#until the plot catches up to him and he finds out there are weapons in the mushroom kingdom LOL

[the-toybox-general]

As I'm revamping my old weapon ocs; Drillin might get a few reworks / rewrites but I still enjoy the concept of post-game him ending up stranded in the mushroom kingdom and getting dragged into a gardening club

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

-

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

_

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

-

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader 

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.  

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

.

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

[minisugakoobies]

Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff Rating: M (18+) Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d Word Count: 6.5K Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️

Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel. 

You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate. 

Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity. 

Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,”  some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples. 

Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan. 

And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day. 

It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles. 

The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”

“Sure it could.” 

“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.

You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.” 

Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping. 

“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished  and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.

His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins. 

So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho. 

Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send. 

Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate. 

Ughhhh he’s so damn fine Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!

Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.

You’re a lunatic

He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats. 

It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything. 

At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.

“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Trying to find my shirt  

“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.

“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?” 

“My tiger tank.” 

You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones. 

“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”

Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.

“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.” 

“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?” 

“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.” 

Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.” 

“Thanks.” 

Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this? 

You grab your phone. 

I’m losing my mind

You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response. 

What did Chan do now?

He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans

Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.

My mouth is literally watering It’s a Pavlovian response at this point I see denim and I start salivating

A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting. 

Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?

“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.” 

Thanks

“Chan!” 

His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.

Seriously If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis

There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed. 

“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply. 

Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!

As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.

It’s no choice.

“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?” 

Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time. 

Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out? 

“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.

Chan cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”

“You’re thirsty?”

Fucking understatement.

You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone. 

“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.” 

He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.

“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow. 

He does. “Wait, what?” 

You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you. 

“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?” 

“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up. 

“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?” 

“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly. 

Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’” 

Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you? 

“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.” 

And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll. 

You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words. 

Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle. 

“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”

You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”

But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles. 

“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug. 

It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go. 

Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.” 

You’re so fucking confused. “I am?” 

“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.” 

You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.  

“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?” 

“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” 

“About your dick??”

Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…” 

He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh. 

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.” 

His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips. 

“You good?” 

Funnily enough, somehow, you are. 

“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you. 

Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently. 

“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.” 

Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling. 

You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.

The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face. 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?” 

“If you - what?” 

More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.” 

“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.

“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to. 

“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again. 

As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.

“Are you not wearing a bra?” 

You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.

“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.

“You too.” 

He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach. 

“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest. 

“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.” 

“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction. 

You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.

“Can I touch, too?” 

“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!” 

He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth. 

“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses. 

Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again? 

Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine? 

Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.

Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting. 

“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses. 

“Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.

“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop. 

You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun. 

Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?” 

“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame. 

“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly.  He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them 

For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker. 

You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want. 

While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you. 

Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly. 

“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.” 

Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs. 

“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.” 

Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused. 

While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild. 

Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him. 

“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”

Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”

You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern. 

“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.” 

Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down. 

“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.” 

He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you. 

You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock. 

“Do that again, baby.” 

You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.

At the very least, it’s something to aim for. 

Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.” 

You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?” 

You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”

You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”  

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.

Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.

Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”

You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.

“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”

With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.

Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.

“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.” 

“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”

Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.

“Yes, Channie.”

He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.” 

He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over. 

“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue. 

You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal. 

“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?” 

At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more? 

“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…” 

Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you. 

“Maybe a little slower?” you ask. 

He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.” 

Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment. 

And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.

Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place. 

“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!” 

Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening - 

“Fuuuuck!” 

With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth. 

When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.

You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling. 

Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times. 

“I’m going to need a minute.”

He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.” 

A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!” 

You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.

It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over. 

“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.” 

“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?

Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.” 

You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later. 

Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho. 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:

@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕

[jake-g-lockley]

Sin Without Limits (Javier Peña x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

*gif not mine*

Warnings: MDNI, Narcos Season 2 and 3 spoilers, canon-usual violence, unhinged behaviour from Agent Peña and reader, unprotected p in v sex, choking, spanking (?), oral (m and f receiving), knife play (if you squint), overstimulation, angst, swearing 

A/N: bruh I just cleaned this one up and I'm appalled at what I have written but enjoy. I’ve written a secondary plot (and changed some sequence) to what happened at the end of season two heh

Word count: 7.7 k (wtf)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You trained your gaze on him as you leaned your entire weight onto the truck. You watched him pace and scan the officers before him, his hand clenching and unclenching as he tried to stim his anxiety away. Watching a DEA Agent act skittish is not always the best thing in your books.

You felt your breath quickening slightly as Steve slapped his back and beckoned you to join them. You jogged to keep up with them as they jumped into a truck. You turn in the front seat to look at him. The eye contact he made with you for a millisecond told you everything you needed to know. Javier Peña looked absolutely terrified. 

“...armed men…”

“Checkpoint…”

You caught a few words of what Steve was trying to tell the both of you and you realized that your suspicions that you had been having for the past few days are slowly unfolding to show you a harsh reality, a reality that you were not ready to admit to. You watch from the truck as Javier convinced the men to lower their weapons, after Steve’s failed attempt. The way you could pin-point the shiver in Javier’s hands even from a distance made you curse yourself for being so aware. You watch his hands curl up to clutch the collar of his bullet-proof vest, as he spoke to Steve, the one constant tell that you could pull from him and your heart broke under the pressure that your brain was putting you through. 

You masked the heart wrenching pain that you were going through until Steve left the office. It was just you and Javier, like how it had been for the past few months, working late, going home to nothing but the empty shells. You hadn’t even noticed you were staring at him until he called your name. 

“Everything good, mariposa?” He said, squinting through his cigarette smoke. 

You had to confront him, this was your only chance. You nod and try to find the right words.

“Just wondering how Los Pepes always manage to get there before we can.” you say softly, picking at a hangnail on your finger. 

You catch Javier shrugging on your peripheral and decide your next best move.

“What if there's someone here who’s telling them what to do?” you said, locking your eyes with him. 

“Well, a rat wouldn’t be surprising to me, that's how this world works, mariposa.” he huffed, setting down his cigarette and rubbing his face with his hands. 

“Hmm.” you got up and pushed Javier’s chair away from his desk, perching above it as you stared down at him. “Javs?” 

He looks up at you, but his eyes don't find yours, settling to look past them.

“Look at me.” you whispered, tracing his jaw with your fingers.

“I am.”

“No, look at me properly, Javs, or I swear to god-”

He does, and that gives you all the confirmation you need.

“You’re fucking around with Los Pepes, aren’t you?” you murmur, your eyes wide with fear. 

Javier nods slowly as he looks away from you. You gasp softly as a tear runs down your cheek. You slid off his desk and turned away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Marip-”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Javier?!” you scream before he could continue. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m handling it.” he said getting up from his seat and walking towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, that I can fucking assure you. Those assholes are killing innocent people in their quest to take down Escobar, you know? People who don’t deserve to fucking die, Javier.” you said, shaking his hand off you. “Their blood will be on your fucking hands.”

Suddenly, you found yourself being slammed into a nearby wall. Javier was towering over you, a glowering look etched upon his face. 

“I need you to shut that pretty mouth of yours. We all are working towards one goal, don’t you dare blame me for trying out my last option.” he snarled. “Anyway, what the fuck can you even do about it, report me?”

You stared up at him, your gaze hardened and unfaltering.

“What if I did? You’re gonna go down their fucked up root, Javier? Hmm? Go on, kill me then for knowing your little secret.” you mocked him, straightening your back and standing a little taller. 

Javier’s breath hitched a little but he didn’t budge.

“They are going to use you like the whore you are and then when they’re done with you, they’re gonna put a bullet through this thick skull of yours and leave you all fucked out.” you spat. 

The next thing you know, Javier’s hand was around your throat as he flattened you against the wall with his entire body weight. He wasn’t squeezing you, but a rush of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you stared into the raging fire in his eyes. He moved forward until his face was next to yours as your hand reached up to grab at his.

“Want me to show you what a whore can do?” his lips grazed the shell of your ear as your breath quickened. 

He brought his face in front of yours until the both of you were nose to nose. You could see every tiny detail on his face and if he got any closer his lips would be on yours. You contemplated making the first move as Javier’s fingers flexed at your throat, pushing a whole flow of arousal straight down between your legs. A part of you almost forgot why he had you pinned against the wall, and it made you a little afraid by the way he was taking you apart just with one swift move. 

The sound of the phone ringing brought Javier out of his trance and he immediately let go of you. You immediately hurry away from him and grab your jacket, not even turning to look back at him as adrenalin pushes you to jog out of the office. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javier kept his aviators on inside as he squinted at the work he was doing. He could clearly remember what he had done to you but could only vaguely remember what happened after that. He had drowned himself in whatever liquor he could find lying around and stumbled into the office in the morning with an almighty hangover that could rival the power of two colossal giants fighting. He obviously felt awful about how he treated you yesterday and dreaded leaving his apartment in the morning. Steve gave him an understanding pat on the back, handing him a painkiller which Javi took gingerly and accidentally made eye contact with you. 

You instinctively looked away from him, his warning from last night ringing loud and clear in your head when you slyly glanced at the wall that he had pinned you to. In a weird turn of events, you still couldn’t decide whether you were scared or turned on by his threat. Although, you do have to admit that calling him a whore was a little over the top, despite all of the picturesque rumours you had heard about him. Being the only woman on the team meant that you had to deal with questioning individuals from the red-light district and that ultimately gave you a clear idea of what Javier Peña’s sex life sounded like and you hated yourself that you were slightly intrigued. Your thoughts were interrupted again when Javier slid a tiny piece of paper in front of you and walked away. You raised an eyebrow at his retreating figure as you grabbed the note.

Mens. Stall five. Now.

You were still pissed at the way he was engaging with Los Pepes. Javier is practically giving them full leeway to do whatever they please, but if he seems to think that if that's the way they are going to get to Escobar, then so be it. Besides, you’d like to see how this plan of his plays out, despite the part of you that is scared shitless about the consequences that he might face after this ordeal. 

You rolled your eyes and got up only to be stopped by your boss. You froze and crumpled the paper in your hand, stuffing it into your pocket as fast and discreetly as possible. 

“Agent, how are things?” she asks, staring you down with her usual demeanour.

“All good, boss.” you feigned a smile as your eyes end up landing on that good awful wall again, making your eye twitch slightly. 

“Good, good. I expect to see you at the party tonight.” Messina says, catching you off guard. 

“Hmm?” 

“You know the state party?” 

The fucking state party. You almost forgot that you were invited entirely. Who in their right mind holds a party in the middle of a narco war? 

“Yea, of course, I’ll be there.” You said beaming at Messina.

Sure, you had nothing to wear but whatever to please Messina, you’ll figure something out soon. 

“I’ll see you there then.” You nodded quickly at your boss and quickly walked to the mens as soon as she was out of your sight. 

As soon as you opened the door to stall five, Javier used his brute strength to pull you in, making you collide with his chest. 

“Ouch, man, I have legs, I can invite myself in.” you groaned, rubbing your forehead. 

He sits you down on the closed toilet bowl and kneels down in front of you, his eyes coated in exhaustion as he gazes up at you. 

“Lo siento, mariposa.” he murmured, taking your hand in his. 

“For pulling me into the stall or for working wit-” Javier cuts you off by pressing a hand to your lips.

“For everything.” Javier drops his hand and tugs at your collar, exposing your neck.

His fingers softly trace the skin of your neck as he examines you and you felt slightly frozen by the way he was touching you. To think that those hands were capable of killing a man and having those hands so close to a vulnerable spot caused a shiver to run down your spine. 

“I don’t bruise easily, Javs, if that's what you’re so worried about.” you whispered, bringing your own hand to meet his. 

“Lo-”

“Say that you’re sorry again and I’ll kick you in the dick and walk out. I think you know that if I wanted to disarm you yesterday, I could have. I have work to do dumbass, so what's up?” you rushed through your words, noting how Javier’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“I need your help.” Javier says after a moment of silence.

You nodded him along and he gulped, his eyes downcast at your shoes. 

“I heard from my CI that there is going to be a person at the state party that's going to be the key for some information that I need.” He whispers. “I need you to help me get that information.”

“And is this information for us, or for Los Pepes?” you say, curling a finger under Javier's chin and tipping his head so that you can catch him if he tries to lie.

“For us.” he said, holding your gaze tightly.

“Why aren’t you asking Murphy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously because you already know about it, you know?” he hissed and you grinned back at him.

“Hmm, okay.” you hum, surprising Javier.

“That’s it? Man, I thought I had to pull up some waterworks to convince you.” Javier chuckled nervously, rubbing his collarbone.

“Honestly, I’d do anything to get away from Messina at this point. I’m the newest recruit here, she's gonna make me socialise.” you pulled a face, making Javier smile. “Besides, now I’m more valuable to you than Steve.”

“That's my mariposa.” you roll your eyes at his excessive use of the endearing word.

Secretly, you loved it. Mariposa, or “butterfly” sounded a little too close to mi esposa, or “my wife” and it tingles your insides everytime Javier would call you that. Yet, you always find yourself pushing away the thought of having a nice domestic life with Javier the second he does something reckless and stupid. Sometimes you wonder whether he bribed his way through this job because of how dumb he can be. 

Javier stands up and pulls you up with him but in that moment the both of you hear the door open. Javier quickly sits back down and taps his thighs, gesturing for you to sit and hide your legs. Your eyes widen as the footsteps get closer to the stall and you silently hook your legs over him and straddle his lap. 

“Peña? You in there, man?” Steve’s voice floated through the cracks in the stall’s door. 

It was hard to calm your breathing with the way you had slotted your face in Javier’s neck, breathing in a slight hint of aftershave, smokey goodness and clean skin. You poked him for an answer.

“Uh, yea dude, I’m here.” he croaked out, his voice a little strained, probably from the way you were clinging onto him for dear life. 

“Come on man, you’re taking a shit at work?” Steve groaned and your body shook as you strained hard to keep the laughter in. 

Poor Steve, what a naive man.

“What the hell do you want Steve?” Javier pressed, pulling you closer to stop you from bursting out into laughter.

It must have worked because when Javier pulled you closer, his thigh hit something so devastatingly amazing that you felt yourself being rendered into a shocked silence.  

“Hurry up, there’s a meeting we gotta go to. And remember to wash your hands, you filthy fuck!” Steve chortled as he walked out of the mens.

You and Javier waited with baited breath for a few seconds before you brought your face out of the crook of Javier’s neck.

“He didn’t see you walking in he- wait are you okay?” Javier caught the flush look on your face as you turned to look at him.

You blink twice at Javier’s beautiful face before nodding your head vigorously. He hadn’t even touched you and you slowly felt yourself being pulled apart by him. Javier didn’t look convinced but he shrugged it off as he helped you get off from his lap. 

“Aight, I will see you later at the state party?” He said, steadying you.

“Yep.” you mumbled, giving him a tight lipped smile as he exited the stall. 

When you were sure he had left, you exhaled the breath you were holding and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

Today was going to be a long one.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javier nervously checked his watch for the billionth time. You were late. You were always never late, always clocking in earlier than him. He couldn’t deny that he was trying hard to hide how nervous he felt. He never wanted to bring you into this, but he always had a feeling that you were going to somehow find out anyway. The disappointment he felt was indescribable, he hated himself for being too obvious. 

He adjusted his mask again, uncomfortable with the way it was cutting at the soft skin covering the back of his ears. His eyes searched in the sea of masks, hoping that they would land on yours. The dim lighting made it hard to see through the masquerade themed party and Javier strained hard, willing for you to appear. 

Suddenly, a beautiful figure steps into his line of sight. Javier couldn’t take his eyes off the figure, watching them sway as their dress hugged them tightly in all the right places, clinging to every curve. The figure walked closer and closer to him until they were in front of him. A long slit exposed a holster that was disguised as a garterbelt, definitely carrying a concealed weapon. Javier instantly recognised your eyes and pushed the mask away to reveal your heavenly face. He stares in disbelief, he had been used to seeing you in suits and minimalistic makeup, and he was ashamed to think that he hadn’t expected this. He felt a rush, a similar rush that he had felt the night before as he scanned your face. 

“You look good, dolled up like this.” he murmured, pushing your mask back on. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” you really had toned down your initial compliment, he looked like a prince, the way his hair was styled and the way the tux complemented his beautiful broad shoulders. 

He offers you his hand and when you take it, he leads the way into a small closet. He clips a microphone to your neckline and you help him thread the wire through your dress. Javier was quite literally smitten by the way you looked. He resisted the urge to run his hands down your curves and he tried to rid his mind from remembering the way your body had been pressed up against him before. He sighs and kneels down, looking up at you.

“Can I?” he said, gesturing at the transponder and your thigh.

You nod and watch as he gently pulls the slit in your dress aside to hook the tiny transponder onto your holster. His other hand steadied himself by gripping your thigh and you felt like you were going to melt in his grip. A tremor ran through your body and it didn't go unnoticed by Javier. He smiled to himself and purposely tried to let his touch linger, sliding his fingers slowly across your soft skin, savouring the feeling of you. Your breathing gets slightly heavier but you let him do as he pleased. 

When he finally hooked the transponder and slowly got up, the eye contact he was making with you sent an army of butterflies to violently collide with your stomach. You could literally cut the thick atmosphere with the knife you had on you as Javier held your gaze like it was his last lifeline. His eyes were slightly hooded and he looked as if he was about to say something when you broke eye contact with him and let your eyes drop to his lips. Before the both of you could do or say anything, the sound of footsteps snapped you out of your haze.

“Alright, the floor is yours, take it away.” Javier cleared his throat, nodding towards the door. 

He handed you a key, the key that he booked under a pseudonym so that you could interrogate the intended target away from the prying eyes of people. You took it and slipped it onto your tiny purse, your mind racing. You swallow and nod, hoping your guise was enough to mask you from the people you were going to eavesdrop and enough to mask the lust that was blooming for Javier Peña. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You let Javier lead you through the sea of masks, as he searched for his intended target. You felt out of place, watching people dance while you followed him around to do his bidding. 

“Javs?” you whisper, pulling him closer to you

“Hmm?” he turned to look at you.

“Dance with me.” 

“But-” 

“I said, dance with me, I have a plan.” you said firmly, pulling his hand to settle it onto your waist. 

He stares at you for a second and again you feel as if the whole world has stopped around you. You found yourself craving for his attention, to feel his hands on you again and only then you could think on how to make the next move. He readjusted his hand that was at your waist and held you firmer, his confidence radiating out of him as he laced his free hand with yours. You tried to refrain from savouring the feeling of your hand on his tough shoulder but you slowly felt yourself being lost to him as he started to lead the both of you into a slow dance. 

You straightened your back and kept your eyes trained on Javier only looking past him when you judged it was safe. You spotted your prey, a lawyer who was known to make deals with the cartels. You tapped Javier twice on his shoulder and he turned the both of you around, immediately spotting the lawyer from where the both of you were standing. You could feel his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer to him, your arm trapped between your two bodies. 

You were so close to Javier’s jaw, surveying its sharp edge as he gritted his teeth. It was perfectly sculptured as if an artist had taken a chisel to it. Before you could think twice, you pressed your lips to his jaw, leaving a light imprint of red lipstick. The tip of your nose dug into his cheek, and when you breathed in you could smell the delicious scent of his aftershave, intoxicating you and driving you to do what you need. Javier’s grip loosened and you pulled yourself away from him to walk towards the lawyer, turning to wink at the stunned Javier as you parted the sea of disguised individuals, your lipstick stain staining like a work of art on the canvas that is his beautiful face. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It didn’t take long for Javier to find another woman to dance with. He kept a watchful eye on you, but willed to keep his distance. He continued to grit his teeth and lock his jaw to contain every ounce of violence that was trying to emit out of him as he watched the dirty lawyer run a finger up your bare arm. He tried not to push the woman he was dancing with aside as the lawyer suddenly grabbed you and pulled you flush against his body. Javier could hear your giggle and it made his blood boil hot watching you being touched like that. His eyes followed you as you led the lawyer to the room, partially glad that his plan was unfolding. 

When Javier got to the outside of the room, he held his gun in front of him in his usual defensive stance, hoping that you had enough in you to overpower the lawyer. He heard a thud and he immediately swung the door open and found you standing over the lawyer, the sharp edge of your high heel pressed firmly where his sternum was. You smirked as you crouched low, putting all of your weight onto the foot that was atop the lawyer’s chest. You smoothly pulled out your blade from your holster and mockingly shushed the lawyer as he screamed while you made a spectacle of cleaning the blade. 

You could feel Javier’s eyes on you but you didn’t acknowledge his presence. You could tell that he was undoubtedly staring at you while you blatantly flirted with the lawyer on the dance floor. You wanted Javier to feel the anger, to know that you were risking almost everything for him. You hold the blade at the lawyer's throat and smile innocently at him.

“My informants have given me a tip that you have been in contact with a certain important sicario. Tell me where La Quiqa is hiding and I’ll think of sparing your measly life.” you hiss in Spanish, pressing the blade slightly harder. 

Blood beaded at the edge of your knife and you raised your eyebrow amusedly as the man below you whimpered and begged for his life. He turned to Javier and started to beg him instead and you rolled your eyes at the man and slapped the lawyer.

“Don’t you dare think for a second that I am more patient than my partner here. I’ll slit your throat open before you can feel the bullet passing through your skull.” you continued to jeer. 

“Okay fine! I’ll tell you where La Quiqa is!” the lawyer screamed. 

You kept your heel planted firmly against the lawyer’s chest as Javier rang Steve. The second the information was passed across, you stepped off the lawyer and he scrambled away from you. Javier caught him by the collar and pulled him up. 

“You do not breathe a word about this to a single person, or I swear to god, I'll unload this gun in your mouth.” he sneered before pushing the man out of the room.

Once he was gone, you perched onto the edge of the bed. 

“Won’t he go and warn La Quiqa?” you question.

Javier stayed silent for a while. He then suddenly walked towards you and got onto his knees, removing your high heels from your feet and setting them aside. He had already given Los Pepes the information that the lawyer would be outside of the hotel within seconds. He made a deal that the police force gets to arrest La Quiqa while Los Pepes can extract information from the lawyer, which was a win in his books. 

“He won’t get far.” was all that he said as he looked up at you, his hand massaging your calf. 

You lean forward and take his face in your hands. One of your hands fan out and you stroke his cheek, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. He wrenched them open again almost as if he didn’t want to lose sight of you. His hand at your calf reached out to grab your arm and he slowly started to rub your skin. You knew he was trying to erase the lawyer’s touch off you and you smiled at the gesture.

“What?” you question, reading his eyes, knowing he had something to say.

“I can’t stand it.” he whispered.

“Stand what?”

“The way he had his hands on you.” Javier’s hands were shaking now and you could see a fire raging in his dark brown eyes. 

“Javs, we just needed the infor-”

“I don’t like it when people touch what is mine.” he growled slightly, making your heart leap to your throat. 

“I’m not-”

“You are.” he confirmed firmly, his chest heaving now with shallow puffs of his breath. 

“Then, show me how I’m yours.” you sighed, your lungs constricting your last bit of oxygen. 

Javier stands up, and you could tell that there was a shift in his demeanour at your words as he gazes down at you. He towers over you, looking absolutely dazzling under the dim lighting.

“Only if you’re okay with it.” 

“Of course I am.” you say a little too quickly for your liking. 

“Kneel.” He says, his voice edging lower, sending an array of goosebumps at the nape of your neck as your vision blurred slightly. 

But you kept your chin up and knelt between his feet. 

“What? Not gonna kiss me first, Peña?” You smirked, knowing that you were pushing his buttons. “Too used to fucking whores?” 

He smoothed out the hair that fluttered to your forehead, running his fingers through your locks until he got to the nape of your neck. Suddenly, his hand grabs you by your hair and your eyes widen. He tips his head to the side and surveys the look on your face. 

“No, I’m gonna fuck you like the teasing brat you are. I’ll only kiss you when I know you’ve learnt your lesson.” He gives you a smug smile. 

His hand loosened its hard grip, leaving a delicious stinging sensation at your scalp. His fingers trailed to your lips, tapping them.

“Open, mariposa.” you were positive that he knew how that nickname made you feel and your jaw automatically dropped open. 

“So she does follow instructions.” he said pointedly before leaning over and spitting in your mouth. 

You knew from that second that the man before you was not going to let you off easy and a small voice at the back of your head was giggling gleefully at the prospect of your night. You closed your mouth and swallowed, only to open it up right away, making Javier nod in appreciation. You edge closer, placing your hands on his legs.

“Go on, take what you need.” you were already running your hand up his thigh before he could finish his sentence. 

You cup his hardened bulge and he hisses, but surprisingly lets you have your way. Your fingers shake slightly as you undo his slacks, letting them fall to his ankles, revealing that he had in fact gone commando. You would have rolled your eyes if you didn’t take note of how big he was. Your sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed by Javier and he watched as you shifted your weight from one knee to the other slightly nervously. 

“Like what you see?” he questioned smugly. 

You couldn’t let him know you were anywhere close to backing out, you wanted this as much as he did. You spit on your hand and grab his length, pumping him from base to tip, letting your thumb graze his tip only to watch him writhe slightly. 

“I’ve seen better.” you smirked back, looking up at him from under your lashes.

Before he could form a retort, you licked a long strip down his cock and whatever he was going to say was mingled in a strangled moan. You continued with small controlled kitten licks, testing out all his soft spots before closing your mouth over the tip and sucking softly. Taking your time, you invite him into your mouth at a slow pace, partially teasing him and partially adjusting yourself to his size. 

You gradually swallowed around him, gagged slightly when he pistoned his hips slightly forward. He pushed you on and you swallowed around him, making him groan proudly as he bottomed out into your mouth, your nose nestling in his curls.

“Look who’s the whore now.” he managed to say as his hands found your hair to grab onto. 

You rolled your eyes at him and began to move your mouth along him, sucking him hungrily. He sang his praises, incoherent moans spilling out of him. He wanted to punish you, to teach you a lesson, but how could he when you were taking him so well, without a single complaint or cry. It made him want to worship you instead. But the primal creature inside of him forbade it and it took over him, making him pull out of your mouth and slam back. You choked around him but the sounds that he made spurred you on, letting your tongue lick his underside. Your perfectly done makeup was most definitely ruined as you felt your eyes water. You both were definitely in a game of seeing who could tap out and for a second you thought that you could in fact overpower this man. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

Javier suddenly pulls you off him but didn't give you a chance to take a breath, pulling you up to your feet and letting his lips meet yours in a frenzied fashion,

“Lose your limits, mariposa, just give me a chance to prove to you just what I can do.” he pulled away and commanded sinfully, but he might as well had just done it straight to your cunt from the way you were already soaking. 

“What are you waiting for Javs?” you exhaled and he reclaimed your lips with his. 

He pressed himself hard against you, making you moan as he showed off his possessiveness. He licked into your mouth, groaning at how sweet you tasted. You could taste cigarettes on his breath and it instinctively made you want to rut your hips against his hard on, an aroused buzz coursing through your veins. He pulled away slightly, not before nipping your lips and drawing another moan from you. 

Javier pushed you down onto the bed, falling on top of you. He dragged the tip of his nose down your neck and sunk his teeth into the soft skin of your neck. You reeled at the pain that surged up your spine before crying out loud at the way he started to kiss and suck your neck. You were pretty sure that he was thinking about you claiming that you don’t bruise easily, making it his priority to mark you with all he’s got. When he was satisfied, he pulled away and smirked at you before flipping you over. You felt the bed dip around you as Javier’s fingertips grazed the back of your neck, moving your hair aside.

You felt his hand at your holster, slowly pulling out your blade and letting it skim across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, making you whimper slightly. Suddenly, you felt it at your dress, the sharp edge almost touching you as it tore your dress open. You were mad but it was was your turn to smirk as Javier gasped at the surprise that met his eyes. His knuckle skimmed your skin and you could tell that he was staring open mouthed at the delicate branch of flowers trailing along your spine. 

“Fuck, youre fucking beautiful.” he hissed, feeling like it was Christmas, hastily pulling away your dress like it was wrapping paper to reveal you all bear for him, tossing it aside with your knife. 

You were completely naked under your dress and Javier was impressed. He let his hands explore you, leaving no inch of skin unattended. 

“Stop being a fucking tease.” you moan, secretly relishing the way he was taking his time. 

Suddenly, he smacks your ass hard, drawing a muffled moan from you as you bury your face in the sheets, before flipping you over again. He immediately ran his hands up and down your body, quenching his quest of wanting to touch you. The shape of your body drove him mad and he wanted to worship you, to make you call out to him and only him. 

He testily palm at your tits, moaned together, you at the stimulation, him at the way you felt under his hand. He tweaked your hardening nipples, making you writhe and moan. While you were distracted, your legs fell open and Javier brushed a finger through your slick, making you moan.

“Fuck, Javs…” you breathed as he pushed a finger inside of you and brought it back out for you to taste. 

“I bet you taste great, but I’ll get mine straight from the source.” he smirked, as your tongue swirled around his finger, sucking it the way you did his cock.

Your clit is warm and throbbing under his touch and you shudder as he starts to massage it back and forth. He bends down and his tongue licks slowly up your wetness, parting your pussy lips and teasing your clit, going absolutely feral at the way you tasted. 

You shiver and moan, arching your hips trying to get him to lick you more. Instead he stops and you immediately whimper and bite your lip trying not to show how badly you wanted him to keep licking. You grind your hips against his face, your clit catching his nose and you whine, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him closer to your pussy. He finally caves in and gives you what you want, holding you down and pushing his tongue into you. 

He greedily fucks you with his tongue, putting in a new meaning to eating you out as his hands spread you wide open and his tongue scoops out every remnant of your wetness. Your clit isn’t abandoned with the way his thumb gave it all of its attention. It doesn’t take long before it’s too much and you start to feel the orgasm start to wash over you. Your body bucks involuntarily at his touch as he slows it to match your moans. His big dark brown eyes watches you intently from his vantage point, wanting to see how the first orgasm he gives you absolutely wreaks havoc on your body. 

You were absolutely out of it, the orgasm ripping every cell in your body in half, rendering you absolutely useless. You shook in Javier’s arms, only vaguely hearing his praises as they floated their way into your ears. Your eyes are shut and you didn’t realise that he was already plotting his next plan to destroy you. You feel something nudge your entrance and Javier slips into you without any resistance, and his lips are back on your mouth, swallowing your moans. 

One of his hands found yours, gripping them at the wrist and breaking the kiss only to pin them over your head. He held them firmly, one wrist between his thumb and index finger and the other wrist between his index and middle finger, locking them in position as he started pistoning his hips. Your eyes were hooded as you looked up at him, indulging the way sweat made his face shine and glow. 

“You look fucking deadly like this, cariño, all spread out for me.” he grunts as his cock continued its assault on your pussy.

You clench down around him and he slumps slightly, not expecting that move from you as you lazily pull your lips into a smirk. He pushes on deeper, hitting all the best spots, pressing down on your wrists harder. You feel your juices squelch out of you and onto the bed. Your tits jiggle harder and the bed frame creaked with Javier’s thrusts as he slowly lost himself in you. 

“Javs, yes… don’t stop, please…” you whine as he keeps slamming into you harder. 

“Say my name again,” one thrust. 

You mumble, trying your best to let his name tumble out of your voice box.

“Please, say it.” he trusts again. 

“Javier…” his cock literally pushes his name out of you. 

Suddenly, Javier pulls out and flips you over before you could lean towards your pleasure. You whimper at the emptiness you felt, your pussy fluttering around nothingness. You felt your arms being gathered at your back by one of Javier’s arms and he bent you backwards so that your chest stuck out. You gasped for air, sweat sticking bits of your hair to your forehead.  

“Who do you belong to?” his mouth was back on your neck, leaving kisses in between his questions. 

“You…” you clearly did by the way he had just used you. 

“Never going to let a filthy criminal touch you again.” he growled in your ear and you smiled, coming to your senses.

“Says the criminal who is touching me.” you feel a spike in your confidence as the words leave your mouth, only to have it crashing back to ground zero as Javier dropped you onto the bed. 

“Oh you’re going to regret that, mariposa.” he says and you could visualise him grabbing his cock and feeling the stretch as he shoves himself back into you. 

His hand inched its way around your throat, and he pulled you up again, making you choke. Your pussy betrayed you as you clenched down on him, making him laugh deliriously. 

“You fucking like it when I did that to you yesterday, didn’t you, you slut.” his hand grips harder at your throat, squeezing ever so slightly, his touch is forceful, masterful, alluring with the hidden depths of just the right amount of sensuality as he pulls your head closer to his. You helplessly tried to ask him to keep going, came out of your mouth like hot garbage from the strain his hand was putting on your throat.

“Harder, I need it harder.” you breathlessly spoke.

“I know, baby, I know” his soft words were a huge contrast with the way he was manhandling you.

Now all you can think of is his hard cock, there’s a pulsing in your head, a dizzying, nauseating feeling overcomes your entire body. You can feel his hard body pressing against yours and all thoughts of the night left your head, leaving a void that was soon filled with disgusting, disturbing thoughts. You want this man to fucking ruin you, you had tasted the sin on his lips and you couldn’t help yourself but want more. 

Moaning and whimpering you cum before you even know what’s happening. It was blinding again and you literally lost all sight as your tight cunt contracts and squeezes his cock as tight as you can over and over again in time with his hips thrusts. He doesn’t stop pounding your wet cunt and you let him chase his own orgasm as more filth spills out of his mouth. He makes a wet slapping sound as he fucks you from behind.

After a few more seconds of fucking your cunt you feel him tense up. He lets go of your neck and pulls your hips tight to his and his cock flexes and then begins to spurt his hot cum into you. He folds his body over yours, grunting as he tries to catch his breath, subconsciously canting his hips forward to ride out his own orgasm. His sweaty skin was sticking to yours as you felt his moustache against your neck. 

“Fuck, Javs.” you say first, feeling his heartbeat against your back. 

“Lo siento-”

“And he’s apologising again! What now, Peña?” you sigh.

Javier stays silent for a while before pressing his lips to your shoulder. The air around the both of you smelled like crazy sex and your brain was still slowly coming down from its high. 

“Sorry for calling you a slut.” his hand trailed against your spine, tracing your tattoo.

“Jezz, Javs, you know I like it.” you said, keening into his touch as he smiled against your skin. 

“I’m sorry for calling you a whore too.” you said, smirking as Javier’s hand kneaded your ass. “Although, I do mean it, you’re fuckin’ freaky as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” his hand left your cheek and came back down with a sharp smack. 

Slowly he pulled out of you and you groaned, feeling his cum seep out of you. Two of his fingers pushed his cum back in, to no avail and he eyes your cunt as he does it over and over, accidentally pulling another orgasm out of your sensitive cunt from his trance. 

“Oops.” he mumbles before gently flipping you onto your back and walking to the bathroom. 

He slowly wipes you with a warm towel, avoiding any part of you that could have been potentially sensitive before tossing it aside and laying beside you. You pull his head into your chest and he leaves soft promising kisses onto your tits as you wrap your legs around his torso. You both fall asleep like that, not another word leaving your mouths as the after effects of your madness lulled the both of you into deep and dark dreams. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were not surprised when you woke up to an empty bed. A pile of fresh clothes sat at the edge and you sighed, willing yourself not to tear up at the abandonment you felt coursing through your veins. You stumbled into work all sore, every part of you hurting from the way Javier had treated you, including your heart. Cheers greeted you and you pulled your collar tightly around your neck as Steve stepped towards you with a cup of what suspiciously looked like whiskey. 

“Let me guess, you guys got La Quiqa?” you said, taking the cup from Steve.

“Yep.” 

You looked around for the one you needed to see the most but your eyes never caught him. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t heard about Javier?” Steven suddenly says, making your eyes snap towards him instantly. 

“What?”

“He turned himself in, just got on the flight back to D.C. for his re-evaluation.” Steve says, shrugging, but the sadness was evident in his voice. 

Your head swimmed as you stared into your cup of whiskey. He has truly left you. 

Without even a single goodbye. 

You nod to no one in particular, anger driving you to stay upright. You sigh and walk towards your desk. 

“What are you waiting for, Murphy?” You said shortly, “We have Escobar to catch.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few months later

Javier sat at the bar and swirled his drink in his hand revealing his past few months. He woke up every morning to the thought of you and tried hard to drink the feeling of you away with bottles of the shit he kept at home. But here he was, back in Bogotá, nervously tapping his leg, wondering when he would ever catch a glimpse of you.  

He breathed heavily, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and searched for his lighter, but to no avail. He searched again and was ready to admit defeat when a light suddenly flashed before him. 

“Hola patrón. Congratulations on the promotion.”

That voice.

The cigarette dropped out of Javier's mouth as he turned to stare at you. You wore an angry expression on your face, but Javier wasn’t phased. He was so happy to see your beautiful face that a dopey smile unwillingly spread on his face. 

“Who’s the criminal now, you thieving little minx.” he snorted, snatching his lighter away.

“You fucking left me, you asshole!” you started to hit him.

He grabbed your arms and pulled you off the bar stool and flush to his body. 

“No, I fucked you, then I left you. You need to work on your English, mariposa.” he smirked.

It only made you swing harder, but Javier was quicker, pulling your face towards him with his free hand and locking you down with a bruising kiss. You relax into his kiss and you feel him smile triumphantly and you let him, wrenching your arms out of his grasp and pulling him in by his tie. 

You pull away and scowl at him, biting your lip slightly. You take a better look at his getup, smiling slightly at his more professional look, a contrast to the shirts he wore with open buttons. 

“You know I had to go, mariposa, I couldn’t do it anymore.” he said, smoothing out your hair and kissing your forehead. 

“I know. But that doesn’t make me any less mad.” you say, looking straight into his eyes as he pulled away. 

“I know how to make it up to you?” he said, clearly testing the waters.

“Whatever you say, patrón.” you smirked, crashing your lips to his once again. 

Translations:

- Mariposa: butterfly

- Los Pepes: Paramilitary group composed of enemies of Pablo Escobar.

- Lo siento: I’m sorry

- Sicario: hitmen

Reblogs are appreciated ~~

- Cariño: sweetheart

[teecupangel]

Okay, okay, my brain did the thinking. I just skimmed over the ATLA ask and it got me thinking, how about like an actual ATLA AU?

Like in, ofc following Desmond (precious boy) and him bending water (and ice (and maaaayybee later blood?))

He grows up in the northern Water tribe, learns grows up etc. is still fed up with William, but can't really leave this godforsaken huge piece of ice swimming in the ocean, until at least the raid with the fire nation (and aang). Maybe he can convince him to just take Desmond with him (he doesn't really want to journey with them, he just wants to go somewhere else).

One way or another, he either finds himself in the earth kingdom, and meeting Connor(earth) and/or Ezio (dunno what kind of element he would be) or through some unlucky coincidence finds himself on fire nation territory. Here he could stumble upon Hama and maybe somehow convinces her to teach him some blood bending. Some time later he would stumble upon Altaïr, literally, because he runs from guards for stealing something and Altaïr just pulls him into the next best alcove so the guards won't catch Desmond.

Somewhere down the line they befriend each other, while Desmond is trying to find a way out of the fire nations territory (could be the reason for him to steal something and then the guards running after him) because being a waterbender there is kind of a death wish.

Long story short, Desmond finds a way, Altaïr sticks along and they meet Connor and/or Ezio again, at least Desmond meets them again and is ofc happy. I can absolutely see the rivalry between Ezio and Altaïr.

They all travel a bit and somehow meet the Aang-gang again. Desmond being like, what's up, while the others are like wtf, you know the Avatar? Yeah like, he helped me get out of this shithole called home.

Meeting Iroh for good measure.

Like all is fun and games, until they stumble upon a town or city who completely suffers under its ruler and commanders and they take it upon themselves to get rid of them (heh, there is no murder weapon if the ice melts).

And that kind of becomes their thing? Like, while the 'canon' plot from ATLA moves forward, they unintentionally help them and destabilize corrupt power (mostly inside the earth kingdom). Along the line they could also meet others like Clay, Lucy, Malik etc. who won't travel with them, but still join their cause (or some could join, I imagine Malik, who already wishes to slam his head against a wall after only one day with them)

And bam, brotherhood in ATLA, or something

If we stretch it towards Korras time, we could use the assassins from the newer generations like Basim, Eivor, Kassandra, Arno etc. who are the successors.

Okay, this got quite long, but I still have some thoughts:

- William could be like the head of the guard for the mother's Water tribe and as such pushes Desmond further and further (but Desmond knows he won't be happy just staring at Ice for the rest of his life)

- Some of the others out of the modern era could grow up alongside Desmond, maybe Lucy or Clay

- I would have really loved to give Ezio Air, but like... That won't be really possible. I can absolutely see him using his bending to let his hair be moved by a breeze, whenever he tries to flirt

- so Ezio would come from a kind of rich family (I don't really have more, I'm sorry)

- With Connor I actually don't really know, like he could live with his mother or tribe in the woods (kind of like Jet's crew?)

- Altaïr would probably be that kind of braindead genius, who saw Azulas Lightning bending one time (his grandfather, Rashid, dragged him to one of these highly important events, when the princess visited) and decided to learn it on his own (Malik is just kind of horrified, bc this Idiot simultaneously thinks and doesn't think enough)

- Rashid would definitely stand completely behind Fire lord Ozais visions

- and ofc AltDes, bc I'm a sucker and shameless :P

Anyway, it's good to hear you are doing well, many hugs and kisses

Have a great one and take care!

I’m unsure which ATLA idea you mean but here’s the Avatar AU ask that has both “what if Desmond and his ancestors were the next line of Avatars?” and “Okay, but what if, they were like… Pro-bending pros?” and the Pro-Bending AU idea expanded.

If you want to fuck with Desmond, you can make it seem like he’s a non-Bender. To be more exact, no matter how grueling the training becomes, Desmond could never bend water even to make ripples in a tea cup.

But Bill still persisted and kept on training Desmond until Aang came along and, in the confusion, Desmond manages to escape.

The truth is Bill was trying to force Desmond to learn how to waterbend because Desmond instinctively uses Blood Bending.

To be more exact, he doesn’t realize that people become weaker or slower when they fight him because Desmond is actually instinctively blood bending.

Bill realized this when Desmond was a child and had killed a beast that attacked him with blood bending. Desmond has no memories of such a thing, remembering it as his father actually using spear made of condensed water to pierce the beast.

But the beast exploded, not because of the water spear, but because Desmond had boiled the blood inside to the point that an internal explosion occurred.

So Desmond starts traveling, thinking that he’s a non-bender and he met Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton along the way, just, you know, helping out people and doing jobs here and there to have enough money for their travel expenses.

Ratonhnhaké:ton left his village to understand the world outside as part of his training to be the next chief of their village. Her mother is the current chief and they’re hidden from the rest of the kingdom. This travel is meant to give him an idea of how to protect their village and to ‘survey’ the outside world and the danger it possesses.

Ezio is actually looking for his family and he’s a member of the Southern Water Tribe. During an attack from the Fire Nation, he was separated from his family and he’s traveling to find them. He tries his best to believe that they’re safe and sound but, sometimes, he does worry…

Altaïr though…

Altaïr is on the run because he defied orders and got into Azula’s bad side. He was meant to be just a rank and file soldier under Azula (with Rashid ordering him to climb up the ranks) but his arrogance brought unnecessary conflict between him and Azula.

Azula tried to put him in his place by dueling with him, only to learn that he copied her lightning bending after only seeing it once.

The worst part is that he showed that he copied it after Azula tried to hit him with her lightning bending during the duel itself.

In her rage, she tried to attack him hard enough to cripple him (and if she wasn’t careful, kill him). Altaïr answered in kind and he was arrested for the ‘attempted assassination’ of Azula.

He escaped his confinement with a little help from another rank and file soldier, Malik, who suggested that he hides in the Earth Kingdom.

He meets Desmond and the others while they were hunting down a band of bandits who had terrorizing the road and they actually fought because they thought Altaïr was a bandit and not… the dude who took out the bandits because they tried to rob him.

He joins them because he had nothing else to do. (Ezio absolutely noticed that Altaïr was attracted to Desmond but doesn’t seem to realize it and he plans to enjoy the ‘romance’ between these two dense idiots. Ratonhnhaké:ton will not be enjoying any show but he will also not help because he believes romantic relationship should only be nurtured by the people involved and “no, Ezio, we are not involved in this”)

And then we have the great misunderstanding where Desmond and Altaïr look similar enough that wanted posters distributed by the Fire Nation included a drawing that can look like either of them.

So Desmond assumed he’s being hunted because he did kill a few Fire Nation soldiers when he ran away during all the confusion and he was pretty sure one of them was a high ranking official.

Altaïr knows this is Azula hunting him down because he tried to ‘assassinate’ her.

And they would talk about it in ways that made everyone believe that they’re the target (aka: Desmond believes Altaïr knows that Desmond is a wanted man, Altaïr believes Desmond knows that Altaïr is a wanted man, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Ezio both think that it could be either of them and assumed both Altaïr and Desmond are on the same page)

(It would absolutely be funny if the twist is that the wanted man is actually Elijah, Desmond’s younger half-brother, who did (1) destroy multiple Fire Nation ships and (2) killed enough high ranking Fire Nation officials to be counted as a dangerous ‘terrorist’. Desmond would be like “Elijah? No. He’s a sweet boy. He’d never hurt a fly.”. Cue Elijah using water bending to waterboard a Fire Nation official. Elijah shares the same mother with Desmond who is actually a blood bender. Elijah himself doesn’t bloodbend but he, their mother and Bill are the only ones who know that Desmond instinctively bloodbends. Shaun and Rebecca are his ‘handlers’ which doesn’t really say much because they can’t stop Elijah at all. They’re actually looking for Desmond because Desmond is the only person who can stop Elijah without even realizing how bloodthirsty his younger brother is.)

thank you! things had been a bit hectic at work and I'm really hoping that I'd be compensated for it hahahaha

[howlingday]

the arc family have a unique tradition, they forge their own swords every time another of their sons reaches the age to begin training, but infuse these weapons with the spirit of said son. this creates a spirit weapon that can grow with the affore mentioned son and help them on their journey. thing is, both jaune and his sword Lucerna Intrepidus are huge dorks who have taken to wandering around vale fighting grimm to try and kick off a grand adventure so they can be heroes. with jaune's dear companion lucy growing stronger with every grimm she devours she's quickly out stripped the 12 year old in strength if only there was someplace she could go with her young partner to make them both stronger and better at fighting! summer has been retired since her run in with salem basically crippled her while her eyes remain in tact the horrors she and raven went through (mainly her since raven only showed back up at the last minute to save her) shattered her soul in ways she's only just starting to recover from. but training ruby and yang has been a fun hobby it's a shame they're going to be entering the combat school, she's got ruby for two more years and yang will still be there to train after school but it's going to be boring during the days without them. if only there was some young impressionable child she could take as an apprentice! papa arc was going to give jaune such a spanking when he found the boy, he seemed to be always just one step behind him! at least his new sword was keeping him alive after he ran off from home into the wilds to be a hero. where could he have gotten to? a story in which everyone keeps missing the plot, or rather everyone is in a different genre of story and the plot keeps switching. tldr: jaune is being trained by a retired summer and is having an action adventure. summer is going through slice of life and papa arc is handling a mystery comedy looking for his lost son who he always seems to just miss seeing only the after math of his actions and having to fix the issues spawned from it.

"Lucie~! Wait uuup~!"

Jaune Arc, a young boy off on an adventure far away from his home, followed the instinctual pull of his sword and companion, Lucierna Intrepidus! Or, as Jaune referred to her, Lucie. She was a marvelous blade, forged with the spirit of Jaune imbued into her core... located exactly on her pommel. She shone a brilliant aqua blue to match her partner's eyes.

"No way!" She called out. "We've only just started! You can't expect us to be heroes by killing just a few rats, can you?"

"N-No, but we never killed anything bigger than a rat." Jaune reasoned as he his feet were nearly dragged.

"So? This is our moment!" The sword raised itself high. "Think of it! Lucierna Intrepidus, the mighty sword held aloft by Jaune Arc, the greatest sword and swordmaster of all time~!"

"Well, maybe some day, but I'm only 12. I still need to go to school and-"

"Forget school! We need a mentor! And until we find one..." A sudden shift to the left knocked Jaune off his feet and sent him rolling down the hill. "Adventure will teach us what to do!"

"Lucie, you're being.... being..."

Not far from where Jaune landed was a Grimm. And not just any Grimm, but a Beowolf. Next to the Ursa, it was the second-biggest Grimm to wander these woods. It's blood-red eyes seemed to catch ablaze at the sight of the young hero. The young hero who was shaking in his boots.

"Uh..."

"S-See?" Lucie said, her voice also quivering. "Adventure's, uh, just ahead of us..." Steeling her nerves, if she had any, she began barking orders to Jaune. "Dueling stance! Sword up! Sword out! Ready to fight!"

Jaune, having been drilled for the past few months by both his sword and his father, snapped into position with his blade set between himself and the black beast stalking towards him with massive jaw wide open.

"Y-Yup! That's it! Now step forward!" Jaune froze. "Hey! Don't embarrass me in our first real fight!" The boy was shoved off-balance by his sword, making him stumble and fall. As he looked up, he saw the monster set upon him. He covered his head with Lucie. "JAUNE!"

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

"Kids! Suppertime~!"

Ruby, Yang, and Jaune ran as fast as they could to the dining room. Before they could be told to do so, they set their training weapons upon their respective racks, then went into the bathroom to wash their hands. The three then took their seats at the dinner table, where Taiyang was already setting down the side dishes.

"Do you want roast beef, Yang?" Summer asked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah~!" The blonde girl practically vibrated in her seat.

"What do you say, Yang?" Taiyang raised his brow.

"Roast! Beef! Roast! Beef~!" Yang chanted, tapping her fork and knife on the table.

"Yang!"

"Roast! Beef! Roast! Beef!" Ruby joined in, chanting with her sister and pounding her tableware in unison.

"Um, I would like roast beef, Mr. Xiao Long." Jaune said timidly. For his politeness, he was rewarded with the thickest (for a child) slab of roast beef placed squarely on his plate, earning whines from the two girls. "And may I have green beans and carrots, too?"

Summer giggled as her girls watched in astonishment as their own father chose her apprentice over them. While they stared, she prepared plates for them before making her own. Taiyang did the same for Jaune before sitting down.

"So, did you kids play anything fun today?" The huntress asked.

"We played hide and seek!" Ruby chirped.

"Jaune cheated." Yang huffed. "He used his sword to peek on us!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Alright, enough!" Taiyang barked. "There will be no fighting at this table. Now, I want you kids to sit there and eat your food quietly." If there were to be any grumblings, they quickly died when Tai gave them the ol' Blue Eye Bane, a glare so chilling that it made you behave real quick!

"Jaune, I was speaking to your mother today." Summer said after slicing her roast beef into little squares. "She's wondering if you're ready for your first day at Signal tomorrow with Ruby."

"Um... I think so..." Jaune answered, unsure if he really was.

"Oh, you will be!" Taiyang said with a smile. "After all, you've had plenty of Tai-me to get ready!" The blond man and his daughter shared a giggle while his wife and her daughter gave a groan. Jaune just looked confused.

"It's okay to be nervous, Jaune." Summer said. "Being nervous just means something is new to you and you don't know what the best way to go forward is. In the end, though, it always come down to one answer."

"Go forward?" Jaune guessed.

"Exactly!" Summer took a bite of her cutlet of roast beef. "Mm~! You've really outdone yourself tonight, dear!"

"Thanks, honey!" Taiyang smiled. "I'd say this beef is better than the roast~!"

"Tai, please..."

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

"Oh, please, be here somewhere..."

Nicholas Arc wandered into the quaint, little farming town, hoping to find some clue as to where his son ran off to this time. This was, by and far, the furthest from home Jaune had ever been. It had been almost a week since he left home on the hunt for him, doing his best to not panic at the prospect that his progeny was perforated, pulverized, or otherwise pulled apart by some predacious pests or worse, some kind of putrid pervert.

"No!" He shook his head. He had to stay focused. He had to find his son, and he could only do that with a clear head. And what better way to get a clear head than with coffee?

He entered the convenience store, a chime and a woman about his age greeting him. He greeted her back and headed to the coffee machine. Waiting for his cup to fill, he looked to the lottery tickets. Inside the glass, from and center, was a rabbit with a cute smile and a flower by their ear. The flower's petals were colored in on every other across from each other.

"Pumpkin Patty..." From the Pumpkin Pete Pumpkin Patch Pals Show that his girls loved to watch. And Jaune. In fact, Jaune was especially enamored with the girl rabbit, so much so that he drew her face with that same flower every chance he got-

"MA'AM!" The woman flinched. He pointed to the lottery box. "WHOSE RABBIT DRAWING IS THAT?!"

She looked to the drawing. "Some kid?"

"Was it a boy?!" Nicholas asked, finally pulling himself back if only just for a moment. "Was it a boy who drew that picture?!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down." She waved her hands to the counter. "He just wanted to draw on something while his teacher was waiting for the donuts."

"Teacher?! What teacher?!"

"Some woman in a white robe." She shrugged.

Nicholas would recognize that description anywhere! The White Reaper! The Angel of Death! He thought she'd retired years ago! But now, there was no mistaking it! His son was abducted by...

"SUMMEEER ROOOOOOOOOOOSE!"

The woman looked outside the convenience store to the screaming man. "Sir, you need to pay for that coffee."

[twstfanblog]

So how’d Malleus grab his kids? Was his oldest fulfilling her dreams of being an evil tyrant dragon while her siblings were making sure that no one tries to kill her?

Evil Dad AU meeting story 3 unlocked! Let's go! (Psst. I have evil queen Vil's entire story already plotted through too)

Just for backstory, Silver pretends to be a righteous knight who travels the various kingdoms under Malleus's rule. He pretends to be loyal to the various human kingdoms to learn about the many plots they've got to kill Malleus. He doesn't ever find anything worthy of worry past the supposed 'Dragon Killing blade'. But Malleus and Lilia allow him to roam around because they think it's cute that Silver cares about Malleus's safety. But one Spring (When Silver comes back to the castle to visit his family) Silver is concerned and asks for an audience with Malleus. Malleus is very off-handed because he thinks it's just Silver being overly concerned about a new weapon that's suppose to kill him. Malleus: What is new? Silver: There is a bounty for a dragon- Malleus: Are they still trying to kill me? It was cute a few hundred years ago, but you'd assume they'd learn after the dead 'heroes' reached the dozens... Silver: Silver: It's not you this time…it was for another dragon…one that actually looks like you…but younger… Malleus: The Diasomnia crew all pack up and go off into the lands to find what could only be Malleus's child. There is only one person Malleus ever slept with so they all know what it means if this is his son. And Malleus would also hope this leads him back to Yuu. They find Malicent terrorizing a small village, this much smaller version of Malleus's dragon form jumping around and setting fires. After a few moments of them all cooing they work to catch this juvinelle. Surprisingly just when they're about to catch him, another dragon child appears. The teal dragon confuses them enough to give the two enough of a gape to escape into the woods, leaving the Diasomnia crew in stunned silence. They're all confused because how are there two!? Malleus only slept with one woman in the past hundred years so there should only be one Draconia child.

Lilia: Lilia: I mean…I've never seen it…but what's to say the egg didn't hatch two babies? Malleus: Malleus: I need to find that woman… They of course catch up and nearly catch them AGAIN. Only to have ANOTHER DRAGON to swoop in. Malgona standing over them and her brother's flanking her demanding they leave HER lands. Malleus is overjoyed, he barely even cares anymore about HOW and just wants his and Yuu's children to be taken back home with them. He completely steamrolls over them saying they don't really want to leave their lands and are constantly rejecting his claim on them. It ends on the triplets bolting in different directions making them spit to catch one triplet. And even with the home-field advantage, the triplets are caught and Malleus asks them where their mother so he can collect her as well. Malgona is very bitter at being beaten but tells him they haven't seen her for three years. She would have normally visited them in the winter to make sure they were doing well in the weather, but she didn't come back one winter. Malgona: We were fine though, we have each other and are strong enough to deal with whatever could challenge us...So you can leave. Malleus: Nonsense, you and your brother's are much too young to be on your own. Malicent: We're 13... Lilia, horrified: Oh lord, you're infants. Malgona: WE'RE 13!? Lilia: Infants Malleus: By fae standards, you children shouldn't even be away from your mother's embrace yet Malathew: We're not fae though? We're dragons. Malleus: SO, that's how Malleus realizes how Yuu never planned on returning to him because she didn't even tell their children their true heritage. So into his arms they go, kicking and screaming, back to his empire and to be locked in the castle until he decides they're ready to go out into the world again.

[the-painted-siren]

Again

Summary: Lloyd and Arin, as featured in the constant cycle of violence that was built on Ninjago’s foundation. Notes: Happy Dragons Rising Release Day! I wrote this one for a game of Who Wrote That, where the prompt was “plot twist.” I waited to post it since it featured themes/ideas from DRS2P2. I had fun with this one. Somewhat inspired by a Hades AU I’m working on with some friends. Tags: depictions of violence, major character death (kind of. It's temporary and symbolic. Death is an illusion in Ninjago.)

Ping!

1 New Message

“Fine then. Let’s end this. Meet me in the clearing where the monastery used to be.”

Arin’s feet drum against the earth in a hard, steady rhythm. There’s a sense of comfort in the movement—memories, warmth, laughter, flashes of him sprinting up one thousand steps toward the place he once called home. It used to hold his family there, or at least the people he once thought were a cheap replacement for the one he lost in the Merge. He once held them close to his heart—he still does—but at what cost?

His thoughts burns away before he reaches the top.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lloyd rises to his feet. Old history writes a story across his features. Once he was a mentor, once he was a master. Now he is Arin’s grief-driven opponent. He is a protector at the cost of everyone else’s lives.

“I had to. I have to beat you.”

“This is your fault. It has been your fault since I first started training you.”

Arin swallows his fear and regrets. He takes them like a bitter pill. He is only here because of the choices he made. He chased after Ras. He learned the ways of the Wolf Clan. He is the reason the monastery burned down.

He is here because he has written himself into this loop.

That’s the thing about each ninja’s story—numerous and always increasing as they may be.

They have a beginning: they are the hero, they are called to fight, they strengthen their powers until they’re unstoppable.

They have a middle: they enter the fight, they pour every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears into every punch. They stand at the edge of the world.

They have an end: they have a burst of determination. They race toward the end, they drive the final blow. They win.

Arin can only hope that—this time—his story will be the same.

He catches Lloyd’s first strike with the sturdy handle of his war hammer. He grits his teeth, pushes back against the force that rumbles and rages and roars for dominance.

Arin had forgotten how strong Lloyd really is. He had forgotten that Lloyd could take his head off if he genuinely wanted to.

Lloyd’s second strike almost does. It’s well-times, it’s thought out. He pulls his sword back and whips it back around toward Arin’s neck and only misses by the width of a hair.

Arin rolls backwards, stumbles to his feet. His awkward footwork creates enough time for Lloyd to drive home the final blow. The sword pierces through armor and cloth and bone. Arin screams, wrapping his hands around the hilt that Lloyd grips.

“I’m sorry,” Arin whispers.

It’s a repeated prayer, he’s spoken those words more than he can count. He realizes after so many interactions, so many apologies, so much fighting for what he believe is right: if Lloyd ever forgives him, it’ll be a blisteringly hot day the Neverrealm.

He closes his eyes and sinks back into a river of blood. A freezing cold chill crawls through his veins. Exhaustion settles into his body like a heavy blade finding its home on the weapon rack. The hands of time brush over his skin, healing his wounds, sewing up his cuts, and softening his bruises.

He bursts awake.

Ping!

1 New Message

“Fine then. Let’s end this. Meet me in the clearing where the monastery used to be.”

Arin’s feet drum against the earth in a hard, steady rhythm. There’s a sense of comfort in the movement—memories, warmth, laughter, sprinting up one thousand steps toward the place he once called home.

It all burns away before Arin reaches the top.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lloyd rises to his feet. Old history writes a story across his features.

“I had to. I have to make it out of here, even if it kills us both.”

“This is your fault. It has been your fault since I first started training you.”

That’s the thing about each ninja’s story—numerous and always increasing as they may be. They are clear cut. They have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Arin tightens his grip on his war hammer and charges toward Lloyd. His story has a beginning, a middle, and a beginning again.

Over and over.

It’s a foundation that he must destroy.

— — —

There is a universe out there where Lloyd and Arin are mentor and student. They exchange warm smiles, sparring matches, and lighthearted quips between blows. They are friends and they are inseparable.

There is a universe out there where Lloyd and Arin are hero and villain. They exchange vindictive looks, vicious strikes, and harsh words among pleas for mercy. They are enemies.

They are doomed to repeat the endless cycle of light versus darkness.

It is the same universe.

(There is a spark. There is hope. The fight can end.)

(He must be strong enough.)

[joelsbloodyhands]

MANDALORIAN IMAGINE

Din didn’t realise you have piercings

DESCRIPTION: You tend to Din’s injuries caused by a weapon you didn’t know he was carrying. In the process of cleaning his wounds, he learns something new about you too.

WARNINGS: Din getting hurt, blood, discussion of injuries, open cuts, discussions involving medical equipment, references to shooting guns, Din being a big dumb dumb getting himself injured 😈 newly established relationship, bossy behaviour, basically Din getting injured and he’s not used to being taken care of, reader has seen Din’s face before, established clan/family, just fluff.

A/N: I actually stole this from a draft series I was writing and liked the little snippet on its own so here ya go 😊 Note: Din has the dark saber in this plot but it isn’t mentioned that it takes place in any particular time during the Mandalorian series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Specific to this fic - reader does not have a visible disability and has hair long enough to be tucked behind their ear.

"Dank farrik!" Din exclaims, shooting back at the overconfident rodian chasing the Razor Crest down from the sandy floors of Tatooine. He’s out of breath, sending erratic shots back, warding off the rodian and it’s array of gang members. They had chased him all the way from Beggar’s Canyon, attempting to steal the head of a bounty that Din had managed with great difficulty to acquire. The head that now hung over his shoulder, bleeding through the make shift sack he’d half-heartedly tied it in. Din groans, glancing down at his throbbing shin. He struggles to keep balance on his right leg before being thrown across the cargo hold into the opposite wall when the ship thrusts up harshly towards the airspace.

“Din!” You yell, sliding down the ladder and shooting the airlock closed, preventing any further blaster fire from striking him. You look down at Din’s collapsed form slumped against the wall, gloved hand releasing some wiring he had grabbed to stop himself from rolling down the ramp completely.

Din immediately puts all his strength into shoving his feet into the steel floor, climbing his way up the wall awkwardly and stumbling into a standing position. It’s then you notice his leg, horror reaching your features. Before you can grab his arm, he staggers past you, throwing the disgusting sack off his back and into the corner of the cargo hold before uncomfortably climbing the ladder with pained groans. You follow, scrambling up the ladder after him, your head popping out of the narrow entryway to watch Din collapse into his chair and pull the crest off into the stars.

Wanting nothing more than to tend to his injury, the sound of cries catch your attention, your head whipping around to lower deck. Din’s head arches back while he controls the ship but your body slides down the ladder hurriedly. Din listens, while checking the navigator as he hears you gather your son and murmur words of reassurance to calm him down. Din releases a heavy breath, his teeth gritting as he feels the clothing covering his lower leg to stain coldly with his seeping blood. When he finally manoeuvres the ship far from the desert planet, he hits it into hyperspace and drops his head back against the chair, head spinning.

“Din!” You call again, your arms dragging you achingly back up the ladders after laying Grogu back down, his upset momentarily subsiding. Din feels his eyes growing heavy until your hands find his shoulders urgently, turning the chair harshly to the side to allow more room for you to kneel before him. You yank his shin armor off and tear open the already gaping hole of his flight suit.

“Shit, Din,” you grasp his leg where the wound is causing Din’s eyes to burn, pain erupting around every nerve. You look up at him in worry as he breathes heavily and goes to stand but he collapses just as you hold out your arms. You hitch a breath, trying to gain air back into your lungs after he knocks it out of you when you realise he’s heavier than you realised covered in beskar.

“I’m okay,” Din barely manages, his voice strained.

“No you’re not,” you assert, eyebrows furrowing in your difficulty to maintain his weight. You attempt to manoeuvre him to the ground, causing you to fall back with him in the process until you eventually manage to set him upright against the control panel, legs flat out in front of him.

Meanwhile you turn your head to notice a pair of green ears and big eyes watching you from the entry. You smile weakly at your son who watches you both silently.

“What happened?” You ask, pulling your vibro-knife from your ankle strap and using it to cut through the rest of Din’s clothes to give you access to his sliced leg. You wince as you realise how deep it is, hand palming your temple in confusion as to why the skin surrounding appears burnt and smells charred.

“I…it’s my fault…” Din manages slowly.

You frown, “How?”

In the midst of you tearing at his clothes, he shakily pulls the saber from his waist and holds it out to you, breathing heavily with his head back. You look to it inquisitively before Din pulls it to the side and unsheathes the glowing blade.

Your eyes widen.

“What the kriff is that?”

Din pulls the blade back in and sets it down, his head cocking to the side to analyse you.

"Called the...huff…dark saber. I…huff…caught myself with…huff…it."

You shake your head, completely bewildered by this foreign object but more angry at it for causing your love so much harm. And at his own doing.

"Stop talking. Stay here. Don’t move. I mean it."

He watches you stand up uneasily, sliding back down the ladder and listening to you rummaging around while he tries to regain his breath. His hands go to his helmet but his arms ache so he drops them before he can remove it.

You’re in front of him again before he can call for you, shaking bacta spray when he says your name. You lift your head, frozen by his sudden flinch when you angle the nozzle over his wound.

“My helmet.”

Your face falls, giving him a knowing look which he takes as you asking him if he’s absolutely sure.

He nods in response and you place the bacta spray down, hesitantly placing your hands on either side of the cold beskar and lift it from his head. What greets you is his flushed, sweat-stained features. His dark curls plastered meticulously over his forehead, skin lightly blushed red from enduring the heat of the hot planet and marvellous brown eyes meeting yours.

“Thank you,” Din smiles meekly at you.

You evade his gaze immediately, cheeks growing hotter at his unmodulated voice and softening gaze. Din had only recently started removing his helmet around you and even then it was a rare occurrence. You nervously mutter a “sure” before turning your attention back to his wound.

Once again, you angle the nozzle and spray a generous amount of the fluid over the wide gash. You watch as it gently binds the skin together and closes the wound slightly while Din groans at the stinging, burning sensation, biting his lip harshly. You frown unhappily at his discomfort, placing a hand on his shoulder and massaging gently to ease him.

Knowing you need to prevent him from moving around and get him as comfortable as possible, you move your hands towards his beskar chest plate but hesitate.

Din’s eyes meet yours knowingly, “go ahead”.

You nod and start working to remove his armor piece by piece until he’s in nothing but his torn flight suit. You’re completely in awe at the pile of metal next to you, having never truly realised just how much weight he carries daily.

From a medical kit you had retrieved along with the bacta spray, you begin working to dab gauze and bind his leg with bandages.

Din watches you.

His eyes monitoring your facial expressions, wincing along with his pain. He finds himself starting to calm as he watches you work away. His hand trails subconsciously and tiredly across your shoulder. You notice but try not to seem alarmed by his sudden touches.

Din pushes a strand of your hair back behind your ear, revealing some shiny adornments he remembered noticing once before but never took the time to look at.

Most of the piercings look like parts, screws, and bolts that have been modified into jewellery. An array of colours from dolovite, steel, and gold. Some with attachments hanging down, tickling your neck. Din’s fingers running compellingly across small stones. Some of which he could only identify as Heart of Fire, a burnt orange-red that contrasted perfectly against your skin. He admires them, painting a picture of when you may have gotten such things done.

Had you done it yourself or gone to a vendor?

“Do you like them?” Your quiet voice breaks his trance.

“Hmm?” He hums, his finger smoothing across the arch of your ear thoughtfully, making a shiver run up your spine.

You dare look to him and it’s then he stops his movements having not realised how intimate it seemed.

“My earrings,” you murmur.

Rendering you speechless, he smiles but it’s the smile that’s so heart shattering, it has your knees shaking.

“I do,” he returns tenderly.

You lower your head, trying to hide your flustered expression as you cut the bandage away and rub at his leg gently.

“You’re all good. You need to stay off your feet for a while,” you instruct gently.

“I will. Thank you,” he responds, dropping his hand from your shoulder and assessing the bandage with a grimace.

“You better,” you playfully threaten, holding the scissors to him causing him to grin at you making you blush incredibly and turn away.

Din clears his throat, “We can lay low in Coruscant.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, before getting up to turn your head towards a small green bean of an intruder eavesdropping on your conversation. Your sons little padded footsteps wander over, big brown orbs focused on his fathers injury and whining unhappily.

“It’s okay, bub,” you reassure when he gets close enough to place a small clawed hand on Din’s foot. Din watches you, heart fluttering as you lift your son into your arms and rock him gently. Grogu clings onto your shirt, looking up at you and then back to his father, clearly still distressed.

“Is he okay?” Din inquires, trying and failing to lean forward off the control panel behind him.

“Shaking but he’ll be okay,” your eyes run protectively over your son, fingers stroking light touches over his ear.

You walk over to Grogu’s chair, sitting him down while Din attempts standing up uneasily before limping over to the both of you. At the sound of his footsteps, you turn swiftly, eyes narrowing on him and arms folding disapprovingly.

“What did I say, Din?”

He sighs, “I know what you said.” He hobbles over and puts a hand on Grogu’s head, towering over you both. “I just want to check on the kid.”

“He’s okay,” you reassure gently but firmly.

“And you?” You feel so small compared to Din when he moves closer, his head just above yours with warm eyes fixating down at you with concern.

You nod and give him a small smile, “I’m okay.”

Din nods back slowly and you watch his eyes run over your features almost trying to gauge an understanding that you’re not lying to him. It seems what he finds there eases him and his shoulders finally relax.

“Good. I’m sorry about that. Thank you for having my back,” you close your eyes when he lets his forehead knock yours carefully. You smile nervously when you feel his other hand touch your waist ever so gently, arm curving around your lower back to pull you closer. You breathe him in, adoring this domestic side of him. Each hand protectively holding the two people most dear to him.

“Of course,” you lean into him, your nose gently nudging his. Din smiles.

Grogu cooes at you both.

“You should rest,” you open your eyes, meeting Din’s affectionate but tired gaze. He nods and gently sways your body contentedly in his hold.

“We all should,” he looks back to Grogu, his grabby hands flailing towards the Crests shifter knob. Din reaches for it and you watch him pass the small ball to the babbling child, “It’ll take some time to get to Coruscant.”

[seraphimcollections]

drunk daze | NSFW Price/Reader | +18

warnings: MINORS DNI !!!! P?rn with plot, slight size kink, rough, club sex, sex pollen, multiple orgasms, sex with a superior, mutual pining, allusions to masturbation, NSFW FOR GOD'S SAKE!! Pure filth. No mention of Y/N but readers codename is "Kit"

...I regret nothing.

summary: you, Gaz and Price are all on a mission to locate a mysterious bio-weapon, the likes of you and your dear captain get an acquaintance with ;)

words: 5k <.<

a/n: ...just gonna leave this here...

______________________________________________________________

You could barely raise your chest to bring in breath. You felt like you were on fire, every inch of you covered in a thin film of sweat glimmering in the dingy lights of the cramped restroom. You sat on the toilet lid, your back arched and your head leaned over so that your hair could pool at the bottom of the basin. Cool running water ran over your locks in an attempt to increase your rising temperature. Little to say, it wasn’t working.

Oh, that’s right, you were on a mission, the objective completely forgotten at this point. You’re mind a haze, all you could think about was trying to hang on to the last piece of sanity holding you back from making a stupid decision. Your lips parted, you let out a strangled moan, trying your best to focus your gaze.

“Love,” his voice alone was able to cut through all the noise.

You looked up into his honeyed gaze, finding salvation. You smiled at him, hand reaching to catch on his tee.

“I really fucked us didn’t I,” you eyes swirled with lust staring up to the bearded man, “Captain.”

Four hours earlier, Gaz and Captain Price touched down in Tokyo, assigned to a special mission to retrieve a rumored bio-weapon.

“And we don’t have any other intel on this, Laswell?” You ask, all three of you standing around the laptop.

“All we know is that it's highly effective and mind-altering, but we’ll get the information we need once we’ve retrieved it,” Laswell said over the call.

“And this supposed bio-weapon is hidden inside this club?” Gaz said skeptically.

“Well, if I were an evil mastermind trying to hide the next hottest bio-weapon, I’d want to hide it in plain sight,” you shrugged.

“Alright, all that’s left is to get ready,” Price said, standing to his feet, “Gaz will be positioned in the building across from the club while you and I infiltrate and attempt to locate the weapon. Boots on the ground by 19:00 hours.”

You turned and waved over your shoulder as you walked toward your separate room, “can’t rush beauty, Cap!”

Gaz rolled his eyes with a chuckle, hearing the door click shut.

“Not going to lie, Captain,” Gaz smiled, “I’d kill to be in your position. Respectfully, of course.”

“Right,” Price smirked, slapping a hand on Gaz’ shoulder, “stay sharp, Gaz.”

Thirty minutes before departure time, Price sat in one of the hotel armchairs, helping himself to a cool glass of Scotch. Of course it wasn’t even close to being as good as his regular, but it would definitely be better than the drinks they’d be serving at the sketchy club he was heading to.

Instead of wearing his usual uniform, he had changed into something a bit more colloquial, a simple pair of jeans and a gray tee underneath his bomber. A beanie had replaced his trusty bucket hat. Sighing, he flicked his wrist to look at the time before his eyes shot to your door for what felt like the 10th time in 20 minutes. What was taking you so long, he thought. He had massively underestimated what went into making you look presentable, that much was apparent.

Finally, he heard your door open before the clacking of your heels on the hardwood. John felt his mouth go dry as his gaze climbed up your long legs, up to the short hemline of your skimpy reflective dress, over the canyon of your breasts -- no bra to be seen, until finally settling on your sultry gaze. He could feel his face become harder, his lips parted in awe.

“You look strapping, Cap,” you smiled.

Price gulped and tried to put on the best smile to hide his nerves. Nerves? He would’ve scoffed at the idea, but it would be a lie that he wasn’t seduced by the pure image of you. The way the dress hugged every curve, the way your skin glistened in the light, the subtle makeup on your eyelids that made your eyes pop even more than John thought possible. A goddess stood in front of him, and he hardly felt worthy.

“You look…stunning, love,” Price said.

You felt your stomach twist in a knot as you quickly averted your gaze. Love, a term of endearment, but from a friend. A superior. Your boss. Of course your Captain’s attractiveness was not lost on you, spending nights hot and out of breath as your sheets clung to your sweat body, one hand clamped over your mouth and the other slid between your legs. The image of your Captain’s bruising grip holding tightly on your hips while he-

“Should we head out then?” Price snapped you out of your thoughts as he stood to his feet.

You nodded in an attempt to be stoic and focused on the mission, despite the pure filth going on in her head, and between your legs. Price gestured for you to go first through the door, where he then realized the dress exposed the entirety of your back. He noted how your shoulder blades peaked from your skin, how the line of your back ran all the way down to the plump of your ass. Price nearly had to slap himself to get himself to stop looking, a near impossible feat. Get it together, idiot, he thought.

The ride to the club was quiet, both you and Price keeping your attention to anything and everything passing by as Gaz drove. Your leg crossed one over the other, you leaned your chin on your palm, your expression showing boredom. Gaz looked into the rearview toward your relaxed figure.

“You clean up pretty nice,” he said jokingly.

You smirked, playfully kicking his seat, “eyes on the road, casanova.”

Gaz chuckled before throwing his hands up in defeat, “just stating the obvious. Oh, you don’t look too bad yourself, Captain.”

Price rolled his eyes, looking at his watch again, “anyway, you know your positions. Gaz, keep an eye to see if any of our targets come in the vicinity. Kit and I will make our way in and locate the weapon-”

“And make our grand escape into the sunset. Mission accomplished,” you looked to him with a comforting smile, “don’t worry Cap, this will be a cake walk.”

Price sighed almost in relief as he stared into eyes. You often had the tendency to be optimistic, sometimes to a fault, but it helped with the nerves. Something Price had a feeling you knew well.

Finally the car came to a slow around the corner of the club, eventually coming to a stop underneath a street lamp.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Gaz said, twisting to look back at you two, “good luck in there, try not to die.”

“And prolong my amazing funeral? Wouldn’t dream of it,” you clapped Gaz on the shoulder before stepping out, Price following you out.

Gaz didn’t wait, immediately pulling off to dump the car in an unmarked alleyway before making his way to his rooftop position. The chill of the night air sent gooseflesh over your arms as you stood next to Price. You blinked in shock as he held out his arm to you, looking up at him. John gave you a small smile.

“Better make it look believable, right?” He said.

You smiled before snaking your arm in between his, maybe a little too eagerly.

“Who knew you were such a gentleman,” you smiled.

“Of course, you think I’m some sorry sod who doesn’t know how to treat a fine woman like you?” He said, “fine” slipping out before he could do anything about it.

This slip wasn’t lost on you, bringing a blush to your cheeks.

“You’re right, that's more of Gaz’s deal isn’t it,” you smirked.

“I can hear you, you know that right?” Gaz sounded unimpressed over the earpiece.

“Just checking if the ear piece was working,” you said coyly. 

“Right,” Gaz said.

The two of you turned the corner, making your way to the growing line outside the club door. The building itself wasn’t anything to write home about, but the growing line waiting outside the door was enough to prove otherwise. By looking at the serious demeanor of the bouncer, who was obviously armed, you knew your were going to play this up a bit more. A sultry smile grew on your glossed lips, pulling gently on Price’s arm to bring him to your level. You pressed yourself closer to his side, molding into him. To anyone else, you were a young couple completely infatuated with each other, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

“He’s armed,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear.

Price went rigid feeling your sudden warmth, one of your arms wrapped his arm, the other on his chest. He quickly had to refocus, realizing the weight in your words as he looked over the bouncer at the door.

“Got it,” his voice rumbled.

It wasn't long before the two of you reached the door and the bouncer held up his hand.

“トラを食べちゃう車ってなぁに？” the large man said deeply.

Without skipping a beat, you answered, “トラック.”

The man nodded and stepped aside, letting the two of you pass by, his stoic gaze never leaving Price until they passed through the door. They walked down a short hallway that vibrated with the music until they reached the main floor. The place was packed wall to wall, on the dance floor and the terrace above where the bar was located. Price’s eyes squinted at the violent flashing lights as he looked over the room. You still had a grip on his arm. He leaned down your ear.

“How’d you know how to get in?” Price said.

You shrugged, “it’s an old riddle, my grandma taught to us as a kid.”

Price nodded, “alright, let’s split up. Keep an eye out for anything interesting, stay frosty.”

“Copy that,” with that you released his arm, much to his disappointment.

You turned and looked over your shoulder with a grin, “and loosen up, old man! You’ll blow our cover before we ever get the chance!”

Price nearly choked on his breath, “not so loud!”

You waved dismissively over your shoulder, “no one can hear us, it’s too loud!”

You continued your way down to the dance floor, your heartbeat picking up as you sunk into the waves of dancing bodies lost in the music. Yes, you were on a mission, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun, right? Letting yourself be taken by the beats shaking the ground underneath your heels, you began to sway your hips. No one could wipe the smile away from your lips if they tried. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually went dancing, it had been way too long, forgetting how releasing it could be. The months of rough missions and being shot at had even your light-hearted jokes coming on a bit thick. So yes, you needed this. You need a release.

You ran your hands over your curves, swaying foot to foot, your hips in circles. In the same moment, you could feel eyes on you, and you knew damn well who it was. Price found you so easily in that crowd. He leaned over the railing, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he looked down at you from the terrace. His eyes never left your form, noting every way your body rolled, watching as your growing sweat began to glisten across your skin. God, you were perfect, and you knew it which made you all the more dangerous to him. A forbidden fruit.

Now, now you are going to put on a show. It was just too easy and too tempting not to. Maybe it would’ve landed you in a world of hurt later, but for now, you were going to wring every drop out of this moment. You flipped hair, your hands moving to hold your neck as you swing your hips in a circle, rolling your body in waves. You look up at Price, that smug grin never leaving.

“You little minx,” Price mumbled, taking a deep swig of his whiskey.

You had to have known what you were doing to him, this little game you were playing was slowly unraveling his resolve with each move. Not even a second later, you feel hands smooth over your waist and the warmth of someone behind you. You immediately tear your eyes away from Price and look at the man behind you.

“Haven’t seen you around here before, stranger,” the man said into your ear.

You didn’t slip, laying on the bimbo act on thick, “I’m from out of town, heard this place was a must see. Can’t see why though, am I missing something?”

The man chuckled, twirling you around before holding you tight to his chest shown brazenly through his unbuttoned shirt.

“You made it just in time for the grand finale,” the man said, his hand sliding down to your ass before squeezing.

It took everything in you to not slice his hand off right then and there, hiding your maliciousness behind a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, is that so?” You say.

The music began to reach its peak, the crowd becoming rowdier by the second. It felt like the dance floor had become even more packed, people closing you in completely. You looked over the man’s shoulder and up to Price, your gaze saying it all. Something was about to go down.

“Everyone’s storming the floor -- Kit time to go,” Price said to the ear piece to no response, “Kit, you read?”

But you couldn’t hear him over the loudness of the music shaking your bones. The air felt thinner and the heat was nearly unbearable when your dancing partner suddenly pulled you even closer to him to whisper in your ear.

“Here it comes, don’t waste a single drop,” he snickered.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion before hearing a large pop. Your head shot up to the blinding light above, seeing confetti raining down. But it wasn’t just confetti, there was a fine dust that glittered in the light and completely dominated what little air there was. The man took in a deep whiff, letting out a groan before sticking out his tongue. Before you could turn away, the cloud was upon you, blinding you while the room erupted into cheers. You shoved the man away from you, not that he seemed to mind, his attention drawn to the showering cloud of powder above.

Price instantly lept into action, abandoning his drink at a nearby table and shoving past the troves of people to get to you. You coughed and stumbled through the bodies, bumping into everyone as you passed, desperately rubbing the powder from your eyes to the best of your ability.

“John, s-shit, J-John!” You shouted in panic, hands over your eyes.

Soon enough you felt his warm hands take you by your arms.

“I’m here, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said.

He guided away from the floor and you followed blindly. You could feel the two of you pushing through, John not even bothering with manners until you could hear the opening of a door. You stumbled through and John hurriedly locked it behind you. You swayed, letting out a groan as you felt a throbbing headache coming on. You outstretched your arms, your hands laid flat against the walls casing you in.

“Fuck, I can’t see,” you whimpered, keeping your eyes squinted.

Without as much as a word, John turned you around and forced you to sit on what you assumed was the toilet.

“Here, lean back,” Price said, his voice laced with worry.

You did as he said, leaning back far enough that your back was supported by the sink basin attached to the tank. You could feel John’s hulking frame lean over you, adding his own heat to your unbearable temperature, turning on the faucet. Gently, he took your locks and laid underneath the cool water. You couldn’t quite place it, but you felt like your skin was crawling. Was it always like that? Your blood must have been boiling in your veins, centralizing lower, causing you to clench your thighs together. This feeling, it couldn’t be…

Your head began to turn into mush, you hadn’t even realized your tight grip on John’s shirt.

“Hold on, Kit, stay with me,” John’s voice sounded too good right, too good.

You flinched as he gently poured water over your closed eyes, the liquid feeling as if it was evaporating off your skin instantly. The world sounded underwater, like this small room was all that was left in the world. Leaving only you and John. You couldn’t hear Gaz calling over the earpiece, it having fallen out of your ear in your scuffle through the crowd, but John was talking to him.

That powder, it tasted sweet like sugar and coated everything. Everyone seemed to have been expecting it, everyone except you two. Shit, it all made sense.

“F-fuck, John, the weapon,” you gritted out, “that’s what it was. It’s some kind of, s-shit, I don’t know - an aphrodisiac, maybe? Fuck it’s so hot.”

John’s eyes widened in shock and realization. You groaned, cracking your eyes open to look up at him. If you didn’t think he was a giant (compared to you) you definitely thought so now seeing him in such a cramped space. He looked over you with that piercing blue gaze, the one that sent fear into the heart of many, but now only set you ablaze. Your gaze spilled over him, over his well-kept beard and mustache -- how desperately you wanted to ride them.

You clenched your legs tighter, trying but obviously failing to hang on to any ounce of sanity. He was your Captain. The man that made sure the job got done and that everyone came back. That’s all it was supposed to be. But you knew damn well it hadn’t just been that for a long time. You found yourself staring at the man for longer, sometimes he’d catch you and return a smile. That damned smile gifted by the mischievous gods themselves, sent to destroy you. And gods, it was working. Soon everything became engraved in your mind, the way his hips winded when he walked, the way he’d chew into his cigars when he was stressed. How he would bark orders to the time, watching them fall in line so easily, wishing, begging that he’d one day turn those orders on you and you alone. How you’d pray for them in your bed, your fingers desperately rubbing circles on your overstimulated clit in hopes of even coming close to what impossible pleasure he’d give you.

All such feelings were just that, feelings, and thus had no room in the real world. But now, such feelings roared like a furnace in your belly and you feared they’d overflow.

“I’ve really fucked us, didn’t I, Captain?” You said, your voice weak.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, leaning closer to look into your blown eyes. He gently tilted your head to get a better look at you.

“Kit, report,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond, your words tangled in bliss. John frowned, running a thumb over your plump lips.

“Come on, stay with me,” he whispered.

Your brow furrowed and you gulped, your mouth a desert.

“I-It’s…hot, so hot, I feel like I’m hot spring on top of fucking volcano,” your words slurred, “my head feels light, I can’t think straight…and my heart, it’s beating so fast. It hurts, John…”

John frowned, finding the odds even worse than he thought. In only a few moments, you wouldn’t be able to move let alone respond if he didn’t do something. He felt his heart in his throat. If you died on his watch, right in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He knew then, he felt more for you than a superior should ever feel. He now understood the anxiety he felt when he’d send on missions without him, and the immeasurable relief you brought when you came back to him. How he’d crack a smile at your bad jokes, so bad that they could even make Ghost chuckle. Remembering your divine image when you’d come out of a training session, covered in sweat to the point that it soaked through that little tank you called a shirt, eyeing how it clings to you, showing him everything but not enough at the same time.

John felt his mouth run dry as he pressed the earpiece.

“Gaz, keep an eye on the perimeter,” John said gruffly, “going dark.”

He didn’t even wait for Gaz to answer before dropping the earpiece and stomping it underneath his boot. John looked over your limp body, hunger clawing at him as he took in every inch of you.

“Kit, I need you to listen to me,” he said, both hands cradling your face.

You tried your best to give him your attention but you were slipping by the second.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” he said, still trying to find restraint. “Or else tell me to stop this and I will.”

You didn’t think your heart could beat any faster than it did but you couldn’t put it past John. All sense of restraint snapped like a twig. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him close until your lips clashed together. Teeth clashed as you held him tight. You expected him to push you away, you expected to have read the situation wrong, but you didn’t. He didn’t.

John nearly lost it when you moaned needily into the kiss. He tried his best not to crush you under his weight, one hand supporting himself against the wall behind you, the other tangling in your damp hair, pulling you impossibly closer. You kept your hands busy too, sliding down to his shirt and belt, yanking at the fabric. By the time the two of you separated, John was out of breath as he looked down at you with an unquenchable thirst.

“I want you to know,” his words rumbled in his chest, “if I could, I’d take you out to dinner, get you flowers, I wouldn’t, I mean-”

You giggled, “I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do all that later.”

John smiled, his hands squeezing under your thighs before hauling you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The wall felt like ice against your back, but he felt like fire against you. His warm hands slither up your thighs and under dress, fingers curling around the band of your thong.

John groaned, “what you do to me…”

His fingers moved the fabric clothing your heat, swiping up the slit and gathering your juices on his fingertips. 

“God, how are you this wet already?” He mumbled against your lips.

You could only answer  with a strangled mewl as he slid two fingers inside with ease. Working them, you struggled to contain your moans as his thumb circled your clit relentlessly.  Your vision was blurring by the second as you clawed at his shirt, moaning into his neck. You squealed, feeling John add another finger and when he curled them, spots of your vision completely disappeared.

“S-shit, John, right there, g-god!” You gasped.

John pumped his fingers faster, his mouth covering yours as an attempt to quiet you despite craving to hear you more. He watched as you fell apart in front of him, and he hungered for more. He kept his pace until your eyes flitted to the back of your head, your legs shaking around him. You came violently around his fingers, clawing at John’s muscular arms as he continued to pump them into your sensitive cunt. He only slowed when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, causing him to look up into you fucked out gaze.

Your eyes said it all. Your lips were parted and glossy with his and your own saliva.

“John, please…” you whispered airlessly.

He didn’t hold back, letting your legs fall as you tried your best to lean into the wall so as not to fall. He pulled hastily at his leather belt, peeling back the layers until he cock was finally free. You felt your mouth water seeing it slap up against his abdomen, its head red and angry. John stroked it a few times, squeezing the tip tightly. He took your left thigh, propping your heel on the toilet, spreading you and slipping between your legs. Now you could truly feel all of him. You slithered your fingers underneath John’s shirt, lifting it up to his firm pecs that you more than once caught yourself staring at during workout. Your hands felt so hot against him, he wanted more, needed more. His steely blue eyes connected with yours, looking for any hesitance, anything that would call him off. 

 “Tell me to stop,” his accent sounded rough, showing how much he was actually holding back. “Tell me-”

 You silenced him with a kiss, softer and gentler than the last. This was true, a promise. You broke from him and smiled warmly.

 “You are all I want,” you whispered.

 John groaned, swiping his tip along your slit, pulling a moan from you before knocking the air out of you as he began to sink into you. He was big, the was obvious. The tip alone made you stretch uncomfortably but you craved it, longed for it. He was being careful, your cautious captain. You could see it in his face, his brow scrunched up as he sunk further and further until he reached the hilt. Your mouth hung open in pleasure, your brow knitted.

 He waited for a moment before gently thrusting, kissing your velvety walls. You let out mewls, your fingers clawing against his arms.

 “J-John,” you whimpered.

 “Yea love?” he said, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure.

 “It’s okay,” you smiled, “let go.”

 John’s eyes widened a centimeter, fully blown. By a flip of a switch, he wrapped your wrists with a single hand and pinned them above you. His lips found sanctuary in your shoulder and neck, leaving smoldering kisses. His hips snapped against you and breath-taking pace, hitting deep with each thrust. You felt your mind fully melt, stars blinding your vision.

 “F-fuck, how are you this tight, love?” He groaned against your ear.

 All you could now was whimper pathetically in response, your hands clawing at his back as he ravished you over and over. Both your slick stuck to his abdomen and your thighs, his balls slapping against you every time he’d bury his cock into your cunt. You couldn’t control your moans, and John wouldn’t have wanted you to. He as lost in them as you were, groaning into your ear.

 The way he pounded into you, kissing your cervix, it was no wonder how you were so quickly returned to the edge. Your felt your stomach tighten as slapped your hands against his chest as another orgasm came over you in a unforgiving wave. You were dripping now, juices beginning to pool at your feet.

 For a moment you thought John had relented, letting out a pitiful whine as he pulled out of your puffy cunt. This thought was dashed when he dragged you over to the sink, your hands holding yourself up against the porcelain. John ruffled your dress over your ass, slapping a hand against it before tightly squeezing.

 “Look at you, you’re a sight,” John mumbled, “it was pure torture watching you out there. Almost like this was what you’ve always wanted. Needed a good fuck, didn’t you Kit?”

 You let out a moan, feeling John slide a hand up your back to tangle into your locks before pulling. You looked up lazily into the reflection, finding him staring back at you.

 “Answer me, soldier,” he said, a smug smirk on his lips.

 In any other circumstance you would want to whip that prideful smirk off his face, but right now all you wanted to do was worship him.

 “Yes, sir.”

 You let out a moan as he slid back into you so easily, falling back into his brutal pace. Your head rocked back as you bit you lip, your eyes rolling to the back your head. He kissed your sweet spot repeatedly, bruising it but you loved it. God you loved it.

 “Good fucking girl,” he cursed, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips, “doing so well for me.”

 You yelped as he picked up the pace, something you didn’t think was possible. John watched with pride as your ass slapped against his thighs with ever thrust, echoing against the concrete walls along with the pornstar moans he was dragging out of you so easily. He could feel your walls tightening around him as he rammed your womb, inching him closer to his climax.

 “Where do you want it, love?” He said, his breath labored.

 You didn’t even think, your mouth did all the work.

 “F-fuck, fuck cum, cum inside me- fuck, John!” You cried.

 “Fuuck, love, you’re dangerous,” John groaned, his grip on your waist tightening, his head dipped to your back.

 His breaths left his lungs in huffs each thrust, matching your moans until you both unraveled like paper dolls. You let out a long moan, feeling his seed paint your womb and warm you from the inside out.

 The two of you refused to move, both gasping for air. It wasn’t until his soft dick was forced out by your tight cunt did John look up into the mirror.

 “You alright, love?” He said.

 All you could do was nod, still trying to catch your breath. John stood straight, hands gently rubbing your back as he looked down at the mess he made of you. His seed dripped out lazily from you and before he could even think, he took his index, catching some before stuffing it back in. You let out a small whimper, looking over your shoulder to him.

 “Can’t waste a drop, love,” he said with a tired smirk.

 You shakily pushed yourself off the sink, your dress falling back over thighs. Legs feeling like jello, you stumbled to sit down on the toilet. You hung your head as you tried your best to catch your breath. Much to your dismay, the high began to subside and the regret began to set in.

 As if sensing your anxiety, John gently cradled your face, guiding you to look up at him. He placed a gentle kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away with a smile.

 “I meant what I said,” he said. “I want to take you out. Somewhere you nice. Treat you like you deserve, that is, if you’ll have me?”

 You looked up at him in disbelief before grinning, “I’ll go anywhere you are, Captain.”

______________________________________________________________

*leaps into escape vehicle*: I REGRET NOTHING!!

help me out a please reblog and like, thank you!!

[theetherealbloom]

THE SILVER LINING - CH. 6

Chapter Six: Show Me Where To Find The Silver Lining

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families needing medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and the bounty hunters. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive!FemReader (Empath)

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths, Awkward, Plot Holes, Flying, Lava, Character Death, Jetpacks, Canon-Typical violence,

Word Count: 11.3k

A/N: I know… I know… I took so long to update this PLS– I went through several revisions for this… idk this episode just gave me insane writers block for some reason??? Like help???

Song: Home by Good Neighbours

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NEVARRO CANTINA, 9ABY – NOON

You find yourself caught in a tense balance between desperation and determination, surrounded by stormtroopers. Gripping your lightsaber hilt tightly, you stand ready to ignite it at a moment's notice. However, with no backup in sight, the odds of fighting your way out seem insurmountable.

"Is there another way out?" Cara queries Greef Karga, her eyes scanning the perimeter for any possible escape routes.

Greef gestures toward the outside, where stormtroopers are closing in. "No, that's it," he replies grimly.

Din interjects with a suggestion. "What about the sewers?"

Greef Karga's brows knit in confusion. "Sewers?"

"The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape," Din explains, seeking a potential exit strategy.

"Yeah, sewers are good," Cara agrees, nodding in approval.

You observe as Din manipulates a few buttons on his left armor bracer, causing it to emit a low hum as his visor begins scanning for access points. After a moment, he announces, "Checking for access points."

"What the hell are they waiting for?" Cara mutters, peering outside once more. Through the broken windows, you catch sight of stormtroopers assembling a heavy repeating blaster. Cara's breath catches, "Hold up. They're setting up an E-Web."

"It's over," Greef Karga remarks, a hint of fear evident in his voice.

Din's visor chimes, and he declares, "I found the sewer vent."

"Let's get the hell out of here," Cara urges, moving swiftly. You follow closely behind as she and Din begin tearing apart the furniture, revealing the sewer vent hidden beneath a seat.

The three of you struggle to pry open the sewer vent's panel, emitting frustrated groans as each attempt proves futile.

"It's assembled! How long until that thing's cleared?" Greef Karga's urgency fills the air.

"Blow it," Cara directs Din, her tone commanding.

"I'm out of charges," Din responds, prompting Cara to gesture towards him while she retrieves her heavy blaster. "Get out of the way!" she orders, attempting to blast open the sewer vent without success. Frustration mounts as she hits the unyielding metal gate.

"Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation," the voice from outside remarks ominously. "I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of consideration."

"Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model," the Imperial Officer adds with malice.

"Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin," the Imperial Officer's voice resonates with a tone of menace as he utters Din's name. Din takes a subtle step closer to you, his presence offering a silent reassurance amidst the tension. The officer continues, recounting the horrors of the Siege of Mandalore, where gunships armed with devastating ordnance wreaked havoc upon fields of Mandalorian recruits during the Night of a Thousand Tears.

"Or your Force-sensitive medic who wields a lightsaber," the officer's voice takes on a sinister edge as he delves into your past, revealing the painful truth of your master's abandonment. "Her Master had abandoned her, deeming her too dangerous for her own good. Betrayed by false promises of danger, she was cast aside, left to navigate the galaxy alone, while her Master chose another apprentice." The words cut deep, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you, shame mingling with the ache of betrayal.

You avert your gaze from Din, Cara, and Greef Karga, unable to bear the heaviness of their curious stares. Shame grips your heart, its tendrils clawing at your soul, as the truth of your past is laid bare for all to see.

"I advise disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to heed the wisdom of his years," the officer's voice echoes through the tense silence, urging surrender. "Lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed shortly, and your storied lives will meet an unceremonious end."

"What do you propose?" Greef Karga's voice holds a hint of skepticism as he humors the Imperial Officer.

"Reasonable negotiation," the officer replies, his tone dripping with calculated confidence. Greef scoffs loudly at the notion, prompting him to question, "What assurance do you offer?"

The officer's response is chillingly blunt. "If you're asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand. The assurance I give is this: I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire." With those words, he turns and departs, leaving behind a tense silence.

You release a small sigh of relief, though you know it won't last long. There's the ominous menace of the E-Web cannon lingering over you, a constant reminder of how vulnerable you are.

"I say we hear him out," Greef Karga suggests, his tone cautious yet open to the possibility. Cara, meanwhile, shakes her head as she gathers blasters from the fallen stormtroopers scattered across the floor. "The minute we open that door, we're dead," she asserts firmly.

"We're dead if we don't. At least out there, we've got a shot," Greef counters, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of advantage.

Cara remains resolute. "That's easy for you to say. I'm a Rebel Shock Trooper. They'll upload me to a Mind Flayer."

Greef dismisses her concern with a hint of skepticism. "Those aren't real. That was just wartime propaganda."

"I don't care to find out. I'm shooting my way out of here," Cara declares, determination etched in her features.

Turning to you and Din, Greef seeks your input. "What about you two, Mando?"

"I know who he is. It's Moff Gideon," Din asserts, his voice carrying a sound of certainty. You furrow your brow in concern at the mention of the name. Cara freezes in disbelief. "No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes."

"It's him. He knew my name," Din explains, his expression grave.

"So? What does that prove?" Greef queries, searching for clarity amidst the confusion.

Your frown deepens as unsettling memories resurface. "I haven't heard that name spoken since I was a child," Din reflects, his tone distant as if retracing fragments of his past.

"On Mandalore?" Greef probes, seeking to understand.

"I was not born on Mandalore," Din reveals, his words tinged with a sense of identity and purpose.

"But you're a Mandalorian," Greef counters, puzzled by the revelation.

"Mandalorian isn't a race," you interject, offering clarification. Din echoes your sentiment. "It's a Creed."

You turn to Din, who stands motionless, his emotions noticeable even without words. Through the Force, you sense the silver streaks of his emotions deepening into a darker shade of grey. His sadness is tangible, a heavy burden weighing on his shoulders. Every ounce of anger and resentment he harbors towards the Empire, towards the droids that razed his village, his home, and his family, is laid bare. You feel the pressure of his baggage and brokenness, the scaffolding of his inner strength straining to support his weary frame.

Blinking, you find yourself immersed in his memories, transported to the horrors of Din's past. The air is thick with the acrid scent of blaster fire and the piercing screams of civilians. You witness the onslaught of battle droids affiliated with the Separatist Alliance during the Clone Wars, their relentless assault claiming innocent lives. Amidst the chaos, Din's parents shield him in a small bunker before succumbing to the explosion that engulfs them.

Tears stream down your face as you watch the young Din, his fear palpable as he braces for the end, only to be saved by a Mandalorian Clan.

"I was a foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps," Din's voice breaks through the haze of memories, bringing you back to the present. "I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the purge. That's how I know it's him. That's how he knows who we all are," Din explains.

Standing there, frozen in place, a myriad of questions race through your mind. How did you manage to delve into Din's memories? Every detail felt so vivid, so real. Tears continue to cascade down your face, overwhelmed by both his emotions and your own.

“Cyar’ika?” Din's voice breaks through the haze, distant yet urgent as your head throbs with pain.

A sob escapes your lips, tears welling in your eyes. "You were just a child,” you manage to choke out in your turmoil.

Din approaches, his hands gentle as they settle on your shoulders. You gasp for breath, hyperventilating as sobs wrack your body. "You were a child, scared and alone," you ramble, the words tumbling out incoherently. "I felt it all—your fear, your anger. It consumed you like wildfire, and—”

Din speaks your name softly, his gloved hand lifting your chin to meet his gaze through the visor. Tear-stained and with puffy eyes, you sob as your eyes meet his. He tenderly wipes away your tears, his touch comforting as you lean into it, placing your hand atop his.

"I'm sorry," you manage to choke out amidst the tears.

"It's not…" Din reassures you gently.

You sniffle, "I'm sorry you were alone. That you had to endure all of that by yourself."

His stomach tightens, a knot forming as he observes your distress. Underneath his helmet, his jaw clenches, a familiar frown settling on his face underneath his helmet. He's realized that he dislikes seeing you cry, feeling powerless to solve the problems that cause your tears.

Pulling you close, he envelops you in his arms as you tremble, offering a gentle shushing sound to soothe you. "It was like you were there in my mind and memories—" he begins, his voice soft.

You sniffle, attempting to regain your composure. "Yeah... I… I’m not sure what that was," you admit, shaking your head. "Never mind. We'll deal with that later. Right now, we should focus on getting out of here."

Din reluctantly releases you and takes a step back, addressing the group. "He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely," he informs them. "I was worried when the Ugnaught didn't respond, but if they'd captured the kid, we'd already be dead."

Cara nods and says to Din, “Hail them again.”

"Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil?" Din's voice echoes into the comlink, but there's no response. He shakes his head in frustration. "Nothing."

"They might have jammed the signal," Cara suggests, retrieving her heavy repeating blaster from across the room. Meanwhile, Greef Karga takes a swig from a blue drink.

Suddenly, the comlink beeps, and the sound of the Child cooing fills the room. Then, the mechanical voice of IG-11 follows. "Kuiil has been terminated."

Din's voice grows stern and accusing as he speaks into the comlink. "What did you do?"

"I am fulfilling my primary function," IG-11 responds calmly.

"And what is that?" Din demands.

"To nurse and protect," IG-11 declares with unwavering resoluteness.

A few moments later, the distant sounds of troopers screaming and blaster fire fill the air. "Look!" Cara exclaims, prompting you to peek out through the window. Outside, you witness IG-11 riding through the streets of the settlement, swiftly taking down stormtroopers with his twin blasters. Even a pair of troopers haggling with a local Jawa are not spared from his onslaught. With precision and speed, IG-11 fights his way through Gideon's troops, throwing a speeder bike at them and causing a massive explosion.

"Cover me," Din commands Cara, who responds by shooting through the broken window, taking out more stormtroopers with her repeating blaster. Chaos unfolds all around you, the cacophony of heavy blaster fire echoing throughout Nevarro.

Following Din out of the cantina's door as it hisses open, you find yourself amid the action. Din swiftly disarms a nearby stormtrooper, taking him down with a precise shot through the helmet. You trail closely behind him, activating your lightsaber. Its purple glow commands attention, causing some stormtroopers to hesitate in shock, which you seize upon.

You and Greef Karga join the fray, swiftly dispatching several death troopers. Despite sustaining a hit to his leg, IG-11 valiantly protects the Child and guides it to safety. Meanwhile, Din skillfully operates the E-web heavy repeater blaster cannon, eliminating multiple stormtroopers with deadly accuracy.

A death trooper detonates an explosive, blowing open the cantina's door. Swarms of death troopers flood in, but Cara skillfully guns them down, buying precious moments.

Your attention is drawn to Moff Gideon cornering the Mandalorian, firing a shot that grazes his shoulder. You cry out, "Din!"

Before you can reach him, Moff Gideon aims at a nearby box of ammunition, setting off a powerful explosion. The blast sends you flying backward, your ears ringing from the force. With a shriek, you scramble to your feet, dodging blaster fire with your lightsaber as you rush to the Mandalorian's side. He lies motionless, wounded and vulnerable.

Cara lends you a hand as you haul Din's injured form into the cantina, seeking refuge. With a determined tone, she reassures him, "Stay with me, buddy. We're getting you out of here."

Together, you carefully lay him down in a safe spot, your heart heavy with worry. "Din, please... Hang on," you plead softly, fighting back tears.

Din lets out a weak whimper, and you clutch his gloved hand tightly, offering what comfort you can. "We'll get you out of here, I promise," you vow, hearing Greef persuade IG-11 to aid in their escape by unsealing the grate.

Despite his pain, Din shifts his helmeted gaze to you, his voice strained as he says, "I won't make it. Go."

Tears blur your vision as you shake your head, refusing to accept the inevitable. "No, you'll be fine. We'll get through this," you sob out, your voice quivering with emotion.

Din's voice is strained as he insists, "Leave me." The warmth of his blood seeps through his helmet as you pull back your trembling hand, stained red. But you refuse to give up, determined to save him.

With shaky hands, you reach for the sides of his helmet. "I need to take your helmet off," you say, your voice heavy with urgency.

Din's grip tightens on your wrists as he protests, "No. Leave me. Keep the child safe, Cyar'ika."

Desperation fills your voice as you try to reason with him, "Din, I—" But he cuts you off, his tone firm and resolute.

"No. I don't… want this to be how you see me for the first time," he murmurs, his words strained with pain.

You don't care about appearances; all you want is to keep him alive. "I don't care. I just need you," you plead, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Din reaches for his mythosaur necklace and hands it to you. "Take this," he says weakly. "Show it to the Mandalorian covert. Tell them it's from Din Djarin. You and the foundling were under my protection. They'll help you."

"We can make it. We have to make it… you can't leave me too… please… Din… Let me heal you," you sobbed out, your voice choked with emotion as you held onto him, your frame trembling.

Suddenly, a red-striped incinerator trooper, armed with a flamethrower, approaches the cantina, setting the furniture ablaze through the broken window. With determination, you throw yourself atop Din, shielding him from the flames, before turning back to look at him.

"Oh, Ner cyar'ika," Din murmurs, cupping your face with his gloved hand. You lean into his touch, seeking comfort in his presence.

"I'm not gonna make it, and you know it," Din admits, his voice heavy with resignation. "You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior's death."

The finality of his words sends a pang of sorrow through you. "I won't leave you," you protest, your voice wavering.

"This is the Way," Din asserts, his gaze steady behind his visor. You meet his eyes, unable to find the right words to express your emotions. Pressing your forehead against his beskar helmet, you hold onto his gloved hand, which caresses the side of your cheek.

You kiss the small patch of exposed skin on his wrist, feeling the gravity of the moment. Din takes a shaky breath before saying, "Ner cyar'ika, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

Before you could even ask what he was saying, the incinerator trooper strides into the cantina, but the Child reacts swiftly, harnessing the Force to deflect the flames back at the trooper, forcing him to retreat. You witness the surge of power emanating from the Child, and instinctively extend your own hand, aiding in redirecting the flames away from your group.

As the trooper is driven back, the Child's tiny form slumps in exhaustion, overwhelmed by the effort. Just then, IG-11 kicks open the grate, signaling an opportunity for escape as the flames around you is all consuming and melting.

“Come on! It's open, let's go!” Greef Karga's urgent voice echoes through the chaos.

“Go. Cy’are, go,” Din insists, his tone heavy with resolve.

“We have to move! Now!” Greef Karga urges, as IG-11 helps clear the way, lifting the Child with care.

You remain rooted in place, torn between staying with Din and fleeing to safety. The metallic footsteps of IG-11 approach, and the droid's voice breaks through the turmoil. “Escape and protect this child. I will stay with the Mandalorian,” it declares, passing the sleeping Child into your arms.

Meeting the droid's gaze, you plead, “Promise me you'll bring him. Please.”

“You have my word,” IG-11 assures you, and you exchange a final glance with Din. With a heavy heart, you press your forehead to his helmet and whisper, “I need you. Maker, I want you, please… come back to me.”

Before he can respond, Cara pulls you away, guiding you into the tunnels below alongside Greef Karga, the force of uncertainty settling heavily upon you.

Din's mind drifts, overwhelmed by the scorching heat and his own exhaustion. In his haze, he sees IG-11 approaching, a stark reminder of his past and the deep-rooted trauma it carries. Through the chaos, thoughts of you, his beloved Cyar'ika, provide a fleeting sense of solace. Objects tumble in the inferno's blaze, a testament to the chaos engulfing them.

“Do it,” Din gruffly commands, his head throbbing from the impact, blood trickling down his neck.

“Do what?” IG-11 inquires, its mechanical voice cutting through the loud burning flames surrounding them.

“Just get it over with. I'd rather you kill me than some Imp,” Din asserts, his words tinged with bitter honesty. Once, he would have faced this without hesitation. But you changed everything, and now his only regret is not kissing you, not feeling the warmth of your lips against his.

“I told you. I am no longer a hunter. I am a nurse droid,” IG-11 states.

“IGs are all hunters,” Din grumbles, his frustration evident.

The droid pauses before responding, “Not this one. I was reprogrammed. I need to remove your helmet if I am to save you.”

Din's grip tightens on his blaster, his voice dripping with threat, “Try it and I'll end you.” He struggles to breathe, teeth clenched, “It is forbidden. No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I swore the Creed.”

"I am not a living thing," IG-11 states plainly, the truth evident in his words.

With a hiss and a click, the mechanical hands of the IG-11 droid lift Din's helmet. His heart beats heavily in his chest as he awaits what comes next.

"This is a bacta spray. It will heal you in a matter of hours," IG-11 explains as it sprays the upper part of Din's head. "You have suffered damage to your central processing unit."

"You mean my brain?" Din quips.

IG-11 tilts its head. "That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease."

Din stifles a chuckle. In that moment, he realizes he still has hope. Despite his weariness and desire to depart, he closes his eyes briefly, thinking of you. The thought of needing you pushes him forward. Determined, he knows no grave can hold his body down; he'll find a way back to you, whatever it takes.

There is so much love in your body that you can't hold it in; it pours from your eyes and spills from your skin. As you cradle the Child closer to your chest, muffled explosions echo from above.

An ache settles between your ribs—a yearning for a different destiny and the resilience to keep hoping for a better outcome. You cling to the hope that Din will be alright.

A louder explosion echoes through the tunnels, causing you, Greef Karga, and Cara Dune to spin around. Cara’s flashlight cuts through the darkness, revealing the source of the noise. The heavy footsteps draw closer, and soon, you spot IG-11’s silhouette—along with the glimmer of silver beskar you’ve come to cherish so deeply.

Without thinking, you rush forward, your heart pounding as you reach Din. He’s still unsteady, clearly feeling the effects of his concussion, but he’s alive. Relief floods your chest as you pass the Child to IG-11, and you throw your arms around Din’s neck, tears streaming down your face. 

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

His arms wrap around your waist, his leather gloves squeezing you tightly as if grounding himself in your presence. You slide one arm over your shoulder, determined to help him walk.

“I got you,” you murmur, holding him close as you guide him through the dimly lit tunnels.

As you continue down the darkened tunnels, Din leans heavily against you, each step a struggle against the pain that wracks his body. Greef Karga glances around, uncertainty evident in his voice as he asks, "Do you know which way to go?"

Din grunts in response, his voice strained. "No. I don't know these tunnels. I've only entered from the bazaar." His words are clipped, every syllable laced with discomfort.

Greef Karga presses on, trying to find a solution. "Well, if we get the smell of sulfur and follow it, it'll lead us up to the plains where the river flows."

Din's voice cuts through the dark, gruff and insistent. "And the Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety."

Your group presses on, delving deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels with each step. The air grows thicker, and the walls seem to close in as the tension between you mounts.

"Ugh, this place is a maze," Cara groans, her voice filled with frustration as she surveys the endless twists and turns.

"Stop. I can stand," Din says, his voice firm despite the strain. He removes his arm from your shoulder, and you give him a hopeful look, noticing the determination in his voice. IG-11 assesses his condition and confirms, "The bacta infusion is working."

Din nods, his determination solidifying. "I'll try to find tracks." He moves forward, the beam of light from his helmet cutting through the darkness. His gaze is focused, scanning the ground carefully. Then, he spots something and points to the left, leading the group as he says, "We're close. Turn here."

The group follows Din's lead, the tunnel narrowing as the beam of light from the flashlights dances across the walls. As you round the corner, a chilling dread settles deep in your bones. The covert lies ahead, but instead of the safety you hoped for, you’re greeted by a harrowing sight—helmets and armor, scattered and lifeless, marking the final resting place of countless fallen Mandalorians.

Din’s steps falter as he enters the covert, his helmet’s light switching off with a click. The darkness seems heavier here, pressing in on him from all sides. Slowly, warily, he moves forward, his exhaustion evident in every sluggish step. Kneeling beside the fallen, his head bows in silent mourning.

He reaches out, picking up one of the broken helmets, its once-proud beskar now marred and empty. You see it in waves of dark grey and sharp silver, a storm of anger and grief brews within him, coiling tightly in his stomach, a heavy silence hanging in the air around him.

You kneel beside him, your presence a tentative but necessary comfort. Din grasps your hand, holding on as if it’s the only thing keeping him from being swallowed by the void. His fingers tighten around yours, the touch grounding him, allowing him to feel something—anything—beyond the pain and loss.

Cara steps forward, her voice calm but insistent. "We should go."

Din's response is immediate, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with grief and fury. "You go. Take the ship. I can't leave it this way." His head snaps to the side, anger flaring as he locks eyes with Greef Karga through his vizor. "Did you know about this? Is this the work of your bounty hunters?"

Greef Karga scoffs, shaking his head. "No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended, and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They're mercenaries. They're not zealots."

Din grinds his teeth, his jaw clenched tight. The emotions rolling off him are palpable, a storm barely contained. He pulls away from you, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold fury radiating from him as he steps forward, shoving a finger into Greef Karga’s chest. "Did you do this? Did you?"

Before Greef can respond, a new voice cuts through the tension, calm and authoritative. "No. It was not his fault."

All of you turn toward the source of the voice, a female Mandalorian stepping out from the shadows. She is clad in red armor, her gold helmet adorned with a series of horns that curve across the top. This must be the Armorer, the one who forged Din's beskar. The way she carries herself, with quiet strength and wisdom, leaves no doubt.

You rise to your feet, your eyes widening as you sense a powerful aura emanating from her, a blend of gold and red. Through the Force, you glimpse her true nature—patient, wise, and unwaveringly strong.

The Armorer surveys the fallen armor strewn across the covert, her voice measured and steady. "We revealed ourselves. We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted." She lifts a piece of beskar armor from the pile, her tone resigned, as though she is stating a simple fact.

Din’s voice is strained as he asks, "Did any survive?"

The Armorer places the piece of armor onto a cart already laden with salvaged beskar. "I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world."

"Come with us," Din urges, but the Armorer shakes her head, picking up another helmet and adding it to her cart.

"No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains," she replies firmly, her choice unshakable.

You watch as she begins to push the hovering cart away, and without hesitation, Din follows her, leaving the rest of you to trail behind. The path leads you to the heart of the covert—the Armorer's forge, a place of deep significance. The air here is thick with the importance of history and tradition, the forge itself a symbol of the Mandalorians' resilience and strength.

You take in your surroundings, noting the tools neatly arranged, the forge at the center, glowing faintly with embers, the table where beskar is shaped and molded, and the computer panel displaying holographic schematics of Mandalorian armor. Every detail speaks of the care and precision that goes into crafting the armor that defines a Mandalorian, a testament to their way of life.

The cryo-furnace burns brightly in the center of the forge, casting flickering shadows across the room. You watch as the Armorer, with practiced precision, uses a pair of magnetic tongs to lift a beskar chest plate. The metal sizzles and hisses as she dips it into the molten pool of the furnace, transforming solid beskar into liquid. Her voice is calm, yet it carries the tone of command. “Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

IG-11 steps forward, the Child sitting quietly in the brown backpack strapped to the droid’s chest. Din speaks, his voice steady, though tinged with reverence. “This is the one.”

The Armorer steps closer, her gaze fixed on the small creature. “This is the one that you hunted, then saved?”

Din nods, his response curt but sincere. “Yes. The one that saved me as well.”

The Armorer tilts her helmet slightly as she continues, “From the mudhorn?”

“Yes,” Din confirms, his voice clipped as he remembers the near-fatal encounter.

“It looks helpless,” she observes, her tone more curious than judgmental.

The Child coos softly in response, its large ears folding back as if understanding the conversation. Din shifts slightly, protective instincts kicking in as he explains, “It's injured, but it is not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.”

The Armorer nods thoughtfully, her tone reverent as she recalls ancient lore. “I know of such things. The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi, who wielded such powers.”

You stiffen at the mention of the Jedi, memories of old texts and scrolls you once studied flashing through your mind. Din instinctively steps forward, positioning himself slightly in front of you, a subtle yet protective gesture. You can't help but ask, your voice shaky with uncertainty, “Is it an enemy?”

The Armorer regards the Child, then turns her attention to you, her gaze thoughtful beneath the gold helmet. “No. Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.” She pauses, her head tilting slightly as she studies you with a depth that makes your heart race. “Including her.”

“I… How…” you stammer, the words tangled in your throat as you struggle to comprehend her meaning.

The Armorer’s voice is patient, her words measured. “You are different. The Force flows through you as well, though not as it does through the Child. But you are not our enemy.”

Din glances at you, his expression unreadable behind his helmet, but you can feel his concern and confusion.  The importance of this information is nearly too much for you to take, even while you strain to find your words. Even while you know that everything has shifted in this instant, the armorer carries on with her task, undisturbed, as if she has spoken nothing unusual.

Din watches as the Armorer opens a cabinet, her movements precise and deliberate. The flickering light from the cryo-furnace casts long shadows on the walls, the heat radiating from the molten beskar filling the room. "What is it?" Din asks, his voice low and gravelly, filled with the sudden push of responsibility he’s not yet ready to accept.

The Armorer doesn’t look up from her work as she replies, her tone measured and authoritative. "It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care."

The Child, nestled safely in the brown backpack, gurgles softly, its wide eyes shifting between you and Din, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

Din glances down at the Child, confusion and uncertainty lacing his words as he gestures towards the small creature. "You wish me to train this thing?"

The Armorer continues her work, her focus unbroken as she dips the simmering ladle with the liquid beskar, pouring it with precision onto her workbench. "It is too weak," she states plainly. "It would die. You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind."

Din’s jaw clenches beneath his helmet, his mind racing with the implications of her words. You stand beside him, feeling the sudden new responsibility settle over both of you. The Child stares up at you both with innocent eyes, unaware of the storm brewing within the Mandalorian’s heart.

"Where?" Din asks, his voice strained with the weariness of the unknown.

The Armorer hums thoughtfully, her focus never wavering from her task. "This, you must determine."

Din feels frustration bubbling up inside him. He gestures helplessly at the Child. "You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to a race of enemy sorcerers?" His words rush out, sharp and biting, and you can’t help but wince, though you know the remark wasn’t directed at you.

The Armorer remains unfazed, her hammer striking the beskar with rhythmic precision. "This is the Way," she remarks, her tone calm and resolute, as if the creed alone should be enough to calm his doubts.

Din’s eyes soften under his helmet, realizing the harshness of his words. He turns to you, taking your hand gently in his. "I apologize, Cy’are," he mumbles, his voice laden with regret.

You offer him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand lightly. "I know," you reply softly, understanding his distress. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

The Armorer, ever observant, takes note of your interaction as she continues her work. The clang of metal against metal fills the silence until Cara speaks up, her tone practical and urgent. "Hey. These tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan."

The Armorer pauses her hammering, then turns slightly toward the group. "If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats."

Greef Karga looks to Din, concern creasing his brow. "I think we should go," he suggests, the tension evident in his voice.

Din, however, remains resolute. "I'm staying. I need to help her, and I need to heal," he replies firmly, his gaze locking with yours.

You meet his determination with your own. "I’m not leaving you," you state with unwavering conviction. 

The Armorer picks up her magnetic tongs and a circular pan, her voice steady as she addresses you both. "You must go. Your Riduur and the foundling are in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father."

The Child coos softly, sensing the affection and bond between you, Din, and itself. The Armorer, acknowledging this bond, turns to Din with a quiet reverence. "This is the Way."

The Armorer steps forward with quiet precision, affixing a signet to Din's pauldron. The emblem gleams in the dim light of the forge, its magnitude both physical and symbolic as it signifies the new identity bestowed upon him. She pauses for a moment, allowing the significance to settle in before she speaks, her voice steady and authoritative.

"You have earned your Signet. For now… you are a clan of two," she declares, her tone interim, as though the value of the galaxy itself rests on this moment.

The words barely register in your mind, their meaning lost as you stand beside Din. Your gaze is fixed on him, watching the way his posture straightens slightly, the way his head dips just a fraction in acknowledgment.

"Thank you," Din says, his voice rough with emotion but steady. "I will wear this with honor."

The forge's flames flicker, casting warm, wavering light on the scene, as Din steps back, the signet glinting on his pauldron—a mark of pride, responsibility, and the bond that ties the two of you together in this perilous galaxy.

The rumble of muffled explosions grows louder, each one sending vibrations through the walls of the covert. Instinctively, your group turns toward the source of the sound, tension tightening in your chest. Greef Karga’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp with urgency. “We should go,” he insists, his eyes darting between the shadows of the tunnel.

The Armorer, however, remains unflinching. She turns to IG-11 and then to you, her voice calm but commanding. “IG and the Jedi,” she begins, and before you can correct her misunderstanding, she continues, “please guard the outer hallway. A scouting party draws near.”

Without hesitation, the IG unit steps forward. It moves to Cara, gently handing the Child over to her. The soldier, caught off guard, stammers, “Hang on. I don't do the baby thing.”

The Child coos softly, and you exchange a quick, knowing glance with Cara, a slight shrug of your shoulders conveying that there’s little choice in the matter. Without another word, you follow the IG unit as it strides purposefully towards the outer hallway. The air grows colder, and the sound of your footsteps echoes against the narrow walls as you leave the others behind.

Just before you’re out of earshot, you hear the Armorer's voice, calm and steady as ever. “I have a few more gifts for your journey. Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

Din looks down at the gleaming silver beskar Z-6 Jetpack in his hands, his breath catching slightly in his throat. “When I was a boy,” he says, his voice thick with the load of memories. “Yes.”

The Armorer’s voice is calm, almost reverent as she holds the jetpack. “Then this will make you complete,” she declares, a solemnity in her tone that acknowledges the significance of the moment.

Din’s voice wavers as he accepts the gift. “Thank you.”

She steps behind him, carefully attaching the Z-6 Jetpack to his back, her movements precise and steady. “When you have healed,” she instructs, “you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.”

Din feels the weight of the jetpack settle onto his shoulders, its presence both reassuring and daunting. He nods, his determination hardening, his voice steady as he replies, "I understand." The words are a quiet promise, a vow to honor the gift he has been given.

The Armorer pauses for a moment, her gaze steady on him. "One other thing," she begins, her tone shifting slightly, "your Riduur… I assume you’re courting her."

The question hits Din like a bolt, and he feels a flush rise beneath his helmet, heat spreading across his skin. He’s never been one for public confrontations, especially not about something so deeply personal. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken emotions, as he struggles for a response.

But the Armorer doesn’t need words to understand. She reads the tension in his posture, the hesitation in his voice, and she nods, accepting his silence as confirmation. Without another word, she turns to her cabinet, her movements measured and precise. From within, she retrieves a smaller version of the Mudhorn signet, its surface polished to a gleaming finish. She hands it to him with the same solemnity that she had with the jetpack.

"You are aware of the customs?" she asks, her voice carrying the value of tradition.

Din takes the signet, its cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth flooding his chest. He slips it into his pocket, the significance of the gesture not lost on him. 

"Yes," he replies, his voice firm, yet laced with an undercurrent of emotion he rarely lets slip.

The Armorer inclines her head, satisfied with his answer. "This is the Way," she intones, her words both a reminder and a benediction.

Din nods, the phrase echoing in his mind. "This is the Way," he repeats, the words a binding promise, not just to himself, but to you as well. 

Meanwhile, in the outer hallway, you and the IG-11 unit stand alert. The sound of approaching stormtroopers reverberates through the tunnels, a familiar and unwelcome echo. Your hand instinctively reaches for the hilt of your lightsaber, and with a flick, it ignites, casting a purple glow across the darkened corridor. The Force flows through you, heightening your senses as you prepare for the oncoming assault.

Blaster fire erupts, red bolts streaking toward you, but you remain calm, centered. Your lightsaber hums as you deflect each shot with precision, the bolts ricocheting back at the stormtroopers, sending them sprawling—some injured, others unconscious.

Beside you, IG-11 methodically takes down those that remain standing. The droid’s movements are efficient, calculated. As the last of the stormtroopers fall, you and IG-11 exchange a glance. The droid peers around the corner, scanning for further threats, then turns to you and states matter-of-factly, “You are protected.”

"More will come. You must go," the Armorer states with quiet authority as you and IG-11 reenter the forge. The heat from the cryo-furnace pulses through the room, a stark contrast to the cold dread gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

Din turns to her, his voice firm with concern. “Come with us.”

The Armorer shakes her head with a firm tenacity. “My place is here. Restock your munitions,” she instructs, her voice steady as she gestures toward the scattered supplies.

She turns to the IG unit, handing Din’s newly earned jetpack into its mechanical grasp. “IG, carry this for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it.”

The droid nods in silent compliance, securing the jetpack carefully within its arms. Din methodically restocks his ammunition, his focus sharp despite the tension humming through the air.

“Now, go. Down to the river and across the plains. Be safe on your journey,” the Armorer commands, her voice carrying the weight of finality.

Din takes your hand in his, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. There’s a moment of unspoken understanding between you, the bond you share more palpable than ever in the face of the unknown. He turns to the tunnels, not dropping your hand, and with a quiet nod to the Armorer, he says, “Thank you.”

The two of you head into the darkness, leaving the forge and its fierce protector behind, every step forward a testament to the resilience that binds you.

You emerge from one of the tunnels and are immediately greeted by the sight of a large, bubbling river of hot lava, its fiery surface sending waves of heat toward you. The glow casts an eerie, red light on everyone’s faces, highlighting the tension in the air.

“This is the lava river,” Greef Karga announces, his voice filled with a mix of awe and urgency.

You and Din move closer to the boat docked on the riverbank, its hull crewed by a battered and seemingly inoperative ferry droid. Din assesses the damage, his gaze narrowing as he comments, “The ferry droid is fried.”

Greef Karga steps forward, his practical mind already formulating a plan. “Yeah, but if we push the boat out, we can get it to float downstream. Come on,” he says, placing his hands on the boat’s edge and beginning to shove.

Din continues his inspection of the boat, noticing its age and the wear that time has inflicted. “Looks old. Will it take the heat?” he asks, skepticism lacing his tone.

“You got a better idea?” Greef Karga shoots back, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Din shrugs, resigning himself to the situation. “Guess not.”

With a shared grunt of effort, the two men push against the boat, muscles straining as they try to dislodge it from the platform. But the boat stubbornly remains stuck, the dried lava around it acting as an anchor. Frustration mounts as Din groans and gives the boat a frustrated kick, before grabbing a metal paddle to try and pry it free—still to no avail.

Cara Dune watches their struggle with a growing sense of impatience, finally rolling her eyes before stepping forward. “You guys mind getting out of the way?” she says, her tone dripping with exasperation.

Din and Greef Karga step aside as Cara levels her blaster at the boat. With a few well-aimed shots, she blasts away the dried lava, freeing the boat from its fiery mooring. 

“Oh! Good job,” Greef Karga praises, a hint of relief in his voice as the boat begins to shift and move.

Without hesitation, the group clambers aboard the small ferry, the heat of the molten lava almost unbearable as IG-11 issues a warning, “Watch your feet. It's molten lava.”

“No kidding,” Cara mutters, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she settles into the boat.

A tense silence falls over the group, broken only by the sudden electrical humming coming from the droid. Instinctively, Din, Cara, and Greef Karga draw their blasters, aiming them at the ferry droid as it begins to come to life. You stand back, watching as the droid chirps at you, its mechanical sounds echoing in the small space.

Din breaks the silence, his voice wary. “I don't suppose anybody here speaks droid?”

IG-11 steps in, his tone calm as he translates, “I believe he is asking where we would like to go.”

Greef Karga, still eyeing the droid with skepticism, eventually responds, “Downriver. To the lava flat.”

The ferry droid chirps rhythmically, as if in agreement, and with a mechanical whir, it begins to row the boat down the river. Your group holsters their blasters as the ferry glides smoothly over the molten surface, the droid content to fulfill its purpose, and the group can’t help but share a moment of quiet relief as they continue their journey downstream.

You quietly move next to Din, the tension in the air thick enough to feel, but neither of you speaks. Your eyes are fixed on the faint light at the end of the tunnel, the only sign of hope in this dark, foreboding place. You can feel the weight of everything that has happened pressing down on you, yet you hold on to the flicker of hope that you’ll find a way out of this.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at Din. The Force gently tugs at your senses, and you’re drawn to the swirl of emotions radiating from him in a kaleidoscope of colors. Where once there were dark, muted grays of pain and uncertainty, you now see lighter tones beginning to emerge, a sign that he’s slowly regaining his center after the injury that had shaken him so deeply.

Din turns his head to look at you, and you meet his gaze, staring back at him through the dark visor of his helmet. Though his face is hidden, you’ve always had a way of seeing through that thick, impenetrable black visor, straight to the heart of the man underneath. It’s a connection that runs deeper than words, a silent understanding that passes between you. 

A shiver runs up Din’s spine, the feeling of being so deeply understood and seen by you, even through the beskar, is both grounding and unsettling in its intimacy. He’s never quite sure how you do it, how you manage to see him so clearly despite the layers of armor he wears.

Neither of you speaks, the silence stretching on as the moment lingers between you. Eventually, you’re the first to break the gaze, taking a small step closer to him. You rest your head gently on his shoulder, the cool metal of his beskar pauldron pressing against your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, but one filled with a depth of comfort and connection that words could never convey.

Maker. The thought flickers through Din’s mind, almost as a prayer. He wonders what he ever did to deserve you, to be within your orbit. He’s lived his life in the shadows, never expecting to find someone who could see him so completely. And yet, here you are. He holds out a silent prayer to the universe, hoping for the strength to keep you with him, to protect you, to not let this fragile connection slip through his fingers.

The light at the end of the tunnel grows closer, but for now, you both find solace in this small, shared moment.

As the droid methodically rows the hoverboat down the molten lava river, the rhythmic sound of metal scraping against stone echoes softly through the tunnel. The eerie glow of the lava illuminates the cavernous space, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Occasionally, small, skittish mammals dart along the riverbanks, their eyes glowing in the dim light before they disappear into the darkness.

The boat glides steadily toward the mouth of the tunnel, where a faint light shines like a beacon of hope. The group remains tense, but as you approach the entrance, Greef Karga’s voice breaks through the tension with a burst of optimism. He points eagerly at the light, his voice filled with relief. “That’s it! We’re free!”

But Din doesn’t share Karga’s optimism. His instincts prickling, he taps a button on the side of his helmet, switching to thermal imaging. The world around him shifts into shades of red and blue, revealing what the naked eye cannot see.

“No,” Din’s voice cuts through the brief moment of hope, a grim tone to his words. “No, we’re not.” His gaze remains fixed on the entrance, his thermal vision picking up the heat signatures of countless figures lying in wait. “Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel.”

You glance at Din, the unease in his voice sending a chill down your spine. He continues, his voice a low, measured tone as he counts the figures. “It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

The tension in the air thickens as the boat continues to drift closer to the tunnel’s exit, the light growing brighter but more ominous with every passing second.

“Stop the boat,” Cara orders sharply, turning toward the ferry droid. “Hey, Droid, I said stop the boat.”

The droid only responds with a series of unintelligible chirps, its programming unable to process the urgency in her voice. Frustration tightens Cara’s expression, and without hesitation, she unholsters her blaster, her voice rising with authority. “Hey! I'm talking to you. I said stop!”

A single shot rings out, and the droid’s head is blasted clean off, leaving it a lifeless hunk of metal. The boat continues to drift forward, unaffected by the loss of its pilot. The Child whimpers at the sudden noise, and Cara immediately softens, trying to soothe him with a gentle, “Shh, it’s okay.”

Greef Karga eyes the boat as it glides along the river, still propelled by the momentum it had before the droid was destroyed. “We’re still moving,” he notes grimly.

Cara scans the tunnel ahead, her face hardening as she realizes there’s no stopping now. “Looks like we fight,” she declares, steeling herself for the confrontation.

But Din shakes his head, his voice low and steady. “There are too many.”

Cara’s eyes flash with defiance as she snaps back, “Then what do you suggest? 'Cause I can't surrender.”

Before anyone else can speak, IG-11 interjects, its voice calm and resolute. “They will not be satisfied with anything less than the Child. This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape.”

Din scoffs, unable to hide his skepticism. “You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

But IG-11’s response is cold and matter-of-fact. “That is not my objective.”

A heavy silence follows as everyone processes the meaning behind the droid’s words. Din’s jaw clenches beneath his helmet, understanding dawning painfully in his mind.

Cara quickly hands you the Child, her eyes flicking to the tunnel ahead. “We’re getting close. Saddle up,” she says, her tone brisk and focused as she readies her blaster, preparing for the inevitable fight.

The tension is palpable as IG-11’s voice cuts through the air with a calm finality. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

Din takes a step forward, disbelief and frustration tightening his voice. “What are you talking about?”

The droid remains composed, its mechanical tone unyielding. “I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

Greef Karga’s voice slices through the conversation, sharp and urgent. “Are we gonna keep talking, or get out of here?”

Ignoring the interruption, IG-11 turns and hands the jetpack to Din. “I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the Child.”

Din’s emotions churn beneath his helmet, a mixture of confusion and reluctant attachment rising to the surface. For someone who’s always hated droids for what they did to his planet, this particular one has proven itself different. The words tumble out, almost desperate. “Wait. You can’t self-destruct. Your base command is to protect the Child.”

Din’s voice softens, a note of pleading seeping in. “That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right? Right?”

There’s a brief pause, as if the droid is processing his question. “This is correct.”

Relief flickers across Din’s features, even if hidden beneath the beskar. “Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

But IG-11 remains resolute, its next words heavy with certainty. “Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The Child will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the Child is saved, in which I survive.”

Din’s frustration mounts, his mind racing for another solution, any solution. “Listen, you’re not going anywhere. We need you. Let’s just… come up with a—”

But the droid cuts him off, its tone firm yet gentle. “Please tell me the Child will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

Din looks up at the droid, his voice low, almost anguished. “But you’ll be destroyed.”

IG-11 responds without hesitation. “And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

“No. We need you,” Din insists, his voice growing tighter, a rare crack in his stoic exterior. The droid’s next words hit him harder than any blaster shot. “There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

Din, ever defensive, tries to mask his emotions. “I’m not sad.”

But the droid sees through him, as it was programmed to do. “Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice.”

You watch the exchange, your heart heavy with the truth of what’s about to happen. Tears well up in your eyes, the reality sinking in that this droid, one that had grown to mean something to you all, is about to sacrifice itself. It’s a loss none of you are truly ready for, but deep down, you know it’s the only way.

The Child coos softly in your arms, its large eyes full of trust as it peers up at you. IG-11 pauses, glancing at the small creature, and then gently pats its ears in a gesture that almost feels… affectionate. A farewell, perhaps. You feel the sting of sorrow as the droid steps away, its purpose clear. 

Without another word, IG-11 hops off the boat and into the bubbling lava, the searing heat beginning to eat away at its metal frame. Greef Karga’s voice breaks the silence, tinged with confusion and a hint of alarm. “IG? What are you doing?”

The droid doesn’t respond, just continues its slow, deliberate march through the molten river, its body gradually melting, limbs faltering as it nears the mouth of the tunnel. Beyond, the light filters through, revealing the stormtroopers waiting, their blasters raised, ready to fire. But they hesitate, unsure of the droid’s intent.

Reaching the river’s end, IG-11 speaks, its voice unwavering, almost serene. “Manufacturer’s protocol dictates I cannot be captured.”

The sound of a pulse begins, low and rhythmic, a countdown to the inevitable. “I must be destroyed,” IG-11 states, its words a final goodbye.

And then, with a blinding flash, the droid detonates, the explosion erupting like a fiery inferno. The stormtroopers don’t even have time to react before they’re consumed by the blast. Their screams echo briefly before being snuffed out, leaving only silence in its wake. The fiery eruption floods the tunnel’s entrance, scattering debris and molten rock, neutralizing the entire platoon in an instant.

As the dust and flames settle, the path ahead clears. The way to the plains is open, and for a moment, all is still. The sacrifice of IG-11 rings heavy in the air, its selflessness ensuring the Child’s safety, and allowing you, Din, and the others to move forward—alive, but forever changed.

You finally emerge from the tunnels, the cool air of the open plains a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat of the lava river. For a fleeting moment, there's a sense of relief—until you hear the ominous roar of an engine in the distance. Your gaze snaps upward, just as Cara shouts, “Moff Gideon!”

Above, the silhouette of the Outland TIE fighter cuts across the sky, its distinct scream echoing through the air. Gideon’s fighter dives down, strafing your group with blaster fire. Instinctively, you ignite your lightsaber, the purple blade humming to life as you deflect the incoming shots, sending them harmlessly into the dirt. Din, Cara, and Greef Karga return fire with their blasters, but the bolts ricochet off the TIE fighter’s armored hull, doing little to slow its assault.

As the TIE fighter pulls up for another pass, Greef Karga shouts, “He missed!”

Din doesn’t look away from the sky, his voice grim. “He won't next time.”

Cara lowers her blaster, frustration etched on her face. “Our blasters are useless against him.”

Greef Karga, desperation creeping into his tone, glances at the Child in your arms. “Let's make the baby do the magic hand thing!” He turns to the Child, wiggling his fingers as if trying to coax a response. “Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing!”

The Child stares up at him with wide, innocent eyes, cooing softly, clearly not understanding what Greef Karga is asking. The moment hangs in the air, the absurdity of the situation clashing with the deadly reality of the threat above.

Greef Karga sighs, “I'm out of ideas.”

Din's chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, his thoughts racing for a solution. There isn’t much time—Gideon’s TIE fighter is already banking around, preparing for another attack run. The fighter’s engines scream through the air as it turns, ready to strike.

“I’m not,” Din mutters, almost to himself, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His voice is quiet but filled with purposefulness.

“Here he comes!” Cara shouts, urgency clear in her voice.

Without another word, Din moves with purpose, strapping the jetpack firmly onto his back. You can see the determination in his movements, each one precise, no hesitation. He checks the pack one last time, then ignites it, the blue flames roaring to life with a sharp hiss. The blast from the jetpack propels him skyward, and you watch as he rockets toward the incoming TIE fighter, becoming a streak of silver against the dusky sky.

The TIE fighter roars closer, and in a daring move, Din launches his grappling cable, the wire streaking through the air with a sharp whizz. The hook latches onto the wing of the TIE, yanking Din with it as it surges forward.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him hold tight to the cable, the wind whipping around him, the ground a blur beneath. The TIE fighter dips and rolls, trying to shake him loose, but Din’s grip is ironclad. With each twist and turn, he inches closer to the cockpit, his movements precise, driven by sheer will.

Unable to force his way into the cockpit with his blaster, Din quickly tries to plant a detonator on the hull of the TIE fighter. But Moff Gideon sees the attempt and executes a sharp maneuver, causing the detonator to slip from its intended position and tumble away. Din barely manages to keep his grip as the ship veers wildly, but he’s not done yet. He moves with quick precision, planting a second detonator on the left wing joint. 

You watch from below, heart pounding, as Din releases his hold on the fighter. For a moment, he’s just a speck in the sky, free-falling as the detonator flashes red. Then, with a brilliant explosion, the TIE’s wing disintegrates, sending the ship spiraling out of control. The wreckage hurtles toward the ground, crashing in a fiery plume on the plains beyond.

Din activates his jetpack just in time, the blue thrusters flaring as he regains control of his descent. He lands hard, stumbling slightly as he adjusts to the new weight on his back. But he’s safe, standing tall, smoke rising in the distance where Gideon’s ship went down.

You disengage your lightsaber, the purple blade retracting with a sharp hiss, and holster it at your side. As you pass the Child to Cara, she cradles him protectively, her expression softening for a brief moment before returning to her usual stout-heartedness.

Without hesitation, you sprint toward Din, your heart racing with relief and something deeper. He sees you coming and barely has time to brace himself before you collide with him, throwing your arms around his neck. He catches you with steady arms, pulling you close, the firm grip of his gauntlets grounding you both. For a long moment, the world around you fades, and it’s just the two of you—alive, together, and safe.

You pull back slightly, standing on your tiptoes as your hands find the sides of his helmet. Gently, you press your forehead against the cool beskar, closing your eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. It’s a silent gesture, a keldabe kiss that speaks of everything you both feel but can’t yet put into words.

Greef Karga steps forward, a broad grin on his face. "That was impressive, Mando. Very impressive." He pauses, his gaze flicking between Din and you. "Looks like your Guild rates just went up."

You and Din step back from each other, but his hand finds yours, holding on tightly as if to anchor himself. He nods to Greef’s comment, then asks, "Any more stormtroopers?"

Greef shakes his head. "I think we cleaned up the town. I'm thinking of sticking around just to be sure." Cara nods in agreement, her expression firm. She sets the Child down, and it squeals with delight, waddling unsteadily toward you and Din.

Din watches the Child for a moment, then tilts his head toward Cara. "You’re staying here?"

Greef interjects, puffing his chest slightly as he looks around at the scorched streets of Nevarro. "Why not? Nevarro’s a fine planet. And now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s quite respectable."

Din’s voice carries a note of skepticism even through the modulator as he replies, "As a bounty hunter hive?"

Greef chuckles, tapping Din on the shoulder. "Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters." He then shifts his attention to Cara, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And maybe this fine specimen of a soldier would consider joining our ranks."

Cara snorts, shaking her head. "I’ve got some clerical concerns regarding my chain code."

Greef grins, offering, "And if you’d agree to become my enforcer, clerical concerns would be the least of your worries."

The Child finally reaches Din, gripping his leg with both hands, gazing up with wide, trusting eyes. Din glances down, and even behind the visor, you can sense his heart soften. Greef notices too, then turns his focus back to Din. "But you, my friend—you’ll be welcome back into the Guild with open arms. Go off, enjoy yourself. And when you’re ready to return, you’ll have your pick of all the quarries."

Greef then shifts his gaze to you, his eyes warm. "And you, my dear, will always have a place at the med center. It’ll be there when you’re ready to come back."

Din adjusts the Child in his arms, his tone steady but resolute. "I’m afraid I have more pressing matters."

Cara reaches out, rubbing one of the Child’s large ears affectionately. The Child gurgles in response, and Cara smiles, looking at Din. "Take care of this little one." She then turns to you, her expression softening. "And her too."

Greef adds with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "Or maybe they’ll be the ones taking care of you."

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest as Din nods. He gently passes the Child to you, and as you cradle him, Din wraps an arm securely around your waist. His voice is low, almost tender, as he asks, "You ready?"

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance up at him through your lashes. "I’m terrified. Please don’t drop me."

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through the beskar. "Never."

With that, the two of you take off into the sky, the jetpack lifting you both. The wind rushes past, tugging at your clothes as your stomach flips. You squeeze your eyes shut, clinging to the Child close to your chest and Din as the ground falls away beneath you. Despite the dizzying height and the roaring wind, you feel a sense of peace—a quiet certainty that, no matter what happens, you’re safe in his arms.

The journey back to the Razor Crest is somber, the weight of loss hanging heavily in the air. Together, you and Din wordlessly bury Kuiil beneath the scorched sands of Nevarro. The burial is simple, just the two of you under the vast sky, the only sound the wind whispering through the rocks. Din kneels for a moment, his hand resting on the mound of earth, before rising slowly. Neither of you speak, the silence saying all there is to say.

With the burial complete, Din takes your hand, and together you walk back to the Razor Crest. His grip is firm, grounding you as the reality of the past few days settles in. As you step aboard the ship, the familiar hum of the engines provides a small comfort—a reminder that, despite everything, you’re still moving forward.

In the cockpit, you strap in beside Din, watching as he straps the Child into his seat. The little one’s eyes are wide, curious, and full of wonder. Din gently moves a bit of the Child’s shirt as he looks at the mythosaur necklace around the Child’s neck, allowing it to stay with him. The Child coos softly, fingers grasping the pendant as if it holds some great significance.

Din settles into the pilot’s seat, and with a few swift motions, the Razor Crest rumbles to life. The ship lifts off, the ground falling away beneath you as the stars come into view. The vastness of space opens up before you, dark and endless.

You lean back in your seat, trying to shake off the lingering unease. But as the stars streak past, that sinking feeling in your chest refuses to leave. It gnaws at you, a quiet but insistent reminder that this isn’t the end. This is just the beginning—of something larger, something more dangerous than you could ever have imagined.

The Razor Crest sails deeper into the galaxy, leaving the ashes of Nevarro behind, but the weight of the journey ahead presses down on you. Whatever awaits, you know one thing for certain: it’s far from over.

TAGLIST:

@wastingspaces@avengersheart@lunatic1012@keepingupwiththeskywalkers@mxltifxnd0m@syviiss@luckyzipperscissorsbat@avengersheart @dins-riduur-anthe @lizlil@n7cje @scoliobean @ofmusesandsecrets

[fanficimagery]

La Reina del Inframundo

When your neighbor goes missing, you call upon your seven deadly sins to help get him back.

Words: 8.6K Author's Note: SURPRISE! Finally have something to post, so here it is a day earlier than normal. This imagine is probably ridiculous, but you know what? Blame the Kingdom of the Wicked series. I wanted my own seven deadly sins lol even if they don't make much of an appearance in here. Sons of Anarchy AU. Title translation: The Queen of the Underworld.

When you were little, you were probably the most spoiled girl you'd ever known. Anything you needed or wanted was yours and you ended up quite ignorant of everything going on around you. You didn't know anything about the family business, only that your daddy was an important man and you had numerous uncles who looked after you. And then you became a teenager, and you understood that not only was your daddy important but he was also dangerous too. Your parents did everything to shield you from the life, but when you and your mother were kidnapped and she was killed, you wanted to know the ins and outs of everything.

Your uncles, only a couple by blood, made sure you knew how to take care of yourself. You learned to fight and how to handle weapons, and learned about other families that were nearly as important as yours. You learned who your allies were and who your enemies were, and far sooner than you had anticipated, you were upgraded from Princess to Queen.

Losing your father made you bitter and you held no remorse for sending your men after those who had a hand in his death. It was your turn to lead the family business as your father's only child, and your father's brothers happily let everyone think they were in charge while you watched everyone and everything from the shadows.

Everyone learned to fear your family name since you were quite bloodthirsty, but as the years slowly passed you learned to take it down a notch. Eventually, you grew tired of having no privacy and decided to move out on your own since no one outside of the men you grew up with knew you were the head of the family business.

You chose Charming since it was quite the picturesque little town, but those who served under you didn't like you being so far away. So, to keep them from dropping by or watching you from afar, you anonymously purchased a large plot of land and let them build another compound and warehouse nearby.

The construction of the compound and warehouse gave you more than enough time to find a suitable house for yourself, and have it remodeled and furnished before you moved in. There was lots of talk around Charming about who was disrupting their usual routine, but no one ever found out anything of importance.

When you finally move into your house, it takes some getting used to. There's no noise, and no men lurking around corners or men coming up to you every half hour to see if you need anything. It feels good to make your own food and have a peaceful meal, and to just laze around to watch some television, but you're still the woman behind the curtain, taking phone calls and attending meetings and making sure everything is on the up and up.

You've been in your new house for a couple of weeks now and there's not been a single problem. At least not until you're in the middle of your shower and your scalding hot water turns unbearably cold. With a shout, you hop on out to try and catch your breath. You give it a few seconds before testing the water with your hand and quickly yank back when it's still cold.

You test the hot water in the bathroom sink, but that too is cold. Pulling on a robe, you head to your kitchen and test the hot water there. Cold. All cold.

With a sigh, you head towards the laundry room where the water heater resides. There's a little blinking light at the bottom that should signify the water heater is working properly, but unfortunately it isn't blinking.

"Son of a-"

You've learned a lot of things, but lighting the pilot light was not one of them. So uncaring for the fact that you're merely in a robe with shampoo still in your hair, you slip your feet into a pair of house slippers and head outside. You look around your neighbors' driveways and find a motorcycle parked at the house next to yours.

Scurrying next door, you knock on the front door. It doesn't take long at all for the door to be opened and you give yourself a moment to take in the tall specimen standing in front of you. Wet hair hangs down past the man's shoulders, water droplets clinging to a full beard, and a towel is wrapped tightly around his waist. Water droplets glisten down a tattooed torso and you have to quickly shake your head clear when you realize you're ogling. "Uh, sorry." You glance up to meet his amused gaze. "I, uh, I live next door. I really hope it's not a bad time, besides the obvious nakedness going on, but I could really use your help if you're not in a time crunch."

He arches an eyebrow at you. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I was in the middle of my own shower when my water heater went out. I checked it and there are no leaks which leads me to believe the pilot light went out. I have no clue how to light it and I'm hoping you do."

"Sure. Let me just…" He trails off as he glances down his body. "Let me get dressed and I'll help you out."

You sag in relief. "Thank you so much."

"You can use my kitchen sink if you wanna rinse your hair. You know, just in case the problem is something else."

"Oh. Yeah, thanks. I would rather rinse with hot water than cold."

The man opens his door further and you step in. "I'm Opie."

"YN. Nice to finally meet one of my neighbors."

He chuckles. "Yeah? Everyone 'round here steers clear."

"Motorcycle that off putting?"

"That and the MC." Walking into the kitchen, he points to a kutte hanging off the back of a chair. Sons of Anarchy. And huh. You've heard of them- heard all about the power struggle within the club, but they stayed off your radar and you theirs.

"What a bunch of pussies," you mumble. But Opie still hears you and he grins some more.

"Sink is clean. There's even a hose you can use. I'll be right back."

"Mhm. Thanks again."

Opie turns to walk away, and you tilt your head to admire his back muscles and tattoos. You bite your bottom lip at what you see, but quickly turn to the kitchen sink less you're busted ogling him again.

Turning on the sink's hot water, you grab the little hose and test it out. When the water is hot, you bend over the sink and flip your hair into it.

It takes you longer than anticipated to rinse out the shampoo in your hair and when you do, you're quick to turn off the water and then wring out as much water from your hair as you can. Letting your hair hang in front of your shoulder and over your chest so the front of the robe soaks up any other water, you find paper towels close by and take one to clean up the sides of the sink and counter where water splashed.

"All good to go?" You startle at the words and whirl around, finding Opie leaning against the doorway as he grins at you. His hair has been pulled back into a knot and a black shirt hugs his torso sinfully tight.

You gulp. "Y-Yeah."

"After you then."

You stumble and mutter a quick, shut up, when he laughs at you. He follows you all the way to your house, shutting the front door behind him and then stepping into your laundry room. "This is it. There's a light that's supposed to be blinking-"

"Yeah. I know. I actually have this same water heater."

"Oh, thank god."

Opie squats down and you watch him hold a knob down while clicking another button. It clicks about fifteen times before the light blinks, and you exhale in relief. "That should do it. If it goes out again on its own, just go ahead and come get me. It'll probably need to be cleaned and I can help with that also."

"Thank you! I really didn't want to have to call my uncles. They didn't want me living on my own and they would have teased me mercilessly if I had to call them so soon."

"I bet." Opie looks you up and down in your robe and your shift nervously. "Well, I'll go ahead and get out of your hair so you can finish your shower or whatever. If you ever need help, you know where to find me now. As long as my bike is out front, I'm home."

You smile as you walk him towards the door. "Thank you so much, Opie. I definitely owe you one."

You watch him until he's halfway between your houses and then shut the door before hurrying back to your bathroom.

And hallelujah! You have hot water once again.

After your first meeting with Opie, you seem to see him all the time when you're out and about. You have a smile and wave for him every time you make eye contact, laughing when his club brothers eye you up and down or whistle appreciatively until Opie shoves them hard enough to shut them up.

The next time you have face to face time with him, however, is when you're on the side of the road trying to replace a flat tire.

"Come. On. You. Sonnuvabitch," you grunt as you try to twist the lug wrench to loosen a lug nut. You've managed to get one off, but the others are proving to be a bitch.

The sound of motorcycle engines approaching has you looking up and down the side of the stretch of road you're on, and you spot two individuals riding closer and closer. Only needing their muscle to loosen the lug nuts since you know how to do the rest, you stand up and wave them down. And when you see them slowing down, angling their bikes to you, you sigh in relief.

One of the men has a very familiar beard and you can't help but smile as they stop right behind your car. "Hey neighbor," you muse when they cut their engines.

Opie pulls off his riding glasses and helmet, settling everything on his handlebars. His friend does the same before they both stand, and Opie offers you a small smile. "What trouble are you in now?"

"I just need your muscles, I swear." You chuckle, nodding at his friend and his too charming grin he throws your way. "The last place I got my car a tune-up at, they tightened the lug nuts too tight. I just need someone to loosen them up really quick and then I can take care of the rest."

"No need to worry that pretty little head of yours, darlin'," Opie's friend says. "I'm sure my boy Ope can take care of it for you." He claps Opie on the shoulders, squeezing and nudging him forward.

Opie's eyes roll. "YN, this is Jax. Jax, this is my neighbor YN."

You and Jax exchange greetings as Opie gets to work on changing your tire for you.

"So, how's that water heater treating you?" Opie asks. "No more naked knocks on other people's doors?"

"Naked knocks?" Jax arches an eyebrow at you.

"First of all, shut up," you tell Jax. And then looking at Opie, you say, "It's working fine. Haven't had a problem since you helped me."

"Good. That's good."

"So where did you come from?" Jax asks.

"From Salinas."

"Yeah? Why Charming?"

You shrug. "When my mom passed, my dad and his brothers raised me. And then my dad passed, and my uncles took my wellbeing a little too seriously. I needed some space from them."

"Pretty sure they're expecting her to throw in the towel any moment now and go crawling back to them," Opie says.

"Exactly." You grin at the biker that's nearly finished with changing your tire for you. "They know I know how to take care of myself, but they're still hoping I fail and call them up. Can you imagine how put out they're going to be when they realize I have a perfectly friendly biker living next door who doesn't mind lending me a hand every once in a while?"

Opie laughs as he lowers your car from the small car jack. He then grabs up the flat tire and carries it to the trunk of your car while Jax grabs up the jack and the lug wrench. Once everything is put away, the men face you as Opie says, "You're all set. If you stop by Teller Automotive, we can get the tire fixed for you and put the spare back in the trunk."

You arch an eyebrow at him. "You work at an auto garage?"

"Try own it," Jax muses. "It's mine. The club runs it," he says while pointing to the President patch on his own kutte.

"Huh. Nice." Then glancing back at Opie, you say, "Well I guess I owe you. Again."

"I'm just racking up those favors, aren't I?"

"Yeah, yeah." You smile as you pull open the driver's side door. "Thank you. I'll, uh, I'll see you around."

The men make their way back to their bikes, but they wait until you drive off before taking their leave as well.

As music blares throughout your room, you mouth along to the lyrics as you ready yourself for a party with the Sons of Anarchy. You had taken your tire to Teller Automotive when you found the time and Opie fixed it up for you like he said he would. Then after putting it back on your car, he made sure your spare was okay before putting it away back in the trunk. Jax tried to refuse payment by saying you get a freebie for being new to Charming, but you weren't having it and bullied the man in his office to take your money.

Needless to say, the Sons were impressed with how you didn't back down.

Jax then extended an invite to their party, and you agreed since you didn't have any plans. Opie tried to tell you that you didn't have to attend because their type of parties usually got out of hand, but you assured him you could handle your own with an all-knowing grin. Jax whooped and Opie looked a little apprehensive but still told you what time to be there.

So here you are, in a backless black bandana tank top and a pair of faded skinny jeans with rips along your thighs and knees. Your makeup has already been applied and your hair straightened, and you readily slip your feet into a pair of chunky heeled Doc Martens. And instead of taking a purse or wallet, you decide to slip your ID and Driver's License into the back of your phone case before slipping it into one pocket while shoving several twenties in the other.

Then after making sure everything is turned off, with the exception of two small lamps in the living room, you lock up your house and head out for the night.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't that far and you get there fairly quickly. The entire lot is enclosed with a tall chain link fence that has some form of material draped on the inside so you can't see through, so you're not sure where to park, but one of the Sons who's speaking with a woman outside the fence spots you and tells you where to go. After following his directions, you park and get out of your car. Then pocketing your keys, you turn around and take in your surroundings.

There are barrels of fire scattered around the lot, as well as numerous picnic tables and a single boxing ring that has two men going toe to toe inside of it as many spectators cheer on the violence. The auto garage portion of the building is shut down, but the club portion has its bay doors rolled up. As you make your way towards it, you can see a bar and numerous tables scattered about the room. There are a couple of couches and even a pool table, and many scantily clad women working the room.

Chuckling, you enter the club with all the confidence in the world. Immediately you can feel the stares on you- both lecherous and envious- and you make your way towards the bar.

Sitting on the stool across from the bartender, you smile at him. "Can I have a beer? Whatever you have is fine." As the bartender grabs you a beer, you pull a twenty from your pocket and hand it over.

"It's only six bucks."

"Then I'll grab another two throughout the night. Don't worry about any change."

The bartender nods and puts the money away under the counter, and you turn around on your stool. Crossing one knee over the other, you lean back against the bar while taking your first sip of your drink.

"Hey. When'd you get in?" Jax takes the stool next to you and you grin at him.

"Just now. Was taking in the scene before I went looking for familiar faces."

"Ope would have greeted 'ya, but he's currently trying to fend off a couple of sweetbutts."

"Sweetbutts?"

"Women who want to fuck a Son in hopes of him giving her his crow."

You frown. "How does one give someone a crow?"

Jax chuckles. "You know, it's kind of refreshing that you don't know anything about the MC life."

"Yeah, well…" You shrug, trailing off as you take another sip of your beer.

"It can be a good thing or a bad thing," he continues. "Good because we know you ain't looking at Ope just because of his kutte and bad because this life is tough. Especially for the women."

You flash him a grin. "Who said I was lookin' at Opie?"

"Please." Jax huffs. "I put on my best smile for you when he was changing your tire and you only had eyes for him."

"It's the height. And the muscle definition in his back." You sigh wistfully, sipping your beer. "God, his back."

Jax laughs as he grabs himself another beer and you gesture the bartender to give you another. "Well, Ope can use a saving grace whenever you're ready. Don't let anyone push you around."

"Trust me. I won't."

As Jax takes his leave, you meet every woman's glare that had been directed at you because he had chosen to spend a few minutes of his time on you. You give them the most deadpan stare ever until they look away and then smirk as you start in on your second beer. A couple men try their luck with you, but you're quick to reject them before they can get too comfortable. Your gaze occasionally falls back on Opie, and you make your move when you see him drain his beer and the so-called sweetbutts on either side of him lean further into his personal space.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a fresh beer from the bartender and start towards your neighbor. The gathered Sons seem to perk up, making the women on their laps pout, but you only have eyes for Opie.

Coming to a stop in front of him, you smirk as he looks up and the women vying for his attention glare at you. Holding out the new beer to him, you say, "Come on. Let's go get some fresh air."

His lips twitch as he accepts the beer and the woman on his left scoffs. "Excuse me!"

"You're excused."

Opie and his brothers all laugh and then the woman on his right gets bold. "Back off, bitch. Seniority rules here. If you're gonna be a regular, you start at the bottom of the totem pole. Now go clean the toilets or something."

Opie looks offended on your behalf, but you merely laugh as you step so you're directly standing in front of her. "Oh honey, I'm way too pretty to do the toilets. You, on the other hand…" She gasps and leans forward to stand, but you're quick to lift a foot and plant your boot in the middle of her chest. Her eyes widen as you shove her back into her seat and you lean forward as much as you can with your foot pressing against her. "Trust me, you don't wanna go down this road. You think I'm easy prey because this is my first time here but let me assure you that they will not find your body if you decide to piss me off."

"And that's our cue to go." Opie is quick to stand, gently grabbing you by the wrist to tug you away. His brothers all whoop and laugh as the one woman tries to console her friend who had balked at your words. You follow after him as he leads you outside, walking up to a picnic table that he ends up stepping up onto the bench to sit atop the table. You do the same and as you settle side by side, he asks, "So we wouldn't find her body, huh?"

You snort, covering your mouth where beer had dribbled out since he asked the question when you were mid-sip. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"I'll say." Opie takes a pull from his own beer bottle. "So how are you liking the party?"

You shrug. "It's decent." Then you point towards the boxing ring with the neck of your bottle. "You ever get in there?"

"If I ever have any aggression to work out, yeah."

"Most people fuck their aggression out; you fight it out." This time it's Opie's turn to snort his beer and you smirk. "So how are you liking tonight's party? Are the women always so…"

"Slutty?"

"I was gonna say bold."

Opie shakes his head as he chuckles. "Yeah. It's their life's mission to either get knocked up by someone in a kutte or get a crow or a ring."

"That's the second time I heard something about a crow. What is that?" You ask.

Opie looks at you, seeing that you're honestly curious. "In our MC, a crow is a big deal. Bigger than a ring."

"No shit?"

"It's basically the men branding their women as their property."

"Wow," you drawl, completely unimpressed. "The women around here really need to rethink their priorities."

Opie chuckles some more. "So, you're saying you wouldn't get a tattoo for your man?"

"I mean…" You trail off, shrugging. "It all depends on the situation."

"How?"

"Take me and you for example," you say and roll your eyes when Opie smirks. "If we started hooking up and a month or two from now you asked me to get a tattoo personalized for you, I'd say you were out of your damn mind. I'd have to be with someone for years before getting a tattoo dedicated to my partner."

"That's fair." He takes a moment to watch you, watching you take in your surroundings and be at ease in this new environment. "So how was your day?"

"So-so," you say, watching the men duke it out in the ring. "It was a bit of a bore if I'm being honest."

"No work?"

"I work from home." You turn to face him, grinning softly. "I, uh, I have a family-owned private security schtick going on. My uncles work from the office, but I take calls and answer emails at home."

"Does working from home turn a decent profit?"

"I'm living pretty comfortably, so I'd say it does."

Opie doesn't question your answer and then turns back to the fight himself.

For the rest of the night, the two of you keep one another company outside by the fire. You switch to water so you're able to drive home and you learn a little bit more about how the MC handles themselves and the people milling about their territory.

Over the next couple of weeks, you find Opie hanging out at your place more and more. After the faucet at your kitchen sink had deteriorated and leaked beneath the cabinets, Opie installed the new one for you after you bought everything you needed. You repaid him with dinner and a beer, and he just kept showing up after that. Sometimes with Jax or Juice or even Happy who reminded you of some of your uncles.

You've gotten to know each other really well that you have a date-slash-not date planned with him, so you're a little surprised when he doesn't show.

Or answer your call.

Or your text.

You keep listening for a motorcycle, but two days go by and nothing.

On the third day there's a pounding on your front door that immediately has you agitated. You march over to it, yank it open to give whoever it is a piece of your mind, only to gape as Jax marches in.

"Have you heard from Ope?"

"Well hello to you too," you deadpan as you swing the door shut. Sighing, you follow him to the living room where he's pacing.

"I'm being serious here, YN. Have you heard from Ope?"

His worry and tone give you pause, and then immediately sets you on edge. "No. We had plans two days ago, but he never showed up." You frown when you realize how exhausted Jax seems. "What's going on?"

Jax sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing. Don't-"

"Don't tell me not to worry about it," you say. You step in front of him, arms crossed. "I was ready to bitch out Opie the next time I saw him, but then you marched in here all worried and now I'm worried. If he left town on his own, then fine. But if he was taken because of the club-"

"What the hell would you know about club life?" He scoffs.

"Don't get pissy with me, presidente." You snap back at him. "You'd be surprised at what I know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." You lightly glare at him, but then the glare softens as you smirk at him. "Weren't you a little bit skeptical at how easily I made myself comfortable at your parties? How I didn't cower to your women or how I stood up to the men who tried their luck?"

Jax tenses. "Who are you?"

"A friend, I hope." Jax frowns and you sigh. "Look. I didn't come to Charming looking for trouble. I didn't plan on Opie being my neighbor or getting to know you guys. In fact, I just wanted to fly under the radar, but you guys… you guys threw a wrench into everything."

"Who do you work for?"

You scoff. "I don't work for anyone."

"What the hell is going on here, YN?" Jax wonders, getting annoyed. "I'm confused as shit right now and my brother is missing and-"

"Hey." You step right into his space, reaching up to lightly pat the side of his face as you stare up at him. "I can help you look for him, but you're gonna need to trust me. I know this is MC business, but if you want Opie found then you're gonna have to spill."

"This isn't going to bite me on the ass?"

"Nope. In fact, I'm pretty sure you'll benefit from it. Now what do you say?" You hold a hand out to him. "If you say you trust me, you have to tell me exactly what's going on. The nitty gritty details won't ever be repeated from my lips."

Jax takes a moment to think about it before throwing caution to the wind and grasping your hand. "Fine. We have a deal."

"Good." Pulling out your phone with your other hand, you press on the name that's saved in your first favorite slot. It rings twice before the call is answered. "Gather my favorite sins and send them to my house. Discreetly. Someone important to me was taken and I am not happy."

You disconnect the call and Jax just stares at you. "Your favorite sins? What the fuck was that about?"

But you merely smile at him. "Congratulations, Mr. Teller. Sons of Anarchy are now under my protection so long as you don't do stupid shit."

"Your protection?"

"You'll see. Now talk. I need to figure out an abbreviated version to tell my sins when they get here."

Jax arches an eyebrow. "Your sins?"

"Yes. Now speak."

Jax huffs but takes a seat on the edge of your couch, spilling everything. You're familiar with turf wars and kidnappings and torture, and the more Jax speaks the more unsettled you are for Opie. The issue, however, is an old grievance another MC has with the Sons. They'd been spotted around town for the past week, keeping the Sons on their toes and making the Sons chase them out of town. But the Sons were split in all sorts of directions and Opie never came back.

Jax is in the middle of telling you possible locations of where Opie might be when the back door to your house opens. He pauses and immediately reaches for his gun, but you put a hand on his wrist and put a finger to your mouth to tell him to be quiet. "Let me do the talking. It'll be fine."

Jax hesitantly relaxes, but then he tenses right back up when man after man files into your living room. Each one is wearing dark jeans and a dark jacket with its hood pulled up, but when the hoods fall, he's treated to every man's face tattooed to look skeletal. "What the…"

Each man takes a stand around the room, only having eyes for you as they completely ignore Jax. "Listen up. Opie Winston is the man that was taken." You pull out your phone, pulling up a picture you snapped of him before holding your phone up- screen out- so your men can see. "He's my neighbor and has been nothing but kind to me. I've grown very fond of him."

One of your men (Pride) quietly huffs but you still hear him as he mutters, "Seems like our queen has found herself a king."

"¡Cállate!" You snap at him. "His club president has kindly offered up who took him and possible locations of where they might be keeping him, but they can't get close. I need you to find Opie and bring him back safely. Anyone involved in his kidnapping is to be brought in as well. I want them to see what happens when you take something or someone I deem important from me." After telling them what they need to know, your men all nod and you smirk before letting them go. "Now that you're caught up, you're dismissed. Happy hunting."

The men take their leave from the same door they walked in through and then you turn to Jax who has an eyebrow arched at you in amusement. "Queen, huh? And let me guess, those were the seven deadly sins?"

"Yes. Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth are my best crew. Now call off your boys and have them go back to the club. The last thing we need is them shooting at my sins."

"Fuck. You're right." Jax pulls out his own phone to call his boys off. You watch him as he sends out the text and then he stands as if ready to leave.

"Sorry if I overstepped by calling dibs on the men who took Opie."

"Don't be." He smirks at you now. "I'm kind of curious to see what you're capable of. And I totally called it. You have the hots for Opie. Happy's gonna be so disappointed."

You roll your eyes a little and you hand Jax your phone. "Put your number in. I'll call you when we have your boy back."

"Don't you mean our boy?"

"Shut up." You laugh and then reclaim your phone after he's done what you asked. "And just so you know, if there's more than one man they bring in, only one of them gets to walk so he's able to warn his club that Sons of Anarchy are now under my protection."

"You're that confident, huh?"

"You have no idea. Now get outta here, but don't tell your other boys about me."

"Why not?"

"Because I enjoy making an entrance."

Jax laughs as he walks out of your house. "If you manage to find Ope, you'll be my new favorite person."

"Yeah, yeah."

For the past day and a half, you've reclaimed your throne at the compound and established with your tios that you were coming out of the shadows. They didn't fight you on the decision and, in fact, they might have even encouraged you to see where things went with the missing Son since you needed someone by your side.

You've been in contact with Jax, keeping him updated, but you've yet to update him of the latest development.

Opie was found along with four bikers who'd been guarding him.

You're anxious to tell Jax, but you want to get Opie settled and cleaned up before calling in his brothers. So, to kill time, you go ahead and get dressed.

You strip down to your panties right there in your room, pulling on a blazer and buttoning it closed beneath your bust so your cleavage is on display. You even have to place some double-sided sticky tape so there are no nip slips while you put on a show. Then you find yourself a pair of leather pants that you manage to wiggle into and a pair of stilettos that make you feel powerful as you walk around in a room full of men.

You're adding a couple pieces of jewelry here and there when you get the text that Opie is there. You finish getting ready and then walk out to where you know they're holding him, and grin when you hear him cursing up a storm.

"Who the fuck even are you guys? If you really are my rescuers, why can't I leave?"

"That… would be because of me," you muse as you step into the room.

Opie's head whips in your direction and your smile drops when you see the black eye, the gash above his eyebrow and on the bridge of his nose, and the busted lip. Even his hands look like they have some damage, and his clothes are bloodied.

"YN?"

"In the flesh." You walk closer to him, hesitantly reaching out to him in case he balks from your touch, but he doesn't. You touch his hair, frowning to find crusted blood clumping the strands together. "And to think I thought you stood me up."

"Nope. I was just being held hostage. Still am."

You offer him a grin. "You're not a hostage here, Opie. I swear. Now come on." You offer him a hand. "Come with me so you can get cleaned up and changed. I'll call Jax and the others, and then I'll deal with those assholes who had you."

"You? You're gonna deal with them?"

"Yep. Got Jax's blessing and everything. Now let's go. I had to sneak into your house to grab you some clothes, so you might as well put them to use."

Opie laughs and then groans, clutching at his ribs. You rub his shoulder until the pain passes and when he stands you grab his hand. Mentally cheering when he doesn't pull away, you lead him back to your bedroom so he can use your private shower.

Opie looks around your room while you grab his bag from the closet and then show him to the bathroom. You try not to grin when you see him taking it all in and then leave him be. You pull out your phone to text Jax the directions to the compound and that they'd be let in upon arrival, and then settle in front of your vanity.

Whenever you've done business with those who opposed what you and your family have done or tried to claim your notoriety for themselves, you've always presented yourself a certain way. Your makeup was half and half, half normal and half skeletal, which is why your favorite sins have tattooed themselves that way. So as Opie showers, you get started on wiping off half your makeup before blending white and black face paint along your features.

It surprisingly doesn't take you long to get your makeup done, so you take a seat on the edge of your bed to wait for Opie to be done. A handful of minutes later, the bathroom door opens and Opie steps out. He freezes when he sees you and you smirk at him. "Come take a seat. We need to talk."

Rubbing the towel over his hair one last time, Opie tosses it back into your bathroom before padding barefoot towards you. As he sits, he asks, "Who are you?"

"I'm YN. You know that."

"You're clearly a very important person to have so many men working under you."

Grinning at him, you shrug. "I was my father's only heir. His business became my business."

"You said you worked in private security."

"Yeah. We do that too, but in the underground- in the underworld- we do so much more. They call me La Reina de Inframundo."

"Which means?"

"Queen of the Underworld."

Opie huffs and you hesitantly reach for his hand, clasping it between two of your own. "Why'd you go through so much trouble for me?"

"Because you were kind to me." He scoffs this time, and you angle your body towards him. "I'm serious. You had no idea about my reputation and treated me like any other woman that wasn't actively trying to get into your pants. You were kind and you became my friend, and I- I might have grown overly fond of you."

"Only might?" You roll your eyes with a slight huff and stand, but Opie is quick to catch you by the wrist and pull you in so you're standing between his parted knees. "Oh, I think you're pretty fond of me if you went through all this trouble."

"Fine. I like you, but I'm also aware about how the men of MC's work. And I just want to assure you right now, no matter what happens between you and me, I will have the Sons' back. I've never had a sibling, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want one if they're anything like Jax or Juice."

Opie grins at your joke. "Been keeping in contact with them?"

"Jax, yes. Juice just thought I needed to be checked up on for some reason. I guess he assumed I'd be a sobbing mess without you around or something."

"...thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, Ope." You reach for his face, gently cradling it in the palms of your hands before smoothing his hair back as his arms wrap around the small of your back. "You'd have done the same for me if I'd gone missing."

His smile immediately vanishes as his gaze darkens and his arms squeeze you tighter which brings you closer to him. And honestly, you quite like the feeling of being in his arms. "They'd be dead if they'd taken you."

"Likewise." His brow furrows and you wrinkle your nose at him. "Look at you all adorable and clueless," you coo. You lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. "Those men outside signed their own death certificates the moment they kidnapped you. They just don't know it yet."

"You're gonna kill them?"

"You'll see. Now put your shoes on. Your boys should be here by now and they're probably itching to pull a gun. Go keep them calm."

As Opie looks for socks and shoes, you walk over to your bedside table and pull open the drawer. Pulling out your gun, you make sure it's loaded before sliding into your waistband at the small of your back and then situating the back of your blazer over it. When you turn back around, Opie's staring at you with an arched eyebrow. You merely grin and shoo him out the door, telling him you'd be out there soon.

You give him a minute to find his way and then head out yourself, keeping to the shadows. Then when you get to the main room, you move to the darkest corner and watch everyone. The Sons of Anarchy stand off to one side as they look over Opie with your sins and tios on the other, and in the middle are the four bikers the sins had taken and bound to chairs.

"What the fuck is this?" One of the bound bikers scoffs. "Have the Sons turned into pussies that let a new crew handle their business?"

All the Sons, with the exception of Jax and Opie, bristle at the insult. Happy and Tig look like they're on a very short leash and would like nothing more than to tear apart the men limb by limb, but Jax keeps them in line.

"That's what I thought. Pussies."

Happy and Tig lunge, but Jax and Juice keep their brothers back. Opie mutters about it not being worth it and once it quiet, you take that as your cue.

Walking forward, you keep your head held high and let the click!, click!, click!, of your heels put the room on edge. The men part and it takes a moment for a majority of the Sons to recognize you. Jax gapes and then smirks, nudging Opie who shakes his head at his brother.

"What the fuck is this?" Tig asks.

"Our new ally," Jax muses.

Walking up to the bound four men, you arch an eyebrow at them. The mouthy one scoffs yet again as he takes you in. "You idiots made a mistake," you say. "You took someone I care about and I don't take that lightly." Reaching for the small of your back, you pull free your gun and grip it tight.

"Ha. I'm sure under that stupid makeup you're nothing but a pretty face, so why don't you strut that perky ass of yours back out of the room and let the grown men talk."

His companions all chuckle and you allow yourself to sarcastically laugh with them before aiming your gun and pulling the trigger. The laughing immediately ceases, and their expressions all morph into shock as their mouthy companion's head slumps backwards. You smirk. "Only one of you will walk out of here, so the more you mouth off the faster you will die."

The remaining three men struggle against their binds, and you giggle at their fear.

"Holy shit," Happy utters. Your gaze darts to him and you smirk as you watch him take in your tios and your sins. When his gaze darts back to you, he says, "La Reina del Inframundo."

You bend at the waist, arms sweeping out to the side as you mockingly bow. "At your service."

"What the fuck is that?" Tig asks, glancing between his brother and you. "Not all of us speak spanish, Hap."

"Queen of the Underworld," Jax answers. He saunters up to your side, nudging your elbow with his own. "Isn't that right?"

"Sí." Then losing your smile, you walk closer to the bound men, pacing back and forth in front of them. "So, this is what's going to happen. One of you is going back to your president and letting him know that the Sons are under La Reina's protection."

"Who is going back?" Another bound individual asks. He looks between his other bound brothers, throwing them under the bus. "I'll tell you whatever it is you want to know."

You slowly grin at him and then raise your gun, putting a bullet between his eyes. "No me gustan las ratas (I don't like rats)." One of the remaining two flinches and whimpers, and you put a bullet in his head too. The last remaining individual keeps his gaze straight ahead and though you see his bottom lip tremble, you let him live. "And it looks like we have a winner."

Your men and the Sons all chuckle.

"Untie him, Envy. Greed and Wrath, I need you two to drive him out to the middle of nowhere. Let him find his own way back home."

As the man is untied, he hesitantly stands while rubbing his wrist. "So, I'm free to go? Just like that?"

"Just a little like that." Before he can question you, you put a bullet in his right knee. He shouts in both pain and surprise, and you grin. "Now you're free to go."

Greed and Wrath stalk forward, grabbing the guy's arms and dragging him out of the room. You don't need to utter a word as other men under your rule step forward, untying the dead bodies and getting them out of there as well.

Looking towards the Sons, you gesture for them to follow. "I have a bar upstairs. It's about to smell like bleach down here, so unless you're into that…"

As you start walking, you grab Opie's hand and tug him after you. You hear Jax chuckle, but soon enough they all start to follow.

Upstairs sits one of your favorite rooms. A sleek mahogany bar runs the length of the side wall, the wall behind it lit up and showcasing every bottle of liquor in stock. There's a clear refrigerator that's stocked with several brands of beer and you even have a few on tap. There are a cluster of couches for those decompressing talks, as well as round tables and chairs for the rowdier gatherings. And for entertainment, there are two dart boards and a pool table.

"Pick your poison, boys. Pride will get you whatever you want so long as we have it."

As the Sons gladly make their way to the bar, Opie stays by your side. He tugs you closer, tucking you into his side and he presses his lips to your temple as your arm wraps around the small of his back. "What is it with naming your men after the seven deadly sins?"

"When I took over, I needed a crew of my very own who would be loyal to me and me only. All my men are obviously loyal, but some have a family of their own who will always be number one to them," you say as you glance up at him. "I get it, I do, but I wanted those who would put me first. My seven deadly sins do that."

As Opie stares down at you, you feel the tension between the two of you amping up. It's always been there, ever since the two of you started hanging out, but neither of you ever acted on it. But as his eyes dart to your lips and your hand finds its way under his shirt so you can stroke the skin of his hip, you know it's inevitable that this friendship is destined to be something more.

"I hate to be a cockblock," you hear Jax muse, "but how exactly is all this going to work out?" You and Opie both exhale in annoyance, glancing at his club president who's smirking between the two of you. "Not that I'm not grateful for the Queen's protection, but we can't be seen as pussies."

"And you won't be," you say. "The Sons of Anarchy will still operate as you have been. I don't care about your club business. But seeing as I've unfortunately grown fond of a few members, I will be on the sidelines waiting to put a bitch in a ditch should they cross a line."

"And what do you consider crossing a line?" Jax asks.

"Any unprovoked kidnappings and/or torture. If you're doing business and you piss someone off, that's on you. But if anyone comes around sniffing around Charming, pushing buttons to see what the response will be, I will set my sins loose."

Jax looks around at his men, gauging their reactions. No one seems to have a word to argue against you and he comes to a conclusion pretty fast. "I can work with that."

"That's what I like to hear." You slowly smile and then smother a laugh when Juice raises a hand. "Yes?"

"What exactly does the queen of the underworld do?"

"Now that's a secret, Mr. Ortiz." You wink at him. "All the prominent families of the underworld are interconnected in a way that I can't explain to you. As of right now, I keep the peace. Or force it if need be." As you smirk, you see Juice shrink down onto a bar stool. "I also make sure the most prominent families aren't murdering anyone without cause."

"When you first came into power, you were the most feared," Happy says. "Why?"

As you look at the man, your smirk slowly vanishes. "Some of the low-class families were looking to make a name for themselves. They waited until my father was at his most vulnerable and killed him in cold blood. They ripped my heart out that day. So, when I took my father's place, I hunted each and every one of them down, and did to them what they did to me."

"Which was?" Juice asks, hanging off your every word.

"I carved their hearts and delivered them to their head of house."

"Holy shit."

No one knows what to say to that, so Jax makes use of the pool table. They crowd around the pool table and dart boards, laughing and enjoying the beer you've offered them. Some of your men even come on up, grabbing themselves a beer and mingling with the Sons.

You feel yourself being led to one of the couches by Opie and then tugged down on his lap. Sitting sideways, you cross one knee over the other and wrap your arms loosely around his neck. "Well, aren't you being a little bold tonight."

Arms around your waist, Opie tugs you closer and lightly drags his nose along your jawline to your ear. "I just watched a beautiful woman avenge my kidnapping and beating." As he moves lower, you tilt your head to give him more access to your neck, shivering when his beard tickles the area. "I think it's time we stop tiptoeing around each other and just take what we want."

"Hmm. And what do you want, Ope?"

"You."

His teeth nip at your neck, and you quietly groan, moving to capture his lips with your own. Opie gives you a moment- a moment!- to control the kiss and then he's manhandling you on his lap so you're straddling him. As your hands delve into his hair to get a good grip on, his hands slide down your ass until he grasps the back of your thighs to hitch you right where he wants you.

The wolf whistles hardly faze you and you take your time enjoying what Opie's offering you.

It isn't until you hear the chanting of, "El rey, el rey, el rey (king, king, king)," that you pull yourself back from Opie's mouth and glance at your men who stop chanting and immediately explode into cheers and whistles.

"Uhh.. what's going on?"

You glance back at Opie, taking a moment to laugh at your skeleton makeup that's smeared onto half his face, before wiping it off and explaining, "They've been patiently waiting for their reina to find her rey. Outside this compound you might be a Son, but within this compound you're about to become King." Opie slightly gapes and you wiggle your eyebrows at him. "Congratulations, Mr. Winston. Life is about to become a lot more interesting."

[hanayori89]

🪶🪶🪶The Protector, the Spirit, and the Other Woman 🪶🪶🪶

"Y/N... what you just saw was the imprisoned. And this... is Fi... she is the spirit of my sword."

Link's words were devoid of his usual gentleness and spunk and instead were spoken with an essence of glum pragmatism. He didn't realize the weight of the bomb he just dropped on you. Actually, it wasn't even a bomb; no, it was a cyclone bomb, and you were now caught frantically spiraling as you tried to comprehend the revelation of its plot.

The imprisoned was real. You had seen it with your own two eyes.

But now, now—there was a ghost girl taking refuge in the safety of Link's sword?

In spite of everything, Groose building a weapon of destruction was perhaps the most unsettling of reveals to date.

The spinning of your thoughts was unfortunately catching up to you as your knees began to wobble and cave, your clammy palms gripping them as you plopped back down onto the soil. Cold sweat droplets felt like ice chips on your skin, causing you to relinquish to a series of shivers. Thanks to all of your knight training, muscle weighed more than fat, and so it was impossible for Link to not hear you fall to the ground.

"Y/N?" He was next to you, and it was so fast that you wondered for a moment if he and the ghost were one in the same.

Or had he really grown that fast and that strong, and you were in denial and refused to accept it?

"Spirit...? Where is...?" Your question came out fragmented.

Link tilted his head in confusion. "You are more rattled by Fi than the imprisoned?"

Your tunic appeared from beneath his arm, and he began to hang it softly over your shoulders, his hands continuing to pull every corner until not a crinkle remained and it was snug, as if he were making a bed and smoothing down a quilt. When your tunic had you enfolded to his liking, he left his hands perched atop your shoulders. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he gave your left shoulder a small tug, coercing your body into the comfort of his.

You must not have been as shaken up as you had thought you were. Because all it took was the waves of heat trickling from his lips and crashing against your forehead, a few of your baby hairs swaying beneath the force of his breath as he rested his chin on top of your head.

"Link...?"

He pulled back slightly so that his eyes could find yours; the dullness of the surface's woods made Link's eyes take on an inky hue, much like the admiral blue hilt of that weird blade that now adorned his back.

You couldn't believe how different he looked down here on the surface compared to back up on Skyloft. But then, you also couldn't believe how different your feelings for him were too.

Maybe it was a gimmick of the surface.

It had to be, because why else would he be parting his lips while he was gazing at you?

You felt a squeal bubbling in the back of your throat. Something that was effeminate and unfit of a knight.

I read about this in one of Karane's romance books. Is he going to... Oh, Hylia, is he going to kiss me?

Panic paralyzed you as you tried to figure out what you should be doing. Your lips lightly protruded outward, and you recognized that you had never seen a fish, but your face in that moment had to be akin to a photo you'd seen in one of your textbooks. Your cheekbones began to burn as you inhaled some air while you kept your lips puckered outward.

"Y/N..." The way your name floated from his lips and landed between you both was parallel to a loftwing feather floating to the ground. The question was, why were you closing your eyes and pursing your lips to kiss him back?

It had to be the surface. When you returned to Skyloft, you could just dislike him again and continue the comfort of your deep-rooted distaste of his favoritism that landed him a position as a knight.

But for now, here on the surface, you would allow these newfound emotions to bloom.

And what better way to water them than with a taste of his lips?

THUMP!

You looked up at Link's face, startled. You were lying on your back, his body hunched over as his hand held yours.

He had flipped you over.

"Link! What the-" He crashed down on top of you as you both began to wrestle in the grass. He pinned you down and secured you in a headlock, his knuckles scraping across your scalp as he gave you the most unpleasant noogie of your life.

"HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, Y/N?!"

You took your elbow and lifted it into his stomach, but all it did was meet the wall of his iron abdomen. You ejected it back down in defeat as you continued to struggle against him.

"Have you lost your mind?! You're going to give me hair breakage—quit it!" You snapped.

"THAT'S WHAT YOURE WORRIED ABOUT?! NOT THE FACT THAT YOU DECIDED TO JUMP ON THE EVILEST OF ALL EVILS WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT! HOW COULD YOU BE SO RECKLESS? HE COULD HAVE OBLITERATED YOU WITH A SINGLE FLICK OF HIS HEAD!"

"I had to save that old hag you're so fond of!"

"IMPA? YOU DONT EVEN LIKE IMPA!" Link countered that as he continued to assault your scalp, strands of your hair were snagged on a seam of his gauntlet. "YOU'RE GOING BACK TO SKYLOFT WHERE YOU ARE SAFE. RIGHT. NOW."

"You cannot return the thoughtless skychild back to your island." Impa's footsteps crunched among the grass until her frail shadow encompassed you both.

"Impa? What do you mean? Y/N cannot remain down here; she will be in grave danger." Sensing a new challenge in the form of a stern Impa, Link released you from his grip. He stood and picked off a leaf dangling from his shoulder.

You stood, joining them, strands of your hair possessed by static electricity jutted in all directions like the branches stationed on the many surrounding trees.

"If you bring her back to Skyloft, it will mean danger for her and all of your loved ones in the skies. The demon has chosen her."

"Chosen her for what? I refuse to let Y/N be involved in this!"

Impa's dark pupils, crusted beneath the creases of her eyelids, turned and stared at the seal where Link stood not long ago. "I am not sure. But it sucked her down onto the surface. No one else."

"Well, hey, at least Zelda isn't the focus." Another voice joined the triage of conversation. You could hear the sounds of knuckles popping as you swiveled your head around and caught Groose in your sight.

He continued to approach, making sure to crack each knuckle as if his fists stood a chance against anything other than Fletch.

"Groose!" No sooner did his name leave your mouth that you found yourself in front of him, tackling him against a tree.

"Heh, nice to see you too, Y/N. Welcome to the surface!" The way his lips wiggled into a smirk made you want to bash each tooth out with the same precision he had just cracked each knuckle.

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU MAKE A PROJECTILE WEAPON WITH A LEVER THAT DOESN'T WORK?!"

"Ah, you must be referring to the Groosenator. Well, Y/N, it isn't my fault you're too dense to recognize fine technology when you see it. Perhaps a tutorial is in order." Your fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt as you lifted him off his feet and mashed him against the tree, leaves cascading down from the force.

"OW! Y/N, sometimes I'm not even sure you're a woman. No wonder Link wouldn't kiss you. "

"What did you just say?!" You got close to his face, your teeth gnashing together in a low guttural growl.

"I saw you... you puckered your lips out. You thought he was going to kiss you. Poor Y/N. But don't be upset; it just means we have a common enemy."

"You buffoon! Link would be your enemy, and Zelda would be mine."

"Mmm, why would Zelda be your enemy unless you liked Link? See what I did there?"

You lifted your foot and slammed it down onto Groose's boot, causing him to grab his mouth and inhale as he held back an explicative that would make the entire forest around you rumble. You were about to lay a beating into Groose when you saw the familiar swoosh of blue and lavender flood your peripherals.

The immense streaks of color bleeding into your vision caused you to jump back against the tree you had just held Groose against.

Groose raised his eyebrow at you. "Are you afraid of Fi?"

You looked over at him, irritated. "Well, wouldn't you be if you saw a ghost girl constantly popping out of an object?"

"She is one of us. She is, well, how can I explain?" Groose rubbed his chin. "She isn't a spirit in his sword; she is his sword."

He then took you by the shoulders. You couldn't help but notice his fingernails had been bitten down so far that the tips of his nail beds had crusted over. "Between us Y/N, I think you are worrying about the wrong woman."

"What do you mean?"

"You thought Zelda was your competition. Nah, take a good look because your competition is right over there." Groose spun you around so you could see the being known as Fi floating behind Link, her energy almost like a protective shawl looped over his back.

"Master, there is a 98% chance Ghirahim may be loose again with the given circumstances of the release of the imprisoned." Her vacant eye sockets were fixed on the back of Link's head as she spoke.

The Link you knew on Skyloft was starting to resurface. You could see his brows sweep downward in distress as his arms hung limply by his side and trembed like tree limbs. "I know Fi. I know."

"We must go to the goddess master."

"But I can't leave Y/N down here by herself either."

"You must. You are the hero. The one created for the goddess Hylia herself. This Y/N, she is not your purpose. Just like you, you are mine, master." You weren't sure if it was your imagination, but as Fi said this, she began to scan you. She was calculating. Scheming.

You were no longer Link's friend, nor were you his rival.

You were the other woman.

A title that was somehow much worse.

Edited: 12/1/24

[goldenrulemotherfucker]

Lucy/Cooper → FBI AU

Made for Ghoulcy Week on twitter

Lucy is an FBI agent on her first solo case when she meets Cooper, a former public figure turned fugitive searching for his daughter. After hearing his side of the story, she reluctantly agrees to help him in secret.

Full action movie plot under the cut!

FBI agent Lucy is working her first solo case when she crosses paths with Cooper, a former public figure turned fugitive. After learning her last name, Cooper lures her into an old parking garage, where some other men have her outnumbered. Lucy is able to fight them off and escape, only for Cooper to grab her from behind. She headbutts him, breaking his nose, and he injects her with a sedative. When Lucy wakes up, she's bound to a chair in a living room, and Cooper asks her about her father—a government official who vanished years ago. Cooper tells her he's been searching for his daughter, who is also missing, and that it's all connected to a conspiracy that the FBI helped cover up. Two other men arrive, and Cooper cuts Lucy's ties and hides her in a closet. Through the gap under the door, she watches them argue until it escalates into a fight, and one guy's gun slides across the floor. She bursts out and grabs it, shooting both of the attackers and saving Cooper’s life. While helping him with a stab wound, Lucy tells him to keep his eyes open and asks what his daughter's name is. She gets the impression he hasn’t said it out loud in a while.

After locating her gun and phone, Lucy gives him five minutes to explain everything. Cooper tells her that years ago he discovered that his wife, who worked directly over Lucy's dad, was involved in a rogue operation to develop biological weapons. When he found out, Barb fled without a trace and took Janey with her. Lucy is skeptical but needs to know how much of this is true. Thus begins their unlikely and secret alliance, while Lucy uses her FBI clearance to gather more intel. Sometimes, when she needs a favor from him, she plays the "you did sedate me" card, which is highly effective. One night after finding a significant lead, they kiss, but it's awkward. Eventually, Lucy's cover is blown, and they're on the run together. With time running out, they're able to expose the conspiracy by leaking files to the press. Cooper creates a diversion to help Lucy escape, leaving her unsure if he made it. When they're reunited/exonerated, she rushes forward and hugs him.

A meeting is arranged with Cooper's daughter, but he panics, thinking that she might hate him now or not want to talk to him. Lucy offers to go first wearing an earpiece. She sits at a picnic table across from Janey, now a teenager, and tells her that her dad is an amazing person who never stopped looking for her. Janey asks if Lucy is his girlfriend, which catches her off guard. Janey follows that by asking if she loves him. Lucy doesn't want to lie to either of them, so she says, "Yes, I do. How could I not love someone like that?" Lucy and Cooper trade places, and she pops out her earpiece to give them privacy. Back at the van, Cooper reappears a while later, and Lucy asks him how it went—he's actually disappointed that she wasn't listening. He grabs her and kisses her, then says, "Thank you. I love you. I couldn't have done this without you."

[crackrodent]

Check out the rest of my Flufftober library!

Niffty's Rampage

Husk sat at the bar reading the morning paper while Niffty repeatedly stabbed him in the leg. He felt the plastic tip press against his furry skin as the rest of the knife retracted back into the handle. Despite the smooth point on top it still hurts to have your leg stabbed ten times a second for an hour straight. He tuned out the tiny chaos gremlin while plotting how to kill the jackass who gave her the knife. He could never though. Quiet plotting. Therapeutic purposes only. Then it stopped. A small hand could still be felt on his calf so he looked down.

“Hi Husker,” Niffty said skittering away to find her next victim.

Vaggie was still sleeping, although not as peacefully since Charlie climbed out of bed an hour ago. She tossed herself onto her stomach in hopes of getting another fifteen minutes tops. Her head now snuggled into Charlie’s pillow. She was at peace.

Niffty slowly crept up on her prey until she pounced onto Vaggie’s back and started stabbing her right between the currently concealed wings.

The soldier reacted on instinct and flung the tiny sinner across the room while reaching for her angelic spear. The blade was at Niffty’s neck before Vaggie even had time to identify the intruder. Niffty looked up at the Exorcist with tears in her eye. The two one-eyed women stared at each other for a moment until Niffty’s small frame started to shake and Vaggie lowered the weapon.

“Niffty, don’t be an asshole and wake people up like that. You could have been a whole mess if I didn’t catch myself.” Vaggie walked away to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

A softly crying Niffty walked into the hall and started walking back to the bar to get Husker. She couldn’t even see Baxter until they collided.

“Niffty, what's wrong?” Baxter took her hand and helped her up.

“Vaggie.”

Baxter thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words, “What happened right before Vaggie made you cry?” Baxter pulled her into a hug.

With the new vantage point, despite her really liking the feel of her head on his shoulder, she knew what she had to do. She nuzzled her head into his neck before moving her lips up to his ear and borderline seductively whispering, “This,” and promptly stabbing him between the shoulder blades.

Baxter let out a sigh and gave her one more tight squeeze before releasing the hug.

“Niffty when you stab people they don’t usually like it.”

Niffty looked up at Baxter with an almost curious expression, “But you said you liked whe-” Baxter cut her off to speak to the demon behind her.

“Good morning mister radio demon! I was just leaving!” He said before turning and running away.

Niffty looked at Alastor for a moment before deciding kneecaps would be the best target. Unfortunately, Al’s shadow warned him of the oncoming attack. A tentacle swooped her up and held her a fair distance from him but at eye level.

“Niffty, no.” Was all he said before putting her back down. She was still mostly upset so took off back to her Husker.

Husk stood cleaning the whiskey classes, Niffty standing on the bar stabbing him in the head. It wasn’t therapeutic anymore. He was gonna fucking kill him. He could imagine grabbing a real knife and just going ham.

“Niffty, I am going to set a two-minute timer and you are going to not stab me again until it goes off.” Niffty sat down on the counter and picked up Husk’s half-full bottle of booze and proceeded to dump it down the sink while looking him straight in the face.

“Niff!” Husk cried watching his drink go down the drain. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?!” He regretted it immediately when Niffty dropped her knife and sat down on the counter. “Niff?”

“I miss him,” Niffty explained. “When is he coming back home?”

“Who Niffty?” Husk asked right before the answer became obvious.

“Hey Whiskers, make it strong will ya?” Angel said before the tiny menace jumped on him and started stabbing him with the plastic knife over and over.

Husk watched as Angel laughed and rolled around. Egging Niffty on with fake overdramatic screams whenever he could catch a breath. Using one arm at a time to pretend to try and free himself allowing Niffty plenty of time to target that arm before switching to the next arm.

Maybe he didn’t want to kill him. Maybe he just needs to take the knife with him to work from now on. Whether or not Niffty is still attached to it when he does, is not his problem. Might be Valentino’s though.