#and still he won’t resist or fight against unwanted touch.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

everytime I look at interactions between nightmare and killer that rahafwabas drew I can’t help but wonder where people got the idea that killer would willingly kiss nightmares feet and simp for him.

like that man’s body would start panicking and sweating the moment nightmare even looks at him let alone touches him. I wouldn’t be suprised if he dissociates the moment nightmare touches him just to cope with the panic attack his body wants to send him into and he’s so completely unaware of it because he’s just that disconnected from his body and what it’s trying to tell him

[ronnieiswriting]

Sweet Dreams- Boxer!Paz x Baker!Freader

Inspired by the events of Foul (following straight after) and the Boxer Din AU created and written by the wonderful, amazing, brilliantly talented @djarinsbeskar! WC: 1,641 Tags: 18+, mentions of smut, its a smutty AU ya'll know the drill, sickeningly sweet fluff I have been driven to write this to deal with all my Paz thots- it will become very clear that I make up for the fact that I can't write hot smut by writing the softest shit. Excuse the lack of editing, also, its quite the mess x

After Din had stormed off with his “not-girlfriend” at Avika, Paz was more than ready to go home right then and there, thoroughly unwanting to deal with the feral frenzy that Din had stirred up in and out the ring. But there was no doubt that there would be more calls for blood. And even if that weren’t the case- even if Din wasn’t on the lists tonight- Paz had to stay.

It was his job after all. And one he enjoyed more often than not.

But when he thought about you, Paz’s priorities became trivial- like dust in the wind.

He hadn’t been dating you for long but he already knew that he was in deep. To Paz, you were the one that hung the stars in the sky; you, a hardworking baker with a smile that made his heart ache and hips that made his cock twitch. It was love, the realest he’d ever found, and every day he swore his gratitude to whatever force had sent him to you.

It was almost a taunt to watch Din leave Avika with his “not-girlfriend” tucked into his side- he’d been disqualified from any more fights that night but he couldn’t look any less content about it- when Paz had to stay behind with nothing but the thoughts of you waiting for him back at his place to keep him company.

To pass a bit of time between the words that were being exchanged between Boba and Din’s opponent’s trainer, Paz checked his phone- his mood instantly brightened when he saw a notification from you.

From: Sugar Cookie💖

Hey babe, I just got home. Did you feed Kitty yet? He’s begging me for food rn but I know he’s probs got a full belly and is just being a little gobble guts lol. sent 4:13am

I gave him a tinyyy bit of kibble to hold him over in case you didn’t. Kitty knows I can’t resist him. Sorry for messaging you at work btw. I know you’re busy xx Love you xx sent 4:19am

Paz checked the current time. 5:30am. Shit. He must’ve missed the buzz of the notification amidst the chaos. Usually, your shifts at the bakery ended closer to midnight but he knew you to be a hard worker, proud of the bakery you ran by yourself, and always likely to get caught up in a task until it was done to a high standard. It was just another thing for Paz to love about you.

His thumbs hovered over the reply box; you had probably already gone to bed, exhausted from your own long day of work. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb you but he pushed past that doubt a second later, typing out a response, softened when he reread your messages about his kitten.

“Vizsla!” Boba’s voice pulled him back into reality. “Are you listening at all? This does concern you.”

Paz managed an easy half-lie, fingers tapping away as he switched contacts and began typing another message, “I’m sending Din a text- trying to figure out what started all this.”

…

When Paz finally did get home it was pushing 8am. Expecting to find you curled up in his bed, comfortably asleep, he was shocked to see you as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. You were propped up against a wall of cushions on his couch with a book resting in your lap and his kitten snoozing on your chest. Head thrown back and peacefully still, he could tell you were fast asleep.

Just the sight of you, the shape of your body outlined by the drape of the blanket that was thrown over you, your features illuminated by the warm light of the lamp, the splay of your hair over the pillows- just looking at you relieved him of so much of the stress he had carried home. His eyes traced over your form, picking out the dip and curve of your hips, and he was struck again with the amount of love he had for you. He still couldn’t believe how quickly he had developed such deep feelings for you but that fact made them no less sincere. The softness and simple intimacy (whether that be primarily sexual or emotional) that your company alone promised never ceased to amaze him.

Trying to be as quiet as he could manage, Paz shut the door behind him, put his backpack down by the door, and crossed the room to kneel down at your side. He considered leaving you there for the rest of the night- if he did he could go take a nap and then come back and wake you up by eating you out before making you breakfast- but ultimately he wanted to, needed to sleep next to you�� and he couldn’t manage that on the couch.

He got the best sleep when you stayed the night, your chest made a far better pillow and your arms though relatively small provided him with so much warmth that he would be more than content to sleep without any covers (which happened sometimes when you hoarded the blankets).

Paz let out a silent sigh and reached out to stroke the hair away from your face. You stirred in response and he leaned in to press a kiss to your nose, “Hey, baby, it’s just me.”

You let out a soft moan, eyes scrunching up before blinking open, looking up at him blearily, “Paz~”

His heart could have burst at the sound of your gentle voice laden with sleep. Carefully so as not to disturb your place, Paz eased the book from your fingers. The exhaustion was palpable on your face, the weight of many hours of work pulling at the edges of your eyes. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

You eased yourself up on the cushions, one hand bracing the kitten against your chest. “I wanted to stay up for you. I didn’t mean to doze off.” Fuck. Paz was slipping his arms under you faster than you could process and when he stood you were tucked against his chest, kitten, blanket and all. You didn’t even seem bothered by the shift, curling your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. The simple touch drove him wild- the burn of your warm skin against his throat like a blowtorch- and the fact that you seemed oblivious to that only made him ache for you more.

When he had gotten you halfway to the bedroom you spoke again in that voice that threatened sleep, “I would've been able to stay up for you if I didn’t have to spend three hours on a last minute order for a wedding cake.”

Paz opened the door with his hip. “You don’t have to say yes to every job you know.”

“I know- but the couple was so sweet, I couldn’t say no. Plus they paid me double and half on top because of the short notice.”

He laid you out on the bed and replaced the throw blanket with his thick quilt, kitten moving to curl up beside your head on the pillow. The comfortable setting was luring you quickly to sleep again but you were still determined to see him next to you before you shut your eyes again fully. When he didn’t immediately join you, you frowned.

Paz eased the crease in your brow with a kiss there, “Don’t pout, sweetheart. I just gotta take a shower.” He could have skipped one for now, knowing you wouldn’t protest his sweaty skin, but he wanted to be rid of the flecks of blood that had stuck to him, everything that had stuck to him from that ring, before he touched you. You started to protest but Paz silenced you with a searing kiss to your lips, “I won’t be long, I promise.”

If he had thought you would be back asleep by the time he finished he was fooling himself. You scooched backwards on the mattress and petted the space you made in front, “come here.”

Paz went willingly, instantly. He eased back the covers and shuffled in next to you, clad only in a pair of boxers, hands instantly finding your skin to greedily palm the warmth that radiated from you. You cozied up to him just as naturally, arms wrapping around his neck so that he could tuck his face against the crook of your neck. With the covers pulled over the both of you, Paz felt surrounded by your presence and it calmed any remaining stress he had.

Although he had reprimanded Din for taking a violent approach to defending a woman’s honor, Paz couldn’t deny the fact that he’d be just as likely to take a similar action if anyone spoke about you like that- just thinking about those vile, entitled words directed at you made his jaw clench subconsciously. And yet just as soon as that anger stirred up in him, it dissipated again, soothed by the thump of your heart against his chest and the delicate fan of air you puffed over his damp skin.

He was reminded of the first time he told you he loved you; not long ago, in the middle of a good hard fuck when he had you by the hip, lost in the emotion of your eyes to the point where his confession had come out as a babble that became a mantra that he punctuated with each thrust of his hips. You had been on the verge of tears then, overstimulated and shaking, when you returned the words to him from your own lips: I love you too.

“I love you.” Paz whispered.

You snuggled against him tighter, a sleepy sigh escaping you when his hands ran up and down your sides. “I love you too.”

[valdomarx]

The first time Geralt thinks about kissing Jaskier is in a packed, seedy tavern. The patrons are rowdy, the ale is watery, and the air is damp and sweaty. And yet, there’s Jaskier, joyously commanding the entire room as he performs, winking at audience members as he swans gracefully between the tables.

His hips sway to the beat of the music and his feet bounce across the floor, full of irrepressible energy. As he segues from one verse to the next, he pauses for a second and licks his lips. Geralt follows the movement precisely, entranced as the pink tip of his tongue flicks across plump, plush lips.

He’s hit by the urge to take Jaskier into his arms and press their lips together, to kiss him firm and deep and to feel that tongue playing into his mouth. He can almost picture it: Jaskier’s eyes widening at first and then crinkling with satisfaction, the little hitch of his breath, the softness of those lips against his own.

Coming back to himself, Geralt shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He has no idea where that strange thought came from. Best to put it aside and ignore it.

.

The next time it happens, the air is clear and there are stars overhead. It’s a warm Beltane evening and the local villagers are celebrating with wine and music and dancing. Geralt sits on a bench and observes while Jaskier, who has yellow flowers braided into his hair, dances around a maypole with a bright red ribbon in hand.

There’s a moment when he looks up and catches Geralt’s eye, and the tiniest smile flicks across his lips. It’s not one of his big, crowd-pleasing grins, or the flirtatious smirk he flashes when he’s on the prowl. It’s a tiny, genuine thing, a signal of real warmth and care, the kind given out rarely, making it all the more precious.

Geralt imagines standing and joining the dancers, Jaskier giving him that smile again. He imagines leaning in, inhaling that scent of lavender and road dust, running a hand through his hair, and kissing the smile from his lips. He’d smell like campfires and he’d taste like sweet wine.

.

He should have been faster. He should have been smarter. He should have known the bruxa had a mate, and he should have been ready to fight two rather than one.

But recriminations won’t help him now, as he’s bleeding out in a damp stone cellar. The Swallow he’s taken will slow his heart rate, but the gash in his side where he was swiped with sharp claws is too deep and he won’t survive the blood loss.

It’s a stupid, pointless way to die.

And then a beam of light spears through the cellar as the shutters are thrown open and a familiar face appears, peering into the darkness.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s nose wrinkles as he tries to see in the dark. “Are you... oh gods...”

Relief washes over Geralt like sliding into a warm bath. Everything will be okay now that Jaskier is here. Even though Jaskier’s breath is heaving and his hands shake as he presses a linen pad to Geralt’s side, he knows what to do.

Jaskier leans over him, takes his face in his hands. “Geralt, stay with me,” he begs.

Geralt wants to tell Jaskier that he’ll always stay with him. He wants to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. He wants to kiss the unhappy twist off his lips.

But he can’t do any of those things with blood pouring out of his side, so instead, he passes out.

.

The winter has been long and cold and lonely, and even the other wolf witchers could only distract Geralt for so long. For weeks he’s been itching to head south, to greet the sun and the Path, and most importantly to meet Jaskier once again. It’s a thrumming want inside him, one that barely whispers its intentions even as it drives him forward along the roads of Velen.

And then, on a beaten path outside an unremarkable village, he spots him: Jaskier, shining like a jewel in bright clothing which is eclipsed only by the brightness of his smile. There’s something so familiar about the sight of his bard on the dusty road that Geralt’s heart leaps in his chest.

Before he has time to think, Geralt’s feet are carrying him forward and he’s sweeping Jaskier into his arms, lifting him off the ground, hugging him close as he squeals and giggles.

He sets him carefully back on his feet and basks in the warmth of his presence, admiring the way Jaskier ducks his head and the bashful grin that lifts his cheeks.

Geralt wants, with a powerful yearning that’s been building all winter, to take his beautiful face in his hands and to kiss him with all the longing he’s been burying away all this time.

For a moment he feels like he might finally have the courage to follow through. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head, feels the soft curls of his hair between his fingers, enjoys the look of surprise and delight on Jaskier’s face as he tilts his chin up to face him.

But... his mind supplies. What if it’s unwanted? What if he’s misread the situation? What if he messes up the one solid friendship he has?

He falters.

.

Jaskier registers the second that Geralt’s doubts arrive, when he draws back into himself and retreats from their embrace.

“Oh, hell no,” he says, earning a surprised bark of a laugh from Geralt.

Jaskier has been waiting months for this, even before his long, boring winter at Oxenfurt. Months of noting the way that Geralt looks at him, the way his eyes will flick to his lips at intense moments. Months of holding himself back, resisting his own urges, letting Geralt come to him.

He’s done waiting.

“I missed you,” he says, and Geralt’s hands squeeze him a little tighter, betraying his emotions even as he works to keep his face impassive. “And I think you missed me too.”

He lifts his hand to cup Geralt’s cheek, and Geralt goes very, very still, barely breathing. A few years ago Jaskier would have taken that for a rebuke, but he knows Geralt better by now. He’s holding himself back from what he thinks he shouldn’t want.

“Silly witcher,” he chides, and kisses him.

Geralt is still as stone beneath his lips, and Jaskier has just enough time to wonder if he’s made a terrible mistake. But then Geralt is pulling him closer and kissing him back as if he’s been starving for it, lips and teeth and tongue, hands clasping at his back and running into his hair like he wants to touch everywhere at once.

They’re both panting by the time they pull apart, and Jaskier can’t help but match Geralt’s dopey smile.

“It’s good to see you too, Geralt.”

[sparkbeast20]

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt11

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature, Mention of blood, Past events, Unwanted hate towards a family member, and Attempted murder.

Note: I am really bad at warning.

Previously

The sound of coins being step on quietly filled the cavern, as someone pick up the old book on the ground and return back to sleep.

“So, you don’t want to control my body?” Mammon asks the beast reflected in the lake.

No....I have seen how your brothers treated you, and frankly I think you should fight back!

Mammon pouts at him, not likely the way his saying this.

“Hey! They might be a pain in the ass, but that all family are. Sure, we are at each other’s throats, but we have each others back when we need the most.” The beast huffs at that.

Name one time, you all agree to do something!

“The reaper’s cave”

Hm?

“We might not say it out loud, but we truly wanted to help Beel in anyway possible. Hell, it was a miracle that y/n was there. If was for them giving some of their candle to Beel, we would have made it a regular thing to go back to that cave for Beel.” He starts playing around with his ring, to distract himself from missing his brothers.

It seems that the human choice you out of your brothers why is that?

“y/n is not just a human! And why would you care if y/n choose me?”

I don’t know Mammon, why least you been repeating it in your head over and over causing me to wake up!

Suddenly Mammon felt a lump in his throat, he wants to respond but hesitant for a moment, then he spat it out.

“I haven’t done any of that”

Really? Let me refresh your memories

The last part the beast voice changes into his voice as he starts talking into it.

“I failed as protector and a guardian!” “They deserve better than me!” “Why they have to choose me to love” “Why settle with a weak and pathetic demon like me” “I SHOULDN’T BE SECOND OF THE AVATARS!?!”

Half way of the beast speech Mammon covered his ears, shut his eyes, and grinned his teeth with a snarl coming out of him. But he just keeps repeating his thoughts over his mind. Until Mammon scream.

“OKAY I GET IT!” he drops down it all fours as pant like he was exhausted. “I-I can’t be the demon they all want me to be”

Because you keep letting them to fill your mind with those thoughts, but what you should be doing is SHOW THEM!

Mammon looks back to the lake and asks “What do you mean?”

Kill The demon who attack our mate

“I can’t do that; the bastard knows and what I can do. Even if want to kill him, he’ll just move one location to the other”

Not unless you change into me…...

“I can’t…...” Mammon clenches his hands, digging his talons into his palms drawing blood as his body to tremble in the thought of changing back to that form the memories flood back in his mind, all the fights, the wounds which heals but the mental scars remain, and watching Levi and Asmo change right Infront of him. Their scream of agony rings in his ear as tears and blood drip down in to the ground as he starts to sob.

Are you scare after killing Basto, you’ll go and killing your brother while they’re in those forms?

Mammon quickly nods while his looking down at his bleeding hands.

You don’t have to worry about that

The beast spoke with a softer tone causing Mammon to look back at the lake.

“Wh?”

Look you and I are the same being, when I tell you that all you have to do is stay away from them for a week or two, to have better control over yourself and your instinct you might be the first one out of the seven of you to able to turn into your demonic form without the resist of killing your brothers.

Mammon is done founded about the beast just said.

“How are you sure that I can do that?”

Simple you and Asmo are the only ones that didn’t attack y/n when you get angry and threaten them. And you are the only one who never use violence against them by changing into your demon form. You might be a hothead but you never or will raise a hand to your brothers or to our mate.

Mammon is left speechless, the thing that he been scare of knows him well to the point of trusting him for being himself. He was right as much he hates being the first one to be targeting with name calling because of his sin, is not like his the only one, Asmo calling him a horn dog, Levi with his weird obsession with things and getting emotional, Beel with eating all the time, Belphie with out of nowhere naps and sleeps, Satan with his anger issues, and Lucifer being too proud for his own good.

Their demons now, is something they should be use to. But him have the most control out of the seven of them, makes him fill warm inside. That he should be proud of, and why he should let his brothers tell him that he has no self-control when anger.

But his sin oh yeah! He can’t argue with that, I mean he was willing to help Solomon to forge a pact with Lucifer for the Midas crest, and immediately takes all back when Asmo points out that once he gets the crest, he won’t able to touch you due to the crest make everything he touch turns into gold. It had to take Asmo to point it out, who just said it to openly admit that it will be less competition for him. To realize that he could have made one of his biggest mistakes of his life, for what gold!

Looking back at his hands and/or talons then his wings, looks back at his newly grown tail. It too late, he’s far along of the transformation as he his. If he agrees with the beast’s plan, its going to take some time, means that you need to go back.

“Hey, before I agree to yer plan, let me take y/n back to my brothers”

Mammon…. their better with us then back with your brothers

“Yer crazy!?! What if I kill them!”

MAMMON The last thing we want is our MATE DYING. AGAIN! I’m still a little mad at Sloth for what he did! He’s luckily that y/n forgave him, because if they didn’t rest assure, I would’ve wakened up that day!

Mammon flinch and snarl at just remember that day. Holding your past self in his arms as you choke on your blood causing Belphie. If he’s being honest with himself, sometimes he gets piss off whenever Belphie took a nap at your lap and asks pat his head like, he didn’t try to kill you long ago.

That reflex he just did, get angry when you get hurt or someone trying to hurt you. Maybe his beast does have a point.

“Okay, I’ll do it……I’ll-I’ll change, IF!! You make sure that y/n safety is my-our one goal! Go it!”

Even with a beak the beast smirk at Mammon

You have my word…… also you might feel A LOT of pain!

“Huh?...... Wh?”

Before Mammon can say anything else, he felt a pain in his abdomen, he wants to scream but he bites his lips muffling the scream. As he dug his talons into the ground dragging his hands closer to him. Then the pain slowly got worst by each heart beat and panting.

Soon the he couldn’t take it anymore and let out an agnosies scream.

Then a faith voice calls out to him.

“……Mammon…...”

“Mammon!”

Mammon wakes up from the dream by someone grooming his tail, he slowly opens his eyes and lifted up his head and let out a wake-up yawn. And turn his head to whoever is touching his tail.

His eyes narrows and he groans at the sight who it was.

“Morning Mammon, have a good night sleep” Asmo flash he cheerful smile as he fixes the feathers of his tail. “When is the last time you check your tail feathers, look at them some of them are uneven and others stuck together see….” He points at feathers with the vane split apart with dry blood.

“Oi! I didn’t have a chance to clean myself and beside y/n usually brushes and cleans my feathers so, back off” Mammon squawks at Asmo who just giggle at him.

Right, no one can hear him, well no one expect Lucifer who is close to what he is now. He just has to have you use gestures and his eyes to convey what he’s thinking.

“What a pain in the ass, ya all don’t listen to me when I was normal. Now I have to deal with this crap!?! Tch whatever, the herd must be at the lake at this time. Might as well get some food……. Oh shit! Beel’s here…. Great……”

“I know that you’re not a morning demon, so I know that your cranky. But maybe not try to be loud so you won’t wake up y/n” that snap Mammon out of his train of thought.

Surprise to what Asmo said, Mammon looked down in his arms to see your sleeping form curled up next to his chest as you nuzzle your cheek into in with a smile on your face.

He faces softens as gently rub your face with his, as a soothing cooing and purring comes off from him, causing you to let out a satisfying hum as you fall more asleep.

Then Mammon reaches out with beak for a thick fabric from the nest. Then he slowly and gently lay you on the nest and place the fabric under your head serving as a pillow as you continue to sleep.

Then he stood up leave the nest as Asmo let go of his tail and gazing at his brother’s action. Once out of the nest Mammon stretches bending down then stand back straight shake body ruffle his feathers and once finish the feathers fixes themselves as Mammon being his daily routine beginning with leaving the cave. And Asmo got up and follow his big brother.

“I-I don’t believe it. There’s no SIGNAL HERE!!!” Levi is basically reaching for the havens on top of the tree trying to get a signal for his D.D.D, but to no avail.

“Levi! Get down from there” Lucifer yells at Levi causing to flinch almost letting of the branch he was holding to keep himself balance.

From afar Satan and Belphie watches the two older brothers, with Beel who is cook breakfast inside the cave.

“Its just me or is Lucifer losing~”

“His cool? Yes, I’m all for it” Satan is gleefully smile at the sight of Lucifer completely abandoning all of his calmed and serious demeanor, for an anger, short tempered and animalistic one.

Then suddenly they heard talons being drag through rock behind them, they turn around to see Mammon walking out from the cavern and heading outside with Asmo not far behind him.

“Mammon, your awake you got to see this Lucifer is blowing a casket at Levi~” Mammon just keep on walking out ignoring Satan.

“Wait where you going? Breakfast is about to start” Beel got up from he sits next to the campfire and chase after Mammon.

Once outside, flap his wings and start flying, grabbing the attention of Lucifer and Levi.

“MAMMON!?!” Lucifer calls out to him, as he flew after him grabbing Levi’s arm towing along.

As Levi scream for help fade, Satan look at Asmo with a questionable look on his face.

“What did you do”

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that. I was just cleaning the feathers in his tail; I mean you saw him covered in blood of that bastard. You would have done the same thing” Asmo huffs and walk back inside.

“Oh, before you go, Lucifer was looking for the book that he used. Have you seen it?” but Asmo shook his head, not even looking at Satan as he went in to Help Beel with breakfast.

“Clearly one of us is lying about the book” Belphie said it looking at Satan.

“Obviously, but the question is who is lying”

[yanderenightmare]

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

PUNISHMENTS

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, anxiety, blood, guilt, mind control, NONCON/DUBCON, self-harm, slavery, starvation, isolation, torture, violence

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

Her fear is much too satisfying to ever feel the need to actually hurt her. He’s still a sadist, don’t get me wrong, however laying off the physical pain and preying on the emotional side of things. 

I can take and do whatever I fucking want with you, whenever I want, and you can do nothing to stop me, Pumpkin.

However, his temper will always get the best of him despite him constantly fighting against it. The sad truth is, he doesn’t want to hurt her, he really doesn’t, but a lack of self-control is something that will always burden Katsuki. Where ignoring his building frustrations only get the best of him in the end. 

Do you think I want to hurt you?! Well, I don’t! I fucking hate it!

He will stick to threatening for the most part, discouraging bad behavior as it arises. Seemingly unaffected by most of it, given his paramount strength in contrast to his darling, he manages to ignore most of her transgressions and settle for simply ridiculing her pathetic efforts, and doing so with perverted delight. His cock growing heavy and warm at the feel of her meek struggles. In short words: refusal will be met with salacious mockery. 

Watcha gonna do about it, princess? 

You’re such a crybaby! 

I’d think again, if I were you, sweetheart. 

So cute, so hopelessly adorable, good thing you’re all mine.

Words will set him off faster than actions. Tell him she hates him, she’ll soon be preaching otherwise, his cock pounding her into a silly hot wet cross-eyed mess, feeling foolish for ever even humoring the idea of retaliating. 

What the fuck did you just say, slut? Say that again, I beg you. You’ll regret it, bitch.

Katsuki’s tolerance for unwanted behavior all depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s in a nasty mood, where he might just steer his darling into making a bad decision only to give him an excuse to punish her. These will be light punishments, sexual more times than most. He’ll have her bent over his lap, slapping the bare soft plump flesh of her ass again and again until she’s convincing enough in her apology. 

Who owns this ass? Say my name! That’s right, you freak. Mine.

However, other times the smallest thing can set him off, and certainly not in any good way. He’ll be fuming, flames licking up and about his arms, crackles of hellbent fire mingling with his maniacal cackles. She’ll be lucky to come out with minor burns. 

Time to learn your fucking lesson. Time for you to understand who here’s in charge.

However, the times where he’s silent, those times where he’s tired and fed up, those are the times she should really fear. Where he’ll be taunting like some haunting ghost, playing with her, perhaps opening the locked outer-door only to find satisfaction in hunting her down and dragging her back to do it all over again. 

I’ll give you a reason to cry. 

Continue to scream, and I’ll do it again.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi doesn’t ever need to punish his darling too severely because his presence is an intimidating enough detergent on its own, encouraging her to stay away from doing anything too reckless. He looks like the onset of death, it’s only logical for her to think he might be as well. 

Waddya look so scared for, Doll? I haven’t even done anything yet.

However, he won’t shy away from making it clear who’s in charge, something of which he’ll do from the get-go. But again, the fact is in-mistakeable whence he’s large and lanky form towers over her, smiling that crooked grin that have his skin stretching in stiches and staples. Leathery fingers brushing over sensitive areas, cyan eyes intently watching her every move. 

That’s right, Babygirl, you know your place. Don’t make me remind you.

Besides he’ll sprinkle a couple path-keeping scares here and there, as in: he’ll correct behavior while she’s committing the crime and prove how idiotic her reluctance really is. Seeing how he’s much larger and much stronger than her, fighting truly is futile. He’ll make it clear she’s being foolish, lacing his words with condescension as he scolds her as though she were a child, while making her bounce up and down the length of his cock. 

Silly little doll, thinks she has an actual fighting chance. You’re adorable, Pumpkin.

For the most part he’ll just ignore when she refuses him or fights him, it’s not like her pathetic struggles can do anything to stop him. In fact, he quite enjoys it in some malicious sadistic sense. How her delicious little wiggles have trembles running pleasantly up his spine, nestling somewhere in the bulging tip of his cock. 

You’re so cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.

In some ways he’ll actually encourage misbehavior. Leaving her just enough freewill, just enough room to fight back, constantly egging her on and provoking her to retaliate either physically or verbally. 

Babydoll, so feisty today. Try that again, why dontcha?

As far as punishments actually go, they’ll never leave out the element of pleasure. Spanking is always fun, hearing her scream his name over and over until it leaves her wet lips like a broken cry. Whilst gifting as well as reprimanding her with thumbprint scorch-mark hearts never gets old either. 

Such a crybaby. Come one, cry some more for me, Angel.

Dabi is not the one to snap. He’s very calm, collected, reserved, calculating. Therefore, when his darling crosses the line, as in escapes, he’ll have punishments instore for her, punishments containing of her on her knees sucking his dick like her life is on the line, however… he’ll never go any farther. His darling is precious, he can’t have her getting damaged beyond repair. 

Let’s get you home, where you belong, Buttercup.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Tomura will try to avoid threats and punishments altogether, knowing how his guilt will ultimately defeat the purpose of correcting his darling’s behavior. He wants to be happy when with his darling, and nothing but happy, but that won’t be possible if he serves as a constant reminder of dread to his darling with the display of fear ever so prominent and gut-wrenching in her eyes. 

Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I won’t hurt you.

However, that doesn’t mean he’ll resist his carnal desires. He will resist in hurting her when she tries to fend him off, but he’ll still bury his dick deep inside her and hold her down as he starts rocking his hips sharply into the underside of her thighs, the slap of skin on skin echoing in his barren room. 

You feel so good… just relax, I’ll make you feel good too.

He’ll lie more often than not as opposed to spouting threats. Promises upon promises, all bound to break. All in an effort to calm his darling down or to build some unstable trust in their relationship. 

I’m not gonna hurt you. 

You’re safe here.

He gets more annoyed than actually mad, her efforts mediocre against his lanky slender fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists. Giving mere half-hearted vocal corrections as he keeps her still for his cock to abuse. 

Give up already. 

Stop fighting. 

You’re only wasting your energy.

But… he walks on constant eggshells. He will try to ignore her unwanted retaliation to the best of his capability and reel in the reigns of his temper, but he’s prone to snap at some point, knowing there lies a dormant yearning to touch her in more vile ways than one. 

Careful now, don’t tempt me.

He’ll try to the very best of his efforts to be soft and understanding, not realizing before it’s too late that his actions only aided in watering the seeds of his darker desires, soon to be blooming with all hell breaking loose. 

I’m a monster? Who’s fucking fault is that?

He’s easily vexed. He doesn’t enjoy her crying and will try to make it stop immediately. Screaming is even worse, piercing his ears making him scratch at his neck frantically. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! Stop, or I’ll give you a reason to cry.

But, the worst is when she runs. He’ll keep her locked in his room for the most part, but sometimes she’ll manage to sneak away and get lost in her attempt to find her way out of the compound he’s situated her in. He doesn’t enjoy any part of it. Running after her in empty rundown hallways like some monster in a horror-game. Catching her and hugging her close, dragging her back into his cold dark dreary room. 

Don’t even look at the door. I don’t want to feel like you’re trying to run away from me again. 

Wherever you go, I will find you, and bring you back… even if I have to drag you by your hair.

He’s a sore loser as well. He’s basically a child and will throw a temper tantrum when she beats him in a videogame. This will call for punishment, however he won’t call it that, he’ll call it another game, a game he knows she’s got no chance of winning. 

You think you can beat me? 

I’ll show you who’s boss.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Here’s one that rarely feels a need to punish his darling, mostly because he finds her struggles absolutely adorable when she’s trying to fend off either his mind-control or his scarf. 

How precious, Kitty thinks she has a choice. 

You’re so cute when you’re struggling.

But, she can choose to look at it as a punishment when he ties every inch of her body up in tight rope and spreads her thighs so far apart she doesn’t even have room to tremble when he slides his cockhead up and down the slick of the velvety folds on her exposed pussy. 

You’re such a pretty little thing, tied up like that, Kitten.

He will threaten her though, if only to see her squirm in discomfort beneath him. See her lips quiver as her mind reels upon his words, her eyes spiraling in complete chaos, not knowing what to expect. 

Pussy on a platter, where should I start? I love playing with my food.

Not much can actually anger him, but silence, cold-dreaded pin-drop deafening silence that racks at his mind, that can really bring out the eerie viciousness dwelling inside him. 

Kitty, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer. 

Remember the last time you didn’t listen to me?

His lessons leaving her psyche crumbling in their wake. Fucked completely silly, his words rummaging through her mind, ordering her to cum again and again and again and one more time for master. 

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re begging for me to take control. 

Let me show you what happens to little kittens who don’t follow the rules.

True punishments will lack all forms of fun, coming in the form of utter solitude. He knows how ferally and how painfully deep loneliness bites. He’ll leave her alone for days if not weeks in complete abandonment, starving her at times, simply waiting for as long as it takes before she comes crawling back to him. 

You must be truly desperate to come to me for comfort, Kitten. I was beginning to think you were incapable of learning.

Saying the wrong thing will also set him off, even more so than silence. He loves noise. She can call him anything, yell and scream and cry until her lungs feel like they’re bleeding, and he won’t mind, but… call him a villain… don’t be surprised when he acts like one. 

People warned you about me, didn’t they? Calling me a villain. Should’ve listened… look where you are now.

She never even saw it coming, him and his large hands, how easily they could bruise and choke and scar when truly motivated. 

What? You thought you were gonna get away with that? Think again.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Keigo deals out punishment as he sees fit. He’ll punish the crime when it’s being committed. Crimes ranging from ignoring him to saying the wrong thing to saying the right thing with the wrong attitude. But when the punishment is dealt, he’ll forget the whole ordeal ever happened, never dwelling on the past, never holding a grudge and always, constantly talking about the future. 

I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile. 

I love you, Dove. Just let me love you and perhaps you’ll learn how to love me too someday.

He will grow frustrated and impatient though, and that aggression will bubble up and escape his grip on it at times. But, he’ll yell more than anything, yell and cry and kiss and lick and slobber all over her, pinning her wrists to her sides and hugging her with his massive wings, suffocating her in crimson. 

Say you love me. Would that be so hard? I just need you to say you love me. Just pretend, only for a little while. Please, Dove.

He’ll humor other forms of making her more lenient. He’ll wash her hair, message her, carry or fly her places, even though she recoils back and flinches with every touch his calloused fingertips adorn her silky-smooth body with. 

Maybe branding you will help.

He has this theory that sex will bring them closer and excuses his advances with this belief each time she starts sobbing when he pries her legs open to plant his sloppy warm worming tongue between them. 

I can make you feel so good, Dove, you just gotta let me. 

Don't be so difficult, I'm doing this for you!

His real violent nature lies dormant however. It’ll only come out when she crosses the line of trying to leave him. His wings will turn razor-sharp and she’ll catch herself in the heat of her regret, missing the time he would wrap them around her ever so softly and cry into her chest. Now, he’s baring his teeth, feathers coming to slice through her skin as a punishment of a million cuts. 

What’s wrong with you!? 

Don’t you dare fucking try it, you know you can’t outrun me.

He’ll feel really bad afterwards, cleaning every wound, embalming them with cooling salves, kiss and apologize for each and every one, but on the inside, he can feel the crawling feeling of contentment linger. Seeing her so catatonically compliant is refreshing and such a well-needed break form the exhaustion of fighting all the time. 

I’m so sorry, Angel. I love you so much. You know that, right?

She barely flinches when he decides to get in the bath with her, and when he comes to message the anxiety from out of her back he can feel the slight shift of her leaning into the touch. His protective mode fades as he holds her close, and the pure earth-shattering woeful relief comes wafting over the residue of his fear of losing her, leaving him in a fit of rather ugly sobbing. 

Nothing. Without you, Angel, I’m nothing.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku acts oblivious to undesired behavior and retaliation. He will very much be aware of it all, yet he believes making her feel safe is paramount. So, he’ll forgive all her nasty words, and respect her wish to keep the intimacy to a minimum. In fact, the only time he sees her completely naked is in the bath, where he actually lets her do most of her own washing. 

You’re safe here, Darling.

Other than that, he’ll coo and explain as much as he sees fit when she asks her bitter questions, however… there will always be the slight irking presence of self-righteous condescension. 

Cruel, terrible people live out there, Sweetie, people who want to hurt you. 

You’re lucky I’m so nice. Anyone else would’ve taken advantage of you and done something horrible, by now.

Although Izuku is a patient guy, he can easily see when something isn’t progressing. Good thing he has plenty of methods to make things go his way. While making her feel safe was plan A, Plan B is not as forgiving. If a soft touch isn’t to her liking, then perhaps a firm touch is what she needs. 

I know it hurts, Honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do as I say.

She’ll wake up with her wrists and ankles tied snuggly together, face in the pillow and her exposed tender tight little pussy raised to the high skies, all for Izuku to touch and feel and suck on. 

Be good for me, Baby. We wouldn’t want to see those tears again, now would we?

He’ll be cooing her all the while when she cries out for him to stop, as well as landing a sharp painful blood-curdling smack against the plump dome of ass nudged up and pressing against his throbbing cock. 

I think this is what we needed, Baby, for both of us to be reminded of who’s in charge.

He’s far from ever causing her any real pain though, settling for claiming her tight little hole again and again until she eventually understands where she belongs and who she belongs with, or to. 

That’s right, Honey. I love you, you don't need anything or anyone but me.

He will eerily threaten her when finding her doing something not to his liking. For example: picking at the locks on her handcuffs when he leaves the room. 

What do you think you’re doing, Sweetie? 

Give up, Honey. 

I’m gonna count to three, Sweetheart.

However, with the sheer strength and adept abilities Izuku is in possession of, he can never truly feel threatened by his darling, and a fear of her leaving fades more and more when he proves time and time again how very impossible it is for her to ever manage such a thing. He’s good at assuring himself she’ll never leave, and therefor he should only spend time making those good memories instead of those foul ones. 

No need to be scared, Sweetie. I’m gonna take good care of you, like I always do.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Kai is larger than life when it comes to threats. He puts all his assets into making them clear. Godly golden orbs and hellishly black pupils staring menacingly down into her swirling glossy puppy-dog eyes. Fingers digging manicured talons into her soft and tender cheeks, the feeling of buzzing on his fingertips, threatening to dissolve what found beneath them. Words spoken like the eerie calm found in the massive dark of fog-strewn forests. 

I shouldn’t have to repeat myself, Darling. Say you’re sorry, and perhaps I’ll forgive you.

Kai will threaten and promise his darling a life of pain is she ever to disobey him, however… he’s all bark and no bite, never having the heart to follow through on his promises. Not after seeing how sorry she is. Seeing the look of utter tearful fear in her eyes, he cannot help but think that there can be no harm in forgiving her. 

You’re the only person I’d make an exception for. 

Count yourself lucky. I won’t be as forgiving next time you decide to misbehave.

He soon comes to the conclusion, or comforts himself with the thought, that due to his darlings chaotic and clumsy nature, she’s in fact incapable of following his restrictions. 

Such a clumsy mess you are, Darling. Unable to follow the simplest of commands.

Besides, he’s come to find her forgetfulness quite endearing, understanding or choosing to believe that she doesn’t disobey to spite him. If anything, it’s a constant reminder of how in need she is of his protection. 

Such a hopeless fragile little thing. How grateful you must be to have me to protect you from your own mishaps.

Chisaki will threaten first of all, biting his own tongue when the time comes to follow through on said threats after never seeing a proper lasting change in obedience in his darling’s behavior. He always tells himself that her actions should be reprimanded sooner rather than later, but those large eyes and that frail body he uses to warm himself each night has a way of strumming his heartstrings. 

Please don’t do anything to upset me, Darling. The mess wouldn’t be good for either of us.

He does have his limits though. She crosses the line when she ends up hurting herself with her clumsiness. Tripping when running away from him, falling out the window when trying to escape, cutting herself when throwing broken shards of glass his way, getting dirt and all sorts of bacteria to infect her wounds. 

Look what you’ve done now, Darling.

He figures his quirk is the only safe measure there is to correct his darling’s behavior. Safe to pull her apart and safe to put her back together again, and again and again and again with little sympathy battling his fascination. 

Run, cry, scream; you’re simply dancing in the palm of my hand. You only have yourself to blame.

TODOROKO SHOTO

Shoto doesn’t view his darling as something to control, at least not on a regular basis. And because of this, he doesn’t see punishment, in its term, as something he has a right to exert on his darling when she fights back. He doesn’t view himself as a master correcting his pet. Admiring her efforts over feeling vexation because of them. 

So much life in you, little one.

Freewill and passion he’ll put no chains on, but pain, however, is no unfamiliar pastime for his darling nonetheless. Shoto views pain as a pleasure, as a luxury, as a lifeline. 

Don’t think of it as a punishment, Snowflake, it’s more a lesson of appreciation. You’ll thank me later, I’m sure.

When his darling is being particularly impossible, he’ll blame himself over her, knowing how it’s his fault that he can’t properly please her. Figuring more of his attention and care is in order of need, something of which he will happily oblige her with. 

Is my little blizzard feeling lonely?

He’ll have her over his lap in no time, exchanging what fingers on what hand he uses when tickling the soft sensitive spot found between her thighs, going from hot to cold and steamy and feverish. 

Is this what you wanted, Snowball? All you needed is ask. I’ll give you what you need.

But, during their more unorthodox sessions, Shoto is strict. He has to be, in order to give them both what they supposedly need. Shoto believes his darling needs his firm hand as much as his soft touch, she needs balance, whereas he needs someone to apply his balance to. 

Be a good little firecracker for me and hold still.

However, he still doesn’t view it as punishment per se. He believes his darling is asking for the applied pain when disobeying his commands, therefore the pain is something she wants more of, something she’s begging for. 

Don’t move, Crystal. 

My little snowstorm, I told you. Don’t move…

He can get angry however. Not by words, knowing how many times he screamed at his father in the fit of his rage, never genuinely meaning any of the spiteful words he’d say, he knows his darling doesn’t mean anything by them either. 

It’s okay, Wildfire. You’re just frustrated. Let me help you.

But escape… escape is a fragile topic and any attempts on achieving it will be met with stone-cold nonchalant wrath. Safe to say she won’t ever try leaving him again, not if she wants more of those irredeemable frostbite burns across her soft skin. 

You think you know pain? I’ll make you long for something as sweet as pain.

Shoto doesn’t easily forgive. He doesn’t easily forget. He doesn’t easily cope at all in any healthy way. And he definitely doesn’t easily trust after being betrayed. He might just do something brash in his strive to feel comfortable again, or else the prickling feeling of uncertainty will linger about beneath his skin. Paranoia is a better word for it. 

You think you can just up and leave? Think again, Snowball. 

You’re not going anywhere. Nowhere without me. I’ll have you crippled before that happens. Mark my words, Icicle.

His flexibility regarding the amount of freewill his darling possessed will change drastically after his trust is broken. Chains are a great reassurance he’s come to find, and if she ever finds a way out of those as well… bones will break. 

I didn’t want this, Snowfall, but… I must say… you do look your best when you’re at my mercy.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[wordsablaze]

Touch And Go

day six, where dick realises there’s no way to fit back into his life after returning from spyral...

A/N: blame spyral for this, i’m still mad about it. whumptober prompt: touch starved

-

Cold had become a constant in Dick’s life.

Cold words, cold stares, cold nights, cold shoulders, cold drinks, cold reports, cold hands, cold everything .

He thinks the cold might have been the worst part of being undercover. Because sure, the risks and the deadlines and the uncertainty hadn’t exactly been fun, but the cold had been something beyond awful: the cold had been lonely.

Dick grew up surrounded by people and love and warmth, and then he grew up around fewer people and more subtle love but somehow just as much warmth, and then he became a part of the people and love and warmth that yet another version of his family was growing up surrounded by.

He didn’t always do a great job of providing love and warmth, he knows, but he tried. And he liked to think that it had worked because every time he felt like the nights were too dark or too long or too haunted, nostalgia had only brought back memories of smiles and bickering and warmth that fuelled him to keep working, to keep fighting, to just generally keep going.

Only, he must have thought wrong.

He must have, because now he’s back to living normally and he’s actually allowed to exist in daylight and everything should be fine, but it’s not; he hadn’t been foolish enough to think everyone would forgive him immediately - pretending he was dead is far worse than dropping off the grid for a few days after a fight - but he had apparently been foolish enough to think everyone would forgive him at all.  

Nightwing returns with relative ease but Dick Grayson finds himself unwanted.

He’s unwanted when he tries to talk to Jason about the classics he’d read to cope but finds himself met with only vague comments about their opinions being mismatched. He’s unwanted when he offers Tim help with his research for a case he’s been looking into all night but finds himself met with barely polite dismissals. He’s unwanted when he offers to take Damian out for some fun but finds himself met with scowls and excuses that only half make sense.

So he stops trying to be wanted.

He leaves Gotham.

He finds a new place in Bludhaven and spends every night throwing around threats and punches until the crime rate drops to unprecedented low levels, then continues to patrol as if his life depends on it anyway. He won’t admit it, but it somewhat does.

And he knows he’s getting a very strange reputation because every gang has a different theory about his return and why his puns are often mixed with bloodlust and why he never seems to sleep, but he couldn’t care less - he doesn’t let himself care because caring is warm and he is oh so cold and there’s no changing that.

Some days, usually after bad nights, he craves warmth. He craves hands running gently through his hair, he craves arms wrapped tightly around him, he craves fingers intertwined seamlessly with his own, he craves and craves and craves so badly that it hurts.

There are no painkillers that work against this kind of cold.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s summer or winter, the cold sticks to his skin like lichen to a rock. He wants desperately for someone to replace it with the warmth of human contact but his only option is getting into fights and although trading punches with the criminal underworld can be a good distraction, he’s still on his own again by the time he gets back from patrol.

“Richard?”

Well, he’s usually on his own.

He flinches at the sound of his name, not having heard anyone say it for far too long, instinctively unsheathing his escrima sticks and positioning himself defensively because he can’t think of anyone who would be in his apartment unless they’re trying to kill him.

“There’s no need for that, it’s just me.”

Me?

Me, who?

Dick drops his escrima sticks, not sure whether he does so because something in his head tells him the voice can be trusted or if he just doesn’t care enough to protect himself any longer.

“Richard?”

This time, the voice sounds concerned and Dick finally looks up.

He blinks.

And blinks again, because there’s no way Damian is standing in front of him right now.

There’s no way anyone can be standing in front of him right now. He hasn’t spoken to any of his family - if he’s even still allowed to call them that - for weeks and they’ve given no indication of caring what he’s been doing or even where he is so Damian being here is illogical at best and another hallucination at worst.

“Richard- Dick? Are you hurt?”

It’s the use of his preferred nickname that jolts Dick out of his shock. He swallows and shakes his head, pulling himself upright and resisting the urge to ask how Damian is doing, how everyone is doing, how the people he loves but isn’t loved back by are doing without him.

“Damian. It’s uhm, it’s really nice to see you. Is there something I can help you with?” he asks, smiling.

Damian frowns at him, glancing between his abandoned weapons and the awkward way he’s holding himself before clicking his tongue. “Alfred would like to invite you back home for dinner.”

Dick laughs.

“Home?” he echoes.

The manor hasn’t been his home since he died.

Home is people and love and warmth and the manor is none of those things. It can’t be any of those things because everyone living there hates him and everything about the place leaves him feeling empty and everywhere he goes, he is always alone and cold.

“I would also appreciate your presence,” Damian adds softly, stepping forwards.

Under any other circumstances, Dick would congratulate his little brother on expressing his feelings. But now he knows better than to think Damian would tolerate that so he just steps back, wrapping his arms around his stomach and clenching his hands into fists around his suit. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Richard, I-”

“It’s okay, I know you can’t forgive me,” Dick interrupts, knowing that anything Damian says would probably break him to the point of no return. “You don’t need to explain, I don’t blame you. I- I love you and… and I understand. And I’m sorry- I’m so, so, sorry. I just- I get it and I’m so sorry.”

Before Damian can get any closer, Dick grabs his escrima sticks and all but flings himself out of the window, knowing that he can never go back to that apartment and will most definitely have to relocate once more. But that’s okay because anything and anywhere will be better than being reminded of the people he will never see again, of the love he will never share again, of the warmth he will never feel again.

-

accidentally turned him into a more angsty elsa, oops-

-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | dc sideblog: @batfamvibes

[softboywriting]

The Two Times You Ended Up In His Room, And The One Time He Ended Up In Yours | Poe Dameron

Summary: You and Poe are both x-wing pilots and you have both been mutually pining for each other for a long while. Things finally come to a head when you end up in his room one night on accident. [tw: PTSD discussion] [Set before films? but non specific] [established friendship] [mutual pining] [fluff] [established nickname]

Word Count: 5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

The first time you end up in Poe's room it's an accident. It is well past midnight and you're trying to avoid the guard who always flirts with you. He's really creepy and you just want to go for a walk around base to clear your head. Things have been tense and you just want a moment to breathe. Unfortunately you have absolutely no luck and you run into the aforementioned guard. His name is Karik. How could you forget, he tells you every single time you see him.

You turn down a hall toward the command center and there he is. He raises his hand and greets you like an old friend and you do nothing of the sort in return. Instead you turn around and go to the closest door, scan your all access ID and go in. You have no idea who to expect inside but you don't care. Explaining your issue will be easier to deal with than Karik.

In the low light of the bedroom you can make out an orange flight suit in the corner, a body on the bed with their back to you and a droid in the corner powered down. The droid is the dead giveaway. It's BB8. That means the man on the bed is Poe Dameron.

As if you had said his name out loud, he rolls over and flips on a small wall lamp beside the bed. He's topless, hair a dark curly mess, the gold chain with small ID tags he always wears glints in the light. Stars above, he is a sight to see. "Hello?" He asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes and making sure you're actually there. "Jumper is that you?"

Jumper. The nickname you earned from the x-wing pilots just over a year ago when your x-wing was going down and you emergency evacuated on a planet you had no knowledge of. You knew two things. Die in a fiery crash with the x-wing or possibly survive the fall on to the unknown planet and keep fighting with the resistance, but also possibly die upon impact. Obviously you survived. Broken and battered you landed in quicksand. It was Poe who rescued you only minutes after you landed. He had seen the x-wing go down and went to find you, or better yet, your body to bring back your ID tags. When he found you alive he was shocked. If he hadn't come after you, you'd have died in that quicksand, unable to move and sinking slowly. Truly you owe this man your life.

"Yeah, hey Poe." You chuckle nervously. Maybe explaining your sudden intrusion wouldn't be easier than dealing with Karik. Because of course it's Poe and he's your friend, and of course he's your commander too but on top of all of that you've got a massive crush on him. Like, you’re basically in love with him and he has no idea. "I-... was out for a walk."

"A walk?" He sits up and the blankets pool at his hips. "A walk into people's bedrooms?"

"Yes, no! No! I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk around base. There's this guy, a guard or something, he always tries to flirt with me and it makes me uncomfortable. Anyway I saw him and I just went into the closest room to avoid him."

"Oh. That's horrible, have you told him you're not interested?" Poe slides over on his bed toward the edge and adjusts the blankets. "Have you talked to anyone about it?"

You sigh heavily. "I've told him I'm not interested of course. I haven't brought it to anyone's attention because he isn't like...I don’t know?"

"It's unwanted attention. He's harassing you. Tell me who it is and I'll talk to them tomorrow."

"I don't want to start trouble."

Poe flips his blanket back. "I won't have anyone on this base getting harassed, let alone one of my best pilots."

"I-" your voice catches as you realize he's just given you a major compliment. One of his best pilots? Coming from Poe Dameron, the Poe Dameron? Your heart is going to explode. "Thank you," you manage to whisper while your brain and heart go a thousand miles a minute.

He chuckles softly, as if the compliment were nothing. "You know we have a recon mission tomorrow. You need to get some sleep. Should I walk you back to your room?"

"I can't ask that of you. I already woke you up and barged in your bedroom."

"It's no problem. I'm offering." Poe pulls back his blanket completely and slides off the bed, stretching as he stands. His black jogging pants hang low on his hips and you force yourself to look at BB8 in the corner. "Come on, Jumper. I need my pilots rested before they get behind the controls."

You nod and he opens the door, ushering you into the bright hallway. Karik is nowhere in sight and you're glad. It would be painfully obvious he was the one if he were lingering outside the door. "I think I'll be fine. You can go back to sleep Poe."

"No, I wanna make sure you get to your room unbothered." He runs a hand over his hair and scratches his side. It's hotter than it has any right to be. He's just being a human and you can't get your head out of the clouds. "You're in South Central quarters right?"

"Y-yeah? How'd you know?"

"I visited every day when you were laid up after your crash. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, right, duh." You shake your head and rub your neck. The scar there from the operation they did to reconstruct your shoulder is still raised. Your stomach churns as you think about how much of your body is scared from that crash. You're still alive though, and that's what matters.

Poe lays a hand on your cheek and fans his fingers out over your neck. "You still with me?"

"What?" You snap out of your trip down memory lane and look to the man in front of you. "Sorry."

"I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

"No, no it's fine."

"Did you ever go to therapy for that or anything? It takes a toll on a person when they get that close to death." Poe slides his hand down to your shoulder. "I'm not saying anything is wrong with you because there isn't, I just want to make sure you're alright."

You smile softly. "Yes, I've seen someone, I’m still seeing someone actually. I promise I'm not going to crash anymore x-wings or let you down on a mission because I'm in my head."

"I don't care if you let me down or destroy a hundred x-wings. I care about your health, about you as a person not as just some pilot on my team. I never wanna pull you from the brink of death again but I'd do it over and over if I must, just to see you smile and fist bump me before you get in your x-wing again."

"T-thank you Poe." You swallow back the surge of emotion that courses through you. "I haven't- I don't really talk about it outside of therapy y'know?"

"You can talk about it any time with me. It's okay. I've been there and it's a dark place to come back from." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you into a hug. "You're not alone."

You bring your hands up and grip his back gently. It's warm, soft and smooth to the touch. He must use quality body wash. "Sorry I woke you up and now I'm like this."

"There's a time for everything. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Does the name Jumper upset you? I guess I didn't think of it until now."

"No, it's like a badge of honor. It's alright I don't mind."

"Okay good." He ruffles your hair and you swat at his hand. "You need to go to bed. Like I said, I don't need a sleepy pilot tomorrow."

"Yeah okay, Dad."

Poe smirks and folds his arms over his chest. "Dad? Or do you mean Daddy?"

Your jaw drops as you realize what he is implying. "Oh disgusting. You're sick Dameron. You're sick."

He laughs raucously, leaning on the wall as he catches his breath. "Oh man, your face was just priceless. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm joking. I'm not into that at all."

"Oh my- fuck Poe you are terrible!"

"I've been called worse honey." He pats your back and pushes you forward gently. "Seriously though, as much as I'd love to stay up all night with you, we both need some sleep. Let's get you to bed so I can get some sleep too."

__________________

Two days later you wake up from a nightmare in a cold sweat. You had gone down again, your x-wing careening to the surface of a planet you're unfamiliar with. This time you didn't jump out, trapped by your seat belt straps and you crashed with it. Everything felt so real and the moment you made impact you sat bolt upright in bed gasping for air. It's been over a year since the crash, you haven't had a dream like this in forever. You remember what Poe said, that you could go talk to him anytime. It's well into the early hours of the morning and you feel bad waking him up again, but you need something solid, something real. There are no missions for a few days so he can catch up on sleep tomorrow or something.

You put on your slippers and head out into the hall. You pass a few of the hangar crew, most likely the night shift, on your way down Poe's hallway. At his door you scan your ID and it slides open, allowing you to step in and hit the close button.

Poe stirs, rolling over in bed and looking at you. "Jumper? That you again?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

"No, not at all. Here." He scoots over and pulls the blanket back. "Get in."

"I don't know if that's appropriate?"

"Appropriate? What is this grade school academy? We're adults and you're my friend and co pilot. I think you're allowed to get in my bed. Do you want me to make it an order?"

"No," you laugh softly at how ridiculous it sounds. You crawl under the blanket and snuggle down against the mattress. It smells like him, warm and rich almost like sandalwood and spices. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I just didn't want to be alone."

"Nightmare?" He asks, voice soft and deep in your ear. He's so close you're torn between being comfortable and being nervous. "Tell me about it?"

"I was going down in an x-wing and I couldn't evac because I was stuck and I was so scared." Your chest tightens and you take a heavy breath. "I was so scared of dying Poe. I shouldn't be, I know the risk I take everytime I get behind the controls. But I was so fucking scared I didn't want to die like that, I didn't want to..." Your voice breaks completely as a sob wracks your body. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Poe takes your hand and brings it up to kiss your knuckles. It makes your heart ache and everything feels surreal. You're a mess of emotions. He lets you cry it out, waits to speak until you've settled yourself down enough to breathe normally. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Mmmhmm."

"I get scared too. The first time I almost died I ended up in a sand dune alone with a cut on my head and a broken arm. I think I was eighteen. If some salvagers hadn't found me by tracking my downed x-wing, I'd have died of starvation and dehydration. I didn't know where I was or how to get back to civilization. I think about that flight every time something happens to my ship and my controls go dark for a moment. I had nightmares every night for two years. I still get them from time to time."

"Oh. I didn't know that happened to you."

"Mmm. I've been in a lot of dangerous situations and I'm sure I will be in more in the future. Being afraid of dying doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. Unfortunately PTSD is a very real side effect of traumatic events and we've been through a lot. I still go to therapy once a month because coping is hard."

You nod and squeeze his hand in yours. "Thanks for letting me stay in here for a bit. I just wanted to feel something real, to know the dream was just a dream."

"I understand. You're welcome to sleep with me if you want. I have to be up in a few hours to meet with Leia, but you can stay as long as you like."

You chuckle softly and wipe your face. You feel a lot better having cried it out. You're feeling a lot less scared of dying and being weak and a lot more giddy and anxious about being this intimate with Poe. "Is Poe Dameron asking me to sleep with him?"

"Only if you say yes."

"Mmm, only if you keep it above the waist." You say teasingly.

Next thing you know Poe is leaning over you. His hand slides into your hair, turning your face to him. In the dark room so you can't see him clearly when he is this close and your breathing stops. Is this happening? Is he actually making a move?

"P-Poe?"

"Above the waist." He strokes his thumb over your cheek. "That's the only stipulation?"

"For sleeping? Or you mean for-"

"I do."

A flush rises in your chest and you can feel your cheeks get warm just before the rest of your body floods with heat. "I didn't know you felt that way about me."

He chuckles softly and leans his forehead against yours. "Jumper, you're all I've wanted since the day I pulled you from the quicksand. I knew when I saw you almost ripped from my life, I needed you. You're funny, smart, quick, and a damn good pilot." He bumps his nose against yours and you let out a shaky breath. "I don't let just anyone in my room late at night, and I sure as hell don't share my bed with just anyone either."

"I can't believe...I was just teasing but- I've always wanted you t-"

He presses his lips to yours and you melt. Your body feels as if it completely dissolves, from your bones to your skin. You feel like putty held together by some fragile and unknown force, doomed to ooze out of your form at any second. He's burning up, body flush to you as he works his lips against yours ever so gently. It's even better than you imagined, he's so soft and warm, a gentle lover, and your heart stops as you think about how this can't be real. This has to be a dream. You're still in your room. This cannot be happening.

"Hey, you alright?" He murmurs, stroking some hair off of your face. "Did I read this wrong?"

"It's a dream. You're not real." Your chest swells with crushing sadness and you can't stop the tears that spill over the corners of your eyes. "This isn't happening. I'm going to wake up now."

Poe lets out a soft laugh. "Sweetheart you are awake." He leans over you and turns on the wall lamp. The room is flooded with a yellow glow and you see him, face to face. "See? I'm right here?"

You reach up and touch his cheek, the light stubble scratches against your fingertips. His loving eyes droop, a dead give away that he enjoys your touch. But why? Why would he wait so long? Why would he never say anything? You splay your hand flat on his cheek and rub your palm along the scratchy short hairs, thumb bumping his lower lip. "Why now?"

"Because I finally had an inkling that you were just as interested as I was. You're hard to read most of the time. I understand that though. You're private with your feelings and I'm your commander. I don't blame you for not flinging yourself at me. I've not been exactly forthcoming either, as I didn't want to be inappropriate as a person of authority."

"Right...but what is proving to me that this isn't a dream?"

"Well would a dream bite your shoulder?" He drops his face to your skin and lets out a hot breath over it.

"Maybe?"

"Would you feel it if it wasn't real?"

"I don't know."

Poe sighs heavily, forehead pressing to your shoulder. "This is not a dream. I swear. Do you want to get up? Go talk to someone else? Maybe fly the x-wings around a bit?"

"No. I want to sleep. You said you need to sleep too because you have a meeting with Leia early in the morning. Maybe if I fall asleep I'll wake up if it's a dream."  

"It's not a dream." He leans over and flips off the light before he drops his weight to the bed beside you. "You'll see."

_____________________

Morning comes and you wake up to bright light pouring in through the small window beside the bed. Of course Poe has a good room with a window. Most of the base sleeping quarters have no windows and are very small. His is nice enough, definitely more spacious than a lot of the rooms you've been in. His bed is tucked in the corner, there's a bedside table, a rod built into the wall for clothes, a small three drawer dresser behind the door and a little indent on the wall the bed is against for storage where BB8 stays. He doesn't have much in the way of personal items on display. Only a few hygiene essentials in a basket on the dresser and a small box that looks like it might hold a piece of jewelry. There is a photo frame too, and it looks like a picture of the x-wing fighters.

Last night wasn't a dream, that much is obvious. You're in Poe's room and he is gone. You debate turning over and going back to sleep, or going out to get breakfast at the mess hall. Your stomach makes the decision and it says mess hall as soon as possible.

In the mess hall you take a seat with some of the other pilots. You know them well enough, a few of them you would call friends. You've never been one to be too social because in this fight, you lose too many people. One of the few people you call a friend is Vivi. She is a bomber pilot, knows the in and out of a bomber like the back of her hand. She's a bit of a gossip but she has been here with you since the day you arrived.

"Hey hey, how's it going?" Vivi asks as you place your tray in front of you.

"Good. I've got a few days off. I'm glad just to recoup."

"Got anything special in mind?" She asks with a little smirk.

You shrug and poke at the jellied fruit you've got on the plate. "Sleeping? Finding a place to take a hot bath. I swear I've got arthritis and I'm only twenty five."

"Mmm probably because you were a shattered heap of bones when Dameron found you. That shit doesn't heal back right y'know?"

"Mmm yeah probably."

"Yeah...so how long have you and Dameron been a couple?"

You nearly choke on your coffee and quickly grab your napkin to clean up your face. How in the galaxy did she know you and Poe spent any time together outside missions? "Excuse me?"

"I said what I said. I heard from Nupe that Karik told him that he saw you go into Dameron's room the other night, like well into the night too. I also heard that Trey and Garin saw you in the hall going to Dameron's room last night. So, how long?"

"It's not like that. Karik is the one who is obsessed with me, remember? His rumors are invalid. I was out for a walk because I couldn't sleep and I just ducked into a room to avoid him. It happened to be Poe's room. There is nothing going on."

Vivi chuffs. "So what about last night?"

"I went to talk to him about the crash. I've been having a hard time lately and- y'know what? I don't owe you an explanation." You stab a little harshly at your scrambled eggs and bring them to your mouth. You don't owe anyone an explanation about why you've been to Poe's room. Why does it matter? He's your friend and co-pilot. That's all anyone needs to know. So what if you kissed last night. You're still not sure it wasn't a dream. Sure you woke up in his room but that doesn't mean anything...maybe.

Vivi stays quiet, realizing she has crossed a line she wasn't meant to cross. The two of you eat in silence while the rest of the mess hall go about their own conversations. It's not until you're ready to take your tray to the wash station that Vivi speaks again. "I'm sorry I pushed you. I think you'd make a good couple. I just thought- well the way Dameron looks at you I thought something was definitely going on."

"The way he- what?"

"You don't know? He looks at you like you're the most incredible person he's ever seen, literally after every mission he gawks like a proud parent watching their kid win a race." She laughs softly to herself. "He is so in love with you and you have no idea do you?"

"Wait- last night...fuck. I have to talk to him."

"He's still at the command center with Leia and the others last I knew."

You pick up your tray and head for the wash station, passing it off to the droid there as you head out. You're starting to think last night was not a dream after all. If not, you've gotta talk to Poe as soon as possible. If rumor spreads that you're hooking up or sneaking around, whatever, you want to make sure that it doesn't affect either of you. You want a solid definition of your relationship no matter what it may be.

As you turn down the hall to the command center you run into Karik. The absolute last person you want to deal with right now. He's standing guard outside the command center, posted most likely, and you've got to get past him to get to Poe. As if the Galaxy hasn't given you enough to deal with in your life.

"Hey Jumper, where are you headed?" Karik smiles, arms folded over his chest to make himself seem bigger. It's like a bird, puffing itself up for first impressions on a mate.

"I've business in the command center."

"Do you? I don't have any orders to allow you in."

You roll your eyes and look to the doors beyond that open to reveal the internal workings of the command center. You make eye contact with Poe for a moment before the doors close again. "Why don't you double check?"

"I know my job. How about you? Do you know yours?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Karik shrugs and gives a rude smirk. "Nothing. Just don't know what a pilot would think they need to be in the command center for. You're not a commander or a sergeant."

"What's your problem Karik?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Really? Because you are acting like an asshole right now and if my memory serves me right you've never been one before."

"People change."

You scoff and smile to yourself. This is absolutely about you and Poe. He's blocking you because he's jealous. "You-"

"Jumper, hey you came to meet me?" Poe says as he jogs down the short hall behind Karik that leads to the command center. He stops and lays his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly.

"Of course, I was hoping we could talk soon. I didn't realize your meeting would go so long today."

Poe looks back at the closed doors and runs a hand over his hair. "We're just about finished. Did you get breakfast?"

"Yeah just came from there."

"Damn I was hoping to get something with you. I'm starving in here."

You look to Karik and then back to Poe and smile oh so sweetly. "I can grab you something before they switch over to lunch. Meet me in my room when you're done?"

"Sure. I'll be wrapping up quickly." Poe moves his hand from your shoulder to your neck and does a soft little cradle of your jaw before pulling his hand away. "You're such a sweetheart. I'll meet you there soon."

Warmth floods your body and grips your heart. So tender and loving. You're not sure if you're ready for that side of Poe yet. You glance at Karik and he is staring straight ahead, an unmistakable scowl of jealousy on his face. Good, maybe now he will leave you alone.

_____________________

"So Karik is the one who bothers you isn't he?" Poe asks, stretching his legs out in front of him. The two of you are in your room, wanting to talk in private from the rest of the base who are clearly very interested in your relationship. "I could sense he was uncomfortable with me touching you."

"Yeah, he's moving on though I think. I don't know." You pick at the bread you've brought to snack on while Poe finishes his jelly on toast. "I wanted to ask you about last night."

Poe looks over and you can read his expression as plain as day. He looks nervous, concerned that he has wronged you. "Yeah?"

"It wasn't a dream right?"

"No, it definitely was not. Are you uncomfortable?"

"No. No, I'm not uncomfortable with what happened. I guess I'm coming to terms? It still feels like a dream, like it feels hazy because I was so tired. Do you really actually like me like that?"

"Yes. I really like you." He chuckles and leans his head on your shoulder. "Jumper, you're the most amazing pilot I've ever seen and you're so incredibly beautiful without even trying. I don't know why I have waited so long to make a move. I suppose I was afraid I wasn't good enough."

"Not good enough? You're Poe fuckin' Dameron. You're the greatest pilot the resistance has ever seen, shit, that some of the Galaxy has ever seen. You're sweet and kind and you're so determined and dedicated. Poe, you're a rarity and any woman who gets to be romantically involved with you is so lucky."

Poe lifts his head and puts his arm around you. "I suppose you've hit the jackpot then."

"Me? Why?"

"Because I want to ask you out, Jumper. Be my girlfriend."

"Wh- we haven't even gone on a date Poe! How do you even know you want to date me let alone actually be in a relationship with me? This is a bit fast don't you think?"

"I know we have chemistry through the roof when we are together in the cockpit of a ship. We've got an undeniable connection when we are fighting side by side in x-wings and even more of one when we see each other on the ground. There is no way you don't feel that when we're together."

You smile to yourself. Of course you noticed all these things. They're why you've got such a crush on him. You and him have an unspoken connection that puts you on the same wavelength when you're near each other. You always thought maybe it was because he's such a good pilot that you just vibed with him. Two birds of a feather type deal. But it's deeper than that. He evokes a deep comfort, a sense of home and family that you no longer have. By the stars you never realized you are basically in love with him.

"Jumper?" He murmurs, hand cradling your jaw and turning your face to him. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm in love with you." You mumble softly, eyes focusing in and connecting with his.

Poe smiles and lets out a laugh. "And I'm the one moving fast?"

"Shut up." You grab his face and pull him in for a kiss. He immediately melts into your grasp, reaching for your face and grinning into your lips. "You taste like jelly," you giggle as he pulls back and leans his forehead against yours.

Poe pulls you against his chest and you wrap your arms around him. "So is this a yes to being my girlfriend?"

"Yes. I'd love to date you Poe Dameron."

"Good." He presses a kiss to your head. "Because I don't know if I could keep pining after you."

"Pining? Oh please."

"Hush." He ruffles your hair and falls back on the bed, pulling you back with him. "Let me be the romantic I was born to be."

"I'm excited to meet this side of you."

He kisses along your jaw and hums. "I'm excited to show it." ______________________

end

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Header image by delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[ahgaseda]

pray | two

you are more than my existence, please listen to my prayer, hold me, tell me about myself, call my name so I can know who I am...

summary : everyone knows of the unspeakable evil that lives on the mountain, but you willingly sacrifice yourself to the demon named Jaebeom, as long as he takes you far away from the monster waiting for you at home.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, instances of blood and violence, graphic sexual content, black magic themes, potentially triggering elements that involve mentions of past child abuse, mental health, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

For the first few days, you returned to the border without fail. Waiting, but mostly hoping and praying that an entrance was made for you. It went without saying you navigated the edge of the forest, searching for the slightest break in the trees and thorns for you to slip inside. You were ready to endure any injury to be back where you belonged.

Of one thing you were certain - you hated Jaebeom. How he had taken everything from you. It was selfish and cruel, and you would never forgive him for it as long as you lived.

After weeks passed and the woods remained silent as the grave, wholly impenetrable, you finally surrendered. The last time you stood before the forest, you bid her a tender farewell.

You would give anything to know Jaebeom felt your pain, that he longed for you in his heart as much as you did for him. The woods must have been lonely.

Did you cross his mind at all? Even for just a moment?

A voice came from behind you, jeering, “And here she is again, staring at a wall of trees.”

“Hello, Gale,” you droned with disinterest.

A more arrogant and disdainful boy never existed than Gale. As a child, he often led the charge of children throwing rocks as you passed by. He always shouted the loudest when it came to how alone and pitiful you were.

But in more recent years, as you developed into a young woman, his gaze became less scornful and more filled with something worse.

He came to stand beside you, though his presence was unwanted, and spoke mischievously, “I can think of much better ways to occupy your time.”

“I’m sure you could,” you spoke, monotonous and uninterested.

Neither your body language or tone could dissuade him. “Everyone has advised me against my attraction to you,” he continued, moving even closer to your side.

You avoided his eyes and retorted, “For that I am eternally grateful.”

Gale ignored your response altogether and said, “They say you’re wild, untamed, and that you would not be a good, dutiful wife.”

Music to my ears, you mused, fighting back a grin. “They are absolutely right.”

Gale crept closer, until you could smell him, until you could feel his hot breath on the top of your shoulder. Your entire body bristled, wary.

“I spent a lot of time with horses, the kind we use for war, and I can assure you,” he whispered coldly. “Even the wildest of them can be broken into submission.”

You rounded on him, refusing to show him even the slightest of fear, and countered, “I’m not a horse. I’m a woman. And I would defy you with every breath in my body until the day I died.”

Gale’s lips broke into a broad smile and he cooed, “And that is what I desire about you.”

You rolled your eyes, parting from the border with a rush to your step. Gale was unnerving. There was malice in his eyes. He didn’t see you as a human, he made that abundantly clear. To him you were an animal, a trophy; something to own and mount on the wall.

He followed you closely, losing what little patience he had. “I would rather you accept my proposal willingly.”

You snorted and kept walking, exclaiming, “That was a proposal?”

“Yes,” he replied, puffing out his chest. “I want you for my wife.”

The mere thought set a bad taste on your tongue. You frowned, wrinkling your nose, and said, “I have no interest in having you as my husband.”

Angered, Gale grabbed your arm roughly and yanked you back, nearly knocking you off of your feet if not for how solidly he gripped you. “And do you think you will ever find better than me?” he shouted, leering over you.

You stared up at him in defiance and said, “I already found better than you and I loved him. And I can still taste his kisses.”

Gale blinked rapidly, shock fading into jealousy. “Is that so? Then, where is he? I do hope I’m invited to the wedding,” he sneered, mocking.

You bit your lip, eyes filling with tears at the memory of Jaebeom casting you out of the forest.

“You are an insane little thing,” Gale muttered, tightening his grip on your arms until you whimpered. “If not for how beautiful you are, I would never waste my time on you.”

At that, Gale released you harshly and skulked away, leaving you with your tears.

You turned a little, gazing solemnly at the forest in the distance. It was time to let go, time to move on. You would have to focus on self-preservation for the foreseeable future. And so you stopped visiting the border, forcing yourself to keep from looking in the woods’ direction.

On the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. It had been a year since you last saw Jaebeom.

Despite your sadness, your father would never allow you to spend a day in your room and you continued on as if it were any other Thursday. You sat at the table and picked at your breakfast.

Your father did little to hide his eagerness at the offers he received for your hand in marriage. He planned to build his small fortune on your back.

However, the current war waged between men had put a delay on the arranged marriage. And your father’s temper had never been worse.

He reached sharply across the table and grabbed your wrist, growling, “You had better make this man happy. I will hear nothing of you resisting his advances. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, father,” you spoke submissively. You knew nothing of the man he mentioned, only that he would soon own you.

There used to be more fire in you, but it had burned out. Every day felt as cold as the forest had been when she was taken from you.

Your father continued to rant, but his voice faded into the background. All you could think about was the kiss with Jaebeom on your last birthday. Your first kiss. And you shared it with a demon in the canopy of the forest, watching the sun go down.

There was nothing that could compare, nothing that could ease the pain of having lost your only friend on the same day you realized you were in love with him.

Commotion outside tore you from your melancholy thoughts.

Your father glanced through the window, brows stitching, and huffed irritably, “Damn kids harassing something again.”

That piqued your attention. You excused yourself and gathered your heavy skirt in your hands, hurrying outside to see what the rowdy neighborhood boys had found this time. Once you rescued a nest of eggs from their clutches. On another occasion you saved a fawn with an injured leg from their amusement.

This time, the boys were chasing a little black shadow and cornered it along the fence by the chicken coop. Only when you squinted and looked closer did you realize it was a baby panther.

“What is wrong with you?” you exclaimed, snatching a stick from one of the boys’ hands and slapping him over the head with it. “It’s just a baby, you brat!”

“Give it to me,” jeered another boy. “My father can make a little rug from its pelt.”

“I will skin you first if you touch it,” you threatened with a snarl, approaching the small beast delicately.

She seemed to sense your intentions and did not attempt to bite when you hoisted her up by the scruff. You cradled her in your arms, seeing she was female, and spoke soothingly to her.

The little cub wailed, starving for food.

The door to the nearby house burst open and a man wielding a knife yelled, “That little beast killed two of my chickens!”

Your eyes widened at the weapon he brandished and you knew the cub was about to suffer a brutal fate. You couldn’t stomach the thought and so you did what you had always done.

You ran.

The boys shouted with disappointment and called for their fathers. The man preparing to butcher the cub warned of punishment you would endure for blatantly defying him. Another voice, belonging to your father, broke through them all, demanding you stop dead in your tracks.

You listened to none, thinking only of the innocent beast in your arms. She gave no struggle, only gazed up at you with warm yellow eyes. For an animal, she seemed well-aware of the dire situation.

You ran until the border came in sight. Months had passed since you saw its thorns. They had not moved even an inch since the day you were barred from entry, but you had to try.

“You have to let me in,” you yelled with conviction. “I won’t let them kill her!”

The little cub mewled in your arms.

For a moment, you were met with only silence and your heart sank. Someone or something had weighed the scales and did not find in your favor. Tears filled your eyes and you whimpered, desperate.

Then, the forest groaned. It knew your voice, even after all this time.

The boughs shifted and the thorns parted. You were given the smallest of entries, enough space for one person as if you were a highly kept secret. You knew, thought it went unsaid, that the forest would certainly seal itself again in your wake, trapping you inside forever.

This was it.

You contemplated setting the cub at the edge and ushering her inside, but there was no one to feed or protect her. Then, you looked down at the cub and chuckled at your own hesitation. Your heart belonged in the forest and now you could finally return home.

You pressed inside, vanishing into the darkness.

After only a few steps, the thorns came alive again. No one would be able to follow you.

You cradled the cub close to your chest protectively and walked. You had no idea where to go, no thought of where you should go. You merely walked among the trees, breathing in the icy air that tickled your skin.

The forest had darkened. Light struggled to seep through the canopy. You could hardly see ahead and your breath appeared like smoke from your mouth. The cub noticed too and burrowed against your breasts for warmth.

“Don’t worry,” you cooed, exhaling heavily so your breath was manifest. “I’m a dragon.”

The joke may have amused you, but it was lost on the cub’s ears. She whined and hid her face in your arms with a mewl.

You pressed on, reaching the small clearing that once made your heart soar. The ground was brittle, the grass had died. A howl echoed amidst the darkness.

The forest had remained bound in winter for an entire year.

Rustling tickled your ears. The air chilled even more. Ice nearly formed on your lips and lashes. You shivered in place, hands turning numb. But you stood firm, knowing he had come.

Jaebeom descended from the shadows above and your heart jumped wildly in your ribcage. His feet touched the ground and his wings swept gracefully around him, coming to perch over his head.

“I told you,” Jaebeom warned through clenched jaws. “Never to come back here.”

You glared vehemently at him, how he could treat you with such frigid judgment. But you were quick to notice the year had not treated him kindly either. Darkness marred his beautiful, piercing eyes. Even more ink seemed to be branded across his chest. Despite the anger coursing through you, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him and melt the ice.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you murmured shakily, glancing down at the beast you had smuggled inside. “They wanted to slaughter this little cub.”

Jaebeom took a step closer, peering down at the ebony creature in your arms. She turned and with one look at him, hissed in defiance. You fought a grin, pleased at her reaction.

That was why the forest let you in, Jaebeom mulled with a frown. Your willingness to protect nature. The wood heeded his wishes, but he was also required to heed hers. It was a mutual, symbiotic relationship.

Though he cursed the forest in his mind for letting you inside, he knew she would hear no argument of sending you back.

Jaebeom moved closer, wings dragging the ground behind him. “Are you afraid, cheonsa?” he asked lowly, almost in intimidation.

You hardened your gaze and replied, “No.”

Jaebeom tilted his head and persisted, “But you know I’m a monster.”

You eyed the great horns on his head and scoffed. “You are no monster compared to them.”

Jaebeom came even nearer and you could hardly breathe. Winter had taken residence in his chest and was freezing everything around him. He reached out and stroked a thumb over your cheek. You sucked in a breath. Despite his cold, he carried the scent of a raging wildfire, destroying all in its path.

“If I steal you away, you will be my bride,” Jaebeom reminded, his voice almost like a song. “Can you fathom that - being the demon’s bride?”

You countered, “You can’t steal what is already yours.”

Jaebeom’s eyes flickered and he was tempted to smile. A year for you had been an eternity for him. It still perplexed him how he had been able to survive for so long without you. His wings arched, flaring out in display.

“You broke my heart, Jaebeom,” you whispered morosely. “You chose my life for me.”

Jaebeom nodded, apologetic though he dared not apologize. “Fate had other plans,” he replied gruffly.

“If not for the war, I would be married by now,” you told him with a foul taste in your mouth, then snorted. “It’s been a year. I would undoubtedly have a child as well.”

Jaebeom stuttered, imagining the great swell of your belly or the sight of a dark-haired newborn nursing at your breast. He could barely force out the question, “Do you… want children?”

For the past year, you had been forced to give the notion plenty of thought. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you replied softly, “If I have a child I want them to be from a place of love and passion. Not convenience or obligation.”

“I understand,” said Jaebeom with a nod, glancing down at the cub once more. The little thing promptly gave a high-pitched growl at him.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

Your cheeks flushed as you asked, “Is that what you want from me?”

“What?” Jaebeom exclaimed. “No.”

You searched his face in confusion and pressed, “Then, why do you have to take a bride?”

Jaebeom pursed his lips and spoke dryly, “The Master commands it.”

You shuddered when you realized who he was referring to and said, “He’s not here. Why do it?”

“As we age our magic grows,” Jaebeom explained, surprisingly patient. “That’s why the forest is saturated in black magic.”

You waited.

“We have to find someone, someone we can bond our souls with, or the magic will become too much. It will kill us.”

Your eyes widened. “You mean, I will bear magic?”

He gave a single nod. “Yes.”

Your imagination ran wild and you asked, “Will I grow horns or wings?”

“No, you will stay as you are, but the sun will not smile upon you any longer.”

You sighed, softening a little, “I will be doomed to live in the darkness. Just like you. That’s why you pushed me away.”

Jaebeom’s eyes shone with unshed tears and he reached to cup your cheek, desperate to feel your skin beneath his fingertips again. He pulled you close, lips mere inches from yours, and whispered, “I saw you in the sun. I could never bring myself to take that away from you.”

You set your jaw and replied, “They can keep the sun, but you stole away my light for a year. For what I thought would be the rest of my life.”

Jaebeom winced, hearing that pained him though he already knew it deeply. “I promise, I will spend every day until my last making it up to you.”

You fought a smile, lowering your head to hide the corners of your mouth lifting.

Jaebeom slipped his hand beneath your chin, tilting up until your eyes were on him again. “Well?”

You sang quietly, “The demon comes to take her away. On a bed of stars they will lay.”

Jaebeom smirked before finishing, “And never again will she see the light of day.”

You giggled. It should have come as no surprise he knew the songs your people sang of his kind.

A scream sharply pierced the forest, making your blood run cold. You whirled around, shuffling backwards in horror. Jaebeom wrapped his arms around your waist and steered you behind him.

“What is that?” you gasped. The cub in your arms stirred restlessly, terrified.

“The forest is wounded,” he told you angrily, charging forward. His great wings fanned out, bristling with aggression.

Gale stepped with purpose inside, sword glistening with the dew of trees and vines. He had cut and sliced an opening for himself in pursuit of you.

The moment Jaebeom came into view, Gale gripped the hilt with both hands and held it before himself, shouting, “Stay back, demon!”

Jaebeom was livid and snarled, “You dare bring steel inside this place?”

You molded yourself to his back, a hand on Jaebeom’s arm, and called incredulously, “Gale, what are you doing?”

Gale felt his blood boiling at the sight of you in a demon’s clutches and said, “I saw you run here. I know you’ve been entering the forbidden woods all along.”

Jaebeom snapped, “Be gone from here.”

“Like hell I will,” Gale retorted. “Do you think you can steal my fiancee?”

Jaebeom scowled, seething.

“Your what?” you blurted in disbelief. “Gale, I said I will never marry you!”

“Your father agreed.”

You stood there dumbfounded. It was your worst nightmare come true.

Jaebeom’s wings rustled, a testament to his fury - and his restraint.

Gale held out his hand and called your name. “Come. He won’t take you while I have a sword.”

Jaebeom grimaced, eyeing the weapon with nothing short of loathing.

You let your hand slip down Jaebeom’s arm, moving past him until he was behind you. Jaebeom didn’t stop you. He knew the choice was yours and he would have to live with whatever you decided.

“You said I was insane,” you told Gale, gazing down at the cub against your chest. “Maybe I am. But not nearly insane enough to marry the likes of you.”

Gale recoiled and his face tensed with rage. “You little bitch, come with me now. I bought you fair and square!”

You met his eyes and felt only sympathy. And after a pause, you said, “I am where I belong.”

Jaebeom moved faster than you thought possible, sweeping you in his arms and taking to the air with a forceful beat of his great wings.

Gale’s shouts and threats faded into the rushing of wind.

You gripped Jaebeom tightly, gasping for air and lost for words. The demon soared through the forest, branches moving from his path and birds singing his arrival. When he broke through the canopy, you gasped at the thick fog around you, the same clouds you remembered surrounding the mountain.

Jaebeom flew higher and higher. Your ears began to ring. Your breaths were labored. You had never been at such an altitude. The cub in your arms screamed its confusion.

With you in his arms, the demon burst through the clouds, alighting on a precipice of stone. You looked around curiously, gasping at the sight of a looming castle before you.

For a moment, you held Jaebeom tightly, peering over the crest of his shoulder. He rather liked the heat of your rapid panting on his neck and made no moves to set you down.

“Where are we?”

“Home,” Jaebeom replied softly.

“This is your home?” you asked, voice trembling from the flight as you gawked at the many turrets and towers.

“Our home,” Jaebeom whispered in your ear, nuzzling his face in your hair. The scent of you was overwhelming.

“And what about this little shadow?” you asked, leaning down to kiss the brow of your baby panther. She closed her eyes contentedly at your affection though her fur still stood on end from defying gravity.

Jaebeom lowered you to the ground, an arm wrapped around your waist until you found your balance. “She’s all yours,” he droned. “I’ll have no part in raising her.”

“Shadow,” you mulled to yourself, meeting the yellow eyes of your new companion. “I quite like that name.”

You placed the cub on the ground and she danced at your feet, following you dutifully as you walked with Jaebeom into the castle. The demon pushed open the double doors and you stepped into the endless stone foyer, the pitter-patter of your bare feet echoing down the walls.

“It’s massive,” you said, gazing up at the ceiling and spinning in a circle.

“Mostly unused,” Jaebeom told you blithely. “I tend to keep myself between the bedroom and the kitchen.”

You chuckled, twirling again. Little Shadow refused to part from your feet.

Jaebeom watched you with delight, but you would have never known given the lack of expression on his face. “That… human in the forest,” he began.

“Gale.”

Jaebeom clearly wanted more explanation than that and pressed, “He was your betrothed?”

You laughed. “No. Definitely not.”

Jaebeom still wasn’t satisfied. “He seemed to think so.”

You finally faced him and quipped, “Then, he is much crazier than he ever said I was.”

Jaebeom tilted his head, smiling slightly. “Do your people consider you insane?”

You beamed with pride. “Very much so.”

The demon chuckled.

You studied him, approaching him with purpose in your step, and began, “All of my betrothals fell through. Men were ready to pay for ownership of me. Did you have something to do with their failures?”

Jaebeom shrugged and replied, “Men are preoccupied with the war between realms.”

You cocked a brow. “And how would you know that?”

“I have prayed every day since you left that the war would never end,” Jaebeom told you solemnly.

Folding your arms, you shot back, “I didn’t leave. I was cast out.”

Jaebeom felt his heart clench and hardened his gaze. He reached out and took your hand, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss. “And how long are you going to hold that against me?”

You smiled up at him and smarted, “For as long as it pleases me.”

Jaebeom wanted to chuckle. His heart was spinning, dancing in circles. Every moment you stood there before him he found it harder and harder to breathe.

When he woke up this morning, he had no idea you would be with him.

But here you were, the brightest of smiles on your lips, traveling up to your glistening eyes. Jaebeom was hopelessly drowning in his feelings for you.

You blushed when he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His bare chest was hot beneath your fingertips and you wanted to trace the pattern of one of his many tattoos.

“Do you accept me as your husband?”

You stared up at him, the grin making your cheeks hurt, and replied with a single nod, “I do.”

Jaebeom ran his thumb over your bottom lip, studying you intently. “Come with me then,” he beckoned with a low voice.

“Where?”

“To bed,” he replied bluntly, taking your hand and leading you beside him.

Your eyes widened and you asked curiously, “Are you trying to bed me without a wedding?”

He looked over his shoulder. “When I said make you my bride…”

“Oh, I see,” you said, planting your feet and letting your hand slip from his grasp. “I want something more binding.”

Jaebeom stopped, pivoting on his heels to face you, and his wings shuddered with excitement. “There is nothing more binding than me claiming you as my own.”

You found your resolve and reminded him, “Once upon a time, I offered myself to you.”

Jaebeom paused, heart heavy, and murmured, “I remember.”

Your lip trembled. “You made me feel unworthy.”

Jaebeom asserted, “I was the one that wasn’t worthy.”

You sighed. There you stood in the castle of a demon, about to become his bride for all eternity. You had prayed and wished for freedom and protection all your life, and he would forever be your lighthouse in the storm.

One day you would let go of your anger.

“I fully intend to surrender my virtue to you, Jaebeom,” you told him. “But first, I want marriage.”

Jaebeom wrinkled his nose. “Hmph.”

“And a wedding,” you added, at this point resorting to humor to relieve the tension you caused.

“Fine,” he said shortly.

“It can be just us,” you continued, slipping back into his embrace and wrapping your arms around his waist. “And someone obviously to perform the ceremony. Whatever you desire.”

Jaebeom roamed his hands to rest on your hips and his great wings moved instinctively around you, shielding you from invisible dangers. “My only desire is you…,” he finally revealed. “And whatever makes you happy.”

You batted your lashes. “I would not be opposed to a white dress, if you happen to have one.”

Jaebeom exhaled loudly, searching his thoughts for where in hell’s name he could find one. “I need to send a few letters.”

At that, his hands slipped free of your body and he began striding down the hall.

You followed him eagerly, hot on his heels, and asked with excitement, “Does this mean we will fly again?”

Jaebeom turned, brows furrowed. “No,” he replied flatly, pushing a door open and pointing inside. “Stairs.”

“How boring,” you whined, proceeding forward.

The two of you appeared in one of the higher towers, a turret with glassless windows. Ravens congregating inside squawked at your sudden arrival, but quieted at the sight of their fellow winged creature.

Jaebeom took small rolls of paper on the nearby table and began scribbling with a narrow piece of charcoal. You watched in silence as he prepared six brief letters, tucking each into the ankle band of a crow and sending it out into the sky.

“Ravens,” you thought aloud. “We use doves.”

“Doves have very small attention spans and even smaller brains,” Jaebeom deadpanned.

You giggled.

Returning to the main hallway from the tower, Jaebeom said, “Come along. I will show you to your room.”

“My room?” you questioned in pleasant surprise.

Jaebeom held out his arm and you looped yours in the crook of his elbow. “Assuming you won’t come to bed with me until we’re married, it would be poor manners to put you in my room.”

You chuckled. “I see.”

He escorted you to a door and explained, “This is the only spare bedroom that gets any use. My fellow demons sometimes stay here when they come to this side of the forest.”

You nodded to let him know you understood.

Jaebeom pushed the door open and ushered you inside.

“Oh,” you gasped, eyes widening at the scale of your room. Massive windows graced the far wall, curtains blowing lightly in the breeze. The bed lay in the center, on a raised platform, and a canopy of white gossamer material gathered overhead, tied to each of the bedposts.

Your vision darted to the desk along the wall, littered in writing materials. Then, you looked to the bookshelf and quaint reading nook, wanting to throw yourself on the velvet chaise and feel its warmth.

Shadow bolted inside, nearly colliding into your legs, and began to survey the room for herself. You giggled at her joy, following after the baby panther and plopping down on the side of the bed.

Jaebeom struggled to hide his smile more than ever, but his pale face stayed constant. He proceeded to say his goodbyes, allowing you to get settled with privacy.

“Jaebeom,” you called, before he could shut the door.

Jaebeom stuck his head back in and asked, “Yes?”

You gripped the side of the bed, your legs hanging and unable to touch the floor, and hoped he would sate your curiosity. “Do demons really steal away only the most beautiful of mortal women for their brides?”

Jaebeom bobbed his head. “Those of us doomed to live among mortals have no other choice. The Master keeps all she-demons in Hell with him.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

Jaebeom shifted his weight, his wings curling to his back almost in embarrassment as he continued, “We aren’t like your kind. No demon forces a woman into bed with him.”

You had tried to veil the question, but clearly he had realized what you were after and his answer put you at ease.

“We mate for life. Whoever we give ourselves to is our mate until we die. We need them to want us.”

You stood, approaching him somberly. “Am I free to leave? If there ever came a time…”

Though you had accepted him, Jaebeom understood you would want reassurance that you weren’t a prisoner in his castle. “I could not stop you,” he said, tender.

“Even if I am your mate?”

“Then, I would go the rest of my life with half of me missing.”

That’s right, you remembered. He said you would bear magic. “It sounds intense,” you told him. “So final.”

Jaebeom snorted. “We demons tend to live in extremes. Very dramatic, the lot of us.”

Heat flushed your cheeks when you asked shyly, “Would you prefer to have a demoness as your mate?”

Jaebeom shrugged. “I’ve never laid eyes on one.”

You looked down bashfully, tucking hair behind your ear, and mumbled, “I’m sure they’re far more beautiful than I am.”

Jaebeom felt his hands twitching with the urge to take you in his arms again as he whispered, “Nothing in this world or beneath it is more beautiful than you are.”

You lifted your head, gazing up at him while your heart fluttered.

“I’ve said too much,” Jaebeom huffed, gliding back to the door. “Rest now, cheonsa.”

“Why do you call me that?”

He paused, then teased, “It means… clumsy one, in my mother tongue.”

Somehow, you knew that wasn’t true.

Turning back to your room, you grinned and danced on your toes. It was a far cry from your little cot in the attic of your father’s house. Shadow whined at you, curling comfortably on the bed.

But you couldn’t sleep. Excitement raced violently through your veins. You smiled until you covered your face with your hands. Despite having no wings on your back, you swore you could fly.

Here you were, stepping into a new life; one you had always dreamt of, but could never reach.

As you lay on your back in bed, comforted by the crisp night air slipping past your curtains and into your sheets, you thought of Jaebeom. Your mind was consumed with memories of him.

You licked your lips, thinking of his broad chest and muscled arms. He had felt so strong when he carried you through the forest, as if you had been weightless. You imagined it must take endless restraint to keep from breaking you.

Your pulse quickened as you thought of your kiss beneath the trees, how carefully he had laid you on a bed of grass. How gentle his caresses and touches had been.

You tossed and turned a last time before giving up. Such a fool, you thought. As much as you had longed for Jaebeom, every moment of every day for the past year, to be sleeping in the room across the hall from him.

Smirking, you sat up in bed, looking to the baby panther asleep on one of the pillows. You gave her chin a scratch and sang, “Stay here, little Shadow.”

The door to Jaebeom’s room creaked no matter how slowly you pushed it open and you winced. To your relief, the figure in bed did not stir. Tiptoeing closer, you marveled his wings and how they tucked to his body like armor whilst he slept.

You pushed aside the wisp of curtains hanging from his bedframe and climbed onto the mattress, propping yourself over him. How beautiful he was, you thought. You were green with envy at the length of his lashes.

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his with the most innocent of kisses.

His eyes slowly opened. Clearly he had not been asleep.

“Why are you…” Jaebeom began.

“I changed my mind,” you interjected.

He cocked a brow. “About?”

You straddled his hips and pulled the nightgown over your head, revealing your naked body for the first time.

Jaebeom swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes on your breasts before returning to your face. “No wedding?” he asked, more so for your benefit.

“Yes, wedding and the white dress,” you said levelly. “Tomorrow.”

Jaebeom brought his hands to your thighs, caressing his way to your hips and waist. Then, he confessed like a solemn vow, “All I’ve thought about is you. Every waking moment is you. Every dream I dream is of you.”

You felt tears in your eyes and whispered, “Kiss me, Jaebeom.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Jaebeom sat up, ensnaring your body in his arms and molding his lips to yours. You held his face in your hands, kissing him back with desire before raking your fingers through his dark hair.

Jaebeom rose with you in his arms, guiding your legs to lock around his waist. His massive wings were daunting as they shrouded protectively over you. They shuddered and rustled with arousal, restless.

You slipped your hands through his locks and gripped his horns, feeling their ridges from base to tip. They were sharp, no surprise there, but Jaebeom seemed to feel nothing.

His wings were entirely different. The moment you touched where they connected to his shoulders, the wings came alive, fluttering. You danced your fingertips through his feathers, pleased at the way Jaebeom’s breaths staggered out as you kissed and touched him.

When you had your fill, you took his hand, fingers covered in black script, and brought it to your mouth, pressing kiss after kiss to his knuckles.

Jaebeom returned your affection, lingering his lips on the curve of your neck, trailing kisses to your collarbone and the swell of your breast. His hand slipped from your grasp and his palms roamed your body, drawn to the softness of your skin. You let out a small whimper when his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

Finally, he tightened his arms around you and asked, “Are you sure?”

You gave him a nod. “Yes.”

Jaebeom pressed his lips to your chest, squarely over your heart. The brands appeared, flesh-colored. Not stark black like his. The markings blended in with your skin.

You clenched your teeth and hissed. The burn of his branding was not painful, but the searing heat took you by surprise. You relaxed when you realized you were in no discomfort.

Then, you tipped your head back and moaned softly. Magic was coursing through your veins, from the tips of your fingers to the soles of your feet. White hot fire pulsed from your heart, like you were consumed in flames.

Jaebeom pulled back, gazing down at his handiwork. The script was in his mother tongue, which one day he hoped you would speak fluently with him. The magic would seep into your bones, living inside you until you both returned to the earth.

“The first of many,” Jaebeom growled, eager to see more brands spread from the anchor across your heart.

You smiled down at him, reaching for his naked chest to trace your fingertips over winding letters that lined his muscles.

Jaebeom cradled your face, running a thumb over your cheek affectionately. You couldn’t part your gaze from his eyes for even a moment.

“Please be gentle,” you whispered shyly.

Jaebeom tugged you down, kissing your lips. Then, his hand parted from your face and landed on your naked breast. “You will never know pain from me, my love,” he growled, kneading your mound. “Only pleasure.”

You swallowed thickly, desperate to kiss him again.

Jaebeom gathered you in his arms and turned, laying you softly on your back and making a place for himself between your thighs. His great wings arched and splayed, hiding you within.

His wings shuddered as he made love to you, like the ecstasy of your body unhinged them. You would never forget how it felt to be one with him, how he not only filled you, but made you overflow. And Jaebeom would never forget how you cried out his name when he found release in you.

Never had you been more satisfied. Every ache in your body was gone, never to return. The longing in your soul had dissipated. You were completely whole. All of your life you had been running and searching.

Finally, you were home.

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[justanother-unluckysoul]

Working My Way Back To You 10/11

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Thankfully Emma is close at hand to help him through it.

Heavy on the hurt/comfort, with some whump because I couldn't help myself lol

A/N: Some fluffy comfort for the prompts “hugs” and “kisses.” Short and (hopefully) sweet! We are almost at the end of this story, just a quick epilogue to go. I can’t believe it! Thank you, all my lovely readers, for giving my little story so much support! Epilogue will be up early next week. It’s all finished so there’s no point in making you wait a whole week for it.

Warnings for this chapter: brief and vague mention of rape (though i’m sure if you’re still reading this story you don’t mind that)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Hugs + Kisses

After their wonderful time together in the forest, the complete bliss and contentment Killian felt while cuddling with Emma under the blankets lingers for some time. He makes the most of his rediscovered confidence with her at night, making love until they are both exhausted and sated (and gods he missed this; the feel of her around him, the expression on her face when he begins to thrust into her, and the way she can take him apart and put him back together so easily, leaving him worn out and absolutely satisfied). And Killian assumes – he hopes – that his mind has finally given up on tormenting him with the memories of his torture. Perhaps he’s even cured of that PTSD thing. He’s certainly less jumpy now, less prone to startling and he hasn’t had a nightmare in a while. His broken hand has healed – Stacy’s not-so-gentle methods have helped return the strength to it, so Killian is able to spend some more time on the Jolly Roger with Henry, properly preparing the ship for a much-needed day out on the water.

“A family outing?” Emma asks with a smile.

Killian’s heart soars and his stomach does a strange sort of flip at her casual use of the word family in this context. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

“Aye, we’ll take her out far enough that it’s just us and the sea,” he says.

Henry is practically bouncing up and down in excitement as they make their plans. It’s been too long since they’ve done this. Emma checks the weather forecast and they schedule a sailing day. Killian tries to conceal the fact that he’s just as excited about it as Henry is, but the way Emma’s smirking at him in that way makes him think he’s not doing a good job of doing so. So he gives up on hiding it at all. It doesn’t matter anyway, because they both already know how much he loves sailing his ship. There’s just something about being on the water that is both exhilarating and calming. And to be out there with Emma and Henry? Even better.

-\-

A few nights before their planned outing, Killian’s nightmares return. And it’s as bad as ever. He’s not sure what triggered it, but it’s nasty combination of what was and what could have been, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s dreaming but he can’t seem to wake up. He tries to call out to Emma so she can help him. The words stick in his throat. He can’t move. His captor has Pan’s face, which seems wrong because Killian knows this setting isn’t Neverland, but he doesn’t have time to contemplate that because Pan is grinning evilly and pushing him back against the wall, and Killian knows what will happen next.

“This isn’t real,” Killian tells himself, desperately trying to wake up. His voice trembles and breaks.

“Are you sure about that, Killian?” asks Pan, his childlike voice sickeningly sweet in Killian’s ear, too close, too much, “Does this not feel real to you?”

Killian’s breath catches in barely concealed dread, gooseflesh breaking out across his skin at Pan’s unwanted touch. And it does feel real, terribly so, and Killian wants to fight, wants to resist, wants to wake the hell up, but his limbs stubbornly ignore his commands. He squeezes his eyes closed tight instead and braces himself for what’s coming, but then Pan is Rumpelstiltskin, and Killian’s on the Jolly Roger, lashed to the mast with ropes that are squeezing the breath from his lungs. The crocodile cackles at him, holding Killian’s heart in his hand.

“No,” Killian whispers, “Please.”

“Reduced to begging so soon, Captain? I thought you were stronger than that.” His hand tightens around Killian’s heart, the agony of it blacking out everything but the crocodile’s next taunt. “But it seems you are a coward after all.”

When the pain in his chest abates Killian finds himself back in the cellar, bent over a table, trying to support himself on his elbows because his hook is gone and his hand is broken and everything hurts and his captors are laughing and he can barely keep his feet from the rough thrusts of the man behind him. Tears roll down Killian’s cheeks but that’s wrong, he didn’t cry, he wouldn’t…

Killian, wake up.

The fingers on his skin feel different suddenly, skittering light and gentle across his forehead and dragging a little heavier across his chest and now that is real. Movement returns to his frozen limbs in a rush. And then he’s falling, and the landing is hard, rattling his bones, and he’s nearly choking on his own breaths in his panic as his stomach strongly suggests it might like to purge itself. He’s shaking violently, his skin crawling, and it’s so bloody dark he can’t orient himself.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m- Damn it. Killian, are you okay?” Emma.

At least he assumes it’s Emma, and not another trick of his mind. He is awake now, right? Emma switches on the light while Killian’s swallowing against the nausea between his ragged gasps, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself, rocking slowly back and forth, trying to calm down – the way his body is trembling, he doubts he has the strength to get to the bathroom in time if his gut really rebels. The sudden brightness burns his eyes but he doesn’t dare close them lest he find himself back in the dreamscape.

“Hey, it’s okay, Killian, you’re safe,” Emma says, and she slowly kneels on the bedroom floor in front of him and doesn’t touch him, “I’m right here.”

“S-swan.” He meant sorry, but her name is apparently the only word he’s capable of saying right now.

He forces himself to reach out and lay his hand on her arm, just to reassure himself that he’s actually awake. That she’s really here. That he’s not alone.

“I’m here,” she repeats, “Let me help you, Killian.”

She always moves slowly when he’s like this, waits for his permission to touch, always careful not to startle him and scared she’ll make things worse. But Killian’s teeth chatter when he tries to speak, so he clenches his jaw and nods instead. With careful, deliberate movements Emma shuffles closer and lifts her hands to his cheeks. His face is wet. It seems he had been crying in the real world too.

“That’s it. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She wipes the tears away gently as Killian sniffles and swallows and tries to pull himself together.

“Do we need to move to the bathroom?” she asks softly, knowing him so well.

But thankfully, the rolling of his stomach has begun to settle, and he’s quite certain he will not actually vomit. Not this time. He shakes his head, shifts his legs to a more comfortable position away from his chest and runs his unsteady hand through his hair.

“M-my apologies,” he mumbles, embarrassed by his reaction, “I’m…” He swallows hard. “I didn’t…”

Gathering the correct words and ordering them out of his mouth is a challenge, and he decides to give up on it for the moment. Bloody hell, he is pathetic. It’s been a while since his nightmares were this intense. At least this time it seems he’ll be able to find calm before his panicking turns into an actual attack, his breaths already starting to slow down as Emma moves closer to hug him.

“Shhh. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I w-woke you,” Killian points out.

He’s clinging onto Emma now, curled close against her with his head on her shoulder, and even with how ashamed he feels for this blatant show of weakness, he can’t bring himself to let go. She’s rubbing his back soothingly, cradling his head against her, her embrace comforting him, pushing away the remnants of his dream.

“Yeah, you did,” she says softly, “But it’s okay, I don’t mind. I just wish I’d woken up sooner, really. I tried to wake you up, but I guess I was a bit late. That was a bad one, huh?”

There is no point in lying to her.

“Aye.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. His heart is still beating too fast, his throat dry from his gasping.

“Do you want some water?” Emma asks, as if she can hear his thoughts, “I can just… magic a glass up here. We won’t have to move.”

“That would b-be nice.”

Emma moves one hand off him to use her magic and momentarily she’s holding a glass of water, which she carefully passes to Killian. His hand trembles a little, but he’s able to bring it to his lips and quench his thirst without spilling any.

“Feeling better?”

Killian nods.

“Thank you, love. But perhaps…” He winces at the thought but presses on anyway. “Perhaps I should sleep on the couch for a while. So I don’t disturb your rest again.”

“Absolutely not,” Emma says, a bit severely, though still hushed so she doesn’t wake Henry who is sleeping in his room just down the hall, “I’m not letting you deal with these nightmares on your own.”

Killian pretends he’s not relieved about that.

“Now, let’s get back into bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

They untangle from each other and climb back into the bed, where Killian immediately pulls Emma close again to keep his anxiety at bay. The light is still on, and that helps too. He hopes Emma won’t turn it off yet.

“You okay?” she murmurs, settling with her head on his shoulder and her hand over his heart.

“I just…” Killian sighs deeply, his frustration coming to the forefront now that he’s less frightened. “I hate this. I hate that I can’t… I can’t move past it. It’s been months, Emma.”

He doesn’t know why it affected him so much – Archie said it’s likely a culmination of the burden of unresolved trauma he’s been through in the past, this most recent simply one too much for his mind to handle. And that’s also why his nightmares often included such old events along with the new. Pan and Rumpelstiltskin featured tonight, but sometimes Hades makes an appearance, mutilating him with his own hook and threatening to drop him in that accursed river.

“You are doing better though. This is the first time you’ve had a nightmare in a while. And the flashbacks aren’t happening very often anymore either, are they?”

“No, they’re not. But it’s not good enough,” Killian says bitterly, and the disgust he feels for his continued cowardice is so strong it could drown him. I’m not good enough.

He should be the one protecting Emma, comforting her, not the other way around all the bloody time. He’s so tired of it. He can feel himself retreating, if not physically then at least in his mind, the terrible weight of not good enough pulling him down, down, down…

“Hey, stop it.” Emma props herself on her elbow so she can plant the softest of kisses on the furrow between his brows, pulling him back to himself and to her. “You’re healing. It’s a process.”

His hand may be healed now, only the scars remaining that will fade even further with time, but at times like this Killian fears his mind may be beyond repair, despite the assurances from both Emma and from Archie that he’s healing. But Emma continues to pull him out of his morbid thoughts, kissing the scar on his cheek next.

“I never want you to think you aren’t good enough, Killian,” because of course she heard the true meaning behind his words, and there’s a feather-light kiss for a faint line of scarring on his shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting on a quiet gasp, “You’ve been through…” Emma’s lips find another old injury. “…so much. You just need some time.”

Killian thinks this would probably be arousing if it wasn’t so soothing. He can feel how much love she has for him – she’s pouring it into every touch, every word, every press of her lips. Perhaps she’s using a little of her magic to do it, or perhaps it’s simply because he’s still fragile from his nightmare, but the sensation is powerful and wonderful, his very nerves seeming to hum happily under his skin in response.

“Emma.” It’s little more than a helpless whimper. Desperate. Though for what, he can’t be certain. It’s not that he wants her to stop. “What are you doing to me?”

“Loving you,” Emma says, in a voice that means he has no choice but to lie back and take it, “Now sshh, I’m not finished.” She curls her fingers gently but firmly around his bicep, anchoring him in place.

She’s slowly kissing a path across the scars on his body between sentences, the knots and lines and hollows that map out a lifetime of surviving, too many lifetimes really. Her tender affections feel like they’re filling a void inside his soul with warmth and love and it’s almost too much to handle. All he can do is keep his eyes closed and wrap his arm around Emma’s waist as she continues.

“You take all the time you need to heal, and I’ll be with you all the way,” she takes his left arm in her gentle hand, and he knows where she’s going next, “However long this takes. However many bad days, or nights, that you have. You just need to…” Her lips brush against his sensitive inner wrist, just beside the ugly and numb scar tissue that covers the blunted end of it. “…to let me help you. I love you, Killian. Please, don’t pull away from me.”

“I won’t,” his voice breaks, and if she doesn’t stop smothering him with all this kindness soon, he’s going to start crying. Again. “I promise I won’t. Emma, I…”

She moves and takes his right hand from around her waist and softly kisses the scars on his fingers and across the back of his hand, and there’s a feeling of all the broken pieces of him being drawn together, sharp edges smoothed over by Emma’s love and it’s too much. A tear slips from under Killian’s lashes and his breath shudders, his heightened emotions too intense to be contained any longer.

“I love you,” he breathes, looking up to see Emma’s own eyes glassy with tears as well.

“I know.” She smiles down at him, raw and open and honest as her thumb brushes the tear from his face. “And I mean what I said. I’m with you, Killian.”

Her next and final kiss is granted to his lips, and she takes her time there, her palm resting against his cheek while his fingers tangle in her hair, allowing him to reciprocate before she settles down into his arms again, and Killian wants to stay in this moment forever. Comfortable and safe, basking in the wonderful feeling of being so wholly loved. How does his Swan always know what he needs?

“What have I done to deserve you, Emma?” he asks once he’s regained control of his emotions.

“What have I done to deserve you?” she counters.

He smiles, and lets the silence stretch on, his limbs feeling heavy and his thoughts turning sluggish as sleep pulls him away. It almost claims him, his eyes closed and his breathing even, when the light he could still just barely see behind closed lids suddenly goes out and he startles, eyes flying open as he pulls himself back to reality with a jolt. He’d turned over onto his side in his almost-sleep, and now Emma’s pressed against his back with her arm around his torso, squeezing a little tighter to combat his flinch. She’s switched the light off, he realizes, plunging the room back into darkness.

“Sorry, I thought you’d gone back to sleep,” she whispers, “Is it too dark?” She doesn’t wait for his response. “Hang on a second, I’ve got an idea.”

She moves her hand, a casual flick of her wrist in a way that Killian recognizes – so at ease with using magic these days – and the curtains glide open, letting the nearly full moon cast its light into the room. The tension flows out of him almost instantly, coaxed away by pleasant memories of nights aboard the Jolly Roger with the bright moon shining through the windows of his quarters.

“Better?”

“Aye, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

He can’t find the words to convey just how thankful he is for her, for everything she does for him. He hopes she knows. She probably does. She’s quite perceptive, he thinks with a smile. He closes his eyes again and sleep finds him quickly. When he dreams again, it’s of the sea, and of Emma, and of the moon shining down upon the deck of the Jolly Roger where they’re lying entwined in peaceful respite.

[sandsofoneiros]

No Light, No Light.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything in this other than Ro and Seraphine. Empress is @thembohux oc. Also, you'll be reading this while I'm on vacation! So, I won't get to discuss anything until I get back!

Description: The one where Poe is in the First Order and Senator Citlali doesn't want him around her. Could feelings grow between them? Let's find out.

Word count: 4941.

Warning: Slight mention of anxiety, using the word blood, and there's the use of blasters. Some cursing as well.

Tagging: Lemme know after you read it if you want to be tagged.

Chapter One: In The Presence of Enemies.

Three Days before. . . .

The Senator stood beside the young Queen as they watched another transport shuffle load up with more of the Nabooians. It was a bittersweet moment that shouldn’t be happening. These individuals shouldn’t be asked to leave their homes and their lives behind, but this was for this safety. This was for the future of Naboo. The Final Order was on their way to claim the planet, but Naboo was more than that. So much more. This still caused a dull ache in Ro’s heart as she watched her own family load up on the transport. Her sister’s eyes were puffy and red from their last goodbye. Her arms were full of the last dresses that had created in the Citlali dress shop. Her aunt Eira was doing her best to stay strong for Thalia. This shouldn’t be happening. The Resistance should be here stopping the Final Order. The New Republic should be here to help them, but neither had come. Now, her planet belonged to the Final Order. Her family would be safe, but she couldn’t say the same to herself. She had decided the moment Queen Seraphine had told them about the evacuation that she would remain. They had dressed the Queen in her black dress that was inspired by the dress that was once worn by the handmaiden, Sabe. Seraphine had told Ro that it was the highest honor to wear the dress as she helped her people. Ro, in return, had dressed like one of her handmaidens instead of her usual senator attire. She wore the dress that was orange velvet with the red hood today. To know that it was Padme’s blood taking over the planet made her even more upset. What would the former Queen say if she were here now? Would she tell them to fight? Would she tell them not to lose hope? Ro had always looked up to Senator Amidala since she was young and had been the whole reason she had pursued this career. Yet, here she stood watching the world around her fall apart, and she didn’t know what she could do.

“Any falcons in the skies?” Seraphine finally asked before glancing up at the Senator. They had spoken in code to keep any unwanted listeners from learning anything private.

“No, but we hear there are foxes in the woods,” Ro answered back before shaking her head. The falcons meant TIE fighters and foxes were the troopers on the ground. There had been no TIES today, which struck her as odd. The TIES had been flying overhead since Emperor Ren sent the transmission that he would take Naboo for the Final Order. The TIES were to keep any unwanted visitors away and also to stop any type of uprising. Storm Troopers had arrived the day after and patrolled the grounds. They didn’t interfere with people who were leaving the planet but made sure that the ones who were staying understood that they wouldn’t tolerate anyone starting trouble. Hearing them march or hearing the TIEs fly overhead made Ro’s stomach churn, and she would fight not to become sick. She never thought that certain sounds would ever make her sick. It almost made her feel embarrassed. She couldn’t show fear. Ro wouldn’t allow the Final Order to see her fear. The senator wondered if there would ever be a chance that everyone could return to Naboo. They should fight, but they wouldn’t stand a chance against Emperor Ren and his forces.

“I know you want to fight, Senator Citlali. I see the fire in your eyes.” Seraphine stated as she looked over at the woman standing beside her. She admired Aurora in the short time that she had gotten to know her. She had become like an older sister to her, but now that her own family had left, Aurora was the only family she had left. Seraphine clung more and more to the woman in these last days, where the future was unknown to them.

“Forgive me, m’lady. I simply don’t want to lose our home.” Ro’s fingers twitched at her side as she watched the transport shuttles close and departed. This would be the last transport for Naboo. There weren’t many left now. Just the ones who were too stubborn to leave, and no one dared fight them. They had been through too much to just leave their home. No one had ever told her the surrendering was hard. No one had ever told her that surrendering would make a wildfire spread through her body.

“Shall we take a walk?”

“Of course, m’lady.”

The arrival. . . .

They had spent all night preparing for this moment and no matter how much they smiled or laughed; it didn’t ease their fears. Ro had spent most of the morning preparing the Queen for their guests. They dressed her in a replica of Queen Amidala’s gown. The queen had worn the crimson and black dress when she had met with the Trade Federation so long ago. Seraphine had hoped that she would channel the beloved Queen’s bravery, but so far she felt even more scared. Adding the headdress had been the hardest part for Ro. Glancing in the mirror, she sighed. This would be the last time that she would ever wear this or any of her other gowns. Ro had sworn it wouldn’t but the young queen knew the truth. She was going to accept it. Senator Citlali had left alone to finish getting ready. This was the last time that they would be home. One last look in the mirror, Seraphine nodded at herself and turned to leave the room. She would meet Aurora in the throne room, where they would wait for the Final Order to arrive.

Senator Citlali stared at herself in the mirror. Her long hair braided and resting over her left shoulder. Dressed in a long black saffron dress, the plunging neckline opening of her dress that stopped just a little above her belly button revealed her black bra underneath. The light golden details showed the lace details on the bra itself. She would wear the black drape around her shoulders. She looked as if she was mourning, and she was. Her fingers stroked the pendant that rested at the bottom of her necklace. It could easily be mistaken for just a simple necklace, but there was a much more sinister purpose. One that she hadn’t even told the Queen about. This was just a precaution. This was if things became too much and Ro couldn’t believe that she had let herself do this. Aurora wanted to believe that maybe something would go differently today when they arrived, but that was a cruel lie that she was telling herself. Slipping on the ebony sandal that had thin straps that went to her ankles, Ro reached for the black drape that had the same gold stitching as her bra. The last thing she grabbed was the blaster and kept it covered. It was time.

The Queen sat on her throne with the Senator sitting beside her. It had been quiet for the longest time until Seraphine watched Ro. The woman was sitting straight up with her leg crossed over the other. Looking at the white polish on her nails that Seraphine had done last night. However, her outfit had caught the Queen off guard.

“Are you planning on seducing the Final Order, Senator?” Seraphine chuckled. She knew the question was going to catch Ro off guard and hearing the Senator laugh was better than the silence they had been sitting in.

“Seducing the Emperor? The Empress would have my head. No, I thought I would just woo a trooper and take his blaster. A daring escape.” Smirking, she uncrossed her leg and winked at the young girl. She could only imagine what she was feeling in these moments, the weight that had been on her shoulders, and now it was being lifted in a way. She reached her hand out to take Seraphina’s and gave it a squeeze. They only had each other now, and it might not be for too much longer. The Final Order could do whatever they wanted when they got here, but they weren’t alone.

“Show them no fear, m’lady.”

xxxx

Captain Dameron and his squadron were the first to land, and Poe was more than happy to stretch his legs. Storm Troopers were already crowding around him to give him their reports and he only half-heartedly listens to them. It wasn’t their fault for simply doing their duty, but he had other things on his mind. He had been securing the area before Emperor Ren’s boot touched the soil of Naboo. His eyes scanned over the capital and stopped at the sight of the palace. Was it checked recently?

“Is the palace cleared out? What about the Queen?” Captain Dameron asked as he walked towards the palace. He didn’t want this to turn into a bloodbath the moment that they went into the palace. He was certain it wouldn’t end well for the rioting side.

“Queen Seraphine hasn’t left the planet along with another. We have identified the other individual with her as Senator Citlali, and they’re both in the palace. They haven’t left since the last transport.” The trooper spoke as Poe listened. So there was a fourteen-year-old girl and a senator in the palace? That wasn’t awful.

“What do we know about the Senator? Are they dangerous? Any ties to the Resistance?” Poe asked. He wanted to make there wasn’t anything that they weren’t walking into some trap. People did ridiculous things when they were desperate, and this time he didn’t want to shed any blood. He especially didn’t want to shed any blood in front of a teenage girl. He never understood why Naboo had always elected to have young Queens. He couldn’t imagine that being his daughter or even son. He would constantly be worried about them. The other thought that bothered him was that the family of the Queen had just left their daughter. They left her alone. That very well could be the reason the senator was still here.

“She doesn’t have any ties to the Resistance. No military training. She was born here. That’s all we know.”

That was reassuring. Not a threat to him or anyone else. It was time for them to make their way to the palace to do one more last sweep, and then he would report back to Kylo that it was safe for his arrival. However, Kylo had nothing to fear, anyway. He could easily eliminate any threat that even attempted some attack. However, Poe knew this was a precaution. This was to make sure that nothing went wrong. He would give the Emperor hell for doing his dirty work one day. It was always nice to be the childhood friend of the Emperor and Empress. It always helped that he was on the good side of the most high-ranking officials of the Order. However, he knew there were officers and others that questioned his loyalty. They thought he would turn traitor at the moment that it benefited him. That moment had never come. Poe was well aware of what they whispered the moment his back turned. He wanted to think that they were merely jealous. He was one of the greatest pilots in the entire galaxy, and he was in the good graces of the Order’s top command. Most didn’t know the bond that they all shared. How they were practically family. How he will do anything to make sure that not only were they safe but also the galaxy. They were his family.

The walk to the palace was taking longer than he expected, but his droid had joined him not long after. The droid was better company than some troopers that marched beside him. The area surrounding the palace was just as remarkable as the royal palace itself. No wonder Kylo had insisted on claiming this planet. Although he wasn’t enjoying how quiet it was. He knew that there had been an evacuation the days prior, but he had caught glimpses of faces in the windows of what he thought were businesses. Poe hoped that in the future that he could see the streets bustling with people once more. He would love to see it thriving once again.

“One more sweep of the palace. Check everywhere. Meet me in the throne room when you’re done. If you come across anyone, bring them there and we’ll see what to do.” Poe ordered while the troopers nodded and scattered to start their sweep.

“Alright BB, let’s see what happens in that throne room. Kylo won’t mind me keeping the throne warm for him.” Poe smirked before scratching the shaved part of his undercut. It was getting long again. BB replied with several beeps that caused the pilot to laugh while they made their way to the throne room.

Upon entering the throne room, Poe wasn’t expecting two things. One, the two girls that were occupying it. Two the warning shots from the blaster that the woman had aimed at his feet. She was certainly an excellent shot, and it had stopped the captain in his tracks and even made BB move behind him. His hands were up in defense to keep her from taking another shot. His eyes scanned the room to look for anyone waiting to ambush them. His eyes landed on the young queen, that was gripping the edges of the armrests of the throne. Her knuckles were paling as she looked at the other woman. The Queen had sprung up to grab the free arm of the woman and whispered pleas not to shoot him. That had to be Senator Citlali. His gaze trailed up her form and noted the rather interesting dress that she wore. She had tossed the dark drape to the side that hid the blaster. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Was that a custom dress style for Nabooian women?

“Is that a traditional Naboo welcome, Senator?”

“It is for the tyrants and their dogs.”

“I was talking about the dress.”

Poe grinned, watching as Senator Citlali gripped the Queen’s hand tightly. She was certainly distracting. He couldn’t help but trail his eyes down the chain of the long necklace that she wore. The pendant meant nothing, but his eyes would wander even more to where his imagination could start. She still had the blaster pointed at him, and he was certainly in no position to be upsetting the woman. Yet, a sneaking suspension told him she wouldn’t do anything that would harm the Queen. Poe didn’t want to harm either of them. He wanted no more bloodshed, and especially not in front of a teenage girl. There had to be a way to calm the Senator down to talk, at least. Kylo might not be in such a forgiving mood when he got here.

“Senator Citlali, please lower your blaster. I’m not here to harm you or the Queen. You can trust me.” Poe kept his hands where she could still see them. He knew she would not believe him, and she had every right not to. He was the enemy. Her enemy. He had a hand in taking her home. The captain was surprised that she had given him a warning shot, she could have easily gotten a better shot. She could have taken him out, but she hadn’t. It was possible that she didn’t want to subject the Queen to such a sight. They were agreeing on one thing, it seemed. Making sure that they caused no more trauma to the young queen. They were doing their best to keep her in mind during this altercation between them.

“Trust the lapdog of the Final Order? Please tell me you understand why I have a hard time doing that.” She scoffed at him before guiding Seraphine behind her. She was serving as a shield for the young girl and was doing her best to be brave for her. The sounds of the marching Stormtroopers only got louder. A thin layer of sweat was forming on her brow, and she felt her stomach tighten once more with nerves. Her hand remains steady as she kept the blaster trained on him and her gaze was cold. There was no chance of her lowering it soon. The stand-off couldn’t go on much longer with the troopers making their way to the throne. That was all they needed. They would outnumber her, and she wouldn’t be able to keep Seraphine safe.

“I understand your hesitation but imagine the stormtrooper seeing this. You’ll have more on your hands. Just lower the blaster and we can talk. I won’t approach you yet.” He continued to keep his eyes on her. The troopers would only add more stress to this situation. People did crazy things in stressful situations. Her arm slowly lowed, and he gave her a small smile. She would listen, and that was a step in the right direction. However, the queen was hugging the senator tightly, and that caused her to wrap an arm around the teenage girl and nestle her into her side. Her walls were coming down as she whispered what Poe assumed were words of comfort.

“Don’t come any closer to us. I will shoot.” Ro warned him, as she let the blaster fall to the floor and completely wrap her arms around the queen. She had no plans to shoot him. She just wanted to calm Seraphine more than anything. The stormtroopers had cut their moment short upon their arrival into the throne room, blaster drawn. Poe could have screamed at all of them. The senator had swept the queen back behind her and went to reach for the blaster.

“Hey! Lower the weapons! She will not shoot!” Poe’s tone had changed, and he glared at all surrounding troopers. This throne room was getting too crowded for his liking and this was going to add more edge to the situation that he had been trying to handle previously. The senator would fall back into her fight-or-flight response, and Poe knew she was going to fight before ever running away. She was already proving how much of a fighter she was, and not with just her words. “The Emperor won’t enjoy having to hear my report about stormtroopers who disobeyed their commanding officer. Grand Marshal won’t like it either. Now, stand down and let me handle this.”

The troopers did as they were told, and Ro’s shoulder remained tense as she watched them. Seraphine hadn’t stopped shaking, and Ro continued to hold her tighter and tried to keep her calm. It wasn’t working. Her mind told her to reach for the blaster that rested behind her left foot, but that would be foolish, and she opened herself. Her best bet was to just let the captain actually do his job and listen to his offer. What was the worst that he could do or say? Her own heart had pounded in her chest, and she felt herself fighting back any tears that threatened to fall. Don’t show fear. Ro thought of her previous words. She wouldn’t show fear. The thought of why the captain was keeping his men from doing anything was looming in the back of her mind. He could easily save a harsh punishment for her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and counted to herself, hoping that she could ground herself again. It was hard to remain strong when she could feel herself breaking. The situation grows more intense with each passing second.

“Senator Citlali, I think it would be best if you came with us back to the Steadfast where we can discuss what will happen next.”

“I refuse to leave the Queen. We stay together.”

“I can make sure of that. Will you come peacefully or will I need to use binders?”

The mention of binders made Seraphine grip her dress tighter. Ro didn’t want to parade the poor girl around as if she was some prisoner. She didn’t want to look that way, either. Sighing, the senator realized that she would have to play nice with the enemy. She would have to be on her best behavior. Before she could answer, there was another sound of footsteps that were coming down the hallway. They echoed louder than what the stormtroopers had, and Ro knew without a doubt that Emperor Ren and his knights were here. . .

“Shit. I told him I would tell him when it was safe.”

Poe couldn’t help but groan as everyone in the room seemed to squirm. They all knew who was about to make his presence known, and that meant that anything could occur. The captain could only hope that Kylo would make anything worse. He figured that Empress would have told him to be on his best behavior while he was down here just in case. The room seemed to go older upon the Emperor and his knights stepping into the room. A slight shiver ran up Poe’s spine and he watched as everyone stood at attention for their leader. Exhaling through his nose, he waited to see what the man would say about his tardiness in contacting him. Still, his eyes remained on the Senator, who was doing her best not to fear what was to come. He wanted to promise her it would be alright. That Emperor Ren wasn’t looking to harm anyone. He wouldn’t Kylo do something so foolish. He watched as her fingers gripped the queen’s dress. Seraphine hadn’t even lifted her head up to see who was coming into her throne room. She wasn’t trying to be a Queen anymore; she was just a teenage girl. A scared teenage girl.

“Captain Dameron, you sent no communication. We were worried something had gone wrong.”

“Worried? I think you mean impatient, your highness.”

“Are these the prisoners?”

The word prisoners made Poe cringe a little. He hadn’t called them that and had even said he wouldn’t use binders on them. Kylo was making him look like a liar, and he could feel the glare from the senator on him. That wasn’t the way he wanted her to look at him. The knight stood close to him and their emperor. The silence of the room was deafening as they all waited to see what would happen.

“This is Queen Seraphine and Senator Citlali. I told them that if they came peacefully -”

“He wouldn’t put us in binders, but he’s a liar! Much like everyone in the Final Order.” Ro spat as she looks at them. His shoulders squared before moving Seraphine behind her once more. Poe knew what could happen, and he didn’t want to see that. He didn’t want Kylo to harm the woman who was just upset over what was going on. However, Poe knew Kylo didn’t have the best temper. He was in a tight spot.

“Your highness, I said that. I wanted to them see we weren’t so horrible. I kept her calm.” Poe continued, but he wasn’t sure if Kylo was listening behind his helmet. His umber eyes remain on the older woman to make sure that she wasn’t being touched by the Force. He would have to step in if Kylo tried to use it on her.

“Do you believe her to be harmless, Captain?” Kylo asked, before turning to face Poe. The captain already turning to face him. They trusted each other. Poe wasn’t entirely sure that Senator Citlali was harmless, but he didn’t want to be deemed a liar.

“Yes. I will escort her and the queen to the shuttle. I say we discuss everything back on the Steadfast. Both of them are clearly distressed about the situation.”

“Fine, take them to the shuttle and prepare to take them back to the Steadfast. I have matters to attend to here. I’ll keep my knights with me. Prepare the others to depart with you.” Kylo spoke, as Poe nodded his head.

“You heard your Emperor. Prepare to depart! Senator Citlali, Queen Seraphine, please come with me.” Poe held his hand out to the Senator. Her eyes held nothing but pure disgust before she took a few steps towards the exit, bowing to the Emperor. The Queen did the same and squeezed Ro’s hands as they left the room, leaving Poe alone with the Emperor. The men waited a few moments before Kylo took off his helmet, a gloved hand carding through his hair to push it back.

“I had it under control. She was just scared and I don’t blame her.” Poe started before Kylo rose a brow.

“I’m sure you did. That’s why there’s a blaster mark on the floor. Tell me, how did she distract you? How did she catch you off guard? Your thoughts are loud, Dameron.”

“Like you have room to talk when it’s your wife. Now, if you’ll excuse me, your highness, I need to make sure they’re comfortable.” Rolling his eyes, Poe started out of the throne room with BB-8 close behind him. It didn’t take him long to catch up with the others, but he noticed how the senator kept the queen close to her. Clearing his throat as he approached them, he gave them a small smile. “The transport isn’t too far, and I won’t be separating you. I ask that you don’t kill me on the way. I’m certain we can find you some food and water if you need it? Maybe caf.”

He noted that the woman wasn’t listening to him in the slightest, but Seraphine seemed to be a little more relaxed. With a curt nod, he led them to the shuttle and spoke little. He saluted all that he passed along the way and tried not to let the silence of the girls bother him. Poe wanted to show them that the Final Order wasn’t as horrible as they thought. They were going to keep the galaxy safe and bring order. This was going to be better for everyone. He truly believed that. He believed in what they were doing. Approaching the shuttle, Poe took one last look at Naboo and made a note that he would visit again. He might even bring the senator back if she would allow him. “Watch your step, Seraphine.”

“Queen Seraphine.” Senator Citlali snapped, which cause him to lift his hands up once more.

“You have some bite, Citlali. I might have to put you in those binders.” He grinned before following behind them to prepare for their departure.

“Touch me and I’ll make sure that this shuttle never makes it to the Steadfast,” Ro spoke as she turned to face him. Her shoulder squared as she tried to make herself a little bigger. He liked her.

“Aurora, leave Captain Dameron alone. Please take your seat.” Seraphine spoke sternly as she had buckled herself in. Poe rose a brow as he watched Aurora turn on her heels and go to the queen. He hadn’t planned on learning her first name, but now he couldn’t help but grin. He could see how devoted Aurora was to the young queen, and he could admire that. He was just as loyal to Kylo and the others. They were his family.

They spent the rest of the time in silence as Poe began his flight preparations. None of them will break that silence just to make awkward small talk. Instead, Ro had helped take off the headpiece that Seraphine had been wearing. She even took down her hair to comb through to help the young queen relax during the journey. Seraphine had curled up the moment that they took off. Her eyes grew heavy, and she had fallen asleep. Ro’s slender fingers working through her hair as she slept. The cold air of the shuttle made goosebumps form on the exposed skin of her midsection and the top part of her cleavage. She cursed herself for not grabbing the drape when they were leaving the throne room. Her arms were getting goosebumps from the chilled air.

“Here.” Poe’s voice startled her as she looked up at him. In one hand, he held out a black leather jacket with the symbol of the Final Order on the shoulders. She took it with reluctance. Placing her arms through the sleeves, thankful for something to put a barrier between her skin and the chilled air. Next, he handed her a cup of hot tea. Her eyes following the tendrils of steam as it swirled in the air. “I didn’t have any caf. It’ll help you warm up. Not too much longer until we arrive at the Steadfast.”

She only nodded her head at him before taking a small sip of the tea. The leather jacket smelled of the captain, but she couldn’t help to feel a little comfort from it. It was probably just from the warmth that was giving her. Captain Dameron had gone back to his seat and was back to watching all the control along with their course. Seraphine stirred for a moment before Ro hummed once more. She would not let the teenage girl feel alone, especially not around their enemies. They only had each other now. They wouldn’t establish trust with anyone from now on. They had to show them they were strong and wouldn’t be their prisoners. However, Ro already felt like a prisoner despite not wearing the binders. Her new journey made her feel like a prisoner.

“Twenty minutes until arrival. . .”

[vulturhythm]

Hurt/Comfort with Yenfri or Geraskier? Either one is A+ but pls make it Softe ❤️ THANK YOU BEB!! 😘💕

<3

i don’t give a fuck about timelines

we woke up sad so you get the sad

- - - - -

that unwanted animal

geralt has long since gotten used to the bite of the cuffs digging into his wrists and ankles. they can’t be broken - he’s fucking tried. enchanted, no doubt, just the same as the muzzle that’s far too tight about his chin.

he breathes in as deep as the iron collar permits, closing his eyes and letting his head bow forward. very little point in surveying his cage again. he knows nothing will have changed. still too small, too cramped, still reeking of old blood and piss and ichor from the other beasts made to rot in here.

off to one side, he hears stirring, a sharp inhale, a whine of pain.

geralt’s heart aches in time with the clatter of chains from renfri’s cage.

he had been trying to save her. he would have saved her, had stregobor not had friends in unholy places - had stregobor not had a band of highwaymen awaiting them on every road leading out of blaviken.

roach is lying dead somewhere, a bolt between her eyes.

a bolt just like the one still deep in renfri’s thigh.

geralt had tried. he’d fought. he’d yelled at renfri to run, to grab one of their horses and leave, and yet, she had insisted upon staying behind, upon trying to fight with him.

geralt doubts he’ll ever forget the pain that came when a silver chain was flung in his direction, when it looped around his throat and yanked him off his feet.

i’m not a monster, he had wanted to scream, but it had pulled too tight for him to even breathe.

the hands he’d raised to grab at the chain were snatched away by the men who came to pin him down; his only satisfaction was that he had kneed one of them in the groin and nearly thrown the other aside before they forced the manacles about his wrists.

he knows he’ll never forget the scream that tore itself from renfri’s throat when they chained her down just the same; he knows he’ll never stop feeling guilty for failing her.

after all, she had been running to his aid when they shot her. their eyes had met as the men forced the muzzle onto geralt’s face, as renfri cried out and fell forward, leg shot numb.

he knows -

the sound of movement elsewhere in the deep dark cellar cuts geralt’s train of thought in two, and he lifts his head as much as the weight of his restraints allows, peering ahead into the darkness. he and renfri are the only two humanoids in the room, he knows this much; there’s a siren, halfway dehydrated and nearly dead, in a cage across from him, but geralt doubts it’s strong enough to pose any threat to their captors.

geralt isn’t even entirely sure where they are, to be entirely honest.

he had fallen unconscious shortly into the process of fitting the muzzle. after all, there were prongs that had to be inserted, piercing through the flesh of his cheeks and hooking through eachother where they met above his tongue.

even now, the wounds beginning to heal thanks to his mutations, there’s fresh blood on his tongue, and he doesn’t dare make a sound.

his best guess is that they’re beneath stregobor’s residence, hidden away where he can keep on eye on the cursed girl and her inhuman would-be savior.

he has to wonder, though, what good stregobor has for him.

the sound across the room has abated. geralt sighs, and closes his eyes.

- - -

he must have faded back into unconsciousness at some point, for geralt awakens with a start when he hears a scream overhead. he jerks his head up to stare, golden eyes adjusting to the darkness but offering him no more than the sight of the dingy stone ceiling.

a moment later, it hits him - new scents, nearly drowned out by the reek of blood and decay.

magic.

magic, and - and lilac.

geralt goes tense, fists clenching tight where they’re bound. surely she didn’t -

cedarwood and wildflowers.

surely he didn’t.

surely.

they’re not that foolish...

... and yet, even as he’s doing his godsdamn best to convince himself otherwise, the scream cuts off, and the upper floors go silent.

geralt turns his head, catches renfri’s eye where she’s staring at him. blessedly free of a muzzle, she’s gagged all the same, a scrap of her own clothing shoved between her teeth, so the only sound she can offer is one of plaintive confusion, but it’s enough.

the witcher shakes his head, just barely, turning his eyes toward the door when he hears harried footsteps coming down.

the light that bursts into the cellar once the doors are opened makes him recoil, and he hears the siren shriek - too bright, too sudden, too -

there’s a rush of motion, and geralt draws back, instinct making him dread the quick approach even though he recognizes the scent, would know it throuh is sleep.

“oh, geralt,” comes a soft and broken voice, and as geralt’s eyes adjust once more, he sees jaskier kneeling just in front of his cage, looking him over with such heartbreak in his eyes that he can’t help but ache. “geralt, my love, i’m so sorry we weren’t here sooner.”

he says nothing - he can’t. exhaling slow, geralt lowers his head, tipping forward to lean his weight against the cage door; jaskier reaches for him, brushes a gentle fingertip along his brow through the grate. “yennefer,” he says, and geralt sighs.

the sorceress approaches, slower and with much more grace than jaskier, something for which geralt is distantly grateful; he knows it’ll take time to unlearn fear. he turns his eyes upward, sits back reluctantly and watches as yennefer kneels.

“stregobor is dead,” she tells him softly, holding his gaze as she fits a stolen key into the lock. “she’s safe now.”

geralt tips his head in the barest mimicry of a nod, breathing out in relief when the door of the cage swings open. yennefer reaches for him once more, telegraphing every motion, and he offers no resistance as she unlocks first his manacles, then the collar about his throat. “i can’t take the muzzle off here,” she sighs, sitting back on her heels, “and i know you loathe portals, but i can treat your wounds at my home.”

he nods once more, testing his wrists and hands. it’s easy enough to sense yennefer’s restlessness; with a soft huff, he tilts his chin toward renfri’s cage. the sorceress murmurs a soft “thank you” before she stands.

yennefer gone, jaskier takes her place once more, helping geralt shuffle forward on his knees until he’s out of the cage and on solid ground. “my wolf,” he whispers, low and forlorn; geralt would have offered him a smile, had he any left to give. “my love...”

jaskier’s arms fold carefully around his shoulders, and geralt offers no resistance, leaning forward to rest his head upon his bard’s chest. he breathes in deeply of his scent, closing his eyes and resting trembling hands on his waist.

he can hear his bard rambling, telling of how they tracked him down - trying to fill the silence, no doubt - but geralt is distracted. he turns his gaze to the women across the room, to where yennefer is setting the key aside and drawing renfri into her arms.

perhaps yennefer will do a better job of protecting her love than geralt had.

the smell of fresh blood hits him a moment later, and it gives geralt pause. he draws back, back until jaskier drops his hands and falls silent, looking at him with worry plain. geralt doesn’t meet his gaze, his eyes fixated upon the blood slowly drying on his hands.

jaskier glances down, clears his throat. “stregobor,” he says at last, and there’s an awkward sort of vindication in his tone.

geralt knows he won’t stand for being coddled.

he’s killed now. he’s killed -

...

geralt’s mouth aches as he forces his tongue to work, and he feels new blood dripping in, but it’s no matter, not right now. he forces out a single sound, crippled voice rising at the end.

why?

jaskier’s eyes widen briefly, and he reaches for geralt once more, brushing his matted hair aside. “because i care about you,” he whispers, his touch featherlight. “because... because i love you.”

- - - - -

yeah this ran away from me i hope you do not mind ily @justjessiehere

[illusionlockarchive]

Cornered: A short Security Breach fanfiction.

Hi!! As a foreword, I wanna say that this fanfic draws ideas from this little theory of mine, so if you’re confused by what is exactly going on between Vanessa and Vanny here, I recommend you check that out first. Happy reading!

content warnings: swearing, death threats, unreality

Vanessa jumped and backed up against the wall, her thumb pressing the elevator button once, twice, five times, maybe ten or twenty five times. Her heart pounded and the sweat that rolled now over her face lit up with the pink neon lights. Her vision blurred as a purple tint filled up her vision like a flood, as if someone had messed with the lights of the entire floor.

Graceful, mocking, flickering rabbits danced around her vision and encircled the woman in a rabbit costume in front of her. Like happy bunnies from a children's cartoon approaching a princess. They wanted her to go to her, of course. It didn't matter if she had a knife, long and sharp, glistening in the low light.

Vanessa squeezed her eyes together, hoping to make it all go away. For a moment she saw herself, as if she were in a movie, just another victim in the way, not enough to be the main character, one that put up a worthy fight, only to die at the knife, cornered, screaming. Maybe she would make a real scandal, raising her voice up high, struggling as much as she could, be the perfect movie cliche.

But she could not. Her eyes shot up again, and the rabbits hopped slowly alongside the woman who approached her, confident and slow. She was paralyzed, unable to even utter out a gasp. Of course, whatever had latched onto her, whatever had been messing with her head and body for these past months, would want her to just sit still like a good little sacrifice, as the true vehicle of this demon's will executed his plan perfectly.

All her resistance, her cries for help, her research on how to break free, for nothing. And the rabbit woman was getting closer. Vanessa gave a last attempt at resistance, shakingly holding her flashlight up, maybe hoping to blind the attacker, or even successfully block the knife, enough for the elevator to finally come up, though she knew, the virus had probably already spread to the goddamn entire building complex somehow.

She dropped it. It was barely even a blink, and she was dropping the flashlight to the side with a resounding clank, a slight bounce on the shiny checkered floor. One of the purple rabbits leaped forward with brighter glee, and a sinister smile. The bunny woman, oh, of course, she stopped for a moment just to tilt her head to the side, Vanessa could tell she was beaming behind the mask.

She squeezed her eyes together again, praying for a last second in which the elevator would open, she thought she would have so many thoughts, but now, her mind felt utterly empty, aside from the sinister grin of a purple rabbit, one she had been seeing in her nightmares for so long already.

The knife landed right next to her head. Vanessa's eyes shot open to see the rabbit staring right back at her, up to her face, so close, pinning her against the wall. She couldn't understand, was the attacker toying with her?

"Why are you making this so difficult, blondie? We're two of the same kind!" The bunny woman finally spoke up. Her voice was just as Vanessa expected it to be, mocking her in a sweet manner.

She drew the knife slowly, raking across the wall, a horrid scraping sound that made Vanessa's heart jump.

"It would be just so easy to give in... you don't even have to do the dirty work, honest!"

"W... what?" Vanessa's breath was shaky, she'd been certainly holding it for a while, and as she released it, it all came out heaving.

"Give in... give in!" The words echoed through her mind. The rabbits were climbing over her now.

"I'm not-" Vanessa swallowed, finally being able to speaking, the could touch of the demon seemed to be lifted for a second. "I'm not going to give in. I never asked for this- if you want to do... whatever it is you're doing, so badly, just kill me now!"

She surprised herself by how bodly and loudly she was speaking, blood boiling. It was the first time she felt she could directly speak to whatever had been tormenting her for so many months, making her lose track of her own actions, messing with her thoughts.

She wanted her voice to be heard one last time.

"I'll be of no use to you now, and I'll never be, so just get rid of me and stop trying to get me on your side for fuck's sake!"

The shouting seemed to be effective in at least getting the rabbit woman to back off, and the bunnies glitched and flickered out of view.

And then the woman... laughed? And began to laugh, and laugh, a giggle that turned into a deranged, uncontrollable fit of laughter, shaking and contorting her whole body. She came to the point of bending over, hands on her knees.

Vanessa just cursed under her breath, that seemed to buy her some time, so could that damn elevator hurry up?

"You, you are so funny, blondie. Acting like you're some sort of hero. Like it'll make a difference." The rabbit woman straightened up now, shooting a scarily piercing glare for someone wearing a smiling rabbit mask. "You and I know he doesn't care what any of us thinks. He'll just keep coming back. History is made by the winners, so why don't we get on their side?"

"Because it's not the right thing to do. How do you live with yourself, knowing that this is what he wants?" Vanessa replied. She lowered her head in defiance, gaze still fixated upwards to the woman. "You've seen it, right? The carnage, the torture, the manipulation, those are the things that he wants. How can you work with someone like that? What could you possibly get from that?"

The rabbit woman scoffed, and examined her knife as if she were looking at her nails, twisting it to reflect the multicolored lights. "You don't, like, know me, and you should stop acting like you care. It's too late for me. He chose me to carry his bigger part, to be the leader of the operation. You were just a backup plan, like all the other attempts."

"Fine." Vanessa glared at her. "Answer me this. When you bring that knife down, when you give the finishing blow, when you'll hear that kid's scream, when his blood gushes out and you can't stop yourself anymore, how will you be feeling?"

"I can look away. I'll close my eyes. I'll be a good vessel, at that time." The woman turned her head, gaze now at a distance that was not in this place or time. There was a softness to her voice. "It'll be like falling asleep for a moment, and waking up in the other."

"You can't be serious. You act like you're so high and mighty, the leader of the fucking bunch, but you clearly don't want to do this." Vanessa gritted her teeth now, glaring. She wanted so desperately for this to big her big break, finally getting through to that ridiculous killer rabbit.

The opposite effect, instead, took place. The woman leaped at her, with a sudden speed and strenght Vanessa thought she may surely die from a heart attack before the blade even pierced her, and she found herself pinned back up against the wall. This time, though, the knife was closer, threatening.

The sinister, wide open smile on the rabbit mask felt even more grim now, illuminate with an eerie glow. The purple lights came back on, as the words filled her mind, rapidly coming and going, like loose streams of thought.

"Die."

"Worthless girl."

"Your attempts will get you nowhere."

"I laugh at you from beyond death."

"Your death will be nothing but a testimony to your incompetence."

Dark rabbits in shades of purple and black danced.

For the second time, however, the blade did not come down.

The rabbit's arm shook, and swerved, but it did not come down. From within the suit, Vanessa could hear, a guttural growl, as if the person inside was fighting with all of her strenght to keep the blade in place.

For what purpose, again, did this torture come to be, Vanessa wondered.

As the two stayed frozen in the moment, the swirl of unwanted thoughts within Vanessa's head grew louder, into a cacophony of unpleasant suggestions, all interrupting each other and drowning themselves out in desperation to be heard.

The blade stood still, save for it shaking a bit along with the rabbit woman's arm.

"She's not the target. She is not your target. Killing her will get us nowhere. She is not my target. This will make it more complicated." The woman spoke, but Vanessa could tell, it wasn't to her. “Please, I’ll prove it to you, this isn’t worth it. I won’t forget what you told me. But she is not the target.”

The elevator's anticlimatic ring was what startled Vanessa, and she fell backwards, right into the inside of it. Scrambling back up, she pressed any button to close it as fast as possible and get away from there, before the rabbit woman could even realize what was happening.

Vanessa rode the adrenaline spike as she escaped her attacker, and her thoughts calmed down and gave way into her very own. She'd be safe, for the moment.

[seokjinsdisciple]

Mine

vampire!jinyoung x reader

jinyoung enlists your help to get free blood, but he never thought things would turn out like this.

requested, unedited

warnings: a lot of blood licking/drinking, unprotected sex, non-consensual biting, one of the vampire characters wants to die, doll, pussy eating, drinking, swearing, i think thats it?

word count: 3.7k

It wasn’t unusual for there to be an unwanted visitor in your hospital. In fact, more often than not there was an addict trying to get into the drug supplies, but an intruder in the Blood Bank was new. You worked the night shift, and you often found yourself in situations that, frankly, the day shift nurses would never have to deal with. Most nights, you were unbothered, but there was something about tonight that had been...weird. 

You made your way further into the dark room, your eyes slowly adjust to the lack of light that was completely opposite to the stark white light in the hall. At first, you didn’t see him. His dark clothing helping him to blend in, but as you approached his figure became more clear. As if he could hear you, even from this distance, he froze. Head turning slowly to face you. 

If you had been a day nurse, you would’ve screamed, maybe even ran away, but you didn’t. Maybe you were curious, maybe you were just plain stupid, all you knew was that man had glowing red eyes. Try as you might to attribute what you saw to exhaustion and lack of sleep, you knew you’d be lying to yourself. So here you were, standing in front of a man with glowing red eyes, and the both of you were frozen. 

With a shaky cough and your confidence built, “Sir, you can’t be in here,” came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. You could see the man shove something into his pocket, and before you could protest any further, he tried pushing around you to the door, but stopped when he noticed the bright lights in the hall. 

Your brows scrunched in confusion, if he hadn’t come in that door, how did he get in here?

You tried to stop him as he turned to come back towards you, but he was too strong. He scrambled past you with ease, and when you tried to follow, your arm scraped across the broken glass of the cabinet he had been searching through. While it hurt, you didn’t think much of it, at least, not until your eyes flew back to the escaping stranger. He stood, still, the only movement coming from his heaving chest.  You had been freaked out before, but now, as absolute silence filled the room, you were scared. He still didn’t face you, it was as if he was frozen. In an instant, the atmosphere changed, his hands recklessly tearing at his pockets to get whatever it was that he had stolen out. You were left stunned as you realized what he was now ravenously drinking from, a blood bag. 

“What are you doing?” you shrieked, hurrying over to the stranger, and pulling at his arm. In an instant, his hand was wrapped around your wrist, blood dripping from his mouth and his eyes burning into where blood was dripping from your fresh cut. 

“You stupid little girl,” he hissed, bringing your arm up to his mouth and smirking, “your blood smells so...delicious,” he growled, tongue running across your wound. You were frozen, you had no clue what to do, especially as his teeth were getting so close to biting into your arm. With his teeth just centimeters away from sinking into your flesh, the light flickered on. One of your shocked coworkers stood at the door, her eyes widening as the man who had been about to attack you hurried to the window and jumped out. 

You stood there in shock as she rushed to you, her questions mixing with your own in your head. Thoughts swirled in your brain as you mindlessly followed her. Why the hell was he drinking blood? Who was he? Why were his eyes red? Why were you about to let him… do whatever it was he was about to do to you?

You winced as she cleaned your wound, trying to imagine how the rest of your shift would go. You only had a few hours left, and although you were shaken up, your curiosity was overpowering any fears that you had. 

The rest of your shift flew by, your work keeping you busy, but not busy enough to occupy your mind. As you glanced down at your blood-soaked shoes, courteous of the visitor who had been in your mind all night, you huffed out a curse. You didn’t want to have to clean your shoes, but there was no way you would be walking around your next shift looking like you just came from a horror film. 

You pulled your coat closer to your body as you walked out of the hospital. You were used to walking home, you had been doing it for a while, but you never got used to the bone-chilling wind that happens at 3AM. As you walked, you felt eyes watching you, your apartment wasn’t far now, and although you felt a little creeped out, you were sure it would pass. Your heart started beating faster as you heard footsteps fall in time with your own. You glanced into the window of a shop as you passed, but there was no one behind you. You tried to shake the eerie feeling that you were being followed, but your fears just rose. 

It wasn’t until you passed an alleyway that your worst fears were imagined. A hand pulled you hard, as another covered your mouth, effectively muffling your scream. You tried to fight as the man pushed you against the wall, but his strength was far greater than anything you had ever encountered. 

You watched helplessly as he ripped your coat and bandage off, “You don’t realize how dangerous it is to be walking around with blood that smells that good.”

At this point, you were just baffled, what were the odds of getting attacked twice in one night by two different people who were both obsessed with blood. You saw his eyes go red, and when he saw your unfazed reaction, you resisted rolling your eyes. He was confused you weren’t shocked to see his eye change, but he didn’t know you had been through this already. You had escaped one stranger tonight, you could escape another. 

As he tried to steady you enough to bite you, you wriggled. You were going to get free, you were determined. Neither of you noticed the man coming until he was already knocking down your attacker. You did a double-take at your savior, recognizing his face as the stranger from earlier. As if this night couldn’t get any worse. 

“Bang Chan, I told you to stay away from her,” the man from before said as he wrestled with who you now knew to be Bang Chan. 

“How was I supposed to know she was the one you were talking about?” He hisses back, rolling on top of the man and throwing a punch before quickly being flipped over again, “I’m hungry, boss. And she was walking down the street smelling soo delicious.”

You watched as the two continued to fight, backing away slowly to not draw any attention to yourself. When you were far enough away, you ran, their angry voices fading away as your feet carried you through streets and into a pub. 

After all that had happened to you tonight, you deserve a drink. You sidled up to the bar, sitting in the seat farthest away from the rest of the patrons. You needed a moment to think and relax and have a drink. So that’s what you did. You had one drink, and then another, and then one more. You weren’t drinking quickly, burning some time before heading home. 

As you motioned to the bartender to close your tab, a voice rang out. 

“I’ll cover her drinks, and can I have a shot of gin, please,” the voice from earlier rang out from behind you. You sighed as the man sat next to you, “You really are a difficult human to find.”

You just glanced at him, his skin perfect, and face obnoxiously handsome. “And you are sure hard to get rid of,” you quipped back, annoyed to find yourself in his presence again. 

He chuckled, his teeth normal when you checked. This made him smile again, “I’m a little less starving now, so I look a little nicer.”

You just nodded, trying to ignore the multitude of questions from swirling in your brain and effectively ignore him. 

“You can’t be thinking about ignoring me now, can you doll?” His eyebrow quirked, a knowing smile gracing his lips as your eyes widened. 

“What can’t you do?” You practically groaned, tired of every new… ability he seemingly developed.

“I’m not invisible,” He laughed, “Well, unless you include my reflection.”

His cocky attitude was starting to wear down your will to ignore him. As much as you hated to admit it, he was funny. 

“What do you want from me? Besides my blood, anyway?” You asked. 

He glanced down as he let out another chuckle, “You can offer me something special, something that would help me and my friends.”

You nodded at this, you figured he was talking about the blood bank attached to your hospital. What you didn’t understand was why you? There were several other local hospitals, all with blood banks. 

“But you’re pretty, doll. And smart too,” He spoke, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Mm-” You hummed, curiosity still filling your head with questions, “and what exactly do I gain by helping you?”

“My protection, and the fact that I won’t kill you for refusing me,” his eyes flashed red, as if warning you to press your luck. When he put it that way, you didn’t have much of a choice, more concerned for your own safety.  

“I’m Jinyoung,” he introduced himself as the bartender collected his money, “Let’s get you home, Y/N.”

He was true to his word, walking you home from the bar, and promising to walk you home from work whenever you had a shift. He left you his number and a promise that one of the members of his coven would be in touch about the details.

 Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Jinyoung walked you home after every shift, and you gave the coven as much blood as you can without drawing suspicion. Now, your system was a well-oiled one. Not as clumsy as you had been in the beginning, you were getting away with taking more and more. Jinyoung was often texting you, and in normal situations, you would have considered him a good friend. He was always touchy with you, but he never crossed any boundaries. You weren’t sure how it worked with vampire boys, but you were pretty sure he liked you. 

The first time you had ever gone to the JYP coven’s base, whispers filled the halls. Things like “oh, so that’s boss’s girl” and “she’s pretty”. These weren’t the first suspicions you had, but they proved to be the most convincing. Especially because of the way Jinyoung reacted to the new fledgling calling you pretty. Safe to say, you and Jinyoung were close. So naturally, you were a little concerned when he texted you that he was unable to walk you home tonight because there was a big meeting with another coven. 

It must’ve been serious for Jinyoung to abandon you, something he had never once done. You knew you’d be fine, the only trouble you had ever had walking home being the trouble that Jinyoung himself had caused. Really, you should’ve put it together earlier. You knew about the meeting, and you knew the only other coven in town were JYP’s rivals. You realized it too late, something you figured out as you were being dragged off of the streets and into a van. 

Your captors weren’t cruel, but you knew it was because you were being used as a bargaining chip. You felt especially bad after skipping the last month of self-defense classes (as Jinyoung insisted). Maybe you would have some idea of what to do to be less helpless. To be less human. But you didn’t, and now you were tied to this very uncomfortable chair while you waited.

You had no concept of how long you had been in the room, it had felt like hours, days even. You wondered if the hospital would report you missing, or if they would just end up firing you for missing so many shifts. 

You jumped as the door opened, a man appearing before you with your phone in his hand. 

“Answer and tell him you’re ok,” The man commanded, giving you no sympathy as he held the phone up to your ear.

“Y/N?” Jinyoung's voice rang out of the receiver, “Are you hurt, what are they doing to you, where are you?”

“I’m ok Jinyoung,” You started, “They haven’t don- hey!”

The man taking the receiver and pressing the end call. “Sorry, doll, but he wouldn’t stop calling.”

The man dragged his finger across your jawline and down your neck, tapping lightly on the space between your shoulder and neck. Bile rose in your throat at him calling you doll and the way his hands lingered on you. You turned your head to avoid his touch, the nickname doll ringing through your ears. Jinyoung’s nickname for you, and no one else's. 

“Ah ah,” the man tsked your wriggling, eyes briefly going red as he pressed harshly on your shoulder, “I’m in charge here.”

“What do you want from me?” You questioned your resolve to get out of this mess building within you. 

The man just laughed, “You humans, always thinking the world revolves around you. I was surprised when Jinyoung brought you into his operation, though it was a little stupid, honestly. Why steal blood when there are billions of walking blood banks walking around the world? What’s really interesting though, Y/N, are his feelings for you.”

“Jinyoung and I are just friends,” you tried, to which the man just laughed. You felt the lump in your throat grow, you had a feeling you weren’t gonna make this out alive that easily. 

“Oh, darling. Jinyoung loves you, in fact,” he started, smiling as his phone buzzed,” he just killed twelve of my men to come and find you. I didn’t get it at first, you are just an average human, not even that cute. But now that I have you here,” he paused, sliding a knife (that you had no idea when he grabbed) through your palm, “now that I can smell your blood, I know why.”

You tried to shimmy away from him, but there was nothing you could do as he licked the blood from your new cut. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, tears starting to fall as his fangs started to dig into your wrist. “He’s gonna kill you!”

“Doll,” he smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, “When you’ve been alive for thousands of years, death is the best present you can get.”

Your fear increased with his words. If his goal was to be killed, he would have no care if you lived or died. In fact, you wouldn’t be shocked if he would kill you, just to piss Jinyoung off. You winced as his teeth dug deeper into your arm, his bloodthirsty moans filling the otherwise quiet room. He dropped your arm, blood running down his chin as he moved towards your neck. 

“It’s time now doll,” he whispered, fangs touching your skin gently. 

“Get the fuck away from her, Jimin.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, Jinyoung was here, Jinyoung was going to save you. You shuddered as you felt Jimin smile against the crux of your neck.

“It took you long enough, Jinyoung,” he whispered, grunting in pain as Jinyoung drove a stake through his heart. 

You were pretty sure that the blood dripping from Jimin’s mouth was no longer yours, and instead his own. It was darker, almost black. It covered his chin and his neck. He winked at you, before closing his eyes, his breathing slowing. Jinyoung was quick to push him off of you, his body quickly going limp. You hadn’t realized how much blood you had lost until you noticed your vision fading. You knew Jinyoung was saying something to you, you could see his mouth moving, but your ears were ringing as he got you free and picked you up. 

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in a strange bedroom. If the man sitting in the chair next to you was any indication of whose room you were in, then you knew you were ok. Jinyoung jumped up when he noticed your eyes had opened. 

“Are you ok?” He hurried over, large hand caressing your face, “Can I get you anything?”

You looked away, tears filling your eyes, “Jinyoung…”

“Doll, why are you crying? What’s happening?”

You felt his other hand gently force your head back so that he could look into your eyes. ‘

“Jimin-” you started, Jinyoung immediately tensing at the mere mention of his name, “Why did he take me?”

Jinyoung looked away, and you were positive that had he been human, he would be blushing. 

“You mean a lot to me, Y/N. More than you will ever know,” he smiled sadly.

“Will you please just tell me that you’re in love with me so that I can kiss your stupid face?” you groaned, a stray tear falling down your face. Jinyoung paused at your words, searching your face for any sign of joke. When he didn’t see one, he grinned, pressing his lips against your own. 

He was the first to break away, a whine erupting from your throat at the lack of contact. This alone was enough for him to kiss you again. Deeper, and passionately. You felt his love, radiating from his cold body, your heart rate increasing as he ran his hands over your chest and down your sides. 

“Someone’s excited,” he groaned, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone and resting his ear against the spot on your chest where your heart lay. “You have no idea how happy I am that I can hear this again. You’re ok.”

“I’m ok,” you whispered, breath hitching as he squeezed your chest. He helped you shimmy the white shirt that clad your body off and immediately dove into your breasts. He rolled one of your nipples between his finger, a moan escaping your mouth as he took the other into his mouth. You hadn’t seen Jinyoung this emotional, he was littering kisses on every part of your skin, placing more in the areas where Jimin’s bites lingered. 

From your experience in the coven, you knew vampires didn’t like it when others bite what they think to be theirs. One of the reasons Bang Chan had been heavily reprimanded for attacking you was because Jinyoung had claimed you. You were his. 

Your heart soared at the thought, and Jinyoung smirked against your chest, clearly reading your thoughts. 

“Say it,” he growled, pressing a wet kiss against your abdomen and moving to your core. 

“I’m yours, Jinyoung.”

He lost his composure then, eating your core like he was starved. Not that you were complaining. You couldn’t stay still, the pleasure multiplying from your core and warming your whole body. 

Moan after moan spilled from your lips as Jinyoung brought you closer to the edge. You were begging him now, desperate to get your release. He ignored your pleas, pressing a final kiss on your clit before tearing his clothes off. He pumped his member a few times before pushing himself into your tight heat. You both groaned, Jinyoung sinking all the way into you. He let out a curse before he started moving, giving you only a second to adjust to him. The burn felt good and tickled at the knot that had been building before. 

His pace was sloppy, probably due to the fact he hadn’t had sex in hundreds of years. However, he knew how to use his length. Maneuvering your legs to hit all of the spots that had you breathless. You were getting close again, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of the bite Jimin had left on your wrist. 

“Jinyoung, bite me.”

Jinyoung’s eyes snapped open, his pace slowing as he looked at you incredulously, “There’s no way, you’ve lost so much blood.”

“Jinyoung, please,” you begged, your core tightening around his cock and causing him to groan, “I don’t want his marks to be the only thing on me.”

Jinyoung just pressed a kiss to your forehead, starting up his pace again. “No, doll. I promise I won’t be able to control myself when I know you are stronger.”

You just whined, but he pressed a warning kiss to your lips. You were both moaning into the kiss, and you weren’t sure how it happened, but you found yourself with a split lip. All of Jinyoung’s control was out of the window at the sight of your blood. His pace quickening as he licked your cut and into your mouth. At the taste of your blood, his eyes shifted into the red you had seen months ago in the hospital. 

He hovered in the crook of your neck, whispering, “Are you sure you are ok with this?”

“God, please, Jinyoung.”

You came as his fangs punctured your sin. Jinyoung quickly licking up your spilling blood. You felt his cock twitch within you, but he was still desperately biting your chest and tasting your blood. 

You knew he hadn’t bit very deep, because you were barely spilling any blood, but Jinyoung didn’t seem to care. He pressed soothing kisses everywhere he could reach. Whispering one word over and over. 

“Mine.”

[yandere--stuck]

🔥 Sharky's life, up until meeting you, of course had been… Less than ideal. He had been unwanted even before he was born, and neither mama nor pa had wanted to take care of him, leaving him to his grandmother's care. And then, everything had, somehow, managed to get worse from there. He was pyromaniac (fire enthusiast) high school dropout going nowhere fast. Sure, he had his trailer park, and his Auntie Addie and Cousin Hurk, and a few friends around the county… But, other than that, it was just him. Well, him, his flamethrower,  and the flames that burnt and spread out all around him whenever he craved the warmth of the fire (to satiate the craving for a warm, human body next to him) and the crackle and pop of the flames. His life was kind of a dumpster fire - maybe that's why he liked starting them so much?

💚 You were a cop, and Sharky didn't have the greatest record with the law. Lucky for him, you were new to the area and not knowledgeable to Sharky's fire enthusiasm - plus, Hope County had all but descended into Marshal Law, and you probably had more important, cult-related things to worry about than a rogue pyromaniac who was, in all honesty, doing his best to aid the resistance… in his own, Sharky way. You were hesitant when he started up his music, drawing the Angels in. He could see the worry and conflict on your face, not sure what to do. The man slowly reached out, patting you on the back (you felt so warm, even with the multiple layers covering you), reassuring you. Sure, Angels were still human, but… Not really "people," not anymore. If anything, you and he were probably doing them a favor by sparing thema drugged-up living hell.

🔥 You and he taking out those Angels was the most fun he'd had since… Well, for as long as he can remember! He beams at you, eyes crinkling as he drinks you in. A warmth blooms within him, his heart beating faster and his breathing picking up - he tries to blame it on the exhilaration. You… You remind him of fire. You're warm and fun and beautiful and Sharky swears that if he got too close, you'd steal all the breath from his lungs. And you… You were good. Sharky can always tell with these things, with people. You weren't like other cops, taking advantage of your power and throwing around your weight. No, you did what you did because you wanted to do what was right, because you wanted to protect people. And you were one in a million, this was some destiny-type shit, he was sure of it. And you sure as hell, weren't getting rid of Shaky anytime soon! You were best friends now, and he was practically attached to your hip.

💚 Taking out peggies and saving townsfolk and securing cult outposts is fun and all, but… Sharky can't help the pit in his stomach that begins to form whenever you get surrounded by cultists. He'll forgo any self-preservation instincts to light up any of the cultists that could harm you, no matter how injured he gets in the process. He… He NEEDS you to be okay, to be safe. You were his best friend - his only friend, really - he NEEDED you to be safe. In the back of his mind, he knows you can handle it (probably), you're a cop, after all! You were probably trained for shit like this… Right? But stil, everytime you go down, every close call… He's worried it'll be the last. He can't lose you. He hasn't know you too long, he knows this, he shouldn't be THIS attached (it's not healthy), but Sharky can't help himself. He needs you.

🔥 When you and he have some offtime, usually at the 8-Bit Pizza Bar or down in Fall's End, Sharky is where he always is - right by your side. He's grateful that you don't seem to mind, and is honestly a bit surprised - surprised that someone like you… Genuinely liked him, valued his company, WANTED him to be with you (and, maybe this a bit forward, but… Maybe you needed him just as much as he needed you?). He doesn't want anyone else but him to be close to you - anyone who dares to stray too close gets a sneer and a glare shot their way. For most, such an expression coming from Sharky alone is enough to send others backpedaling, leaving the man to enjoy the company of his favorite Deputy. He loves when you and he sit at a bar or table together, side by side, and your legs or knees brush together, or you bump elbows, or you touch his hand so gently, so sweetly - your touch is like fire, setting his skin ablaze. So warm. He loves the feeling of your skin against his. He can't remember the last time someone was this close, this affectionate with him. He loves it… Loves you.

💚 He breaks down at some point, when you and he are alone. Tears fall from his eyes, his throat closing up. It scares you, fills you with concern for your friend. You take him in your arms and hold him tight, soothing him through his sobs. Sharky hugs back. You're so warm (another warm, human body next to him, holding him, loving him). He needs you. He loves you, loves you so much already, that it aches. And you must love him, too, right? Why else would you be so nice to him, so sweet, hold him, touch him, give him the time of day? You had to love him, right? Right…? Please… Please love him…

🔥 He can't handle you fighting against Eden's Gate anymore. The Seeds, the peggies… They're too dangerous. What if he's not there to protect you? What if you get knocked down and never get up again? It's too risky. He knows damn well what the Seeds are capable of - John, Jacob, Faith, even Joseph Seed himself. He can't let them get their hands on you, can't allow you to risk your life like that. You… You're one of the first good things (only good thing) to happen to Sharky (ever) in a long time. He can't let you go.  He WON'T let you go. He'll lock you up and keep you safe, because he loves you. He loves you. Sharky loves you so, so much. (Please, please love him back.)

💚 If you manage to escape, he won't be angry, no, Sharky's more distraught and worried than anything. He'll become a one-man army, lighting the entire county on fire and burning it to the ground if it means finding you. He's hell-bent on doing two things, finding you and keeping you safe, and finding and killing the Seed siblings and every cultist he seeds before they can hurt you. He needs you, needs you to be safe, needs to love you like you deserve to be. He needs you. (Please, please, love him back. )

[allyvampirelass29]

Good Wives Don’t Play With Knives

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

"Right where I left you....... My, what a pretty window display......."

Ally trembled with the intoxicating chill of Charlie's voice, feeling her heart quicken, having been kept from him, starved of his touch now for three full days, and she could think of no crueler punishment, whirling around, moving to rush to him, when she remembered them....... and stopped dead, hanging her crown of crestfallen curls.

"Oh come now......." Charlie smirked, moving smoothly toward her, his dark brow raised rakish, as he took her hand in his, caressing it, before bringing her delicate wrist teasingly to his lips. "Why so glum, Sugar Plum? They're not even real......"

Ally felt the tremor in her body, and Charlie watched such pleasing effect, as the hope rose in her eyes, pressing his somber lips to her wrist, coaxing the ghostly white cuffs and hanging chains forth with a blue glow, their veil of invisibility falling silkily away. He felt her breath escape, with the released click against his lips, freeing one wrist, and then the next with his tender, generous kiss, waving away the airy chains soundlessly, the tension building, as she now stood before him unbound.

"Charlie, you don't have to do this, bind my wrists, take prisoner your queen, I told you, it's altogether unnecessary........" She pleaded in heartbroken desperation, and when he was sure she wasn't going to run, he edged closer, coming up behind her, drawing back the ribbons of silken curls from her pale neck, turning his nose into the delicate, snow white skin, breathing deep, inhaling her peppermint, vanilla scent.

She relaxed in his hold as he spoke, drinking in the feel of him, for which, three days in captivity had created a powerful, unquenchable thirst. "You must understand, My Dove, certain....... precautions must be taken....... You've already flown your cage once, and have gotten into a mess of trouble, I can't have that happen again, even if I must....... clip your wings." Charlie's long, shiny nails drifted through the ringlets he had gathered, before tightening around them possessively, with a gentle tug, pulling her back up against him.

"You needn't clip a dove's wings that has nowhere else to fly, My Love....... You won. We made a deal...... I gave myself up, came home with you, and exchanged my freedom........ for hers. I will honour these terms...... without...... restraint."

"Ah ah," Charlie scolded, wagging his finger, his guard still up, his senses heightened, suspecting fickle female trickery. "I said I'd let her go...... for now........ meaning, I would not shoot her at that precise moment, but I assure you........ like yourself, Victoria McQueen will never be rid of me." He scoffed, part of him wishing he'd just shot her, ripped a sucking hole through her chest with her own shotgun, instead of letting his vixen trick him out of it, yet again. You clever temptress. You knew exactly how to stay my hand.

"I haven't won until that BITCH is dead. Alas, this is far from over. Your sacrifice, as selfless as it seemed....... was for NOTHING." He snarled against her skin, his breath hot, and she froze, her voice a tremulous whisper.

"Nothing? Soft, Charles, if it deterred you, even for a moment from the murder that seeks to blacken your soul, than it was well worth it."

He furrowed his black brow, releasing her gathered curls in a flash of shine, whirling her around, staring intensely into her sincere green eyes. "Do not WASTE your time on this fool's errand, Wife......... What you seek to save, has long been lost."

"Oh Charles-" Ally's voice broke, resting her forehead against his, sensing a sadness in this profession, that he'd failed to veil in his anger. He allowed her advance, tentatively brushing the wisps of curls from her own forehead, whisking his nails across it, and trailing them down her cheek, leaving one to rest under her chin. Three days........ What she didn't know, was that it had been far more punishing on him than it could have possibly been on her. What are we going to do about that? Most distressing.......

"Don't leave me, again, Charles, please........" she pleaded, squeezing her anguished eyes shut, fighting the tremble in her lower lip.

"I won't........" He whispered back sweetly, lowering his head to brush his lips faintly against hers. "I promise........ As long as you BEHAVE....... and be My Good Wife."

"I've learned my lesson," She whispered back sweetly, her green meadow eyes fluttering back open, and he felt the pull of her lips, drawing him deeper, but he did not relent, even while he couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Have you now.......? And I was so looking forward to your further punishment."

She giggled, happy, carefree, the music of her laugh, sounding just like it used to, rising like a siren's song, and he could resist it no longer, taking her lips deeply, like a starving man, wild and ravenous, pulling her into him, squeezing his arms tight around her shoulders, trapping her more cleverly than even his ingenious disappearing chains could manage.

She kissed him back, just as hungered, one hand clutching his coifed raven hair, the other smoothing his strong chest beneath his chauffer's coat, tears pricking her eyes, much preferring this hold to the conjured manacles, happily captured in her lover's arms, and whether for good or for harm, she cared not. I need you, Charles Manx. Do what you will with me........ just do not banish me from the dark paradise of your eyes, it is too much........ I won't survive it.

She fell away from his lips, breathless, once the kiss drew to its climatic close, and he smiled adoringly down at her, as she lent forward to hide her blush, fumbling with her drooping white silk stocking, wearing the grin of a lovesick woman.

"I have a treat for you, Wife, one I think will do us both some wonderous good......"

The flushed bliss cooled on her cheek, as she stared back at him, her lush eyes robbed of their mirth, flickering warily. "What kind of treat, Charles?"

Charlie's own black eyes danced, as he snapped up her hand, and spun her slowly around, taking all of her in, a poised figure atop a music box, the circles around her eyes even darker, her cheeks sunken in from the fretful neglect, and she looked all the lovelier for it. "We're going out tonight, My Sweet...... How else am I to show off my beguiling young bride?"

He smiled, perfectly charming, but there was something about the curve of his lip, that hinted at wickedness. "Charlie........ What deception is this? Where are you taking me? For what purpose? I cannot believe this outing is anything innocent. I sense a trick in your treat........"

His handsome smile twisted up into a haughty smirk. "My, my, Mrs. Allyssa Manx, you are rather getting to know your husband's wicked whims frightfully well...... I'm impressed. There was a time....... not too long passed, where you would have followed me anywhere, without question." His fierce eyes intensified. "Look who's learning......."

"Where are you taking me, Charles, please, be honest, do you mean to rid yourself of me this very night?"

Charles frowned, his amusement falling heavily away, as he watched the tears glisten in her pretty eyes, blood practically drawn by the sharp edge of fear in her voice, and he tutted remorseful.

"You Poor Thing....... What HAVE I done to you? Wounded your trust, stoked your suspicion enough to make you think I could just discard you now, unwanted?" He paused, his expression grave, stroking the top of her curls, letting his affection bleed through his fingertips. What kind of unfeeling, heartless heathen, do you take your husband for? Did I not just risk losing my war with Victoria, let her live, miss my perfectly good shot, just to get you back? Why then, now that I've got my nails sunk pleasantly into your heart, would I ever WANT rid of you?"

Ally shivered with the ferocity in his whisper, feeling his snapped together nails pressing gently into the center of her chest, and he watched transfixed as her loosened laces shuddered, still undone from their last little interlude.

"You did, Charles....... For once, I meant more to you, than killing her, and I am so proud of you!!!! But despite my being the spoils of our latest skirmish, I cannot help but taste the nefarious intent in this abrupt late night venture. I fear this is you....... furthering my punishment."

He exhaled in a caught sigh, and then smirked knowingly, his eyes alight with mischief, leaning in closer. "A woman's intuition is a dangerous thing........ You are right, My Joy....... In part. There is nothing innocent, nothing good, nothing pure about where I am taking you this eve, although I do intend, very much so, to show you off to those I cannot call my friends......." He chuckled, amused by his own dark wit. "I need to see a rather dear acquaintance, shall we say, of mine, and as I cannot leave you alone unattended in my absence, even aided by your new....... accessories, without inviting Victoria to join you in ravaging my inscape at will, You are coming with me, I regret to say....... willingly or not."

Ally bit her lip nervously, rubbing her wrists, already feeling the force hold of those ghastly floating cuffs. "I see........ Your honesty has sated my distrust, and puts me oddly at ease. I shall willingly go with you, Charles, to visit your friend, and your...... unsavory associates. While so perilous a description of this place gives me pause, I am still your wife, and I would rather be with you, even in the midst of all manner of ne'er do wells, than be without you for even a moment longer."

Charles smiled fondly, taking her dainty hand, bowing his head genteel, to kiss the back of it, his brow softened. "What a good wife, I have, braving ne'er do wells, so boldly, just to be in my company." He smirked teasingly, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I will admit, taking you there, to this nefarious nexus of darker creative thought, would have been a thought to perish, but I see no way around it. Don't worry. No ne'er do well shall lay a hand on you, save myself."

Ally cracked a shy smile, as Charles winked at her something wicked, tossing her a fluttering blue summer dress, with white hydrangea flowers on it.

"Do hurry and change, My Beauty, Old Honest Abe has enough of a vulgar mind already, he needn't be inspired by the teasing curves of that nightdress. I'd rather die than let him so much as glimpse you in it. Such a sight should be for your husband's eyes only.

Ally blushed, and Charles found the slight burn in her cheeks much too arousing. Not trying hard enough to quell it, the fire inside his mind burst with the licking flames of other intimate imaginings of her, that he had yet to behold, a nakedness sacred to man and wife. Patience......... The time will come, when I will know every blinding white inch of that skin, kissing where the sun itself could not, and there will exist no part of you that can hide from me.

He shook off the heat and the haze, even as he touched the white hot flame in his mind, burning his fingers on her curves, clearing his throat, straightening his blood red cravat. She could be such a lingering distraction. We really need to get out of this room, Mrs. Manx. Before I become prisoner here, chained by your temptation.

Of course....... The thought had occurred to him that she might try to escape, by way of The Night Road, but if she did, both he, and The Wraith would be ready for it.

Ally waited for him to leave, watching the door with fixed eyes, after he'd slipped behind it with a blown kiss, and she wriggled out of her nightgown, standing now in just her underthings. Once she was sure she was alone, her heart pattering erratic, she reached behind her, up the back of her corset to pull out the mobile device she had secretly stowed away, clicking it on with careful fingers.

"Hey, Jane Austen, you gonna answer, or should I have just sent this longhand?"

Ally smiled at the gleaming screen, shooting a glance to the door, before she tapped out her response.

"Hello to you too, Hell on Wheels!!! It would seem My Doting Husband is rather desperate for a night out. Would you mind terribly keeping an eye on the children while we're both carousing?"

Ally took a quick breath, hoping and praying Vic would get the text in time, as she slipped into the shorter, ruffled, sky blue print, the gauzy material floating over her corset, and she selected a gold butterfly necklace from the vanity to wear as well. The prettier she looked, the more Charles would want to show her off, the longer he would stay out, and the less concerned he would be with the goings-on at home.

The enthused ding of the device was enough to make her hop, and she read Vic's response, laying the phone down, as she pinned up a select few of her curls.

"Damn, he better be taking you somewhere nice, y'know, after you sacrificed your eternal freedom and all. Still pissed at you for that, by the way........ Sure, I'll see to the little monsters. Now's as good a time as any to see if they can play nice. Stay safe, Jane."

Ally hastily clicked off the phone, and debated whether or not she should take it with her. Ah yes, so my desirous husband's wandering hands can find it on my person in the midst of an electric caress? Not to mention....... being in the thick of so much dark creative energy was sure to affect the cellular device, set it off, and give her away. She sighed, carefully folding up her nightdress, sending one more quick message, before reluctantly concealing the mobile within the folds of it, hurriedly stashing it away in a drawer.

"Will do, Wheels. You'll find the key in the window......."

Then, with guilty green eyes, she reached into the back of her white silk stocking, untying the taut lacing, her fingers shaking, as she withdrew that loathsome black pen, author of all heinous evil, that she'd stolen off Charlie during their ravenous and amorous kiss, reached right into the red silk lining of his waistcoat, while he was otherwise engaged. She swallowed hard, and then tucked her knife into the crevice between the window pane, and the ledge, undoing the lock. All Vic had to do was open it....... and the hellish pen would be hers. With any luck, it would protect her from the vampire children the same way it had protected their new mother.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," She whispered tearfully aloud, her heart aching. Stealing back what was hers, yes, but taking anything from him felt utterly despicable. "I'm so sorry, My Love, but I'm doing this for us!!! You'll see......... I'm still your Good Wife, even if I play with knives. Forgive me......... Mister Manx."

[capriciouswriting]

— emerald star.

pairing: the mandalorian / unnamed, blind oc. (oc pinterest aes)

warnings: angst. mentions of blood.

word count: 1.9k

edit: rewrite for sun, moon & stars. now loosely based on “emerald star” by lord huron

This was never meant to happen. At least, not to her.

Lying in a pool of her own blood, her own hands not knowing where to grasp. Crimson finger tips move back and forth from the deep wound on her abdomen, then over to Cara’s hands as they try to help. Cara keeps gently moving her hands away, the ex-shock trooper voice was the softest he’s ever heard it. Din felt guilty for ignoring her, her own heart giving a painful ache every time he heard her call for him while he had been fighting. But he was trying to protect her, something he had failed to do and he would not let himself fail her twice. So, he had begrudgingly continued to ignore her cries until he was sure that the threat was gone. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to slowly approach.

Like a meek animal, he approached her cautiously, scared of what he would really see when he entered the small building Cara had drug her into. It was dark, and the dirt floor announced his presence loudly despite how careful he tried to be. When he finally sees her he can’t help the air that catches in his throat. Her clothes are torn and crimson, a pool of blood is centered around Cara’s hands as she fumbles with different medical equipment. 

Din finds himself useless, falling to his knees at her side. She reaches for him, but he knows it’s dark, and the light won’t reflect off of his beskar in a way that she likes. She starts coughing, spluttering on her own blood but calling his name like a mantra of false hope. 

All he manages to do is adjust, carefully placing himself so he can safely lay her head on his lap. She clings to his gloves, but the shaking of his hands only intensifies the more her blood is smeared onto him. He can feel the panic in his chest, clinging to him tighter than even the beskar, holding him in an unwelcoming embrace.  

Cara is trying her best, and Din couldn’t be more thankful for the amount of effort she is putting into helping the woman on his lap. He hates that he can’t have a clear head through this, and hates even more that the first time he’s seen her hurt is this bad. More than anything he hates that he failed at protecting the one person who he always swore to protect.

His eyes glance over to the blood soaking into the dirt, making it look something akin to fresh soil. 

It was never supposed to be like this, it was always supposed to be him. Din was always the one hurt - and she would always be the more level headed. Her medical training wasn’t extensive by any means, but it was always enough. He was safe with her, and he knew it. He’s known it for a long time, before even the kid was in their lives he knew he could trust her. He did trust her, with everything. His name, his story, and even with his face. Granted, her blindness didn’t allow her to really see him, yet she still saw him and accepted him with open arms.

But this wasn’t his fight to start or finish, she had reiterated that to him one too many times. Din always commended her for how honest she was with him, openly telling her about her past and her siblings soon after they had met. (“My so-called family and I don’t really see eye-to-eye,” she had told him, “I mean, besides the whole blind thing so I actually can’t see their eyes, they’ve also tried to kill me. So, there’s that.”). He never understood it, the falling out with her adopted siblings and the disdain so overwhelming that instead of putting a bounty on her head they opted to try and do it themselves. And out of the five siblings she had, three hadn’t ever come close to killing her. 

Until one had. 

A cough tears through her, and Cara hisses through her teeth, pushing her palms down harder on his comapnion’s stomach, telling her to please be still as gently as the urgency would allow. Din is cold with fear when he sees the blood pool even more around Cara’s hands with each cough. The sound of his name rouses him from the stupor of fear, and he tilts his head slightly so Cara knows he’s looking at her. The ex shock trooper is sweating, droplets of blood freckle her face and he tries hard to focus on them so that he doesn’t look back at her hands soaked in the blood of his partner.

“I need her to calm down, please.”

Din hasn’t spoken a word, he realizes. Despite the woman on his lap calling for him earlier, he hadn’t said a word to her. For a moment he feels as if he’s forgotten how to speak, and he sits with his mouth open. He swallows thickly, and moves to push hair out of his partner's face. She stills, eyes wide and mouth trembling. 

He’s never seen her look so afraid.

“Cyar’ika.”

Din is terrified she can pick up the tremble in his voice, the fear and apprehension seeping through his lips unwanted. Din wants to be able to put on a brave facade for her and act as if he’s okay, like he knows she would for him. He hates the feeling of fear and failure mounted on his shoulders, weighing him down like a heavy cowl. 

Din is scared and he doesn’t want to be.

She was the only one, despite her inability to see, that he felt actually saw past the beskar. She saw past the walls he had built around his heart, muted by the creed he had taken years and years ago. She was one of the few, if not the only one, to never question the beskar or him. They never said it, but he had always felt it - the warmth in his chest whenever he thought of her. He hoped she felt the same, and he figured she had, because the first time she had heard his voice without the modulator of his helmet she had nearly cried. She was more than his partner, or his companion, or his friend.

“Haven’t heard,” she takes a deep, gulping breath, “that name in while.”

Din inhales as softly as he can, his chest shaking. He moves, lifting his hand to brush her hair away from her face again, this time swiping his thumb along her cheek bones. She closes her eyes at the touch, and he feels himself panic as the fleeting thought of her never opening them again enters his mind. He’s been around her for so long now that he doesn’t know a life without her there. He doesn’t want to know a life without her there. She’s the constant that he needs in his life, there to ground him when things are hard.

“Din,” he snaps back to meet her eyes, and she’s moving her hand to reach for him. Her fingertips graze his visor and he resists the urge to violently flinch away from the blood staining her hands, “Din, I’m scared.”

Whatever resolve he thought he had vanishes at her words, and he hastily grabs the hand that had originally sought him. Din can’t bring himself to speak, the overwhelming burn in his throat and in the back of his eyes is enough to keep him silent. So, he does the only thing he feels like he can. He grabs her hand, holding onto it as tightly as he can so as to not hurt her. He leans forward, despite the position being uncomfortable, to briefly lean his helmet against her forehead. 

“I don’t want to die,” she breathes quietly.

“You won’t.”

His response is immediate, and harsher than he intended it to be. Though, he softens when he sees the tears pooling in her eyes. Her gaze is looking up, almost meeting the T visor of his helmet, and he knows she’s trying hard to find any sort of light reflecting off of his beskar. 

“You won’t,” he repeats, softer this time, “The kid, he needs you.”

There’s a long pause after what he says, and through his peripherals Din can see Cara glance at him for the briefest moment.

“We both do,” Din spokes softly, and the words leave him slowly as he wills himself to try and not sound so afraid.

She gulps again, heavy and loud as she tries to both inhale and exhale. He’s glad that her grip on his hand hasn’t faltered, but he still wishes it would get stronger. He hates how fragile she looks, pale and covered in sweat, dirt and blood. It’s an image of her he hopes to never remember. Din wills himself to look away from her, instead glancing at Cara. The Alderaanian is sighing out, hands now resting on her thighs. 

“I did the best I could,” Cara’s voice is soft and Din can’t help that his eyes move to look at his companion’s abdomen, now patched and covered with semi-bloodied gauze and a large bacta patch. 

He nods at Cara, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how thankful he is in that moment because he’s afraid his words will fail him. Cara gives him a tight-lipped smile, and a curt nod in understanding, as she moves out of the small building.

Din moves his legs out from under himself, stretching them so the woman lies between them. Her breathing is much more relax, and although she looks much more comfortable Din is still worried at how pale she looks from the blood loss. The panic that had been sitting in the back of his throat is still there, taunting him.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is getting weaker, he notes. But more surprising than that, he’s shocked she’s apologizing at all. He had failed her, and here she lied - in a pool of her own blood - apologizing to him. His silence prompts her to continue, and she’s still swallowing thickly in between her words, “I wish I was as strong as you.”

She truly was an oddity to him. Someone who was fragile yet capable, soft yet strong, both the calm and the storm. She was his sun, moon and stars. 

He didn’t deserve her.

“I’m the one who failed,” Din’s voice is soft, almost pleading, as it meets her ears. He doesn’t understand, and he wishes he could be upset with her for thinking something so stupid. He failed her, he wasn’t worth the apology that left her lips and if she knew what was good for her she would leave his company if she lived through this (when she lives through this, he wills himself to think). But he knows her, better than anyone would be able to guess. He knew that she would never leave him, nor the child. She was too good, and Din was too selfish. Because he didn’t want her to leave him either.

She whispers a no, her eyes slowly slipping close, “You protected me, that is enough.”

The exhaustion begins to catch up to them both, and Din pulls her closer as she slouches more into him. He clenches his jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other as the persistent burn in his throat actually makes him want to cry out to her.

“Thank you.”