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seriesxwriting · 2 months

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Leaving me wanting more

Paring- Dean Winchester

Series- supernatural

Warnings- lotta fighting, course it’s the supernatural- that means guns too and ghosts. Kissing, erm might be some swearing it is me we’re talking about.

Summary- you’re introduced to the famous Winchester brothers by their dad on a hunt. Where you connect with Dean quite a lot more than you thought you would. Developing feelings fast, thanks to his dad’s plan all along.

No real timeline in this.

Requests are open my lovelies, any and all characters <3

John drove his car into the run down flat car park and parked it in once of the spaces. “I’m sure this case won’t be easy” he told his sons. “Since when do me and Sammy like easy” Dean chuckled flashing his teeth and cocking his gun.

I recognised the famous car straight away and eyed it up from my car parked in the shadows. I couldn’t really see anyone’s faces so it was lucky I knew the car. My gun was slid into my belt behind my back and I pulled my top down covering it before opening my door and stepping out. Confidently, I walked towards the car in the hope they’d get out and I wouldn’t be standing there awkwardly. I was right, they did. John first of course. I knew he was bringing his two sons but I’d never met them before.

Id heard endless story’s about the famous Winchester brothers who had cheated death multiple times and killed hundreds of demons and the rest of the ugly’s in our world. “Hi darling, are you okay” John came over to hug me. I smiled embracing him back “of course, I always get excited when you call John”. “dad who’s this?” One of them asked as the two brothers stepped out of the car apprehensively.

He turned to his two sons with a beam “this is y/n, she’s the only daughter of one of my dear friends who passed, I thought I’d call in some back up for this hunt”. “You’re a hunter?” The one with shorter hair raised his eyebrow looking me up and down. “Yeah, do I not fit the description?” I smirked putting my hand on my hip. “Not particularly- never met a hunter that looks like- you” he smirked, his face a tad more comfortable now. “Dean- that’s Sammy” he introduced himself.

I nodded at him “nice to meet you, though I feel like I already do- I’ve heard a lot of stories” “so you’re a fan?” He walked over to me leaning on the car slightly. “I’d use the word impressed, rather than fan” I folded my arms trying to keep his ego in tact. He was even better looking closer up, his eyes were a gorgeous green colour and his smile lit up the dark night that surrounded us. “Enough chitter, we have a case at hand” John nodded towards the block of flats.

Sitting here waiting I’d already analysed every part of the bock. They were clearly run down, needed more than just a lick of paint. They needed to be knocked down. But it was still someone’s home and still my job to save it. We walked inside and went towards the lift. “It’s out of order, we’ll have to use the stairs” Sam stated pointing behind him. So we turned back around and went up the stairs. “What floor is it?” Dean asked John who was at the front of the group and first up the stairs.

“Thirteen” he answered with a smile. “Thirteen! You want me to walk up thirteen staircases?” “Technically there’s two for each floor- so it’s actually twenty six” Sam joked from the back of the group. “I’m sure you’ve faced worst Dean” I giggled turning to look at him. “I’d rather face twenty six demons! with no weapons, than climb this many stairs” he wined as we kept walking. “Don’t wish too hard- we have no clue what we’re walking into here” John warned him.

When we eventually got to the top floor (after Dean had been moaning the whole time and prolonged us) we headed for the door number given to John. He knocked three times before a woman opened the door. We could only see one eye, the chain restricted the door opening fully. “Oh good- I thought you were her again” she breathed closing the door and reopening it with no chain. She was a short woman with a brown bob and big blue eyes. Her lips were thin but were smothered in red lipstick.

Though she was slightly shaking when standing in front of us. “Hi- my names y/n- this is John we spoke to you on the phone” I smiled small just to let her know we were friendly, while I also looked around the apartment. “I’m Vanessa, Come in, come in- thank you for coming” she waved her hand indicating for us to come in, showing her chipped, bitten nails. However what fascinated me more was the rings she had on her finger. One of them looked like it could have been made out of bone, it had an amazing purple crystal on it that almost appeared to be glowing. “This is your house?” Dean questioned looking around. It wasn’t the tidiest, in fact there were bin bags everywhere and bare shelves. It looked like she was getting ready to move out.

“No- no no this was my mothers house, come- shall we sit in the living room I will explain the story” she closed the door and then waddled past us with her finger in her mouth. Me and Dean looked at each other, I could tell he was just as sceptical as I was. John was first in the living room of course, he was sat down opposite her. Dean sat next to his dad and I sat next to Dean leaving Sammy to sit next to the woman. It was probably for the best, I’d heard he was the most sympathetic of the Winchester men.

“So this was your mother’s house? And you don’t live here?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “No I live in England- I flew here for a few weeks to clean out my mums flat because- she passed you see” she bit her lip. But it wasn’t a sad look that flooded her face it was a guilty look. I picked up on this instantly. “You didn’t speak much huh?” I tilted my head, the two brothers looked at me with a confused expression but their attention was soon moved back onto Vanessa. “No we didn’t, she hated me for moving to England- she felt like I was leaving her and- I did- we lost contact, it was my fault but my now husband he didn’t want to move to America so I had no choice” she shrugged clearly tearing up.

“So- why have you called us here Vanessa” Sammy said in a soft voice. “Well you see, when I came here- things started to go wrong, I would pack things into bags and then they would be all put back when Id turn back around” she explained to us. “There’s messages on the mirror when I shower telling me to get out of the house- objects flying across the room trying to hit me- I haven’t been able to get anything done” she shook her head and her bottom lip began trembling.

“Well I think we know what the problem is here” I looked at John who nodded at me. “I just want to pack up so I can sell this place and move on with…” in that moment a loud bang came from the corridor cutting Vanessa off. “Oh not again!” She whimpered into her hands. Me and Dean jumped up but when i opened the door a lady with long grey hair and a long white nighty ran towards me screaming and pushing me backwards. I went flying into Dean who practically caught me. I had to reset quickly because she was still coming.

“ANYONE HAVE SALT?” I shouted dodging her attacks before she disappeared. Vanessa at this point was screaming, John and Sam had jumped up. “Only in the car” John whispered feeling pretty vulnerable in the open like this. We all did. “I have some! In the kitchen” Vanessa got up to go and get it but as soon as she stood, an ornament from the fire place was thrown directly at her. She ducked moaning out in distress and it smashed against the wall. I eyed the door and then made a run for it to the kitchen. “Y/n!” Dean shouted after me but as he ran to the door it swung, slamming shut.

“Y/n!” He shouted pulling the door, however it didn’t budge. I was busy anyway, I ran to the kitchen past all the stuff the ghost had broken in the hallway. She was standing in the kitchen with her head on her shoulder smiling. “You need to leave this place!” I hissed at her slamming my eyebrows down. She raced towards me but I dodge her, she quickly turned and smacked me into the table and chairs. They broke underneath me and so I hit the wall. But the ghost was still there. I got up as fast as I could eyeing the salt in the cupboard that was open.

However, when I reached for it everything in the cupboard flew out at me. I squealed being attacked by a bag of pasta and a tin of carrots, before a package of oats hit me on the side of my face knocking me to the ground. The ghost made a run for me again but I reached for the salt, opened the bottle and chucked it at her. She let out a scream before she disappeared momentarily. I heard the front room door opening before thundering footsteps in the hall way. “Are you okay?” Dean blinked rushing over to help me up. He took my hand and then my hip and I looked up at him when I stood.

Our bodies were basically touching and his arm was around my waist. His eyes drew me in so much I didn’t know what to say. “Y/n?!” John rushed, so he could get an answer from me. I nodded pulling away from Dean but patting him on the chest. “Yeah I’m fine thank you” I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear nervously. I got her with the salt. Sam and Vanessa walked in looking at the mess on the floor. “My goodness- my mother is the one trying to hurt me” she winced again covering her mouth with shock. “In my opinion Vanessa- your mum doesn’t want you to move her stuff out” I told her softly.

“And as you didn’t have a great relationship I’m guessing she doesn’t want you taking her stuff or even being in her house” “but she left it to me” she shook her head confused about the situation. “Y/n is right, she doesn’t want you here” John validated, giving me a nod. “Perhaps she couldn’t change her will- but she definitely wants you gone” Dean nodded to Vanessa. “So what do we do?” She trembled looking to John for an answer. “Well first we need…” Sam started talking but his father cut him off. “Y/n, show us how it’s done” John raised his eyebrows at me.

Any case I went on with him he’d give me more and more responsibilities, but never full control. My smiled turned into a grin and I threw him a knowing look. “Where was your mother buried Vanessa?” I turned to her, “um- just across town in the Catholic Church graveyard” “and her name?” I raised an eyebrow. “Dorthy gale- how ever will that help us?” “We need to burn her body, that will get rid of her once and for all” I explained feeling pretty confident in what I was saying. I was a pretty good hunter but it was a natural thing rather than a learning thing.

I could fight but the information was always harder for me to attain. John helped me quite a lot and of course my other hunter friends. But I still studied quite a lot on my own. “We should split up- two of us will go and burn the bones and two of us will stay here incase Dorthy comes back” I looked to John for validation and he smiled eying his son next to me. “You and Dean should go to the graveyard- me and Sam will stay here” he nodded at Dean who looked like he was taking this very seriously.

“Here” I passed the bottle of salt to Sam. “You can make a circle in the front room” “yeah, and we will look for any iron” he nodded to his dad who liked the plan. We all started moving to go to our stations but as me and Dean went to leave John called out his name. “You look after her okay” he smacked his son on the back. “She’s my top priority” he nodded once. “She is” he agreed before walking off to the living room. Dean put a hand on my back as we exited the front door, to gently move me.

“Any idea why my dad paired us up?” He raised an eyebrow at me with a smirk. “Maybe he thought you needed my protection” I shrugged laughing “or maybe he’s bored of you so he chose a different pair” “oi” I laughed hitting him on the chest as we descended the stairs. He was a lot more chatty and a lot less winey on the way down. “So you’re dad? What was his name?” “Oh I didn’t know my dad- he left before I was born” I smiled innocently, not really caring because I’d never known anything different. “So- my dad and your mum were friends”.

“Uh huh, they met on a case- she was almost a victim of a vampire attack but he saved her and taught her what’s really out there” I explained as we got into deans car. “So she became a hunter?” “No- she kept her job as a lawyer but she knew- so she was prepared- she taught me everything John taught her I do think she secretly went on a few hunts behind my back but nothing I remember” I shrugged thinking about her. “Do you mind me asking how she passed?” He looked across to me sadly. “No- it was a demon, it came for her hunter friend and she was collateral damage I suppose- I came home from a friends house to my front door being open and the scene in the dining room”.

“I noticed it wasn’t human so I called some of her other hunter friends and- one of them must have told John because he came- he was really good to me” I explained thinking back to the incident. A smiled crossed my face because if I didn’t think about the good, I’d cry about the bad. “I’m sorry” Dean rubbed my thigh as he drove. I put my hand on his and traced it with my thumb. “You don’t have to be, I’ll see her again one day, I have the memories of her and I fight for her everyday- eradicating as many of these things as I can to avenge her”.

“You’re brave- I like your attitude” he told me with a smile as we parked in the church. “Well now you know my story” I shrugged looking across at him. “She’d be proud of you” he nodded seriously at me, I could tell it had reminded him of his own mother. “Mary would be proud of you too Dean” I beamed before getting out the car. Dean grabbed two shovels from his boot of tricks and we headed to find her grave. We said whoever’s first gets to drop the lighter but Dean found it first and made sure I knew about it. He just made me laugh the whole time. Maybe I was starting to feel a little something for him.

It didn’t take us very long to dig it up, he dropped the lighter of course but he let me pour the petrol. And we stood there for a few seconds, just watching the flames eat her bones. “Id hate to be this vengeful when I pass” I whispered to him. “You won’t be” he shook his head rubbing my back as I stared into the pit of hell. “Would you burn my bones for me Dean- if I did” I put my pinky finger out to him. He looked at it chuckling before pinky promising me. “You have to do the same for me though” “it’s a pact” I nodded with a big smile looking into his eyes again.

Even though it was dark they still shone through the shadows at me. We were still holding our pinky’s together as we stared at each other. His other hand came up to my face and he brushed my cheek softly. I moved my head forward and with that I saw a panic spread in his eyes. “I should- call my dad- tell him it’s done” Dean nodded trying to find his phone in a fit. “Yeah- you should do that uh huh” I nodded awkwardly putting my hair behind my ear. I was glad it was dark because my face had probably turned very red by now.

Dean let John know what we had done and we made our way back to the car in silence. But all I could think about was that moment between us. The way he looked when the moonlight shone on the side of his gorgeous face. The silence between us wasn’t awkward it was just, sad. Something was telling me we both wanted it to be a moment but something we couldn’t control was stopping us. Deans phone rang distracting my thought process. “Dad?” He answered confused about why he was ringing. “What are you talking about? We just burnt the bones?” Dean frowned, knitting his eyebrows together.

“I don’t know- we’ll be back in a second” he ended the phone call and put the gas on harder. “Dean?” I questioned “she’s not dead” he answered gritting his teeth together. “What- how can’t she be dead I don’t…” I trailed off thinking. “I don’t know- we got all the bones” dean tutted getting pissed off by the situation. “No- we didn’t” I shook my head as we drove into the apartment blocks again. I flung open the door and he followed. “Grab the salt gun” “y/n! What are you talking about?” Dean questioned as he threw open his boot. “Vanessa’s ring- it’s made of bone I’m sure it is”.

“Her ring?” Dean repulsed as he closed his boot and ran towards the entrance doors. “I saw it when we came in- that has to be why dorthy is still there” I shook my head positive in what I was saying. I was always a very observant hunter. There wasn’t any time to talk this trip up the stairs. We ran as fast as we could. I pounded on the front door but it wasn’t opened by anyone when it creaked ajar. The apartment was silent, I looked to Dean apprehensively before a loud bang came from the bedroom. “Sammy!” Dean yelled in search for his brother, running past me. “Bedroom!” Sam called before another bang came.

Vanessa was there and John too being cornered by this thing. “There was no iron” Sammy called out. Dean shot Dorothy instantly with the salt gun and she vanished. “Vanessa” I called out “your ring, the purple one- what’s it made out of” “uh- uh it’s my mother’s finger bone- I wanted to keep her close all the time so I had this made just after her burial” she bit her lip spinning it on her finger. “So we did miss a bone” John realised peering at the ring. “I take it you need to burn this” she slid it off clutching it to her heart. “Goodbye mum” she whispered before plodding over to me.

Dean took his lighter out but as he did I was pushed out into the hall way and I dropped the ring. Dorthy was back. I scrambled up while Dean tried shooting her again. It had rolled into the kitchen and I leaped to clutch it in my hands. I looked around setting my eyes on the gas stove. I turned the knob on it seeing the flame rise. In that moment the ghost appeared in front of me making a run for me. I dropped the ring in the fire and she let out an ear splitting scream. The group ran into the kitchen as the ghost caught fire and eventually, vanished for good this time.

“Is it over?” Vanessa blinked in a state of shock. I nodded looking at the ash of the ring now on the cooker. Dean came over to me putting his gun on the side and rubbing my back. I laid my head on his chest taking it all in while he comforted me. “You’re so brave” he whispered to me. “Thanks for having my back” I smiled up at him. We eventually said our goodbyes to Vanessa who thanked us and even dove into her purse giving us a fair share of money for our work. We told her it wasn’t necessary but she insisted. The walk down the stairs was silent and I took a deep breath of fresh air when we got outside.

“I never wanna see them steps again” Dean huffed making Sammy laugh at him. “It was nice to meet you y/n” Sam reached out to shake my hand. “Mmh likewise, I can’t wait to tell this story the next time someone brings you two up” I giggled behind my hand. “It was a pleasure” he chuckled before walking off to his car. John came over to hug me goodbye. “Always nice working with you y/n” he breathed squeezing me. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me John” I whispered hugging him tightly back. “You don’t need to thank me sweetheart, you stay strong yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you soon” he pulled away but still kept a hand on my back to rub it.

I nodded a few times before turning to Dean who looked like he was waiting patiently. “Well” I sighed smiling, waking over to him. “You ever need help on a hunt- feel free to call me” “I just might take you up on that Dean Winchester” I giggled tucking my hair behind my ear, but I knew I was lying. “Goodbye y/n” he wrapped his arms around me holding me tightly. “It was nice meeting you Dean” I swallowed against his chest. Something tugged in my heart when we walked away in different directions. Something that could have been will never be and so I got back into my car, and they got into theirs.

“What do you think of her?” John smiled at his sons but focused his attention on Dean. “Yeah she’s great, a good hunter- she’ll be really skilled one day” Sammy emphasised from the back seat. Dean kept quiet. “Dean?” “Yeah I agree- with what Sam said” he nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “You seemed to connect quite a bit” “yeah she’s cool, knows what she’s doing” “so… anything else?” John smirked trying to him something. “Dad I don’t get what you’re trying to get at?” Dean shrugged his shoulders again but in more of a stroppy way. “Oh my gosh” he put his hands on his face. “Did you like her Dean” Sam rolled his eyes chuckling in the back.

“What no- that would be disrespectful to you dad I wouldn’t do that”. John frowned shaking his head “why do you think I invited her on this case? I wanted you two to meet- I think you’d be good for each other”. Out the corner of deans eye he saw my car pull out the apartment car park. “You- wanted to set us up?” Dean rose his eyebrow watching my car. “Yeah” John widened his eyes. “You should have given her your number- instead of just empty promises you didn’t plan on keeping” John rolled his eyes laughing. “But- I thought you’d be fuming” “no Dean” he laughed shaking his head.

“Dad- please- catch up with her!” Dean pointed to my car flying down the road. “Yeah?” “Yes- I need to tell her I like her!” He frantically thrusted his hand toward my direction. John started the car up and sped out and down the road following me. It didn’t take them long to catch up with me. I saw John indicate on a lay by and did the same thing, assuming they wanted to say something to me. Dean jumped out the car and ran toward me. “Did you forget something?” I questioned opening my door.

“Yeah- to give my my number and ask you the time I’m picking you up for our date?” “What- are you talking about” I half smiled probably going red again. “I’m sorry I pulled away- I didn’t think my father would appreciate me making a move on you- but I like you y/n, I know you were lying you were never going to call me because I pulled away but I want you to” “I’ll take your number Dean- and you can pick me up on Saturday- at seven” I smiled passing him my phone. “Sounds good, looking forward to it” he grinned typing in his number and then passing it back. “Do you know what else I will have though Dean?” I smiled leaning in closer to him.

“That kiss that you owe me”. He chuckled putting his hand on my cheek and rubbing it before he leant down and met my lips. His were soft, he was gentle with me which I wasn’t expecting for such a big man. My cheeks burned red across from his as we met with the exact same rhythm. “You definitely left me wanting more Dean Winchester” I smiled up at him. “I’ll see you Saturday gorgeous” he whispered quickly kissing me on the lips again.

“Can’t wait” I waved as he was walking back to his car. What the fuck. Hold on, rewined.

I’m going on a date with THEE Dean Winchester.

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sw33tsuccubus · 10 months

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Seriously?

party poison x male reader

desc: Korse missed. Y/k/n takes in a certain redhead.

genre: fluff? comfort?

word count: 1.3k

A/N: when i say ‘Korse missed’, i want to say a stray shot hit him and caused him to pull the trigger, and he went to fight. with Party on the ground, unconscious, people assumed they died.

They didn’t know where they were. There was a smell in the air, kind of like burning. What was burning? They didn’t know. They knew their head was pounding and they desperately needed water. They sat up, groaning, only to gasp in horror.

A male with blonde hair lay not too far from them. Oh no. That was their brother.

Party stood with a gasp, hurrying to him. They collapsed halfway there, pulling his brother to them. Kobra’s body was decorated with different wounds. They must have shot him multiple times before he went down.

They staggered away from him, holding in cries of anguish. They stumbled towards the door, just to find their brother’s best friend, Ghoul.

They clamped a hand to their face, trying not to throw up. The doors are flung open as they hurry outside. There’s a Trans Am with a spider painted onto the hood.

Party stumbles to the car. They aren’t sure why they can’t walk. Maybe they hit their head real hard. They head to the drivers seat, only to be met with a man with curly hair laying there, most likely dead. They didn’t need to investigate to know it was their best friend. It had to be, with their other friends inside.

They staggered away from the Am, deciding to walk somewhere. It was really hot, and they had just woken up. This wasn’t doing any good for their mind. They tripped and fell, hitting their head. Right before they passed out, they smiled. They could be with their brother.

~~~

Their eyes fluttered open in a room. There were art supplies everywhere, as well as comic books and random cans and wrappers. No way this was the afterlife.

They took a ragged breath, standing from the mattress they were on. They groaned as their vision went blank, and they quickly leaned against the wall. They took a few deep breaths before standing straight.

They looked around the room, taking in their surroundings. There were a few rusty screws and daggers, but they weren’t sure why the owner hadn’t thrown them away. Some gun polish, tons of paints, tons of paintbrushes. Experimentally, they opened some drawers.

Colorful makeup and clothes lay in the drawers, set with some whites and blacks as well. They decided they would have to try some of it out, given that the person who brought them here wouldn't harm or kill them.

Would dying be so bad, though? They would be reunited with their baby brother, their best friend, and the one they couldn’t help but say they probably had a small crush on.

Shaking their head, they pulled out some clothes. A simple loose tank top and loose shorts; they weren’t fancy, there was no reason for the mysterious person to be mad at them.

They quickly changed and discarded their usual outfit near the bed, pushing the clothes into the corner. They ruffled their hair, running their fingers through it; it was very knotty. They hissed as they used their fingers to brush through it and pull the knots apart. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.

Upon hearing footsteps, they nervously walked over to the mattress and sat down. Their eyes stared intently at the doorway as a shadow crept up, and-

This had to be the prettiest person Party had ever seen. Their breath caught in their throat and they felt a blush creep onto their cheeks. Embarrassed, they clear their throat. Their voice was raspy from not using it for multiple days, although the man could hear his voice was deep, yet soft.

“Hi? Who are you?”

The man smiled warmly at Party, and their cheeks felt like they were burning. He was beautiful.

“I’m Y/k/n. I found you on the side of the road, are you okay? What happened?”

Y/k/n walked over, cupping the side of Party’s face. He gently turns their head, inspecting for damage. He seemed to not find anything, and gently released Party.

Party didn’t know if they should trust Y/k/n. They had just met. But they needed someone to talk to, and he seemed to be all they would get.

“They- they killed my brother and our friends. I barely made it out.”

Y/k/n’s face softened, and he let out a small huff.

“Sorry to hear that. I hope you don’t feel guilty. I’m sure you could have died too. You know what happened?”

“Someone - his name is Korse, he’s an exterminator - was gonna shoot me. And then he got distracted, and he dropped me. I hit my head pretty hard, and I’m assuming I was knocked out. I woke up alone, with dead bodies all around.”

“Oh, that’s horrifying.”

His look of sympathy made them want to hug him and cry. Party desperately wanted to be told everything was okay, even though they weren’t sure it ever could be again.

With the war in their mind going on, they hesitantly opened their arms. Y/k/n obliged, pulling Party to his chest. Party’s head slumped against Y/k/n’s shoulder, and they squeezed their eyes shut. They felt tears prick at their eyes, but they wouldn’t cry. They had just met Y/k/n, and they didn’t wanna make a bad first impression.

“Anything I can do to get your mind off of it?”

Party thought for a moment, before shaking their head. They would settle for being held, even if neither of them said anything.

After a few minutes, Y/k/n sent a hand carding through their hair. He got stuck a few times, but pulled out rather than yanking at the knots. It was actually quite calming, especially when he began putting pressure in some spots. Party could feel themselves drifting off, comfortable for the first time in a long time..

~~~

Party awoke alone again.

They would have thought it was all a dream, if not for their surroundings. They slowly stood, and made their way out of the room. They took in their surroundings; a lot of clutter on the floors, although pushed to all of the walls. The place wasn’t very big; it was maybe a cabin. They doubted being in the woods, though.

There was a big room, filled with all sorts of wanted posters, juice cans, bloody clothes, random markers and pens, and sand glazing over everything. It was kind of rough. They could tell Y/k/n had been alone for a while.

They decided to leave the room, feeling sad all of a sudden. It reminded them plenty of the diner, hell, even of the motel. If they ever moved on, it wouldn’t be any time close to now.

The next room was much more bearable. A card table and a few folding chairs, two missing their backs, like they had been broken off. Cooking materials and kitchenware were present, which was interesting. The wall was painted an odd coral color, and where there were chips, it was mint. Ugly, but comforting. Like a home.

They hummed, walking to the cabinets. They managed to get a granola bar. After observing the kitchen and munching on their snack, they came to the conclusion that Y/k/n didn’t eat Power Pup. An escape of something they hated was great. Wouldn’t bring any memories either.

They put the wrapper in a box on the counter that seemed like the trashcan, doing some more exploring. There was the bathroom, which interestingly had a running toilet and shower. Even the sink worked - he assumed it was a special system, or they were close to the city. The latter was probably more truthful, but they were both options to be considered.

The next room was mostly empty. There was a small stack of blankets in the corner, two boxes next to them, and that was it. Strange.

The last room had a mattress and living conditions; had to be Y/k/n’s room. Now that Party thought about it, they hadn’t seen him all day. They were slightly worried, so they went to the kitchen room and sat at the card table on one of the chairs. They stared patiently at the door, waiting for Y/k/n to come back safe.

It was unnatural, really. They had only known him for a day. Maybe they cared because he was another human being. They had just lost three people close to them, after all.

The moment the door opened, Party stood and marched over to it. Y/k/n entered, goggles pulled over his eyes and sand in his hair. Party grabbed his shoulders and gently shook him.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you okay?”

Y/k/n reached out his hands and grabbed Party’s face, squishing their cheeks together.

“I went for a little walk. Possibly about a mile and a half, making it 3 miles as a walk. You were asleep, didn’t wanna wake you, and I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Y/k/n let go of Party, and they hesitantly returned the action. They settled for following him as he walked to his room, and he gave them an uneasy look upon appearing at the door.

“You sure you wanna come in? It’s kind of messy.”

“As if the rest of this place isn’t?”

Party rested a hand on their hip and cocked an eyebrow, and Y/k/n grinned.

“Fair point, come on.”

Y/k/n entered, Party right behind him. They plopped onto the mattress, and Party looked around. A few posters on the walls, and a lot of boxes that seemed to have stuff in them.

“What’s in the boxes?”

It slipped out before they knew what they were saying, and they paused. Y/k/n looked at Party, then back to a poster on his wall.

“Those boxes are filled with memories. I won’t elaborate.”

Party nodded respectfully. They wouldn’t intrude.

“Up for doing something today?”

Y/k/n thought about it for a moment.

“You want to do something? With me?”

He gave them a teasing smile, and then made a small ‘hm’ sound. As long as he wasn’t looking, they wouldn’t see their pink cheeks.

“You ever been stargazing before?”

“Isn’t that touchy-feely? For couples?”

“You want us to be one?”

With Y/k/n’s pressing, Party’s face almost became as red as their hair. They quickly shook their head, afraid of the stuttering that might come out of their mouth.

“I was jokin’, don’t worry. You still up for it, though? I find it relaxing.”

Party thought for a moment, and then nodded. Jet had tried to show the other three the stars once. The night ended with Fun having a sprained wrist and a black eye, Kobra delirious from laughter, and Jet yelling at everyone to be careful if they want to survive. Party had been chuckling and helping Fun back to his room, reminding him to be careful. Fun had groaned that Jet and Party were no fun, but he still knew the two cared about them.

~~~

That night, Party joined Y/k/n outside. He had set up two folding chairs and some blankets so they could sit comfortably while looking at the stars. The two sat side by side, in comfortable silence for about half an hour.

“I haven’t known you long, but I feel like I like you a lot.”

Y/k/n hums at Party’s comment, turning to look at him. He smiles softly, turning his attention back to the sky.

“Same to you. You seem very nice.”

They fall back into silence, watching the stars. This time, they don’t break the silence, finding constellations on their own and enjoying each others’ presence.

At some point, Party turned to look at Y/k/n to make sure he was still there. He had fallen asleep. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and they found it was quite cute.

Party smiled softly, doing their best to not disturb Y/k/n as they picked him up and carried him inside. They lay him on his mattress, going back outside and bringing their mini set-up back in. The two could deal with that in the morning. In the meantime, they headed back to their room and plopped onto their mattress comfortably.

~~~

Y/k/n groaned, stretching himself. He had been working all day to clean the base, after Party made an off-handed comment about how messy it was. Hopefully they liked it.

He had sent Party out to get some food while they worked, so it would actually be a surprise. He thought he did a pretty good job, so it was all up to Party’s reaction.

When the red-head returned, they were slightly shocked by everything being clean. They put the food in the kitchen area and looked around, finding Y/k/n taking a nap on his mattress.

They decided not to disturb him and to only mention how nice it was later.

~~~

“You know..”

Y/k/n looked at Party when they spoke, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m glad you found me. I really like your company.”

Y/k/n smiled softly.

“I like your company too.”

Party shifted, slinging an around around Y/k/n’s shoulders.

“I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable by saying this, but I like-like you. If you know what I mean.”

Y/k/n raised an eyebrow and looked at Party, whose cheeks were pink. He let out a small chuckle.

“Never thought I would hear an adult say ‘like-like.’”

“Shut up.”

Party turned their head, so Y/k/n opted to place his head on their shoulder. They tensed up for a moment, but relaxed after a few seconds.

“I like-like you too, Party.”

Y/k/n said with a giggle.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Party looked to the stars, not being able to bite back a grin. They hoped their friends were happy for them.

#party poison x reader #male reader #killjoy fic

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dandelion-wings · 9 months

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I am never going to write this fic but the concept has entertained me at the barn for the last two days straight, so:

After Shadows Amidst Snowstorms, Albedo decides to 'share' his life with Subject Two, and they trade off on life in Mondstadt (giving Albedo extra time to work on Dragonspine) as Subject Two learns to socialize with human beings and exist as a person.

Just as Subject Two is starting to become comfortable interacting with people, Sucrose decides to finally act on her crush on Albedo and make some romantic overtures.

Subject Two finds himself unexpectedly, absurdly charmed to be given a custom-alchemied flower. (With a bunch of notes on its creation, care, and potential functions, because Sucrose was aware of her target audience, even if she's unaware that she hasn't reached it.) He's been avoiding Sucrose a bit up until now because he was afraid someone who worked so closely with Albedo would suss him out, but clearly he is Succeeding At Albedoing if she gave him a flower! He starts hanging out with her more often while he's in Mondstadt, and tends the flower very carefully, because it's his first ever gift from a Real Person (that didn't, uh, explode in his face, because Klee).

Sucrose is thrilled with the success of her attempt. He likes it! He likes it a lot! Time to move on to Phase 2: making scientific observations together!

Albedo, returning to his turn at Being Albedo, is not sure why Sucrose is inviting him to observe whopperflowers with her? He's sure she's competent to handle one on her own if they become hostile. But he doesn't turn her down. He just also... doesn't understand why she's leaning up against him, or putting her hand on his arm so much.

Sucrose is disappointed in this sudden coolness. Maybe she's moving too fast? He's not bringing the flower to the laboratory anymore, so clearly she was jumping the gun. :(

Except that a few days later he starts again! And when he does, he brings her a flower, too. (A knight had commented on it while he was carrying the pot around, and when he said it was from Sucrose, he'd been told he ought to give one back. Important Humaning Advice that Subject Two took immediately to heart!) It's made of stone and he explains how he alchemically crafted it and she's so glad that he seems to be coming around.

Until he isn't, again, because her next few gestures get gently turned down. :( And then he is, again, suddenly, because the week later he brings her a dessert to split and goes to dinner when she invites him, but then the week after that he asks why she's trying to hold his hand, which they had been doing the past few days, and then- it's hot-and-cold to an irrational extent, here.

Sucrose, being a scientist, starts making exhaustive notes. At first she's trying to figure out if there's some external factor--her timing, Albedo's physical condition, Klee's proximity, other knights' attention, etc. But very quickly she determines that the only relevant data is... oh. hmm. small physical irregularities. She'd been willing to put down the slightly different shade of blue to the eyes as a trick of the light, but the mark at his throat goes perceptively off-model now and then, and that's always when he's interested....

Anyway, that's why she rigs an elaborate series of traps in order to confine both of them at once and determine the exact nature of what's going on here. Wait, they're both homunculi? This is fascinating, she needs to take so many notes, have they run any tests, can she run more tests--yes, she'll let them out of the traps, she just needs to make exhaustive notes on their perceptible differences first.

Subject Two cannot understand why Albedo wouldn't want to hold this woman's hand. Fortunately, while she was initially crushing on Albedo, at this point she'd rather have the one who's been actively and enthusiastically building a romantic relationship with her. Albedo, being very aroace, is frankly relieved to cede this particular ground. (Although he does get to practice his Big Brothering and note to Sucrose that she should probably go light on the testing, as that is a bit of a sore spot.) Happy endings all around!

Including for at least one future baby Fellflower, because Subject Two knows where some dormant seeds are buried and (correctly) decides that Sucrose would love to help him raise them, and Klee, because obviously what every happy couple wants on their romantic fellflower-seed-unearthing dates is explosions in the background. :>

#shadows amidst snowstorms #like candy for alchemists

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dastardlydandelion · 2 months

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a 2024 update

i keep circling back to the idea of deleting my tumblr. i’m not as active as I once was, my schedule changed (and workload intensified) in the time i began this blog to where i am now. the AI is really freaking me out but that’s not just a tumblr problem, (it’s everywhere 😱) so much less of a factor in my contemplation because i know i can't avoid it.

i’m also not the same as i was three years ago and euuugh, some of my early stuff makes me cringe so hard i want to delete just to distance myself from it!!! but like, evolution and change are just natural in the process of existing as a human being. in another three years, i’ll be even more different (albeit my pre-frontal cortex will remain fully developed so the changes will potentially be less pronounced). soo what am i gonna do, reset every three years like a robot getting a new computer chip??

this is going to get longer than i expected, so explanation continues under the cut:

nah. i may not be as active as i used to be and my opinions/interests may have shifted/evolved, but still, so many of my friends are here and there’s all this cool art, and gifsets, and what have you.

since this was and remains mainly a fandom blog, i’ll briefly summarize my major attitude shifts regarding fandom:

on the yellowjackets front, a significant decrease in hostility toward one travis martinez. like…okay I still don’t love that ben sent travis out alone hunting with nat after he pointed a gun! at her fucking face! and I still don’t love the portion of fandumb that straight up ignores that travis pointed a gun at natalie’s face, and yes it was kind of frustrating that the male characters in general got so much screen time in a show that’s supposed to be about female characters but like. none of that is travis the character’s fault— actually ykw, that’s one of my problems generally that i noticed, that i want to grow from— i keep letting fandumb (and content burnout) influence my perception of and response to characters/plot lines/ships rather than organically formulating my interpretations separate from that influence. i mean fandumb generally, not just YJ. blah blah blah, anyway, i apologize, travis martinez. you had to eat your baby brother. you sank your teeth into his freshly carved out raw heart. i want to both examine you from a more organic angle going forward and hug you now.

okay, okay, i was gonna break down my notable shifts in opinion by fandom, but going off of the aforementioned pattern that i have, maybe i should...no, no, let's keep going by fandom, i have that problem in *every* fandom, so.

ST! I FINALLY WATCHED IT. holy cannoli, okay, @lucdarling and @foxgirlontherun are buds that i remember telling for sure, but i know for sure i didn't tell all of my ST pals so i'll touch on that. watched it over the holidays with my grandma, who had been trying to get me to watch for some time and i finally caved.

1.) we get more glimpses of the demogorgon in the first season than i ever gave it credit for. myself of...however many years ago was just too damn impatient waiting to see the whole damn monster. we get a claw here, a growl there, a moving shadow, etc. its introduction was actually well done, so. years-ago me, you were WRONG. WRONG, I TELL YOU, WRONG.

2.) eleven does not have pyrokinesis. i knew she was telepathic (to a degree) and telekinetic, but for some reason, in the past i *also* believed she could set things on fire with her mind. i just thought she used that power less because fire is so destructive. well...now i know she doesn't have pyrokinesis at all!

3.) the byers do NOT live in a trailer. this i did actually learn before watching the show, i learned in 2022 when a bud sent me like, a pic of their lego byers house and i was like, oh. neat. that's not a trailer. 🙃 so that i did become aware before watching, but seeing it onscreen reminded me that i knew.

4.) billy has more canon depth than i had given him credit for, previously having just watched scenes for fic-reference out of context. i apologize, billiam (i don't attribute a shred of that depth to the duffballs, but that's a different rant). i think since i entered the fandom side of things long before watching, i got certain portions of fanon and canon confused. also-- much like with travis and some other examples i'm going to get into-- i let too much fandumb influence my response to him + impression of his role in canon.

5.) steve is nowhere nearly as irritating in canon as i thought he was. the things that i find irritating about steve are-- once again, see above examples --not really anything that has to do with the character himself! i'm sorry, steve!

on that note, sorry hairygrove friends!! i love you guys and it's been a gift getting to know each of you over the last few years, but i was pretty damn mean to steve sometimes! i should've been nicer to steve...and maybe bill, for that matter, but i mean, i'd written so much from his POV i think it goes without saying that i've always had affection for the latter, even if i probably should've given him more credit for canon characterization and been less presumptuous.

obviously having seen the show, i have more developed thoughts on ST overall, but i think those are just...the main differentiations between opinions formulated in the early days of this blog versus where i'm at now. friends of mine who watch ST, if you want to talk about it, i'm happy to! but please DM me personally and don't send asks about it. i don't want to answer asks because those get posted on the main blog. on the main blog the algorithm reads what's posted and sends you suggestions accordingly.

certain parts of ST S4VOL2 make me *extremely* uncomfortable. i scroll past gifs, art, edits, etc, of those parts on occasion already since i have so many ST friends and the algorithm suggests related content. and it's fine...but i don't want to give the algorithm more reasons to show me even more things that make me uncomfortable, you know what i mean?

guess that's it for ST.

so let's revisit the scream franchise!

might as well go ahead and get the biggest change out of the way: i no longer hate dewey riley!

good lord, for years i was just the stabbiest damn crab at that character. 🦀🔪 opinion officially evolved, evolved BIG time. i was once so irritated with dewey i straight up celebrated when he got killed off . the glee at his demise pushed the ghostface that killed him right up to the top of my ranking.

BOOOOOOOOO. BOOOOOOOOO ME.

...okay. i. i'm sorry, dewey.

once again, here goes me with this pattern that i need to stop. me raising up my hackles at fandumb and components of the character that are not *the* character. i don't like the hero cop trope. i don't. the copaganda of it all...but. a character's mere status of falling into a category of trope or cliche shouldn't discourage thorough examination of them, their personalities, role in the story, or other traits. that's a very small way to interact with fiction, isn't it? i've since moved on from that knee-jerk dismissal.

i also was also a huge flipping grinch when it came to romance for a long ass time (will touch on this later) and so much of dewey's story is about the romance between him and gale. which is...actually a pretty solid romantic storyline, i realize after multiple earnest re-watches of the franchises. dewey has a solid arc! gale has a solid arc! their romance has a solid arc! should not have complained about this nearly as much as i did. maybe it's because of the chemistry between the performers, but all their banter throughout the movies that i once rolled my eyes at...it...it works! okay, it works, they made it work.

i no longer rejoice that dewey is killed off (albeit the scene itself is still pretty freaking cool). amber definitely *isn't* my ghostfave. she's NOT at the bottom of my list but NOT at the top. actually-- wait, no, that can wait, i'm not done with dewey yet...or am i, do i have anything else to say about dewey?

okay, he's not my favorite character, but. he's a classic and he's lovable and i won't fight it anymore because of petty irritations or my personal issues with a trope that in no way makes up the whole of his character.

since we're on scream, whoa, GHOSTFACE RANKING HAS EVOLVED 11/10!

yes, oh, that is so much different than where it was when i started this blog! also very different after recency bias + initial script + the dewey kill scene undeservedly shot amber to the top of my ranking in early 2022.

i'm not going to detail my ranking in this post. that could easily be its own post with its own thorough dissections of which ghostface takes which slot and why. but i will bring up another scream character whose opinion of mine has greatly changed over time: richie kirsch.

i was so irritated by this guy before. couldn't stand him! and you guessed it, for the wrong reasons! i was put off by a lot of the outpouring of the horny focus on him in fandom. not shaming anybody for their preferences by the way! look, i have my own villain crushes (see beth, who is at the top of my ranking again although we'll save the details for another day). it's just...it was kind of frustrating back then to want to gush about the carpenter sisters and mostly find myself surrounded by risque white male centered content instead. i hope that's understandable. so i got burned out on richie content and dismissed the whole character. i was also VERY put off by radio silence's interpretation of their ghostface duo in 2022 but that's a different conversation and again, not richie the character's fault.

richie is funny! okay, he's funny, yes, the "boner pills" line is still irritating, but now...now when i re-watch 5cream i can appreciate him more and the humor of richie *mostly* lands for me! i also think scream VI made me appreciate richie more, because his family is so underdeveloped and wayne's actor made...choices with that performance. but again, that's something i would get into more if i were to detail the evolution of my ghostface ranking.

i think that's it for the major changes in my scream feelings...what other fandoms...

okay, cobra kai? how have my opinions evolved there?

ykw, that one might be mostly the same. the show got worse. it got so bad. it's so bad now, it just bums me out. the one thing i truly wanted from that show was for tory nichols to get the screentime she deserved and for the show to deliver on her hidden depths alluded to the first three seasons. my wish was granted in sheer monkey paw fashion, because they finally did that and pretty much the rest of the show went to shit, go figure. 💩

um...hmm...SHIPPING.

oh, okay, shipping. yeah, let's talk about that. not fandom specific, just um. okay, at the time i started this blog i was never what the kids call 'antis' in that i have some moral beef with fan content of fictional characters falling in love or doing sex things. no, no, that's pretty silly. BUT what i was, was a huge grinch!!! just the mention of romance made me scrunch my face. wouldn't read/write/engage with any shippy things beyond some extremely particular F/F content.

as someone who prefers F/F because it's what i relate to, i know at some point i was just burned out on everything fandom being so heavily M/M focused and everything canon being so heavily F/M focused. i also have feelings about the way M/F is portrayed in canon media due to misogynistic tropes and storylines. but even where F/F was concerned, i was so picky. picky as a damn porcupine.

i believe a combination of things has finally let me to loosen up when it comes to shipping and romance in general.

1.) limiting my engagement with it, allowing me to recover from the burnout.

2.) getting over personal romantic issues IRL that tainted my engagement in fictional romance.

3.) YELLOWJACKETS. i have many complaints with s2 but nevertheless, YJ has given us so many complex, rich female characters with interesting dynamics. and the exploration of those dynamics is abundant, varied, and so thoughtfully explored in YJ fandom that i am hooked! i feel more invested in expanding my F/F pool and i feel less overrun by the greater amount of M/M and M/F content because these fascinating characters and the earnest effort fandom puts into depicting multilayered relationships between them just...evens the playing field, i guess, if we're gonna make a soccer pun. ⚽️

4.) watching romances + romantic subplots with women behind the camera. turns out, the less misogyny involved, the more genuinely i can enjoy an M/F ship. go figure, huh.

anyway, i'm not such a stab crab about romance anymore. i know i have many fandom friends who *are* interested in shipping and i apologize if i was ever cramping your style or bringing you down when i would express my disgruntlement. i hope you can forgive me, i promise to be less of a grinch now. 💚

🦀🔪 fandom opinions that have not changed:

1.) THE BLACK PHONE. waited a year, paid $30 to watch ethan hawke put plates on the floor for an hour! NO! i want a refund!!! WASTED POTENTIAL. GONNA HOLD THIS GRUDGE FOREVER.

2.) the CAOS finale was absolutely disgusting! it was never a great show, sarah rees brennan who wrote the tie-in novels should've been in charge of the screenplay, imo. the novels did so much, so much better, but i digress...mediocre show or not, that fourth season took bad to a whole new level. 🤢

3.) ALEX SAXON CANNOT ACT. i appreciate nancy drew (2019) presenting to me F/M ships (namely fanson) i could actually get into because of the way the dynamics were written but the nace obsessions baffles me when the acting in MTV scream was oscar-worthy compared to this man's sheer lack of ability to emote.

...unless....unless the editors of the show hated alex saxon and only used edits they knew were bad in the finalized episodes in order to sabotage his career going forward. but i have no proof, it's just a possible conspiracy theory. 🤔

non-fandom relevant blog thoughts:

i love interacting with my friends, building connections, and admiring the creativity people put out into the world in various forms. i want to be more focused on that, online and offline, than negativity. i also don't want my apprehension surrounding AI to prevent me from engaging with the digital world and the wonderful human people i've gotten to know through it.

i want to think about nature more than the things that make me so angry, so beyond my control. i want to share animal facts and pictures of forests and funnily shaped rocks. i want to spend more time making people laugh than spiraling into personal insecurities...i don't think my blog was ever a *particularly* negative place, but oh boy, i could certainly be a crab with TWO knives...

there's plenty to be afraid of and be angry about with the expansion of AI and its grip on the digital world. i guess the whole purpose of this post was just to express 'these are the things that have changed and my priorities have also changed.' with that, i really want to focus more on creative things, fun things, funny things, and share more joy than anything else.

there's only so much time. i want to spend the bulk of it cherishing the connections we make, more than anything else.

#personal #blogging #fandom #media #AI #the shift from early 20s to late 20s is so real #i am making peace with the goals i've failed to accomplish and that acceptance has helped me mellow out A LOT #edit: setting new goals has also helped a lot #accpetance of past failures is not giving up on future achievments

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wrathbites · 11 months

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Wrath!! It’s Blursday!! 🖤💜

You’ve given your characters the dreaded IKEA divorcemaker: the LIATORP TV storage combination. Obviously, this is no two-man job; no, with its 30+ page instruction manual, we’ve got all hands on deck for this one!

Who’s:

Tossing the instructions aside and diving straight in

Actually reading the instructions and making sure they have all the parts and tools

Gets the “most important job”: holding the hammer until it’s needed and not touching ANYTHING ELSE OH MY GOD

Providing snacks, drinks, moral support, and has a therapist on speed dial

Just here to take directions

Already has the bookshelf built, was this supposed to be hard?

Okay so to start this off, can you just IMAGINE this like. Rhys and Kaidan must surely place this order in a moment of madness and online and just like. Die a little inside when it arrives in so many boxes. What do you mean there're more??? RIP their living room I guess. Time to bring in the big guns (we miss you! C'mon over to earth and enjoy the fresh air with us! Please don't trample the flowerbeds or shoot the birds):

Garrus is tossing the instructions aside. This is easy, this is for kids, he's kept the Normandy's weaponry in tip-top shape, how hard can it be? Upon being brained by a shelf, he realises two things: it is indeed hard (on the noggin), and fiddly. Humans and their weird five-fingered hands, man.

Zaeed is actually reading the instructions and making sure they have everything. "What the fuck d'you mean you don't have a drill?! Who doesn't have a drill? That's a goddamn crime, Shepard." They do, actually! But it's in the shed. And there's sunlight. And they're both vampires soooooooo...

Rhys is tasked with holding a hammer at most and nothing else. Don't go anywhere near the assembly. Don't even look at it. Don't so much as sneeze in its direction or I'll stake you where you stand, fucker.

Kaidan is providing snacks and drinks. All of them. Everything. The disaster in the living room is only rivalled by the chaos in the kitchen because he's cooking up a storm. He is being useful. He doesn't trust his strength yet (new vampire!) and he'd rather not wind up with a pile of splinters resulting from so many credits poorly spent. Nobody's complaining, since the vampire couple already planned ahead and stocked up to meet everyone's dietary requirements.

Wrex is just here to take directions and hold shit up. "Sure, sure, take your time, I've got a few centuries left in me to support you in your time of need. Weaklings."

Tali already has the bookshelf built. She's already puzzled her way through the best route of assembling this monstrosity. She's a master crafter and tinkerer and you're all in her way and better fucking move as of yesterday. Take a step closer at your shocking peril, with two drones bobbing around to ensure she's given space to do her thing (Kal'Reegar is the sole exception, since he's perfect as her working shadow).

#korblez #wrathrambles #y'know what I can see this happening omg #ajfhiofhuhsdeuifhsdrufgr

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maximwtf · 1 year

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“You should have listened.”

Sherlock Holmes x sister reader

words: 1760

google docs pages: 3

warnings: death, murder, guns, think that’s it?

opening: After getting cornered by an important person during a failed mission, you 'accidentally’ shoot him, knowing full well the amount of trouble that would lead you in.

AN// Mycroft is also in this a lot- anyway the reader uses she/her. Also, this is my first time writing for these characters, so before I learn their persona better they might be ooc !^^”

“You should have listened.”

Your back hit the wall behind you as you had been backing away from the man in front of you. You had been told that he was harmless, and that the possibility that he would try to attack was low. Trusting that, you had taken the mission alone. Get the info you needed and leave, that had been the original plan but it failed.

You were now cornered in the man’s house, getting a gun pointed at your head. You didn’t know how good his aim was and if he’d pull the trigger, would he be able to get you killed with one shot. But not to fear, you had a gun as well, firmly between your palms, one finger on the trigger. The amount of times you had been told to not hurt the man made you sure of the fact that you’d be in trouble if you did. Not only in trouble with your brothers, but also with the government. You assumed the man must have been protected for some reason, watched over by people like Mycroft. You were used to working in the field, so the knowledge you had about the past and other info on the people in your missions wasn't huge. You’d just take the cases when offered and listen to half of the info you were given. Mycroft had scolded you for not listening in the past, but so far you had been just fine. Just fine, until now.

“Stay back.” You said to the man with a stern face. You weren’t scared, you could see his hand shook a little every now and then. It could have been a sign of hesitance or maybe he was ill in some way that made his hands shake. Should have probably listened to Mycroft earlier. You shook that thought out of your head as quickly as it had appeared, you wouldn’t let him think he was right, even in your thoughts. Your eyes scanned the man, only looking up at him as he spoke. “You’re not allowed to hurt me.” He knew, of course he knew. “Doesn’t mean I can’t pull the trigger on accident.” You replied, taking a better hold of the gun you had. He had moved closer to you, too close in fact. “I told you to stay back.” You repeated your earlier command, hoping that Sherlock would have figured out something was wrong, and was coming to your rescue.

Your eyes moved to the door as it suddenly opened. So he arrived but at the worst possible moment. The man fired his gun at you, which you had luckily expected him to do and you were able to drop down on the ground. Oh that bastard was about to get it. Your brothers might have been the smart ones, to most they might have even seemed like rivals in knowledge and skill to deduce, but you were different. Good at spotting things, yes, but not as calm or cold as them, more fierce. Without a word you pointed your gun perfectly, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him straight between his eyes, making him drop dead almost immediately.

You pulled the gun back, and let out a breath you didn’t know you had held in. “What took you so long.” Your voice asked, not shaken at all, your mind so used to this that you didn’t react to the sight of the man on the floor, nor the adrenaline from killing him. You heard Sherlock take in a breath, about to reply to you, but something stopped him. Your gaze moved to the doorframe, seeing Mycroft standing in the shadows, halfway in the room. Only then, did you realise that you had done the only thing you had been told not to do, no matter the situation. “Oh- see I- …It just slipped, okay. I didn’t mean-” You cringed at the sight of your older brother. “Yes, It seems your hand did ‘slip’.” He spoke, walking in the room. You knew he wanted to scold you, to make sure you knew you had fucked up, but he didn’t. At the end of the day, somewhere deep in his heart he cared, and he was scared, worried what this would cause. The government wasn’t going to like this. “You shot well.” Sherlock said, clearly not as worried as his older brother seemed to be. Even though their relationship was difficult, he seemed to trust that Mycroft would be able to bend things back to normal and clear you from this case. Make it seem like you hadn’t done it. “Brother mine, don’t you see?” Mycroft started, annoying Sherlock with the question. There weren't a lot of things he missed in situations like this. “See what?” You spoke up. “How do you assume anyone could make this seem like you weren’t the killer? We have no recording of the shot, and you were the only one in here with him.” Mycroft said, raising his voice a little. You grit your teeth together for a moment, realising how bad this looked. You had barely kept your job as an agent by talking your way out, but this one they wouldn’t let slide.

Desperation rose to your eyes the more you thought about it. You had no idea where they would put you. Was there a prison that was safe enough for you? Would they even put you in a prison? Were they allowed to just shoot you for what you had done? “They’re gonna come take me away.” You spoke quietly this time, raising your gaze to both of your brothers. You saw the internal battle Mycroft was having and the thoughts and ideas going through Sherlock’s head, closing his eyes every time one of the ideas ended up badly. “In about 5 minutes.” Mycroft counted, leaning to his umbrella. “Fuck…” You spoke from between your teeth. “Give me the gun.” Sherlock spoke up. “What?” You furrowed your brows. “Give it here!” He huffed, slightly more stressed than before. “I shot him.” He then said, holding your gun in his hands. “What do you mean?” You asked again, confused. He seemed to have a problem with explaining his plans to others, almost like he thought people could read his mind. “I shot him when I walked in here, Mycroft and you are the witnesses.” He put it shortly, seeming bored of the fact that you couldn’t read his mind and he had to explain them to you. You didn’t say anything, only turned to look at Mycroft. He gave you a slow nod to communicate that he approved.

Almost right after the nod you could hear the police burst into the house, quickly making their way towards the room the four…three of you were in. You signed, pulling back the emotionless face from earlier. If this worked out, you had no idea how you’d thank Sherlock enough. None of you ever showed each other you cared, but you always knew both of them cared for you. Cared enough to lie, break laws and set themselves in danger for you.

You saw the police enter the room, see the body and almost instantly see Sherlock holding the gun. The rest you had tried to ignore, feeling bad for making him take the blame. You remember them taking Sherlock away, and Mycroft leading you out the building as well.

Later on, you were leaning against the wall of Mycroft’s office, the man himself sitting on his chair. You had been questioned about the killing, and just like planned you had told them that you saw Sherlock pull the trigger. Mycroft said he had done the same, and they were now deciding what they were going to do. “Where do you think they’ll put him?” You asked, looking up from your feet. “I made a suggestion.” He answered. “And you didn’t think to disclose that with me?” You asked, frustrated by the fact that he, like his brother, talked like you already knew what they had done or thought of. “As I’m sure you know, he can’t be put into any prison.” You nodded, understanding why. “The case in east-europe is still open. I suggested for him to be sent there, where he is needed.” Mycroft explained. Your brows furrowed. He knew how dangerous the case was, but still chose to suggest it. “You said it yourself, that he wouldn’t last more than half a year? You’re sending him to his death.” You scolded him, clearly getting mad at the man. “It’s the only option they’ll agree on.” Mycroft said, standing up. “He’ll leave today. You can go say your farewells.” he added, waving his hand once, indicating for you to leave first as he held the door open.

You saw Sherlock pull up in the airstrip. John was there as well with Mary, while you stood next to Mycroft. You watched him step out of the car, thinking what you would say to him. Because of your lack of words, you waited for John to talk to him first, giving them a moment. Mycroft nudged your heel with his umbrella to notify you that John was done talking. Knowing there wasn’t time to waste, you walked up to him. “I’m sorry.” Was all you had thought of, but it was true. You were sorry for causing this even if he had chosen to take the blame himself. “Anything else?” He asked, making you smile slightly. “No, I’m afraid I couldn't think of anything.” You replied, looking up at him. “Seems to be a recurring theme.” Your brother hummed. “But please, do come back alive. I’ll keep an eye on everyone.” You promised to him in return for him coming back soon. “Of course I’ll come back.” He said, turning to board the plane. You walked back to Mycroft.

“Is he coming back?” You asked, not believing that he could be so sure of his return. “Surely. He came back from the dead before.” Your older brother’s voice replied, making sure to you that he’d be back.

#sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock holmes #sherlock #mycroft #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #sherlock x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader fanfic #bbc sherlock holmes x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Special Order

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, breeding and mentions of forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee Bodecker + “Why are you crying?” + breeding/forced pregnancy + y/n is a waitress and the sheriff is obsessed with her, and what better way to make her his 4ever than put some babies on her.

“He’s here again,” Mandy said as you loaded up your tray.

You didn’t need to ask who, you heard his gruff response as he came in and was seated in his usual booth. He was always alone but insisted on a whole family-sized table to himself. You sighed and gave Mandy a look.

“I’ll just get this taken care of then see to him,” you promised as you turned carefully.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t dealin’ with him no more and he won’t deal with no one but you,” she whined and put a ticket in the window.

“Yeah, I know,” you made yourself smile, “stubborn man that one.”

“I ain’t know why he prefers you,” Selma said as she loaded the coffee machine, “probably ‘cause none of us got the patience for that.”

“Patience,” you scoffed, “not what I would call it.”

You swept over to the family of five and set out the plates one at a time. You finished up at the table and replaced your tray on the stack. You looked at the sheriff and he stared back expectantly. He did that, just watched until you came over.

You went over with a sickly sweet smile and took out your notepad. You tapped your stubby pencil on the paper.

“And what are we gettin’ today, sheriff?” you asked in your sugary tone.

“Ah, now don’t be usin’ that voice with me, honey,” Sheriff Bodecker said as he fiddled with the menu.

“You need to start treatin’ the other girls nice,” you retorted.

“I don’t like the other girls,” he read his menu and frowned, “I never tried the… onion dip.”

“Uh huh,” you said unimpressed, “well, I’ll just warn you, sheriff, I can’t and I won’t stop Mandy from spitting in between the bread.”

He frowned at you and put the menu down. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I’m tryna be rude, honey--”

“What did I tell you about callin’ me that? I’ll overlook it once or twice but I’m not one to put up with your gull, you know that,” you lowered your brows at him.

“I’m not tryna be rude, miss,” he corrected himself, “I’m only… I only prefer you is all.”

“Sure, sure, is it my sunny smile or my breezy demeanour,” you teased, “the onion dip then?”

“Club sandwich, extra bacon… miss,” he folded up the menu, “please and thank you.”

“I’ll have Mandy bring it right over,” you said, “now you don’t make me come back, I got other customers.”

👮

When the diner closed, you took your usual route home. Your tips were tucked deep in your old purse and your scuffed soles padded on the pavement, then the dirt path that trailed off to the old country house. You lived with your ma on her father’s ancient farm, your pops long dead.

As you turned up the hill that led to the long drive, a flash of lights stopped you in your tracks. You looked up at the distant house, a single window lit by the old oil lamp your ma still used. You sighed and turned to face the cruiser parked in the shadows of the beech tree.

You recognized the silhouette as he stood straight behind the driver’s door. The sheriff fixed his hat as he came around and looked you over in the early twilight. He didn’t spend much time in town, often riding around the county and only stopping by to sit down at Sal’s and terrorise the waitresses.

“Sheriff,” you greeted, “whatcha doin’ around here?”

“Whatcha think?” Bodecker asked as he leaned against the hood, his large stomach sticking out from his open leather jacket.

“My ma’s waiting on me, I brought her leftovers from the diner,” you waved the paper bag.

“They already cold,” he lit a smoke and flicked it, “I wanna see ya.”

“Now, sheriff, we had our time--”

“I always thought I tip you well considerin’ the mouth on ya,” he took a long draw on the cigarette, “ain’t you?”

“Of course, sheriff, but I’m not on the clock right now and ma be expectin’ me,” you said.

He took another drag and threw the half-smoked stick away. He stood straight and reached to his holster. He unsnapped the small strap but made no move to free the pistol. You took a step back, terrified, and swallowed.

“Sheriff,” you said cautiously.

“Honey, please, you know I don’t be wantin’ to hurt you now,” he ran his thumb along the butt of the gun, “so you come put down those scraps and let me get a good look.”

You stared at his hand on his pistol. You took a deep breath and stepped closer. You set paper bag on the hood of his car and he slid your purse from your other arm. He tossed it beside the leftovers and trailed his fingers down your arm.

“I always thought that was a nice colour on ya,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against him, your ankles twisted and you collided with his round stomach.

“Thank you,” you looked past him as you smelled the bacon still on his breath.

“Look real nice, honey,” he undid the top button of your dress and you flinched, biting down as you stared at the beech bark. He groped your chest and you closed your eyes. When you opened them, they were wet. “Why are you crying?”

“Can I go now?” your voice wobbled despite your effort to hide your distress.

“We ain’t even started, honey,” he undid another button, and another, and exposed your cleavage above your brassiere “Look at you.”

“Please, sheriff, I want to go home,” you caught his hand and he grabbed your jaw. You choked on your fear as he turned you and pushed you against the bumper.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” he snarled, “you put your hand down my pants and make me let you go.”

You shook your head in disgust. You looked him in the face, all the light drained from his eyes as his jowls lined with malice. He squeezed your jaw and you cried out in pain. You reached to his belt blindly and fumbled to undo the buckle. You felt how hard he was through his pants as you pushed down his fly.

“You’re hurtin’ me,” you whispered as you pushed beneath his briefs.

“I could do a lot worse,” he threatened, “ah that’s it, honey.”

You wrapped your fingers around his dick. He was thick and hard against your palm. You stroked him and he shuddered as he leaned against you. His hand slipped down to play with your chest again. He had you pinned to the car as you kept your wrist moving in the confines of his pants.

He groaned and trembled as he urged you faster and you obeyed, turning your head to look at the farmhouse just up the rise. He grabbed your face again and leaned in. His hot breath grazed your lips and he pressed his mouth to your cheek.

He edged you back onto the car and stepped between your knees. Your skirt rode up as he forced your legs wide around him. You pushed on his chest with your free hand and he flung you onto your back with a vicious shove.

You sprawled across the hood, your bags falling to the ground as he grabbed your hips. He ripped your hand from inside his pants and rolled his briefs under his dick. You kicked out as he reached under your skirt and wrestled off your underwear. You cried out as he ripped them free of one ankle.

“No, please, don’t do this. Sheriff, please--”

“You can keep callin’ me sheriff,” he purred as he bent over you again and searched for your entrance with his fingers.

“How long’s it been?” he asked as he caught his tip and poked it along your hole, “Two years, you think I’ll wait forever.”

“I don’t-- Get off of me,” you sank your nails into his leather jacket desperately, “get--”

You gulped as he sank into you all at once. It hurt and sent a pang up your spine. Your wet eyes began to leak as you realised you couldn’t stop him. He thrust and sent another agonizing bolt through you.

“Two years, honey, you think we got time left?” he rutted between ragged pants, “‘bout time you get a baby on ya.”

“Wha-- oh, please--” you gasped as he kept you pinned to the cold hood of the car.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya,” he rasped, “you ain’t gotta keep pourin’ coffee.”

“Stop,” you whispered and closed your eyes, “please..”

Your pleas fizzled and you let him get on, praying it would end. He fucked you harder with each thrust, fueled by your pathetic cries and the sound of him inside of you. He cradled your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath singed your skin as he spasmed and spilled inside of you.

When he stopped, you couldn’t move. He pulled out of you with a grunt and his cum dripped from your cunt. You nearly slipped down the hood and barely got your feet under you before you could crumple. You rubbed your fingers through the sticky cum on your thigh and refused to look at him.

“Look at the mess you made of me, honey,” he purred, “the mess I made of you.”

You wiped his cum on your skirt, revolted by the cooling slickness. You pulled your dress straight and left your underwear in the dirt. You glanced at him but he didn’t make a move, only watched you with delight as his hands rested on his open belt.

Numb and unsure, you turned and grabbed up your purse and grease-stained paper bag from the ground. He chuckled and you heard his belt clink. You stumbled through the dirt as he let you go.

“I be seein’ you tomorrow,” he called after you, “I’ll make sure to take a long lunch.”

👮👮👮

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

#dark lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #The Devil All The Time #request #drabble #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #dark drabble

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parkjimin1010smuts · 3 years

Text

Breaking Point || Kth

Summary: Taehyung reveals just how he deals with his stress to his best friend y/n and late one night y/n reaches her breaking point and decides to put Taehyungs tactic to the test, but there is a slight problem she has no one to help her out, or does she?

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, thigh riding, virgin reader, multiple orgasms, fingerings, unprotected sex (yalls stay safe out there though this is just a fanfic), dom tae, sub reader, pwp. Enjoy!!

An elbow nudging into the side of your ribcage pulled you back into the conscious realm. A slight gasp leaves your mouth as you jerked your head back up. Now who the hell thought it was the perfect moment to need your attention.

You gathered your surroundings haphazardly, a subtle frown settling upon your face as you realized just who it was, Kim Taehyung. “Morning princess, I almost thought you’d never wake up,” his velvety voice mocked.

Turning towards Taehyung, the frown on your face only deepened, a small sound of annoyance escaping you. With your eyes now in his direction you unintendedly began to check him out. The cluster of blonde hair that was normally nestled peacefully was a disheveled mess exposing his forehead. His plump cheeks were pushed up due to the goofy grin he had plastered on his face nearly concealing his chocolate brown eyes that were now mere crescent moons. I had to admit he had a very attractive smile, reminiscent of a box.

His body was clad in a pair of black slacks that clung beautifully against his muscular thighs leaving very little to the imagination. His caramel chest peeked at me from the confines of the loose summer shirt he wore. I was brought back to reality when the view of his chest was suddenly obscured by the change in his position as he was now bent over packing his things. Releasing I heavy sigh I began to mirror his actions before throwing my bag over my shoulder and making a beeline straight to the double doors. In true Taehyung fashion he was right on my tail, trailing me like the faithful guard dog he pretends to be.

You and Taehyung have been best friends now for over 15 years, you both met in the early years of preschool and by the grace of the angels above you have not been separated ever since. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, Taehyung has been there every step of the way. Everything you have experienced so has he, that’s how close you two are and, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way with any other person.

This closeness however was more often than not met with questioning glances and needless two cent comments, most of them romance related. But Taehyung was always so quick to shut them down with a little more fervor and enthusiasm than you would deem necessary. It was clear to you that Taehyung simply had no interest in you romantically, and you understood. Who cared if you had a tini, tiny crush on him. Not you that’s for sure.

But I mean it was inevitable, the man who was now glued to you side in a steady march that matched your own was a literal god send. He was loyal, attractive and physically in shape. What more was there to ask for.

“What’s up with you lately, every time I see you you’re either lethargic or in one hell of a mood.” My best friend voiced before abruptly coming to a halt in front of his black pick up.

“Nothing I’ve just been up studying for finals and the stress Is finally getting to me I guess,” you say through clenched teeth. You really do feel like you're reaching your breaking point and seeing how well put together Taehyung just riles you up even further. Its really not fair, we are in the same course, the same exams, the same workloads and yet there he is basking in his ethereal beauty, fair skin with no signs of exertion. While you on the other hand are left to wallow in the deep dark bags that have taken residence beneath your forever dropping eyes. Don’t even get me started on the acne that picks the absolutely best moments to choose your face as their next canvas, please note the sarcasm.

Allowing your curiosity to surface you voice the question that has been eating at you for quite some time now, “How do you do it?” Taehyung shots a quick glance your way before reverting his attention back to the bustling road before us but the slight dip of his eyebrows was enough for you to know he wants you to elaborate.

With a deep breath you laid everything that had been forming a cluster in your mind out on the table for Taehyung to digest. When you was through with your mini rant session an eerie silence danced between you two for a good minute before Taehyung finally released a hearty chuckle. With his head thrown back and eyes closed from the intensity of his smile he was unable to see the way your face twisted in confusion.

“You think I’m ethereal?” Of course, that was the only thing his pea sized brain was able to pick. Suppressing all the swear words you had an indescribable urge to throw his way you simply rolled your eyes while sinking further into the leather car seat.

“I release my stress through other things.” He finally said after calming himself.

“Other things,” you said with a raise of my eyebrow.

“Yeah, other things, or more specifically sex.” your eyes grow tenfold as you choke on your saliva. Sex?! Should this really have been a surprise to you, I mean he’s young healthy and oh just look at him.

However it still does nothing to subside the slight blush you feel creeping up your neck as you avert your eyes to your lap. While he was indeed your best friend and things not discussed between the two of you were few and far between, one thing he never seemed to ask you about was your sex life. Not that there was much to ask about in the first place. You were a virgin, not entirely from lack of trying but still a virgin none the less.

“Oh,” that was the only logical response your mind could muster given the circumstances.

“Oh,” Taehyung retorted as he maneuvered the car to rest in his driveway. Choosing to remain silent you purse your lips into a thin line, you refuse to falter, even when he turns his body to allow his eyes to have unlimited access to scrutinize you with their chocolate depths. The car suddenly feels so hot or maybe that’s just your face which is now beet red.

“What’s with your reaction y/n,” Taehyung presses fully failing to read the room, or car in this situation.

You have never had any problems confiding in Taehyung but for some reason you feel embarrassed to mention that you're still in fact a 23 year old virgin, especially after he just shared details of his very thriving sex life.

The silence drags on for a good three minutes and knowing your best friend you know there is no way he will ever give in and so you cave. “I’m a virgin, okay. There, are you happy now,” you hastily say with an exasperated sigh. Choosing to save yourself from the snarky remarks you know are about to flow like a river from your best friend you hurriedly make your way out of the confines of his car. You mentally curse the universe as you see we are in fact parked outside his apartment complex and any thoughts you had of fleeing the scene are disintegrated in mere seconds. As if adding fuel to the flame the sound of the car door sounds as Taehyung makes his way out of his car and round to my side.

“Please save it, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now,” you cut him off before he can even part his lips. “Hey what’s wrong with you. Did you seriously think I would judge you just because you chose to keep it locked up.” you simply avert your gaze as his words settled in your head.

“Hey look at me, your virginity is nothing to be ashamed of okay, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but you know me better than that. You know I would never shame you for anything so insignificant.” The tone of his voice was calm and collected and shame suddenly washed over you from the way you had jumped the gun. You never realised how your reaction could have been perceived, Taehyung was always so understanding and here you were assuming only the worst of him.

Deciding not to push the conversation any further you simply lowered your head in embarrassment before heaving a sigh. You've been doing that a lot lately. Being the attentive best friend that he is Taehyung was quick to pick up on my signals and thankfully refrained from pushing the topic any further. A silence soon settled between us before Taehyung laced his fingers around your own before leading you back to his car.

“I’m gonna take you home and you just get some rest okay,” The soft nature of his voice just made you feel worse while simultaneously lifting your mood.

~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•

Yet again a frown had found its way onto your face as you stared at the clock that ticked away on your bedside table. It was just past 2am and yet the lights in your room were still on casting shadows over the immense paperwork clustered all over your bedsheets. Yet another sleepless night with your only companion being a cup of coffee made with three sugars and a gallon of stress.

Grabbing the cup of steaming goodness you throw your head back as you allow the bitter taste to maneuverer its way into your body with hopes of getting your systems back on high alert. You put down the coffee with a soft clang so it’s now adjacent to the ticking demon that serves as a constant reminder of how shit you have it right now.

Fighting the urge to scream you plunge face first into your numerous worksheets. This was it, you had finally reached your breaking point, the tears that stung the corners of your eyes served as confirmation.

Just as you were about to succumb to the severity of it all and just allow yourself to scream and cry to your hearts content a certain blonde haired box smiled adorning goof crossed your mind. Or more specifically a certain conversation shared between the two of you.

Sex.

You felt tingly sensations dance through your veins as the solution to all your problems was now just in front of you. However this feeling of euphoria was only short lived as not long after you realised there wasn’t a single person you could ask for help. Well there was that one guy you met during spring break, but your relationship came to a rocky end as he bumped heads with Taehyung over your relationship with him. He had accused you of slutting around with Taehyung and the man in question did not take lightly to his words. Lets just say his name is most definitely off the table, and so is my relief plan seeing as he is your only ex. Pathetic I know, no need to remind me.

You run your fingers across your laptop giving it a contemplative tap, while trying your hardest to push the most obvious solution to your problem to the back of your head. There was no way you could call him. Seriously, there was no plausible or conceivable scenario in which you went to your best friend, pleading for him to lend you his body to get off. You brought your hands to your face, a shriek of embarrassment escaping you at the mere idea.

This was the guy who had seen you at your worst, stumbling into your apartment with puke all over yourself when you were going through your hard liquor phase freshman year of college. There's no way he'd be interested in having sex with the girl he spent many nights holding her hair back as she hurled into her toilet.

No.

You couldn’t ask Taehyung to partake in such an activity with you. Absolutely not.

No way.

~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡

The creaking of your apartment door sent you five feet into the air as the reality of the situation sinfully settled in your brain and the nerves were finally kicking in.

“Taehyung,” you whirled around to face him as his gaze zeroed in as you shifted your body from one foot to the other, a tendency you displayed whenever nervous. You couldn't fight down the heat that was creeping up your neck as he stepped into your apartment, eyeing you cautiously as he slipped off his shoes.

“Hey is anything wrong, you sounded really anxious on the phone.”

“What, me, I’m perfectly fine!” You responded forcibly, the enthusiasm in your voice misplaced, given the nature of the conversation.

Taehyung simply nodded back at you, not noticing the awkward timber of your words or otherwise not minding. "Well if nothings wrong why'd you call me over to your place at 2am?" He inquired, like the wonderfully kind best friend he was. You pressed your lips together.

"About that, do you remember how you said you use sex as an outlet for your stress in order to maintain a level head, well would you mind having sex with me as I’m a pathetic excuse of a human who has no one else to turn to for my sexual needs." Oh god, there was no way you could ask that. Taehyung was your best friend, and that would be too unbearably awkward. What the hell were you thinking?

“Well i wanted to watch the conjuring 3 again and I remembered that you hadn’t watched it yet so what better time than now?” You swallowed uneasily, a gesture that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as the man of the hour suddenly took a step towards you, his eyes unmoving on your face.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone was suddenly low and severe, eyes running all over your burning face as he searched for any physical ailment. There was something off about you, he realized. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could make out how your form was trembling, your eyes wide in panic.

“Do you want to have sex with me.” You reflexively shut your eyes as you allowed the weight if your words to hang heavy between the two of you it's only competitor being the unbearable silence that lingered in the air not long after. You could hear every inhale and exhale of the tall man that stood opposite you. Every passing second of silence made you regret your words and just as you were about to play it all of as a joke and retract your prior request a pair of soft lips pressed gently against your own stopping you right in your tracks.

Just as suddenly as it happened it came to an end. You could feel something stirring in your chest , the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, radiating heat like an old burn. You turned towards him and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of you, there was a dark sheen to them, one you had never seen. It was intimidating and attractive all the same, the fire in your belly igniting like never before. Before you could even think to stop yourself, you grabbed the collars of his shirt and pulled him down to you before taking his lips with your own.

In no time at all the kiss got heated as tongue and teeth were thrown into the mix. You feel his tongue explore the darkest depths of your mouth as you fight back the need for air. His tongue reluctantly leaves your mouth all before licking a stripe across my bottom lip before his teeth bite down on it, hard but not enough to draw blood. You let out a whimper as his teeth finally released your lip.

There was a shift in the room, Taehyung could sense it. He knew exactly what you wanted and fuck if he didn't want the same thing. His entire body was on edge, he could hear every heavy exhale you pushed past your parted lips. "You're a virgin." The whine that came from you in response was low. "I don't want this to be something you regret in the morning. I can't promise I'll be gentle." He licked his lips.

"Please, I just… just this once," Your words were soft and pleading, the sound of your thighs pressing together in search of relief filling Taehyungs ears. "I need you." He could see your hard nipples pressing against the thin material of your white shirt. They were distracting him, and thoughts of his hands cupping your breasts over your shirts, rubbing your cloth-covered nipple between his fingers, corrupted his mind. How easy it could've been for him to cave right then and there.

Your voice was small and dripping in submission. He felt like he was suffocating in the small space you called your living room. Fuck. He felt himself stiffen in his shorts. You were breathing heavily now, hands trembling as you fought the urge to throw yourself against Taehyung and bury your face into his neck. The mere thought of his skin against yours caused your whole body to shudder in want. When did you become like this. Your thoughts and actions almost made you seem unrecognisable but with the heat of the moment you couldn’t careless. You wanted this and how you wished Taehyung would stop being the gentleman he was and just fuck you already.

Taehyung was already heading towards you as he heeded his last warning, "Do you understand? I need to hear your answer."

“Oh god Taehyung just fuck me already!” you hurriedly said followed by a deep exhale.

Without wasting another second Taehyung plopped himself onto your mustard couch before pulling you onto him. The sudden movement caused you to straddle one of his meaty thighs which had you quivering as your pussy throbbed from the sudden stimulation. When you finally got comfortable you pulled the shirt over your head quickly, hands coming to fondle your own breasts, desperate for any skin contact.

You let out a cry as Taehyungs palms found the skin of your hips, urging you to grind against his thigh. You whined rocking back against his thigh. “Mm please Tae, I need your cock,” your own words surprised you.

"Hmm? You seem to be doing just fine without me, though." He cocked his head at you, hand coming up to smack the side of your thigh. A sharp moan fell from you, fingers tugging at your nipple as your hips sped up. Then, to your sweet relief, Taehyungs mouth found one of your breasts, taking no hesitation in pulling the hard bud into his mouth. You threw an arm over his shoulder, fingers floundering as they attempted to find anchorage on his sweat-soaked skin. Your other hand reached out to touch his abdomen, preening as his muscles flexed beneath your fingers.

He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop sound. Smirking up at you as your eyes began to flutter shut, he watched in amusement as your orgasm caught up with you quickly, a result of your heightened sensitivity and inexperience. He would have to teach you later how to refrain from Cumming so quickly.

"Fuck, oh god Taehyung" You cried into his shoulder, body jerking as you came unravelled. Taehyung couldn't help but let out a whine of his own, palming over his crotch as he watched you ride out your orgasm. Although he would never admit it the way his name fell from your lips like honey had his cock twitching in his now too tight jeans. " Taehyung, please." You panted once you had caught your breath, bringing your face up to his. “Fuck me" you managed to pant out without breaking eye contact. Thus lead to Taehyung unconsciously letting out a groan.

"Is that what my pretty girl wants? Want daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" The intimate pet name escaping him before he could think otherwise. It should have been no surprise to you that Taehyung had a daddy kink. Nonetheless you could feel a new wave of wetness staining his jeans from the pet name, from daddy, right down to the way his thigh was still flexing underneath your heat. It was all too much, you could feel your senses going into over drive.

"Yes daddy, fuck. Fuck me deep and hard until I'm stuffed with your cum.” You breathed into his neck. Taehyung was going to fucking explode. Every damn word you spoke went straight to his groin, his painfully hard cock straining against his Jean’s fabric. And with that in mind, he flipped you over, pushing your legs up into your chest so that he could see your clenched cunt fully exposed for him.

“You don't have any idea what you fucking do to me, do you? I'm so fucking hard for you, and I haven't even felt that lovely pussy of yours." He growled, his fingers coming down to circle your entrance. You didn't even have time to contemplate a response before his fingers rolled over your sensitive bud. His fingers felt so different to yours – your jaw slack as a silent sob fell out, his light but quick motions sending your back arching. Wrapping a hand against his wrist, you groaned, the feeling nearly overwhelming but still too good to pull him away.

Taehyung cursed as your hand came down to rub against the his cock still retrained by his jeans, the small action just gentle enough to have his hips jerking into you. He felt painfully hard and he feared if you didn’t stop he would bust a load right in his pants. His skilful hands were soon lost to his belt as he hurriedly worked to get rid of the only clothing left separating your bodies. "Gonna make a mess of this wet little pussy, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop." Were Taehyungs final words as he pressed himself inside you, hand reaching over to take yours into his.

A cry left you, eyebrows furrowing together as your head fell back, leaving Taehyung breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tense as he fought back a growl. The urge to sink his teeth into your sweat glistened neck was too much to resist and so he bent down and began showering hickeys over the canvas that was your neck.

The stretch stung a bit but he was able to easily slide into you thanks to your prior orgasm and the help of his fingers. You felt full and content, it was such an overwhelming feeling that when he bottomed out and his groin came in contact with your clit you came for the second time.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head you let out a loud moan that had you hiding your face in embarrassment. You could feel the hot breath of Taehyung as he chuckled from his position nestled between your breasts. After deciding you had had enough time to get accustomed to his size Taehyung pulled out almost completely before sliding back into you. You let out a whine as he bottomed out inside you, watching as his expression changed into a lewd one with your walls clamping around his fat cock. "How's that, baby?" You could only moan in response, nails digging into his back as he began to rock himself into you, entirely obsessed with the way your body was readjusting itself as he moved inside you. It was like your body knew exactly what to do, despite the sensation being otherwise strange.

Your fingers found your clit immediately, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to cum, dripping down the couch and stretched out around Taehyungs cock. "So big. Feels so good." You mumbled, your hair cascading around you as his pace quickened, fucking you hard and deep.

You let out an incoherent whimper, shuddering as Taehyungs thrusts into you deepened, spurred on by the way you continously moaned his name submissively. Your thighs felt wet and slick, the combined mixture of both yours and Taehyungs arousal dripping down onto them. You felt filthy and dirty and you were loving every second of it.

You could feel all your stress diminishing right before your eyes with every thrust of his hips. You felt elated, almost as though you were in another dimension, oh how you didn’t want this moment to come to an end. "My pretty little girl. You're making an absolute mess on my dick, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy." You sobbed, body more than ready to succumb to your third orgasm of the night. "Such a good girl." He praised, a hand coming up to squeeze one of your supple tits. Your fingers found your abused clit once more. You circled around it liberally, the familiar euphoric feeling creeping up on you once more. "My sweet little girl. My precious girl." He cooed into your mouth, earning him an appreciative moan.

He was so close, fuck. “Cum in me daddy, I want you to come in me,” you whimpered desperately all in hopes of finally pushing him over the edge. And it seemed to have done the trick because with a final thrust he nestled himself deep within your warmth, a string of groans and curses tumbling out his mouth as he emptied his load into you. His release was the final push you needed to reach your most intense orgasm of the night. You shamelessly screamed as your back arched off the sofa and your body writhed in overstimulation.

"Fuck, fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you." He peppered your face with kisses, breath shaky. Whether he let that slip due to the heat of the moment or whether those were his genuine feelings he had kept bottled up within him much like you, you chose to just revel in the moment stress free. "I love you more." You sighed adoringly, revelling in such an intimate gesture from him.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

#bts #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #kpop smut #hot daddy #oneshots

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jockpoetry · 3 years

Text

Dean’s Canon Divergent 42nd Birthday.

(on ao3)

The bunker was still, Sam and Eileen were...somewhere, and currently they didn’t have any visitors. No guests, no wayward hunters, or any friends stopping by to catch their breath. Not even family. It was, for once, just Dean, his broken leg, and a case of beer that was mostly empties now.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” the words weren’t slurred, even though he felt the weight and warmth of alcohol resting heavy on his tongue. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d acknowledged his own birthday, but in the solitude of the bunker it felt right to at least say the words aloud.

The hovered above him as he contemplated beer four - five, maybe - and wondered if it was time to hit the harder stuff. An uncomfortable lump had begun to form somewhere above his heart. He pushed out of the chair, half-drunk off the now warm beers Dean heaved himself upward and swayed on his feet for a beat. The main room of the bunk swum before his eyes before he shut them, steadying himself.

He felt stale, sore, and exhausted. Which meant that it was definitely time to switch to something harder. The path to his room was familiar and before he knew it tired hands pulled drawers open until the glass of an unfinished bottle of bourbon he’d opened the other night was welcome against his palm.

Not bothering to find a glass he took the bottle to his bed, the cap flicked off to the side with a quiet clatter. The cool of the liquor was crystalline after a haze of lukewarm beers. One hand holding the bottle steady he adjusted his pillow behind him and settled down, eyes staring unseeingly straight ahead.

This was kind of pathetic, even for him, wasn’t it? Getting drunk, alone, on your birthday. Another small pull of the bourbon quieted those thoughts, even if it didn’t fully dull the ache of too many questions he never let himself ponder. The bunker was too quiet, though, and Dean wasn’t sure even if he put music on and cranked it as loud as it could go it would drum out the thunder in his head.

How old was he?

Did he count the years in hell, or not? Does he count the one in purgatory? How about the hundred days he lived and died - were those a part of this life? He ran his free, rough hewn, hand - was this even his original hand - over his face. His breath in soft tatters. Birthdays in the past had been busy, world’s were ending, people were dying, but now here he was. Still. Everything was...okay. It was, there was no crisis at hand. Just busywork, clean up jobs, every day tasks that called people away.

Hell he wasn’t even sure if Sam and Eileen were even on a hunt, maybe they’d just taken a weekend away to breathe. It had to be nice, having someone to breathe with. Having a life with someone.

All Dean had was a life unworthy of any fanfare. Unworthy of a text from Jack or Sam or....

The lump was back this time decidedly higher, threatened to cut off his air and made the backs of his eyes burn.

More bourbon, definitely...definitely more bourbon.

But even the bright burn of warming liquor didn’t stop the way the room was beginning to melt. Or the warm trails that had begun to fall down his face. Was it even his face? He’d only been born to be a fucking meatsuit for an angel. Fucking angels, fucking destiny and fate and -

The sob that ripped out of him breaks the silence, and for a long time there is only unsteady, heaving, gasping breaths. They fill up the room, and go on for long enough that the bourbon is on his bedside table and both hands are holding his face. It is his, no matter who’s inhabited it, how many times it has died, this is his. He is his.

He only belongs to himself.

He’s always belonged to himself, an island of one. Everyone always leaves, Sam included. Hell Sam’s got a life of his own, and is happy. He’s got the hunter network running as nicely as Baby’s engine. And Dean?

Dean’s got a splotchy face long after his tears slow to a stop. He’s in the midst of taking a shuddering, wet breath, when off in the distance there’s the sound of a door shutting.

Every muscle in his body tenses, his hand half reached under his pillow for the gun stashed there, before he can rationalize to his foggy brain it’s just some hunter, probably. He listens, ears straining, as distantly familiar footsteps draw nearer. The tears have dried on his face, the skin stiff and uncomfortable, but he barely dares to breathe let alone move.

A shadow pauses before his door, as it stealing itself, before the sound of a doorknob and

“Oh,” Cas’ face slowly comes into focus.

Cas’ face...Dean stands too quickly and mostly falls off of his bed. He catches himself with one arm, staring wide-eyed as Cas comes closer. As Cas’ warm, familiar, hands rest on his shoulder. As Cas’ impossibly blue eyes look over his face with concern. “Dean,” and that’s definitely Cas’ voice. Deep and rough like tires over gravel and Dean can feel the threat of tears returning as he shakes his head.

Because it can’t be Cas.

“You’re dead,” the words take far too much effort to form. The not-Cas-Cas’ face crumples, softens, looks at him in that makes the tears come out harder. “Christ I need to stop drinking,” he pulls shaking hands to press into his eyes, willing whatever drunken vision away. But the warm weight of a second hand comes to cup his face, and the sound of fabric crinkling and knees resting on concrete are enough to tell him the not-Cas-Cas isn’t going away anywhere soon.

The soft motion of a thumb across his cheek is enough to ease some of the tension away, and maybe he can just pretend. No one else is around, he can be allowed this? A drunken dream, too good to be true, and lets his head rest heavier on the palm there. His hands falling from his eyes to rest between his legs.

“You could’ve had me,” the words are so quiet, “I wish you would’ve.” How many times has he admitted these words in his dreams? In prayers that went unanswered? “Too fucking chicken shit to ever do anything, too afraid I’d fuck it up,” the words spill out of him faster and faster. “One good thing, the one good thing this life gave to me was you, but I know me, I fuck everything up. I don’t know how to keep people, only how to push ‘em away and I couldn’t....”

Couldn’t lose Cas like that, in a permanent way, but he did anyways. In the end silence wasn’t salvation, it was just as damning as any words could’ve been.

“Dean,” and that’s enough to draw his eyes back open. And there’s Cas, as he should be, weary, wary, with that softest trace of hope. “I-I knew,” but the words halt and he can see the way the muscles in this vision of Cas clench. The way blue eyes shift around for a moment, searching for the right words to say. In his dream Cas would surge forward and cover him in kisses. Sloppy and sappy and feeling like everything he’d wanted.

This Cas seems uncertain, “I could feel the way you felt, but you’re so-so complex. I didn’t wish to assume, didn’t want to...hope.” Each words feels like it’s been pulled, painfully, from some deep place. “Dean, please,” and the hand on his cheek tilting his face upwards. “Look at me,” blue eyes pleading as much as the words.

Taking in a steadying breath Dean does, and all he sees is Cas. The open longing and desperation on his face. “Jack,” the words drift over Dean like warm waves, “brought me back from the empty. I wasn’t right, but your prayers...they helped. Jack, Mary, Charlie even they helped me. I would have come back sooner, but -”

Whatever further words Cas might’ve said were muffled as Dean surged forward, arms wrapping around the familiar expanse of the angels back. Hands soothed down his back, a face pressing into his hair, and surely there are words being spoken but Dean can’t hear them. All he can hear is the thud of two pulses, their bodies melded together as close as they can be. A warmth, completely unrelated to the alcohol, surges through his body.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cas’ voice finally breaks through, “I used my grace to sober you. I wanted you to see this wasn’t,” but again words are interrupted. This time by a suddenly, blisteringly, sober Dean leaning and pressing his lips against Cas’ stupid, eternally, chapped ones.

The sag of relief brings Cas somehow closer to him, and they sit there, Cas knelt between Dean’s knees, kissing until they’re out of breath. Until Cas leans back to press his forehead against Dean’s, both of their breathing uneven and eyes shut. Dean lets his hands slowly drag down from shoulder blade to hips and shifts to rest his head upon one of Cas’ shoulders.

The hand that begins to comb through his hair, soothing away any doubt, any fear. “They kept telling me I could go back when I was ready,” the words break the silence, but Dean doesn’t move and neither does Cas. The only motion is the hand through his hair, “and I never knew.... I didn’t know how to tell when I was ready, but then I remembered.” The hand in his hair pulls slightly, just enough to shift Dean back so Cas can look him full in his face again.

“January 24th, 1979,” the smile on Cas’ face is sun-bright and warms Dean right to his core. “I was given a gift I didn’t fully understand that day, and I figured it would only be fair if...if I returned the gesture.” Cas’ lips are warm against his forehead, lingering for a beat too long before pulling away again. “Happy birthday, Dean, I hope this is the first of many you’ll let me celebrate with you.”

Dean answers the only way he can, by pressing another kiss against Cas’ lips, and pulling him closer.

#spnfic #destielfic #destiel fic #supernaturalfic #destiel #spn #my writing #i decided to finish this ficlet from last month too.#posting this does mean though that i officially need to get over myself and post ch2 to guiding light. next...next weekend let's aim for tha #*that.#long post

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Take All That Anger Out on Me

A/N: Here’s the first requested fic from the ‘Super Kinky’ list for my Dirty Little Secret series!!! (I’ll be alternating these super kinky fics with the ‘Somewhat Filthy’ fics.) **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, intense degradation, Jax is raging and seriously roughs you up ‘cause you beg him to let all his anger out (slaps your face, spits on your face and in your mouth) Request: Request from @rayslittlekitten (in comments under this post) + anon request

Word Count: ~2k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off, please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

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

It's past 2 A.M. when he finally gets home, storming into the living room, the front door swinging loud and hard behind him as he slams it closed.

You jump up off the couch immediately, tingling as you sense the red hot rage that's radiating from his body, from that drop-dead gorgeous head down to his toes. It fills you with the urge to rip off all his fucking clothes. Worship the sculpted muscles underneath his shirt and kutte... just eat him up... But you're not sure if Jax is in the mood to use you as his slut, right now when he is clearly furious about whatever happened on today's job. So you try to keep your mouth closed. Stay composed.

But then he heads into the kitchen, and you can't resist the urge to ask a question, as you follow. "How'd it go...?"

"Don't ask," Jax grumbles in a low rasp, as he tosses his gun down onto the table, moving toward the fridge to grab himself a beer. He doesn't even bother looking back at you at all, let alone stop to say hello. Just moves across the room like you're not even here. "You don't wanna know."

Some twisted part of you loves it when he gets so rude. He’s in one of those moods, and it shows, and the one thing you do know... is just how the rest of the night's gonna go.

You don't wanna know, he had said. You protest, knowing that will provoke him best, bring all that smoldering rage to the surface and make him go mad.

And you want that. So bad.

He says it again, like he's reading the thoughts in your head. "Trust me, Y/N, you don't wanna fucking know."

"I do, though—"

"I said don't," your man repeats, casting a glance in your direction, for a split second, piercing blue glare burning your skin off with the heat. And then he turns his back to you again, muttering something as he grabs the drink he needs. You're not sure if he wanted you to hear it. But you did. "Stupid bitch."

... Well, shit. Those degrading words off of his lips just made your pussy twitch. You squirm and cross your arms over your tits, nipples suddenly stiff, through the thin cloth of your pajama top. His back is toward you at the moment so he doesn't really notice. You pretend to just be miffed, although the truth is that you’re thirsty for this man to fuck you up. "Okay, somebody's got his boxers in a twist..."

Jax takes a deep swig of his drink. Then sets it down, and slowly turns around. "You shut your mouth," he growls out loud, the dark edge in his tone depriving you of all ability to think.

A sheen of liquor glistens on his lower lip; he flicks his tongue out, takes a lick and then bites down hard on the soft pink flesh. Surveys the skimpy PJs you’ve got on, the lacy fabric of the bottoms, hanging low upon your hips... his gaze descends down to your crotch before sliding across your chest... Then up your neck to linger on your mouth and make you melt, as if he knows you're desperate to use that dirty mouth to just untwist his boxers yourself.

And damn are they in a tight twist. He talks down at you in a mean, menacing hiss. "Thought you'd know better than to get sassy like this when I'm already fucking pissed."

Every word he utters, in that husky voice of his, gets you all hot and bothered, hits you like a goddamn bomb exploding on your clit. Taking a few steps toward this sex god motherfucker, you uncross your arms and set your hands upon your hips. At this point all your dignity has been eclipsed, desire coming through, and you don't care if he can see your tits—you don't doubt it. In fact you want him to, if this suggestive shift in energy is signaling that he might want to do something about it.

So you respond accordingly: with a provocative reply to make it clear that you are quite painfully horny. "Well, I guess I don't know shit. I'm just a stupid little bitch."

At that, a shadow of a smirk flickers across his luscious lips. "Oh, now you're asking for it..."

"Begging. Please," you answer, wet with need, unable to hold back the nasty slut inside of you that has to be released. Undoubtedly. "Take all that anger out on me."

Towering over you so tall and powerful, so big and strong and beautiful, those eyes so blue and hair so blonde... he bites his tongue and pauses just a fraction of a second. Ocean eyes exploring yours, to make sure that you know just what you're in for. That it's what you really want. That you're ready and eager for whatever rough and dirty sex Jax Teller has in store.

And of course you fucking are. Without wasting a second more, he lunges forward, like an animal pinning you to the floor—the kitchen table, let alone the bed or any better surface that may be available, is way too fucking far—hovering over you on all fours, groaning in sadistic pleasure as you happily surrender to his force, grinding his hips hard into yours, until you're moaning like a whore.

"This what you wanted, bitch?" he devilishly teases, razor edges of his teeth grazing your trembling bottom lip as he gets off on just how bad you fucking need this. Scratching your every last itch. His ruthless hands tear off your flimsy top, groping and pawing at your tits. "Yeah, 'course it is. You kinky little piece of shit."

"F-fuck...!" you scream, turned on beyond belief. His brutal dominance is everything you’ve ever dreamed; the filthy whore inside you instantly reacts, as he attacks. "Fuck, Jax..."

"Told you to shut your goddamn mouth," he grunts, one hand reaching to rip right through your panties so that he can plunge two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, pumping violently in and out. As his thumb flicks against your slick sensitive clit, he clamps his other hand across your gasping lips, your skin on fire beneath his fingertips. "So keep it shut. You filthy fucking slut."

Oh God, oh Goddd, he is so motherfucking hot. By now you are incapable of any other thought. The palm of his strong, calloused hand is so big that he easily smothers your whole snout and stifles your breathing. And you love the feeling, the heaven of staring up into his blazing blue gaze as he cuts off your airways, of sinking straight into the ultimate subspace... your mind is so blown you've forgotten your own fucking name.

Yet still you know you will remember his, always. Your world revolves around Jax Teller... you live only for his pleasure, now and forever, all day every day... you truly love it when he treats you like a worthless piece of shit. You have no shame.

Despite your consciousness being shattered to bits, somehow you're nonetheless aware that you just came.

"Ugh, look at you," he snarls, pulling his soaked fingers out of your pulsating slit, sticking them in your mouth to make you taste yourself just as he loves to do. Your juices have gushed out all over the floor, and his hands, and his pants, and the whole goddamn world. "Such a dirty girl. Squirting all over my kutte. Did I say you could cum, you dumb slut?"

No, he most definitely did not...

"You're disgusting," he snaps, pulling his hand off of your mouth at last, only to deal your cheek a sudden savage slap. Your inner slut is blissfully combusting. You're so weak and he's so strong. And then he holds your breathless mouth wide open with his thumbs... hocks up a thick wet wad of spit, and puckers up his slick pink lips, to shoot it straight onto your tongue. "Good-for-nothing scum."

By now you're so turned on that you've gone numb.

Jax spits on you again, and again, down your throat and all over your forehead and chin, humiliating you with laughter as he smacks your cheeks repeatedly and rubs his palm across your face to spread his spit around till every inch is fucking glazed. Sending you deeper into subspace.

Your pussy convulses in shameless disgrace, clenching tight around nothing, set to come undone again just from the sheer power of his fucking perfection. From the friction of his raging hard erection, through his jeans against your bare skin, the sensation of pure sin, his rough hands and ravenous mouth dominating and degrading you in all possible ways.

"You like being my dirty little punching bag?" he taunts, as if he has to ask; it's obviously everything you want. To be a damn fucktoy for Jax. He swiftly flips you over then, all of a sudden, to begin smacking your ass. "You want this big fat dick deep in your cunt? Mmm, know you do, slut. Gonna have to beg for that."

You try to beg, instinctively spreading your legs, desperate for fifty shades of filthy sex, as you sprawl out for him facedown upon the ground. And yet given the state you're in right now, somehow. you can't manage a sound.

He spanks your ass raw, as you squirm and struggle from beneath, gritting your teeth, striving to speak, wasted and weak, gaping your mouth so wide you'll probably break your fucking jaw. Still not a word comes out—nothing but choked whimpers and gasps for air, as his dominant fingers grab a fistful of your hair, lifting your head and tilting it toward him just to spit in your mouth, yet again and then slamming your head right back down. God, you love how he's letting his inner beast out and just going to town.

You quiver in bliss as you grovel in a puddle of his spit, the floor tiles pressed against your tits, high on the way he beats you like a low-down piece of shit. It's all you are to him at times like this. Overcome with arousal and unable to control yourself at all, your pussy aching as it drips, you start cumming again at the next words off of his lips. "You're such a stupid... fucking... bitch."

You squirt even harder this time around. Feels like you've drowned.

Jax deals your ass a final stinging spank, then twines his fingers in your messy hair again, forcing your head up off the ground with an aggressive yank. "Dumb fucking skank. See, I was gonna fuck that cunt tonight—stuff you full of this big dick until I cum inside, then fuck your throat and let you drink it all up—every goddamn drop, you dirty little slut... but you know what? You don't deserve it. Not when you've been such a pathetic piece of shit."

He blesses you with one more smack across the face, and one more shot of his sweet spit, laughing as you soak in the feel and the taste of such total disgrace.

Ughh, he is so fucking hot... he's an actual sex god... you think, as he throws you back down to the ground, letting you drown, lost in the pure filth of your perfectly satisfied kinks.

"So now you know what happens when I'm fucking pissed," Jax says, gloating at how you groan in bliss, letting your loving gaze worship his flawless face. "Next time you disobey, and piss me off like that, I'm gonna take out all my anger even harder on your sorry ass and make it hurt real bad. You got that, bitch?"

Oh God, fuck, yes. He's such a savage. To be honest, you just hope that is a promise...

And from the way he's smirking down at you like this, dirty and devilish—giving off such a dangerous dominance that's so fucking delicious—set to satisfy your deepest darkest wishes... you can tell that it most definitely is.

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

... Sooo that was super filthy and I know Jax is an absolute asshole in this lol but I hope there are some kinky bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

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

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terriblequalitymovie · 3 years

Text

His Kitten

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Rating: (M) for language and explicit sex

Summary: Niragi catches you with Arisu and Chishiya too many times for his liking and thinks you’re getting a bit too comfortable

Warning: orgasm denial, cursing, degradation, no aftercare

A/N: I don’t even know yall, what type of shackles does this (fictional) man have on me.

***

It started as a normal day at the beach. The loud music echoing through the resort, the smell of alcohol and weed mixing in with chlorine, sweat and sunscreen. You laid back on the reclining chair, soaking up some much needed sun. Two newcomers passed by you, reminding you of yourself. It had been maybe two weeks since you found yourself in Borderland, and about a week and a half since you came to the beach. You tried not to think too much about how you ended up here, it was a bit hectic and made your head spin. You were visiting Tokyo with a couple of friends, and had gotten separated from them while sightseeing. You headed into a cafe and the next thing you knew you were the only one around, being forced to survive by playing games.

Since then however, you’d come to slightly accept your new found reality. You chuckled, your friends were probably back at work and you were catching a tan. Just as that thought brought a small smile to your face, you felt someone’s shadow fall over. You frowned, sitting up. Glasses being pushed atop your braids, you locked eyes with Usagi.

“In five minutes, get up and come to the rooftop.” She said, and then disappeared back into the crowd. You looked around, and then laid back against the seat, wondering what that was about. But five minutes later, you found yourself navigating towards the rooftop, making sure there were no militants in sight. You wouldn’t mind seeing Niragi, although if he caught you that would end in a number of ways that seemingly all ended in you being bruised. That thought both excited you and frightened you and you picked up your pace.

Up on the rooftop, you were hardly surprised to find Chishiya, Kuina, Usagi and Arisu. They all turned to you as the door slammed shut behind you. You looked between the four of them, a bout of confusion in your mind.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here” Arisu said.

“Yeah probably.” You joked.

“The Hatter’s system is flawed, so we’re stealing the cards and figuring it out for ourselves.” Chishiya announced. Again, you looked at the four of them, your brow furrowed.

“Where do I come in? And how do I know you won’t throw me to the militants if we get caught?”

“That’s just a risk you have to take.”

You bit your lip, you agreed. The whole idea of collecting the cards solely for only the Hatter to return to the normal world was selfish and for lack of better word unfair. But would you be willing to die over playing cards? (Granted you could die at any given time in Borderland).

“Fine. I’m in.” You sighed.

After going over the plan, the five of you headed back inside. While Kuina and Usagi headed in one direction, you followed Arisu and Chishiya.

You were engaged in small talk, telling them where you were from and how you got there, when the Aguni, Niragi and a few of the other militants passed by. Niragi turned, sneering at the two men in front of you. His eyes met yours with a dark look, and another round of excitement and fear shot through you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said, puckering your lips. Talking to Niragi like that, especially in front of Aguni was brave, even for you. He stepped towards you, the grip of his gun tightening, but the smirk on your face didn’t falter.

“Careful y/n, don’t want me to lose my temper.”

But you did, you wanted to push his buttons and see what would happen. However, in front of Aguni and the militants, along with the two new friends (or allies you weren’t exactly sure what to call it) wasn’t the right place. You stepped back and looked away but the smirk didn’t fade completely. He huffed. Brat.

The three of you went your separate ways, your mind still reeling with Chishiya’s plan at the forefront. That was until the music stopped. The eerie silence meant one thing, games night. You sighed, and found your way to the entrance. Arisu, Chishiya, Usagi and Kuina were already there, and you found yourself climbing into the same car that they were.

6 of diamonds. That’s what had you chained to each other by the ankles. A mound of keys laid before you. Simple you thought, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack, but with metal keys and there’s a two hour time limit that ends in death. There were ten players in total, and each person could grab a key. They could only pass the keys to the person directly on either side of them, and once a key was out of rotation it couldn’t be used again. Of course, there were newcomers who were panicked about how they ended up in Borderland and the significance of the game. And a few players who weren’t thinking of the bigger picture. However with Chishiya and Arisu’s quick thinking, you weren’t too worried. With that confidence in mind, you grabbed a key.

One and a half painstaking hours later, you were free of your shackles. And rubbing at your ankles. Your fingers reeked of metal and you’d much rather be in your room.

Upon returning to the hotel, you and the others were in a surprisingly jovial mood. You had your arms wrapped around Chishiya and Arisu’s shoulders. Kuina made a comment about Arisu being a ladies man, which caused his cheeks to turn a rosy color and had you in a fit of laughter.

You were still chuckling, when the militants passed by again. Niragi shot a menacing glare in your direction, mean to scare you and the company, but you only felt heat pooling in your core. However, you stood up straight, letting your arms fall by your side.

It took a while to get back to your room, but your shoulders instantly relaxed just seeing the numbers. The room was dark, and you were sure you’d left the light on. The curtain was open, letting in the moonlight. The door closed behind you with a thud and you stepped forward slowly. Something was off in the room, but you weren’t sure what. That’s when you felt it, warm and wet against your neck.

“Niragi.” You breathed.

“Y/n” he answered.

“How did you get in here?”

“The door.” He answered simply, and you could tell he was smirking.

“But tell me y/n, did you have fun today?”

“Fun? Sure I guess.”

“Make a lot of friends?”

Your eyebrows knit together, it was unlike Niragi to care about something like that. You were about to answer, when you realized why he asked. He was jealous.

“Oh yes. Chishiya and Arisu are great company.” You gushed. Niragi finally stepped into the light, pushing you backwards onto the bed.

“But can they make you scream like I can?” He asked, licking another stripe across your neck. You let out a shuddering breath. All the plans for a bratty reply left your head, as he lifted your shirt, turning it into a makeshift restraint. His tongue continued down to your stomach and both of your legs. Effortlessly, he pulled off your shorts and bikini bottoms.

Niragi bites your thighs, pulling a gasp from your lips. His mouth finds your entrance, already soaked. Niragi eats you out like a man starved, his fingers gripping your thighs. His tongue lapped at your folds roughly, the piercing cold against your core. You wanted to touch him, to run your fingers through his hair. That’s exactly what you did, freeing yourself from the hold of your shirt, and rooting your hands in his hair. Abruptly, Niragi pulled away from you, the night air sending a shiver down your spine.

“Hands off pet.” He warned, pinning your hands above your head. You pouted, but it melted away as he returned to his ministrations. You whimpered, as your high crept up on you.

Niragi could feel your legs beginning to shake and he knew you were close. He stayed a few seconds more and then pulled away, with a devilish grin.

“Something wrong kitten?” He asked licking his lips. You frowned.

“I was so close.”

“I know kitten, but do you deserve to cum?”

You pouted, but it only made him chuckle. He runs his fingers along your thigh, the skin still sensitive from his bites. He gets closer to your core but pulls away at the last second.

You heave a sigh of frustration, and Niragi slaps your thighs. You were buzzing now, the tension of a denied orgasm tingling through you. He wanted you to beg, to hear your neediness, your submission.

“Beg.” Niragi slid his fingers slowly back into your dripping heat.

“Please.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Can’t hear you y/n.”

“Please!”

“Manners kitten, please who?”

“Please Niragi.” Niragi’s fingers were right where you needed them, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit. It didn’t take long for you to feel that tightening sensation again. He teased pushing his fingers in deeper, before pulling them out. You could practically taste it, the release that never came.

Niragi sucked his fingers, your eyes trained on the slender digits covered in your essence. He hummed, a popping sound could be heard as he pulled them out of his mouth. He was driving you crazy, and he loved every minute of it. You were practically trembling now, but you were at Niragi’s mercy.

The sound of his belt being unbuckled sends a shiver down your body. He pushed your thighs apart with his legs, dragging the tip of his dick against your clit. Niragi bent over you his hair falling into your face. His hand wrapped around your throat, and your back arched as he thrust into you all at once. He pulled back slowly, and before you know it he was fucking into you like his life depended on it. You couldn’t hold back your moans any longer, sure that everyone that lived in your hall could hear you. Niragi’s grip tightened around your throat his fingernails digging into your skin. The pain only pushed you further into pleasure. As you felt your orgasm approach a third time you wrapped your legs around Niragi’s waist, holding him in place. His name fell off your lips, the only coherent thing you could say, as your orgasm washed over you. You were breathless and tears streamed down your cheeks but that didn’t stop Niragi. He kept going, chasing after his own high. His teeth sunk into your skin, replacing his fingers.

“Fuck.” You hissed. His long tongue brushed over the broken skin, another hiss leaving your lips. Niragi’s thrusts grew sloppy and he pulled out, releasing onto your stomach. He wiped your tears, and squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“So pretty like this pet, and all mine.”

#niragi x reader #niragi smut #alice in borderland

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years

Note

But what if PC did manage to save Bailey, Eden, and Whitney? (Maybe they found his gun/knife/etc or somethin) How would he feel waking up in the hospital to them sleeping in a chair nearby? I simp for these 3 and seeing them hurt, hurts me.

Writing angst hurts so bad man, I love when the LI hurts the PC, but when the LI gets hurt or others are added to the equation I want to cry.

Under cut for mentions of violence and length

Bailey

Was working hard all day, half asleep as they make some soup before bed. They take a quick toilet break, not being there to notice someone sneaking in and drugging it.

They're sat in their office, reviewing what they've been up to when you waltz in, pyjamas covering your body.

Let's you come sit in their lap while they finish up, knowing you'll want to stay in their bed due to nightmares you've been having.

They really shouldn't indulge you so much, but they can't really help it.

When your stomach rumbles they let you taste the soup, only for you to spit it straight out.

"That's drugged. Someone tried to give me that when I worked at the stripclub, Bailey, I promise," you turn to them, alert and panicked but they can only smile a little, the haze settling in properly.

Cursing, you run to their bedroom, pulling the handgun out from under the pillow and sitting back in their lap, grabbing for their phone and asking them to unlock it.

Constantly checking their temperature and lucidity as you do so.

It takes a little, but you manage to get it open and go straight to a contact you'd heard them speaking to regularly, asking them to send someone over to guard them and that there was a possibility people might try to break in.

The next morning, Bailey finds you still awake, sat next to their bed with the gun in hand, eyes trained on the door until their shuffling draws you eyes. Looking over Baikey is a private doctor they trust.

"Oh thank fuck, you okay?" You sit next to them, placing the gun down and grasping their cheeks, much to the annoyance of the Doc, who steps back a little.

Confused they'll ask what happened, immediately getting angry and jumping out of bed despite both of you telling them to lay down.

You'll have to convince them to slow down as they spends the rest of the day ordering their people to start asking questions, but ultimately they just let you follow them around worrying all day.

Needs to be working immediately because they don't want to show weakness.

Starts painting the windows shut in the orphanage so it's harder for people to sneak in.

Never ever leaves their food alone again.

Is very impressed you managed to remember the name of the person who works for them, thankful that you were so quick thinking.

Theres no telling who could have drugged them, hospital staff, police, Quinn. Good job on sticking to the inner circle.

When you come home the next day, you find a box on your bed. It's full of new, expensive clothes and you know it's from Bailey. A thank you for looking out for them.

Eden

Panic starts to encompass them as they fall to the ground, surrounded by hunters they'd threatened weeks ago.

Where were you, were you safe? They can hurt them, but not you.

Drifting out of consciousness a little as they hear a gunshot and a scream.

You stand at the door, Eden's forgotten rifle in hand after shooting one of the intruders in the foot. You shoot again, aiming for another when they start to scatter, not anticipating another person to be here, let alone armed.

You're silently thanking Eden for teaching you how to shoot, as you advance down the stairs, shooting into the trees hoping you hit another one of the fuckers you'd seen beating your spouse.

You can still hear them yelling as you run over to Eden's collapsed body, seeing them struggling to open their eyes.

You grab the water bottle they strap to their belt, dripping it over them and lightly slapping at their cheek, looking up and around every few seconds to check noone was sneaking up on you.

It takes a few minutes, but Eden starts being cohesive again, working with you as you get them up and bring them inside, locking the door behind you after ensuring you fetch anything that could be used as a weapon from outside.

You get the salve you made and start treating wounds, gently talking the entire time to remind Eden that it was you, they're safe, it's all okay.

Eden is just glad you aren't hurt, wrapping their arms around your waist and pressing their face into your chest, breathing in your scent.

So clingy for the next little while.

"I shouldn't have let my guard down, what if they'd been here to hurt you-"

"Eden for gods sake I'm alright, let me help you now okay? What if you have a concussion?"

Let's you fiddle with them to help calm you down. They feel fine, just come here.

Wants to cuddle, kissing you every so often.

"We should start building a perimeter tomorrow," they'll suggest, and you agree, eager to give them something that'll bring back their sense of control.

You can tell its hard for Eden, to have been beaten like that. You let them be more controlling for a little while so they can get their confidence back.

"And I'm proud of you. You can really shoot well," they'll mumble into your neck as they drift off, a little unsure of themselves. They aren't really sure how to praise others, how to show affection that isn't physical.

Makes you breakfast and gives you a massage the next day, a silent thank you for saving them.

Might also use their wood-carving skills to carve you a little figurine of you holding the rifle, letting you put it above the hearth to remember your brave moment.

Whitney

The good mood is interrupted, when the teens in tracksuits grab at you, separating you from Whitney and trying to subdue both of you.

You're not sure how many times you see Whitney get hit before you manage to rip your mouth free of whatever keeps it covered, drawing in a full breath as you scream "FIRE!" at the top of your lungs.

You'd read somewhere it was more affective than 'help' or 'rape', and sure enough, some adults run over to the alley and begin yelling at and chasing after the delinquents who run.

You fall to your knees and hold Whitney close as someone calls an ambulance, asking if anyone knows their parents so they can go tell them what happened. No one does, and you can't unlock their phone, so you just stay with them when the ambulance comes, trying to cover them with your body so people couldn't see how badly hurt they were.

With no way to contact the family, you're asked to accompany Whitney to the hospital, staying over night so the police can take a statement about what happened and so that Whit can have someone take them home the next day.

When they wake up, you're resting with your head on the hospital bed, right next to their hand, which they use to pet you till you wake up.

Whitney tries not to cry when you throw yourself over them and tell them how thankful you are that they're okay.

It's been a long time since anyones been so openly concerned. Since anyone has given a shit about how Whitney was doing. Most of the time people just wanted to be friends with them for the social perks.

Leans on you when they walk, limping along. This is after they've spent half an hour stumbling alone on their own, finally giving in and letting you hold them up.

At school, Whitney is a little quieter while they recover. River glances over to them in class, seeing them rest their head on the desk while you play with their hair. They're being quiet, and everyone can see the wounds, so they let you be.

Feels a little lost without you around for a bit, using you as a safety blanket. Walks home alone one night and end up flinching at every shadow.

Never actually says "Thank you." Just gets more and more kind, stops tieing you up on Mer Street, pulls you away from dogs trying to get at you, is slightly more gentle when you fuck.

Might get you a personalised lighter one day. Just in case noone believes you next time you need to yell fire.

#degrees of lewdity bailey #degrees of lewdity eden #degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity #spill your guts #anonymous

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cherry-lipbalm · 3 years

Text

a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

#spencer reid gifset #spencer reid #dr Spencer reid #dr reid #Spencer Walter reid #dr Spencer Walter reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid one shot

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moonchildsaurora · 3 years

Text

Darling, Dance for Me?

✤ sniper!San x female exotic dancer!reader ✤ genre: Mafia AU // 30% fluff, 60% spice, 10% platonic flirting with Woo ✤ t/w: mentions of guns/shooting, mentions of alcohol, mature clubbing themes, highly suggestive in the second half (but not smut), rated M ✤ count: 2k+

a/n - this was suppose to be for Valentine’s Day but, oh well! Enjoy some spice with one pink haired Sannie, coz we all know even though he looks soft. . . .he’s just a devil in disguise. This is probs my most suggestive writing till date as well, it was fun and am looking forward to writing more spice in the future hehet 💙

✛ play these vibes: BOBBY - ‘DeViL’, Sunmi - ‘Black Pearl’, Kai - ‘Mmmh’ ✛

“Mother told me, never to dance with the devil, So I danced for him instead.”

Cherry rouge.

Not your usual go-to, but a special occasion calls for some special exceptions. And damn did you look like fine wine tonight. Giving your styled curls another spritz of hair spray, you took one last inspection in your vanity mirror.

Work was throwing a Valentine’s event and thus you found yourself having to dig through the back of your wardrobe to find a suitable outfit for tonight. Bold burgundy lace hugged tightly around your body replacing the mellower neutral tones you’d wear on any other night. Your roommate had even shoved a pair of thigh highs and heels on you to match the garter.

And cherry lips to bring the whole look together.

“You’ll thank me later! Hell everyone in the club would, for presenting god’s gift to them!”

You had laughed at her supportive enthusiasm, waving her away with embarrassment though you greatly appreciated the pre-shift hype.

When you headed for the kitchen, you could hear the TV in the lounge and glanced to see your roommate watching the evening news. She turned to call out for you but stopped mid-way upon realising you were already out of your room.

“Damn girl…you’ll sure be breaking hearts tonight with that fit!!” she yelled-gasped, brows waggling for a cheeky added effect.

“Well that’s no good. Dancers are supposed to be Cupids of the night, maybe they should’ve given me Aphrodite instead.”

A smile tugged on your lips as you saw your roommate falling back on the sofa snickering. Grabbing the bottle of Ten to One from what you both named ‘The Life Juice’ shelf, you started to fill your rose gold hip flask with the white rum. The debonair bartender at the club would usually be more than happy to concoct you a cup of much-needed poison to get you through the night. However, on such a busy event, you might not even have time to swing by the bar – so plan B was in order.

Also, whoever thought to invent garter pouches was a genius in your eyes. The amount of times you had snuck in a sip or two up on the podium without missing a beat or being noticed had to be one of your greatest feat till date.

Except maybe for the one who bought said pouch and flask for you. Seeing the shadow of their pleased smirk whenever you donned on something from them never failed to coax the goosebumps across your skin. Perhaps that garnet embellished choker would be the icing on the cake then. You made a mental note to put that on before you headed out.

“Hey honey…”

The tone of your roommate turned a little more serious.

“On the news just then, another one of those random sniper attacks happened along Soleil Street. Shit, that’s only two streets away from the club.”

The city has gotten used to such news every now and then. All leads of the serial sniper always went cold, not that they left behind any substantial traces for the authorities to begin with.

The law wasn’t the only ruling force in the area. Everyone knew that.

So long as one didn’t attract the wrong attention, they’d be free to go about their business.

“I’m dropping you off, are you ready to go?”

“Wait! It’s alright, I don’t want to trouble you.”

Your roommate gave you a look before swiping her car keys from the counter. “What would trouble me is not knowing whether you’ve made it to work and back safely. Now c’mon, the night is awaiting that cute booty of yours!”

“Yes mum.”

How lucky were you to have an angel for a roommate?

“Give me a heads up if you intend to bring anyone home tonight yeah? I’ll be sure to vacate the apartment before any sinning begins here.”

Or not.

A euphoric buzz filled every corner of the club tonight. Whether it was due to the special occasion or not, everyone was getting drunk off the atmosphere. The bar was a never-ending fountain of liquid luck and smoke veiled corners of the venue where patrons dealt cards and wits. A sea of bodies dominated the dancefloor, curling around one another in ecstasy as the thumping bass set the rhythm for them.

The centre podium was where the real magic unfurled.

Up on there, you felt powerful. Up on there, was your domain to rule.

Long have you enticed all those who returned back to ‘The Blue Butterfly’. So close, yet so far, for most could only have the visual satisfaction. Of watching you, along with your fellow dancers weave around golden poles and offer hands to those who sat in plush velvet chairs closest to the podium. Only to sashay away the last minute.

How bees are drawn to nectar and moths to light, the people keep coming back.

Tonight the club was decked out in a more sensual feel to fit the Valentine’s vibe. Long drapes of rose silk hung around the podium and you used those to accentuate the flow and movement of your body curves. The silks caressed the bare skin not hidden underneath your outfit and you pretended to take shy peeks around the fabrics at the audience. Sending a lucky wink or flying kiss their way.

In the middle of a mid-air twirl, you saw a familiar figure heading towards your side of the podium. You slowly lowered yourself back down to the floor, using your legs to wrap around the silks as leverage. Not missing the opportunity to be playful – you mimed shooting an arrow towards the club’s top croupier.

Wooyoung instantly clutched his heart with his hand that wasn’t occupied with holding one of Mingi’s own cocktail infusion. Letting out a hearty giggle, you slid over the podium floors to the edge where Wooyoung had propped himself up on.

“Don’t you look simply irresistible?” he crooned at you.

You could’ve said the exact same for him. All fitted to a tee in Givenchy with a classic choker that demanded attention for prominent collarbones.

“Now, how may I be of service to you tonight handsome?” you spoke over the music.

The youthful charmer leaned in towards you, shaking dark wavy strands out of his eyes. Eyeing his cotton candy pink drink, you ducked your head and took a few sips from the straw before Wooyoung drew it away. It tasted vaguely like pink lemonade with hints of vodka and vanilla.

“Ah ah, this isn’t for you poppet. Besides…” he tipped your chin back up with two fingers, “…wouldn’t want to waste your appetite before your main course tonight, would we?”

That made you perk right up.

“V.I.P Room Aurora has kindly requested for you. Drinks have already been sent up and the room’s been booked for the whole night.”

Not that booking was really needed since it was your room. It was just for formality.

Wooyoung helped you off the podium and smoothly guided you through the crowd, placing you in front of him so as to avoid being grabbed by uninvited hands from behind. You both stopped at the foot of the polished glass stairs that led up to the V.I.P guest rooms.

“Off you go now! Oh and try not to make too much of a mess for our cleaners, they really ought to get a pay rise from some of the things they’ve witnessed in those rooms.”

You would’ve kicked Wooyoung for his brazen tongue, but you did well to remind yourself that would be rather impudent on your part. Whilst you have a jovial bond with him, it still doesn’t erase his high-standing status within the inner circle. You knew better than to cross that line of respect.

“Won’t make any promises I can’t keep, Jung!”

You left him with a soft pat on his cheek and ascended towards your utopia that awaited.

Swinging the golden embossed doors open, sultry melodious tune of a saxophone greeted you. Like molten dark chocolate, it was rich and tantalizing. The crystalline blue hue of the room’s lighting was fitting for the slow jazzy blues.

A spacious circular sofa curved around a glass table in the centre, providing a perfect view of the bejewelled podium. The wide one-way windows were especially designed for privacy. You could spectate over almost the whole club below, something you quite enjoyed during your breaks. The countless types of people that you observed stepping into your world; from the timid newcomers to the seasoned hedonists and the stories they brought with them of their journey to ‘The Blue Butterfly’.

But there was no time for that tonight. Not when you see broad sculptured shoulders that your hands have meticulously memorised the planes of – right in front of you.

Still clad in his all-black incognito leather fit, you couldn’t help but stay by the door to appreciate his form. A huge bouquet of ivory and deep red roses sat on the glass table with an open box of what you suspected were chocolates inside. A loud pop of the champagne bottle went off. You bit your lips when you saw his toned arms flex as he gripped the bottle in one hand and tipped a stream of golden bubbles into two flute glasses in the other.

As the music picked up, you decided it was time to make your presence known. Walking with confident steps over the velveteen carpet you went to wrap your arms around his cinched waist. Resting your cheek on the cool leather vest of his back, you took his scent in.

Smoke and city musk lingered around.

You figured he must’ve come straight from his assignment. What better reason to use than to spoil him extra as post-work relaxation? His hand came up to wrap around yours and you felt the dancing of lips leaving petal kisses across your knuckles.

“You stink…” you mumbled lightly against his back.

San let out a low chuckle before setting the champagne bottle down and turning around to snake both arms around you. Calloused hands from the years of gripping guns instead of supple flesh imprinted their warm touch into your skin.

“Oh? Then I’m sure you won’t mind helping me freshen up, right Princess?”

“San!” you squealed when you felt him deliberately rub sweat against your neck before attacking it with more love bites.

“You taste like sweet temptation.”

You arched your neck out of habit when you felt his tongue swipe across it. Teeth bit down lightly around the garnet choker San bought for you for Christmas.

When you felt hands travelling down west towards your garter, you gave San a light shove backwards to the sofa.

“Not so fast, Choi.”

His predatory feline eyes took its time to rake down your body, committing every inch to memory. You made a show of bending over to grab the two champagne flutes off the table, the sharp intake of breath behind you made you preen with pride. You took your seat on your throne, not at all surprised to feel how much pent-up tension San had through the tight leather.

Clink. A toast made for the love of two.

“Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

“Thank you, San. You sure know how to spoil a lady don’t you?”

“Only the one who’s sniped right through my heart.”

Oh the irony.

You smiled when he pulled you close and claimed a proper kiss, whispering a, “You sap,” against his wind-chapped lips. Tasting the fruit acidity from the golden bubbles as you both exchanged kitten licks.

San’s rouge-stained lips chased after yours when you broke off from the kiss to place your champagne flute back down on the table. Hands anchoring your hips in place as you reached to pluck a couverture chocolate-covered strawberry from the box. Turning back round to San, your lips formed a small pout noticing that his freshly dyed hair was still hidden underneath his cap.

He let you discard it behind the sofa and you could’ve sworn he purred with satisfaction when you ran your hands through his cotton candy pink strands. Hands gave your bottom a firm squeeze and San begun to run his fingers along the hem of your lace. The husky vocals from the record player drifted back, interlacing with the saxophone.

That was your cue.

“Eyes on me.”

You held San’s gaze, fire reflecting fire. The strawberry gets slipped past the seams of his lips and all the while San chews intently, his eyes never wavered. He’s got his precious pearl all to himself, just the way he loves it. And you have the city’s most lethal hitman watching your back from dawn to dusk. San was the dangerous game you played, only to win the safest love.

“Darling, won’t you please dance for me?”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Tracinya - Rogue, Chapter 23 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: Nothing will stop you from rescuing Din. Anyone who stands in your way is merely an obstacle to be removed. But will you be merciful... or listen to that dark call?

Warnings: Injury detail, blood, guns(of the space variety), knives, fighting, swearing, death, watch me make things up about the Force again.

Word Count: 13k+ (I got carried away?)

AN: Well. This ended up a lot longer than I expected it to be. I got rather carried away it seems ((oh well)) Also, I have checked this ((twice)) but its over 13k words and there is going to be something I missed.

Introduction

Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f) Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

There was no part of his body that wasn’t screaming in pain.

His right leg was broken, possibly in two places, and his left ankle was fractured.

He had taken the fall on his right side, meaning the impact had dislocated his shoulder and shattered his collarbone, resulted in searing agony whenever he moved his head.

Not only that, but every breath felt like glass and fire, a pain he was familiar enough with to know he also had at least three broken ribs.

Of course, there were bruises – his entire body was probably littered with purple and black smudges – and cuts.

Din didn’t remember hitting the floor. Only remembered saying goodbye and then… nothing. He supposed he should be grateful, because from the state his body was in, the feeling of impact would have been horrendous, his body crushed under the very armour that was made to keep him safe.

He’d been convinced that was it, the lights were turned off and the Maker would come to greet him.

And yet, after an indeterminable amount of darkness… there was suddenly light.

Harsh, blinding light and hands moving over his body, checking for injury and –

They were going to remove his armour.

The thought and realisation sent shockwaves of terror through him, and despite the agony that had threatened to suck him under, survival instinct kicked in and he lashed out. Taking down anyone who came near him, the medics, the guards, Troopers – anyone who threatened to touch his armour. He was like a caged animal, defending his last dying breath even as his head spun and his knees gave way.

He fought for consciousness, long enough to see a pair of immaculate boots walk in, the edge of a long, ebony cloak embroidered with gold.

Through the roaring in his head, he heard a silken voice ordering everyone to stand down, that if anyone removed the amour, they would be removed of their head.

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss

Din wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.

The room – cell – they had put him in contained no windows, no clocks, nothing to give him indication to what time it was. Only a few artificial lights placed on each wall – which he was grateful for, because the dim lighting was a minimal balm to his pulsating head.

Only a thin cot for him to sleep on, pushed into the corner of the room and a tiny area in the corner where he could relieve himself. The ceiling rose far above him, giving the impression of being at the bottom of a very small, very dark pit.

There was no regular pattern to when they pushed a tray of food and water through a tiny hatch in the door either, so he couldn’t even use that.

Not that he could have concentrated anyway, with the agony waging war on his body.

He’d had countless injuries before and danced the line of death so many times he was surprised he kept getting away with it.

And yet this… this was bad.

His vision kept fading in and out, blurriness making his sight hazy before it cleared again, but not without leaving fuzzy auras that floated in his peripheral.

Concussion too then… a bad one.

He just prayed there was no permanent damage.

He could still talk, though his voice was hoarse and ragged when he whispered to himself the names of his loved ones – he could still remember them, thankfully.

The ability to move remained intact – though heavily compromised. He could only manage tiny movements, embarrassingly slow as he tried not to move his neck or shoulder… or head… or back.

An escape probably wasn’t going to be possible for a while.

Din sighed, laying in an awkward position on his cot, one that gave the least pain.

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven.

You.

You were going to kill him when he got out.

Either for being a hypocrite, or for the worry he was causing you.

The worry, no… the heart-wrenching terror he had heard in your voice mere moments before he fell. That cruel fear of the consequences as you laid into him, tried to keep that anger contained but he knew you too well. Knew that this would be tearing you to pieces.

He had felt the exact same way when you were taken – when she died.

You were a rather dysfunctional pair, weren’t you.

That thought had him chuckling – and then groaning as the small movement sent shockwaves from his broken ribs.

Maker, he was battered.

He didn’t even know how it had all gone so wrong.

One minute he was flitting through the sky, dodging blaster fire and the next there was a loud pop and smoke began billowing from his back, from the jet pack.

A very carefully aimed shot, with precision and intent – not to blow him up by shooting at the fuel lines… but perfectly lined up to knock out the thrusters and sent him tumbling to Earth.

There was only one person he knew that could make a shot like that.

Someone he should have foreseen, if he was honest with himself.

Looking back, the townspeople letting slip the information about the base… that had clearly been a trap.

A false trail to lead them right to the doorstep of the very people trying to chase them down.

Din hadn’t just led himself to his death… but his friends too. He had no idea where they were, if they’d escaped – if they were even alive.

He was disgusted with himself, the way he had so easily and thoughtlessly allowed his friends to be brought to such danger. He should have just gone in alone but… he hadn’t been thinking straight.

When he’d heard that there was a whole base dedicated to finding his sweetheart… a whole legion of Stormtroopers trained, and no doubt given weapons specifically made to defend and attack Force users, he’d lost it.

How could he walk away knowing all of that? Knowing they were going to come after you?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was.

Movement outside his door suddenly broke him from his reverie, a shadow moving past the gap in the food hatch.

Something beeped outside the cell, multiple locks sliding and scraping through the door and then it was pushed open.

Din blinked against the sudden harsh light flooding his cell, his helmet damaged so his visor didn’t adjust to the brightness the way it should have done.

As his eyes cleared, he saw a figure lean and tall, wearing a long cloak – with golden embroidery.

Oh, joy.

Anger sizzled through his reluctant body as Haran prowled into his cell, filling the small room with that unearthly presence. The shadows of the room seemed to cling to him, perhaps recognising that their master had arrived.

Din grunted, ignoring the screaming agony that flooded his senses as he dragged his body to sit up, leaning heavily against where the two walls joined near his bed. If this was his end, he didn’t want to be laying down.

If it was a friendly little chat… well, he could at least give himself a better position to punch the bastard in that overly pretty face.

Haran stopped in the centre of the room, lifting gloved hands to his hood and he pushed it back.

He looked the same as always.

Sharp cheekbones accentuated his face, which was neither old nor young – timeless, for no one knew how long this man had truly been alive.

Amber eyes that dominated his appearance, simmering like molten gold and only highlighting the fact that he wasn’t quite human.

The twin scars across his mouth and eye did nothing to mar the beauty of him – and Din supposed that was all part of the act. A beautiful face, a silken voice and a laugh that could bring entire villages to their knees to worship this fallen dark prince.

Before he slaughtered them all.

Din hated him.

Those golden eyes simmered with amusement as he beheld Din, as if knowing the thoughts going through the Mandalorian’s head… which he probably did.

He cocked his head, a smile lifting his full lips, “Well, fancy seeing you so soon, Lori.”

Din growled, his hands tightening into fists and he wished his blazing glaze would melt through his beskar helmet and sear straight into those lion’s eyes.

That damn lovers laugh rippled through the tiny room, setting Din’s teeth on edge, “Oh, Mando, no need to be so defensive. You had to know what would happen when you decided to infiltrate a base dedicated to hunting your little Jedi.”

“You won’t find her.” Din spat the words, wishing his body wasn’t so battered, wishing his had his strength so he could tear this creature apart.

Haran’s smile widened, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, his scar tugging ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth – a predators grin, “That’s not entirely true, considering I found her so easily last time. But I won’t need to find her.” He examined his cloak, brushing a speck of invisible dust from it.

Dread coiled in Din’s gut, “She doesn’t know where I am. She won’t be able to find me, so you can’t lure her here like a piece of bait. She’s smarter than that.” With every word, he had the sinking feeling that he was saying exactly what the King of Shadows and Death expected him to.

“You see, I would believe you, if not for one tiny little detail.” Now Haran inspected his gloves, tugging the buckles that tightened them around his wrists, a picture of cool, arrogant confidence.

It was an effort for Din to keep his voice steady, “And what is that?”

Please no, please…

Haran looked up at him again, a dark curl falling over his forehead, “I hacked into your comms system, right as you hit the deck. You really should get some better tech, Mando.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “I sent a distress signal to your pretty Jedi, telling her your exact coordinates and even how to get in.”

Din simply made a noise of horror, knowing that nothing in the world would stop you from finding him. You were stubborn, headstrong and determined… all combined with a fierce desire to save the ones you loved.

He just prayed Ahsoka would make you see sense. You would be smart about this… right?

Haran shrugged lightly, “I don’t think even Tano will be able to hold her back.”

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts.

“I guess we’ll see who’s right soon enough, won’t we?” With that, he turned, walking back to the door, where he knocked twice.

The beep and locks sounded again, and Haran looked over his shoulder at Din, who was still struck dumb with dread, “Why, I bet she’s already on her way right now.” He laughed low, and then he was gone with a sweep of his cloak.

~~~

You were beside yourself with panic and terror in the first few hours after the call cut off.

Your scream had woken Ahsoka and the kids, who made it to your tree in time to see you half fall from the branches, stumbling around looking for something, anything to help.

You could barely hear Ahsoka calling your name, until she grabbed you, forcing you to look at her and calm down. You’d told her what happened, before yanking out her grasp and running to the camp.

Nothing was computing in your brain, nothing except a primal instinct to go and save Din right now.

Again, you hadn’t heard her calling your name, mumbling over and over that you needed to go, you needed to get out of here, Din needed you.

Except there was just one problem…

“Slow down. How are we going to get off of the planet? We don’t have a ship…” Ahsoka spoke calmly, but firmly. She was watching you tear through the camp, emotions a wreck and noting you were moments away from a panic attack.

You had turned to her, clutching your belongings in your arms, your breathing coming in sharp pants, “Then - then we’ll just… Um...” Casting your eyes about helplessly, you had felt your throat close up, your heart race and your palms start sweating.

A sob had been about to break from your lips but then – you both heard it.

The tell-tale sound of a twig breaking, of hushed voices.

The pair of you whipped your heads in unison, toward the sound and your panic attack vanished, being replaced with the cool ice of battle. The things in your arms had been placed on the floor and then Ahsoka’s voice had been in your head, “You go left, I’ll go right. We’ll meet in the middle.”

You nodded, reaching for your blade but then Ahsoka had held out a hand to stop you, instead… holding out one of her sabers.

Oh.

Yes, you’d trained with it but… now she was letting you use it for real, in actual combat?

Lifting your eyes to hers, she had seen what you were thinking and simply smiled encouragingly.

That said enough, so you curled your fingers around it and then the pair of you had separated, footsteps lighter than air as you both forged a protective Force field around the kids.

Moving through the trees, marking the intruders... it had all soothed you, soothed the ache and terror in your chest for the time being.

Your power let you know they were close, and you hovered in the darkness for a moment, watching the two cloaked figures and sensing Ahsoka opposite you. Something flowed through the air, like a confirmation and you activated the lightsaber, springing from your hiding space with a burst of glowing late.

“Wait!!! Wait, it’s us!!!” The two cloaked figures turned around, dropping their hoods so their faces would be revealed in the glow from both your sabers.

Cara, and another man you didn’t recognise – bald, with a numerous harness and straps that no doubt held weapons under his cloak.

You made a nose, lowering the saber, “Cara?! I thought… I thought you were with Lori – what are you doing here?” Despite the situation, the anonymous nickname for him came out instantly – protecting his identify even here.

Cara looked from you to Tano, who was still standing in a somewhat defensive position with her saber held out. “We were… We’d split up to take down more of the Troopers. Mando took to the sky to draw fire so we could sweep through them. When we saw him get taken down, we had a choice. Either get captured ourselves, or go and get help.”

You blinked, a frown forming on your face, “Hang on, let me get this right.” Something stirred in your chest, something smouldering, “You saw Din get taken down, saw him fall from the sky, into the clutches of Stormtroopers who are no doubt reporting to Moff Gideon… and you ran away?” The last two words come out in an incredulous tone, your face showing confusion as you looked between Cara and the other man.

He raised his hands, shaking his head, “Hey, I wouldn’t go as far as to call it running away. We didn’t know he’d contacted you; we didn’t know how anyone would find us. If we got captured too, there was no way we could get out. Only Boba and Fennec knew where we were, they wouldn’t have been enough.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows, stepping closer – never lowering her lightsaber, “So, he’s there alone? Or wherever else they’ve taken him?”

The man blinked as he looked at her, “Do you mind lowering that thing, lady? I don’t see how we’re the enemies here.”

You snarled at him, mimicking Ahsoka in the closer advance, “I’m not calling you enemies, I’m stunned that you just abandoned him there!!”

Cara held out a hand, trying to diffuse the situation, “Mayfeld, shut up.” She looked at you, “Look, Mando isn’t incapable of taking care of himself. He’s been in situations like this before, he’ll be fine.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your head spinning, “He’ll be fine?! He could be anywhere, Cara! Who knows where they’ve dragged him, what they’re doing to him! I’m not doubting for a second that he’s been captured before – but not by an army of Troopers, alone, after falling hundreds of feet from the fucking sky! How about I push you out of the open air in a metal tomb and you tell me if you’re up to fighting your way out of an Imperial army.”

Mayfeld squared up to you, tensions running high, “You know, you might want to be a little more understanding. I’m sure if the situation was reversed, Mando would have - ”

Suddenly, you had pulled free your knife and it was held to his throat, “If you dare say he would have done the same, I’ll cut your throat.” You didn’t care that these were Din’s friends. Didn’t care that they were obviously here to help.

You were furious, feeling helpless and well… you had never been the greatest at controlling your temper.

Ahsoka disabled her lightsaber, running forward and gently pushing you all apart. You felt a phantom brush over your skin and realised she had weaved threads of the Force between everyone, “Hey, hey, let’s all just take a moment to breathe, okay? We’re all worried and wound up… Yelling at each other isn’t going to solve anything.”

Mayfeld muttered something you didn’t hear, though you did hear the thump as Cara elbowed him in the ribs. “Enough.”

You powered down the saber and dropped your head into your hands.

The world had flipped on its head, completely and utterly shifted and turned into something unrecognisable. Maybe this wasn’t really happening, maybe you were having some kind of fever dream.

You sighed long and deep, rubbing at your eyes before looking at Mayfeld and Cara, “I’m sorry, for what I said. You did the right thing… We wouldn’t know anything if you hadn’t come back.” You shifted your gaze solely to Mayfeld now, “And I’m sorry for holding a knife to your throat.”

To your surprise, he just chuckled, shaking his head, “Don’t worry. I’ve had worse from your Mandalorian, this was nothing.” He held out a hand, “Migs Mayfeld.”

You found yourself smiling back, sliding your hand into his and shaking it as you told him your name.

Cara looked around, “As much as I’m glad we’re not threatening to kill each other anymore, does anyone want to tell me how we’re going to find Mando?”

As if by coincidence, the comms device on your wrist started to emit a high-pitched beep.

All four of you jumped, then looked at the device which had begun to flash red.

You held it up between you all, and the screen lit up, displaying a string of co-ordinates with that same persistent beep.

It dawned on you instantly, “It’s a distress signal. Lori sent us the co-ordinates of where he is.”

Cara was eyeing it thoughtfully, “Do we want to ask why that suddenly came up, just as I asked where he was? And what if he isn’t there by the time we get there?”

You were already moving back toward the camp to gather your things, “I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s a trap, or if he’s a whole parsec over. It’s the best thing we have, so we’re using it. Get your things.”

That had been a couple of nights ago. You were now travelling on Boba Fett’s ship, a tight squeeze but you didn’t care. Nothing else mattered apart from finding Din.

Boba Fett was an interesting man. He was a clone of the infamous Jango Fett, the Mandalorian of whom you’d grown up hearing about. His armour was older, less sleek than Din’s but still as ruggedly beautiful and had belonged to Jango himself. He was shadowed by another woman, Fennec Shand – an assassin of whom you’d also heard of on your ‘travels’.

He was a straightforward, direct man, greeting you and praising you on the stories he had heard – then asking how everything was going to go ahead. Straight to business.

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

The distress signal coordinates you had given Boba would take you to the general area you needed to be. Then, once you located the Cruiser, Boba would get you as close as he could, slipping into a disused landing bay.

He would remain with the ship and kids, waiting to get out – and to lead a distraction if it came to it.

The rest of you would infiltrate the Cruiser, splitting up to cover more ground and find Din – Cara and Fennec in one pair, you, Mayfeld and Ahsoka in the other.

You sat a little way away from the others – as far as you could in the ship, letting the sound of their planning wash over you. They were determined the best way to get in and out without being seen, whether it was best to go in all guns blazing – literally – or try and be as discreet as possible with minimal causalities.

You were glad you had excused yourself… because that dark assassin within you was stirring, sensing the oncoming fight – readying a thirst for blood.

Sure, some of the Troopers may have had no choice… but they certainly hadn’t done anything to change their fate. They still chosen to continue following Gideon and Haran – for you knew now it was him that shot down Din, but you had kept that nugget of information to yourself, only telling Ahsoka.

The others didn’t need the added stress of knowing a terrifying legend had truly come to life.

If they wanted to try and preserve life – fine. You certainly didn’t have to agree with them. You didn’t answer rot anyone but yourself.

And you supposed that mindset should worry you, making you concerned that you were slipping back to that cold killer but… you didn’t care. If you had to become her to save Din and get everyone out safely… so be it. You would deal with the consequences later.

Ahsoka crossed your field of vision, and then came to sit down opposite you, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out next to yours. She said nothing, merely watching you with an unreadable expression for a few moments.

You sighed, “If you’ve come to tell me not to go where my thoughts are leading me-“

She shook her head, cutting you off gently, “I’m not going to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. I’m just going to ask you… Are you prepared for the consequences of what you do, either way? If you choose to go down the path of tearing down anyone in your way… How will you feel afterward?”

How would you feel afterward?

“I don’t know how I would feel… I know what it’s like to be pushed into a life but… There’s always a choice at some point. However small…” You looked up at her, truly valuing her opinions and advice – she was already a trusted friend, one you could speak your mind to.

Of course, you had Din. But to have something sperate from him… it felt good. Healthy. You both had your separate friendships away from each other… for moments like this perhaps.

“I can’t think of anything but saving him. And it’s easy to sit here and ask myself what I’ll do, before we’re even there… but when I’m in there, when I’m walking through that Cruiser to find him...” You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know what I’ll do. And I might not have the time to make that decision when I’m there.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly, listening to what you have to say, “Then whatever happens… We’ll deal with it afterward. Whatever you choose to do... I believe you are strong enough to take it. And if not… then we’ll deal with that too.”

Gratitude warmed the cold feeling in your chest, spreading through you and you looked at her with new appreciation, “Thank you…” Those two words were heartfelt, all the emotion and thankfulness pumped into there. “For this, helping me… and for everything you’ve done.”

She inclined her head slightly, bumping her foot against your thigh, “You needn’t thank me… It’s been an honour, to help you and train you. After everything that’s happened in my life, the mistrust I had for those I once believed in… I never thought I could get over that hole. But you’ve shown me that it’s not all the way I believed. Things are changing… I’m learning that now. So… thank you.”

You were about to answer, but Boba’s deep, gravelly voice came from the cockpit, “Time to gear up guys. We’re about to hit the same co-ordinates from the distress signal.”

~~~~

“Sir?”

Moff Gideon walked over to the young man who had just called for him, seating in front of a holo-screen like the others dotted about the room, “Yes? What is it?”

The man brought up a radar screen, a pulsing red dot just coming into the edge of it, “They’re getting closer. They followed the Hunter’s trap.”

Gideon smiled slowly, watching that little red dot slowly creep closer to the centre of the radar, toward his Cruiser, “Excellent. Tell the troops to be ready. Just because we want them here, doesn’t mean we’ll make this easy for them.”

~~~

Boba Fett’s ship glided through the atmosphere, all of you peering out of the windows for any sign, any hint as to where Din might be.

You’d been in the general location for about twenty-five minutes, travelling right to the edge of each grid square on Fett’s radar.

“I think… we might have missed him.” Cara spoke the words that you had all been reluctant to acknowledge, her voice quiet.

You shook your head fiercely, moving to the other side of the ship, “No. You’re wrong. He’s here. I know he is. I just… know.”

Grogu cooed from behind you, his ears floppy like they had been since you lost contact with Din.

You turned to look at him, heart breaking at the utter sadness in his glossy eyes, “Oh, Gu… I know.” You scooped him up, cradling the little body to your chest and you pressed a kiss between his ears, “We’ll find him… I promise you; we’ll find him.” You pressed your face to his little head, whispering, “Even if we have to do it on our own.”

His little arms reached up to your shoulders, and you took a few moments just to hug him, giving him comfort but also receiving it in return.

You felt his hands tugging at your collar and wondered if he was trying to reach for your hair… but then he grasped something and pulled – your necklace.

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you.

You looked down at him, watching as he cradled the symbol in his tiny little hands, gurgling at it but for once, you weren’t sure what he was saying. It itched at you, like you could almost understand him.

It turns out, Ahsoka did. She gasped a little, looking at Grogu suddenly and blinking in surprise, “Oh, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that…” She looked at you with wide eyes, “You can find him.”

You blinked at her, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” You felt Grogu’s eyes on you too, and he tugged gently at the mythosaur charm, “The necklace?”

Ahsoka nodded, “Kind of… You have such a strong connection with him, such intense care for each other that if you use your power… you might be able to sense him, where he is.” She walked closer, “It’s hard to explain… it’s an old Jedi trick. They used to use it to track others or find people in hiding. It’s difficult to do, and not all Jedi could do it but… You know him. Better than any of us.” She took Grogu from you gently, “Close your eyes and focus your mind the way we practiced.”

You nodded, not questioning it. There was no time.

You shut your eyes, following the breathing exercises she had taught you and dropping everything away from your mind. The ship, the murmuring of the others – the panic.

All of it fell away until you felt the power flowing through your blood, felt it brush up against every living thing in your vicinity.

Ahsoka’s voice slipped through your mind, “Now, think of him. The memories, the way he makes you feel, the happiness you feel with him. Think about what makes him your Mandalorian.”

Your power flowed through you, out of you, wrapping around the ship and you were already deep in your mind by the time it started shifting the direction you were facing.

What makes him your Mandalorian…

You let that question move through you, thinking of his touch, his voice… the way he softened the harsh edges of your mind and eased your chest.

The way you had truly come alive after meeting him, how you saw the galaxy as you had before – something beautiful and wild and begging to be explored.

You breathed in and out slowly, musing on the way you felt you had also brought light to Din’s life. Not just from the way he told you... but the way he seemed to have mellowed even more since first knowing you.

He laughed more, let himself go a little… His moments of uptight, rigid restraint had melted into something far softer and… goofier.

Ahsoka’s gentle praise whispered through the thoughts and memories, encouraging you. For however long, you didn’t know.

And then you felt it.

Your power brushed over something… someone.

Din.

His essence, his soul, burning like a bright star in your longest night. A sense of comfort, fierce loyalty and determination, all encased in a glittering shell of honour.

Your eyes snapped up, the ship slowing to a stop and then – there it was.

Moff Gideon’s cruiser.

And speeding toward you… about thirty Stormtroopers, ready to attack.

Mayfeld grinned from behind you as Duru leapt from the control panel, “Time to make an entrance.”

~~~

When Din got out of here, he was going to tear Haran into little pieces.

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces.

You had probably more rights than anyone to do so, but he had some things that the cocky shit needed to pay for.

Hey, maybe you could tag team.

Din kept thinking of creative ways to take Haran apart, to see if he was as strong inside as the power he oozed on the outside. It would be a fascinating project.

Maybe when you cut him open, he would be a hollow shell, or maybe there would be some kind of malevolent demon inside him.

He supposed these thoughts were rather twisted and dark, and that Haran had undoubtedly been through some awful things in his life… but so had you, and you were worlds apart from each other.

Besides, it was all he could do. Think of Haran’s death and try to avoid thinking of the alternative thing that was screaming at him like a siren.

That you may very well be on your way to rescuing him.

Din could tell himself for hours that you wouldn’t heed it, that you’d know it was a trap but… it just wasn’t you.

You were one of the smartest people he knew, but if anyone you loved was in danger, caution tended to get thrown out the window.

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised.

Din sighed, curling his fingers into fists and then releasing them again. A few hours ago – or maybe days? – he’d lost feeling in his arm. He couldn’t pop the dislocated shoulder back into place without removing his armour, so it was stuck there, swollen and pressing against the beskar. It had started with pins and needles, and then a cold feeling like ice in his veins.

It made him feel unsteady, lopsided – though that may have been the broken right leg and twisted left ankle.

Not only that, but every movement of his head made his stomach roil dangerously, and his breathing seemed to be coming laboured… more like sharp pants rather than deep breaths.

You were never going to let him live this down.

He huffed again, but the faintest smile rose to his lips as he imagined you both somewhere safe.

You’d wait long enough for Din to be suitably healed before tearing into him… and no doubt it would creep up for months afterwards. He could almost hear the cocky tone as you bickered about something and you’d whip that out, “Oh, well, I suppose I could always go an attack an Imp base and get shot of the sky. Stars above, can you imagine doing that? What fun.”

The thought made him chuckle, just a bit even though it irritated his ribs again.

Of course, that soft sound seemed like a siren call and seconds later, the door to his cell swung open and the King of Shadows and Death appeared – more like King of Arrogance and a limited wardrobe.

Didn’t he have anything else to wear besides that cloak?

Or was Din just jealous? His own cape was a bit tattered, and he’d always envied the way you wore your own hooded cloak, blending into the darkness and sweeping around corners like some kind of phantom.

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse.

Pushing that thought from his spiralling mind, Din tilted his head back to look up at Haran, “Are you lonely? Is that why you keep coming to see me?” He tilted his head, ignoring the feeling like boulders crashing against the inside of his skull and the bits of light dancing across his vision, “Or are you looking for a bit of nightly entertainment? Because I have to say, I’m hardly in the shape to do so.”

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth.

Haran rolled those unsettling eyes as the door closed behind him and he walked over, leaning against the wall opposite, “Yes, Mando. My days are just so meaningless without your shiny head to light the way.” He put a gloved hand to his chest, gasping, “Why, if we weren’t on an Imperial Cruiser, I might just drop to one knee and beg for your hand in marriage, right now.”

Prick.

Din turned his head away, breathing shallow as his stomach flipped again, “What do you want? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a rather busy man.”

Haran chose to ignore him, snapping his fingers together and pulling a face like he just remembered something, “Oh, wait. I can’t marry you, can I?” He looked up at Mando, golden eyes burning through the side of his helmet, “Because you already have plans to do that to someone else, don’t you?

Din willed himself not to rise to the challenge, not to take the bait. He instead tried counting his breaths, focusing on anything but Haran’s silken words.

They flowed like water around the small cell, almost irresistible, “Does she know? Does your little princess know that you’ve been carrying that ring around for months now?” He crossed one ankle over the other, “I have to admit, it is a stunner. How much did you have to save for a rock like that?”

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes.

Many jobs. He had saved the credits from… more jobs than he could remember.

He would bring home most of the credits but would siphon off just a little from the top to add it to the tiny stash he had going. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a ring with a huge stone like others he’d seen but… he had a feeling that you would love it regardless – at least he hoped. The ring had sat nestled in an inner pocket of his tight underlayer of clothing for a while now, and he could still feel it’s hard press into his skin. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed in the fall.

It was new to him. Not just the fact he had reached this point in his life, but the fact he was looking for an engagement ring.

Mandalorian’s traditionally gave weapons instead but… you weren’t a Mandalorian. And the pair of you… this was different. And he wanted to do it right.

You had taken on board so much of his traditions and rules… he wanted to do this for you. Do something in a way that you would be familiar with.

Of course, there was one other major thing that was different –

“Have you even revealed your face? How do you know she’ll want to marry you? I mean, she loves you now but… What if you take off your helmet and she can’t stand you?” Haran examined his gloves, his words low and almost childlike but that was the point.

Din gritted his teeth, keeping his body loose – as much as it could be with the pain – “Seriously, are you here for a reason?”

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship.

It echoed down the hall, but Din could calculate it was far away, deep in the belly of the cruiser so most likely a cargo hold.

Red lights began flashing outside of his cell, the sound of many thumping footsteps racing past.

No… no-

Haran’s eyes unfocused and a cold, dark power brushed against Din. Even through the armour, he could feel it. The way it leeched the warmth from him, swallowed what little light was in the room. It had a pull to it, like the silken caress of his voice given life.

Din shuddered, but Haran hadn’t noticed, instead feeling for something… someone…

His pupils dilated, black swallowing the gold and then he grinned, a cruel, delighted grin and his eyes came back into focus. He stood up, laughing, “Oh, Mando. I’m afraid your luck has run out. Your precious princess has just made her entrance.”

Bile rose up in Din’s throat and he shook his head, “No, you’re lying.”

Din knew he wasn’t. Knew it because he felt you. Every cell in his body was crying out to leave the room, to be reunited with you. Hell, he could almost smell your achingly familiar scent.

Haran advanced on him, crouching down and he took off his gloves, revealing a pair of slender hands – absolutely mauled with twisted, marbled scars.

Din couldn’t stop staring at them, at the evidence of some awful injury – fire, by the looks of it, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t move away, the pain too great and the room spinning. Horror flooded his senses – horror and relief.

He felt sick at the relief, because the last thing he wanted was you near any of these people, but at the same time… you were coming to rescue him.

He wasn’t going to die in here –

That power brushed against him again, slipping through the cracks in his armour and seeking out the injuries as Haran said softly, “The game is beginning.”

~~~

So, your idea to enter the ship discreetly… maybe hadn’t gone entirely to plan.

In all honesty though, it wasn’t your fault that you’d been attacked.

And it wasn’t your fault that the only evasive maneuverer that they wouldn’t be expecting was to lead them on a wild goose chase around the ship and then…. Crash into the cargo hold.

Okay, so Boba had been going for a gentle landing, but the situation had required some fast thinking and strategy and so… there you were.

Maybe it hadn’t been what you’d decided upon but… you had to admit, the explosion provided excellent cover for your teams to slip in.

Amongst the chaos, you weaved around the edges of the cargo ship and you were through into a service passageway, watching Cara and Fennec disappear down a hallway opposite.

The cruiser was like a maze.

You had no idea how long you had been navigating the halls, but you knew it was long enough.

Already, you had encountered a few Troopers, but they were silenced before they could raise the alarm – and stuffed into nearby rooms so they would be delayed when they awoke.

Mayfeld kept pace easily with you and Ahsoka, as you sent out waves of power to sweep the area, “They most likely have him in the cells. But if they know we’re coming… They would have moved him.

Somewhere more central, where we have no choice but to be in the open and vulnerable to attack. So, we should head toward the front of the ship, maybe.” He kept his voice hushed and his blaster aimed.

Ahsoka peered over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrows, “Tell me again where you came from?” She had her other saber in her hand, held in her trademark grip as she moved like a shadow.

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?”

Seriously?

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, looking ahead again, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” She shook her head, pausing and raising a hand for you all to stop too.

You pushed your power around the corner as well, combining with hers and you felt it.

A cluster of Stormtroopers gathered near a service room. They were standing between you and the next hallway and would need to be removed.

Focusing, you did a rough tally, “Nine of them. All armed.” You worked it through in your mind. You could take them – but there was still enough time for them to raise the alarm. Especially if they were near service rooms, they’d be able to signal to others and you would soon be ambushed.

Even without power, Mayfeld appeared to have done the same, “We need to draw them away, get them somewhere quiet.” He looked back the way you came, then to the right where there was a dead end.

Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, “How? Any noise will alert the others. We need to - ” She broke off, having just seen what you were doing. “Where are you going?”

You had moved away from the safety of the wall, drawing the hood of your cloak up over your face. “You and Mayfeld get ahead, see if you can find a map or something in one of those rooms.”

Something dark thrummed in your blood, your palms itching with an intense need to… to make someone hurt.

Mayfeld rose an eyebrow, facing you as he kept his back against the wall, “Are you crazy? They want you as much as you want Mando! You can’t just walk out there like a party gift.”

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces.

Stars above, the very thought almost made you laugh with an unnaturally shadowed delight.

You indeed chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Exactly. What Stormtrooper grunt would pass up the opportunity to deliver Moff Gideon the very thing he’s doing all of this for? They’ll take me straight to him or throw me somewhere to wait. Either way, it gets them away from you.”

Ahsoka was watching you, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She didn’t agree with this anymore than Mayfield, but she too knew there was no other way. “Okay.” She ignored Mayfeld’s noise of protest, “Be careful. Try not to draw too much attention if you can help it. We’ll find anything we can and if you’re not back out here, then circle back to find you.” She was still watching you with that strange look – like she could sense something off.

You gave her a playful salute before pulling out another knife from your boot, rolling your shoulders and strutting around the corner.

Instantly, the group of Troopers turned around, guns raising as they beheld your cloaked appearance, and the shining lightsaber in your hand, “Hey! Stand down!”

You dropped the hood, grinning wickedly as you purred, “Hello, boys.”

You moved like a flame, tearing through the group of Stormtroopers and spreading your embers of death, ready to turn into a blaze.

The whir of the lightsaber was the conductor of your dance, providing a beat as your separated limb from limb. The deadly energy whipped through the air, severing one of the Troopers hands from his wrist and he went down screaming, clutching at the stub at the end of his arm which was smouldering. You didn’t hesitate, whirling and flinging a sharp, deadly knife from your hand.

There was a muffled, wet noise impact as it lodged itself in his throat, buried in the gap between the chest plates and helmet.

You didn’t know if Ahsoka and Mayfield were close, if they’d found a map – you didn’t care.

These men, these followers were standing between you and Din. Maybe they had been forced into it, but as you had said before. They made the choice to stay.

A yell sounded from behind you and a sharp blow to the middle of your back had you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs.

You sucked in a sharp breath but before you could turn, the back of a blaster smashed your skull and you tumbled to the floor, fighting through the wave of nausea and the stars in your vision. The lightsaber was flung from your grip, skittering across the floor.

A somewhat altered voice hissed against your ears, a knee pressing to your spine, “You think you can waltz in here and take us all down? I don’t care what the boss says.” The muzzle of his blaster now jammed against the back of your skull, forcing your forehead to press against the icy, metallic floor and you bit your lip with the impact, “You are vermin. A monster. People like you shouldn’t exist.”

The dark creature within you snarled, and you spread your fingers of your free hand, the other caught up underneath you, “Didn’t your boss tell you?”

You heard him cock his head, “Tell me, what?” He dug his blaster in harder, right against the base of your skull.

A wicked grin spread your lips, causing them to split further but quite frankly, you didn’t care. The pain only aided in the focus, the hot blood nothing as it ran down your chin, “Watch the hands.” You lifted it from the floor, wrapping the Force around his throat and you gave him only a second to realise what was happening, before curling your hand into a fist and crushing his windpipe.

He choked, hands flying up to his throat but then he was instantly gone, slumping forward over you in a heavy tangle of limbs.

You groaned, shifting his body off of you, “Get off of me.” You muttered it uselessly, scrambling up and you scooped up the lightsaber, before turning to survey the hallway.

Footsteps resounded from both ends of the hallway, and you lowered into a battle stance, adrenaline still humming through your veins and numbing everything else, everything but the fight and the goal – Din. Along with the cool ice of battle… something heavy and alluring whispered to you, as black as night and hungry for more death.

White armour burst into your left peripheral and you whirled toward it, flinging a hand forward and then back.

The Stormtrooper was dragged off his feet, again trapped with the invisible pressure around his throat as he ground to a halt, legs swinging forward with the remaining force of him flying at you.

He snarled, scrambling at his throat, “You can’t do this. You won’t beat him, no matter what you believe.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back with a groan, “When they make you, do they implant some kind of need for all the dramatic bullshit? Honestly, whoever the first one of you was, he must have been an incredible bore.”

The Trooper thrashed about uselessly, his weapon falling to the floor and you sensed the glare through the black visor, “At least we have hearts. And maybe we’re all the same, but we’re more human than you are.”

Monster.

Ah, back to this, yet again.

Always back to this.

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but.

Long cloak hanging from your shoulders, battle suit fitted and black as coal. Your boots were stained red, the blood looking like ink on the dark leather.

As for your face, you sported a wicked bruise to your cheekbone, a long cut across your forehead and with the blood dripping down your chin, the wild fury in your eyes… You probably looked every bit the monster they said you were.

And you couldn’t care.

“You think I haven’t heard this one before? How I have no humanity, no soul… I’m an abomination that shouldn’t deserve to live, blah blah blah.” You shook your head, something deadly and shadowed twisting through your blood, humming in dark delight at what you were doing, the devastation you were feeding it.

There was a name for it.

You knew what it was, the siren call to step over the line that you were only too pleased to answer.

You’d deal with that later.

The Stormtrooper choked as you tightened the hold on him, obviously about to speak but then his head jerked, focusing over your shoulder.

The other footsteps – a pair. One heavy, one light and nimble.

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka.

You didn’t bother turning around as you heard them skid to a stop, Mayfeld sucking in a breath at the sight around you.

The fallen bodies of the Troopers, broken about and still smouldering, the blood coating the walls and the floor, the edge of your cloak trailing in it. The stench of death and the smell of molten plastic.

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…”

You ignored them, focused on your prey, tightening that leash bit by bit.

It was like the very air around you was alive, more frantic than normal. Your power flared, tasting the death in the atmosphere, slipping through the ship like a poison and marking where each target was. Every single obstacle between you and your love.

You could feel their living souls, see them in your mind like glowing stars in the sky. You knew that if you went for them, you could close your eyes and still take them down as quickly and skilfully as if your eyes were open.

Is this how Haran was so good at killing? So skilled at finding people?

Without the distraction of sight and sound, you needn’t worry about the expressions on people’s faces, the noises they made as they died.

With your eyes shut, using this glittering map in your mind… they were merely lights to snuff out.

“If you follow this path… No one will be able to help you. You will have to make the choice whether to stay on it, or to fight your way out.” Ahsoka’s voice was a soft breeze in the night of your mind, softly lit in the same white as her sabers, of which one you held in your hand.

A symbol of strength… which you had used to destroy lives.

Your eyes opened slowly, gazing up at the Stormtrooper ahead of you.

A choice.

Seconds ticked by, seconds you knew were slipping away on the clock of Din’s life as you made up your mind.

The Trooper fell to the bloody floor and your voice was demanding, no room for argument, “Take us to your little master. I except he’ll be waiting.”

~~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways.

The King of Shadows and Death could move like a whisper on the wind, as if the air itself parted around him and kept him silent.

But this time, he wanted to be heard.

He wanted the Mandalorian to know that his hope had been in vain.

He merely looked at the guards standing either side of the door and they nodded, one scanning the chip that would trigger the heavy locks in the door.

It swung open and Haran crossed the threshold, gazing down at the broken Mandalorian, slumped on his cot. He grinned, cocking his head, “Time’s up, Mando. Your saviour has come to rescue you from the enemy walls. Looks like you don’t know her as well as you thought.”

The Mandalorian growled, dried blood like rust on his beskar, “If you think you’ll walk out of this unharmed, you obviously don’t know her like you think you do.”

The last time Haran came to see him, he had healed his injuries just enough that Mando wasn’t permanently dancing the line between being awake and being unconscious. He did nothing to remove the pain, or the severity of them, but he had prevented infection. He’d also healed his legs to the point where he could walk – barely.

What good was a knight who fell before the Queen could finish the game?

Haran walked over to him, hauling him to his feet. The Mandalorian was the same height as him, so he gauged he was looking right into Mando’s eyes when he whispered, “I think I know her a lot better than you think. I can tell you that she would not have come here peacefully. And she would not have let go the people that stood in her path.”

Mando shook his head, trying to pull away from him but he was unsteady on his feet, the blood rushing from his head, “No. You’re wrong. She won’t listen to that call, to the... Dark Side or whatever it is. She’s walked that line before, and she’ll make the right decision again.”

Haran chuckled low, half dragging the beskar-clad knight out of the door, “Oh, I don’t doubt that she’ll make the right decision. But whether or not it’s right depends on which side you’re standing on.”

The Mandalorian groaned, hating that he couldn’t pull away from Haran, hated the weakness of his body, the unsteady, lurching footsteps of his still fractured legs and the armour that weighed down on his broken bones. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so obsessed with corrupting her? You’ve been living your sick little life for… however long it is now. Surely there’s some other person to terrorize?”

Haran scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “You really need to get it through that thick skull of yours – I’m not corrupting her. I’m merely bringing back someone she’s tried to bury.” He looked over at Mando, raising his eyebrows, “Has she told you? About the time she had no code of honour, of mercy?”

The man beside him snarled, his leg giving way for a moment as agony rippled up his hip, his bones screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about now?”

It was easy to hold him up, despite the weight of his beskar and they walked down the imposing hallways, three Stormtroopers flanking them – whether it was to stop Mando trying something, or stop Haran having his fun, he didn’t know. Or care.

“There was a time, little hunter, where your precious princess slaughtered anyone who dared stand in her way. She was broken, hungry for vengeance and only to eager to have her fill.”

Mando was quiet for a moment, the heavy scuff-drag of his boots the only sound to be heard – one he probably hated as he moved nearly as silently as Haran did.

Something like triumph flickered over Haran’s face at his silence, “You truly didn’t know? Oh dear… There’s a lot she hasn’t told you, Lori. Things I’ve seen in her head that I doubt even she remembers she did.” He guided them around toward the corner, to where it would all come to a head.

And to where his power was tugging him, whispering to him of the state the next hallway had been left in.

The Mandalorian pushed away from him, summoning some kind of inner reserve of strength. He stopped, the guards pausing behind him and shifting their weapons as a warning. He looked at Haran, the harsh lighting bouncing off his beskar, revealing nothing of the man beneath and Haran wondered if he had revealed his face yet.

“You seem to think telling me these things will bother me or make me look at her differently. Whatever she’s done, whatever terrible things she’s committed… it doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” He stepped forward, ignoring the guards as they moved too, “I’ll tell you something, Shadow man. There is a light that burns within her, a fire that could rival the very stars up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, “And no ounce of darkness, be it her own past or your own twisted powers, will ever snuff it out.”

He moved that finger to jab Haran’s chest. “You tried to dump her at the bottom of a lake, and she came out burning brighter than before. So carry on, tell me all these horror stories to try and scare me away.” He shrugged, the rough baritone of his voice steady, ringing with loyalty and truth – and threat, “All you’re doing is making me love her even more.”

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting.

Then Haran smiled, a sinister, deadly smile as he inclined his head, “I don’t doubt for a second everything you said is true.” He brought his hands together behind his back, resuming the walk and he used his power to push the Mandalorian along. “I believe that you’re willing to throw down the gauntlet to protect her honour every single time someone threatens it. But I wonder… All you’ve heard is stories.”

He walked around the corner and stopped yet again, his dark power dragging Mando to his side. “What will you do when faced with the truth first-hand?”

The hallway was carnage.

A bloody battlefield.

Multiple bodies littered the stark floors, bright red blood sprayed all along the walls – even the ceiling. The once white armour of the Troopers was stained with the stuff, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, as if a strong power had taken hold of their limbs and yanked them in all the wrong directions until bones shattered and muscles tore.

The Mandalorian looked upon the scene, the blood coating the tips of his boots.

A dismembered hand lay just a few feet away and the severed wrist, the tendons hanging out of it... all singed. As if cleaved from the body by something white-hot and burning.

A lightsaber.

Which would explain why the hard shell-like armour of the fallen Troopers were marked with black holes and marks, the stench of melting plastic mingling with the reek of burnt bodies and blood.

This was the work of someone with deadly skill, usually so precise… pushed to the edge, to this.

Oh, it wasn’t mindless, not by any means.

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured.

Haran breathed in the smell like he was standing in a field of flowers, “Well. I have to say, I’m impressed. This looks like something I’d leave behind.” He walked through the mess of shredded bodies, a phantom wind lifting the edge of his cloak so it didn’t drag in the blood, “These poor soldiers never had the chance.” He crouched down, pushing the helmet of one Trooper – resulting in the head rolling a few inches away from his body.

He looked at the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as the fluorescent lighting brought out his scars, “Still singing her praises?”

The Mandalorian was silent, hands clenched at his sides but then he moved, not away from the scene, but toward it.

Through it.

Through the blood and flesh until he was standing right in front of Haran, feet splashing to a stop in the scarlet river, “Always.”

~~~

Moff Gideon was waiting for you as you were escorted into a large, open chamber.

He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, with a young girl at his side – presumably his second in command. There was a sick expression of glee on his face, dark eyes glittering with what he presumed was triumph.

Next to him, stood Haran, clad in black as always, with that embroidered cloak holding –

Din.

Oh, the sight of your Mandalorian threatened to bring you to your knees as you were stopped a few metres away.

You couldn’t see his body – obviously – but you knew simply from the way he held himself, that he was terrible injured.

He seemed to be bearing his weight to one side, slumped over even as he stood, and you could hear is laboured breathing from here.

Oh Din, what happened to you…

You had to admit, a small part of you wondered if there would be anything left of him when you arrived. Not from the possibility of torture, but simply from that terrible fall.

The thought of tumbling all that way down to the ground, encased in a rock-solid metal shell… You couldn’t even fathom it.

And yet, there Din was, still alive after something that should have killed him.

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him.

Gideon cleared his throat, watching the Trooper grunt retreat to the edge of the room, “Well, well. After all my time spent hunting you… Here you are.” He cocked his head, “I thought you’d be taller.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Oh stars above, please tell me this isn’t another villain speech. I hate those.”

Haran’s lips twitched perhaps remembering this exact same conversation from his bunker.

You flickered your eyes to him, before looking back at Moff Gideon, who was looking at you with… a rather bored expression already.

“I was told you were insolent and arrogant, and I can see my sources were correct. They were also correct about how to summon you here.”

He looked over at Haran, “Though it took many years for someone’s ideas to actually bear fruit. Well done.”

Haran bristled slightly, as if taking praise from a mere human man irritated him.

You supposed it did.

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.

“Well, I would hate to disappoint you, of course.” You shot him a sweet smile, venom in your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind, do you think you could tell me what it is you want before I take my Mandalorian here and leave this dump.” You held up your comms watch, “I have a party in Coruscant I’m due to be at and it won’t look very good if I’m late.”

You thought you may have heard muffled chuckles from the line of Stormtroopers assembled behind him, but you paid it no heed.

Gideon bared his teeth at you, eyes blazing, and he brought a hand in front of him to point at Din, “Do you not realise, we have your precious bounty hunter captive? Do you not realise who is holding him?”

You looked over at Haran, shrugging lightly, “A guy who has interesting taste in fashion?”

Did Gideon not know about the bunker or the lake? Had Haran neglected to tell him you’d met before?

Haran revealed nothing in his expression, but there was something in his eyes… something ancient… some of betrayal? Of lies?

Moff Gideon snarled at you, “Insolent creature. You are here because we allowed you to be. In fact, the only reason that happened, is because of the failures of the people I sent after you. Had they done their job, you would have been broken long ago. That disgusting affliction of yours burnt out of you.”

Heat licked down your spine, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as the three Force wielders within it straightened at is words, the ugly discrimination in his words.

Dangerous game to play, Gideon.

You kept your breathing even, feeling the shadows prowl beneath your skin, teeth and claws still dripping with blood from the hallways, wanting more, “Have you ever wondered why you’re stuck here, chasing down women and babies?” You took a step forward, anger and pride for yourself, for Ahsoka, every Force Sensitive person both dead and alive making your voice carry strong over the empty air – even pride for Haran, in some way.

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.”

“You’re stuck in the past. You believe that people like us,” You motioned to yourself, “You believe we are abominations. Freaks of nature. The Force is nature. It’s the very thing that binds us all together. There is no fear in it, no monstrosity. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you people to understand.”

The Officer sighed, shaking his head and moving a step closer as well, “Oh, I understand that. I wasn’t referring to the others in this room. I was referring to you. You, my dear, have been sick and twisted from the very moment you were born.”

Din pulled against Haran’s grip, growling in anger, “I’d advise you to stop speaking.”

Haran yanked him hard, “Stay quiet.” He spat the words at Din, but you didn’t fail to notice the murderous look he shot Gideon over Din’s head, his golden eyes livid.

A shaking had taken over your hands, so you clenched them tighter around your weapons, years of abuse playing in your mind.

But you pushed back against it, for you were stronger now. Stronger because of it, not in spite of it.

Gideon continued, looking upon you in disgust but there was a sick fascination here too, “You have been marked for death long before you showed your powers. You think it was coincidence that the hunter was stalking you in your miserable little village? She was there on orders.” He looked over you, “A child responsible for the deaths of her parents. You might as well have pushed the blade in your mothers flesh yourself.”

A roaring took over your head, filling your ears with the sounds of screaming, the stench of blood and the way the light sapped from your life as your parents died.

But… the world was different now.

It was bright again.

Because of Din, your friends… That’s why you were here.

You glared at Gideon, wanting so desperately to tear out his throat with your power, your hands, or even your teeth – but now wasn’t the time. You shook your head, “You don’t win this time, Gideon. I’m afraid your sad little life will be ruled by chasing me for just a little longer.” With that, you flung your hands wide, making your power explode through the room with a battering impact.

You felt another wave at the same time as yours, fuelling it – Ahsoka’s.

You only just managed to keep it free from Din, though Haran had thrown up a hand milliseconds before you, as if sensing what you were going to do – and evidently creating a shield.

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky.

The Force flung him through the air, causing his head to smash harshly against a metal beam and he crumpled to the ground, limp.

Haran spun to look at him, and it occurred to you – he should have protected him too. He was working for Gideon. Or… at least pretending to be.

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now.

You used Haran’s distraction to throw yourself at him, activating the lightsaber and unleashing yourself on him with a strangled cry of rage.

He startled, just a few seconds too late and he pushed Din at you in an attempt to slow you down.

Perfect.

Just as you planned.

You were never really going to engage in battle with him, had never intended to attack him.

But you knew he would use Din as a shield, thinking you were too blidned in your rage – but you proved him wrong.

Din careened into you, stumbling against your body and you both nearly tumbled to the floor, but then Cara was there, helping you support his body as he wrapped an arm around you, “You came…” His voice was hoarse, weak with pain and exhaustion.

The relief and love in his voice nearly brought you to the ground, “Of course I came for you, Din. I will always come for you.” You gave him a watery smile, walking toward the others, keeping one eye behind you as Haran watched.

Why wasn’t he moving… Why wasn’t he attacking?

“I saw what you did.” Haran’s silken voice called out from behind you, making you pause in your retreat. “I know you feel it. The call to the Dark Side. And I know that you answered it.”

That would be why.

You slowed to a stop, forcing Din and Cara to slow too. “How do you know I answered it?” You looked straight ahead, still not turning around.

Haran sounded as though he took a step forward, “I felt it. I felt it when you allowed the Dark to show you how to get here. You saw the lives as glowing lights, a map to saving your Mandalorian. And the mess you left in that hallway…” He trailed off meaningfully, “You needn’t fear it, darling. It’s not evil. It’s merely… a different perspective.” His voice had melted into the same one that had coaxed you into swallowing the poison, into stepping off the edge.

Here you were, yet again. Only you weren’t standing on the precipice of a raging torrent… You were standing on the edge of the Dark Side.

And his words had instantly awoken it, set it pining for a life to be unleashed, untamed.

Slowly, you turned around, cringing when Din’s broken feet tumbled over each other too, so you slowly let go “A different perspective…?” You cocked your head, voice starting to sound unsure as his seductive baritone filtered through your mind, weaving around it.

He smiled, that gorgeous, disarming smile that instantly made you lock focus on him, “Yes. Others may tell you that the dark side is evil… But it isn’t. It’s simply using that power in a different way. Using it to get the things that you deserve.”

You swallowed, feet hanging over that metaphorical edge, “You – You promise? I can’t go back to that place. I can’t be a… monster again.” Your voice trembled over the word; eyes locked on his amber ones.

Din shook his head fiercely from your left, fighting against Cara’s hold as she pulled him away, but he was too weak, “No. Sweetheart, no. Stop listening to him, please… He’s lying to you. You don’t need this. You don’t need that darkness, princess. You’re so good, so strong… please don’t do this.”

And then you made a decision.

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran.

Stepping off of that edge.

Haran extended a gloved hand to you, “That’s it, darling. That’s it… Coming here doesn’t make you a monster, it just means you are claiming your birth right. This is where you belong.”

As you reached his presence, a feeling wrapped over you, muffling Din’s voice, the sounds of the others around you. You slid your hand through his, gasping a little as you felt your shadowy beast respond to his own, felt them twine around each other, greet each other.

“I don’t…” Uncertainty still clouded your expression, and you lingered a little, worrying you were making a fatal mistake.

He saw this, gently drawing you closer and into the circle of his arms, “No one will die. Your Mandalorian, your friends… We will help them leave safely and then… Then we can begin.” He guided your head to his neck.

Din’s voice, though muffled, was desperate, clawing at you, “No! Cyar'ika, you can’t. Please, I’m begging you. You don’t need to go to him, you don’t need to do this. I love you. I love you for who you are, for every single thing. I’m not afraid of you, of any single part of you.” He sobbed.

Din sobbed, reaching for you, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

You were glad your head was pressed to Haran’s neck, because the backs of your eyes burned, shame and guilt threatening to choke you.

You had to do this.

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

You were quiet, and then just… went pliant in his arms. You raised your own to his back, winding around his lean frame and lifted your face from Haran’s neck, nuzzling your nose along his neck, “I believe you.”

“NO!!” Din fell to his knees beside Cara, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this. Please-” The way his voice broke tore through your heart, and you nearly backed out right then and there.

But you didn’t because Din… He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you had to do this…

Haran’s arms tightened around you, one coming up to cradle the back of your head, “Good girl. I always knew you would see the light.” A deliberate, ironic choice of words form the King of Shadows and Death.

Din’s sobs speared though you, each devasted noise threatening the tears building in your own throat.

Raising on tiptoe slightly, you ran a hand down his back, the other splaying wide, ready.

You brushed your lips along the smooth line of his skin, breathing in the smell of wind and midnight, “There’s just… There’s one little thing…”

Haran nodded, his cheek resting against your hair, “Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

His words muffled the soft sound of an object flying into your hand as you let out a breath against the shell of his ear, whispering, “I will never be your Queen.”

The sound of a lightsaber activating, not through air… but through flesh.

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony.

You held his sagging body to yours, snarling, “That’s for the lake, you twisted asshole.” You stepped back, letting him fall to his knees, yanking free the lightsaber and savouring the gritted howl of agony as you tore back through more flesh and tendon.

Those amber eyes of his blazed like molten gold, deadly and furious, “You don’t know the mistake you’re making. You’re throwing away your life with these fools.”

You bared your teeth at him, raising the saber threateningly to his throat, letting it make the faintest contact, “Come after me again, and I will end you. I don’t care if you’re hundreds of yours old, or the King of Death or whatever else you call yourself. I’m not afraid of you. And I will destroy you before you can do the same to anyone else.”

With that, you quickly turned, bolting toward your family and friends, “Now!!”

Ahsoka flung her hands wide at the same time as you, creating a wide bubble of Force energy that blew through the space.

Every Stormtrooper in the area was knocked flat on their back, instantly out like lights as you threw your arm around Din’s shoulders, trying to get him up as he stared at you.

“What… I don’t…” His voice was bewildered, dazed with pain and he was heavy in your arms.

You whimpered just slightly, desperation and anxiety creeping forward, the edge of battle slowly fading, “I’ll explain everything later, we have to go now, Lori. Please.”

Mayfeld was suddenly there, supporting his other side and then you were all running for the cargo hold, leaving the destruction behind you.

Even as you ran, Cara and Fennec scouting ahead, Ahsoka behind you aiding with the energy bubble and Mayfeld helping you carry Din… You couldn’t quite figure out how you had pulled this off.

You’d done it.

~~~

Haran watched her leave, supporting the Mandalorian and hurrying away with her friends, her power combined with Tano’s to create an impenetrable shield around them all.

Well… He would have gotten through with half a thought – perhaps a whole one – but any of the other fools in this place wouldn’t stand a chance.

Many footsteps rushed into the room and then he felt hands on him, pushing away his own, trying to get to his wound.

He looked down, saw a medic with their pack open by his side, flitting and fiddling.

“Leave it.” His silken voice was hard ice, enough of a bite there to inform the medic what would happen if they didn’t leave.

Despite the medics healing instincts, they knew the tone well, and moments later the kit was packed up and Haran was already turning away from the retreating figure.

Strong.

She had grown stronger far quicker than even he had expected. He knew it was within her, but he had thought the trauma ran deeper, its claws embedded into her very soul and creating a barrier every time she would try to tap into the power.

Tano must have taught her how to master her fear, or how to get past it.

Useful, it saved him a job… but also irritating. If she was already harnessing that trauma, it would mean he could no longer use that aspect.

Haran walked the path she had taken, out to the cargo load, the harsh wind roaring across the space as the tech’s struggled to gain control of the ship again, to remove whatever bug the girl and her friends had slipped in.

No matter. It didn’t upturn his plans… just meant he had to work with a new angle.

And fortunately, he had one, courtesy of the would-be Queen herself.

Haran had come across the bodies in the hallway on his way in here, saw the way they were dumped on the ground with their limbs at unnatural angles, their armour shattered from the inside out.

And if the still smoking scorch marks all over their bodies weren’t indication enough, a sweep of his power had revealed massive internal devastation.

Haran stood with a gloved hand pressed to the bleeding wound as he watched the steadily shrinking shape of a ship. A mere thought had the hole stitching back together as he extended his fingers out slowly.

No one on the clean side of the Force would wreak havoc like that of the hallway, regardless of their love having been kidnapped and beaten.

And that meant simply one thing. And one thing only.

She was being called to the Dark Side.

And she’d heeded that call.

Maybe only temporary, but the Dark Side was like Haran himself. Once you let it in, once you got that first taste… it never truly left. She could deny it all she wanted, trick him with it, think it was merely a reaction from the stress of saving the Mandalorian, but it had already rooted within her.

He could feel it.

Haran tipped his head back and laughed, his ebony curls dancing across his forehead as the wind tugged and pushed at his tall, lean frame. A lone pillar of darkness, hovering at the edge of the world.

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#well this was a journey #the mandalorian x reader #edited because I realised I spelt Mayfeld wrong #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #rogue #pedro pascal

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