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mermaidgirl30 · 8 months

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✨Tear You Apart Part 1: You’re Mine✨

Series Masterlist

My first dark! Joel fic and I think I’m obsessed. I plunged into this head on and got major inspiration from the vampire scene in Saltburn and Little Red Riding Hood. This is filthy and I absolutely love it! There might be a part 2 for this! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts 🖤

“The wolves prey upon the lambs in the darkness of the night, but the blood stains remain upon the stones in the valley until the dawn comes, and the sun reveals the crime to all.” - Kahlil Gibran

- Summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you in the forest?

- Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

- Word Count: 9,718

- Tags: Dark themes, Little red riding hood references, dark! Joel, Joel is a menace, oral, fingering, choking, unprotected P in V, cream pie, filthy smut, degrading actions, not really violent but lots of dark themes, manipulation, rough sex, dirty talk, Joel calls reader little lamb, possessive Joel, feral! Joel, post outbreak! Joel, controlling Joel, dom! Joel, submissive reader, Joel x fem! reader, Joel is in his late 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Songs: “Change” and “Rosemary” by Deftones

The wind tears through the frigid night of Jackson, banging its haunted whispers against the side of the little wooden house. It screams in warning beware, beware. He’s coming. A glaring caution sign from the ghosts of the forest. They scream your name, shrieking and bellowing from the soil below as they make their way above the cold, vacant dirt, floating their way to your doorstep. Clawing, knocking, warning you that he’s close. Get out, leave. He’s near, he’s near. Run.

You want to run, want to sprint out of bed and run as far as you can, but you can’t. He’ll find you, stalk you till he hunts down your scent and discovers you hiding. You pray that he won’t, but he will. He always finds you. And when he does he takes and takes until you have nothing left, feeding his anger and bitter soul, using your body to escape whatever hell he had been through in the past.

You know he’s lost something special, something close to him. You can see it in the wrinkles that encase his forehead. See it in the dark brown flecks of his tired eyes. See it in the way he carries himself, worn and tattered like the old leather boots on his feet. Can feel it when he crowds your body as he lays over you in the middle of the night. Can feel it on his calloused fingers as he bleeds you dry from the inside, hollowing you out and sucking your lifeless soul and taking it as his own.

You never know what he’s lost, can never figure out what it was that was stolen from him. He doesn’t talk about it, will never let you in even though you beg him to. But you can feel the pain, the absolute agony that holds close to his cold heart. It’s whatever he’s lost that drives his rage, his desire for retribution. And it’s that loss that feeds his desire to take, destroy everything in his winding path. That’s why he comes, always at night, always at the dead blackness of night. He comes crawling to you, needing a way to soothe his scorching temper, needing a way to bury the agony of it all.

He’s broken, just like the shattered black military watch he wears on his left wrist. You try to ask him about it, try to graze your fingers over the broken glass, but he growls at you. Gnashing his sharp teeth as he releases the caged up wolf inside him. You know better, but you push back. Let me in, let me in, you scream. But he never does. That just pushes him further, bringing out the beast from within.

He’s coming closer. Almost here, almost here, the ghosts whisper in warning. You can feel him, as if he was already there at your doorstep, as if he was already clawing his fingers into your fragile skin. Tearing you apart piece by piece just the way he likes it.

Your body starts sweating, you toss and turn against the cold sheets that cling to your damp skin. He’s coming, they call. And it’s then that you can feel him as if he’s standing right outside. You can feel the weight of his steps on the cold, snowy ground. You can hear his shaky, quivering breaths as he trudges through the patches of white snow, can feel the warm breath as he blows it out, can reach your shaky fingers out as his breath kisses the sky. You can feel it, can almost taste it as it whips through the wind, landing up against your fogged up bedroom window.

Run. Hide. He’s here, he’s here, the voices warn. But you don’t listen, can’t listen. Joel’s deep voice washes the voices out, makes them flee from your mind. Mine, mine, he screams in your head as he claims you over and over again with his hands. Those big, rough hands that you so desperately want wrapped around you.

You shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t desire it, but you crave him like you’ve never craved anything in your life. He’s like a disease. Festering and invading your body, making you sick with want, with need. Pulling at your insides so much that you can’t ignore it. Can’t ignore the deep ache in between your thighs as you yearn for his touch, for his entire being. And you’re certain that you’re just as fucked in the head as him now.

He makes you sick. Sick with need, with desire. You shouldn’t crave him, shouldn’t want this. Most days he’s unkind, barely speaking, barely able to tolerate his own self. But he gives as much as he takes, and you crave the way he gives. And now you’re just as bad as him, just as selfish and needing as him. Mine, mine, you call in your mind. He’s yours just as much as you are his.

Your eyes open wide as you look at the small clock that hangs on the wall, the hand ticking and ticking as it reaches 1:00am, the time he usually comes after his late night watch shift. Your body quakes from the anticipation of him. You can hear him now. He’s here.

You feel the weight of his heavy feet against the wooden floorboards as he opens the front door, hearing it shriek as it closes behind him with a soft shutter as it knocks against the glass window. He’s coming, he’s coming.

You hear the narrow stairs creak as he climbs up the steep steps. He’s coming for you, coming to claim you, to devour you. He’s like a wolf in the night as he stalks his prey. His dark eyes search for you, your scent hanging in the air as he comes for it, chases it, wanting to taste it. Wanting to rip you to shreds under the weight of his body as he claws and pounces on you. Claiming you as his one and only as he dominates you. But you fully oblige, always surrendering yourself to him completely.

You’re little red riding hood, and he’s the big bad wolf that wants to eat you alive as you spill yourself for him, letting him mark his paws all over you until you can only see the blacks of his eyes as he claims you. My, what large eyes you have. But he’s talking to you as he’s in between your legs, lapping up your flavor as he looks up at you with those dark pits and smiles with his sharp canines glistening in the night. And God, you’re already wet thinking about it, already trembling in the sheets as you wait for him, waiting for him to completely ravage you and destroy you until you’re no more.

You want to touch yourself, want to put an end to that aching throb in your center as slick pools inside you, fighting hard to hold back the urge. He’ll be mad if you don’t wait for him. If he sees you fingering yourself before he gets to you, he’ll be furious. He’s selfish, always so fucking selfish with you. He wants to be the one that makes you feel good, under his conditions. He’s dominating, controlling, wanting your orgasms to come from him and him alone. He’s greedy, but he always gives, feeding into your sweet desires as he revels in your body, in your arousal, in your taste.

You hear the rusty doorknob twist and turn under his grasp, hear the door start to creak open as his dark form clouds against the darkness of the hallway. Take me, take me, you beg in your mind. And you swear he can hear you as he stalks towards you with his massive form.

He’s tired, you can see it in his weathered stare as his dark eyes search for you under the silky sheets. He throws off his tan, heavy coat and tosses it to the side of the room. As he makes his way to you, he pushes up his plaid, green sleeves slowly, exposing thick veins that spiral down his arms, ending in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight, taking in the way his arms flex against his sleeves. They pull and tug so tight that they’re bound to rip at any moment as his bulging muscles encase your nimble body.

He stops at the end of the bed, pulling back the clean sheets as he takes in the sheer nightgown you’re in. His eyes trail over your body as his deep scowl turns into something primal, dominant. “Get up,” he demands as he yanks you up by the wrist and pulls you to a standing position. There’s never such a thing as a hello or hi, beautiful. Only ever demands and commands as he comes for one thing, your body.

He pulls up the wooden chair that sits in the corner of the dark room and places it in the middle of the floor. He looks up at you with the darks of his eyes and curls his index finger, coaxing you to sit in the chair. Your body is hypnotized as you dance your way over to him under a waning spell that puts you at ease.

“Sit,” he says firmly as he pushes you down gently, your back hitting the hard wood as you sit up straighter, preparing yourself to give yourself to him. Your hands fall flat against your thighs as the sheer nightgown barely reaches the tips of your knees. You can feel the cold wind as it blows hard outside your window, can almost taste the white snowflakes that linger on his leather boots.

Your breathing goes ragged as he circles the chair. Circling and circling as he trails a calloused finger over your bare shoulders as he takes you in with his chocolate eyes, inspecting you as he drinks in your features. Your throat goes dry as you watch him stalk around you. He’s a hungry wolf and he’s starving for you.

“Tell me, have you been a good girl today?” His words drag against his teeth as he snarls the words out. He continues to circle, making you audibly gulp at the words that leave his mouth.

“Yes, sir,” you answer, your nails digging into the flesh of your aching skin.

“Have you touched yourself today?” he asks as he circles you again, peeling his hands over your arm as you shiver from his rough fingers.

“N-no,” you stutter out, falling over your words. Except you had. You did earlier in the shower, thinking of Joel’s hands, pretending his fingers were yours as you made yourself feel good, spilling yourself all over the tiled floor as you called his name. Joel, Joel.

“You filthy little liar. I know you did. I can smell your arousal all over your fingers.” He grabs your hand tight and pulls it up to his nose as he inhales deeply, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent. When he opens his eyes up, he takes your fingers into his mouth and sucks slowly, watching you with cold, heavy eyes. Your eyes go wide as you watch him slurp your taste up. A wave of slick runs down the seam of your lacy underwear, and you have to squeeze your legs shut at the growing throb that’s now aching to be touched.

He releases your fingers slowly as you watch him pool his saliva all over you, watching it slide over your hand as he drops it back to your knees with a slapping sound that echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He makes a slow, steady circle around you as he halts right next to you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as he bends and places his hands on his knees, slowly curving his spine as he eyes you with a hard line strewn across his lips. You gulp and sit up straight. You’re in trouble, you know it too.

“I, I didn’t mean to…” you squeak out carefully.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he growls. You automatically go quiet, afraid to interrupt him again. “The next time I find out you pleasured yourself without me, I’m gonna make you fuck yourself on my fingers while I watch, you got that?” he hisses.

Your mouth drops open at the mention of you fucking his fingers yourself, and you have to gulp down a moan at the thought of it. “Mhm,” you hum.

“Repeat it!” he yells, anger seething up in him.

“Yes, I understand,” you say with your eyes low, looking down at your shaking hands.

“Good.”

He skates around and stops in front of you, bending down as he places his rough hands on your knees. “Now, what are we gonna do with you, huh? You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks as he moves your hands away and places his own on the end of your sheer nightgown.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky as he inches your nightgown higher, grazing his calloused fingers over your thighs, feeling that low tingling sensation start in the back of your spine.

“Good. That’s good,” he groans as he pushes your nightgown up higher and higher, climbing up your thighs until no more material is touching your legs. The only thing left is your white lacy underwear that are ruined from how drenched you are.

“Now, tell me. What were ya thinkin’ about in the shower?” he asks as he slowly pushes your thighs apart, trailing his fingers up nice and slow as he teases you, getting you all worked up for him.

“You, I was thinking about you,” you gasp as he pushes your legs even further, causing more slick to build up from the action of his rugged hands.

“Were ya thinkin’ of these fingers curling up inside you as I make you cum? Or maybe my tongue swirling around that pretty pink clit of yours?” he purrs as he glides his fingers against the edges of your lace, almost touching you where you need him as he ghosts over your center.

“Y-yes, both. Please, Joel,” you beg as he teases you again, ghosting over you without so much as a light touch to your aching center.

“Please what?” he asks with his brown eyes growing darker, the edges of his pupils expanding into dark coal.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, licking your lower lip in anticipation. He sees you slide your tongue over your lip and you see his eyes grow sharper, arousal swirling all around his black pupils.

“Well, since you asked nicely.” He glides his fingers through your clothed folds, and you gasp at the feeling of your budding arousal. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” he groans as his chest rises and falls in waves, pulling his fingers away again as you huff in frustration.

He loves to tease you, loves to torture you as he builds you up and then makes you beg for it. He wants to hear it, wants you down on your knees as you plead and moan for him, calling his name as you beg again and again. Touch me, taste me, fuck me.

“Joelllll,” you beg again, dragging the last syllable out as you call his name, needing his fingers on you, needing his tongue, his cock, his everything.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he teases, trailing his fingers over your seams again as he slowly unhooks the material from your hips. He slides the wet material down your legs and disposes of them on the ground, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

He pushes your thighs apart and smooths a thumb over your center as he slides it all the way up, collecting slick as he goes along. You shudder under him as you feel yourself drip on the wooden chair, so turned on that you feel like you could orgasm right at this moment. “Goddamn, you're drenched,” he groans as he takes his thumb in his mouth, sucking all the slick off as he stares into your eyes intensely. And fuck, it’s hot.

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and show me exactly what you were doing in the shower. Go on,” he nods at you. “Show me how you touched yourself.” He stands back against the wall and leans on it, crossing his arms and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration, watching as his flexed muscles pull at his plaid shirt. “Any day now,” he says sternly. “Touch yourself. Now,” he growls. You automatically obey and nod up at him.

You gulp saliva down your throat and slowly bring your right hand over your center, gently pressing your fingers to your throbbing clit as you circle yourself, leaning back into the chair as a quiet moan escapes your mouth as you feel the pressure building fast. You’re so close, already so close.

“Eyes on me,” he commands as the low, guttural sound emits around the room.

You pull your head up and lock eyes with him as you focus on your breathy moans, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again. You hear the pulsing blood rush through your ears, feel your body tense as you close in on your orgasm. Almost there, almost.

“Place a finger inside you,” he commands, his voice vibrating through your bones. You obey and slide your middle finger inside as you feel the drenched, tight walls cave around your finger. “Another,” he demands as his eyes go pitch black watching you play with yourself. You slide a second one in and curl them up, hitting the spongy walls that threaten to make you cum.

You let out a loud, aching moan as you curl your fingers again and again while your thumb circles your clit in meticulous circles. Your mouth shapes into an O position as you feel your walls clench around you. You pull out a deep rising orgasm that starts low in your spine and spreads over your heated cunt as you climb higher and higher into bliss.

“Good girl,” he growls as he watches your orgasm wash over you. White, hot heat spreading through your entire body as you ride out your first orgasm, throwing your head back as your eyes roll back into your skull, feeling the wooden chair become soaked with your slick.

You take a moment to come back down to earth, back to where you can breathe again. Feeling your ragged breaths become even as you open your eyes and focus on Joel as he stands in the corner brooding and revelling in your pleasure. He’s breathing fast as his broad chest moves up and down, can practically hear him as his breaths come out choked and fast. He’s turned on, you can see the bulge in the outline of his dark jeans as he takes you in with his eyes, trailing over your center again.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks with a deep voice rasping in the back of his throat.

“Yes, so good,” you breath out tensely. “Want you to make me feel good though,” you beg as you open up your legs for him, feeling his eyes scrape over your soaked outline.

“Oh? Think you learned your lesson?” he asks curiously with a raised brow.

“Yes, promise,” you confirm, already biting your lip at the anticipation of his fingers on you.

“Mmm, alright. Since you did what I asked, I guess you earned a reward.” He stalks toward you, bending down before you as he gets on his knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders, slowly trailing his fingers up your inner thighs as he works you up again, getting you ready for your second orgasm.

“Look at this pretty pussy, all soppin’ and drippin’ for me. Want me to make you wetter? Want me to make you see stars?” he purrs as he blows on your center, making you buck your hips up at the breezy feeling as it tickles your most sensitive areas.

“Fuck, yes,” you squirm, begging for his touch.

“Mmm patience, little lamb. Gonna take ya nice and slow. You gonna be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?” he groans as a deep growl escapes his chest.

“Yes, fuck. I’ll be the best girl, your best girl,” you whine out.

“Mmm that’s what I like to hear,” he praises. Before you can respond, he licks a long, slow stripe up your center as you moan out his name.

“What’s that, little lamb? Couldn’t hear you over your moans,” he teases.

He pulls you lower in the chair as the wood scrapes along your back, feeling his rough hands wrap around your thighs tight. He inhales deeply and then spits on your cunt in a degrading, ravishing way. He takes his thumb and spreads the warm spit over your folds as you writhe under his touch.

“Hold still,” he warns as he presses his other hand on your thigh. You nod up at him and let him continue stroking his thumb up and down you, spreading your wet folds as he gently presses slow circles around your bundle of nerves. You let out a low, drawn out moan as he slips two fingers inside you and flicks his tongue back and forth in slow, lapping circles, so close to bringing you to the heavens again, so close to orgasm already.

One more thrust inside of you and then he’s pulling his fingers out, leaving your clit as he takes his mouth off you and backs up, dropping your legs from his shoulders as he stays straddling in between your legs. Why did he stop? Why did he fucking stop?

“Joel, I need to…I need to…” you whine out. He hushes you with the swipe of his finger to your lips, and you quietly pout as your eyebrows furrow together. Need to cum, need to cum.

“Think you deserve it?” he asks as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue, building you up even more as you beg to cum.

“Yes,” you cry out, your clit throbbing with need, your body sick with desperation to let go.

He chuckles a low laugh and smirks up at you, his dark eyes honing in as the black pits expand around him. He’s cruel, wicked, a devil in disguise as he torments you. He knows what he’s doing, he knows.

Filthy trickster, vicious teaser. Cruel, cruel, cruel, the voices whisper in your mind, filling you with regret and longing as you dig your nails into the wooden chair, feeling your body screaming at you. Let go, let go. Need to cum, need to cum. Joel sees the torment in your needing eyes, sees the way you’re scraping your nails into the wood as you beg him to release you with your watering eyes.

“You know, the female orgasm is a complex thing. I can feel you screaming inside to let go, can see the way you ache for release.” He grunts as he pushes a wet, hot finger inside your mouth, slowly pushing a second in as he slides his fingers further up, feeling your saliva cake around him.

“Suck,” he commands. You do as he says and suck his fingers, feeling your sweet arousal slide down the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he praises, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps his fingers inside your panting mouth.

“It’s just so hot to watch you suck my fingers with your dripping slick all over them,” he says as he bites his lip, sending his fingers further down your throat as you gag and choke on them, seeing his eyes become full black pits as he watches with pleasure. “Such a good girl, choking on my fingers. Wanna see you choke on something else,” he growls as his sharp incisors beam up at you in a smirk as he slowly releases his fingers from your mouth, pulling saliva with him.

You groan at the sight of his disheveled, tousled curls, at the grey patchy beard that encases his face, at the smoldering stare he’s giving you, at that devilish smirk that’s taunting and teasing you in the most torturous way.

“Your mouth. God, your mouth looks so inviting, and your teeth. They’d feel so good closed around my neck,” you whine as you beg him to finish you off, let you cum in peace.

“Mhmm. The better to eat you with, my dear,” he smirks. The little red riding hood quote takes you for a ride as you feel your cunt clench up around nothing, needing a release.

He smirks up at you once more and winks before he dives back into you, his fingers curling up inside as they jab up into your spongy spot, his mouth pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You feel the bubbling sensation, feel the waves crashing around you as they pull you under, drowning you in a wave of bliss and white heat as it explodes around you. You scream his name loud and desperate as you feel yourself let go. You clench around his fingers and then release, spilling your slick all over him. But what takes you by surprise is that’s not all.

You feel another orgasm take over as your body crumbles underneath him as he continues licking up your slick, working his fingers up and down you as he draws out more, spilling all of you, taking all of you for himself. Selfish, so selfish. But he builds you up so good that this is the best release you’ve ever experienced, like you’re walking on cloud nine as you feel a squirting sensation take over. Feeling yourself inject him with your slick as it sprays all over the front of his plaid shirt.

“Goddamn!” he yells as he pumps his fingers inside you, slowing his rhythm as he works it all out of you. You feel your legs shake and shutter around him as he holds your thighs open, not letting you close until he’s gotten every last drop out of you. After a few seconds of total bliss, you feel your body relax as there’s no more. That was the most intense orgasm of your life, and you wanted more. Needed him to continue to do that for however long this would go on.

“See what happens when I make you wait, when I tease you,” he smirks. “Makes you feel that much better,” he smiles, a devilish grin taking form on his face.

“You’re a menace, Joel Miller,” you respond out of breath, your eyes glazed over as you look over his aroused face.

“A menace, huh? Is that what I am?” he laughs.

“Yes,” you say carefully.

“Better watch your mouth,” he warns, slowly sliding his hands over your pale skin as he drags over your thighs, ending at your knees.

“What if I don’t?” you mock, wanting to test the waters, wanting to feed his anger. Keep quiet, keep quiet, the voices whisper. But you don’t listen. You never listen, always pushing them aside.

He stays quiet for a moment, but you see his features turning from day to night. He’s furious, his anger fuming inside him as you challenge him. Back down, back down, run, the ghosts scream. But you don’t. You stand your ground, let him rip into you as he takes control. You want him to, you need him to. He’s ruined you like the dead soil that lies in the snowed over dirt outside. He fucking ruined you.

You watch as his eyes turn frigid, his blood running cold as his eyebrows furrow up, his rage conforming to every bone in his hollow body. He’s on you in the next second, his hand wrapping around your throat as he squeezes just slightly, not enough to hurt you. He’s warning you, declaring his dominance over you. Telling you that he owns you, controls you.

He hovers in front of your face as his hot breath blows over you, smelling a hint of coffee and whiskey as it surrounds you like a cloud. You could get drunk off his scent, drunk off him. “Don’t you dare talk back to me, little lamb. You know what happens when you open that pretty fuckin’ mouth of yours.” He narrows his eyes as they stare into you like sharp daggers.

He squeezes your neck tighter and you try to open your mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s not to the point of pain. He never goes too far, only gets you close. It feels good, so good the way he’s squeezing, the veins in your neck begging him to put more pressure into it. You’re sick, infected with his poison with the way he mind fucks you into doing anything he says. You're a puppet, and he’s pulling all the strings.

Get out, get out, they scream. He comes to take, he comes to destroy, they warn. But you don’t care. Let him destroy. You want him to, need him to destroy your body. You let him take, let him consume you as he throws you to the wolves. Except he is the wolf, and he is the one that tears you apart piece by fucking piece. A lamb to a wolf’s slaughter.

He ghosts his lips against your ear, slowly biting down on your earlobe as he pulls down sharply. You wince and he lets go slowly. His rough tongue glides up your jawline as he squeezes lightly around your throat, building that sweet pool of arousal up again as he twists your emotions. You can barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. He’s been so rough with you, has done so many demoralizing things as he takes and takes from you, feeding his hatred and anger from the ghosts of his past. But he makes you feel so good, so fucking good. You can never deny him, can never run from him. You want it, you want it. So you’ll have it, you’ll have him.

“I could just eat you right up,” he purrs as he bites at your lower lip, pulling it back and releasing as it slaps back into place. You feel the sting of his teeth mark your throbbing lip, but it feels so good. So good.

“So do it. Take me,” you beg, choking out the words with his strong hand wrapped around you.

His eyes go black as he smirks up at you, his eyes smoldering into yours. “You asked for it, little lamb. Now c’mere.” He growls as he releases his death grip on your neck and yanks you out of the chair, slamming you into the white wall as he pins your arms above you and shoves the sheer nightgown up your body. He rips it over your head and tosses it to the floor in a heap.

You feel the cold air across your bare skin as his body crowds you, his lips sinking deep into your neck as he bites at the thin flesh. He pulls and tugs and sucks in a needy, aggressive way. You release breathy moans as the pain turns to pleasure, as you fall deep into the wolf’s trap as he claws at you. Taking, taking, taking. He’s rough, insensitive, always taking what he wants, what he craves. But you let him, you always let him.

He rolls your nipples with the pads of his rough thumbs, gathering your breasts as he kneads them together, making you pebble underneath him as he bites at them, leaving marks all over you. He claims, he takes with no regard for you. It’s what he needs, but you need it just as bad now. He’s brought you to ruin again and again, and he’ll continue to take advantage. You’ll let him, you’ll let him.

He glides his tongue back up to the crook of your neck and bites hard as you scream in both pleasure and pain. It’s too much, too much. But you take it, allowing him to have his way with you. He needs it, he needs it.

You feel the edge of his bulge against your leg as his hips dig into you, feel the shape as your body shakes around you. You want it, you need his cock. Your hands are still held against your will above you, so you lift your leg up slowly, skimming the base of him as you feel his large length through his denim. He grabs your leg fast and shoves it down as he grabs your chin and brings your eyes to his level.

“Did I say you could fucking touch me?” he snarls as his jagged teeth shine in the moonlight.

“No…” you whisper scarcely.

“No is right,” he snarls with bared teeth. “You do as I say when I say it. Got it?” he asks as he shoves you up against the wall, keeping his hand planted firmly against your jaw.

“Yes, sir,” you respond with a shaky breath.

“Good girl,” he smirks. “Now, let me teach you a little lesson on how to fucking do as you’re told,” he growls. “Stay,” he commands as he leaves you clinging to the thin wall. He saunters over to the wooden chair and takes a seat as he spreads his legs, palming himself slowly as one hand unlatches his leather belt and drops it to the floor with a clank.

“Get on all fours, now,” he commands as he swiftly unzips his jeans, slowly yanking them to the ground as he kicks off his leather boots and pushes the jeans to the floor, leaving him bare from the waist down. You gawk at the size of him, of that massive twitching erection as it plants firmly against his tight stomach, a bead of precum glistening on the swollen tip of him. He’s so fucking pretty sitting there, about to palm himself as he watches you. Something about that brings out the sultry, unruly side of you. You want to taste him, need to feel him inside you.

You’re on all fours, waiting for his commanding call as he allows you to come to him. You need to feel him, need to taste him, need to smell him as his hot arousal encases the air, taking over every logical sense of your brain as he calls to you in your mind. Come out, come out wherever you are, little lamb. Time to come play with the big, bad wolf.

“Crawl,” he growls from the middle of the room, glaring his dark black pits into your soul. You generously oblige as you scrape your nails over the wooden floor, feeling your knees drag behind you as you make your way to him slowly and steadily. You feel your eyes gloss over with pure lust as you stare up at him, watching him pump his hand up and down his large cock, spreading precum all over himself. You gulp at the sight, at the massive length he has on him.

God, he’s so big. So big that when he takes you, he stretches you to your limits. Splitting you in two as he drives into you over and over again. It’s never vanilla, it’s always rough. So very rough. But you like it. Like the way he feels inside you as he claims you, dominates you. You’re mine, all mine, he grits through his teeth as he takes you, digging his nails into your skin as he rips at you, shredding you to pieces.

Take me, take me, you beg through your mind. And you swear he hears you by the way he sits up straighter at full attention and smirks down at you with eyes full of pure lust. And he’s telling you now with his smirk, with his eyes. You’re mine, he growls. And you know it, you know it. His to take.

You grovel over to him, batting your long eyelashes up at him as if that’ll stir the desire in him. You bite your lower lip and flick your tongue across the edge seductively as you smolder for him. Take me, take me, you scream.

The anger builds in him as he snarls down at you and hisses as he continues to pump his large length. The thick veins cascade around his thick cock as shots of precum drip down around him, ending in his coarse, wiry hair. You want to taste him, need to taste him. You’ve never craved anyone like this in your entire life.

He wrapped his twisting vines around your wrists and pulled until he had a forceful hold on you. He dragged you through the pitch black forest and devoured your body, claiming you as his own in the first week he met you. And you were hooked ever since, never being able to say no to him. You could even hear the forest shrieking its warning calls. Run away, leave, get away from the wolf with dark eyes. But you didn’t listen, only hypnotized by the dark, dominant beast of the night.

When you finally reach him and work your way in between his legs, he grabs your jaw with his rough hand and forces you to open as he squeezes you tight. “Tongue out,” he presses and you fully oblige.

You stick your wet tongue out, and he brings the tip of his cock to you as you slowly lap at the end with your tongue. “Fuck,” he groans from deep in his chest as he stares down at you with a snarl. You slowly draw sensual circles with your tongue along his most sensitive spots and lap up precum into your mouth as you generously swallow the salty flavor of him. You smirk up at him as you lap at his tip, giving him your best smoldering eyes that you can.

You watch his eyes turn coal black as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls your eyes up to his. You wince at the pain simmering through your skull as he holds you tight, unable to move an inch from him. “Quit fuckin’ teasin’ me,” he growls as his piercing eyes sear through you like a knife. He pulls your hair tighter and you cry out in pain. “You gonna be a good girl and behave?” he asks with a twinge of anger in his deep voice.

“Mhm,” you nod as he stares his hard eyes into you.

“Better be.” He bares his teeth as he lets his grip drop from you, and you catch yourself on his knees. “Now be a good little lamb and show me how good your mouth fucks,” he growls as he sits back in the wooden chair and scoots his hips up, waiting to be pleasured by you.

You’re quick to appease him. You wrap a hand around his thick cock and slide your hand up and down, spreading precum all around his length, and then you take him in your mouth. You work him nice and slow as you bob up and down, up and down, gathering spit all over his cock. He moans a deep, sated sound out of his throat as he watches you with hollowed out black eyes.

You continue flicking your tongue and sucking his thick, substantial length as you work up and down to please him. You can tell he’s right on the edge of release by the way he’s clenching his jaw and breathing out ragged, concentrated moans. But he won’t end there, not tonight. He’ll push your boundaries, he always does.

As you pull back to his tip, he reaches down and grabs your hair hard and thrusts up into your mouth. He brings your head forward and forces you down as his large length hits the back of your throat, making your eyes start to water from the action. He doesn’t let up, he just keeps thrusting harder and faster as he mouth fucks you forcefully.

You choke and gag on him as he hits the back of your throat over and over again. Your mouth is a swimming pool of saliva as it drips down your chin, caking his cock with slick drool. You feel like you're drowning and can’t breathe underneath him, but he keeps going. He’s almost there, almost there. Need to breathe, need to breathe. Your eyes water as tears spill down your crimson cheeks and fall to the cold floor. He’s pushing you, always pushing you to your limits as he pushes past them. He loves when you choke on him, loves to hear the gargled, gagging sounds as your throat constricts around him. And when you look into his black eyes and see the way he bares his sharp teeth down at you, you know you made him feel good.

“You look so goddamn pretty choking on me, little lamb. Feels so fucking good when you deep throat me, when I fuck your mouth with my cock,” he moans as he pushes you deeper, nearly suffocating you under the weight of his massive cock that’s coated in drool. “Now you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow for me,” he commands as he thrusts inside you.

You can’t take much more. You’re out of breath and you’re digging into his thighs as you continue to take him, barely able to hold on anymore. You see him clench his jaw again, his breath speeding up as he groans curses out of his mouth. He’s there, he’s there. His dark eyes roll back as he holds your head in place and releases his load all through the back of your throat. You feel the white, hot liquid slide down your throat as you swallow the salty taste of him.

“Good girl. That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls as he finishes releasing himself in you. You watch his body go slack against the back of the chair as he breathes hot, whimpered moans from deep within his chest. He drops his hand from the back of your head, and you pull back, finally able to breathe again. You catch your breath and cough as you choke on more saliva and cum. You brace your hands on the cool floor and sink your nails into the wood, getting a grip on reality again as your body comes back to earth. Your voice is so shaky, so raspy as you wipe the drool from your chin and swipe the tears from your eyes.

He takes, he takes, the voices whisper. But you let him take, you let him ravage you as much as he wants. Don’t give in, don’t listen to the beast. But you do, you always do. The beast has claimed you as his, and little lambs always listen to their master.

The shrieking wind blows against your window, warning you of the beast that lies inside. Warning you that there’s danger near, and it’s lurking. That danger sits in your wooden chair, revitalizing himself before he crowds your body over the bed. He’s not done with you just yet. He needs to feed, needs to devour the entirety of you. He needs to destroy every last part of you as he claims you for himself over and over again.

He slowly pushes himself out of the wooden chair and grabs your arm, pulling you up from the cold floor as he grasps you tight. “On the bed,” he commands as he bares his teeth and pulls you over to the queen sized bed. He pushes you down as you fall on your back into the cool, satiny sheets.

He slowly unbuttons his plaid shirt as he stalks toward you with dark eyes that look like they want to devour you whole. When he gets to the last button, he pulls off the shirt and drops it to the floor, leaving him completely bare. He’s so goddamn handsome that it hurts to even stare for too long.

His broad shoulders and thick arms make it hard to breathe. His bulging veins that spider down his arms and cover his massive hands makes you want to whine in need. His tousled curls and brown flecked eyes make you want to come undone just from one look. They’re hypnotizing, spellbinding. And if you look close enough, you swear you can see the flash of yellow in his eyes as he stalks toward you, ready to pounce as he comes in for the kill.

Run, go now before it’s too late, the voices warn. The wolf comes to steal, the wolf comes to kill, they shriek. Let him, you whisper to the voices. You’re his to take. You want him to take. Take me, take me, you beg. And he will, he always does.

You feel the mattress shift underneath you as he drags his body over the edge of the bed, slowly crawling on top of you as his massive form hangs over you. His eyes are black pits as they stare at you, tempting you to come into the darkness as he drags you down again and again. Your eyes go wide and your pulse races in your neck as you stare up at the man made of nightmares.

“What’s the matter, little lamb? Scared of the big bad wolf?” he asks as he smirks down at you, his eyes pooled with darkness.

“No, I’m not scared,” you whisper out as you gulp down your fears.

“Then why can I smell the fear on you?” he smiles, his teeth like white, jagged razors.

“I’m not scared of you. No. I’m scared you’ll run off into the night and never come back.” Your voice comes out meek, breathy. Why the fuck did you just say that? His smile drops from his face and his eyebrows knit together. You can’t tell what he’s feeling, can’t tell what he’ll do. Don’t go, don’t go, you whisper. You need him. You need him.

His jaw flexes and relaxes as you see his waning features in the moonlight. He grazes his calloused fingers over your jaw slowly and comes to cup your chin as he pulls your eyes up to his. “You don’t have to worry about that, little lamb. Even if I run, I always come back. You’re mine and mine alone. Tell me who you belong to,” he growls possessively, making you desperate for his touch. You need him, you need him.

“You. I belong to you. I’m yours,” you gasp out, not able to hold on much longer. Touch me, taste me, devour me.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises.

Before you can comprehend what happens, he crashes his lips down to yours and devours you. Sucking, biting, kissing your throbbing lips as he shoves his tongue in your mouth and glides his rough tongue against yours. He swirls and swirls, filling up your senses with the taste of him. He tastes so fucking good, you could get lost in his whiskey taste, needing to drown in it until it fills up your lungs completely.

When he releases from your mouth, he cages his arms around your shoulders and crowds your body with his. “Little lamb, little lamb. What pretty eyes you have,” he purrs as he slowly pushes your legs apart with his knees, spreading you wide open for him to take. You bite your lip at the gentle praise and feel yourself become wet with arousal at the sight of him spreading you.

He lowers his head to your neck and licks a stripe up the side, right in the sensitive crevice of your neck. “And you taste so fucking good, I just love eating you up,” he groans as he bites down on your most sensitive nerve ending in your neck. You moan at the sharp, hot sensation as a wave of slick runs down your inner thigh.

He trails his hand slowly down your center, starting at your chin, gliding down your sternum, sliding over your abdomen, and ending at your wet, hot center. He spreads your soft folds and draws tight, slow circles around your clit as you hear the sloshing noises from your arousal.

“Joel,” you moan out, whining as it takes you under a sea of hypnotic pleasure. “Take me. Please, take me,” you beg.

“That’s right, little lamb. Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been such a good girl for me tonight,” he praises through your thick cloud of pleasure. “Gonna fuck you now, little lamb. Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he says with bared teeth.

“Please,” you beg as he takes his thumb off your clit and pulls you down further in the bed, angling your hips up as he wraps your legs tight around his back.

“You’re mine, little lamb. Mine,” he growls as he plunges his thick cock in you, spreading you wide and splitting you in two as you moan out in pleasure.

He keeps his strides steady and slow, quickly picking up the pace as he fucks up into you over and over again. Driving your moans out of you as he bottoms out inside you, pounding over and over again against your tight walls. He throws your legs over his shoulders and digs his nails into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, repeatedly hitting the soft, spongy area inside you over and over again. It’s too much, it’s too fucking much. You whine out as you moan his name over and over again. So good, it feels so good. You can feel the pressure building, feel your orgasm about to take form as your walls flutter against his cock.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, little lamb. Feels so fuckin’ good. Let go for me, want you to come for me. Tell me who fuckin’ makes you feel good. Tell me who you fuckin’ belong to,” he growls as he fucks inside you harder, pressing the pad of his calloused thumb against your throbbing bundle of nerves as he circles and circles, drawing that sweet orgasm out of you.

You feel the tingling sensation wash over your head, down your spine, and ending at your aching cunt as your toes curl around him. You keep your eyes trained on him as you’re barely able to keep them open. You feel your mouth drop open wide as you let out a loud moan that’s meant for Joel.

“You. I belong to you, Joel.” You scream out his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling your walls clench up around him and then release white slick all over his cock as he continues to thrust up inside you, as he continues to circle your pulsing clit. White, hot heat spills through you as you completely lose yourself to him. Your body feels staticky as your mind goes fuzzy and your brain fogs over, only thinking of the man with dark eyes that takes you over completely.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he growls as he leans over your body and hovers over you, driving his thick cock in and out, in and out. Bottoming out so many times that you see stars. He’s there, he’s almost there, he’s about to cum. Four more thrusts and his body tenses up, his black pupils expanding as he throws his head back and clenches his jaw. He spills his seed inside of you as you feel the sticky cum coat your walls. He claims you, he claims you, and you love it, can never get enough. Mine, mine, mine, he growls possessively. And you’re his, you’re all his.

He slowly pulls out of you as you feel his seed drip down your inner thighs. “Did so good for me, little lamb. So good,” he praises as he cleans the mess from your thighs, wiping away the evidence that he had been there. He collapses next to you in bed and pulls you to him as he wraps his strong arms around you, crushing you to his chest. It feels good, this feels good.

He always leaves right after he finishes, never stays to comfort or hold you. He’s selfish, mean, but tonight he holds you. He holds you. He stays. You don’t say anything about it, don’t ask him why he stays because he’ll just get up and leave, leaving you empty and alone.

You feel the heavy weight he holds close to him, feel the heartbreak he carries with him day after day, can feel the cold glass of the broken watch grazing against your back. But you don’t ask, don’t chance it. You feel the loss cover him, feel his anger seething somewhere underneath his calm demeanor. It’s there just waiting to pounce, waiting to lash out at whatever stands in front of him.

He’s the wolf that stalks Jackson, the wolf that terrorizes the forest, the wolf that haunts the whispering ghosts that lie buried in the cold, dead ground. He goes around destroying, rampaging, slaughtering in the thick of the night. He’s a menace that looks for anything he can sink his teeth into and bleed dry. He’s a looming threat over every area he enters, threatening to destroy and kill. He takes, he takes. Again and again. But that’s what wolves do. They hunt and they take and they dominate while their prey cower before them, just waiting for the kill.

Joel is a wolf. A reckless, vengeful, powerful wolf. He loves to devour, loves to control, loves to dominate you. But he also gives, never letting you go starving for his touch. He always comes at the dead of night, always pulls you from your deep sleep to tumble around with the wolf in the sheets.

He’s like a melodic, captivating melody that hypnotizes you, calling you into the forest night after night with his deep howl. You always go, never ignoring the call that’s meant for you and you alone. And when you go, the ghosts reach for you from under the dirt and try to pull you away, warning you of what you’re about to face. But you ignore them, stepping over their graves as if they were never there. You go, you always go. Never betraying the lonely wolf with the sad, dark eyes.

It’s now while he holds you tight in his arms that you realize maybe you were meant to find him. He’s broken, a lone wolf that walks the hollow streets of Jackson just trying to find a purpose to keep going, to keep fighting. And when you showed up a few months ago, it's like a little light turned on inside him when it was all around black before you came.

You see him now for what he really is. He’s not all bad, not all teeth and claws. He yearns to break free from his wolf form, begging to run free with the rest of the pack instead of being cast out like he is. You see it in his wrinkled forehead, in his jaw that repeatedly clenches and relaxes, in his dark brown eyes that hollow out when you stare into them.

He’s so close, so close that you smell his mahogany forest scent that clings to him as it pulls you in, intoxicating you into a relaxed state. He stares at you with those dark eyes, his chest breathing in and out in shallow waves. You try something new, feeling brave all of a sudden. You slowly reach out your hand and brush it through his tousled curls, gently moving away a dark piece that falls against the side of his face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t lash out at you like a wild animal. He stays calm, just staring at you with a soft expression. His eyes change to a chocolate brown instead of the deep black pits he usually has. And then he surprises you by reaching his hand up slowly to your face, hesitating at the gentleness of himself. He trails his calloused fingers over your cheek, as light as a feather as he takes in your tranquil features.

He changes, he changes, the voices call. No more teeth, no more slaughter, they chant louder. A quiet victory to the ghosts that haunt the forest.

And just like that, you have tamed the wolf, controlling all his pent up rage, giving him the restitution he needed all along. You can see it in his big brown eyes, how he looks at you as if you saw him for the first time when no one else did. When no one else could give him what he needed. He needed someone that could understand all the hurt and loss he had been through. You’ve lost, you’ve died a thousand times through grief, but you found your way again through him. The hungry wolf that you were searching for all along.

And so the lost, scared lamb found herself in the face of the big, bad wolf. He came to destroy, to take, and to use. But you found a way to tame the claws, to tame the gnashing teeth. Somehow you controlled the beast, showing him that he truly wasn’t alone. Never leave, never leave, you call to him in your mind. And it’s like he can hear your thoughts because he drags his thumb lightly down your jawline and responds.

“I’ll stay, little lamb. I’ll stay,” he whispers. And he does, he does.

Maybe not all wolves are out to steal, kill, and destroy. Maybe there are wolves that are just lonely, broken, needing to know that someone understands them. Needing to know that they’re truly not alone. Joel is that wolf. He just needed to find you. He needed to find the lamb that wouldn’t run and cower in his presence. He needed a lamb that would stay by his side, that would show him the way out of the dark and into the light. He needed restitution. He needed you. He needed you.

And so he stays, he stays. The lonely, bleeding, broken wolf finding resolve and contentment with the quiet, gentle lamb. He stays.

Tags: @janaispunk @amyispxnk @iamasaddie @ashleymsnodgrass @tuquoquebrute @whxtedreams @fanfictilltheend @burntheedges @cinnamongorll @studioghibelli @pedrostories @blueseastorm @trea-bae

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a-killer-obsession · 5 months

Text

Rage [Killer x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

You lose control when your bestie almost falls victim to a creep.

CW: attempted rape via date rape drugs, graphic violence, gore, fluff, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, afab reader

WC: 5371

Masterlist || A03

Going out to the clubs was actually a rarity for you and the other female residents of the Victoria Punk . The Kid Pirates loved to party, of course, but the captain and commanders preferred pubs, and you usually had to go where they went. Kid didn't like his crew getting separated at night on unfamiliar islands, especially not his girls, he wanted them where he could see, and protect them. But every now and then, after the collective force of every girl on the ship whining and batting their eyelashes, he would give in and let the crew go to a dance club instead.

On this particular evening you found yourself grinding on the dancefloor with Quincy, your bestie on the crew, and the two of you had no issues touching each other and dancing provocatively to attract someone to spend the evening with, though truth be told the most ideal outcome would be if a certain first mate took notice and decided to take you home. It was unlikely though, Killer had never returned any of your flirtations, and whenever your eyes turned his way, you never caught him watching. No matter, plenty of other attractive men were out on the floor tonight, and plenty were watching your clear display with Quincy. The plan was in full force and you had no doubt you'd both be getting laid tonight.

The tempo of the song changed and you and your bestie decided it would be a good time for a quick rest and drink break. You'd both been on the floor for a fair while now, and you could really do with something to wet your lips. Quincy offered to grab drinks while you headed back to the table where the commanders sat, perching on the edge of the booth seat next to Heat so you could take off your heels and rub your sore feet for a moment. You didn't really need to rub them, sore feet from heels was something you were more than used to every time you went clubbing, but you were sat across from Killer, and at this angle as you bent over slightly, he had a clear view down the front of your low cut dress. His mask tilted down so slightly that you would have missed it, if the view hadn't been entirely on purpose. A little butterfly wiggled in your stomach at the small win, Killer was definitely checking out your tits, even if you couldn't see his eyes.

You looked back towards the bar to where Quincy was ordering drinks. The barkeeper had just placed two cocktails in front of her when a man slid up beside her and engaged in conversation. You smiled as you watched her laugh at something he said. He pointed to something behind her and she followed his finger, and as she looked away you watched his other hand move. It was subtle, but you saw it, there was no mistaking it.

“Son of a bitch,” you growled, shoving your heel back on and standing.

The commanders all looked at you expectantly as you began to march towards the bar. They all knew that walk, either you were about to shoot your shot with someone, or you were about to kick some ass. They all shot up and followed behind you, knowing full well that in this case, it was definitely the latter.

Quincy raised a drink to her mouth just as you approached, and you slapped it out of her hand, the delicate martini glass hitting the floor and shattering. She was about to protest when you grabbed the man beside her by the collar and shoved him against the bar. Quincy wasn't one for fighting, and quickly backed away, sensing something was amiss here. You would never just attack a man for no reason in the middle of a night out, not when she knew you were on the prowl for a lay. And you would never come between her and getting laid unless you had a very good reason.

“The fuck kind of piss ass slease needs to drug a girl to get with her, huh?” You spat at the man.

“No idea what you're talkin’ ‘bout, doll,” the man smiled, putting his hands up in mock defeat.

You reached into the pocket you'd seen him pull the drugs from and pulled out a bag of pills, waving it around for all to see. Nosey bystanders made a ‘ooooh’ sound and security began to close in. You looked at the closest guard, who had moved in to break up a fight, but seeing the baggy had now focused his attention on the man, a scolding fury written on his face.

“No worries babe, we'll take care of this cunt,” you told the security guard. They gave a quick nod and began to clear a path to the door, wanting the mess outside as quickly as possible. Heat and Wire quickly flanked the man, and you let go of his collar so they could drag him outside, but not before giving him a hard kick in the dick. He groaned in pain as they pulled him through the club doors, and you followed them out, anger bubbling and fists clenching in preparation. Quincy tried to follow, but you gave her one stern look and she knew better, retreating back to the safety of the other Kid Pirate women.

The commanders dragged the man to the alley down the side of the bar, and threw him hard against the wall. Killer moved to hit him, but you placed a firm hand against his chest. This was your fight, you wanted to do this. You needed to take your anger out on this man or it would fester, and fuck were you angry . Killer's mask tilted to look down at your hand, ready to argue with you, before Kid spoke up from behind.

“Let her have it Kil, this is her find,” Kid commanded. Killer took one look at Kid and gave an obedient nod, before stepping back to give you space. The men spread out around you and the stranger, ensuring he had nowhere to run.

Like a fool, he tried to run anyway, and you quickly made it clear he was going nowhere with a swift kick to the head. You may have been only a medium height, but you were agile, and strong, kicking his head was easy for you, even if he was taller than you. He went down quickly, clutching his head, and you followed with a hard kick to his stomach. He gagged, one hand moving from his head to his gut as he curled up in a protective ball.

You turned to your captain, your eyes flicking between his and the dagger strapped to his chest, asking silent permission. He handed it to you without a word, curious as to what you'd do with it. You had killed plenty of times, but you usually prefered a quick kill with a gun, you weren't keen on torture. He got the feeling though that this was different, it felt personal. You'd never insisted on killing someone yourself before, and he could see the way your eyes were dark with rage, your head twitching every so slightly whenever you looked at the man. He still wasn't entirely sure what you were mad about, but he couldn't care less, he was happy to lean against the wall and watch one of his girls kill.

You leant down next to the man, twisting your fingers through his hair and pulling hard, yanking his head up to force him to look at you. At the same time you pressed the tip of the dagger to his throat, just enough to pierce it a tiny amount, the threat of death made very real as a thin line of red ran down the man's front.

“What were your plans with my girl, huh?” You spat, “feed her your drugs, drag her away, maybe to this very spot, and rape her? Leave her broken and dying in this alleyway? Did you think she was all alone?”

The man whimpered as you pressed a foot against his groin, pressing the sharp heel of your shoe right against his dick. The men around you silently grimaced as you began to press harder, the stranger starting to cry out in pain as your shoe began to dig into his delicate parts.

“Pathetic little tiny dicked man,” you growled, pressing harder yet, “the only thing you're good for is dying”

You slid the dagger down his chest, cutting a long strip down his front, then you brought your foot up and kicked him back. His head slammed against the concrete wall with an audible crack as you stalked towards him. He tried to stand, groaning in pain, and you charged forward, jamming the dagger right into his stomach. Pinning him to the wall, he screamed and clawed at you as you twisted the blade, before pulling it out along with a small segment of his intestines. He grappled at his gut, and you dug the blade back in, higher this time, leaving it in his gut as you grabbed his wrists and pressed them against the wall behind him.

“Kid, pin this bug for me would you?” You asked sweetly. Kid compiled with a small chuckle, sending sharps of scrap metal from the alleyway straight through the man's hands, effectively nailing him to the wall. He screamed out, his hands beginning to bleed and tear as his legs started to give way underneath him, and his guts continued to spill out. You grabbed the blade that was still wedged in his gut, twisting it again for good measure before pulling it loose.

The man was writhing and screaming, on the edge of passing out from either blood loss or shock, whichever happened first, and you saw red as you realised you didn't have much longer to make him pay. Who knew how many girls he had hurt, how many Quincys hadn't had the good fortune of a friend looking at just the right moment, how many girls whose lives he had destroyed for the sake of an easy lay. Quincy was your best friend, you imagined finding her in the alleyway, unconscious and unclothed and beaten and used. You wanted to scream, cry, vomit, but most of all you wanted to kill.

“RAPIST CUNT! DIE!” you shrieked, charging back at him and stabbing over and over. You didn't bother to focus on where you were forcing your blade, sheathing it in any piece of his flesh that you could. His chest, his arms, his groin, even his face wasn't untouched. You blacked out, unleashing every ounce of fury you had pent up inside you on this man.

He was growing cold, long dead, and you continued to stab, his blood splattering all over the large amounts of skin you had exposed in your little black clubbing dress, your shoes starting to get slippery from the blood pooling inside them. You almost fell because of it, and two strong arms caught you, looping under your armpits and dragging you backwards as you fought against them, blade still in hand.

“Kid, she's out of control,” Killer spoke up from behind you, struggling to keep you steady as you slipped out of your heels and attempted to fight your way out of his grasp, still intent on burying your knife in the unrecognisable red mess of the stranger. Kid knew that bloodlust well, he had seen it in the mirror, but never on one of his girls. It startled him, and until Killer had spoken, he'd been in a haze, pride turning to concern as he watched you continue to work away at the corpse till you couldn't stand. Finally, snapped out of it, he used his devil fruit to pull the blade from your hand, receiving an almost inhuman growl from you in return. It sent a shiver down the spine of all four commanders, and drove home just how out of control you really were.

“Take her back to the ship, clean her up,” he told Killer, “Heat, stay with the girls, Wire help me get rid of this mess”

Killer swept you off your feet, in a way that would have been quite sexy if not for the fact that you were growling and hitting him, still trying to get at the dead man, and he began a quick march towards the ship. You saw Heat hurry back inside as Kid began to drag the body to the nearest dumpster, Wire holding the lid open for him as he threw the bloodied mess in, before Killer pulled around a corner and they were all out of sight.

The short walk back to the ship was a blur, and it wasn't until Killer placed you in the shower and turned the cold water on that you finally stopped fighting him, suddenly snapped out of your rage by the icy water pouring over your bare skin. You took in a sharp breath as the water prickled you, pressing your back against the wall of the shower in instinctual self defence and almost slipping in the process. Killer pinned you against the wall to keep you upright, his feet still outside the tub and his clothes getting drenched.

“Are you going to stop fighting me now?” He near growled.

You looked at where his eyes would be, coming back to reality far too quickly and realising all of a sudden what you had done. You had never been so violent in your life, you didn't know what had come over you. You grabbed the strong forearms that were either side of you as you felt your legs threaten to give out.

“I- I-” you stuttered, starting to hyperventilate.

“It's okay, I've got you,” he said, softer now. He guided your body down, letting you slide safely down the wall till you were sitting in the bathtub, and he switched the water to warm as you began to shiver. “I'm right here, I've got you” he cooed, almost a whisper, running a hand through your blood soaked hair so gently that anyone watching the exchange would mistake him for a lover.

“I don't know what happened,” you shivered.

“You were protecting Quincy,” he told you, “he was going to hurt her, you were right to be angry, I would have fucked him up just as bad. Hell, I was planning on bringing him back here, taking my time with him”

You stared at Killer's blank mask as you realised that, while extremely violent by your standards, he was right. You probably did the man a mercy by killing him so quickly, had Killer brought him back to the ship he would have tortured him for days. Maybe that would have been better, given what he'd done, what he was planning to do to Quincy. Maybe you did a bad thing, by stopping Killer. Selfish.

Killer saw the way your thoughts were beginning to spiral and curled a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your face back up. “Hey, don't let your mind play games with you, you did good, Kid was impressed, Quincy will be thankful, and who knows how many girls you've saved from a similar fate”

You sniffed a little as Killer leaned away, giving you space to compose yourself. Both of you were still fully clothed, drenched by the shower, and you were absolutely covered in blood. There were even bits of organs and skin stuck in your hair, you wanted to gag at the thought.

“This is disgusting,” you sighed as you pulled a piece of some unknown flesh out of your hair and flicked it towards the drain, “and my dress is fucking ruined” you pouted.

“It looked good while you had it, at least,” Killer remarked. You lit up, your eyes practically glittering at the compliment. It was the first time he'd ever said something nice about your appearance.

“Yeah? You liked it?” You pressed.

“Made your legs look real good,” he smirked behind the mask, knowing the little ego boost would help you out of your mood, “and I appreciated the view earlier” he would have winked if not for the mask. He stood and pulled his wet shirt over his head, revealing the tight muscles and the blonde trail of hair that ran down from his belly button and disappeared under the light blue sash he wore around his waist. He tossed it in a laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom before grabbing a towel and dabbing at the exposed hair that had gotten wet. He watched the way you eyed him hungrily, biting your lip a little and tilting your head ever so slightly, so focused on his rarely seen bare chest that you didn't even notice the way he was showing off for you. It was an expertly planned distraction, you'd all but forgotten about your rage induced overkill as you watched a stray bead of water run down his front. You very nearly moaned watching it run over his muscles, and he stifled a laugh.

He finished drying his hair and flung the towel over his shoulder, before grabbing another clean towel and hanging it on a hook next to the shower for you. “Get yourself cleaned up,” he said as he turned to leave. You'd almost forgotten you were still sitting fully clothed, covered in blood, under the running water. “I'll find you something to wear,” he said as he left, closing the bathroom door behind him.

You let out a heavy sigh at his sudden exit before registering all of a sudden that you were in his bathroom. You'd never even been past the eave of his bedroom door before. You shot up, your eyes darting around the room as you took in every little detail. To be fair though, it was unbearably clean, barely anything to be nosey about. With a slight disappointed pout you began unzipping your dress, wringing it out slightly before throwing it to the laundry basket, along with your bra and underwear. You took the bobby pins out of your hair and left them along the side of the tub to retrieve later, along with your earrings, one of which was broken. You'd have to ask Kid very nicely to mend it for you later.

You let the water run over you freely to remove most of the blood from your skin and hair before finally turning to Killer's array of products, neatly lined up along an inset shelf next to the tub. No wonder his hair was always so nice, you couldn't think of any other man you'd ever met who used hair masks, and Killer had several to choose from. You opened and sniffed each product on the shelf carefully out of curiosity, before finally starting to wash your hair and skin. You would have liked to have used a hair mask, but you'd already spent more than enough time fucking around in Killer's bathroom.

Satisfied that your murderous rampage was entirely cleaned from your body, you turned off the shower and patted your hair with the towel, letting the rest of your body drip dry till you felt like your hair was dry enough. You wrapped the towel around yourself, drying off the last few rogue drips, before taking a deep breath and walking out to the bedroom.

You weren't sure what to expect from Killer's room. You had seen glimpses of it from the hall, but never the whole room. It was tidy, not many personal belongings out on show save for a few books and a small metal elephant that Kid had clearly made him. Even less expected was Killer himself, who was lazing on the bed reading, in nothing but a pair of navy sweatpants. Let me repeat that, nothing but a pair of navy sweatpants. Your eyes flicked between him and his mask, which sat neatly on his side table, as he turned to the next page of his book. You stood frozen in the doorframe, steam slowly escaping the bathroom behind you as you stared at Killer, his icy blue eyes moving side to side as he read.

“There's clothes for you on the dresser,” he said without looking up, like he wasn't casually unmasked for the first time in front of you, “my briefs are probably too big for you but it's better than nothing”

You took a quick look around the room, finding the dresser right beside you, an old band tee and boxer briefs sitting on top of the wooden drawers. ‘Fuck that’ you thought to yourself, marching confidently to the side of the bed. Killer finally looked up just in time to watch you drop your towel, a sly smirk spreading on his face. His lips, to your surprise, were painted purple. Now that you were closer you could see how sharp his features were, and the unseen portion of his scruffy goatee that was usually half hidden by his mask.

“I wondered how long it'd take you to finally cave,” he said coyly, returning to his book. You grabbed it and threw it across the room, climbing on to the bed and straddling him.

“Your mask isn't on,” you said plainly. You weren't sure if it was a question or a statement.

“Fuck, really?” He toyed, “I hadn't noticed”

Your playfulness suddenly wavered as you realised the gravity of the situation, sitting down on his thighs and looking at him more intensely.

“Your mask isn't on,” you said, softer. This time it was definitely a statement. His hands found your waist and his thumbs made small circles against your bare skin, leaving goosebumps and making you shiver.

“I know,” he replied, his voice gentle and quiet.

“Kil..” you almost whispered. Your hands came up and cupped his face, thumbs running over his cheeks as you held his face carefully like it was the most fragile thing on earth. “.. why?”

“I'm not sure myself, to be honest,” he replied, his eyes searching your face anxiously for any hint of rejection, but finding nothing but adoration, “it just felt like the right thing to do. Plus, this is my room,” he finished with a more playful tone and a small smile. Your heart skipped a beat, seeing his smile for the first time. Your eyes flicked between his eyes and his mouth, and his smile waived as he misread your expression as disliking his smile. He began to turn away, but you held his face steady, before finally closing the distance and pressing your mouth against his.

It was a soft kiss, experimental, you may have been entirely naked in his lap but you somehow felt insecure about whether he actually wanted you. The insecurities were quickly lost though when he returned the kiss, one of his hands travelling up your back to find your hair, holding you steady as he pressed back against you. You made a small moan in response, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, running his wet muscle against your own.

You raised yourself on your knees, hovering over him, to give yourself better purchase as his head tilted and your tongues fought against each other. The raised position opened you up to him, and he wasted no time sliding his other hand from your waist to your lower stomach, tracing down to your mound with an index finger. You moaned into his mouth as his hand ghosted across your slit, before finally sliding between your folds. He groaned as he found you already wet, and his fingers played with your silk before finally settling over your clit, circling it with his thumb. Your hips bucked as you tried to get more from him, and he took the hint, slipping a finger inside you and beginning a gentle movement.

You had to break from the kiss for air as he added a second, your hands running down his chest and your face pressing into the crook of his neck as he began curling his fingers and pumping you, his other hand holding to you steady against him as you whined. You made the occasional kiss and nip on his neck, hearing him grunt as you made little marks across his skin, and you whimpered as he added a third finger, stretching you out and targeting your g-spot. You fluttered around him as you climax rapidly built, moaning against his shoulder and leaving his skin damp from your hot breath as you panted.

“Let go [y/n], I can feel how close you are,” Killer purred, pumping you harder. Your legs shook and you were grateful for his support as you came hard, your release coating his fingers as he kissed and sucked on your neck, cooing praises. He guided you to sit back as he removed his fingers, keeping you upright with a strong arm around your waist as you sat against his thighs. Your pussy left wet patches against his sweatpants and you watched through half lidded eyes as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked your release off his fingers, an almost inaudible moan escaping you at the lewd sight.

“So sweet,” he purred, “such a good girl for me”

You whimpered at his praises and he helped you lay on your back beside him, rolling on top of you to settle between your legs, keeping his weight off you with an arm either side of your torso. “You're so beautiful underneath me like this,” he whispered, his face dipping down to run his nose over your clavicle, taking in your scent before running a tongue up your neck to your ear, where he nipped and tugged at the lobe. “I want to taste more of you,” he whispered, “can I have you?”

You could barely tilt your head to look at him, but you managed to catch his ocean eyes for a moment before capturing his lips again, pulling gently at his hair as he kissed back with equal feverish need. You pulled away, gasping for air. “Take whatever you want from me Kil,” you panted, “I'm yours”

A small lustful growl of appreciation was his reply, overly eager at your submissive response. It fueled his ego and he began making quick kisses down your body, trailing down your centre. He stopped for a short while to admire your breasts, and the way your chest was heaving from arousal, squeezing them and pressing his face between them. It was heaven on earth to be buried between them, but what he really wanted was to watch you writhe again, so he continued down till his face was between your legs. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding them open and making sure you weren't going anywhere, before running a fat stripe with his tongue between your folds. You whimpered and instinctively shied away, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but he held fast, keeping his mouth firmly on you. You felt the vibrations of his groans as he alternated between focusing on your bud and plunging his tongue inside you, your moans now flowing freely from you as he quickly brought you to a second climax.

He eagerly drank up your juices as you nearly crushed his head between your thighs, the lack of oxygen making him light headed but only adding to his arousal. When you finally released him he gave one last long stripe before sitting up, kneeling between your legs and running his hands up your body as he licked his lips.

“Fuck, Kil…” you panted, a forearm resting over your face as you came down from your second high. He gently took your arm and moved it away, hovering over you and looking at you intently.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

“Mmm,” you mumbled, a small smile on your face. You spread your legs in a not so subtle hint, giving him the greenlight to continue.

“You sure?” He replied, his still clothed erection pressing against your centre. You moaned and rolled your hips against him, and his arms almost failed to hold his weight off you as he grunted.

“Please Kil,” you mewled, grinding against him again, “I need you inside me”

He moved faster than he would in battle to strip his pants and boxers, throwing them to the floor and settling back between your legs. The fat tip of his heavy cock rested against your pussy and you bit your bottom lip, looking down between your legs at his impressive size and wondering how you were going to fit all of him.

“I'll be gentle,” he near whispered, like he could read your mind, “just tell me if you want to stop”

You nodded eagerly and held his forearms, holding yourself slightly up so you could watch as he sunk his tip inside you. You immediately wavered in your strength, falling back against the mattress and moaning as he filled and stretched you. He let out a groan as he finally reached the base, pausing to enjoy the way your walls held him so tight before slowly pulling back out again. He started a slow, gentle rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back inside you, groaning softly every time he bottomed out.

Confident that he wouldn't hurt you, you rolled your hips to meet him, encouraging him to go faster. He happily obliged, increasing his pace bit by bit. Every time he settled in to a new speed, you would roll your hips and reach for him, beckoning him to move faster and harder till he was ruining you, fucking you hard in to the bed while you balled the sheets in your hands, screaming out in pleasure at every hard thrust.

He pulled your knees up, putting them over his shoulders and pulling your ass towards him, putting you in a mating press and somehow fucking you even deeper. You reached for him and your nails sunk into the muscles that covered his arms, leaving crescent shaped indents as you writhed underneath him. His rhythm became erratic and his panting in your ear grew heavy as he bent over you, his groans only spurring you on more as you hit your third orgasm quite suddenly, screaming his name and drawing blood as your nails finally broke skin. He swore and gave two final hard thrusts before stilling and throwing his head back, letting out a primal groan as he emptied himself inside you.

He slumped forward, releasing your legs from his shoulders and resting against your chest, both of you panting heavy and struggling for air. You ran your fingers through his hair, your eyes closed in pure bliss as you enjoyed his weight on top of you, his face against your shoulder and his cock still buried deep in you. Finally he rolled off of you, making you whine as he left you empty, but he pulled you with him, holding you close against his side so he could enjoy you without worrying about crushing you.

“You know,” you forced out between heavy breaths as you traced his muscles with a index finger and his thumb rubbed small circles on the small of your back, “if I'd known all it would take to get your attention was going ape shit on some creep, I would have gone on a violent rampage much sooner”

Killer huffed a silent laugh, his eyes shut as he laid on his back and enjoyed the feeling of your warm body pressed against his, “actually, it was the dancing that did it”

“No fucking way,” you smacked his bare chest playfully, “Emma didn't think it would work, HA!”

“It was very… provocative,” Killer hummed.

“That was the point,” you mused, raising yourself up to rest on your elbow so you could look at him, “you're very handsome, you know. The mask is sexy but this is a face carved by angels”

A clear blush spread across Killer's face before he quickly silenced you with kisses.

#killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction

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thatfreshi · 1 year

Text

Not if You Collect Them Like Ex-lovers (Astarion x Reader)

Tw - couple arguing

Recommended Song: This Is Me Trying - Taylor Swift

Whenever you and Astarion fight, it gets ugly. Two extremely emotional people, two people who still aren't used to letting their guard down all the time, people with faults.

"I don't understand why it bothers you."

Usually, it starts with a misunderstanding, an attempt at love, a hand reaching out to simply ask a question.

"Because Astarion, it's my house too!"

Full names, no more sweets and doves. Throwing words around like rocks, glass bottles breaking on countertops, shards, shattering.

"Yes, our house, I thought that's what you wanted? Or was I mistaken when you pleaded with me, saying you wanted this forever."

Questions lose answers, no longer searching for love, just words to defend yourself with. When the friend becomes the enemy and your throat closes up with grief, what do you do other than fight back?

"I wanted a house that at least had some semblance of looking like a house, not just your shit everywhere!"

Wounds that run deep, that need to hold onto every little thing he finds, your home decorated with the most meaningless items, things that mean everything to him. To you they're knick-knacks, some of them even garbage, and that hoarder's mentality drives you mad. The argument was so incredibly stupid, easily solved, but it's impossible to be peaceful when you never get time apart.

"Well, why don't I just take my things and leave then?"

And there he goes, escalating when he feels cornered.

"Oh right, and go where Astarion? Go burn to a crisp in the sunlight, or maybe hide in an alleyway somewhere? I'm sure that'll be so much better than living with me!"

Poking the bear, as you do when you're stressed. You know he hates the fact that he's lost the sunlight, cursed to be in a wooden box with blackout curtains.

"I'm sure you'd love that, if I just disappeared right?"

Deflecting, but also wrapping himself in insecurity. It's a test, a trick question, a puzzle.

"At least I'd have some room in this fucking house to do anything without tripping over all your useless 'treasures.'"

From trying to understand to going on the prowl for hatred, you've reached a point of no return.

"Why do you even care Tav, I just like having things! Is that so much to ask? Are they not allowed to mean something to me?"

"Not if you collect them like ex-lovers!"

Astarion opens his mouth to say something else, but trembles. Now you've done it, gone too far. He scoffs, tears leaving his eyes.

"Well then perhaps I should have another."

It's late, the stars dotting the sky like scars from teeth, allowing the vampire to storm out of the house, slamming the door. You begin to cry as well, knowing you shouldn't have said that, knowing you didn't really mean it. You're just frustrated, the stuff scattered everywhere is overwhelming, and you just don't get why it matters.

When Astarion leaves, he knows he only has a couple of hours to cool off, to think things through. It's infuriating at times, being so chained to one place, after getting to explore the world for months on end. He wasn't allowed to have things with Cazador, not anything that was his own. After the nautiloid crash, he started grabbing everything he could get his hands on. Jewelry, pretty fabrics, anything that could possibly mean anything. Now he's stuck in one place again, but a place where he can finally store all those little finds, a nice-feeling rock, a bottle that reminds him of a night stroll the two of you took. It's a comfort in a scary transition, to be allowed to keep something, anything.

While you're thinking of where he's gone, you look around at all the things Astarion has piled up on the coffee table. A couple rolls of thread from the market, ones he hasn't even started to use, a stack of books he'll probably take forever to finally read. You go through these items forever, trying to organize all the little things he's left around the place, filling drawers with memories you didn't realize were important. After clearing out most of the things in the living room, you find a small, poorly crafted ring. It's heavily scratched, but has an inscription on the inside. Your mind floods with the magical feeling of the grove, and Astarion pocketing this ring after showing the young tiefling child a magic trick. Back then, his intentions were just to show the child that your things can get snatched up so easily, but he slowly began to believe it was lucky, just as the kid said. You meditate on the thought, realizing these items, they're all either moments or possibilities. The front door opens.

Somber steps, the sound of his dagger being placed on the nearby table. You turn around and walk towards him, wrapping your arms around each other.

"I'm sorry."

You manage to choke out.

"It's alright darling, I'm being ridiculous."

You shake your head, breaking the embrace.

"No, no you're not. I was going through all of this, all of this stuff, and you're right. It all means something."

"Stupid meanings though. It's all fear Tav, fear I'm going to forget, fear I'm going to lose everything I have."

"That's okay, it's okay to be scared."

You show him the tiefling's ring.

"But we don't have to be scared anymore. We have luck on our side, right?"

He laughs, fiddling with the silly scratched-up band.

"You remember this?"

You nod.

"Of course I remember. I still don't know how you did that trick."

"A magician never tells."

You both laugh, still crying

"Gods, I thought you were so annoying."

"Well apparently I still am if you had to take that heavy of a jab at my past."

You frown.

"I-"

"I know you didn't mean it love, but we can't just say things we don't mean to get a rise out of each other."

He's become better at being the voice of reason, growing, changing.

"It's just so overwhelming sometimes. I know you're new at this whole, living a domestic life thing, but I just want to have a say in our space. That's all."

"I know, I hear you and I respect that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made our space my space."

"I'm fine with all your keepsakes, but can we just organize them? Have a space for all your little treasures and such?"

"We do still have that extra room upstairs."

You push him.

"That's supposed to be another guest room!"

"Do we really need that many guest rooms?"

The two of you giggle to yourselves.

"You know if we can't host all our friends at once, they will throw a fit."

"Well, I'll find some way to give you some more space. I never wanted to make you feel suffocated."

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, seeing that spark again, finding that love bubble back up. Saying things you don't mean, meaning things you don't say, it's all so new to both of you.

"I know my love, I know."

You hold each other by the doorway for a while, mumbling about how to make this space work for the both of you, how when you start raising your voices, you need to just step away and rethink it. Learning to love, to truly love, to exist as one, it's such a struggle, but a worthwhile cause. After all, there's no one else you'd rather fight with.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #angst #comfort

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horeformilfs · 8 months

Text

Sacrifices in the Name of Love

Alcina Dimitrescu X Fem!Reader

TW: Death, Grief, Suicide, Afterlife

------------------------------------------

In the dimly lit library of the imposing castle, Alcina Dimitrescu and Y/N sat with their daughters, wrapped in an atmosphere of warmth and love. The crackling of the fireplace echoed the coziness that enveloped the family. Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela, the adoring daughters, reveled in the presence of Y/N, a figure they cherished beyond words.

Five years of togetherness, a year and a half of marriage—their bonds were woven into the very fabric of their existence. Y/N, with the extraordinary ability to shapeshift into various animals, brought a unique enchantment to their lives. Yet, little did they know that this enchanted evening would soon unravel into a heart-wrenching tale.

The tranquility shattered when news reached Alcina that an intruder, Ethan Winters, had breached the castle's defenses. Panic etched across her regal features as she made a fateful decision. "Bela, Cassandra, search the castle," she commanded, concern shadowing her face. Daniela, the youngest, was to remain in the library—a sanctuary now marred by impending danger.

As Alcina and Y/N locked the library door behind them, a silent understanding passed between the two. Y/N, determined to protect her newfound family, insisted on aiding the search. Alcina's protests fell on ears attuned to a different calling. "I'm not just a human," Y/N whispered, conviction in her eyes, a testament to the depth of her sacrifice.

They parted ways, promises of a reunion in two hours hanging in the air like fragile threads. Alcina watched Y/N disappear into the labyrinthine corridors, her heart heavy with worry. The castle, once a haven, now echoed with the haunting uncertainty of what awaited them.

As time trickled away, the library stood witness to Alcina's silent vigil. The crackling fireplace no longer whispered tales of warmth; instead, it mirrored the flickering hope in Alcina's eyes. In the looming darkness, the pages of their family's story turned, uncertainty etching its narrative, and the once blissful haven transformed into a poignant waiting room for the unknown.

The echoes of the castle seemed to taunt Alcina as she ventured into its cold, stone corridors. Panic clung to her like a suffocating shroud, the seconds ticking away like the beats of an anxious heart. Desperation etched her regal features as she searched for any sign of Y/N or the intruder who threatened their sanctuary.

Meanwhile, Y/N's search led her to the grand dining room, where the opulence of the setting clashed violently with the impending tragedy. As she prowled through the room, a sudden gunshot pierced the air, sending shivers down her spine. The ominous sound drew her towards the kitchen, where an unthinkable sight awaited her.

The once pristine kitchen now bore the scars of a violent struggle. Bela, noble and fierce, clashed with Ethan Winters amidst shattered glass. A broken window allowed the biting winter air to invade, casting an icy chill over the scene. Bela, weakened by the cold, succumbed to the inevitable, her form crystallizing into delicate remains that glistened in the pale light.

Y/N's heart shattered as she witnessed the loss of one of her beloved daughters. The air seemed to freeze around her, mirroring the unbearable grief that gripped her soul. She knelt beside Bela's crystallized form, her hands trembling as she reached out, a futile attempt to undo the irreversible.

Through tear-streaked eyes, Y/N whispered to the frozen remnants of Bela, words heavy with sorrow. "I'm so sorry, my love. I failed to protect you." The cold silence of the kitchen became a haunting backdrop to the lament of a grieving mother, a requiem for a life extinguished too soon.

Ethan, finally noticing Y/N, made a hasty retreat, leaving chaos in his wake. Y/N, shock still etched across her face, felt a surge of rage coursing through her veins. In that moment of anguish, she transformed into a sleek black panther, a manifestation of the darkness that consumed her soul.

The castle corridors reverberated with the haunting growls of the panther as it pursued the fleeing intruder. Y/N's once-human eyes now gleamed with an untamed ferocity, fueled by a mother's fury. The shadows embraced her as she raced through the labyrinthine passages, guided by an insatiable thirst for vengeance.

Amidst the darkness, Alcina continued her desperate search, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen one of their own. The castle, once a haven of love, now echoed with the anguished cries of a mother and the relentless pursuit of justice in the form of a vengeful panther, lost in the shadows of sorrow and revenge.

In the desolate corridors of the castle, Alcina's frantic search persisted, the weight of each footfall echoing her growing despair. Shadows clung to her like ghosts, haunting her every step as she traversed the cold expanse. Unseen and unheard, she pressed forward, her heart entwined with a mother's fear, an ominous premonition of impending loss.

Meanwhile, Y/N moved through the dimly lit halls, urgency propelling her towards the armory—a once sacred space now marred by the imprints of tragedy. As she entered, the scene unfolded before her like a macabre play, and the air thickened with a sense of foreboding.

Cassandra, the second of their cherished trio, fought valiantly against the unrelenting onslaught of Ethan Winters. Y/N's heart raced as she rushed to intervene, a desperate attempt to shield her daughter from the looming threat. However, in the cruel ballet of combat, Y/N found herself on the receiving end of Ethan's aggression.

Pain lanced through her, both physical and emotional, as the clash continued. The armory, once a bastion of protection, now witnessed the unraveling of familial bonds. Y/N's attempts to protect Cassandra ended in her own injury, the searing pain a visceral manifestation of the sacrifices made in the name of love.

In the midst of the struggle, Ethan, driven by a relentless determination, succeeded in breaking open a section of the castle wall. The frigid air rushed in, a harbinger of doom reminiscent of the winter's frost that claimed Bela and Cassandra's sister. Cassandra, weakened by the biting cold, succumbed to the same icy fate.

Y/N, her gaze fixed on Cassandra's crystallized form, felt the cold tendrils of grief tighten around her heart. Another daughter, full of strength and vitality, stolen away by the merciless hand of death. The echoes of Cassandra's struggle faded into the haunting silence of a life extinguished too soon, leaving Y/N to confront the suffocating void that now enveloped her.

Cassandra, in her final moments, summoned a defiant declaration that would etch itself into Y/N's shattered soul. "You won't escape. You're my prey," she declared, a testament to the unyielding spirit that defined their familial bond even in the face of tragedy.

Ethan, satisfied with his ruthless victory, departed, leaving Y/N alone in the cold, lifeless armory. In the depths of her grief, Y/N shapeshifted back into her normal form and approached Cassandra's crystallized remains. The air hung heavy with sorrow as Y/N gently touched the frozen surface, a futile attempt to convey love and warmth to a daughter now lost to the cruel embrace of eternity.

"Cassandra, my fierce, brave girl," Y/N whispered, her voice a fragile melody in the emptiness of the armory. Tears flowed freely as she cradled the crystallized form, the icy surface serving as a bitter reminder of the warmth that had been stolen away. In that moment, the castle seemed to echo with the haunting wails of a mother's grief, a sorrow that transcended the confines of stone walls and reverberated through the desolate corridors of their fractured family.

The library, once a sanctuary of familial joy, now stood as a silent witness to the unraveling tragedy that had befallen the Dimitrescu family. Y/N, heart heavy with grief, returned seeking solace, only to find that the tendrils of despair had reached even the sanctity of their haven.

Daniela, the youngest and the last flicker of hope, stood at the entrance, a determination etched across her delicate features. In the dim light, Y/N could see the spark of vengeance in her eyes as she pursued Ethan, the intruder who had stolen the warmth from their family.

With a frantic urgency, Y/N rushed after Daniela, the echoes of their footsteps resonating through the corridors like a somber drumbeat. As they approached the confrontation, the air thickened with tension, a palpable manifestation of the impending tragedy.

Ethan, sensing the pursuit, reached a lever that controlled the castle's roof. With a cold determination, he pulled it, the mechanisms groaning as the roof began to open. The moonlight spilled into the room, casting an eerie glow over the impending confrontation.

In a swift and calculated move, Y/N shapeshifted into the black panther, a creature of darkness and ferocity, and leaped at Ethan, a desperate attempt to protect her last remaining daughter. The clash of forces echoed through the library as Y/N fought to shield Daniela from the looming threat.

The battle between Ethan and Y/N raged on, each blow a painful reminder of the losses suffered. Yet, in the cruel ebb and flow of the confrontation, Ethan managed to subdue Y/N, leaving her weakened and helpless. With a sinister grin, he turned his attention to Daniela, a defenseless prey caught in the cruel machinations of fate.

Y/N, injured and restrained, watched in helpless horror as Ethan approached Daniela. The air turned colder, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the scene. Daniela, the last vestige of their once vibrant family, pleaded for mercy, her voice a fragile melody of desperation.

"I don't want to die," Daniela whimpered, her eyes wide with fear as the frost of impending doom gripped her. Y/N, unable to shield her daughter from the inevitable, felt the weight of despair settle like a heavy shroud.

Ethan, unmoved by the plea, carried out the final act of cruelty. Daniela's form slowly crystallized, the frost enveloping her in an icy embrace. In the deafening silence that followed, Y/N's heart shattered into irreparable fragments. The library, once filled with laughter and warmth, now echoed with the haunting stillness of a mother's grief.

As Ethan fled the scene once again, leaving behind a trail of shattered lives, Y/N, battered and broken, made her way to Daniela's crystallized form. The moonlight cast a melancholic glow on the frozen figure as Y/N spoke in a voice choked with sorrow.

"I've lost all of my girls," Y/N whispered, the words carrying the weight of a thousand tears. "In a matter of minutes, everything changed. I couldn't protect any of you."

The library, a silent witness to the tragedy, held the remnants of a family that had been torn apart in the span of a night.

The castle, once a haven of love and laughter, now stood as a desolate monument to tragedy. Y/N, bearing the scars of a shattered soul, sought Alcina, only to discover that her beloved had morphed into her formidable mutated form. The weight of despair pressed upon Y/N's heart as she ascended to the castle roof, compelled to witness the unfolding calamity.

The scene that greeted her was one of chaos and sorrow. Alcina, in her mutated magnificence, clashed with Ethan Winters, the intruder who had become the harbinger of their destruction. The moon hung heavy in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the impending battle.

The clash between Alcina and Ethan felt eternal to Y/N, each blow resonating through the depths of her heart. The castle roof became a silent theater of agony, the air thick with the unspoken fear that their family's fate hung in the balance.

As the battle reached its crescendo, Ethan, relentless in his pursuit, gained the upper hand. Y/N, helpless in her distant observation, felt the tightening noose of despair. In a final act of cruelty, Ethan fired a bullet that found its mark in Alcina's majestic form. The once indomitable matriarch plummeted from the sky, a tragic descent that mirrored the crumbling of Y/N's world.

Heart pounding, Y/N ran to the spot where Alcina's body lay, a crystallized testament to the brutality of their assailant. The air was charged with grief as Ethan, having claimed victory, departed into the night. Y/N's eyes, swollen with tears, traced the crystalline outline of Alcina, her once powerful presence now reduced to a cold, lifeless sculpture.

Amidst the crystalline stillness, Y/N's trembling voice broke the oppressive silence. Kneeling beside Alcina's frozen form, she whispered words of heartache as if the cold sculpture could still hear her.

"Alcina," Y/N's voice quivered with a mixture of sorrow and longing. "I never imagined a world without you. How do I go on when everything that matterd crumbled around me?" Her fingers traced the icy contours of Alcina's face, a futile attempt to bridge the gap between the living and the crystallized memory.

Tears blurred Y/N's vision as she continued to pour her grief into the empty air. "Our daughters, Alcina, were the light of our lives. Now, they're gone, and I'm left here alone, surrounded by the remnants of a love that once bloomed so beautifully."

The castle, usually a grand and imposing structure, felt like a tomb encasing Y/N's agony. Her words hung in the air, carried away by the chill wind, a lament for a family torn asunder. The moon, a silent observer to the tragedy, cast its indifferent light on the broken tableau.

Y/N's hand rested on Alcina's crystallized heart, a futile hope that warmth might return to the lifeless form. "I don't know how to bear this emptiness, Alcina. I keep waiting for you to open your eyes, to tell me that this is just a nightmare. But the silence mocks me, and I'm left here drowning in the echoes of our shattered dreams."

The pain etched on Y/N's face deepened as she spoke, her words a raw confession of the unbearable loss she now carried. "I failed to protect them, Alcina. I failed you. And now, I'm left with nothing but the remnants of a love story that ended in tragedy."

As Y/N's sobs echoed through the desolate castle, a haunting answer resonated in the silent chambers—a love story, once vibrant and enduring, now reduced to the fragile threads of memories and frozen tears. The moon cast its indifferent glow over the scene, a celestial witness to the unraveling of a once-majestic love, now entombed in the cold embrace of crystallized despair.

The castle, now draped in the shadows of desolation, echoed with the haunting symphony of Y/N's grief. Alone amidst the crystallized remnants of her family, she felt the weight of sorrow crushing her spirit. The air, once vibrant with love, now hung heavy with the scent of despair.

Kneeling beside Alcina's frozen form, Y/N's tear-streaked face pleaded with the lifeless sculpture. "Alcina, my love, I don't know how to live in a world without you and our daughters. The emptiness is suffocating, and I can't bear the echoes of our shattered dreams."

The moon, a silent witness to her torment, cast an indifferent glow on the castle roof. In the oppressive silence, Y/N's decision crystallized—a desperate resolve born from the unbearable weight of grief.

She ascended to the roof, each step heavier than the last, as if the castle itself conspired to anchor her to the agony below. The cold wind whispered through the stone corridors, carrying with it the final lament of a soul pushed to the brink.

Alone on the desolate roof, Y/N gazed into the abyss below, the depths mirroring the void in her heart. She spoke, her voice a broken whisper carried away by the night. "Alcina, I hope you find peace wherever you are. I can't bear to live in a world without you and our precious daughters. I hope... I hope I see you again."

With those words, Y/N stepped to the edge, the precipice of her despair. The moonlight cast a mournful glow on her tear-streaked face as she looked into the abyss below. The chilling wind seemed to echo the finality of her decision.

A silent plea escaped her lips, a desperate hope that she might find the family she had lost. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Alcina, as if seeking forgiveness for what she was about to do.

In that moment, the castle, once a sanctuary of love, bore witness to the heartbreaking choice of a shattered soul. Y/N, her heart consumed by grief, let herself fall into the void below. The cold night swallowed her, and as she descended, she felt a fleeting sense of weightlessness—the burden of loss momentarily lifted.

But in that fleeting moment, regret mingled with the wind, and the abyss claimed her, leaving the castle roof as empty and desolate as the shattered remains of a once-beautiful family. The moon, still indifferent, cast its light on the vacant space, a witness to the tragedy that unfolded in the shadows of a once-grand castle.

In the surreal embrace of the afterlife, Y/N found herself in a realm that transcended the boundaries of the living. As she opened her eyes to an ethereal landscape, a gentle calm washed over her, replacing the oppressive weight of grief with an unfamiliar tranquility.

Walking through the otherworldly expanse, Y/N felt an indescribable sense of serenity. The air seemed to echo with the whispers of departed souls, and the surroundings bore a dreamlike quality. In the distance, she spotted familiar figures, and as she drew closer, her heart skipped a beat.

Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra, radiant and full of life, stood together as if untouched by the events of that fateful night. The warmth of their smiles mirrored the love that once defined their family. In an instant, Y/N's eyes welled with tears, and she felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.

Daniela, the first to notice her presence, turned with a gleeful exclamation. "Mamă!" A sweet melody that echoed with the joy of reunion. In a heartbeat, Daniela was followed by Bela and Cassandra, their laughter filling the air.

They enveloped Y/N in a joyous embrace, their presence a balm to the wounds of her grieving soul. The afterlife had bestowed upon them the essence of their former selves—their laughter, their warmth, and the unwavering love that had defined their familial bonds.

Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she held them close, the echoes of their laughter weaving a tapestry of solace around her. "My darlings," Y/N whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so happy to see you again. I've missed you more than words can express."

The girls, their eyes reflecting the purity of love, responded in unison, "We missed you too, Mamă."

In that ephemeral moment, the boundaries between grief and joy blurred. Y/N, surrounded by the embrace of her daughters, felt a profound sense of peace. "I'm so sorry," she confessed, the weight of guilt resurfacing. "I couldn't protect you. I failed you."

Bela, the eldest, touched Y/N's cheek with a gentle hand. "Mamă, there's nothing to be sorry for. We know you loved us with all your heart. That's all that matters."

Y/N's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and remorse. As they stood together, the wounds of the past night seemed to fade into insignificance. The girls, resilient in their love, reassured Y/N with their unwavering presence.

Y/N's heart fluttered with a mixture of joy and trepidation as she caught sight of Alcina in the distance. The reunion felt like a dream, yet the warmth that surged through her was undeniably real. Alcina, adorned in her regal grace, turned to face Y/N, and a flicker of surprise crossed her features.

The girls, sensing the need for a private moment, gracefully stepped away, leaving Y/N and Alcina alone in the otherworldly expanse. Y/N, overwhelmed by emotions, ran towards Alcina, and the moment their eyes met, the world seemed to fade into the background. Alcina's gaze held a mixture of astonishment and adoration as Y/N wrapped her arms around her.

For a moment, they simply held each other, the ethereal landscape bearing witness to a love that defied the boundaries of life and death. Alcina, her voice a soft whisper, uttered Y/N's name like a sacred hymn, "Dragă mea."

Y/N, feeling the familiar touch of Alcina's fingers gently caressing her cheek, looked into those familiar, mesmerizing eyes. Time seemed to stand still as Alcina, overcome with emotion, leaned in and kissed her with a tenderness that spoke of a thousand unspoken words.

Breaking the kiss, Alcina, her eyes searching Y/N's, questioned with a gentle urgency, "What did you do, my love?"

Y/N's gaze fell, the weight of her actions bearing down on her. She hesitated, reluctant to share the painful truth. Alcina, sensing her distress, gently guided Y/N's face to meet her gaze again. "Tell me, Dragă mea. What did you do?"

With a heavy sigh, Y/N admitted, "I did what was necessary."

Alcina, a furrow forming on her brow, persisted. "What do you mean, 'necessary'? What have you done?"

Y/N, her eyes clouded with sorrow, finally spoke the painful truth. "I did what I had to do to be with all of you again."

Alcina's eyes widened with realization, and she asked with a sinking dread, "You didn’t...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Y/N nodded, the weight of her confession hanging in the air. "Yes, Alcina. I couldn't bear the grief. I saw our daughters die, and I saw you fall. I couldn't find a reason to keep going without all of you."

Alcina's expression shifted from realization to profound sadness. She cupped Y/N's face, a mixture of love and sorrow in her eyes. "Dragă mea, you didn't have to do that. We could have found a way to be together again."

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I couldn't endure the pain, Alcina. I needed to be with you all, even if it meant sacrificing myself."

Alcina, holding Y/N close, whispered words of solace. "Dragă mea, our love is eternal. You didn't need to go to such lengths. Now, we're together, but at what cost?"

"In my heart, Alcina," Y/N said, her voice filled with a quiet resolution, "I wouldn't have changed a thing. The pain was unbearable, but the thought of an eternity without you and our daughters was even more excruciating. I'd make the same choice again, even knowing the price."

Alcina, her eyes reflecting the melancholy of their circumstances, held Y/N tighter. A realm of both reunion and reckoning, became the stage for a love story that defied the limitations of time and mortality. In the embrace of eternity, Y/N and Alcina navigated the delicate dance between joy and sorrow, their hearts entwined in a bittersweet symphony that echoed through the ethereal expanse.

"I wish you hadn't felt you had to bear such a burden alone, Dragă mea," Alcina whispered, her voice a soft lament. "We could have faced the challenges together, found another way."

Y/N, tears glistening in her eyes, met Alcina's gaze. "Alcina, the pain was consuming me. I couldn't fathom a future without all of you. The grief, the guilt—I needed to escape it."

Alcina, understanding the depths of Y/N's torment, kissed her forehead gently. "But at what cost, my love? Our eternity together marred by the sacrifice you made."

Y/N's voice wavered with emotion. "I thought the pain would end if I could be with you again. I was wrong, Alcina. The pain lingers, but at least I have you now."

Alcina's eyes bore the weight of shared sorrow as she spoke, "Dragă mea, our love is eternal, but the wounds you carry... I wish I could have spared you from this pain."

Y/N nodded, her tears falling freely. "Alcina, I would endure a thousand lifetimes of pain to be with you and our daughters. The love we share transcends everything, even the darkness that brought us here."

Alcina, caressing Y/N's cheek, spoke with a tenderness that echoed through them. "My love, you mean everything to me. I would traverse the realms of existence to be with you, to shield you from the burdens you carried alone."

Y/N, leaning into Alcina's touch, whispered, "And I would find a way back to you, no matter the obstacles. Our love is a force that defies the boundaries of time and space."

Alcina's eyes shimmered with unspoken affection. "Dragă mea, you are my eternal flame. No matter the trials we face, we will endure them together."

In the embrace of paradise, where love transcended the boundaries of time and mortality, the familial reunion continued to unfold. As Y/N and Alcina exchanged tender words, the ethereal landscape witnessed the return of the three beloved figures who had once again become an inseparable part of their shared eternity.

Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra approached with an otherworldly grace, their eyes reflecting the joy of being reunited with their parents. In a scene that mirrored the warmth of their past family gatherings, they enveloped Y/N and Alcina in a circle of love.

Y/N, overwhelmed with emotion, gently reached out to hold Bela and Daniela close, one in each arm. The girls, in turn, pressed themselves against Y/N, a collective hug that transcended the physical and embraced the boundless depths of their connection.

Alcina, standing beside Y/N, extended her arms to encircle both Y/N and Cassandra. The afterlife became a tableau of familial love—a tapestry woven with the threads of joy, sorrow, and an eternal bond that defied the passage of time.

In the tender embrace, Y/N kissed the heads of Bela and Daniela, their presence a balm to the wounds she once thought were irreparable. The soft murmur of love filled the air as Y/N spoke, her voice carrying the weight of their shared journey.

"I never thought I'd hold you both like this again," Y/N whispered, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude. "I missed you more than words can say."

Bela and Daniela, in the comforting embrace of their parents, felt the warmth of love that transcended the trials they had faced. A sanctuary for their eternal reunion, echoed with the melodies of a family made whole once more.

Turning to Alcina and Cassandra, Y/N continued, "And you, my loves, are the pillars of my existence. I promised myself that I'd never let you go again. We're a family, bound by a love that defies even the boundaries of life and death."

Alcina, holding Y/N and Cassandra close, spoke with a solemn tenderness, "Our family is eternal, and nothing can tear us apart. We've faced the darkness, and now, we embrace the light of our enduring love."

The Dimitrescu family shared a moment of profound unity. Y/N, surrounded by the warmth of her daughters and Alcina, felt the echoes of grief dissipate, replaced by the timeless embrace of love. The afterlife, once a realm of solitude, had become a haven for their eternal reunion—a sanctuary where the threads of familial love were woven into the very fabric of existence.

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ensnapemysenses · 2 years

Note

snskskna snape and professor reader fic where the students try to get them to confess bcs they are tired asf of seeing them dance arnd each other???

A Devious Plan

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Snape x Professor Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,726

Masterlist

Turning a corner a little too quickly as you are heading to your first lesson of the day, you lose your footing and stumble into none other than Professor Severus Snape, the books and papers you were holding now shattered all over the floor causing nearby students to stop and stare.

“Watch where you are going!” Snape sneers, adding “You are so clumsy, (Y/L/N). One might think … you are doing it on purpose,” in a teasing whisper just out of earshot of the students, upturning the corners of lips in a half smile. Gathering your things with a nonverbal spell he hands them back to you before stalking off, leaving you standing in the corridor slightly confused at the events that just unfolded. He is of course correct, you are clumsy and you get even more clumsy in his presence.

Entering into your classroom to set up your things for your defense against the dark arts lesson you notice a paper tucked into one of your textbooks along with a small white paper envelope containing some tea. Opening the letter it reads, ‘Here is a packet of some tea infused with a calming potion that I’ve been working on. I’ve noticed you’ve been on edge lately, it should help with the nerves. If I can be of any more assistance, let me know. -S.S.’

Smiling to yourself over the usually cold professor extending you a helping hand, you tuck the tea away into your bag along with the note, or so you thought. Unbeknownst to you, the note falls to the floor. The draft in the room causes it to drift under Aberyn Lewis’s desk and the student picks it up and tucks it safely into her bag.

“Look at this,” Aberyn says in the corridor to her friend after class, “I think Professor (Y/L/N) and Professor Snape have a thing for each other!”

“It’s pretty obvious after this note, isn’t it? I knew it! They always low-key flirted with each other!” gasps her friend, Ren Adams, their face lighting up with glee.

“We need to get them to confess to each other! They would make such a great couple!”

“But, how?”

“Leave it to me, I’ve got a plan. Though, you probably aren’t going to like it.”

“What are you doing out of bed and prowling the dungeons, Miss Lewis?” you question, raising your eyebrow at the third-year Slytherin student. Of course on your night to patrol the castle you find a student, a Slytherin nonetheless, out of bed. Now you are going to have to escort them to Snape’s office and hope he is not in a bad mood tonight.

“I was looking for an item I lost,” says Aberyn, “I seemed to have misplaced my essay that is due tomorrow and I thought maybe I had dropped it on the way to the dorms.”

“I understand you are concerned about your essay, however that does not excuse wandering the castle after hours. As you are in Slytherin house I must escort you to Professor Snape’s office for him to determine your punishment. Let’s go.”

Popping up out of their hiding spot as soon as the coast is clear Ren heads towards Snape’s potion storeroom. Aberyn is right, if anything can get these two to confess their true feeling towards each other it will be Veritaserum and all they need is to get their hands on a few drops of it and hope they don’t get caught.

Slipping into the room and quietly closing the door behind them they find the Veritaserum almost immediately (leave it up to Snape to have his storeroom perfectly organized and tidy). Taking out a glass dropper they put a few drops into the small glass vial they prepared for the occasion, place everything back as they found it, and peak their head out of the door before running like a madman back to their dorm to wait on their friend who was providing the distraction they needed to gather the goods.

“What brings you to my office at such a time as this?” Snape asks (Y/N) clearly amused at their presence, his eyes meeting yours with a soft look.

“As much as I wish I was here to visit and play house, it just so happens that I found one of your students out in the corridor after hours, Severus,” you respond, stepping aside to reveal Aberyn behind you who gives Snape a nervous little wave.

“Why were you wandering the corridors after hours, Miss Lewis? You are a fine student and this is out of the ordinary for you.”

“Well, sir,” she says a bit nervously, “I have misplaced my essay for your class that is due tomorrow. I thought I must have dropped it on my way back to the dorm so I went looking for it.”

“I see,” Snape says slowly and thoughtfully, “However I think you should know that I found your essay in the corridor earlier. I was going to let you know tomorrow during my class.”

“Oh, really sir! I am so thankful that you found it!” she says in delight, her eyes sparkling because she had planted the essay for Snape to find and the plan seems to be going perfectly so far.

After a short talk about the importance of staying in the dorms after hours, no matter what, Snape lets Aberyn off with a stern warning to not do it again.

“They were totally eye fucking last night, Ren! If you could have seen the look they gave each other -- I’m telling you we are doing a great act of service to the both of them by simply helping them to confess their feelings sooner,” Aberyn states as she adds one drop of the Veritaserum to each of the cookies she snuck from the kitchens.

“I still feel terrible at having to steal from Snape’s supply closet.”

“Well beggars can’t be choosers; we have done what we must for love,” Aberyn says, rolling her eyes and placing an arm over Ren’s shoulder. “Now we just have to get them in a room together and get them to eat these damn cookies.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard, they are always together these days.”

The students’ predictions turn out to be true as that evening they knock on Snape’s office door to find both professors there. Two glasses of firewhiskey out on the coffee table in front of the couch show proof that this was definitely more than just a cordial visit between two coworkers.

“How can I help you two?” Snape questions, adjusting the collar of his robes absentmindedly.

“I just noticed that you weren’t at dinner and I wanted to bring you a plate of these cookies to show my thanks for finding my essay last night,” Aberyn states as she hands Snape the plate of cookies.

“Thank you,” he says in a low voice, “Do you mind if I share them with Professor (Y/L/N)?”

“Of course not! That’s perfectly fine! We will get going now! Enjoy the rest of your evening!”

“That was … suspicious,” Snape drawls, placing the plate of cookies on his desk.

“Come on, Severus! Just because a student wants to bring you some cookies doesn’t mean they have some ulterior motive!” you tease.

“I suppose one cookie wouldn’t hurt…”

“That’s the spirit Severus!” you giggle, “Hey! Aren’t you going to share?”

Snape rolls his eyes at you as he picks up a cookie and tosses it to you. He is impressed when you actually catch it.

Eating your cookies in silence for a moment, Snape’s eyes widen and he suddenly drops his causing you to look at him questioningly.

“Those little shits!” he says in a raised voice, “These cookies have been laced with Veritaserum! I knew I was missing some out of my storeroom!”

“How can you be so sure? Those are good students who brought us those cookies.” “I just know, (Y/N)!”

“Okay let’s be level-headed here. Let me ask you something that you would only answer if you hadn’t been dosed with Veritaserum,” you calmly state.

“Fine,” he replies, crossing his arms.

Taking a deep breath you ask the first question that comes to your mind. “Do you have a crush?” you ask him before clamping your hands over your mouth.

“Yes,” he says immediately, also placing both of his hands over his mouth as the word falls from his lips.

“Shit, we’ve been dosed with Veritaserum.”

“Shit, indeed,” he tuts, before quietly adding, “And, do you have a crush also?”

“Yes” falls from your mouth too quickly for your liking and Snape can’t seem to stop himself from smiling.

“Who. Is. It?” he asks, enunciating every word of his question as he steps closer to you.

“You” is the only thing you are able to say before he kisses you.

“And mine is you too,” he chuckles as he pulls back from the kiss.

“Should we punish those students for lacing those cookies? Even when it finally helped us express our true feelings for each other?” you ask.

“I suppose not as they did us a… favor by making it easier.”

Laughing at the weird turn of events Snape escorts you to the door as you have both decided it’s better to end the night where it is until the Veritaserum wears off. The next day you both enter the Great Hall hand-in-hand and smiling.

Aberyn comes forward after her potions class later that day with a glass vial containing a clear liquid in her hands

“I figured I better - return this,” she says as she places the vial on Snape’s desk.

“What is this, Miss Lewis?” he asks raising an eyebrow.

“This,” she responds, gesturing to the vial, “is the Veritaserum that Ren and I stole from your storeroom.”

“So,” he pauses, “you didn’t lace those cookies you brought us with Veritaserum after all?”

Shaking her head no she explains that she simply wanted to make Snape think that the cookies had been laced and that she didn’t even tell Ren that she had not used the potion.

“Clever girl,” Snape scolds in a teasing voice. “Your plan, though ill-devised, worked I suppose. Ten points to Slytherin for a great display of cunning and ambition, but don’t ever steal from my storeroom again.”

#thanks for sending!#severus snape x reader #severus snape #pro snape #snape community #severus snape fic #snape x professor reader #snapedom #professor snape fic #ensnapemysenses

326 notes · View notes

fandom-go-round · 3 years

Text

Transformers Masterlist

Soundwave:

Soundwave x Injured!Reader [smut]

Loneliness/Family (Winter Prompt): Soundwave x Reader

Soundwave x Human!Reader (Size Kink) [smut]

General Mermaid HCS (Soundwave)

Soundwave x Reader (Soulmate AU)

Shifter AU HCs (Soundwave)

Reading Minds Soulmate AU HCs (Soundwave)

Cat and Mouse (Mermaid!Soundwave) (Implied Character Death) {dark}

Interspecies Soulmate (Soundwave)

Yandere!Soundwave x Reader (Noncon) [smut] {dark}

Being Human HCs (Soundwave) (fluff)

Soundwave x Reader Smut (Light Bondage) [smut]

Seeker!Reader x Soundwave (Sound Kink) [smut]

General Naga HCs (Soundwave)

Sound Kink (Soundwave) [smut] Part 1

Sound Kink (Soundwave) [smut] Part 2

Watching Reader Masturbating (Soundwave) [smut]

Soundwave Interacting with Reader's Cat (fluff)

Learning to Kiss HCs (Soundwave) [implied smut]

Shattered Glass AU Halloween HCs

Tentacle Sex (Soundwave) [tentacles, making a video]

Alpha!Soundwave x Omega!Reader Part 1 [smut]

Alpha!Soundwave x Omega!Reader Part 2 [smut]

Helping Reader Dry Their Hair (fluff)

Omega!Human!Reader Going into Heat [smut]

Love Letter Event: Yandere Soundwave {dark}

Knockout, Breakdown:

Omega!Knockout x Alpha!Reader x Omega!Breakdown [smut]

Knockout x Insecticon!Reader x Breakdown (Oviposition) [smut]

Mermaid!Knockout x Reader x Mermaid!Breakdown Courting HCs

Mermaid!Knockout x Pregnant!Reader x Mermaid!Breakdown HCs (fluff)

Knockout x Mermaid!Reader x Breakdown HCs

Knockout x Omega!Reader x Breakdown Heat HCs [smut]

Shattered Glass AU Knockout x Witch!Reader x Breakdown HCs

Yandere!Mermaid!Knockout x Reader x Yandere!Mermaid!Breakdown {dark}

Jazz:

Jazz x Reader How He Shows He Likes You HCs

Soulmate AU HCs (Jazz) Part 1

Soulmate AU HCs (Jazz) Part 2

Reader x Jazz A Romantic Night In (fluff)

Ratchet:

Star Gazing: Ratchet x Reader, implied Ratchet x Reader x Drift (fluff)

Ratchet x Reader HCs (Daddy Kink) [smut]

Love Letter Event

Love Letter Event (Post It Note)

Flower Prompt: Hyacinth

Prowl:

Aftercare HCs [implied smut] (fluff)

Trying Again: Prowl x Reader {angst}

Knockout:

Soulmate AU HCs (Knockout)

Optimus Prime:

Dat Grill Brah: Optimus Prime x Reader ~crack~

Love Letter Event

Reader x Prime Realizing Feelings HCs [smut]

2000 Follower Give Away: Homesick Optimus Prime x Reader (fluff) [smut]

Megatron:

Love Letter Event

Affectionate!Reader x Megatron (fluff, light angst)

Thundercracker:

Courting HCs (Thundercracker) [smut]

Soulmate AU HCs Part 1

Soulmate AU HCs Part 2

Rung:

Rung x Reader HCs [smut]

Love Letter Event

Whirl:

Reader x Whirl HCs [smut]

Reader x Whirl Messing Around [smut]

Cyclonus:

Soft Yandere towards Reader HCs (fluff, implied smut)

Brainstorm:

Drunk Brainstorm (Throwing Up, Bloating)

Cheetor:

Love Letter Event

Shatter:

Intimate Cuddling with Reader HCs [implied smut, voice kink]

Keeping Techno Organic!Reader Warm HCs (fluff)

Shatter x Reader Smut [voice kink, mass displacement, praise]

Cuddling and Confessing Feelings (fluff)

Asking for a Hug HCs (fluff)

Shadow Striker:

Helping Reader with Chronic Pain HCs (fluff)

Shockwave:

Prime Shattered Glass AU HCs

Sunsteaker:

Vain: Reader x Sunstreaker (fluff)

Ultra Magnus:

Sensitive!Reader x Ultra Magnus [overstimulation, rough sex]

Sparked!Reader HCs (fluff)

Slipstream:

Reader Cheering Up Slipstream HCs (fluff)

Rockbuster:

Flower Prompt: Hawthorne

Mudflap:

Sarcastic!Reader x Mudflap HCs (fluff)

Perceptor:

Reader x Perceptor Slow Sex [smut]

Collections/Other:

Prowl vs Thunderhoof Part 1 (Prowl x Reader x Thunderhoof)

Schick Hydrobot x Optimus Prime ~crack~

Hide and Seek: Platonic Ravage x Reader x Soundwave

Starscream x Insecticon!Reader x Megatron HCs [smut]

General and Smutty HCs (DJD) [smut]

General Knight HCs (Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Megatron, Soundwave)

Napping HCs (Prowl, Jazz, Thundercracker, Soundwave) (fluff)

Cum Shots/Facial Drabble (Ratchet, Drift, Soundwave, Megatron) [smut]

Soulmate AU HCs Soundwave x Reader x Jazz (fluff)

Soulmate AU HCs Sunstreaker x Reader x Sideswipe (fluff)

Helping Mechs Relax (Ratchet, Soundwave) [smut]

Face Fucking HCs (Drift, Whirl, Kup) [smut]

Poly Soundwave x Reader x Megatron Stressed Reader HCs (fluff)

Cum Color HC

Ultra Magnus x Reader x Megatron HCs [smut]

Reader Getting Sunburned (Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Drift, Ratchet) (fluff)

Reader Eating a Popsicle (Optimus, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus) [implied sexual situations]

Ice Cream and Swimsuit HCs (fluff)

Buying Fruit HCs

Evil!Reader Manipulating the Bots (Ultra Magnus, Optimus Prime, Arcee) (Emotional Manipulation, Spirit Breaking) {dark}

Reader and Sparkling Dying HCs (Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Optimus Prime) (Major Character Death, Child Death) {dark}

Walking in on Reader HCs (Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Kup) [smut]

Yandere!Soundwave x Reader x Yandere!Tarn Escaped Facility AU Part 1 {dark}

Yandere!Soundwave x Reader x Yandere!Tarn Escaped Facility AU Part 2 [smut] {dark}

Human Doctor!Reader Fixing Up Bots HCs (Cyclonus, Shockblast, Dirt Boss)

#masterlist #transformers masterlist

494 notes · View notes

lipstickstainz · 4 years

Text

true lies - s. r. (7/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison

Chapter Summary: Girls night - and Spencer and you accidentally meet each other the day after.

Warnings: a little bit of angst, and fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I'm sorry it took me song long, but I was really busy. I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

"Will you please pass me the can of glitter?", Penelope asks. Everyone gives her confused looks, except you. Your gaze is fixed on the pictures in front of you.

"What do you need glitter for?", JJ asks, taking a sip of her wine.

"This is supposed to be a vision board", she grins, grabbing the reddish can Emily holds out to her. She twists off the cap and sprinkles a little glitter on her hand before letting it trickle onto the glue-covered cardboard. "In my vision, my future is full of glitter. With the cruel things we have to see every day, everything should be full of glitter."

Emily has to grin, but raises her wine glass. The others do the same. "Here's to a future full of glitter." As the others toast and glasses clink together, you silently slide the pictures back and forth on your drab piece of cardboard.

It's been Penelope's idea for you girls to get together on a Saturday night to create vision boards together. It's been a week since Spencer and you spoke, and Penelope couldn't take your suffering anymore. She had tried so many times to cheer you up, but nothing had worked. Your heart was broken, your world was shattered, but Penelope can't take it. Ridiculous.

At first you were against it. In the last days you were just vegging out, your emotions as if erased, repressed and burned out. If you allowed your true feelings, you would break. You got up, went to work and went to bed at night. You weren't capable of doing more than that, because even every breath was far too exhausting.

And then, all of a sudden, the girls had shown up at your door. Their bags were filled with craft supplies, sleeping stuff, and alcohol. Penelope, not knowing what had even happened, had rounded everyone up and decided you needed cheering up. You wanted to slam the door in her face, but there was so much pain in her gaze and only then did you realize that you weren't the only one to suffer. Your friends were suffering with you and their visit was a kind attempt to get you back on track. And it started with them forcing you to shower and put on a sweater that didn't have a coffee stain on it.

"Y/N?", Tara addresses you and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus back on the piece of cardboard in front of you and you realize that you haven't put a single picture, saying, anything on it yet, while everyone else's hands are covered in glue. In your friends' faces you see confusion and pity. You look away. "You haven't picked out anything for your vision board yet."

Because I don't know what my future will look like without Spencer by my side, you reply in your mind. You don't want to pretend you can imagine a future without him when he's been a big part of it for years. And most of all, you don't want to admit it.

"What do you think of this one?", JJ asks, pushing toward you the snippet she's cut out of one of the countless magazines Penelope has brought. The words are written in thick letters. "Trust the timing of your life." Funny.

"Do you want to tell us what happened?", Penelope asks quietly, sipping her cocktail. There's already red glitter on the glass. "We can see how bad you are."

She only means well and she's also a good friend and actually you want to tell, but then it would come true. As long as you keep your conversation to yourself, you can pretend it didn't happen. You could go on as before and hope that everything will work out. But it wouldn't be the truth.

The truth is that Spencer and you would never get back together.

As you begin to tell it, all the dams break. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and you have to gasp in between as the words get stuck in your throat. No one interrupts you, they just stare at you, amazed that you are actually talking. And you don't leave out a single detail. You tell them that you were standing outside his room at night and he slammed the door in your face.That he wanted you off the team and insulted the crap out of you at Rossi's party, only to cuddle with you on JJ's couch afterwards and then call it a mistake. You tell them about the angry kiss, about your fights and reconciliations, and finally you tell them about your last night together and your conversation.

When you're done, you reach for your glass, which you haven't touched yet, and drink the wine down to the last drop.Only when the glass is empty and you put it down do you look at the others again. Uncertainly, you look around and recognize an infinite number of questions in their faces, which they don't ask - to be honest, you wouldn't have the answers either - and mixed feelings, which you can't interpret despite your good profiling skills. But there's one thing you can recognize in every look you meet: pain. And even though they look at you with a lot of pity, you don't regret telling them about it.

If you break from it, you know the girls will put you back together.

"That's ... a lot”, Tara says first, taking a sip of her cocktail. You nod mutely.

"We always hoped you'd find each other after all”, Penelope confesses, twisting the glitter jar shut.Apparently, she's lost the desire to put more on her cardboard.

"Even though you left Spencer, we always thought it was for a reason other than you didn't love him anymore. You were the perfect couple and we just couldn't imagine it." Up until this point, JJ had been suspiciously quiet. She looks up from her cardboard. "And now you're back, and the way you're suffering right now, we can imagine it even less. So why would you say that to him? If it's not true after all?"

"That's enough, guys. We should change the subject”, Emily interjects pouring wine into your empty glass. You're infinitely grateful to her. Talking has drained you, and just thinking about Spencer hurts. Talking about it doesn't exactly make it easier to deal with it all, but the weight on your shoulders doesn't feel quite so crushing anymore.

"You still love him, don't you?" Penelope sounds hopeful. And you don't want to take away her hope, and especially you don't want to lie to your friends, but it has to be done. You promised, even swore, that the deal would stay secret, and it was already too dangerous to have told Emily then. You wouldn't risk your friends' lives.

"No, Penelope." The glimmer of hope in her eyes goes out. It's a feeling you know all too well.

"I don't want to get too close to you, Y/N”, Tara begins. "But then why do you feel so bad? If you didn't love him anymore, then you wouldn't be so heartbroken, would you?"

And you don't have an answer to that anymore.

The topic is over and will not be brought up again. At the end of the evening, your cardboard is still empty, but you feel a little better and you mentally make a note to yourself that you owe them. When the girls say goodbye the next morning after breakfast - Penelope hugs you a little longer than the others - you head out as well. Thanks to your friends, you've realized that there's nothing you can do about the situation, that you're going to have to deal with it - and definitely not alone - and that sitting lonely in your apartment waiting for a miracle to happen is not an option.

The warm sun on your skin feels good, like a hug, and you reach out to it as you walk to your favorite bookstore. There are many people out and about, walking or shopping. Countless people are sitting in the small cafes, eating and drinking and talking. You've only been back in D.C. for a few weeks and it feels like you've never been away.

Over the past year, you've been on the road a lot, not only in the States but also in Europe. In addition to work that has sent you nearly halfway around the world, you've sat in the Hamburg State Opera, eaten in the cute cafes in Bucharest, and admired the medieval old town in Lund, Sweden. You've seen and experienced so much, met new people, but nothing resembles home. And not being able to be here for a year had been incredibly difficult.

As you enter your favorite bookstore, the smell of old books rises to your nose and goosebumps spread across your warmed skin. How much you missed it. You may have been to other bookstores, but you know this one like the back of your hand. How you've missed this. You walk down the aisles, running your fingers over the various spines before stopping at a book. The cover is a faded red and somewhat damaged, with white writing that makes you want to pull it off the shelf and open it.

You are so engrossed that you don't notice how someone comes up to you and stops next to you.

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair," the person begins to quote and you wince, but don't turn around. "Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt fort he liquid measure of your steps."

You have to swallow, put a finger between the pages to find the poem again before closing the book and turning around. "Hi."

Spencer smiles at you. "I didn't think I'd run into you here."

You pucker your lips into a thin line. "Yeah, um, I haven't been here since I got back. Wanted to see if it's changed."

Oddly enough, it doesn't feel strange to be standing in this bookstore with him, considering you'd been here almost every day before and this moment is the first time you've seen each other outside of work since you had your clarifying conversation. Nervous, though, you are. You suppress the urge to tap from one foot to the other.

"So, has it changed?" Spencer tilts his head, but doesn't avert his gaze from you.

You shake your head. "Not really. But I guess the salesgirl who had the hots for you back then doesn't work here anymore." You try to lighten the slightly tense mood with the joke, and it seems to work. Spencer laughs out loud.

"I still don't think she had a crush on me." His smile widens, and it's so infectious that you have to smile, too.

"One hundred percent”, you return, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "It was pretty funny watching her flirt with you all the time, but you didn't go for it."

The bookstore is completely empty except for you and the clerk at the entrance. Silence surrounds you, but it is not uncomfortable despite the circumstances and the new situation. You just stand there smiling at each other until Spencer takes the book from your hand.

"Neruda writes beautifully." He flips through the book once before handing it back to you. As your fingers graze, a flash goes through you, but you try not to let it show. "Very nice poems."

You nod. "I know. Only know him through you”, you answer truthfully.

Spencer has to grin. "True." He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "He's in that book I gave you once."

"Right." You don't want your conversation to end, and you don't want to leave, but it would be best for both of you. You're not ready to be friends yet, and while your meeting doesn't feel awkward, you're not sure how to handle it. You tap the book and look at him.

"I'll go pay for that." You walk past him, but turn back to him. "It's good to see you, Reid." You use his last name on purpose, knowing full well that his first name is reserved for friends. And in your opinion, you're not ready yet.

"It's good to see you, too."

You nod to him again before leaving without turning around again. You feel his gaze on you anyway.

When you get to work the next day, there's a gift on your desk. It's wrapped in brown wrapping paper and a cord is tied around it and tied into a bow. Simple and beautiful. You set your bag down, confused, before sitting down and inspecting it.

"Who's this from?", Luke asks, walking past you to his desk. You shrug ignorantly.

"I don't know."

The gift is slightly larger than your hand, but not particularly heavy. After opening it and putting the paper in the trash can under the desk, you take a closer look at the book. It's black, and the cover features a plain white flower, with the word "poetry" engraved underneath. As you open the first section, you come across something written. You recognize Spencer's handwriting.

"And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud, was more painful than the risk it took to blossom - Anais Nin."

Your heart skips a beat and you block out the feeling spreading through you. You flip through the book and realize it is completely blank except for this poem. The pages are lined and practically screaming to be filled.

"Do you like it?", Spencer asks, sitting down across from you at his own desk. He sets his fresh cup of coffee down in front of him and you give him a friendly smile.

"It's wonderful." You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. "Thank you."

"I found it in the bookstore after you left. And I know you like to read poetry, and I thought you could write down your favorite poems in it." He takes a sip of his coffee.

"That's very sweet of you. Really, thank you, Reid."

"Spencer." A thin smile spreads across his face and you warm. "My friends call me Spencer."

next part

- tags -

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620 notes · View notes

caffeineforbucky · 3 years

Text

As Time Goes By... (Chapter Ten)

A/N: I apologize in advance if this chapter has you feelin' some type of way about me or the way I view John. I don't want to offend anybody who has taken a liking to the character, so please refrain from commenting about my slander, believe me, I know. I also would like to express my deep and moving appreciation for the people who take the time to read my however many part series, I know that you have school, some of you may have finals and are using Tumblr as a way to procrastinate and some of you are just tryna silence that voice in your head, use fiction as a way to distract yourself from your demons and the pain, you guys are the reason I can write like this.

xx sorry for being soppy, I'm just grateful that this is my escape too, you guys are the best xx Te quiero mucho, y les aprecio!

Word Count: 3,007

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Warnings: A lot of angst, hostility, swearing, and John Waker ( If that even counts as a warning, Idk) I will be slandering John, just a tad

PSA: As I've said in previous chapters, I'm only reiterating the way Bucky treats John. I don't want to hear any or see comments that I'm hating on the character, here's a reminder that they're just characters, that's it. Thank you!

"Well, I got nothin'. No one's even talking about Donya." Bucky exclaims, pushing the doors open as you all came back from asking around about Donya's funeral.

It was a lost cause since neither of you could get any information out of the residents. It was almost like they were reluctant to give it to you.

"Yeah, it's because Karli is the only one fighting for them." You sigh, plopping down on the sofa next to Sam while Bucky took the other couch and Zemo headed for the kitchen. "And she's not wrong."

"What do you mean?" Bucky grunts, glaring sideways at you as he leans forward, folding his hands together.

"For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire," Sam conveys, adding to your statement. "There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn't just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together."

"And then boom," You continue, "Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them," You gesture your hand to the doors, pointing out the peoples.

"At least Karli's doin' something." Sam finishes, making you nod along in agreement. Karli might have been a supremacist, but she was still a kid who wanted to set things right. You and Sam could get behind that.

"You really think her ends justify her means?"Bucky's eyes flicker between you and Sam. "Then she's no different than him or anybody else we've fought."

"She's different," Sam bid, "She's not motivated by the same things."

You turn your head to look at Zemo, who walked in with a tray in his grasp, balancing a teapot and four small teacups.

"That little girl," Bucky recounts, glaring daggers into the baron as he set the tray down. "What'd she tell you?"

Zemo doesn't answer at first, his focus on keeping the teapot steady whilst trying to pour each of you a cup. His eyes drag up, looking at Bucky and Sam before landing on you. Sighing in defeat, he placed the teapot down. "The funeral is this afternoon,"

"You know the Dora's coming after you any minute." Bucky teases as Zemo swallows thickly. "In fact, they're probably lurking outside right now. Keep taking."

"Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm..." Zemo scoffs, shaking his head as he picks up a piping cup of tea. "I prefer to keep my leverage."

Bucky pushes off the couch, standing to his feet, prowling his way to the baron. You share a knowing look with Sam as if you both knew what was about to go down. As soon as Bucky was face to face with Zemo, he rips the glass out of his hands and sends it flying, leaving the glass to shatter against the wall.

"You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?" Bucky snapped, his eyes boring into Zemo's.

"Take it easy," Sam interrupts, standing from the couch to place a hand on Bucky, trying to keep him from ripping Zemo's head off. You shook your head, brushing your hair back with your fingers. And I thought I had anger issues.

"Don't engage him. He's just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing." Sam comments as Zemo tilted his head. He frowned softly, fixing his head once Sam had mentioned it. "Let me make a call," Sam mumbles, going to walk into the other room as he smacked Bucky's shoulder.

"You want some cherry blossom tea?" Zemo asks, fear coming up his throat as Bucky continued staring him down before flickering his eyes to you.

"No, you go ahead," He nods, looking back at Zemo before walking away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Zemo exhaled a heavy breath, swallowing the fear back down.

"Don't mind him, Z," You grunt, fixing your position on the couch before leaning forward to grab yourself a cup of cherry blossom tea. "He's not pissed at you, he's pissed at me." You explain, taking a light sip, as to not burn your tongue.

Zemo cracks his neck, hiking down his collar before looking over at you, his expression full of curiosity. "Z?" He mutters, almost smiling at the nickname you had given him.

"Yeah, Zemo sounds like an asshole. Z isn't...Z is an old friend from college who used to party hard, but now he's a dad, and he has bills to pay, but when we call him Z, it makes him feel good." You chuckle, shrugging as you took another sip, "This is good, by the way," You add, gesturing to the cup of tea.

"Thank you. It's an old family recipe," Zemo beams, grabbing himself another cup as he took a seat beside you. "I'll give it to you. If you want, of course."

"I'd appreciate that," You answered, smiling softly as you looked down at the bright red liquid in your cup.

"What happened between you and James?" Zemo inquired, breaking the silence as his face twisted into curiosity before softening his features. "If you don't mind me asking,"

You inhaled deeply, cradling the mug in your grasp as your eyes met Zemo's. "Uhmm..." You hummed, pondering the right words to explain the situation as well as how you were feeling.

"If you don't want to relive that, I would not blame you," Zemo assures, taking of sip from his cup as well. "Remembering things that hurt you can be very damaging to your mental health, but confronting them can also make you stronger, in a sense."

You look at Zemo, watching him as he looked off into the distance, almost as if he remembered something that hurt him. Helmut Zemo was not a bad person, he did bad things, but that didn't make him a monster. He had lost his family because of Ultron and, you knew he blamed the Avengers, which is why you didn't question his motives. You would have done the same.

"I'm sorry about your family, Z," You sigh, tearing your eyes away from the side of his face. "If I'd of known-"

"Don't apologize, Y/N. Nothing could have stopped it. I know that now." He whispers, still staring ahead. "Whatever James did, I'm sure he did it for a reason. I'm not saying this to make you forgive him, but letting go of grudges is healthy."

"I'd never thought I'd hear that from you," You joke, chuckling softly as you playfully elbowed the man beside you. "But, thank you. I know I said I would kill you but, dare that I admit...you're kinda growing on me."

Zemo turned to look at you, raising his glass for a toast. "To not killing each other,"

"I'll drink to that," You grinned, tapping your glass against his.

"Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous to be pulling this shit!" John Walker fumes, footsteps stomping down the street with Lemar hot on his trail. He was sporting red, white, and blue from head to toe, looking even more ridiculous from the last time you saw him.

"Ah!" Bucky exclaims, clearly irritated already. "How'd you find us now?!"

The five of you were heading for Donya's funeral when Lemar and John had spotted the bunch from a distance, and it didn't take much for them to stop you in your footing.

"Come on, man." Lemar scoffs, shaking his head. "You really think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?"

"No more keeping us in the dark!" John demands, jogging down the steps as they made their way over to you. "You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison!" He motioned to Zemo.

"He did that himself," Buck answers, "Technically,"

"This better be an unbelievable explan-" John starts, going right for the winter soldier.

"Hey," You intervene, stepping out from behind Bucky to block John. "Back off, Walker," You warn, searching his eyes through that stupid mask as you pushed him back softly with your glove-clad hand. "Things could get real messy real fast,"

John takes a step back, exhaling through his nose to calm himself down. Bucky felt slightly taken at how brisk you were to defend him, even if it was as simple as telling John to back off. He took that as a small victory between the two of you.

"Yeah," Sam added, his frown deeper than you'd ever seen it while he looked at John. "Take it easy before things get weird."

"I know where Karli is," Zemo finally spoke up, stepping out to lead the way but not before getting immobilized by John. "Well...?" John inquires, keeping his hand on Zemo's chest. "Where?"

"All we know is, it's a memorial," Sam breathes, clearly not in the mood to explain further. Now he was starting to get the fustration you and Bucky had felt for the man. "So, we're gonna intercept her there."

Zemo grabs John's hand, removing it from his chest as he pushed past to continue leading the way.

"That means civilians. High-risk casualties" Lemar points out, looking to John with worry clouding his features.

"All right," John nods along in agreement, "Good, we'll move in fast and take her by surprise."

"No," Sam grunted, jogging closer to catch up with John. "I wanna talk to her alone."

"I'm not losing her again."

"Look, the person closest to her died, she's vulnerable. If there's any time to reason with her, it's now." Sam explains, hoping that it would make sense to John.

"What?" He frowns, "No, wait, No!" John jogs up ahead, running in front of Zemo and Bucky to make sense of the situation. "Stop, okay?" He snaps, placing his hands in front to keep you at bay. "I think we're way past reasoning with her unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it."

"Sam," Lemar adds, looking to the falcon, "You walk in there cold, she could kill you."

"If I go in hot and the OP goes wrong, more people will die," Sam interjects, sending you an annoyed look. Oh, do I feel his pain.

"You're gonna let him do this?" John asks, his eyes on Bucky as he motioned to Sam. "You're gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super-soldier alone?"

Bucky's gaze hardened as he moved it away from Zemo to look at John. "Sam's dealt with worse. And he's not my partner."

"What about you, Y/N?" John asks, making your ears perk at your name being called. You stare at him. "You okay with letting Sam walk in alone?"

"First off, fake Cap," You comment, holding up your finger to silence him, "Sam is a grown-ass man. I don't tell him what to do. Secondly..." You tried not to smile as you took in the nasty scowl John gave you at your use of his nickname. You had struck a nerve. "He used to counsel soldiers with trauma. This is right in his wheelhouse,"

"Yeah," John gripes, gritting his teeth to hold back the anger. "I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea,"

"Wait, John," Lemar murmured, looking up from the ground. "If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try."

John sighs heavily, looking at the four of you as he closed his eyes in defeat. "Fine!" He said firmly, "We'll deal with you later," He points at Zemo.

"I'm sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion." Zemo nods, holding his hands up in defense. "My associate is just up ahead," He notes, leading the way as he picked up the pace to meet the little girl from earlier.

"Fake cap?" Bucky whispered, playfully elbowing your side.

"Don't," You grumble, waving your hand in dismissal. "I'm not in the mood."

"Really?" Zemo sighs, glancing down at the handcuffs that John put on him, along with attaching them to a water heater.

"You got ten minutes, Wilson." John insists, "Then we're doing things my way," And Sam heads inside to meet with Karli.

You had agreed to wait on the outside with Bucky and Zemo, but you never agreed with having to deal with fake Cap and Lemar. You had nothing against Lemar since he seemed to be the more rational one out of the duo. Maybe he should've been Captain America.

"Handcuffs?" You scoffed, shaking your head at the blond as you leaned against the wall beside Bucky. "Really?"

"What?" John insists, somewhat taking offense from your tone of voice.

"Real Cap wouldn't have needed those," You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. "But what do I know, right?"

"Y/N," Bucky warned, his head rising to send you a cautious look. Although he found the teasing funny, he knew that John didn't. He couldn't help but recall the small threat John had sent your way earlier, even if he said it wasn't.

"What?" You say in disbelief, raising your hands in defense as you uncross your arms, pushing off the wall, slowly stepping closer to John. "You know I'm just teasing, right Johnny?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes, trying to play the innocent card.

John stares at you, holding the shield a bit closer as he grounded his jaw. Teasing or not, you still pissed him off. Like no other woman has before. "Right," He agreed, nodding his head once.

"See Buck?!" You exclaim, glancing behind your shoulder to look at the winter soldier who was now right behind you. "Fake Cap agrees!" You clap softly, looking back at the blond.

And that's when John lost it. "What's your problem?!" He spat, his body now just a few inches away from yours. You could feel Bucky wanting to step in front of you, but you shook your head. This wasn't his fight. "What do you have against me, Y/N?" Your name was like venom dripping from his mouth, the amount of hatred he had for you was starting to make itself known and you were more than happy to engage.

"What are you gonna do?" You whispered calmly, taking a step closer to the man in stripes. "Huh, Walker? Are you gonna hit me?" You stare him down, keeping your other hand behind your back to keep Bucky at bay. He didn't need another therapy mandate, especially for hitting Walker. "Before we go at it, let me remind you..." You breathe, keeping yourself calm, "I was a trained assassin before I joined the Avengers, I don't recommend starting something that will end in me winning," You finished, shooting him a cocky smile.

"Is that a threat?" John stepped closer, challenging your assertiveness as well the dominance you were clearly displaying.

"No, no," You shake your head in disapproval. "I'm just fact-checking."

"Alright," Bucky grunted, stepping in front of you now. "Let's quit while we're ahead. Seriously, back up, John,"

"What? She started it!" John whined, pointing to you while Bucky sent you back a few steps.

"Really, we're playing the blame game? Real mature, Walker," You scoff, "Stay mad!"

"Both of you!" Lemar belts, gaining your and Johns's attention. "Jesus, you guys are like little kids. John, you're really arguing over who started it?"

"Lemar-"

"Dude, seriously. I wouldn't engage," Lemar advises, his eyes flickering over to you. "She looks like she can take you."

You smile, taking that as a compliment. "Thank you, Battlestar. Appreciate you,"

Lemar's face flushed, feeling his cheeks burn at your use of his superhero name. "Yeah," He grinned, straightening out his posture, blushing profusely. "N...No problem, Y/N."

"Battlestar?" Bucky mouthed, turning his body to face you but you only shrug.

"You know what?" John utters, not liking the tension you just created, "I'm going in,"

"It hasn't even been ten minutes, John," Bucky said, his voice bored. "Just sit tight." You looked at Bucky, feeling the annoyance practically radiating off of his demeanor.

"Don't do that, don't patronize me!"

"Sam knows what he's doing," You add, watching Bucky as he stepped in front of the doorway, blocking John's way. "I'm going in!" John pressed just as Bucky pushes him back, making him halt in his steps.

John's eyes slowly drag down, looking at Bucky's hand placed on his chest to keep him back. "This is all really easy for you, isn't it?" John hissed, "All that serum running through your veins." His eyes meet the winter soldiers once again.

"Easy?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "Since when did you think Bucky has had it easy?"

"Y/N, it's..."

"No," You cut Bucky off, dropping your hands as you stepped closer to John. "It's not okay. Not once in the eighty years that Bucky has been alive has he had it easy." You say as a matter-of-factly. "He's had it harder than any of us combined, so don't you fucking stand there and act as if you got something to be angry about."

John stares at you, jaw slightly dropped as if he didn't know what to say. You could feel Bucky's eyes burning holes on the side of your head, but you couldn't bother to look at him. "If anything, Bucky should be angry," You sigh, taking in your own words right as you said them. That might've been the most hypocritical thing I've ever said. "Neither of us know what the hell he's been through..." You whispered, looking to the ground for a second before settling your focus back on John. "So don't pretend as if you do."

Walker clears his throat softly, taking a step back from being so close to you and Bucky. He couldn't explain why, but you were the only person he hated and respected at the same time. "Right," He mumbled, nodding his head at you. "You're right, I don't know what he's been through but your partner needs back up in there. Do you really want his blood on both of your hands?"

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

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

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

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

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

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

Introduction

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

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

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were going to remove his armour.

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

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

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

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet this… this was bad.

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

Concussion too then… a bad one.

He just prayed there was no permanent damage.

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

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

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

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

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven.

You.

You were going to kill him when he got out.

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

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

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

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

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

Maker, he was battered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was.

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

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

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

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

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

He looked the same as always.

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

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

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

Before he slaughtered them all.

Din hated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please no, please…

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

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

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

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

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts.

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

Except there was just one problem…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How would you feel afterward?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

“Sir?”

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What makes him your Mandalorian…

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

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

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

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

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

And then you felt it.

Your power brushed over something… someone.

Din.

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

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

Moff Gideon’s cruiser.

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

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

~~~

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

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces.

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

Hey, maybe you could tag team.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised.

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

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

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

You were never going to let him live this down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse.

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

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth.

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

Prick.

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

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

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

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

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship.

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

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

No… no-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t going to die in here –

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cruiser was like a maze.

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

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

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

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

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

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?”

Seriously?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monster.

Ah, back to this, yet again.

Always back to this.

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but.

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

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

And you couldn’t care.

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

There was a name for it.

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

You’d deal with that later.

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

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

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka.

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

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

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A choice.

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

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

~~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways.

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

But this time, he wanted to be heard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting.

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

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

The hallway was carnage.

A bloody battlefield.

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

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

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

A lightsaber.

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

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

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

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured.

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

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

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

Through it.

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

~~~

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

Oh Din, what happened to you…

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

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

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

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You supposed it did.

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dangerous game to play, Gideon.

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

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But… the world was different now.

It was bright again.

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

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

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

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

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky.

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

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

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now.

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

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

Perfect.

Just as you planned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would be why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you made a decision.

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran.

Stepping off of that edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to do this.

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d done it.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was being called to the Dark Side.

And she’d heeded that call.

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

He could feel it.

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

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#well this was a journey #the mandalorian x reader #edited because I realised I spelt Mayfeld wrong #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #rogue #pedro pascal

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strawberryvanillablast · 3 years

Text

Nobody Rejects You! (Josuke Higashikata X Yandere!Female!Reader)

Please help this poor baby boy. He needs it.

TW: Blood, Possessiveness, Drugging, Possible Death?

“Ah man,” Okuyasu looked at him sympathetically. “She rejected you, bro?”

Josuke could only let out a bitter chuckle. Rejection was actually the biggest and most nuanced understatement. She specifically told him that she hated guys like him. It was a definite shock to the system, since all he was used to was affection and fawning from most of the girls but it was a first time for everything.

Besides, he wasn’t going to hold it against her or anything even if it did sting. By a landslide. He was going to pout for a couple of days and then it would go back to normal. And also, he had Okuyasu and Koichi with him for supportive comfort. It was no skin off his nose at all.

She didn’t show up for class after that day. The teacher explained that she had a prolonged illness, which seemed to be satisfactory for the time being. And yet, in Josuke’s mind, there was an alarm bell going off in his head. It was telling him to run from this place and just go back home so that he could be safe. Josuke gave a frown. What was there need to be scared of? It was just school, right?

Later in the day, he realized he’d forgotten something in one of the school rooms in the upper floors. Cursing his bad luck, he climbed up the steps. The feeling as he approached just churned uneasily in his gut. Shaking his head to dispel all his worries, he opened the door to the room and got the item. That was when he just noticed the closet door opened ajar sinisterly. He frowned as he moved closer on seeing what it could be hiding.

When he found out, his heart plummeted to his stomach.

It was the girl that rejected him, bound and gagged in both her eyes and mouth. There were rivers of tears sliding down her face and she was weakly struggling. Josuke felt an ocean of guilt wash over him as he used Crazy Diamond. Why on Earth would somebody do this, to another human being no less? He untied both gags on the girl- Tamami-san- and she glared at him fearfully.

“Easy, easy,” Josuke held out his hands to pacify her. “Who did this to you?” He looked around the room for any potential assailants.

“I...I...I don’t need any help from someone like you!” She sniffed, looking away.

Josuke had to raise an eyebrow. Was this one of Rohan’s distant relatives? Well, that explained the attitude. Shaking his head, his arm instinctively shot out as his eyes scanned for any potential Stand users on the prowl. Suddenly, he turned to see a cloaked figure standing menacingly on the windowsill of the school. With a swift kick, the glass of the window shattered. Josuke took most of the brunt while the girl cowered behind him.

“Hey, you,” Josuke glared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Punishing someone who deserves it.”

Josuke’s eyes widened for he recognized the voice of this person. This was one of his classmates, [Y/N]. He always figured [Y/N] to be a shy, cute type of girl. At the look on [Y/N]’s face, he briefly wondered if this was a wrong assumption. For the girl behind him, he could hear a scoff. He turned around as Crazy Diamond’s summoned to stall [Y/N].

“You’re such a loser, [Y/N]. Why on Earth would you fall for Higashikata?”

“...Shut up,” [Y/N] glared. “How dare you speak about him that way, you horrible witch!”

In a moment, [Y/N] summoned her stand which looked like an octopus with large needles attached. Before Josuke could even react, one of the needles stuck into his neck. He winced in pain, scratching the wound. Suddenly, he felt dizzy, really dizzy. He stumbled back and fell to his knees.

“Sorry, Higashikata-senpai,” [Y/N] gently caressed his cheek. “I know it feels real awful, but I promise you that it won’t feel as bad when you wake up.”

Josuke’s vision was blurring really fast and he fell to the floor. He was trying but failing to keep his focus but everything was moving too fast. He felt his eyes just close involuntarily, fists clenched and shaking. And then, nothing.

[Y/N] managed to get both students unconscious and on the floor. She threw the girl known as Tamami back into the closet, all bound and gagged. There was not a chance in Hell that she would be allowed to live, especially since she hurt poor Josuke like that.

As for Josuke...

She smiled as she carried Josuke all the way to the nurse’s office. Bless him, he would probably never remember a thing about this. Heck, he’d probably forget in about three minutes or so when he woke up. She chuckled. Tamami was horribly wrong about Josuke.

Josuke was sweet, kind, and handsome. He was a pure soul that touched her to her core. And she wasn’t about to give him to some prissy, bossy shrew like that horrible Tamami. Never, never, never!

“Oh, Josuke-kun,” She whispered in the unconscious boy’s ear. “You are the one who can purify my tainted soul. I am never giving you up for anyone. Never.”

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #Jojo pt 4 #jjba pt 4 #Diamond is Unbreakable #josuke higashikata #jjba x reader #josuke x reader #yandere reader

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ecrivant · 4 years

Text

execrated | levi ackerman

(levi ackerman x reader)

he was no more than an object of execration in the aftermath of you;

the one in which levi immerses himself in nocturnal bloodshed to rid himself of you.

c.w. – graphic depictions of violence

word count: 2.5k

In the sink, saliva, sanguine-tinged, a grisly spatter on blanched porcelain. Pain burgeoned from visage’s center as he—with hands shaking and stained red with blood native and foreign—tried to curtail the gore which madly gushed forth, like crimson water from dam awash, made that way through rain-soaked massacre. Body before suffused with adrenaline now felt the seeping agony of ruptured dermis and fragmented bone. The hung mirror before him, begrimed and fragmentary and missing shards from its bottom right, held in it his own demented likeness, from nose down drenched in blood-red coagulate and looking savage as if born into barbarism. This redness pooled in his palms, leaked between fingers. He leaned forward so his head hovered over sink’s bowl and spat up more carmine sputum and removed his hands from his face and with one gripped the bowl and with the other turned the faucet handle and left blood there. The water, weak and cold. He let the liquid run over his hands and watched it coalesce with what was there and trickle down the drain in pinkish amalgam. In the washroom, a pervasive and ferric scent. There were no paper towels, so he impotently stood over the sink with head ducked and perhaps misguidedly let the blood pour from him. Feeling dizzy from blood loss and strong liquor and impacted temples. He winced and contorted his expression, but it only bore another bloom of pain.

In memory he sat on bathtub’s edge and watched you floss and listened to the brush of your shirt sleeves and your open-mouthed breathing and the plucking of floss against teeth. Seeing your face only in reflection as your back was to him. You finished and threw away the thread—pedal wastebasket’s lid slamming against tile wall before shutting again—and asked in a tone of joking condescension when he had last flossed. He replied that he could not remember.

And after he flossed to placate you, he leaned forward—with your body flush to and embracing his—and spat and saw blood in the sink.

He was reminded of you in the strangest of times.

He had migrated from the taprooms downtown that had come to know him as belligerent to the bars of back alleyways and lowdown localities where the population was less made of people and more of nocturnal wraiths of ire who, having long since ceded their humanity, now only knew a lust for blood. These vestiges of personhood fought ferociously and with the desperation of a man who in balled fists held his own life, though they hardly cared if they lived or died, for life means nothing to those who have already forsaken it.

—

The bleeding slowed as if his body grew tired of the exertion. He reflexively wiped at tender features with the back of his hand and felt more pain. Slinking out of a back entrance unnoticed, unsure of whether he killed a man that night. He stumbled off a concrete step into a torrent and had to brace himself on the wall opposite. The nocturne’s deluge—backstreet, flooded. He shielded his eyes from an invisible sun and regarded the pitch swathed in a pall of rain. The rainfall on metal and concrete and the detritus of litter and broken glass unseen created the rhythm to which he blindly walked forward, faltering every other step. Senses overwhelmed, as he did not hear the beat and splash of lumbering footfalls behind him and barely registered the bottle smashed against his head until he was face-down in wastewater and then spitting up fluid from nose and lung as he was lifted by the hair and thrown against the wall.

The rain and the night so thick he could not see his attacker’s face, only the glint of a knife in streetlamp’s diffused illumination. Vaulting sideways he felt the tip of this shining blade swipe his stomach. He ducked to avoid a swung fist and on hands and knees blindly searched for some defense in the remnants of piled scrap which had not yet been swept away by the rushing current. Unfathomable pain erupting in the side of his head as the kick of a steel-toed boot connected with his temple. He laid prostrate and dazed and heard only the deafening surge of blood in his ears and the rhythmic pulsation of his struck skull, and as he kicked weakly and at nothing, he felt the hulking presence of his anonymous assailant above him and found he could do nothing except wonder whether this insensate being would choose to with that knife gorge his eyes or shred his chest or both. By inborn instinct, he rolled clumsily to avoid coming under blade, swiping the man’s legs as he did. The man fell, and with him the sound of bone cracked on concrete cut through the roaring downpour. Levi found the knife dropped and gripped it and sliced the man’s hamstring behind his knee and at once cut up the back of his thigh and plunged the blade into it. The eldritch bellow of a beast now enervated—the man grabbed at Levi’s legs, but he simply sidestepped and avoided those desperate and grasping limbs.

Levi tasted blood and spit and said, “Pick fights you can win,” before backing away from the man and exiting the alleyway.

—

In his wake a bloody trail as he labored up the staircase of his building, heavy and slow and uneven steps echoing against concrete and cinderblock. During this ascent, he passed a flaccid and crumpled human form splayed, drunk or sleeping or dead. He did not stop but in passing softly kicked the body with his good leg, and upon its immediate stirring he continued.

He pulled his shirt over his head in front of his bathroom mirror and could feel the evening’s history in every muscle. His body, battered and contused, and flesh already discolored blue and yellow and inky black; hair matted by rain and gore and falling before visage’s distended and ashen features. His chest was sliced cleanly between pectorals—the mark from that infernal blade—with the layers of skin peeling open like a lipless mouth, inside raw and resembling offal. The grisly lesion coughed and sputtered and spat up blood, and he cried out as he balled up his sodden shirt and used it as a compress, and for a moment his vision reeled. He staggered through his apartment—past the things you had left behind and he could not throw away—and located the means to suture his wound, leaving bloodied handprints behind. He screamed as he poured the alcohol over his chest. His hands shook as he pierced flesh with threaded needle, darkness creeping into his periphery. Upon cutting the final stitch he promptly collapsed to the floor.

—

In a restless sleep he dreamt of the creation of your body by divinity’s hand, of the holy sculptor who limned the corporeal form which housed your eternal soul. At times, those divine hands were his own.

—

With each drop of blood shed he purged himself of you, and he would continue until all his blood drained or from him you were exorcised entirely.

—

He awoke to his body adhered to the floor in a pool of bloodied coagulate. At first unable to move and then taking several minutes to find within him strength to roll to the side and sit up. He thought for a moment of the job he had long abandoned, of friends who had likely forgotten him, and could not remember his last non-violent encounter nor the last time words spoken were anything but vitriolic remarks between hurled fists—he was no more than an object of execration in the aftermath of you.

—

With enough liquor—as if the spirits themselves some heady and greening elixir—previous nights were forgotten. Bibulous and newly invigorated, he prowled the darkened streets, hands pocketed, lusting for the bloodshed he had come to desire in the way he for you once ached. The pavement underfoot slick with mud and effluent like some backcountry swampland through which he waded and searched for violence to placate his id. The night was clear and cloudless but smelled of sewerage and remnants of rainfall, and the stars hung suspended in the firmament’s pitch continuum, supplementing the moon’s light now absent per a new moon. Distantly, a bell tower rung three.

He continued on and watched as the street seemed to come undone—road dead-ending with unfinished pavement, fiercely jagged and potholed and undulating as if there to witness the very shifting of the earth many times over. The roadway’s ceasing was before a collapsing chain-link fence, disfigured and clipped here and there, which separated the road from a lot piled with soil and scrap material. Remnants of some edifice planned but long forgotten. With a running start he jumped and climbed and vaulted himself over the fence with ease, the mesh bending and creaking beneath his weight and clattering after with the tremors of his movement.

The site was one of earthen topography with eminent dirt mounds textured by way of erosion and manmade footmarks, the land entirely devoid of verdure and instead landscaped with metal scrap and waste discarded. Shrubbery of twisted wire and cairns of glass from bottles shattered. He walked through vales between mountainous dirt outcroppings and could not see but for that dim, supernal illumination. Hearing breathing and a rustling near him, he turned around and looked and squinted in that pervasive darkness to make out any movement but could do nothing as the ragged beast who produced the sound descended onto him from above with such speed and force as to bring him to the ground and crumple his neck and knock the wind out of him. He gasped for breath as this hellish face pocked and scarred and seemingly without body levitated above him, eyes wild and themselves luminescent, aglow with a crazed fervor unseen in beings diurnal. How much longer, he wondered, until his eyes would resemble the ones now before him?

“Y’re gonna fuckin’ die here, boy.”

Spoken not as a threat but a gleesome proclamation. He felt against his throat the massive blade of a Bowie knife, no doubt used to skin beings living and dead. Between inhalations he kneed at the air, and his thrust connected with the man’s back, and it was enough to knock the man off balance and cause him to lose his footing in the slick mud underfoot—a falter which Levi exploits, throwing this monstrous aggressor from him. Now free of that savage embrace, he erected himself—looking like some devil from the bogged and muddy earth both born and emerging—and crouched with arms bent for combat. Relishing in his opposite’s struggle to regain footing. Levi could see the man had lost his knife in the fall and smiled. The sounds of squelching and boot-sucking muck and slurred curses were all to be heard. He dashed at the man and in one movement dropped him with a kick to the jaw, and the man landed face-first and unmoving in the mire and seemed to sink. He kicked him again in the ribs and felt them give.

He thought of you and was suddenly suffused with rage and raised his leg to boot the man again but was surprised and let out a strangled yell when the man with uncanny swiftness raised up and caught Levi’s leg in an iron vise and with his other hand drove a broken bottle which he gripped by the neck into that leg he held steadfast. Levi felt an unknowable pain erupt in his calf, and his vision crossed and blurred, and though through haziness, he saw the man’s face—features vague and inhuman beneath a swathe of sludge, save for the feral eyes, now looking even more savage and like those of a fiend from hell, and a bleached smile which shone in the dark—and Levi, with this infernal vision incised in mind’s eye, fell to the ground. The man crawled backwards and looked on as if an artist admiring his magnum opus. The bottle had not broken off in Levi’s leg and instead protruded like some glass tor, and from this wound spewed gore which turned earth red.

He was in and out of consciousness and felt the man approaching but awoke to car’s rumble and was numb.

Climbing stairs with weight supported.

Sprawled on cold tile. Blinded by overhead light. Anonymous hands around his leg, their tender touch. He felt these hands caress his face as a massive umbra occluded the glaring light above. Eyes adjusting. He saw you.

He awoke to a softness beneath him. In your shared bed, head against your chest. He was swaddled in your warm embrace, luxuriating in the feeling of you wrapped around him. You whispered and murmured incoherent nothings but in them he felt your adoration, reassurance, love, unadulterated.

And in some way, he knew he had already died or was a least on death’s brink. For he would never know the pleasure of you unless he was. And with this thought your image dissolved away, and he was again mired in an earthen mess with leg enfeebled and that beastly man atop him. His good limbs pinned to the ground and form incapacitated. Adrenaline and cortisol and all other chemicals in his hormonal amalgam coalesced in his bloodstream, and he found the strength to once again push the man off him, though he could not yet stand. And against his better judgment, he tore the bottle from his leg and plunged it instead into the man’s neck, the blood of one against jagged glass exchanged for another’s. Though still laced with that otherworldly mania, he saw in the man’s eyes fear, and then in those eyes he saw nothing at all. And then the man was dead.

He had not cried since the day you left, but he now found himself wiping at tears which were mostly mud. He dragged himself away from the man as to not touch the soiled blood which from carotid erupted and hyperventilated as he did.

He wished you would rescue him as he had imagined.

But instead he dragged himself through mire and finally came upon that chain-link fence which acted as entrance to the hell from which he came, and even through his abject pain he felt his violent id satiated. He found a rusted and discarded pole and in one hand held it and with the other grabbed the fence and struggled to pull himself to his feet but did.

He would not make it far from the fence, only having crossed the threshold of where the road which once seemed to unwind reconstructed itself, before he collapsed in carnage’s aftermath from exhaustion and indiscriminate blood loss, and again, dumbly, perhaps on death’s precipice, only thought of you. Your unwavering presence outliving him.

—

hi there again! thank you so much for reading!! i’m sorry this piece took so long, school is starting, and i’m adjusting to actually using my brain again. will try my best to keep a consistent posting schedule + i SWEAR i will get to writing the numerous requests in my inbox. much love xoxo <3

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#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #writing!

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

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Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XIX

A/n: So, the laws of physics are broken twice in this chapter to add some dramatic flare to it. Just wanted to say in case I get some comments that say, "That's not how physics works." Besides that, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

It was the day of the rite. Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, and (Y/n) were rushing around the city as Lady Lunafreya gave her speech. They went door to door, telling everyone to evacuate the city. Some families were more stubborn than others, but they hadn't had an issue just yet. Eventually, the group went their separate ways to cover more ground. Gladio went west, Ignis traveler north, Prompto wandered south, and (Y/n) took it upon herself to evacuate the people on the eastern side of the city.

The spirit came to a halt in front of the many houses within the eastern part of Altissia. The low humming of engines caught her attention. Looking up, she saw imperial drop ships and dreadnoughts flying overhead. They were heading in the direction of the altar. She knew Lady Lunafreya's speech ended and it was about time for the Oracle to call upon Leviathan. She could hear the boys through her earpiece, but she ignored them and continued evacuating the city.

Knocking on one door, (Y/n) waited for someone to answer. A few seconds later, a woman opened the door. The guardian told her to gather her family and head to the docks. She watched the woman run rampantly around her house to tell her family. The girl didn't leave until she saw the entire family evacuate the house and run towards the docks.

Moving on to the house next door, she saw the family was already prepared to leave. Apparently, word was spreading around the city and people were evacuating left and right without needing to be told. It made her job easier and she was able to ensure everyone was heading towards the docks.

While assisting one family with an elderly woman who could barely walk, (Y/n) was forced to use a fire spell when imperial troopers ran towards the civilians with their guns raised. She yelled at them to keep running before attacking the adversaries. Using the Creator's Blade, she sliced through the imperial forces. None of the soldiers were able to harm any of the civilians due to her killing them swiftly.

Making a mad dash to the docks, the guardian ensured everyone safely made it onto the boats. She assisted a single mother with a baby in her arms aboard one of the boats and helped a father find the son he became separated from because of the large crowd.

People continued to jump aboard the many ships at the docks until each and every one was at max capacity. As the boats left the docks, (Y/n)'s attention was drawn in the direction of the altar when a high-pitched screech echoed throughout Altissia. From where she stood, she could see the mighty Leviathan. A faint tinge of pain courses through her body, knowing it was Brahma reacting to the Tidemother's appearance.

Her attention was torn away from the Tidemother as more imperial troopers and MTs closed in on the docks. The ships had yet to reach open waters and were still in danger. She waved her hand, forming a wall of fire between the docks and the enemies. "You bastards got another thing coming if you think I'm going to let you through."

The imperial troopers raised their guns, aiming them at her. She prepared herself to attack the moment they pulled the triggers. However, at the sound of gunshots, she lowered her blade as she watched the enemies fall one by one. As the final MT fell without her lifting a finger, it revealed the person who came to her aid.

Prompto rushed over to the spirit when the imperial forces were dead. Dispelling his pistol, he caught his breath. As he did, she saw his panicked and worried expression. Her curiosity and concern skyrocketed, placing a hand on his back to help calm him. "I've never seen you so out of breath before. What's wrong, Prom?"

"I...we...Gladio..." He panted, but was unable to form a proper sentence. Pressing a hand against his chest, he took a few deep breaths to fill his lungs. Once his breathing was back to normal, he grabbed her upper arms. "We've gotta get out of here. That thing that guy told us about yesterday... It's real."

Her golden eyes widened. "You saw it?"

"I-I don't even know where to begin on how to describe it..." Prompto's grip on her arms tightened. "Gladio and I saw it when some imperial soldiers captured a guardian and..and..."

(Y/n) already knew what he was going to say. "So I was right. They're using the rite as a distraction to feed guardians to that thing."

"W-We tried to help, but we were too late."

Suddenly, they heard an ominous hiss echo around them. Prompto's eyes widen in horror while the spirit looks around in confusion. Without hesitating, the boy dragged (Y/n) away from the docks and towards an abandoned building with shattered windows. No doubt the damage was caused by the empire when they started prowling the streets for civilians. By the layout of the building, they assumed it was a restaurant. Tables with white clothes and wooden chairs were strewn about. Broken glass was scattered across the floor along with silverware.

Hiding behind the counter of the bar, Prompto reclined his back against the stained wood with (Y/n) sitting between his legs. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms wound around her waist. She was still utterly confused at the situation. "Prompto, what is—?" One of his hands shot up and covered her mouth.

"It's here," he whispered in her ear.

Hearing the ominous hiss they heard earlier, their bodies tensed up. Prompto hugged (Y/n) closer when realizing the sound was coming from outside the building. Then, they heard what sounded like a mix between a snarl and hiss. Along with the strange noise, they could hear the chairs and tables moving around. Even the shards of broken glass scraping against the floor was part of the cacophony. A few of the bottles that were on top of the bar were knocked off. Their bodies were hit with the shrapnels of glass and what little alcohol remained inside the now shattered bottles.

(Y/n)'s eyes darted to the side when she spotted movement. There was a tentacle-like appendage snaking around the side of the bar. She also took note of the other two black tendrils trying to reach over the bar. She held her breath as the one tentacle sneaking around from the side was closing in on their location. She retracted her foot carefully and quietly when the appendage was nearing it.

Prompto saw how close the tendril was coming and tried to slide further away without making any noise. However, his attention was drawn to the tentacle that was protruding over the bar and making its way down near his arm. He wondered what they could do to escape before either of them were grabbed.

The moment one tentacle slid across her foot and up her leg, (Y/n) grabbed one of the many bottles of liquor stored under the bar and tossed it onto the tentacle. Once the bottle shattered and spilled alcohol all over the appendage, she ignited it with a simple fire spell. As the creature attached to the other end of the tentacles wailed out in pain and tried to put the fire out, she yanked Prompto's hand off her mouth and dragged him to his feet. She pulled him out of the tattered restaurant through the back entrance and they ran in the opposite direction.

Once they were safely away from the creature, the couple caught their breath. (Y/n) glances at the street they ran down to see the daemon wasn't following them. "Okay, so that thing has tentacles. Nice to know. I really don't wanna see what's on the other end of them, though..."

"I-I can't believe that thing's able to survive in the sunlight..." Prompto panted.

"If this "devourer" is absorbing the power of guardians, that's probably why the sunlight isn't killing it."

Prompto was silent for a few seconds before stating what they should do next. "We gotta find Gladio and Iggy." He contacted the two older boys using the earpiece. Once learning where to go, they ran through the streets once again.

Because of the raging Tidemother, parts of Altissia were crumbling. Many streets were impassible due to piles of debris and other parts of the city were inaccessible because the bridges that connected the districts were destroyed.

Eventually, Prompto and (Y/n) reconvened with Gladio. They stood in the middle of a plaza with a demolished fountain. The shield's nose scrunched up. "You two smell like a bar."

"We had a run in with the empire's new creation," (Y/n) explained. "We wound up hiding in a restaurant behind the bar."

"That thing's a monstrosity."

"I haven't seen its face yet, but I hope I never do."

"Let's forget about that thing for now and focus on finding Iggy."

The trio weaves through the streets of Altissia, destroying any imperial forces they stumble across. Before long, they rendezvous with Ignis on one of the few bridges left intact from the empire and Leviathan. While they were discussing what to do next since none of them could reach Noctis over the comms, a drop ship was knocked out of the sky and came hurtling towards them. Prompto immediately grabbed (Y/n) and ran to avoid being killed. Gladio followed the couple just in time as the drop ship crashed into the bridge. The three were unscathed, but they were unable to find Ignis. They desperately tried to contact the strategist, but weren't able to reach him.

After a few minutes of trying over and over again, Ignis finally responded. They were relieved he was safe. After discussing what to do next, they knew they needed to head to the altar. Unfortunately, their one way across to the next district was destroyed.

"Guess we're gonna need to find a different way across," Prompto said.

"Hey, short stuff." Gladio turned to the guardian. "Think you could jump across with us on your back?"

(Y/n) analyzed the size of the gap before answering. "I think I can." In seconds, she transformed. Prompto and Gladio climbed onto her back. Once they were on, she backed up a little ways to get a running start. With enough speed, she leapt over the destroyer portion of the bridge and landed safely on the other side. The boys slid off her back so she could return to her human form.

"Nice job," Gladio commented. "Now let's get our asses to the altar."

Their long journey through the crumbling streets of Altissia began. They lost count of how many times they had to find a new route because of the destroyed streets and buildings. Many imperial forces pulled their journey to a screeching halt, blocking their way forward. Like before, they disposed of the enemies before continuing to the altar.

While trying to find a way into another district, the trio stumbled upon a collapsed bridge. Unlike the other bridges they'd seen, this one had a slither of it remaining that was big enough for them to cross. Gladio, being the heaviest out of the three, volunteered to go first. If it could support his weight, (Y/n) and Prompto would have no issues crossing.

Once Gladio safely made it across, Prompto was the next to trek across the narrow slither of bridge followed by (Y/n). The marksman made it to the other side and turned around to ensure the guardian was close behind.

The moment she reached the halfway point, a black tendril shot out of the water from below. It wrapped around her leg and dragged her into the water. She couldn't even scream with how fast it had grabbed and yanked her into the water below. Prompto and Gladio watched in horror. Without thinking, the blonde jumps into the water. The shield shouted his name as he dove beneath the surface.

(Y/n) struggled against the tendril as it dragged her deeper into the water. She glanced down and saw the horror that was the devourer. The daemon has three skeletal heads with a prolonged spine-like body. What appeared to be a large rib cage spanned from its upper back to its lower back. It has two sets of skeletal arms and a pair of boney legs. Attached to its ribcage appeared to be a black sack. From the black sack extended an esophagus-like appendage that attached to each of the heads. The tentacles she was all too familiar with by now protruded from the black sack. What caught her attention the most was the myriads of gemstones embedded in its skeletal body. They were the gemstones of all the guardians it had consumed.

Struggling against the tentacle wrapped around her leg, (Y/n) desperately tried to free herself as she was dragged closer and closer towards the middle head. Its jaw was open wide and ready to devour her. She wasn't sure if she'd die from being eaten or drowning.

As that dark thought crossed her mind, an arm wrapped around her waist. She saw it was Prompto. In his other hand, he wielded his pistol. He aimed at the tentacle and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the water and pierced the tendril. Black blood oozed from the bullet wound, coloring the water around it. The devourer's three mouths opened as its tentacle retracted, releasing the guardian.

Prompto and (Y/n) quickly swam back to the surface before either of them could be grabbed. Breaking through the surface, they both coughed. After a small coughing fit, they swam over to where Gladio was waiting for them. The shield helped them out of the water.

(Y/n) collapsed against the ground on her back, coughing up some more water. Her chest rose and fell rapidly after expelling the last remnants of water in her lungs. She stared up at the sky as it darkened with storm clouds. Prompto was on his knees beside her. He peered down into her face, placing one of his hands on her cheek. "A-Are you okay, (Y/n)?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, all thanks to you."

Gladio leant down slightly and smacked the marksman on the back. "Never knew you had the balls to pull off a stunt like that."

Prompto glanced over his shoulder at the brute. "There's no way I was gonna let that thing have her."

"The boy's become a man," Gladio chortled.

With Prompto's help, (Y/n) got back to her feet. Her eyes were focused on the water. She could see the devourer swimming to the surface. "We better get out of here." The moment she lifted her gaze, she spotted a figure on the other side of the destroyed bridge. It was Callyx, standing with his sword drawn and a smirk in his face. Her fingers twitched, ready to summon the Creator's Blade at any second. However, the male guardian didn't engage. He simply turned his back and walked away.

At that exact moment, the devourer's three heads broke through the surface of the water with an eerie wail. The trio quickly spun on their heels and made a mad dash away from the artificial daemon. They thought they were safe until they heard the devourer closing in on them. Even before they saw the daemon, its tentacles shot forward.

(Y/n) quickly spun around and conjured a large fireball. She tossed it at the appendages and forced them to retreat when each one was ignited with bright flames. She then summoned Brahma's sword and stood her ground. Prompto and Gladio noticed her fighting stance and ceased running.

"The hell're you doing?!" Gladio bellowed angrily.

"At this rate, we'll lead this thing all the way to the altar," she calmly replied.

"Can the three of us really stop that thing?" Prompto asked.

"You two are going to the altar. I'll deal with this monstrosity."

"And how're you planning to do that, short stuff?" Gladio inquired.

She smirked at him from over her shoulder. "Some divine intervention should do the trick."

Prompto wanted to protest and stay behind with her. He swallowed his words, clenching his fists tightly before unfurling them. "Just...be careful, (Y/n)."

She smiled at him. "I will."

The two boys ran off. (Y/n) focused her attention on the devourer as it began charging towards her. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled as she jammed the Creator's Blade into the ground and summoned Brahma. The moment her body was no longer hers, she dispelled all her worries and let the Astral deal with the daemon.

Brahma's form towered across the skyline of Altissia. Although he was smaller in size than Titan, his power was immeasurable. He saw the threat the devourer posed not only to guardians, but to the True King—Noctis. He loomed over the artificial creation and easily blocked any attack the daemon sent his way. The god thought it would be a simple extermination job, but he was soon joined by a large fleet of imperial air ships. Their hatches lowered, revealing the powerful weapons they used against the Archaean.

The god tried to focus on one target, but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed as more imperial drop ships flanked him. As he swatted a few of the airships out of the sky, the devourer used its large and heavy form to tackle the deity. It clawed at Brahma's chest, trying to reach (Y/n) who was residing within. The god smacked the artificial daemon off his body and returned to his full stature. Just as he did, the empire shot numerous of harpoons at him. He managed to pry one out of his body, but a powerful electrical shock courses through his body. He could feel the guardian within his chest cry out in pain.

Brahma conjured a meteor and sent it hurtling towards one of the airships. Next, he grabbed one of the harpoons in his body and yanked it out. Instead of releasing it, he used its against the empire and caused the ship it was tethered to to knock into the other ships.

With the airships now gone, the deity focused his attention back onto the devourer. Searching for the monstrosity, he found it just in time for it to pounce on him again. This time, his body was knocked into the ocean. Sinking deeper and deeper, he fought against the daemon. What happened next shocked the creator god. Leviathan emerged from the deep and aided him in battle. The Tidemother snapped her jaw around the devourer and swam to the depths with it.

Because of his lengthy battle underwater, his power was diminished and (Y/n) was drowning. His body was becoming weak and wasn't able to protect her any longer. As he was about to reach the surface, his body vanished. The girl who acted as his vessel was unconscious, her body slowly sinking into the ocean.

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slasherholic · 5 years

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synopsis: You are Michael's plaything. Tonight, he is toying with you in a very mean way: by trapping you in an abandoned building and hunting after you mercilessly.

The Shape is on the prowl--you are his prey. Run, and for the love of god, don't get caught.

Alternatively: An entire flippin' Halloween movie starring you as the final girl. Only when Michael catches you he’s going to fuck your brains out.

warnings: lots of gore n violence, lots of death, lots of Michael bullying the reader, eventual non-con

End of the Line | Michael Myers x Reader | Chapter One

You recall reading once about a woman who woke up in a morgue.

She’d been declared brain-dead, toe-tagged, and stuffed away into a cramped, dark, cold little space like a sardine in a tin can to rot until further notice. Perfectly suitable living arrangements if you’re an unfeeling corpse.

Not so much when you’re alive to recognize the walls pressing in around you. Not so much when you’re aware enough to feel the panic swelling in your gut.

You lie on your back in the swirling darkness and blink rapidly, your knees drawn into your chest, your neck and joints painfully stiff, your every heavy breath drawing a sour odor deep into your lungs, and your rationale tells you that the trunk of your car is not, in fact, a morgue; but it sure as hell feels like one.

The car goes over a bump, and one of the many grocery bags stealing your much-needed breathing room topples over on its side. What you think is a milk carton comes tumbling out to poke you in the ribs. You’re vaguely aware that you’re squishing the bread—or something else cushy—but your concern for it penetrates no deeper than “awareness.” Instead, you focus on your counting.

“Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.”

Your words are fainter than a whisper, swept away by the purring of the engine. You absently stroke the fuzzy carpet lining on the sides of the trunk as you count—a distraction, to keep that creeping, suffocating panic that makes your hands tingle with cold-pin pricks from clawing its way back to your head again. Count, you remind yourself, whenever the tingling begins to spread up your limbs—count.

“Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.” Another minute you’ve been along on this involuntary ride.

Bringing you to a total of thirty-two since Michael seized you off your front porch on your way to the door, dragging you back across the driveway like a pig to the slaughter, thrusting you down into the trunk, slamming the door, nearly taking your fingers off in the process.

The counting had been a last-ditch effort to try and screw your head back onto your shoulders before you lost it completely, and it seemed to be more or less working. Having a sense of time is a solace. The bigger picture of the puzzle is impossible to know with so much missing information, but you clutch at your tiny piece of it anyway, because without it you are blind, and with it, at least you know this is no trip down the street. Michael is taking you somewhere far away—and you suspect that when the trunk is popped, there will no longer be any rosy Illinois suburb to greet you.

You try your hardest not to think about that though; because the thoughts of what will happen after that will all come flooding back.

Here comes one now, wriggling like a parasite through your marrow: He’s done with me. He’s driving me somewhere to kill me and after that he’s gonna dump my body in some gutter.

Don’t let it in. Don’t let it in. If you do you will only start to cry again, and the tingling will sweep back up your body to crash like a wave over your head, and you will lock up like a corpse and breathe harder and faster until you are suffocating, or at least that’s what it feels like, so please please please, for the love of god, don’t let it in.

“One.” You start over and your voice is tight. You try your damnedest to ignore the pressure building in your sinuses.

The car goes into a smooth turn, and a can of something knocks against your hip. You haven’t even been jostled too much on the ride—Michael is a surprisingly competent driver. He takes the speed-bumps a little too fast, which accounts for most of the jostling. And sometimes he hits the brakes too hard. But it’s nothing that would get him pulled over, and you guess that’s the point. Slipping undetected through the background is what Michael does best.

Going over another speed bump, your head knocks against the side of the trunk, making you chomp down on your lip. A warm coppery taste floods your mouth. You sniffle and count harder.

“Ten, eleven, twelve…”

The car goes into a hard turn, like he’s cranked the steering-wheel all the way to one side, the momentum flattening you up against the trunk door.

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—” Frantic counting.

The car screeches to a stop. You forget how to breathe.

Then, it starts to reverse.

“Twenty.” You grab a handful of the nearest plastic bag because it is the only thing to hold onto.

“Twenty-two.” The car is still backing up, the tires crunching over what sounds like broken glass. The panic has numbed your fingers and is spreading up your chest, a hot-cold tingling sensation.

“Twenty five.” There is a shrill squealing of brakes as the car slows to a crawl—

—and you stop counting. Because the car has stopped moving.

Beneath you, the tickling of the engine cuts off.

Your heart was already sprinting in your chest but now it accelerates feverishly, ramping up to a blistering speed.

Outside you hear the drivers’ door squeal open. Then the crunch of boots over what sounds like glass as Michael steps out of the car.

Danger, says some dumb little instinct in the primitive core of your brain, danger is coming, fight, fight for your life. You call it your lizard-brain, and the lizard-brain is oblivious to the crushing reality of the situation which your rational-brain already knows: there will be no fight.

Whatever Michael’s goal is in doing this to you, be it fear or blood or most likely both, he is going to take it from you. Trying to stop him is like trying to stop the turn of the very earth beneath your feet, and the harsh truth of the matter is that you are once again pathetically at the mercy of a predator who has none.

The scrunching of his boots gets nearer—he’s walking around the side of the car, toward the trunk.

Don’t make it easy for him, insists the lizard-brain, refusing to go belly-up and die.

The handle of the trunk pops with a “click.”

Fight. Fight. Fight-fight-fight-fight—

It is dark outside the trunk. Michael is nothing more than a looming outline of black, just a shape, with broad shoulders and strong arms and eerie stillness bordering on unnatural.

One gape-mouthed look up at his familiar figure is all it takes to silence the chanting of your lizard-brain.

His thick arm shoots suddenly inside the trunk. Another dumb instinct seizes your body before his hands do: freeze.

Strong fingers snake around the front of your shirt. In one quick tug Michael sweeps you fluidly up and out of the trunk, your spine scraping against the metal lip on your way out. Your world flip-flops as you topple over the edge, tumbling into a free-fall for a split second, spilling to the ground.

Your head and back knock against a cold floor. Wheezing, you look fearfully up at the dark shape that is Michael, aware that you’re half-laying across his boots.

But you don’t move.

His hand comes reaching down again and it’s closer to your face this time so you scrunch your eyes shut tight. His fingers take up root in your hair and suddenly you’re being whisked across the floor like a burlap sack—but you don’t move. Where your shirt rides up across your lower back the broken glass scrapes against your skin like nails, and the tightness on your scalp is agony, and you clamp your jaw shut tight, whimpering through your teeth—but your fingers don’t shoot up to pry at his, your heels don’t dig into the floor to hinder his lugging.

You are dragged fifteen feet before Michael drops you. Your shoulders knock against the ground as his hand withdraws. Your scrunched-up eyes stay shut tight, tears now slipping out from beneath your lids. His heavy footfalls retreat again, crunching back toward the car.

You lay still in the exact spot where Michael dropped you in the dust and glass on the cold floor, still not knowing why he’s dragged you all the way out here (or even where here is,) but you do know one thing, and that is don’t you dare move a single inch.

Sure, your lizard-brain may still bark at you when your heart gets pounding, but it no longer has any desire to bite Michael back.

This new instinct—one that locks your joints and glues your limbs—is your law, and your law goes like this: Be limp. Be obedient. No matter how ugly it gets. Fighting only excites him, so don’t do that. And never, ever, ever run; only prey run, and you can’t be his prey. The moment that happens is the moment you lose your life.

So although your heart is beating nearly out of your chest, although the tears are coming freely now, you lay like a discarded toy on the ground and try not to cry too loudly while you wait for Michael to come back and play with you some more.

But because not knowing where he’ll pounce from next is far too gut-wrenching, you peek your eyes open a sliver to watch.

Michael’s shadowy figure stalks back around the car to the open drivers’ side door. He bends and dips down out of view, reaching for something within.

In the meantime you have the briefest of moments to study your new surroundings.

It is some sort of corridor, you realize, squinting. You can just make out both walls, lined with rows of what you think are lockers of a color you can’t make out—narrow, but not quite claustrophobic. And Michael appears to have backed your car right up into the building.

Tilting your chin toward your chest, glancing beneath the car, you catch a glimpse of the world outside, past what was, at one point, a pair of glass doors. Their metal frames lie on the ground now, shattered.

It’s not so dark out there, under the moonlit sky. You see a big, empty lot. Unlit street lamps. Faded parking spaces.

A lizard-brain thought arises which tells you to crawl beneath the car, dash out across the lot, and book it into the night before Michael returns. And at that your rational brain chuckles and procures images of Michael calmly and coolly getting right back into your car, putting pedal to metal, and running you down flatter than a pancake—and oh, he would, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

If he didn’t slit your throat then and there perhaps he’d haul your shattered body right back inside the building, right back to this very spot; and then you’d have to suffer through his torment with broken limbs and broken ribs and broken god-knows-what-else.

Michael’s boots crunch suddenly as he shifts his weight, startling you. Your eyes flit to him just in time to see him standing up from the car, shutting the door behind him.

Even in the dark—especially in the dark—Michael is a formidable sight to behold. The moonlight filtering through the open doorway bathes his figure in a silvery outline and cloaks the front of him in shadow. The flared collar of his coveralls juts proudly out around his neck at mismatched angles, and the resulting silhouette is regal and imposing in a wild, vicious, untamable sort of way.

It is the sort of sight which, were he safely behind a foot of glass, you would have paused to study in awe and admiration.

But a predator is far harder to appreciate when it's stalking right towards you.

Michael advances—and you become a small defenseless animal, caught beneath the gaze of a monster. Shivering all over, you scour the blackness where his eyes should be for any glimpse of murderous intent—but in this dismal lighting Michael’s cold irises can’t be seen. Only felt.

He stops in front of the trunk and goes sill. Lurking there. Watching you come undone.

You gnaw your lower lip until it starts to bleed and blink away the tears as they come.

Half a minute passes before you notice the elephant in the room.

In Michael’s left hand he clutches something stark and white, eerily visible in the surrounding dimness. His mask.

But in his right, clutched as nonchalantly as if it were some harmless prop, silver moonlight dancing across its sharp edges, you eyeball the unmistakable curve of Michael’s favored murder weapon.

All seventeen deadly inches of it.

Your heart drops like a stone. Your mouth goes bone-dry.

The bite of that knife is more familiar to you than the kiss of a lover—you have the scars to prove it.

So fixed you are on that awful, awful knife that when Michael’s still silhouette at last jerks to life you flinch, uttering a little cry, positive that he is going to surge forward and seize you.

But he is only reaching up to put on his mask.

It occurs to you now that you have never actually seen Michael putting it on. You’ve seen the reverse plenty of times though, and there is no mystical transformation to be witnessed when the veil lifts away from his face, no change in his mannerisms, no difference in his stiff posture—Michael, for all intents and purposes, is the same dark, lurking, deadly force as before the mask came off.

But at least with it off he is still human; at least he still has a face, however barren; at least he still has eyes, however uncaring, however cold.

Now, as Michael pulls the mask down over his mess of dark hair, down over his eyes, over all his features, over everything that makes him readily identifiable as human, if you didn’t know better you might say that the person beneath the mask had been effectively hidden away.

But you do know better.

Nothing at all about Michael is being hidden. The empty mask does not conceal. It only reveals. It reveals Michael’s deepest nature better than his face ever could. The black voids in place of his eyes communicate his intentions more effectively than any of his stony glares ever could.

You know that Michael does not become The Shape when he disappears behind that mask, because he never stopped being The Shape in the first place.

It’s just that now, he cannot be mistaken for anything else.

Michael tugs the mask all the way down until it settles around his neck. Like clockwork comes his breathing—in to fill his lungs and broaden the silvery outline of his chest, out again.

The Shape is complete.

You shiver on the cold ground, staring, not moving.

The Shape towers above you, a dark monument—and you have never felt so incredibly small.

All your worst fears have been realized. The shoddy line drawn in the sand that separated you from all those other victims has been kicked over, scattered to the wind. You are prey. And Michael is going to hunt you.

His motionless form comes alive again, lunging. The chanting of your lizard-brain comes roaring back. Not fight fight fight, but simply,

Run.

No. No, you can’t. No, there is no running from him.

Run. Run or he’s going to kill you.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

He’s raising his knife—it’s over. Run. Please run.

And suddenly the thoughts searing through your mind are not lizard-brain thoughts but just your thoughts, ringing true and clear.

Michael drops to one knee and throws his full weight into the momentum of the thrust—the knife in his fist cuts an arch through the air, racing toward your sternum.

You throw yourself onto your side, out of its path. Pain shoots down your shoulder blade as you roll, the knife raking across your back, barely missing your ribs—if you had reacted a millisecond later you would be choking on your own blood right now.

Your laws fall to anarchy. You scramble backwards across the floor, cutting your hands on the shards of broken glass, pulling your legs beneath your body, shooting to your feet, nearly toppling from the momentum, regaining your balance in the very next step, and breaking into a blind sprint down the hallway, into the all-consuming wall of blackness, the terrible unknown.

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #halloween 1978 #slashers #slasher x reader #writing #fanfiction #horror #end of the line

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