#tags will change with every chapter so keep an eye on the graphic of what may await you behind the link

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saddle Me Up, Cowboy Part 1: Spin Me Around the Dance Floor✨

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @alltheirdamn for encouraging me to write this! Beth Dutton and Rip Wheeler from Yellowstone heavily inspired this short little series. I hope you enjoy 🩷

Chapter Summary: You were only trying to enjoy your drink and watch the different couples spin around the dance floor at your favorite country club, but all that changed when you set your eyes on a certain handsome brown-eyed cowboy.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: Lots of fluff, flirting, pining, two stepping, meet cute at a country western bar, no use y/n, no outbreak au, switching POVs, soft! Joel, summer love, reader has hair

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The neon lights flash across the busy dance floor as bodies sway back and forth to the slow country tune. Smoke permeates through the air as couples hold each other close and the men spin their lovers around the wooden floor. You love two stepping, love the rustic feel of the bar, love the feel of your jean shorts and fitted cowboy boots. You just love being here on a Friday night in your favorite country bar called Cowboys. 

   You stir the straw slowly around in your mixed drink, your elbow leaning against the side of the dance floor, toes tapping on the bottom of the barstool. And as you watch the happy couples spin across the floor, you can’t help but wish that was you out there. 

   When was the last time you came here with a date? Maybe two years. 

   Sure, you’ve been asked to dance. Took a twirl around the room twice with some nice blonde guy that talked about his job and dogs. But it was just friendly and casual. Just a way to spin around the dance floor a couple of times. It wasn’t a perfect match with your cowboy lover. That’s someone you haven’t met yet.

   Tonight, maybe you’d find someone. The one. A girl can dream, and that’s exactly what you do. Dream.

   Another two songs fly by as you sip your fruity drink, watching couples come and go on and off the dance floor. A slow Morgan Wallen song floats through the packed room, your eyes roam around the bar, falling on the far right corner. Just when a couple spins out of the way, it clears your view to the opposite side of the dance floor. And oh my God, your heart drops out of your chest.

   You nearly choke on the fruity liquid, your jaw dropping straight to the floor. There, right across the room, stands the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

   He’s tall, well over six foot. His green button-up flannel clings to strong biceps, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider down into massive hands. His hair is dark and sandy, silver threaded through his tousled curls and burrowing into the thick beard against his sculpted jawline. He’s tan, dark from working out in the sun, you think. And his eyes look like the color of chocolate almonds from what you can tell under the dim lights. And his smile. Jesus, it could light up an entire room. 

   Soft. He looks so soft the way he holds the flute of his beer bottle, the way his eyes light up every time he laughs with his friends. And God, you’d kill to see him smile at you like that.

   You keep your gaze on him, staring like a child in a candy store, eyeing the last Hershey’s bar on the shelf. And it’s like your first school crush all over. You need to get a hold of yourself, but you just can’t. He’s too tempting, too smoldering, too perfect.

   And in the next moment, his eyes are on you.

—

   Sweat beads Joel’s forehead as he takes another swig of his beer, a chuckle leaving his lips as Tommy teases Maria and pulls her to his chest. She just laughs and kisses him on the cheek as he wraps her in his leather jacket. Joel wishes he had someone like that. Someone to love as much as Tommy loves her. Maybe someday he would.

   “You gonna ask anyone to dance?” Tommy asks, his brown eyes trained on Joel. 

   “Eventually,” Joel mutters, sighing as he takes another generous sip of the strong alcohol. 

   “Better before the end of the night,” Tommy laughs, pulling Maria by the hand to the dance floor. Before Tommy turns away, he gives a brotherly shove to Joel’s shoulder and winks. “Pretty girl at twelve o’clock, straight across the room. Go get her, Joel.”

   Just as Tommy leaves him with a confused expression, he looks up and freezes the minute he spots you. He gulps and sets his beer on the table, his fingers curling into the wooden tabletop, eyes wide when your eyes meet his.

   Big, glittering, beautiful eyes swallow him whole, the swirling lights making them glow even brighter. He catches his breath and has it knocked right back out of his chest again as a shy smile curls against your glossy red lips. He thinks he just fell in love. 

   Your pretty hair falls in long waves down your shoulders; your low-cut tank top sticking to your sun kissed skin shining under the bright spotlight. It’s like an angel sits before him, and he’s mesmerized. Your tight denim shorts hug your curves, and your tan boots with embroidered butterflies scuff against the barstool. Your pretty eyes flick down to your drink and back up to him repeatedly, sweetly beckoning to him to come ask you to dance.

   Shy, sweet, adorable, beautiful. He picks all this out just by looking at your pretty face. And you’re just his type of girl; he already knows it. He thinks you were made just for him to find tonight.

   It goes on like clockwork for the next few songs. Shy smiles, locked eyes, hesitation permeating through the thick, smoky air. But he won’t hesitate for long. No. He wants to know you, to dance with you, to take you out, maybe show you his ranch. 

   He just has to have you. And he will. You’ll be his by the end of the night.

   After an encouraging slap on the back from Tommy, he takes one more glance your way and hands his tan cowboy hat to Tommy. Right now he only has one task at hand, and that is to ask the pretty girl to dance. So, he swallows all his nerves and walks across the room, right through the sea of endless bodies. 

   Right to you.

—

   Your cheeks burn hot as you lock eyes again; a flirtatious game you’ve been playing for the past two songs. You practically feel on fire with the way your body reacts every time he looks at you. 

   Maybe he’ll ask you to dance. You hope he does because you have a feeling being in those big, strong arms would be like jumping into a freshly made bed after a long day at work. Warm and cozy and made just for you. 

   You bite your bottom lip and laugh as your head drops to the scuffed-up wood, a loose curl falling over your shoulder. How can you already like someone this much when you don’t even know them? Sounds pretty silly, but it gives you tingles in your feet just the same.  

   This is a good sign.

   When you look back up, your heart drops to the floor when you don’t see the handsome man standing across the room anymore. You slide further down in your chair and sigh, letting all the hope fizzle out of your tired body. 

   He left. You just wanted one dance. That’s all you wanted. One fucking dance.

   You sigh quietly and look back out at the spinning bodies on the dance floor, shaking off the growing tears in your eyes. Just when you think one might drop, your body freezes when you hear a husky, deep voice being cleared next to you. When you turn to look at who just interrupted your sulking session, you nearly fall off the barstool.

   It’s him. The man with the pretty brown eyes.

  “Hi.” His deep voice floats through your ears like a dream, and the music seems to disappear altogether.  

   “Uhh—hi,” you stammer out, your mouth agape as you watch a small smile curl against his inviting lips.

   “‘M sorry if this comes off as rude. But what’s a girl like you doin’ sittin’ on the sidelines, darlin’?” His thick Southern accent drawls out, and your eyes immediately widen when you hear how deep and staccato it sounds. You think you could listen to it all night long.

   Darlin’. He called you darlin’.

   Your words fail you, so you just brush off his apology and smile. “Can’t a girl enjoy a drink?”

   He chuckles and shakes his head, a tousled curl falling into his forehead. You want to brush it back for him. That soft looking sandy hair. “Well, sure ya can. Didn’t answer why you’re sittin’ over here by yourself, though.”

   “My friends are dancing,” you shrug, spinning your straw nervously in your drink, letting the liquid slosh around the sides.

   “Now how come a pretty thing like you ain’t out there with ‘em? Hmm?” His thick eyebrows raise in question, and another dreamy smile meets his face. 

   God, he’s so handsome.

   “Oh, I dunno. Was just watching,” you answer nonchalantly, not pointing out the fact that they’re all taken and you’re not.

   He hums to himself, his eyes flicking to the dance floor and back to you after a few seconds. “You wanna dance?” he asks softly, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the hope that you’ll say yes.

   “Huh?” you say off guard, your eyes wide at the question. 

   He just asked you to dance.

   “Do you wanna dance with me?” he asks again, nudging the side of your boot with his own worn leather boot.

   “You’re asking me to dance?” you question.

   “Ain’t that what I asked?” he chuckles, causing your stomach to somersault with the way his infectious laugh is making you feel. All warm and tingly.

   “Oh. I umm—okay,” you smile shyly, looking up through your long eyelashes at him. 

   “Is that a yes, darlin’?” he asks with a big smile.

   “Yes, I’d love to,” you confirm with a nod.

   “Well, c’mon then.” He holds out his open palm, and you don’t hesitate to take it. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. Rough, calloused hands that hold yours perfectly. A match made in heaven.

   He leads you to the middle of the dance floor, careful not to get in the way of any other couples. And then he slowly slips a hand around your waist, the other securely latched to your hand, his fingers laced through yours. And when he starts to lead the dance, you follow right after him.

   The bright lights land over him, putting his beautiful eyes right on display for you. Your breath catches when you see how soft his eyes are. Dark brown like the color of honey and onyx flecks swirling in his irises that hypnotize you to him. He’s absolutely beautiful. You’ve never seen eyes as pretty as his; ones that draw you right in. And the way he’s looking at you, all soft and like he’s looking at the most beautiful girl in the world makes your knees a little wobbly. 

   The neon signs on the walls glow in the distance, the melodic tune of a Scotty McCreery song floats in the background while couples dance around you. Joel leads you around the dance floor, holding you tight and never once stepping on your feet. 

   You scuff your boot over his toes out of nervousness, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just chuckles and pulls you closer to where you can feel his steady heartbeat against your chest, his brown eyes staring into yours like he’s enamored by you. But he’s got your full attention, and you’re so into him already.

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, his Southern drawl completely melting you at the sweet sound. You tell him yours and when your name slips off his tongue, you nearly fall to your knees in awe.

   “And yours? What’s yours, Cowboy?” you ask over the loud couple that whips around you. 

   “Cowboy, huh? Already got a nickname for me, sweetheart?” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the nickname like he wants you to say it again. And maybe you will.

   “Maybe so,” you giggle, relaxing into the dance as he spins you around in circles, the lights following your movements.

   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.” He tips his head and gives you a big smile. You can’t help but giggle every time he smiles at you. It’s like you’re in first grade all over, and Joel’s the new, cute boy that’s caught your attention in class.

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joel.” 

   “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he smiles, keeping you close to his warm body. You let out another nervous giggle, and it just makes him smile wider like he’s addicted to your laugh. 

   “I like your laugh, darlin’. Could listen to it all night,” he sighs dreamily, chocolate eyes melting as he looks intensely at you, honing in on just you while the rest of the room disappears. Your breath hitches for just a second, and then you melt right back into him.

   “Well, I like your brown eyes,” you lull, your eyes locked on his pretty pools of honey. You giggle when he blushes, and then a dimple indents into his left cheek when he smiles. And God, you think you just fell in love. 

   “And your smile. I love your pretty smile. It lights up a room, darlin’. And you lit up the whole damn bar tonight,” he drawls, his warm breath fanning over your open mouth, gawking at this handsome gentleman. 

   He’s fucking perfect. 

   He lifts his arm and spins you around in a complete circle, his large hand finding your hip again and pulling you back into his broad chest. And there you are, completely breathless again.

   “So, Cowboy. What made you want to come ask me to dance?” you ask, curiosity circling in your wide eyes.

   “Saw you from across the room, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he answers honestly with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

   “Me?” you ask, taken aback. 

   “Yes, you,” he chuckles as he guides you across the polished dance floor.

   “There’s a hundred other girls in here who’ve had their eyes on you all night,” you scoff in a playful way.

   “Oh? Is that so?” An eyebrow lifts in piqued interest, but his eyes still don’t leave yours. They stay glued to you.

   “Mhm,” you hum in confirmation.

   “That means you’ve been watchin’ me too, ain’t that right?” he smirks devilishly, his brown eyes darkening just slightly.

   “No I—no. That’s not…” you stutter, at a loss for words. You were watching him. Ever since you saw him across the room; that damn smile that has your head spinning.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. Wasn’t tryin’ to get you all flustered now,” he chuckles, obviously trying to get you flustered. He doesn’t have to try hard because you’re already overly flustered.

   “I’m not flustered,” you scoff, your cheeks burning hotter with every second his chocolate eyes are on you.

   “No? Well, you’re pretty cute when you’re blushin’, darlin’. Maybe I want you flustered,” he grins, a beautiful smile curling against his plush lips.

   “Careful, Cowboy. You might be the one blushing next,” you tease, narrowing your eyes playfully in response.

   “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart,” he challenges, his eyes growing into a soft syrupy color you want to drown in.

   “Maybe I will, brown eyes,” you say with the flash of a smile.

   “Brown eyes, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.” His pretty eyes are genuine when he says it, like it’s the best thing you’ve said this whole dance. And the pink that marinates around his dark scruff tells you enough. He does like it.

   You smirk in knowing and wink playfully his way, creating a deeper blush on his tanned skin. It makes your heart skip a beat. “Good, now you’re the one blushing.”

   He shakes his tousled curls and sighs, his eyes alight with an enamored glow. “Christ, you’re adorable.”

   “If you say so, Cowboy,” you say, letting him continue the dance even though there’s a new song booming from the overhead speakers.

   He wraps his large hand tighter against your waist, and you let his other gently glide up and down the back of your hand. A caress that’s laced with care.

   “I do say so, sweetheart,” he chuckles warmly. “But you wanna know the real reason why I asked you to dance?”

   You keep your eyes trained on the glow of his and squint carefully. “Tell me.”

   He takes a deep breath and smiles shyly. “The reason I asked you is ‘cause I thought you were the prettiest girl in the room.”

   Your mouth gawks open in shock. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the room? Wow. “Me? Are you sure you picked the right girl?” 

   “Yes, you,” he nods, his thumb stroking against your soft skin. An affirmation of what? Care, admiration, love?

   “You think I’m… pretty?” you ask hesitantly, your voice quiet and meek. He can’t think you’re the prettiest girl. There’s no way.

   “Mhm. Gorgeous. And your eyes. Absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. They make the lights in here look dim with how bright yours shine.”

   You stare in amazement at him, eyes as wide as an owl’s gawking at the man with pretty brown eyes who swept you off your feet. You’re falling into places you’ve never been, and you’re quite scared of how many feelings are bubbling up inside you already. But at this moment, you don’t care. All you can do is stare at him affectionately as he spins you around the room.

   He’s perfect. 

   “So, what does a pretty girl like you do for work, sweetheart?” he asks, molton brown eyes glazing into yours, making you audibly gasp how pretty they are.

   “I’m a vet assistant.”

   “Vet assistant, huh? You ever work on cattle, by chance?” His wide brown eyes are full of hope, and a smile tugs at his lips. 

   “Unfortunately no. Just dogs and cats mostly. Why? You got some cattle, Cowboy?” Your eyebrow arches, and a mischievous smirk curls over your mouth.

   He chuckles and nods his head. “As a matter of fact, I do. I own a ranch,” he says proudly, standing a little taller, making your face hurt from smiling so damn much at him. 

   “So you are a Cowboy. I knew it,” you giggle. “What kind of animals do you have?”

   “Tons,” he says, the neon lights glowing over his tousled curls. “Horses, cows, bulls, chickens, sheep, dogs, and the list goes on.”

   “My, my. You got your hands full. Don’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, fluttering your eyelashes flirtatiously up at him. You like him even more now. 

   “Reckon I do,” he chuckles, his thumb tracing light circles against the back of your hand, eliciting goosebumps down your arms. 

   “Too full to handle one more thing?” you question, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that you can manage. 

   He shakes his head and smiles warmly. “If that one thing is you then ‘course not. Got all the room for you, darlin’.”

   Your eyes soften into liquid and your head is spinning as you stare at this beautiful man. You’re already falling head over heels, and you think he is too. 

   “You ever ride a horse before?” he asks, tilting his head like he’s assessing you.

   You shake your head in response. “I mean, when I was little I rode on a pony. But a horse? No. Can’t say that I have.” 

   “You wanna learn? Got a stallion back at home that has your name on the saddle.” His smile is breathtaking, just like his honey-colored eyes. Your heart gallops in your chest like hooves pounding on the ground. He wants to teach you how to ride?

   “You really plan on teaching me?” Your eyebrows pinch together, hesitation stuck on your tongue. 

   He nods, a fleeting smile meeting his beautiful eyes. “Consider it our first date, darlin’. Gonna turn you into a little cowgirl.”

   “Oh, a cowgirl, huh? Is that what I’m going to be?” you giggle flirtatiously, and he picks right back up on it as he winks at you.

   “S’right. My cowgirl.”

   My cowgirl. 

   Your heart gets stuck in your throat, words lodged deep inside. So you do what you can do. Smile and trace your fingertips across his broad shoulder, letting the soft flannel graze against your smooth skin. 

   As the song slows to a halt, you find the opportunity to wrap both of your arms tightly around his neck, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric of his flannel. His arms circle your hips, and one hand gently runs up and down your lower back, sending electricity zapping through your nerve endings. 

   You smell him now. His woodsy cologne, the hint of sweet beer on the tip of his tongue, faint scents of smoke on his collar, the scent of leather in the air. He smells like your favorite scent all mixed together, combined into the perfect formula to get you drunk off him. And you’d gladly get drunk off him. 

   “Lady May” by Tyler Childers plays through the speakers; the slow song sending the mood of the bar into  a romantic, all consuming type of way. Love’s permeating through the air, and you can feel it everywhere. It tingles in your toes, brushes like a breeze through your hair, spirals down the back of your spine, floods your heart with warmth you’ve never felt before, makes your eyes sparkle like starlight through the bright lights, landing right in the palm of Joel.

   Put your toes down in the water. And a smile across your face. And tell me that you love me. Lovely Lady May.

   He pulls you closer, where your chin is tucked against the crook of his neck, his woodsy cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. 

   Now I ain’t the sharpest chisel that your hands have ever held. But, darling, I could love you well.

   Lovely lady May.

   His lips brush over the crown of your head, his fingertips lighting your nerve endings on complete fire, sparks igniting in his caramel eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s already in love with you. And maybe you’ve already fallen in love with him, too. 

   As the music slows, he dips you low, not daring to let your back touch the scuffed-up wood. When he pulls you back up, he brings you flush to his broad chest, and his scent is everywhere. 

   His brown eyes sparkle like glitter, shooting stars that only you can make a wish on in the clear night sky. And his smile. My God, you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as him before.

   He gently brushes a loose curl behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingertips down your jawline, ending right under your chin where he stills. The room melts away, the noisy crowd disappearing as the song completely takes a hold of you. 

   But I’m baptized in your name. Lovely Lady May. 

   His thumb slowly traces your bottom lip, leaving invisible marks that’ll stick like permanent ink, branding you as his own. The way he’s staring at you all soft and deeply makes you melt into him even more.

   One more trace, one more shy smile, and he’s asking. “Darlin’?”

   “Yes?” you ask breathlessly.

   “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his Southern drawl sounding lovestruck and angelic. “And thank you for allowin’ me to dance with the prettiest girl in the room. But there’s jus’ one more thing I’d like to do.” His mouth drops a little lower, and your breath hitches.

   “And what’s that?” you ask, lilting at his soft smile.

   “I’d really like to kiss you…” he breathes, his deep timbre shaky as his brown eyes melt into you.

   You lean up on your tiptoes, blowing your breath over his open lips. “Then kiss me, Cowboy…” you whisper out.

   He cups your face the next second and leans in, crashing his lips down on yours without any hesitation. And he draws you in like a moth to a flame. 

   His lips are soft like velvet, and he tastes like your new favorite flavor. Blue moon, sweet and savory with a hint of smoke and mint marinating on his tongue. 

   And then your lips become his as you fall like rain into his kiss.

   Mint. Blue Moon. Smoke. Velvet. Cedar Wood. Leather.

   He’s all you know now. 

   You stay like that for minutes, connected like webs to each other in the middle of the dance floor as couples swirl in a colorful blur around you. When the two of you finally disconnect from each other’s lips, a big smile curls against his mouth and his pretty brown eyes look like they’re laced with love the longer he looks at you.

   He brushes his thumb against your lower lip and leans in close, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “You taste like mine, darlin’.”

   And that’s when you fall head over heels for the Cowboy that snatched your heart and made you his own.

   He pulls you in for another dance, and you let him lead you through another song which turns into another and another and another. You lose count. All you know is that you’d dance all night with him if you could. 

   After over an hour of twirling around the dance floor with him, he buys you a drink and leads you over to two barstools. You end up with your legs sprawled over his lap, his fingertips tracing lines over your thighs, his lips brushing over your cheek while he places his cowboy hat on top of your head, claiming you as his own. 

   You end up meeting Joel’s brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. And you spend all night laughing and flirting with Joel while you bond over music and shared interests. Turns out you have a lot in common. 

   It’s the way his smile stops your heart and his brown eyes that send your head spinning. It’s the way he calls you his girl and the way he can’t keep his hands off you for even a second. You’ve never been this wrapped up in a guy before, but you’ve never met a handsome gentleman like Joel. A cowboy that won your heart over the second he looked at you. 

   He ends the night by driving you home, walking you up to your door, pulling you against his broad chest as his thumb traces lightly against your skin affectionately. You don’t want to say goodnight.

   “So, pretty girl. How ’bout I pick you up at 4:00 o’clock tomorrow? Can give you your first ridin’ lesson, maybe watch the sunset from the back of my truck. Can tell you how beautiful you look under the stars,” he drawls, his brown eyes sparkling under the moonlight. 

   He has you reeled in, pulling you in like he just lassoed his way into your heart. 

   “Quite the romantic type. Aren’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, lacing your fingers through his tousled curls. 

   “That I am,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you tighter against him. “So, what do ya say, Cowgirl? You gonna let me take you on that date?”

   “Pick me up at 4:00, and I’m all yours.”

   “All mine?” he smiles, his warm breath fanning over your lips.

   “All yours,” you confirm.

   He pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, letting it linger as the stars twinkle above your porch. You’re never going to get tired of his kisses, his soft Southern drawl, his big brown eyes. You’re only going to grow more in love with him every day. And you’ll let it grow like a wildfire that consumes you whole. 

   This was only the beginning. The beginning of a perfect summer love that would never fade away. 

Tags for those that were interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @lotusbxtch @almostfoxglove @burntheedges

@jasminedragoon @inept-the-magnificent @magpiepills @almostempty @aurorawritestoescape

@milla-frenchy @pedrospatch @thundermartini @lanaispunk @sawymredfox @ace-turned-confused

@stylesispunk @there1snothingleft4u @littlevenicebitch69 @tuquoquebrute @ajw-23

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.”  His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.” 

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket.  “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left. 

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years. 

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch. 

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back,  and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed. 

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside. 

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.  

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down. 

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back. 

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled. 

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.   

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard. 

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped. 

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street.  But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse  after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical. 

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .” 

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin. 

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue.  They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again. 

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled.  She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight. 

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her. 

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications. 

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.  

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. “Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical. 

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use. 

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch. 

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper. 

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup. 

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy. 

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 26

(Chapter 25; Chapter 27)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

A String

You walk behind him, down the halls. Well, if you can call that walking. You try your best to keep yourself up on the muscles that just have been pounded into pudding. In the corner of your eyes, you see some girls working in the halls, cleaning and scrubbing and you wonder, when you have to start working here again.

What’s your purpose now anyway?

What am I to him? After all what happened? Especially today.

While your thoughts wander, you watch the muscles of his back move with every step he takes, listen to the soft tapping of his bare feet on the stone floor.

He’s probably going for a bath now.

Going past the corner that leads to your own room, your steps grow slower, unsure if you’re allowed to join him or not. You come to a halt in front of your door and watch him walk away. Without a word, he disappears behind the corner that leads to his chambers. Your breath is rather nervous, as the feeling of his presence grows smaller and smaller. The sound of his door sliding open reaches your ears and you turn around to open your own. Missing him already, with a heavy feeling in your stomach, you hesitate.

Wait.

The door was pushed open… but you didn’t hear him close it. You look around to check if nobody is there and start tiptoeing over the stone floor. Taking a peek around the corner, you see it.

He left it open!

You sneak into his chambers and close the door behind you. His stained sirwal was being tossed on the floor, the door to the garden is closed. The door leading to his other room and spring however, is opened.

You quietly follow through the opened doors he left for you. Before you turn past the door that leads outside to his spring, you listen. He’s humming again. You stay there for a while, behind the door, only listening to his voice. A cold breeze from outside flies in right next to you. Hearing Sukunas voice however, soothes your heart so much, lets you feel so warm. It would be one of the things of him you would miss the most if you two were separated. While you listen to him, you can’t wrap your head around what happened today.

First blinding the girl, then getting fucked on his throne. Riding him. Being called pretty… being touched by him… He seemed fascinated by you at times, as if he was memorising your whole being.

Watching you, touching you, feeling you.

Remembering those moments makes your heart ache. Your nails tap on the door you’ve been leaning on two times, before you step around to go outside. Sukunas humming stops quietly and you try to be as silent as possible.

Slowly walking along the path, you see him relaxing in the hot water, his head leaning against the rim of the spring. You fold your hands behind your back and start humming the melody, looking around like a child in a full bloomed garden.

Sukuna looks unbothered, keeping his eyes shut, as you approach him. You kneel down behind his head, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his left cheek.

“Why are you here?” he grumbles. You nudge against his ear shell with your nose.

“You left the doors open.” you whisper, before you lay down on the ground next to his face, watching him. “Shall I leave, my King?”

He opens his eyes and turns his face to you. Red orbs look softly into yours, before he gently shakes his head. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He looks so dreamy.

Sukuna notices and with a smirk, his head turns back forward, closing his eyes again. You watch him for a while, admire his facial features, listening to the soft ripple of the water.

“My love.” you mouth inaudibly. Sukuna smacks his lips.

“Say it louder.” he grumbles.

“Say what?” you lie, a smirk spreading on your face. He opens his eyes again and turns back to you.

“Why do you like me so much today?” you continue, changing the topic. He frowns at you, his gaze growing annoyed.

“Who said that I like you?” he sneers, scratching at your self confidence.

A pout forms on your lips hearing his words, causing a mischievous smirk to spread on his lips, the wrinkles in his eyes making your heart flutter once again.

“The way you acted today said a lot.”

“Is that so?” an arrogance in his voice you didn’t hear in a while. You remember the last time he said the exact same thing to you and it made you weak.

So weak.

“Oh yes, my King! Even a blind person could see that you’re in love with me.” you say playfully, while rolling onto your back, now looking at him over your left shoulder.

A frown adds to his smirk, while his four eyes dance back and forth between the two of yours.

A pause.

A pause you didn’t expect and a pause you definitely did not expect to be so long.

He just keeps staring at you, with his beautiful eyes, making you flustered and you fight hard not to blush, trying not to turn your gaze away. Feeling the heat creeping up your face, you can’t bear it any longer.

“You called me pretty.” your voice is thin, almost asking, almost begging him to agree. A miserable attempt to escape this moment. Finally, he snorts in amusement.

“Slicing someone in three with a fling of my hand is a pretty sight, too. You forget that I’m not prone to mortal feelings.” he says, while closing his eyes and turning back forward again, tapping on the rim with his nails. “Especially not the pathetic kind.”

Ouch.

You quietly mock his face and turn away. A minute passes in which the both of you just listen to the surrounding atmosphere, both of you staying silent. You turn back to him and your stare fills with longing.

“How did it feel…” you repeat him in the softest voice you can form “…to be up there with me? On your throne?”

Sukuna sighs in annoyance. He leans forward, the soft splashing of water reaching your ears. Your eyes follow his motions, seeing the short hairs on the base of his neck being wet and dripping with water. Hypnotised, you roll over on your stomach, supporting yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him. He looks to you over his left shoulder, pondering for a second, watery pearls glistening on his muscular back and tattoos, before he turns around and moves closer to you. Averting your gaze, he leans to your ear, placing a warm, gentle kiss on your right cheek.

“I think we both answered that question already.” he whispers and without leaning back to see your reaction, he gets up and walks out of the water past you and back into his chambers.

You’re frozen. Still laying there on the ground. Your heart is racing fast, as you gently touch that spot on your cheek. The spot he kissed, his lips so soft and gentle. You look around, making sure he’s gone completely, before a synapse in your brain snaps, realising him saying “Divine” wasn’t just a repetition of what you said.

It was an answer to his own question.

Quickly you dunk your head underwater, screaming as loud as you can, the bubbles coming out of your mouth tickling the side of your face.

What’s happening?

You come up, panting and shaking your head. Not knowing how you’re going to explain your now wet hair to him, you get up and tap back into his chambers.

“Your hair is wet.” Sukuna remarks, looking at you in confusion, as soon as you enter his bedroom. He’s standing next to the door leading into the halls, taking a puff from his kiseru. You notice that he dressed himself in a clean sirwal. It looks exactly like the other one.

“I know.” you say breathlessly, walking past him and out of his room. Being in his vicinity is too exciting for you right now, you need to calm your mind.

Food!

You haven’t eaten properly in a long time and you might as well have something now. First, you go into your own chambers, the rice cakes that had been placed there are still there. You grab one and smell it.

Doesn’t smell too bad, but as soon as you take a bite, you realise that they indeed went bad. You spit it back out on the plate you found them on.

Gonna take care of that later.

Quickly you rub your hair dry with a cloth and make yourself presentable. Then you leave your room and walk up the halls into the direction of where the kitchen is. Eyes are glued on you while you walk down the halls and they feel heavier the longer you walk.

Finally you arrive at the kitchen, knocking gently, before you enter. As soon as you step in, everyone stops what they were doing.

Silence.

On the counter in front of you, a female body. Her head is missing. As well as her hands and parts of her thigh. Her left breast, too.

Raw. Bloody.

You swallow at the sight, before your eyes lift off the body in front of you.

It smells. Like copper.

Everyone stares at you, making you feel like a stranger. An intruder.

Without Sukuna by your side, you feel weak. The proud feeling from before fizzles out like the wood in the ovens. Luckily the bitch isn’t here, otherwise she probably would be attacking you with the next best knife right now. Nervously, you open your mouth to say something, but your vocal cords fail to play. The air weighs heavy in the room and a lump in your throat starts to grow, as well as the urge to run.

“You hungry?” a familiar voice says right next to you. You wince at being spoken to so suddenly, before you recognise who has spoken. It’s the maid who took care of you when you were sick.

With wet eyes, you exhale in relief and nod quickly. She nods to the rest of the maidens, advising them to keep doing their tasks.

“Sit down. When did you last eat?” she motions you to a small table in the corner. You hesitate, before you move there and sit on the floor right in front of it.

“A few days ago I think. I can’t really remember.” your voice is thin.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” she says while turning around to prepare a meal for you.

You nervously bite your lip while you wait, the sounds of the kitchen atmosphere being all too present in your ear. Especially the sounds of meat being chopped.

Chop!

CHOP!

Rip!

Clang!

The loud impact of a porcelain bowl being placed in front of you rips you back into reality. It’s a bowl of fresh rice and steamed vegetables.

“Here you go.” she says, sitting down right next to you.

“Thank you.” you say quietly, before you start eating.

The first bite sends your tastebuds into heaven. It feels so good to have a proper, healthy meal, warm and filling. You even taste a bit of the herb that Sukuna tried to eat in the woods and it makes you smile. Immediately, you feel your mood being brightened, the chopping sounds growing more quiet in your ear.

“I love it, thank you!” you tell her, making her smile. “You should prepare this kind of food for Master Sukuna as well, or at least use the same kind of herbs. I think he’d like it.”

She cocks her eyebrow at you.

“Uhuh…” she hums in disbelief.

You grow quiet again, thinking you said something that went too far after what was happening today.

“You sure? That man is so picky!” another maiden exclaims behind you.

“He is. Once the tray came back with a bloody note.” another one complains. You listen in surprise.

“What was it again?” the other one asks.

“A roasted pumpkin smashed by his fist.”

You snort loudly, as well as the other maidens and you share a moment of laughter. Feeling like a weight gets lifted off your shoulders, you keep munching on your food. Some minutes pass and everyone seems to dive back into their tasks, the maid who brought you the food, still sitting right next to you.

“Is it…?“ you motion your eyes to the body on the counter.

“The new girl? No.“ she answers. “I think death would be a relief for her now.“

“THE KING BROUGHT YOU BACK!” another familiar voice enters the room and interrupts your conversation. A voice you’re not happy to hear. “What a rare occasion! How is it to be back home, Princess?” the bitch hisses at your cheek, grabbing your shoulders from behind, caging you. Some giggling from the other maids is to be heard, making the new gained feeling of safety crumble in their voices.

You don’t know how she knows about Sukunas nickname for you or if it’s just coincidence. You just know you need to get out of there fast.

“I was so happy to hear you fled, even happier to hear he went after you, thinking he’s gonna end you. But apparently I was wrong. I bet you begged and sucked his dicks real good for him to bring you back instead of killing you, huh? Like the little slut you are. ”

Distress crawls into your face, before you look at the maiden right next to you. She looks somewhat annoyed and slaps the bitch on her arm.

“Come on, let her go. You still have some tasks left.” she says.

The bitch hisses in annoyance and flicks her index finger against your left temple, before she lets go of your shoulders.

You throw the maid a thankful glance, before you get up and make your way to the door without looking at any of them.

Who can I trust?

It’s not like you ever had friends here, nor fully trusted anyone. However, the maid who was in charge of taking care of you when you were sick is the person you would have trusted the most here. Uraume on the other hand, who seems to be on Sukunas side and Sukunas side only, no matter how he treats anyone here, seems to be the most trustworthy at the moment.

With tears in your eyes, you rush back down the halls, feeling as alone as ever. It grew dark outside already and instead of snowing, rain is prickling on the surfaces of the plants and stones in the garden. A storm is coming. Tapping fast on the stone floor, you halt in front of Sukunas chambers.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

No answer. Like usual.

You enter his chambers, seeing him casually sitting on his bed, still smoking his kiseru. He’s leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs. The door to the garden is opened, an uneasy atmosphere fills the room. Without turning his head to you, he quietly watches you, as you enter the room.

Shit.

You sigh and step forward, after you notice the pissed look on his face. It doesn’t help your already sad mood. Stepping in front of him, you lower your gaze and kneel down, his eyes following you. Not saying a word. Neither of you.

Just now you notice that he’s wearing his black tabi socks and sandals.

The hiss of tobacco burning.

The smell of it.

The weight of his four eyes on you.

“Are you angry with me?” you whisper, not bearing the silence anymore. He exhales some smoke.

“You left these chambers without permission.” he grumbles. You blink.

“I apologise, my King. Deeply.” you say sincerely, although you don’t understand his sudden demand of subservience when you’ve been acting so freely around him recently.

A puff.

A rumbling from the clouds.

“I wish I wouldn’t have left.” you mumble. His fingers lift your chin up, your eyes meeting his through gray smoke.

“Me too.” his stare as cold as ice, almost as if in thought. Your hands reach out for the one on your chin. His skin feeling warm under yours.

“Pathetic.” he whispers, while grazing your lip with his thumb, watching it move so smoothly under his skin.

A lump in your throat.

A puff.

Smoke.

Between you and him.

“Punish me then.” you whisper into his eyes. His gaze turns soft, almost pitying you.

And you don’t understand.

A pause.

Suddenly, a knocking on the door and Uraume steps in. Unconsciously, you turn your head to them, Sukunas hand is swept off your chin, while his eyes keep lingering. With a thud the bottom of the staff of his trident hits the floor.

“It’s time to leave, Master Sukuna.” they say, bowing their head, offering his weapon to him.

What?

The colour falls from your skin, your throat dries out, as soon as you hear their words. In shock, you quickly turn your head back to Sukuna.

“Wha- Where?” you utter, as a shiver crawls up your neck.

He looks at you for a second, before he stands up, hands you the kiseru and walks in Uraumes direction.

“N-No! No No No!” you stand up and walk after him, letting the pipe fall to the floor. “What’s happening?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking.

“Master Sukuna will keep his word as King and wage into war.” Uraumes voice echoes in your ear. The ground beneath you seems to drop under your feet.

War?

Your heart is about to stop.

The war.

The village.

The man.

With a racing heart, you remember. Face is going numb.

“Wha- Why now?” your voice is trembling. “There’s still time! It’s too early!”

Sukuna looks at you over his shoulder, his eyes looking intimidating.

“Stay.” you beg with watering eyes, reaching out for his upper left arm. Sukuna dodges your attempt and turns back, walking towards his door. Uraume follows him.

No!

“Sukuna!” you shout, making him stop in his door. He turns back around, locking eyes briefly with Uraume, motioning them outside. Uraume complies and Sukuna shuts the door between him and them.

Rough. With a bang.

You wince, growing scared as he walks back to you. His height so intimidating and you know he’s pissed even more now than before. You inhale, while he lowers his face down to you.

“Watch your fucking mouth!”

“What about the curse?”

You both say simultaneously. His eyes widen, while his face grows angry.

“How can you leave while not being able to let me go?” you continue, taking his face into your hands. “You tied yourself to me.” you breathe, while moving closer. “How will you bear it?”

Your eyes scream into his and his features start to tremble in anger, before he grabs you harshly by the neck, squeezing so hard you feel like you’re about to faint immediately. Gasping for air, your hands reach for the one on your neck. A second passes and with a growl, he yanks you away from him, unintentionally cutting you with his nail on your neck and you fall to the floor.

It bleeds.

He turns back around, leaving you there on the ground and opens the door.

“I don’t know.” he growls, before he slams the door shut behind him.

Asshole!

You‘re stunned. Unable to move for a second.

I can’t let him go.

The cut on your neck stings, as you hurry back on your feet, rushing out of the door. They are already gone. Your heart feels like its ripping apart, as you start running down the halls.

Rain is crashing down, thunder is blaring.

You run through the halls, to the main door of the shrine, the one you both entered just yesterday.

Just yesterday.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t leave me!

Your mind screams at Sukuna with tears in your eyes, while you climb the stairs as fast as you can. With your whole bodyweight you slam against the door and it falls open. You trip and almost fall down right in front of Uraumes feet. Looking up and past their figure, you see that they’re alone.

Behind them only the rain and the wind of the night crashing and dancing with each other in the light of the moon. Droplets of water hit your face as you stare into the darkness, your heart aching in your whole chest.

Unbearable.

Panting and with a dry throat, you can’t believe he’s gone. Without you.

Uraume starts pushing at your shoulder, wants you to walk back inside. You don’t comply.

“Why now?” you utter under your breath.

“Come on. Get inside.” they respond, a hint of care in their voice.

An incredible empty feeling starts to spread in your whole being. You try to see him in the dark, but there’s nothing.

He’s gone.

“Y/N.” they say softly.

Tears start rolling, before you turn around to walk back inside. The first steps down the stairs are hard. As soon as you start walking, something tugs at your heart. Like a string that’s connected to him. It tugs and tugs and tugs and you feel like your heart is going to be ripped out of your back. A pain so deep, a pain you’ve never felt before. Worse with every step. And you wonder if he feels like that, too. Wonder if your pain is so unbearable because of what you wished for two nights ago. Under the stars. When you accepted how you truly felt, when you hold his hand, when you couldn’t bring yourself to say what your heart so desperately wants to scream at him.

Wonder, if you have cursed him, too.

[asphalt-cocktail]

Lead Us To Temptation- Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Hell Hath No Fury

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Talks of crime, robbery, crime for hire, talks of violence and guns, kidnapping, talks of past smut, less religion than the previous chapters but its still there. Bucky is a criminal in this so idk what to tell you if you are shocked by the crime. There isn't any gore and nothing is described in graphic detail. Don't worry reader is a badass this is a love story with a happy ending.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I just want to pop in and say how grateful I am for all of the lovely comments, reblogs, tags, and likes I have been getting over the last few weeks! You guys are the ones who keep me writing. I am not doing a tag list, but you can feel free to turn my notifications to get one every time I post a new chapter <3

Masterlist

Read me on AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Staying in Eden Ridge was probably the longest Bucky had managed to stay in a town and not do something to get run out or have another wanted poster with his face printed on it and slapped on every shop bulletin. 

It was making the boys antsy. They could only hold up so many stagecoaches carrying rich assholes on the outside of town before they got too bored. 

“When are we going to hit the bank Buck? We’ve been here so long the damn seasons have changed.” John’s voice had the uncanny ability of springing a sudden and painful migraine behind Bucky’s eyes anytime he spoke. 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. John pissed him off. “We need to wait a bit before we hit the bank. The ticket seller at the train station mentioned something about a train coming in to transport coal from the mines and take it back east. I guess the coal company is sending some bonds with it because the owner made a deal with Union Pacific.” 

“So what, they’re taking the bonds to the train yard?” 

“I’m glad to see you’re using the brain in that big fucking head of yours John.” To be completely transparent, Bucky harbored a strong dislike for John. 

Their association was almost solely due to John being Steve’s cousin, and Steve’s endorsement was something Bucky didn’t have the heart to dispute. Steve saved his life on more than one occasion. They’d gone through the Civil War together, they experienced the death of both of their parents together. You couldn’t get much closer to a man than that.  

The other reason being was John’s uncanny knack for survival. Despite the dangers of their lifestyle, John seemed to evade death, Bucky reckoned it was because God sure as hell didn’t want him and well, the Devil probably didn’t either so they just left him to do his business in the land of the living until they decided what to do with him.

Bucky was aware that his disdain for John might be uncalled for considering John’s role as the enforcer in their party. John was the one they sent out to take care of the more unsavory business transactions. However, these factors didn’t compensate for the fact that he was just plain weird and unpleasant to be around.

But Bucky was having such a lovely time playing house with you so, naturally he kept his plan to rob your father's train car transporting bonds to the Union Pacific rail yard. Management needed to cash them in and finalize the deal stating they were to use the Eden Coal & Iron as their main supply source. It was a deal that would make your father a very, very rich man. 

Robbing trains was as easy as stealing candy from a baby. An old, half balding, rich, man baby. Bucky could do it in his sleep. He didn’t feel bad about robbing your father. In fact he felt kind of good stealing from that rotten son of a bitch. 

Stealing these bonds would only be scraping the surface of the vast wealth your father accumulated by exploiting the hard working people of Eden Ridge. He was as crooked as crooked could be and there was no amount of praying or church going that would save his soul from the depths of hell once he died, god willing. 

If only you knew how your father treated the hard working miners who toiled in the depths of hell for him. He squeezed 15 grueling hours of labor from them 6 days a week, their backs bowed under the weight of his insatiable greed, all while their families languished in hunger. 

He wasn't the benevolent savior of Eden Ridge, rather, he resembled a vampire, voraciously draining the life force from the Earth and the good hearted denizens of the town you called home. Once he exhausted every able bodied man here, he’d slither away to prey upon the next unsuspecting community. 

Bucky’s plan was simple: wait a day or two several towns away to intercept the train and get to work. But he had to be careful If he got too reckless with his crimes, he’d have to leave. The question loomed in the back of his mind, when he had to leave would you come with? 

When he told you he was leaving to work a job you felt sick, “What do you mean leaving?” 

He cleared his throat and licked his lips, “I need to take the boys to deal with something for a few days. I promise I’ll be back by the end of the week. Two weeks tops.” He said hugging you tight, it pained him to see you worrying so much.

“But what if you don’t come back?” The question punched him in the chest and stole his breath. 

“Now don’t go talking like that.” He scolded you, “I’ll be back I promise.” You swallowed his words like a brick of lead. 

So for seven days you did the only thing you could do and waited. You sought comfort in Sam’s sister Sarah and her friend Natasha, spending most of your free time practicing needle work, reading, and chatting with the women. Sarah was a familiar and friendly face from the local church. Tragically widowed two winters prior, she was left with the responsibility of raising two boys on her own. To your knowledge, she had embraced her brother’s motley crew of friends, offering them sanctuary with open arms.

After your second meeting with Sarah she introduced you to Natasha, the local Madame. It took everything in your power to not turn your nose up at the idea of a woman engaging in sex for money. Your pious thoughts took a back seat when you remembered you were also engaging in sinful premarital acts with a man. 

Not sex though. No. 

Every time you thought today was the day Bucky shut it down. As much of a filthy bandit he was, he was still extremely respectful towards you. He always said he wanted to wait, the moment never felt right.

——

The moon hung low in the inky black sky as Bucky and his crew of bandits moved like vultures closing in on their prey. They moved silently, night as their accomplice- the thick fog veiling their actions, the rhythmic clatter of wheels masking the sounds of struggle. No witnesses meant no loose ends, and Bucky knew it well. 

It was quick. Efficient. 

Kill everyone on the train and then set it back on course so some poor sad sack could clean up the mess left behind. 

When Bucky’s eyes laid upon the bonds, your father’s exceptionally neat handwriting looping on the paper, he grinned like a snake. Peter could easily get a few hundred for the bonds. Having such a young boyish face always made him seem more trustworthy than the other members of the gang. 

To make up for leaving you worried half to death Bucky bought you a lovely hair pin. It was copper with a small decorative flower on the end of it. “If you think all it’s going to take is a pretty hair pin to forgive you, you’re wrong.” You lied through your teeth snatching it from his dirty hands and pinning it into your prayer veil, because of course Bucky returned just in time to take you to Sunday mass and have lunch with your family afterwards. 

Since midweek, your father had been in a downright rotten mood. He’d spent the last few days late at work and when you showed up to the office to bring him dinner he was yelling at his assistant every time without fail. 

“Tell them to double the guards! Put a damn Gatling on the top of the roof! Send the Pinkertons! I don’t care what you have to do, get that money to the train yard.” 

“But sir-“

“I said figure it out god damn it!” The way he slammed his hands on his desk made you jump. 

It wasn’t often your father lost his temper, but when he did it was frightening. 

At lunch your father glared daggers at Bucky while your mother preened over him. It was nice to see things hadn’t changed during his week away committing crime. 

“James, dear, you should work for the mining company!” Your mother kindly suggested, “My husband is always looking for strong young men such as yourself.” 

It took every fiber of his being to not scoff at the thought of selling his soul to the company, “I rather like the ranch work I’ve been doing for Miss Wilson, but thank you ma’am. If I have a change of heart you’ll be the first to know.” 

On the record Bucky was a ranch hand for Sam’s sister, sure he helped out here and there for the woman but he wasn't getting paid for it, your family didn’t need to know that. 

“We have some friends that are ranchers down in Texas, let us know if you ever venture down there and I’ll send a telegram to them for you.” Your mother was a bonafide socialite. She knew people of all walks of life and thrived on making connections for people, “Your horse is trained so well, they could use someone with your talent.” 

“Alpine?” Bucky grinned thinking of his beautiful white mare, she was almost as stubborn as you are, “I have to say she’s probably my second favorite girl.” 

Your father hated seeing Bucky around the house. He hated how Bucky was always a perfect gentleman whenever he came around. It didn’t matter, no daughter of his was going to marry some rough neck, dirty ranch hand if he had any say in it. 

There was something just plain not right with James Barnes and your father was going to get to the bottom of it. 

As it turns out, it took very little effort to find out the history of a career criminal. This was worse than if Bucky was actually a ranch hand, not only was he a criminal, but he robbed the damn train your father used to transport the bonds not once, but twice in the span of two weeks. 

He couldn’t believe he let a man who stole from him into the safety of their home. He couldn’t believe he let a criminal court his daughter (not that he even approved of the courtship). Bucky was probably sitting in his room at the inn laughing and counting the dollar bills that belonged to in his pocket. 

And the image of that pissed him off to no end. 

It pissed him off so much that he paid off a group of bounty hunters to finally deal rid him of the man once and for all. Bucky wasn’t going to come gracefully, but lucky for your father, Bounty hunters had loose morals and business practices much like he did. When he told Brock Rumlow "I don't care how you do it, just get rid of him!" your father didn't know he opened up a new, lawless realm of possibilities.

----

The late summer sun hung low in the sky as you quickened your pace home, the two men behind you following relentlessly, footsteps crunching on the dusty streets. You couldn’t make out their faces as they stayed just out of your line of sight but the feeling in your gut only harbored malevolence and fear. 

Your path meandered through town, twisting and turning to ensure they truly were following you.

Two turns left. Three turns right. Then a detour past the butcher.

Dread settled inside you and you quickened your pace, ragged breaths gasping as you neared the outskirts of town and broke into a full sprint as best you could, bunching your skirts in your arms so as to not trip. The buildings thinned, and the darkness deepened as you drew further and further from the bustling center of Eden. 

Further away from anyone who would hear you scream.

Rough hands grabbed you, forcing a bag over your head as you fought, kicking and screaming. Hissing and spitting like a feral cat. Their powerful builds quickly overpowered you, sitting on your legs as you thrashed trying to squirm away, clawing at the dirt and wedging it under your fingernails and covering your fine dress. Then they tied you, bound your arms and legs and threw you on the back of a horse like a sack of grain.

When the horse finally halted you were dragged off, stumbling and disoriented. The hood was yanked off and you were roughly pushed into a small, dark room. You turned finally able to make out the face of your captors who reeked of sweat and malice. He was tall and broad, skin tanned by the sun, with dark hair and eyes. He would have been handsome if this were any other circumstance.  

Your nostrils flared like an angry bull as you exhaled and spat at him in defiance while he manhandled your still fighting body, “Let go of me!” You shrieked, anger overpowering your feelings of fear. 

How dare they! How dare these filthy men put their hands on you and soil a perfectly good dress. How dare they throw you on a horse with a bag over your head and force you into this filthy damp room. Your rage bubbled over, you’d never felt this level of anger before. But the sheer callous disrespect of a lady pushed you over the edge. 

You should have been afraid, fearing for your life even. But the type of men who did this? Well they were cowards. Lower than the lowest cretin to walk the Earth. 

“Well look at you, now I know why Barnes has taken such an interest in you Missy.” The man in front of you grinned like a snake. His hand trailing your jaw, fingers lingering against your skin, “you’re a little firecracker ain’t you?” 

You turned your head to bite him, teeth snapping together as you snarled.  Ordinarily, you epitomized the quintessence of a respectable lady—devout and pious, a paragon of Catholic virtue. Yet, confronted with this dehumanizing treatment, a primal instinct awakened within. If they insisted on regarding you as a beast, then, in the eyes of the Almighty, you would unleash the ferocity of one. “Let me go.” You hissed, “You… you cretin!”    

The man shoved you roughly away, narrowly dodging your bite, “Easy there ma’am, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” For some reason you had a hard time believing him with the kidnapping, the pushing, the bag over your head, “We just need you to bring us out cash cow.” He said and slid over a wanted poster with an uncanny portrait of Bucky on it.

Oh

Now it all made sense. 

You took the poster and read the script:

WANTED CAPTURED DEAD OR ALIVE James “Bucky” Barnes  For multiple accounts of murder, theft, and fraudulent activities. Known leader of the Barnes Gang, responsible for numerous bank and train robberies across the Midwestern and Western United States. This is a dangerous individual who will not hesitate to murder.  Mid thirties, brown hair, scar on left arm. Last scene heading west towards the Eden Mountain range.  If spotted DO NOT APPROACH; contact local authorities.  Bounty of $5,000

Of course they’d take you as bait to lure a man with a $5,000 bounty and his gang of merry bandits out from hiding. Something told you that these men thought taking down Bucky would be easy. But you knew this would probably be the hardest $10k they were going to make. They’d probably die doing it! And silently you hoped they would.

A man’s head isn’t worth $5,000 because it’s easy work taking him down. It’s worth that much because he won’t hesitate to fucking kill you in the worst way possible. You didn’t know exactly what Bucky was capable of doing, but you couldn’t help the shiver that crept up your spine when your eyes landed on the big, bold DO NOT APPROACH, “I think for your sake, you should let me go.” 

Perhaps there was a touch of madness in relishing the thrill that such a perilous man inspired within you. Yet, it was the very specter of danger that ignited a fervent blaze deep in your core. To you, Bucky was a flame dancing provocatively over a pool of oil—intensely captivating and inherently volatile.

The dark haired man scoffed, “Your beau ain’t the big bad man everyone seems to think he is. Not when he’s got such an easy weakness to exploit.” 

It was true, Bucky was having the time of his life in Eden Ridge playing house with you. He was living in utter domestic bliss.   “If it’s money you want, my daddy will pay you.” You offered. You had to exhaust all your options and if these men were money hungry then your father would be more than happy to give them the $10k for your life. You didn’t know how much money he had exactly, but you knew it was a pretty penny. 

“Sweetheart, your daddy already paid us.” He mocked you. 

You blinked, brain barely able to comprehend the words he said to you. What a weird thing to say. 

Unbelievable even. 

You were going to have to dissect that at a later date when you were in a better position. 

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked - Chapter 4

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Luke’s Gonna Kill Me - Leighton

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 ~ Being Captain Sucks ~ Andy 

The last eight weeks have been the worst and best weeks of my life. Dealing with betrayal and heartbreak is the worst.  Or so I thought. When I invited Leia to come live with me, I didn’t think it would be torturous.  Do you know what women sleep in when they aren’t your girlfriend? A shirt and what must be the tiniest shorts known to man. It's taken everything to hide the hard-on I get when I see her every morning.  Thank fuck we have separate hotel rooms, or my cock would never get a break.  

Don’t get me wrong.  I fucking love that she lives with me and I get to see what I get to see. I just wish I could see it as her man.  

I’m whipped for this girl and I don’t even have her.  

Boarding the plane to California should have been simple. I helped Luke with Leia’s bag and then chatted as we climbed in. Normal. Except when our backup goalie, Jeremy Swayman stops to chat with Leia. She is smiling but looks confused. She must know that all the single guys on the team are aware of the change in status for her. As much as I love Luke, i wanted to strangle him for spilling those beans.  

I see Stella get on board and sigh in relief when Leia spots her and dismisses Swayman.  She looked over at me and I quickly changed my face to a smile. When she turns back around, I glare at Swayman.  

“You ok man? You look like you want to punch something,” Luke says as he pulls out his headphones.  

Fuck, i don’t need him to be losing his shit. “Yeah, just got a message from Fiona. Claiming she didn’t get everything.”  

“Like what?” 

“Who the fuck knows man. She’s insane.” Luke grunts in agreement and a crisis is averted. I sit back but keep my eyes on Leia.  At some point, i snoozed but then jerk awake when we hit turbulence.  I see Leia is in her seat, her head on Stella’s shoulder and I assume she’s asleep.  Well, at least I can rest now.  

When we touch down in San Jose, all of the guys want to hit the hotel bar for a quick drink to relax after the flight.  Luke had invited the girls but they declined and headed up. Leia gives her brother a kiss on the cheek and a hug, gives me a hug and waves to the other guys.  All of them say bye, Swayman’s eyes linger as she walks away.  I grind my teeth in an effort to keep my mouth shut.  

Yes, ok, I have the caveman mentality that Leia is mine, even if she’s not. She’s a beauty with long dark honey colored hair and green eyes that look like emeralds. She petite but her curves are the stuff women dream about. My dreams have been about my hands on those curves. I shake my head and return to the conversations around me.  

“So Andrews, what is going on with your sister?” Swayman asks. I’m on instant alert. 

Luke wrinkles his eyebrows.  “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, she’s single now.”  

Luke’s face became hard. “Yes, and she’s going to stay that way for a while.”  

I love my best friend. 

“But she lives with Barber.” he points out.  

Ah fuck.  

Luke looks at me and I shrug, having no idea where this is headed. “So what? Is that a problem?” 

Jeremy looks from me to Luke and back before saying, “never mind. All I was saying is that I would like to ask her out.”  

No, fuck no.  This can’t be happening.  

Luke smiled. “Sure, ask her out.  I would love to see the teardown she gives you.” He laughs and I laugh with him.  But I know Jeremy Swayman is a handsome guy that would be totally Leia’s type. I’m going to have to talk to her to make sure she says no.  

I woke up the next morning, irritated to all hell at everyone and everything.  I know it's because of the turn of events yesterday with Jeremy but I need to not dwell on that. We have a game tonight and I need to focus.  But first, I need to tackle the hunger I am feeling.  I headed into the hotel cafe and saw two of my favorite people already sitting down.  At least I can sit next to Leia and enjoy the smell of her shampoo and perfume combo that make me ecstatic.  

As I approach the table, I can see that Leia’s eyes are red-rimmed. I frown and worry that douchebag Bret had reached out. I make it over in time to hear, “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Andy.” 

“Tell me what?” Leia jumps at the sound of my voice and knocks a knee into the table. “Are you ok?”  

“I’m fine,” she groaned. “Son of a bitch, that hurt.” She rubs her right knee.  I made her scoot over and I rubbed her knee. She sighs a little and then jolts as if she remembered something.  

“Now that I have cured your knee, what’s going on? What is it you aren’t sure how to tell me?” I smile at her as I throw my arm behind her.  

“Nothing, it's nothing. I just..”. she hesitates for a second. “It's just, I wasn’t sure if you knew what Jeremy’s deal was. He’s been acting weird, and I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I didn’t know how to ask. I mean, I can’t ask my brother, or he’ll assume shit and...” 

“Princess, take a breath,” I tell her, cutting her off.  She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Ok, yes, Jeremy was asking to confirm if you are single. Luke told him he could ask because he thought you would turn him down.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. A warning, if you will, so she knows I want her to say no.  

“Oh,” she chews her bottom lip. “I mean, if I was in the right head space, I would probably say yes but I just have a lot going on with the business and work.” She nudges me, “you know right? I wouldn’t be able to give myself 100% to someone else and that’s not fair.”  

God is smiling down on me today. I give her my million-watt smile. “Of course, Princess. And if anyone else doesn’t understand that, then they don’t deserve you.”  

“Thanks Andy.” She smiles and leans her head on my shoulders. It's something so natural to us. But when I look around the restaurant, I see Swayman staring at us, and I can’t help but let my trademark smirk fly.  

Barber: 1 – Swayman: 0 

We finished the road trip on a high with a win in Vancouver. Ten days along the West Coast was hard enough but dealing with Swayman as he threw daggers at me was tougher. We had to be a team on the ice but that didn’t mean we weren’t rivals off it.  I didn’t treat Leia any differently than before but just doing that pissed Swayman off.  

“You should talk to Swayman,” Luke said as we boarded the plane back to Boston.  

“Why?” Playing dumb had been my saving grace this trip.  

“Because something is wrong with him and it's messing with his head.” Luke turned to look at something behind him, but I didn’t. No need to draw attention that I wanted to avoid.  

“He won both of his games,” I pointed out.  

“Because the rest of the team was pulling more than their weight.  Andy,” he sighed, “you have to talk to him.  You’re the captain.”  

I sighed in frustration.  “Fine. I’ll talk to him once we are in the air.”  I took my seat and pulled out my headphones.  I watched Leia get on board and sit with Stella as normal. My girl looked a little pale, probably from lack of sleep.  Sleeping in hotel rooms night after night is not as glamourous as people think it is.  Some beds are just down right awful. Except the one where I had Leia in my arms.  That douche Bret had called her drunk while we were in Seattle. She didn’t want to tell her brother, so she cried in my arms. I rarely see Leia cry anymore. She tries to act tough, like a business owner.  But for some reason, Bret really got to her and that just made me want to pummel the shit out of him.  

The thoughts of a crying Leia kept me distracted for about an hour.  Then Luke nudged me and cocked his head toward Swayman.  Fuck, I did not what to do this but when I agreed to be captain, I knew this would come with the territory.  I walked down the aisle and patted Ullmark on the shoulder.  He looked up and nodded, giving up his seat next to Swayman.  

Jeremy was looking out the window, book in his lap. I checked the title. “Stop Over Thinking” Well, if there was ever a book I needed Leia to read, it was that one. I sighed.  “Can we talk, Swayman?” 

“Got nothing to say.” He’s tone was bland.  He wasn’t upset or angry.  Just resigned. That’s good, I guess.  Good for my chances with Leia but not good if he wanted to keep our season going.  

“Are you sure? Because when my assistant captains and goaltenders tell me I have to talk to one of my teammates, I think it's something serious.”  I turned and look at him.  “Talk to me.”  

“I can’t.”  

“Why not?” 

“Because it's about you.”  He finally looked at me and I could see the fury behind his eyes.  He was holding back.  That’s a good thing on a plane.  But bad for his mental health.  I’m a firm believer in taking care of the body and the mind. A full rounded healthy person is better than one who is physically fine but mentally shitting the bricks.  

“So, tell me as if you’re not telling me.  Talk to me like I’m your best friend, listening to whatever crap is going on inside your head.  I don’t care if you say shit about me right now.  You have five minutes of free hits to me.”  

Jeremy studied me to see if I was joking.  I wasn’t. I knew he needed to get it out before he exploded everywhere.  “I like her, and you are just in the way.  She’s your best friend but I can’t help but think there is something more going on.  And its killing me because I’ve liked her for so long. She was with that pansy boy for forever and I finally get the courage to say something to her and, she...” he sighed “...she was just all over you.  And then I feel like a dick because I told her that I wanted to get a drink but then avoided her the rest of the trip.”  

Ah fuck. Why did I let him get five minutes in? Now I'm feeling guilty that I made him feel like he wasn’t worth it. It didn’t mean I didn’t want him to stay away from my girl, but I should at least let her let him down gently.  “Look man, she got a call from her ex, and he was a dickweasel to her. She needed to cry, and she can’t exactly go to her brother for fear of him going nuclear.” His eyes opened in surprise. But I said my piece.  “She’s feeling better and if you hurt her, we are going to have so many problems.  Yes, she’s my best friend but I don’t think she sees me any differently.”  

“So, I can...” 

I swallowed what felt like cotton in my throat. “Just be careful, ok?  She doesn’t need the drama.”  

Jeremy nodded and studied me again. “Thanks Captain.”  

I patted his shoulder and got up to go back to my seat. As Ullman moved back to his seat, I saw Leia getting up to go to the bathroom and my heart clenched. All I could hope for now is that she saw me, really saw me and she chose me in the end.  

But if Swayman was what she wanted, I would support her every day.  

Even if it killed me.  

Barber: 1 – Swayman: 1 

Its around 4 AM when we touched down in Boston.  Leia is fast asleep in her seat, clutching her stuffed cow that she carries when she gets nervous.  I gave it to her a few years ago when I won it at a fair. She named the damn thing “Sebastian.”  Why, you ask?  Because of some stupid Sebastian Stan video about what the moo cow says.  I chuckle as I look at her. She’s still mine and Luke’s baby girl.  I bend over to pick her up in my arms and move careful off the plane.  

Luke looks up surprised when he sees me in her arms.  “What the...” 

“Shh,” I told him.  “She looked pale when she boarded so I didn’t want to wake her.  Just help me get her to the car.” I move quickly but softly to my SUV and place her into the seat and strap her in. Luke loads our bag. 

“You got her?” he asks me. I nod and he kisses her forehead, frowns and closes her door.  

“Yeah, i got her.  Just gonna get her into bed.”  

“Yeah, I would get some ibprofen ready for her.  She feels like she’s running a little bit of a fever.”  He gives me a hug and heads over to where Miranda is waiting for him.  I smile at that.  It would be nice to have my woman waiting for me when I got home from a long trip.  I sigh and walk over to the driver side, nodding at Jeremy as he walks by.  I climb in and head to our home.  

Leia’s still dead to the world when I take her in. I get her under the covers, chuckle at that stupid cow and put it into her arms.  I kiss her forehead, feeling how warm she is. “Love you Princess,” I whisper when I leave water and pills by her bed. My heart still hurts from my conversation with Jeremy, so I linger in her room. I stare at the woman who has stolen my heart.  I just want her to choose me.  But I guess I would have to throw my hat in the ring first.  I resolved to talk to her in the morning.  

I wake up to the sounds of someone throwing up. Groaning, I know its Leia. She must have the stomach flu.   I scrub my face of sleep before i get up to check on her.  “Princess?” 

“Go away, Andy.”  

I frown as I hear her retch again and I try the door. “Leia, let me in.”  

I hear her whimper and then a soft “no,” followed by more retching.   

I bang on the door, “Leighton!” I grabbed a hair pin and jimmy the lock.  I see Leia throwing up again and I grab her hair to keep it out of the way and rub her back.  “Ok, baby, I got you.” I stay there until she leans back into me.  “Leia, you are burning up.” I move to pick her up, but she stops me.  

“What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to the doctor.” I move to pick her up again, but she wiggles out of my grasp.  “Leighton...” 

“I don’t need to go to the doctors, Andy. I know what’s wrong.” She can’t look at me and now I’m concerned.  

I brushed a sweaty stand of hair away from her eyes. “Are you ok?” 

“Yes, no... yes, fuck I don’t know.”  She puts her head into my neck to hide as I hold her tight.  

“What’s going on Princess?” She looks at me with the most broken face I’ve ever seen.  More than when I accidently decapitated her barbie, when she broke her ankle after falling out of the tree house.  The last time I had seen her like this was when her father died. “You’re scaring me, Leia.”  

She pulled her head up and looked at me straight, eyes red rimmed, fear laced in her beautiful irises.  

“Andy, I’m pregnant.” 

NEXT

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[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 9 - Playing Chess▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ Seeing you like this feels fucking intimate, and it probably is, but he can’t keep himself from wanting to pry more into your life. To carve himself into it. To force himself in—and he really fucking wants to—despite knowing how much suffering he’d caused you. Despite knowing you’ll try to push him away again.

The floorboard creaks loudly, when he steps towards the frame of your bed, causing your body to jerk softly in your sleep. 

He stills, waiting, watching.

Would you be mad if you saw him like this?

Probably. ◢

Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) •

Chapter 9 - Playing Chess A waft of old, aged concrete washes over Tomura, making his nose scrunch in displeasure when he opens the door to your building. He walks ahead, crinkling sounds of plastic coming from the dangling grocery bag he holds in his hand. It’s filling the otherwise quiet trip up the stairwell, rustling every time he takes a step and climbs his way up the stairs, on his way to the floor where your apartment is located.

He can’t help but muse at the fact that he had—and only by coincidence this time—found exactly where you live.

Not in the literal sense, of course—he’s already had his hands all over quite a lot of your information, all of it sitting pretty in his documents and all ready to be used against you like he’d prepared for back then, before he had to change his plans—but in the sense that he got to finally see it in person, without having to scope the area first (something he would’ve done eventually) or… walk you home, as he’d put it.

No, no, no. Instead, you’d opened your door for him willingly. You admitted earlier that you weren’t even ‘on friendly terms’ as you’d put it, but he was still allowed to enter your living space, standing right next to your friend that he’d convinced to accompany.

His feet stop right in front of your apartment and his eyes scan your door, noting how easily it could be broken into by someone with even a modicum of experience. With how old-school the lock system was, it probably wouldn’t take him more than five minutes to crack it open and give himself access to your world, whenever the fuck he so pleased.

But that’s cheating, he thought as he ran his thumb along the chipping paint of the wood, pressing the nail in ever so slightly.

Tomura decided earlier today that he’s not going to slip up again. He also knows he has to work you a bit longer until he fully gains some of your trust again, face splitting into a grin at that.

Yeah, he can definitely do that. The best rewards lie behind the biggest challenges, after all. 

His knuckles knock on the door as he’s surveying the hallway outside of your apartment, the same fingers reaching his neck only to scratch against it softly.

When the door opens, the first thing he sees is your friend, looking all too smugly at him. It takes him by surprise and his face contorts into a frown, red eyes narrowing.

Tomura scoffs. What the fuck is wrong with them? 

They’re a pretty shit friend for forcing you to let him in, even he could recognize as much. It didn’t even take him long to persuade them when he wanted to get your new number. The day you’d missed your third CS class in a row and he realized you wouldn’t come back on your own to finish your… talk with him, Tomura went and found your friend.

Instead of fuckin’ defending you, of clawing his eyes out or putting him in his grave for what he’s done to their ‘supposed’ best friend—for what he’s still going to do—they let him in. They let him in because he’d promised he’d wanted to make good with you, that he was worried about you or whatever bullshit he’d said that served him at the time. 

Were they that fucking gullible? Or were they that afraid of him? The latter would be the most logical take because fucking everyone is afraid of him—save for maybe your stupid ass. But he senses that there might be something more to it than just that. Something he couldn’t read between the lines. 

Something annoying.

In the end, it doesn’t really fucking matter to him. Tomura suspects Taylor is the ticket and  the conduit for him to get back into your good graces, so he didn’t have the luxury of time to question their motives. He already decided he’ll use whatever means he can to get you, and if your friend was this fucking stupid to let it happen, well—

“You didn’t fuck off after all, huh?” your bitch of a friend asks him, keeping up the smugness of their smile.

“Get lost,” he replies, walking past them and placing the plastic bag on the counter, as they for some reason start giggling like a fucking moron.

Despite him only being gone for a total of maybe twenty minutes, your friend had admittedly done a neat job at making your apartment look less than the shithole it was before. Most of the garbage you had laying around is now packed into trash  bags and propped against the side of the wall.

Not that Tomura could complain, when the person cleaning his own fucking room isn’t even himself.

“Where is she?” he mumbles, red eyes scanning for you but you weren’t in the room anymore.

“Asleep, I think. We’ll wake her up when I’m done with the food. You better have brought something decent, or I swear to god,” Taylor nags, their back turned at him, but Tomura isn’t listening. They peer over their shoulder. “Where are you going?” 

Tomura signals them to be quiet, opening the door to your room very carefully. 

True to their word, you really are curled up in your sheets and sleeping. He has to bite back a snort when he sees you, your usual rigid bitchiness toned down by forty percent, making you look more like an angry sleeping stray than the girl who fucked him over. 

Curiously, your expression is holding a frown even while unconscious.

He steps inside, spreading his presence across the safety of your room, noting how barren it is. White walls, a wardrobe, open or folded cardboard boxes and an old desk and a chair. Barely anything sitting in this room defines it as yours, making it look like you’ve either just moved in, or you’re about to move out at any point in time. 

Heaps of disorganized study notes are cluttering your desk among empty forgotten energy drink cans and an ancient looking laptop, the one you always have with you in class. He quickly notes the way you keep your studies and hobbies separate, taking into account how your designated gaming PC is set up in the other room. 

Tomura would like to go through it sometime. To see what kind of games you spent your time playing or what kind of channels you were watching. Were you the type to watch streams? He had a thing or two to say about that, but he wouldn’t mind doing it with you. At least occasionally.

Seeing you like this feels fucking intimate, and it probably is, but he can’t keep himself from wanting to pry more into your life. To carve himself into it. To force himself in—and he really fucking wants to—despite knowing how much suffering he’d caused you. Despite knowing you’ll try to push him away again.

The floorboard creaks loudly, when he steps towards the frame of your bed, causing your body to jerk softly in your sleep. 

He stills, waiting, watching.

Would you be mad if you saw him like this?

Probably.

Yet he dares to walk closer, squatting next to your sleeping form and observing you further. 

Scanning over your face, he wonders what it is about you that pulled him in. There is nothing special about the way you dressed or looked, in fact you’re extremely plain and seemingly unremarkable. Not to mention your god awful personality and the way you never fail to get on his fucking nerves. Yeah, there really was nothing special about you.

But he always found the look in your eyes oddly captivating. When your eyes aren’t filled with doubt or distrust—at him, at the world—they’re determined, angry. You hated the world, hated him and probably also hated yourself.

Not only that, but he’s well aware now that you didn’t get where you are by any stroke of luck. 

No, you’re clever. So fucking clever, holding your own, fighting against all odds at the weirdest fucking times. You never back down from him, not at the start, before you knew who he was, not now, after he’s fucked you over. You never take his shit, no matter how many times he’s tried to scare you off. You’re never truly afraid to talk back to him. You played his games. You smelled so good. You felt good against his cock and against his lips and fuck, how he longs he could press himself against you once more, anytime or any place you’d fucking let him.

Tomura wants you, desperately. He wants to crawl inside your body and for him to never fucking leave you again. Like a parasite you’d never be able to get rid of, no matter how hard you try. 

You really fucked up crossing his path.

Fucked up by talking to him. Fucked up by being so fucking challenging to him, that he couldn’t help but want to break you. Ruin you. Build you up and make you his. Only his.

His vision re-focuses on your sleeping form, only to realize that you aren’t sleeping anymore. You’re staring back at him, all the while his pale digits are caressing your face. Your eyes look tired as he pulls his hand away, his expression unreadable.

Time stands still for a moment, both of you staring into each other’s eyes. You wonder if this is what a cold war felt like. Two enemies at a stillstand, predicting the other person’s move.

Neither of you could have predicted this next move however, when you subconsciously lean in on your elbow, bed creaking as you reached out with your own hand to feel his snowy white hair. 

Is it going to be as soft as it looks? 

Shigaraki flinches once your fingertips connect with his head, but he doesn't pull back. You begin sliding the pads against dry creases of his forehead, the ones right under his messy bangs, earning you a frown of insecurity from him. You don’t let it deter you. No, you keep going, keep raking your fingers into the roots of his hair and brushing it backwards. They get caught into a tangled knot, but even that doesn’t convince him to move, letting you work quietly and detangle it.

He closes his own exhausted eyes and actually leans into your touch, letting out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding back. It fucking looked like no one has ever bothered to show him affection before, or maybe it’s just been a long time since. Like how you were, before you met Taylor.

Tomura waits for you to realize your mistake, to properly wake up from whatever spell is cast over your eyes, to pull back from him like you always do but… that moment never comes. 

He shudders when you start petting his head in earnest, unable to help the small groan that escapes his lips.

Why the fuck are you so gentle with him?

His brows knit together and when he opens his eyes again, to glare at you for making him feel this way, his displeasure immediately dissolves into curiosity. 

Look at you. 

Your cheeks are visibly reddened, pupils slightly dilated and your lip fucking quivers. 

You look flustered. Why?

And you’d told yourself he couldn’t possibly read minds, when you couldn’t help but be reminded of the incident before your breakdown, the one in the hallway. Where he laid under you, so vulnerable and pliable to your touch.

He surely couldn’t read minds, yet Shigaraki smirks at you in a way it tells you he just might. 

Because he wasn’t only reminded of it, but actually couldn’t get it out of his head ever since it happened. He was ready to fail over and over again, but you’re already giving so much of yourself. Maybe you’ll finally realize that you belong to— 

“Aww! Are the two lovebirds done making up? We’ve got a stupid baby to feed,” Taylor teases and Shigaraki is caught off-guard, stumbling backwards with a curse. 

You roll your eyes and try to sit up, but dizziness is still weighing you down.

“Help me up.” You reach out to him, but he just stares blankly at your hand and then at you. Taylor clicks their tongue impatiently, grabbing your hand instead and helping you properly sit up.

“Prince charming here brought you food, by the way. Your favorite too,” your friend says, eyeing him and grinning slyly at the way he narrows his eyes at them before continuing, “I warmed it up for you babe, but don’t get up. I’ll bring it to you.”

They turn on their heel and walk away, leaving you alone with him once again. You glance at the boy who didn’t move a fucking inch from the spot he fell against. 

“Comfy down there?” you ask with a hint of amusement and that seems to wake him up from his half-lidded trance.

“Huh? Oh.” He quickly gets on his feet. “I… I should leave.”

Your almost-smile falls at that and a deep frown replaces it. 

His eyes widen. 

Are you disappointed that… he’s leaving?

“Yeah, you really should,” you say, looking away enough that he’s out of your view.

Alright. Not disappointed, then.

“Yeah.” He stares through you for a moment, before turning around and exiting the room as if he was never there. You pick up Taylor shouting a ‘thanks again’ and a ‘bye’ after him, but you couldn’t hear anything in return.

Moments later, your friend comes back to you with a bowl of what smells like your comfort food.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t tell him what to buy,” they answer your unasked question with a snort. “You were right though. If he didn’t pull the whole revenge porn bit on you, I might have actually said he’s not that bad as the rumors say. I might almost ship it.”

Your jaw fucking drops seconds before taking your first spoonful and you look at them with pure disbelief.

“I said almost! Eat your fucking meal, bitch.”

You scoff, about to get into another fight, but the food smells too good not to take a bite. Or two. Or to wolf down the whole portion, feeling the warmth flowing through your body and into your stomach for the first time in days.

─────────

It’s Tuesday today.

Slowly but surely, the air is getting colder outside, making you shiver slightly despite the extra layer of clothes you had underneath.

It’s been another week since your little… intervention happened.

You finally decided to get out of your comfort cave and stop missing on important study material that you actually couldn’t afford to miss, spending most of your time catching up with important assignments.

Taylor is still dropping by occasionally to check-up on you and you’ve had to promise to face-time them at least once every 24-hours. You’re hoping they’d drop the worried parent surveillance bit soon, but it seems unlikely after the reckless stunt you’d pulled earlier. 

Call it the consequences of your fucking carelessness.

It’s odd, you think, walking down the halls of your university and not catching a single soul glancing your way anymore, or hearing them snicker behind your back. 

Quiet. Like you went back in time.

Your first lecture of the day is discrete mathematics.

There’s an idle game playing in the background of your laptop and you can’t help but roll your eyes and yawn. You’re waiting for the professor to finally finish recommending everyone a four hundred dollar textbook, written by himself, one that you’ll totally fucking need in order to pass his stupid class. Fucking asshole.

But it’s not just that.

You’re pretty irritated today, because you still couldn’t figure out why everyone suddenly had a change of heart and decided to move on from treating you like a whore, pushing you around or catcalling you every time you turned a corner. 

Was three weeks all it took for everyone to fucking forget? Or was Shigaraki not updating the thread and ultimately removing it from the platform enough for everyone to stop giving a fuck about you? 

It’s not like you or Taylor could even check to see if the post was still up. You obviously should, but neither of you can bring yourself to do it, and something told you Shigaraki wasn’t lying to you anyway.

Nevertheless, the air is still weirdly tense. As if something is still going on. 

If only you weren’t a fucking social recluse, then at least you could ask some idiot to give you information.

Whatever. You’ll learn to deal with it as it comes.

Time is moving slowly today, so you take a look at your online schedule on your phone to prepare for your next class, when suddenly you… notice something strange. 

Your final class of the day has been replaced with a different block. One you dread to see.

Urgent Student Assembly — Gym 3

You raise a brow and pray to the fucking sun that there’s been a murder or the dean had died of a cardiac arrest, and the topic of the assembly will not be about whatever happened between you and Shigaraki. The faculty better not try making an example out of you after they’ve been keeping quiet regarding your situation, letting you deal with everything on your own. 

At least their ‘requests’ for you to advertise their programs slowed down, given you’d probably only damage their reputation instead of helping at this point. Maybe they’d let you off the hook completely and you could finish your degree in peace.

You take a screenshot of the block and you text it to Taylor.

You — ^^^ wtf is this?? did you hear anything? It’s not about me is it??? [Sent Now]

They respond pretty fast.

Taytay — Uhhh, no clue babe. I don’t have classes today [Sent Now]

Taytay — I’ll ask around and let you know if I hear anything. Did you finally leave your mancave??? [Sent Now]

You roll your eyes at the stupid texts, but still reply with a smile on your face.

Then, your phone vibrates again.

Psycho — hey [Sent Now]

What the fuck? You feel a lump get stuck in your throat. 

What if this is… his doing? Is he gonna pull some shit again? Is he upset you told him to fuck off last time? But why would he go out of his way to help you last week, if that was the case?

You bite your nails and hope your anxiety is as groundless as it usually is. You really hope it is.

You — ? [Sent Now]

If you thought Taylor is quick with their messages, you’re comically wrong.

Psycho — uhh [Sent Now]

You — what?? [Sent Now]

Psycho — didn’t expect you to reply this fast… or at all [Sent Now]

Psycho — u in class? [Sent Now]

Psycho — wait [Sent Now]

Psycho — are u?? [Sent Now]

Your face scrunches at his rapid fire spam.

Psycho — i need 2 know, answer [Sent Now]

You — why? I mean i wouldn’t put stalking beyond you, but still lol [Sent Now]

Psycho — no, wtf relax. its 4 smt else [Sent Now]

You — riiight [Sent Now]

Psycho — omfg stop being annoying and replyyyyy to my question, only askin u 1 fkin question. its not that hard idiot [Sent Now]

The thought of him getting annoyed and impatient over your teasing makes you snort, bringing another smile to your face. And it goes as quickly as it comes, when you realize just who you’re texting with. You’re an idiot. 

Three angry dots type and disappear. This repeats two more times before you finally lose your patience and reply to him first.

You — yea i am, why? this related to the ‘urgent study assembly’ by any astronomical chance? :)  [Sent Now]

You — part two of the hit job? And making sure i’m there to watch?? I’ll let you sit next to me if you ask nicely, y’know? [Sent Now]

Yeah okay, you’re obviously still really mad at him and are desperately trying to get under his skin, but to be fair to yourself, the two of you haven’t even talked properly yet (would that even be possible?). You still don’t know just what changed his mind about his plan to make you grovel at his feet.

If anything, you’re scared to find out.

Psycho — yes [Sent Now]

Your eyes widen. Of fucking course. What were you expecting? 

Motherfucker must’ve gotten all sour again after you’d kicked him out of your house. How fucking stupid of you to believe he’d feel any sort of human empathy—

Psycho — wait fk [Sent Now] 

Psycho — no [Sent Now]

Psycho — that won’t happen to u again. i won’t let it happen again [Sent Now]

Psycho — so relax. ur fine [Sent Now]

You raise your brow.

You — okaaay? Then what the fuck is it? get to the point [Sent Now]

Psycho — k, so… can u skip assembly? [Sent Now]

You — why [Sent Now]

Psycho — just skip it [Sent Now]

A loud groan escapes your throat and you only now remember you aren’t alone, catching a few idiots glaring at you and scoffing.

You — you’re like /this/ close to getting blocked, asshole. Tell me what you want right now or im checking the fuck out [Sent Now]

Tomura looks down at his phone and sighs. 

Why couldn’t you make it easy for him just one fucking time? Nothing ever comes easy with you.

Except for him, when you were grinding your hips against his in the hallway. Or you, trapped between his arms against the wall, back when he caught those mouthbreathers daring to get close to what’s his. 

He almost fucked your brains out that time, with the broken way you were staring back at him. Shaking. Scared. Cute.

Tomura curses under his breath. His pants are starting to get tight again and he slips one hand to adjust himself. 

He wonders if this will end up working out in his favor. He’s worked really hard the past few weeks, after all. 

Psycho — ok so i mightve done something,, [Sent Now]

Psycho — but dont freak its not abt u… well kinda. I tried to uhh, fix things ok? [Sent Now]

Psycho — but dont freak its not abt u… well kinda. I tried to uhh, fix things ok? [Sent Now]

Psycho — shit did it send twicE?? fk  [Sent Now]

Psycho — anyway dont go to assembly [Sent Now]

You — I’m going. [Sent Now]

Psycho — ugh fuck fine [Sent Now]

A notification from Taylor pops up and you swipe it away.

Psycho — i warned u so dont block me after idiot [Sent Now]

You huff at his final(?) message. 

This cryptic behaviour of his is getting on your fucking nerves, so you open your friend’s chat instead.

Taytay — Ok so… don’t freak out. [Sent Now]

Good start and not you too, you think simultaneously.

The bell rings and your class finally ends. While you were texting with Shigaraki, you’d already packed your things, so you just get up and leave, eyes glued to your phone as you wait for your friend to fucking end your suffering.

Taytay — I found out what the meeting is about ;/ [Sent Now]

You — taylor if you also edge me about this istg [Sent Now]

Taytay — ?? What? [Sent Now]

Taytay — Whatevs anyway. So I don’t mean to trigger you, but can you like… login with my account onto that platform again? 😩 You gotta see this. It’s… not bad…. For you at least. So don’t worry about that, kay? Just log in please. [Sent Now]

Taytay — I think I blocked like 10 mfs from my contacts after what I saw ughhhhhhhhhhhhh 💀 💀 never sleeping with jocks ever again I swear [Sent Now]

Honestly, you think you’ll punch the very next person that you come across today square in the face, but you do as your friend says and you log in.

It’s like the Second Coming of Jesus Christ had arrived early. 

You could’ve probably never predicted what you were going to see when you logged in and looked through the front page.

At first, you were admittedly plain confused. But as you kept scrolling down the feed, your brain slowly caught on. 

The bell rings again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move from your spot, so you’re currently standing frozen in place, a deep chill running down your spine.

What seems to be everyone’s dirty fucking laundry, has been readily aired on this stupid platform. Students, professors and members of the faculty, no one was spared from hell, as countless of incriminating posts were spread all across the feed, together with people losing their fucking shit over it.

From simple inappropriate screenshot of student-teacher messages, to blatant sexual harassment, physical altercations, leaked porn accounts, illegal fucking fetishes, literal footage of assault and people committing various crimes at parties or otherwise and all posts seemingly coming from the account owners themselves. All in the same format of your hit thread (minus maybe the creepy threatening puzzle messages, making you that special, you guess) and all individuals related to your university. 

The “NexTech Doxxpocalypse” is what people dubbed it.

What an incredible sight.

How the fuck did he pull this off? No wonder it felt like a fucking funeral when you entered the building today. Everyone’s been fucked over. All the stupid motherfuckers that looked at you as if you were beneath them, will now have to face their own disgusting pasts or be anxious they’ll get exposed next.

No one will have time to think about your existence again. Not when they’ve got their own copies of your misery to deal with.

God, it’s fucking genius. Literal four dimensional chess. Shigaraki’s plan is absolutely brilliant.

Your face splits into a grin and you burst out laughing like an unhinged idiot in the empty hallways. What an absolute fucking psychopath! 

Unable to hold back from the feelings that overwhelmed you, you pull out your phone and text him.

You — good one [Sent Now]

Psycho — ?? [Sent Now]

Does he live on his fucking phone? How is he so quick to answer?

You — i mean it’s super fucked up, but it works. So thanks I guess? weirdo. [Sent Now]

Psycho — did you fkin hit ur head?? [Sent Now]

You — fuck off, im being thankful. Prolly the first time you ever deserved it too, asshole. They wont catch you for this, right? [Sent Now]

You bite at your nail bed for a second. 

They shouldn’t be able to catch him. You doubt he’d engage with this type of criminal activity if there was a chance he’d get in trouble for it, but you did tell the dean about it, back when you felt cornered and alone.

Unfortunately you don’t get the chance to ask for details, because all he sends you is an:

Psycho — oh [Sent Now]

After which he stopped replying.

─────────

The ‘emergency’ assembly went about as well as you expected it to, after the complete shit show you saw. The majority of the students were completely mortified over the massive privacy data breach, and the faculty was trying to damage control, promising to shut it down and find the culprit—genuinely good luck with that, by the way—after which everyone left feeling probably thirty percent more depressed than when they joined.

All in all, a pretty good fucking day for you. Things… might actually go back to normal now.

You — you get to live another day in my friends list asshole [Sent Now]

But he wouldn’t write anything back.

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: All Burns Heal

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 4,865

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav comforts Karlach after she's recovered from her burns. The group learns that another gnome may have been left behind and must decide if they can go back to Grymforge and save them. Part 17 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: Very dialogue heavy chapter incoming, but half of it is fun and sweet Karlach & Tav fluff <3 Getting ever closer to the end of act 1! Another update should be coming within the next couple of days. Thanks as always for the kind words and your continued reading! <3

Tav made a quick change of clothes in her tent before heading over to Karlach’s. She found Wyll sitting there beside her, Karlach’s back turned to the rest of camp, and she could hear some soft sniffles.

“Karlach?” She called out with no response. Wyll whispered something unintelligible before standing up to greet her.

“Glad to see you doing better.” He clapped her on the shoulder.

“Thanks. How is she?”

Wyll looked over his shoulder to their friend, still curled up on the ground and facing away from them. “Her wounds are healed, but she feels awful, Tav.”

“I know she does.” Tav sighed. “Do you think she’s ready to talk?”

“Isn’t she always?” Wyll chuckled. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” He gave Karlach one last look and Tav could have sworn she saw a bit of longing in his one good eye.

“Karlach, love? Can you talk to me?”

“I…” Her soft sobs made it hard to understand what she was saying. “I’m so sorry, Tav.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, Karlach.” Tav kept her voice low and gentle as she sat on the other side of her. “You didn’t make me touch you, I chose to on my own. I wasn’t going to let you die in agony on the floor in front of me.”

“This stupid fucking engine!” Karlach cried. “If I get hurt too bad, you guys can’t even get me out without nearly killing yourselves. I hate that you have to make that choice.”

“For what it’s worth,” Tav grabbed Clive who was sitting on the ground nearby, “I’d make the same choice again.”

She turned around to face her at that.

“You would?”

“Every damn time.” She took Clive’s snout and used it to give Karlach a kiss on the cheek. “You’re my best girl.”

“Really?” She sniffled as she took the stuffed bear into her arms.

“Really, really. We’re going to find a way to get that thing fixed, Karlach. And I’m going to make sure you survive long enough for us to find it.” Tav promised.

“Gods I want to hug you right now.”

“I’m counting down the days, my friend. You’ll just have to keep hugging Clive until then.”

Karlach finally sat up next to her.

“Thank you, Tav.” She said quietly as she clutched the small bear to her chest. “You didn’t have to do that. But I’m glad you did, soldier.”

“Anytime, love.”

And she meant it. With a choice between suffering horrible burns and watching Karlach die, it was no choice at all, really. She would do it one hundred times over to make sure her friend lived.

“Lemme see your neck.” Karlach scooted a little closer to her. Tav leaned forward to show the spot where she had been burnt before. “Huh, I can’t even tell where the burn was now. Halsin did good.”

“I figured it would be fine. If he could practically regrow my leg after our first time in the Underdark, a burn must have been nothing.” Tav chuckled as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“I mean if anything, the burns give you an excuse to spend some time with him, eh?” Karlach pumped her eyebrows up and down at Tav, causing another laugh from her.

“I think we get plenty of time together while the rest of you are sleeping. Common quirk of us elves.” She started absentmindedly drawing shapes in the dirt near her feet.

“Oh? I haven’t heard much about this yet. Spill the beans, sister!” Karlach pulled a pillow out from behind her and put it underneath her elbows so she could lay down on her stomach and look up at Tav.

“Well, we have been a bit busy lately, and you’ve been going to bed awfully early.”

“Yeah well, I’m awake now. Spill!” Karlach urged.

“Okay, fine.” She would be lying if she said she hadn’t missed gossiping a bit with Karlach. Tav laid down and propped her own elbows on one of Karlach’s spare pillows to face her.

How does she have so many?

She started to fill her friend in on the past few mornings of conversations between her and Halsin, starting with the glowing pond he showed her.

“I’m sorry, he took you to a glowing pond, you kissed him, he told you he thought that you were beautiful, and you didn’t tell me?!” Karlach yelled.

“For fucks’ sake, Karlach!” Tav laughed. “Keep it down at least a little. And it was just a friendly kiss on the cheek.”

“Oh please, as slow as you’ve been moving you may has well have ripped off his clothes then and there!” The volume of her voice didn’t change in the slightest.

Tav buried her face in the pillow beneath her, letting her feet that were kicking behind her fall to the ground.

“So, what now, you’re just ignoring that little intimate encounter?” Karlach asked.

“I’m not ignoring it.” The words were muffled by the pillow smothering her face.

“Then what gives?” She wiggled the pillow underneath Tav’s head causing her to look up from her hiding place.

“It’s like I told you back when we were camping in the Mountain Pass. I just can’t quite figure him out. He goes from telling me I’m beautiful to panicking over me holding his hand. There’s something there but it’s…blocked.”

“Want me to set him straight?”

“Gods no.” Tav begged.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let you guys figure it out or whatever.” Karlach rolled her eyes playfully. “Tell you what, if you need an excuse to get close to him though I can always give you a friendly pat. You know, give you an excuse to go for a little healing.” She gave an exaggerated wink.

Tav let out a snorting laugh. “So that might not be the best idea…” She could feel the blush from earlier returning to her face and chest.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, first of all it was rather painful. Second…he uh…he called me a ‘good lass’ and I nearly passed out.” Tav turned away as her face reddened further, Karlach’s hyena cackle wasn’t helping with the embarrassment.

“Oh, my gods…oh my…Ha!” She couldn’t even talk she was laughing so hard, her fists hitting the ground as she worked through her fit of laughter. “You’re one of those girls, huh? Give you a little praise and you melt into a puddle?”

“I hate you.” Tav shoved her face back into the pillow.

“No, Tav. I think it’s sweet.” She wiped the joyful tears from her eyes.

“What’s sweet?”

Karlach and Tav both screamed in alarm as another voice had joined their conversation. They looked to their side to see Astarion laying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows to match them, a sly grin on his face.

“How are you so quiet?” Tav’s heart pounded against her ribs.

“One of the few perks of being a vampire. Now what are you two talking about? You’re not gossiping without me, are you?” He stuck his lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Nothing important, love.” Tav tried to shoot a sneaky look at Karlach to keep her mouth shut.

“Fucking liar.” Astarion shot back. “Give me one of those pillows, darling.” He pointed to the small pile behind Karlach and she happily obliged.

“Tav kissed Halsin.” Karlach blurted out.

“Oh? Is that why he was such a flustered mess the other day.” Astarion giggled as he slipped the pillow beneath his arms.

“It was just a quick peck on the cheek, it wasn’t that big of a deal!” Tav glared at Karlach.

“If you say so. You left him in quite a state that morning after…” Astarion trailed off.

“The morning after you drank the blood of some unidentifiable monstrosity and came stumbling into camp drunk as a sailor?” Tav batted her eyelashes at him.

They locked their eyes in a stare down, each waiting for the other to blink. Astarion won, of course.

Damn vampires.

“So, you and the druid…” Astarion’s smug grin was still shining on his face.

Before Tav could make a snarky comment back at him, their conversation was interrupted by Gale.

“Sorry to interrupt your little slumber party,” he had his arms folded across his chest, “but the gnomes from Grymforge are ready to speak with you.”

“Don’t be jealous, Gale.” Astarion giggled as Tav stood back up.

“I’m not jealous.” Gale replied, obviously jealous.

“Don’t worry, Gale. Next time we decide to have a little gossip session, we’ll make sure to invite you too. That make you feel better?” Karlach offered.

“…yes.” He muttered.

Tav couldn’t help but smile as she walked away to talk with their newly free gnome friends. A gnome in a red tunic, Beldron, approached her first.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet us here. We had some rather grave injuries that needed tending.” Tav held a hand out for him to shake.

“The least we could do, I suppose.” He gave her hand a couple of curt shakes. “Gaerdal Ironhand you may not be, but you damn well fight like him.” She smiled back at him.

“Why would a True Soul free slaves? I’m grateful, don’t mistake me, but…”

“The cult thinks they own me. I beg to differ.” Tav shrugged.

“Hurry it up! We need to find Wulbren – now.” Barcus was trying to sound commanding, but the nervous edge to his voice undercut any authority he hoped to project.

“You’re too late, Barcus. He’s already been sent to Moonrise Towers. He…knows things. Things they’ll want to know too.” Beldron’s slight waver as he eyed her from the side told Tav that he knew more than he was letting on.

“This is no time to be coy. What does Wulbren know?” Tav knelt to look Beldron in the eyes. “Whatever the cult wants, whatever those slavers wanted, I can almost guarantee that I want the opposite.”

He considered her words for a moment before responding. “Fine. Wulbren has found the formula for runepowder.”

“What?!” Barcus yelled back.

“Aye. A fistful of the powder could wipe out half an army if the stories were to be believed. But Wulbren thought those were more than legend, so he went and actually found it.” Beldron’s excitement was palpable in his way of speaking. “He had just made sense of the old manuscript when the cult jumped us – so he burned the damn thing.”

“So, if the cult wants to know how to make runepowder…” Tav started.

“Then they’ll have to pry it from Wulbren’s head.” Beldron finished.

Tav shuddered to think of what the cult could do with such a terrible explosive. A weapon of such mass destruction could hardly be trusted in the hands of those with the best intentions, let alone those who served a mind flayer cult.

“Then we’ll have to get to him first. We’ll be leaving for Moonrise the day after next, we could travel together and find him.” She offered.

“My people can barely stand. And we have business in the city, we can’t lose time chasing after false hopes.”

“And just like that, you’d leave Wulbren behind?” Barcus interjected, the hurt look on his face twisting his expression. “I knew you lot were foolish, but I didn’t think you were cruel.”

“If you knew half as much as you think, Barcus, Wulbren might have kept you around.” Beldron snapped back.

The two gnomes continued to bicker in front of her about their next steps. Beldron was adamant that they needed to leave for Baldur’s Gate, Barcus held his ground that Wulbren should be their priority.

“Enough, this fighting won’t help anyone.” Tav rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Our path will take us to Moonrise, I’ll do what I can to free him if he’s still alive. Thulla is waiting in a nearby colony of myconids, we can escort you there so you can take your leave when you’re ready.”

“Wulbren would admire your resolve. Should you find yourself in Baldur’s Gate, seek us out.” He gave a small nod before walking away to join the others.

If I find myself in Baldur’s Gate again, I’ll have need of all the friends I can get.

“Done me a decent turn again. It was most amusing watching you wallop those greylings.” Barcus remained standing at her side.

“It was nothing.” Tav tried to muster a smile to reassure him. “How did you find yourself captured by duergar since our last meeting?”

“I came down here looking for Wulbren. I suspected he and his little friends might’ve come to this region, and I was right.” Barcus shook his head lightly. “But I was too late. Wulbren had already been taken to Moonrise Towers. The rest you saw had been put to work.”

Tav nodded along as she listened, sensing something else troubling the skittish gnome. He shifted in place as his eyes darted to the other gnomes just out of earshot.

“What’s on your mind, Barcus?” She asked, keeping her voice quiet.

“These other gnomes, they call themselves ‘Ironhand Gnomes.’ You won’t find a worse gaggle of rare-do-wells than them.” His voice was a nervous whisper, keeping an eye on the others to make sure they wouldn’t hear.

Tav glanced over at the others as well. Barcus saw a group of ruffians where she saw a battered and exhausted group of gnomes.

“They’re desperate to recreate that runepowder, to bring ‘glory’ back to our people. They’ll stop at nothing and wait for no one to achieve their goals. You see the extent of their loyalty. They’re not even going after him. I wish I were surprised.” Barcus shot a glare at Beldron and the other gnomes. “And so…to Moonrise Towers I go.”

His sudden resolve startled Tav, but she still caught the hint of uncertainty that clouded his tone.

“First things first – you’re exhausted. You should stay here and rest. We can travel to Moonrise together.” Tav gestured back at their camp.

“Certainly not!” He took a step back in offense. “My friend has been taken captive. He needs me.”

“Come now, this is no place to travel alone, the land around Moonrise is even more dangerous. I don’t want to have to rescue you a third time.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Or find out I was too late to rescue you a third time.”

“I was only unlucky twice, slim chance it’ll happen again. Although…” He looked over to where Wyll and Halsin sat by the fire, snacking on a few nuts and dried sausages they had stashed away. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a brief moment of respite, let me think.”

Tav waited patiently as Barcus paced back and forth, every now and then letting out a pensive hum as he thought through his options. The fatigue of the day was already catching up to her despite their short time away from camp.

“Very well, I suppose if you’re going to Moonrise anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to have some company.”

“Glad to hear it. Find a spot, settle in. We’ll only be down here a couple more nights.” He seemed to relax a bit, but his eyes still darted around him.

“Is there something else?”

“I think one last gnome was left behind.” Barcus wrung his hands as he spoke with her.

“We still have some exploring to do, we can look for them.” Tav assured him.

“It would be most appreciated. His name is Skickpit, he wasn’t mining with the rest of us.”

“We’ll make our way back and find him.” Tav stood back up.

“That is most kind of you. Now, I think I’ll have a seat for a moment. It’s quite nice to not be surrounded by lava.” Barcus took a few steps toward the fire before turning to look back. “And, erm…thank you.”

Tav nodded back and followed him over to the fire to speak with Wyll and Halsin. If one of the gnome slaves had been left behind, she wasn’t going to leave them there to be tortured alone.

“What’s the word, Tav?” Wyll was finishing up his midday snack.

“One of the gnomes was left behind, he wasn’t mining with the others. I think we should go back and get him.”

“Today?” The concern in Halsin’s voice was obvious.

“I mean, we still have plenty of daylight, er, daytime…” She furrowed her brow. “Whatever you want to call it down here.”

“And you were just half dragged back to camp an hour ago, my friend.” Halsin countered, his voice ever gentle, yet firm.

“That was my own fault for touching Karlach. We took care of the duergar and Nere easily enough, getting one more gnome out should be no trouble at all.”

“If that’s true, then I’m sure the others could manage without you so you can rest.” Halsin still insisted.

“I don’t need to rest, you got me all healed up.” Tav was smiling, but her words came out through gritted teeth.

“You said your magic is spent for the day.”

“Yeah? And do you think I carry this bow around just for show?”

He just pursed his lips in response, those smoldering eyes trying to burn into her soul. Despite how weak it made her knees feel, she held his gaze.

Wyll cleared his throat, startling them out of their staring contest.

“I can’t help but agree with Tav. If the other duergar there catch wind of our little fight, that lone gnome could pay a heavy price.” His eyes shifted uneasily between the two elves as they exchanged their concerned glares.

“Exactly, thank you Wyll.” Tav crossed her arms. “I won’t let a slave we left behind pay for our attack.”

“Of course, forgive me.” Halsin stood up and gave her his typical fisted salute over his chest before walking away from them, sending a stab of guilt through her gut.

She had really thought he would understand. Surely Halsin of all people wouldn’t want them to leave someone behind in slavery, to be left as the sole bearer of retribution for the others’ escape?

“Would you see if Karlach will stay here? I don’t think we want to risk another incident with her engine.”

“Sure thing, shouldn’t take too much convincing.” Wyll slapped his knees as he stood up. “Perhaps we should split up. Leave a couple of people here to deliver Nere’s head while the rest re-infiltrate Grymforge?”

“Good plan. I’ll go get ready.” She had to go find her armor and load back up on potions and–

“Tav?”

She spun around to look at him again.

“You know no one here doubts your skills, right? Even so, sometimes we…worry about you. We can’t help it. Just as I’m sure you worry about us.” His eyes glanced at Halsin who was kneeling over his bag not far away, fighting to keep Scratch’s nose out of a pack of herbs.

“I know. It’s just…” She let out a frustrated grunt. Dealing with this underground slave ring was taking a toll on her, but she couldn’t tell them why. Not yet.

It was all getting to be too much. The tadpoles. Her family coming back to haunt her. Each new friend that had a long list of ailments and problems. Every day was two steps forward, one step back. Slowing their progress and gnawing endlessly at her subconscious.

“Do you ever feel that no matter how much good we do, no matter how much evil we see come to light, it really does feel as if it’s all for nothing? You said you’ve lived what, two hundred years? I’d wager that it would take some days for the two of us to recount the good deeds we’ve done yet it still feels like it’s but a drop of rain in the sea.” The sudden change in Wyll’s tone snapped her out of her spiral.

More from you than me I’m afraid.

“Yes.”

He gave a forlorn nod, averting his eyes to the ground.

“It’s easy to think that way when we spend so much of our lives fighting those evils. People like us don’t get breaks. We don’t get time to recover. We just keep pushing forward. But today?” She walked over to place a hand on his arm. “Today, we can see here in front of us the lives that we’ve changed for the better. And we know there’s one more that needs us.”

“It’s not just the gnomes here today that have you to thank.” Tav jumped as Halsin reappeared behind her. “You forget that I too would have met my demise if not for your kindness and bravery. Not to mention countless tieflings and druids at the Emerald Grove. Wyll, I want to be able to tell you that the weight upon your shoulders becomes lighter as time goes on but…” He trailed off to look at Tav again.

“Sometimes the best we can hope for instead is to find someone else willing to help bear it alongside us.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve found so many broad-shouldered friends.” Wyll’s dashing smile had returned at Halsin’s reassurance.

“What can I say? I’m happy to help where I can.”

“Thank you. Both of you.” He gave another small nod before running off toward the others.

“Sometimes I forget how young he is, even by human standards.” Tav watched as he jogged up to Karlach’s tent, where Gale had taken her place on the ground.

Oh gods, what are they talking about now?

“He’s right, you know.” Halsin rubbed the back of his neck before running the hand through his hair. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“We do worry about you.” He paused. “I…worry about you.”

“I know.” A small smile pulled at her lips.

“I don’t want to stop you from doing what you think is right. I just have a difficult time seeing you return in such a state is all.” He shifted nervously in place.

“And yet, I’m more comfortable putting myself in danger when I know I have you waiting here to help me.”

“Always.” He whispered the word, almost as if he didn’t mean to speak it aloud.

For a moment, the air between them was charged again. Unspoken, crackling desire pulsing to the same rhythm as their heartbeats. She almost dared not touch him, worried that it would send another spark to tease the fire always burning low in her stomach. But he reached out anyway.

The familiar feel of his arm around her shoulders as he pulled her into a hug caused an involuntary sigh.

“Please don’t take this old fool’s worries as a distrust of your abilities.” His voice was quiet when he pulled away from her. “Just try to be careful.”

Tav hugged herself back against his side.

“I’ll try.”

***

Tav took off to go and put her armor back on before they left for Grymforge again. Halsin felt a bout of shame rip through him. Once again, his personal feelings trying to cloud decisions being made for the good of the group, for the good of other innocents they were trying to help. Of course she could handle herself, and it was obvious that the others would also protect her. Yet for the second time, he watched as she was dragged back into camp horribly injured and the scene upset him more than he would have expected.

He was a healer, and a skilled one at that. Many of the injuries he had seen and tended to in his long life would churn even the strongest stomachs. But each time Tav was barely able to stumble back into camp whether it be from gashes, burns, or fatigue, the sight caused him to lose all reason and critical thought.

Knowing she was out risking her life each day made it all the more difficult to stay behind in camp. He wanted to help, he wanted to go explore and be by her side to support her. To support all of them. But he knew he couldn’t risk it. He had seen the state of their return on multiple occasions, he knew how many close calls they had already endured.

Regardless of the perils they faced in their daily outings, his priority had to be making it to Moonrise alive. He was the only one who could banish those shadows, Silvanus had made that clear. For now, he had to stay behind for the more dangerous parts of their journey. He had to stay alive and well for Thaniel and everyone touched by that wicked curse. Though little comfort it was to him, he told himself he could at least be here in camp ready to tend to their wounds.

When he looked up, Tav was trotting back over to the rest of them, her hands weaving the thick strands of her hair together behind her head to fix it back into her signature braid.

Wyll and Gale caught Tav and the others up on the items they found on Nere’s body. Astarion claimed a dagger and a pair of boots, while Wyll claimed a rather fine rapier. Tav plucked the mind flayer tadpole that had been harvested into a small vial and stored it away with the others they collected. He wasn’t quite sure why they were keeping them; they had already refused to consume any to further their illithid powers.

Otherwise, there was a good number of valuables on the drow that they could at least sell. One last item seemed to catch Tav’s eye – a broken lantern.

“Have you figured out what left this residue?” She asked the others.

“I haven’t investigated it hardly at all, just pulled it off Nere’s body with the rest of the items.” Gale shrugged before holding out his hand to request the lantern.

He turned the odd contraption over in his hands as he studied the iron frames. One of his fingers drew a line in the dust before pinching the soft powder between his index finger and thumb.

“May I?” Halsin held his hand out as well. He held it up to his nose and lightly inhaled before also rolling a bit of the powder between his fingers. Based on the thin layer of dust inside of it, it didn’t appear to run on oil or even fire. This was more…shimmery? As if ground from pearls. He would have expected to see ash or scorch marks, but instead just that small gathering of powder in the cage. On the few glass panels that weren’t broken, there were grooves on the inside that almost looked like scratch marks.

“Is this…?” Gale hesitated. “Is this pixie dust?”

“By Silvanus…it is pixie dust. Wily little creatures.” He handed the lantern back to Tav. “Why would a drow have been carrying a pixie around in an old lantern?”

“I’ve no clue. We’ll keep an eye out once we go back across the lake.” Tav set the lantern back down.

“That means you’ll have to leave some of the duergar living long enough for us to ask about it, Tav.” Astarion was sitting on the ground next to them, trying on the boots he nabbed from their spoils. She shot a glare back at him in response.

“We can question them first, but regardless we will be leaving with that final captive gnome. If that means we kill the rest of the duergar, so be it.” She spat the words with a particularly vicious venom that caused the others to exchange nervous glances.

Something else was bothering Tav, Halsin was sure of it. The pure vitriol seeping from her when she spoke of the slavers…

The contempt in her voice was such a stark difference from her typical demeanor. She had said her father was a cruel man, could he have been tied to a slavery business? Or gods forbid could she have been part of one herself? A shudder ran though his body, shaking the thoughts away. Best not to let his mind run amok right now.

“Okay, then. Karlach and Wyll are staying here to deliver Nere’s head and escort the gnomes to the myconid colony. The rest of us will go across the lake again. Once we have the area cleared and the last gnome rescued, Gale will set a travel rune so we can bring the rest of you as well.” Tav recounted their plan with effortless clarity while she also checked the tension of her bow and adjusted the straps of her armor. Every time he sat and watched her command the attention of a large group, he found himself in awe of her.

“See you soon, gang!” Karlach waved as they started to make their way past camp then turned to Halsin. “Feel like talking a walk with us, bear man?” She smiled at him as she slung the cloth containing the drow head over her shoulder.

“I’d be happy to.” The myconids were close by, and taking a short walk might help clear his head. But for just the briefest moment, he could have sworn he saw disappointment flash across Wyll’s face.

[maplecornia]

chapter six

m.list | sea of treasure m.list | bts m.list | ateez m.list | stray kids m.list | playlist

word count :: 2.64K

pairing(s) :: taehyung x female!reader | mingi x female!oc | hyunjin x female!oc | jimin x female!oc | jungkook x female!oc

genre :: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | idol au

summary :: "is it worth it to be selfish?"

warnings (constantly updated) :: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2025 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language | mentions of rape | childhood trauma | multiple forms of abuse | mentions of blood and injuries | toxic relationships | mentions of alcohol and drugs | r*pe | assault | graphic depictions of all the above

taglist [OPEN] :: @myork | @eunbinism | @soobmint | @jaeyunverse | @hyunjxnxee | @yesv01 | @kpopppy | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear | @mangminnie | @cana | @eridanuswave | @kodzuskook | @gongiz

The world is cruel. 

You've always known this. You've experienced it firsthand, saw the innocence of your childhood naivety fade away as you became a victim to just how cruel the world could be. It is a well-known fact we are warned of from birth, a fact which we accept and are rendered helpless to change, no matter how much we wish it. We live our lives dancing around it, hoping that we are so lucky to never experience it, praying that we can preserve our rose-colored lenses and keep them from shattering beneath the weight; no matter how foolish it may be to wish for it. 

However, it is a different kind of cruelty you experience now as you scroll through the tags on your phone across multiple social media platforms. 

Hatred is to be expected from any celebrity, and any person who finds themselves heavily scrutinized beneath the public eye. Though it is a sad fact that only speaks to the worst parts of our humanity, it is a fact nonetheless, and you were aware of it long before you signed that contract. Especially after the stunt you pulled a few months ago, you had grown to expect it, knowing it was bound to come in waves.

Countless people cursing your name, making assumptions about your character and who you are when they wouldn't know the first thing, faceless names flashing across the screen screaming profanities and insults that go further than the ones you had tried to prepare yourself to hear. Words that cut deep and true every time you come across them, finding their mark and lodging themselves deep into your heart, in a way you had never expected them to. 

They are no different than words you had heard before, no different than the voices that speak their poison into your mind when you find yourself at your weakest, but it is somewhat worse to see them materialize in front of your eyes. 

Perhaps that is the difference. 

That the worst parts of yourself are what they see. That it's not just in your head. That they are right, even when they are wrong. They speak on your insecurities, your faults, your secrets, the things you have tried so hard to keep buried deep in your mind. They whisper the things you yourself have whispered in your mind. Words meant to cut as deep as they can. Words created to wound and injure. 

Perhaps that is why they're so cruel.

Because they are truths you cannot find within yourself to accept as real. 

"What are you doing?" 

You are quick to hide your phone as Melody walks up behind you, but she has already seen the comments. She has been watching you for a while, seen the way the look in your eyes changed, the way you began to tense, your finger shaking each time you pressed it to the screen to scroll to the next comment. She knows that when you turn to her, the smile on your face is to hide the dull look in your eyes. That your laugh is not one of surprise, but apprehension as you fumble to turn off your screen and place your phone safely out of her sight. 

"Nothing really." You clear your throat when she comes to sit next to you, avoiding her careful stare. "Just surfing the internet." 

"Right." Melody can't help but scoff as she pulls her legs up on the bench, crossing them precariously. "You're lucky you still have your phone, I remember how hard it was when they took mine." 

You smirk, recalling the chaos that ensued that first month while Melody prepared for her debut. She had already moved into the dorms at that time, but given the overprotective nature of your mother, and the fact that she was still a high school student at the time, it was extremely stressful for both of you when you couldn't reach her. Since you were working at Melody's company at the time, your mother used to rely on you to bring home-cooked meals to her dorm, sneak in calls and updates whenever you could, and check up on her from time to time to make sure she was doing well. 

That was a month before you left her the first time. 

Stealing a glance her way, you wonder how you could have been so blind to her pain back then. You were meant to look after her, and yet you left the minute it was the most ideal. All because you were so focused on your own jealousies and insecurities watching her achieve the dream you had fought so hard to build, you had almost forgotten she worked just as hard. 

You had fooled yourself into thinking you left her behind for her sake, but you were just a coward. Running away the minute it gets too hard like you always do. 

You stare at the phone you had been twirling absentmindedly in your hands, catching your pathetic reflection on the screen. 

Perhaps you deserve all of this. After all, it is nothing less than what your sister had to endure. At least you have someone to lean on, at least you know there are people who are there to support you. She lost that the minute you abandoned her to face the cruelties of the world alone. Is it not right that you should carry the same burden alone? 

"Do you think they're happy?" 

You pause at the soft question, following Melody's gaze to see her watching Jocelynn and Jimin bicker over who should load her boxes into his trunk. They've been at it for a while now and have barely managed to load three boxes into the trunk, two of them snuck in by Jocelynn when Jimin wasn't looking. 

Jimin came by a couple of hours ago to help the three of you finish packing and was going to drive Jocelynn home and help her unpack while you and Melody headed home. 

"They look happy." You smile softly as you watch the two of them, the smile on your mother's face warming your heart. 

"Just because someone looks happy doesn't mean that they are." Melody murmurs, and you turn to her. She doesn't meet your eyes, but you can see the strange, somber look on her face as she watches the scene. "You know that better than anyone." 

The words don't cut as you had thought they would, but perhaps they were not meant to. They feel more like a plea. A desperate request to stop hiding around her, to take off the mask and show her everything you had thought you were protecting her from. 

Somehow, that hurts more than the vicious words she has said in her anger. 

Somehow it cuts deeper than any knife ever could. 

For she has seen the side of you you have tried so hard to hide, and you were not able to protect her as you had once promised her you would. Her rose-colored lenses shattered the minute you left her side, and there is no going back to how it was before. 

You swallow hard, looking away. 

"I think they are happy, they're just scared." 

Jimin wins the argument when he's able to snatch the massive box behind Jocelynn and hurries to load it into the car, blocking her current advances to do it herself. When Jimin returns and snatches the box Jocelynn carries in her arms with a sweet smile, she can't help but laugh, rendered helpless to fight him when he carries it to the car. 

"Of what?" 

"To admit their feelings. Both to themselves and to each other." You smile sadly, wondering how long the smiles they wear now will last. Wondering what obstacle they'll encounter on their path to finding a way they can hold each other in their arms without having to apologize for it. "They've already brought each other so much pain, I can only imagine they're wondering if it's worth it to be selfish." 

"Is it?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Is it worth it to be selfish?" 

You freeze at the question, staring straight as the two of you find yourselves unable to stare at each other. Almost afraid to face the truth. 

Melody has half the mind to take back the words, words she had never meant to say in the first place, but her anger and pride get in the way. They lead to her hands tightening around her legs, digging deep into her skin at the reminder of her sister's betrayal. A reminder that refuses to leave her subconscious no matter how many times she wishes she could forget. No matter how many times she wishes to stay by her sister's side and go back to the way things were. But this is not something they can just brush away as water under the bridge. 

You know that just as well as she does. 

"Melody--" 

"If you say you're sorry one more time, I swear to God I'm going to lose it." 

You scoff, running your fingers through your hair in frustration. 

"I just...I don't know what you want me to do." 

"How about pausing for one second to think about how I feel?" 

You turn to her, finding her gaze focused intensely on her clasped fingers around her knees. They fidget with the holes in her jeans, playing nervously with the stray strings of the fabric. You wish you could take her hands into your own and hold tight to them until her nerves fade away and she is able to look at you again and see the sincerity in your eyes. 

"What are you talking about? I care about how you feel." 

But she doesn't need to. 

After all, she can hear the sincerity clear as day in your words. She can feel it, hot and intense on her skin as your eyes plead with her to look your way. She knows you care, sometimes more than you care about yourself. She knows you blame yourself, she can see as the guilt eats you up inside day after day, can feel it in every look, every glance you send her way. 

That's why it hurt so much, why it still hurts. 

"It's not about caring, it's about understanding, and you don't understand, you haven't even tried to." She shakes her head, taking a shaky breath, her voice heavy with tears as she continues. "Yen, you were my everything. You were more than a sister to me, you were my best friend, the one person I thought I could always rely on no matter what. And then the moment I needed you the most, the moment where I was at my darkest, you just left me behind."

You were someone who loved her, cared for her before anything else. You helped raise her, she relied on you, trusted you with her life, did everything for you because she knew you did the same for her. You always thought of her before yourself, always put her first, always willing to give up your happiness for hers every time.

You still do, even as she actively tries to push you away. 

And yet, it was still easy for you to leave her behind. 

"Do you know how that feels? Watching the person you trust most in the world, the person you've admired ever since you could understand the word, just leave like it was nothing? Like I was nothing?" 

When your sister was born, you knew it was your job to protect her. You did everything to make sure she was never hurt and tried your best to keep her from the cruelties of the world. So much so that you put aside your own needs, your own selfish desires, gave up on what was best for yourself in order to give her the life she deserved. The life you were never fortunate enough to indulge in. 

You would have never thought you would be the reason she crumbled beneath the weight the world put on her shoulders. You would have never allowed it. And yet, it was your selfishness and your fault alone that led to her downfall. 

"I never intended to make you feel that way." 

"You didn't speak to me for months." Melody scoffs, the smile on her face faint and bitter. "The first I heard from you was when you were calling me because our mother had been assaulted, and that was days after you had already known!" 

"Melody I--" 

"I understand why you did what you did. I understand why you felt it was the best option for you, and why you felt like you had to escape." This time, when she looks your way, her eyes are not full of anger and hatred. They are instead full of an immense wave of bitter loss and blame that she cannot direct to anyone else but you. "But you can't even stop pitying yourself long enough to understand my side." 

Her lips shake when she smiles, chuckling a little at the look on your face. So full of regret and shame that she cannot stand to look at it for too long, lest the very same guilt that eats at your insides begins to afflict her as well.

And as she shivers, hurriedly wiping away her tears, you wonder if you should hug her. If she would let you, for just this moment, hold her and comfort her until you knew she was going to be okay again. Is that even your place anymore? Are you even allowed to hope that she will one day let you resume the supporting role you had so faithfully carried on for her up until this point? That you can somehow build up the trust you had lost the minute you stepped out of that door? 

But before you can answer any of those questions. Before you can muster up the courage to reach out your hand, just to see if she will take it, the bus arrives, screeching to a stop in front of you. Your hand falls to your side, and her tears are gone, reduced to a small sniffle as she stands. 

"You didn't just hurt me, Yen. You betrayed me." When she looks at you, smiling sadly over her shoulder, you know there is nothing you can say, nothing you can do right now to reassure her. "It's not something I'm going to be able to get over." 

What's done is done, and this time, it is she who leaves you behind. She looks behind, only once, a cold and indifferent glance over the shoulder before she turns to the driver. 

"She's not coming." She says, plain and simple before turning away and finding her seat on the bus. When the bus driver looks to you for confirmation, you nod, watching helplessly as the doors close in front of you and they drive away. And as you pull your eyes away from the retreating vehicle, it is only then that you see Taehyung, waiting for you across the street. 

You can't help but breathe a sigh of relief when you spot him, smiling softly at the way he leans against the side of his car, scanning the street for you. You can't help the warmth that blooms in your chest when those eyes finally catch yours and he grins, waving you over to his side. 

And you realize you can’t answer Melody’s question. 

You don’t know if your selfishness is worth it. You don’t know if you’ll someday grow to regret it. All you know is the jump in your chest when his eyes meet yours. The flush in your cheeks as he smiles your way. The desire deep in your heart as you long to run to him and hold him in your arms always. All you know is the heavy want to hear him call you mine. 

If that makes you selfish, then you suppose that is what you are. You suppose that is your deepest wish. To be selfish for just a little while longer. To be allowed to stand by his side even if it means you will grow to regret it. Even if it means you will have to face the world’s cruelty for the rest of your days, you wish to do it. 

For that is all you can hope for. 

Just a little more time.

CH.07 HERE

[tremendum]

be like me [v]

trust

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her) rating: explicit for violence and sexual themes.  (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.4k summary:   there are few things in this galaxy that made Mando want to run, and you were one of them. because he is starting to see himself in you, and you in him.  warnings: canon-typical violence, graphic depictions of violence, blood, and injury, reader gets injured, reader gets verbally sexually assaulted, slimy gross men, mentions of sexual themes, minor character death, attempted kidnapping lol, use of one Bacta shot so needles, lots of fluff like tooth rotting pining notes:  here’s part 5! thanks for all the love, it makes me smile to see all the feedback ive been getting!! this chapter is kicking things up in the storyline a bit more, and ramping up to the next chapter! i hope yall enjoy, and as always feedback/reblogs/likes are v much appreciated!  also let me know if your tag didnt work/if i missed u it got a little weird lol. 

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★  

your stay on Valara soured quicker than Eopie milk the moment your bounty was sealed into carbonite. 

the moment he'd fastened off the bounty to his frozen fate, Mando was as silent as the day you'd met. you could feel the anger brewing beneath his armor, festering and boiling as you stand on doe-legs; your jaw clenches in anxiety as you watch him storm past you, helmet not so much as tilting in your direction as he slams his hand against the hydraulics to open the entrance to the Crest.  "Mando, where are you going?" you ask, voice strong despite its retirement from the last forty-five minutes. 

a helmet whips over to even with you, as if just remembering your presence. "I need to get more information about where the drop was. it was weeks ago, Zuca could be anywhere by now." 

"okay, well-" you know you should mention whatever just happened, or maybe you shouldn't - you don't know what to do, Maker, everything happened so quick; your heart hasn't calmed down, you can feel his proximity still on your skin, his hand on your hip, the burning hand over your mouth... his thick thigh with its beskar casing against your aching cunt. every step you take is a reminder of the slick between your thighs, the absence of an orgasm leaving you foggy-brained and erratic. you shiver, a mixture between desire and fear - there's a bounty on your head. yours. and with your face in the galactic system and your Mandalorian shadow, almost anyone could find you. 

"no. stay here." he commands it. you barely move your mouth to speak before he's pointing at you sternly, "don't try to argue. it's not safe." 

you know he's right, but you furrow your brows, "exactly, which is why we should be leaving." you glare. is there even a brain behind that tin helmet? your chest heaves with a vicious rage; maybe it's your newfound freedom, or perhaps its something entirely different inside of you. but there's a clear change, you can feel it. you've felt it in the last few weeks. 

you're just so angry all the time - full of rage, full of the red hot desire for revenge that keeps guiding your mouth and hands before your brain can even consider the options. 

"were you not just in the same bathroom as I was?" Mando snaps, voice angry as he points out of the Crest towards the direction of town, "I know you heard what they said in there. they'll be looking for you. I need to protect the the kid, and it's a lot easier to get things done when I'm not also dealing with you." his voice is his regular, deep rumble, but it's angry and laced with something you can't recognize. 

you have to fight the flustered feelings in your chest at his mention of the bathroom from the cantina, but as he finishes his sentence, anger flares ruthlessly in your chest as you take a step forward, fists tightening. 

weeks ago, had any of this happened, you'd have cowered, sat back, just let it happen. you'd have simply closed your eyes with a deep breath and dreamt of the day where you find your family; now, you're boiling over, the anger making you wish you could snap his neck; put a laser straight through his stupid kriffing helmet visor. 

"do you really think they'll be anywhere other than the outpost? Batuu is not that big, you told me that yourself." you take staggering breaths to calm yourself, confused as to why he wasn't listening. "for someone who hunts bounty for a living, you sure aren't trying very hard to catch it." 

Mando takes a menacing step forward, closer to you. "I'm trying to keep you alive. which, if you can't tell, is not the easiest thing." 

you're seeing red. "well, sorry if I'm not more grateful. you're only keeping me alive to use as insurance for your precious credits." you spit, the words feeling foreign on your tongue; "collateral, right, Mandalorian? some bounty hunter you are." you shouldn't be insulting his profession, but there's nothing that can stop the rage that boils within you. every second you stay on this moon is one less second you'll have with your family. 

you turn away, intending to storm up into the ship's body and away from the infuriating man. but his words that follow just ignite the flames even more, "you don't know the first thing about hunting." 

"then TEACH ME!" you all but scream, turning around again, irritation boiling over and spilling through your voice. you feel strong emotions hitting your eyes at your mention of collateral: yes, at first it'd seemed like this was true, but recently it'd felt, perhaps, as though he'd kept you around because he liked your company. it just made it all the more painful as he grumbles out his next words, the wind of the night breeze ruffling his cape gently. 

"i tried. but a few weeks out of the nest and you suddenly think you're invincible." his voice is maliciously sarcastic, full of spite. it twists the blade of his words deep inside of you, corkscrewing viciously as you take a sharp breath. 

"out of the nest?!" you snarl, wheeling back around towards him. how dare he make it sound like you were just some sweet little innocent girl who stumbled too far away from home - how dare he insinuate anything about your life before him? "are you kidding?" you're shocked, overwhelmed with the emotions that swirl in your gut, a sour taste in your mouth. 

the two of you are like bombs. lighting each other's fuse and then dousing each other in kerosene, just to see who blows first. it was a fire lit the moment you'd stepped into that stall in the cantina; he'd coaxed feelings out of you that you'd never even imagined before... you shudder. you don't understand why it's gotten so bad recently, why you're so frustrated - but he's been just as bad. 

despite yourself, a tear of frustration slides down your cheek. quickly you whip it away, holding your ground as Mando crosses his arms, "you know-"  "-no, stop it!" you interject. your fingers wish to throw something at him, kick him - or hit him without breaking your fist. "fuck, Mando," you feel your eyes well up with emotion as you throw your worst look his way. "you've never trusted me. I know Zuca and the Ark'uz'iman. did you ever consider that I might have some good insight for you?" 

it's quiet, and in the silence you can't held but shake your head, the anger simmering back down as you stare in wait. but it's Mando, and he's never been one to apologize. something in you deflates. you don't know why you ever allowed yourself to get your hopes up about him. 

he's a weapon. a killer. he could never care for you. 

Mando takes a breath. "fine, we'll go to Batuu. but I taught you how to wield a blaster," he shoves the hilt of it into your chest harshly, as he moves towards the ladder of the hull, "so you better use it this time." 

you glare at the back of his head as he walks away. 

--

Batuu's outpost is as deteriorated as your spirits when you and Mando trudged into town. 

the rain leaks through the rafters that cover the market and dribbles down onto the cobblestone, the quiet bustling of the natives hushed and calm. lanterns are strung up above your heads, twinkling and reflecting onto the wet stone as though they were little stars. the market must have once been fruitful, lively - but it's now riddled with hushed whispers, empty vendor kiosks, Batuuian rats, and old stains of mysterious maroon splatters. 

"look." Mando says stiffly, nodding up towards a rickety sign that swings in the rain; you have to fight the downpour to look up even through the partial cover of shelter. there's the insignia of the very syndicate you'd been tethered to for years, sitting plainly on a rusted metal, brazen and in the open. a huff escapes your lips, dry and unimpressed: it's insulting how little they tried to hide themselves in this outpost. 

"subtle." you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. Ark'uz'iman was once strong, but in the years since the fall of the Empire, it'd also fallen from its grace; there was nobody to hold guard in the entrance to the building at all as you follow Mando through the alleyway and duck into the small hall that leads into the building. 

your fingers are tight around the blaster at your thigh, swallowing back the warmth of your throat when Mando mutters, "stay close to me." 

you roll your eyes, about to mutter something witty back before he stops in his tracks, coming upon a large room that holds crates of galactic goods; your eyes graze over the weapons stacked in the crates, strewn between canned bantha meat and other smuggled delicacies. 

there are voices in the room, too. they're subtle, quiet, and you have to strain yourself to hear them. "there's six of them." Mando says quietly, and your brows barely furrow before you remember he's got heat sensors in his helmet. 

your throat goes dry at the thought of him using his heat sensors - has he done it around you? could he tell how weak he made you between your legs when he so much as spoke to you? 

you shake out of it as he motions for you to follow him, his helm poking over to corner briefly before turning back to you, "none of them are Zuca. they're all wearing green." 

you nod, not surprised. you doubt he'd still be here, after all. he's probably out in another planet, indulging in whatever sins he can get his hands on. or, perhaps, he's out there somewhere looking for you too. 

"the green jackets are for smugglers. none of them will know where he is." you whisper back, but a call from the room makes your head whip back, "hey!" 

as if on command, Mando whips around the wall and starts shooting; you're frozen for a second, the fear gripping you like a vice - you'd never really fought someone yet besides Mando; and you know that no matter how much he denies it, he goes easy on you. 

but these people are unforgivable; the scum of the galaxy, fueling hate and agony and danger and despair. 

the thought alone springs you into action, sliding yourself around in order to latch your sight onto one of the men in the room shooting at Mando; your first shot bounces off the wall and explodes a crate of jargon fruit cans. 

gritting your teeth, your face heats in embarrassment, dodging a shot that singes a few strands of your hair. your next shot in return hits the wall but then reflexes into the man's back, sending him yelling to the ground. he's out in an instant, your arm buzzes as your chest constricts - you just took someone's life. 

a grunt of pain snaps you out of it again as Mando's arm jerks back, a shot taking a rip out of his flight suit at the elbow. you don't hesitate as your blaster's triggered, hitting Mando's shooter right in the chest. 

the one to your left starts to charge towards you, catching you off guard as you shoot at the one near Mando. his arms are strong as they grab you, lifting you off the ground. panic floods through you at the feeling of his arms on you and you let out a scream, groaning as your breath leaves you.

you try to jab backwards towards the man's chest, but he lifts you and pulls back, effectively pushing hard into your chest cavity, a sickening crack following a searing pain that blossoms in your ribs. you let out a strangled, pained yelp, struggling to breath as the pain spreads, licking your throat, your stomach, your arms. the room smells like smoke and blaster residue, the other man shooting at Mando and lighting the room up with blaster red as the shots ricochet off of his beskar. you're panicking as you struggle in the man's arms - you can't suck in a breath, it hurts, so bad-  (you have to remember to breathe, cyar'ika.)

in a split second, you suck in a sharp inhale before slamming your heel down hard against the man's foot, the cracking noise sickening against your ragged breath. there's a chink in his hold as he reels from the pain and you kick back again, hitting his shin this time. it's a good thing this man wasn't wearing the beskar you'd grown accustomed to fighting against. 

you fall away from him, sliding towards Mando's legs as you roll, protecting your side as much as you can. you grab your blaster as you slide, and when you stand, the man who'd held you is crumpled on the ground with a shot through his forehead. your chest throbs along with your heartbeat, the pain making your vision swerve for a moment. you gasp to catch your breath, each shallow gulp ringing pain down your side. 

the last one standing raises his blaster; but as your eyes take in his face, the excersized flush drains from your face. 

you recognize him instantly. "Vros." your voice is strong and cuts through the droplets of water that trickle down the gutters outside. just when he looks at you, you pull the trigger, barely adjusting your aim. 

instead of hitting his chest, his own pistol flies from his grasp; he lets out a strangled yell of pain as he clutches his hand, the smoke rising calmly from the wound in his palm. Mando kicks back the pistol as it skitters towards you both and you tuck it into your waistband. 

Vros. one of Zuca's subalterns; he'd been based at Csilla's quarters for years with you, one of the largest confidants of your boss and certainly one of the most disgusting men you've ever known. shivers run down your spine, but you're shocked when you search for the fear you know would be instilled in you, instead coming up with red, hot anger. 

Mando's blaster is aimed at Vros's icy blue head as the man's eyes land on you. 

"oh, my my." Vros nods his head as his eyes take in your figure, "so what they say is true." 

you don't say anything, your heart thundering as your hand squeezes the pistol. Mando is unmoving beside you, a statue of cold resilience, of patience - he was letting you take the reins. 

at your silence, Vros grins, gesturing to you as if beckoning a lover. "i've missed you, pretty girl. i was wondering if you'd really left Csilla." he coos, and it's slimy as it slicks through his mouth. you feel sick. 

"where is he?" you grit your teeth. all you see in your mind is a blaster shot between the eyes of Zuca. 

"he's heartbroken." he chides, tsk-ing as he shakes his head, "he's been searching for you. he's going out to your old stomping grounds, you know." his eyes glint maliciously. 

your eyes widen; Zuca? on your home planet? your heart strikes cold with fear: he knows where your family is; what if he hurts them? is he going to use them as collateral for you? 

your heart flutters with yearning, desire... something else. you resist the urge to look up at Mando, yet you're still comforted by his warmth, the proximity of your two bodies. your stomach twists as you realize the burning smell is coming from Mando's arm wound, just to your right. 

"what planet?" you push, your pistol almost shaking with the anger that flows through your veins. but it's like you aren't saying anything, the way his eyes move over you, a grin on his face. 

"you clean up nicely, don't you? you want to come home with me tonight, girl?" he smirks at you, eyes dark. but you don't cower; no, you fume.  "Vros, where the fuck is he?" you ask evenly, hand leveled with the pistol down the barrel of his nose. 

but you're ignored, as always. Vros's eyes widen in understanding at his one-sided conversation. "oh, so you're... you're his. i see." his eyes flicker from you to Mando's looming figure. something sour swirls in your gut. "let me have her for a few hours, at least?" he smirks as he boldly asks Mando. Vros's words make you grit your teeth; want to squeeze his neck until it snaps. 

at Vros' prompting, Mando takes a step forward, concealing half of your figure. pressing forward, Mando's weapon threatens the man's skin with unwavering calmness. you can feel the anger that swirls up around Mando in plumes as he nearly growls, "where is Zuca?" 

but Vros still doesn't even bat an eye, instead craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you yet again from behind the concealment of Mando's wide body. "are you sure, Mando?" he looks to him, "I'd pay you handsomely for 'er. girls that look like her are worth hundreds of credits, even after i'm done with them-" 

and then there's a loud sound, an echo of a blaster shot and a moment of a scream; then it's quiet, the breeze running cold through your veins. 

Vros lays, lifeless, on the ground. Mando's blaster is smoking slightly as he lowers his arm - you can't tear your eyes away from the sickly smirk on Vros' lifeless body; the smile etched onto his blue face forever, grinning up at the stars. 

you blink, deflating. 

"you killed him." you state dumbly, anger starting to bubble up again in your chest. you look up at him as he turns to you, "why did you kriffing shoot him, Mando?" you yelp. he knew where Zuca was. he may have been your only chance. 

it's silent for a moment, the anger radiating off of you both and onto each other. something in you twists as you swear you can see a glint from behind the mask. 

"he wasn't going to tell us any more than he already had," he says simply. "he was spewing nonsense." 

you swallow dryly. that's for sure. 

your hands shake, the adrenaline of the fresh blood on your hands and your aching ribs causing tremors throughout your body. it doesn't go unnoticed by Mando. he says your name.

"are you okay?" he asks, hands jerking towards you before hesitating, hovering in the air awkwardly. they drop as quickly as they reached out, and it leaves you feeling colder than before. 

you swallow the bile that sits heavy in your throat, pressing your lips together slightly before nodding, not trusting your voice. you drop to your knees to avoid his stare, unable to look at that pitying feeling emanating from his mask. it makes you squirm. 

you rifle through Vros's dead body, trying to even your stuttering breaths as the pain throbs through you as you pull miscellaneous items out in search for anything that could hint as to where your home planet is. there's a fob in his pocket that you pull out quickly, pocketing the credits alongside it. Mando's staring at you, and you stare back, "what? it can't hurt to have some extra pocket money." you defend. 

"show me that." he says, palm out stretched towards you and the fob you hold. you simply place it in his hand, standing back up to your full height to examine it with him. 

there's an etched few symbols that you recognize faintly in your mind; it's associated with lights, a festival - your home. "this is- this is from my home." you say, surprised at the void in your voice where affection and yearning should be. 

Mando looks at you, "how are you sure?" 

you swallow. "i'm not." you admit honestly, the vulnerability leaking through your features, gnawing on your lip. this isn't the first time you've wondered if he's annoyed with the burden of your amnesia, but you realize now that the sweet sting of knowing it'd be so much easier if Zuca had never taken those memories from you is no longer just yours to bear. somehow, it almost makes you feel better despite the guilt that Mando can carry some of this weight alongside you. if he chooses. 

the fob turns over in his orange-tipped gloves. the leather is cracked, and the fabric is covered in jet grease, blaster residue, and a blue smudge that looks suspiciously like the Kid's breakfast. his flight suit is a dark, deep brown, creased from a lifetime of work; your eyes trail up slowly until they land on the wound that has cauterized but is red and angry nonetheless. a strike in your stomach pangs you: you were so fond of him... you almost flush in embarrassment. 

"-we still have some bacta in the Crest, right?" you say then, eyes not moving from where they observe his arm. your ribs are sharp as you take a breath, but you keep your eyes away from his gaze - the muscles underneath his left vambrace clench and flex as he turns over the fob in his hand. 

"I can tend to it later." he dismisses you easily, as though his injury was a splinter and not a shot wound. you shake your head at his pain tolerance, but you gulp. you're afraid to admit your fears of the break in your ribs - was it residue from the physical trauma you endured back at Csilla? were you still afraid of Mando, after everything? did you just want to prove to him that you aren't a burden? 

you lick your lips and swallow, knowing you can fight through it and possibly sneak off to find some healing ointment for yourself on your way back to the Crest. "maybe they have some information stowed here." you suggest, dropping it in hopes that he wont notice the pain laced onto your face. 

"it better not be DNA encrypted." he mutters, and you huff, wincing slightly at the sharp shooting of pain through your chest. your hand holds your side as you walk towards the hall, blaster raised, "you're telling me, Mando. I'm done pricking my fingers for this piece of shit." 

"I'm not going back to Ryloth with you ever again, that's for sure." Mando gently jokes as he kicks away the weapons and wipes the blood off his cuirass. you roll your eyes when his back is turned, hiding your grin as you slink around the room, grabbing some cans of food to stuff into your satchel. 

"there's something here." Mando's voice calls from behind you, sifting through several papers that look like receipts on the table next to a crate of automatic rifles. you find your way back to him with winded breaths, sharp pain stinging your chest. you grit your teeth through it - how the hell did Mando just walk around so normally with such wounds all the time? you come up beside him, blinking down at the full paper he holds in his grip: just to be met with your face staring back up at you.  "woah." you say dumbly, reading over your own file, as seen by the Ark'uz'iman syndicate. your name is up top, followed by your name day, height, age, an image of yourself; your throat dries up as you keep reading. 

Planet of Purchase: Daluuj. 

"Daluuj." you echo the words you read. "that's where i'm from..." you swallow thickly, emotions swirling around in your head heavily. your tongue feels heavy, but a sharp pain in your ribs makes you gasp. 

Mando's head turns down towards you, but you avert your gaze, grabbing the file from his hands, folding it to stick into your waistband. "can we- can we get back to the Crest?" you ask meekly, the sudden weight for the day pulling you down, drooping your eyelids. 

his hand falls onto your forearm with no hesitation this time; your eyes snap to the touch, surprised at the sudden contact. it's warm and feather-light, almost timid in nature. "are you okay?" his voice is soft when it hits your ears, sending a warmth striking down into your stomach.

you nearly shiver at the tenderness laced into his words, looking up at him through your lashes, "yeah. I kind of- I think that guy may have broke my rib. it's fine." you nod, shrugging lightly, playing off the pain as casual. 

he's stoic, hand resting on your arm as he stares down. the visor is dark, but you can feel the concern ebbing from him, as if his brows are drawn, eyes searching to assess your injury. you almost squirm under his attention. "come on, we have a Bacta shot back home." he draws away from you, making a beeline for the exit of the building. on his way out, he pockets two smuggled grenades for himself, holstering them on his belt; though his hesitation in the threshold of the entrance does not go unnoticed by you as he waits for you gently to catch up to him. 

you bite your lip; he was going to give you a Bacta shot? those are terribly expensive. you follow him, sticking close to his side as you walk out of the Ark'uz'iman building. 

but you don't notice the hooded figure's reflection in the rainy cobblestone until you're being tackled to the ground, a net smothering your body. 

you can't help the scream of pain that escapes you as the force of another body smacks you into the pavement, but you don't intend for it to be his name. "Mando!" 

you barely see through the net as Mando's soon shot with the same kind of netting as yours, a grunt as he smacks into the side of a market building. "dank ferrik!" he groans, struggling to fight against the restraints. you moan in pain, the sharp pain aching your whole body as you struggle against the person above you; they lay on top of you, struggling to force bindings onto you through the net. you kick hard, you head-butt, throw elbows, groaning as you struggle. 

hands grab at your sides roughly, pulling at your net and slamming you back down hard; you see stars float in your vision at the impact on your ribs and you can't breathe at all - kicking, shoving; your mind reels to remember everything Mando's taught you. 

finally, your hands grasp the dagger that lives on your hip, unsheathing it and swiping it across the figure's body near your head as hard as you can. your knife gets stuck in something hard and you can't help the cry from your throat at the sickening feeling of warm blood, dripping down from the perpetrator onto your own face.

the dagger stays sheathed in the body’s neck as it is thrown off of you with a force of a gundark. your scream ripples through the empty cobblestone street, spitting furiously as you try to keep the foreign blood out of your mouth and your lungs full of air. 

hands grab you and you kick hard, your knee contacting hard metal that sends echoes of agony throughout your shin - beskar. "M-Mando, fuck." you whimper, pain searing though you as your companion pulls apart the net that suffocates you, his own still caught by his legs and hip. 

he shushes you, looking around as you blink the pain and stars from your eyes, hands shaking to help him rip apart the net. "he was a hunter." Mando explains, looking back from the slumped, lifeless body to your right. "he had our pucks." 

you're dizzy, exhausted, and you let your head fall against the wet cobblestone, eyes closed as you tilt up towards the weeping sky; fuck, you needed help. you were hurt, and you needed help. "M-Mando," you gasp out with a wince, opening your eyes and craning to look at where he crouches next to you, "it hurts." you sound broken, and you hate it. the man's blood flows off of your face and throat in streaks, the hot, thick liquid mixing with the light and viscous rainfall as they swirl into the street. you spit his blood from your mouth, fighting the rising bile. 

"we're going back. can you stand?" he asks, leaning back as you try to sit up, a sharp pain stuttering your movement until you wail, jerking back in pain. "fuck," you hiss lowly, hands shaking as they come up to your abdomen. "sorry." you groan, shaking your head. 

Mando's glove falls onto your shoulder, the touch warm and unprecedented; you nearly jump as your eyes fall onto his mask. droplets of rain slick down his helmet, curving into the contours of false cheekbones; your eyes follow their small trails and you wonder if they curve into his skin, along the phantom jawline you'd so dreamt of in the dark hours of the night. 

"okay." his hands slowly move, snaking under your knees and shoulders gently, "I'll have to carry you. hold on to me and try not to move." 

his voice is gentle in his instructions as he starts to lift up, your groans cutting through the trickling of rain gutters; the outpost was miserable and desolate, and your cries fell upon empty alleys. 

you don't remember much from the end of the walk back - your hand streaked with someone's blood upon his contoured helmet, holding on as if it was tethering you to this realm; everything fades fast until the sway back and forth of Mando's pace and the thrum of his heart against your cheek carries you into Mando's quarters, strewn onto the bed. 

-- 

Mando hoped you couldn't tell how badly his hands were shaking. 

you lay now, spread before him on top of his charcoal sheets - an image he'd seen in his mind countless times the last few weeks, though always in this circumstance. 

in his mind's eye, you'd always be writhing around in pleasure, face flustered as he took you apart; methodical, slowly, passionately. your hair would be splayed out on his sad, flat pillow, your eyes shining with pleasure, ecstasy. 

but as he looks down at you, all your eyes hold is pain.

Mando, you breathe out. his breath hitches as he leans down, setting the med pack next to you; he reminds himself to thank you later for replenishing your stock of medical supplies on the last run.

"I am going to have to put it into your ribs." he says matter-of-factly, eyes searching your features for any more fear, but only finding acceptance. you nod sharply at him through your shallow breaths, your chest rising and falling sharply, "okay," you say smally. 

"I trust you."

his chest flutters at your words and he's thankful you can't see him blush as he nods at you, pulling out the prep swabs, alcohol, sterilized needle. 

despite his worry over your injury, he was so proud of you.

you hadn't even hesitated when you'd ran into all those members of the syndicate; you'd fought and avoided and dank ferrik, you'd even remembered to go for the feet and shins. and then, after he'd been shot - you'd stood and not hesitated to shoot the man who had shot him.

Mando watches you, the way your eyelashes flutter closed, the breath that puffs from your plumped lips through sweat-flushed cheeks; he swallows roughly. everything seemed so normal, you'd barely batted an eye after killing three men; those same hands which had trembled just a moon ago when they'd first held a blaster in their soft grasp.

he can't help the shuddering breath as he realizes it: you were becoming like him. 

it sends anxiety through his whole body, the crushing realization that you had been imbrued with the burden of another's life. your eyes, bright and more alluring than any sight in the whole galaxy: now dimmed with the pain that comes with his line of work. 

he'd broken countless ribs in his time, and it twists his stomach to see you go through it for the first time. you were corrupted by him. he sees that anger in you now - it's in your face, your eyes... there's a vengeful anger that spits words from your mouth when he tells you what to do, there's a stubbornness in your body when a threat poses itself. and then, there was Vros, the slime that Mando had lost control of and shot dead before they could get any more information. he shudders slightly, remembering the rage that boiled inside of him at the words he'd spoken about you. 

(girls that look like her are worth hundreds of credits, even after i'm done with them.)

the memory of it makes him clench his fists, resisting the urge to destroy. it makes him sick, the way that he couldn't control himself. you are dangerous for him, and you have no clue. 

as he gently coaxes your shirt up, coursing over the softness of your bare stomach, your hand falls onto his forearm fleetingly before falling to the cot below you. 

he sees the goosebumps on your skin under his gloves and it twists his heart even further: he'd been attracted to you immediately when he'd first seen you, though he knows he'd started to have feelings for you after only a few days of your company; that hurt him, it scared him - 

there are few things in this galaxy that made him want to run, and you were one of them. because he is starting to see himself in you, and you in him. 

you're staring at him again. 

it's weird when you do it, so openly, so devotedly, as if you couldn't bare to look away. as if you could see him through the mask; a stupid thought, he knows, but one he liked to indulge in nonetheless. 

trust was a hard thing to find in this life. it was flimsy, fleeting, unreliable - but one thing that's been constant is you. you're changing, he can feel it, but throughout it all, all of the fear, the anger, the ambivalence, the arguments that seem to bubble up daily between you and his clashing personalities; through it all, you were there. 

he's realized after saving the kid that even someone like him, with a life like his, needs love. 

and you are a testament to that. 

Mando knows his strength, he knows that he could plow through a crowd to get to what he needed; but as he looks down at you in pain, near tears on his bed because of him, it's simple. it's clear.

he'd put the entire universe to the blade for you. every time. 

-- 

you're stuck in the world of your discomfort until Mando's gentle tone cuts through the ship. the kid is in his pram, wide eyes peeking over the edge in concern. you smile to him weakly, cooing softly. his head tilts back in response. 

"are you ready?" is all he says, voice low. you swallow, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow, "yes." you respond, breathing shallowly. he nods once, moving to set down the sterilized needle onto the side table before moving to pull at his gloves.

your eyes widen as the first one is removed, a hand that nearly glows in the damp room in its bareness. his skin is tanned, the same tone as the skin of his back you'd seen last; your breath leaves you this time not from pain, no, from wonder. 

you don't say anything until Mando's flicking the needle, testing the Bacta inside it. "you don't have to." you say gently. he doesn't have to. you know he could just as well give you this shot without taking his gloves off, he's certainly done everything else with them. no, he's chosen to take of his glove. to touch you. 

his helmet cants towards you, "I know I don't have to." he's sure. the butterflies flutter through your torso and it makes you bite back a sheepish grin, flustered by his kindness. 

you're helpless as his bare hands touch you. you're putty, pliant, giddy, full of wonder as the warmth of his dry hands cascade over your shivering body, gently easing the bacta shot into your ribs and soothing over it easily. you barely feel the sharp pinch as he injects you. 

"there, done." he leans over you slightly, until you open your eyes and see him looming over you. "it should start to work pretty soon." he nods. 

you send him a smile, a flush blossoming through your chest at the silence. he doesn't move, just staring down at you in peace. "so how'd I do? I shot someone." you say, the healing medicine of the Bacta shot soon coursing energy through you. you gently scoot, making room for Mando if he so chooses to sit next to you. 

he actually laughs at your words, you can see it in his shoulders and the way he shakes is head in amusement. it's a deep rumble that soothes your stomach and makes your cheeks heat up. "you did. a few people." 

you lift one shoulder, still breathing shallow as the pain starts to dissipate gently, slowly. "I'm sorry, though. that I got hurt. I just-" you cut yourself off, embarrassed. but Mando's patient for you, always. "i just thought maybe..." maybe you'd be proud of me, for how I fought. but you don't say that, "that if I wasn't there, you wouldn't have had to use the shot on me. and maybe you could have avoided getting hurt if I'd done better." 

your eyes fall pointedly to his arm, where the skin is still marred. 

"no, ka'ra, it's not your fault." he shakes his head, leaning down to his knees. you swallow as his helmet is evened with your eyes, kneeling down to your height. your handprint, crusted maroon with the blood of another man, is still smeared down the front of his helmet and it makes your heart thump in pain. "you did well. I'm glad I had you by my side."  

neither of you say anything; the air is tender, thick with the memories of the last few days and everything that's happened - you briefly wonder if Mando's even slept in the last cycle.

but soon, your breath catches in shock. Mando's slowly reaching out to thumb a loose strand of your hair, smoothing it gently and snugly near your temple.

his bare hand, the skin tingling against the intimate touch of your head; you're breathless, afraid to move to as to startle him. it's like sighting a rare, desired animal while hunting in the woods. his hand is warm and bare against you and it blankets you in a peaceful comfort. 

calmed by his gesture, your eyes flicker away, up towards the small ledge that holds the few items Mando keeps in his room: a spare handlight, one of the kid's llittle toy balls, and-

your heart skips.

the Sable, just next to his cot.

it sits, polished next to the other items, of which have caught a layer of dust. but the Sable, it sits proud and clean, as though he's cared for it all these weeks. he'd accepted your gratitude, he'd accepted your culture even though you didn't truly know it. you had no true religion, no culture, just a family waiting out there for you. and he'd accepted that. cherished it. 

you want to cry.

your swell of emotion must be misinterpreted by your companion as his touch lingers; his hand drops from your space gently. "look at me." he says gently. though just as his hand slips away, you catch it in your own grasp; warm skin on warm skin, the electric touch of two beings who long for a connection in a vast and isolated universe. 

you yearn to do it, to feel your lips pressed against his knuckles; to express your gratitude for everything he's done, despite how you sometimes treated him - but you don't. 

instead, your breath hits his hand warm and heave, a breath of thank you barely a whisper as it passes your devoted lips. he doesn't pull his hand away until you release it, and you finally break the moment by looking back up at him. 

"you did amazing, c'yare. and we know where to go. we will wait until you are healed." he says gently, affection lacing his words. it makes you grin, nodding a watery agreement. stars, you needed to rest.

amazing, he'd said. you want to mention the Sable. you should, you should tell him- you should tell him how fucking much he means, how important he and the kid are, how - how this is the one place in the universe you feel safe. but it doesn't allow itself to fall from your lips - not yet. 

"i wish i could be more like you." you say softly instead. you're feeling better and less in pain by the second, and the soft breath that falls from Mando's modulator eases your shoulders and swirls in your stomach. "no, you don't." he says gently, a lullaby that rocks you into a deep affection as he moves, rising up from crouching in front of you to sit next to you. he leaves a sizable space between you, his thigh not touching yours. 

staring down, your lips quirk up into a half-smile. despite your injuries, you can't believe you found out where your family is. you were going to finally find them. you don't let the tears fall, for fear that Mando may have a heart attack thinking he'd upset you again. 

"I guess," you start, turning to look at him as you pull the med kit towards you to begin your applications on his arm wound, "despite it all, it was a good thing. I'm going home. thank you for teaching me." 

Mando's pulling the child into his arm that is not occupied by your healing ministrations, "you are becoming a great fighter. I'm... I'm happy for you." you barely notice the lilt laced through his words. 

"you can't have success without a hiccup, right?" you lick your lips, repeating something Mando had mumbled to you once last week when you'd been repairing the Crest, "so I guess you can't have glory without a little gore." pulling out bacta wipes and bandages, distracting yourself from your shaking hands as you prepare to help Mando dress his own wound. 

it's silent, then with a huff of amusement, "that's why our faces are over every single bounty in this system, ka'ra." 

and despite yourself you grin. 

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next

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taglist: @toobsessedsstuff  @tizylish @millersdjarin @cloufire @kalea-bane @daddy-long-legolas

@dontletyourchildrenwatchthis   @ponyboys-sunsets @leithatnight​ @imobbssed

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[beautifulsnake2162020]

Higher Intervention: Aemond x FemReader (House of the Dragon x Sandman fanfic) Part 6

Disclaimer: This is a fanwork to show appreciation for the intellectual properties used. I also haven't read Fire and Blood and most if not all that I know is from the TV show.

Gif by veinereastath

Premise: Alys Velaryon, older twin sister of Jace Velaryon is the only member among Rhaenyra's children whom Aemond cannot completely hate. As their love story progresses, a newer and larger threat complicates things and reveals discoveries that neither the greens or the blacks had ever imagined.

AN/CW: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST! This chapter contains some torture scenes that are not suitable for all audiences. I did my best not to be too graphic to the point of it being gory and mainly focused on the feelings being experienced. Having said that I'm not entirely sure if it will be your cup of tea so if you see this " XXX " This means that this is the start of the torture part and it ends with seeing this sign again. I made sure it was still fine for readers who wants to skip the torture scenes.

Anyway other CWs include: Suicidal thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, and various forms of abuse including physical, sexual, and psychological abuse. A mention of sexual objectification as a punishment.

If you wish to read the previous parts (which I recommend you do if you haven't read them yet):

Part 1 / Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5

Taglist (comment down below if you want to be included): @winxschester @memento-mora @mxrgodsstuff

Also tagging:

@lady-phasma @aemonds-war-crime @adderess @princeaemonds because some of their ideas of Aemond have undoubtedly influenced my work.

First, the confession.

After meeting with the contacts provided to work out the possible logistics and implementation of your proposed counsel as well as making sure some clarifications were addressed, you made your way to the place that filled you with dread for what you are about to do. Vereena and Kayla had made sure you had a full stomach filled with your favorite foods in your chambers. Both of them know what is to come and that you won't be able to eat good quality food for awhile. How Kayla was able to convince the Yi Ti delegation to give you another roasted duck in the way they did it was beyond your understanding. You also return to your father his guards who have served you well, although a part of you knows that he will probably still send them to keep an eye on what you're doing.

"What do you wish to confess child?"

The septon looks at you with no judgment, or at least that's what he believes he is doing.

You sit beside him as you pour your heart out.

You need to believe in this for this to work.

Believe that the things you now confess are going to be yours now.

On your soul.

On your being.

Your confession and your repentance must have worked. You were guided to a room in the dormitory of sinners. Since your clothes were already quite plain you didn't need to change into the garb that they would have repentant sinners change into. You were given simple yet hearty meals. It wouldn't help any of them if the Targaryen they were going to publicly punish would be dead before they made their point.

But you didn't miss the look of sadistic delights among the members of the Faith militant as you surrendered yourself to them.

Second, the penance.

This in itself is divided into several different parts.

The first part of this was admitting your sins to the parties you've wronged. According to the Faith militant the more humiliating the experience is, the more pure the process of purification is for the repentant sinner.

You weren't surprised when from their Cloister Sept they wash and bathe you in preparation for your penance.

"You just need to say your sins and to apologize to every person you have offended child." Says the Septa who was braiding your hair so that it will be out of the way. After braiding it she ties your hair into a bun. You were given a clue of what they have in store for you once your penance in court was concluded. You were allowed to have one last time of full rest before your suffering would begin. One last hearty meal before you began your journey walking towards the Red Keep from the Cloister Sept. On foot this took several days, with you at the center while you were surrounded by Septons, Septas and laypeople. You recall how you once travelled this road by carriage, and now you and the Faith militant are now travelling by foot. You all would rest in every Sept that was planned out along the way. They choose to suffer with you as they believe that their sins would also be purified along with your suffering.

You finally arrive at the entrance of the Red Keep. The guards were initially hesitant to allow non-nobility who were not part of the staff to enter. But then they see you at the center. It was only then that they were comfortable allowing your group to enter.

You and your group enters the court room. The last time you made a dramatic entrance in court was in your first few days have when you assisted your grandfather in intervening in the Driftmark trial.

And now as you enter again - the king is now on the Iron Throne. A lot healthier and much more mobile than he was last time. Still old and at risk for impending death, but there's no denying that he was a lot better than he was previously. Same as before, the blacks and the greens were on their respective sides. And once again everyone was staring at you. In particular both sets of your siblings, Aegon, Helaena, Ser Cole, Lord Larys Strong, and of course Aemond.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The King angrily says the moment you meet his eyes from where you were.

"Why do you have my granddaughter in shackles before me?!"

"Your grace." The lead septon says with two armed members of the Faith Militant on either side. He takes his time until some of the chatter has died down. With his back to you, your guess is that he must be revelling in his new found power at having you in his mercy.

"We are the Faith Militant. We are the armed forces of the Seven and no one wishes our wrath upon them. Need I remind you that Maegor only won our uprising against the crown by sheer luck?"

"Untrue septon! Do you forget septon that my family has dragons at our disposal?"

"To execute your own granddaughter - for the sins she has done against you? Why not? After all maybe we can now finally test if dragonfire is truly purifying." At the mention of you possibly dying the King calms down reluctantly. But you can see that your father's hand hovering over his sword or dagger. Aemond's expression is unreadable but you wager that he is doing his best to not act impulsively.

"May I remind you your grace, that this is not a matter of politics but a matter of faith. Right now if any of us are harmed by any of your guards, family, or courtiers, then that is a sign of religious persecution. Something that you don't want if we, the Faith Militant would continue tolerating the kind of marriages your family thrives on." And this was the final nail as the King and everyone begins to realize who exactly has the power this time. Both factions are involved in strategic incestuous marriages and neither side can afford to have those marriages be declared invalid.

"Aren't you lot disbanded? Or so that's what I hear since your defeat by Maegor."

"Only as an independent group. But we are still very much in the service of the Seven Prince Daemon." The lead Septa says as she tugs on the chains of your shackles as she goes behind you in facing your father. He snorts in amusement as he continues glaring at the Septa behind you.

"Yet even now you hide behind my daughter. Release my daughter and I'll forget you were even in my presence."

"Prince Daemon, she came to us."

"It doesn't matter, whatever she has done should be sorted from within my family. Not in a faith that is more than ready to punish any strange women."

"This is part of her penance Prince -" Your father draws his sword aiming for the Septa behind you but was deflected by one of the armed members who are with you.

"Daemon! Brother stand down."

"Rhaenyra and I married under the traditions of Old Valyria. We are not under these shits who say they have authority."

"If you don't want us to consider your marriage illicit you will put your sword down." The lead septon says as calmly as he can.

"No, let him draw his sword." You feel yourself pushed forward till your father's sword is almost touching your skin.

"If he wants to draw blood, then it should be the blood of his own stepdaughter. Every suffering she survives is a step closer to her purification." You try to calm yourself as your father's sword is close to your neck. You do your best not to look scared or cry.

But your father notices your expression. He notices the feelings you tried to hide.

And it was only then that he stands down and withdraws his sword safely away from your skin.

"Alys Velaryon is not here as a Princess. She is here as a repentant sinner - here to confess to you the crimes as part of her journey towards purification. We of the Faith Militant have decided to bring her here before you today since everyone she has committed an offense against would be present. Once she has finished her confession of sins she shall begin her actual purification on front of everyone." The lead septon then tugs on your chains as he forces you to walk on front of the King, and the main members of both factions.

"It's time to confess before your victims, sinner." With one last tug, you were made to kneel before everyone.

"I, Alys Velaryon, confess to the following offenses before his grace, the King, and all who hear me today." You take a breath before you begin what may be the most difficult part of it all.

But you need to believe they are yours.

These sins are now yours to claim.

And to suffer for.

"First, with the assistance of Larys Strong, I raped Ser Criston Cole in his sleep. Second, it is I who told Aemond of Vhagar no longer having a rider. Third, once he has claimed Vhagar when he was on his high after claiming Vhagar - it is I who punched him after he called me and my siblings bastards. It is I who slashed his face and made him lose his eye. It was I who betrayed him and ended our friendship in Driftmark."

"No."

"What in the Sevens is she doing?"

"Does she really expect us to believe this?"

"I don't entirely understand what she's doing."

"Whatever it is, things are going to get interesting."

"She was practically skin and bones when she emerged from Ser Cole's room. I have a hard time believing she's the one who forced herself on him."

"We all know this is bullshit - why is she claiming to have done these things?"

"Alys - granddaughter why? Why are you doing this to yourself?" At the sight of the King's face you decide to mix as much of the truth that would blend in with your confession.

"Because - because you have failed to solve this infighting!" You couldn't help the tears that are beginning to gather on your eyes. This was too important to suddenly ignore it through your tears.

"You have only tried solving the symptoms of the problem, not the problem itself. And the moment you die this infighting will become a civil war forcing our family to kill each other. And I am too weak and tired to let this go on any longer!" You breath back in some of your mucus that was threatening to pour out along with your tears.

"When Ser Cole called me a witch for exercising control over any man drawn to me, it began my reflection and realization that I was the source of the problem. I am a fraud! I am not a princess! I am only a bastard whore who deserves the worst treatment for tearing this family apart because of my sins." You straighten your back as you slowly stood up and met the King's worried eyes.

"And so I went to the Faith Militant to finally pour out my guilt and to seek repentance. Through their education I know now if I survive this purification, I will be nothing more than a slave to serve whomever master they sell me to. I am already ruined, and they are placing me back on the path of repentance."

There were more gasps and more comments but you couldn't bother. You could feel every single eye from both factions judging you.

"Well done sinner."

"Ouh." A choker made of thorns was placed on your neck from behind. You could feel the thorns piercing your skin little by little.

"Take her to the gallows. Now begins her next stage of purification."

"Wait - what's going to happen to her?" You hear Luce ask as you feel yourself dragged and pushed out.

"Oh just the standard torture methods -" You weren't able to hear beyond that as you were dragged to the gallows area. On the journey there you feel yourself being slapped, spitted on, and your plain clothes were being torn apart. What remains is your shift underneath your clothes

XXX

Before you knew it you were on the gallows. Gathered on front of the crowd.

And someone was pushing your head in a deep bucket of water.

"Repent."

"But I am -"

Underwater again.

"Claim your faults"

"I do."

Suffocation again.

"Suffer for your salvation."

You weren't able to respond. Your head was back in underwater. You weren't sure how many times more you were dunked.

Probably because you were brought back to the present when you felt the first sting of the whip on your bare back.

You just realized as another whip hits your back that your hands were now shackled around a wooden post. Your shift was sliced or torn open to reveal your back.

"Ah" You try to hold back from saying any sound. The thorns around your neck pressing against your skin by being pressed against the post was painful enough.

"Um." The stings become even more painful as they became faster and multiple people began to participate in injuring your back.

At some point you looked down and noticed some tiny streams of blood flowing down your chest. Probably from some of the thorns now piercing your skin.

Your mind began to numb as the whipping...were they even using whips?...Became more severe as they move to your sides. Maybe it was your own way of making sure you could endure this first part of the suffering. It was only when they had stopped because it was getting dark and rain was starting to fall down, that you realized that you had been crying out in pain. You could taste your own tears, and your throat felt dry from exhaustion.

Members of the Faith Militant then splash your back with salt water. You could feel the sting from the high concentration of salt in it. Then they unshackle you briefly only to move you into another contraption.

XXX

After the first part of your punishment was finished. Or so it seemed. The members of the Faith Militant now shackled you - this time from behind - around a metal post. The metal post had the seven pointed star in your head area. It's points mockingly acting as some sort of crown surrounding your head. If earlier the thorns were piercing the front of your neck, this time you had to be careful not to lean against the post. There seemed to be not much thorns compared to the front of the choker but if you could help it you would reduce the amount of suffering you currently had to endure - after all there was only more to come when you went back to the cloistered sept.

"It appears that the Seven has now blessed us with an incoming storm filled with lightning and thunder!" The lead septon cries out as you feel some of the pain that you've endured from earlier creep into your muscles.

"We have shackled the sinner into the symbol of the Seven! This is her first divine test! If the Seven spares her from being struck by lightning and thunder, she shall proceed to walk back to our cloister sept for her 30 days of solitude. And if she manages to survive those 30 days, then we shall give Prince Aemond the chance to remove her left eye for the offense she has caused him. And then she shall be given as a slave to Ser Criston Cole!"

The storm pours stronger and everyone else quickly go in search for shelter. If this is how the Seven or any divine being decides that you should die then so be it. You were too exhausted and in pain to even attempt to control the incoming lightning that was headed your way.

"If anyone out there can hear me - if you wish me to die, then smite me quickly!"

More rain, and now you hear the thunder. The sky was now dark and black with only the fires through the windows giving any sense of light amidst the continuing heavy downpour that was making things worse to see through.

"I'm too tired...I'm not strong...I'm too weak to be strong...to any being out there - end my misery...smite me in my sleep as I hang...as I hang from this post."

You feel the thorns prick against the underside of your chin as you surrender yourself to the whims of the thunderstorm.

You weren't able to enter into your dream bedroom nor play with Gregory or meet with the Sandman and his lovely wife.

Instead you had a dreamless sleep. Funny how you were also too exhausted to dream after the events of the day.

If you died now. Perhaps this was the best way.

After all you've already said your piece to everyone involved in the infighting. If you were to be the first casualty...

You just hope that the White Worm would keep her promise about being the one to make your proposed solution come true.

"Princess?" A soft voice slowly awakens you from whatever rest you had given yourself.

"Ser Arari?"

"It is about to be dawn. Quickly open your mouth. Drink some warm water." He guides you as you drink from his cup. As you slowly become more awake, you notice that he was not alone.

"My lady, here have some food. This porridge is still really warm. Priestess Kara made it herself when she and the other Holy women noticed the rain was ending."

"Don't worry Lady Alys, the three of us had made sure that none of the Faith Militant noticed our presence." Ser Ion says as he rubs salve over your wounds.

"Bu - but why?"

"My lady, we all know of the suffering you are about to endure. Allow us to help you alleviate some of it while we still can."

"That was really brave of you my lady." Your heart feels like breaking as Ser Kormy gives you a reassuring smile from under his hood.

"You are one of the strongest people I know. And what you have done really proves it."

"The acolyte is right. Dramatic? Yes, but sometimes dramatic measures needed to be taken for the point to be heard."

"I'm still rather upset that you didn't even attempt to at least guide the lightning away from you." You do your best to give him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry - I feel so exhausted to try and do it. And you've always said it's better to stay safe than to accidentally guide the lightning towards yourself."

"...It pains me to hear you say those words."

"What words Ser Arari?"

"That you're sorry."

"My colleague, at least this time she's saying it to something she has actually done."

"Or rather hasn't done. Oh I'm sorry lady Alys - I didn't mean -"

"It's fine Ser Kormy. I'm as fine as I can be."

"Oh Princess...your cries of pain as they dunked and whipped you had put a pain in our hearts."

"Why won't you let us help you? Or if not us then why not your allies in court?" Ser Ion asks in a mix of pain, anger, and sadness.

"Be - because...it is necessary...that I do this alone...there is no...other way for them...for them to -" You coughed heavily as all three of them looked at you in despair.

"Thank you, you three. But...I...need...to do this."

There was a reluctance in all of their ends to leave you. But after making sure that you ate enough and drank enough, they left as quickly as they came.

And that's when the sun rose.

And you were unshackled from the metal post with the seven pointed star.

Only for your next task to carry it on your own as you walked on foot to the way back to the cloister sept.

"Stop this." Aemond tries demanding the lead septon.

"Your highness, as a devout member of the Faith, surely you must know that this is necessary for her purification."

"I also know that the Faith highly promotes the truth. And the truth is that she is innocent of all the sins she has admitted to yesterday." You hear his tone become even more dangerous, but from what you can tell with the lead septon's back to you - Aemond was starting to get frustrated.

"And even if she were - she still bears so much guilt. Trust me your highness, we have all heavily evaluated her and all agree that this is the appropriate penance for her purification." Of course the Faith Militant wouldn't let you go. Now that you were under their power they will take this opportunity to sadistically release all their rage against your family. You were a bastard, a woman, accused of witchcraft, and most important of all - you did not have a dragon. Of all the members of your family who could've been placed in their power to abuse, you were the best one they could have hoped for. Someone with little to no power to retaliate against them.

The lead septon moves to order your unshackling before Aemond tries once again.

"Does the Faith not also prize forgiveness?"

"Of course it does your highness."

"Then as the alleged victim of one of her offenses, I forgive her from her sin against me." He does not let the septon's eyes out of his gaze.

"I forgive her for any sins she has done against me. She has suffered enough. She already has my forgiveness, let her go." There was a pause.

"Your highness..."

"Let her go, I will personally make sure she makes amends for all of her sins. She does not deserve this septon."

"... Your highness..."

Another long pause.

"...You are merely another member of the Faith. You may have power over the next ruler, the lands, or the skies with you and your dragons. But we, the Faith Militant, have the power over souls and over things the Sept alone cannot do. True, you may have forgiven her. But unless the High Septon himself intervenes - neither you nor any member of your family has power over her purification. She is after all the cause of your infighting."

You could only guess that his frustration now showed on his face as the metal post was placed on your back as you began your long walk from the gallows to the cloister sept. Members of the Faith Militant kept a close distance. To make sure that nobody helped you carry the metal post; and to make sure that if any of your relatives decided to use their dragon against them, their positions would guarantee that any dragonfire aimed at them would also kill you too.

After several days of walking while carrying the metal post, eating the bare minimum meal that they've given you to ensure you don't die along the way, and of sleeping on the floor - your group was now back in the cloister sept.

Just a little more...

Just put the metal post on the altar...

"An applause for a task well done!" You were numb to the applause given by those around you. You were too exhausted to really appreciate it anyways. The metal post was somewhat bearable. But after being food deprived, sleep deprived, and pain induced for several days, you were surprised that you were able to make it.

"In celebration of her first major penance, she shall be given a heavier meal to prepare for the next stage of purification."

The meal it turned out didn't matter so much. It was probably one of the last sources of relief before they placed you in an entirely different room.

This room was painted white all around. The window was high enough that you couldn't reach it, but also small enough to only allow air flow to pass in the room. There was no bed, only a hay mattress with reed mats on the floor. The walls were close together - not allowing for much room to move around except perhaps to walk towards the chamber pots. One for urine, one for feces.

And nothing else.

"This room is especially designed for reflection sinner." The septa says as she removes the braids she has previously made.

"No distractions. Just thoughts and reflection. Now hold still."

She then begins cutting off your beautiful long hair.

"This is to remove your sin of vanity. After all, it would simply get in the way of your purification now in your 30 days of solitude." Maybe vainness was a sin of yours after all. Your heart breaks everytime you feel your head getting lighter. Today was the second day of your 30 days.

The next time you were brought out of your room it was about the fifth day in your thirty days.

This time they removed the thorn choker they had placed on you.

What brief relief.

And after making sure the wounds made by the thorns were cleaned and treated.

The relief ended.

XXX

"May this suffering purify her!" Someone said as they lay you on your back with your arms outstretched and your legs spread apart.

And you had to maintain that for what seemed like hours on end. If you moved, they would place it back into position. You knew when it was over because then they would make you stand before escorting you to your room of reflection as they call it.

You lost the count of when you were on your days in your 30 days of solitude. They made sure to only bring you out of your room rather sparingly. You weren't sure if you were just becoming insane at the loss of anything to do while you were just kept in your room. Even meals and hygiene washes became another chance of simply having something to do apart from your thoughts.

Your penance through stillness has evolved. This time instead of your arms outstretched, you were to keep your arms straight above you as you held various sacred objects of the Faith. Once again for hours on end. On the good side, it meant that you didn't have to be in your room as much. On the bad side, it meant more active torture from the Faith Militant.

You don't know which you preferred more. A room alone with your thoughts without anything to do and no one - not even the beings you've met in your dreams - to talk to; or actively suffering as the Faith Militant take sadistic delight in it. You pretend not to know that some of them were pleasuring themselves on the sides as they watch you struggle to endure your suffering. But even they cannot hide the smell of their sex and their releases from your senses.

Soon it evolved once again.

This time it was placing needles under every toenail as your arms struggled to keep their strength and rigidness of carrying whatever object they have you carry for that day. You thought you knew how painful needles were since you would occasionally prick yourself while doing needle work with Rhaena or Helaena. But it was an entirely different and much more painful experience when needles would be jammed underneath your toenails.

You really tried hard not to cry.

And soon because of your reactions - a lot of them you couldn't control - if there was something that they didn't like, whether it was how your tears began running from your eyes or if they didn't like your expression or how you reacted - your torturers would now quickly remove any object you were holding, stretch your arms wide, and insert needles under every fingernail.

You had to endure these things for hours on end.

You don't know how much time has passed before the lead septon had a special set of tools that was being prepared in the fire of your torture room.

"And now to remind you of the power of the Seven, we shall now place on you their star on your body." Your eyes widen, someone starts saying a prayer as you were forcefully made to lie on your back. They immediately close your legs and settle your feet on the table.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, by placing your star on her body, purify her foul sins and save her from the Seven Hells."

It began with your left foot. On the space between your toes and the joint where your leg and your foot meets. They had to hold you down, but allowed you to cry and scream in agony. All the while repeating the same statement over and over again.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, by placing your star on her body, purify her foul sins and save her from the Seven Hells."

Then it was your right foot.

Then the leftside of your hip.

Then the right.

Then your left hand inside your palm.

Then the right.

Then finally you were made to sit up.

To be branded on the back of your neck.

The only benefit you could see was that at least now you had something new to think and ponder about as you stay in the mental shackles of your room.

XXX

Whenever you rested in between your sessions of suffering you believe you have begun to lose your mind.

Perhaps they have slipped in something hallucinogenic in the food and drink they gave you to make sure you were alive for the next session.

But as you allowed your mind to rest from your waking suffering, you began to notice figures of those familiar to you.

"You've done well Alys." Says the figure of your mother. It was her voice, her mannerisms.

But it was not her.

"Trust your instincts." Says the figure of Ser Ion, nodding towards you as you notice that he and the figure of your mother have the same aura.

"You're noticing the clues fast." The figure of your father, Daemon, smirks and gives a nod to the figure of your mother.

"What else did you think?" The figure of Aemond retorts as he crosses his arms. His sword and dagger sheathed and yet something told you that he was ready for a fight at any time.

"You all vastly underestimate her."

"Including Alys herself." The figure of the Prophetess Agnes appears, judging both you and everyone else.

"And you warrior -" Aemond's figure then turns to face Agnes.

"You think yourself exempt? Only she had the balls to allow this suffering to happen to her."

"Quite true." The figure of Vereena responds gently as she appears beside Agnes.

"And yet she calls herself too weak to be considered someone strong."

Wait.

Your mother, your father, Ser Ion who teaches about Balerion who was a blacksmith and inventor, Aemond who was the best swordsman among the greens...

Then the Prophetess Agnes, the eldest among the Holy Women, and Vereena, your handmaiden...

"Are you the Seven?"

"Yes" You turn around and there was the androgynous hooded figure of the Stranger. Even the Stranger's voice is neither male or female.

"Am I hallucinating? Is this a dream?"

"We are in between the state of being awake and the state of you falling into deep sleep." Says the crone through Agnes.

"Don't worry, we have asked permission from the Sandman to meet you like this." Vereena, or rather the maiden adds.

"Alys dear." Your mother - the mother moves forward and gently holds your face in her hands.

"I am so sorry that you have to suffer like this from my followers."

"Our rather uncritical, hypocritical and fanatic followers. This was not what we had in mind when the Faith Militant was formed."

"There's no use dwelling on that, Great Father, none of us, not the Sandman, not his wife, or any of us in the divine realm can interfere with the free will of mortals." Ser Ion - the Smith says in hidden retort.

"Then why did you want to meet with me? Was it just so I have proof that you exist?"

"Our meeting is to assure you that you are where you are meant to be." Vereena says.

"Your suffering is about to end soon." The Stranger says ominously.

"Your sacrifice has inspired many things to happen. You'll find out soon, but do not lose hope Alys."

"Yes, just what the warrior has said. You are starting to remember who you are. You are far more than what you think you are."

"Don't spoil the surprise Great Mother." Agnes warns as your mother chuckles.

"Now rest. We shall see you soon. The Sandman will be peeved if we keep you from sleep any longer than necessary."

"Easy for you to say Maiden." Your father scoffs, and soon they all fade away and you once again enter into a dreamless sleep.

Your next encounter with the seven was when your torture first introduced the needles to be included in your torment.

You could still feel the pain from their new torture toys as you lay down on the mattress on the ground. They didn't give you much for supper. Just some soup and water. You were still famished and also exhausted as the only thing you feel like doing is laying yourself to rest.

Once again, they meet you in a state between deep sleep and being awake.

"You are still sleeping, just lightly." Says the Maiden, in the form of Vereena.

"If I am only lightly sleeping, then why don't I wake at the sound of something that would alarm me?"

"You're sleeping deeper than what would ordinarily be considered light. But you are not yet in the state of deep sleep. Which is why you initially thought you were hallucinating."

"Sometimes I believe I still am Ser Ion - I mean, Smith." He chuckles at this. It was trying to mimic Ser Ion's laugh but you couldn't point out why there's something odd about it.

"To be fair the Smith is currently in the form of another being."

"Another being Great Mother?" You ask.

"You'll find out in time." Answered the Great father as he settles himself beside the Great mother.

"May I ask you all - why are you doing this? Helping me? Reassuring me that I'm not going insane?" You couldn't see all seven but you can feel all their eyes on you.

"We made a promise to both the Sandman and his wife to protect you while you are in this world." The warrior using Aemond's form and voice says as he goes closer to you until your gazes meet as he lowers himself to your level.

"Or at least to do our best to protect and help you without interfering with free will." The warrior says softly, his gaze infinitely more softer than you've ever seen on the actual Aemond.

You were confused.

By now you know that you must have been close with both the Sandman and his wife. After all they reintroduced you to Gregory. It was clear that they care for you and are watching over you even now.

"I know they care about me, and I probably care about them. But why would they be so concerned about my life here? I'm just a strange mortal who has developed powers that no one else in Westeros has. And even if they happen to be secret Targaryen powers, of all people why do I have to be the one to inherit them?"

The warrior, the smith, and the father chuckles. The mother, the maiden, and the crone exchange knowing looks.

"I'm afraid we cannot answer that." The stranger goes closer to you. Oddly you can feel an aura of gentleness from the androgynous being.

"You do not know it yet, but you already have the answers you seek. If we told you now it would only cause more harm than good."

"We understand your impatience to know." The Great mother says as she walks towards you. The warrior making room for her to hold your hands.

"And if it were up to us - and many beings who have been watching over you - we would have already told you. But if we did, you wouldn't be able to grow."

"To do that would be to mess with Destiny!" The crone adds to the mother's comment.

"To mess with Destiny is to make the path harder and more difficult." The crone says ominously.

"And none of us -"

"Not we, the Seven -"

"The Sandman -"

"His wife -"

"And even Destiny -"

"None of us -"

"Want that for you."

Then all the seven merged into one androgynous being. You could only see the silhouette of a human body, the light emanating from the form prevented you from seeing any specific details beyond the silhouette.

"There are other beings who already seek to harm you. Both mortal and divine. Which is why you must trust yourself to find the answers you seek on your own." The being's voice is a combination of all the voices you've heard by being in various forms that were familiar to you. With the Stranger's voice being the lead voice to make everything clearer.

"Is my only choice to wait for the memories to comeback? Is there no other way?"

"Allow yourself to dream once again. You know by now that it's easier for you to remember in the world of dreams."

"I find myself too exhausted and too frightened to dream while I am here."

"Then allow me to assist you. I shall make sure you are allowed a full night to dream and a full night to rest."

"But - but what if the Faith Militant forces me to wake up in the middle of it all? After all you cannot interfere with free will."

"True, but I can still exercise my influence over my devotees...Perhaps it is about time I enlighten them on a few things. And don't underestimate the Sandman's ability too."

You give the being of the Seven a nod as you feel him guide you. Soon enough you feel the presence of the Sandman as you also feel yourself relax even more.

You see him on front of you in what appears to be a garden.

"Thank you Septimus."

"You're welcome Sandman." The Sandman says as you take his hand.

"I shall see you later Alys." The being then fades away.

"Septimus?"

"One of the Seven's many names. They adopted it whenever they choose to appear as a singular merged being. The name simply means 'Seven' or 'the Seventh' in an existing language. But enough of that - how are you? Truly?"

It was in seeing the care and concerned in his eyes that you find yourself breaking down. You couldn't help but simply cry heavily on his shoulder as he embraces you and rubs on your back.

"I'm - I'm - I'm so sorry ...that I'm..."

"It's fine. Release everything you feel inside."

For awhile it seemed all you did was sob on his shoulder as he rubbed your back and gently rocked you to soothe you as you released your sobs.

When you calmed down and released him from your embrace in his hands was a napkin and a large crystal goblet filled with the bubbly water.

"Do you...Do you think I've taken it too far? By allowing myself to suffer at the hands of the Faith Militant and claiming many of my family's sins as my own...Is it too much?" You ask him as you take occasional sips from the large crystal goblet. The bubbly water refreshing you.

"I think that you made the choice that you believed would solve the problems that you see are emerging. And with the limited information that you have and the limited options given the recent circumstances surrounding your kidnapping...it was the choice that was the most promising." A part of you wishes Gregory would appear, but you're also too exhausted to do anything but pet him. Besides you need an outsider's perspectives on your journey so far.

"Is it worth it? Was my suffering worth it? Or was all the pain just done to me in vain?"

"Alys." His voice was soothing as he offers you his shoulder once again. This time you lay your head sidewards.

"If it's any consolation, my wife and I experienced our own kind of suffering watching what they were doing to you...And yet knowing that we cannot intervene...However only you can tell me if your voluntary suffering was worth it."

"But I'm still stuck, here in this place of suffering. And I have no idea if my pain has any effect beyond the Faith Militant abusing me sadistically. I am now an outlet for their wrath and ill will towards my family."

"I may be able to give you some encouragement if those are your worries."

"Oh? How?" You turn to face him, his eyes still gentle but his voice had a hint of authority.

"I cannot tell you the details - but know that there are discussions now made among various influential authorities."

"On what?" He remains silent.

"That's already a sufficient hint for you to not lose hope. You're beginning to awaken, it won't be long now. You're doing very well." You awaken, finding yourself well rested for the first time in a long time.

The next timeyou encounter the seven was after you were branded with the star of the seven in seven areas of your body. Or rather it wasn't an encounter in the present time. It was an encounter with them in a memory. A memory which felt too odd to be real, but it had the same familiarity as your other memories that you've experienced so far.

"Are you ready?" You ask the same merged androgynous form. It was early morning and the sun had just risen up. The merged form that the Sandman has called Septimus, nods at you and before your eyes the form divides itself into seven spheres of floating energy. You feel yourself gathering energy and making it flow to the seven floating shperes. Slowly but ever surely, as they get more of the energy you were guiding towards them, all seven spheres slowly mold into humanoid figures. It was hard work, this process taking several days, but by the time the sun sets on the seventh day of you essentially feeding energy to the seven figures, they were now fully formed aspects of what once was one. All seven of them were now able to to move independently, yet connected from each other,

"Oh thank you, thank you so much!" The figure of themaiden cries, but nearly stumbles before the figure of the smith caught her before she fell to the ground.

"Careful Maiden. You're still a new being; made from the thoughts and beliefs of the people here in the Andal Hills. You all must take the time to practice moving as people do. Adjust yourselves to -"

You feel something move in your pocket of your dress.

"Excuse me for a moment." You go outside away from their presence. Not for the sake of privacy - they were still divine beings who had better hearing than any mortal even if you had guided life force energy in their separate aspects - but rather to be able to check the item moving rapidly.

You take out what appears to be a bronze circular brooch. Inside the circle was a cross and two lines diagonally placed. All of them meeting at the center.

The sign of the crossroads.

You instantly knew who was trying to call you.

The memory ends before it was revealed. But you had a feeling of dread, that it was about to lead to something horrible.

Some time after you've experienced that memory, you were brought before the lead septon of your torment. Or purification as they say. According to him and other members responsible for your "Purification", they've decided to give you an option on how to proceed.

Or rather it's an illusion of choice.

"You want me to become a sex slave?!"

"One of your sins is for the rape of one of the Kingsguard. It's only fair that since you did not value your virtue and gave in to your lust, we believe the most adequate way to purify you and show you the error of your ways is to be in relieving others."

"What's wrong with my penance so far?"

"You are not yet adequately broken sinner. If you choose to accept being in service for the next two weeks we won't give you as a slave to Ser Cole anymore upon your last day. Surely you would think this is an opportunity that must be taken." You hear the soft chuckles of the Faith Militant surrounding you.

So this was their plan?

To break you through torture just to violate you sexually under the delusion of purification.

You see it all now.

You may have never been with a man but this isn't how you would want your first experience to be.

"I refuse."

"I had a feeling you were going to say that. We'll be adding 40 more days to your purification here."

"But - But you said that it will only last for 30 days -"

"That was before we found out that you are not yet truly broken."

"And how do you expect to tell the public that?"

"The public and your family have all forgotten about you by now. Why do you think that no one has intervened on your behalf sinner? Even they agree that you are better off here than in court."

You were dragged back into your room.

XXX

For awhile you are simply left to your room, your imagination taunting yourself at what they may possibly have in store. What seemed like days later, they brought you again to your room of torture.

Here once you laid back they place a piece of cloth to cover your entire face. And then they slowly dripped water - or at least you assume it was water - on to the cloth.

Before you knew it you found yourself suffocating.

XXX

"Accept the offer, and you shall be free before you know it."

Don't lose hope

People kept telling you mysteriously to not lose hope. The Priestess Kara, the Sandman, the mysterious being who spoke through Ser Kormy...they all kept emphasizing not to lose hope.

Not to give up.

You weren't sure how you were able to do it, but you managed to survive each suffocating session.

And soon they started to feed you something strange. Probably drugs mixed in with the food that they gave you. You were more than sure that your imagination wasn't this crazy or vivid within the blank walls of your room.

Soon they made sure that you were in a state of high vividness and you took in even more of whatever they were feeding you. It made the sessions even worse.

But still you would not give in.

You would not lose hope.

You would rather have the Stranger take you than to serve their sexual needs with the excuse that you were purifying yourself. Better to die a virgin then.

Your hallucinations got even worse as time goes on.

It was tricky trying to distinguish what was your imagination and what was hallucinations mentally choking you.

All this within the confines of the blank walls.

You don't want to lose hope but you were exhausted.

"Given how she is, it's possible she could expire any day now."

"Isn't the food and the drugs helping?"

"The drugs absorbed quickly because of how little she has taken food. She only takes liquids now." You hear them when they think you are asleep. Strangely nowadays you find yourself too exhausted to even sleep right away.

You began to notice how serious it is when they begin sending the confessor septon to you. Him dressed in all black with a black hood concealing his face.

"Why black?"

"It's because the Stranger may claim you anyday now. You have become too fragile for any active forms of purification."

"Is it because my body now rejects any food other than soup?"

"Perhaps sinner."

He was one of the more gentler confessors. They would change who got to be your last confessor everyday. Their times unpredictable but they always came in a black hood covering their faces.

Your mind was too tired and too drugged on whatever substance they keep feeding you till now. It was too exhausting to remember the various different voices. They were all different and yet so the same.

You don't know how long you've been here anymore. It must be longer than 30 days. Or maybe it only seemed to be longer than 30 days.

You don't want to give up hope.

But you also want it to end.

All your supernatural experiences seemed to tell you that if you didn't immediately remember your much needed memories, everything might come back after you die.

If that's the case then maybe you should at least prepare. You feel yourself going colder each day.

You decide to make a confession to whomever comes to you next. The Seven had promised you, the Sandman, and his wife, their protection of you. Surely they could understand why you did what you've done. You weren't going to force your death - you couldn't even intentionally harm yourself. But if you were to die, at least you told someone everything.

You were not giving up hope.

There's a chance that your confessor could somehow contribute to whatever the White Worm has in mind.

Have faith, have hope.

Once again you find yourself struggling to sleep. Finding many thoughts in your head and too exhausted to simply sink into a deep slumber. They must have increased the dosage of the drugs because you find your mind numb, and your mental images even more vivid than before.

A black hooded figure once again enters your room.

There was something different about him from your other confessors.

The way the figure moves with both strength and remorse.

Oh

Now you understand.

"Have you come to be my final confessor Stranger?" Who else could it have been? The being of the Seven did promise to see you later.

This must be your time.

"Alys?" Strange, the voice sounded really similar to Aemond's. Why switch up forms now?

Oh

"I see you want me to be comfortable with what you are about to do. And so now you appear before me in a form that pleases me." How ironically fitting that the Stranger is going to take you in Aemond's form.

You cared for him.

You aren't sure if this is called love.

You weren't even sure if this was infatuation or lust.

But since there is no point in running away from the inevitable...you may not know what name to place on your feelings, but you cared for him deeply.

If only the two of you were born in different circumstances.

"Alys, its me-"

"I know Stranger, but there's no point in hiding what you are about to do. Please Stranger, before you take me to be judged by the Great father. Please hear my last confession before you take me. And please, for my dying wish...please take me in my sleep. I'm so tired and exhausted, I want it to be as painless as possible. At least in my sleep...in my dreams, I could be free to who I am. Even though I don't quite know what that is yet."

The Stranger pauses.

"...Very well, what is your last confession?"

Slowly yet surely you pour out everything that had been plaguing your heart and mind.

"Then why? Why did you choose this? This suffering for the sins that are not yours?" Odd, there was something in the Stranger's voice. A mix of sadness, anger, frustration, and pain.

"Because they were all hurt by those sins. No one was going to do anything to solve the problems. Instead they let it foster until that hurt makes them inflict the hurt on others. Everyone, including my own mother, has too much pride and ego to have a heart to heart talk. I know how messy these kinds of talks are, but we are born into a system wherein there is too much at stake. And it seems only I - all I want is to not have bloodshed. I don't need them to be friends, but I want a solution that will stop the dispute without killing anyone."

"...Some people say that would be too good to come true." You couldn't help but smile at this.

"My father has already said that. Even Aemond, the one whose form you are in has the same sentiments. But if dreamers are powerless, then why were we spared from the Doom of Valyria because of a dream? Why did Nymeria become the ruler of Dorne with only a dream along with her army? Without the ability to dream of better things...better changes...then we resign ourselves to only being satisfied with far less than we deserve."

"Then don't you think that even you deserve better?"

"Of course, but just as the White Worm says, everything worth doing has always some risk. If this is to be my last few moments then I'm happy that the people will remember me for being the ultimate traitor who was the source of the family infighting. After all what else could unite people of all kinds than a common enemy? I already know that by claiming those sins as my own, both factions and everyone at court wishes me to suffer and die. All I'm doing is simply giving everyone what they want."

"And what makes you think that this is what they want?"

"Simple, through my solution, my brothers would be released from my mother's schemes of using them for positions they don't even want...my -" You cough a few times before resuming.

"My uncle, Aegon, would be free from a postion he doesn't want without having to flee to Essos or to die. My own mother and Aemond will be forced to be tested which of them would be a better ruler - and this will hopefully put an end to the dispute. Because whomever becomes the victor will have the people by their side, not just the disputable whims of the King. Of course not all would be satisfied - which is why whomever loses shall still have a permanent place in the counsel to keep the balance."

You take a heavy breath as you feel yourself getting colder.

"I know it's idealistic. It will probably never be implemented. And yet even now I can't afford to lose either hope or faith. It's the only way I see that gives the opportunity for those who don't want to rule to step aside; for those who wants to rule to assert themselves; and for them to be vetted by the people they will rule over. After all Aemond has been doing his best to prepare to rule, but has simply never had the opportunity."

Your eyes start to close.

"It...it seems that is all the breath...I have for a...a last confession...but you and...and the other Seven...probably already know ... my own thoughts and feelings..."

You feel the Stranger move to take your hands.

Funny how warm they are.

"Alys."

"You can take me now...thank you for listening Stranger."

You feel someone move to carry you, vaguely hear shouts, and someone else who touched your hands.

The Stranger feels so warm as you are cradled like a baby.

You then succumb to the darkness of rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: DON'T WORRY SHE'S NOT DEAD! She's just knocked out into a coma. You'll see in the next chapter:

1.) If it isn't obvious already, I took a lot of inspiration from the Passion of Jesus Christ (out of season I know. In a few days its supposedly the celebration of his birth - never thought my culturally forced Catholic education would be used this way but here we are). In some ways I reversed the order of the Passion by having the "Cruxifiction" part be done first and to aggravate it by making her carry the metal post to the place where she would be "purified";

2.) Some of the tortures used are a mix and match of real life medieval torture of alleged witches during the Spanish Inquisition era. I stayed away from any genital related tortures because that was personally too much for me;

3.) I know the Faith Militant was only revived during the GOT time of events and they are disbanded during the Dance of Dragons. How I decided to write it is that they are only legally disbanded but unofficially and in practice they are still very much present and the main branch of the Faith just ignore what they're doing since they benefit from having them as both the more radical branch and as their unofficial armed forces/torturers. And since they are also still angry at the Targaryens, the moment Alys goes to them they are going to milk that opportunity as much as they can;

4.) I was really excited to write this part because it was one of the first scenes or parts that was in my head when my real life friends and I were discussing what would be a challenge or a situation that could not be solved by Aemond's overcompensating in his mind, and abilities. And as @aemonds-war-crime has already pointed out, Aemond is just as devout as Alicent to the Faith of the Seven. Having a branch of the Faith actively torturing and only seeing him as not a Prince but simply another member of the Faith would force him to seek another way of helping Alys;

5.) At first I was wondering how to introduce the Seven to Alys, but then I recalled someone say how sometimes deities adapt the forms of people you love or are familiar with in order to make you comfortable or to get the point across. Also by having an aspect of the Seven adapt to the form of Aemond it also allows her to confess to Aemond while thinking he is the Stranger who has come to take her and end her life (I mean in a way she has died, but its not physical);

6.) If you're wondering why I didn't allow her to confess her feelings for him, it's because her feelings play a role later. But if it helps, Aemond is starting to suspect both his own and how she feels for him; and

7.) For the bronze brooch featured in the memory with the Seven- imagine an asterisk inside of a circled border. That is essentially what it is 😅; and

8.) I got the name "Septimus" from Stardust (Yes I know another Neil Gaiman property).

Don't be afraid to comment.

[thetentaclecommander]

Teaching the Devil

TtD: Prologue

The fic that started everything. It started as a one shot and my attempt to take the ship ‘seriously’ after a few gag attempts. It turned into a well over 10+ year journey into lore building, canon picking and just making something that didn’t exist…exist. So, whenever you go hunting for fics with a rare pair and see nothing – do it yourself. It's fun. ________________________________________________

((Header Pic for the series done by Lil-Chilo)) Teaching the Devil Rated M; has adult/heavy themes Fandom: Resident Evil Main Ship: Nemesis/Jill Valentine Secondary ships: implied Chris Redfield/Sheva Alomar, past Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, implied Albert Wesker/Jill Valentine Chapters: 11/11

CW: graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy relationships (implied growing codependency), mental instability, psychological trauma, implied/referenced torture, attempted rape/non con, implied cheating (full tag list on AO3) Summary: "…No man can tell What has come stealthily creeping over his life Until too late Hot ashes and pain…"

The first arc in The Devil's Saga.

Based on Dante's Inferno (the inverted significance will become clearer during the ending of a mostly Jill centric fic - she will be a bit OOC even crossing the moral event horizon, but it'll be warranted)

An AU fic set a year after the events of RE5. Deals with the finding of an apparently revived then abandoned Nemesis in a forgotten underground Umbrella lab. In recovery, it was determined his directives were irreparably damaged giving him 'free will'. Whether that is good or bad is questionable.

Jill is still dealing with the aftermath of her part in her forced servitude to Wesker - making her darker and at times mentally and emotionally unstable. Despite her hangups, she still works with the BSAA and was suddenly entrusted with the care and 'training' of a restrained Nemesis.

What results of such an arrangement is documented here. This will explore darker themes and topics: it will basically not shy away from nor sugarcoat the violent or suggestive situations within. ________________________________________________ Excerpt from TtD: Prologue- Her voice had dipped into a hiss, her repressed anger coming unbidden. "And maybe, just maybe you'll be able to kill something half your size...cause", her voice dipping low, "we don't cater to failures here." He sat up now, staring plainly at her, the cracking of the bed frame audible. She rises from the small chair, a smirk crossing her pale face. "Keep looking at me…it's your fault I look this way you know." She shifts the chair aside staring directly into his face. "I hope you at least do a good barking impression. That S.T.A.R.S. bit got old the first hour, you fucking bastard!"

As the last syllable came from her lips she found herself pinned against the wall, the Tyrant easily having three feet on her. He bent lower, his face level with hers, letting out a deep, angry snarl. Jill stood her ground. "I can see it. You want to finish the job, don't you? Don't you?!" He stood over her, palms flat against the wall trapping her head between them. "Do it." He narrowed his eye at her. "Do it. Be a good monster and finish what you start…it’s only fair since I lost two years of my life because of you! Do it!" She openly laughed at him. Enraged the Tyrant went to punch her face in…and found everything flashing white as the feeling of being electrocuted racked through him. It felt like every fiber of his being was being rent apart, the only sound in the room was of her laughter and his pained scream. As soon as it began, it stopped, the monster gasping for air, drool freely trailing from his gaping mouth. She walked to him, letting a soft hand trail his stapled scalp. "See things never changed for you. But I have just as dirty hands now. And I won't show mercy, just like you." The monster only snarled weakly upwards at her, wanting to strike but knowing it futile. "School starts, now." The only sounds now were of his labored breathing, and her walking out of the room. (Continue reading the prologue of Teaching the Devil on A03)

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 3

(Chapter 2; Chapter 4)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

A Bloody Incident

The sound of a door sliding shut.

You slowly wake up in a dimmed room, laying on a futon.

This is comfortable.

The room is quite small, a candle is flicking next to you, there are sliding doors to your left and right, a wooden floor. It smells like this room hasn’t been ventilated for a while though. Peeking around, you’re alone. No white haired monk inside. You try to sit up, still weak. There’s a small bowl next to you. It looks half emptied. The content looks like a broth, smells like it too.

Have I been fed?

Your investigation gets interrupted by footsteps outside of the room. Sounds like they’re coming down a hallway right to your door. They sound heavy. A familiar energy hits you and finally you remember why you came here in the first place. You’re in his place, his home. Your heart starts to race. The footsteps get louder with every step they make. You watch the door to your left. You listen.

Is it him? Will he come in?

Another moment passes and so do the footsteps. Whoever it was, their footsteps grow silent as they walk past your room. You exhale, pressure exits your lungs as you relax a little and your eyes fall into your lap.

The door opens.

You jump a little. It’s the white haired monk this time. Their footsteps seem to not make any sound at all.

“Hello”, they bow their head softly. “Are you awake? How do you feel?” “I’m... okay” you say shyly, eyes in your lap again.

“I’ve fed you some of the broth there when you were partly conscious for a minute. Then you blacked out again.”, they explain.

“I.. I don’t remember. Thank you though.” you’re unsure how to behave, picking at the skin of your thumb. They give you an emotionless look after you peek in their direction.

“My name is Uraume. You’re in the halls of Master Sukuna. He’s the reason you came here, is he not?” they say calm but firmly.

You nod.

Making their way to your side, they take that half empty broth in their hands and holding it in your direction.

“Drink that”

You take the bowl and smell it a second time. It smells really nice.

Taking a sip, you immediately feel better. “What do you want?” they ask.

From him?

You pause.

“I... “ you’re in search for words. “I... wan-“ “You can work here.” Uraume interrupts you. “What?”

“Most girls like you come here, seeking for a change in their lives. These halls are old and need a lot of care. You don’t look like you have anywhere to go, so if you want, you can make yourself useful.” they explain.

Most girls like you?

“I... I’m grateful for your offer.” you say, making your decision as you speak “As you said, I have nowhere to go, so I will do my best to serve you and... Master Sukuna” saying his name out loud sends a soft shiver down your spine.

“So shall it be then” Uraume bows their head a second time. “You may rest today. I will meet you at your door at dawn.”

“Thank you” you say, as you watch them leave the room quietly. You drink the rest of the broth and slide back under the blanket.

Warm.

You fall asleep with a content smile on your lips, being a step closer to meeting him.

Waking up to the familiar sound of the door sliding shut, you panic.

Shit, am I too late?

You hurry up, as you start to hear some early birds singing outside. There are new clothes neatly folded next to you. It’s a white kimono with dark ends on the sleeves and bottom, decorated with black and white flowers. A black obi completes it. You put it on as fast as you can and hurry to the door.

Breathe.

Sliding it open, you see Uraume as promised.

“Good Morning” they say calmly. You nod with a smile, wishing them a good morning too.

“I almost forgot to ask, what’s your name?” they ask as they start to walk down the hall to the right, motioning you to come with them.

“It’s Y/N.” you say as you hurry to keep up with them. Walking behind them, you’re admiring the architecture. It’s your the first time seeing it, since you’ve been blacked out as you came here. A smooth stone floor plastering the way through long halls, high pillars decorate archways in even distances. Grotesque small figures and faces decorating them, as well as unreadable signs and words written in a language you can’t decipher. Light falls in from spaces on the upper left side from the wall, enough to brighten up the space. Uraume takes a turn to the left and another long hallway is exposed. At the end of it a heavy wooden door, similar to the one you’ve seen at the entrance of the shrine.

“Your first task will be cleaning these floors.” Uraume rips you out of your thoughts, as they come to a halt.

“This hallway leads to Master Sukunas throne room. It gets dirty pretty fast.” You look across the hallway. It looks clean.

Uraume continues: “You will find water and sponge in the chamber to your right.” Your eyes wander to your right. A wooden door marks the spot.

Water and sponge. Sounds like I have to get on my knees.

“Oh and another thing: Master Sukuna demands respect from his subordinates. Meaning you will not look at him until he said so, you will not speak to him, until he said so. You will bow to him as the King he is.” they explain in a discipling manner.

“Otherwise you might not like the outcome.” with this sentence, they bow their head and leave quietly.

Great.

You let out a short, annoyed exhale, before you turn around to head to the door they were pointing to earlier. Before you open it, you look around again. No one else is there, at least in this part of the shrine. Uraume was mentioning other girls, so you wonder where they might be and how many of them would live here.

You look around in the little chamber and directly spot a bucket and a sponge. A piece of soap lies on a wooden cupboard right next to the door.

“I need water.” you mumble to yourself.

You look in the direction of the door that is supposed to lead to the throne room. No.

Other direction. On the right side of the wall you see more light falling in from the outside. Stepping forward you see there’s another sliding door, similar to the one in your room. Carefully you open it and behind it you see a beautiful little garden, surrounded by the walls of the shrine. Different kinds of colourful trees, a well, a pond with a beautiful little wooden bridge and soft grass, still wet with morning dew catches your eyes.

This is the home of the King of Curses?

You step outside, going straight to the well and pulling up some water. It’s clean and cold.

Suddenly a loud, maniacal laughter makes you shudder, almost kicking the freshly filled bucket of water back into the well. Echoing through the halls, it makes it sound even louder. The kind of laugh which makes you want to run and hide. A shrill, guttural laugh. You get scared and hide behind the well, hoping not to be seen from the source of that laugh. The sound of big wooden doors falling shut hits your ears. The doors of the throne room.

Is it him?

Your heart starts to race, eyes fixated on the sliding door you opened. The laughing doesn’t stop. It get’s louder. The sound of something wet being dragged across the stone floor of the hallway sting in your ears, along with heavy feet walking on it. Within the second you see a huge silhouette appear in the open door frame, you crouch, hiding behind the well.

Step... step... step

You exhale, peeking up again. The big silhouette of him disappears behind the door again. On the floor right behind him, the severed upper body of an old man being dragged along, his guts and blood smearing across the stone floor. His head is hanging low, dead eyes looking nowhere. Your eyes widen in horror and you suppress a gag.

“Get’s dirty pretty fast”. Fuck.

You wait a few seconds, until he’s gone, then you slowly come out of your hiding, tiptoeing to the sliding door. Looking around, he‘s gone. Your gaze wanders to the floor. Blood. Pieces of flesh. Pieces of intestines. Another gag. It stinks. You wonder what that poor man must’ve done to enrage him to the point of being ripped apart.

And where’s the other half?

The door to the throne room opens again. Two other maidens come out, carrying the other half out of the room. You can’t help but just stand there and stare in shock. They try their best to not look anywhere and they must not be breathing either. Before the door closes again you get a peek inside the room itself. A huge hall, skulls, a path. You don’t understand how this room can fit into this shrine, but apparently there’s a lot more to understand concerning this whole place. The maidens carry the remaining body past you and vanish behind another corner. Reality hits you again. You need to clean the floor.

If it’s not clean soon, someone‘s gonna be pissed.

You fall to your knees, splashing the piece of soap into the ice cold water. It stings your hands, they turn red. You drown the sponge in the water and you start to scrub. Blood isn’t easy to remove, it glues to everything it touches, also to your pretty kimono.

It will probably take me the whole day to remove all this mess, let alone clean your kimono later, IF it’s possible to be cleaned at all. I’ll have to be clean too. At some point I’m going to meet him. I have to be clean.

Your thoughts get disrupted by a bloody stain on the floor. Your eyes widen. A footprint. His footprint. It’s big. A bit longer than the span from your elbow to your fingertips.

So huge.

You quickly return to scrubbing the floor. Knees starting to hurt already and you only started.

After a while you managed to get a small portion of the floor clean again. Changing the water regularly helps to get the job done. Fingers already wet and swollen and shrivelled from all the scrubbing. As you scrub your way through the hall, you notice the sound of familiar footsteps coming into your direction. You lower your head. Curiosity was one of your trademarks, but after what you have witnessed today, you can’t bother to be ripped apart by even an ounce of curiosity. Eyes fixated on your hands, you feel his energy hit you again, creeping in like a hand wrapping around your neck, your heart racing.

Badum badum badum badum.

Footsteps getting closer.

Badumbadumbadumbadum.

Hands scrubbing the floor.

Scrub scrub scrub.

Holding your breath, you notice the footsteps passing you on your left side. The sound of bare feet tapping on the stone floor. You can’t help it and take a peek.

Big feet, black nails, a black tattoed ring above the ankles.

Quickly you force your eyes on your scrubbing hands again. His gigantic shadow hovers above you and continues walking past you. A tight choke on your neck. For some reason... it excites you. You hear the doors to the throne room open and close again.

He’s gone.

Just now you realise that you’ve hold your breath for the entire time. Exhaling deeply, you slump onto your right asscheek, holding you up with your right hand.

“At least this time he had the decency to carry out parts of his mess himself.” a young woman comments, making you turn around. She’s standing right behind you, looking the same age as you, holding a basket of fruits in her hands. Maybe a kitchen maid. You eye her suspiciously. She has long auburn hair and big, brown eyes. You can’t deny she’s pretty looking, yet you don’t know who you can trust here.

“Poor bastard asked him to protect his village. The King demanded a sacrifice, a feast, the man’s daughter. He wouldn’t give it to him. That man begged on his knees and Master Sukuna just laughed and ripped him to shreds. Fed the crows in front of the shrine with him instead.” she explained, stepping forward. Without a warning she kicks against your bucket of water. Bloody soap water drowning the floor and you grow angry, the situation you witnessed earlier however, drained your energy and your body refuses to react.

“Bastard probably deserved it. Wait ‘till you meet our King.” She says with a smug smile, turns around and walks into the opposite direction of where the throne room is located. You look at the mess before you.

Bitch.

Scrubbing blood off the floor, off the walls, caring for the plants and trees in the garden, taking care of your room and clothes. That’s how you spent your days. Uraume was keeping you in the same hallway all the time. You felt like a cat that needed to be accustomed to its new home. You often heard Master Sukuna‘s loud maniacal laughter, or some fragments of his voice through the door that led to the throne room, although you never were able to properly hear what he said. You figured that he must spend the most time on his throne, since you didn’t cross paths with him again. His energy however, hit you almost daily. Occasionally you saw other maidens passing through the hallway, carrying a corpse out of the throne room, some carrying cleaning utensils, other carrying baskets of different kinds of food. You never talked to them, though. They were all minding their own business anyway. That bitch from your first day didn’t show herself again either.

Weeks passed, you started to gain weight, looked more healthy. For this you were thankful, although you started to question your motivation to stay, because nothing you did seemed to bring you closer to him. Until one night, in which Uraume came to knock at your door:

“You’re going to bring the Master his dinner tonight.”

[zaharadessert]

Canticum Sanguinis Lux - Renatus (8/8)

Summary: Once, all Emma Nolan wanted was a normal life, but when she had a run in with a vampire as a teenager she realised that she couldn’t escape the life of a hunter. Now all she wants to do is prove herself, and she’s going to end up going above and beyond to be the hunter the world needs her to be.

Rating: Explicit. Mostly for graphic descriptions of violence, and some smut, but not until later chapters.

Warnings: There are now more than just hints at the non con nature of the control vampires can have over humans. And the fact that they’re strong af

Notes: This is it! It is done! Oh my GOSH it was a hard slog. Thank you so much to you all for your support and comments, I really appreciate every single one of them. There's probably not enough smut in this for some people, but this is how it chose to be written.

Thanks to the @cssns mods for running this event, thank you to @clockadile for the gorgeous banner. Lastly, thank you to @kmomof4, who not only is an amazing beta, but volunteered to deal with my panics and the amount of hitting my head against a wall that this has made me do. Thank you so much, I could not have done this without you.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @xhookswenchx @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @thepirateandhisson @xsajx @captainswan21 @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza @sparlecorn93 @hollyethecurious @ammelia @pawshapedheart

I’m rebooting my taglist at the end of this fic, so if you’d like to keep getting tagged, please DM me. Thanks

Full fic on AO3

- - - - -

Emma had to admit that the view from up here was quite spectacular. She’d thought Europe had been impressive- with its castles and old houses and forests- had found India with its heat and smells and interesting buildings even more intriguing with her new appreciation her abilities had given her, but standing up here in the sunlight, with Killian’s hand in hers was… something she never thought she’d have.

It hadn’t faded over the years, their ability to withstand sunlight, and this immunity to something that should have left them both burning had even more advantages than they’d ever thought.

The view of Rio de Janeiro in full sun from the top of the summit underneath the Cristo Redentor, and the ability to sightsee like normal tourists when they weren’t otherwise working was only one of them. Add in their way of taking unsuspecting supernaturals of the day by surprise and life as a hunter could be… fulfilling in a way it hadn’t seemed before.

For all Emma’s difficulty with her temper before she was turned, learning to overcome her lust for blood had been… not easy, but a manageable task, all things considered. It was, in fact, only a couple of weeks before she could visit her parents without worrying she was going to unexpectedly lose control. Only a few months before she was doing so regularly and for long periods of time. She didn’t know if access to her own blood had helped, or if it was just coincidence, but what she did know was how much Killian had helped.

She glanced across at him, taking in the wonder on his face as he surveyed the view. Watching as his eyes drifted shut as he enjoyed the feel of sunlight on his skin without the fear that had been so prevalent at first. Even now, years later, as she looked at him, she could feel the change in her body that just being around him brought. She had no heartbeat to speed up or breaths to shallow or the swooping of butterflies but… She still felt them, as certainly as though her body still needed them to survive.

She’d had more time to love him than she’d ever dreamed.

- - - - -

Continues on AO3

[bakudekuficlist]

Do you have any angsty fics that are canon to the story ? There can also be smut & fluff etc.

Mini-List: Canon-Compliant Angst

please mind the tags! some of these are hurt/no comfort and/or deaddove!

Until We Meet Again - EquinoxSolstice

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 19916 words | Teen/No Warnings Apply

Change is the only constant in the world.

It is also the most terrifying ordeal a person has to endure.

With the War won and All For One vanquished, Izuku must prepare for the next chapter in his life: becoming a true Hero by following All Might's footsteps.

But dreams come with a price. Now, he prepares to leave everything he loves behind.

And loving Bakugou Katsuki the most makes it the hardest thing Izuku will ever do.

As Many Scars As There Are Stars - RandomFandoms65000

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 4713 words | Teen/Graphic Depictions of Violence

Midoriya sees Bakugou washing his clothes in the communal laundry room. He hasn’t seen him in a while since the war ended and he misses him greatly so he decides to talk to him. Chasing after him once again. When they get to talking Midoriya finds out Bakugou is struggling, in more ways than one this time.

Dude, chill - freshmilledpepper

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 8884 words | Explicit/ Rape/Non-con - Underage

Katsuki gets hit with an amnesia quirk, and suddenly he’s all kinds of hot for Deku. Shit escalates quickly.

☠️ 🕊

—-

“K-Kacchan, no, you - you can’t, you can’t, you’ll kill me, Kacchan-”

Kacchan nipped Izuku’s ear from behind and then whispered into it,

“You keep saying I’ll be mad about it later, but ya still haven’t said ya don’t like it.”

—-

Starts at the end of season 2 between internships and final exams….. remember how 🤬💥 Bakugo is during that part…

Reach Out - TheWitchAndTheCat

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 9253 words | Mature/No Warnings Apply

“You dare fucking lying to me, every day pretending things are better between us, when in fact it’s all as before if not worse, because we just slapped a patch on it and pretend nothing happened.” “What are you talking about?” “Why didn’t you fucking reach out to me?” His words were cold, hard, a blow to Deku’s guts, judging by the way his eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. He went to talk, but nothing came out. “Tell me why you didn’t fucking reach out to me, why you refused to grab my hand, ha?” He shook Deku and then pushed him away. “You gave up on me, didn’t you?” Deku did and said nothing. And Katsuki lost his temper.

Bakugou Katsuki keeps having the same nightmare night after night. He still can’t cope with what happened in Kamino, and far less accept the fact Deku didn’t reach out to him. The fact Deku, of all people, gave up on Katsuki.

love at second first sight - deadwriter16

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 4565 words | Teen/No Warnings Apply

The hottest man alive frowns for a second, and then throws his head back and groans loudly. “Motherfucker," he facepalms, massaging his head with his knuckles afterward in obvious goddammit, Izuku's at it again exasperation, "Of course it’s me.”

“Huh?” Izuku asks, “oh, are you the one I forgot?”

“Evidently,” the guy responds.

----------

or, izuku gets hit by a quirk and forgets kacchan. so izuku does the only thing that makes sense to do without his memories of this super hot guy: immediately try to seduce him.

Don't Come After Me - MajestyTime

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 1503 words | Teen/No Warnings Apply

He sees their faces and their bodies, limp and dirty like bloodied rags tossed aside in the dirt. The faces and bodies of his friends, his family, his mentors. But the darkest and most vivid visions Deku has are the ones with Kacchan's blazing palms and jeweled vermillion eyes.

Whether he's awake or asleep, the memory plays itself over and over again. The sound of the condensed explosions that left Deku's ears ringing. The pain of Kacchan colliding into Deku's already broken body. The sight of the stab wounds. The blood. The silence. The way Kacchan fell like a star shot down from the sky. The fear inside of Deku's heart buried and masked by red-hot rage.

[vodika-vibes]

So you want to be a Bounty Hunter...

Chapter 1: In which Boba meets Jazz

Summary: Boba Fett has been the Daimyo of Tatooine for less than a year, and when the open air market starts getting targeted by a group of thieves, Boba is asked to investigate. What he finds changes his life forever.

Pairing: None

Word Count: 2298

Warnings: Mentions of Slavery, Mentions of Child Abuse

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: This is my NaNoWriMo story for 2023. Plus, this is my first time making a proper graphic for something I wrote, so any feedback on that would be appreciated, lol.

If someone had told Boba Fett 10, 20 years ago that someday he would be the ruler of Tatooine, and that he would put his bounty hunting on hold for the sake of the people he rules…he would have laughed in their faces.

And then probably shot them for good measure. 

Even ten years ago, his plan was to live, and die, as a Bounty Hunter, like his father before him. 

Honestly, it is a good thing that time travel isn’t real, because if it was then Boba would have to go back and punch the younger version of himself in the face, just out of principle. 

Boba turns when he hears light footsteps approaching him from behind, “Are you ready to go? The Market opened an hour ago.” Fennec says as she folds her arms over her chest.

“I am,” He agrees as he pulls his helmet over his head, “Do you have any additional information for me?”

“No.” Fennec falls into step behind him, “All I know for sure is that someone, or a group of someones more likely, has been targeting people at the market. With luck, we’ll be able to catch who it is.”

“You have to admit,” Boba says as he heads down the hall to where the speeders are kept, “It’s ballsy. Hitting the same market, week after week.”

“And they’ve never been caught. So they’re good.” Fennec agrees. “Good enough to dodge the sharp eyed men and women at the market, at least.”

“Then we’d better get there and see what we can figure out, if anything.” Boba says decisively. He smirks, unnoticed, as Fennec immediately jumps into the driver’s seat as soon as they reach the garage.

The older woman might trust and respect Boba, but she refuses to let him drive ever again.

Fennec is a careful driver. Quick, yes, but she’s also very careful. Boba never asks her about it, though once, when she was drunk, she mentioned something about a speeder crash when she was a child. Though she pretended she never said anything like that.

And Boba respects her enough to not push.

After all, he has his own trauma that he’s never shared with anyone too.

The open air market on Tatooine has always been an event, though, with the death of Jabba and slavery becoming outlawed, the market has grown exponentially. And now has everything from handmade clothes, to homemade pastries, to art pieces. 

There are even several stalls dedicated to tattoos and hair styling. 

Boba enjoys the market every time he comes, the large majority of his tattoos have come from artists he’s met here, after all. Though he rarely buys anything from any of the merchants. 

He leaves that to Fennec.

But they’re not here to shop today. Today they have work to do.

Work begins as soon as Boba steps out of the speeder and a haggard looking man hurries over, “Thank the force you’re here!” He blurts, “The thieves have already hit some of the stalls.”

“Which stalls have been hit?” Boba asks as Fennec steps to his side.

“The food stalls,” The man frets, “The thief, or thieves, stole food from several of the vendors, and then took the payment box from another one.”

“They only took money from one stall?” Fennec asks as she frowns.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Boba releases a thoughtful hum, “I think we’ll walk around and see what, if anything, we can see.” He turns slightly, “Fennec?”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” She replies with a nod as she falls into step behind Boba, her sharp eyes scanning the crowds of people. 

As they walk, Boba keeps a sharp eye out for anything suspicious. Or, well, anything that hints at a thieving group. He’s pretty sure that at least three of the stands that he’s passed are fronts for Spice Smuggling, and though he should do something about it, he just gets Fennec to make a note of them, to be handled at a different time. 

His gaze is drawn to a group of children, of various different races, huddled on a street corner. They’re speaking softly, and they burst into giggles for a moment, and then they notice Boba’s attention, and they scatter into the crowds of people.

“Fennec,” Boba says quietly.

“Aa. I see them,” Fennec frowns, “You think the thieves are children?” She asks, as she watches a child hurry over to another one, and then the pair hurry over to a third. 

“Would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Boba asks, “They’re easy to overlook due to their size, and-” His gaze lingers on a small twi’lek boy, “They’re very small.”

Unhealthily small, he means, though he doesn’t say it. 

“They must have a ring leader.” Fennec replies, “An adult, probably, who forces them to steal for him…or her.” She scowls at the thought.

“Agreed,” Boba flickers his gaze around for a moment, “Get someplace high, and see if you can find a common location for these kids.”

Fennec nods, once, and turns into the crowd. 

Boba gives her five minutes to find a nest, and then he continues his meandering path through the market. This time, keeping his gaze on the children he sees.

Some are at the market with their parents. Those children are appropriately dressed for the sun, and they’re clean and healthy looking. 

The large majority of children he sees, though, are small and ragged looking. Many have angry looking sunburns, and they’re all filthy and covered in sand and dust.

“Remind me to secure funding for an orphanage.” Boba says over his helmet comm to Fennec.

“Maybe more than one.” Fennec counters sarcastically, “I’ve been keeping count of children, and there’s over two dozen.” She’s quiet for a moment, “Also, you have a shadow. Little girl, messy hair, beige tank top, at your six.”

“I see her.” Boba replies, “You think she’s going to try and pick my pocket?”

“I think she’s thinking about it.”

Boba chuckles and cuts the comm, and turns so he’s able to keep the little girl in his peripheral vision, as he examines a table full of some kind of meat filled pastry. He considers the child thoughtfully, and then he buys a pastry, one of the largest ones, and he turns and continues his way through the market.

He makes two more stops. One, at a stall that sells shawls, where he buys a child sized shawl in dark green. And then at a stall that sells simple pendants, where he buys a pendant that looks like a convor, as well as a leather strap to hang it on.

The girl seems content to just watch him, so Boba continues walking, until he’s in a more secluded area.

And that’s when the girl moves.

Her steps are feather light in the sand, hardly making a noise at all, and she’s a talented pick pocket, if he hadn’t been watching for her, he wouldn’t have noticed her hand in his pouch at all.

Boba’s hand moves swiftly as he firmly grabs her wrist, “Does that seem like a good idea, little one?” He asks as he turns to look at her.

Now that he’s closer, he realizes that her hair, which he thought was black, is actually dark blue. And the yellow splotches under her eyes continue down her neck and arms, which hints at some non-human ancestry. Twi’lek, perhaps, or possibly Miralian.

She tugs uselessly at his arm, and upon realizing that she’s not going to be able to break free from his grip, she tilts her chin up and glares up at him defiantly. 

Without releasing her wrist, Boba reaches up and removes his helmet, and then crouches so he’s not towering over the child. “Well?” He asks.

“Ya weren’t payin’ attention,” She says sulkily, “Rich people don’t care when credits go missin,”

“If I let you go, are you going to run away?”

She nods, and so Boba sighs and shifts his grip so he’s not in danger of hurting her.

“I have a meat pastry, and a shawl for you, if you agree to talk to me.” Boba offers.

“Um…”

“And,” He adds, “I have a convor pendant for you if you promise to be honest.”

Her lips turn down into a thoughtful frown, “An’ all I haveta do is answer questions and be honest?”

“That’s right.”

She considers his words for a moment, “Okay.” Boba smiles and releases her, and the child immediately sits on a crate against the wall, and holds out her hands, “Food please.”

Boba hands her the still warm pastry and watches as she takes a big bite, “So, what’s your name and how old are you?”

“‘M Jazz, an’ I’m 12.” She says through a mouthful of pastry. “How old are you?”

“My name is Boba, and I’m 41.”

“Wow…that’s old.” Jazz says as she looks at him wide-eyed.

He chuckles, “Maybe you’re just really young.”

“Mm…maybe.” She takes another bite of the pastry and releases a happy hum.

“Jazz, I have some questions about the theft happening in the market.” Boba says gently, “What can you tell me?”

She tilts her head, “Um…there’s a man.” Jazz explains as she pulls a piece of meat out of the pasty and pops it into her mouth, “He came from Coruscant, an’ he said that he’d take care of us if we work for him.”

“So he’s teaching you all to steal?” Boba asks.

“Jus’ th’ smaller kids,” Jazz says with a shake of her head, “He’s makin’ the bigger kids mean.”

“Is that how you got the bruises? From the bigger kids?”

“Nah-uh.” She shakes her head, “He was picking on one of the littler kids, an’ I yelled at him, so he hit me.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s taking good care of you.” Boba notes.

“He said he was gonna feed us, but we only get fed if we bring him so much credits.” Jazz complains, “We’re hungry a lot.”

“So he lied.” Boba murmurs thoughtfully, “Why do you still listen to him?”

“Cause he’s bigger. Cause I don’t have anywhere else to go. Cause someone has to look out for the littler ones.” Jazz shrugs.

“That’s brave of you, little one.” Boba says softly.

“I don’ think so. I’m used to adults hittin’ me after all.” Jazz replies, “I used to be a slave. The littler ones are just orphans.”

Boba frowns thoughtfully, “I have a proposition for you,” He offers.

“A what?”

“A…an offer.” Boba clarifies, “I’m going to build an orphanage for your friends, but I need to get this person first.” He says, “So, help me with this, and I’ll help you get adopted. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jazz shrugs, “I don’t wanna be helpless.”

“Okay…then how about I adopt you and teach you how to be a bounty hunter.” Boba offers.

“What’s the catch?” Jazz asks warily.

“Bounty Hunting isn’t easy, and you’re probably going to get hurt in training. But you’ll learn everything I can teach you…and then some.” Boba promises, “And you’ll never go hungry again.”

“Um…that doesn’t sound so bad, I guess.” Jazz says quietly.

Boba waits patiently as he absently sets the other two gifts on the crate next to Jazz, a smile crossing his face as she runs her fingers over the material of the shawl and then picks up the pendant and turns it over in her hands.

“Okay.” She says, after almost five minutes of thought, “I’ll show you where the boss’ hideout is.”

“Good girl,” Boba replies with a sharp smile as he pulls his helmet on, “Fennec, I have him.”

“I heard. I’m heading your way now. I also sent word to the palace to make a room for the kid.”

“You’re a godsend, Fennec.”

“Yes. I am.”

Fennec appears only moments later, and she glances at Jazz, “Alright, Kid.” She says, “We’re going to go and find this boss, and then you and I are going to the speeder, while Boba here deals with your boss.”

“Who are you?”

“Names Fennec, I’m going to be one of your teachers.” Her grin is all teeth, “Come on kid.”

Once Boba knows where this petty criminal is hiding, it’s child’s play for him to clear out the building. Literal child’s play in this case, since the only security the guy had was half starved, half abused children. 

And it was an easy decision, turning the massive building that he was using as his home base, into an orphanage for the children who already called it home.

At least the beginning of the orphanage is started, he decides two hours later as he watches several of the people from the city step up to take charge of the children, and the Orphanage itself.

There was still work to do, of course. 

But-

His gaze flickers to the side, where his ad is sitting on a barrel with Fennec standing protectively next to her. They appear to be talking about something, and Boba sees Fennec point out something about the building, and he smiles.

Well, he has his own aliit he needs to get settled.

And, as he turns to go to Jazz, he can’t help but wonder if his buir would be proud of the man he’s become. And as Jazz nervously grins up at him, Boba reaches out and ruffles her hair. “Come on, ad. Let’s get you home.” He says gruffly.

Yes, he decides as he watches Jazz get settled in the back of the speeder, his father would be proud of the man he’s grown into. Even if it’s not what either of them ever intended.

[shsy7573]

We’re in This Together - Overview

Summery and information

Description: Janeway and B’Elanna are trapped underground on an unfamiliar planet, and no way of knowing how to get to the surface. The natives of this planet seem intent on killing them, and the two are forced to rely on each other in order to survive. Will they be able to make it until Voyager comes to their rescue, or will they perish at the hands of their spider-ly foes?

Setting: VOY Season 3

Relationships: Platonic Janeway & B’Elanna (hinted mother-daughter)

WARNING: This fanfic contains instances violence and animalistic cannibalism. Neither are extremely graphic, but they are present.

Master list/Chapter index

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Fun Facts and Author Comments

- As stated in the beginning of each chapter, this story has not be read over or edited at all. I wrote it all in one burst over the coarse of three days. I just had to get it out of my head.

- This story was originally just going to sit in my Google docs for my eyes only, but I was so happy with the concept that I just had to post it.

- I created a tumblr account just so I could put platonic Janeway and B’Elanna content onto this earth!

- B’Elanna and Janeway should have gotten more relationship development in the show. That scene in the beginning where they’re essentially just geeking out whilst brainstorming solutions stole my heart and then THEY JUST NEVER GOT CLOSER! So I did it myself.

- Barge of the Dead was one of my fav episodes, if you couldn’t guess.

- I went WAY too hard on this fic. Every time it would timeskip change I put what time the new scene started and ended on in brackets so I could make sure time was passing accurately.

- Adding on to that, I actually pulled up an online calculator of how little water a person could survive off of based on how much physical activity they were doing.

- I also drew a (very poor) map of the tunnel layout so I could ensure they were travelling an adequate distance before each day ended.

- By Chapter Six I was really starting to run out of cool and interesting ways to basically do the same shit of “they walked, they came across a cave, they walked, they got attacked by spider-aliens- they walked.” But, I at least hope it stayed engaging.

- Yes, I did name the aliens “Arachnomen” JUST BECAUSE I thought it was funny. And yes, I did chuckle every time I wrote it.

- When I started writing this fic, I had no idea where it was going, but I’m happy with where it ended up.

- I really, REALLY tried to keep the characters as consistent and accurate to canon personality-wise as possible. But, I just know there are some points where it’s questionable.

- Part of me wants to write a little spin-off fic of all the senior officers visiting Janeway in sick bay while she recovers, but I also… don’t. So, if anyone would be willing, feel free! (Just make sure to credit me :) )

- I thought concussed, mood-swing B’Elanna was rlly funny.

- I laughed out loud several times writing Chapter Eight.

- I rlly hope tumblr doesn’t take down Ch. 7 post for tagging ‘animalistic cannibalism’