, trying to get us back to the tardis. I feel guilty for burdening him with something as trivial as my health. 

“It’s alright, I’ll be fine, Doc, don’t worry about me.” I mumbled, breathily. I started to fall asleep until the jarring pain of my road rash brought me back to alertness. I looked down with wide eyes, watching my worried companion pour water from his cupped hands, over my red, revealed tissue. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to be quick.” He whispered, eyelids drooping with something akin to melancholy. His hands worked fast, yet gentle as he tried to pick the flecks of rock, moss, and dirt from my wounds. “I wish I had some sort of disinfectant.” He whispered to himself in passing while focusing on helping me. “I did the best I could do with what we have right now. I apologize it’s not much.” He half-heartedly gave a smile, probably in hopes to reassure me, but at that point I was too worn out to think, nonetheless feel emotion. 

“Thank you.” I murmured as I fell asleep. Or so I assumed, since that was the last thing I remember happening that night. 

⛧_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_☾_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_⛧

The next few hours consisted of barely waking in a blur. I'd open my eyes to the doctor over me, not being able to understand what was being said. Then the next moment I’d wake to the pitch black darkness of the caves. The only constant was the feeling of burning magma that bubbled under my skin. 

I wondered if I was dead; if the peaceful release from life I had been seeking for so long, was anything but. I thought this was hell. Maybe, in retrospect, I was being dramatic, but during the moment, I was too delirious to understand reality. 

A tapping to my cheek brought my consciousness back to the surface. The unfocused face of the doctor appeared in my limited field of vision. The darkness still shrouded most of the world around me, only the lingering coals of a dying fire next to me gave visibility to his dimly lit face. He leaned over me; his mouth forming words. I could hear the sounds of the consonants and vowels leaving him, but comprehension couldn’t form in my mind. 

My eyelids drooped with the weight of my tiredness dragging me back to the deep. Another few taps, sharper this time, tried to rouse me to no avail. I was just aware enough to feel a jolt and sudden weightlessness before the brazen molten metal I called my blood brought the blazing ache back. I then blacked out once again.

⛧_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_☾_-_-_-_*_-_-_-_⛧

The jumbling I felt jolted me back to consciousness. I felt out of body, still overcome with pyretic delirium, however I was aware enough to notice I was carried as my companion traversed the rough terrain. Based on the lack of light, I felt it safe to assume we were still stuck underground. 

“Doc… tor?” I groaned breathlessly. The effort in which it took to speak seemed almost unworthy of my minimal remaining energy, yet I was confused, scared even. I had to know what was happening, and I didn’t know how much longer my lucidity would last. 

“You’re okay, I’m going to get us out of here.” His speech was frantic, obviously overwhelmed by the lasting surrounding darkness and the fading hope of escape. “I won’t let you get worse. We just have to get you to the tardis.”

I let out a soft grunt in understanding before my awareness started to slip, yet before my mind flew back into its fever induced sleep I overheard something I knew I wasn’t meant to hear.

“I can’t lose another one… not so soon.”

[wizardofrozz]

hi, Rozz!!! from the kiss prompts, can I please request:

"i'm sorry, i had to." with Sawbones (simping uncontrollably for him tbh)

can’t wait to see how the mean one handles a first kiss 😅

Love It When You Hate Me

OC Sawbones x reader, Original Clone Troopers

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mention of injury, Sawbones being an asshole. I think that's it lol

A/N: Thank you for the ask Sev 🖤 I get so unbelievably happy when anyone simps of Sawbones lmao I got a little carried away with this but I don't even care, it was worth it 😂

Before the war, you hadn’t traveled much, staying busy in the emergency wing of Coruscant General. Then Geonosis happened, millions of troopers materializing out of thin air to fight a war most people hadn’t even been expecting. That was how you ended up working for the GAR, traveling around the galaxy to lend your medical knowledge to the troops that needed it most. You had visited several medical centers and worked alongside combat medics across numerous battalions.  

The Ord Cestus Medical Center was your most recent assignment, offering an extra set of hands after a large influx of troopers came in. You smiled at the clone stretched out on the bed before you as you checked his vitals. You didn’t even know his name but it didn’t seem to matter to him. 

“Am I gonna make it, doc?” he asked, a smirk lifting the side of his mouth. The trooper’s arm was secured to his chest, his right shoulder still healing after being violently ripped from the socket. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, smiling when he laughed. It was a welcomed sound in a place so steeped in pain, meaning you noticed when it cut off abruptly. You checked for any sign that he was in pain but his expression gave nothing away; you followed his eyes across the room and held in a sigh. 

As a civilian, you hadn’t been sent into combat areas, making relief missions your most common assignment. Most of the time you spent with a battalion was fleeting but there was one that was an exception: the 104th battalion, the Wolfpack. General Plo Koon’s men still fought infantry battles but they also spent the most time rescuing other troops or offering aid to civilians. If it was by accident or due to a request from the general, you were called in, along with a few other civilians, to offer their medics a few extra hands. 

Now, seeing one of those medics, most notably the chief medical officer, wasn’t what you were expecting.

Sawbones looked just as stormy as ever despite the crutches he was hobbling around on. You had heard the stories, the things he’d done in the name of the Republic but your inner idealist wrote them off as exaggerations. Although, when he trooper beside you shifted uncomfortably, glancing at you, it made you wonder. You followed Sawbones’ journey across the room, letting your eyes linger when he stopped at another Wolfpack member’s bed. You huffed under your breath and turned back to the trooper you were treating, gently patting his arm. 

“Get some rest,” you ordered with a smile. The trooper flashed you a tense smile before shuffling down, stretching out on his bed. The next patient on your list was a few beds down, closer to where Sawbones was still lingering and you slowed your pace. You had your fair share of run-ins with the Wolfpack’s mean CMO and while his attitude made you want to steer clear of him, there was something about him that had your mind wandering back to him.

Sawbones was harsh on a good day but you had also witnessed a side to him that you’d almost consider...soft. He threw nasty comments around, scaring off anyone who dared get too close but he cared for his injured men with a gentle hand. You had a feeling his threats weren’t empty, but he wanted to help more than hurt, even if he had a funny way of showing it. 

Sawbones turned his head slightly as you neared your next patient. His beard was neatly trimmed and you could only remember seeing it long and unruly out on the field. Now that you thought about it, that was the first time you had seen him in anything but his armor; the starchy, gray scrubs made him look softer, less abrasive. You offered the trooper, Dodger, a smile as you approached his bed. It was hard to miss the anxiety lining his expression and you hoped the simple gesture helped a little bit. Dodger’s jaw flexed but he squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath in preparation. 

“How are you feeling, Dodger?” you asked, perching on the corner of his bed near his feet.

“Been better,” he mumbled, pointedly not looking at the hip-to-ankle cast he wore. You could feel eyes on your back and ignored the curious glances as you reached for his hand. Recovery was going to take some time but there was nothing unrepairable. 

“Enough babying them.” You jumped at the voice from over your shoulder, twisting around to find Sawbones leaning on his crutches, his face twisted in a scowl. “They’re soldiers, not children.” There was a tense silence as you just gaped at him, taken aback by the bitter edge to his voice. Endless, dark eyes bore into yours and it took you a second to shake off the shock.

“Excuse me?” Sawbones arched a brow before shifting his attention to Dodger over your shoulder.

“You live to fight another day. Congratulations,” Sawbones said, his tone flat and uninterested. Dodger blinked a few times before letting out a long, slow breath, and slumping down in his bed. 

“Uh, thank you, sir,” he murmured, nodding at the medic. Sawbones grunted before making a slow turn, heading back across the room and all you could do was stare after him. When you looked back at Dodger, there was a half-smile on his face that only grew when he caught the flabbergasted expression on your face. 

Then the anger started to build, swelling like an impending storm and you stood so fast you staggered. Dodger tried to get your attention but you were already stalking toward the door Sawbones disappeared through. Finding him was easy, seeing that he could only move so fast and you picked up your pace. You could only imagine the look on your face but it must’ve been ominous enough for any passing staff to step out of your way. 

You caught a glimpse of Sawbones disappearing into one of the smaller labs scattered around the medical center and hurried after him. There was one other clone sitting at one of the benches when you stepped inside, the pair turning to look at you. 

“Leave,” you ordered, stepping away from the door. The clone hesitated, glancing at Sawbones and it only made your anger spike. “Out.” Sawbones leaned against the workbench, taking some of the weight off his broken leg, his head turning to follow the other clone as he stomped out of the room.

“What?” he asked, arching a brow. 

“How dare you," you hissed, storming across the room, carelessly invading his personal space. “I am not one of your subordinates that you can talk down to. You had no right to step in like that.”

“And?” The unbothered air around him made you seethe; any crush you thought you might’ve had on him got shoved to the back of your mind. You ground your teeth together, taking another step closer.

“I don’t care what your problem is. I don’t care why you act like an asshole as if it’s your job but you will not treat me like some incompetent moof-milker.” You jabbed a finger into his chest, relishing in the quiet grunt he let out. “I’ve worked my ass off all my life and if you’re so emotionally constipated that my kindness bothers you, then I’d suggest sucking it the fuck up.” 

Sawbones blinked at you, his eyes flickering down to where your finger was still pressed into his chest; when his eyes lifted again they seemed shadowed and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Suddenly, you felt your confidence withering as his expression darkened, his head tilting down, bringing your faces closer together. Just as you were about to take a step back, Sawbones surged forward, slanting his mouth against yours as he cradled the back of your head.

Your eyes widened comically but it didn’t deter him and before you knew it you were melting against him. His mustache tickled your skin and you found that you liked it, closing your fist, tugging him closer by his scrub top. Sawbones rumbled deep in his chest, parting your lips to slip his tongue into your mouth and you whined involuntarily.

It was just a kiss and yet it felt more erotic than any other kiss you’d shared with another person. The movement of his tongue was a mockery of what you desperately wished his hips were doing and it made you shiver. Sawbones broke the kiss so suddenly your head spun and you swayed closer, following his lips before you could catch yourself. 

“Sorry,” Sawbones panted, his hand sliding down to your neck, “I had to. I like it when you get mean.” 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “You only speak one language: asshole.” It felt like a monumental accomplishment when Sawbones laughed; it was a sharp, harsh sound but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless.

“I speak another language too,” he murmured, bumping your noses together. 

“Yeah? What’s that?” You barely finished the sentence before he pulled you into another dizzying kiss. Yeah, you would happily speak this language too.

Ragu list:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @trixie2023 @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @commander-sunshine @dukeoftheblackstar

[junhui-recs]

── june's jun faves .ᐟ ⋆₊.*:･

these are my favorite jun fics that i enjoy or were written for me by my mutuals! links are purely for my own personal ease of access but please check out these wonderful authors (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

by — mars @onlymingyus ♡

• jun in bed drabble ›››› sfw .ᐟ 0.3k words boyfriend!jun x gn reader — fluff, mildly suggestive

• another jun in bed drabble ›››› sfw .ᐟ 0.2k words boyfriend!jun x gn reader — fluff

• thank him later (#1) ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 0.7k words jun x gn reader x minghao — smut, makeup artist!reader, voyeurism

• thank you (#2) ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 3.7k words jun x gn reader x minghao — smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism

• rooted (2022 mars'oween) ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 2k words wood nymph king!jun x f reader — smut, supernatural, nymph queen!reader it's been 2 years and i'm still begging for a sequel but i refuse to give up hope

• do re mi ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 4k words husband!jun x wife!f reader — smut, fluff, 70s au, record store owner!reader, breeding kink

• follow me ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 3.2k words poly relationship jun x f reader x joshua — smut, fluff, mlm, soft dom!joshua, virgin!jun

• shut up ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 35.9k words — read warnings carefully!! mob boss!jun x f reader (feat. minghao) — smut, fluff, angst, dark themes, violence, drugs, hard dom!jun, dom!minghao, sub!reader

• **eyes roll (shut up patreon bonus) ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 2.1k words mob boss!jun x f reader x minghao — smut, threesome, mlm, aftercare, double penetration, dom!jun, switch!hao, sub!reader (this link is to the google doc so it only works for me sorry, subscribe to mars' patreon to read this exclusive post!)

by — anna @wonustars ♡

• how deep is your love? ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 1.5k words bf!jun x f reader — smut, fluff, birthday sex, new year's

by — nova @duhnova ♡

• dive in ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 1.4k words lifeguard!jun x f reader — smut, semi-public sex, jealous jun

• wedding present ›››› nsfw (18+) .ᐟ 3.2k words husband!jun x wife!f reader — smut, fluff, newlyweds, breeding kink

by — bibi @jeonghunny ♡

• matching rings ›››› sfw .ᐟ 0.8k words boyfriend!jun x reader — fluff, humor, proposal

by — lily @husbandhoshi ♡

• [9:17pm] ›››› sfw .ᐟ 1.1k words med student!jun x sick reader — fluff, humor, college au, roommates au

• med student/doctor!jun headcanons ›››› sfw .ᐟ 0.1k words med student!jun x gn reader — fluff

[danses-with-dogmeat]

🦀👑for arcade gannon “hold still. this might sting a little.”🙏🙏🙏 congrats on 1.5k!!!!! u deserve every follower!!

Well, it doesn't get more perfect than this line/character matchup 😅 Definitely sounds like a doc, lol.

But ahh, thank you! I hope you enjoy this piece!

"Okay, just, ah, just one question, before I treat you and save your life and all that, um... What the hell were you thinking?"

Six looked down at the floor, embarrassment making their cheeks burn nearly as prevalently as the numerous bite wounds in their arm.

The area was obviously swollen now, the skin angry and stretched, the punctures each feeling like droplets of fire touching their exposed flesh.

It had only grown worse on the journey here.

"I don't know, Arcade, I... I wasn't thinking. Maybe."

The blond doctor's expression didn't change. Not even a flinch, not a breath, not a blink.

It was still demanding more from them.

"I didn't know what would be down there!" Six burst out, their good hand flailing expressively instead of pressing down on their injuries.

"It's a cave. In the middle of nowhere." Arcade began, pressing gauze to the-- now exposed-- cuts and bite-marks on their left forearm. "You heard rattling coming from inside."

"I thought it might be some settlers or something! I wasn't far outside Nipton, I thought maybe they were survivors..."

"Nightstalkers! They were nightstalkers. Anything that makes that sound is, inevitably, a half rattlesnake, half coyote hybrid that will bite," Arcade gestured heavily to their wounds, "and kill you with its venom."

Six's lip began to tremble at that, the emotion shining in their eyes going from shame to fear in less than a second.

"I didn't know... I had only seen them from far away before, so I..." They sniffled, their voice growing more uneven with each word.

Arcade's eyes widened as they snapped to his companion, panic sparking briefly in their depths before he spoke.

"Hey, hey, okay." He moved to help them sit down in the chair near the entrance to his tent. "No need for that, I-I wasn't finished with what I was saying."

Six sniffed again, eyes wide as they stared up at him hopefully from where they'd settled in the folding chair.

"It will kill you with it's venom, if I'm not here to treat it." Arcade was moving now, going through the drawers beside them and grabbing various medical tools and vials from within. "But, as luck would have it, I am here. And even though my bedside manner is less than sub-par..."

Six watched him work quickly, his voice shaky, but his expression focused as he filled a few different syringes with a pale, milky liquid.

"You're going to be alright. I'll make sure of that much, at least." His green eyes bore into them as he turned around, willing the statement into them with his uncharacteristically serious tone.

Six gulped, but still, they nodded to him.

Their arm shook in his grasp as Arcade moved to pull it towards him, a piece of wetted gauze in-hand.

"Now, you're going to have to hold still for me on this. It might sting a little."

Six took a deep breath, closed their eyes, and steadied their arm as best they could.

But he was right.

It stung like hell as he pressed the gauze to the wounds on their arm, and Six ground their teeth to bite back the shout of pain rising in their throat.

"Easy. Almost there."

His fingers rubbed over the burning skin, and Six felt it steadily begin to numb. Their eyes stayed shut firmly, but as the pain subsided, they were able to take another breath.

Arcade moved away from them briefly, but was back an instant later, and a slight pinching sensation was felt through the numbness. They hissed in response, but did as Arcade had requested. They kept their arm steady.

"One more oughta do it." They heard him say, and felt his breath spill over the un-numbed skin of their upper arm. "You're doing great, Six."

The courier let those words sit with them, a pang of appreciation for their friend and companion swelling in the depths of their chest. The feeling was distraction enough, that when they opened their eyes, Arcade had finished and was pulling the syringe away.

"I'm going to keep monitoring you over night, so don't think you can just dash off and throw yourself into another cave or chasm quite yet, okay?"

A laugh escaped them as their good hand reached for their numb forearm. The feeling still hadn't returned yet, and so, for now, they were free to feel more than the burning pain.

"You know," Six said quietly, watching as Arcade cleaned and put away the items he'd used to treat them. "What you said about your bedside manner wasn't really accurate, I think."

"No?" They heard the smirk in his voice.

"No. It's at least subpar."

The doctor snickered, his smile flashing as he turned to snatch the used gauze from the little table beside them.

"It's at least subpar, when it it comes to you. That's the difference."

Six returned his smile, that sense of gratitude rising again in their chest.

"Arcade, I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Yeah?" He raised a brow, "Well, don't get used to it. It's just the bedside manner talking."

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 6 "Job Gone Wrong"

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

Hunter meets a smuggler Nomaadi Star Woman with a powerful force sensitive teen who changes the trajectory of CF-99's lives...as they ALL try to escape from The Empire together.

To read Chapter 5:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/730320896366149632/vagabonds-chapter-4?source=share

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 1.5K

Background: Mad takes a job that's more than she bargained for. Hunter and Wrecker go shopping. Omega and Sil bond over shared experiences.

Warning: Fear, the "F" word, Star Wars swearing, droid prejudice, brief mention of medical experimentation on unwilling participants, brief conversation of abuse and PTSD, supporting character death by blaster.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap: If what the butcher back on Coruscant said was true, Tiggy was a hybrid between two Force sensitive breeds of canine: Vornskr hunting dog and wild Loth Wolf.  Seems her tail was docked to remove the venomous barb at the end and blunt any aggression.  Mad was concerned about any residual Vornskr aggression against Force users, but hoped the lofty Loth Wolf would dilute this.  Either Tiggy was going to be a great pet or a total disaster.  Mad was going to have to consult with Tech later to see if he had any knowledge or advice on the matter.  

She tiptoed toward the refresher to clean up and get ready for the next job...

"Job Gone Wrong"

Mad strolled across Ord Mantell and arrived at the meeting place for her next pick up.  She knocked 3 times on a non-descript door, waited for 2 knocks on the other side, then knocked 3 times again. 

When the door opened, an older bespectacled gentleman appeared.  He was short and wearing a clinician’s uniform.   

“Dr. Zebba?” Mad inquired. 

He nodded, “Mad?” 

“The one and only.” 

The doctor stepped aside and Mad entered. He seemed VERY nervous.  Not the best sign, but not totally out of the ordinary, as he didn’t seem like the type used to smuggling. “Come with me, please.” 

Mad rested a hand on her blaster...just in case. 

Dr. Zebba led her through a small entryway, then another door.  The room she stepped into was a clinic.  Rudimentary, but well kept.  The doctor walked over to a handheld cooler and lovingly caressed its top. A 2-1B med droid was busy cleaning and organizing the facility. Mad eyed it suspiciously. Its unemotive “face” and skeletal-like design was the furthest thing from providing comfort in her mind. 

“This is ‘Remedy’” Dr Zebba fondly motioned to the droid. “She’s been my assistant for quite a few cycles now.” 

Mad stood silently, hand still on her blaster, staring warily at the droid. 

“Remedy, meet Mad.” 

“Hello, Mad, pleased to meet your acquaintance.” A very calm electronic female voice emanated from the droid. It... she extended a metal hand in greeting. 

“NOPE!” Mad backed away from the meddroid with one hand up to block the greeting. The other now gripping the handle of her blaster. “Don’t touch me.” Mad’s hip firmly bumped into the table and jostled the cooler sitting on it. 

“Remedy is gentle, she would NEVER hurt anyone.” Dr Zebba looked slightly hurt by Mad’s reaction. The droid stood in place silently. 

“The Nomaadi have...a ’history’...as unwilling medical experiments, doc.” We are VERY wary of medical staff...and meddroids.” Mad was starting to sweat. “You can thank the fucking Kaminoan’s.” 

Dr Zebba was stunned by Mad’s very frank reply. An uncomfortable silence hung in the room for a few minutes. 

“Shall I step out for a while, Dr Zebba?” The meddroid politely inquired. 

“Yes, thank you Remedy.” He watched her exit the room, then cleared his throat. “Shall I brief you on this job?” 

“Go ahead.” Mad kept her eye on the door the droid exited from. 

“Well...as you know, the deal was to ferry humans across the galaxy. Unfortunately, the courier and the clone soldier sent to accompany her were...intercepted.  Instead of two individuals and this cargo...well, it’s just this cargo.” 

“Clone, huh? I don’t work for The Empire. Sorry.” 

“No worries.  I assure you this was and still is purely a mission for The Rebellion.”  The doctor seemed legitimate in his sincerity.  “Since we lost our courier, I am requesting that you carry it.  Otherwise, this mission will fail.  Several lives are hanging in the balance here.” 

“Oh?”   

“You will be compensated handsomely for the inconvenience.”  He pulled an extra case of credits out of drawer, setting it upon the table. 

Mad opened the case to see twice the number of credits that was quoted for the job. 

“When you deliver the cargo at its destination, another payment will be given to you.  We will supply you with any chain codes to ease your journey, of course.” 

“Ok, so what’s the catch?” Still eyeing the door and rubbing her bumped hip. 

“Please sit and I will explain the details.”  Dr. Zebba gestured to a chair. 

Mad sat down to hear what crazy plan would earn her more credits than she had the past 6 months of smuggling. 

Meanwhile, at the Marauder, Hunter emerged from the refresher.  Tech and Echo had already left for the antique parts junkyard.  Wrecker was snoozing in the pilot’s chair.  Hunter’s night with Mad played back in his head.  He looked forward to seeing her again tonight. Hunter wanted to get her something special.  No kriffing idea what, though. 

He wished he had asked Echo about such things.  Echo was good at choosing heartfelt gifts.  Tech perhaps might even suggest something unique and exotic.  Hunter glanced at Wrecker sleeping while tying up his hair in a clean bandana. 

This wooing a woman stuff was new territory for Hunter.  Especially such a vivid woman like Mad.  No simple trinket would do.  Something significant, with meaning, but maybe not too much.  He didn’t want to seem desperate.  Oh, but he was...desperately falling for Mad. 

“Wrecker, wake up” 

“Zzz...wha...whatchawant?” 

“I uh...need help.” Wrecker could see something was eating at Hunter.  “Have to make a stop at the Vendor’s Market.  Come with me.” 

“Oh?  Can’t be food, we just stocked up” Wrecker stretched, then peered mischievously at Hunter, then lowered his voice, “Oooh, it’s for Mad, isn’t it?” 

“Matter of fact, yes.” 

“You really got the hots for her!  Even more than that girl back in basic training...or that Twi’lek at 79’s... or...” 

Hunter chuckled and shook his head at Wrecker.  

“Never brought them gifts, though.” 

“No...” 

“Sure, I’ll help ya”  Wrecker grabbed Hunter and squeezed him tightly.  “Must be serious!”   

“Just don’t want to show up empty handed to the ‘Dame for dinner.” 

“Whatever you say” Wrecker chuckled and winked. 

Mad accepted the terms of the job. Dr Zebba was able to talk her into it if “The Droid” stayed in the other room. The extra money was going to be a boon as well.  Meeting at the extraction point sounded like it would be quick and easy.  

“Now remember what I said about...” a sudden explosion in the next room interrupted the doctor’s instructions. He dropped the bacta patch he was about to adhere to Mad’s hip. 

“WHAT THE KRIFF???” Mad jumped from the sudden loud noise. 

Dr. Zabba immediately grabbed the cooler, shoved it into Mad’s chest and yelled, “RUN!  No time, our security has been breached!”  And pushed her along frantically towards the back door to the clinic.  He opened the door which led out to an alleyway.  Another explosion in the room behind her and blaster fire.  As Mad crossed the threshold of the doorway, a heavy weight fell onto her back.  She stumbled, slammed into the ground, cooler flying out of her grasp and into the alley.  The wind was knocked out of Mad, with Dr. Zabba’s dead body sprawled across her legs.  Mad squawked in terror and struggled to shove his body aside.  She felt the adrenaline surge, kicked herself free, got up and started running. Pulled her blaster and squeezed off a few shots for good measure.  Mad grabbed the cooler and took off down the alley as fast as her legs could run.  Abdomen cramped with stress, she bit her lip and kept going.   

“Shitshitshitshit”  What the fuck was she going to do?  Who was pursuing her?  The Empire?  Mercenaries?  Bounty Hunters?  She had nowhere to go except the Beldame.  No backup plan, no alternative hiding spot.  This job was supposed to be simple. 

Mad ran blindly in the direction of her ship.  Crossed the vendor’s market, hoping to find cover and lose her pursuers.  Whomever was after her didn’t care about causing a scene as there were still active laser blasts and screams of people running away from danger. 

Hunter and Wrecker had successfully acquired a gift for mad, with time left over to sit in the vendor square and relax.  Their respite was short lived, however, as the sound of blaster fire and screams filled the air.  They both shot up to their feet and drew weapons.  Vendor tents caught fire and smoldered, filling the air with thick smoke and affecting visibility.  A crowd of vendors and patrons ran in all directions adding to the confusion. 

Hunter heard her voice before he even saw her.  Mad was still swearing to herself as she ran through the smoke.  A crazed exercise in self-soothing.   

“Mad!”  She heard Hunter’s voice and slid to a stop, quaking in place.  “Stay still, I’m coming to you!!!” 

She was enveloped in thick grey smoke. Voices, screams, and blaster fire coming from all directions. 

Mad was easy to find.  Hunter could smell sweat and fear, hear her frantic breathing.  Wrecker followed behind his brother. 

Hunter reached through the smoke and grabbed Mad’s hand.  She spun around wildly with abject terror on her face. 

“They’re after me.  It all went bad!” 

“You ain’t kiddin’!”  Wrecker quipped. 

“Who???”  Hunter implored. 

“I don’t know for sure.  Didn’t stay around long enough to find out!” 

“Let’s get out of here.  Wrecker, I'm taking Mad back to the Beldame and leaving.  You run to the Marauder and get off world with Echo and Tech. Comm them ahead to prepare the ship.  We can meet up later.  Hopefully this smokescreen will buy us some time!” 

“I’m on it!”  With that Wrecker was gone. 

“C’mon!”  Hunter and Mad took off towards the ‘Dame. 

“Where did she get this?” Omega marveled at the bobbling plasticine Rancor affixed to the ‘Dame's dashboard.   

She and Sil had been sitting in the cockpit conversing and watching Love levitate Tiggy.  The puppy was happily executing the doggy paddle through the ship.  It was an easy way to tire her out and restrict access to anything chewable. 

Omega bumped the Rancor to make it bobble again.  Mad had “modified” the toy so the Rancor was holding a severed doll head by the hair.  The head bore a certain likeness to Emperor Palpatine. 

“Mad picks up all sorts of odd things all over the galaxy.”  Remarked Sil.  “From traders, other Nomaadi, odd shops, even things cast aside on the street.  She’s got an eye for it.  Used to bring me and the family exotic and funny gifts when we met for Reunion...that was before I was taken away.” 

Uncomfortable silence for some time. 

“It’s ok.  Talk to him.” Love urged Omega telepathically. 

“I’m sorry they hurt you.” Omega hoped she wasn’t speaking out of turn.  But she could tell by Sil’s expression he was dealing with some heavy scars.  Love had Force spoke to Omega briefly about how they found Sil and that he had been missing for several years. 

He nodded and sighed.  What could he say?  There was so much.  Certain triggers: A tone of voice, a touch, certain body postures, even random noises.  Panic attacks during the day and nightmares after dark.  Physical and psychological scars from things done to him.  Sil was trying the best he could to heal and not be seen as a burden to others. 

“You’re NEVER a burden, Couzin” Love whispered in his head. 

Sil glanced over to Love.  He forgot that occasionally his Couzin could sense intense emotion and snippets of internal dialogue with individuals they emotionally bonded with. 

Omega proceeded carefully, “The Kaminoan’s...they would run tests on me.  Sometimes I didn’t want them to touch me, but I had no choice.  The first time I ever left Kamino was with my brothers.  The Kaminoan’s would have kept me locked up at the facility forever.  It took me a while to heal...not completely.  Not sure that’s possible.” 

Sil was quiet for several minutes, thinking about Omegas words.  She extended her hand and held it open.  Sil reached out, took it, and gave a little squeeze.  They smiled at each other. 

Behind them Love smiled. 

Tiggy, sensing the emotion in the room wagged her tail and continued to doggy paddle in levitation. 

The ‘Dames comm lit up with Mad’s voice, “Love...Sil...Hunter and I are en-route to the ship.  Start her up!  We need to leave Ord Mantell NOW!!!”  Laser fire and screams could be heard in the background of the transmission.   

Sil spun around in the pilot’s chair with wide eyes.  “Love, lower the gangplank and meet them there.  It sounds like they’re in trouble.  You might have to do “that thing” again...like on Coruscant.” 

“What ‘thing’???” Omega demanded to know exactly what. 

“No time!  Take Tiggy and belt into a seat!!!”  Love Force spoke inside Omega's head, handing her the pup, and running to the gangplank. 

Sil fired up the ‘Dame and kept it running.  He used the thrusters to turn its nose towards the city.  Smoke and fire came into view through the cockpit windows.  Ships around them were taking off and leaving in a hurry, more than usual.  Something big and emergent was happening. 

“What the kriff is going on???” 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

To Read Chapter 7:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/734468366280065024/vagabonds-chapter-7?source=share