#betrayal tw

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Fandom: Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara, f!Reader Summary: You went against the man you loved and helped Miles escape. Now you must face Miguel's wrath. Word Count: 1821 TW: Angst, Betrayal, Anger, Glitching, Left for Dead, Miguel has a temper Notes: I told myself I wasn't going to get sucked into writing for this movie, but this idea wouldn't stop nagging at my brain so here you go!

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

As you watched Miles disappear in a flash of the Go Home machine, you couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, you had been afraid that he wasn’t going to make it. That despite everything you, Hobie, and Margo had done to help him, Miguel was going to stop him before he could escape. But he got to go home to try and save his father. He had a chance.

However, the smile slowly faded from your face as Miguel roared and ripped the arm off of the Go Home machine. You had been so focused on getting Miles off of Earth-928 that you hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. This was going to be bad.

The room had filled with other Spider-people who had all been involved in the chase for Miles and they all just stared at Miguel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margo’s avatar disappear and you sighed in relief. At least she would escape Miguel’s fury. 

Right now, his focus had turned towards Gwen. As they began yelling back and forth at one another and Miguel dragged her into the Go Home machine, you started to back out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. While part of you wanted to run to Gwen’s aid, she was being sent back to her own universe. It was heartbreaking to watch– especially knowing what was going to happen to her father when she returned –however, she was getting off easy considering her part in getting Miles involved in the Spider-Society in the first place. Things could have been a lot worse for her. As they would probably be for you if you didn’t let Miguel cool down for a while before confronting him.

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Red webs coiled around your arms and legs pinning them to your body and making you fall to the floor. Before you could try to squirm your way out, Miguel yanked hard and you flew backwards into him. He caught your chin with one large hand, his nails sharpening into claws and digging painfully into your skin as he held you off the ground. 

His red eyes flashed dangerously as he roared in your face, “Did you think I wouldn’t see you trying to slink away? You helped him escape! You! Of the hundreds of us in the Spider-Society, you were the last one I ever imagined turning against me.”

“I haven’t turned against you, Miguel. You know I love you too much to ever do that.” With your face still pinned in his grasp, you tried your best to keep your expression calm and non-confrontational. You knew how he got when he was like this and it was better to not get him even more agitated. However, your voice remained firm and unwavering. “But right now, you’re letting your past cloud your judgment and you’re not thinking clearly. I was just trying to–”

“He’s trying to alter a second canon event! We still haven’t dealt with what he did in Mumbattan and you just let him get away to do it again!” He bared his sharp teeth at you as he growled deep in his throat. In all your years together as friends or as lovers, you had never once feared Miguel would hurt you…. until this moment. All reason seemed to have left him and all you saw when you looked at his face was fury and pain. There was no trace of the man you loved before you.

Trying to keep the quiver out of your voice, you calmly said, “You said it yourself. Miles is an anomaly. He was never supposed to be one of us so who’s to say he has to uphold the canon events? From what I can tell, the Peter Parker of that world already lost his captain before he died. So maybe Miles has a chance none of us ever got. Maybe he doesn’t have to bear this loss like the rest of us. Maybe he can change his fate.”

“‘Maybe! Maybe! Maybe’! You risked the lives of an entire universe on maybe!” Miguel’s grip on your face tightened and you mewled slightly as his claws broke skin. “Whether or not he was supposed to be Spider-Man, he is now. And that means he must follow the canon. If he was different than the rest of us, he wouldn’t have already lost his uncle.”

“Or may– possibly becoming the Prowler is what got that Aaron Davis killed, not because he was Miles’s uncle.” You tried to reach up to stroke Miguel’s cheek, to calm some of his anger, but your hands were still pinned to your side by his webs. “Miguel, don’t do this. I’m begging you. Please, let Miles try. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, Miguel’s fury faded from his face until there was nothing left but pain. Pain that you knew you had caused. He lowered you to the floor and loosened his grip on your face though he didn’t release you. Then, as he stared deeply into your eyes, he spoke in an agonized whisper. “I did trust you. I would have gone to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for you. I gave you my heart even after I swore never to open myself up to anyone again but you turned your back on me the first chance you had.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squirmed against the webs, desperate to touch him. To hold him and make him feel that your love for him never wavered. “You know that’s not true. I’ve stood by your side from the very beginning. I’ve loved you and helped you build this Society so we could uphold the canon across hundreds of universes. But I just… I just couldn’t stand by this time and not at least give Miles a chance to try and save someone he loves. I’m sorry.”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

His claws slashed through his webbing, freeing your limbs. But before you could move, Miguel grabbed your arm, ripped your portal watch from your wrist, and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Still holding your arm, he tossed you across the room. You crashed into the floor and slid another dozen feet or so on your side. And just as you slowed to a stop, you glitched as this unfamiliar universe attacked your cells. 

You felt like your body was simultaneously being compressed and stretched in a hundred directions at once. When the glitch ended, you let out a small whimper but the sound didn’t cull Miguel’s rage any. Even as you lay in a heap on the ground, he tossed a disk in your direction and suddenly a red transparent field surrounded you. 

Unable to believe he was really doing this to you, you called out to him but he ignored your plea. Instead, he turned his back on you and growled, “Jess, Ben, come with me. And somebody catch Spot.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

Ben fell in behind him, but Jess hesitated, her hand reaching out towards you. But you shook your head. Miguel had judged you and once that happened, no one could change his mind. Jess had too much to lose by trying to help you and despite hating to see her leaving to track Miles down, you knew she was just as trapped now as you were. So, reluctantly, she turned and followed Miguel and Ben into the portal.

Now alone, you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You didn’t regret helping Miles, but you never imagined this would be the consequence. Miguel had a right to feel betrayed yet the fact he would go this far– that he was alright with you slowly glitching out of existence – broke your heart. Miguel had never been a saint but you never imagined he could do this. Not to you. How could his love sour so quickly that he was willing to let you die rather than try to understand why you did what you did? 

No. I won’t accept that.

Miguel was just not thinking clearly after everything that had happened today. Deep down, he still loved you. He had to. Just as you still loved him despite him leaving you to die in this cage. If you could only show him that you were right and Miles was different, then maybe Miguel could forgive you for going against him. And maybe there was still hope for the two of you. Or maybe he would still want you dead. 

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

However, there was just something about this situation that made you believe in those maybes. For years you had protected the multiverse by Miguel’s side and you had never questioned his decisions or a canon event. But something in your gut– in your spider-sense –was telling you this time was different. That Miles really could break from the canon without the same consequences as the others. But you would never know unless you found a way out of this cage!

Suddenly, you remembered how Miles managed to escape the same sort of prison an hour before. You might not have his Venom Blast powers but maybe Miguel presented you with your own way to escape. Spreading your arms and legs out as far as you could, you pressed yourself against the force field so you covered as much area as you possibly could. Then you waited.

About four minutes later, it happened. You glitched again but this time, you were ready for it. Using all the strength you could muster, you fought against the glitch and kept yourself pressed against the field. As your body began to flicker and change, so did the force field. When things finally corrected themselves and you were left moaning on the floor, you opened your eyes to see what was once your cage had been transformed into a pile of random junk from across the multiverse.  

Giving it a slight push, the pile collapsed and you walked out of the remains of your prison. You were free. Now, you just had to find a way off of Earth-928 and back into the multiverse to find Miles before Miguel did. And you thought you had an idea about where to start….

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and/or rebloging! I am planning a prequel to this fic showing how Miguel and Reader met and I may also do a sequel fic to this one. If you are interested, please let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Thanks!

[kalevalakryze]

A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka Series Pairings: Shin Hati/Sabine Wren Characters: Shin Hati, Sabine Wren, Ahsoka Tano, Huyang, Peridea Bandits, Noti Warnings: Violence, Blood, Betrayal, Near Death Experiences, Collapse, Force Bond(?) Notes: For Whumptober Day  8 Alternate Prompt Prompt: Betrayal Word Count: 2,823 AO3 Link: Here!

Shin did not speak the same languages as the Nomad Bandits, yet when she came to their camp and announced herself, it was in welcome. The warmest welcome they could hope to receive after… everything. They’d supplied everything she needed to travel alongside them, things even her own… Baylan, had provided once, the first time the world had spat her back out on their own. A tent, a bedroll, materials to make her own fire, and a bowcaster to hunt with, including the minimal training it would take to fire the primitive weapon.

She had to grow used to the rancid taste of howlers and Noti after their hunts, had to coerce her own Howler to take what he could get; the planet’s resources were scarce, it was a graveyard, after all. 

It wasn’t long before Shin had found herself in an odd sense of leadership with the bandits, the chief looked to her often enough on their hunt for the Noti, as the Force seemed to be consistently pulling her towards it.

The true hunt did not start until the Bandit chief was found deceased among the remains of a Noti camp, lightsaber burns seared through his flesh and a blaster burn slotted into the visor of his helmet; The body was too decayed for them to tell how long it had been, with the wildlife eating him up over the days and the rains washing away much other evidence. Shin had watched the Chimera fly into the atmosphere, had breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that the Togruta, Mandalorian, and scruffy Jedi were long gone; and yet… Shin had seen Ahsoka kill Marrok, the burns on what was left of the chief’s flesh would have been an exact match to the ones on Marrok, in the seconds she’d seen the smoldering remains, before he had disappeared into nothingness.

That was the day the hunt began for Shin; Hunting Sabine Wren was her purpose, it was all they knew, the last normal they had, and the last mission her Master had given her before he’d… changed. 

The Force seemed to be in agreement with the lonesome apprentice, guiding her across the badlands of Peridea in the tracks of the Noti and Jedi, staying just enough behind to stay off their radar. Shin had closed herself off from the force just enough that the pull had felt like basic instinct; convincing herself that abruptly cutting herself off was necessary to keep the blues of the predatory Togruta off of her, to stop the Mandalorian from looking at her again. 

The months passed in an exhilarating whirlwind for the young wolf; The Mandalorian’s Hero Complex often had her falling behind the pack to keep up with lagging Noti, giving Shin ample opportunity to attack; reminding them of their only remaining purpose on the graveyard planet. 

The night’s hunt hadn’t gone much differently than the others Shin had fallen short on in the last month, returning to camp with less ‘soldiers’ than she’d left with, and waning on their short supply of medical materials to keep the few that did survive alive longer. 

The tension in the camp had become palpable, even for the wolf who couldn’t understand, feeling the hostility rise had her on edge more and more, bringing her into seclusion even from the nomads who’d taken her in. When the betrayal came, Shin hadn’t been surprised. 

They came for her in the late hours of the night, with the moon high in the sky and weapons at the ready; without the force, and without her saber seeing action in months, they had quickly overwhelmed her. At least, as a jagged blade pierced her stomach and the ground rushed up to meet her, she had a view of the sky.

Shin had to wonder if their home was visible from here, the home where Baylan had promised to never leave, where their routine had never been broken, and where they could always sleep securely, knowing that even in their most suspicious lodgings, they were safe. 

Picking a random constellation, Shin thought of home. Her living situation had changed many times over the months, yet her home had only changed once. When she left the apprentice of Ahsoka Tano in a situation similar to her own, when fate had entwined her course so intimately with the Mandalorian, that even she could not disillusion herself of the reality. 

In what Shin thought would be their last few agonizing moments, they opened themselves up to the force one last time. Muscles convulsed at the electricity that coursed through their veins, forcing her body from its relaxed state, filling her with the need to move. 

Her body was on fire as she shoved herself up and out of the dirt, away from the pool of blood that had seeped from her wounds, away from the corpse of the handful of bandits she’d managed to drop on her scramble from her tent. Each step forward hurt more than the last, but the force persisted, and so did she. 

Blood dribbled past their lips, parted with each rattling, wheezing breath, boots dragging in the dirt as she walked. When a cold, wet nose brushed against her arm from the tear in her tunic, her hand reached out to bury in the howler’s fur. 

Fenrir whined as he pushed into Shin, winding himself around her until the blonde was collapsing into his side, staining his fur with her blood. Everything started to fade, then, as the wind caught in her hair and the steady thuds of his paws on the earth begged her to sleep, even as the force echoed out, seeming to beg of her just one more minute. 

The Howler released a series of urgent barks as his gait slowed, paws tapping against stone as he came to his destination. The snap-hiss of lightsabers activating and the rush of Noti slamming themselves in their crawls was enough to have Shin fighting to open her eyes; she hadn’t come face to face with Sabine in weeks; Maybe the force and Fenrir both knew how she’d wanted to die, and they would grant her this last mercy.

Shin dropped bonelessly from the beast’s back, crumpling in the dirt; the force did not offer the energy to continue as the onset of rigor mortis tried to take hold of her muscles, as if she truly had died when that bladed staff went through her skin, and her brain was coming up with something peaceful to soothe her as she joined the force. 

The last thing she saw before her eyes shut was the green of Sabine Wren’s lightsaber, and dark hair pulled back, out of her face, purple still clinging to frayed ends, and the enticing look of fear on her face. 

There was no expectation to ever open their eyes again, no stream of consciousness to cling to, but… there was no force, no fulfillment of the cosmic purpose Baylan had preached to them growing up; Another one of his lies?

Warmth ebbed back into her body slowly one day, bleeding into her hands as her world was reignited; it hurt like everything else they could remember, overwhelming in a way that made them wish to hide in their Master’s safety, to block out the vastness of life around them and focus on what they could feel; except… 

The fabric on her hands was soft, her gloves were gone, and slender fingers were brushing down the side of her face, the rough, gentle slide of the pad of someone’s thumb caressing over her furrowed brows as they tried to ease what had been another round of muscle spasms in the sickness that had followed healing Shin’s injuries

Shin could not speak or move to give any indication of their growing wakefulness, but they could hear the ambient noises of camplife around them, people (Bandits? No… The Noti…?) going about their nights on the other side of the canvas material. “How is she?” The smooth timber of the Togruta’s voice met her ears, though it did not ignite fear like she was used to; serving more as a reminder of her life, that the thud of her heart in her broken chest was a beacon that she had another chance. 

The other person sighed, fingers sliding down Shin’s face; she wished she could lean with it, follow the safety offered blindly; the first home they’d felt in so long. The hand settled on her shoulder next. “Better? I think. Looks like the nightmares stopped for now,” 

The rush in her blood was indescribable, like someone was pumping liquid nitrogen and an ignited fuel source into her veins. Sabine Wren did not end her, Shin could not decide how this made her feel. 

“Mmm,” The Togruta hummed, footsteps echoing through the Bandit’s bones as she closed the gap, chair creaking as she settled into it. “You can’t move, can you?” “ ‘soka, she’s not gonna be able to answer you,” Sabine argued on her behalf, confusion in her tone as she shifted in the chair. 

“Mmm, maybe not yet,” Shin bristled at the woman’s reply; how was she supposed to answer? The force didn’t offer her it’s aid anymore, she’d had a stroke of luck before- 

Her finger twitched as a large hand settled on her arm, fear igniting goosebumps across her skin as the woman squeezed, too gentle, too kind after everything. 

“The force works in many ways, even when you believe you may not deserve the connection, it never truly leaves you.” Sabine’s weight shifted awkwardly beside her; Shin wished to see the way she knew the Mandalorian’s eyes would roll; Behind her eyelids, Shin was greeted with an image.

Sabine Wren, knees pressing into the thin mattress of a cot, one hand pulling at a string on her pants as her other hand adjusted the blanket covering Shin’s shoulders. They could see themselves from this third perspective, a husk of the person they’d been stepping onto this planet. They had cut their hair dozens of times over the months to combat the sweat, heat, and lack of proper shampoo, dirty blonde hair clung desperately to the dark brown that had come to replace it; someone had brushed their hair and washed the grease out, and the tuft on the back that they hadn’t been able to reach properly had even been fixed. 

Blankets covered their body, startling small on the cot. The host of the image moved, giving her a nice view of Sabine’s startled expression as the blankets were shifted away from their body, giving them access to see; a promise that they had been cared for. The clothes they had been supplied with were too big, though the wraps of bandages offered the clearance to keep the baggy pants in place. The dressings were clean, either she’d been here long enough that her wounds had healed enough to no longer risk random spurts of ripped abrasions, or someone had changed them shortly before consciousness found her again.

“What are you…?” Sabine trailed off, reaching to cover Shin back up protectively, Shin could feel the smugness from the Togruta as the view was closed off once more. “Jetti Osik?”

“You’ll get there when you’re ready,” Ahsoka promised, reaching to tuck the side of the blanket under Shin’s arm. “And Shin will move when she’s ready; there is no need to rush healing.” 

The next time Shin woke, it was to fist her fingers into a warm fabric that had been draped over her, pulling her from her slumber. Instinctively, the blonde started to turn, rolling onto their side as their knees shifted closer to their chest, trapping their body heat under the many layers that had been placed over them in her sleep.

“Is that going to mess with her injuries?” She could hear Sabine grumble, seemingly on the other side of the room. The fabric was comfortable, warm, and it smelled nicer than anything else on this blasted planet. Shin tucked the material up closer to her nose. 

“It will be fine,” Ahsoka promised, close enough to surprise the younger woman.

Silver blue eyes blinked open slowly as the Togruta settled into the bench. The firelight across the tent was painfully bright, as was the view of the moon coming in from the hole cut into the tent to urge the smoke outside. The Mandalorian was knelt in front of the flames, adding tinder to the blaze. Ahsoka’s lips twitched. “Good morning,”

Shin stayed still; they’d read some time ago that Togruta’s were predators, and that some predators, simply freezing, would keep a person from their sights. Their heart thudded in their chest as they stared at Ahsoka, who seemed to be growing more amused by the minute. “Sabine, do you have that canteen on you?”

“Yeah, here-” There was a quiet rustle before Sabine stepped into their field of view. “Shit, hey; you’re awake,” Sabine seemed relieved, breathing out a soft sigh as she twisted the top of the small canteen. 

Sabine was the one to help Shin sit up, going as slow as they needed to adjust to the aching pain in her abdomen from the aftermath of her wounds. Fighting to unwind their hands was exhausting, but the Mandalorian stepped in once again to save the day, raising the canteen to Shin's lips and guiding their head back. 

There was a desperation and exhaustion as they drank, uncaring about embarrassment, though with the nagging feeling of undeserving having them forcing their head back before they were ready, nose twitching as Sabine idly brushed away a stray drop of water as it ran down her face. 

Finally forcing their hands free of the blankets and what they came to realize was a white dyed cloak, Shin managed to reach and take the canteen herself, hands shaking from underuse as they wrapped their fingers around the metal. Their gloves were gone, and the scars all across her hands were poking out sorely, skin clinging to bone, raised white and purple tissue a stark contrast to the dark dirt clinging to the canteen. 

“Why am I here?” They questioned after several terse moments of silence. Staring into the darkness of the canteen and the drops of water clinging to the mouth. 

“You needed help,” Sabine stated matter-of-factly, moving to stand beside Ahsoka, leaning into the Jedi’s chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Already, The Mandalorian seemed to be rearing up for a fight, one Shin had every intention of delivering, despite the exhaustion that seemed to weigh down on her bones. 

“What matters,” Ahsoka was quick to butt in, her elbow pressing into Sabine’s hip sharply. “Is that the Force was not ready for you, and now you are here;”

“You don’t think the Force wanted you to kill me?” Shin spat sourly, nose twitching as Sabine moved to shift the pillows at their back as their shoulders began to droop.

“I think it’s useless to fight about this when you can’t even keep yourself up; just let us help you for fucks sake,” Sabine snipped, placing a firm hand on Shin’s shoulder and guiding the bandit’s body to lay back again, taking the canteen from weak hands. 

“You’re more than welcome to leave, if you wish,” Ahsoka offered, facial marking quirking up. Shin bit back her retort, sighing in defeat; They didn’t kill her, she was very much alive, and she was stuck that way, it seemed, at least until she had enough energy to at least keep herself sitting up long enough and awake enough to think up proper responses when the Mandalorian got under her skin. 

Turning her head from the Jedi, Shin stared off at the blankets covering her legs, hand knit, with designs of loth-cas, loth-wolves, firebirds, and rebellion emblems emblazoned with care in the thick fabric. Shin said nothing as they watched her, only narrowing her eyes with the more time that passed. 

Eventually, Ahsoka stood, hand falling heavy on Shin’s shoulder as she passed. “Give it some time, your body needs to heal, and you need to offer your mind time as well; I can and will help you, so long as you let us.”

Later, as Sabine and Ahsoka regathered in the tent with bowls of real food, Shin scarfing down properly cooked meat ravenously as the two Jedi conversed between themselves, the Bandit allowed herself just a moment of selfish thought; the bandits didn’t want her, her Master didn’t want her, she didn’t want herself… but Ahsoka and Sabine both, despite everything, were making moves like they wanted her…

It was… nice, to feel wanted. 

[ninjago-writing-prompts]

After Season 2, Arin runs into Jay during his and Ras' travels.

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 31: Crying, truth serum*

tw: restraints, choking, magical whump, noncon drugging (sort of? forcing someone to drink a potion), interrogation, betrayal, torture mention

*alternate prompt

Halloween whump!

...

Whumper sat down at the small table with a bag of candy. He dropped it on the table with a thump, catching Whumpee's attention.

Whumpee's eyes went wide, and he started salivating. The food Whumper had given him was so bland, and he bet the candy tasted like heaven.

"Oh, this caught your eye?" He chuckled, and grabbed a piece. "I love Halloween. Trick or treat, Whumpee?"

"Treat...?" he answered hesitantly, knowing full well that none of Whumper's games ever ended well. He was extremely aware of the ropes digging into his skin, keeping him from grabbing the bag of candy and feasting on it.

"Good choice." Whumper was unwrapping the candy painfully slowly, making it known to Whumpee every second of his enjoyment. He popped the small chocolate in his mouth, with an "Mmmmm" and a "Ohh, that's good." Chewing it slowly and thoroughly, watching as Whumpee's mouth gaped.

He couldn't take watching it anymore, thought he knew he probably shouldn't. "May I-may I have a piece?"

He looked at Whumpee thoughtfully.

"...please?"

"Sure, why not. Open wide." He walked over to Whumpee, wrapper in hand, and shoved it down Whumpee's throat.

He started choking and sputtering, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His throat started to burn, and he tried desperately to get the wrapper out.

Whumper grabbed another candy to unwrap, dropping the confections in one hand and shoving the wrapper into Whumpee's throat, pushing the first down again with it.

He coughed up the wrappers and pushed them out with his tongue, tears flowing down his face. "Y-you can stop now," he sobbed when the worst of the choking stopped. "I don't want any more candy-" His voice hitched on a cough, and Whumper backed away.

"Okay, then." He popped the candies in his mouth and picked another piece from the bag. Whumpee was relieved to watch him place the wrapper on the table. "You said you wanted a treat, so how about something to wash it down?" He pulled out a small glass vial from inside his jacket. The vial itself was beautiful, with its faceted sides and smooth curves, but the liquid it carried was a gorgeous bright green.

He didn't trust Whumper, but he couldn't struggle as Whumper unplugged the vial and poured its contents into his mouth. He swallowed, not wanting to anger Whumper by spitting it out and wasting it.

He sat down again, picking up a clipboard and pen he kept in the room. "Halloween is a great time, for things like witches and spells and potions. That lovely little drink was a gift from my friend, and her work is quite magical."

He had heard rumors of witches in his area, but no one had ever dared to interfere with one; they were too powerful, too unpredictable.

"Let's see how well she did. How did your colleagues infiltrate this place?"

"They briefly stole a key so they could copy it, and entered on a night when nobody, including the janitor, was working there. Our hacker took down the cameras from our base so they could move freely." It was a question he would have never answered. Yet it slipped so easily off of his tongue, and he couldn't stop it. He immediately felt deep pangs of guilt and regret and bit the inside of his lip.

"Wonderful," he stated, jotting down notes. "The truth serum seems to be working great."

Truth serum? Oh no, oh no no no. Fuck, I don't wanna betray everyone!

"Let's continue-"

"No, I don't want to continue, I'd be betraying my friends- well, I think of them as friends, I really don't know how they feel about me. Oh, and I really don't want to let down the guy I like, he doesn't know I'm bi, but I really like him and hope he'll go out with me. Plus, they're all I have, if they kicked me out I'd have nowhere to go, they've been helping me pay my rent." What am I saying?

"Ha! This is much better than I thought it would be. Look on the bright side, Whumpee, you keep this up and maybe I won't have to torture you anymore for answers."

"Honestly, part of me would be okay with that, I hate torture, and I'm so scared of you. But I want to stay loyal to my friends, and I don't want answers to just roll off my tongue, like the way-"

"Whumpee, that's enough," he said sharply, cutting Whumpee off. "Let's get back on track. I want to squeeze as much out of you as I can while this dose lasts. Why, exactly, did your team want to break in?"

Here we go.

[sins-of-the-sea]

“Guy……

“Guy….. 

“Guy!!”

“Ungh!! What-” Guy gets up immediately up his feet after Ruixiong kicks him onto a lamppost, which knocks him out. As he gets up too quickly, he wobbles in place and falls onto his backside. “Oof!”

“Guy! You’re okay!! I’m sorry I had to do that, but I had to put out the fire and pull you and Gio away!”

“Ugh…. It's fine.” Guy rubs the part of his head that banged onto the lamppost. “Is Phi anywhere in sight? I think you cracked open something. You’re lucky I’m not bleeding.”

“...Huh. He’s nowhere in sight. I thought he’d stay here with your date and chat with him a bit.”

“My… what?”

“Good news, Lizhi! I got you a date!!”

Oh, G-d, no. Didn’t he say he is not going on a date this Valentine holiday? “I didn’t ask for one, Ruixiong. I didn’t even intend to get out into town. La Demonia kicked me and Giovanni out because we complained about her arguing with her souls on how to decorate for Giovanni’s wedding.”

“Really?! I didn’t know La Demonia had the propensity to throw people out on her own.

“Speaking of you and Giovanni, what happened to cause the fire? Did you have a fight with someone? Or did you two have a-”

Giovanni turns to a nearby garbage can and throws up into it the moment Ruixiong asks his question.

“Giovanni?!?!”

Guy glares daggers at Giovanni as he moves over to vomit into the garbage can, crossing his arms as Ruixiong runs over to the other man to pat his back and assist.

“Guy! What happened?! Was it a fight?? Did you two argue? Over what?!”

“..................

“Nothing. I overreacted to something and the store just happened to be extra flammable. Gio probably inhaled some smoke and is feeling sick from it.”

“....Guy????”

“Oh! Well, breathe easy, Shagua! Take it easy! I don’t want you to choke!”

“....I’ll be fine, Ruixiong. So who is this date for Guy?”

“I can’t wait for you to meet him! Sit right here, I’ll go get him!” Ruixiong runs off.

Giovanni looks at Guy the moment the two are alone. “....Why?”

Guy bares his teeth as he glares at Giovanni and hisses his response. “Because you held that secret for so long, it must have eaten you up from the inside out. And now you are getting married and having a baby. That guilt must have resurfaced and is destroying you as is. And better yet–I am the only one right now who knows your secret. For what you did to cause Guangzhou.”

“G-Guy!! Are you going to blackmail me?!”

“Blackmail you? Do you think I’m low enough to do that to someone I once called my friend?!”

“AH!!”

“Oh, I am thinking of what to do to you, all right. For now… writhe in your guilt. Writhe and scream about it. Writhe and vomit until your stomach eats you from the inside out. Writhe until your sin destroys you. Know that I am going to hold onto this secret knowing full well it’s going to break you. My friend. My two-faced ‘friend’ and ‘Sworn Brother’.”

[smiling-cervidae]

Psst. Al. Husk was the one who told the Vs everything about your deal with you-know-who

ᴀʟᴀꜱᴛᴏʀ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴛᴜɴɴᴇᴅ. ʜᴜꜱᴋ? ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴜᴘꜱᴇᴛ... ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ? ɴᴏ... ɴᴏ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ. ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱᴏʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴜꜱᴋ'ꜱ ᴀʀᴍꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴɢᴇʟ'ꜱ. ʜᴏᴡ... ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ...? ᴅɪᴅ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ?

ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ. ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ. ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴡɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ. ʜᴇ'ᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀꜱᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴜʀʙᴀʟʟ, ꜱᴏᴏɴᴇʀ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ...

[shepscapades]

A last life ethubs comic that isn’t really about last life ethubs

[monobmp]

Thought about that tid bit of Bill mentioning that he can delete memories

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hi!

I’d love a part two to your hit me hard and soft fanfic. Maybe Y/N continues to avoid them as a romantic relationship but begins to accept a platonic one liking eating with Dick or hanging out with Jason at school, etc… but the Batfam gets impatient and talks about why they are afraid (and maybe hunt down the ex which could gain their trust?)

Hit me Hard and Soft: Whispers in the Shadows

Synopsis: The relationship between the batfam gets broken after mistakes lead to accusations, and accusations lead to contingency plans.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: Poly!Yandere; All characters aged up; Possible betrayal; Bad father Bruce, but is he actually the asshole here?; Arguments; Mentions of killing and torture; Possibly ooc batboys: English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 2k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Not much action between Reader and the batboys here, but definitely something. Read the end to answer my question👀

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

— You can't be serious.

The tension was at its highest point. Only a few times priorly did the conflict between all of them get this bad, and as always, they feared things couldn't go back to the way they were.

— I am being serious. That's how things work. — Bruce stated darkly and Dick narrowed his eyes. — We tried it the nice way, I trusted you to behave, but you couldn't do that. — Bruce raised his gloved hand and pointed at Damian. — First, Damian can't control himself. He spent a decade acting right. Justice, not vengeance. But now, he's using (Y/N) as an excuse to defile orders and act as an assassin again! — Damian hissed and clenched his fists, taking a step forward.

— If you really cared for them, you would understand, father! But as always, you put your so-called mission above everything, even us! Even them! — Bruce clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes in his direction, then turned to Jason.

— And you! How many chances do I have to give you? Both of you! You don't change. You will never change. And until you do that, you will never deserve (Y/N)’s or mine trust. Or their love. — Jason's heart broke in two, but he didn't react on the outside. Just kept his hard, Red Hood’s exterior. As he always did every time he and Bruce had a falling out.

— Bruce… — Dick muttered, a mix of a warning to remind him of not going too far, and betrayal by what he was witnessing. Bruce didn't look phased. And the fact he was still wearing Batman's suit, minus the cowl, just made this whole situation more genuine. He was neither Bruce Wayne, the persona, nor Batman, the vigilant. He was just Bruce. Their boss and their father.

— You hunted down that man, tortured and killed him! And you… — He took his gaze away from Jason and glared at Damian again. — Knew about it, and didn't notify us!

— I did know about it. Todd, you should have told us before. I also wanted that scum’s blood in my hands-

— ENOUGH! THE BOTH OF YOU WILL STAY AWAY FROM (Y/N). FOREVER.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

— Sound’s convenient. — All head’s snapped in his direction.

— What do you mean, Tim? — Dick asked. All muscles on his body tense. Tim gazed at him for a moment, then at Damian and Jason, then at Bruce again, staring directly into his eyes. — I just think it's very convenient that Bruce's getting rid of two of them. While your reason checks with past conflicts we had, with your morals and mission. It's also good for you that you wouldn't have to share (Y/N)’s attention with so many people in the future. Right, Bruce?

Silence took hold of the room.

— What are you implying? — Bruce stomped forward until he was face to face with Tim, their nose’s almost touching, daring him to say more. Tim didn't back down.

— Yeah, Tim, what're you implying? — Jason raised an eyebrow behind his helmet and took a step forward. The others copied that action.

— I’ve been watching you, Bruce. Just like you've been watching us. I know you’ve been upgrading contingency plans, more specifically, our contingency plans. I think he's been trying to keep us busy. To rile us up to commit mistakes. While he hogs all of (Y/N)’s attention. He said Damian could be trusted again if he proved himself, that was a year ago, and he still didn't give Damian permission. I bet he knew Damian would get restless and get more violent with criminals. Until he had an excuse to kick him out. And Jason, he let you spend time with (Y/N) at university. But as soon as (Y/N) started calling you their best friend, hanging out with you outside of classes and even confiding in you about their trauma, proving that our plan to make them trust us was finally working, suddenly (Y/N)’s ex receives an offer to transfer to GCPD, while everyone here has a… Weakness, when it comes to losing people we love and avenging their suffering, it's a known fact some are more… Trigger-happy than others.

Dick shook his head.

— Tim, that's something serious you're accusing him of.

— Let him continue. — Bruce growled darkly.

— I don't have anything to accuse you of, Bruce. I just don't trust you. — He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

— So you're ready to brush off what they did? — Bruce accused and Dick started to feel even more restless seeing that the distance between them didn't change, feeling the urge to get in the middle and defend his little brother.

— I didn't say anything. But I wouldn't be surprised if me or Dick were next. — That made Dick snap.

No, he can't.

He can’t keep me away from them.

After everything I did.

We're just so close now.

Just earlier today we were having lunch together.

He can't.

He can't do this to me.

Is that how Jay and Dami felt? Is that why they snapped and started killing people? Is that why Jason killed that guy? Just for the idea of losing them forever?

Is that why, even with how heartbreaking and horrible it sounds, any possibility of someone trying to take them away from them made Tim voice out his paranoia? Thoughts Dick had when everything was quiet, when he just brushed it off as intrusive thoughts?

It isn't… Logical… But it also is…

The only thing stopping him from believing Tim wholeheartedly is the lifelong trust he had on Bruce. But those are just feelings. And they all feel. Intensely. For you.

And as much as they tried to make it peaceful, everyone having a piece of you and being happy. They were having problems, and a traitor was always a possibility.

Either way, he couldn't take that chance.

That night, Wayne Manor slept almost completely empty. All of the sons were gone. And you would know it too.

It's been a week. They've been meeting at the apartment just beside yours. It was empty, until Damian bought it, and started living there after cutting ties with his father. He wasn't happy that the others were also using it as their nest, a place to meet and talk about strategies. And keep an eye on you.

Damian was slowly steering his tea, mind elsewhere, not really paying mind to the conversation. While it was important, his stomach was full of butterflies and his heart pounded hard every time he thought about earlier, something he couldn't stop doing. After a whole year of being almost completely away from you, finally spending time with you was like a dream. That just made his resentment towards his father grow worse, even if he didn't do that on purpose, it still felt like injustice.

He knew since he was born, his way of doing things was always better.

He just told you he didn't know that part of the town much, and you, sweet you, already acquainted with his brothers, invited him to show him around. A bad taste came to his mouth whenever he thought he was the least close to you, even if he knew everything there was to know about his beloved. He got left behind. He let himself be left behind.

Because he was weak. Because he was submissive. Because he trusted his father.

His mother did send him to his progenitor's home saying that he needed to learn from him.

— We could use the League.

All heads snapped to him.

— Huh?

— We are talking about contingency plans for our father. We could have the League of Assassins on our side. Infinite resources against one single man. (Y/N) would live in luxury. And they did tell us… — His heart warmed at the sensation of finally feeling included in your life. — … Multiple times that they despised the cold weather Gotham always seems to have. Eth Alth'eban is always hot.

— We are not joining those fuckers, and you shut down that idea before I start believing what that old man said about you and kick your ass into your grave, demon brat. — Damian kept stoic after Jason's response.

— We could use the League for something good for once. I could. As the Head of the Demon. — He retorted with confidence.

Dick shook his head in disbelief.

— Dami, I think that's too much. It would only prove what Bruce was trying to say. — Damian leaned forward, as if getting closer would make his point come across as more genuine.

— I could do it! Not as a dictator like my grandfather! But as something actually good! Not just for us, but for everyone! The whole world!

— Does that megalomaniac plan of yours have an actual strategy? — Damian rolled his eyes.

— Of course it has. Kill anyone who gets in the way of my rightful place at birth. — Damian tilted his head at Tim, who looked at him in disbelief.

— Even Ras? — Damian frowned. What a dumb question. Damian would do anything for you.

— Especially Ras. — A fist hit the table and the oldest got up with a scowl in his face.

— No one. Is going to kill. Anyone. And we are not going to use the League. — Damian got up too.

— What is stopping you? This is for (Y/N)! It is not just some fucking petty act to annoy father. He acted behind our backs and he will take my beloved from me! From us!

— We don't know that yet! — Even with Dick's exclamation, it was clear not even him was totally sure about Bruce's intentions.

— … Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. — Tim muttered. They all observed he had a distant look on his face, it was the look he had when he was planning something. After a few seconds, he looked up again and got up, facing Damian. — I'm with you. It’ll be nice to see Ras look when he realizes he lost to me one last time. And to have whole guardianship of my spleen he keeps on his bedside table again.

— What? — The other three sputtered.

— I won't kill anyone. But I will help you and be an ally. Even if that means losing the Titans and leaving behind everything I build here. All for (Y/N). — Tim spoke. Jason got up.

— Tim, you can't be serious too. — He received a glare in return.

— I am. You're invited to join us. Or to become our enemy.

Damian was staring at Tim, the brother he always had a strange relationship with, full of fights and sarcasm, but they always knew they could count on each other in the end. Because they were family.

Of course, it would be nicer to have you all to himself, but he also needed more allies, and brilliant minds like his own. It would also hurt to lose every person he loved while choosing you, even if he would always choose you in the end.

— … What if (Y/N) doesn't trust us after this? — Dick mumbled, trying to see both sides before making a decision.

— We’ll explain to them. About how we got rid of every single individual who wanted to isolate and steal them from us. How we want to care for them. Keep them safe. And how I- We, made the world a better place in the process. — Dick glared at him halfheartedly.

— We have a solid plan here, Dick. We Just have to form our strategies based on what we have. It will work!

Dick sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. He started walking around the apartment, contemplating, listening in on your apartment and Tim and Damian in the background, trying to convince Jason.

When even Jason seemed convinced, Dick knew what he had to do.

Everyone turned to him when he came back to the table again, in expectation.

He looked Damian in the eyes and put his hand on his little brother's shoulders. So grown. So different from what he was before meeting you. You brought the worst out of him. Out of all of them. And you didn't even know it. That was the worse part.

But Dick was always known for being a manipulator.

— Congratulations, you're the new Demon's Head.

Extra note: I'm curious to if you guys think Bruce was actually planning something and not just being regular canon Batman putting his morals above family👀

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @hxsun4 @silverklaus @toast-on-dandelioms @bluewillbon @ladyel1x1r3l0p3r @wpdarlingpan @lilyalone @bloodyboi @gram-cracker24 @prongs-moon @sxftiebee

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

I've Got You

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 25. Betrayal, "How could you?" Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader Summary: A night at The Hard Deck takes a dire turn when you realize someone has slipped something into your drink. As the drugs begin kicking in, you turn to your pilot for help. Word Count: 2326 TW: Reader is Hangman's Backseater, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drugged, Spiked Drink, Betrayal, Jake Carries Reader, Fighting, Implied Future Sexual Assualt, Language, NOT ALL TWs LISTED READ AT OWN RISK  Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

For the third time, you jammed your fingers down your throat trying to expel whatever drug had entered your system into the toilet in front of you. Yet as hard as you tried, nothing else was coming up. You collapsed sideways and dragged yourself over to the back wall. There, wedged between the toilet and the side of the stall, you tried to figure out what to do next. Your head was growing foggier by the minute and your body was becoming so heavy that it was a struggle to even lift your hand or hold your head up. 

Using what little strength you had left, you dug your phone out of your pocket, and, with it lying on the floor beside you, you typed the words “help. bathroom. now.” into your last text chat and pressed send. Then all the tension left your body as you slumped limply against the toilet.

You had no idea how long you waited like that, but eventually, you heard a soft knock at the stall door. “Sunshine? You in here?”

“Jake…”

That was all he needed to hear. You only ever called him Jake when you were being one hundred percent serious or the situation was dire. There was a second of silence before the door smashed open, the lock shattering as the full force of Hangman’s foot slammed into the door. He looked around before he noticed you wedged in the corner. His eyes grew wide and his tanned skin paled in the fluorescent lighting as he dropped to his knees in front of you. 

“Oh my god…” He grabbed your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to get a better look at your eyes. “Your pupils are huge. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

“Drink…” You swallowed and tried to claw your way out of the darkness you were slipping into. “S-someone put something in my drink.”

“Fuck…” Jake muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Then, his attention returned to you as he leaned in, his beer-scented breath breezing across your face. “Who were you drinking with? Sunny, stay with me.” He gently slapped your cheeks to get you to open your eyes. “Who was it?”

You tried to think but the fog rolling through your mind made it hard to focus. Finally, you recalled, “Frogger. Frogger and Screwball.”

“Okay, good.” Jake ran his hand up and down your arm, trying to keep you awake. “We need to let Penny know and have her call the cops. And probably the MPs. I won’t let them get away with this.”

“Thank…you…” you muttered, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time since you realized what was happening, you felt safe.

“I’m not gonna let someone mess with my backseater, now am I? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Jake smiled back, ruffling your hair. Then he placed his arms under your arms and legs and lifted your limp body off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Now, let’s get outta here.”

With your head carefully tucked against his chest, Jake carried you from the bathroom. Your eyes were half-lidded and your vision was still tinged with darkness but at least it wasn’t getting worse and you were no longer fighting to remain awake with everything in you. You were still having trouble moving your limbs or lifting your head, however, it didn’t matter as you were safely gathered in Jake’s arms. 

As soon as Jake walked into the main room of the bar, Penny noticed the two of you and gasped. Tossing her bar rag onto her shoulder, she hurried to Jake’s side, placing her hand on your cheek as she asked, “Oh my god! Is she alright?”

“She will be. But you need to call the cops.” Jake nodded towards the end of the bar where Frogger and Screwball were still sitting next to your empty seat. “Those two bastards spiked her drink.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Seresin?” Frogger demanded, sliding off his bar stool as his face grew red. “We didn’t do anything to her! We were just flirting a little.”

Screwball looked like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced from Frogger to you and back to Frogger. “Frog—”

“Shut up,” the other pilot growled under his breath. Then, turning back to Jake, he said, “I don’t care what the bitch says, we didn’t touch her or her fucking drink. You’re not pinning this on us. I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”

“You were the only ones with her since she got her drink,” Penny snapped, her hands on her hips. “And I sure as hell didn’t drug her when I served her.” 

Screwball jumped off his chair and took off for the door, but before he could get more than a few steps, Rooster, Coyote, and Payback blocked his way. All three men had at least four inches and twenty pounds on the small pilot and they all looked out for blood after an attack on one of their own. 

Screwball whirled around and pointed a trembling finger at Frogger. “It had to be him! I just wanted to play some darts but he’s the one who insisted we chat up Sunshine. He has to be the one that did it!”

“You son of a bitch!” 

Frogger turned and launched himself at Screwball, knocking both men to the floor. Before anyone could react, Frogger began pummeling Screwball in the face as he yelled, “Take it back, you fucking traitor! I didn’t do it!” 

The three pilots who had been guarding the door dove into the fray and pulled Frogger off Screwball even as he continued kicking and cursing. Screwball curled into a ball and sobbed, alternating between cries of pain and cries of his innocence. 

Penny had momentarily vanished in the scuffle but reappeared back at your side with her phone and a water bottle that she held out to you. “Here, honey, drink this. It’ll help flush whatever they gave you out of your system.”

With her help, you took a few big sips out of the bottle, spilling some of it down your shirt. However, the cool water felt refreshing on your feverish skin and you relaxed into Jake’s arms with a sigh. 

Penny smiled, tucking the water bottle between your arm and Jake’s chest. Then she dialed 911 and waited for someone to answer. Glancing at Jake, she asked, “Should I have them send an ambulance too?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jake shifted you slightly so he had a better hold on you, then began heading towards the bar’s exit. “I’ll take her to the hospital, make sure she’s alright.” 

“Thank you, Jake,” Penny smiled, the phone still up to her ear. Pointing at him as Bob held the door open, Penny added, “All your drinks are on the house for the next month.” 

“I’m gonna make you regret that,” Jake chuckled, then he carried you out into the night.

It was a short walk across the parking lot to his truck. Once there, Jake settled you into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in, placing your water bottle in the cup holder. When he started the engine, he cracked your window so you could get a little breeze then he pulled out of the parking lot. 

Between throwing up, the cool night air in your face, and the water Penny gave you, you were starting to feel more alert. The world around you was still swimming slightly, but you were able to sit up and lift your head. 

Jake must have noticed because he grinned as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Hey there, Sunshine. How you feeling?”

“Better,” you mumbled, blinking a few times to try and clear your vision. Smiling softly at him, you said, “Thank you, Hangman. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“It’s what I do, Sunny,” Jake said. “I’m your pilot. I’ve always got your best interest in mind.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, leaning your head back against the door to get more air. “I guess you do.”

The two of you drove in silence for a few minutes and you were just about to drift off when you realized where you were. Sitting up, you asked, “Wait, I thought you were taking me to the hospital. Wasn’t that the turn?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah, but they are doing construction down that road. I can turn up here.” He grabbed the open water bottle Penny had given you out of the cup holder and held it out to you. “Here. Drink some more of this. It’ll help.”

Taking it from him, you downed it in one gulp. You didn’t register the bitter sting on your tongue until after you had swallowed yet you recognized it immediately as the same taste that had initially alerted you that something was wrong back at the bar. But you had drunk half the water bottle when Penny first gave it to you without noticing anything off. Which could only mean…

Slowly, you raised your eyes to look at your pilot, the man you trusted with your life on a daily basis. “You wouldn’t…”

A smug grin spread across Jake’s face as he continued to stare at the road in front of him. “You know…I was so sure you had figured out it was me when I got your text. I thought you noticed me slipping the drug into your drink when I came up to the bar to grab my beer and that the game was over before it really even began. But then when I looked at you, huddled there on that disgusting floor looking so pathetic, I realized things had gone better than I hoped. I knew you’d tell someone what happened—probably Phoenix or Bob—then I’d step up to drive you to the hospital. I just never imagined I’d be the one you went to for help. Not when we weren’t on the clock.”

Tears slipped down your face, your voice quivering as you whispered, “How could you?”

“Come on, Sunshine. We both know you’ve been teasing me for months now, just begging me to make a move. Like I wouldn’t notice that perfume you’ve been wearing just for me? How I catch that faint trace of it in the cockpit when you shift in your seat behind me? Or how you always tie the arms of your flight suit around your waist when we’re going through after-training checks, showing off those perky breasts beneath that thin white tank top? Bending over in front of me rubbing that perfect ass in my face? You know how many times I’ve almost pinned you to the side of our plane and had my way with you? But no. You wanted to play the game, so I played the game. Now I’ve won, I’ve got you, and I’m ready for my prize.”

Horrified, all you could do was stare at this stranger with your pilot’s face. This was not the Jake Seresin you had been flying with for the past six months. The one who would flirt with almost any woman who crossed his path, yes, but who would never cross the line or hurt anyone…or so you thought.

Even as your body began to go slack in your seat as this new round of drugs kicked in, you tried to reason with him. “Jake, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, but I don’t want this. I-I was just doing my job. I wasn’t trying to tease you or lead you on. And it’s not too late. P-Please, stop this now and we’ll just forget everything that happened tonight.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Jake’s grin took on a sinister edge as the shadows between street lights flashed across his face. “That’s the best part of this drug. You won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

“What?” you breathed, a whole new level of terror settling in at this revelation. 

“But don’t worry, Sunny,” Jake purred as he turned into the driveway of a house you vaguely recalled visiting once to pick up some paperwork he forgot to file. “That just means we can play this game over and over and over again.”

He threw the truck into park and jumped out. A second later, your door opened and you tumbled out into his arms. Before in the bar, Jake had carried you so carefully, making sure you were positioned comfortably in his arms. There was no care or regard for your comfort this time. Now, he placed his arm under your knees and shoulders, letting your head hang down loosely and making the world turn upside down as he lugged your body around like a lifeless sack. 

Whatever he stuck in the water bottle must have been slightly different from what he gave you in the bar because while you couldn’t even manage to turn your head or lift your finger, your head wasn’t swimming like before and your vision was clear. 

Tears rolled up your face and up into your hair as Jake carried you up the driveway towards his front door. You were too weak to call out or struggle against him and, once he got you inside his house, you knew there was nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you. 

As he opened the door, you silently prayed that what he said earlier was true. While you knew you needed to know what happened tonight to recognize the monster hiding behind the toothpick and perfect smile you saw in the seat in front of you every day, you didn’t want to remember a second of what he was about to do to you.

Jake stepped into the darkness of his house and the door slammed behind you.

[kalevalakryze]

It's Over, Isn't It?

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV) Pairings: Bo-Katan Kryze /The Armorer Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, The Armorer, Din Djarin, Axe Woves, Koska Reeves, Moff Gideon Warnings: Broken Bones, Injury, Violence, Character Death, Blood and Injury,  Notes: For @whumptober 2023 Day 5. Time Period for Night of a thousand tears to skip to reclaiming Mandalore Prompt: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.” Word Count: 2,317 AO3 Link: Here!

She should have felt more, as she watched Korkie fall at the hands of Moff Gideon, as the same blade that had killed her sister now took the life of the last of her blood line; the last piece of existence that proved the only son of Clan Kryze had ever existed was felled. 

Stormtroopers held her back with bodies pressing her into a crumbling wall, electro-staffs readied just centimeters away from her abdomen as she writhed against their hold. “Tell me, Lady Kryze,” The Moff’s voice dripped with venom as Bo-Katan bared her teeth at him. “What will your ancestors remember of this day?” 

She sprung forward then, shaking the hands from her own as she surged into the staff of arcing electricity. Her gauntlet managed one short lived jet of fire before the paralyzing pain became too much, as bodies all pounced on the Mandalorian at once. 

Pinned to the ground with Stormtroopers each taking one of her limbs, Bo-Katan was only able to spit a mouthful of blood onto his boots as he approached, the warbling of the darksaber like nails on a chalkboard in her ears. “You better pray I don’t get up this time around,” 

The darksaber disengaged as Gideon crouched down to her level, pressing the ignition end of the hilt just under her chin as he twisted his lips into something like pity. “I’m counting on it, Mand’alor.” 

As Imperials hauled her back to her feet, the Mandalorian struggled in their arms. “We had a deal!” She shouted to no avail, teeth bared as she cursed the man in every language her tongue could formulate. 

The bones in her hand were splintering under the enhanced strength that Gideon was given by his Beskar alloyed armor, mechanics whirring as bone and beskar were broken under his grip. She couldn’t shout, only her face twisting beneath the helmet as the darksaber was raised high in the air, blade flickering and sputtering as the Kyber was shattered in its casing. 

Bo-Katan was forced to her knees under his grip, pain shooting up to her shoulder as she watched the ancient blade crumble. The saber was forced from her hand as he threw it to the ground, finally releasing her as it clattered to the ground. Her breaths came hard as she cradled her hand in front of her, on her knees before Moff Gideon once again. 

Her helmet was forcibly ripped from her head and tossed to the side near the broken remains of Tarre Vizsla’s saber; The woman’s lips pulled into a snarl as she glared up at him once more, the same aching feeling that told her the fight is lost flooding through her veins once again. 

“The darksaber is gone,” He announced haughtily through the vocoder of his helmet, slamming the staff into her abdomen and throwing her back. 

When she caught herself, her weight landed on the shattered remains of her hand enough to have her breathing through her teeth as her body cashed into the durasteel platform. 

It was a fight to raise her arm off the ground and keep her hand hovering as she struggled to rise. “You���ve lost everything,” Pushing off the ground and onto her knees, Bo glared at him through a veil of sweaty hair. “Mandalorian’s are weak, once they lose their trinkets.” 

Inhaling slowly as he approached, Bo-Katan was able to school her expression, holding her hand back just enough so if and when he struck the next blow, she could save her agonized arm some trouble. “Mandalorians are stronger together.” She spat, working a muscle in her jaw as she raised her chin up at him; if she were to join the Manda today, it would be in a way honorable to her ancestors, than wasting away on Kalevala. 

As the stolen fleet’s capital ship ignited the world around them, and as she slid in to use her shield to cover Grogu, Bo-Katan watched with abject satisfaction as Moff Gideon was swallowed alive in an inferno. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?

Evacuating the survivors from the smoldering carnage had been hard work; harder so with only one working hand, though on her fifth trip back to the surface, a gloved hand had stopped the Niteowl’s mechanical rescue mission. Someone took the Mandalorian from her side as she finally managed to raise her gaze from the worn down path in front of her. 

The screaming pain in her hand had dulled into a bone deep ache hours ago, easy enough to ignore once she was in the routine of pulling survivors from the carnage or dragging the dead someplace more respectful than where they’d fallen. She could even argue that the pain was gone, had The Armorer not stopped her mid-mission. 

She could feel the judgemental gaze beneath the darkened visor, and yet, it did not ignite the fire in her blood that it may have once had. Her hand was gentle when she reached to touch the Niteowl’s arm, and only then was she reminded of the agonizing pain, of the bones in her hand that sat shattered in their sleeve of flesh and torn tissue. 

Something childish deep inside wanted to drop to her knees with the pain, to ask for the help she knew she needed, and to sleep; Krif, she just wanted to sleep. Korkie was avenged, Mandalore was reclaimed, and the weapon that took her family away was demolished, so why was she still here? Hadn’t she done enough? Was there more to atone for, after all this time? 

Her nose twitched in response to the pain; she was a Mandalorian, she had to be a Mandalorian, if she showed these people she was anything less, then it would all be for nothing, after all that time chasing away the looming demand of ‘dar’manda’ in her dreams, she could not settle to slip up and ruin this now, not if she would not be granted the glory in death. 

“What?” Bo-Katan croaked dumbly, growing anxious under the continued scrutiny. This was it, after all that; no one would argue with The Armorer if she were to throw Bo-Katan out. She would be done. 

“You appear to be injured,” The Armorer stated, as if Bo-Katan did not feel the damage to her abdomen or the splintered bone in her hand with each passing second. 

“I’m fine,” She shot back too quickly, biting her tongue as she forced her hand down from the cradled position against her armor, biting back the winces into her tongue until the metallic taste of blood was flooding her mouth. “I need to get the others,” Her departure was stopped by a hand on her bicep, squeezing just enough against inflamed nerves to have her crying out, spots flashing through her vision and knees trembling to keep herself up as her hand was brought back to her chest. 

“You need the med bay.” Again, a simple answer, a simple answer that could lead to the end of Bo-Katan’s very short reign as Mand’alor. 

The Armorer released her hand and started walking, clearly expecting to be followed.  Refusing to hang her head in defeat, Bo-Katan squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and followed paces behind the woman to the overflowing medical tents. 

Mandalorians were stuffed into the tents to the brim, curtains pulled to offer the children of the watch some form of privacy as they were treated for burns and injuries from the mountains of debris. The Armorer stopped Bo-Katan at the entrance to the tent with a hand on her chest, disappearing into the throngs of people to get… whatever the krif she was looking for. 

She could feel eyes on her as others shuffled in and out, though she didn’t spare anyone a glance, even as Din passed with a hand on her shoulder and Grogu reached out towards her; couldn’t bear to look at them if this went how she thought it would.  

The Armorer returned after what felt like hours, with the line of their injured moving sluggishly past her. The pain in her hand went numb once more, at least. The Armorer moved past Bo-Katan smoothly, only offering her an acknowledgment when the woman didn’t follow, prompting her to fall into step at her side once more. 

They walked for miles, back into the destruction of Sundari, through caverns and tunnels, and into the caves of the Living Waters. “Sit,” The Armorer commander, and she did, dropping herself heavily into the dirt in front of the inscripted pillar, pebbles scratching at her armor and falling between her beskar plates and flight suit. 

The other woman was much more graceful when she took her place in front of Bo-Katan, kneeling steadily in front of her as the redhead kept her gaze turned on the water. “What are you convinced is going to happen, Lady Kryze?”

“Like you don’t know,” 

“I don’t, may I see your hand?” Laying out the supplies she’d grabbed from the tents, The Armorer grabbed her hand when Bo-Katan offered the shaking extremity, gentle as she removed the woman’s gauntlet and pushed back the sleeve of her flight suit. 

Silence hung thick in the air, only broken by the sharp sounds of pain as her glove was slowly cut away, revealing the swollen mess of bones and bruises that had become her dominant hand. “Karabast,” The redhead’s nose twitched, swallowing dry air thickly as The Armorer settled her hand in her lap. 

“Lady Kryze?” The Armorer prodded once more as she dug through her supplies, head turning to watch as the woman studied her hand. 

“I assume…” Her lips turned into a scowl. This was like the forge on Nevarro all over again; being asked to make herself vulnerable, being asked to take the step that she knew had others declared dar’manda by the Children of the Watch. “That my time is done..” It sounded like a question, like prodding The Armorer to offer that blanket of security that she had then, too. Instead, the woman’s head turned to stare at her. 

“Do you want it to be done?” She finally questioned as she readied a stimshot at Bo-Katan’s wrist. 

“No, of course not, ah-!” The pain from the stimshot was soothed by the warm tingle of the medicine getting to work. “I served my purpose,” Bo-Katan pushed on, talking to fill the silence, staring at the low-light reflected in the golden helmet as she felt the woman ready the bio-cast and prepare to snap her bones back into place. “Satine and Korkie are avenged, Mandalore belongs to Mandalorians again, and Gideon is dead. That’s… well, it’s all I’ve-” She was cut off by the pressure and the delayed pain from bones being slipped back into place with a sick sound, her head dropping back against the stone as her other hand shot out to fist into The Armorer’s fur cape. 

Strong hands settled on her elbows to steady her once the cast was secured, anchoring her back down as darkness ebbed at her vision. “Fuck!” She shouted, voice echoing off the cavern walls once she could breathe again. “Do you not wish to be Mand’alor?” The Armorer questioned, taking Bo-Katan’s attention away from the pain as she injected half of the contents of a stim shot into her hand, soothing some of her pain. 

“No,” A tired blink as she looked down at the casing around her hand- still bruised and swollen, but now the bones clearly sat where they were meant to be as the cast continued to press and shift her hand back in place. The expressionless stare she was leveled with urged her to continue. “When I joined the Death Watch, it was because I didn’t agree with my sister, The Duchess Satine; I didn’t think her ideas were right for our people… I still don’t, entirely; But there was a lot she was right about that I never wanted to see, I blinded myself for Pre Vizsla, thought he was the best of us,” 

Bo-Katan scoffed, not realizing The Armorer was cradling her hand in one of her own, and still holding her elbow with the other. 

“Everything went downhill when he enrolled us with the Separatists, betrayed them, and then found two dar’jetti to enlist into our cause; Darth Maul and his brother Savage.” The woman’s good hand raised to rub at the column of her throat. “Maul won the darksaber and killed Pre- finally opened my eyes. From there, it was a fight to return Mandalore to our people; one that we’ve never truly been able to accomplish until today.”

“Without you, do you believe we would have?”

“Yes. Somehow, someway. I never saw it happening in my life, but I swore not to die until I saw these things through to the end.”

“And now that you have, are you ready to die?”

Bo-Katan’s eyes flickered to the waters, thinking of the great beast hidden in the depths. “No.”

The leather on her face was warm, soft in places, though calloused much like she imagined the hands beneath to be. The Armorer’s hand radiated warmth as she cupped the redhead’s face, thumb stroking across her dirt smeared cheekbone in a moment of weakness. “Then nobody has the right to ask you to leave your home or your people; and we will protect your right to stay and to rule, so long as you find yourself capable of doing so.” 

Bo’s head turned, catching the pad of the other woman’s thumb on her lips, breathing in the smell of gunpowder, fire, and plasma with each measured breath. “Thank you,” It was all she could say, the only way she could fill in the words of a lifetime of fears and doubts, forged by war after war, both of her own design, and someone else's. 

[ciphergrowl]

[calaveracarnival]

i want to kill every person you've ever chosen over me and then kill myself in front of you

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 7: Disowned by family*

*alternative prompt tw: family drama, ransom, kidnapping, restraints, betrayal, torture mention, scars, generational trauma/abuse

[kokoch4nel]

TW !!!!

﹫ tell you "you're the greatest", . ─── “

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ≀﹟ but once you turn they hate us ︖ ╋

The Art of Betrayal.

── @y-unrei

[nevadaafterdark]

-> FARMBOY ON COWBOY ACTION <3

synopsis: thinking reeeaaally hard about working on a ranch/farm and pining over one of the really hot cowboys that work the cattle..

word count: ~900

(contents: t4t ftm4ftm, pet names (farmboy, beau, shug), frotting, fingering, light bullying/degradation, slight body betrayal, dubcon, nsft)

i'm still kinda new to writing porn! feedback is appreciated <3

you've been working on a farm, or maybe a ranch. the technicalities don't matter. maybe you're doing some of the lighter work, like tending to the chickens. y'know, collecting eggs, breaking broody hens, making sure the momma hens are getting enough to eat and drink as they stay with the eggs. it's a work-intensive job, but relatively light on the body. your boots are broken in but not overly worn.

but god if you can't keep your eyes off that one cowboy that saunters around like his dick is too big to fit in his blue jeans. he rides that shire horse like he's riding into war even though he's only herding cattle. you're lucky you can dish out excuses like watching the pasture for foxes and snakes when you're looking out at the cattle fields.

and yet, of course, luck isn't always on your side. one day, he confronts you about your lingering eyes (something about "you got a lazy eye? or a lack of respect?"). you adamantly deny everything -- obviously -- if only for the sake of his ego not growing too big. sure, you've interacted before, but this is new.

he laughs and takes your hand, his callouses abrasive against your softer hands. with less effort than you think it should take, he tugs you up into the saddle, practically on his lap. he laughs against the nape of your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you dizzy.

"what's the matter, farmboy?" he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin. it sends electric tingling down your spine. "scared to take a ride? i just wanna show you somethin', that's all."

you deny it (saying something about the other workers not being competent enough to watch for hawks, which is honest-to-god bullshit) and squirm in the saddle. he wraps an arm around your waist and hisses out a warning to stay still. he squeezes the horse's sides with his calves and you're jostled as the horse starts walking, then trotting towards the treeline.

you ask him what he thinks he's doing. he just laughs, nipping at your neck and squeezing your middle again. his fingers find your belt and fiddle with the buckle. "it's alright, shug. i ain't gonna kill you or nothin'."

after a few minutes of riding (and his fingers dipping into the waistband of your pants but laughing and taking them out when you gasp), the horse comes to a stop in a forest clearing. he lifts you off the saddle, then hops off.

he unhooks his personal bag off the horse's saddle and drapes it over his shoulder. he gives the horse's dock a light slap, and it canters off, back towards the ranch.

the clearing is nice -- there's wildflowers dotting the tall grass and a rocky crag shadowing half the clearing. he stands behind you, his hands finding your belt buckle again. you gasp, and he laughs, breathy against the shell of your ear.

you call him an asshole and he just laughs again. "oh, you don't mean that, shug. i can tell."

before you can protest, his hand dips into your pants, his fingers immediately gliding over your tdick and running the pad of his finger down your slit. he chokes back a groan. "fuck. goddammit -- you just walk around like this, huh?"

you exhale heavily and deny it. you deny it even though you're hard, even though you're dripping, even though you're fighting the instinct to buck your hips into his hand.

he grinds against your ass, his belt buckle digging into your skin as he dips a finger in you. you hiss, and he laughs. "what, don't like that, farmboy? then maybe you shouldn't be walkin' around, wet and ready and just waitin' for someone to take you."

you huff, your breath becoming more labored as he starts moving his finger. you scoff and your head falls back against his shoulder as he adds a second, rubbing the heel of his hand against your tdick with every motion. he curls his fingers, his fingertips brushing against that rough spot inside you that makes you spit and curse like a feral cat.

"fuck this," he growls under his breath. he fumbles with your belt buckle, undoing it before undoing the button of your jeans and tugging down the fly. he circles around you, undoing his own belt, button, and fly.

he flicks the body of his bag behind him, then grabs your waist with enough force to bruise and brings your hips to his. both you and him let out strangled sounds as the heads of your tdicks bump and rub against each other. he ruts against you, groaning lowly.

"goddamn, shug, you're so fuckin' hard," he manages through his whining noises. "do i do this to you? don't answer, i already know."

you hiss out something along the lines of telling him to shut the fuck up, choking back your moans. you angle your hips and grind forward. both you and him groan and curse and just rut against each other like desperate mutts.

he guides you backwards, pushing you back against the bark of a tree, still grinding against you. he pulls away a little to reach into his bag. he pulls out a strap-on, one that's thick and heavy and matches his brash personality perfectly. the harness clinks as he holds it up with a shit-eating smile.

"you ready for the main show, farmboy?"