#i feel like im starting to hit a dead end to my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhas-pov · 10 days ago

Text

enemies by blood pt.2

summary: after sunghoon failed to kill reader, you’d think they both left it behind them, but no. they both seem to force themselves to do what their dads ordered, but why do they keep on holding back? they’re enemies after all.. right?

warnings: guns, yelling, cursing, near death experience, kissing, smut, fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, r4pe(not sure?) reader is against it at first but enjoys it later on.. backshots, creampie, pet names

word count: 7.7k

pt.1

════════════════════════

i was sat up with my back against the wall, still in pain after my "fight to the death" with sunghoon. yes, im still alive, surprisingly. it surely wasnt supposed to end like this, especially not with the both of us still alive breathing. one of us were supposed to go down, and he had the chance to end it all for me, but he chose not to, and i have no idea why.

"kiss me goodbye?" i said, almost sounding like a whisper. he froze like he couldnt believe what had just come out of my mouth. his grip on the gun loosened, just for a second as if he was questioning whether to kill me or not. he stared at me with his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unsure if i was joking or not. with the way i was looking into his eyes he could tell i was being serious when a tear rolled down my cheek. i leaned forward, my bloodied lips parting before they touched his. the kiss was soft as our lips moved together. i felt him deepening the kiss, parting his mouth as well. and with his lips still on mine, he pulled the trigger.

the gun fired, but not through my head. he fired the gun into the wall right beside us instead of at me. confused, i pulled away from the kiss to look at him, but he only lowered his head and buried his face in the crook of my neck. i let out an unexpected sob, reality hitting me that i was afraid of losing my life. "sunghoon..?" i whispered. he didnt answer me, only i could feel his heavy breath against my neck. the two of us—laying on the floor in complete silence with our bodies pressed together, a weird feeling of comfort filling the air.

“i was supposed to kill you.” sunghoon said, looking down at my weak body still sat up against the wall. he kept on walking back in forth due to how stressed he was, meanwhile i couldn’t be bothered to stress about this. “you’re supposed to be dead!” he shouted at me before he pointed the gun at me once again. “then shoot me” i simply said. his eyebrows furrowed, gripping the gun in his hand—knuckles white from the pressure. the gun trembled lightly as he clenched his jaw, he couldn’t do it. “fuck this..” he mumbled before he started walking towards me. he threw the gun on the ground, gripping both of my arms as he forced me to stand up. his touch was rough, but the look in his eyes were the complete opposite.

“can’t do it?” i asked him. he didn’t answer right away, he just looked me dead in the eye like he could see right through me. for a moment, i thought maybe he’d kill me right here with his bare hands.. but to my surprise he didn’t. “you’re not worth it” he spat, shaking his head. “i don’t give a damn anymore” he said. i swallowed hard, trying to keep myself cool and not show my weak side, “then go. leave me here”. his grip on my arms only tightened, but then just as quickly, he let go. he turned his back on me and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. his fists clenched as if he was fighting back, “get out of here” he said, his voice low. i looked at him confused, “what?”. his head suddenly snapped back around, eyes darker than they were before. “get out of here.” he repeated.

“i don’t want to see you again, understand? just fucking go” he lifted his hand up, using his index finger to point to the exit. “but-“, “go!” he yelled at me. it was like he was trying to make me believe he actually didn’t care about saving my life, or maybe he was trying to convince himself he didn’t care. i hesitated for a second, not knowing if i should listen to him or not. if i didn’t listen to him there’s a chance i could end up dead, so i had no choice but to do what he told me to do. i turned towards the exit, slowly walking away before i heard his voice again, “don’t make me regret this” he mumbled. “don’t come back, you hear me?” i froze, and i couldn’t help but to smile a little at him. “you know i will. only one of us is supposed to make it out alive after all” i said before simply turning away and walking out, leaving him all alone with the decision he made—to keep me alive.

i felt a stinging pain when the hot water came in contact with my wounds. i closed my eyes and let the water run down my face, and down to my body. sunghoon. park sunghoon. he was all i could think about. why didn’t he kill me? it was stuck on my mind.. i mean, he hated me didn’t he? is hate even the right word? that man despises me. if the roles were switched and i had the gun in my hands, i’d kill him in a heartbeat since my dad told me to do so. im not weak—i can actually do what im told unlike someone.. right? i mean, his blood on my hands? that wouldn’t bother me.. shit, i can’t keep lying to myself. i let out a big sigh, turning the water off before i wrapped the towel around my body.

i looked at myself in the mirror after my shower. you couldn’t see my wounds, thank god, they were covered by my pajamas. i couldn’t have my dad asking any questions- i quickly turned my head around at the sound of a door creaking, it was the front door. my dad wasn’t supposed to be home yet, so who was in my house? i slowly made my way out of the bathroom before walking down the stairs—keeping an eye out on anything that might seem off. “___” the sound of my name made me jump. i turned around just to see my dad stood behind me. “dad? you’re home early..” i let out a sigh of relief. “yes i am, and do you know why?” he raised his eyebrows at me and crossed his arms. was i supposed to guess why?, “no..” i mumbled.

“i stopped by the den. figured i’d help train my daughter, and you know what i see?” shit. “my men. dead. care to explain?” my dad wasn’t completely shocked, he’s had a lot of his men die before so that’s why he’s not bawling his eyes out like a baby. “i left early.. are they all dead?” i tried to lie my way out of this, i couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth about sunghoon. “all of them” he said. sunghoon must’ve gotten rid of his own men’s bodies before my dad arrived, or else this would’ve been a whole different conversation. “i really don’t know what happened” i lied with a straight look on my face. he nodded slightly, “i’m gonna guess it was park. probably sending us a warning..” he muttered. i only nodded in agreement, not sure of what to say.

“as my daughter, i expect him to be dead by the end of this week.” he said in a serious voice. “by the end of this week?” i almost stuttered, caught off guard by how little time i had left. “yes. will that be a problem?” he questioned me. “no dad” i said, straightening my back to prove my worth. he nodded, “i trust you won’t disappoint me. you’re my only daughter after all, it would be a shame if you did” he smiled, placing his hand on my shoulder before he walked away. jesus christ dad.. always putting so much weight on my shoulders. i’m not sure how i was gonna be able to kill sunghoon by the end of this week, but i was going to get it done. i can’t disappoint my own dad, im his only daughter after all.

i was parked on the side of the road in the city of seoul, waiting impatiently for sunghoon. my dad got one of his men, jiho to find out exactly where sunghoon would be so i could be there to kill him. it kinda sucked that he happened to be in the city since there are people everywhere, so i would have to somehow get him to a non-crowded place. chewing my gum, i blew a bubble before catching a sight of sunghoon *pop* "got you.." i reached into the glove box, taking out my glock and hiding it inside the waistband of my jeans. i got out of the car and shut the door behind me before i slowly started walking towards him.

i stopped right next to him where he was buying food on the side of the street, and he didnt notice me until i spoke up. "beautiful day, no?" i said, my eyes scanning around for something delicious to get for myself. "uh, yeah-" he turned to me and froze, the small smile on his lips fading quicker than ever. "shit.." he cursed under his breath. "look- this isnt a good time for you to be here." his voice was serious and direct. i hummed in response--not taking him serious at all, "well.. its a good time for you to come with me" i said, keeping my gaze fixed on the food instead of him. he let out an exaggerated sigh, "i cant-"

"sunghoon. i will blow your brains out right here--right now, ill get out of here way before the cops-"

"sunghoon!!" a sweet and excited voice cut me off.

sunghoon and i both turned around at the same time, revealing a happy and young girl stood behind us. "who is she?" she asked him, the happy look on her face turning into confusion. i turned to sunghoon just to see that he himself had no idea what to say. "im a friend of his" i lied, answering the question he couldnt. the girl still looked confused, squinting her eyes as she looked in between the two of us. "ohhh, i get it! shes that kind of friend" the girl smiled, covering her mouth with her hands. sunghoon and i both furrowed our eyebrows in confusion, having no idea to what she was talking about. "youre dating!" she exclaimed all of a sudden.

"no-" sunghoon and i jinxed. "shes really pretty tho" she nudged sunghoon, trying to keep her voice down when saying so, but i heard it clearer than ever. she turned to me with a smile, "im yeji! sunghoons younger sister" she said. i let out a nervous chuckle, "im ___-" sunghoon suddenly grabbed me by my arm, "dont you have somewhere to be? babe.." he glared at me, the pet name making him physically cringe. i looked at his sister and then back at him, putting on a fake smile before i brought my hand to his bicep. i stood on my tiptoes, leaning in closer to sunghoon and placing a kiss on his cheek. sunghoon was taken aback, meanwhile his sister let out a giggle. "ill see you later hoon!" i waved goodbye to his sister before i walked away.

i brought my phone out and dialed jihos number, putting the phone up to my ear after. "hello?" i heard his voice from the other line say. "move it." i ordered him as i walked back to my car. "yes maam, when would you like me to move it to?" he asked me. "tomorrow" i said as i walked back to my car, "im gonna kill him tomorrow" i hung up the phone and opened the door to my car before getting in. i couldnt kill sunghoon in front of his own sister. i might not have any siblings of my own, but i couldnt imagine having someone that i love watch me die right in front of their eyes, im not that evil after all.

i walked into the entrance of a tall building along with 5 men of my dads. "here you go" jiho said, handing me a heavy sniper that i would be using on sunghoon. "youll be going to the rooftop while were on ground. give us the signal if something goes wrong, and we`ll help you right away" i nodded at him, watching as the 5 men walked out into the dark late at night. i made my way up the stairs of the building while i carried my sniper, a million thoughts filling my mind. what i was thinking about the most was his little sister, i could imagine having one and her finding out i was shot and killed. im not completely heartless? of course im gonna feel some sort of guilt.

i made my way to the top of the stairs before reaching for the heavy door and opening it. a loud thud of the door shutting behind me when i walked out on the rooftop. it was a bit difficult to see, but my sniper had a night vision mode. i leaned over the edge of the roof, watching the view of the whole city. it was pretty, but parts of it would be covered in blood pretty soon. i placed my sniper in a comfortable position before leaning in, watching the dark turn into a green-tinted glowing hue. "i dont see him.." i spoke into my earpiece with a low voice, my fingers slightly adjusting the sniper as i looked around for him. "hes supposed to be leaving his dads office in a few minutes. theres no sign of a car to pick him up, so he`ll be standing outside long enough for you to get your shot"

i hummed, catching a sight of mr. parks office. i waited for what felt like forever until jiho spoke, "he should be leaving about... now". i watched the big doors to mr. parks office open, and there was sunghoon. he was wearing a black suit with his hair slick-back, he looked good not gonna lie. he was all alone, stood outside with his hands in his pockets. "whenever youre ready" jiho said. i aimed for his chest, not feeling evil enough to ruin his pretty face. i took a deep breath, my finger hovering just above the trigger. suddenly, my hand froze with the sniper still in my grip. *ring ring* the silence broke when my phone started ringing, "what the fuck.." i mumbled, taking my eyes off sunghoon and the sniper. "is everything okay?" jiho asked me, his voice filled with concern. "everything is fine. its probably dad" i reached into my pocket just to see "uknown caller" on my screen.

my eyebrows furrowed. confused and annoyed, i placed my phone back in my pocket and turned back to the sniper. i leaned in, ready to take out sunghoon for real this time, but that was until he was no longer there. my eyes widened, "where is he?!" i shouted in irritation as i looked around for him in panic. "shit.. we lost him" jiho cursed to himself before i heard him telling everyone to spread out and look for him. i rolled my eyes and leaned away from the sniper, "where the fuck did he go.." i mumbled to myself, but then i froze. my heart pounding in my chest when i felt a cold, hard metal press against the back of my head. fucking hell sunghoon..

"tell them you found me" sunghoon whispered, his voice so quiet that jiho and the others couldnt hear. i let out a shaky breath, "i found him" i said while i looked straight ahead. "we havent been able to locate him. where is he at?" jihos voice said from the other line as i fought every bone in my body not to tell him that sunghoon was stood right behind me. "call it off. tell them you want to do it on your own" he said, his voice sharp and cold as his hands gripped the gun pointed at my head even tighter. i let out a chuckle and shook my head, no way i was going to listen to him. sunghoon wasnt having it tho. he tightly wrapped his other hand around my waist and yanked me backwards against his chest, his fingers digging into my skin with a painful force.

he moved the gun towards my temple and pressed it into my skin, threatening to blow my brains out. i took a deep breath, "call it off" i said, only receiving confused voices from the other end of the ear piece. "maam, this would be the second time youre calling it off. your dad wouldnt be happy about this" jiho said, sunghoon listening in. "and?" sunghoon whispered. "i want to do it on my own.. for dad.." my voice came out barely above a whisper, "louder." sunghoon ordered. i let out a sigh before speaking up again, "i want to do it on my own. for dad". jiho understood and agreed, him and the others packing up and getting ready to leave.

sunghoon roughly ripped my ear piece out, throwing it on the ground before he stepped on it. he suddenly pushed me away from his grip, causing me to stumble forwards. i turned around annoyed, watching him adjust his tie. i was desperate to know how sunghoon knew i was on the rooftop, and how he planned all of this? "how did you..?" i asked in disbelief, not being able to finish my question before he cut me off. "doesnt matter." he said sharply, his voice tense and direct. "dont you owe me one?" i asked him, his eyebrows raising in question. "for not blowing your brains out in front of your little sister" i said, trying to sound casual as if the situation i was in wasnt as tense as it was. "ill admit it was generous of you. but unfortunately, i dont owe you anything--though i cant say i havent thought about it" he smirked at his own last words, gross.

i watched him intensely as i waited for him to make a move, he didnt even have the gun pointed at me anymore so i was really confused. without saying a word, he started walking towards me which only caused me to back away until i felt my body come in touch with the edge of the rooftop. sunghoon only got closer, placing each one of his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the edge. he leaned in with his face close against mine, "how many times do you think we`ll find ourselves like this, hm? because ill have to admit, im really starting to enjoy this" he mumbled, tilting his head at me slightly. "cut the crap, sunghoon. what are you planning on doing this time? since.. you couldnt kill me last time" i grabbed a hold of his tie, pulling him even closer to me.

he let out a chuckle before he grabbed my hand that was playing with his tie, "maybe ill just have to get creative this time." a cocky smile curling at the corner of his lips before he looked to the side, where my sniper still was stood. i followed his eyes and let out a chuckle when i noticed what he was looking at, "you call shooting me with a sniper creative?-" he brought his hand out, shoving the sniper off the edge of the rooftop, and for a brief moment, there was only silence. a sudden woosh of air, followed by a sharp crack as the sniper collided with the ground, sunghoon turning to me with the same cocky smile that was just on his lips.

i froze for a split second, my eyes flickering from the edge of the rooftop and back to him. inside i was trembling, terrified for heights but i wasnt going to let him notice my slight fear. "is that supposed to scare me?" i said, my tone sounding a little too forced as i tried to keep it cool.. which i hope he didnt notice. "no. but i can tell it did" his hand brushed against my arm, causing me to shiver just a bit. i shook my head as i avoided eye contact, looking around for a way to get out of the current situation im in. sunghoon could push me right now and id fall off the rooftop just like that, i needed a distraction or something.. "distracted?" sunghoon asked me as if he could read my thoughts.

i looked back at him, a sudden thought coming to my mind right away. he was a man after all, distracting him would be the easiest thing to do. i looked up at him with pleading eyes, "are you gonna kiss me goodbye again?" i asked, tilting my head at him slightly. he bit down on his lower lip, "i might.." he said. "but youre not gonna like how it ends this time" his voice low and threatening as he leaned away slightly, but i only pulled him back by his tie before crashing my lips onto his--giving him no time to process it. i brought my hands up to the back of his head and tugged at his hair to which he put his hands on my waist and pulled me in closer. i opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue past my lips and deepening the kiss even more. while he was earning himself a boner, i was ready to end it for him once and for all.

my hand slid up his chest, and in a swift and effortless motion, i took control. i used all my strength and flipped us both around. before sunghoon could react, i shoved him--his body falling over the edge. i let out a shaky breath and turned around, not feeling like watching him fall all the way down and have his body smashed against the concrete, gross.. that was it, easier than i thought.. i just killed him, sunghoon is dead and my dad is gonna be so proud of me. my chest was rising and falling slowly as the wind was the only thing to be heard. on the outside, i looked calm and fine, but on the inside my mind was racing. i held it all in, clenching my fists before turning around to walk away.

"you bitch.." i heard a mumble. no fucking way.. i turned back around, my eyes widening when i watched sunghoon swing his leg up, pulling himself back up before his feet came in touch with the rooftop floor again. i looked at him in horror. meanwhile, sunghoon adjusted his tie calmly and clenched his jaw. "youre insane.." i gasped, slowly backing up as i knew what was coming for me. "says the girl who just pushed me off the roof." his voice was unsettling and cold, sending shivers down my spine. "dont act like you werent about to do the same" i barked back at him. and with no warning, he launched himself at me. he aimed a kick in my stomach that caught me off guard, causing me to stumble backwards.

"what the fuck?!-" he charged at me again--a swift punch aimed at my jaw. i stumbled back once again, struggling to keep my balance as i swear my vision was about to go black. he suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me closer to him, twisting my wrist in doing so. "a-ah!" i yelped, pain taking over my whole body. i twisted myself out of his grip, turning on my heel to deliver a swift kick to the side of his knee. he groaned as he fell to one knee, slowly turning up to look at me with a glare. "is that all you got baby?" he taunted before getting back up on his feet. and with no warning once again his fist landed on my cheek, sending me almost flying backwards as my body hit the ground.

i started backing up when sunghoon was walking towards me, and i didnt notice how i was getting closer and closer to the edge of the roof. he got on top of me and threw another punch across my face, my eyes shutting close when my head threw back. my head pounding and every bone in my body hurting, i desperately tried grabbing onto something to stabilize myself--only to realize there was nothing to grab onto. i opened my eyes, my vision blurry but still able to see sunghoon hovering over me. he let out a chuckle, and as confused as i was i looked to the side--my eyes widening when i found myself hanging off the side of the roof, half of my body dangling over literally just air.

sunghoon leaned over me, a sick and twisted expression on his face. "this is it princess, already got your goodbye kiss." he growled, his breath hot against my face. he could see the panic in my eyes, it made him smirk while i was terrified for my life. without thinking, i drew back my arm and swung it with all my strength, my fist connecting with his stomach. the unexpected force of my punch took him by surpise, and he lost his grip--stumbling backwards as his back crashed hard onto the rooftop, the wind knocking the air out of him. i quickly lifted myself up and got back on solid ground. i glanced at the edge where the terrifying drop had been moments ago, returning back to reality right away.

i got up on my feet, my legs shaking with fear while my heart pounded faster than usual. my eyes caught onto the rooftop door, and with one last look at sunghoons body laying on the ground in pain--i made a quick run for it. running towards the door, i could hear sunghoon slowly getting back up on his feet which only made me panic even more. i barged right through the door and slammed it shut behind me, trying to lock it when i suddenly realized it didnt have a lock. "fuck- no.." i cursed to myself. i turned around and started running down the stairs, and i had no idea where i was going because the second i get out of the building i would be running straight into the dark.

my body suddenly froze, flinching at the sound of the door being slammed open. i watched sunghoon walk through the door, his tall and dark figure looking down at me right away. "im not done with you yet.." he said, his voice low and chilling--sending a chill down my spine. "fuck you sunghoon!" i yelled at him, furrowing my eyebrows in anger right before i started running down the stairs again, sunghoon following from behind me. i quickly glanced behind me--eyes widening with fear when i saw him close behind, closer than i thought he would be. my heart only raced faster, and without thinking i stopped by a random door near the end of the stairs and flung it open. it was an office. there was a couch, a small table, a desk with a chair, and the only light coming from a desk lamp.

i also happened to notice a drawer right next to the door, perfect. after locking the door i got behind the drawer, using all of my strength to push the heavy drawer across the floor. my hands trembled as i struggled to shove it in front of the door. it scraped against the hard wooden floor with a loud and unsettling sound, and right as i managed to push it in front of the door--the door handle started rattling. i let out a sigh of relief as i watched sunghoon struggling to open the door, meanwhile i started looking around for a way out. i walked over to the window and looked down, it wasnt any different from when i was hanging off the roof just a second ago. "come on baby.. open the door!" i heard sunghoon shout from the other side of the door, while still trying to break through.

"fuck off park!" i snapped at him, sick off all the disgusting pet names he keeps on calling me. i ran my hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh as i tried to figure out how i could possibly get out of the current situation im in. i started pacing back and forth, not realizing that the sound of sunghoon trying to break through the door had stopped. i paused and turned to look at the door, did he give up? i slowly started making my way towards the door, leaning over the drawer to place my ear against the hard wood. i cant hear anything- "a-agh! f-fuck..!" i let out possibly the loudest scream ever when a sharp metal object slammed into the door with a loud *crack*, punching a hole straight through the door and right into my ear.

"youre the one to blame for that." sunghoon growled at me, his voice thick with rage. i could hear him throw away the object he basically just stabbed me with, right before his fist started punching holes right through the door like it was nothing. meanwhile i was dealing with unbearable pain. the pain had hit me instantly, like a sharp pain bursting right through my skull. it blurred everything around me for just a second as i struggled to keep my balance. "a-ah.." i whimpered in pain as blood started running down my ear. i glanced at the door, panic not being able to take over me when i saw sunghoon glaring at me through the big hole he punched in the door. i watched both of his hands fit through the door, finding the edge of the drawer before he shoved it to the side with a forceful push.

i started looking around for something to defend myself with, sunghoons fingers brushing against the door knob from the inside before twisting it with a *click* sound. i was stood frozen in the middle of the office with my heart pounding painfully in my chest, trying to steady myself but every inch of me felt too weak. the door creaks open slowly--seconds before sungoons tall figure stepped into the office. "you look.." he stepped closer to me, a smirk forming on his lips, "like you`ve given up." he said. his gaze ran over me slowly like he was savoring every second of my weakness. i shook my head and kept my chin lifted, acting like i wasnt literally about to fall to my knees and actually give up.. but i could feel the tension creeping up my neck.

with his hands in his pockets, he started walking towards me slowly. backing away would only make me look scared, and even tho i was i wasnt going to give him the satisfaction. i straightened my shoulders when he approached me, his dark eyes looking down at me while mine looked up at his.

"i can tell when youre pretending.." he said.

"what-"

"a-ah!" i let out a scream when sunghoon suddenly slammed his foot into the side of my knee, the force twisting my leg in a way its not meant to go.. i immediately fell to both my knees right in front of him, the sharp pain pulsing through it as i struggled to catch my breath. sunghoon didnt leave me be for a second before he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head backwards. i let out another painful scream, tears forming in my eyes when he kept on tightening his grip by each second that passed. "s-stop..!" i yelped, looking up at him with my teary eyes--only to see that he was smiling down at me. hes a sick fuck for enjoying this.. "wont stop until youre dead.." he mumbled, his eyes locked on me intensely.

i couldnt even process his words before my head was slammed into the wall with a sickening loud thud. the impact rattled through my skull, sharp and dizzying. before i could try and somehow defend myself, he slammed my head into the wall once again.. and again, and again. my vision went completely blurry, my head pounding in the worst way possible and i was suddenly aware of nothing.. i felt numb. before my body could crash onto the floor, sunghoon let go of my hair and caught my almost-lifeless body. i was awake, but i wasnt really there. the room felt like it was tilting--my vision coming and going and i was painfully aware of every moment. with my limp body in his arms, he threw me onto the couch with a quick and careless motion.

my body flopped awkwardly when i landed on my stomach. my face was pressed into the cushions, and i could feel sunghoons eyes looking down at me from above. i opened my mouth slighlty, trying to beg for my life.. but i couldnt say much. "hoon.." i mumbled quietly, but he still managed to hear me. he didnt answer, only i felt his hands caressing my hips. i knew what was coming.. he was probably gonna stab me in the back or something (literally). i let out a shaky breath, preparing myself for the pain of death, but to my surpise i felt him grip my hips before lifting me up. i was extremely confused to why the fuck he positioned my ass in the air, "ill make sure your last moments are filled with pleasure.. not pain." he uttered coldy, leaning down with his front against my back. "its the least i can do for you angel.." he taunted into my ear before he let out a dark chuckle.

"w-what..?" i murmured under my breath, trying to turn my head to get a glimpse of what he was doing--but he only buried my face deep into the cushions causing me to let out a whimper. "shh.." he cooed me, stroking my hair before i felt his hands tugging down my black shorts. no fucking way. my eyes widened when i realized what this horny, disgusting, sick fuck was about to do to me. i started wiggling my hips around to get away from his grip, but he held me still with one hand while the other successfully pulled my shorts down, and i let out a gasp when he did. "p-please stop.." i sobbed, trying to lift myself up--but my body gave in and i plopped back onto the couch. sunghoon let out a laugh at my struggle before he brought his hand to my ass cheek, stroking it lightly before leaving a harsh slap on my skin.

i let out a yelp when my body jolted. i thought the stinging pain would go away by itself, but it didnt when sunghoon kept on leaving harsh and painful slaps on my ass cheek, my skin turning redder and redder each time he did. "shit- sorry princess. i was supposed to give you pleasure right? not more pain.. my poor baby." he spoke gently. his hand caressed my red ass cheek--nothing but a whimper coming out of my mouth due to the fact that it was still stinging. "s-sunghoon.." i hiccuped, "you dont- you dont have to do t-this.." i begged him to let me go, or at least just kill me right away. i didnt want to die like this. he hummed, "now, why would i do that? hm?" he brought his fingers to my panty-covered clit before he began moving his fingers in a circular motion. i let out an unexpected moan, not on purpose..

"see. you like it dont you? fucking slut.. acting as if you werent the one making out with me on the rooftop." he growled at me. i felt his fingers leave my clit, and i was relieved for a second--until he tried moving my panties to the side. i hurriedly closed my legs, stopping him from going any further, but that was the wrong move of me to make. he gripped both of my thighs, forcefully spreading them apart, "keep these open" he tapped my thigh, "wouldnt want to hurt you even more." he said as if he cared if i got hurt or not. "just kill me.." i finally said, which felt ironic because i never imagined id say those words. especially to sunghoon himself.. "just kill you?" he repeated while teasing my entrance with his finger. i let out a mumble, "i dont wanna.." i shook my head.

he hummed as if he was actually considering my words, and then i felt him insert a finger deep into my tight hole. i let out a loud moan, not being able to control my reaction to the pleasure i was feeling. even tho i couldnt see sunghoons face, i just knew he had that evil smirk on his lips.. i bit down on my lip when he started finger-fucking me. he curled his fingers inside my walls, and i couldnt help but to lean into his touch. "knew it.. you fucking whore." he spat (literally). he leaned down with his face dangerously close to my pussy, right before spitting directly at my clit. my whole body jolted when he attatched his mouth to my clit and sucked on it aggressively, "m-mmh! n-not there..!" i yelped as i squirmed around uncomfortably. he ignored my words as he continued sucking on my clit and finger-fucking me at the same time.

when the tip of his long and thick finger pushed against my sweet spot, i let out a loud cry at the overstimulation. a silent scream left my throat, "i-its too much!!" i squeaked. sunghoon pulled his mouth off my clit, placing a small kiss on it before he leaned back. "so pretty.." he mumbled. "makes me want to keep you alive just so i can use your pretty little pussy whenever i want to." i cringed at his words. i then felt him pull out his finger and a sigh left my lips at the loss of it. my eyes darted around the room before taking a deep breath--a breath that got caught in my throat when i heard the sound of sunghoon unbuckling his belt. "g-go jerk off or something..!" i yelled at him, but my words were quickly muffled when he shoved my face into the cushions.

"mmm!" i tried to scream, "i will. just inside you.." sunghoon pulled down his pants along with his boxers, his cock jumping out with pre-cum leaking from his tip. he wrapped his hand around his length and started jerking himself off, groaning at the pleasure he was feeling. i suddenly let out a soft moan when he ran his tip through my slit, hating the fact that he was actually making me feel good. he lined up with my entrance--both my fists clenching as i was pressed hard into the cushions, my palms sweaty and shaking slightly. i let out a gasp when he pushed himself into my entrance, the burning sensation making me eyes water. "so fucking tight.." sunghoon groaned, forcing his cock deeper into my walls. "i-it hurts!!" i yelped but sunghoon didnt seem to care when he continued pushing in deeper.

"it`ll feel better soon. i promise baby" he mumbled, his hand moving to the side of my face before he stroked my cheek. i let out a whimper when his tip suddenly touched my cervix, his full length inside of me--pressed so tightly that i could feel every inch of him, as if i were about to burst free from the pressure. "sunghoon- y-youre too big.." i moaned, all though it wasnt supposed to come out as one.. "ill make it work- fuck.. just relax for me." his hands sneaked their way to my hips where he gripped tightly at my skin, preparing himself to start pounding into me. i let out a whine when he slowly pulled out of me until his tip was the only thing inside, and with one very harsh thrust.. he slammed his way all the way back in.

"a-ah!" i let out a silent scream when his tip came in touch with my cervix again, but this time it felt like a stab. sunghoon bit down on his lip, throwing his head back in pleasure when he started pounding into me from the back at a slow pace. maybe he really was trying to pleasure me..? "mmh.." i moaned, craving more but at the same time i hated it. it made me feel disgusted by myself, torn between what my body was reacting to and what my mind was screaming. i couldnt let him know that despite everything, a part of me was actually enjoying this. i tried to push myself backwards on his dick unnoticed, but oh did he notice.. "look at you wanting more.." he laughed at me, "you want more baby?" he tilted his head to the side. i shook my head, telling him no but him and i both knew that was a lie.

"no? alright-" he stopped his movements, ready to pull out of me before i stopped him. "no!- wait.." i blurted out, lifting my head up and slightly turning to the side to look at him. "hm?" he hummed, "tell me what you want." he demanded, his hands caressing my hips while he waited. "m-more.." i mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. "cant hear you" he taunted me. bitch.. "i-i want more" i repeated myself, making it clear to him that i did want more and i hated myself for it. "fucking whore" he degraded me which only made me clench around his dick, "you like that?" he let out a dark chuckle before he started pounding into me again, this time faster and exactly how my body was craving it. "mhm..!" i moaned, my mouth falling open slightly while my eyebrows furrowed.

"shit-" sunghoon groaned, the sound of skin slapping filling the room every time his hips came in touch with my bare ass. he slipped one of his hands down to my lower stomach, pressing down against his bulge that was very much visible through my skin. "feel how big i am for you?" his other hand squeezed my hip as he started pounding into me even faster. i let out a cry at the feeling of it while already being a whimpering and moaning mess for his dick. when i felt myself getting closer to my high, i opened my mouth slightly, "hoon-" i tried to speak, but i only ended up choking on an unexpected moan. "youre close- i know, fuck. can feel it with how youre clenching around my dick like crazy.." his hand that was pressing onto his own bulge on my lower stomach travelled its way down to my clit, his fingers starting to move in a circular motion.

i yelped when my whole body jolted, feeling myself about to burst at any moment. "me too baby. go on, milk my cock.." he said, his dark voice making it clear that hes not asking me to--but telling. a loud and pornographic moan escaped my lips when i felt the wave of pleasure crashing over me, my back arching and my toes curling when i came all over his cock. "f-fuck..!" i yelped, my legs starting to shake at the feeling of sunghoon still pounding into me. sunghoon moved his hands to my ass cheeks, squeezing and slapping them afterwards when he got closer to his high. "shit shit shit..!" he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure when his thick cum spurted deep inside of me. i whimpered when i felt him painting my walls white, a mix of his cum and mine leaking out of my tight hole.

sunghoons thrusts slowed down as he came down from his high, the both of us panting and trying to catch our breaths. sunghoon pulled out of me slowly, looking down at my cum-leaking hole clenching around nothing. i let out a sigh at the loss of him, burying my face into the cushions with a soft moan. sunghoons hands reached for my body, his hands gripping at my waist before gently flipping me over. he guided me onto my back, my hair falling over my face when i rolled onto my back. i looked at sunghoon sat on his knees in front of me, his eyes looking down at my body resting on the couch with my legs slightly spread open for him. he leaned down against me until his chest was pressed against mine, his hands placed on each side of my head as his eyes looked into mine.

he brought one of his hands to my face, moving away the hair that was in the way. "how are you gonna do it?" i asked him, my voice coming out as a soft whisper. he looked at me for a second, and without saying a word he buried his face in the crook of my neck, and it only reminded me of last time he failed to kill me. i felt him leave a trail of small and soft kisses down my neck before he looked back up at me again, "my dad will have to kill you himself." he mumbled, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. "i wont let him get near you.." i froze for just a second, caught off guard by his words. my eyes blinked up at him, my hand moving up to his face before i cupped his cheek. "if my dad comes after you.." i whispered, "ill kill him myself" i said, sunghoon raising his eyebrows at my sudden words, a smile tugging on his lips.

"i know you will" he said before he pressed his lips against mine.

437 notes · View notes

oh-no-its-bird · 5 months ago

Text

Normal 'Izuna survives' au but he gets isekaid into canon founders era and doesn't notice for a week (everyone is convinced he's a ghost)

He literally lives in the same house as Madara but Madara acts like this is normal bc hes been hallucinating so this is clearly just another hallucination

He only realizes smthn is wrong with Tobirama sees him and immediatley goes "what the FUCK" and suddenly everyone is going "oh god you can see him too????"

Izuna is on a quest to convince people he's not a hallucination (it's a losing battle)

Realistically tho, in that era, wouldn't it be more believable that Izuna is a ghost / somehow came back to life than fucking dimension travel?

Cearly the ghost of Izuna just doesn't realize hes died (common enough in ghost lore)

Tobirama is the only one who believes Izuna bc he has the brain cells to think ab dimension travel / time and space jutsu

POV Madara starts to convince Izuna he's actually a ghost. Maybe... he did die? And he just doesn't remember?? Oh god is he a ghost??? Is he dead????

Tobirama is standing by watching this shit happen with a look of disgust on his face (I'm sorry Tobi the stupidity is genetic)

Madara really said gaslight gatekeep girlboss, starting with yourself first

@beatriceportinari :

hashirama is trying to be compassionate and get him to move on and izuna just. stays there (bc he's not a ghost)

hsrm so desolate abt it

tbrm he won't move on 😦 what if he's stuck forever 😦

SORRY IM JUST PICTURING LIKE HASHIRAMA AND MADARA DOING A FULL EXORCISM LIKE OUTFITS AND SAGE BURNING AND HITTING THE DRUMS AND ALL AS IZUNA STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM LIKE 🧍‍♂️

Tobirama is standing nearby watching this shit happen fully aware Izuna isn't dead but no one will listen to him so !!! Might as well watch the show

@fashionredalert :

Izuna standing there like

Tweak it slightly to turn it into a happy ending where they get to keep him bc he eventually has to go back home: there was no dimension travel, for some reason he survived or was revived (zetsu interference gone wrong?? Or right ig, for Izuna)

IT LOOKS LIKE HES WAITING PATIENTLY FOR IT TO WORK PLS

@mengfm :

He fr came back to life/survived but everyone's convinced he's a ghost and are trying to lay him back to rest

The idea of people trying to re bury him is so funny. Left and right he’s trying to avoid having funeral rights just said to him

@beatriceportinari :

PLS YESS

montage where they make him lay down in a coffin and he's just laying there fidgeting like "this feels weird is it working yet"

noooo asdfghjh he's letting them do it'

maybe i should be dead yeah' izuna!!!

@mengfm :

"No I saw you die"

"Ok convincing argument I guess" -Izuna, apparently

@fashionredalert :

I know there’s that trope about the Uchiha burning the bodies with funeral rites could you image…Bro having to run away from Madara trying to burn him alive to lay him to rest again

@mengfm :

IZUNA GET ON THE FUNERAL PYRE

ITS TIME TO BURN!!!

@fashionredalert :

Izuna running through the village with rope ties around his hands as he runs

ZUNA STOP SCREAMING AND LET THE FIRE DO ITS JOB

"IZUNA COME BACK!!"

THEY TRY TO DO IT BUT IZUNA GETS TWITCHY AS THE FLAMES DRAW CLOSER THEN JUMPS OFF THE PIRE

"NO I CHANGED MY MIND"

"THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD"

Madara is chasing Izuna through the streets with a lit torch as Izuna screams about wanting to try a different way and Madara screams about how it'll work if he just STAYS STILL

@instant-bull :

(Hashirama looks out his window and asks Tobirama if he just saw Izuna running through the streets and Tobirama tells him to stop making shit up to get out of work)

@mengfm :

JSDNJNFSDJNSDFKSNDJF HASHIRAMA THIS WON'T SAVE YOU FROM THE PAPERWORK

That’s just a lack of sleep hallucination back to work!!!

@instant-bull :

Madara trying to burn his brother alive isn’t real!

"You'll get used to them" Tobirama waved his hand, the years of insomnia experience making him sound particularly knowledgable

@mengfm

Hashirama’s already moukoton scrambled brain is going to feel even more insane. This is not helping his sanity

@instant-bull

Hashirama starts to believe he sees into some alternate timeline or the past or whatever that shit was

HASHIRAMA ON HIS OWN INSANITY KICK BELIEVING HE CAN SEE INTO ALTERNATE TIMELINES

The ending is literally just Tobirama hitting everyone over the head with a rolled up newspaper and yelling that they're all stupid, going "HES alive. YOURE not hallucinating. and YOU can not see into other dimensions!"

Only sane person in Konoha

(Then in the epilogue he goes home and has his own regular hallucinations of his dead brothers)

Parts of todays AU are brought to u with the help of @instant-bull @mengfm @fashionredalert and @beatriceportinari, everyone say thank you to them

#birds fic talk #naruto #izuna uchiha #uchiha izuna #tobirama senju #senju tobirama #uchiha madara #madara uchiha #founders era #naruto founders #hashirama senju #senju hashirama

271 notes · View notes

victorianbatman · 8 months ago

Text

More ATLA/LOK Incorrect quotes

GN reader, unless stated otherwise

Bolin, propping his feet on the table: So, I heard you like bad boys?

Y/n: What? No.

Bolin, taking his feet off the table: Oh thank God, that felt terrible.

Lin: Whats this?

Y/n, hugging her: Affection.

Lin: Disgusting.

Lin:…

Lin: Do it again.

Bolin: Wow, your legs look amazing in those pants!

Y/n: You should see me without them.

Bolin: Without.. legs?

Sokka: What did you make for Y/n?

Zuko, staring at the burnt food: Regret.

Korra, holding kettle: Coffee or tea?

Y/n: Tea.

Korra: Wrong! Its coffee.

Bolin, talking about y/n: My crush isn’t picking up on any of my hints.

Mako: What hints have you given them?

Bolin: I think about them.. a lot.

Bolin: And sometimes I think about talking to them.

Y/n: Mako?

Mako: What?

Y/n: Are you asleep?

Mako: Who the fuck did you think said ‘what’?

Y/n, waking up: Am I dead?

[Sees Asami next to them]

Y/n: Is this heaven?

Korra, bangs on door: Open up, fuckers its me Korra

Y/n, tearing up: I always knew I’d end up in hell.

Lin: Having trouble figuring out who knows Korra the best?

Asami: Its me!

Bolin: Its me!

Mako: Its me!

Y/n:..

Y/n: It’s probably not me.

Y/n: Time for plan G.

Mako: Wait- don’t you mean plan B?

Y/n: No we did plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over C because of some technical difficulties.

Asami: What about plan D?

Y/n: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Bolin: And plan E?

Y/n: Im hoping not to use it, I die in plan E.

Korra: I like plan E.

Y/n: What the fuck? People actually tell their crushes they like them?

Mako: Well, what do you do?

Y/n: I die? Pfft- What kinda question..

Y/n: A mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and it died.

Y/n: Then I started thinking. It was just trying to get food.

Y/n: Like, what if I went to the fridge to get something to eat and it slammed the door on me and broke my neck?

Y/n: Howw would I feel?

Mako: Are you ok?

Bolin: What does ‘take out’ mean?

Mako: Food.

Asami: Dating.

Korra: Murder.

Y/n: IT COULD MEAN ALL THREE IF YOURE NOT A FUCKING COWARD!

Korra: You’re a little obsessed with yourself aren’t you?

Y/n: Well if im not who else is gonna be?

[Y/n, throws bread at turtleducks]

Y/n: Do not forget this act of altruism. If I am ever in trouble, I expect you and your brethren to come to my aid. Do not forget.

Y/n: You’re the love of my life, I’d do anything for you.

Asami: I want you to take care of yourself and get enough sleep.

Y/n: Absolutely not.

Asami: My boyfriend is too tall to kiss, what should I do?

Korra: Punch him in the gut, then when he leans down kiss him.

Bolin: Tackle him

Y/n: Dump him, be with me.

Lin, passing by: Kick him in the shin.

Mako: Please don’t do any of those.

[Korra, sneaks into house at 2 am]

Mako, turns in swivel chair: Care to explain where you were?

Korra: Uhh.. I was out with Y/n.

Y/n, also turns around in another swivel chair: Care to- [chair wont stop turning] Mako- I cant stop the chair-

Bolin, after making Y/n mad: You wont hit me, I have witnesses.

Y/n: Mako. Asami. Turn around.

[Both Mako and Asmai turn around]

Bolin, scared: M-Mako? Asami?

Y/n: So whats Zukos type?

Sokka: Y/c eyes, kind, oblivious, good sense of humour, turtleduck lover.

Y/n: Damn, sounds kind of like me. Too bad we’re just friends though.

Sokka: Did I mention oblivious?

Y/n: Yeah why?

Sokka: Just making sure.

#lok #atla #lgbt #atla x reader #asami x reader #zuko x reader #bolin x reader #x reader #mako x reader #korra x reader

367 notes · View notes

shalomniscient · 8 months ago

Note

woah…..that zoya post…………now make them kiss (pretty please 🙏)

this took centuries. im so sorry

breaking point || zoya x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. medical talk (or attempts at), kind of graphic descriptions of injuries (?), power bottom reader and service top zoya, unsafe sex in the sense reader wants to be dicked down so bad they diss condoms (practice safe sex gamers), fingering, creampie

notes. i dunno i just think zoya would like a partner with a little fire to them yk?? reader is just internally very horny for zoya but would not admit it even upon threat of death. also head in hands this is so disjointed im so sorry

taglist. @sinsmockingbird for when you awaken my liege

As an ER doctor, being able to keep a cool head even in intense situations is a priceless skill. You clarity and calmness could be the difference between a life saved and a life lost. Thankfully, you and your sister have always been good at being clinically cold—but even you both have your limits. For Iron, it was when she was forced to amputate her arm.

For you, it's watching a few legionnaires haul their Commander into the ER, barely conscious and looking half-dead.

"Trauma room 2, now," you snap, tossing your clipboard aside and pulling your coat tighter around yourself. Of course this had to happen on the one day Iron was in Eastside picking up supplies. Your mind races as you march alongside the legionnaires as they drag Zoya—hardly responsive, head hanging low, pallor to her skin—onto a cot. Your nurses swarm you like a well trained unit, moths to a light, awaiting your orders. You suck in a breath, let each molecule of air settle in your cells, before you dive headfirst into action.

"Four units of O-negative, and two large bore IVs," you command, your voice even as you move to stand next to the cot. The wound on her abdomen is substantial, and for once you're grateful for her frankly ridiculous fashion choices since it lets you save time on cutting her clothes off. Your gloved hands reach up to cup Zoya's pale face, your eyes cold as you look down at her. "Get the OR prepped and call anesthesia now."

"Zoya," you say firmly, gently shaking her head. "Oi, brute. Can you hear me?"

The commander remains silent, and you frown. Perhaps the situation is worse than you thought. One of the legionnaires, just a girl, shifts anxiously next to the bed. "Boss got hit by a Mania weapon," she explains, her voice trembling as if she's near tears. "It was supposed to be for me, but—"

"Do you know what kind?" you cut her off, and internally you flinch at the way she recedes from the iciness of your gaze. But she shakes her head, and you bite your tongue. The pieces of the diagnosis align in your mind's eye—Mania weapon, unknown effect, caused severe lacerations and subsequent hemorrhaging. High possibility of additional Mania contamination within her bloodstream, although as a Sinner risk of further complication on that avenue is reduced.

You draw in another breath. Okay. You can do this.

"You owe me for this, brute," you mutter, before you kick the locks off the cot wheels and start pushing her to the OR. The double doors greet you like the gateway to purgatory, and you push everything beyond your clinical expertise to the furthest recesses of your mind.

Under the bright OR lights, your form casts a long shadow over Zoya's still one. You exhale.

"Let's begin."

You only finish six hours later.

Your scrubs are stained red up to your elbows, and you can barely feel your feet after being on them for so long. But the heart monitor beeps steadily, and it is the only sound you want to hear now. You thank your nurses and tell them to get some rest. Once they're out of sight, you stumble back and lean against the wall, your eyes slipping shut.

Your hands are shaking.

You exhale. You're barely aware of the fact that you're sliding down the wall until you end up on the floor, the coldness of the tile seeping through your scrubs. The surgery hadn't been easy. Fishing remnants of Mania crystals out of flesh equally as red is always a challenge—often, the patient doesn't survive. Corruption sets in quickly, and all you can do is hand them over to Iron to nip the bud before it blooms.

But you saved her. She's alive, breathing, stable, so why does your heart tremble in your chest? Why does the sight of her blood on your arms make you sick?

Deep down, you know why. But the words knot on your tongue and catch against your teeth every time you try to say them. So instead, you settle for something else. A different emotion, but no less potent. And you pretend that the rush you felt that other day was nothing more than loathing. And whatever it is you're feeling now is just irritation that you had to spend 6 hours stitching her abdomen back together.

"Stupid fucking brute," you mutter to yourself, resting your head on your knees, pulled close to your chest. "Going out and getting yourself hurt like that. Aren't you supposed to be strong?"

You sit on the cold tile for a while, before forcing yourself back onto your feet. Your eyes roam impassively over Zoya's sleeping face, and you can't help but think how... soft she looks, peacefully asleep like this thanks to the anesthesia. It almost makes you want to reach out and stroke her cheek—but you don't, and instead turn on your heel and walk right out of the room.

After all, there’s no point lingering on pipe dreams.

"Doctor!"

You sigh, feeling a headache build between your temples. You turn to the nurse, scowling. "Yes?"

"The, um... the patient in trauma room two is awake," she answers nervously. "And she's trying to—"

Whatever your poor nurse is trying to say is cut off by none other than said patient striding down the hallway, unbothered, even as five of the other strongest nurses you have try to hold her back. She simply drags them along with each confident step. Also, she somehow managed to get her clothes back? You mentally add another thing to your to-do list—you'll have to have a stern talk with whoever manages patient belongings. Zoya stops in front of the front desk and eyes you up and down, and you shoot an unimpressed glare right back at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" you ask flatly, and Zoya shrugs.

"I'm here to say thanks," she responds, and you blink. That... wasn't what you were expecting.

"Oh."

"I'm also going to leave," she adds, and then you scoff, feeling the moment crumble in an instant.

"In your dreams. You're not due to be discharged for three more days." You round the counter to stand defiantly in front of her, and she raises a brow. Around you, your staff shift nervously. If Zoya decides to force her way out, there really is no one who can stop her.

"I'm perfectly fine," she counters, placing a hand on her hip. Your eyes flick down to it, and yes—the glaring wound in her side is healed up, almost beautifully. Such are the 'benefits' of being a Sinner. But you shake your head nonetheless, stubbornly digging your heels in. If Zoya is an unstoppable force, then by God will you be the immovable object.

"You're fine when I say you're fine," you roll your eyes. "Now do I have to put you on a leash or are you going to go back to your room on your own?"

Something flickers in Zoya's eyes, and she makes a derisive noise that has your brow twitching. You can feel your blood starting to simmer just beneath your skin. Really, one of these days she's probably going to give you an aneurysm.

“Hmm, how about this, then? You check me over, and if anything isn’t in already healthy condition, I’ll stay,” Zoya offers, and you cross your arms.

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll leave,” she answers coolly. “Deal?”

Your head throbs. “Fine. Just get in the triage room, I’ll make this quick.”

You stalk your way to the room, Zoya following on your heels like an obedient dog. Like this, it is she who casts a shadow on you, with her once again ridiculous height. It makes you want to see her on her knees.

You banish the though away as quickly as it came and sit Zoya down on the cot. She leans back on both her palms, relaxed as ever, watching as you flit about, pulling on gloves and putting on your stethoscope.

“Breathe in,” you order, and she does. Her lungs sound clear, which is good. You don’t hear the light chime of embedded Mania crystals, which is a relief. Your hand trails down her back before moving to her front, ghosting over her abs.

The injury that had left her bleeding all over your floors is practically gone now—only a thin white line proof it was ever there. You brush your thumb against the scar, and you feel the way her muscles tense beneath your touch.

You do your due diligence, pressing along her abdomen as part of a standard checkup. It’s a perfectly normal procedure to check for organ size, pain and abnormalities, but the thought that this is Zoya you’re touching almost makes your hands tremble. And the way she’s reacting—tense and breathing deep with each inhale—is certainly not helping.

Once you finally finish the exam, there’s a distinct charged feeling in the air. You glance up at Zoya, and her eyes are dark; just like the way they were back then. It makes you swallow reflexively, your blood feeling almost unbearably warm beneath your skin.

You’re still close to her. Your hands are still on her abdomen. You should pull away, but you don’t really want to. A part of you doesn’t even think it can.

“Did I pass, princess?” Zoya breathes, her warm breath fanning across your face. Your eyes narrow, and you look directly into her dark ones like a challenge.

“It’s doctor.”

She smirks. You want to kiss it off her. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, ready to pull away, irritation overtaking the lust in your system before Zoya grabs both your wrists and keeps you close.

“Fuck me yourself,” she whispers, dangerously close to your lips, both an invitation and a challenge.

A better doctor would’ve stepped away. Good thing, then, that you never were the best, because you meet Zoya’s challenge in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. Zoya grins against you, slipping off the cot to tower over you. Her hands move your arms around her neck as she walks you backwards, all while her tongue plunders your mouth.

Zoya pushes you against a wall with enough force to make you gasp, air rushing from your lungs. Her lips and teeth descend on your neck as her hands travel down to your ass, squeezing once before they find your thighs, guiding them to wrap your legs around her waist. You sigh in pleasure at the kisses she presses against the skin of your neck, one of your hands winding in her silvery hair while the other digs into her shoulder to steady yourself.

You’re now completely held up by her, but the fear of falling doesn’t cross your mind even once. You’re pretty sure Zoya can keep you in place by just pinning you to the wall with her hips. You grind your front against her pelvis, and you both groan at the friction against her growing bulge. Zoya’s fingers find the waistband of your scrubs, and she tugs them down roughly.

You tighten your grip in her hair at that, and she hisses in both slight pain and pleasure. “Careful,” you mutter to her, “you’re not allowed to rip them.”

Zoya scoffs against your neck but nonetheless obeys, and you sigh when you feel her knuckles rub against your clothed clit. Zoya exhales as she feels your wetness seep through your panties and onto her skin.

“So fucking wet, princess,” she coos into your ear, dragging a finger along your slit. She presses lightly on the ruined cloth, delighting in the way it sticks to your drenched lower lips. You nip at her jaw, a scrape of your teeth along the defined bone, and Zoya takes the hint.

Her fingers push your panties to the side, and then sinks knuckle deep into your cunt.

You bite down on her shoulder to muffle your moans, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. Fuck, her fingers are so thick—she’s hardly done anything and you’re already so close to your peak it’s embarassing. Your legs tighten around her waist as she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds of her working your cunt open echoing in the room. Her thumb presses against your stiff clit and you squirm, burying your face in her neck and panting for breath.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Zoya asks, a breathless edge to her voice. “You’re—fuck—getting tighter, baby.”

“Keep going,” you snap, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. Your entire body is trembling. You seriously might kill her if she does. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Zoya growls, and pistons her fingers even faster all while her thumb draws harsh circles against your clit. You babble whispered praise into her neck before one final, perfect stroke against that spongy spot inside of you had you creaming all over her fingers. The gang leader grunts as she feels your tightness bear down on her, and wetness seep into her palm.

You pant against her neck as you come down from your high, legs twitching. Zoya withdraws her fingers with a wet squelch, and you shudder. But she doesn’t set you down, not just yet, and you know why—or rather, you can feel why. You pull back, leaning your head against the wall, and all while keeping your eyes locked with hers, let your hand brush against the tent in her pants.

Her hips jerk at the sensation, and you smirk. She’s just as pathetically desperate as you are. You brush your hand up and down the clothed length once, then twice, before finally tugging the zipper and her boxers down just enough for her cock to spring free.

Shit, you feel yourself get wetter at just the sight. Her cock slaps against her stomach, painfully hard and big enough that you’re glad she had the control to finger you open first. Zoya growls again when you pump your hand along her length, gathering sticky pre-cum from her drooling tip and laving it down her hardness.

“Wouldn’t happen to keep condoms in here, would you?” she asks, her voice deeper than usual. You roll your eyes at the question.

“No, we don’t keep condoms in the triage room,” you answer, shifting your hips so her cock now rests against your soaked lower lips. “But we do stock morning after pills.”

Zoya’s eyes flicker dangerously, and she grips your hips tight enough to bruise. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you retort, moving your hips up and down and letting her cock slide between your pussy lips and bump deliciously against your clit. “I’m on the pill anyway.”

Zoya buries her face in your neck and growls, then angles her cock with your entrance and slowly pushes in. You have to bite your tongue as she enters because fuck, she’s so fucking big. You can feel the way you cunt stretches to accomodate her size, more than it ever has for anyone else and you whimper reflexively.

Zoya squeezes your hips apologetically, kissing your neck as she keeps going. “Gotta relax, princess, c’mon, just relax for me…”

You do your best, and the moment she bottoms out it feels like all the breath has been forced from your lungs. Gravity ensures you have a particularly deep seat on her cock, and it leaves both of you breathless. Zoya meets your eyes, and slowy, she starts to thrust, drawing back before snaping forward in a smooth rhythm that soon has you seeing stars.

She fucks you against the wall with as much force as she can muster without being too loud—the rest of the hospital is just outside the door anyway. She smothers your moans with a kiss, hungry and demanding, her tongue tangling against yours. With each rut of her hips her cock bullies your g-spot and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten once more.

“‘m going to cum,” you gasp out, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure, “‘m gonna cum, Zoya, please—“

“Go on, then, princess,” she encourages, her thumb starting to work your clit again. “Cum all over this cock like I know you want to.”

You writhe against her, your cunt squeezing her length like a vise. Zoya grunts at the sensation, her thrusts starting to get choppy as she rockets to her own high. Her lips travel from your own then down to your neck, her teeth ghosting the skin there. With one last drive of her hips she buries herself deep inside you and spills her hot cum into your eager cunt, while her teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of being filled by and of her, your insides being painted white as she dumps rope after rope of cum into you. Fuck, you’re going to be dripping into your panties for a while after this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as nothing but sheer pleasure courses through your veins.

You don’t know how long it takes before both of you wind down from the high, but Zoya’s still hilted inside you, and a part of you doesn’t want her to leave. You’re both a panting mess, and Zoya draws away from your neck with a breathless sigh.

“So…” she begins, and you can barely manage a noise in response. “I take it I’m clear to be discharged, doctor?”

You only answer her with a quick smack to her shoulder that has her chuckling.

(But you agree, on the condition she comes back for regular check-ups. Zoya has no problems with this arrangement.)

#sev.responses #sev.writes #[nsft]#ptn #zoya x reader #zoya smut #*claws my way to the dining table* zoya nation........ i bring thee a gift....#wrote this in delirium and it's so disjointed to me sdhlsjhdlsjhdljsj #what was the point of reader's internal monologue ?? man fuck if i know

303 notes · View notes

no-droids · 2 years ago

Text

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”

“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl. Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”

Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”

Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

2K notes · View notes

szkunas · 4 months ago

Text

SORRY, YOU LOST! ౨ৎㅤtoji fushiguro.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤokay, toji needs to admit it. you’re magical, or something because he genuinely intends to change for you, as stupid as that sounds. unfortunately, he decides to go out to gamble one last time. when he returns, his worst nightmare comes true.

featuring ♰ㅤREDEEMED toji fushigiro X fem!reader.

warnings ♱ㅤANGST ! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH ! no happy ending ! toji is a little ooc i guess ! BLOOD + DEATH ! assassination mentions ! violence + murder ! gambling addiction ! toji thinks about making you a housewife ! marriage mentions

author’s note ♱ㅤhi. im not dead, lol. just trying to post a lot of things together. i took a small time for myself, to rest, and now i think i can come back with writing with these posts and the event! <3 i hope you all like it, its my first time trying to write for toji

WHOEVER WAS THE IDIOT who invented pachinko, toji hates them deeply. it was probably some very bored and very greedy man. the world will become a better place when those tired, money-crazy expressions disappear. until then, pachinko machines and gambling games will squeeze every penny out of him. or not. no more.

there is a clear reason why some countries strongly prohibit betting shops and casinos: betting is one of the strongest addictions that runs through the sick and desperate, emptying them of their worries for a few seconds and taking the money from their wallets in exchange.

technically, gambling is prohibited both in japan and in many other places around the world: but pachinko, horse racing and speedboat racing, as well as casinos, exist through loopholes in the law. after all, everyone’s true god is money, and taking all of this off the market would shake the economy of the country that seems forgotten by any god in the eyes of toji.

he knows that spending a lot of money on bets is not the wisest decision to make, but he always has faith that he will win next time, when the next time never comes. however, he only has a percentage of his latest work. the rest was well sent where it would be safe: to you, who keeps the money safe and secure from a murderer addicted to gambling.

toji knows you want a lot. you want him to give up his life as the sorcerer killer, you want him to give up his stupid gambling habit, you want to settle down somewhere quiet and start a family. and he wants that too, even if his heart of stone doesn’t let him show it.

but, he hopes you understand that the mere fact that he lets you sleep next to him at night is a sign of trust. he trusts you not to open his throat with a knife while he sleeps, which says a lot about how he feels about you.

even though your relationship has lasted a long time by his standards, what scares toji is the fact that he doesn’t want to leave. he wants to stay, he wants to come back to you at the end of each mission. he wants to let you take care of his wounds, and he wants to dry your tears when you cry for him. in fact, he doesn’t even want you to cry unless it’s from happiness or pleasure.

which is strange.

he only knew love for one woman, and after her passing, he believed he would never again fall in love with anything other than the green notes that create his happiness and destroy his present simultaneously.

a dead wife and an abandoned child on his resume is not what any woman is looking for in a guy. his difficult personality, his history of lack of commitment, his disappearances for days and his addiction to gambling only make everything worse for him. women are drawn to toji like fish to a hook, but they don’t stay long. it lasts even less if they don’t have money or cut off this source of income from his life.

but when he hears the sounds and clicks of the surrounding machines, he can only think that he would stay with you even if you were living on an old mattress in a dark alley.

because love can be as intimidating as it is overwhelming. it can hit a man’s world with such force that it makes him rise from where he is. make him stop making bad choices and, little by little, improve to give you the life that the woman he loves wants. he looks at the nearest clock and sighs. one last game. one last time, he will spend some stupid change waiting for a prize that never comes.

and from there, who knows? and from there, who knows? stop this idiocy of gambling every last penny, work a little more so you can get by for a few months. maybe start a savings account so when you have kids things will be easier?

he waits, and stops. so many times he has seen the message of defeat on machines similar and different to this one. sorry, you lost. the most common phrase for someone who appreciates dopamine more than money in their pockets. but he is surprised when the winning pattern appears on the machine. a winning one.

toji immediately turns to an employee. okay, that was weird. he usually loses any and all bets. this is probably a sign that this is the right path. who knew, the advice of morally sensible people works. don’t use drugs (they don’t work in his system), don’t overindulge in alcohol (which also doesn’t do anything in his system), be responsible and have a stable job. he just needs to review what he achieves in that last part. sorcerer slaying is not exactly a stable job, which every wife dreams of having a husband working with.

wait, did he just mentally call you his wife? take it easy, clown. first, you have to get past your fifth dating anniversary.

but the idea is undeniably attractive. maybe if he gets some good, well-paying work beyond assassination, you can become a housewife. only if you want, of course. toji will drop dead before he forces you to do something you don’t want to do.

the idea is a little cute — really cute, actually. he loves seeing you coming home from work stressed. seeing you angry makes him strangely excited. it’s like getting turned on by playing with fire, and he just wants to make the flames burn hotter. however, he knows how to respect his space when things get serious. that’s one of the reasons he doesn’t want you in an office job.

reduced to a sad cubicle, an idiotic boss and customers as miserable as you, anxious for the time to leave or for him to pick you up. this is not the life he wants for you. okay, toji needs his own fucking car to pick you up from work. this goes on the list of what to start buying to have a responsible life.

as he changes the balls in the pachinko machine, he watches the prizes carefully. normally, it’s just junk that you sell in a random store to make real money. but there is a kind of golden pendant, a butterfly. he asks the employee and takes the item in his hands. he’s a bit of a muggle and extremely cheesy, in his vision, but it’s only fair that in his last bet, one of the few ones he wins, the prize goes to you.

you, the true angel that exists on earth. you, patient and caring, who accept his mistakes and didn’t abandon him when he gave you a thousand and one reasons to do so. you, who he would like to see at the altar and have children with. fixing his own life and making his life better, that’s what he must do now. for you.

waving to the employee who is already used to his presence — after all, toji doesn’t plan on seeing him again — he puts the pendant in his pocket and walks peacefully home, lost in thought. some idiot bumps into him in a hurry, but he’s so strangely happy he can’t even stay mad.

the guy in question looks like he’s on something, with his hands in his pockets as if he’s hiding a weapon and his pupils dilated. His paranoid face is looking in all directions, and Toji knows that look — he’s trying to run from trouble. probably fucked it up and attacked someone. toji shrugs.

well, it’s not his problem.

he just takes out his cell phone and presses the call button on your contact. toji wants to go directly home, but if you want some food or some other gift, he would like to know now. your profile picture is actually adorable, and he caught himself just a moment before smiling like a fool.

the nighttime streets of tokyo don’t stop as he presses the phone to his ear. cars go too fast, and night lights make the city seem more alive at night than in daylight. two rings, three. you don’t answer, and toji groans, checking the time before waiting a little longer. it is weird. usually you are the one who calls, or you are the one who answers almost immediately. and it’s too early, so you can’t be sleeping.

maybe you forgot your cell phone at home and went out to get something you forgot at the office. it would be just like you. he can already hear himself teasing you. airhead. he gives up calling when there is no answer after four tries. he doesn't want to look desperate.

his steps are lazy, light. he’s gotten used to walking quietly due to his line of work, but toji has his chest puffed out like someone who knows what he wants in life. this is a new and at the same time well-known occurrence. his second chance just fell into toji’s lap. not all men are that lucky. and he doesn’t intend to waste it, risk everything and lose everything again.

may his past have taught him the valuable lesson of staying close and protecting those you love.

that’s why, when he turns down the street and stops in front of your house (which has also been his house for almost two years), he freezes. there are some police cars parked in front of the door. okay, maybe some idiot tried to rob the house. are you okay? the idea of you getting hurt makes his blood boil.

but his heart sinks like a crushed animal when he sees the ambulance present. no. what the fuck is going on? he quickens his pace, not caring about the yellow tapes — oh, god, there shouldn’t be yellow ribbons. not here. not in your home, not in the safest and happiest place in the world. do not cross slaps him in the face, making his heartbeat increase. is that fear, in the back of his head?

he had goosebumps. not the good kind.

a police officer comes over to talk to him, explaining that he can’t be here, that this is a crime scene, sir. but toji is faster, his hand searching for the pendant he bought you through a stupid gambling game.

“sir, i’m going to have to ask you to leave—”

“this is my house, i live here with my girlfriend. what the fuck is going on?”

the police officer stops, as if he didn’t expect that kind of response. he checks something with another officer over the radio, and toji is about to punch everyone to go and look for you. what the hell is going on? he only left for three hours and about ten minutes. this shouldn’t be happening.

his green eyes stay focused on the ambulance, on the house that is being ransacked. your house, god, your wonderful house. he waits for you to come out from behind the ambulance, from one of the doors of the house, for you to come running and for him to hug you. but there is nothing like that. you don’t show up, and he suddenly feels like his throat is closing up.

the officer who owes him an explanation that keeps him calm and tells the truth at the same time — after all, a guy with the size of toji freaking out isn’t what anyone wants to face — gets his attention by gently clearing his throat. he looks like a newbie. excellent. you’re nowhere to be found, and toji is getting explanations from a damn newbie.

“you mentioned you live here with your girlfriend, sir—?” the man inquires, and toji crosses his arms, irritated. “can i ask where you were earlier tonight?”

“fushiguro. i’m fushiguro, yeah, and i live here for, two years now. i was out. buying stuff ‘nd all. why do you need to know?”

the officer sighs, his face sad. “you will need to make a statement later, mr. fushiguro. however, this doesn’t have to be immediately, we intend to respect your time with…”

“with?” toji grits his teeth, nearly snapping. “c’mon. i don’t have all night. where the hell is my girlfriend?”

there are some voices shouting instructions in the background, and toji doesn’t pay attention until something appears in the corner of his vision. he turns his face away more quickly than ever, giving the nervous policeman no time to warn him that he shouldn’t do that. and the sight before him makes him freeze.

the paramedics are zipping up a black bag and putting away the equipment they initially brought. toji is no stranger to blood and dead bodies—his body count is high in more ways than one—but he swears he’s never felt so sick. the butterfly pendant falls from his hands and clicks against the floor, with a slight *clink*.

it’s your body. they are putting your body inside a black bag. god, he only got a glimpse, a second, but he’s sure it’s you. pale, motionless. declared dead.

you, dead.

bile rises up his throat thinking about a million things. If he had arrived earlier, could he have helped? he definitely wouldn’t let that happen, what took him so long with the pachinko machine? Was this random, was this chosen? did they kill you because of him, because of him and his stupid career?

he wonders if you suffered. god, the thought of you scared and screaming as you fight to defend yourself makes toji almost go insane immediately. this is— real. and it is not a nightmare, where he’ll wake up besides you, on the bed. you would smile and comfort him out of his scared thoughts. but no. you won’t ever smile anymore.

never again.

he is so out of it for a moment, it’s as if nothing else exists. his ears won’t stop ringing, and it’s like his head is going to melt at any second. he turns to face the officer, who has been trying to get his attention for apparently five minutes.

“we’re sorry, mr. fushiguro. there was a complaint from the neighbors. we’re still not sure what happened, but it was certainly a homicide. maybe random. as it turned out, someone broke into the house and—”

“murdered my girlfriend.” he completes, his hands clenching into fists. toji excuses himself — and the poor officer can see the pain he’s trying to hide with anger.

he’ll probably get called out for a dozen things. identify your body. give a statement, be ruled out as a suspect, god. like he would even touch you like that. the idea is so disgusting he can’t even process it. but it does not matter. it does not matter anymore. his new, peaceful life? fuck that. you are dead.

and so is his heart. again.

toji walks away from the prying ears of the police, and he hates the fact that his hands are shaking as he calls shiu. and old friend and trustful dealer, he needs to ask two things.

“hey, shiu. when you hear this, give me a call as soon as you can. i am serious. i need another job, as quickly as possible, also.” he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, taking deep, angry breaths. “i need to ask a personal favor. investigate something for me, and i want the name and address of every person involved. alright?”

he wonders what will he use when he finds whoever did this. a gun? a knife? it doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore. he steps on the butterfly pendant as he stares at the sky and wishes for blood to pay for yours being spilled.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING <3

#kirell. kills .ᐟ #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x you #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader

100 notes · View notes

abs-2020 · 7 days ago

Text

The Big Bad Wolf (revamp)

Kakashi Hatake x (fem) reader

What exactly had happened for you to end

up getting caught in such a sticky and sick situation? Was god punishing you for having lived such a depraved and sinful life? Was he punishing you for having taken to many lives? What had you done to get caught in the unforgiving jaws of an apex predator such as him? Why him? Why the Big Bad Wolf? Why kakashi hatake? Why was he hunting you? And why can’t you escape?

Warnings for the series: CNC/Stalking/Non-Con/Dub-Con/SLOW BURN/slight enemies to lovers/hate fucking/oral/knife play/bondage/pet names/gore/P in V/again STALKING/public sex/forced orgasms/creampies/oral(M and F receiving)/use of alcohol/its just gonna be dark yall idk what else to put here/

Enjoy ;)

———————————————————————————-

“Oh god-“

Huffed breaths filled your ears as you starred up at the ceiling above you. ‘22, 23, 24, 25-’

“I’m gonna-“

Drops of sweat fell onto your nude body as the constant sound of the wooden baseboard hitting the wall behind it, filled your ears. ‘26, 27, 28-’ a guttural grunt would fill the room.

“CuM!”

the sweaty man above you quickly pulled himself from inside of you. ‘29.’ A deep sigh would escape you, Your dead eyes remained on the cream colored ceiling above you.

“I’m pretty good huh?”

‘Worse than average’

Shaky, sweaty, arms caged you, sinking into the mattress beneath you. The man above you lifting his head to face from the croon of your neck to face you, you had to hold back a grimace. he was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, like a pig in the summer heat. Numerous droplets fell from his sweat soaked hair and onto your forehead. You’d almost cringed at the feeling. His face was tomato red, literally.

“Uh- yeah.”

You’d smile, the emotion not quite reaching your (E/C) orbs. ‘Best 29 seconds of my life!’ Is what you’d wanted to say. Sarcastically of course, But you kept your mouth shut.

“Ah- good.”

The man would groan quickly plopping himself onto the bed next to you. Immediately Soaking his poor sheets with a pool of sweat. His bed creaked horrendously under his weight. And You’d found yourself starring at the cream ceiling once more. Eyes and face expressionless, dead. You shut your eyes before sighing once more ‘leave’.

“Hey I think I’m gonna hea-“

You were abruptly cut off by a loud snore, your eyes shot open in disbelief, hastily you turned your head to the right. He was out cold, face first into the mattress. He’d passed out…’with the condom still on.’ Anyone else would’ve been disappointed, dissatisfied, and probably feeling a bit insecure. But the scene before you had your pink lips thinning into a side grin. The sex may have been a let down, ‘like always’ but this, the sight before you made up for it. Or did it?

Quietly you’d shut the door behind yourself making sure not to wake the man. Although The chances of him waking any time soon were quite slim. A scoff left your throat at the thought. ‘29 seconds makes you that tired?’

You’d suck in a sharp breath, the cool air nipping your skin. At least that made you feel something, It was February, the December and January snow just starting to melt. With furrowed brows you took the white and red mask from the cargo of your pockets and secured the familiar plastic onto your face. In the blink of an eye you were off, just as fast as you had came you had left, Not even giving the apartment a second glance as you disappeared into the night.

———————————————————————————-

“Im sorry you want me to what?”

You’d throw yourself up from your kneeling position on the floor, your brows quickly furrowing in confusion, shock plastering your hard facial features. You were bewildered. Of course the Hokage couldn’t see your perplexed expression behind your Anbu mask. That was probably one of the best parts of the job, you were practically faceless. Emotionless. Mysterious. Dead even.

“This is an order.” Sarutobi would grumble.

“Saru- Lord! You want me to go on a mission with Kakashi hatake?” You’d repeat Sarutobis words back to him, trying to keep the edge from them. very rarely did you argue a missions, a direct on from the Hokage at that.

“That is what I said isn’t it?”

Sarutobi would smirk, your nose pinching underneath your mask at the sight of his smirk. Cautiously you’d take a pleading step closer to the Hokages desk.

“Lord if I may, with the upmost respect, I don’t think this is a good idea-“ you’d bite your tongue. “I haven’t been on a mission with Hatake s-since-“

Sarutobi would lower his head his hat casting a dark shadow over his face, his eyes getting cut from your field of vision.

“Since Rin Nohara died.”

Your whole body seemed to twitch at the Hokages words, your fingers subconsciously tapping against the material of your Anbu uniform. Memories of that day flashing before your eyes your taps getting more aggressive.

‘Yes.’

“I understand your concern (Y/N) but this is Kakashis last Anbu mission. And I would like you to accompany him. This is a direct order.” Sarutobi would stare

You’d wanted to keep protesting, keep fighting back at this mission. Argue that someone else would be a better option. But this was a direct order, a law, your law. You had no choice but to comply. You’d furrow your brows before asking one last question.

“Does he know it’s me?”

Sarutobi would grumble a response. “He knows he has another high ranking Anbu member joining him. That is it.”

And just like that all the weight was lifted off of your body. A small sense of security putting you at ease.‘thank god’.

———————————————————————————-

You sat behind the bark of a thick tree, your fingers Tapping against the skin of your scraped up knees in an anxious manner. A habit you’d formed and never been able to break. The sudden sound of an energetic and familiar voice interrupted your perturbed thoughts.

“Good morning you two! I have a surprise for the both of you!”

“Oh? What is it sensei?!” A little girl would question in a glee filled tone. You could practically hear the smile in her worlds. It was Rin

A moment of silence passed. Minato said there was another student, a boy. Kakashi. He had No response to the announcement of a ‘surprise’.

Your brows furrowed even more. An odd and unsettling anticipation filling the small training ground.

“Okay (Y/N) you can come out now.”

You’d frown at the sound of those words, shakily standing from your place on the floor and revealing yourself from behind the tree. Your pointer finger roughly tapped against your cargo shorts. You were met with a bright yellow aura and a toothy white smile. ‘Minato’ you’d look behind him seeing two other familiar 13 year olds. One looked kind, and the other? Well.. he looked as inviting as ever. Your brows knotted having furrowed as much as possible.

“This is (Y/N) (L/N)! She’ll be joining our team.”

You were meant to replace obito. That was all.

———————————————————————————-

A groan small groan would erupt from your throat, whatever paper you’d had on your desk now nothing but a crumpled piece of trash. Your face fell into your hands, you understood you were an Anbu, An elite force, an elite person. You knew that. But ‘of all people why put me on a mission with Hatake?’ That the thought rung through your head. Surely his new team member Itachi would’ve been a much better choice right? Itachi was a unit his skills sure to exceed yours one day if not now, there was also the fact that kakashi would’ve at least known it was Itachi. He was going to have no idea who you were, at least you hoped No idea at all. That could easily put the mission at risk, put a strain on your teamwork.

A buzz erupting from your pocket had your thoughts coming to a complete halt. Sluggishly you lifted your head from your palms and pulled your phone from your pocket, the screen illuminating your face.

‘Your mission starts in 2 hours’

Your throat clenched. And your grins around the device tightened, if you’d been angrier you’re sure your phone would’ve crumbled in your hand that instant.

———————————

“Hello, kakashi hatake.”

‘I know who you are.’

‘Act cool.’

‘He won’t know it’s you.’

‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘Don’t be weird.’

‘Fuck he knows it’s me.’

A firm, lengthy, and pale hand was placed In front of you. Between you.

“And you?”

Behind the mask Your eyes flicked between hatakes hand and the dirt. Then between his hand and face. His voice was softer than you remembered, but somewhere in that velvety voice was a hint of something that sounded burdened of a million things. Something hoarse and thick, something that screamed for help. Your lips pursed as you studied the grey haired man. Amidst your analyzing you noticed his shoulders, they were tight and tense, but so was the rest of the unfamiliarly tall man that you’d used to know standing before you. It shouldn’t have been as big as surprise as it was to see him so different, less cocky.. less arrogant. Then again the last time you’d seen him had been..

“Just an Anbu.”

Your voice was curt, cutting through the tick and tense air you’d built around yourself. You did your best at forcing your vocals to sound higher than normal. You were going to take every precaution you could to make sure Kakashi didn’t find out or even begin to guess that it was you behind the fox mask. Your lips pursed behind the mask and then thinned your fingers tapping against the thick cargo material of your pants. Kakashis expression remained the same, far from bothered by your answer. The Anbu and its people were full of secrets, you were no exception. You’d do what you could to remain a woman hidden behind a mask.

Kakashi nodded a small ‘hmm’ leaving his lips in approval or disapproval you weren’t sure. After that he pulled his mask from his pocket and placed it onto his own face. both of you now hidden behind masks.

———————————

So far the mission has gone smoothly, so far. Hokage had never told you of Might guy and a few other ninja joining in on the mission. That bothered you, rubbed you the wrong way. They were unaware of the real mission. Unaware of you and Hatake peering on them, stalking from the shadows. You and Kakashi had been silent only speaking to each other when completely necessary, and that was exactly how you had wanted it. The less communication the better, the less likely he was to figure you out.

In the silence of the leaves rustling and the wind blowing against you, the only sound that filled the quiet air as you both perched onto the tree branch was you tapping your fingers against your pants.

“In a way this symbolizes the Anbu perfectly..” kakashi muttered with a dry sigh.

You eyes widened your head flicking towards kakashi.

“..They sit out in the sun and enjoy a hot pot together. While we sit in the shadows and eat food pills.”

‘We are the shadows’

Kakashi’s eyes trailed down to your hands, your eyes following. Food pills. You hadn’t even realized you’d pulled out your pouch of food pills, but that must’ve been what got him talking.

“I don’t mind, it’s easier this way.” ‘Much easier, there’s no need to make connections.’ You responded, straining your vocals. “Why? Do you yearn for something different Hatake?”

Your gaze traveled beyond the mask they were hidden behind and pierced kakashi. You watched him shuffle at your question, then turn his head away returning to somber silence.

‘You do.’

You hummed, his silence was an answer in itself, the only answer you needed. Quickly you took your gaze from kakashi and stared forward.

“Best get going, got to rendezvous.” Was the last thing you said before pushing yourself from the branch.

———————————

The sun was bright. dry heat engulfed you and clung to the inside of your throat making it dry and scratchy. It was unpleasant, uncomfortable, but when was anything in life anything but that? I mean for gods sakes you were here, on a mission with the last man you wanted to be within 5inches of. And you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been zoned out complaining to yourself internally about the situation you were in. That was until a chorus of Laugher brought you back to reality. Kakashi jumped into action without giving you a single warning

“dickwad-!” You whispered angrily

immediately you followed after him both of you placing yourselves In front of Guy and the other ninja you’d been watching for the past two days.

“Well take it from here.” Kakashi’s commanded, his tone was different from before, stern, hard, nothing soft about it, not in any was similar to the way her sounded the couple of times he’d spoke throughout the mission. “You guys get away from here.”

Guy had protested in some manner but you’d been too distracted by the sudden stampede of boulders that were falling towards you. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, and you raised your hands seconds away from acting and despite your speed kakashi was quicker, much quicker. Within seconds a wall had been built between you, the foe, and the boulders. However not a second was wasted, you and Kakashi were quick to act bringing death to every foe that lied in your paths. It was effortless, putting an end to peoples lives was probably the thing you were best at in yours.

But a flash of light had your head snapping its direction, a loud static crackle following after it, making your eardrums ring. Kakashi’s Chiridoi. Your heart stopped and your feet stumbled against the dirt of the ground. ‘No-‘ your attention was quickly turned from the ninja In front of you as you watched the scene before you as if it was in slow motion. Flashes of the past, of Rin, of that mission mixing with the reality In front of you ‘save her’ Your knees wobbled as Kakashi’s hand struck rins- no the foes- stomach and ripped through her another flash of light following as he breached her skin. You felt your stomach turn and your body reach for Rin…

“-No-!”

The sound of skin and clothes ripping brought you back to reality a sharp pain ripping through your side forcing you to suck in a sharp breath. It wasn’t real. Your head turned from where your mind had just toyed with you and back to the ninja in front of you.

You gritted your teeth at the sight before you, a kunai was lodged into your abdomen his hand gripping its handle like a vice pushing the blade deeper into you, trying to cause as much discomfort as possible. A harsh line formed between your brows beneath the mask, drops of sweat falling from your forehead. You thinned your lips and pulled a Kunai from your sleeve plunging it into the man’s stomach with the same force he had yours, he stampeded and released the Kunai sticking from your abdomen. You seethed, angry at yourself for letting your mind trick you, and for letting your gaurd down. You gracefully took this opportunity to put both hands on the Kunai you’d lodged into his stomach and forced the blade up, a guttural scream filled the air, blood immediately seeping into the fabric of his clothes and painting your hands red. You released the Kunai and flicked him away, He coughed, blood splattered from his mouth freckling onto your mask as he stumbled backwards. He coughed again, falling to the ground with a harsh thump, his hands gripping the kunai now lodged into his chest. Horror filled his eyes as they bulged from his skull, It was over. He was over, he knew it.

Your bloodied hands reached for the kunai that penetrated your skin, pulling it from you wasn’t an option. That risked bleeding out, you just had to leave it till you were back at the village and were able to revive the help you needed. The thought had a sour scowl painting your features.

What had felt like minutes had only taken seconds, every enemy had fallen to the ground one of them beneath Kakashi’s feet, the grey haired ninja pressing his toes into the foes throat. You watched the man claw at Kakashi’s foot, pleading, begging for his life. However in the Anbu there was no forgiveness or mercy. Kakashi was his grim reaper. Like butter Kakasi pulled a kunai from his waist band the blade reflecting against the sun casting a god like shadow around kakashi, but an unholy one for the man behanth him. The man pleaded. Kakashi lifted his arm and did what most couldn’t.

You jumped from body to body, making sure each and every foe was dead, if they weren’t then they soon would be. That was your job. That was the Anbu. You’d reached the last man on the floor, he was still breathing, making a messy attempt to push you away stuttered words and protests falling from his red lips. You lifted your bloody Kunai, ‘Last one.’

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing? Stop that!” An angry and breathy voice cut your actions off, Guy.

You lifted your head towards guy and finished your deed without a second thought or glance. Guys nostrils were flaring like a bull and his face was red. He stomped towards you but kakashi was quick to get In front of you.

“Our mission.”

There it was, the cold and harsh tone you remember. However it was much colder, much harsher and something deeper and angrier lied laced within his words. Something caged.

And then there it was, the look of fear, terror and awe from guy. A look that said a million things and only one at the same time. A look that said ‘you aren’t human’ because how could a human kill so easily so effortlessly? Maybe that was how you deserved to be looked at. Maybe that was your punishment for being so good and such a sinful thing. Your damnation.

———————————

“We’re going out for drinks, celebrating, Would you like to join us?” Kurenai spoke from the left of you, she was a soft spoken woman. Gentle and kind.

It took you a moment to register her words a bowl full of oats placed on the table you leaned against. You tapped your fingers against the warm bowl in thought.

“I’m not sure.” Your eyes stayed focused on the food infront of you. “Who’s all going?” finally you looked up at the woman, someone you’d grown up with.

“All of us, just like old times.” Kurenai smiled warmly her eyes shutting as she did so. “Asuma, Guy, me..” she paused and smiled ever brighter. “Even Kakashi is joining us. Isn’t that amazing? It took a lot of convincing, but now that he’s no longer part of the Anbu I think a lot of stress has been lifted from his shoulders. Guy is very excited.”

You gave a small smile at the news, pretending as if you hadn’t heard it. You knew kakashi was no longer an Anbu, the mission you’d been sent on with him had been his last and final mission. You really had thought about going, debated it quite thoroughly, but hearing that kakashi would be going was an immediate ‘no’ for you. So you lied.

“Kurenai that’s so sweet of you to invite me, but I got a lot of paper work to catch up on. Maybe some other time?” You gave a warm smile, a real smile. It was very rarely that you were invited places. You really were glad she’d invited you. Stoked really, but, Kakashi being there was just an immediate no. You’d avoided him for years after Rin died. What had happened was your fault a terrible accident, and everythingfell apart was just much too awkward after that.

You could see the disappointment in Kurenai’s eyes, see the creases of worry that painted her face. And still you smiled as if you could not see.

“I’ll tell everyone you said ‘hi’.”

———————————

The smell of liquor and smoke filled your lungs, the taste of sweat in the air and on your tongue. Trashy music blasting from the speakers had the ground beneath your feet shaking, pebbles and leaves bouncing to the beat of the music, the sound of laughter, yelling and glasses clinking filled your ears as you stepped into the old and dirty club. It had only been a day since your mission, but a familiar need of arousal had overcome you. Usually you didn’t ‘target’ people in the village, that would’ve caused too much drama. However, if you found a man drunk enough and single enough you used a little genjutsu and he’d never know it was you. And as wrong as it was your morals had been thrown out the window the day you decided to join the Anbu. You knew you were depraved, destined for the bloody damnation of hell. God, satan and all their minions knew it the day you were born. Some, if they knew of the things you’ve done, did, and how often, would call you a whore. Tell you “you’re for the streets” But in reality you were searching for something exquisite, something that you’d found only to be written in books. You were searching for an escape someone, or something to end the never ending ache that constantly snaked its way between your thighs. You searched for the pleasure that the poetry you read described and expounded. You wanted to know if it was just fairytale.. and so far? It was. Your fingers and books brought your more pleasure than any man ever had.

You took a couple more steps into the club, searching for your next test subject as you did so.

“(Y/N)?!” A few gasps followed after the shout of your name. “You came?! Ah! I knew you’d show!”

Kurenai. Your heart sank. Why the fuck did they choose this club? In fact why a club over a bar? Your teeth almost broke from the sheer force of your jaw as your teeth clenched. You’d hoped you just imagined her voice, but that just wasn’t reality. You weren’t that lucky of a person, You walking into the same club they’d chosen was reality. Slowly you turned your head, your body stiffly following soon after.

“Kurenai! Of course I’d come!..I finished my paper work early and thought, oh wooow, looks like I can come celebrate with the old gang.”

You’d swing your forearm and first across your chest in a ‘yippie’ motion a strained smile painting your face. You forced yourself towards their table your eyes scanning the faces of all your old ‘pals’ Guy, Asuma, Kurenai, and ‘kakashi’ you immediately averted your eyes from his, looking back to the raven haired woman. An unnerving chill creeping up your spine as you sat at the table. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ You watched Kurenais face contort with confusion, Asuma looking at her with concern.

“Hey, wait- (Y/N) I never told you which club we were going to? Or that we’re were even going to a club.”

Your jaw clenched even tighter, if anyone was looking they could’ve easily seen the muscles contract and contort. And then you let out a sudden bark of laughter your fighters tapping against the wood of the table, it was sticky, alcohol and nacho cheese coating it.

“Uhh what can I say, lucky guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, all of your peers staring at you. “I’m just happy I was able to come.” You looked down your lips thinning into a straight line as you bit the inside of your cheek.

Kurenais face immediately turned to a smile and she opened her arms in an accepting gesture from across the table.

“And so are we!” She yelled cheerfully. Everyone else cheering with her. Everyone but kakashi, he was just watching you nodding his head ever so slightly.

Your eyes flickered back to him very sporadically, every time you glanced at him from the corner of your eye it met his making you immediately look away. Your fighters tapped against the table harsher, louder, more anxiously than before. You frowned, your mind only thinking one thing. ‘Does he know it was me?’ Did he figure out it was you on the mission less than a day ago? Did Sarutobi tell him?

“So what we are-so what exactly are we celebrating tonight?” You’d look at everyone in the group but kakashi.

“We’re celebrating kakashi, he’s going to be a team leader and train Genin! He’s finally been releived of his duties as an Anbu member!” Guy yelled “he can finally leave the darkness of that evil Corporation!”

‘Darkness’ that word danced around your mind. Is that the reason kakashi had sounded so different? Burdened, angry, hateful, cold, emotionless, evil? Dark. Did the Anbu really manage to do that to him just as it had done to many others? Just as it had to you? You pursed your lips in thought the sound of everyone clanging their drinks together making your ears ring and fade into a dull numb throb.

As old as the news was, in fact you were pretty damn sure you’d known kakashi was going to be relieved of his duties before he knew. Still, fake it till you make it right? You craned your neck robotically, attempting to face kakashi with a strained, gleeful smile that didn’t quite reach the creases surrounding your eyes. Your heart palpated the second your eyes met his, an unnerving chill slithered up your spine.

“That’s wonderful Hatake.”

His name came of your tongue in a strained and awkward manner. seeing him, looking at him without the comfort of your Anbu Mask for the first time in years made you want to crumble into a tiny little ball. It had been bearable to face him during the mission, but that was because he didn’t know it was you. He didn’t know it was the girl that had gotten Rin killed. But now? He was seeing you for the first time in years and It was awkward and tense. Nonchalantly you raised your arm signaling for a server. If you were gonna last the night you’d need many drinks.

“Are you happy to finally get out of that dark organization? The Anbu scare me-!” you were cut of by a loud, dramatic gasp.

“(Y/N)! What Happened to you?!!” Guy screamed.

immediately he pointed to your side and you watched as the groups eyes darted downwards to where his finger pointed. You felt your stomach churn the little contents that filled it wanting to spill from your throat. You deadpanned your face, and pointed to the blood soaked bandage nonchalantly. The wound you’d gotten from your mission with kakashi- was that gonna be your tell?

“this?” Your voice cracked

‘Fuck’

‘Don’t connect the dots’

“I just cut myself trying to train the same stuff you guys do.” You croaked out a lie, faking a nervous chuckle and a bashful face. “Wanted to try and be as cool as you guys ya know? Since I was the only one that ended up cooped up in an office and doing your guys’s paperwork.” They didn’t know you were an Anbu member, only a select few knew, that’s how’d you wanted it to be when you accepted the offer. Your fingers drummed against the sticky table. “But it made me realized why you’re all out there and I stay here.”

Subtly You scanned the group’s faces. Asuma, Guy, Kurenais… kakashi. You probably held his gaze longer than you should’ve, trying to study him one thought plaguing your mind. ‘Does he know now?’.

“Worried it’s gonna scar.” You pouted brining your hands to your mouth, in an attempt to solidify your lie. flinching away from Kakashi’s unreadable gaze.

The rest of the night blurred, a strange tingle sitting at the base of your neck as it went on. Everyone had gotten pretty drunk or a little tipsy, everyone excluding kakashi. He hadn’t touched a wink of liquor, and it’d made your lips thin into a frown. This “get together” was supposed to have Been for him, and yet he hadn’t even celebrated and That detail just seemed to rub you the wrong way. It Make your fingers twitch anxiously.

You Constantly removed yourself from the groups conversations, ignoring the group you sat with to gaze at the numerous men in the bar. Trying to accomplish what you’d came here to do. You practically hunted them with your eyes, analyzing each man your eyes graced, pointer finger pressing against your lips, your chin resting on your hand as you did so. And Every time you decided to zone back in on the conversation with your peers and turn your head back to them kakashi was staring. Just staring, he never said anything never moved, nothing… he just stared. Every time you looked behind yourself to see if he’d maybe seen some fight or crazy person you hadn’t and every time there was nothing.

Annoyed and uncomfortable you finally decided to speak up and escape the awkward tension that you felt had formed between the two of you. Giving up on your ‘mission’.

��I-im gonna head ou-“ you were cut off by Guys booming voice.

“Let’s embrace our youth by Immersing in the crowd and busting out some wicked dance moves!”

Everyone at the table chanted Kurenai and Asuma seeming the most ecstatic of the bunch. Probably because that meant they got an excuse to dry hump one and other in public without being judged.

“YES LETS!” Kurenai yelled joyously, immediately standing from the table and rushing towards the dance floor pulling Asum with her. “(Y/N) cmon!” She commanded blissfully, her words slurring from the amount of liquor she’d welcomed into her body.

You awkward stood from the booth and lifted a hand in a protesting manner. “Uh- actually I was just about to leave-“

*guys hand slapped your back.* “nonsense! You aren’t leaving yet!! Tonight’s a night worth celebrating! You too Kakashi! You’re aren’t getting out of this one!”

You rubbed your eyebrow and blinked a couple more times than normal, trying to come up with some excuse to get out of this and just go home. To get away from kakashi. You never wanted to see him again, tonight had been a good reminder of that. A reminder that you two had never been close, the relationship between the two of you had always been awkward and strained and the death of Rin had only worsened it. You two just weren’t compatible, you weren’t capable of mending a bond that had never been there to begin with.

Amist your emotional turmoil a lightbulb had gone off in your brain a true smile painting your face.

“Okay.” You agreed

And maybe that’s how mine and Hatakes little game of cat and mouse came to be, or would wolf and bunny be a better description? No, that just sounds stupid. Predator and prey couplet maybe? I’m not sure what to call our little artifice. And really, I don’t know what started it. All I know is from that day forth I was being hunted by the Big Bad Wolf. Constantly trying to pry myself from the sharp grasp of his pearly whites and claws, trying to escape and taunt the savage predator himself. Hunted. I was hunted.

———————————————————————————

A/N: whooooaaa so cool right? Nooo, I’ve been working on this draft/revamp of an old story I did and I finally decided to publish it. Depending on how it does will determine whether or not I write another chapter or just call it quits lol. Kidding I’ll finish this for myself and myself alone if I have to.

Sorry if there’s typos and stuff- I’m lame.

#kakashi hatake smut #kakashi imagines #kakashi fluff #kakashi angst #kakashi smut #kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #dark #dark fic #darkkakashific #dark fanfiction #kakshi x reader #naruto fanfiction #predator prey #cat and mouse #dark fantasy

31 notes · View notes

stealingyourbones · 2 years ago

Note

Hey Bones, I saw your thing about a Bat family member becoming a ghost and it reminded me of a very heart breaking au a friend and I came up with a while back that I don't remember if I submitted or not. Either way, be prepared to have your heart broken.

Tim is dead. He's been dead for a while actually. But No one seems to have noticed. He looks and feels just as solid as he did before he died, even if he's got a lower body temperature and doesn't seem to get hurt on patrol beyond bumps and bruises. Never anything that would land him in med Bay, never anything that would make his family check on him.

No one has noticed the way he doesn't eat anymore, or the fact he doesn't sleep. He's extended his patrol hours and cut back on time at Wayne Enterprises. He's pretty sure not even Alfred noticed. He knows the Kryptonians aren't worried about him not having a heart beat and they have no reason to tell anyone. They know he has a special device that can hide him from their senses and tests it on Kon a lot to make him focus on spacial awareness beyond his hearing. He used it a lot before he died. They just think he hasn't turned it off in a while.

Tim remembers how he died. Not fully, but there are pieces. He remembers he was fighting someone on a bridge and he didn't call for back up because he thought he could handle it. He doesn't remember who he thought he could handle. He remembers something stinging his arm. A bug? No a bug couldn't bite through Kevlar, it was a needle. Then everything started going dark and he was stumbling back. His back hit something hard and he tiped over it. He thought he could land on the other side. He remembers wondering why his suit felt so damp and heavy as the world went black around him.

Tim's body is still at the bottom of the bay where it will likely stay forever with so, so many other bodies. It makes Tim wonder, why him? Why not everyone else who ended up down there? Why not everyone who has died in Gothem? Did he come back like Jason did, is it something to do with being a vigilante? Tim checks his own pulse again while he's alone. Yep. Still dead. He continues on his patrol and tries to shove those thoughts away.

So what if Tim's dead? He's still here and he still has work to do. His family is full of detectives. If they can't figure out that something as important as death has happened to one of their own? Well then Tim thinks they need to pay more attention. He ignores the pain that curls in the back of his mind at that thought.

It's been 6 months. Why hasn't anyone noticed? Tim can't help but wonder if they ever will.

Howdy its me @bonebrokebuddy answering. I'm Twone's (twin bones) twin who is helping answer asks because this fucker has like, over 100 of them in her ask box and I help her with making prompt ideas frequently so she trusts me to not horribly fuck up her account.

This is my first answer for her I've written because I had my screen on low brightness and on darkmode, so your profile jump scared the shit out of me when I scrolled past it. Therefore im answering this one first.

Anywho, from my chronic inability to write angst here goes: Tim died, came back and none of the Bats seemed to care. So what? It's not like his best friends hadn't done the same thing. And he was tired and sick of the Bats thinking his entire life revolved around them.

So he packed up his bags and headed to Kansas.

The Bats might not be worried but neither was Kon or Bart. They're actually thrilled after getting over their initial grief that Tim now has also personally experienced death and came back. The funeral was a rather small, breif, and quiet afar. Kon made sure to help locate Tim's corpse and Bart helped with the eulogy (surprisingly heartfelt and moved them all to tears.)

Sure, they're sad that Tim died but he's right in front of them, it's a little more difficult to morn when you've been laughing at said dead guy who got stuck halfway through phasing out of the wall. And now Tim can keep track with them!

Kon is a little pissed that Tim can now go intangible and escape his TTK so he can't take away Tim's coffee anymore. But it's kinda worth it. The first time he took Rob on his favorite flight path, he's never wanted anything else than to hear Tim's breathless laugh and see his frighteningly perfect smile again. They now often go on flights together, high above the clouds with no-one else but them for thousands of miles around. (it almost felt like a date)

Bart knew this would happen one day. He was from the future, of course he knew that Tim Drake, formerly Red Robin, died at age 19 and changed his alias to The Grey Ghost. It doesn't mean that Bart doesn't morn the passing of his friend. Tim means a lot to him and the brief guilt that he did not stop Tim's death also quickly passes. He can finally show Tim that hiding space in the walls that no one else can get to without phasing through the wall! One other thing. Bart is unsure if Kon has noticed yet, which he knows Kon isn't the most observant of the old young justice crew but he has to have noticed it by now. Ever since Tim left Gotham he's developed an insane appetite despite claiming that he didn't need to eat while in Gotham and also being dead so why does he need to eat? (Unknown to Bart, Kansas doesn't have as much ambient ectoplasm as Gotham and Tim is starting to experience the withdraw symptoms. If the trio don't realize how to fix Tim's worsening symptoms soon, Tim might actually die for good this time.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #seersnake #ones replies #twones replies #bones replies #dont worry ill make the tagging system confusing quICK #I POSTED IT BEFORE IT WAS DONE FUCK #okay fixed it.

735 notes · View notes

patchiko · 8 months ago

Text

comic!jason todd x m!indie rock singer/guitarist reader

cold weather - glass beach

1:08 ──⚬──── 2:18

⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ warnings ; sfw (none)

…

🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ contents ; hc’s totally not based off glass beach lyrics haha thats so cheesy whaat lololo…

I love the way you make me feel when I’m staring at my screen.

At 4AM, trying not to fall asleep

And you hit me up just to see if I’m OK

JASON TODD CODED SOOO BAAADD

literally how the crushes form for both sides

jason has like an inner psyche where he just fuckin knows when youre awake

if you ask him he’ll probably say something stupid like ‘i can hear your (guitar)/(voice)’ and he’s nowhere around you

and his heart throbs whenever you two stay texting for waayy tooooo loonggg, starts cheesing and shit

NEERRRDD

average jason todd text

When I keep you up sending Mamegoma Lines

You know it's shit like that that makes me wanna be alive

JASON TODD CODED LINE. CANON CANON.

he responds through his helmet while he’s kicking ass

it gets so common to a point where he ends up having a full blown convo w/ you using those stupid fuckin stickers

bug him late at night !!

he’ll tell you to gts but he’d be lying if he says it doesn’t make his heart melt when u send him these little fucks.

So I'll call in sick again just to spend the day with you

100% he’ll call a day off to hang with you

whether its showing up to your show then hitting a bar, 100%,

i need jason todd in a relationship where he just drops everything for his s/o,

fuck the mission!! he wants to listen to those fucking vocals for an hour or you shredding ur guitar!!

he’s fucking around in an arcade with you till 11pm

hes a little ass at mario kart, better with motorcycle games,

BRING HIM TO ANY SHOOTER ONES WHERE U HOLD THE GUN AND UR GETTING WAAAASHHHEDD.

he has the most fun with the halo ones or the walking dead ones

weirdly good at the multiplayer pacman games

AMAZING AT GALAXIA ILL DIE ON THIS HILLL

Wanna say I think it's so gay that we really both feel the same way

That I feel like we're more than just friends

It took too long to realize

I didn't miss the cold weather, I just missed you

Jason was never homophobic and or totally against the idea of him being gay

i dont think he was ever in a gay relationship b4 you two

bc most of the vigilante guys he met were trying to fight him or absolute dick heads,

n’ most of the male figures in his life weren’t the absolute best.

so there wasn’t tooo much room for crushing on a guy too easily

if you’d ask him abt his sexuality its smthn like ‘i think im straight but i dunno what if im not.’

heres how i think it starts ;)

you’re preforming at a bar, n’ ofc jason todd can admit when a guys cute/attractive, any guy could do that

and maybe its ur guitar or your vocals but he cant stop watching (he convinces himself its your talent which is reasonably not gay)

maybe one coincidence leads to another and you two chat and go out at times, he pulls up to your shows more.

and the whole time he thinks he’s just acknowledging that your a very attractive person,

notthin crazy to admit ya homie has mad kisssble lips after starin at them for a sec too long. lol. haha. hm.

and i think the thought really hits him when he’s out of gotham for a mission. and he’s craving your presence

he texts you but you dont respond, fuck right you have a show and the timezone difference—

n he gets fuckin, ANTSY and SAD.

he tries to smoke a cig to fuck off

but he cant stop thinking about that one night where he brings you to his favorite rooftop view of the city,

how those sly stupid jokes slip from your mouth like honey,

the way you glance at him and the moonlight on your skin

how he got that random need to just lean into your lips

and— (GAY REALIZATION PANICC) <- link

'Cause I don't need the cold weather like I need you

And I don't need the sweater weather I just need you

Na na na na na na na

Fuck! Hahahaha

hes unlabeled your honor.

#im not gay you are!#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x m!reader #red hood x m!reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #jason todd headcanons #red hood headcanons #krashoutluv

90 notes · View notes

tsuki--sora · 1 month ago

Note

helloo i was wondering if u have any tips on how to start learning how to draw?? i’m gonna try it for the nth time and force myself to not give up and since i absolutely LOVE ur art i was hoping you could help me?? thank you in advance and have a happy new year 🥰

omggg i just saw this :O!! i havent been around here so i didnt see :C but anyway!!! im not sure what advice or tips to give tbh so ill just share some things that helped me 🙇

knowing what im drawing (basically...using reference lol ) u might've seen this tip a lot but its true 😆 think of it as like... training wheels on a bike AHSAHSAHHA u use training wheels for some time until u can be good enough to ride a bike without them or something like that.... its the same with using reference. u have to know and get familiar with what an object looks like first before you're able to draw without it and with confidence. tbh i dont always do this bcos sometimes i just wanna mindlessly draw ykno 😔 and thats okay as well!!! just remember that reference is very helpful when u hit a dead end with ur artwork :D also learn from real life!! look around u! sometimes id stare at something and nod in understanding. ----------------------------------

draw what u love <33 honestly, i only got back into drawing when i went down the vtuber hole a few years ago LMAO i would draw vox akuma eveyday 🙂‍↕️ and then my love for one piece got revived so now i draw my favorite characters every chance i can get bcos its all i can think abt!!! its honestly a good motivator. ----------------------------------

accepting and learning from mistakes ive always struggled with perfectionism and that really took my enjoyment and love for creating🥹 and that also stopped me from experimenting and exploring coz id always think that it wont come out as i hoped it would. SOOOO for the past 2-3 years i think?? i make it a habit to STOP ✋ being super critical when i see or make a mistake. the perspective is wrong? noted. the anatomy looks wonky? okay!! i let them exist in my artworks bcos how would i even know where to improve in if i dont know what it is 😅 i also make sure to keep those errors in mind so i know what areas i should be working on. u can always correct them on ur next work!! and the next!! again and again!!! its never-ending! ure always improving, always learning. ---------------------------------

i also have a board of artworks and styles that i really really like and i look at them when i need inspiration hahaha sometimes u just have to scroll thru pinterest for hours and draw nothing lol

personally, i think one doesnt have to draw everyday to be good. i mean, you can if u want to! but u might burn out fast if u force urself to draw everyday. just.. pace yourself. remember to rest and be good to yourself as well :))

thats all i can think of right now. i feel like i could share more but im just not good with words or explaining things. forgive me 😔🙇 our experiences may differ and what helped me may not be of use to u,,, but i hope this can help u even juuuuust a bit :"D be proud of every piece u make. u worked hard on it after all <33

(also sharing my art throughout the years!)

#if anyone wants to add to this feel free to do so :)

23 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 9 months ago

Text

Valentine's Day Bingo: Kicking - Bishop Losa x Reader

Tagging: @fanfic-n-tabulous @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @est1887 @oklahomapeach @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @adaydreamaway08 @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @thanossexual @kishie8 @fleureeee @saltyunicorn079 @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @doggirlforever @justreblogginfics @skyesthebomb @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @@lora21 @kmc1989 @jp1019 @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-throw-away @kabloswrld

Can be read as stand alone or a companion piece to:

Black Satin (NSFW) - Bishop discovers a surprise Christmas gift.

Gingerbread - Bishop comes home to a problem.

Snow - Bishop talks to you about something that's been on his mind.

Miracle - You and Bishop get an extra Christmas gift this year.

Hitting the Slow Dance Bingo Square

The first time Bishop feels his baby kick is during Coco and Stitche’s wedding reception. The two of you are swaying together on the dance floor, his grizzled cheek pressed against yours, eyes closed as the music serenades you. There’s no better feeling in the world than this, having you pressed up against him, the baby residing in the space between you.

You’re five months pregnant at this point, just starting to show. He spends his evenings singing lullabies to his daughter in Spanish, his lips ghosting over your skin before he gets distracted by other things.

It’s when the song changes that the baby starts to react. The band switches to something with a faster pace and he feels a tiny dig against his navel.

“Oh.” You say as you tilt your head to look up at him. “I think she’s kicking.”

You take his hand in yours, pressing his palm flat against the baby bump and he laughs when he feels the small nudge. He spends the next few minutes following his daughter’s movements before the song changes and the baby goes quiet.

“She’s strong.” He says fondly as he draws you into his arms once more. “She’s going to be exactly like you.”

“She could end up a hellion like you.” You counter and Bishop grumbles.

“I hope not.”

The last thing he wants for his daughter is for her to adopt his personality traits, he was wild as a teenager and his biggest fear is that his daughter will follow in his footsteps.

“You turned out alright in the end.” You remind him, your fingertips trailing over that sensitive little spot at the nape of his neck, the one that releases all his tension.

“With a little help.” He smiles, his forehead coming to rest upon yours.

Bishop has always been convinced that you saved him. He was a functioning alcoholic when he met you, smoking forty a day and running drugs and guns up and down the country. He’d expected to be dead before sixty, through a bullet or bike accident. He was careless with his own life, there hadn’t been much to live for after Aiden had died. He’d been in a state of depression for over eight years before he started to see the sun again.

Now he’s on the board of the community centre, he has a home, a partner, a baby on the way. He doesn’t drink anymore, he’s cut his smoking right down, he’s trying to quit before Luna arrives. The job is less risky because the club has gone legit. He’s happier than he’s ever been and he has you to thank for that.

“You saved my life.” He tells you as he cradles you close. “You saved my god damned life.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want more Bishop? Read his masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo bishop losa #obispo losa x you

83 notes · View notes

layraket · 9 months ago

Text

there was an update you know the drill. time to go nuts with each pannel.

I LOVE HOW IN THE FIRST PAGE WE DIRECTLY GET HIT WITH SO MANY EMOTIONS FROM EVERY ONE OF THE BOYS.

Wild with the realisation that he didnt finish this all, not yet. Theres still danger, the same thing that almost killed his brother is still breathing and can if it wants to do the same with the rest of his newfound family

Twilight i feel like is almost the same as Wild, but for other reasons. The Shadow almost took his life, and after he thought that it was finally dead, boom. That thing is still out there and maybe is gonna be around for some more time.

He wants to believe that theres something else also opening the gates, that the Shadow is really dead and it's just another weird monster who opened the one that Sky saw

Hyrule confirms it, and reminds Twi that no, the damn thing is still out there and will go in a hunting game with each one of them.

Wild realised his mistake, he didn't kill it, he destroyed it's defenses. What if he stayed and searched for every piece of the Shadow and destroy it? They will be having this same conversation? He hopes to at least for it to happend in another time

Wind got a point here, if youre not sure of all it's tricks it looked like it was finally dead. Wild and any of them would have never guessed if it was the end or not. Not even Time

side note but

Wild looks so sad here, no not sad. Guilty is the word. He feels like he failed, again. If he thought more what to do maybe his brothers will not be in danger

OKAY I WANT TO STOP IN HERE FOR JUST A SEC.

I know it is maybe something without importance, but the fact that Four is the one who we are focused, how he looks like he's carefull listening Wild's words of auto-inflicted guilt. He looks like hes thinking the statement carefully, Wild didn't failed shit, it wasnt his faoult that they were trapped in this whole mess across time, and Four knows it.

We are stopping being serious for a moment just to admire this. theyre confused. thinking. out of context even. idk. i love this specific pannel. theyre such a mood.

we need to stop a second more because goddamn it this pannel slaps

The representation of Time being surronded by the choice of help his descendant or kill the thing that hurted him in the first place, he's just a man who got throught a lot, and even after all thta he's still trapped in this choosing what to do (both options will have consquences) thing

and here we got more of Wars being the traditional paramedic of the group! I remember a person saying that yeah Hyrule can heal people with magic, but Warriors participated in a war, so he knows basic treathening and i think thats so perfect and true for his character

theyre still processing the fact that Twilight and Wolfie are the same, it haven't been discussed properly since Twi woke up, and i think it will be in a future when everyone is more settled down

this man doesn't regret the danger he put himself under, he knows it was for the safety of his brothers and to stop this madness

also he was tired of it running like a total coward from them, if it was going to kill them at least it shouldn't run from what it started!

oh no. he caught you Twi. now you will suffer the consequences of putting yourself in danger so many times with them not knowing

oh four. You really know what youre saying

youre the one who know the most that theyre doing better than it could

if this means that theyre finally using all their items im so in for the whole chaos that it would bring in the fights

Legend has a shit ton of items and weapons, mostly inclined to magic, i need to see that.

i remembered something

Jojo said that Hyrule will have more importance in the future, if this means something... Oh shit

im not highing up my expectations, but i know that we will see his enemies sooner than we expect

and that will not end up well for the ones who don't know how to manage them

this background, no words. 10/10.

These two pannels killed me

Time is directly watching his descendant, and Twilight knows well why. He doesn't blames him, he knows that he scared them all to death. He doesn't want to go throught that with one of them too

this confirms that Sky can sense what makes Fi react, he can feel when she's upset with something, maybe he felt the anger when Twi got hurt, her fury whne she couldn't defend him. That's her duty right? Protect and serve her masters

sky i love you this was so unserious and out of place such a perfect ending of update

NOW THE THING THAT EVERYONE WAS WAITING

WARRIORS GOT HIS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SCARF BACK!!!!1!!!

(art credits goes to @linkeduniverse ! )

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #zelda au #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu time #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wind #lu sky #lu legend #lu update #lu update spoilers #im losing my min d #i wrote this while hearing parodies of hazbin hotel songs about “chamba” in a call with friends #i think this is my best analysis so far #less jokes more serious writing this is so not me #i talk

127 notes · View notes

hellonerf · 2 months ago

Text

endless insanity incoherent shit about ame and love and family(featuring england and cana a bit specifically sorry france i actually do have thoughts about that there but i'm lazy and tired and this is incoherent already)(it didn't start off like that this is honestly like some stream of thought shit hence the incoherence)

some shit when i think about. sorry. colonial ame extremely upset tantrums theres no way england didnt hit him or spank him which would just upset ame more. ame would sulk and wish for england to drop dead because theres not much else he can say or do about the frustration. cana goody two shoes kid would be like why do you have to act out like that so much... ame immediate rage. probably hits cana like GO CRY ABOUT IT!!! and cana cries and then england walks in like America!!! and it just gets worse. but in the end when england has to leave again ame still clings and cries after england is saying his goodbyes. england does feel that he cares about ame deeply, so he does try to show his affection. theres some gap here between the care he shows and his "responsibility as a caretaker" if you will... and he's like a teen dad at this point? with his own shitload of baggage and ideas on responsibility from that baggage. man this family can be so interesting. i love tension

of course. this is just my crazythinking that in situations where, you could say, england's parenting was abusive of sorts, specifically in the physical way, to punish tantrums or etc... i think cana would be inclined to try to play polite kid to avoid punishment. and so he would feel maybe more vindicated? that he's the good example. in this it creates kind of a chasm between england/cana and ame. (why i think mapletea would just drive ame crazy wall smashing head insane, besides that ame already feels jealous/insecure like that anyways no matter what) this feeling is pushed by the revolution where ame and england are Like That, and here again cana sides with england(he's not Fully in it but he does technically side with england, and ame definitely views it like that). to him this is proof... of what you ask? i don't know..... that period where he was on decidedly bad terms with both of them, i always think he's like teenage-losing it about it. won't show it or at least will try not to of course, but it's genuinely something that eats at him so hard. (ame voice Nobody loves me. Everyone should love me. i could probably make that happen.) and ame decides things like that first and foremost with personal relations. this is specific, but im like, i think it's a mental testing he does on people. example, completely without their knowledge, someone's random act can register in his brain as an opposition to him, because his mind decided that's what it means.(somewhere subconscious). so for some time i'd imagine in his mind, that cana and england hated him, or looked down on him, or expected him to wind up dead anyways. ame is never not looking for approval and this fuels that sooooo much. it's like spite and anger and crying and stomping on the ground and in a way grieving. he's staring at the sky like it's unfair. they don't want me in their life. because i'm better than them. i hate them so much.(he wouldn't say it like this to other people, hate is a strong word, and i wouldn't say he hates them here either)

despite his bravado of "whaat? everyone likes me right?" the mental cogs are stuck here no matter what he says. cana loves him, even if it's so frustrating to, cana cares about him deeply. it fucks with ame's brain but he knows this deep down, that cana does love and care about him. at some point too he knows the same for england. but i also think he's like, specifically with cana too when he's specifically being really cynical about relations is like, "oh and he's only around... cause he has to be..." and ame wouldn't entirely be wrong there. and cana would argue so what! do you need a cosmic soulmate love to prove something? and ame is like (yeah i kinda do....). love can't just exist for you right here right now?! cana's love is "invalidated" in this sense. and also it hurts his brain too much to really think about the complexities in his relationship to both england and cana. that they really did care about him, but it's not easy. (hurts his brain... like why is interaction so stressful? why is it complicated? why can't people just go i love you and the end?). ame is not a romantic person but i think his view on love can get so fantastical like this. (he wants to be the one proposed to awwww omg you guysss...) at the same time it's a very simple view on love. he doesn't want to end up humiliated and is willing to humiliate others to avoid it. if love is true then there is One True Love... For him... JK! NOT FOR HIM!(slurps soda) who needs that shyit!!!(eats burger). a lot of things he can't/really doesn't want to accept. this is why i'd say anytime he ever felt feelings significant enough that even he would call it love it was mindnumbingly overwhelming. putting his eggs in one basket... don't fail me now!!! (and i always think none of his relationships are stable. duh. so). i like fics where ame is made to be like a crazy ex girlfriend. because he would. rather than love as a constant thing to do it sometimes feels more like an achievement or endpoint for him. something that happens at the end of movies lol... if love was happening REALTIME it'd be surreal for him to process. and like true genuine love not his fake idea of what love looks like

#mentions of abuse here #but i don't really know if anyone here would need that warning okaysorry i usually post about it unprompted um sorru #not even sure what to tag this i'm so embarrassed but i feel like talking anyways #sorry if it's unreadable #ame bible

22 notes · View notes

softpascalito · 1 year ago

Text

⋆ Softpascalitos Masterlist ⋆

This is a regularly updated masterlist of all my works, posted on tumblr + ao3! They're sorted by character with warnings/tags, please still read the full descriptions before reading! My entire blog is 18+ / MDNI.

⭐ - my personal favorites ⛓️ - smut 🍂 - hurt/comfort 💌 - fluff

i write for: javier peña, pedro pascal, agent ortega, joel miller, oberyn martell, marcus acacius, dieter bravo, silva, frankie morales, din djarin, agent whiskey, javi g, tim rockford, marcus acacius

last update: 24th november 2024 If you have requests/questions/feedback or just want to say hi, feel free to pop into my asks! ✮

I do not give permission to have my work copied, translated, rewritten, put into any AI programs, or reposted without my direct agreement.

✮⋆˙ Main Fics ˙⋆✮

To Dig a Grave - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂⛓️ [20k+]

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life. But he doesn't stay a stranger. Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, More Tags to be added

Dulcissima - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂 [4k+]

Summary: marcus acacius / vestal virgin reader [heavy gladiator II spoilers so no further description yet] Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Ancient Rome, Age Difference

We got your back - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂 [6k+]

Summary: You work as a new DEA agent alongside Peña and Murphy. A not-so-kind colleague reveals more about you than you would like. Peña takes you under his wing. (Currently being reworked) Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Specials Kinktober 2023 31 pieces of (mostly smut) - read on AO3 / Tumblr Advent Calendar 2023 25 Pieces including moodboards, hcs and fics - read on AO3 / Tumblr

✮⋆˙ Javier Peña ˙⋆✮

Pregnancy Sex with Javier Peña - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️ [2.6k]

Summary: You're pregnant, Javier is overprotective. The problem: You're also really fucking horny. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Aftercare, Pregnancy, Established Relationship, PWP

Beyond Saving - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂 [1.3k]

Summary: Javier is on office duty when he learns that someone close to you has passed, causing both of you to spiral. Tags: ❗ Dead Dove: Do not Eat ❗, Mention of Suicide, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Minor Character Death, Trauma, Mental Breakdowns

Kinktober - Hate Sex - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [2.3k]

Summary: When a raid goes wrong, Javier Peña gets pissed. You expect him to take it out on you. You dont expect him to fuck you so good. Aka a steamy office romance with a side of hate sex. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Hate Sex, Unsafe Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking

Kinktober - Humiliation - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [2.2k]

Summary: Javier takes you home after a night out. You worry about waking Steve who lives upstairs- until Javier notices the way you are staring at his gun. (Thats not code for his dick, Im talking about his actual gun). Aka Agent Peña fucks you on his couch using something other than his dick. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Gun Kink, Rough Sex, Praise Kink, Spanking, Dirty Talk

Kinktober - Tying a tie - Tumblr / AO3 🍂 [1.6k]

Summary: Javier resigns from the DEA. You both reflect on your life in Colombia while you help him get ready. You also discuss what is about to follow. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Anxiety, Established Relationship, Crying, Sad Javier Peña

Peluda - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐💌 [1.7k]

Summary: A snowstorm hits Bogotá and you bring back a surprise visitor. Javi is not amused. But, it leads to a realization about himself- and about you. Tags: Fluff, Nicknames, Soft Javi, Snow, Established Relationship

✮⋆˙ Marcus Acacius ˙⋆✮

Healing Hands - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️ [2k]

Summary: Acacius returns home with an injury—and you try to care for him. But his ideas of healing (and baths) are a little ... different. Especially when you finally have some time to yourselves. Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Fingering, Creampie, Bathing

✮⋆˙ Joel Miller ˙⋆✮

Kinktober - Pegging - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️ [3k]

Summary: You and Joel run into a sex store on patrol. They have everything one needs to give their older, grumpy partner a good pregging. Aka Joel Miller gets his ass fucked for the first time in his life. Tags: Explicit, Smut, Pegging, First Time, Aftercare

Baby, I'm your National Anthem - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️ [3k]

Summary: You are back from college for the summer and your family happens to throw the annual Fourth of July Barbecue for your street. Your next-door neighbor and dad's best friend Joel Miller is invited—and you decide to wear a bold outfit. It definitely catches his attention. Tags: Smut, DBF!Joel, Age Difference, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk

Kinktober - Nonsexual Ageplay - Tumblr / AO3 🍂💌 [2k]

Summary: When Joel brings back a book on trauma from patrol, something catches your eye. Having had too much of your childhood taken away by the outbreak, you find a way to get some of it back. Aka a soft Joel Miller making his partner feel safe enough to try nonsexual ageplay. Tags: SFW, Past Trauma, Age Difference, Nonsexual Ageplay

Kinktober - Wax Play - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️🍂 [1.9k]

Summary: Joel and you are paired up for patrol. There are a lot of things unsaid, a snowstorm rolling in and some candles. Go figure (or go read i guess). Tags: Smut, Explicit, Hurt/Comfort, Snowed in

Kinktober - Somnophilia - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [2k]

Summary: In 2003, Joel Miller is busy with dishes, paperwork and raising a child, leaving little time for his relationship. When he gets restless and sneaks over to her house, finding his girl asleep, he remembers a conversation they had about consent. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Explicit Consent, Age Difference, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Aftercare, Crempie, Pre-Outbreak

Kinktober - Playing with hair - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂💌 [1k]

Summary: Joel works in construction in Jackson. During his lunch breaks, he always comes home to you. When you notice a talent of his you hadn't known about, he opens up about the past. Tags: Jackson Era, Established Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Joel play guitar, Good Parent Joel

Kinktober - Massaging - Tumblr / AO3 🍂 [2.2k]

Summary: When Joel comes home after a long day of work, you crave nothing more than him. Until you're both reminded of his age. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Age difference, Massage, Kissing, Healthy relationships

Kinktober - Familiar Scents - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [2.4k]

Summary: Over the span of many years, Joel Millers scent always stays the same. It starts when he takes you for a hike before the Outbreak- and continues for long after. Tags: Friends to lovers, Age difference, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fingering, P in V Sex

Kinktober - Tooth Brushing - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂 [2.4k]

Summary: Grief is cruel and just because you and Joel live in the safe haven that is the Jackson community it does not mean you're immune to it. Possibly the saddest (but also kinda best) thing I have written so far. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Death, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Protective Joel, Survivors Guilt

Kinktober - Crossdressing - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️💌 [2k]

Summary: Joel Miller has been wanting to try a different piece of clothing for a long time. It's not until you that he feels supported enough to do so. Turns out, you both really fucking like it. Tags: Smut, Fluff, Insecurity, Soft Joel, Slight Mommy Kink, Jackson Era, Sub Joel Miller

Kinktober - (Public) Help with button - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [2.4k]

Summary: What happens in a dimly lit corner on the lap of Joel Miller at the town dance, stays at the town dance. Almost. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Public Sex, Teasing, Established Relationship, Age difference, Jackson Era

Kinktober - Daddy - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️🍂 [2.6k]

Summary: Joel has been noticing a few things about your relationship that make him wonder about your feelings regarding your father. As you open up about your issues, he's sweet, supportive and makes you feel better in the way only he can. Tags: 2003!Joel Miller, Pre-Outbreak, Smut, Explicit, Hurt/Comfort, Daddy Kink, Daddy Issues, Crying, Fingering, Cock Warming, P in V Sex, Secret Relationship

Kinktober - Free Use - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [1.9k]

Summary: Joel comes home urgently needing some relief. Its a good thing youre there- and the first time Joel makes use of an ... interesting agreement. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Free Use, Rough Sex, Light Dom/Sub, Dirty Talk, Angry Sex, Shower Sex, Baking, Female Reader, Established relationship

Snowy Surprise - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️💌 [2.2k]

Summary: Joel takes advantage of your lunch break on patrol for ... other activities. Afterwards, a promise he made about christmas decorations comes back to haunt him. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Fluff, Soft Joel, Established Relationship, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Semi-Public Sex

Here cums Santa Claus - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️💌 [1.8k]

Summary: Jackson needs a Santa Claus - and Joel is the perfect fit. Getting to have you on his lap is just a bonus. Aka the one where Joel is dressed up as Santa Claus and you get to ride him. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Fluff, Soft Joel, Established Relationship, Fingering, Dirty Talk, P in V Sex, Costume Kink, Riding, Creampie

✮⋆˙ Silva ˙⋆✮

Kinktober - Armpit + Orgasm Denial - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [1.6k]

Summary: When Silva comes home after a long day on the ranch, he smells amazing. He also distracts you from cooking in a quite special way. Tags: Explicit, Smut, Sweat, Praise Kink, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, P in V Sex

Kinktober - Dancing together - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂 [1.4k]

Summary: When a particularly hard rain hits your little ranch, so does the sadness. Luckily Silva is there to make it better.(This fills a few gaps in Silvas life in a way that ties in with the movie.) Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Silva, Romance, Kissing in the rain, Slow dancing

✮⋆˙ Oberyn Martell ˙⋆✮

Kinktober - Collaring - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️🍂 [2k]

Summary: Oberyn gets you a special present, one that both of you will enjoy. But things dont always go as planned. Tags: Explicit, Smut, Established Relationship, Safeword Use, Hurt/Comfort

Kinktober - Breeding - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️🍂 [2k]

Summary: Oberyn and her have been trying for a baby to no avail. Ever the loving viper, he comes up with an idea. Tags: Explicit, Smut, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Breeding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink

Kinktober - Threesome - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [4.5k]

Summary: You are in charge of serving wine to the dornish folk at the kings wedding. A couple catches your eye and it may not be as one-sided as you thought at first. Aka the steaming hot threesome with Oberyn and Ellaria we all need. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Creampie, Threesome (FFM), Servant Reader, Aftercare, Porn with Plot

Kinktober - Washing hair - Tumblr / AO3 🍂 [1.7k]

Summary: A few weeks after you and Oberyn begin to try conceiving and days before he leaves for Kings Landing, he finds you cooling down in the baths during a hot day. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mild Smut, Bathing/Washing, Pregnancy, Established Relationship

Kinktober - Pregnancy - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️🍂 [1.4k]

Summary: Oberyn has been more cautious around her now that the due date is near. He has to realize it's not what she wants. And who can deny the wishes of a pregnant woman? Tags: Smut, Pregnancy Sex, P in V Sex, Oral Sex, Romance, Fluff, Domestic, Established Relationship, Female Reader

✮⋆˙ Jack Daniels ˙⋆✮

Kinktober Day Eighteen - Spanking + Whipping - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️ [2.2k]

Summary: When you mess up during a mission, Jack doesn't want to have to report his own girlfriend. Since he is your higher-up, you work out an agreement- a punishment by Whiskey himself. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Spanking, Whipping, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Crying, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones

Kinktober Day Twentythree - Deepthroating + Facesitting - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [1.9k]

Summary: You've never deepthroated anyone in your life- but you're eager to make your man feel as good as possible. You receive a proper thank you as well. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Deepthroating, Facesitting, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Aftercare, Established Relationship

✮⋆˙ Pedro Pascal ˙⋆✮

Here with me - Tumblr / AO3 🍂💌 [1.2k]

Summary: During his time in Morrocco, Pedro finds himself in need of reassurance. You are happy to help. Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecurities, Age Difference

I'll look after you - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐🍂💌 [2k]

Summary: Pedro is sick (but of course he doesn't admit it). You look after him. Hurt/Comfort (but the twist is that you're the one doing the comforting). Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Emotional, Established Relationship

✮⋆˙ Agent Ortega ˙⋆✮

Agents don't have favorites - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️🍂 [2.6k]

Summary: Agent Ortega visits the Emerald Palace, but finds the woman tending to the horses more interesting than those tending to the men. After he leaves for a while, he comes back to an unwanted surprise. Aka its emotional but also they fuck. Tags: Explicit, Referenced Non-Con Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Kinktober - Shoe Shining + NTR (Cheating) - Tumblr / AO3 ⭐⛓️🍂 [2.2k]

Summary: Ortega returns to Brimstone. When he gets a shoe shine from a past flame, who is now married, things get complicated. Tags: Explicit, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Cheating, Rough Sex, Spanking, Aftercare, Creampie, Dirty Talk

✮⋆˙ Dieter Bravo ˙⋆✮

Kinktober - Titfucking - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️🍂 [1.7k]

Summary: Dieter is alone in quarantine and begs you to come join him. Even with a few obstacles, you treat him the way he deserves. Tags: Explicit, Smut, Titfucking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Kinktober - Watersports - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [1.7k]

Summary: Dieter is on edge because of an upcoming premiere and as his personal assistant, you try to keep him calm as well as sober. There is one thing that may help. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Established Relationship, Semi-Public, Assistant Reader, Alcohol, Watersports, Dom/Sub Undertones

✮⋆˙ Frankie Morales ˙⋆✮

Kinktober Day Six - Frottage - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [1.4k]

Summary: After a flying lesson, you find yourself drawn to the man in the pilot seat. Luckily for you, Frankie knows exactly what you need. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship

✮⋆˙ Din Djarin ˙⋆✮

Kinktober Day Nine - Gloryhole - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [1.6k]

Summary: Din just wants some quick pleasure. You just want to enjoy your job for once. Both of you get more than you bargained for. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Prostitution, Oral Sex, Strangers, Semi-Public

✮⋆˙ Javi Gutierrez ˙⋆✮

Kinktober Day Twentyone - Lingerie - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️💌 [2.1k]

Summary: Javi usually gets the movie memorabilia he loves so much for his birthday. This year, he gets something infinitely better. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Established Relationship, Birthday Sex, Lingerie, Kissing, Fluff, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Fingering, P in V Sex

✮⋆˙ Tim Rockford ˙⋆✮

Kinktober Day Twentynine - Breathplay - Tumblr / AO3 ⛓️ [2.1k]

Summary: After a successful case, everyone goes out to celebrate. Everyone except your boss, Tim Rockford. But, with an empty office to make use of, you both find your own way to celebrate. Tags: Smut, Explicit, Established Relationship, Choking, Coworker Reader, Female Reader, Office Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Secret Relationship

226 notes · View notes