#all those rogue neck fuzzies

[andy-clutterbuck]

8x03 | Monsters

[honey-minded-hivemind]

🖤Dark AU, Post Two, Same As It Never Was:

(Warning: This fic contains medical trauma and depictions of wounds and scarring, drugging and sedation, darker themes and implications, mentioned and implied death, and features darker platonic yandere content! You have been warned...)

• It was hard to believe they were back after all this time.

• The flight back home is abuzz with unspoken questions, careful touches checking for pulses, and the steady, hopeful feeling they haven't felt in years. They never thought they'd see their friends and kids again. Yet there they were, calling them in the dead of night from a payphone, then waiting for them to arrive, hidden away... And here they are now, passed out in their arms, their faces peaceful in a way they never thought appreciated in full in the past.

• Magneto holds Pietro, stroking back his hair and holding him close, Wanda checking his pulse and frowning deeply at the scar above his eye, at the dried specks of black and red flecked across his face. The speedster is unusually still, too deep under to stir as his father and sister watch over him. His legs show deep bruises, as though something had hit them, hard... Mystique murmurs to Kurt, rocking back and forth lightly in her seat as Rogue whispers small promises to him. The fuzzy blue teen is limp, not even his tail wiggling or wrapping around their wrists or legs for comfort. The discolored flesh of the scar across his throat is stark compared to his fur, and so too is the dark black-brown staining his shirt... Kitty is beside them, held by Scott, Logan sitting across from them, rubbing her back, and both trying not cry or stiffen when they see the hole in her blouse, nor when they feel the dark, sticky stain around it. Her head is tucked into the crook between Scott's neck and shoulder, his arms hugged tight around her like she might disappear. Logan's free hand is grasping her's, while curled into him is...

• Reader... Their face is too still, their shirt useless to hide or stop the bloody gash in their abdomen. There's dried blood in their hair and across the old worn lab coat pressed against them, dark reminders of what happened. Their arms are scarred, flecked in smears of brownish-red, the wound on their head is still damp, their breathing flutters lightly, as though they're still in pain, even in their sleep... Logan keeps his free arm wrapped around them, pulling them into his chest and stomach, keeping them where he can feel the beat of their heart and hear the rasps of their breathing...

• The tapes they'd all watched... Hours, days, weeks worth of footage, depicting what those scientists had done to their missing kids... Taking blood samples, scraping patches of skin off, collecting DNA and cells, taking bone marrow... not to mention all the extra ones done to Reader, or what seemed to be hours of torture, all meant to tear them down and leave them broken. The adults were barely able to watch the entirety of them, ending up having to watch them with one another just to make it through the upsetting footage. Scott had forced himself to watch the tapes, throwing up and crying when they went darker... Evan had tried, so had Jean, and Lance, even Laura... but in the end, all it left was a rotten pit in their stomachs, sending them searching for any of their friends or parents, wanting comfort, any form of it, to stave off the pain and agony and crushing weight of what they'd seen...

• But it would be better now. It is better now. Their friends, their kids, their siblings, are back with them, they're alive, and they won't be hurt ever again. The jet rumbles as it lands, the panels of the ceiling closing above it and sealing it safely into the mansion. The group is careful, maneuvering their wounded ones so they're held tightly, cradled to them as they exit the Blackbird, working their way into the halls and corridors of the mansion, into the medbay... They end up deciding to keep the kids to two larger room, with cots and medical beds ready and waiting as they're set down. Pietro is set up in the first room, his legs wrapped up carefully, an IV inserted into the crook of his arm, supplying much-needed liquids and medicine. His head is checked for any damage or concussion, the blood wiped up and the scar sanitized, any stitches needed added carefully, sealing shut the remains of the wound... In the same room is Kurt, attached to a monitor to alert the others if he teleports in his sleep. Bandages are wrapped around his throat, a coating of antibacterial cream underneath. Any leftover blood or dried ichor is wiped away, the fur and skin cleaned and smoothed down... Kitty is in the other room, a pillow propping her upper body up. Her wound is inspected, swabbed and sterilized and stitched closed, then bandages are wrapped around the area, a few gauze pads added to soak up any small droplets of blood. Her arms are inspected, a dose of sedative given to help with any pain... Reader resides in the room as well... Their head was checked, the wound cleaned and wrapped in gauze... Their arms were looked over, any scratches or gouges wiped with anti-inflammatory and antibacterial medicine, then wrapped up in thick bandages. The gash in their stomach was stitched up, a bit of blood given, and an IV was inserted, sending heavy drugs into their system to keep them asleep as they healed...

• They visited their children, their friends, their siblings. Magneto and Wanda hardly left him. Erik would sit there, keeping him silent company, occasionally holding his son's hand between his own. Wanda would tell her brother how much she missed him, that things were changed now, she'd even read her books to him, her voice emotional. Lance and Todd and Fred would visit, usually in the early mornings or during the afternoon, telling him to get better fast, like he always used to do, saying they had so many new schemes and powers to show off when was back... Charles would roll in, resting beside Erik, encouraging Pietro to recover soon and that he had been missed each day. He'd check his mind, smoothing away any nightmares or fear, leaving calm and warm, quiet fuzz... Evan and Storm would stop by, late at night, Evan recounting old basketball games they'd played together, or field trips they'd gone on, even embarrassing moments the two had gone through together... Mystique and Sabretooth came by, quiet, wishing him well, saying their nephew would need to recover soon so he'd see all he missed with being gone... Scott and Jean would sit by him, saying that his dad and the Professor were together, making them siblings in a way... even Logan and Rogue would wander in, telling him he would make it, he'd beat whatever had been done to him...

• Mystique and Rogue were beside Kurt, telling him they'd missed him and how proud they were of him, how once he was awake they'd have so much to catch him up on... Logan and Sabretooth would wander in, patting his head and saying he'd always made them laugh... Ororo and Evan and Todd and Wanda would come in, cracking jokes and hoping Kurt heard them in his sleep... Xavier and Hank would read to him, comedies and some of his favorite books from when he had been with them... Magneto would read to him in German, speaking words of care and comfort... Scott and Jean would ask him to wake up soon, to wait a little longer, that it would be worth it... Gambit would pat his hand, saying he and Rogue had taken care of each other while he was gone...

• Logan and Ororo and Scott and Jean and Rogue would take turns watching over Kitty, stroking her hair and telling her they loved her and had missed her greatly, holding her hand in theirs... Xavier and Wanda and Magneto would recount her achievements and best test scores, reminding her how she was so smart... Evan and Lance would visit in the morning and at night, saying she was always a fun friend and that it wasn't the same without her... Laura curled her fingers in her's, frowning but holding it together... Gambit and Piotr would wander in, offering to talk and keep her company when the others were checking on her friends... Hank would teasingly say they'd work on cooking classes when she was up to it, offering a few new books to help...

• And they all took turns with Reader... Xavier and Magneto tended to take afternoon visits, trying to invoke peaceful thoughts in them as they rested, assuring them they had been brave... Logan and Sabretooth took late nights, keeping them company and promising they were wanted... Ororo and Storm took early mornings, thanking them for protecting the others... Hank made sure they received their doses of drugs and sedatives, saying he was glad they'd made it back to them... Scott would visit at odd hours, saying he'd misses them... Jean and Rogue thanked them for keeping Kurt and Kitty safe for as long as they could... Evan came in after his aunt, greeting them and thanking them for looking out for all of their friends, saying they had to wake up... Lance and Todd and Fred tended to sneak in and tell Reader they were glad they made it, how they appreciated them doing everyone a solid... Wanda read to them, reminding them they couldn't leave them, not when they'd only gotten them back... Gambit and Pyro and Piotr would come in, jokingly saying who else woukd they tease if Reader wasn't around...

• The next few days were filled with worry, hope, fear, and joy, all one mixed concoction of battling emotions, everyone trying to believe this was real...

• And then Pietro woke up, and they were all focused, making sure he was alright, keeping the scared boy company, making sure he ate, and soon checking his thoughts and asking questions about what had happened...

• The same happened when Kurt, then Kitty, awoke, Mystique and Rogue and Logan and Scott and Jean and Evan and Ororo hugging them, making sure the medicine and needles were in place, smiling softly and saying it had be so long, that they'd missed them all so much, how they were safe now... They felt bad that all three were scared, shaking, confused, trying to make sense of what had happened and trying to figure out if they were real, and if they were, why they were older...

• "Dad... Wanda... please, just tell me... what happened?" Pietro didn't whine, and he didn't beg, but at this point, he was close to it. "Son, do not worry about it. Everything is taken care of..." "Pietro, you're safe, there's nothing to fear..." He still wasn't convinced... Something was off with their family...

• "Mother! Please, I am fine! But vhy von't you tell me vhat has changed?" Kurt didn't want to worry anymore, but when his mother and sister would dodge his questions, he knew they and the others were hiding something... "You're here, and until Hank says you are well, you are staying here, my son..." "Kurt, it will be okay. You'll be out soon!" He didn't think things were as okay as everyone said they were...

• "Logan... Can't you tell me anything? Please?" Kitty didn't know how to feel about the adults and the others being older and acting so strange, but it made her shiver... "Half-pint, there's nothing to say. Now please relax, I don't want ya straining yerself..." She didn't like this one bit...

• And finally, a day or two after the others, Reader began to wake up... Their head felt fuzzy, soft, and their vision wobbled for a minute... but then they were waking up, groaning at the stiffness in their joints...

• "Sweetheart... We're so glad you're back... Welcome back, little one..."

• Reader somehow knew something was wrong, and it seemed that their and their friends' troubles had only increased...

@sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danni1323 @weebwholovesuchihasasuke @crowwithguns @bloodytea @thewickedweiner @opossumdaydreamz @roxanndrummond @c0ld0utside @foundfamyanderes @ainsellshadewalker

[merge-conflict]

sketch: !==

(cw: drug use + some dissociation, body horror/identity crisis. ~1k.)

There’s always something about four am that makes a bleak outlook bleaker, and Johnny is glad he’s too stoned to really feel it. It follows him around, black dog– or maybe just some black cat. A whole bunch of bad omens, on repeat. He can’t seem to relax, no matter what he does. V is dozing in his lap, gonked out of her mind, twitching and shivering in a high he couldn’t reach. If he could, he’d dive in with her. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even seem to notice when he moves her out of the way so he can get up to take a piss.

Habit leads him back to Kerry’s room. He’s still asleep where Johnny left him, curled up next to the empty space he’s left behind. He pads quietly across the hard floor, swinging the door most of the way closed behind him without making the noise of latching it.

When he’s finished he lingers in front of the mirror instead of returning. Today is not one of those days where his face makes him sick; it’s only the reflection of a dead man looking back at him. This isn’t his body. His body is moldering several feet underground. His body is ash and worms. His body is still lying back on that couch.

She’d tried to slither away when he wasn’t watching. Crawling on her belly back to the viper pit. For what? The man who’d gotten her soul split in two and had been too proud to touch her.

“Hey.” Kerry catches him by surprise, crossing the cold tile and putting his hands around Johnny’s hips, familiar calluses skating across his skin. His voice is low, graveled by fatigue. “Can’t sleep?”

“V’s up,” he says. He turns on the faucet and brings a handful of water to his mouth to wash out some of the fuzziness. That just makes him aware of how thirsty he is, so he bends and drinks straight from the stream until it makes him start to feel sick.

Kerry’s hand is running up and down his spine. “She okay?”

“She’s fine.”

Kerry’s silent for a while, but Johnny’s not in a hurry to rush him so long as he’s combing his fingers through the hair plastered to the back of his neck. “You okay?”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer, watching the face in the mirror. It’s all wrong. He should have gone to Kerry sooner, should have let Alt pack him away until they could grow him a clone body. It’s V’s fault he rushed things, and now he’s stuck like this, in this body. He should have killed that old dog when he had the chance. He should kill him now.

“Johnny,” Kerry says, turning him around so his back is to the sink. “Hey,” he says, a little quieter, cupping Johnny’s face. Fifty years he’s been dead, and Kerry still wants him. Fifty years and all his bullshit, and Kerry is cradling his face like he’s someone who had been worth waiting for. “You still with me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Johnny asks, and the words come out an accusation. He exhales, gripping the counter so his knuckles go white and numb.

Kerry’s staring at him with that look on his face that makes him old. Rogue has it too, sometimes, when she’s looking at him. Like there’s something they know that he doesn’t, just because they sold out. Like they pity him because he’s got the guts to do what they won’t.

“You’re high, Johnny.”

“So what?” He brushes off Kerry’s hold because he can’t feel those hands right now without thinking of V at his back, her breath on his neck while she watches. It’s all a fucking lie, and he’s clinging too tightly to something he never deserved, like a ghost that can’t move on. “What the hell do you care?”

Something flips like a switch in Kerry. He shoves Johnny back, crowding him so the stone of the countertop is digging uncomfortably into his thighs. “I don’t know, Johnny, why the hell do I care? Is it just some giant fucking mystery to you? Are you that stupid?”

This time instead of waiting for an answer, Kerry yanks him down by the dogtags into a kiss. Johnny falls apart, sliced and portioned into raw hunger. The kiss turns bloody, but Kerry doesn’t complain like he usually does when he breaks skin. His grip on Johnny’s shoulders is so tight it’s painful, but it feels good to be needed. It settles the itch in his skin, makes his hands strong and sure.

He picks Kerry up by the hips and turns to set him down on the counter, following the driving bass line he’s setting down, the foundation over which he can spark and soar. His mind slips away while he’s still chasing Kerry’s mouth, flickering back when he sees his face in the mirror, arched while Kerry scrapes his teeth over his neck.

It's just some stranger. A dead man. Frankenstein, hollowed out by his own monster.

“Johnny,” Kerry is saying, insistently. His eyes are so blue, even in the dim light. He still smells the same, still tastes the same, but he’s not the same.

Johnny leans in to kiss him again, softly this time. He closes his eyes. Kerry’s hand is running up and down his spine. “Yeah. I’m with you.”

[approximateknowledge]

Weird asks, all multiples of 5

alright here we go

5: glass cup, easily, but cans are fine

10: martial arts stuff (in judo club since i was 6)

15: either the mundo emerso books or walter moers' rumo, please don't ask me to choose (5th year of secondary school dutch classes were an outlier in quality) (im belgian btw, dutch is one of my native languages) (which also means both books were in fact translations from their respective italian and german originals; (could've read the german too lol)

20: actual answer is *whatever paper is closest to me in the moment*; the issue with that is my writing is one big mess of shorthand and if left unattended itll devolve into semi-logographic ak-only idiolect. so given that this isn't a real option, it's just: locally saved word document

25: very good question, no idea, probably some K3 song ("drie biggetjes" is a good candidate)

30: any plant or lichen growing where it's not supposed to. the ecologies inside pavement cracks give me hope

35: usually between midnight and 1am

40: there was this duck that got spotted in weird places all over the school; just a rogue dude, green-headed menace in the corridors. unauthorised anseriform

45: probably scifi, but the boundary between it and fantasy is thin and also kind of aesthetic half the time. i care about internally coherent worldbuilding above any aesthetic preferences. a mindset of *systems*, not "great men" (<also why i don't like superheroes that much) (usually) (there's always exceptions)

50: i have no fucking clue, but just gonna put calvin and hobbes because younger me loved those and it was right

55: i don't think i have a favourite fairy tale? just gonna put children of memory. those who've read it will understand

60: oh that's a good question... gonna go with unhinged and kind of gory ultra-scifi. think BLAME!. chances ill be a human are statistically low. don't mind me just gonna become an unrecognisable bionanotech abomination beyond baseline human comprehension (post-builder gender envy) (gonna reinvent hivers)

real answer is isekai as a basic neumann-builder in said setting

so im a synth, so what?

65: i have a dent in my skull from breaking it against a table on christmas eve at a family gathering when i was 2 years old. also a scar on my left big toe where an emu bit me while i was wearing sandals. also thyroid shave scar on my neck

70: right handed

75: no clue, presumably at a normal age for it. genuinely couldn't tell you

80: jewel tones but matte

85: mythology all the way, mostly, depends. the distinction is kind of fuzzy, more about intent that content

90: being on reddit for a while (is where i met my matesprit/bf)

95: image gallery (y'all really use apps voluntarily?)

there we go!

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

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You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

[marauderundercover]

Late Night Trips (Day 3: Bats)

This is a continuation of Day 2. Read it here

Marinette walks around the Halloween section of the store, giggling into her phone.

“I don’t know why you’re so against it!” She teases, adding a bag of bat window clings to her little basket, despite Jason’s grumbling on the other end of the phone.

“Because the vigilantes are known as the Bats, M. Just feels weird for our windows to be covered in tiny bats.” He grumbles, and she snorts, glad that he can’t see the way her face reddens when he refers to the windows as theirs. Sure, he hadn’t officially moved in, but he stayed at her place more than the manor lately. She loved it.

“Okay, Jay, if it really upsets you that much, I won’t get them.” She promises, taking the bats back out of her basket. She really did think they were cute though, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“We could get ghosts or pumpkins instead.” Jason suggests and she grins, switching the bats out with the ghosts.

“Hmmm, the ghosts have top hats, so I’m definitely sticking with those.” She says. There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Jay?”

“Marinette, are you at the store right now?” He asks, and she can hear the concern in his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m at the little one down the street. I’ll be fine, Jason.” She reassured him. She loved him, she did, but he got way too paranoid about her going out at night sometimes. Sure that was when more Rogues and criminals were active, but she could take care of herself. Which she clearly showed him last weekend when she punched that stupid Scarecrow in the face.

“I- please, M. Just, please be careful.” He says, not lecturing her like he’d half expected.

“I will be, promise. See you when you get home.” She says. He worked nights most of the time, but she was still able to see him since she kind of made her own hours when she was working on commissions. Or, she just stayed up all day and night. It was honestly a coin toss.

“I love you.” He says, and her smile widens.

“Love you too.” She says, hanging up and heading to the registers. She quickly checks out and leaves, pulling her jacket closer as she steps out into the cold night. That was the only thing she didn’t love about Gotham. The cold. Once the sun was down, it was like it was winter, no matter the time of year. Sighing, she continues her walk back to the apartment, careful to make sure she stays aware of her surroundings. Sure, she could fight off a mugger, but she didn’t necessarily want to. She just wanted to get home and half a nice cup of coffee. Or hot chocolate. Something warm. She hums under her breath, almost to the apartment, when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Immediately, she tenses. She starts to move a little faster, grimacing as she hears the footsteps behind her quicken as well. Of course the streets are empty. She’s the only one stupid enough to actually be out this late. Crap. She yelps in surprise as the person- man, she realizes- that had been following her grabs her wrist and twists her around.

“Come on sweetheart, doncha wanna spend some time with me.” The man says, tugging her close and letting his reeking breath pour over her face. She grimaces.

“No thank you.” She says, trying to tug her wrist away from the man. His eyes narrow and his grip tightens, more than she’d been expecting. He turns them so that they’re just inside the alley instead of on the open street. Oh hell no.

“C’mon babe-” He starts before she cuts him off with a punch in the face. He groans in surprise and stumbles slightly, still not letting go of her wrist. “If that’s how ya wanna be.” He says, his eyes darkening. She huffs and drops her bags, bringing her knee up and kneeing him in just the right place. He doubles over and lets go of her wrist. Now having both hands, she’s able to grab him (he’s too busy groaning in pain) and ram his head into the wall. He crumples almost instantly and she lets out a huff. So maybe Jason was right and she shouldn’t go shopping so late at night. But he didn’t have to know about this, right?

“Are you alright ma’am?” A voice asks. She whirls around, her fists up in defense until she sees who it is. She sighs and relaxes her posture.

“Hello Nightwing. Um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She says, glancing at the man on the ground. “Though, I’d feel a bit better if you had something we could tie him up with.”

“Of course. Robin?” He says, and she blinks in surprise as a hero who couldn’t be older than fifteen steps out of the shadows. Obviously she’d done her research on the heroes, but she was still a little taken aback to see a teenager in costume again. She just nods at him in thanks as he pulls out...zip ties? And cuffs the man’s hands behind his back.

“You were quite efficient in taking the man down. We approached just as you got out of his grip.” Robin says, and she smiles awkwardly.

“Yeah, uh, there were villains in Paris when I was a kid so I had to learn some basic self defense.” She says, not telling them everything, but not exactly lying either.

“Still, you know it’s really dangerous to be out this late at night, right? Even for someone who took down Scarecrow as well as you did.” Nightwing says and she flinches back, frowning.

“Uh, sorry, that day is a little fuzzy. Were you there?” She asks. Sure, Red Robin could’ve just told the others, but the look on his face? How he said it? Makes it seem like he’d actually seen the fight.

“No, but we watched the body cam footage from Red Robin.” Nightwing says with a wide smile.

“Mon Dieu.” She mumbles, shaking her head. She could tell Jason that some of the Bats thought she was a good fighter, but then she’d have to admit what happened tonight. And she really didn’t want him to worry any more than he already does.

“We will assist you in getting home once the police arrive to pick up this cretin.” Robin says, and she puffs her cheeks out, trying to figure out a nice way to tell them ‘thanks but no thanks’. If they had to wait around for the police, there was a chance Jason would be home by the time they got there.

“I’m sure I can get home just fine by myself.” She reassures them, and Nightwing frowns.

“Probably, but it would be kinda rude of us to send you along after something like this and not make sure you made it home safe.” He says. She sighs.

“Look, is there any way you can follow from the roofs or something? If you guys escort me home and my boyfriend is there, I’m gonna have to look at him and tell him he’s right and I shouldn’t go to the store late at night and he’s gonna panic and freak out that I could’ve been hurt which is super sweet, but then he’s not gonna be overprotective for a week and that makes it hard on him because then he doesn’t concentrate at work and I know he thinks I don’t notice but every time I get hurt, he comes home from work hurt and I know it’s because he’s distracted and I hate seeing him hurt and-” She rambles, only stopping when Nightwing puts a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise and she winces in apology.

“We’ll trail you, but you should still probably tell him.” He says softly, and she frowns, nodding. This was gonna suck.

---

Marinette waves at the roof of the building across the street before walking into the building and heading up to the apartment. She can hear the low hum of the tv, letting her know Jason is already home. She takes in a deep breath before unlocking the door and walking in.

“Hey M.” Jason calls from the couch, a smile on his face. She smiles back, silently noting that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He was either fighting with his dad again, or something went wrong at work. And now she was about to drop the whole ‘I took down a guy who tried to yank me into an alley’ thing on him. She sets her bags on the table and kicks her shoes off before walking over and sitting on the couch, instantly curling into his side. They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and she relaxes.

“You okay?” He asks softly, and she sighs, sitting up and looking at him, wringing her hands together.

“So, don’t freak out.” She says, and he frowns. “Um, you were right about the whole shopping at night in Gotham thing.” She says, thankful that he seems to understand immediately.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, eyes scanning her, pausing on her wrist. She frowns. Her wrist was definitely currently hidden by her sleeve, how did he know it was bruised? She sighs and pushes her sleeves up, grinning at him awkwardly.

“Just a little bruise.” She says, and he frowns.

“A little- Marinette, that bruise is all around your wrist. Are you sure it’s not broken?” He asks worriedly.

“I’m sure, I know what broken bones feel like. I’m a clutz, remember?” She teases, smiling softly at him. She breathes a sigh of relief when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. He shifts so that he’s practically laying on the couch, moving her so that she’s laying on top of him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He mumbles. She rolls her eyes, burying herself into his chest.

“I’m fine, Jay. I won’t go shopping so late next time. Besides, some of the Bats showed up.” She says, giggling at his scoff.

“As if those idiots did anything.” He snarks.

“I mean, Nightwing and Robin both commented on my fighting skills.” She teases, laughing as he reaches up and turns her face to look at him.

“M, Marinette, love of my life, what exactly did Robin say?” He asks and her face heats up at how easily he calls her the love of his life. Did he mean it?

“Uh, something about being efficient in taking the man down?” She says, finding it hard to think with how intense Jason’s stare was. He laughs, a wide smile on his face.

“Ya know, Robin is supposedly the least easily impressed. Apparently he can be a bit of a pain.” He says and she grins before laying back down.

“Well then, at least we know I can take care of myself.” She says, feeling him sigh. He doesn’t disagree though, just kisses the top of her head. Warm and safe, she slowly drifts off to sleep.

---

BONUS

Jason smirks as he walks into the Batcave the next night.

“So Demon Spawn, my girlfriend is an efficient fighter?” He asks. Damian scowls.

“Shut it, Todd. Just because I think she is an efficient fighter does not mean that I believe you are.” He says and Jason snorts. “Don’t laugh Todd, I truly believe that she could knock you on your ass.”

“Language, Little D.” Dick says, walking in with his suit on, but mask off. “He does have a point though. I think she could probably hold her own against any of us, even for a couple minutes.” Jason just grins widely. Oh yeah, his girlfriend was a badass.

Next

***

Taglist: @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess

[the-dream-team]

Can I Try Again

Another ridiculously fluffy one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week four prompt: picking berries // I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right // the entire song, pink in the night <3

She is beautiful and he is in a perpetual state of falling. Down and down and down the goddamn rabbit hole, but somehow the further James plummets, the brighter his life becomes. It’s the kind of brightness that blinds him- somewhat painfully- and leaves his vision spotty, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lily Evans walks ahead of him, a spring in her step, sunshine pouring through her hair. She’s cut it short for the summer, just above her shoulders, and he’s mesmerized by the way it bounces around her neck as she walks through the gardens of his family’s home. It’s an image he’s played over in his head an infinite number of times, but his rosiest daydreams don’t hold a candle to the real thing. The afternoon light hits his glasses just right and suddenly there’s a halo of glowing stars framing her as she tucks a dark red strand behind her ear. He can’t even see her face, but it doesn’t matter. I could stare at your back all day.

He is the luckiest boy in the world and every moment is made up of the sweetest form of torture. Agony and exuberance whipping his heart back and forth like a rogue Bludger.

She must know, he thinks. Must have some sort of clue that she’s occupied every corner of his mind for well over a year now. Even more so now, after the platform. He wishes more than anything for the ability to read minds as she glances over her shoulder with those startlingly green eyes, that friendly grin.

He can’t help but smile back- or maybe he was already smiling before she even turned around. It doesn’t matter. By some miracle, she’s here, and he can only marvel at the kindness of fate.

***

It had been a passing comment. One of those early morning conversations as his friends frantically scribbled out unfinished essays while shoving waffles down their throats. Chatter muffled by mouthfuls of eggs and yawning. Remus had commented offhandedly about the fruit bowl being passed around, and then-

“Oh, raspberries are my favorite.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at her when she spoke. But truthfully, he was always looking at Lily, a habit he’d long since stopped fighting once he realized how fruitless his efforts were. She was beautiful and he was hopeless. Simply lucky to be in her presence. She was the sun, and he, but a lonely planet, entirely reliant on and endlessly seeking out her light.

Sirius spoke the words James should have if his mind hadn’t gone fuzzy from hearing her voice.

“You know, the Potters have a raspberry patch in their gardens.”

“Oh, really?” She glanced from Sirius to James with a brilliant smile and excited eyes, so purposefully glued to his that he had to duck his head and rake a hand through his hair to hide his heating cheeks.

“That’s right,” he said more to his plate of sausages than to her. “They’re usually ripe to pick by early August.” When he peered back up, she was still looking his way.

“You should come over this summer and take some off our hands,” said Sirius casually, turning towards James as if it had been his idea.

“Yeah,” he jumped in a little too eagerly. “I mean- if you’d like, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile widened, rounding the apples of her cheeks in a way that made his stomach flip pleasantly. “That sounds like fun.”

He assumed she’d forget the conversation, it had been just another morning, just another casual chat among housemates, but that didn’t keep him from daydreaming about the potential of a far-off day in August rather incessantly during the following months. But then as the school year ended and summer rolled on painfully slowly (and Lily-less), an owl arrived. And her handwriting crawled across the page like a message written in the clouds.

***

Lily swings the woven basket back and forth in her pursuit of the best raspberries. There’s already an impressive bounty growing in her basket, far more than he’s managed to collect- too busy watching her kneel down and pluck berries off their delicate branches to pick any of his own.

He turns to a leafy bush, green and lively and swaying slightly in the warm breeze, and quickly pinches off a handful of berries in an attempt to catch up with her. When she spins around, he’s thankful for the distraction. A minute earlier and she would have caught him staring. Again.

She smiles pleasantly and brushes her fringe off her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist. James’ heart leaps into his throat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, but not accusingly.

“No I haven’t,” he responds, voice gravelly from underuse. “Just been busy picking raspberries.”

She glances at his measly basket, then back to his face with arching brows and an amused smirk.

He can’t help his own guilty grin. “Alright, Evans, I’m sorry we can’t all be unreasonably talented at everything we do.”

“It’s berry picking, Potter,” she laughs, “not advanced Arithmancy.”

In retaliation, he plucks a raspberry off of the nearest branch and playfully throws it at her. She somehow has the gall to lean her head back and catch the goddamn berry between her teeth. His brain short circuits. He’s quite certain his jaw is on the ground. She acts as though this is no big deal, swallowing the fruit with a satisfied smile, her tongue brushing her lower lip before tossing another into her mouth.

“Oh, these are delicious!”

He can’t form a response even if he wants to. Even if it was a matter of life or death, which it sure as hell feels like. He can only stare at her mouth, at her lips stained raspberry-pink, and lose himself in the knowledge that he knows how they feel against his own- even just briefly.

***

The platform teemed with students stretching their legs after the long journey home from school, saying their goodbyes to friends as their families greeted them for the summer.

A pit sat in James’ stomach- heavy and demoralizing- the entire train ride back to London. He knew she’d be gone soon. Back with her parents in Cokeworth for two excruciating months before their seventh year began. He’d taken their close proximity for granted during the school year, and as he faced a summer without the promise of her warmth, he wondered if it was even possible living in the dark.

He laughed loudly at a joke Peter told, overcompensating for the fact he’d missed the punchline while his thoughts were spiraling over her. Sirius shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t doing a great job of masking his emotions. Had it been so obvious the entire way home? Could she have noticed the despondency in his eyes, heard the heavy thumping of his heart? He rolled his eyes at Sirius and mustered up the most unbothered smirk he could manage.

But then, without warning, she was in front of him.

“Alright, Potter, don’t let your head overinflate while I’m not around to keep you grounded.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he laughed, thankful his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Just so long as you promise to consider switching your loyalties to Puddlemere. There’s no way the Harpies even make it to the semi-finals this season, and I can’t bear seeing you heartbroken again.”

“Oh, piss off, Potter,” she replied, but the way she threw her arms around his neck seemed to argue she didn’t mean what she said. Instinctually, he hugged her back, and thank Merlin he had her to hold onto as the wind was knocked out of his lungs at her touch. An overwhelming warmth sparkled across every surface their bodies met, and it took every ounce of control he had to restrain the truly pathetic sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

“And I haven’t forgotten,” she spoke into his shoulder, breath hot thorough his t-shirt, “you promised me berry picking this August.”

It would be impossible to miss the rapid beating of his heart through his chest pressed up against hers. “I’m already counting down the days.”

When she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders for a beat longer than expected, his body moved faster than his brain could keep up with. He leaned forward, aiming for her cheek, but miraculously landing against her mouth- connecting for the briefest of moments before parting again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. If it weren’t for the ghost of her lips still burning against his own, he might have thought he’d dreamt it.

“Lily, I’m not waiting any longer, we’re leaving, now,” came the unpleasant voice of her sister from across the platform.

Lily’s disoriented smile faltered slightly before she composed herself again, meeting his eye. “I’ll see you in August?”

“Yeah, August,” he somehow said with his mouth still tingling, forever changed by what they now knew.

***

The memory of her lips, how they feel pressed between his smile, is harder to ignore when they’re in front of him. He can remember the warmth where they touched him over a month ago and absentmindedly he brings a raspberry to his mouth so he can imagine how she must taste.

His emotions were hard enough to control before he knew what he was missing, but now they are impossible to reign in. He forgets how to breathe, and as a result, his head spins maddeningly. Unsure of how much longer he can stand up straight without making a fool out of himself, he walks forward and lays a hand on Lily’s back- partially to lead her forward, partially because the desire to be connected to her in any way is driving him mad.

She lets him guide her through the rows of bushes, under an ancient wooden archway, and across a courtyard of blossoming poppies and forget-me-nots enclosed by walls of hedges. Yellow and purple petals reflect brilliantly in her green eyes, creating their own fields of wildflowers within her irises. He walks her towards a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the grass where bubbling water spills over onto stone tiers and pours into the basin below, its floor littered with glinting coins, dancing under the water’s rippling surface.

He sits down and she follows suit on the stone ledge surrounding the water, partially shaded by an impressive plum tree. Cool droplets spray off the fountain, refreshing like summer rain singing I love you, I love you, I love you. Lily glances his way and he wonders if she can hear his thoughts.

“Are we finished picking berries?” she asks, eyes squinting and nose crinkling in the sun.

“I figured you had enough to feed a village.” He reaches over and grabs a raspberry from her basket and she gasps in faux outrage.

“Are you really stealing my raspberries, Potter?”

He adores his name on her tongue. “My apologies,” he says, pulling a silver Sickle out of his pocket and sliding it over to where she sits. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “For your troubles. Go on then, make a wish.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up and she takes hold of the coin, lifting it to her heart as she closes her eyes in search of a wish.

He thinks he could look at her forever. Happy, sunkissed, an unconscious smile playing across her lips. With her eyes shut, he uses a minute to take a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart and compose his dopey grin. They’re sitting close together, knees almost touching with the basket of berries between them. As she tosses the Sickle behind her shoulder, he smells the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo.

She noticeably tries to hide her smile when her eyelids flutter back open.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

She freezes with her eyes locked on his. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, growing darker the longer he stares back at her. “I can’t tell you,” she says, words sounding choked, “or else it won't come true.”

Her flushed face awakens something in his chest, a confidence that blooms magnificently, turns his nervous, pattering heartbeat into a steady, powerful drum.

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper when he asks, “Can I guess?”

Her breath hitches. “I think you might already know, James.” Her words, the sound of his name, melts him down to a puddle. By some miracle, she continues speaking. “Look, I know I’ve kissed you before-”

“But I didn’t do it right,” he says frantically, his hands finding her face and brushing through her hair. He starts to understand why people advise against looking directly at the sun because being this close to her fills him with such astounding emotion he thinks he might explode. She stares up at him, blush deepening, lips parting, and he takes a ragged breath. “Can I try again?”

This time, when she smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans in slowly, letting their breath mix together, their noses bump lightly before he closes the space between their lips. She’s soft and warm and beautiful and radiant and he’s never felt a happiness quite like this one, never experienced a kiss this perfect. His fingers travel over her scorching skin and brush her neck as he deepens the kiss, tasting the raspberries on her tongue, his heart soaring as she responds blissfully until they’re both left breathless.

“And again?” she asks, pulling him back with a smile against his lips.

“And again,” he smiles back, marveling, once again, at the kindness of fate.

[acourtofsnakes]

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

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

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

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

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

Introduction

1: Solus | 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl ^ | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur ^ | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran | 9. E’tad | 10: Tome * | 11: Aliit Ori'shya Tal'din * | 12: Mar’eyce**^ | 13: Kov’nyn | 14: Ne’tra ^ | 15: Or’dinii | 16: Dar | 17: Haalur | 18: Mesh’la** | 19: Talyc ^^ | 20: Jorhaa'ir ^^ | 21: Hibirar | 22: Jetii’kad | 23: Tracinya | 

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

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

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were going to remove his armour. 

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

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

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

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet this… this was bad. 

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

Concussion too then… a bad one. 

He just prayed there was no permanent damage. 

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

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

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

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

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven. 

You. 

You were going to kill him when he got out. 

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

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

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

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

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

Maker, he was battered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was. 

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

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

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

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

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

He looked the same as always. 

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

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

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

Before he slaughtered them all. 

Din hated him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please no, please…

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

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

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

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

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts. 

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

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

~~~

~~

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

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

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

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

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

Except there was just one problem…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How would you feel afterward?

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

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

“I can’t think of anything but saving him. And it’s easy to sit here and ask myself what I’ll do, before we’re even there… but when I’m in there, when I’m walking through that Cruiser to find him...” You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know what I’ll do. And I might not have the time to make that decision when I’m there.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly, listening to what you have to say, “Then whatever happens… We’ll deal with it afterward. Whatever you choose to do... I believe you are strong enough to take it. And if not… then we’ll deal with that too.” 

Gratitude warmed the cold feeling in your chest, spreading through you and you looked at her with new appreciation, “Thank you…” Those two words were heartfelt, all the emotion and thankfulness pumped into there. “For this, helping me… and for everything you’ve done.”

She inclined her head slightly, bumping her foot against your thigh, “You needn’t thank me… It’s been an honour, to help you and train you. After everything that’s happened in my life, the mistrust I had for those I once believed in… I never thought I could get over that hole. But you’ve shown me that it’s not all the way I believed. Things are changing… I’m learning that now. So… thank you.” 

You were about to answer, but Boba’s deep, gravelly voice came from the cockpit, “Time to gear up guys. We’re about to hit the same co-ordinates from the distress signal.” 

~~~~

~~

“Sir?” 

Moff Gideon walked over to the young man who had just called for him, seating in front of a holo-screen like the others dotted about the room, “Yes? What is it?” 

The man brought up a radar screen, a pulsing red dot just coming into the edge of it, “They’re getting closer. They followed the Hunter’s trap.” 

Gideon smiled slowly, watching that little red dot slowly creep closer to the centre of the radar, toward his Cruiser, “Excellent. Tell the troops to be ready. Just because we want them here, doesn’t mean we’ll make this easy for them.”

~~~

~~

Boba Fett’s ship glided through the atmosphere, all of you peering out of the windows for any sign, any hint as to where Din might be. 

You’d been in the general location for about twenty-five minutes, travelling right to the edge of each grid square on Fett’s radar. 

“I think… we might have missed him.” Cara spoke the words that you had all been reluctant to acknowledge, her voice quiet. 

You shook your head fiercely, moving to the other side of the ship, “No. You’re wrong. He’s here. I know he is. I just… know.”  

Grogu cooed from behind you, his ears floppy like they had been since you lost contact with Din.

You turned to look at him, heart breaking at the utter sadness in his glossy eyes, “Oh, Gu… I know.” You scooped him up, cradling the little body to your chest and you pressed a kiss between his ears, “We’ll find him… I promise you; we’ll find him.” You pressed your face to his little head, whispering, “Even if we have to do it on our own.” 

His little arms reached up to your shoulders, and you took a few moments just to hug him, giving him comfort but also receiving it in return. 

You felt his hands tugging at your collar and wondered if he was trying to reach for your hair… but then he grasped something and pulled – your necklace. 

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you. 

You looked down at him, watching as he cradled the symbol in his tiny little hands, gurgling at it but for once, you weren’t sure what he was saying. It itched at you, like you could almost understand him. 

It turns out, Ahsoka did. She gasped a little, looking at Grogu suddenly and blinking in surprise, “Oh, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that…” She looked at you with wide eyes, “You can find him.”

You blinked at her, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” You felt Grogu’s eyes on you too, and he tugged gently at the mythosaur charm, “The necklace?”

Ahsoka nodded, “Kind of… You have such a strong connection with him, such intense care for each other that if you use your power… you might be able to sense him, where he is.” She walked closer, “It’s hard to explain… it’s an old Jedi trick. They used to use it to track others or find people in hiding. It’s difficult to do, and not all Jedi could do it but… You know him. Better than any of us.” She took Grogu from you gently, “Close your eyes and focus your mind the way we practiced.”

You nodded, not questioning it. There was no time. 

You shut your eyes, following the breathing exercises she had taught you and dropping everything away from your mind. The ship, the murmuring of the others – the panic. 

All of it fell away until you felt the power flowing through your blood, felt it brush up against every living thing in your vicinity. 

Ahsoka’s voice slipped through your mind, “Now, think of him. The memories, the way he makes you feel, the happiness you feel with him. Think about what makes him your Mandalorian.”

Your power flowed through you, out of you, wrapping around the ship and you were already deep in your mind by the time it started shifting the direction you were facing. 

What makes him your Mandalorian…

You let that question move through you, thinking of his touch, his voice… the way he softened the harsh edges of your mind and eased your chest.

The way you had truly come alive after meeting him, how you saw the galaxy as you had before – something beautiful and wild and begging to be explored. 

You breathed in and out slowly, musing on the way you felt you had also brought light to Din’s life. Not just from the way he told you... but the way he seemed to have mellowed even more since first knowing you. 

He laughed more, let himself go a little… His moments of uptight, rigid restraint had melted into something far softer and… goofier. 

Ahsoka’s gentle praise whispered through the thoughts and memories, encouraging you. For however long, you didn’t know. 

And then you felt it. 

Your power brushed over something… someone. 

Din. 

His essence, his soul, burning like a bright star in your longest night. A sense of comfort, fierce loyalty and determination, all encased in a glittering shell of honour. 

Your eyes snapped up, the ship slowing to a stop and then – there it was. 

Moff Gideon’s cruiser. 

And speeding toward you… about thirty Stormtroopers, ready to attack. 

Mayfeld grinned from behind you as Duru leapt from the control panel, “Time to make an entrance.” 

~~~

~~

When Din got out of here, he was going to tear Haran into little pieces. 

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces. 

You had probably more rights than anyone to do so, but he had some things that the cocky shit needed to pay for. 

Hey, maybe you could tag team. 

Din kept thinking of creative ways to take Haran apart, to see if he was as strong inside as the power he oozed on the outside. It would be a fascinating project. 

Maybe when you cut him open, he would be a hollow shell, or maybe there would be some kind of malevolent demon inside him. 

He supposed these thoughts were rather twisted and dark, and that Haran had undoubtedly been through some awful things in his life… but so had you, and you were worlds apart from each other. 

Besides, it was all he could do. Think of Haran’s death and try to avoid thinking of the alternative thing that was screaming at him like a siren. 

That you may very well be on your way to rescuing him. 

Din could tell himself for hours that you wouldn’t heed it, that you’d know it was a trap but… it just wasn’t you. 

You were one of the smartest people he knew, but if anyone you loved was in danger, caution tended to get thrown out the window. 

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised. 

Din sighed, curling his fingers into fists and then releasing them again. A few hours ago – or maybe days? – he’d lost feeling in his arm. He couldn’t pop the dislocated shoulder back into place without removing his armour, so it was stuck there, swollen and pressing against the beskar. It had started with pins and needles, and then a cold feeling like ice in his veins. 

It made him feel unsteady, lopsided – though that may have been the broken right leg and twisted left ankle. 

Not only that, but every movement of his head made his stomach roil dangerously, and his breathing seemed to be coming laboured… more like sharp pants rather than deep breaths. 

You were never going to let him live this down. 

He huffed again, but the faintest smile rose to his lips as he imagined you both somewhere safe. 

You’d wait long enough for Din to be suitably healed before tearing into him… and no doubt it would creep up for months afterwards. He could almost hear the cocky tone as you bickered about something and you’d whip that out, “Oh, well, I suppose I could always go an attack an Imp base and get shot of the sky. Stars above, can you imagine doing that? What fun.” 

The thought made him chuckle, just a bit even though it irritated his ribs again. 

Of course, that soft sound seemed like a siren call and seconds later, the door to his cell swung open and the King of Shadows and Death appeared – more like King of Arrogance and a limited wardrobe. 

Didn’t he have anything else to wear besides that cloak?

Or was Din just jealous? His own cape was a bit tattered, and he’d always envied the way you wore your own hooded cloak, blending into the darkness and sweeping around corners like some kind of phantom. 

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse. 

Pushing that thought from his spiralling mind, Din tilted his head back to look up at Haran, “Are you lonely? Is that why you keep coming to see me?” He tilted his head, ignoring the feeling like boulders crashing against the inside of his skull and the bits of light dancing across his vision, “Or are you looking for a bit of nightly entertainment? Because I have to say, I’m hardly in the shape to do so.” 

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth. 

Haran rolled those unsettling eyes as the door closed behind him and he walked over, leaning against the wall opposite, “Yes, Mando. My days are just so meaningless without your shiny head to light the way.” He put a gloved hand to his chest, gasping, “Why, if we weren’t on an Imperial Cruiser, I might just drop to one knee and beg for your hand in marriage, right now.” 

Prick. 

Din turned his head away, breathing shallow as his stomach flipped again, “What do you want? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a rather busy man.”

Haran chose to ignore him, snapping his fingers together and pulling a face like he just remembered something, “Oh, wait. I can’t marry you, can I?” He looked up at Mando, golden eyes burning through the side of his helmet, “Because you already have plans to do that to someone else, don’t you? 

Din willed himself not to rise to the challenge, not to take the bait. He instead tried counting his breaths, focusing on anything but Haran’s silken words. 

They flowed like water around the small cell, almost irresistible, “Does she know? Does your little princess know that you’ve been carrying that ring around for months now?” He crossed one ankle over the other, “I have to admit, it is a stunner. How much did you have to save for a rock like that?” 

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes. 

Many jobs. He had saved the credits from… more jobs than he could remember. 

He would bring home most of the credits but would siphon off just a little from the top to add it to the tiny stash he had going. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a ring with a huge stone like others he’d seen but… he had a feeling that you would love it regardless – at least he hoped. The ring had sat nestled in an inner pocket of his tight underlayer of clothing for a while now, and he could still feel it’s hard press into his skin. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed in the fall. 

It was new to him. Not just the fact he had reached this point in his life, but the fact he was looking for an engagement ring. 

Mandalorian’s traditionally gave weapons instead but… you weren’t a Mandalorian. And the pair of you… this was different. And he wanted to do it right. 

You had taken on board so much of his traditions and rules… he wanted to do this for you. Do something in a way that you would be familiar with. 

Of course, there was one other major thing that was different – 

“Have you even revealed your face? How do you know she’ll want to marry you? I mean, she loves you now but… What if you take off your helmet and she can’t stand you?” Haran examined his gloves, his words low and almost childlike but that was the point. 

Din gritted his teeth, keeping his body loose – as much as it could be with the pain – “Seriously, are you here for a reason?”

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship. 

It echoed down the hall, but Din could calculate it was far away, deep in the belly of the cruiser so most likely a cargo hold. 

Red lights began flashing outside of his cell, the sound of many thumping footsteps racing past. 

No… no-

Haran’s eyes unfocused and a cold, dark power brushed against Din. Even through the armour, he could feel it. The way it leeched the warmth from him, swallowed what little light was in the room. It had a pull to it, like the silken caress of his voice given life. 

Din shuddered, but Haran hadn’t noticed, instead feeling for something… someone…

His pupils dilated, black swallowing the gold and then he grinned, a cruel, delighted grin and his eyes came back into focus. He stood up, laughing, “Oh, Mando. I’m afraid your luck has run out. Your precious princess has just made her entrance.”

Bile rose up in Din’s throat and he shook his head, “No, you’re lying.” 

Din knew he wasn’t. Knew it because he felt you. Every cell in his body was crying out to leave the room, to be reunited with you. Hell, he could almost smell your achingly familiar scent. 

Haran advanced on him, crouching down and he took off his gloves, revealing a pair of slender hands – absolutely mauled with twisted, marbled scars. 

Din couldn’t stop staring at them, at the evidence of some awful injury – fire, by the looks of it, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t move away, the pain too great and the room spinning. Horror flooded his senses – horror and relief. 

He felt sick at the relief, because the last thing he wanted was you near any of these people, but at the same time… you were coming to rescue him. 

He wasn’t going to die in here – 

That power brushed against him again, slipping through the cracks in his armour and seeking out the injuries as Haran said softly, “The game is beginning.” 

~~~

~~

So, your idea to enter the ship discreetly… maybe hadn’t gone entirely to plan. 

In all honesty though, it wasn’t your fault that you’d been attacked. 

And it wasn’t your fault that the only evasive maneuverer that they wouldn’t be expecting was to lead them on a wild goose chase around the ship and then…. Crash into the cargo hold. 

Okay, so Boba had been going for a gentle landing, but the situation had required some fast thinking and strategy and so… there you were. 

Maybe it hadn’t been what you’d decided upon but… you had to admit, the explosion provided excellent cover for your teams to slip in. 

Amongst the chaos, you weaved around the edges of the cargo ship and you were through into a service passageway, watching Cara and Fennec disappear down a hallway opposite. 

~

The cruiser was like a maze. 

You had no idea how long you had been navigating the halls, but you knew it was long enough. 

Already, you had encountered a few Troopers, but they were silenced before they could raise the alarm – and stuffed into nearby rooms so they would be delayed when they awoke. 

Mayfeld kept pace easily with you and Ahsoka, as you sent out waves of power to sweep the area, “They most likely have him in the cells. But if they know we’re coming… They would have moved him. 

Somewhere more central, where we have no choice but to be in the open and vulnerable to attack. So, we should head toward the front of the ship, maybe.” He kept his voice hushed and his blaster aimed. 

Ahsoka peered over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrows, “Tell me again where you came from?” She had her other saber in her hand, held in her trademark grip as she moved like a shadow. 

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?” 

Seriously?

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, looking ahead again, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” She shook her head, pausing and raising a hand for you all to stop too. 

You pushed your power around the corner as well, combining with hers and you felt it. 

A cluster of Stormtroopers gathered near a service room. They were standing between you and the next hallway and would need to be removed. 

Focusing, you did a rough tally, “Nine of them. All armed.” You worked it through in your mind. You could take them – but there was still enough time for them to raise the alarm. Especially if they were near service rooms, they’d be able to signal to others and you would soon be ambushed. 

Even without power, Mayfeld appeared to have done the same, “We need to draw them away, get them somewhere quiet.” He looked back the way you came, then to the right where there was a dead end. 

Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, “How? Any noise will alert the others. We need to - ” She broke off, having just seen what you were doing. “Where are you going?” 

You had moved away from the safety of the wall, drawing the hood of your cloak up over your face. “You and Mayfeld get ahead, see if you can find a map or something in one of those rooms.” 

Something dark thrummed in your blood, your palms itching with an intense need to… to make someone hurt. 

Mayfeld rose an eyebrow, facing you as he kept his back against the wall, “Are you crazy? They want you as much as you want Mando! You can’t just walk out there like a party gift.” 

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces. 

Stars above, the very thought almost made you laugh with an unnaturally shadowed delight. 

You indeed chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Exactly. What Stormtrooper grunt would pass up the opportunity to deliver Moff Gideon the very thing he’s doing all of this for? They’ll take me straight to him or throw me somewhere to wait. Either way, it gets them away from you.” 

Ahsoka was watching you, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She didn’t agree with this anymore than Mayfield, but she too knew there was no other way. “Okay.” She ignored Mayfeld’s noise of protest, “Be careful. Try not to draw too much attention if you can help it. We’ll find anything we can and if you’re not back out here, then circle back to find you.” She was still watching you with that strange look – like she could sense something off. 

You gave her a playful salute before pulling out another knife from your boot, rolling your shoulders and strutting around the corner. 

Instantly, the group of Troopers turned around, guns raising as they beheld your cloaked appearance, and the shining lightsaber in your hand, “Hey! Stand down!” 

You dropped the hood, grinning wickedly as you purred, “Hello, boys.” 

~

You moved like a flame, tearing through the group of Stormtroopers and spreading your embers of death, ready to turn into a blaze. 

The whir of the lightsaber was the conductor of your dance, providing a beat as your separated limb from limb. The deadly energy whipped through the air, severing one of the Troopers hands from his wrist and he went down screaming, clutching at the stub at the end of his arm which was smouldering. You didn’t hesitate, whirling and flinging a sharp, deadly knife from your hand. 

There was a muffled, wet noise impact as it lodged itself in his throat, buried in the gap between the chest plates and helmet. 

You didn’t know if Ahsoka and Mayfield were close, if they’d found a map – you didn’t care. 

These men, these followers were standing between you and Din. Maybe they had been forced into it, but as you had said before. They made the choice to stay. 

A yell sounded from behind you and a sharp blow to the middle of your back had you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs. 

You sucked in a sharp breath but before you could turn, the back of a blaster smashed your skull and you tumbled to the floor, fighting through the wave of nausea and the stars in your vision. The lightsaber was flung from your grip, skittering across the floor. 

A somewhat altered voice hissed against your ears, a knee pressing to your spine, “You think you can waltz in here and take us all down? I don’t care what the boss says.” The muzzle of his blaster now jammed against the back of your skull, forcing your forehead to press against the icy, metallic floor and you bit your lip with the impact, “You are vermin. A monster. People like you shouldn’t exist.” 

The dark creature within you snarled, and you spread your fingers of your free hand, the other caught up underneath you, “Didn’t your boss tell you?” 

You heard him cock his head, “Tell me, what?” He dug his blaster in harder, right against the base of your skull. 

A wicked grin spread your lips, causing them to split further but quite frankly, you didn’t care. The pain only aided in the focus, the hot blood nothing as it ran down your chin, “Watch the hands.” You lifted it from the floor, wrapping the Force around his throat and you gave him only a second to realise what was happening, before curling your hand into a fist and crushing his windpipe. 

He choked, hands flying up to his throat but then he was instantly gone, slumping forward over you in a heavy tangle of limbs. 

You groaned, shifting his body off of you, “Get off of me.” You muttered it uselessly, scrambling up and you scooped up the lightsaber, before turning to survey the hallway. 

Footsteps resounded from both ends of the hallway, and you lowered into a battle stance, adrenaline still humming through your veins and numbing everything else, everything but the fight and the goal – Din.  Along with the cool ice of battle… something heavy and alluring whispered to you, as black as night and hungry for more death. 

White armour burst into your left peripheral and you whirled toward it, flinging a hand forward and then back. 

The Stormtrooper was dragged off his feet, again trapped with the invisible pressure around his throat as he ground to a halt, legs swinging forward with the remaining force of him flying at you. 

He snarled, scrambling at his throat, “You can’t do this. You won’t beat him, no matter what you believe.” 

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back with a groan, “When they make you, do they implant some kind of need for all the dramatic bullshit? Honestly, whoever the first one of you was, he must have been an incredible bore.” 

The Trooper thrashed about uselessly, his weapon falling to the floor and you sensed the glare through the black visor, “At least we have hearts. And maybe we’re all the same, but we’re more human than you are.” 

Monster. 

Ah, back to this, yet again. 

Always back to this. 

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but. 

Long cloak hanging from your shoulders, battle suit fitted and black as coal. Your boots were stained red, the blood looking like ink on the dark leather. 

As for your face, you sported a wicked bruise to your cheekbone, a long cut across your forehead and with the blood dripping down your chin, the wild fury in your eyes… You probably looked every bit the monster they said you were. 

And you couldn’t care. 

“You think I haven’t heard this one before? How I have no humanity, no soul… I’m an abomination that shouldn’t deserve to live, blah blah blah.” You shook your head, something deadly and shadowed twisting through your blood, humming in dark delight at what you were doing, the devastation you were feeding it. 

There was a name for it. 

You knew what it was, the siren call to step over the line that you were only too pleased to answer. 

You’d deal with that later.

The Stormtrooper choked as you tightened the hold on him, obviously about to speak but then his head jerked, focusing over your shoulder. 

The other footsteps – a pair. One heavy, one light and nimble. 

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka. 

You didn’t bother turning around as you heard them skid to a stop, Mayfeld sucking in a breath at the sight around you. 

The fallen bodies of the Troopers, broken about and still smouldering, the blood coating the walls and the floor, the edge of your cloak trailing in it. The stench of death and the smell of molten plastic. 

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…” 

You ignored them, focused on your prey, tightening that leash bit by bit. 

It was like the very air around you was alive, more frantic than normal. Your power flared, tasting the death in the atmosphere, slipping through the ship like a poison and marking where each target was. Every single obstacle between you and your love. 

You could feel their living souls, see them in your mind like glowing stars in the sky. You knew that if you went for them, you could close your eyes and still take them down as quickly and skilfully as if your eyes were open. 

Is this how Haran was so good at killing? So skilled at finding people? 

Without the distraction of sight and sound, you needn’t worry about the expressions on people’s faces, the noises they made as they died. 

With your eyes shut, using this glittering map in your mind… they were merely lights to snuff out. 

“If you follow this path… No one will be able to help you. You will have to make the choice whether to stay on it, or to fight your way out.” Ahsoka’s voice was a soft breeze in the night of your mind, softly lit in the same white as her sabers, of which one you held in your hand. 

A symbol of strength… which you had used to destroy lives. 

Your eyes opened slowly, gazing up at the Stormtrooper ahead of you. 

A choice. 

Seconds ticked by, seconds you knew were slipping away on the clock of Din’s life as you made up your mind. 

The Trooper fell to the bloody floor and your voice was demanding, no room for argument, “Take us to your little master. I except he’ll be waiting.”

~~~

~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways. 

The King of Shadows and Death could move like a whisper on the wind, as if the air itself parted around him and kept him silent. 

But this time, he wanted to be heard. 

He wanted the Mandalorian to know that his hope had been in vain. 

He merely looked at the guards standing either side of the door and they nodded, one scanning the chip that would trigger the heavy locks in the door. 

It swung open and Haran crossed the threshold, gazing down at the broken Mandalorian, slumped on his cot. He grinned, cocking his head, “Time’s up, Mando. Your saviour has come to rescue you from the enemy walls. Looks like you don’t know her as well as you thought.” 

The Mandalorian growled, dried blood like rust on his beskar, “If you think you’ll walk out of this unharmed, you obviously don’t know her like you think you do.” 

The last time Haran came to see him, he had healed his injuries just enough that Mando wasn’t permanently dancing the line between being awake and being unconscious. He did nothing to remove the pain, or the severity of them, but he had prevented infection. He’d also healed his legs to the point where he could walk – barely. 

What good was a knight who fell before the Queen could finish the game? 

Haran walked over to him, hauling him to his feet. The Mandalorian was the same height as him, so he gauged he was looking right into Mando’s eyes when he whispered, “I think I know her a lot better than you think. I can tell you that she would not have come here peacefully. And she would not have let go the people that stood in her path.” 

Mando shook his head, trying to pull away from him but he was unsteady on his feet, the blood rushing from his head, “No. You’re wrong. She won’t listen to that call, to the... Dark Side or whatever it is. She’s walked that line before, and she’ll make the right decision again.” 

Haran chuckled low, half dragging the beskar-clad knight out of the door, “Oh, I don’t doubt that she’ll make the right decision. But whether or not it’s right depends on which side you’re standing on.” 

The Mandalorian groaned, hating that he couldn’t pull away from Haran, hated the weakness of his body, the unsteady, lurching footsteps of his still fractured legs and the armour that weighed down on his broken bones. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so obsessed with corrupting her? You’ve been living your sick little life for… however long it is now. Surely there’s some other person to terrorize?” 

Haran scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “You really need to get it through that thick skull of yours – I’m not corrupting her. I’m merely bringing back someone she’s tried to bury.” He looked over at Mando, raising his eyebrows, “Has she told you? About the time she had no code of honour, of mercy?”

The man beside him snarled, his leg giving way for a moment as agony rippled up his hip, his bones screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about now?” 

It was easy to hold him up, despite the weight of his beskar and they walked down the imposing hallways, three Stormtroopers flanking them – whether it was to stop Mando trying something, or stop Haran having his fun, he didn’t know. Or care. 

“There was a time, little hunter, where your precious princess slaughtered anyone who dared stand in her way. She was broken, hungry for vengeance and only to eager to have her fill.”

Mando was quiet for a moment, the heavy scuff-drag of his boots the only sound to be heard – one he probably hated as he moved nearly as silently as Haran did. 

Something like triumph flickered over Haran’s face at his silence, “You truly didn’t know? Oh dear… There’s a lot she hasn’t told you, Lori. Things I’ve seen in her head that I doubt even she remembers she did.” He guided them around toward the corner, to where it would all come to a head. 

And to where his power was tugging him, whispering to him of the state the next hallway had been left in. 

The Mandalorian pushed away from him, summoning some kind of inner reserve of strength. He stopped, the guards pausing behind him and shifting their weapons as a warning. He looked at Haran, the harsh lighting bouncing off his beskar, revealing nothing of the man beneath and Haran wondered if he had revealed his face yet. 

“You seem to think telling me these things will bother me or make me look at her differently. Whatever she’s done, whatever terrible things she’s committed… it doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” He stepped forward, ignoring the guards as they moved too, “I’ll tell you something, Shadow man. There is a light that burns within her, a fire that could rival the very stars up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, “And no ounce of darkness, be it her own past or your own twisted powers, will ever snuff it out.” 

He moved that finger to jab Haran’s chest. “You tried to dump her at the bottom of a lake, and she came out burning brighter than before. So carry on, tell me all these horror stories to try and scare me away.” He shrugged, the rough baritone of his voice steady, ringing with loyalty and truth – and threat, “All you’re doing is making me love her even more.” 

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting. 

Then Haran smiled, a sinister, deadly smile as he inclined his head, “I don’t doubt for a second everything you said is true.” He brought his hands together behind his back, resuming the walk and he used his power to push the Mandalorian along. “I believe that you’re willing to throw down the gauntlet to protect her honour every single time someone threatens it. But I wonder… All you’ve heard is stories.” 

He walked around the corner and stopped yet again, his dark power dragging Mando to his side. “What will you do when faced with the truth first-hand?” 

The hallway was carnage. 

A bloody battlefield. 

Multiple bodies littered the stark floors, bright red blood sprayed all along the walls – even the ceiling. The once white armour of the Troopers was stained with the stuff, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, as if a strong power had taken hold of their limbs and yanked them in all the wrong directions until bones shattered and muscles tore. 

The Mandalorian looked upon the scene, the blood coating the tips of his boots. 

A dismembered hand lay just a few feet away and the severed wrist, the tendons hanging out of it... all singed. As if cleaved from the body by something white-hot and burning. 

A lightsaber. 

Which would explain why the hard shell-like armour of the fallen Troopers were marked with black holes and marks, the stench of melting plastic mingling with the reek of burnt bodies and blood. 

This was the work of someone with deadly skill, usually so precise… pushed to the edge, to this. 

Oh, it wasn’t mindless, not by any means. 

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured. 

Haran breathed in the smell like he was standing in a field of flowers, “Well. I have to say, I’m impressed. This looks like something I’d leave behind.” He walked through the mess of shredded bodies, a phantom wind lifting the edge of his cloak so it didn’t drag in the blood, “These poor soldiers never had the chance.” He crouched down, pushing the helmet of one Trooper – resulting in the head rolling a few inches away from his body. 

He looked at the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as the fluorescent lighting brought out his scars, “Still singing her praises?” 

The Mandalorian was silent, hands clenched at his sides but then he moved, not away from the scene, but toward it. 

Through it. 

Through the blood and flesh until he was standing right in front of Haran, feet splashing to a stop in the scarlet river, “Always.”

~~~

~~

Moff Gideon was waiting for you as you were escorted into a large, open chamber.

He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, with a young girl at his side – presumably his second in command.  There was a sick expression of glee on his face, dark eyes glittering with what he presumed was triumph. 

Next to him, stood Haran, clad in black as always, with that embroidered cloak holding – 

Din. 

Oh, the sight of your Mandalorian threatened to bring you to your knees as you were stopped a few metres away. 

You couldn’t see his body – obviously – but you knew simply from the way he held himself, that he was terrible injured. 

He seemed to be bearing his weight to one side, slumped over even as he stood, and you could hear is laboured breathing from here. 

Oh Din, what happened to you…

You had to admit, a small part of you wondered if there would be anything left of him when you arrived. Not from the possibility of torture, but simply from that terrible fall. 

The thought of tumbling all that way down to the ground, encased in a rock-solid metal shell… You couldn’t even fathom it. 

And yet, there Din was, still alive after something that should have killed him. 

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him. 

Gideon cleared his throat, watching the Trooper grunt retreat to the edge of the room, “Well, well. After all my time spent hunting you… Here you are.” He cocked his head, “I thought you’d be taller.” 

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Oh stars above, please tell me this isn’t another villain speech. I hate those.” 

Haran’s lips twitched perhaps remembering this exact same conversation from his bunker. 

You flickered your eyes to him, before looking back at Moff Gideon, who was looking at you with… a rather bored expression already. 

“I was told you were insolent and arrogant, and I can see my sources were correct. They were also correct about how to summon you here.” 

He looked over at Haran, “Though it took many years for someone’s ideas to actually bear fruit. Well done.” 

Haran bristled slightly, as if taking praise from a mere human man irritated him. 

You supposed it did. 

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.  

“Well, I would hate to disappoint you, of course.” You shot him a sweet smile, venom in your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind, do you think you could tell me what it is you want before I take my Mandalorian here and leave this dump.” You held up your comms watch, “I have a party in Coruscant I’m due to be at and it won’t look very good if I’m late.” 

You thought you may have heard muffled chuckles from the line of Stormtroopers assembled behind him, but you paid it no heed. 

Gideon bared his teeth at you, eyes blazing, and he brought a hand in front of him to point at Din, “Do you not realise, we have your precious bounty hunter captive? Do you not realise who is holding him?” 

You looked over at Haran, shrugging lightly, “A guy who has interesting taste in fashion?” 

Did Gideon not know about the bunker or the lake? Had Haran neglected to tell him you’d met before?

Haran revealed nothing in his expression, but there was something in his eyes… something ancient… some of betrayal? Of lies? 

Moff Gideon snarled at you, “Insolent creature. You are here because we allowed you to be. In fact, the only reason that happened, is because of the failures of the people I sent after you. Had they done their job, you would have been broken long ago. That disgusting affliction of yours burnt out of you.” 

Heat licked down your spine, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as the three Force wielders within it straightened at is words, the ugly discrimination in his words. 

Dangerous game to play, Gideon. 

You kept your breathing even, feeling the shadows prowl beneath your skin, teeth and claws still dripping with blood from the hallways, wanting more, “Have you ever wondered why you’re stuck here, chasing down women and babies?” You took a step forward, anger and pride for yourself, for Ahsoka, every Force Sensitive person both dead and alive making your voice carry strong over the empty air – even pride for Haran, in some way.  

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.” 

“You’re stuck in the past. You believe that people like us,” You motioned to yourself, “You believe we are abominations. Freaks of nature. The Force is nature. It’s the very thing that binds us all together. There is no fear in it, no monstrosity. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you people to understand.” 

The Officer sighed, shaking his head and moving a step closer as well, “Oh, I understand that. I wasn’t referring to the others in this room. I was referring to you. You, my dear, have been sick and twisted from the very moment you were born.” 

Din pulled against Haran’s grip, growling in anger, “I’d advise you to stop speaking.” 

Haran yanked him hard, “Stay quiet.” He spat the words at Din, but you didn’t fail to notice the murderous look he shot Gideon over Din’s head, his golden eyes livid. 

A shaking had taken over your hands, so you clenched them tighter around your weapons, years of abuse playing in your mind. 

But you pushed back against it, for you were stronger now. Stronger because of it, not in spite of it. 

Gideon continued, looking upon you in disgust but there was a sick fascination here too, “You have been marked for death long before you showed your powers. You think it was coincidence that the hunter was stalking you in your miserable little village? She was there on orders.” He looked over you, “A child responsible for the deaths of her parents. You might as well have pushed the blade in your mothers flesh yourself.” 

A roaring took over your head, filling your ears with the sounds of screaming, the stench of blood and the way the light sapped from your life as your parents died. 

But… the world was different now. 

It was bright again. 

Because of Din, your friends… That’s why you were here. 

You glared at Gideon, wanting so desperately to tear out his throat with your power, your hands, or even your teeth – but now wasn’t the time. You shook your head, “You don’t win this time, Gideon. I’m afraid your sad little life will be ruled by chasing me for just a little longer.” With that, you flung your hands wide, making your power explode through the room with a battering impact. 

You felt another wave at the same time as yours, fuelling it – Ahsoka’s. 

You only just managed to keep it free from Din, though Haran had thrown up a hand milliseconds before you, as if sensing what you were going to do – and evidently creating a shield. 

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky. 

The Force flung him through the air, causing his head to smash harshly against a metal beam and he crumpled to the ground, limp. 

Haran spun to look at him, and it occurred to you – he should have protected him too. He was working for Gideon. Or… at least pretending to be. 

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now. 

You used Haran’s distraction to throw yourself at him, activating the lightsaber and unleashing yourself on him with a strangled cry of rage. 

He startled, just a few seconds too late and he pushed Din at you in an attempt to slow you down. 

Perfect. 

Just as you planned. 

You were never really going to engage in battle with him, had never intended to attack him. 

But you knew he would use Din as a shield, thinking you were too blidned in your rage – but you proved him wrong. 

Din careened into you, stumbling against your body and you both nearly tumbled to the floor, but then Cara was there, helping you support his body as he wrapped an arm around you, “You came…” His voice was hoarse, weak with pain and exhaustion. 

The relief and love in his voice nearly brought you to the ground, “Of course I came for you, Din. I will always come for you.” You gave him a watery smile, walking toward the others, keeping one eye behind you as Haran watched. 

Why wasn’t he moving… Why wasn’t he attacking?

“I saw what you did.” Haran’s silken voice called out from behind you, making you pause in your retreat. “I know you feel it. The call to the Dark Side. And I know that you answered it.” 

That would be why. 

You slowed to a stop, forcing Din and Cara to slow too. “How do you know I answered it?” You looked straight ahead, still not turning around. 

Haran sounded as though he took a step forward, “I felt it. I felt it when you allowed the Dark to show you how to get here. You saw the lives as glowing lights, a map to saving your Mandalorian. And the mess you left in that hallway…” He trailed off meaningfully, “You needn’t fear it, darling. It’s not evil. It’s merely… a different perspective.” His voice had melted into the same one that had coaxed you into swallowing the poison, into stepping off the edge. 

Here you were, yet again. Only you weren’t standing on the precipice of a raging torrent… You were standing on the edge of the Dark Side. 

And his words had instantly awoken it, set it pining for a life to be unleashed, untamed. 

Slowly, you turned around, cringing when Din’s broken feet tumbled over each other too, so you slowly let go “A different perspective…?” You cocked your head, voice starting to sound unsure as his seductive baritone filtered through your mind, weaving around it. 

He smiled, that gorgeous, disarming smile that instantly made you lock focus on him, “Yes. Others may tell you that the dark side is evil… But it isn’t. It’s simply using that power in a different way. Using it to get the things that you deserve.”

You swallowed, feet hanging over that metaphorical edge, “You – You promise? I can’t go back to that place. I can’t be a… monster again.” Your voice trembled over the word; eyes locked on his amber ones. 

Din shook his head fiercely from your left, fighting against Cara’s hold as she pulled him away, but he was too weak, “No. Sweetheart, no. Stop listening to him, please… He’s lying to you. You don’t need this. You don’t need that darkness, princess. You’re so good, so strong… please don’t do this.” 

And then you made a decision. 

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran. 

Stepping off of that edge. 

Haran extended a gloved hand to you, “That’s it, darling. That’s it… Coming here doesn’t make you a monster, it just means you are claiming your birth right. This is where you belong.” 

As you reached his presence, a feeling wrapped over you, muffling Din’s voice, the sounds of the others around you. You slid your hand through his, gasping a little as you felt your shadowy beast respond to his own, felt them twine around each other, greet each other. 

“I don’t…” Uncertainty still clouded your expression, and you lingered a little, worrying you were making a fatal mistake. 

He saw this, gently drawing you closer and into the circle of his arms, “No one will die. Your Mandalorian, your friends… We will help them leave safely and then… Then we can begin.” He guided your head to his neck. 

Din’s voice, though muffled, was desperate, clawing at you, “No! Cyar'ika, you can’t. Please, I’m begging you. You don’t need to go to him, you don’t need to do this. I love you. I love you for who you are, for every single thing. I’m not afraid of you, of any single part of you.” He sobbed. 

Din sobbed, reaching for you, “Please don’t leave me alone.” 

You were glad your head was pressed to Haran’s neck, because the backs of your eyes burned, shame and guilt threatening to choke you. 

You had to do this. 

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

You were quiet, and then just… went pliant in his arms. You raised your own to his back, winding around his lean frame and lifted your face from Haran’s neck, nuzzling your nose along his neck, “I believe you.”  

“NO!!” Din fell to his knees beside Cara, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this. Please-” The way his voice broke tore through your heart, and you nearly backed out right then and there. 

But you didn’t because Din… He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you had to do this… 

Haran’s arms tightened around you, one coming up to cradle the back of your head, “Good girl. I always knew you would see the light.” A deliberate, ironic choice of words form the King of Shadows and Death.

Din’s sobs speared though you, each devasted noise threatening the tears building in your own throat. 

Raising on tiptoe slightly, you ran a hand down his back, the other splaying wide, ready. 

You brushed your lips along the smooth line of his skin, breathing in the smell of wind and midnight, “There’s just… There’s one little thing…” 

Haran nodded, his cheek resting against your hair, “Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

His words muffled the soft sound of an object flying into your hand as you let out a breath against the shell of his ear, whispering, “I will never be your Queen.” 

The sound of a lightsaber activating, not through air… but through flesh. 

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony. 

You held his sagging body to yours, snarling, “That’s for the lake, you twisted asshole.” You stepped back, letting him fall to his knees, yanking free the lightsaber and savouring the gritted howl of agony as you tore back through more flesh and tendon. 

Those amber eyes of his blazed like molten gold, deadly and furious, “You don’t know the mistake you’re making. You’re throwing away your life with these fools.” 

You bared your teeth at him, raising the saber threateningly to his throat, letting it make the faintest contact, “Come after me again, and I will end you. I don’t care if you’re hundreds of yours old, or the King of Death or whatever else you call yourself. I’m not afraid of you. And I will destroy you before you can do the same to anyone else.” 

With that, you quickly turned, bolting toward your family and friends, “Now!!” 

Ahsoka flung her hands wide at the same time as you, creating a wide bubble of Force energy that blew through the space. 

Every Stormtrooper in the area was knocked flat on their back, instantly out like lights as you threw your arm around Din’s shoulders, trying to get him up as he stared at you. 

“What… I don’t…” His voice was bewildered, dazed with pain and he was heavy in your arms. 

You whimpered just slightly, desperation and anxiety creeping forward, the edge of battle slowly fading, “I’ll explain everything later, we have to go now, Lori. Please.” 

Mayfeld was suddenly there, supporting his other side and then you were all running for the cargo hold, leaving the destruction behind you. 

Even as you ran, Cara and Fennec scouting ahead, Ahsoka behind you aiding with the energy bubble and Mayfeld helping you carry Din… You couldn’t quite figure out how you had pulled this off. 

You’d done it. 

~~~

~~

Haran watched her leave, supporting the Mandalorian and hurrying away with her friends, her power combined with Tano’s to create an impenetrable shield around them all. 

Well… He would have gotten through with half a thought – perhaps a whole one – but any of the other fools in this place wouldn’t stand a chance. 

Many footsteps rushed into the room and then he felt hands on him, pushing away his own, trying to get to his wound. 

He looked down, saw a medic with their pack open by his side, flitting and fiddling. 

“Leave it.” His silken voice was hard ice, enough of a bite there to inform the medic what would happen if they didn’t leave. 

Despite the medics healing instincts, they knew the tone well, and moments later the kit was packed up and Haran was already turning away from the retreating figure. 

Strong. 

She had grown stronger far quicker than even he had expected. He knew it was within her, but he had thought the trauma ran deeper, its claws embedded into her very soul and creating a barrier every time she would try to tap into the power. 

Tano must have taught her how to master her fear, or how to get past it.

Useful, it saved him a job… but also irritating. If she was already harnessing that trauma, it would mean he could no longer use that aspect. 

Haran walked the path she had taken, out to the cargo load, the harsh wind roaring across the space as the tech’s struggled to gain control of the ship again, to remove whatever bug the girl and her friends had slipped in. 

No matter. It didn’t upturn his plans… just meant he had to work with a new angle. 

And fortunately, he had one, courtesy of the would-be Queen herself.

Haran had come across the bodies in the hallway on his way in here, saw the way they were dumped on the ground with their limbs at unnatural angles, their armour shattered from the inside out. 

And if the still smoking scorch marks all over their bodies weren’t indication enough, a sweep of his power had revealed massive internal devastation. 

Haran stood with a gloved hand pressed to the bleeding wound as he watched the steadily shrinking shape of a ship. A mere thought had the hole stitching back together as he extended his fingers out slowly. 

No one on the clean side of the Force would wreak havoc like that of the hallway, regardless of their love having been kidnapped and beaten. 

And that meant simply one thing. And one thing only.

She was being called to the Dark Side. 

And she’d heeded that call. 

Maybe only temporary, but the Dark Side was like Haran himself. Once you let it in, once you got that first taste… it never truly left. She could deny it all she wanted, trick him with it, think it was merely a reaction from the stress of saving the Mandalorian, but it had already rooted within her. 

He could feel it. 

Haran tipped his head back and laughed, his ebony curls dancing across his forehead as the wind tugged and pushed at his tall, lean frame. A lone pillar of darkness, hovering at the edge of the world. 

Previous| Next

[lesetoilesfous]

sensory overload with fenders for the bad things bingo? (specifically fenris, if you’re up for it)

Godddd I had too much fun with this and I very much hope you enjoy it. Also I hate with a burning passion the fact that Hawke can give Fenris back to Danarius. I hate it so, so much.

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Sensory Overload

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Sensory Overload, Slavery, Panic Attack, Vomiting

Pairing: Fenders (pre-relationship)

Characters: Evil/Red Marian Hawke, Fenris, Anders, Varric Tethras, Isabela, Danarius

Additional Tags: Hawke tries to give Fenris back and the KWC says no thank you, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 1,503

“Take him.”

Fenris feels as if he’s been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. “What?”

Danarius smiles: a slow, creeping sort of smile that Fenris has seen him wear a thousand times. “Interesting. I’ll make it worth your while, of course. The power of the Imperium will be at your disposal.”

Feeling dizzy, Fenris stares at Hawke. Her pale features are set and rigid with cold disdain. “Don’t do this, Hawke. I need you.” The words fall out of his mouth like pulled teeth, dragging at his insides with a sharp ache.

Hawke's lips curl back in a sneer. “You’re on your own, Fenris.”

Everything inside of Fenris collapses. It reminds him of something he’d read, recently - a book by a Qunari philosopher about the stars - a woman who hypothesised that sometimes, when a star died, it collapsed into an inverse of itself, dragging everything around it into darkness. Behind him, Danarius’ voice sounds both far, far too close and impossibly far away.

“What shall it be, Fenris? Will you throw your life away?”

Fenris can’t breathe. He feels is if the floor is swaying beneath him, shaking like a ship at sea. He remembers dancing on these floorboards, with Isabela...Fenris looks up, but the gold and brown and cream of the Hanged Man’s interior is a spinning kaleidoscope of colour. His mouth moves, and his tongue feels numb and fuzzy with static. “No, I will go with you.”

One of the guards moves, and the clanking scrape of their armour sounds painfully loud. Fenris sways away from them as they drop a purse heavy with coins into Hawke’s hand. Danarius speaks again, his voice cutting through the fog of sound and colour, weaving through Fenris’ ears like a thread pulled through his brain. “Lovely! Here’s a token of my appreciation, Champion. I’m sure I can arrange to have something more...appropriate sent along soon.”

The wooden floorboards beneath Fenris tilt, and he finds himself stumbling forwards toward his master and the red-headed elvhen woman, Varania, his sister. Fenris stares at his feet, which seem far too far away from him, and tries to remember how to breathe. His face feels hot, and his lungs are aching, desperate for more air. Danarius smiles, and the hairs on the back of Fenris’ arms and neck lift. “Come along, everyone! The boat leaves for Minrathous within the hour.”

The group begins to move, and Fenris feels as if the entire tavern is folding around him like a Rivaini paper flower. His vision tunnels, surrounded by darkness, but everything is still too loud and too bright and too hot and how had he never noticed the smell in here? Every time he breathes he feels as if he’s inhaling a thick stew of sweat and leather and steel polish and sex and alcohol and piss. He gags, falling forward. Behind him, Hawke doesn’t even move. Beside her, Fenris can’t make out Anders, Isabela and Varric in the blur of colour and noise. He still can’t breathe. The past ten years feel unreal, rapidly fading from his memory like a dwindling dream.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

Varric’s drawl is immediately preceded by the familiar thunking of his crossbow, and Fenris thinks for a moment with relief that the rogue is going to shoot him in the head and end this nightmare before it begins. But the bolt doesn’t hit him, or Danarius, and he turns - slowly, too slowly, as if he’s moving in treacle - to see Hawke’s eyes rolling up into the back of her head as she collapses like a sack of potatoes.

Isabela draws her knives. “Oh, thank the Maker.”

Anders swings his staff from behind his back, twirling it in a wreath of blue fire that leaves burning imprints on Fenris’ irises. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Fenris turns back, forcing himself to lift his head despite the ten tonne weight that feels as if it’s resting on him, and sees Danarius’ face twist into a mask of fury. He sees Danarius’ hands claw, and the mercenaries charge, and shades bleed up from between the floorboards of the tavern like oil dragged from the earth. Then everything shatters into a swirling kaleidoscope of shattered stained glass and colour. Fenris can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t hear. Everything is too much: too loud, too bright, every movement feels like a needle in his eyes, every sound like a knife stabbed into his ears. His tongue feels heavy and burning with the overload of spice and salt in the air, and his nose is thick and choking on smoke and sulphur. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest, Fenris thinks he must be trembling with it. Blindly, he moves towards what he thinks might be the door, and doesn’t care if someone stabs him in the back for it.

Fenris makes it three feet into the cool Kirkwall night before he crumples to his knees and vomits, retching again and again until his stomach is spasming and his eyes are burning with useless, burning tears as if he’d pressed his face into a chimney full of smoke. Arms shaking, dripping with cold sweat, he kneels on the cold white sandstone of the street, washed silver by the moon, and shudders until the world stops spinning. It stops slowly, the brightness in his eyes turned unnaturally light, every colour too saturated and too vivid, even out here in the dark. The barking of Fereldan mabari, normally a strange kind of comfort, punches his skull every time they break the night, leaving Fenris shuddering with recollections of Hawke and her mabari and every time he’d saved her life, every time she’d saved his. He’d trusted her.

The sea breeze is too salty on Fenris’ tongue, which feels as if it’s been coated with grease and spices. He spits until his mouth is dry and his throat is sore, and doesn’t know how long it takes before he can breathe easily again.

When, at last, the world is no longer a Fade-saturated parody of itself, Fenris realises two things. First: the sounds of combat from inside the tavern have long since faded. Second: he is not alone.

Slowly, he forces himself to look up from the familiar sets of black and brown boots to Anders and Isabela. Isabela looks uncharacteristically sincere, and Anders’ wrinkled features are creased with worry. Twenty feet away, Varric is talking to a small huddle of Carta dwarves next to a cart with Hawke’s unconscious body. Fenris nearly throws up again, and Anders starts forward, totally ignoring the puddle of bile and vomit on the stone in front of him. Fenris flinches back, violently, and Anders freezes.

Finally, Fenris finds his voice. “Danarius?”

Anders’ jaw tenses, and some of the worry clears from his features. “Unconscious, in chains, supervised by Merrill and Aveline. We drugged him with magebane, too.” Anders hesitates, and glances at Isabela before going on. “We thought - we wanted you to have the final say. On what we do with him.”

Fenris nods, and breathes, pushing himself further away from the sick to sit on the stone. He glances towards Varric and the carta. “Hawke?”

Isabela’s lips purse into a thin line. “Varric drugged her. I say we slit her throat. Varric’s keeping her drugged in a safehouse until we come to a group decision.”

Fenris nods again. The breeze pulls across the open stone courtyard, tugging at Anders’ and Isabela’s hair, and cooling the sweat on the back of his neck. He looks at the pirate, and then the mage. Varric is walking over to them, now, too, Bianca loose in his arms. “Why?”

Isabela’s features flicker, briefly. Anders’ expression crumples. “Andraste, Fenris, because we love you.” He says it so easily. As if it’s something they’ve said to each other before. And then he keeps talking, because it’s Anders, and he always has more to say. “Also, I don’t know if you’ve been listening to me at all for the past ten years but, "the right of every man, woman and child to freedom in Thedas" does, in fact, include slaves. I know, I know, a manifesto about freedom being anti-slavery, it’s improbable right? You’d think I was healing all those elvhen slaves over the past decade with my own sweat and blood and tears for some secret evil agenda. But no, it’s actually pretty simple. Slavery’s one of the foulest, most cursed, pus-infected tumorous boils on the Maker’s taint, and so’s anyone who fucking supports it.”

Fenris thinks it’s a strange world, indeed, that he finds himself comforted by the mage’s rambling. Varric steps forward and reaches out, offering a hand. “What Blondie’s trying to say, Fenris, is that we’ve got your back.”

Fenris hesitates, staring at Varric’s hand, his mind full of Hawke’s bright blue eyes and strong jaw. Isabela unfolds her arms from where they’d been tightening across her chest. “No slaves, no masters.”

Fenris takes Varric’s hand.

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 12 – Pretending to Be Functional Adults

 Chapter 1     Chapter 11

“Oh my God”

“What?” Dick came running out of the bathroom, his hair still dripping from the water in the shower and a towel around his shoulders and waist.

“Did you buy every pregnancy book in the bookstore?”  She gave him a teasing smile.

He rubbed the back of his neck before pulling his soaking wet hand away and drying it and his hair with his towel.  “Yeah, I um… wanted to be prepared.  I’ve only gone through a few.”

“I can’t believe you’ve gone through two already.  I haven’t even made it through one.”  She made her way over to him and took the towel from him, using it to gently dry his hair for him.  

He looked at her adoringly and wrapped his arms around her.  “I just want to know what to expect and make sure I’m giving you the support you need.”

“90% of parenting is being there and supporting them.  You are going to be a great father,” she assured him gently.  “I can see it in the way you interact with your family and talk about the kids you teach, how you interact with Rachel when you visit.”

“I really hope you’re right. And I can’t wait to see you as a mom. I know you’ll be amazing but I still can’t wait to see you rocking our baby and cuddling our baby, putting our baby down for the night before coming to bed…” he pulled her closer and leaned down suggestively as he said it.

Marinette squeaked and covered his face with the towel before he could see the deep blush that settled on her cheeks.  She wasn’t fast enough though, judging by the way Dick’s chest rocked with laughter and the way his arms tightened around her.  He gave her a peck on the lips before going back to get dressed.

Marinette turned back to his bookshelf with a quiet, “Should have grabbed the other towel too.”  To distract herself from her mind going down that road, she continued looking over the books, movies, and cd’s on his shelf.

When he returned a few minutes later, she glanced up at him quickly before looking back at the CDs. “I didn’t realize you had such an extensive Jagged Stone collection.  Oh, I still have your shirt too, don’t I?  I’ll return it next time I see you.”

“Keep it,” he grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows.  “I’d really like to see you in it… and nothing else.”

She blushed and looked down to collect her thoughts.  Instead her focus got caught on something else.  She started giggling and looked back up to Dick.  “Are those your slippers?”  She eyed the fuzzy bunny slippers on his feet.

He grinned back.  “They are.  I love these slippers.  They are extremely comfortable.  Maybe if you’re really lucky, I’ll get you a pair too.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “Be still my heart.  So romantic.” She giggled and wrapped her arms around his waist.  “Did you want to go with me to his concert in a few weeks?”

“You have tickets?” He exclaimed louder than he meant to.  “I mean, sorry.  How did you get tickets?  I tried to get tickets but they sold out before I could get to a computer.”

“Yeah, well kind of.  I have backstage passes,” she answered shyly. “My friends are coming to visit that week so it would be going with all of us.  You’d be meeting my friends at the same time.”

Dick gaped at her. “I’d love to meet your friends, but Marinette, how did you get backstage passes?  And you just happen to have an extra one?”

She cocked her head to the side, confusion clear.  “I… Tim didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Do you know the name of the artist you liked who does all his album covers and some of his costumes?”

Dick looked at her suspiciously.  “Yeah, kind of.  I know they go by MDC.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng…” Dick stared at her dumbfounded.  “That’s what caught Tim’s attention for the partnership in the first place.  I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”

“No.  I asked him not to.  He did a background check on you before the partnership and…” he cringed as the words left his mouth, “a more thorough one after the pregnancy.  Sorry.  But I asked them not to tell me anything.  I figured we should learn that stuff together.”

She beamed up at him and pulled him down for a quick kiss.  She stayed cuddled in his arms and looked up at him with a mischievous smile, “So is this a bad time to mention I was given a full briefing on you and your history after my friend discovered who you were?”  Dick looked at her for a few moments unsure how to react.  

Marinette giggled. “I’m kidding.” Her face suddenly turned serious.  “It was actually two friends, coming from two very different perspectives.” Dick opened his mouth to say something and shut it again, uncertain if she was serious or not. Marinette smiled shyly.  “Or at least they wanted to.  I had the same reaction you did.  I thought it was unfair and we should get to know each other on our own.  Although if there was anything I needed to know, they could tell me that.”

Dick nodded.  “That makes sense.  I’m pretty sure that was the deal with my family too.  Even if I didn’t want to know, if there was anything extremely concerning, they would have told me.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment.  “And my best friend and current roommate’s father being a supervillain terrorist wasn’t considered concerning or you were just waiting for me to mention it?”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows and rested on the arm of the couch, examining her in an attempt to figure out if she was telling the truth this time or teasing him again.  But the earnestness and nervousness in her eyes told him it was the truth.  “It wouldn’t have been considered concerning unless Adrien showed signs of having helped him.  Since nobody mentioned it, I have to assume he didn’t.”

Marinette shook her head frantically, her eyes now pleading.  “He didn’t.  He… it was a really big blow to him to know his father had done that to not only all of his friends but him… that he cared that little for him.”  She looked away as if trying to steel herself for something. Dick tensed in anticipation for what she was going to say.  

“That’s one of the reasons I think he is so excited for the baby.  He is so excited to be an uncle, to shower our baby with so much love and acceptance.  Even before we knew he was Hawkmoth, Gabriel was a crap father.  Always judging, always cold, always putting Adrien down. His only value to him was what he could bring to the brand.  It was a completely loveless life.  He wants to make sure our baby has that.  It would kill him if he couldn’t see the baby or if we didn’t trust him around the baby.”

Dick reeled back in realization.  That was why she was so nervous.  She was afraid when he found out about Adrien’s father, he would ban him from hanging around his child.  He smiled gently and pulled Marinette closer until she was standing between his legs and wrapped in his arms.  “I would never blame the child for the sins of the parent,” he assured her.  “Remind me to tell you about Damian’s mother sometime, when he’s comfortable with me talking about it.  And Stephanie.  Her father is Cluemaster.  He’s one of our rogues.  He’s done a lot of damage, responsible for a lot of deaths.  I have never thought less of Steph and I won’t of Adrien.” His voice was gentle and comforting.

Marinette looked up at him tears falling out of her eyes, so filled with appreciation, it pushed the tears out.  She lunged at him in a desperate hug, causing both of them to fall onto the couch. Dick chuckled affectionately, but kept his arms tight around her.  After a few seconds his face became serious again.  “Is that… is that why Adrien doesn’t like me?”

Marinette pulled away from him just far enough to cock her head to the side as though confused, but the sudden tension in her frame confirmed his suspicions.  “What makes you say that?”

“He just seems slightly hostile toward me.  Not really welcoming.” Dick shrugged as though it was a small thing.  She could dismiss it if she wanted to, or they could talk.  He was letting her decide.

Marinette sighed and leaned her head back on his chest, staring out the window as she started to speak. “He… he takes his role of protector very seriously.  During those attacks, we were usually right by each other.  We had a main group of four through most of it. Nino took care of Alya, they were dating back then, I mean, they still are, but… yeah, anyway.  So that left me and Adrien to watch each other… and for some reason a ridiculous number of akumas targeted either him or me.” She fumbled for the words.  She did not want to lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell the truth either so she settled on a half-truth.  

“So we watched out for each other.  We protected each other.  We’ve saved each other’s lives so many times.  We died for each other.  Him… him more than me… a lot more.  And now, he still has that mentality.  I’m his family.  He needs to protect me like his father never did for him.  And you just kind of snuck in.  He thought he’d get the chance to have an opinion on my romantic interests and now you’re in my life, our lives for the rest of our lives because of the baby. So it doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, it doesn’t even matter what I think of you, one way or another, you are in our lives forever.

“And he’s just worried about you walking away or being like his father.”  She worked her arms under her chest so she could angle her face to look at him.  She looked at him, sincerity clear in her eyes.  “He doesn’t know you.  When he does, he’ll relax.  I’m sorry he didn’t make you feel welcome.”

Dick reached up and tucked some hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear.  “That explains why you understood Damian so well and were so comfortable with his attitude.”

She chuckled and leaned into his hand.  “Yeah, a bit of similarities there.”

Dick nodded.  “I can accept that.  I have to earn his trust.  We’ll have to hang out more and maybe you with Damian.”

Marinette smiled and nodded. “I like that idea.  Maybe we can make a plan for it while we eat?  I’m starving.”

Dick grimaced and looked toward his kitchen.  “Yeah… maybe we should go out for breakfast… unless you’re a fan of cereal… but I’m not sure if my milk is still good.”

Marinette blinked a few times.  “You have no food in your apartment?  How do you… eat… like not even snacks?  Last time I was here you had food.”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I asked Steph to bring food over while you were sleeping last time.  Probably going to need to change that before the baby comes, huh?”

She pushed off of him to stand up and offered him a hand.  “How are you considered a functional adult?” She shook her head affectionately.

“I never made any such claims.  That’s on you for assuming.” He grinned at her.

She laughed and pulled him toward the door.  “Come on, we’re going to get breakfast then get you some groceries and I’m going to teach you to make at least one dish.”

He grimaced.  “I should warn you, I’ve been banned from the kitchen by Alfred more than once.  It might not be as easy as you think.”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m a very good teacher.  I’ve already taught one hopeless, rich boy to cook, I can teach another.  Just make sure to pay attention.  There’s a test at the end.”

Dick stopped and pulled her back into his arms.  He lowered his head so he was barely a few centimeters from her ear, his warm breath brushing against her ear.  “And what do I get if I pass,” he asked huskily.

Marinette took a deep breath and slowly let it out, hoping to calm her thundering heart.  It was unfair he could affect her like that with just a few words.  She looked up at him from under her lashes.  “You get to not starve.” He pouted but quickly morphed into a smile when she pulled him down so her lips were now just centimeters from his lips. “But, if you’re a very good student, I might give you a reward.”  She smirked and started walking away.

Dick stared after her in a daze.  He waited a few seconds for his heart to calm down.  “Okay, but it isn’t the same reward you gave your other student, right?” he called after her.  “Right, Mari? Mari?”  She giggled and kept walking.

After a few hours of getting to know what Dick liked and might like to try, and buying the essentials for a functioning kitchen, they finally returned back to his place.  They had just gotten everything put away when Dick’s phone started ringing with a very distinctive ring.  “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath.  “Give me just a second.”  He gave her an apologetic look and walked back to his bedroom to talk.

He came back out a few minutes later with a deeply guilty look.  “I’m so sorry.  Something came up at work, an emergency they need my help with.”

Marinette gave him a concerned look.  “On a Saturday?  Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.  No.  It’ll be fine.  I just need to take care of a few things.  I should… I should be done by dinner if you wanted to stay here.  I don’t think we have time for a lesson today, but maybe you could do it tomorrow?  And tonight we could go out and get something.”

Marinette smiled. “That sounds like fun.  Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here while you’re gone?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her.

She nodded and beamed at him. “Okay.  I might run home to change though.  I wasn’t exactly expecting to spend last night here and might want new clothes.”

He looked down at her clothes, making no secret of him checking her out as he did it.  “Or, you could just walk around naked.”

She giggled and pushed his face away.  “Not while you’re not here.  Where’s the fun in that?”

He nodded in agreement. “Good point.  Here,” he rummaged through a drawer in his kitchen and pulled out a key.  “Take this. You can run home and come back and hang out here while I’m out.”

She looked between him and the key a few times.  “Are you sure.”

He shook his head and pulled her into his arms again.  “About you? Absolutely.  Now I have to go or I’m going to be late.”  He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran out the door.

<><><><><> 

He hated the Court of Owls. He hated them.  They never made things easy or straightforward.  Whatever they were planning was going to be big and it seemed like he and the other Titans couldn’t get any insight into it.  Every time they got a hint, something happened. He couldn’t figure out if the Court figured out they knew and backed off that plan or if his information was wrong or if he was just misinterpreting it.  They couldn’t get a foothold into it and it was driving him crazy.

He unlocked his door and threw his keys on the counter, freezing at the sight at the table.  There was an amazing looking plate of food, probably ice cold by now, waiting for him.  “Fuck,” he cursed quietly and ran his hand back and forth through his hair, mentally berating himself for being such an inconsiderate, thoughtless asshole.  He had completely forgotten Marinette was going to wait here for him.  It looked like she had even made dinner for him before giving up and going home.  He was going to have to do something huge to make this up to her.  And God, Adrien was going to think he was right about him.

He moved over to the couch to collapse and call Marinette, but found her there instead, fast asleep on his couch, her empty plate of food on the coffee table.  At least she hadn’t waited for him, he bitterly mused to himself. That would have made him feel even worse than he already did.  He watched her as she laid there in the shirt she had borrowed after their first night together, hand protectively placed over her tiny baby bump.  She looked so peaceful and sweet and perfect.  He looked down and huffed out a quiet laugh seeing his slippers on her feet.

He lightly traced her cheek and jaw, feeling his heart swell.  He still could not believe he was somehow lucky enough for her to come into his life in the first place, but the fact she wanted to be there with him was overwhelming.  He furrowed his brow as a thought occurred to him.  Whatever the Court was planning, it was going to be big.  What if it was something in Gotham?  What if Marinette got caught up in it?  He didn’t think he could survive losing her and the baby. He had given her his key for a reason. He hadn’t planned on asking for it back. He already couldn’t imagine his life without her there in some capacity.  He didn’t know if it was love yet, but he knew she made his days brighter.

He needed to protect them. He needed to work harder.  He had to figure out the Court’s plan and end it before they could get started so they would never have the chance to hurt her or the baby.  He needed to double his efforts and stop messing around.  He needed to… “Dick?” the sleepy mumble brought him from his thoughts.

He gave her a soft, apologetic smile.  “Hey, beautiful.  I’m so sorry. Things took so much longer than I expected.  I should have called.  I’m sorry.”

Marinette yawned as she shook her head.  “No, it’s… you were working.  I’m out later than I expect for work all the time.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to fall asleep.  That’s kind of creepy.” She sat up and looked groggily around.  Her eyes found his food on the table.  “I’m sorry.  I meant to put your food somewhere so you could reheat it when you had the chance to eat.”

“Marinette,” he let out a frustrated sigh.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  It wasn’t creepy.  I asked you to stay here.  It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for. I do.  I let you wait for me without giving you any updates.  I’m so sorry.”  He looked around quickly, trying to formulate a plan.  “Hey, do you want to sleep here again tonight?  I can drive you home if you want, but if you want to stay here, we can just cuddle tonight?  I need to take a shower and eat something really quickly, but you can go to bed now and I can join you when I’m done?”

Marinette looked at him unsure, her eyes still not completely open.  “Are you sure?”

Dick smiled at her and gently ran his thumb over her cheek again.  “I would love it.  I like having you in my apartment.  It makes it feel more like a home.  And I love waking up to you.  Here,” he picked her up in a bridal hold, “let me carry you so you can go back to sleep quicker.”

Marinette smiled sleepily and snuggled into his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “This is a good way to travel.  We should do this more often.”

Dick’s smile widened at the idea.  “That’s a promise.”

Chapter 13

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123

[m3kuroshirt]

House of Assassins Part Three

Links to Part One, Part Two

Word Count: 2704

Warnings: None

Ichigo had a Problem. And that Problem’s name was Grimmjow. For the past two months, the strong, handsome, sometimes brash, and very, very forward man seemed to show up almost everywhere Ichigo went. And yes, Ichigo liked looking at his pretty eyes and his strong chest and his smug grin. But also, Ichigo had jobs. Dangerous jobs. How was he supposed to complete them with a civilian hanging around him all the time, and not give himself away? Whether he enjoyed Ichigo’s company or not, he was almost certain that Grimmjow would go running to the cops like a good citizen if he knew the true nature of Ichigo’s work.

Which is why, on a Thursday, Ichigo was outside perched on a park bench…at one in the morning. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands briefly. His head was fuzzy from being awake all day and then dragging himself out to the park so late…early?...but he needed to try and keep his wits about him. The man he was meeting was known for his…games. And Ichigo had no intention of getting strung along. Especially as the man was a friend of Kisuke’s. Ichigo really had to wonder at that man’s definition of friendship…did he think it just meant ‘person who hasn’t killed me yet’? Ichigo shook his head with a sigh.

“That’s a pretty dramatic sigh,” a low voice commented. Ichigo turned to look over his shoulder. In the moonlight he could see a shadow of a figure standing several feet away. “Life got you down?” The figure approached now that he knew he had Ichigo’s attention. As he stepped closer, Ichigo could make out more details. Long dark wavy hair pulled back in a low ponytail. A suit that looked slightly disheveled as if the person had taken a nap in it. Scruff around the chin and five o’ clock shadow on his cheeks. A tired-looking face with a kind expression, but with eyes as sharp as the blades he figured had to be concealed somewhere on the man’s person. After all, Shunsui Kyoraku was known for wielding dual swords.

The man was beside the bench now. He gestured to the empty space next to Ichigo. “Mind if I join you?”

Ichigo shrugged, feigning indifference. He didn’t dare let the other man see how intimidated he felt. “Do what you want.”

Shunsui eased himself onto the bench with a sigh. “You know, I was a little surprised at the time Kisuke suggested. It’s not easy for an old man like me to get out and about at all hours of the night anymore,” he spoke with the air of a man commenting on the weather, but Ichigo knew there was another meaning to his words. ‘You better be worth the effort I’m making to see you’ was the unspoken threat in the older man’s eyes when Ichigo met his gaze. Ichigo stared back at him calmly, brown eyes determined and unwavering. Shunsui must have liked what he saw there, because he smiled suddenly. He turned to face forward, observing the empty park in the silvery light of the moon and stars. “You know, there’s a new pharmaceutical company in town. Pretty interesting, actually, they say they have a new drug. One that’s supposed to enhance the user’s fitness and strength, optimize calorie use, cut down reaction time, and just overall make a person physically…better.”

“Do they?” Ichigo wasn’t stupid. He’d heard of Hueco Mundo Pharmaceuticals. He’d even seen promos for their so-called ‘miracle pill’. To the average person it probably sounded ‘too good to be true’. To those desperate enough to try it, they probably believed it was a bit embellished. To Ichigo? He figured it probably did all those things exactly as advertised. He’d been around Kisuke long enough to know things that seemed impossible were rarely actually so. But he wondered what a person had to sacrifice to reap the benefits of that ‘miracle pill’.

“They do.” Shunsui’s voice had lowered and his tone was more serious now. “Naturally, Unohana looked into it.” Ichigo felt his lips quirk upward slightly at the mention of Unohana Retsu, the number one pharmacist in the city, and Kisuke and Tessai’s personal supplier for both medications and poisons. Though, he couldn’t help the twinge of unease in his chest. If Unohana looked into it, there was most definitely something wrong. The woman didn’t get involved personally where she didn’t have to. Even with Tessai and Kisuke, she insisted they were customers and business was not to be discussed outside of work-hours when she visited for tea.

“And?”

“Shinji. Hiyori. Kensei. Hanataro. Four of her top employees are missing.”

Ice gripped Ichigo’s soul and he felt dread wash over him. His hands clenched into fists and a frown settled onto his face. “Does she know what happened?”

A light breeze stirred the night air, tugging gently at Shunsui’s long hair and making a shiver roll down Ichigo’s spine. “They were sent to find out information. Not even infiltrate, just act as customers. Each of them disappeared after receiving one shipment of the medication. We don’t even know if they ingested any. There’s no trace of them, and the only hint we even had that they managed to get the medication was the packaging found in their homes.” Shunsui paused for a moment and let the information sink in. Then he continued, “Until yesterday. Unohana received an unlabelled, unmarked package. It had a disc inside.”

Ichigo’s mouth went dry. Images of the four employees, people he might even dare to call friends, rushed through his mind. “What…what was on the disc?” he asked. His voice was strained, and he hated the emotion it gave away, but Shunsui didn’t look at him, didn’t even blink.

“You’d have to see it to believe it,” was all he answered, his voice uncharacteristically soft and saddened. He cleared his throat. “You know how Unohana is. She has her pride. There’s no way she’s letting this go. But she can’t act on her own. Four of her best are out of action, and she’s in the eye of the public as a charitable public figure, advocating for health care and all that. Isane is pulling more than triple her usual amount of work. There’s no one else. She reached out to me, but…well.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up in his throat. “Well what? You’re not usually one to outsource to Kisuke,” he prompted, trying to keep his mind off the inevitable fate of his friends. Shunsui sighed.

“You’re aware that two of our squad captains…defected last year and went rogue.”

Ichigo gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re kidding. You’re not telling me they joined Hueco Mundo?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And that’s why I can’t send my people after them. Gin and Tousen know all of them. Hell, Tousen trained more than half of them. We’d get nothing but a bunch of dead spies if I sent anyone after them.” Shunsui didn’t try to hide his frustration. He clasped his hands together so tightly the knuckles turned white, and he fixed a glare at the shadows in the distance. He took a deep breath in and rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck. “Unohana doesn’t want to just hit the company where it hurts. She wants to obliterate them. Cut off their head, so to speak.” Shunsui finally turned to face Ichigo again. Ichigo met his gaze calmly, doing his best not to give away the roiling rage, the burning fear, the sickening unease that settled into his gut. “I’m asking you to take the job. You’ll be well compensated, once the head of the company is dead.”

Ichigo took one breath. In and out. Then another. Nice and easy. His restless thoughts cleared away like clouds sailing on the wind. There was only one choice; from the moment he’d been asked to go by Kisuke he’d made up his mind. He wouldn’t back out now.

“I’ll do it.”

***

The streetlights cast a warm glow as the limousine sped to his home. Ichigo hadn’t been able to refuse Shunsui’s offer to escort him home, especially when the walk to the park had been cold enough on its own. And he trusted Nanao’s driving.

“You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you,” Shunsui commented, a fonder look on his face now that he wasn’t talking business. Ichigo shrugged.

“I was fifteen.” He kept his answers short, to the point. Regardless who he knew, or for how long, Ichigo would rather not be too trusting of Shunsui. The man ran a spy ring, after all. He had to be one of the most dangerous players in the game of life in Karakura Town. And Ichigo had been evading him for a while.

As if understanding his intentions, the older man chuckled and reached out. Ichigo tensed but didn’t move away as Shunsui ruffled his bright orange hair. “Keep your distance all you want, but I promise I’m not trying to recruit you again. Kisuke and Yoruichi both made it clear you’re not looking for a new boss. But I do have to say I miss seeing all you kids. You sure were a lively bunch whenever Kisuke brought you around.” Shunsui’s hand withdrew and Ichigo felt himself relax again.

“It’s your own fault you don’t see us,” Ichigo reminded the other man, giving him a cold glare. Shunsui blinked, eyes widening for a fraction of a second with surprise. Something flashed in his expression, but Ichigo didn’t quite catch it before Shunsui’s easy-going mask of a smile was back in place.

“Well,” he laughed, and it almost sounded genuine, “I suppose you’re right about that.” The limo pulled to a stop in front of his house. Ichigo hastily exited the vehicle, and just about slammed the door behind him, but Shunsui spoke again. “Wait. You’ve forgotten something.”

Ichigo turned around, mouth open to snap at the man, only to see him holding Ichigo’s phone, which he’d left on the seat next to him. Ichigo snapped his mouth shut and reached for the phone, but Shunsui snatched his hand back, a smile playing on his lips like it did when he used to tease the kids as he watched over them for Kisuke. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. He was in no mood to play this game.

“Give me my phone back, old man,” he grumbled.

“Ichigo?” a familiar voice called and Ichigo felt the blood drain from his face. He glanced to the side and, sure enough, there was Grimmjow, standing in his front yard in a pair of sweats and a tank top. He opened his mouth and shut it, no words coming out. Why the hell is he outside at this time of night? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This is why I requested the meeting time. What in the fuck?!

Seemingly realizing Ichigo was in a tough position, Shunsui decided to have mercy. He held the phone out again. Ichigo glanced at him and snatched the phone out of his hand. He gave the old man a glare, and Shunsui just smiled back at him as Ichigo slammed the door shut. The limousine pulled away. Ichigo took in a deep breath and turned around to face Grimmjow, only to find the blue-haired man standing right in front of him.

***

Grimmjow had been sleeping…not so well. Despite the announcement from Jinta two months ago, it felt less like Ichigo wanted to date him and more like he wanted to avoid him. It was weird. The other man always smiled and greeted him, but he’d seemed more and more tired and less and less enthusiastic. Maybe the kid read it wrong? Maybe Grimmjow read it wrong? Maybe they were all wrong and Ichigo was embarrassed and too polite to say so? He groaned and rubbed his hands on his face. He snuck a look at his bedside clock and groaned again. Two fourty-five? Fuck. Are you kidding me? Grimmjow scowled. His throat was dry now. With a sigh, he heaved himself up and out of bed, padding down to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was reaching for a glass when light flooded through the gaps in the curtains. Grimmjow paused and frowned. He abandoned his original objective to see who would be paused in front of his home at ass-o-clock in the morning.

He couldn’t quite see from the window, so he opened the front door and stepped outside. The car was long, a limousine, he could see now, in the light of the streetlamp and the headlights. It was parked in front of Ichigo’s house. Grimmjow waited as the door opened and a familiar figure stepped out. He squinted, but when the figure turned back toward the vehicle, he got a better look at their face.

“…Ichigo?” he called out. The figure started, and then Ichigo was meeting his gaze in the dim streetlight. He looked…afraid? There must have been a commotion from the limo, because Ichigo turned back to it, and reached in to grab something. Grimmjow frowned. His actions didn’t look natural or relaxed, but tense and on-guard. He started toward the limo, worried if he took his eyes off his neighbour for a second that he would be snatched back into the limo and disappear forever.

As if on a cue, right as he reached him Ichigo slammed the door shut and the limo sped away. Ichigo turned, as if expecting Grimmjow to be in his yard still. His wide-eyed expression told Grimmjow the other man hadn’t expected him to be right in front of him. Grimmjow stared at him. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Ichigo’s eyes were dark in the dim light, with a lighter ring of amber around the outside of the iris. After the initial startle response, his gaze slowly softened and Grimmjow could see a sadness in his eyes. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but stopped. Grimmjow gestured for Ichigo to continue.

Ichigo smiled at him gently. His face had a really warm glow in the soft streetlights now that the limo and its harsh lights were gone. “What are you doing out here so late?”

Grimmjow raised his eyebrows. “Could say the same to you.”

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and tore his gaze away. “Asked you first,” he mumbled. Grimmjow pursed his lips but decided not to argue the point of who looked more out-of-place right now.

He rolled his shoulders, hairs on his arms prickling in the cold. “Couldn’t sleep. Went to get water, and I saw the light from the limo. So I came out to see who was parked out here in the middle of the night,” he replied shortly. Ichigo nodded, eyes still not meeting Grimmjow’s. “Your turn.”

Ichigo swallowed. “I was. Working.”

Grimmjow folded his arms. “Really.”

Ichigo looked at him now, brown eyes pleading. “That’s as much as I can tell you. Please. I’m sorry.” Grimmjow searched his eyes, but he found no lies in them.

“…are you alright, at least? You didn’t look too happy talking to…whoever that was.”

Ichigo’s hesitation said it all. Grimmjow kept his gaze fixed on him, staring at him intently, as if he could pull the answer out of Ichigo with only his gaze. The other man lowered his gaze, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it and closed it again. Finally, he just shook his head. “No. Not really,” he whispered, voice sounding strained. Discomfort settled in Grimmjow’s chest and he felt the urge to reach out, to touch, comfort, console…but he resisted. Instead, he dropped his arms to his sides.

“C’m ‘ere,” he directed, turning slightly toward his own home. Ichigo looked up, confusion etched into his face. Grimmjow jerked his head toward his house. “Come sit inside. I ain’t gonna be able to sleep and you look too wound up right now. We can talk, or whatever.” Ichigo blinked. Then he gave a soft smile.

“Yeah, ok. That sounds good.” And he followed Grimmjow into the house.

[bruhstories]

Bloodlust

Summary: You were a rookie Jashinist with a dark secret, he was a demented shinobi with a desire to slaughter anything and everything for his god. Pairing: Hidan x Fem!Reader (canon verse) Warnings & Content: dark content - minors dni, language, blood kink, kidnapping, murder, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, knives, human sacrifice, cult-like behaviour, religious fanatism, Reader and Hidan are... insane, slight gore. Word Count: 2.8 k

A/N: Read those tags carefully. Hidan's not exactly a warm and fuzzy character.

"Please, let me go... I won't tell anyone." You peeled your lips open, dry from all the crying and lack of hydration, hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead.

"Let you go? But... you came here willingly." He sneered, flashing you his teeth.

He was right. You joined the Jashinists thinking they were a liberal religion, preaching freedom and anarchy, but you did not expect sadism and human sacrifices. And you didn't expect to fall in love with Hidan — the most vile man you've ever encountered. Not that he knew that, anyway. He couldn't possibly fathom the idea that a sweet thing like you could love a man like him. But you weren't a saint.

"T-then why are you doing this to m-me?" You breathed, the ropes around your wrists cutting the blood circulation in your hands.

Hidan clicked his tongue and placed his scythe on the floor. "Because I can." He picked up a knife — no, a kunai. "And because you wanted to run away."

Ah, there it was. You decided to leave this cult when Hidan prompted you to kill some poor ninja he'd kidnapped a few days ago. You refused, expecting to be left alone, and now you were the sacrifice.

"I t-told you, I- I only kill those who deserve it."

"Everyone deserves it, Y/N. Especially traitors." Hidan traced the blade over your exposed abdomen, goosebumps dotting your skin and you were ashamed to admit that it made you feel... something.

"So, you're just g-going to kill m-me?"

"Don't be sad. You'll make a fine fucking sacrifice for Jashin."

"Please, Hidan, give m-me another c-chance." Tears pooled at your eyes. Death was not on your list, not now, and especially not at his hands.

"You know we don't give second chances." The blade was now between your tits, the tip slowly poking into your skin. Crimson droplets seeped from the fresh wound. It stung like a bitch, and it made you whimper, but the heat in your cunt signalled your arousal.

"You d-don't, but Jashin does." You whispered, and Hidan was completely taken aback.

"Excuse you?"

"Every t-time you failed to kill someone, hengave you another c-chance." You spat at him. "What m-makes you think he won't g-give me one?"

Confused wouldn't even begin to describe what he felt. Hidan blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the question before he dropped the kunai and left without a word.

You didn't know exactly how much time passed since he left. By this point you couldn't feel your fingers and the room began to spin, head dizzy from exhaustion. The door swung open and you shot your head up, startled by the sudden intrusion. Hidan walked in with a terrifying look on his face and bent down to grab the blade. He slashed the first rope and your hand fell limp by your hip.

"You're lucky he's a benevolent god." He slashed the second rope and your knees hit the cold, hard floor. Fear, happiness and anxiety coiled in your stomach, surprised that you have, indeed, been given a second chance.

"You talked to him?" You shook your wrists to get the blood flowing, eyes finding his.

"Yes, and surprisingly he likes you. Says you have potential." His voice went up an octave when uttering the last word in what seemed to be sarcasm.

Still on the floor, you arched a brow. "Do you doubt his judgement?" You suspected it was a mistake to ask that question, because in a split second Hidan yanked your hair and pulled your head back to look at him upside-down.

"I'll die before I doubt the good lord. Who I doubt is you." He pierced your soul with his sangria eyes, chills running down your spine, stopping in-between your thighs. You hated the effect he had over you, you hated that he was so oblivious to your hints, only focused on Jashin. Always Jashin.

Granted, Jashin did offer Hidan immortality, which was something you could only dream of. You were a pathetic civilian with a knack for medical jutsu, but never properly trained. He was a full-fledged shinobi who could snap your neck like a twig if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

But, the word of Jashin was law for Hidan. As much as he wanted to sacrifice you to his beloved god, he had to refrain himself, fearing punishment for his sins. And as much as he hated to admit it, you shared and valued the same goals of Jashinism — to a certain extent. You were down to slaughter people, but only those who deserved it, and apparently to Jashin that was enough. But not to Hidan. Never to Hidan.

"Jashin says I have potential, it's not up to you to talk back." You mustered up some courage after your wounds healed. That medical jutsu thing you practised for self-healing really came in handy when Hidan had violent outbursts and Kakuzu wasn't there to put him in his place. Shame you didn't know how to use it to heal others.

"Listen here, you little bitch, just because you've been pardoned now doesn't mean I'll hesitate to stab your tits when you disobey the lord." He let go of your hair and you leaned forward, palms on the floor to stop you from falling. "Besides, you're gonna have to prove yourself. Again."

You knew exactly what he meant. You had to kill. And Hidan wasn't one to let you off the hook — you'd have to kill someone innocent, and the idea of performing such a sacrifice made your stomach churn, it made you want to throw up, because you knew you'd enjoy it. Murdering someone deserving felt like a chore, like something natural. But the thought of killing someone undeserving made your heart flutter, your cunt burn and your head hazy with a high so addictive, no drug in the world could compare to it.

"Don't make me kill someone, please."

"Oh, spare me of your holier-than-thou bullshit. You either kill or be killed, Y/N. Now let's get to fucking work." Hidan bruised your arm in the process of 'helping' you up, unaware of the pleasant surprise that lurked within you. Because if he knew the real you, he'd probably question his own sanity — and that's something he'd never done. The real you was obscene, twisted and demented, long before you discovered Jashinism, but you tried to bury that part of you deep down. You seemingly succeeded, focusing your bloodlust on anarchy and overthrowing the Tsuchikage with a group of punk teenagers from your village, Iwagakure.

Until you met Hidan.

"I really don't want to do this." You pleaded with the silver-haired man, hands trembling and eyes watery.

"Kill him, Y/N." Hidan rolled his eyes, the blades of his scythe pressing into your back as you pressed your kunai into the victim's neck. "Kill him or I kill you."

"Alright, alright, I'll do it. But give me some space."

"Tch, pretentious bitch." He stepped aside, watching you carefully.

"More space." You demanded and he took another step back with an impatient look on his face.

"There's only one exit to this cave. If you think, for a fucking second, that you walk out of here alive you're wrong. Unless you kill him." Hidan licked his lips. "Jashin demands a sacrifice. Now."

You looked down at the symbol drawn with the victim's blood, then back at the man in front of you. His eyes were wide open and filled with tears, arms chained to then wall of the cave. He frantically shook his head, saliva dripping from his gag as he prayed for salvation.

"I'm so sorry." You spoke — not sorry for the victim, but for yourself and what you'd become after this day. Slender fingers lifted his chin upwards and with one swift movement, you slit open the skin, blood gushing out, spraying your face, neck and cleavage. "Fuck..." You moaned, the hot crimson liquid dripping down your chin.

"See, it wasn't so bad." Hidan elbowed you but you didn't move, instead, you gripped the blade handle tightly and drove it into the victim's abdomen, more blood spluttering on you when you removed it. "Oh, you want more?" The rogue shinobi quirked a brow, content with your choice. Adrenaline and arousal rushed through your veins and you dropped the kunai, the clanging echoing in the cave.

"Hidan..." You trailed off, tentatively unzipping your black cloak. "I want you to fuck me."

The silver-haired man watched you smear the blood over your exposed tits, his cock twitching in his pants. Finally, he realised just how beautiful you truly were, the pure ecstasy on your face igniting a flame in his core.

"Here?" He asked, somewhat surprised by your request.

"Yes, please." You turned around to face him, and the look on his face told you just how impressed he was.

"Now aren't you just so full of surprises? And here I thought you were just some goodie two-shoes who refused to harm people." Hidan removed his Akatsuki cloak, letting it fall to the ground, allowing you to see just how hard he was. You bit on your lower lip, the metallic taste was pure bliss in your mouth. "You filthy, disgusting whore." He sneered, his lips crushing yours in a shameful, euphoric kiss. The moment his tongue touched the blood in your mouth, his skin began to darken, his body linking with the victim's, meaning he hasn't died yet.

"Isn't he going to feel everything?" You pulled back from the kiss, but your voice wasn't in any way concerned about the man chained to the wall.

"Oh, he's going to feel it, alright." Hidan laughed, his hand pushing your head as you lowered yourself down your knees. Fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants and you pulled down both of the layers, his cock slapping your face. "Suck."

You obediently parted your lips, taking the velvety tip into your mouth, tongue swirling around it before you moved to his shaft. Hidan threw his head back, his fingers tangling in your hair as you bobbed your head back and forth, your moans music to his ears. The gurgling sounds coming from the victim told you that he, indeed, felt everything Hidan felt and your twisted mind enjoyed it so fucking much. You picked up the pace, earning grunts and growls from the rogue shinobi before he held your head in place, stuffing your mouth and throat with his thick cock until you dug your fingers in his thigh, desperately trying to breathe.

"Jashin was right to give you a second chance." Hidan released you and you gasped for air. "You're his gift for me."

The blood on your body dried out, but you were just as beautiful. You leaned on your back, spreading your legs for him. It was a smart decision not to wear anything underneath your cloak. The silver-haired man kneeled between your thighs, his hands bruising your skin with rough touches before he found your dripping cunt.

"Shit, Y/N, you're soaking wet." He shoved two fingers between your folds, curling them upwards. You squirmed and moaned, desperate for something bigger.

"S-skip the foreplay and fuck m-me!" You begged but Hidan wasn't one to listen. He thrusted his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you thrashed and moaned his name, enjoying the way you arched your back with every movement.

"You're so beautiful." He confessed and you were caught off guard. It was the first time he ever said something nice to you, let alone compliment you. "You really are a sight for sore fucking eyes." Hidan removed his fingers but before you could say anything, he shoved them in your mouth. "Don't you taste like a needy slut?"

You nodded with lidded eyes, cheeks hollowed as you sucked the slick off of fingers. Hidan hovered over you, his cock grazing over your slit and aching clit, then kissed you with so much force and passion you almost couldn't breathe.

"Fuck, you taste good." He grabbed his shaft and pushed the tip painstakingly slowly between your folds. Oh, he was so much bigger than you expected, but you quickly got accustomed to his girth, mouth agape and eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Shit- Hidan!" You bucked your hips, legs wrapping around his waist as he wrapped his calloused fingertips around your neck.

"Jashin damn it, you are so tight. You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

You shook your head, fingernails digging into his back and the victim gurgled again. Hidan released the grip from your neck, instead holding you by the hips and frenziedly pulling you onto his cock. It was sinful, degrading and demented, and his brutal, animalistic thrusts only turned you on more. The sound of skin against skin, growls and moans echoed in the cave, and soon enough Hidan's bone-like markings faded. You didn't care, he was still buried into your cunt, but the thrill of having your pussy obliterated next to a dying man dissipated, replaced by the pure lust Hidan radiated.

"Fuck, I'm-"

"No, you're not. Not until I fucking allow it." The silver-haired man pulled out and you cried, literal tears pooling at your eyes as you were on the brink of an orgasm. "You've been a bad, bad, girl, denying Jashin, denying slaughter, denying me." He gave your cunt a firm slap which vibrated through your entire body, ending with a whimper.

"Y-you have n-no idea how m-much I want you, Hidan." You squeezed your thighs together for a crumb or friction, but he forcefully pushed your knees to the sides.

"Then you should listen. See what a good job you've done today?" He tilted his head to the chained corpse.

"You d-don't understand... I've g-got an insatiable bloodlust." You admitted, but you knew he'd only be more intrigued.

"That's exactly why you've been drawn to Jashinism." Hidan flipped you over, and you were down on all fours. He pushed his cock back in you with one deep thrust, earning another moan out of you. "Embrace it, Y/N. You and I can do great things together, for him."

"But it's wrong." You whispered and you could feel his arm slithering around your neck, pulling you closer to him.

"And who told you that? Society? Your parents? Nah, I'll be your daddy from now on." His fat cock brushed against your cervix, your silken walls clenching around it as he fucked you harder. "You wanna come, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Yes, what?" Hidan tightened the grip, your back against his chest.

"Yes, daddy! Please, I want it, I want it!" You whimpered.

"And are you going to give Jashin everything he wants?"

It was decided — Hidan stripped you of any speck of humanity or rationality you had left in you. You loved him, after all, and he loved Jashin.

"Yes, I will! Jashin can have anything he wants as long as I have you."

"Good girl." He kissed your head before releasing your neck, hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. "Nowyou can come."

Your cunt was aching for release, and you mustered enough strength to rub your clit in messy, circular motions. Soon enough, you felt it coming — the rush of adrenaline as Hidan fucked into you, fingers pinching your sore nipples. You came on his cock with a soft moan and with one final, violent thrust he fills you up, cum dripping from your sloppy cunt as he pulls out. You rolled on your back, propping yourself on your elbows and Hidan froze, the sight of your used and abused pussy hypnotising him.

"Like what you see?" You grinned, fingers tentatively grazing over your slit, dipping between your folds before you brought them to your mouth to taste his seed.

"Shit, I think I'm in love." His sangria eyes bore into yours and your heart fluttered. You knew he was an asshole, and he probably only said it in the heat of the moment, but you were satisfied with what you got.

"What about him?"

"Meh, Kakuzu will take care of the mess. I wanna take a fucking bath." Hidan picked his red and black cloak up from the floor before getting up. "And I'm starving."

You pursed your lips and lowered your gaze. So much for being in love with you.

"You coming to the hot springs?"

"Me?"

"As much as I adore seeing you covered in blood, that shit's dry and crusty." He threw you your cloak.

"You wanna take a bath... with me?"

"Yes? The fuck are you acting so surprised? I just said I'm in love with you but you're surprised I wanna take a bath with you?"

"You know what, stop talking." You rolled your eyes and got up.

"I think the fuck not."

"Fuck's sake, Hidan, let's go."

"Fuckin' crazy bitch."

[echo-hiraeth]

“Will you just shut that kriffing mouth of yours and listen for a second?” Din Djarin x GN! Reader

Summary: Reader was forced to kill someone when a bounty retrieval went rogue and is pestered by memories of the scene. Din tries to comfort them to the best of his abilities.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mentions of violence and blood, injury, death, some fluff to balance it all out (:

Masterlist

It was supposed to be an easy job but it had (not surprisingly) turned into a complete shitshow. Karga had slid the puck across the table, informing the Mandalorian that it was just a harmless quarry. Din was eager to accept it and take things slow from there on out. Because for months now everything had been pure chaos and hecticness, it started to take a toll on the three of you.

The baby started getting more fussy and restless, sensing the stress and pent-up frustrations within the Crest. It had sounded like a dream, the perfect opportunity for the both of you to take a break.

“No matter what happens, stay in the ship”, Din ordered while slinging his pulsar rifle over his shoulder. “If you need anything, talk to me.”

He slid a tiny device into your clammy hand, a commlink. You looked up at him, giving him a half smile. No matter the stakes or risks, you always hated it when he left.

“Just be careful, please?” You gently rested your hand against his chest plate.

The bounty hunter tilted his helmet, trying to reassure his partner. “Don’t worry cyar’ika. It’s an easy job, should only take a couple hours.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. He’d survived way more dangerous trips, he’d be fine.

The Mandalorian turned to leave, opening the hull and promptly stepping outside. He reminded you to start up the ground security protocol and with that he took off. The shine of his beskar slowly fading away as he ventured into the distance.

Another bounty, another day alone on the ship. Well, that was until your foundling woke up and accompanied you. You spent an hour cleaning the ship, picking up dirty clothes and quickly sweeping the floors. By the time you got around to the small kitchen, you heard cooing and whining coming from Din’s cot.

As you opened the door you were met with those big brown eyes, melting your heart on sight.

“Good morning little one”, you mused, picking him up to press a gentle kiss to his fuzzy head.

He reached out, tiny hands cupping your face, as if trying to reciprocate the gesture. You chuckled, absolutely smitten by his antics. A chuckle of his own left his throat upon seeing you so relaxed.

“Let’s get you some breakfast ad’ika.”

 Karga was right, the bounty didn’t even fuss when Din went to collect him. He simply nodded and extended his arms, cooperating as the beskar-covered man secured the handcuffs around the quarry’s wrists. He was human, and if Din had to guess maybe in his sixties, face covered in wrinkles and scars, each telling a story of their own.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble getting here, the sandstorms tend to be quite intense.”

Din sighed, helping the quarry stand up and slowly guiding him out of the cantina. He rolled his eyes underneath the helmet, steadily becoming more and more annoyed with every attempt at conversation that left the old man’s mouth.

“Do you ever take that bucket off?”, the man questioned, gesturing towards the helmet.

“No living thing has seen my face since I swore to the creed”, the Mandalorian replied in a monotone voice.

“Oh so you can talk, you’re just stubborn.” The man let out a laugh, amused by his own remark.

The bounty hunter decided right there and then that his new guest would spend his time on the ship in the carbonite freezer, in silence. As the Crest came into view, Din started to pick up his pace, not caring about the sand starting to obstruct his visor.

“That’s the start of a new storm, if we don’t find cover soon, we’ll both be dead!” The man yelled, the sound of the harsh wind picking up almost drowning him out completely.

“Less talking more running”, the Mandalorian commanded, dragging the bounty by the collar of his shirt. Their bodies colliding in the process.

He tapped away on his vambrace, the hull of his beloved ship starting to open. Distracted by the storm, Din was surprised by the sudden laser blast flying past him.

“Give me my father and I might just let you live”, a female voice spoke.

Within a second he whipped around, face to face with a small woman, a blaster in each hand. She wore a mask, hiding her face from him and goggles to guard her eyes from the sand.

“I’m not asking again, Mandalorian.”

“I’m afraid I don’t negotiate easily”, Din sighed, reaching for his own blaster, only to find it missing.

“I suggest you listen to my daughter.” The man spoke, blaster held in his cuffed hands. He must’ve apprehended it when they’d bumped into one another.

Din tried to assess the situation and its possible outcomes. He quickly wrapped his arm around the man’s throat, holding him in a threatening chokehold while hastily grabbing the blaster from his hands.

He mentally scolded himself for being so uncaring and distracted. He could clearly use a break as well.

The girl quickly fired at him, pulling him out of his own head, aiming for the weak spot between his helmet and right pauldron.

He stumbled back a bit, hissing at the burning flesh.

“Next one won’t miss”, the daughter threatened, taking a few confident strides in his direction.

Without hesitation he fired his blaster, barely missing the girl who moved at a surprisingly fast pace.

She pointed the blaster at him once again, but before she could pull the trigger, she fell down. Din hit the quarry in the head with his elbow, his unconscious form falling the ground.

“Cyar’ika..” Din started, looking at your trembling form, blaster still aimed at the woman.

“There’s no time, get them inside, storm’s getting worse.” You’d tried to sound confident despite the obvious shake in your voice.

Din was left alone, quickly dragging the bodies into the hull of the ship while you went to the ‘fresher. Locking the door you had to hold on to the metal counter to steady yourself. Your knuckles turned white with the intensity of your grip. The sound of your shallow breaths filled the small space, only causing you to panic even more.

Meanwhile, in the hull of the ship, the Mandalorian had put the bounty into the carbonite freezer. He then kneeled beside the woman’s body, carefully removing her coverings. He shook his head upon seeing her face, she was young, just a kid. Despite being seen as a cold killer, he hated this, he hated having to involve innocent people into other people’s messes.

As he went to stand again, he felt a dull ache in his shoulder and remembered the injury he’d sustained earlier. He quietly made his way over to the fresher, while cautiously removing his pauldron. He stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing your soft sobs.

“Are you hurt?”, his modulated voice was faint and low.

You gasped, quickly wiping your eyes and splashing your face with some water.

“N-no, I’m fine. Are you?” You slid the door open, and were met with a tilt of his helmet that you interpreted as nothing but concern for you.

“You did what you had to do, to protect me, us.”

Your shoulders started shaking at his words, sobs filling the silence. He was never good at this but wanted nothing more than to help you, so gently, he put his arms around you. His embrace was gentle and soft, almost as if you would break if he were to hold you any tighter.

The tears freely streamed down your cheeks now and fell onto the beskar, rolling down his chest plate as your body trembled.

He winced a little when you went to wrap your arms around his neck. Your eyes quickly found his visor. His heart ached when he saw your glassy eyes, which were otherwise so vibrant and full of life.

“Is she dead?”, you croaked out, never averting your gaze from the visor.

Din hesitantly held your hands in his, slowly nodding.

“A-are you injured?”, you asked trying to regain control over your emotions.

“It’s just a scratch, I can take care of it, you sho-“

“Let me help you, please,” you begged while extending your arms towards the med kit.

“You really don’t have to.” He spoke softly.

You forced a smile, guiding him back to the hull and froze upon seeing the body, the woman. Her face was bare, revealing a young girl, a teenager, a kid. Scoffing, you looked up at the ceiling in an attempt not to break out in tears again.

“Let’s get you patched up.”

 After you tended to Din’s wounds, the storm had passed. He suggested you throw the body out of the ship, but you insisted he wouldn’t. A loaded silence filled the cockpit ever since, until he prepared the ship to take off.

“Y/n, you need to process this, seeing her body will only make it harder.” He reiterated, trying to convince you to leave her behind once more.

“She deserves a proper burial, just get us to the outer rim of this hellhole”, with that you’d left him and the baby in the cockpit, disappearing into your cot.

As you went to lay down and close your eyes, sleep quickly settled in, the sheer exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. The earlier events plagued you, the scene replaying over and over again. Except she screamed and cried for mercy in your nightmare, which made you jolt awake. Your hands rested over your eyes as you started to sob again. You never thought you’d have to shoot, let alone kill someone, but here you were, a murderer, not even strong enough to face the consequences of their own actions.

Din rushed to your side upon hearing your cries and screams.

“What happened?”, he removed your hands form your face, wanting you to look at him.

“How can you stand to even look at me…”, you spoke through gritted teeth, voice laced with self-hatred.

“You did what you-“

You shoved past him while interrupting: “No Din, that’s not what I meant. How can you stand to live your life with someone so weak and pathetic.”

“What do you mean?”, he questioned, grabbing a hold of your wrist to keep you from leaving the small cot.

“What good is a partner if they can’t even kill to save their life.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it, you should’ve just left me back there to perish in the sand.”

“I said stop that.” He grabbed your jaw and made you face him. “For Maker’s sake, will you just shut that kriffing mouth of yours and listen for a second.”

Your eyes started brimming with tears again as you slowly nodded your head.

“If I wanted someone to help me with the bounties, I would’ve gotten someone from the guild. I didn’t hire an assassin and I don’t need you to be one either. You’re here because I want you to be. You’re here because I couldn’t stand to not have you with me. You’re here because you keep me grounded.”

You took a step towards him, tears threatening to spill.

“Din I-“

“I’m not finished. The way you care for the kid.. the way you make sure that I always have food and water, the way you take short showers so that I have hot water as well. The way you pick up after us, how you tend to our every need and desire. You made this ship into a home for the three of us, with your love and care. I don’t want you to be okay with what you did because you wouldn’t be the cyar’ika that I’ve grown to care about.”

He stumbled back when you practically hurled yourself into his arms. His gloves hands rested on your lower back as you stood in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being his frantic breathing. A modulated chuckle escaped his armour as he sensed you nuzzling into him.

“Thank you”, you whispered into the space between his helmet and shoulder.

“Close your eyes y/n.. let me kiss you”, he murmured, hands gripping onto you more tightly.

You hummed, doing as you were told and soon you heard the clang of beskar against the floor. Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. He wanted them to speak for him, afraid that his words would fall short in trying to describe the complete and utmost adoration he felt for and because of you. His movements were eager and desperate, the lack of touch and affection over the years encouraging him to kiss you even harder. Your teeth accidentally grazed his lip, which startled him a bit. This caused the both of you to break apart, his hand quickly coming up to cover your eyes, just as a precaution.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”, he breathed, panting as his lips found yours once again.

You didn’t know what it meant, but you know that if he said it in Mando’a it must’ve been something he wasn’t ready to have you know just yet, but you didn’t mind, you had all the time in world.

[nerv0usm3chanic]

CORRUPTION

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

--

((NOTE - This is an introduction to a new PERMANENT AU feature exclusive to nerv0usm3chanic. Please see further, generalized information regarding this AU here: X

Be advised that each of these chapters are VERY LONG. The full content will be tucked under a read more after a brief introduction segment.

DO NOT REBLOG.))

--

"L-Lewis? Vivi? Are you sure this will be safe?" Arthur stammered, nerves bubbling over and the hairs on his neck standing at terrified attention. He expected it wouldn't be perfectly safe, no case they went on ever really was.

"Oh, Artie! Don't be such a scaredy-cat!" Vivi giggled in response. Her lighthearted laugh and bounce in her step as she approached the mouth of the skull-like cave entrance made Arthur's heart lurch. How can she be so comfortable with this? Diving headfirst into danger and with a grin on her face? A massive tanned hand rested gently on his shoulder and gave a squeeze.

"It's alright, Arthur," Lewis reassured when the blond cast his nervous and unsure gaze up to the taller man. "I'll have your back if anything comes up and spooks us." Oh. Of course. The biggest and strongest and most liked member of the team would keep the stringy mechanic safe from danger...again. The nervous feeling in Arthur's belly twisted to a minor frustration with Lewis. Arthur wished he could have half the confidence Lewis had in himself.

"Arthur...are you sure you're alright?" The paw against his leg confirmed it was Mystery who asked. Vivi's strange talking dog. The blond softened his expression and breathed a sigh to comfort himself.

"With those two and you...I guess I will be." He looked at the purple and blue pair ahead of him, Vivi's hand lacing into Lewis' as they strode forward. Another lance of...something...shot through Arthur. He stiffened determinedly, marching after his teammates as they wound their way into the depths of the green mist. He would get through this case...and maybe consider taking a break for a while.

--

The bats, the ominous shadows, the thick-as-chowder mist clinging to each of the three humans. Arthur found himself rattling both with chill and from a sense of something being wrong. With Mystery beside him, Arthur felt a little safer in commenting:

"G-guys? I really, really have a bad feeling about this place..." There was a faint trace of fingers at his neck and Arthur nearly jumped as he glanced about. Maybe it was a cobweb?

"I agree..." Mystery growled lowly, sharp eyes searching for whatever was nearby, "There's something ominous here and I don't like it."

"You think there's a real spirit hanging around?!" Vivi positively beamed at the prospect, grabbing Lewis' hand and bouncing in place.

"Easy, Vivi!" Lewis laughed, the lit torch in his hand flickering as it danced in his hold. "You'll put the light out!" And she released him to give a twirl and bounce ahead, babbling on about finding the spirit and exorcising them and-

"V-Vivi, this is serious!" Arthur whined, his voice breaking over the last word, "There's something here and it's not friendly!" He really was afraid something was terribly wrong here. The constant touches of mist on his skin and the soft sounds he couldn't tell were water drops or whispers surrounded them all. Vivi paused then, taking Arthur more seriously now and nodding, chastened.

"I'm sorry, Artie...I didn't mean to make fun of things. I'm just excited to encounter another real spirit!" And then her more bubbly self was back, though more cautious now. "We can finish exploring this branch of the cave for tonight and come back after we've gotten a good sense of what's here. Okay?" Well...he...he couldn't say no to that. They were hired to check out this cave...by a forest ranger no less. Leaving without even checking what was here would be bad for business.

"Hmmm...o-okay. But let's be quick...please?" Vivi nodded to Arthur's request, Lewis too. They'd be quick, but thorough. And come back better prepared.

--

The group was silent as they stepped further into the cave; the only sounds were of their footfalls, the crackle and soft whoosh as Lewis held the torch aloft, and the gentle metallic ring of Mystery's dog tags. To Arthur, each tiny sound was akin to a bomb going off in his ears. It made no sense why he felt so attuned to every little thing, even the things he shouldn't be sensing. Again, Arthur felt fingers running over his arm and an ominous whisper in his ear.

'Shouldn't you pay attention, boy~?' The whisper taunts in his ear with a chuckle. Arthur shuts his eyes and shakes his head, looking up to see Vivi detouring to the right as Lewis turns to go left. A spike of panic erupts through Arthur and he frantically looks between the backs of his two friends.

'Better hurry~' again that hiss is in his ears, louder now and frightening Arthur further. Deciding he would need to stop Lewis to regroup with Vivi, Arthur hurried to catch up to the larger man.

"L-Lew? We s-sh-" and he freezes, his left hand suddenly stopping in its path towards Lewis' shoulder. Arthur is suddenly terribly cold and there is a dark chuckle in his ears. His vision becomes almost foggy with green and Arthur looks to his left hand. The blond chokes on air as he sees a glowing green eye, the sclera black as night, resting with what Arthur could only call a sneer in his pale palm. The blond can't speak, his throat closing up when he tries making a sound.

"Oh man...that's a hell of a drop..." Lewis is too occupied exploring the ledge. Too close to the edge. Arthur could hear small pebbles dislodging and tumbling into the mist below. There is a decent gap of time before Arthur can hear the pebbles hit the stone. The ominous chuckle in his head made Arthur's heart drop in terror.

'Allow me~' the voice purrs and Arthur watches his discolored wrist roll in preparation. Again, the blond tries calling out...with no success. A heavy, wet tear comes free in his frustration, he was trying his damnest to protect his friend.

"Care to get a closer look, Lewis~?" There is another unwilling step forward with words that were not his own, the left arm pulling back.

'NO.' Arthur refused, putting up all his willpower to stall the spirit in his head. It...works...but only so much. Arthur hears a snarling growl and Lewis turns to look at the possessed blond. His wide violet eyes stared in surprise as he sees the stance Arthur was in. After a heartbeat, the spirit willed the borrowed body to move again.

But the moment was long enough for Arthur to arrest control of his arms.

'I WON'T LET YOU DO THIS.' Arthur commands, grabbing his rogue arm and pulling it off-course.

'Dammit, you fool!' the spirit snarls, trying to rip free and complete his possession, green creeping along the pale skin. Arthur's battle was well-fought and aided with a massive dark hand taking hold of the green-skinned wrist.

"Mystery! Vivi! Help!" Arthur could cry with relief as he heard the pattering of dog's paws charging in response to Lewis's call. The spirit in his head screeched in fury, trying to twist the possessed arm to claw at his captor. Arthur heard a second roar, turning to see a green-tinted vision of a jaw full of teeth.

...and then...

Pain.

Burning, sharp, ripping pain.

Anyone in the cave would hear twin cries of tortured agony and an accompanying duet of horrified cries. Overtop of everything was a voice of command: deep, rich, and masculine as directions were given.

But Arthur wasn't able to hear it right. Or see correctly. All he knew is that the pain in his arm was suddenly gone and he felt he was growing terribly cold. Golden eyes looked to a pair of equally horrified purple eyes. Arthur saw red on Lewis. Spots of it all over. Just like the small white spots that were filling his vision as a black vignette began to close in.

Arthur thought he heard his name, could swear he was being lifted up and carried away. But it was all so fuzzy. And his ears wouldn't stop ringing. What happened? Where were they going? Was the spirit gone?

He wasn’t sure...but Arthur was certain that he was so very tired...

And really, there was no reason to stay awake...right?

--

His head was filled with cotton and at the same time heavy as lead. Arthur was thankful for the supportive cushion of a pillow beneath his throbbing skull. There was a loud heartbeat in his ears and other sounds seemed to slowly manifest into existence. A rhythmic beeping, a soft and regular drip, the repeated sound of a high then low whoosh, an overly-clean fake citrus smell of cleaner, and...a conversation? Arthur strained to hear better, focusing hard enough for his efforts to reflect on his face. His furrowing brow and a strangled grunt of effort drew the attention of the other people in the room.

Arthur could tell there was some excitement, a male voice calling out a muffled version of his name. A feminine voice followed suit with some more complex words that he still couldn’t totally make out. It was a massive effort to open his eyes and the blond eventually succeeded...somewhat.

Through bleary vision that eventually cleared, Arthur saw a cyan blue shape on his left mold itself into his dear friend Vivi, tears on her face as she gazed at him in obvious relief. The next shape he saw was black, red, and white and eventually dissolved into Mystery, his expression one of worry and nervous comfort. Lastly, Arthur saw the massive purple shape on his right that became Lewis, tears on his face as well, but no relief was on his face, only concern. Behind each of them was a room of white walls and minty green curtains.

What had happened?

He tried to ask, but very nearly found himself feeling choked on the breathing tube down his throat. He started to cough and weakly reached for the tube.

“Vivi, get a nurse!” Mystery commanded, and away she went, calling for someone as Mystery climbed up and placed his paws on Arthur’s legs. “Don’t try to talk, Arthur. You have a breathing tube installed. Vivi will be back soon and we’ll get that thing out.” The blond did his best to stifle the coughs, nodding weakly as an answer.

“We’re so glad you’re awake.” Arthur blinked towards the usually calm and quiet Lewis, relaxing his right hand and laying it over his belly. The machine continued its regular rhythm, keeping his breathing relaxed as he gave Lewis an obvious look of questioning. “We’ll talk as soon as we can get some peace; the nurse is coming in now.” Lewis nodded, patting Arthur’s pale hand as Vivi rushed back in, an older woman in lavender scrubs on Vivi’s blue heels.

--

“I was...possessed?” Arthur croaked, trying to make sense of the tale Lewis and Vivi were telling him.

“And you saved Lewis’s life.” Vivi smiled, looking to Arthur and then the large purple man who also was smiling down at him. “Whatever you did was enough to keep that spirit from pushing Lewis over the edge of that cliff.” Her small hand squeezed his right hand as she looked back down to Arthur...which was odd, considering she sat on his left.

Now that he thought about it, his left arm was completely numb. Not even any of that pain from the cave was there. Worry began to prickle at his mind.

“Why...wh-why can’t I...feel my arm?” Their downcast eyes and the sudden drop in mood was unsettling. He shakily removed his hand from Vivi’s, reaching to his left. There was nothing on the mattress, even as he patted around and reached up and up. The bandages covering what was left of his shoulder were coarse and warm with the damaged flesh hidden underneath.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he blinked to set them running down his cheeks as a sob caught in his throat. Mystery’s ears pinned back in guilt and he whined a weak apology.

“I’m sorry Arthur...it was the only way to remove the spirit and save you...” This time, the sob didn’t stop in his throat, his whole body following the agonizing sorrow as Arthur curled in on himself. The other two humans and dog enveloped the blond in an embrace as he mourned the loss of his arm.

--

It was quiet that night. The drip, drip, drip of the bag was one of the sounds along with the quiet hum of the muted TV in the room and the occasional, rolling thunder and constant patter of rain on the window. Arthur was lucky to have his own room as he blankly watched the TV, reading the subtitles of whatever was currently playing. Some old sitcom, he was sure, but which? He could never tell.

Arthur’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion and he knew he had to sleep. The animal part of him wanted to...but whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered what he’d almost done...that look of fear on Lewis’s and Vivi’s faces...what Mystery had to do to save his life...

A yawn crept up and manifested before Arthur could think to stifle it.

Perhaps his exhaustion was finally enough to force his body to rest? If not, maybe he could buzz the nurse’s desk for help getting to sleep. Arthur shifted carefully, doing his best to not disturb his amputated appendage as he settled in deeper into the pillow. He let out a tired sigh as his eyes slid shut.

‘...foolish boy...’ Arthur sucked in a breath, eyes snapping open and heart racing at the voice.

“H-hello?” He called out, softly at first, “Is someone there?” There was no answer, even as Arthur strained to sit up and look around the room. The still-running television provided enough light and was thankfully positioned to illuminate everything in the room. There was nobody but Arthur. Maybe he heard someone just outside the door?

He sighed, settling in again and more quickly shutting his eyes. Again...it didn’t last.

‘You ruined my plans, you damned foolish boy!’ Arthur was now wide awake, the growl in his head loud and clear.

“W-what? How-? Mystery h-he...he said-” The blond murmured, trying to not panic.

‘He said he removed me...but he was wrong~.’ The chuckling growl rumbled around in his head, fading out with an ominous, dark echo. Arthur looked to his remaining hand, afraid to see it turn green...but...nothing happened. And the voice was oddly quiet.

“So...you’re still here...” Arthur squinted, trying to think, “But you’re not taking over again?”

‘You are a fool and an uninformed one at that.’ the blond could swear the voice was...pouting? ‘I have found something much more interesting to entertain me while I am trapped~.’ Arthur was about to ask what when he felt a jolt of energy course through him. At the same time, a bolt of lightning struck nearby, overloading a transformer two blocks down the street. The whole hospital must have been woken up by the crack and sudden, blinding light.

Arthur clutched at his chest, gasping for air and his heart racing wildly from surprised fright. He heard the night nurses running outside his door, racing to check on patients after the sudden bolt of lightning.

‘Oh yes...this will be a fun toy~.’ Arthur paused...how was that related? there was just a surge and-

Another bolt struck the lightning rod atop the hospital, so loud and bright, Arthur let out a frightened shout to accompany the jolt of electric energy coursing through him again. He was tearing up, fright and the momentary pain rattling the man to the point where he almost leapt away from the nurse coming to check on him. The dark chuckle in his head rang out before fading away to hide once again, the nurse finally managing to succeed in helping Arthur relax enough to lay back on the mattress and arranged his blankets over him again

But sleep was near impossible to come by after such a fright...

--

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

[andy-clutterbuck]

[black-streak]

Ooh can I request something really fluffy with Timinette? It can be anything...just really fluffy~~~

Free range? Just whatever I want as long as it's fluffy? Oh anon, you don't know what you've done! I don't know exactly what your definition of fluff is, but I went a direction I hope you weren't even slightly expecting.

I love this. This was great to write. I hope you enjoy it as well. Let me know you guy's thoughts in the comments!

This is the last prompt from the spitefest. (Which seems wrong, I think a prompt or two might've been eaten by tumblr? Not sure) Either way, it's been a lot of fun and I'm thankful for all the support for this amazing ship that deserves so much love. Without further ado.

~---~

Nothing terrified Tim more than when Damian reached out for his help. Not that his little brother scared him in particular, more that, well, Tim was a last resort only. Damian rarely sought help and on the chance he did, it usually ended up Dick or Alfred. Cass or Babs if not. Jason if he ended up in a stickier situation. Tim was reserved for when the whole family left town. 

So understandably, he felt trepidation at the name flashing across the screen. Especially directly after an attack from Poison Ivy. Or rather evasion. Whatever. Point is, she likely poisoned or otherwise drugged someone and somehow Tim ended up the go to.

Biting the bullet, he answered, cutting to the chase, "What happened?"

"No name has been drugged. She ran off before I could pin her down. Looked to be in the direction of the studio. Whatever she was hit with seems to have an… interesting effect on her animal instincts. I would not have called, but she always seems to accept you the most when they act up."

Shit. No Name was the moniker they assigned Marinette whenever they couldn't recognize the combination of miraculouses she wore at the time and refused to come up with anymore names. They wanted to use only one for all her identities but couldn't argue the benefits of not allowing the rogues to know it was all the same person. Which was all fine if it didn't mean he had no idea what "animalistic tendencies" were being affected. 

Taking a deep breath, he spoke up, "You said she was heading towards her studio."

"Do not make me repeat myself Drake. Just find her and fix this mess." Despite the snappish tone, he could hear the concern hidden there.

"I'm heading out now. I'll let you know when I find her." He hung up without waiting for a response, knowing the brat appreciated the promise but not being hung up on. Shouldn't have snapped at him then.

He headed out, deciding to leave his gear at home. Robin would stay out and close by until given the all clear, but approaching her in costume seemed like a good way to get attacked. Better to present as a non threat. 

Slipping into her workplace that she thankfully gave him the access code to, bypassing her security system seemed invasive even in this situation, he shut the door and relocked it softly behind him only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

Whatever animal she had resembled before would remain a mystery as she had detransformed and possibly changed based on the overly soft looking fuzzy shorts and tank top she wore. Or maybe those were pajamas? He couldn't tell, he hadn't seen them before. Maybe a new piece left here? That however couldn't capture his attention enough to draw away from the giant mess of fabrics, yarn, fluffy blankets, and plush pillows all piled into a corner of the room where she seemed to be building a giant nest of sorts with a single minded concentration as though nothing else mattered except making the most decadent, luxurious floor bed ever.

Alright. This could be worse. Hopefully she wasn't overly protective of the… nest. He'd go with nest for now.

She stepped away as though to assess her work and he chose that moment to make his presence known.

"Mari? Is it okay if I join you over there?"

She perked up, spinning around and bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her eyes were blown wide, clearly not fully here. Upon catching him within her sights, she made a little squeak before rushing towards him. 

He tensed in preparation only for her to stop before him, wrapping her hands around his biceps and raise to her tiptoes to rub her cheek against his in a long, drawn out motion. It startled him to the point of complacency as she moved around behind him,hands sometimes bracing on his lower back as she pressed her forehead into the middle of his back in a nudging motion, slowly herding him over towards the pile.

He planted his feet once they reached the edge and received a whine in response. She moved to tug him forward, dropping her weight down towards the soft fabrics at the same time to pull him off balance. He twisted at the last second to land beside her only to immediately have the nest start shifting around him as she adjusted it about, trying to mold it further to his form. 

Okay. So not possessive of the nest.

As this happened, she began to hunker down, a throaty type of happy noise permeating the air around them as she incorporated him slowly into the build. Once presumably happy with the set up, Marinette pressed herself bodily on top of him, nestled between his legs and nosing at his neck.

With the soft nuzzling being the only motion, he finally came out of his stupor, raising a hand to stroke down her back in a soothing motion as he carefully pulled out his phone. He managed to send out a text to Damian, letting him know he had found her and they were indeed in the studio before she swiped the device from his hands and buried it within some of the yarn. She was going to be so pissed off about the mess when she came to.

With the phone out of reach, she turned to pout up at him, leaning down to nip his collarbone in reprimand.

"Hey!" Tim yelped, body jolting beneath her which only prompted her to press further against him in an almost pin.

"Don't like it."

"The phone?"

"Don't like."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

She hummed and leaned forward to press her face to the side of his again. It almost felt like she was scenting him.

Before he could think further on that, the window flew open, Robin dropping into the room, prompting a growl from the woman above him.

"Why are you here? I told you, I found her."

"I asked how she was fairing. You didn't respond."

"She's fine."

"Then why is she literally growling?" He snarked, stepping further into the room.

"Well, she wasn't being aggressive until some blundering idiot decided to barge in with no respect for her space."

"Sure. That's why she has you caught in her grasp." He flippantly responded, slowly moving closer the way he would if she were a wounded animal, "just let me help you out."

"I had it under control."

With every step closer, even as Damian lowered himself onto her level, the growling increased, her hands tightening their grip on Tim's shoulders where they'd been resting. Once deemed too close, she snapped her teeth in his direction, raising slightly more into what looked like a… protective position? She chose this moment to speak, bringing everything to a standstill.

"Mine."

Okay. So she was possessive like this.

"What?" Damian asked, startled into taking a step away.

"Mine," she snapped her teeth again, blown gaze fixed in a glare at the boy, "back off."

"Is she claiming you?" Damian threw him a bewildered look.

"I… guess so?"

Damian went silent, taking a step back once more. The growling lowering to almost nothing, but the glare stayed firmly placed on him. Her hands relaxed incrementally from their hold. Damian noticed.

"What the fuck is going on, Drake?"

"Mine. My mate." She answered for them.

Damian's eyes went wide at the same time Tim's did. Before either could respond, she bit out another word, "Out."

Both flinched at the severity of the anger in her tone. With one last glance at Tim, Damian backed off, heading back out the window.

"Update me on her status."

"Will do," he mumbled, staring up at her as she watched the boy close the window and take off back to the manor. 

The moment he was fully out of sight, Marinette slumped back down onto him, exhausted from the display. His arms moved naturally to wrap around her and was rewarded with a content sigh, her head tilting back, nose nudging into his adam's apple prompting a rough swallow. This seemed only to encourage Mari, prompting her to start her previous nuzzling session anew. 

Tim settled back into the nest. It was wonderfully comfortable and she didn't look inclined to let him up any time soon, happy hums and sighs flowing in a steady stream above her captive. He might as well just accept his fate.