#It Doesn't Even Have To Be In The Stomach Like If You Injected Your Blood Into

[sunny-mercya]

Irresponsible

Trafalgar Law x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Masterlist

Law hated it—the carelessly and inconsiderate behaviour towards you, from your friends and Captain, who—Law had knew it all along, wasn't the right person for you—has a nonexistent and illogically mindset of thinking—and overall, Law simply hated it.

Since their start of Alliance on Punk Hazard, then during Dressrosa—and what happen on Cake Island, only being told about it—all the way to the here and now, Wano—your crewmates seemed, either purposely or unintentionally forgetful, to ignore your problem of health and denying you the medical attention you (desperately) needed.

This all lead up to the current situation, where you continue to push through—going way beyond over your own limits again—without a break, discarding your own health too—and came, after collapsing more than just once, close to dying. A repeat of the last few time.

Law watches you, how you stumbled towards him—unconsciously and out of focus, having just won one of the many final fights—against Kaido, his henchmens and Big Mom—yourself, which left you more than just bloody and beat.

Before you were even close enough to Law, your knees buckled in—falling forward, eyes rolling backwards and face scrunching up in pain—and Law had barely time to catch you.

Picking you up, Law carried you behind a broken stone wall—propping you against it and put his coat on you, to keep you warm.

Law checked your pulse, it was faint—unnoticeable even—but still there. The symptoms, just a few of many, were clear; short rapid breathing, sweating and shivering.

Your blood sugar levels had reached the lowest point. Probably having dropped to Zero by now. If that's the case and Law as a Doctor knew it was, he needs to inject you at least around four doses glucose—but Law himself has only one, actually two, though the second one broke and left behind a sticky mess in his pant pockets, syringe left—to get you stable enough and bring you somewhere far safer—the Polar Tang preferable.

»d-don't......I don't.....want« you mumbled out, having come back to your senses, weakly pushing Law's hand away from you.

»Shhh, I need to [Name]-ya« Law hushed you gently, moving your shirt upwards—rubbing over your stomach with his hand, giving you a bit of comfort—looking at the faint dots of injections, which begun to build up to an scaring area onto your skin.

You whined out painfully loud, body jerking and rolling over onto your side—holding your stomach after the cold needle left your skin.

Every interjection you had to take, you cursed your body and this damned blood sugar—which had made your life more miserable than those pills—to reduce your devil-fruit ability—you were forced, by mother, to take. You hated it.

Law turned you back, patting your cheeks to keep you awake and you were close to tell your boyfriend off—how this is his sole fucking fault and how you hate him for the discovery of it.

You didn't though, hadn't the energy left in you and minds busy to not vomit any minute—gulping down the rising bile.

~~~

»Traffy! Is [Name] alright?« asked Luffy, voice loud as always and laced with concern for his friend.

Law was honest, when Luffy had appeared next to him—out of nowhere it seems—it did spooked him a bit, only a bit though.

»Strawhat-ya, give me your Syringes.« and when Law didn't received a reply right away, he asked again—harsher now, not having the time and nerves for niceties or to have a conversation with the Strawhat.

Luffy rubbed his neck sheepishly, when Law looked at him expectingly. Luffy knew you kinda needed the glucose at specific times, but he believed you can pull through it without them—like you had all the time before, because you're strong after all!

»I don't have them anymore, they broke during one of the fights, but [Nickname] doesn't need them, he's strong!«

Law had enough. Enough from all this bullshit talk about believe, because believing doesn't solve or cure anything—it's nothing but a false, selfish sort of hope and a nonsense of illogical and ignorance.

His short fuse of stressed nerve and building up anger bursted for final now. Getting up, Law grabbed Luffy by his short collar.

»Are you that incompetent inconsiderate towards [Name]-ya or just plain stupid?! I told you over and over again, just how fucking vital the Glucose is for him! Do you want [Name]-ya so desperately dead? Huh, Strawhat?!«

Law screamed the last bit, vocal cords shaking with furious anger. Dropping Luffy to the ground, Law picked you up again and teleported somewhere, hopefully far enough this time, else.

~~~

Wiping your sweaty forehead and the spilling tears from your flushed red face, Law couldn't tell how much that one dose would last for you—probably not long as your body already starts to fights again against the conscious drop.

Law said it once and he would say it again; Luffy as your captain was irresponsible and soon—not now or tomorrow, but in near future—the cause of your death.

Leaning down to you, kissing you on the lips—Law murmured in a whisper, that everything gonna be alright and that you're feeling better soon.

Law promised himself—and even when that means, being at war with the Strawhats—he would take you away and keep you by his side.

#male reader #x male reader #anime #fanfiction #manga #malereader #oneshot #xmalereader #one piece x male reader #one piece #law x male reader #trafalgar law x male reader #trafalgar law

[liveyun]

h a e g e u m | 01

banner by the lovely @archivededits ♡⁠˖

pairing. yoongi x female reader.

genre. mini series. crime au. angst. thriller(?). smut

w. (01) mentions of smoking, injuries, k*lling, corruption, injection (!!)

tags. @secfir

teaser | part 2

--

01. RED ALERT

--

She knew something was wrong when she looked at him in the CCTV footage frame by mind numbing frame,for the first time.

However, she her doubts were confirmed when she saw him—for the second time— in the alley near a collapsible gate—skinny, hunched,coated with crimson, smoking— and realised he was the danger rather than being in danger himself. The sort of danger which is fatal, the sort of danger which relishes in the blazing inferno.

The sort of fatal which increases your heartbeats, the sort of danger you know you're fucked up to feel your stomach churn with exictement. The sort of danger who was wanted all over the country, spreading his wings all over the nation with a rapid growth of that like a disease.

It fell upon her to banish the growth, and boy, it wasn't at all easy. It was the clash of opposite elements facing in a battlefield, the only difference being that there had been no swords and no bloodshed, well, not untill now.

Failures after failures. Injuries after injuries. Despair and despair, yet it felt all like a circus to him.

And the third time she saw him, was in her own custody, but she knew something about this man never changed ever since she first laid her eyes on him. Calm, cool and collected— somehow radiating off how much he's aware of his worth and how much of a pain in the ass he has been to finally get captured. But still, this was all but a game to him— something he plays everyday.

“didn't mean to kill the president, my bad. ”

His bloody wrists remains cuffed— she wonders silently if the cuffs burnt into his skin, for why his flesh seemed to be more than bruised, injuries were spread all over. But once again, that particular glint in his eyes told her that it was nothing new for him.

“ You didn't ? ” her reply comes back as a question, implied with a cool sentiment. His eyes rest somewhere down the table she's seated on, particularly on the gun that rests atop. However, his eyes slowly travels up to her own, and she is surpirsed to see how dark they are. The last time she saw them, they were…brown?

“ Remember to always have the lock on your gun always, officer. ”

“ Beating around the bush won't free you from here, D. ” a small laugh, a displeased one. A light exhale, and once again his eyes trailed down to anywhere but away from hers.

“ I always get away, officer. ”

His eyes flick to hers own, a certain hue of coldness flashing across. Maybe she was an officer, but the slightest of the shivers which ran down her spine was undeniable.

There was a thing to argue on : he was pretty. A criminal with a pretty face was dangerous, for why she sensed him as the danger in the first place. From the ridges of his brow to his feline shaped eyes, and the smooth skin had something to do with the carnal impulses this man had.

“ And how is that, if I may ask you?” No sardonic reply came back, not even a chuckle. His curled hair fell elegantly around his neck and forehead, and you wonder again if he knows how beautiful he is. You ponder that he does, the reason he's so cocky about himself in the first place.

“ You're rather nosy for a cop, officer. ”

“ It's my job to interrogate, D. ” And maybe this reply coaxed a small, harsh laugh at you, almost like a hiss. The atmosphere feels rather compelling for you, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the atrocious behaviour has a single intention, and that is to piss the system off.

His eyes suddenly dart up to your own, and you see the malice behind them, floating in subtle threats. His face, slowly comes your view, dried blood sticking to the corner of his mouth. And his lips quirk upwards so full of amusement, that it did feel like a laugh, but it perplexed you, because a rather alarming siren within a distance was heard. A single commotion had your whole office premises in shambles, because this notice meant a single thing.

Red alert.

The man infront of you didn't react much, and this is the first time you've been called to the red alert. The superior authorities had some difficult time to actually acknowledge that you had caught hold of this hoodlum, or rather the most wanted criminal in the whole Daegu, they were totally astounded in their chairs.

You are totally aware of how treacherous possibilities may occur, now. You did feel dubious when you realised it been way too long for his side to respond,and you must admit that red alert was something you did not expect in the least.

Your phone buzzed in your trouser pants, breaking you from the reverie you had trapped yourself in. Not breaking any eye contact with him, you receive your call.

Lieutenant Police.

“ Officer, we order you to release him, right now. ”

“ May I ask for a reason why? ”

“ You don't ask for a fucking reason why when you're given a red alert within your premises, do you ?”

the voice growls like a mad man, and that voice does not intimidate you, not at all. Even when you know that the red alert is the last warning an officer gets. More of a do or a.. die situation, where you have to do what they instruct, or..

…your straw that you may not survive, and if you do, you'll no longer be accepted as an police officer. The situation is way too dangerous to keep hostage criminals like him,but it's been forty eight hours since you've captured him. Red alerts chime within four hours.

That means you're in grave danger.

Isn't he sitting infront of you already?

“ I still stand regard to my question, Lieutenant. ”

“ The Min Orphanage will break down our department if you don't fucking release the man right now. ”

Min orphanage ?

The man's brows pinch all of a sudden, the only sort of emotion other than sarcasm he has ever let out since. Do you see a flash of..concern in his features?

Your brain refuses to work, because in what actual ways would be a notorious criminal like him, connected to an orphanage, that too in such a way, that it seems like the orphanage is more inclined towards him? Your own brow pinches as you hear a sigh from the other side of the call.

“ Officer, you maybe are yet to realise how much in danger you're in, right now. ”

“ I’m just seeking for answers which have been unspoken and unapproached since, Lieutenant. ”

“ If you do not release him.. ”

there's a sickening silence which follows. However, you can hear chaos from the other side which is rare, because the upper departments are supposed to have a pin drop silence. His eyes never leave your own, and the ticking down of water droplets as Mother Nature starts pouring her soul out, you feel a light throb at the back of your head. His eyes are challenging, captivating, ironic because you're his capturer now.

He's intriguing in so many ways than one.

“ They're all little children here, and in no way we can take any particular option even if you had something on your mind, officer. ”

Another reaction. A light, unamused snort.

Another commotion. Muffled screams and yells are constantly changing their paces as you hear shuffling, and suddenly you're hearing vigorous panting from the other side, and a much older voice.

“ ____, I ORDER YOU TO RELEASE HIM, RIGHT NOW. ”

a voice you never expected to hear, not atleast now.

“ Supreme, he's a threat. A real danger if he's let out—”

“ you. are. ordered to let him go right now, because I absolutely cannot risk my team to sail closer to the wind because of your cheap ego. ”

his voice trembled with rage, and your throat feels dry to hear the screams echoing inwards to your own room. Bangs of gunshots and panicked screams as you hear the snaps of fire outside, most likely advancing towards your own room, now. Silent gangs like these get vigorous at times like these.

Cheap ego.

If your ego is cheap and this situation is playing with fire, you'd rather chose to burn your money to that burning whirls of arrogance. This wasn't easy, it wasn't easy to achieve the victory over the challenging, yet collected eyes of the gangster infront of you. If your team, or rather those puppets who shamelessly dance along to the beat they're instructed to, you'd wholeheartedly admit, that you were the only reason why he's here. Infront of you.

Alas, let people call you selfish and self centred, but you've learnt in this struggling world that if you're not so, you'd be used and thrown around like a rag full of holes. And even if your position is at stake, your years of hardwork going to vain because of this menace infront of you— you cannot help but risk that if you've reached till this far, you will ace your goals. You cannot be a sore loser in the end.

“ I’m not letting him free. ”

Silence, but chaos.

“ You're terminated from your position, Miss ___. ”

The call ended.

And so did your dignity as a police officer.

You close your eyes for a moment. You feel sick; it meant that you were no longer in charge of his custody, the head of your team, and no longer an official. No body would give a fuck if you make out of here alive, or if your dead body is dumped somewhere and you rot. No one would care.

You were ready for this exactly the moment you heard the sirens,but however maybe you weren't totally ready to acknowledge that. Your hands feel clammy by the time you put your phone on the table, and the unpleasant feeling of your hair sticking to your neck is creepy. You sigh, your whole life dedicated to your career was shattered by the system, just because you were inclined for the safety of your people..

..or maybe because you were just a mere puppet, too.

..or maybe you're blinded by anger to actually come out of your haze and take care of what's happening, but it's of no use; you're partially bounded.

“ Wouldn't that be a crime if you'd hit me now, officer? ”

his voice echoed in your ears, and the officer in the end hit you like a pan on your head. He sounded all collected and cool: much to the contradiction to the inner turmoil you were going through. Anger courses in your veins to see his bleeding lips quirk upwards at your misery, but again..is he really the one to blame?

He got what he wanted, the system got ehat they wanted, and even if you're reluctant to see anything else, you know you're the loser here. A sore loser. Indignation rises in your chest as you take a look at him, your head suddenly feeling lighter than usual. Your throat burns to speak, and your heart thrums in it's cage.

“ Thank you, D. ”

“ It'd be better if you start your countdown now, officer. ” his voice is barely a whisper as now there's a sudden throb in your head, and his voice a mere croak by the time you gasp to fill in air inside your lungs. Silence, it's a wicked silence as the murmurs deepen.

Your jaw clenches as you feel the sting, an overwhelming sting, your limbs feel numb, and the wider your eyes open, the blurrier it seems now. The room spins, as the yells increase and the rifles scream, they all turn to a crestfallen murmur.

Is this your end?

Your throat hurts, hurts, and its just an outline of his wrists, cuffed wrists, the mop of black hair, your identity card on the table, his wrists..something held within..what, what.. Your head ducks down in an immediate effort to get a better look, but lolls away immediately, too weak and throbbing to work, and everything goes black.

But screw that, you didn't see the injection needle pricking the skin of your thigh as he injects the whole of the syringe into your system skillfully with his thumb, his eyes burning with rage. The same shit eating grin on his lips, as he sticks his tongue out to lick the dried blood on his mouth.

“ You're welcome, officer. ”

#bts au #yoongi au #bts fics #yoongi fics #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic

[lilliths-httyd-blog]

Since I got injected today:

RttE Cast thoughts on needles (Modern AU):

Hiccup: Doesn't like getting injected all that much but considers it more of an inconvenience than anything else. He's sorta used to it given he's, you know, an amputee who has required much medical attention over the years.

Astrid: Would never EVER admit to being scared of them, but she is. It's actually a fear that developed as she got older; she used to take a needle no problem but now after spending time with a dragon covered in spines and watching her hurt people with them, she's a little more sketched out about having her body pierced in general. She refuses to even get earrings and would probably throw up if she actually watched the needle go into her body.

Fishlegs: Doesn't like them, gets nervous when he has to have injections, but does it anyway because he's a science nerd and is just as fascinated by biology as he is nervous about needles. He finds himself watching each and every time and is usually okay afterwards.

Snotlout: Cries at the thought of them. Fishlegs has to hold his hand each time. Refuses to even look at his arm afterwards until he has a plaster on because if he sees blood he will faint.

Tuffnut: Dude accidentally stabs himself with needles regularly due to his love of sewing so prior to actually being injected he doesn't really give a shit. Every single time, however, the fact that he can't jerk away and has to sit there and take the pain gets to him and he will end up shedding a few tears maybe 50% of the time.

Ruffnut: Constantly makes jokes "I've been stabbed" style, can take a needle like a pro. Would probably do it for fun tbh (she actually does, she gets the flu jab every year just for shits and giggles).

Heather: Doesn't mind needles all that much. She dislikes the pain but doesn't complain. Probably because she has many, many piercings (nothing can top the pain of self-piercing your ears when you were 12).

Dagur: Similar reaction to Snotlout except he tries his best to take it like a pro because he'd feel like he'd be letting himself down if he didn't - usually cries afterwards and Hiccup has to comfort him but he's okay 👍 just a little fazed 🤏no problems here 🥲👌

Viggo pre-burn scar: Isn't scared of them necessarily, but the thought does make his stomach churn a bit and he's usually quite fussy about the pain afterwards because he's just like that. He finds fun in bothering Ryker and demanding cold packs to ease the aching.

Viggo post-burn scar: The most apathetic reaction to needles you ever did see. Could not give a single fuck. A bit grumpy about the inconvenience and having to be in even more pain than usual for a while (chronic pain) but never lets on in front of anyone. He'll rant about it to Hiccup sometimes after the fact (who is very much in agreement with him about it all).

#httyd #race to the edge #httyd headcanon #httyd modern au #rtte #tw: needles #needles

[dimancheetoile]

uh, hi.

maybe you're seeing this on your dash and thinking "hum, this username is kinda familiar". maybe you do remember me, in which case, again, hi.

i've been gone for an entire year. it hasn't been a great one. for those who read my posts before, you might already know this, but for everyone else, I was born with a rare genetic condition. on top of that, i had a very serious accident at 13 that more or less destroyed my right leg. i haven't been able to walk right since then, and it hasn't been helped by the following years of botched surgeries, complications from the operation, misdiagnosis and medical malpractice. i'm left with a barely functional leg that has a permanently torn set of ligaments, collapsed nerves and debilitating, constant, torturous chronic pain.

then i had a weird relapse of sorts. a bucketful of symptoms. hives and flushing, limbs and joints swelling, rashes, trouble breathing, sudden drops in blood pressure, heart rate above 100 at rest, stomach cramps, nausea, headaches, migraines, chronic fatigue, confusion, memory loss, dizziness and loss of consciousness. it's called MCAS.

i can't describe to you what it's like to never be well. to never wake up in a body that feels right, even just ok. to always have something going wrong, something painful, something that doesn't work right.

i'm hooked up to an oxygen machine twice a day. i wear a compression garment that goes from my ankles up to the tips of my fingers. i have to do two self-injections every month. i live with additional compressive equipment for both my knees, both my ankles, both my wrists, an elbow. i have a machine with electrodes i can put on painful areas to electrocute them and sometimes, it helps with the pain. i have to use pain-relief plasters and poultices a couple times a day.

i have premature arthritis. the arthritis in my back ate all the cartilage of my last three vertebrae (the ones above your tailbones, your lower back) so i'm like a car with no suspensions. my vertebrae are rubbing against each other with nothing in between to protect them, my discs are crushed, i have severe sciatica. chronic light sensitive migraines.

my joints don't hold. since january, I dislocated my left knee leading to a synovium effusion (big pocket of the lube in your joint that gathers and forms a ball and it pushes on your nerves, ligaments, tendons and tissue); i sprained my left ankle and it tore my external ligament and heel ligament. i dislocated a bunch of my fingers multiple times.

oh, i also got diagnosed with endometriosis and PCOS.

i live bedridden now. i have an entire grocery bag of medication sitting by my bed so i can reach it easily. opioids, neuropathic pain medication, anti-inflammatory medication, a medication that completely stops my period.

and that's without mentioning the hours and hours of hospital visits, specialists, family doctors, physical therapists, etc.

i'm gonna be honest. same time last year, i was having a hard time. i had turned 25 in january and moved into my first apartment since uni. it's in the same village as my mom which is the only reason i could live independently. so i was just 25 and all the MCAS stuff was happening on top of everything else and i had this realisation that this was what the rest of my life would look like, but worse, because my disease is degenerative. it gets worse as you age.

so i was just 25 and i realised i had the next 50 to suffer through this and more, and suddenly i didn't want to be here anymore. there was no ideation, it was more a complete break down of my hopes for the future. what was my future going to look like in this cursed body?

anyway, i collapsed under the mental pressure, my health continued to worsen. what i used to be able to do was no so much harder, and sometimes impossible. i was a 25-year-old in a prison of their own flesh. i couldn't deal with the rest of the world, so i cut myself off from it.

i'm doing better now, mentally. physically, it's only gotten worse. as i write this, i'm reaching for my pain meds because everything below my right knee is screaming in agony and i have a splitting headache. this is a good day for me.

thank you, if you've read this far. thank you, if you thought about me even once in the past year. i'm not asking for anything, except maybe to talk with you if you have a similar story. i feel so alone in this hell, it'd be nice to talk to someone.

i love you all.

-mako

#mako talks #disability #invisible disability #chronic pain #chronically ill

[secretivemessenger]

YES JOHAN SOLOS!!!

OKAY SO MY IDEA IS Sub bottom spy male reader x Dom top Johan

Themes: Non con(or dub con if you prefer), Exhibition, age gap (kinda?Reader would be in his late 20's to early 30's and we know that Johan is 23), hate sex.

Where reader is a spy that works for The Eugenics Experiment, he is merciless and doesn't show much emotion making him emotionless, he also doesn't talk much in fear of letting anything slip out accidentally.

Johan knows about him as he appeared when Anna was telling about her experience while being away from Johan and their mom

Reader keeps an eye on Johan at all times until one day he lost sight of Johan, he had never lost sight of someone just like that, he was looking everywhere for any signs of Johan when he suddenly gets drugged.

He wakes up in a room and the rest is history !!!

A Spy’s Mistake

Top johan x spy male reader

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Rough sex! No prep! Blood?! Non consensual! Bondage! Drug use! Somnophilia! Aphrodisiacs! Violence!

100+ Event

You were supposed to keep him is sight , that was the sole purpose of your mission but you somehow managed to mess it up

He was right there and the next thing you know he was not there anymore , it shocked you so much you didn’t notice the figure behind you

And the next thing you know everything was turning black as you were injected with something

There you were the one who was sent to look out for Johan , instead of watching him you were right under him on his basement floor , oh for how long he wanted to do this make you think you were doing such good job spying on him , when in reality he was aware of it the whole time

The drug he gave you was quite strong it should be able to keep you down for sometime , while in you sleeping state you were more open and vulnerable for him , the way you look laying there on the ground peacefully he can’t help but want to ruin it all

Johan moved your body making you sit up with your back against the wall , he grabbed a rope that was hanging from the sealling and tied your hand on-top of your head , once you were ready for him he smiled looking at you sitting there so beautifully for him

But there was no time to waste , his hands grabbed on your pants and underwear slowly pulling them down until your lower half is completely naked , he took your cock into his hands and started fisting it and in no time he was moving his hands up and down your now fully hard cock

You were squirming in your sleep moans slipped out of your mouth as pre cum leaked out of your cock , his hands moved at a faster pace now that his hands are covered in your pre cum

The wet sounds his hands are making out of your cock mixed together with your cries of pleasure , you were still unconscious so your body was extra sensitive “who would’ve thought a spy can be this slutty”

Little by little you were coming back to conciseness , your head hurts like hell , what happened is the question that was repeating in your head , when you finally managed to open your eyes fully you saw him

There he was sitting right infront of you “did you rest well sleeping princess , or should i say sleeping prince?” You looked down at him in shock , you were even more shocked looking at your cum covered stomach

“Johan liebert what do you think your doing” you glared down at him “what a sharp eyes you have i wonder how would they look like filled with tears” he said smiling at you completely ignoring your questions

You tsked at him , and when you wanted to move you noticed your hands tied up together , no matter how hard you tried ripping the rope it never worked “careful now you could hurt yourself” he said still with a smile on his face

You ignored him before wincing in pain as it rips a bit through your skin drawing blood , “this is getting boring” he said which made you look at him confused before it turned to shock , his fingers sneaked down near your hole ready to penetrate you at any second

You immediate reaction was to move your legs and deliver a hard kick to his face , his face turned to the other direction because of the strength of the kick , you moved your other leg to kick him a second time but he stopped it with his hands “I’m not gonna fall for this twice”

He’s looking down on you not so amused anymore out of nowhere he grabbed a needle and got it near you thighs , you panicked and you moved your other legs delivering multiple kicks to his now bruised face , but he ignored you and grabbed one of your legs and injected the liquid in your thighs

It had immediate reaction , your body stopped moving completely before it began rising in heat your cock rock hard , it’s not that hard to guess what he injected you with , your mind became all clouded making you unable to think straight

“I wanted to go easy on you but you leave me no choice” he said looking at you with a poker face , he grabbed your body and turned you around , you looked back at him giving him death stares but it’s hard to take it seriously when your face is flushed dark pink

He grabbed your hair harshly and slammed your face hard onto the stone wall , you groaned in pain as you felt blood seeping out of your mouth , the Aphrodisiacs now taking full effect on you making you stand back helpless while your body tremble’s

You could hear sound of Johan unbuckling his pants , you wanted to just run away but your body refused to move and the bone crushing grip he had on your face continued to give you constant pain , When you thought all of that was too much , you didn’t know about what awaits you

You widened your eyes , your back arched as you cried out in pain , out of nowhere Johan plugged his cock inside your tight hole , with no preparation he stretched your hole as far as it can get , you felt like it’s going to rip you apart split you in half

He didn’t give you a chance to adjust as he started thrusting , it was very hard to move in your tight hole because there is no lubricant to make the movements sloppy but he didn’t care , he had you sobbing a stream of tears falls out of your eyes , you can feel your hole throbbing in pain

The mixture of pain because of Johan’s hard thrusts and pleasure because of the still active Aphrodisiacs had your body and mind going crazy , you’ve never done something like this and you don’t like it

No matter how much you begged for him so stop he never did instead he continued with his rough thrusts , pulling out until only the tip is inside before thrusting all the way in again and repeat making You chock on your own blood

You squeezed as tight as you can around him making Johan groan at your tightness , he moved his other hand to your still hard cock and started pumping it in rhythm with his thrusts , His moves are better now that his pre cum painted your insides making his thrusts a bit more bearable , his hands moved impossibly faster making you gasp and scream as you came all over yourself

Because of the Aphrodisiacs your body was too sensitive , you just came but you felt like you could cum a second time , and you could tell Johan was about too cum because of his cock twitching inside of you

Your body felt a little better now so you started to squirm around trying to set yourself free still not ready too give up “I thought you would’ve learned the first time , looks like i was wrong” he said looking at you directly in the eyes as you looked back right at him

He softened his grip on your face and instead pulled hard on your hair “let’s see how long till you break” he whispered near your ear , you groaned before glaring daggers at him “never , once im out of here your head will be the first thing i come after” you said making him chuckle “we’ll see” he said as he continued to fuck you into oblivion

#male reader smut #x male reader #bottom male reader #smut #johan x male reader #johan x reader #johan my beloved #johan liebert #monster

[haootia]

The Truth About Activated Charcoal

You may have seen a post going around warning people to avoid foods colored with activated charcoal because it can interfere with certain medications. This is well-meaning advice, but the facts about what activated charcoal actually does have been muddled. FIRST: Activated charcoal only affects the gastrointestinal tract. That means:

If you take long-acting birth control via injection, or have a birth control implant, activated charcoal will not interfere with that medication. AC can only interfere with birth control that is taken orally, i.e., the pill.

If you take hormones via injection, or by applying it to your skin (as a gel, dermal patch, et cetera), activated charcoal will not interfere with that medication. 

If you take insulin via injection or a subcutaneous pump, activated charcoal will not interfere with that medication. 

Activated charcoal works exclusively within the gastrointestinal tract. It adsorbs (different from absorbs) chemicals that are dissolved into liquid form and which the AC makes direct, physical contact with. It cannot affect anything that doesn't go through the gastrointestinal tract! Medications (or drugs, or poisons) that you take as injections, inhalants, vaginal suppositories, and/or topical treatments cannot be affected by activated charcoal.

SECOND: Even if you take your medication orally (or through a tube that enters the stomach or intestines, or as a rectal suppository) it may not be chemically able to be adsorbed by AC. Activated charcoal does not significantly affect:

Metals (incl. lithium; iron, calcium, or zinc supplements)

Electrolytes (incl. magnesium, sodium, or potassium supplements)

Alcohol

Furthermore, AC loses effectiveness if taken more than one hour after a substance is ingested, and even with very high doses or delayed-release drugs, four hours is the limit for it to be considered to have any clinical effect at all. If you take medication (or drugs) more than four hours prior to ingesting AC, the vast majority of the chemical will have already been absorbed through the stomach/intestinal lining and into the bloodstream before the AC has a chance to reach it.

Also, this is considering activated charcoal at maximum pharmacological efficacy -- at the strength it is used in emergency rooms. Charcoal purchased at craft or food supply stores, or online, may not be nearly as potent as the medical-grade stuff hospitals use to treat poisoning. It may not be "activated" at all! Activated charcoal is made through a special process of heating charcoal in high-temperature, low-oxygen environments and then mixing it with other chemicals to eliminate any remaining contaminants. It's very likely that the "activated charcoal" on store shelves is just normal charcoal, aka "burnt plant material." 

There are other reasons not to use AC as a food additive (constipation, teeth staining, dehydration) but it will not magically render all your medications null and void, and it certainly won't "flush out" hormone replacement therapy -- even if it inhibits your body's absorption of oral HRT medications like estradiol, it absolutely will not affect any hormones that have already entered your bloodstream. Consider that people have never worried about AC interfering with natively-produced hormones. There is no mechanism by which activated charcoal, or any substance, can differentiate between which hormones your body made on its own and which ones were taken as HRT. Again: activated charcoal does not have any effect on hormone levels in the blood. It is entirely limited to the gastrointestinal tract.

Please try and take a moment to fact-check any post you see that makes any claim about medication interactions, contraindications, overdoses, or side effects. Even if the post seems to be offering well-meaning "better safe than sorry" advice, this is a serious, delicate subject, and misinformation about medicine can have disastrous consequences (I'm looking at you, horse dewormer)

The main source of this information is this article from StatPearls. Information about potential side effects of activated charcoal consumption comes from this article by INTEGRIS.

#i dont have any expectation that this will ever outpace the 81k note original post but it would be cool if ppl reblogged it. thanks #charcoal #activated charcoal #activated carbon

[coreychick]

Chapter 24: Eyes Wide Open

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I DO NOT post specific trigger warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you. Read at your own risk.

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Today feels different from the hundred days before it. An overwhelming feeling that something monumental is impending, gnaws at your senses. Indecision is a constant tick in your brain, one that looms over you like a dark cloud.

Pershing is noticeably absent from your daily schedule of pokes and prods. Today, the medical droids are administering the usual cocktails and vitamin injections under the watchful eye of several storm troopers.

“Where’s the doctor?” you ask the medi-droid.

“Dr. Pershing is currently unavailable. Do not worry. Dr. Pershing has left explicit instructions on your medical protocols, and we are more than qualified to see to your care.” it says, in its most reassuring droid tone.

“What could be more important than this? Did the doc find someone better to torture?”

“The results from donor testing have arrived. Doctor Pershing was sent to retrieve the most favorable candidate for your breeding trials.”

Breeding trials. Your stomach plummets like a broken lift, falling out from under your feet.

So, this is it? Times up.

Your heart begins to pound faster, while at the same time, your soul goes numb.

“Who’s the lucky winner?” you ask. Images of both men flash through your mind. The face of one, the intimidating mask of the other. Granted, neither would be welcome, but the masked man had left haunting chills over your skin for days after your introduction.

“Dr. Pershing was sent to retrieve —--”

“Hey medic, shut your trap and finish your job before I rip out your voice box and rearrange your circuits,” one of the troopers threatens.

The medi-droid does a double take, and thinking better of it, doesn’t finish its sentence.

Doesn't matter much anyhow. What it does mean, is that you have a choice to make, and you have to make it now. Dr. Pershing’s absence has provided you with a unique opportunity. The medi-droid had prepared several medical trays lined with every possible tool it might need. Only an arm’s length away, lay a syringe full of the one you recognized as the paralytic. Hell, even if you were wrong, you could empty the syringe and use it to deliver an air bubble through the vein. While neither a paralyzed heart, not an air embolism sounded like your idea of a good time, the pain couldn’t be any worse than the torture you had already endured on this ship. And the end result would mean that Gideon would fail. You would be dead, but he wouldn’t be able to continue this twisted experiment….until he finds someone else.

“How much longer?” One trooper asks the medi-droid. “One more round.” it replies, sticking the last plunger into your bicep. “Go report that we are almost done.” he directs his fellow two troopers. They shuffle out the door the way troopers tend to do, their plastics thumping in succession.

Only one trooper left, you can do this.

The lone trooper raises his blaster in your direction, on edge as he waits for his comrades to return. His head swivels back and forth between you and the door.

Not yet. Wait for it.

“Hurry up and finish,” he commands the medi-droid.

“Almost finished.” The droid says, removing the last plunger from your arm.

A tiny drop of blood wells to the surface of your skin.

“Can I get a bandage?” you ask the droid, calmly.

The droid turns away, to retrieve a sterile wipe and bandage from one of the trays. Your heart pounds out of your chest as you wait. The trooper looks away, at the empty doorway. Your hand snaps out, plucking the syringe from the tray. You quickly tuck it up your sleeve- no easy task when your hands are in binders. It’s out of sight, just as the trooper’s helmet turns once again, the clanking of armor signaling their return.

“They’re informed and waiting.” the trooper announces.

“Let’s go!” the impatient one says, yanking you by the other arm, off the table, before the medi-droid has time to place the small cotton swab on your skin.

It doesn’t escape your attention that you’re headed in the opposite direction, away from your cell. “Where’re you taking me?” you ask, but none answer. It’s just as well. Thoughts begin to race through your mind. This is it. You have a decision to make.

You silently check the position of the syringe, concealed beneath your sleeve. It’s there- if the situation becomes more than you can handle….it’s a last resort, but it’s there. Your thoughts begin to drift, shifting to the one sole comfort you’ve found on this cursed ship.

Days had passed since Gideon had delivered Mando’s message. At first, the decision of whether or not to play the communication a second time or not, warred in your mind. You didn’t want them to see how much it meant to you- how much he means to you. And, they were always watching.

You had tried to bluff your way through the obvious, tried to convince Gideon that his perceptions were way off, that the Mandalorian was just another enemy on a different day of the week. But let’s face it. He was two steps ahead with everything. And even if you had managed to plant the smallest seed of doubt in his mind, Mando’s message had confirmed everything he needed to know.

She means more to me, than you will ever know.

His voice played over and over in your mind, until eventually, it wasn’t enough. The need to hear him, to see him again, trumped your pride. Over these last days, you had played Mando’s message again…..and again….and again. Maybe a hundred times by now. And of course, it’s exactly what Gideon wanted, because he was right. It felt like a reason to keep fighting.

So lost in thoughts of Mando, you scarcely realized you were heading for a part of the ship you had never been to before. You make a concentrated effort to remain calm and collected on the outside, despite the thundering in your heart as you come to a stop in front of large doors. They woosh open and the two troopers in front of you split away to reveal a large conference room. It’s dark, illuminated only by several patterned light panels on the wall, and a few glowing control screens. There's a large oval shaped table in the center, the surface- a pristine black glass, void of even a single smudged fingerprint. Around the table, several sets of familiar eyes stare silently back at you. The energy of the room feels dark and heavy, like a tangible weight pushing down on your very being.

The trooper behind you jams the tip of his blaster between your shoulder blades, nudging you further into the room. A couple of officers, Moff Gideon, and Pershing, occupy the outlying seats, but it’s the cold, dead stare of a black mask, seated at the center of the table that has your blood running cold.

Everyone rises from the table- everyone but the man in the black mask- he leans back in his seat, kicking his boots up onto the table. The fact that he sits at the head of the table and not Gideon, is curious, but it also confirms what you’ve known all along. There is always someone more powerful, and the empire is an endless line of power-hungry thieves, lying in wait for their turn to take something from you.

Gideon approaches you, his officers falling in line, close behind.

“I hear you’ve been enjoying the message from our mutual friend, seems you like to play it over and over.” he says, a hint of taunting in his voice. You look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking into your eyes and seeing how his words sting. “I watched it myself a few times.” he admits casually.

He’s goading, trying to get a reaction from you. You give him nothing, though your chest rises and falls as you struggle to maintain even breaths. “Officer Ryn, remind me later, I must send a thank you message to the Mandalorian, for delivering her to me, a second time.”

Your anger continues to rise, but you remain quiet. The fight is still to come, and it will be of no use to waste your energy on a verbal sparring match with Gideon- not when the man in the black mask is staring you down.

“Your silent resolve tells me that you understand the inevitability of your situation, implicitly. Nevertheless, it bears repeating; Your cooperation is neither demanded, nor is it necessary. Either way, I will get what I want. It merely informs me on how to proceed with you in the future, and despite what Dr. Pershing thinks, I am not convinced your usefulness exists beyond the delivery of my future asset. So, you may want to consider that when you have a choice to make, and you are weighing violence over compliance. Because soon, the tables will turn, and it will be you, who is wanting something I have.”

At the implication, your eyes raise to meet his, and you can see he means every word he just said. With a satisfied smirk, he proceeds to exit the room, spouting off directives to his underlings. The room empties, leaving the masked man at the table. Pershing is the last to leave, hanging back until the doors close. He looks nervous and remorseful, and tears begin to well in your eyes at the sting of betrayal you feel towards him. He’s weak, a puppet too blinded by the power of creation to do the right thing. “Here, let me give you this.” he says, holding out his palm.

“What is it?”

“Twilight,” he says, revealing yet another syringe. “It’s a sedative. You’ll be in an altered state of consciousness, but you won’t feel anything. You’ll likely not even remember it happening.”

And you won’t be able to fight.

You look straight into his eyes. “You’re not like them- you’re worse. Because you know this is wrong, and yet you do it anyway.”

“Please, take it,” he pleads. You press your lips together and turn your chin away, refusing to spare his weakness another second of your time.

“Leave.” you say.

Pershing’s face looks anguished, his shoulders deflating as he slowly leaves the room. You hear the blast doors close behind you. Now it’s just you and him- the Sith who has the prestigious appointment of sperm donor.

You’re terrified but find the courage to take steps toward the table.

“Sit.” he commands, peeling his gloves from his fingers, one digit at a time and dropping them on the table. You do as he says, choosing the chair furthest away, at the opposite end. He studies you for a moment, before making a small gesturing wave with his hand. Your binders fall loose, clanking onto the table like a dead weight.

“No need for obstructions, don’t you agree?” His modulated voice is portentous, it looms like a dark shadow, echoing the chill in the room.

You swallow hard, taking in his casual appearance. The boots on the table, his fingers casually entwined over his gut as he leans back in the chair- all at opposition with the menacing fear his physical appearance commands, as well as the seriousness of the room. He is a predator, and you are his prey. A plaything of little significance and right now he is toying with you. A little entertainment before he feasts.

“So, you’re the victor I see. Tell me, does that mean you are a more powerful Sith, or just that you had faster swimmers?”

He chuckles out loud, “Ahhh, there it is. There’s the cutting tongue I was so hoping for. You had me worried for a moment. Thought maybe you had given up.”

“You must be powerful if Pershing chose you.”

“That little bladderweasel doesn’t have the slightest comprehension of what real power looks like. He fails to realize, our biggest strengths cannot be measured by gadgets with little blinking lights.”

“What kind of power?”

“Power like you and I have.”

“And yet, you’re here, just as I am. To do Gideon’s bidding.”

“Is that what you think? That I am here to do his bidding?”

“It certainly seems that way to me. You submit to his little tests, you’ll carry out his dirty work, and you would let him take your offspring, free to do with it what he will?”

He lowers his boots to the floor and leans forward, staring at you with the cold plastic. “Gideon is barely worth notice. I don’t care about any of those things. That’s not why I am here.”

You blink twice, trying to puzzle out his motives, but nothing holds water. Sensing your thoughts, he fills in the blanks.

“I’m here for you……to break you.”

With those words, you know the game has changed. There are greedy people, cruel people, power-hungry people in this galaxy, of course. But seeing someone who wants to hurt others simply because they can, because they are little more than pure evil, is something altogether different. You can’t reason with unreasonable people. Your heart stutters as you consider the small weight hidden in the folds of your sleeve.

No. You have to fight. Din would want you to fight.

As if he can read the direction of your thoughts, he continues.

“Just as you watched video of your Mandalorian over and over, I watched video of you." The thought that this man has been watching you in any sense, sickens your stomach. "Did you know that a powerful Jedi, would succumb to a dozen full strength lashes from a shock-whip? A powerful Sith- maybe double that? But you…. you withstood thirty-six lashes on a lethal setting. Thirty-six. Do you know, how I know? Because I counted. Each and every time the cord struck your flesh, my hand stroked my own. I’ve never been more turned on than I was watching you hold out. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Your stomach turns, nausea threatening to bubble over. He’s truly sick in the head.

“Are you saying that I am more powerful than you?”

Amused by the direction of your question, his tone becomes one of pleasure.

“No. All Sith are different, like all jedi are different. Some have gifts others will never carry. Some are stronger in some areas, weaker in others. There is no simple formula for weighing one against another. What you need is a Master.”

“But I am no Sith.”

“This is true. But that can change, with time and training. Certainly, you are no Jedi.”

“How do you know? What’s the difference?”

“Jedi will ask you to give up the things that are the most important to you.”

An image of your Father’s face flashes through your mind in a distorted memory- gone in a blink. He had given up his family, a sacrifice for something you have yet to understand.

“And what would the Sith ask of me?”

“We can give you the means to protect those things, at all costs.”

So, is that what it comes down to? Jedi will sacrifice the ones they love to save the galaxy, while Sith will slaughter the galaxy to save the ones they love? Yes, morality says there is a clear answer, but is it wrong to at least take a moment and consider the alternative? What would you do to save Din? Instinct says, anything it takes. This can’t be it; this can’t be the way.

“All I know is that if you are the best representation of what the Sith has to offer, I want no part of it.”

“I never said I was the best. I said I was here to break you. Now stand up and take off your clothes.”

Adrenaline hijacks your veins. Your brain rushes to formulate a plan, but all attempts come up empty. You’re weaponless, and your opponent has likely mastered his abilities, none of which you are privy to. You hesitate to obey, and clearly not one for patience, he takes matters into his own hands.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you are frozen by an invisible force that lifts you off the ground. You can do nothing more than breathe as every limb in your body is paralyzed in place, succumbing to the pressure of someone else’s will. The feeling of helplessness leads to overwhelming frustration as your body is imprisoned by this unseen force. You hover above the table until you are slowly pulled forward, your toes dragging along the smooth glass of the tabletop. When you hover just beyond his reach, the pressure mounts, forcing you down on your knees before him. You breathe between clenched teeth as you struggle to fight back, but your limbs are no longer under your control, helpless to do anything but obey his silent command. The feeling is sickening.

He reaches out to stroke your cheek. You bear it, unable to flinch away. “Tell me pet, does the Mandalorian take off his mask for you? Because I don’t think I can achieve full satisfaction without gazing upon you with my own eyes.”

You don’t respond, stunned and disheartened that he has any knowledge of what’s between you and Mando.

He studies you a moment longer, his head tilting to the side.

“You’ve never seen his face. Hmmm.” He says it factually. Maker, is he able to read minds too?

The thought of him seeing into your mind, your deepest most personal thoughts is more violating than anything he plans to do with your body.

“Tell you what….” he says, reaching over his shoulder. He unclips the double ended vibro-blade strapped to his back and tosses it to the floor with a loud clunk. Then, his thumbs slip to the underside of his mask, as he pulls off the helmet to reveal his face. He’s mid-forties, maybe older, with medium brownish hair cut short and a thick beard that matches. His eyes are a disarming gray and bisected by a wicked looking scar that starts in the center of his forehead and runs down the bridge of his nose before jogging under his left eye- He's seen many a battle. His brows are thick and pinched with an expression you don’t understand.

“...If you want to imagine I’m the Mandalorian, to make this easier on you, I won’t be offended. Now be a good little pet, and fight back, for me.”

All at once, you feel the imposing force give way as he drops his powers in favor of physical force instead. Your arms fly out landing several blows to his face before he easily pins both of your wrists into one of his hands. Your head springs forward, crashing your skull into his nose. You hear a nasty crunch sound that precedes a stream of blood that oozes out of his nose. The act is effective, but it also sends a shooting pain through your head as well. He throws out his shield, leaving you immobile once again. He uses his free hand to wipe the blood leaking from his nose and stares down at it, surprised. A smile spreads across his lips.

“That’s right pet, show me those claws of yours.”

This time, when you’re lifted up off the table, it feels as if it’s by your neck. A strangling sensation, like two hands wringing your neck, cuts off your air- despite the fact that he’s not even touching you. Your own hands fly to your neck, trying desperately to peel away the invisible force cutting off your air supply. Stars and black spots dot your vision until you fall like an anvil back to the tabletop. You choke and sputter, keeling to your side as you gasp in an attempt to reinflate your lungs. Before you can recover, you’re rolled to your stomach, and yanked back until your legs dangle off the table. The invisible force shifts, pinning your hands to the table- as if they are cemented in place.

There’s a tugging at the hem of your shirt, followed by the violent ripping sound of the fabric being split up the middle. He pulls the two flaps he has created off to the sides, revealing the surface of your back to him.

Your breathing is erratic, small clouds of breath fogging the black surface of the table as your cheek presses against the glass. He lovingly begins tracing the various scar lines, the thin streaks of raised skin, slightly off-color than the rest of your skin, that fork out like lightning over your back. You have yet to see them with your own eyes- a mirror not being one of the priorities in a prison cell- but you had traced the few that you could reach, once Pershing declared you ‘healed’.

“So beautiful.” he says, running the pad of his finger over the raised skin. He leans closer and you can feel the press of his erection against your backside. He’s literally getting off on this.

His voice lowers to a whisper as he hovers just over your ear.

“It may bring you some comfort to know that he suffered greatly for what he did to you.”

“Wh…what? Who?”

“The officer that did this. I may have enjoyed watching, but that man didn’t deserve to be alone in a room with one such as you. At the earliest opportunity, I made sure he understood that. It should please you to know that he wept like a baby, before pissing himself rotten and begging for release. In the end, on the same setting he gave you, he only lived through two lashes. Nevertheless, he received thirty-six.”

Pershing said Officer Dickhead had been punished, but you had no idea. Immediately, you alight on a strategy.

“You did that for me?”

“I did it for us both.”

“You’re right, that does bring me some comfort.” You let your body go lax, let the fight against his shield, wither away.

He runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. It takes every ounce of strength you have in you, not to visibly heave or show your revulsion.

“Kiss me.” you say, taking him by surprise.

“What?”

“Kiss me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe if I close my eyes and imagine…, maybe it won’t be so bad.”

He’s clearly thrown off, not expecting this turn in conversation. He tries to work out your plan, finding absolutely no threat, because he knows without a doubt, that he easily wields his power over you. Curious to see where this is going, and even more aroused by the possibility of you reciprocating, he lets up on his hold, allowing you to turn over. You keep your movements small and steady- apprehensive even, allowing him to perceive no threat. The smile on his face says he sees it for what it is- a ruse of some sort, though he is willing to play along, for nothing more than the sheer entertainment of it all.

He leans forward, arms braced on either side of your body, as he lowers his mouth to yours. You close your eyes and focus on the tiny ball of light that roots itself in the pit of your stomach. It starts to spin, gathering speed and mass as his lips press against your own. Tentatively, you begin to kiss back, opening wider for him when his tongue breaks the seal of your lips. You ignore the physical sensation and focus intensity, as it begins to grow, mirrored by the expansion of power flooding your veins. You increase your concentration, while letting a seductive moan slip out, as the power welling inside begins to coil like a spring. Your soft moan urges him deeper.

He’s wary, unsure what you’re playing at, but enjoying it, nonetheless. He keeps your hands pinned above your head with his invisible influence. His own hand moves to your neck, ready to squeeze the life out of you, if need be. But the possibility that you might be having a genuine reaction to him, is too much to resist.

“Open your eyes and kiss me like that.” It’s a test. He wants to be the one you’re thinking of, he wants to know that he is the one eliciting these responses from you- not some figment of your imagination. So, you do. You open your eyes and stare directly into those probing gray depths and kiss him like your life depends on it- because it does.

The second you feel the grip on your neck ease, you unleash a maelstrom of power that flashes out like a tidal wave. His body is ripped from atop yours and sent sailing back until it slams into the wall behind. His body crashes, impaling itself into the now broken light panels. Sparks flitter as the lights sputter off and on, illuminating the silhouette of his massive frame. You roll off the table and come to a hard stop as your body meets the floor. Nausea roils as your limbs struggle to find purchase on the slick floor. You didn’t pass out but failed to leave yourself enough energy to escape the room on two feet. You begin to crawl toward the door, praying to the maker that your blast was enough to knock him out cold. The door feels lightyears away, and you’re not sure where you’ll go even if you make it, but you have to try.

Wishful thinking is shattered, when two meaty hands grip you by the ankle, flipping you onto your back. Your blast drained you of all energy, and it simply wasn’t enough to put this mad dog down for more than a brief moment. There’s no strength left in your body to fight back when your boots and pants are pulled free of your body. This is it, and you wasted everything you had on one blow, doing little more than redecorating the room.

“That’s a good pet.” he says, eliminating the barrier of his own pants in the process. “That’s why I chose the war room for our first time, because I knew you’d give as good as you get- almost forgot who I was dealing with for a moment.”

Your body is too weak to fight, depleted of all working muscle. Even your brain struggles to stay awake as your head swims. “Now pet, it’s your turn to remember, and I’m going to leave you with a piece of me you’ll never be able to forget.” Too weak even to cry, your heart goes numb as he runs his fingers over you, testing your entrance.

“Any last negotiations before we begin? Or did you completely waste yourself on that little show back there?”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“Tsk tsk, such a waste. Surely you have something more for me?”

Mustering every ounce of lifeforce you have left, you tilt your head forward and spit in his face.

He’s visibly irritated at first, but smiles as he wipes his hand, sweeping up the spittle on his cheek.

“Ahh, just what we needed.” he says, smearing your own saliva over your entrance.

Taking himself in hand, he lines himself up, with one hand while gripping your throat with the other. Sirens begin to wail, lights flashing around the perimeter of the room- their warning akin to the death cry of a purrgil whale. He looks around, angered by the ill-timed disruption, deciding what course to take. The communicator on his forearm alights- a perturbed Gideon on the other end of the audio.

“Are you finished? We could use your assistance below. There’s a convoy attempting to board.”

He stares back at you with those vivid gray eyes, silently debating what course of action to take. Dropping his dick, he holds down the communicator to answer back.

“You’re a fucking Moff. Since when are a few pirates a threat to this ship? Handle it yourself or use the fucking dark troopers, that’s what they’re there for isn’t it?” He rips off the communicator, tossing it across the room as he stares down at you. With the distraction, you can feel the pressure of his force loosen on your arms.

“Time to make a baby then, innit?”

Taking himself back in hand with a few strokes, he resumes his grip on your neck, meant to hold you in place. Your hands seize on his plated forearms in an attempt to pry him loose- to no avail. He doesn’t budge an inch. A distinctive buzzing sound ignites, rising in pitch, followed by the static crackle of electricity just as a luminous red light protrudes out from the center of his chest, inches above your face. He stares down at it in confusion before looking back to you for the answer. His grip on your neck loosens, just as the blade retracts, with another whirring sound. All light fades from his eyes as the dead weight of his body falls onto your chest. You struggle to throw him off until it seemingly disappears as his lifeless corpse is tossed aside to reveal the other Sith- the one who insisted on bringing you food and clothes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” he says, slowly removing his hood to reveal his face.

He holds out his hand for you to take. You ignore it as your whole body wracks with a shiver, processing everything that just happened.

“It’s ok, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m going to get you out of here.”

With no other choice, you make the decision to trust him- letting him take your hand. He pulls you up into a sitting position, as you scramble to find your discarded clothes. He hands you your pants, before turning away to offer you privacy, kicking your boots toward you at the same time. With no strength to stand, you thread your feet into the legs, and lay back on the floor in an attempt to shimmy them up your body. The maneuvering is taxing. Hearing your struggle, he comes down on bended knee at your side.

“Let me help you with this?” he asks.

You nod your head yes, aware that he’s likely already seen everything there was to see anyway. He seems decent enough, and if he had any intentions on picking up where the other guy left off, getting your pants back on wouldn’t be priority number one.

Using your feet as leverage against the floor, you lift your bottom so he can tug your pants up for you. Before you can say a word, he’s already putting your feet into your boots and tying up the laces.

“Can you walk? We need to move quickly.” He removes his cape, throwing it around your shoulders.

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

You attempt to stand up, but your knees are too weak to hold you up and your legs give out. He catches you before you hit the ground, scooping you up into his arms.

“You’re going to have to trust me." 

“Why are you helping me? You’re a Sith, aren't you? Isn’t this treason to the Empire?

“I was once, a long time ago. Now- I’m not really sure what I am.”

Looping an arm around his neck, you hold on as he walks out of the blast doors.

“I don’t really know what I am either.” you admit.

"Look whipped.” he says. Easy enough. Whatever the fine line between awake and passed out was, that's where you currently resided. 

The sirens continue to blast, echoing down the gangway. Several troopers pass, assuming he’s delivering the injured prisoner back to her cell. He walks with intent, daring any of them to question what he’s doing.

“Are the sirens your doing?”

“No, actually. Just a fortuitous distraction. Gideon has many enemies and we’re taking advantage of it.” He proceeds to walk down the corridor.

“I don’t understand, if you’re no longer Sith, then what are you doing here?”

“I guess you could say, the light called me back some time ago, but I found myself in a rather advantageous position. It was a rare opportunity to have someone on this inside. For the past three years, I’ve been infiltrating the Dark Trooper program, readying to take it down. All roads have led to Gideon, and when I received an invitation to his ship, it seemed like it was finally going to happen. I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

Light and Dark. Sith and Jedi. It was all so confusing.

“So, what’s the plan exactly?”

“Gideon’s dealing with a breach. While he does that, we’ll simply head down to my ship. If we’re stopped along the way, I’ll say I’m ‘protecting the vessel’ from enemy threat.”

“So, just walk right out the back door, in plain sight? I admire your spirit. How long do we have before they’ll notice?”

Another squad of troopers passes by in a rush, a few turning their heads. When they’re no longer in earshot, he replies.

“Not long. Though a band of Mandalorian mercenaries are formidable, if Gideon deploys the Dark Troopers, they’ll have the entire ship locked down in a matter of minutes. We need to get to my ship before…”

“Wait! Mandalorians have boarded the ship?”

“Yes.”

“Stop! We have to stop. They’re here for me!”

“You’re Mandalorian?”

“No. I’m not. I’m… He’s my….we’re…” You struggle to find the right words. You pull out Mando’s pendant from under the collar of your shirt and show it to him.

“He’s come for me,” you say. His blue eyes stare back at you, and comprehension takes hold. He nods. “I’ll take you to him.”

“No! You can’t. You can’t let them see you hand me over to them. They’ll know you’ve deceived them- they’ll know you’ve turned sides.”

“Gideon will find out anyway. If I take you to my ship and we don’t return, he’ll know I helped you escape.” Something about him speaks to you, and you suddenly realize what it is- He reminds you of your brother, and your heart aches all the more for it.

“You can’t give up everything- three years of this, for me. He needs to be stopped.”

“What do you suggest? There is already video of me walking down these halls with you in my arms.”

“Is there surveillance in the war room? Of what happened?”

He thinks. “I don’t believe so. Gideon would want all conversations in that room kept strictly confidential- no recording devices permitted.”

“Then Gideon will think I did it, you can fill in the blanks later. I’ll take you out too! Make it look like I escaped on my own.”

“No offense, but you can’t even walk. How do you plan to make this look convincing?”

It’s true. Only moments ago, you couldn’t even stand on your own. But knowing that Mando is here- here for you. That he somehow found you, like he promised he always would. That he somehow managed the impossible- it lights a new fire in your belly. Your sole purpose is to get to Mando, no matter what it takes.

You take a deep breath. “You’re going to have to trust me.” you say, repeating his words back to him.

You wait four or five seconds, until he walks directly under a light, where surveillance will clearly capture every move. Your fist flies out and slams into the fleshy spot just below his shoulder. By all appearances, it’s a weak punch, too feeble to even cause him to flinch. His brows knit together when he sees your thumb press down, before yanking your hand away to reveal a now-empty syringe. His head whips back to you, eyes full of question and then alight with a brief second of- admiration? His knees drop to the floor with a loud thud, his body giving way to paralyzed muscle. A second later, you tumble out of his arms as he comes to land headfirst, flat on his chest.

The abrupt fall was harsh, temporarily jarring your head. All the better to make this convincing.

You crawl back to his frozen form, where eyes that are still full of life stare back at you. His eyes look down at his side and back to you. He repeats the eye movement again. You search his person, until you find the hilt of the saber secured to his belt and take it. Though sirens are blaring, you can’t risk mouthing a ‘Thank you’, so you stare back and hope the look in your eyes conveys everything you want to say. He blinks once, and you take that as a sign that he does. You make a mental note to pray to the maker that your paths will cross again one day, and you might be able to thank him for real. But for now, you say a silent ‘thank you’ followed by ‘I am so sorry for this’, before standing on your feet and delivering him a swift kick to the gut; Before stumbling your way down the corridor on your own.

When the stomping of feet signal storm troopers are coming, you duck into an alcove to take cover. Closing your eyes, you press the hilt of the unlit saber to your forehead and wonder how it got to this point. You're in so far over your head. You take a deep breath and remember what’s riding on this. Din is here. He’s so close, you can feel it. All you need to do is get to him. Nothing else matters- not anything that happened before, not anything that happens after. All that matters is him.

You round a corner and make your way through two more halls undetected. You have no idea where to find Din, you’re both essentially trying to find each other in a maze. Logic says he’ll look for you in the prisoner cell, and since you’ve memorized the path to and fro, it makes sense to head back in that direction.

You enter a large open corridor. A tight gangway stretches across the expanse, connecting one side to the other. There’s a sixty foot drop on either side, with an open view of space beneath and at the sides. It’s eerie as hell, because once you’re out on the platform, there’s nowhere to hide. You move forward cautiously, heart pounding. When you’re about halfway across, two troopers jump out from the sides of the entryway, blocking your path. You ignite the lightsaber, holding it outward from your body. It comes to life with an invigorating electric hum. It’s terrifying- you have zero training with this weapon and the chances of you hurting yourself with it are probably pretty good; but at the same time, it makes you feel powerful and kinda badass too.

As soon as the troopers see the saber, one fires off a round from his blaster, in your direction. Sensing the path of trajectory, you lean your head back, narrowly missing impact. The beam fires past, hitting the wall behind you and sending sparks arching away from the now broken light panel. Whoa.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you shout.

The two troopers look at each other in question before looking back at you.

“That shot totally could have killed me! I don’t think you’re supposed to do that. Wouldn't Moff Gideon be really ticked off if you murdered his war prize?”

They look at each other again.

“Hellllooo? Sacred Vessel here. V…I…P prisoner, mean anything to you?”

They stand a little more upright, loosening their aim. One casually slaps the other on his chest plate.

“Bro, she’s right. Did you hear what happened to that one guy? He got executed for damaging the goods and he was just following orders.”

You edge closer as they continue their conversation.

“Nah, man. That’s just a rumor. He probably just got transferred.”

“Nuh uh, TK-737 saw it with his own eyes. Said he nearly yacked in his helmet because it was gruesome. Had to do body disposal.”

“No way.”

“I swear man. She’s telling the truth.”

“Thanks man, you probably saved my life.”

“Better set blasters to ‘stun’.”

In unison, they move to change the setting on their blasters. Not waiting, you seize the opportunity and charge. Technique and training be damned- you have neither. You swing your arm in wide arcs, paying mind only to not injure yourself in the process. Loud grunts and groans precede bodies of plastoid falling to the ground.

But there’s no time to revel in your victory, because where there is one trooper, there is surely more, and true to form, replacements come out from the recesses. You continue your rampage, blocking and even deflecting blasts back into bodies. They file in from both sides now and just as you are starting to feel confident, your arms begin to tire. You have to hold the hilt with two hands now, which means there’s far less power behind each swing. You tell yourself it’s a lethal weapon, and all you have to do is touch them with it. Don’t worry about cutting all the way through, focus on their weakest spots, as a graze across the neck or an artery is surely enough.

Bodies continue to fall and it’s a whirlwind of spins and plunges. Your body takes over, guided by feeling. You’re like a feral animal, fueled by a burst of energy, but eventually, slowly, the power inside begins to fade and you worry that there’s no end in sight. The troopers swarm like ants from a disturbed ant hill.

You spin around in a full three-sixty, attempting to take out anyone within arms reach. The first wave topples like dominoes, sending some of the outer ranks tumbling off the side of the platform. Just as you’re about to start pushing through, they drop aim on their weapons and begin a slow, quiet retreat.

Your chest is heaving with the exertion, your mind in doubt as you watch them step back. It could only mean one thing, and suspicions are confirmed when you hear a slow clapping echo off the walls from behind you.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

“Very Impressive. Though it appears the exorbitant amount of energy you spent executing our donor, has left you depleted. Look at you. You hardly have the strength to hold that weapon.”

You look down and see your arm is beginning to tremble with fatigue. You retract the saber, allowing your arm to rest.

“And yet, here I am…still standing.”

“Indeed. Though I fear not for long. Tell me, did Jax at least carry out his task before you ran him through? Or are we going to have to reschedule for another day?”

Tired of the conversation, you utter a simple and straight forward, “Fuck. You.”

“No, I think I’ll get someone else to do that for me. In the meantime, I suggest you toss your weapon aside and come with me.”

“Why would I ever?”

“Because if you do not, I will take it by force anyway. But if you do, then perhaps I will find it in my heart to take the Mandalorian on board into custody, instead of simply disposing of him right now. So, what’ll be?”

You swallow hard. You’d do anything for Din…but Gideon is a liar, and you can’t trust a word he says. You re-ignite the light saber.

“Very well.” Gideon says, igniting the blade he carries on his own belt. He activates his comms and orders, “Activate the dark troopers.”

“Nooo!” you scream with rage, charging toward Gideon. You slash through the air, your weapon arching downward. He easily blocks the strike, stepping forward with a swing of his own. The effort to block it sends you stumbling backward. He continues to push forward, calmly delivering blow after blow as you struggle to maintain your footing. Force power or not, he has obviously spent many hours practicing with his weapon. His swings are slow- almost casual, but each hit is powerful. There’s a cool confidence written on his face, as he knows he’s got you beaten. You try again to outswing him and deliver one blow- just one is all you need. When your right arm grows to weary, you switch hands- and the bastard smiles.

You swing wide, and a shock reverberates up your arm. Time slows down as you witness the glow of the saber in your hand go whirling through the air. It falls over the side of the platform and disappears below. As you watch, and your gut is hit with the terrible knowledge of the loss, Gideon uses the hilt of his weapon to deliver a stunning blow to the temple.

Two troopers drag you down the hall. You think you hear Gideon ask, “Where is he?”

“Headed your way.” The staticky voice over the comm replies.

You’re dumped onto the floor of your cell, landing on your knees, facing the doorway.

“Stand guard outside the door.” Gideon commands the two troopers. They quickly exit, the door closing behind them as Gideon curiously remains at your side.

“Give me visual surveillance,” you hear him say.

A projection from the ceiling shines down, putting several digital screens in front of him. On each, flickering security video shows a live feed of what is happening elsewhere on the ship. On one, you notice a band of Mandalorians, with several others, cutting their way through the corridors. On the second, video of the dark troopers booting up. Their systems come online as they prepare to launch their deadly assault. On the last…. Mando.

Your eyes are fixated on the lethal killing machine wearing Mandalorian armor. He charges through the halls, a man on a mission with one singular motivation. To get to you. He easily dispatches every storm trooper he encounters, frequently without even having to look. Blasts are fired, sent ricocheting off his armor. He doesn’t stutter one step. He’s an unstoppable machine, truly magnificent to behold- and he’s coming for you.

Your soul momentarily alights with hope, until you look back at the screen with the dark troopers. They fall into formation and begin marching toward the exit of the antechamber. Your breath hitches as Mando beelines for the control panel, just as the doors begin to open. He slams in a key and smashes a button, causing the blast doors to close, but not before a single dark trooper is able to pry himself through.

Battle ensues, and Gideon and you both watch with rapt gaze, to see who the victor will be. The machine is formidable, quickly rallying from all of Mando’s offenses. The remaining dark troopers pound on the blast doors, the integrity ready to buckle under the pressure. If even one more gets through, you don’t think your Mandalorian will survive. You look away when the machine begins to hammer at Mando’s helmet- each subsequent impact driving his skull further into the wall, encasing him in the surrounding metal. The smile on Gideon’s face is one of smug victory- until Mando surprises the both of you by igniting fire from his vambrace. The machine steps back, initiating its fire suppression system. Mando takes advantage of the delay and spears the droid through the neck, leveraging its head off with a spray of electric sparks.

Not skipping a beat, he charges for the control panel again and triggers the tunnel evacuation. The troopers are sucked into the vacuum of space.

Your heart sings victorious. "He’s coming for you next, Gideon.” you say. 

“Except I hold all the cards, don’t I?” he says, yanking your head back with a death grip on the hair at your scalp. He ignites his saber, letting it hover deathly close to your neck. Mando rounds the corner, where you recognize the outside door of your cell. He stabs one guard clean through his chest with his long spear before jerking around to snap the others neck. The security feeds disappear, just as the doors open to reveal your Mandalorian.

He freezes in place at the sight of you on your knees, Gideon’s dark weapon threatening your life within a few inches. You want to cry at the sight of him but hold back all tears. Something is about to happen, and you don’t know what. You’re certain that Mando’s the more capable warrior, but Gideon’s got you, quite literally backed into a corner.

Mando steps into the room, blaster trained on Gideon.

“Drop the blaster, slowly.” Gideon orders.

Mando does it, and your heart breaks that Mando’s not willing to risk you in any way. He kicks his blaster away toward the corner.

“Give her to me.” he says.

“She’s just fine where she is.” Gideon waves the sword back and forth in front of your neck, taunting Mando.

“Mesmerizing, isn’t it?” Gideon launches into a monologue about the saber, and someone helping Mando- apparently, they had already taken control of the bridge. You listen, but stare back at Mando, hoping, pleading with the Maker that you’ll be walking out of here together. Gideon continues to ramble on, revealing that whoever wields the weapon has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne- a powerful bartering piece indeed. Mando stares back at you.

You finally chime in, “I know baby, he sure does like to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?” you smile.

“You keep it. I just want my girl.”

Gideon looks between you and the saber.

“Very well. I have everything I need from her. All I wanted was to study her. She’s been gifted with very rare properties that have the potential to bring order to the galaxy.”

You indicate with the slightest nod of your head, that Gideon is full of shit, but refrain from shouting the truth. Gideon’s beaten- he knows it, which is why he’s resorting to desperate lies.

Mando looks at you.

"I see what she means to you. Take her. But you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.”

Gideon steps back, circling around to let Mando pass. Grabbing you at the elbows, he helps you on your feet. The tears threaten to spill over- how you’ve dreamed for months of being back in Mando’s arms. But you’re not home free yet. His gloved hand comes to your temple, gently brushing over the injury.

“Can you walk?”

For Din, I will walk anywhere.

You nod, staring back into his visor, in disbelief that he is really standing here, and essentially, he just traded a whole world for you, without a second thought.

Gideon slowly backs out of the room, he and Mando cautious of each other's movements. You step out of the cell, backing away in the opposite direction. Both men stop and stare at one another, waiting for the other to turn his back. Mando looks down at you. He turns and places both hands on your shoulders, slowly backing you up two steps. With a swift push, he shoves you back into the cell. The doors close, just as you scream out for him

You hear the now familiar sound of Gideon’s dark saber igniting, followed by the clashing sounds of electricity and metal on the other side. You bang on the doors, kicking and screaming to be let out. Each thunk of metal is accompanied by Mando’s grunts and the sound of sparks and hammering metal. Blow after blow, kindles your fear. Can Gideon’s sword cut through beskar steel? The sounds of the battle ensuing on the other side of the doors is maddening.

Suddenly, the black glow of Gideon’s sword stabs through the steel plate of the door. You lean in a backward arc, as the sword blazes a path, passing inches above your face. If it can cut through a solid cell door?

You pound your fists, continuing to demand your release. If you were on the other side, surely you could do something to help? But your safety always comes first with Mando.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you listen, unable to see what's happening. Mando’s grunts grow louder, the clashing of steel on steel, deafening, until finally…silence.

You listen closely for any indication on who defeated who, but don’t hear anything. A moment later, and you once again hear the electric hum of Gideon’s saber. Your heart stops. Waiting. Waiting.

The doors open to reveal a victorious Mando, saber in hand. You throw yourself into his arms and revel in the feeling of him squeezing you back. “You found me,” you whisper beside his helmet. “I always will.” he says back, making you smile.

Your reunion is sweet, but short lived. “Tell me about it later,” he says, and you nod in agreement. There’s so much to say, so much to tell, but not now, and not in front of Gideon, who is standing nearby, hands in binders.

You walk down the hall, side by side. Mando squeezes your right hand, tightly held within his grasp. In his other hand, he holds the dark saber, at the ready should Gideon decide to step out of line. Gideon walks ahead, leading the way to the bridge where the other Mandalorians wait. A woman, athletic in build and sporting a small New Republic insignia pin on her leather jacket, meets you in the corridor. She falls in line with “nice work,” happy to escort you to the others waiting on the bridge. “Mando, we’ve got trouble, incoming.”

You see Gideon’s profile as he turns to look over his shoulder. The smug bastard is smiling. Not good. Mando pushes him forward with a kick to the back of the leg.

As you pass through the halls, you realize where you are. Pershing’s lab is nearby. As you pass the door, you come to a halt, pulling against Mando’s hand.

“Wait, there’s something I need to do,” you say, pulling away.

“We don’t have time for detours,” the woman says.

Mando holds up his hand, shushing her. “You got him?”

“Got him,” she repeats back, indicating she has a watchful eye on Gideon with the blaster in her hands. They follow you in the room as your gaze sweeps over the landscape, until it comes to a stop on the cryo-freezer.

“What is it?” Mando asks, stepping up next to you.

“Me. Pieces of me.” you say.

Gideon chuckles behind you. “Go on. Why don’t you tell him what it really is? Why don’t you tell him the truth? Why don’t you tell him that you could be carrying another man’s child, right at this very moment?” Mando’s head swings to Gideon, who is all too thrilled to deliver such a verbal blow. Mando’s head turns back to you, seeking answers. Where to even begin?

You swallow a hard lump in your throat, searching for the words to even begin to explain what’s been happening on this ship- about Gideon’s twisted experiment.

“That’s right. Why, it was only moments ago that she was flat on her back, a powerful force user, between her legs…”

Mando snaps, and faster than lightspeed he is on Gideon and throwing punches. It’s a rapid-fire succession of brutal strikes, directly to Gideon’s face. There is absolutely no time for recovery in between and Gideon can’t even get his arms up in front of his face to block.

“Mando!” you shout, not really sure why. It’s something you feel too- the need to get some retribution for everything that’s happened. For the hurt, the pain, the time lost…for Halo, for everything. Obviously Mando needs it too.

Gideon slumps onto the floor, but Mando doesn’t let up. It’s a brutal beating- enough to make you turn your head away.

“Mando, enough!” the other woman shouts angrily, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps pummeling Gideon’s face until it’s a horrific mass of bloody flesh and sinew.

Mando reaches over his shoulder, pulling the steel spear from his back. He momentarily pauses to catch his breath, chest heaving from exertion.

“Mando, don’t do it,” the woman persists. But her plea falls on deaf ears. Raising both arms into the air, Mando strikes down, spearing Gideon through the mouth. His jaw cracks open as the spear exits to the side, nailing the man’s head to the floor.

You stare at him in shock. You’d never seen Mando so completely unhinged. Ordinarily he was just in his killings, often offering his opponents the chance to lay down their weapons and leave. In other instances, he was cognizant to make death as quick and efficient as possible. This was none of those things. You can’t imagine what he must be feeling, what he must have gone through these past months, to make him react this way.

“You’re right, the man talked too much.” he says.

He walks toward you and you both take a moment to just hold each other.

“Do you know what you’ve just done?” the woman says.

Mando loosens his hold on you as you turn to face her.

“It’s less than he deserved.”

“I have no doubt, but that wasn’t your call to make! We had a deal. I get to take him in alive, that was the deal! You’re not the only one he’s hurt. There’s a long line of people waiting for justice to be served.”

“This was just.”

“This was selfish! Those people deserved to be present when justice was handed down.”

“So let them know he suffered.”

“Don’t you get it? This wasn’t our deal. We had an agreement. He was already in custody. He was weaponless, his hands are in binders for Maker’s sake! This wasn’t what the New Republic agreed upon.”

Mando looks on in silence. You know it probably irritates him that he’s reneged on an agreement. Loyalty is of the utmost importance to him, but he refuses to apologize.

“You just put yourself on the New Republic’s most wanted list.”

You dare to look in Gideon’s direction. There’s blood everywhere. The man’s face is unrecognizable.

“Wait,” you interject. “The infirmary is the next room over, there’s an IT-O and a bacta tank. Maybe if you hurry…”

She looks at Mando to see if he’ll stop her. When he doesn’t make a move, she walks over to Gideon, and pulls Mando's spear free of Gideon’s skull. She tosses it to Mando- he catches it but makes no move to assist her otherwise.

“You better hope this works.” she says, draging Gideon’s body out the door, by his full-length cape.

“It didn’t happen,” you start to say. “It almost did, but I got away before it could. I want you to know that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He says, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead. “A New Republic prison cell wasn’t going to stop him from coming for you. I know- because it wouldn’t stop me.”

“I don’t think he’ll be hurting anyone now.”

Mando’s comm link comes on. “Mando?”

“We’re on our way.” he answers back, hearing the urgency behind the voice.

“Make it quick, we’ve got incoming. The dark troopers are attempting to break through the shields.” Mando grabs your hand and begins to run.

“Wait!” You say, pulling him to a stop. You grab one of the grav charges from Mando’s belt and slap it on the shell of the cryo-freezer. When the door closes behind you, an explosive boom rocks the ship, and you head toward the bridge, knowing that no piece of you will be left behind.

All eyes are on you, when you follow Mando, in hand, onto the bridge floor. It’s a little unnerving to see other Mandalorians- sans helmets, staring back. You’re not sure what exactly to say to them, as “Thanks for helping Mando rescue me,” sounds a little awkward, albeit true. So, you elect to offer them a head nod with the dip of your chin, and hope it conveys the sentiment for the time being. They return the nod, and you can feel one or two’s gaze linger with curiosity for a few more seconds. No doubt, they are wondering what is so special about you that they have all risked their lives to come here but based on what Gideon had said back in your cell, it sounds like Mando may have been able to work out some sort of deal with them that was otherwise beneficial for them to come along. A key to the throne perhaps?

“Where’s Gideon?” the redhead who appears to be the leader asks?

“Infirmary.” Mando answers, leaving it at that.

Something passes over her face that you can’t quite pinpoint. Frustration perhaps?

Mando changes the subject. “Can’t we shut down the troopers from here?”

“Not unless you happen to know the override code. Don’t suppose Gideon can be convinced to give it up?”

“He can’t talk right now.” Mando says, staring at the security screen.

Because you pried his jaw off his head.

A secondary alarm begins beeping.

“There’s no time anyway, they’ve already breached the hull. We need to lock down this room.”

One by one, tiny figures start aligning on the schematics, each identifying a trooper in the platoon. There are dozens, and your heart begins to race when you think of what it took for Mando to take down one.

“They’re headed this way,” the redhead says.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting you out of here.” Mando says to you, and your heart flutters that his first concern is still your safety. One of the other Mandalorians punches a button to seal the blast doors, and you watch as the extra set of precautionary doors close. Anxiety reaches its peak when all the Mandalorians put their helmets back on and train their blasters at the door.

In perfect synchronization, the troopers begin pummeling the door with the thundering force of mechanized battering rams. More goosebumps raise on your skin with each slam, unnerving you to the core.

If they break through…

The entire structure of the room shakes, their efforts now visible on the outer surface of the doors. They will get through, and although there are four capable warriors in the room, you are weaponless, and even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t be enough. Your heart saddens for the strangers in the room, for what they gambled coming on this ride. But mostly, you tell yourself that if you are about to die, you are happy it is alongside the man you love.

Just as the hammering reaches a fever pitch, another intruder alarm begins to sound from the console.

“An x-wing,” one of the women says, just as a ship flies past. “One x-wing?” another says.

There’s no response when they ask the pilot to identify themselves, but a small awareness you can’t describe starts to tingle down in your gut. Your senses are flooded by a series of intuitive emotions. Peace. Hope. Familiarity.

Suddenly, the room goes silent as the troopers cease their battering. Everyone in the room shares stares, questioning what the hell is happening.

You take a step closer to the monitor. A familiar voice, one you’ve not heard since that day on the rock, softly speaks to you. Only it’s not in your ear. It’s not words in your mind. It’s like your brain is writing a closed caption transcript for your feelings. The voice is Luke’s, and he says, I’m here.

On the monitors, every trooper diverts its attention away from you, and toward the newcomer- a figure in a dark hooded robe. He ignites a lightsaber, much like the one you stole from Flint. Though its unique color isn’t visible on the black and white monitor, you recognize the electric hum as the same.

The redhead whispers “a Jedi,” under her breath, confirming what you already know to be true. Mando spins around, startled by her words. You continue to stare, transfixed by both what you are feeling, and by what you are seeing on the monitor. The Jedi cuts through each steel battle droid, like a blade through tissue paper. It takes no more than one or two swings of his saber to dispense of each, and some he doesn’t even make contact with. He simply lifts his hand and watches as they are launched away or crushed under an invisible force he controls.

Every set of eyes in the room, silently watches in awe, at both the power and grace with which he wields it. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

By the time he reaches the outer door, there’s a trail of battle droid parts and shrapnel littering his path like a trail of breadcrumbs. Your hand absently touches the monitor as you feel the voice in your mind again. It’s ok now. And the feeling that surrounds his message feels safe and comforting.

You and Mando stare at each other. It seems impossible that anyone would believe that you might have anything in common with this Jedi- but you also know deep in your gut, that it’s true.

Staring into the T of his visor, you’re not sure what to say anymore.

He hesitates a moment, and then says, “open the doors.”

Nobody moves. Weapons stay trained on the door, and you can’t blame them. Three minutes ago, you would have said a platoon of dark troopers was the scariest thing you had ever seen. Now a singular being that defeated every last one stands on the other side.

Mando repeats himself, “I said, open the doors.”

When nobody makes a move, he walks past, to push the button on the console himself.

“Are you crazy?” one of the others says.

Mando drops your hand to step in front of you- shielding you until the very end.

Always protecting.

You take a small step to the right, so you can just peek around Mando’s shoulder. When the doors open and the smoke clears, the Jedi appears. He retracts his saber, holstering it on his belt. It’s both a clear indication that he intends no harm, but also that he perceives no credible threat.

When he lifts back his hood, you’re taken aback by the ordinariness of him. Handsome yes, in a boyish charm sort of way, but otherwise, he appears so…normal? Never in your years would you have imagined the man in front of you wielded such power. He’s not menacing or overtly intimidating- battle aside. He’s just…ordinary. Like me?

His eyes quickly sweep over the room, until he lands his sights on you.

“Luke?” you ask, wondering again how it’s possible you know it was him you heard in the dark, all those days ago. Mando’s head turns slightly, and you know he’s wondering how you know his name.

He slowly smiles back at you, confirming it’s true.

“Are you a Jedi?” Mando asks.

“I am.” he confirms, and then extends his hand to me. “Shall we?”

You immediately turn to Mando, a thousand emotions clogging your throat. Thankful that everyone is safe. Excited that you might finally have answers to the questions you’ve been asking all your life. Love. Pure love for the man standing next to you. And terror- for whatever the next words out of his mouth might be. Your eyes begin to well, because you sense it before he even speaks.

Mando pulls you forward to face you, and like a million times before, you wish you could read the emotions on his face beneath the helmet. Sensing the hesitation from you both, Luke says, “She is strong with the force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect her, but she will not be safe until she masters her abilities.”

You know Luke’s words will cut Mando, straight to the quick, because keeping you safe has always been the priority, hasn’t it?

Mando nods, and you know the decision is made, for all of you. You have to let him go. He’ll never be ok if he thinks he didn’t do everything he could to keep you safe. You have to relieve him of that burden, save him from the guilt. Your eyes begin to burn as you struggle to hold back the tears.

“Go on,” he says, his voice slightly strained. “That’s who you belong with, he’s one of your kind.” The words rip you apart. Not because he’s asking you to go, but because for the first time, you’re convinced he actually wants you to stay, and this is killing him too. You press your forehead to his and close your eyes as the tears fall. It’s the only way to say goodbye.

“I’ll see you again…. I promise.”

The fact that he speaks those words aloud is a comfort. You know this man holds true to his word, but the knowledge that fate might intervene with other plans, and prevent you from ever reuniting, is a hard pill to swallow.

When you finally lean away, you muster the strength for a half-hearted smile, and gently stroke the side of his helmet. You take a step backward, away from the man you love.

“Wait,” he says, halting you. His hand reaches up, catching the underside of his helmet. He begins to lift it up.

“No! You can’t.” you say, your hands covering his, stopping him.

“I need to.” he says, his hands proceeding to lift the helmet off. You squeeze your eyes closed, forcing the spill of more tears. Your hands fall away as you feel the rise of his helmet, up and off.

When you hear him again, it’s his voice, Din’s voice. No modulation. “Look at me," he asks.

You shake your head no, refusing to believe that he just gave up everything for you. You are standing in a room full of people, his face visible to all but you. You know it’s already done, it’s too late now, but can’t bring yourself to open your eyes and confirm it.

You feel the press of his forehead- this time, skin to skin, as he whispers your name.

“........look at me.” he says again.

And you know you have to, because he’s just sacrificed everything, and it can’t be for naught. You must give him this. So, you open your eyes and blink through the tears to see the most beautiful pair of umber colored eyes staring back.

All other life in the room fades away. Nothing exists but you and him and this moment. You reach your hand up to run the pads of your fingers over his cheek. Your mind begins to catalog the shape and feel of every feature, desperately attempting to imprint the memory of his face in your mind. The sporadic stubble on his cheek, at odds with the perfect mustache over his lips. The defined slope of his nose. The crease above his brow. The complete disarray of his hair, and Maker help you- the slightest indentation- a dimple on his right cheek. And when you put it all together, it’s Din, and he’s perfect. And although he’s never said the words, I love you, out loud, he is saying them right now with the expression on his face. Reflecting back at you, is all the warmth and love you feel for him too, written in that gaze.

When he leans in, neither of you is able to close your eyes- fearful everything will erase if you do. What might otherwise have been an awkward, open eyes kiss, is in reality, the most meaningful kiss of your life. It’s devotion. It’s warmth. It’s gratitude. It’s love. It’s goodbye.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A/N: We are close to the end, but we've got one more chapter to go! Thank you to those who have stuck with me to this point. For those that are ready for this story to conclude, I think you'll be satisfied with the ending and yes, I think all remaining questions will be answered. For those that aren't ready for the story to end, I'm happy to say, I will be continuing with a part two and I already have the first 6 chapters mapped out, but more on that later....

Chapter character art was based on canon physical descriptions, though complete liberty was taken with personalities.

Sith Meditation played on loop while I wrote this chapter

As always, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Faithful Readers: @mandosmistress @mandomover @yeetusfeetus3000 @wildmoonflower @littlemisspascal @starwars-thirst @spideysimpossiblegirl @mominousrex @toobsessedsstuff @pickledbeskar @brunette-overalls @jeonmvvn

@leithatnight

Taglist Request

#pornwithplot #Smutwithstory #enemiestolovers #makingupabunchofshitaboutspace #the mandalorian #fanfic #mandalorian x reader insert #din djarin #in the dark

[momo-de-avis]

Be warned that this post is going to be extremely TMI, scroll along if you don't want it to ruin your parasocial relationship with me

They scheduled me an MRI back in September

The appointment is named like MRI followed by a bunch of medical terms that I, of course, don't understand.

The lady that scheduled it for me did not explain what it was.

My doctor did not explain to me what it was.

Nobody explained anything.

I've had an MRI before, two in fact, one done to my head and one with contrast when I was in the emergency ward of the hospital screaming in pain, so this second time I wasn't really paying attention to what the fuck an MRI entails except that you're put in a gigantic washing mashine thay sucks metal and makes a lot of noise (and the metal thing I know from Dr House)

So imagine my surprise when I arrive at the hospital and the receptionist asks me if took all the precautions required. I'm like. What now?

She goes. Oh, the medication you need to take beforehand.

I'm stuttering. what the fuck do you mean.

I scroll furiously through my email trying to find the appointment and hey. Guess what. It does say there that there's this one medication I have to take, which requires some physical interaction, and that I need to be on an empty stomach 4h prior. It doesn't say where I'm supposed to get this medication, nor does it say how to take it, cause I have no idea (in the smallest letters imaginable, at the bottom of everything, like scroll endlessly for it). I've never taken this shit

Mind you, the lady that made this appointment also made 5 other apps that day: an x ray, blood tests, an EKG, urine tests, and two other apps with an anesthesiologist and my gynecologist. Yes this was all for a surgery I'm going under in January. She also explained to me what to expect of the surgery, how to bathe myself 24h prior, what to expect of every single exam except the MRI.

So here's what she, or my doctor, failed to explain to me about this MRI, I am assuming because they assumed I'd done one and it's basically the same. Which stupidly, is what I thought.

She failed to explain to me that the medication I needed to take the morning of was for me NOT to, and now I'm going to translate into colloquial terms what the kind doctor explained to me, shit myself. And why would you shir yourself in a machine that sucks metal, spins and sounds like one of those horror ARGs on YouTube? Because she also failed to explain to me that, since this is an MRI to evaluate my endometriosis, they are going to fill your every single orifice up with a fucking gel.

And let me tell you something about this process.

It's not painful at all. But my god I felt like one of those victorians who went to those doctors who didn't wash their hands to cure themselves of a flu with an enema. It is like reverse giving birth, if you're giving birth to Flubber. The female doctor that did this, and I appreciate the tact of having a female doctor but at this point how could I give a shit, it can't get any worse than this, was one of those that only speaks in diminutives and kept calling me fofinha the entire time, which I get, but I'm a 34 year old woman being flooded with get through every cavity of my body terrified I'm gonna shit myself in the tightest MRI machine I've ever seen because the purpose of this shit is to "relax your sphincter and swell your intestines" which sounds like I just developed IBS from one doctor's visit, and it really makes things awkward.

And then they tell me the catheter they put on me is not only to inject whatever the fuck they need, but also I might need some contrast too.

The contrast was the least of my issues. I didn't even feel it

Here's what else the lady failed to explain to me. She failed to explain that, since you're now full of some gel, it is going to come out. And oh boy.

Imagine the hospital gives you the shittiest sanitary pad imaginable, and what happens in the next hour you're on public transport heading home is basically you're giving birth to Flubber again. The thing isn't even sliding down your legs, it's all retained in the shitty diaper the hospital provided you.

"It's only an MRI" and you walk out with clots of gel in your underwear, slopping down your orifices, and this in your arm

Next time I'm drilling that bitch with questions

[worldscollidinginone]

Chapter 2 - Who Is He, I Wonder?

Book master list

I was getting scared. I didn't know what to do. He could have done anything that could have caused lose someone's life. The knocking grew in frequency. I had to open the door. So I opened it.

Don was changed from the last time I saw him.

Longer black hair which reached up to his shoulders ripped body and his eyes were full of mischief and naughtiness as I realized that I was only in a towel because I just finished showering. So I quickly ran down towards the bathroom, so I could wear the clothes I was planning to wear, which were a simple but comfy T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

However, before I knew it, Don held me against his chest and started running his fingers on my neck, and then on the shoulders while coming in the apartment. He stopped till my hands and held my hand on his chest and kissed my knuckles and made me turn around so I was facing him. He left the gun on the shelves. Somehow, it felt as if Rahul was there, in front of me. Then, I dismissed that thought.

It can't happen. Rahul was dead because of Don.

Then I saw something in his eyes which made them completely red and was bothering him and he couldn't take it off for some reason. Or maybe did not want to. Or wanted me to remove it. I took out his glasses and then tried to remove what was a grain. I then looked at him to see if there were any grains or anything that was bothering him.

I told him: "I removed what was bothering your eyes now. Can you leave me now, please?"

I then grasped that while I was saying it, I was very calm. I was not getting impatient at all. I don't know why. And him? He just listened to me very intently.

When he started touching my arms again, I felt like hugging him really tight, as if I was missing his touch on my body. I realized I was shivering. Because the way he was touching was the same as Rahul's.

Don then left me and went towards the bathroom, without saying anything.

In that time, I managed to change my clothes. I saw a blood mark on my towel, where the stomach was.

I then heard Don moaning, so I went in the bathroom and saw Don trying to remove a bullet from his stomach and there was blood everywhere. He was struggling to stay straight, as he lost a lot of blood.

I said to him: "Look Don, I can help you with that. Just stay calm. I have been in those situations. Just lie on the bathtub."

"No, I don't need your help. I can manage. Like every time. Without you."

The way he said it made me wonder.

He started feeling weaker and weaker, till I held him in my arms and took him to the bed, where I removed the bullet. I had made an anaesthetic injection so that he doesn't feel any pain. I then washed the shirt that he wore, covered in blood and waited for the shirt to dry. I was getting nervous, so I got out of the balcony and took a cigarette. That makes me really relaxed. I then came back in when I saw that Don was not on the bed anymore.

"Don, where are you? You've got stitches on the stomach; you are not supposed to move. Just try and relax. I won't harm you."

I heard a voice which was far away as if echoing. "Promise?"

"Promise."

I suddenly felt something on my shoulders. He was leaning his chin on my shoulders and his hands were around my waist. He then started to kiss me behind my ear, then slowly on the neck and I was becoming more and more aroused by him and I wanted more.

I wanted to kiss him so badly.

He then suddenly turned me around so that our lips were just inches apart. He then leant and kissed me on the cheeks. He was going away when I took his hand and held it on my chest. My chest was pounding.

I asked him: "Who are you? Mujhe aisa lag raha hai ki tum.... woh ho joh main soch rahi hoon."

"Kaun?" His eyes were intense as if they were looking in my soul and his voice was raspy, which made him even more attractive.

"R...R...Rahul."

He then opened his shirt, and there was a tattoo. The tattoo that Rahul had on his chest.

I love you Riya. I love you more than anything else in this world. I would do anything to make you smile. I would give up my own life if that's needed.

And there it was, the man that I love more than my own life. In front of me. I started crying and ran towards him and hugged him really tight and started to kiss him, realizing that the man was in front of me was my Rahul. He kissed me back, with just as much passion and craving as I was. The man I loved all my life. The man that I was supposed to get married.

But.... why did he become Don? And why did he fake his own death? Why didn't he tell me about it? Didn't he trust me? There were so many questions going through my mind, that I felt dizzy. And then...black.

Go To Chapter 3

#writing prompts #otp prompts #writing #writeblr #don series #don #don 2 #shahrukh #shah #shah rukh khan #shahrukh khan #shahrukhkhan #priyanka chopra #boman irani #om puri #farhan akhtar #excel entertainment

[sunny-mercya]

Of Nightmarish Phobias

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Ever since the dreadful accident, sleep—something which wouldn't come easily anymore—had been deprived from the three of you, leaving you all sluggish to move through the day.

Stu would be the first one to wake up—even though he's more of a heavyweight sleeper, sleeping till late afternoon if no one would wake him up—and being a sprawler, his lanky long limps like a starfish hitting his two boyfriends every now and then, he could easily bring you into a koala hug like headlock.

Like mention before, Stu sleeps heavily—sunken so deep into the dreamland and in the comforts of bed, that he wouldn't even notice if the sky would shatter down onto earth.

Though now, besides Billy's rough way of waking him up—a slap to his thighs—the slightest hectic movement from you would bring him to a point of rise.

Turning onto his sides, towards you, Stu moves you into his arms. Holding you tight to

Where while Billy, who could sleep just as deep if wanted to—but didn't, liked to be on natural guard—would occasionally wake up on his own, checking up on you and taking a toilet break.

Billy was more the rational—doesn't mean he hadn't a soft side—person of comfort and Stu—who could be just as mean if needed—the one for emotional support. They're both their counterparts and at the same time they completed one another—like missing puzzles or Yin and Yang.

In all this you're the pull of glue which hold them both together. From the beginning of your relationship, you had giving them nothing but unconditional warm comfort of love, making sure they're happy and satisfied.

Though after the accident it all had changed and now it was their turn to shower you in unconditional love and support.

Simply because they adored you just as much as you do them and because you're their driving force—the sole motivation of reasons—why they decided to do what they do; delightful killing.

~~~

Stu groaned in pain, doubling over into a fetal position as your hand collided with his stomach in full force again. Sure, you had lost some strength in your muscles—on practically terrible days couldn't even stand on your own without having help or an aid—but you still were able to give a few good hits.

Whatever dream it was this time, it made your hand hitting down on repeat—like a cat would do when trying to catch a toy.

Another groan from Stu, had you hit his side this time. Should he try and wrap you into a blanket hug again or wake Billy up?

He couldn't tell how server your nightmare is this night. If it's just a common one—he really doesn't know the different types of nightmares and their names and neither does Billy, so they decided to give them their own ranks, for a more easily weighting out of options and methods to use against you—or one of the terrific ones.

The ranks of Nightmares goes like this; A common one means, letting you it trashing it out. Mid ones, wrapping you up into a blanket or tight hug. Terrible ones, waking you up. Terrific ones—where you're in a sense awake at the same time and giving yourself also a panic attack at the same time, without realising—would mean injecting you with a sedative.

More than often they had to use the Sedative during Common or terrible ones too.

Which they shouldn't, as the doctor said not to and only when absolutely necessary needed—the sedative was quite strong, making you sleep through a whole day and brings your mind into a state of fuzzy haze when awake again, that it turns you vulnerable and incoherent.

But when you're so immersed into your panic, they had no other options at hand, then to inject it into your blood.

»Fuck.« Billy cursed out loud when your hand landed onto his stomach, full force. Stu stifles a chuckle—serves you right, he thought, if I have to suffer so does you.

Billy sats up, blankets dropping down from him, turning his head to his boyfriends and squinting into the darkness a bit.

»Shut up Stu. Next time you wake me beforehand, when [Name] starts to trash around like this.« grumbled Billy, hissing shortly after when his thigh got slapped.

Christ, could you hit hard when unintentionally wanted to.

»Nah, make me«

»C'mon big guy, let's go to the couch to get at least some sleep.«

~~~

A few hours later, in the early mornings, your screaming woke Billy and Stu up. Like cold water being dumped on them, they tumbled from the couch and onto the floor.

Wide awake now, on full guard—you screaming was never a good thing—and ready to strike an attack to whatever intruder might have come, they untangled them from each other limps.

Bolting with quick steps back into the bedroom, switching the lights on and discovering you.

Sitting on the ground, against the nightstand. Head in hands, gripping your hair tightly—pulling at it—trembling uncontrollably in shivers.

»Baby, what's wrong?« asked Billy, voice soft and in a audible whisper. Slowly approaching you with Stu, crouching down and stretching his hand out into your view.

»He's here. He's here. He's here.« you chanted it like a mantra, rocking back and forth.

»Who's here, darling?«

»Dylan! He's here! He's back! He will hurt me again!« your head whipped up, looking at Billy with a wide fear filled face. Tears already flowing from you eyes as you pointed with a shaking finger at the wardrobe.

»Baby, baby, he isn't here, believe me.« said Stu, leaning against the wall. They know Dylan isn't here, have killed him after all to ensure your safety.

»Yes he is!« jumping up, pushing Billy and Stu aside and going to the wardrobe, you opened it wide—searching through the clothes.

You shirked in utterly disbelief. He was here, you're sure of it. You have saw him just mere minutes ago, when you woke up—saw his face looking down at you and the grin he had giving you.

It's a tragic and also a daily sight for them to see you so distressed in panic. How you destroyed yourself mentally further, with the slow rise of losing reality and growing into a paranoia.

»Nononononono« a hiccup left your lips, kneeling down, gripping your hair again and hitting your head against the floor. Mumbling incoherent words, messy nonsense things.

»Stu, get the Syringe« Billy pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply. That's the third time in a row now, that they had to use the sedative. Thought they had no other choice or you would've injured yourself in your panicking state of hysteria more.

At this point they probably overdosing you with the chemical drug of calm, but what other choice had they? Sending you into therapy and they, the therapist signed you off into a mental institution? No chance.

Billy goes to you, heaving you up into his arms and moving you towards the bed. Sitting you and himself down onto the mattress, prying your hands from your head.

~~~

When Stu came back in, syringe in hand, Billy had managed to calm you down significantly, looking just a tad exhausted.

Billys grip around your body tightens, knowing well what was about to come next.

Once you took notice of the syringe in Stu's hand and the apologetic look he wore, you winced visibly in Billy arms.

You hated every type of needles. The sharp point brought a sense of pain filled imaginations. How it stabs into your skin, piercing a hole into it and either sucking your blood or letting it flow out.

Needles are a tool of something sinister.

Billy had pinned you down onto the mattress, hovering over you and this was the only cruel thing they had do to you—reminding you of the night when Dylan had hovered over you, grinning down, licking his lips in lust when he stabbed the scissors into you—so Billy lets you trash as much as you wanted.

»Let me go! Let me go! Nonono no. LET ME GO!« you screamed, trying to headbutt Billy, trying to free yourself.

You don't want the needle be pierced into your skin again, has it enough tiny disgusting holes already.

Stu joined, taking a seat next to you. Taking your arm from Billys grip, he injected the syringe into your skin.

While the drugs take their time to flow into your system, Billy and Stu had both engulfed you into their arms. Caressing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, till you're completely numb of panic—drowsy and calm.

»Goodnight, love«

#male reader #x male reader #fanfiction #oneshot #malereader #scream x male reader #scream #scream 1996 #poly! billy and stu x male reader #billy x stu x male reader #billy loomis x male reader #stu macher x male reader #billy loomis #stu macher #poly! ghostface x male reader #poly! billy loomis & stu macher x male reader #fluff #requested by anon #request ask

[surveilenceysystem]

「 LOVE 」

Characters: Lee Dokyeom (Seventeen) x gn! Reader

Synopsis: They say love blinds people

Trope: Horror

Trigger Warnings: angst, Horror, body horror, mentions of rot/decay, cryptids

A/N: wtf did I just write?

They say love blinds people.

They say love blinds people from all the flaws their lover have. That love can do a lot to someone. It is frightening and exhilarating all at once. It is that feeling of sudden explosion of butterflies, the feeling of the burning flame in your heart but also that homely feeling. That sweet scent of cinnamon and the comfoting feeling of hot chocolate on a winter morning. Love can be fast, unpredictable, wild. It can be passionate, soft, light like a piece of cotton. Love doesn't make sense and yet somehow it is the most tangible and sensible feeling. But love can also be violent, bloodthirsty. Like a spider, injecting and melting it's victim from within so it can feast. So it can grow on the corpse of the love that once was.

Dokyeom understood all of it. Yours and his love was the more softer, safer kind. A kind where you'd be baking cookies in the late afternoons, covered in flour and laughing as the both of you try and make a heart shaped cookie without a cutter. And as the batch comes out, deformed hearts on the tray that ended up in a giant piece of cookie, you both look at eachother and burst out laughing once again. A kind where you'd rest your he'd down on his lap as he hums your favourite song while the stars above shine with the same intensity as the stars in his eyes did. To Him, this was love. Him bringing you sunflowers every time he went outside. You bringing him a glass of cold water when he came back. A gentle reminder of love that you both held for eachother.

He loved you. He truly did love you. So much so that he was willing to overlook the warning signs. He loved you, he had told himself. He had told himself that him questioning anything about you would be a question on his love, his devotion to you. So he ignored it.

He ignored how he felt being watched by you even when he could see you looking at something else. He ignored how he would catch your skin ripple, writhe like there was something crawling under it. He ignored how he could see the outline of another hand under your own, streching the skin to an unnatural length. It was as if something else was 'trying' to be you but failing. He could see the hand resting uncomfortably under the skin, unable to match yours. Your eyes that he loved so much, turning into odd directions, like you weren't in control of them but 'it' was. But ignoring was starting to get harder.

The stench of rot and death was unmistakable. He knew what– who the source was but he still loved you though. And love tends to cloud a person's judgement.

He told Seungcheol that he had slipped and fell in the shower when the former had asked about the bandaid on his nose. It wasn't a lie. He did fall in the shower. Things like these happen. Other than loosing his sense of smell, everything was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was fine. Everything thing was absolutely fine.

You loved cooking even though you weren't good at it. You could burn a pot of water and it wouldn't surprise him. You always tried to make something for him and it would always get burnt or be over or under salted. He'd eat it though. No matter how many times you've tried to throw away the burnt food only for Dokyeom to snatch the plate from you and shove whatever was on there into his mouth. Sure he'd get stomach pain but he'd never let your cooking go to waste. This time was no different. The only thing different was your uncoordinated eyes looking at him, your skin shifting as the lumps appeared and disappeared underneath it. 'It' no longer made an effort to hide because it knew, it knew. He looked at the plate in front of him. A raw chunk of meat, blood and fat still on it. He looked up at you once again, a disfigured smile on your lips, exposing the unnatural crack that had split your mouth frome side to side. The rows of yellowed and rotting teeth. He smiles back. He'd never waste the food you make for him. It was his luck that his sense of taste was gone like his sense of smell.

Love is a dangerous drug. It gets you addicted. Dependant. This, Dokyeom knew all too well. After all he himself was dependant on you. He couldn't live without you. His life was dull without your presence. He craved your attention and he thrived on it. People may say he was selfish for what he was doing. That he was sick. But he could care less. People would never know what goes behind the closed wooden doors of his and your bedroom. As you– yes, you lay in his arms, holding him the same way you used to. He could feel the bones shifting, the lumps moving around in his embrace and he closes his eyes, imagining you smiling at him. He calms down.

He knew what the new 'you' was. The shaman had warnd him that 'it'—you had and attachment to him. It had somehow gotten to the old you and replaced— tried to replace you. The shaman had told Dokyeom to get away from you—no, the skinwalker. That it stays with him so it can feed, so it can take over him once he's weak enough. But Dokyeom could care less. He loves you. He loves his Y/n so so much.

And after all,

They say love blinds people.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #imagines #fanfic #kpop au #lee seokmin #lee dokyeom #dk imagines #horror #seventeen angst #kpop angst #angst prompts

[4311osij]

(I wrote this poem: WARNING graffic content)

My last meal.

I think I've spent a great deal thinking of my last meal.

There's so many foods,

Melanzane,

An italian classic

It made me feel at home

Mac and cheese with the crust on the top.

Grabbing my fork I would thrive at the trust of its being.

Reminiscing of italy,

This little restaurant by the sea with thinly sliced octopus legs.

Not calamari,

Thin as paper. Lighter than a feather. Painted with olive oil.

And a little salt and pepper.

Putting up a show, eager to try. Eager to buy.

Or to finally try hot wings again on the superbowl.

Nachos and crab rolls.

And those tiny taco bell burritos.

With the cheese all about to leak.

Or some really large platters of meat.

Sushi, with my brother

Telling him about all the southerners.

All you could eat sushi. Only rule is, finish the plates and you wont get charged.

each round filled with 4 new sushi rolls.

Scallion pancakes

And steak lo mein with extra broccoli

Tempura rolls

and seasoned sticky white rice.

You eat so much it’s like you’re stomach is going to explode

It’s nauseating and a little humiliating but amazing.

Have you ever taken really salty fries, like the ones from five guys and drunk them into a double whipped vanilla milkshake.

How it tastes highly salty and way too sweet

Bobby's burger palace. Right outside the smith haven mall.

Buffalo burgers with potato chips crunched in the middle.

In and out animal style fries.

What will it taste like?

What does it feel like?

My friends are probably thinking…

But, you don't eat meat? Would it be a cheat?

You don't eat eggs and avoid breads.

And You never eat dairy?

They’d think this is scary.

But it's my last meal! And I don't care if I steal!

Because at the end of the day.

When i die, you will still hear the cry

When it's slaughterhouse time.

I wasn’t always this way.

I too ate lamb on Easter,

enjoyed dark gravy smothered on a turkey leg.

With stuffing and my aunt's infamous jelly.

I would eat the christmas pie

And frown at the sky as i felt my stomach rip in half from all the food.

I too, ate mcdonalds chicken nuggets.

Or those sonic hot dogs.

I too loved it all.

But I was far too young and extremely dumb. When I clicked on my first video.

I watched the cows fly, and be torn apart by the hands of a guy.

Did you know dairy cows after giving birth are immediately separated from their young?

Grieved over the realization of losing their child, they scream.

Yes, I heard it. Little 12 year old me, hear a mothers scream for her child.

And it doesn't stop.

They never stop.

It's only until their voice box has been destroyed and they are deemed “grounded”

Meaning unwilling to move.

That they are dragged by one foot,

Usually from a tractor or claw machine.

And dumped into slaughterhouse pens.

Pens were thousands of hands drag these cows to die, upside down.

Drowning in their blood, covered in mud.

And puss and sweat, and steroids.

Yes, your delicious milk and cheese.

It churns and yearns in a bucket after excretion. In a bucket filled to the brim with blood and puss.

There's so much of it due to mass production that not even the filters can clean it properly.

That's why dairy companies massively inject their products with dyes and chemicals to look more appealing to the eye.

Don't believe me? Watch it for yourself.

Cause I sure can forget it.

and of course this is America so it NEVER stops there.

No god forbid it stops there.

We need our double deep fried burgers and lard filled chicken tenders.

We need every single egg, as we ignore as the animals beg.

We even eat their young

Veal. What was the gain? What was the steal?

And yes little 12 year old me grew up, and started to throw up, every single meat i ever ingested.

For this was not fair! When did the food industry become such a scare?

When did cows stop being cows and become “meat”, “#9828674”

When did the babies become “veal tenders 2 for one sale!”

When did all of you close your eyes and pretend you actually care when in reality you still go to the same Mcdonalds every day, eat the same fried chicken every wednesday.

I'm going off track!

Im sorry

For I too will not care, when the day comes.

It will be my last meal.

I will eat the young, and I will slaughter the cows, I will steal all the eggs, and never make amends.

I will scarf down the lamb and ham, until I barf.

I will cut into my streak and reminisce as I, a 12 year old girl, watched a man deep dive his hand into a anus of a dairy cow.

To rape and impregnate her.

To continue the cycle

Don't believe it?

I assure you, I could not make this up even if I wanted to.

I would gaze at the stage, the conveyor belt would ring the chickens round and round.

As tiny blades sliced at their necks and watched as no one double checked.

If only they double checked.

These chickens most of the time do not die right away.

They live,

And have to stay alive again even as smaller blades cut into their veins and shaped their meat into dinosaur legs.

But it is my last meal!

And i could give a great deal.

Over how much I hate the food industry.

but even when I die.

You will always hear the cry

When it is slaughterhouse time.

I spent my entire life letting the mass production go to waste.

When I die, I will eat so much that it will no longer be for nothing.

Because who doesn't love a good burger and fries.

Who doesn't love needing to cry from having a lard induced heart attack.

This is america.

Bigger is better.

And we wait in these lines for our double deckers mounted sky high.

And we fantasize our fatty surprise.

Philly cheesesteaks.

Doubled loaded pizzas.

Lamb chops.

Steroid induced thanksgiving turkey.

Provolone,

And extra sweet Mascarpone,

Bacon egg and cheese.

And fudge filled ice cream.

Trust me when I say I will eat it ALL.

You know why?

For even when I die, no one will even try.

To stop the violence when it is slaughterhouse time.

[the-firebird69]

And you wouldn't have the metal apparatus he would not. They wouldn't let him he doesn't want it to get over your head pretty quick but here it is this is him. And probably at about 7 ft 6 which is pretty tall but that would be later next year towards the end of it and probably his height but not that big and there would be shy a few hundred pounds even if they were the same size because of density and it would be intense for a lot of people because he's like this living Legends and at the time they'll be getting their asses kicked by what they think are giants and they will bother him trying to seduce him trying to get him to do stuff and pay him for things all sorts of dumb things and real requests too in writing in the mail from universities for studies on his blood and other s to say no that's true and it's just say I think that I've been injected with hormones and people say okay and that's it they think about the mental hospital and they try and get them there and people get really f***** up

This is a sizable guy the arms of his at 7 ft 6 in will be about 28 in around that's the size of bja waste when he is a security guard and he's about 26 to 28 sometimes he's a little heftier and people are laughing saying you can't even keep your waist big enough and he has no problem with that and it's really true he's kind of a baby and his baby fat is there in the big muscles in the stomach and the laughter is not helping him but it is a matter of time before that changes

Hey what's unique is it probably won't be time for him to go up North but you will see this massive guy in about a year and a half and that's a long time the foot and a half take a little over a foot and a half you guys do that and just like an hour it's not really right and you're damaging yourself and it's not right for him to do it that fast but you can and you can recover you get very sick and he would feel ill for a day but really he can grow up pretty quick now cuz he's supposed to and he was right when he was growing he was very strong he's slow down he grow with you very strong he thought it was something he's eating or drinking and kept changing it and we went nuts but it helped him get a different varied diet and he needed that this is a lot of fun and a lot of good help it's starting to work very well and we needed it too. There's other aspects to this but where he will be will be important a lot of people think he'll be in California we think it's going to be here in Florida still and people will have to come back and they're trying to work their way here and it doesn't work out they do it a lot they're trying to kidnap him and try and get guns near constantly and it's a good heads up and it works and knives too nice and he doesn't want them near him and he does not like them today it's really pissing him off he says totally but he says if they tried to attack you get to break them and they'll never show up again so it's consolation and it says I'm consoled a little bit and so he talks to her and says you know if they start something they're going to lose and they'll never show up again it's something for us to hold on to it now besides and she said good and

We have more announcements in a moment

Thor Freya

Olympus

I get it we're going on something but good this is what it look like in a year and a half that's amazing he's going to be massive and people challenge him a lot I hear about it it's not really a lot he says once or twice a day but not real challenges sometimes people are living nuts so he tries to other challenges and shuts them up

Hera

[healthcarespeed]

It is important to consult a physician for an accurate diagnosis even though the majority of lipomas are not harmful. This will help make sure that the appearance of the appearance of a lipoma doesn't mean it's something grave, like the liposarcoma or cyst.

A lipoma looks like the shape of a lump that is soft and doughy which is a bit rubbery to sensation and easily moves with little pressure. The majority of the time, it grows slowly and causes no pain unless it presses on blood vessels or nerves.

There are a variety of reasons to be concern

Lipomas are tumors that grow slowly and originate from fat tissues. They are usually formed between skin and the underlying muscle layer, but they may also develop within soft tissues and muscles all over the body. They are soft and rubbery to the touch, and do not cause pain unless they are pressing against nerves or sensitive tissues. Browse through https://zdrowie.radiozet.pl/choroby/dermatologia/Tluszczak-przyczyny-powstawania-wyglad-usuwanie-tluszczakow site if you need to have details info about lipomas.

A majority of doctors can identify this problem with performing a physical exam. Doctors may prescribe tests such as ultrasound, x-rays, computed tomography (CT) scans, or the magnetic resonance image (MRI) that will provide a more detailed view of the fat tissue.

The reason for lipomas is not understood fully, however they seem to be most prevalent in those suffering from certain conditions or injuries. In particular, trauma to a soft tissue area and a history of inflammatory conditions like Madelung's syndrome may cause you to be more likely to develop these types of tumors. These conditions can also be seen even in people who do not have obvious risks, such as obesity.

Signs and symptoms

They tend to grow slowly and may form within tissues of muscles, or inside organs like stomachs and the intestines. The lumps are usually delicate and crumbly, but they can cause pain when they come into contact with nerves or blood vessel.

Most people with lipomas don't need treatment, but when they're bothersome or get bigger, they can be removed by doctors. them using local anesthesia in one of the procedures performed as an outpatient. An injection of local anesthetics is made over the lipoma. The doctor cuts out the lump and stitches it up.

The lump will be examined by your healthcare provider whom will inform you what it is and what caused it. If they are not certain if the lump is a tumor, you may need a CT scan or an MRI to get better pictures of the soft tissue in your body and determine what the growth is made of. You may also need an aspiration biopsy using a fine needle (a procedure to remove an amount of tissue using a small needle). Tests will identify if the swelling is due to a tumor, or an adipose.

Diagnosis

The majority of lipomas can be identify with a quick examination. Doctors will inspect the lump to determine whether it's painful or moves easily. A biopsy may be recommended to verify the diagnosis and ensure it's not cancerous. The procedure involves anesthesia of the area that is affected and then removing small pieces of tissue that are examined with the magnifying glass.

The growths of lipomas are usually benign, and don't require any treatment. However, it is important to get any bumps or lumps examined out by a doctor to confirm that there isn't a an adnexal tumor. You should seek medical help if your lipoma becomes suddenly uncomfortable, or when it changes in size or shape. Discuss your family's history, since the disease can run within families. If the condition recurs, it may be treated by surgical procedures or injectables. The most common treatment is liposuction.

Treatment

They aren't harmful Therefore, doctors prefer to leave them alone. If they are painful or have changed in appearance or size, doctors may want to look them up more often. Additionally, they might want to check for the rare disorder hereditary Multiple Lipomatosis or Gardner Syndrome (also known as Dercum's Disease or Familial Adenomatous Polyposis). This condition can result in painful lipomas as well as other problems.

Your provider will take an in-person sample from the tumor for analysis to make sure it isn't cancerous (aliposarcoma). In some rare instances doctors may recommend scans for imaging, including ultrasound, magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), or computed tomography (CT) scans.

Conclusion

A lipoma can be surgically removed by your physician through a tiny cut. It's likely that you'll be receiving local anesthesia to ensure that it doesn't hurt. It is possible to undergo an operation called liposuction that will get rid of fat cells by a tube. There is a good chance that a tumor will pop up once it is removed.

#Lipoma Disease

[fic-dumpster]

I feel like Kaku and Omi are the only guys who would know how to take care of yn, when she catches a cold. Maybe Ran too.

Bonten x Reader | 900+ Words

Warnings: Fluff, humor, kind of spicy... Hehe, implied stuff, ass hitting, not edited, injections, kind of obsessive behavior. have your ages in your blogs visible

Tbh, I kind of agree, but there are things that some can do that others can’t. It's like they complete each other and your needs. Some ppl complain about their s/o and how they don't do this or that. But you don't. You actually can’t since Bonten covers all aspects.

Kokonoi would call a doctor as fast as possible, he does not play with your health. (Canonically speaking We know why👀). Koko Wouldn't be satisfied with just a check-up. He asks for blood tests, analysis, x-rays if he sees pain somewhere, ultrasounds, and the list goes on. Sometimes you even hide the fact that you feel kind of off... But that never ends well for you.

Kakucho is there for you. He’s a constant presence while you're in bed. He takes the role of babysitter/mom/nurse. You aren’t even allowed to walk. Want to go pee? Except him to lift you in his arms, and you are not allowed to close the door. Maybe he turns around, but you have to get used to having him there.

Now, he's the reason you are in bed. Takeomi would not let you out until he knows you are feeling better. Not physically there, but would call and facetime or ask for pics. (or ask Kakucho for pics). He can drop by and check how you’re doing but not for too long. After all, Bonten has a lot of extra work without their number 3.

Mikey is actually there, but when he comes, you are mostly asleep or taking a bath, which he joins. That's the only time Kakucho gets some rest. He knows with Mikey around; you are going to be fine. After the bath, he likes to help you dry off, dress and he even brushes your hair. He treats you almost like a doll.

Sanzu isn't allowed to be close to you when you're sick. He gets... worried and starts to act up. He loves you; he indeed does. But his actions take a different route. Once, you caught a cold because a classmate of yours was sick. The next day the whole of Japan saw through the news the slaughtered body of the young man. Oh! But as soon as you’re good? Sanzu will be attached to your hip. You don't leave the house for the next few days after your recovery? It is because of Sanzu. He missed you a lot.

Sometimes Mikey forgets to tell Mochi that you are sick. But when he does, Mochi is the one in charge of your medicine and buying the stuff you need. Be it food or clothes, even foreign things. Specifically foreign things.

Ran and Rindou are like a package deal. They give Kakucho the nanny a headache. They would just pop up unannounced and spend time with you. Watch movies, series, anime, whatever you want. Once, as a joke, you asked Rindou and Kakucho to fight like some guys in a film and... They did that. Ran as a referee, and you the public. Kakucho won, but you felt terrible and went to console the loser, Rindou, who was in between your arms and threw a wicked smile towards Kakucho. That's the Haitani’s medicine; it works wonders because they make you forget you're sick.

Bonus

“Are you sure she needs this?” asked Kakucho, worried, sitting in the corner of your bed

“Yes, this will have her up in no time,” answered Kokonoi. He was standing next to the door.

“I don’t want to!!” You trashed on Takeomi’s lap. Your stomach was over his lap as your butt faced the old nurse with a syringe in hand. “Please!!” you cried out.

“You know, I’ve learned that when you hit the skin for a while, it doesn't hurt anymore,” the nurse suggested seeing your distressed figure.

At that, Kakucho and Takeomi shared a look. A silent talk, you do it? Or do I do it?

And then you felt a slap on your left cheek. A whine left your lips. “Takeomi! Was that you?” and then another slap was delivered.

“Do you want it to hurt or not?” Asked Kokonoi. You shook your head, and once again, a hand hit your ass cheek. A couple of hits later and the nurse with expertise injected the liquid. You didn't even feel a thing.

Now the nurse gone, you looked at Takeomi with evil eyes. “You enjoyed it, didn't you?” a chuckle escaped the older man.

“Yeah, your soft butt feels nice against my palm,” an indignant noise left your throat.

“I did too,” said Kokonoi as Kakucho nodded in agreement. “So did the group chat,”

“The what?!?” You rolled in bed, looking for your phone. A hundred messages... From the couple of messages that you read, Rindou, Ran, and Sanzu complained that they weren't called in for this... Special occasion? “What special occasion?!? My ass!” you huffed, and you threw the phone away.

“Yes, your ass is a special occasion,” spoke Takeomi, not expecting a flying pillow to hit his face.

#omi.dih #tokyorev #bonten x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #akashi takeomi #kokonoi hajime #kakucho hitto #omi.answers #anon #tokyo revengers fluff #smutish #humor #sano mikey manjiro x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani #kanji mochizuki #headcanons #hc #omificstags #omi.thirst

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Hello, amazing, incredible writer! I truly think you have wonderful talent, so I would love to request your take on a fem!reader x Vander. One where—instead of Vander shoving Vi into the closet when she tries to turn herself in—Reader trips Vander, locking him and Vi in the closet to turn herself in in exchange? Silco decides that Reader would effectively hurt Vander and the kids, so still takes her, and when the family finds her, she has been experimented on and injected with shimmer? Maybe Vander talks her back to herself, or she had an adverse reaction to it and they left her: your call, I trust your skill. All I beg is that is 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 have a happy ending and no one in the family gets killed! Thank you so much for your time, I hope you have a wonderful week!

Wheeew. Finally finished. Took me long enough. Hell, did this get out of hand. This is approximately 4,5k words. I'm sorry it turns so crappy towards the end. It was very much fun to write this and imagining certain scenes going differently. I rewatched some parts of ep. 3 for this. I haven't even corrected spelling mistakes. Forgive me. Warnings: angst, abduction, forced drug use, torture, character death

Realization hit both of you with such force, that you gasped audibly and Vander’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. Vi!

Without realizing it your hands began to shake. That foolish, foolish well-meaning girl. Vander stepped over to you immediately and encompassed both of your hands in his.

"Now, don't ya worry sweet'art. We'll go get 'er." His voice was deliberately soft, soothing you.

Your eyes searched his face and a short humorless laugh escaped you.

"I know Van." Carefully you freed one hand from his grasp and reached for his cheek, cupping it and stroking his skin with your thumb. "But I am here for you too. You are allowed to worry and it doesn't make you less of a leader or father."

For a long second he just looked at you; then he turned his face more into your palm and closed his eyes.

"Thank you sweet'art."

When you locked eyes again you had come to a silent agreement. Vander stepped back, all business and father now.

"I'll go get Benzo, you lock up and meet us outside."

A sharp nod from you and he was already on his way out. You didn't linger on his retreating form instead cleaning the last glasses and putting them away. You ignored the way you had to be more careful due to your sweaty palms. Once you were finished you practically threw your apron into the backroom, hurried outside and locked the door.

You allowed yourself a short moment to lean your head against the door and breathe in deeply. You exhaled slowly, feeling your heartbeat in your head, fingers, stomach. Adrenaline rushed through you and you tried to remain as calm as possible.

With a decisive push you turned around and hurried to meet Benzo and Vander. You weren’t running, that would be admitting just how worried you were, but you were walking faster than you ever had, feeling the muscles in your shins cramp after just a few steps. You grit your teeth against the sharp pain and continued on.

Vander and Benzo were already waiting for you, silently discussing something but quieting down as soon as you joined them.

The walk to the shop was silent, tense, each one of you lost in the horrible scenarios playing out in your heads. If you didn't get there on time… Oh god, Vi was still a teenager she would spend her best days locked away or… she wouldn't spend them anywhere at all. You forbid yourself to linger on your thoughts. Sweat had begun glistening on your forehead. Why couldn’t you be like Vander? Strong and composed? Why did you have to be so nervous all the time?

When you arrived the door was still closed and you nearly sobbed in relief. You basically broke down the door, rushing inside.

Vi had stood from her place and you practically tackled her in a hug, checking her for injuries crading her cheeks. Once you were sure she was okay, you let go, stepping back to let Vander get to her. You blood was still rushing in your ears and as you watched them you finally calmed down. Vander got this. He got her. He always did.

Benzo looked over to the three of you and you knew you had to hurry. As you listened to him, telling her that he was proud you smiled a tiny little smile. He was the best man you had ever met and… Wait… why did he tell her to take care of the family?! As you realized he walked Vi backwards into a room your blood froze.

Without having to think further you realized what his plan was. This…. This foolish, foolish selfless father. He was just as bad as his daughter.

Your thoughts had started spiraling. He couldn't give himself to the enforcers. The lanes, everything…. He was too important down here, chaos would break out. And the kids…. The kids would be lost without him. They needed him, needed his guidance. No, you couldn't let him do this.

And just like that you knew what you had to do, your anxiety hitting you once again with full force. Even if you were sweating and feelt like vomiting. You could do this for Vander and the kids and the lanes.

As silently as possible you rushed behind him. If he had been less focused on Vi you would have never been able to pull it off. He was a mountain of a man. But alas, he had all his attention on Vi and when he went to push her into the room and you saw him taking a step down the stairs you acted before your brain caught up.

You put all your weight and strength into pushing him in too. It was your luck, that he was mid step, lost his footing and had to rush down two more of the steps in order not to fall.

You would have never thought you would be quick enough but the panic and adrenaline did their part and you slammed the door shut, locking it just a split second before Vander jumped up the stone steps and started banging on the door.

"Sweet'art? What are you doing?" His voice sounded calm and you knew it was the shock.

You turned around, steeling yourself for what was to come. You couldn't answer him. If you started a discussion with him, you would loose your resolve. You were scared shitless, but this had to be done. You squared your shoulders and met Benzos stunned gaze. Your expression was hard.

"You know it would be a disaster if they got him. The kids need him, the lanes need him. This is the only sensible option and you know it."

He lowered his gaze and you lifted your chin just as the door opened. You had seen the enforcer a few times when she had come to discuss things with Vander but you didn't know her.

She looked at you and Benzo. Her heavy accent was the first thing you noticed as she spoke to no one in particular. "Well, this is unexpected but quite perfect. A young woman, who could have been part of the involved group. We can make them believe they just got your hair-colour and other details wrong. They will believe us, they just want someone to blame."

You were surprised at the way she ignored the banging from the locked door. Vander’s voice sounded muffled through the wood.

"No! No! It isn't meant to be 'er! Take me! I'm the one you have to take."

She raised her eyebrow at you and you saw her calculating eyes, understanding dawning in them. You looked at each other and the atmosphere shifted, tenseness making way for mutual respect. You nodded at her.

"Handcuff her.", she ordered and a young man stepped up to you.

You didn't offer any resistance. Benzo had been silent the entire time. Pain clearly written in his eyes but he couldn't do anything. Didn't know what to do. And, as ashamed as he was to admit, he wasn't willing to take your place.

You smiled over your shoulder at him and he followed you and the two enforcers out of the shop. The desperate pleas of Vander followed you but fell on deaf ears.

Vi was crying. She had never seen Vander like this. He was furiously hammering against the door, his hair disheveled. But not even he was strong enough to just break it down. She heard him call to you. Pleading, begging. First you and then the enforcer to let him be the one. But no one answered. She wrapped her arms around herself. No. It never should have been like this. She was supposed to be taken. Not Vander and not you!

When she and Vander heard the steps leave the building they hurried to the small window. The green tinted glass didn’t offen them a clear view and Vander hit the stone wall in frustration. His knuckles had long since started bleeding.

If only he had been more careful if only he hadn’t put his entire attention on Vi. Why didn’t think of the possibility of you realizing what he had planned and stopping him? He should have known that you would rather die than let him be locked up. He should have left you at The Last Drop. The thought of you at Stillwater pressed down on his chest from all angles, made him feel like he was drowning.

Vi didn't know what to do, what to say. What could she say to calm him down? Her father was the most collected person she had ever known and here he was. Scattered into pieces. Carefully she put her hands above his and his head jerked to the side to face her. His eyes were wide, tears brimming in them and as he realized who stood before him he quickly composed himself again.

"Vander, why did she… What will we do. Vander, what will they do to her?"

His strong arms encircled her and he went to answer her when they heard a blood curling scream from outside. They flinched apart and scrambled to look out the window again. There were splatters of blood on the window and Vander strained to see what was going on. He could hear you sob and aggressively he started to scratch at the stone trying to get up to the small window as if it would somehow save you.

"Sweet'art?!"

"No. God, please. Benzo! No… please, don't... Who are you?" Your soft soothing voice sounded shrill, wrong when you cried out.

The sound of a body hitting the ground shook Vander down to his core. His muscles strained against his shirt as he tried to break down the building containing him by pure rage alone. The he froze up.

“I, my dear, am your demise.”

Vander’s eyes widened upon hearing that voice. No. That couldn’t be. How? He slumped to the ground, his knees hitting the cold stone painfully.

"What, what is it Vander?", he could hear the shaking voice of Vi but he didn't react. They had you…. Silco, his brother, had you.

He looked up at Vi, at her scared face and stood up abruptly, taking her face into his hands.

"We'll get 'er back. I swear to you."

As Vi saw his expression, she nodded, her eyes hard. Yes, they would an if Vander’s reaction to you being taken was anything to go by, it wouldn't be pretty for your captors.

~

You woke up and immediately you felt your stomach turn. You couldn't move. Your arms and legs were strapped to a cold metal chair. There was no chance you would be going anywhere. The chill of the chair seeped through your clothes, clung to your bones and made you shiver.

Your eyes were still bleary; your head buzzing from the hit it had taken. It felt heavy and when you looked around the room you felt nauseous. It was cold, uncomfortable and bare aside from the chair you were strapped in. Dread filled your stomach upon remembering the sight of that… creature killing Benzo. Why had they taken you? What did they want from you?

~

“Now listen up!”, Vander’s voice made the four kids quiet down immediately. “Powder, Vi is right. You won’t be coming with us. But neither will you three.” His eyes on the kids were sharp not allowing any discussion and the three stared at him in shock.

“Now, I know you really wanna get your mom back. But I can’t have you there. You have no idea, who’s got ‘er. And I need to be able to concentrate. Not worry about you lot. You heard me?”

The murmured unhappily. “I am serious. If you come there you will put your mother’s life at risk.”

He turned around so he didn’t have to look at their worried faces. “I will be back.”

~

The heavy door was being slid open and you swung your head, a little uncoordinated, so see who had come in. It was the man from before and you could feel yourself tremble. Benzo… the enforcer. They were both dead, just because this man had ordered it. But you weren’t shaking just from fear. You were angry as well, a pure unfiltered hatred for this man bubbling deep in your stomach.

His mismatched eyes appraised your form and he began to stalk around you languidly.

"At first I was very disappointed to find you and not Vander." His voice was low, dangerously controlled.

"But then I heard him shout. And would you believe it? You are quite the catch."

He stepped into your field of vision again, bringing his face towards yours. Suddenly his hand shot forward and gripped your cheeks harshly.

"I always wanted him dead."

His hand janked your head from one side to the other and you felt like vomiting. Your head swam and when he forced you to face him again it took you a few seconds until your vision cleared again. His eyes were piercing.

"But you… Sweetheart.", he mocked Vander’s nickname for you and sneered at you. "You gave me an even better idea."

You wrenched your head back, out of his grasp. “Why?”

He hummed looking down at you. “You see. Your dear Vander tried to kill me. And I want to see him in just as much pain as I was in.”

“You’re Silco…”, you breathed in disbelief, your eyes widening. This was Vander’s lost brother. The burden that made him lie awake at night. The grief that tore his heart. The guilt that ate away at his sanity.

Curiously he cocked his head to one side. “I’m surprised my dear brother had time to talk about me. After all it seemed like he wanted to… drown out all his memories of me.”

You shook your head at him and his blue eyes narrowed at you.

“He always regretted it.”, you said as gently as possible but rage filled his expression.

“Oh, he regretted it? Well. Regret will get him nowhere.”, his voice sounded like the voice of someone who had killed and would kill again.

He gestured to the man that had come in with him and he approached you while Silco went to leave the room.

When you spotted the syringe in the hand of his underling you started struggling. Whatever the heck the purple stuff in the syringe was, you didn't want it anywhere near you. Sweat was beading at your hairline, your heart sinking into your feet.

"Whatever you will do to me he will forgive you! He will always love you!”, you screamed after Silco without even knowing where you had taken the courage from. His answer war the echoing bang of the door shutting.

Creepy syringe dude was beside you in a flash and you pressed your head into the headrest, your eyes wide. Your breath was fast and panicked. You bucked in the chair and the man didn't even hesitate a second before he jammed the needle into your arm, pressing the purple liquid into your vein.

"How very delightful, to have a female test subject."

Everything went white in pain. And you felt your muscles ripping.

You regained your conscience from someone slapping you harshly. “Wakey wakey, time for your second dose.”

How long had it been? It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, but you felt like you had been in pain for days.

Purple dripped down over your vision and you felt a bone snap, crying out in pain.

~

When Vander spotted the open window he knew that it was a trap but frankly he didn’t care. He would never be able to get you without Silco noticing so why even bother.

He climbed through the window and immediately spotted the conveniently half open door behind which he could just make out the shadow of someone on a chair.

Yeah. Definitely a trap. But honestly he just needed to see you. See that you were still alive and breathing. He would get you out no matter what and soon help would arrive anyways.

He scurried towards the door and yanked it all the way open. The sight made him freeze. You were strapped to a chair, breathing heavily and something about you was wrong, though he couldn’t quite place his finger as to what it was. There was dried blood on your forehead and cheek and you face was bruised heavily.

He looked over his shoulder and, upon seeing that Silco was yet to come to him, ran to your side, kneeling down on the floor.

His big hands cradled your face, lifting your head and taking in the damage. Anger started working its way into his fists and Silco was quite lucky to still be on his way.

“Sweet’art?” His voice was hushed, trying to reach you.

Your eyes fluttered open and Vanders breath hitched as he saw your black sclera. Your eyes flitted from right to left frantically. Your pupil seemed to be lilac and it unsettled Vander deeply. Up close he noticed, that your veins seemed to shimmer through your skin, in the same deep shade of purple.

You struggled against the restrains, the skin underneath the shackles raw, purple liquid oozing out.

“Shhh. Shhh Sweet’art it’s me. I’ll get ya out, don’t ya worry. Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Your eyes were searching, moving around the room, not detecting his form. You struggled against his hold and he immediately let go, getting to work on the restraints.

He had freed your foot when he heard slow clapping behind him. He shot to his feet turning towards the source.

Silco leant against the doorway.

“What an incredibly sweet scene. Vander, the murderer, caring for someone and not betraying them.”

Vander balled his fists so hard, his knuckles went white. He looked at Silco, taking in the black sclera of his eye and the burning red of his iris. The familiar sight hurt and he longed for the lithe man to stand at his side again.

“I’ve never forgiven myself for what I did to you… Brother.”

Silco blinked slowly. “No.. You still don’t understand what it’s like when your blood mixes with the filth and the river toxins eat through your nerves…”

A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he nodded towards your form. “Oh I hated you for what you’d done. But as time passed, so did my hate and I was left with an understanding.”

He pushed away from the doorframe, strolling into the room, coming to a halt beside you, across from Vander. He smiled down at your disoriented form. You were whimpering, the purple liquid dropping from your wrists to the floor.

“The only way to defeat a superior enemy is to stop at nothing, to become what they fear.”

His finger lifted your chin and a silent cry left your mouth. Vander grit his teeth. He had to stall just a bit longer. No matter how much he wanted to take you with him now. He had to do everything to make sure everything would go as planned, even if that meant enduring Silco’s fingers on you.

Silco took back his hand and your head fell forward.

“I hated you, but you kept my respect. Until you made peace with them. Played lapdog after everything we suffered.”

“I had no choice.”, Vander responded with a tense voice. How much longer would it take?

“Perhaps. But I still decided to teach you the same lesson you taught me. You will never understand, what it felt like. But she, she does now. Perhaps she knows even more.”

Rage flooded Vander’s veins. How badly had they hurt you?

“And now, that we are at the same place, you have a choice.” From a pocket Silco conjured a vial with a purple liquid. “Shimmer. We have the power. We can finally realize our dreams… Brother.”

Vander eyed the vial and gestured towards your struggling form. “Look at what you‘ve done! Benzo! These kids! Now her!” As he looked at Silco his gaze had become soft, trying to reach his lost brother. “In fighting topside you’d sacrifice everything that we are. It’s not the way! Can’t you see that? Let her go. Just let her go.”

Silco scoffed. “You won’t fight for or cause.”

“I’m just not that man anymore.” All Vander wanted was to get you free. But he had to get through to Silco somehow. Maybe there was another outcome to this. If only he could reach his brother.

Silco’s gaze had become disdainful. “You think you know yourself. You think you know the lanes. You think you know her. But I will show you.”

Vander watched alert as Silco started unlocking your shackles. “I will show you, who she is. What people can be.”

As you stood up Silco took a step back an Vander watched your heaving breaths.

“Kill him.”

You head shot towards Vander and he had to gulp upon seeing your eyes finally focus on him. Your back was hunched, your clothes torn in some places and your proportions were wrong.

“Sweet’art it’s me.”, he tried softly

Silco chuckled darkly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Seconds after Silco closed the door Vander could hear a fight break out. Oh thank god, finally his people had arriv-

He wasn’t prepared for your brute strength as you slammed into him, shoulder first and threw him to the floor. He felt his breath escape him and he struggled to take a new one as your hands closed around his neck.

“You!” Your voice sounded horribly distorted. “Hurt!”

His eyes remained on yours. He refused to fight you, carefully lifting a hand to your swollen cheek. His voice sounded choked. “It’s okay sweet’art.”

He could faintly hear the sound of glass breaking outside. People were screaming in anger.

“No one will hurt you anymore.”

You flinched away from his hand and subsequently let go of his throat. You scrambled backwards until your distorted back hit the chair and suddenly you started wailing, your hands gripping your hair, the liquid from your wrist coloring your face.

He needed to get you out. As much as it pained him to see you like this, he didn’t have time to linger. He had no idea who was winning outside and he needed to get you to safety so his men could retread should it be necessary.

He opened the door and immediately he could see the fight in the building. Silcos men didn’t have the upper hand yet and he turned around, approached your shaking form and took you in his arms.

You hid your face in your hands as sobs shook you. Vander pressed you closer to him, breaking out into a sprint. He didn’t look left or right, turning his back so he slammed into the person who was blocking your path first. His men noticed him immediately and started clearing his way with their fists.

Soon his path cleared on its own, Silco’s men seemingly retreating.

When he burst through the door onto the street it only took him a second to turn into the direction of the last drop and start running again. He had you in his arms. You were safe, you were okay.

Your back felt misshapen against his arm and he noticed that one of your hands covering your face was swollen. But he had you in his arms, and you felt warm and you were breathing and nothing else mattered.

Upon arriving at the last drop he carried you upstairs into your shared room while the kids, who had been waiting at a booth, followed, practically falling up the stairs in their hurry to see you.

Vi put her hand over Powders eyes upon noticing your deformed figure in Vanders arms. The little girl immediately tried to pry her sister’s fingers off her face and Vi shoved her out the room, closing the door and crouching down in front of her sister.

“I’m sorry Powder but mom is really injured. She wouldn’t want you to see her like this.”

“But-“

“Can you trust me on this one. Please?” Powder studied the pleading look on Vi’s face and sighed.

“All right.” The smile on Vi’s face was worth it.

“Wait here, I’ll be back out in a minute, alright?” When Powder nodded Vi went into the room again.

Vander sat on a chair with you in his arms, rocking you from side to side softly while Mylo and Claggor awkwardly stared down at you.

“Claggor, go get a doctor.”, Vander instructed and the round boy rushed out the door.

“What happened?”, Vi questioned Vander shocked.

He turned his head and met her eyes. “Silco, ‘er captor, injected ‘er with Shimmer, and not a small dose it seems.”

Vi’s hands balled up. “Why… How could someone?”

“He’s an old friend o’ mine. Had a score to settle wi’ me.”

Their conversation was cut short by the door flying open and Claggor arriving with a doctor. He was out of breath and slid down the wall to sit for a bit.

The doctor approached your form, his eyes widening in shock.

“What can we do?”, Vander immediately questioned and the doctor cleared his throat.

“I’m afraid not much. I’ve only seen one case like this before. Shimmer, am I right?”

Vander hummed in agreement. The doctor pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

“We can’t do anything. Shimmer is a drug, it takes it’s course. It is highly addictive so it’s likely she will have to go through withdrawal symptoms once her body has gotten rid of the injected dose. As for the deformity… We can only hope, it will diminish with the reduction of the shimmer in her blood system.”

Vander cradled you to his chest. You had stopped crying but still refused to show your face.

“Get her to drink a lot and eat if possible. Call me if her situation worsens. I’ll be down at the bar.”

Vander didn’t react instead taking your glass from the bedside table. You always needed water nearby during the night. “C’mon sweet’art. Drink a bit.”

You moved your hands so your mouth was uncovered and Vander gently lifted the glass to your lips, watching you take long gulps. “That’s it. Good job darlin’.”

Claggor and Mylo tiptoed out of the room, seeing they could do nothing for you. Vander needed the time with you and they could get food and water for you.

“Now, how ‘bout ya show me your face, so I can take care of yer bruises.” He could feel you stiffen in his arms. But before he could calm you, you began lowering your hands, your wrists had stopped bleeding and the liquid there was dried up. Vander finally realized why you had covered your face.

The bruising he had noticed wasn’t really bruising. It was swollen, lilac skin, crossed by purple shimmering veins.

Your eyes were still as disturbing as the first time he had seen them but a broad smile settled onto his lips. “There she is. Hello darlin’.”

He dipped his head, simultaneously lifting you in his arms, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Your hands found his shirt and gripped it tightly. When he nuzzled his nose into your cheek you started shaking.

“Shhh. Don’t ya cry darlin’. I’ve got ya. Everything will be just fine. I’ll be with you every step of the way, yeah? So don’t worry.” He pressed a kiss against your cheek. “Now how ‘bout we take a nice hot shower and sleep it all off. Soon you’ll be back to normal, just ya wait. I won’t leave you.”

An unsymmetrical grin settled on your lips and stretched your disfigured face. Vander couldn’t help himself but peck the very tip of your nose.

You were in his arms, smiling and everything would be okay.

#the sewer answers #arcane #arcane vander #arcane vander x reader #vander x bartender!reader #vander x reader #vander x mom!reader #what if of ep 3 #my eyes are burning #my head is empty #i hope the sentences at the end make at least some sense #i feel braindead