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wandering-winchesters · 3 months ago

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A Moment too Late

Summary: A hunt goes wrong, leaving you seriously injured and Dean grappling with guilt. But through it all, the bond you share only grows stronger as you both fight through the pain and recovery together. Word Count: 1,515

Masterlist

The night was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You moved through the abandoned warehouse with caution, your senses on high alert as you searched for the creature that had been terrorizing the small town. The shadows seemed to shift and move with a life of their own, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Dean was supposed to be with you, but he had been delayed, caught up in another part of the investigation. You had insisted you could handle it on your own, that you didn’t need backup for this one, but now, as the tension in the air thickened, you were starting to regret that decision.

You gripped your weapon tightly, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as you edged deeper into the warehouse. The creature—a wendigo, if your research was correct—was smart, cunning, and deadly. You knew you had to be careful, but there was a sense of urgency driving you forward. You needed to finish this before it could hurt anyone else.

As you turned a corner, the smell hit you—rotting flesh and decay. It was close, too close. You stepped carefully, your eyes scanning the darkened space for any sign of movement. But before you could react, the creature lunged out of the shadows, its grotesque form moving with terrifying speed.

You fired off a shot, but the bullet barely slowed it down. The wendigo was on you in seconds, its claws slashing through the air. You dodged the first swipe, but the second caught you across the abdomen, the pain searing through your body like fire.

You gasped, stumbling back as you tried to regain your footing, but the creature wasn’t done. It knocked the weapon from your hand, sending it skittering across the floor. Panic surged through you as you realized how vulnerable you were—your weapon out of reach, the pain making it hard to think, hard to move.

Just as the wendigo reared back to strike again, you heard it—a roar of fury that cut through the chaos like a knife.

“Get away from her!”

Dean.

He charged into the warehouse, his face a mask of pure rage as he fired off several rounds into the creature. The wendigo screeched, its focus shifting from you to the new threat. But even as it turned to face Dean, you could see the weariness in its movements—it was injured, slowing down. Dean’s bullets had hit their mark.

But it wasn’t enough to stop it.

Dean kept firing, driving the creature back, but the wendigo was relentless, determined to take at least one of you down with it. It lunged at Dean, and he barely had time to dodge, the claws grazing his arm as he moved to put himself between you and the monster.

“Stay back, Y/N!” Dean shouted, his voice laced with desperation as he continued to fire. “I’ve got this!”

But you couldn’t stay back. Not when Dean was risking his life to protect you. Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the pain that radiated from your wound. You had to help him. You couldn’t let the wendigo take him down.

You spotted your weapon lying a few feet away and lunged for it, your fingers closing around the familiar grip. The wendigo had Dean pinned against a stack of crates, its claws inches from his throat, but you had a clear shot.

You took it.

The silver bullet struck the creature in the chest, and it let out a deafening screech as it staggered back, clutching at the wound. Dean wasted no time—he grabbed his own weapon and fired the final shot, hitting the wendigo squarely in the head.

The creature fell to the ground with a heavy thud, its body dissolving into ash before your eyes. The threat was over, but the adrenaline that had been keeping you going finally ran out. You collapsed to your knees, your vision blurring as the pain and exhaustion caught up with you.

“Y/N!” Dean was at your side in an instant, his hands steadying you as he gently lowered you to the ground. “Y/N, stay with me. You’re going to be okay, just stay with me.”

You tried to focus on his voice, but everything was slipping away, the world growing darker around the edges. The last thing you saw before you lost consciousness was Dean’s face, his eyes filled with fear and desperation.

When you woke, it was to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of machines. You were in a hospital bed, the bright lights overhead making you squint as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Your body ached all over, a dull, throbbing pain that made it hard to move.

“Y/N?”

Dean’s voice, filled with relief, drew your attention. He was sitting in a chair beside your bed, his hand gently holding yours. His face was haggard, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, but the worry in his expression melted away as soon as he saw you were awake.

“Hey,” you croaked, your voice raspy and weak. “Did we get it?”

Dean let out a breath he’d been holding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, we got it. Thanks to you.”

You tried to smile back, but the effort was too much, and you winced as a sharp pain shot through your side. Dean’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern, and he gently squeezed your hand.

“Don’t push yourself,” he said softly. “You were hurt pretty bad. The doctors said you’ll need time to heal, but you’re going to be okay.”

You nodded, the reality of the situation sinking in. You were alive, but it had been close—too close. “Dean, I’m sorry… I should’ve waited for you.”

Dean shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. “Don’t apologize, Y/N. You did what you had to do, and you saved my ass back there. I just… I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. I should’ve been there to protect you.”

You could see the guilt in his eyes, the weight of it pressing down on him. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have known what would happen, but the pain was too overwhelming, making it hard to think straight.

“Just rest,” Dean said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you need to focus on getting better.”

The days that followed were a blur of pain, medication, and restless sleep. The wound was deep, the recovery slow and grueling. Every movement hurt, and there were times when the frustration and helplessness threatened to overwhelm you.

But Dean was there, every step of the way. He refused to leave your side, helping you with everything from sitting up in bed to changing your bandages. He was patient, even when you weren’t—always there to offer a comforting word or a steady hand when you needed it most.

On the worst days, when the pain was unbearable and the road to recovery seemed too long, Dean would sit beside you, his presence a constant source of comfort. He would talk to you, telling stories from past hunts, or just sit in silence, his hand resting on yours, reminding you that you weren’t alone.

“You’re going to get through this, Y/N,” he would say, his voice full of quiet determination. “You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.”

And slowly, day by day, you started to heal. The pain lessened, the wound began to close, and you found yourself regaining your strength. It was a slow process, but with Dean by your side, you felt like you could face anything.

One evening, as you sat on the couch in the motel room, finally able to move around without too much pain, you looked over at Dean, who was sitting beside you, his eyes tired but filled with relief.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

Dean looked at you, his expression softening. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. We’re a team. I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine. That’s how it works.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical pain. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dean smiled, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as you leaned into his touch, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you could face them—because with Dean by your side, you were never alone.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

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pascals-doll · 7 months ago

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AGORA HILLS

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 after your date turns into a night of hell, love is there to show you how sweet life is about to get. | 7.9K

ೀ THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

ೀ SERIES MASTERLIST | CH.3

ೀ i wanna say a biggg thank you to bookie @openupforme for encouraging me to whip up the scene where ellie tries readers ethnic food and also being the sweetest 🥹 love u bb!

ೀ description: MODERN AU! VIOLENCE! ANGST! DESCRIPTIVE MENTION OF BLOOD L/FIGHTING! MAJOR FLUFF !!! FLUFF, MILD ANGST, latina!reader, mentions of smoking weed and drinking, mentions of Joel throughout, ellie learning spanish!!! (i lowk had too much fun this), kissing/makeouts, ellie and jesse indulge in reader and Dina’s ethnic food, mention of y/n (___).

CHAPTER FOUR

❝ i wonder how he would feel if he knew his girl was a dyke ❞

❝ what the fuck did you say? ❞

Ellie’s voice rang through your shut-out ears inaudiblely.

it felt like the entire world just stopped moving, your hearing becoming obstructed by ringing, muffling any sound or voice as your mind completely shut down.

you felt your entire system almost reset with pure rage, absolutely loosing it.

your mind might’ve shut down but your body senses didn’t fail you as the only thing that continue to ring through your mind was each word that left that man’s mouth.

your brain pounding with the words.

❝ i wonder— ❞

❝ how he would feel if he knew—❞

❝ if he knew his girl was—❞

for you, it was all unraveling in slow motion as your minds clouded your conclusion thinking.

for Ellie, she was ready to punch the man, speaking up “what the fuck did you just say?” but within the blink of her own eyes, you had already charged at the man.

your vision was vermillion, blinded by rage.

your body was auto-response, having a mind of its own. your manicured nails dug into the skin of his flesh as your hands clawed onto him after charging at him.

your first punch was sloppy and impactful, the adrenaline was enough to numb the painful sensation that would bring you hell later, your manicure scratching his face.

your knee dug into his rib-cage as you were onto of him, each one of your hands landing their very own ablaze blows to his head and face. you didn’t care to check if you had broken a nail or for anything in that matter.

your only focus was him like your own mental target as he was clearer than day, now under you while his hands struggle to force away your own. your anger gave you enough adrenaline to strengthen yourself; overpowering his attempts of trying to roll you under him.

you had finally recognized the motherfucker.

it was your ex’s ex-coworker from his old job, he had met you a couple times when you and your ex-boyfriend would hang out with his old group of work friends.

if it wasn’t for his stupid name-tag, you wouldn’t of even remembered that the prick’s name was Cameron.

yeah, that name definitely rang a bell.

the only reaction to your own proper thought was your impact against his face plaguing him more than before, your furry only festering more.

all you could think about was your ex.

he cheats on you and then he goes around telling his friends, what? come after you for leaving his ass? like they had the goddamn right?

your mind was in a tormental frenzy, one frantic thought being replaced with another, now all you could hear was his words again.

❝ how he would feel if he knew—❞

❝ he—he—he—he ❞

each mental repeat was violent scratching hit to his face.

Ellie just stood there, awe-struck because of how quick everything emersed into a violent situation. she was ready to charge at the man, but she wanted to talk her shit first.

she was a shit talker as much as she was a fighter.

but you? there was no words, just raging punches.

you were sure your fists were red, cut up, and sore; possibly even fractured but you couldn’t see with the hair in your hair and your body thrashed against his hands that tried to grab a hold of you aggressively.

you could hear mumurs and gasps from people, heavy footsteps of the restaurant staff buzzing around you as his hands punctured a squeeze into your arms your hand managed to pick his head and throw against the restaurant floor.

your throat gutted out a shriek of anger, suddenly being pulled off by random hands off the now, bloody bruised man.

the second ellie heard you scream, she was pulled out of her struck-stuck trance, immediately running to the staff member that was able to pull you off of Cameron.

“don’t you fucking touch her!”

ellie yell echoes through the restaurant, another staff member running up infront of ellie “If you get involved, we will be pressing charges!” the random restaurant staff member warns ellie.

she shrugs off the staff members hands off of her before running over to you as you were yelling for the random staff member to let go of you, trying to wriggle yourself out of their embrace.

“you need both need to leave this establishment now!” another staff member yelled at the both of you as Ellie reaches out to grab you, the staff member letting go of the tight hold they had on you to release you towards Ellie.

you’re body was shaking with violent thrill, laughing almost manically. “you need to check the people you fuckin’ let work here!” you spat back loudly, you look around at the crowd of other restaurants guests began to form around the entry room.

“FOR EVERYONE’S INFORMATION, I JUST BEAT CAMERON’S ASS WHOM YOU MAY NOT KNOW BUT IS THE TRASHY WAITER THAT YOU DON’T CARE TO TIP CAUSE HE LOOKS AND IS BUILT LIKE AN ASSHOLE”

you didn’t care that you looked crazy making the announcement as you squirmed in Ellie’s hold, flanting your blood-covered arms around with each yell and your dress also slightly being covered in someone’s blood; not caring if it was yours or his.

“____, your arm!” Ellie said, immediately reaching out to hold it.

you adverted your gaze from the crowd, who know looked at the man who had now stood up from the floor; surrounded by the staff as the crowd whispered to each other.

he broke through the flesh of your arm when he squeezed you, slightly dry, yet oozy blood beading down your arm.

“leave now before we call the police!” the staff warn once more.

you heard ellie softly reassure in your ear. you leaned into her as her back against the front door.

but you had one thing to say before you left.

“go ahead and tell him, then tell him i said, ‘i fuckin’ dare him to show up to my work again. he will end up alot worse than you’—” you began as your eyes burned into his fucked-up face.

you didn’t care if anyone was looking nor caring for anyone else; making sure he picked up on every single word you said.

“tell him—its not a threat, its a promise fuckin’ marícon!”

just like that, Ellie’s back pushed against the front door.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

what a great way to end the fucking night.

you both walked across the bumpy asphalt pavement of the parking lot. the cold breeze finally stinging your wounds, you couldnt help but let out a loud wince.

youre entire body felt on fire, mental completely overwhelmed by all types of emotions.

you were shaking with leftover furry, you wanted to cry your eyes out, you felt embarrassed, and most of all, you were scared.

you weren’t scared of what just happened or what your ex wanted from you. you were scared of how ellie might see you; you were scared of the questions she might ask.

your body was worn out, your legs wobbly as they ached from all the thrashing around. you guys walked closer to her car but eventually your legs gave out.

you slipped onto the floor, tripping over nothing but the own pain inflamed in your ankles and knees.

that was all it took for you to breakdown.

“hey hey, we’re almost there—talk to me.” ellie catches you almost immediately.

she laid you softly onto the dirty rocky pavement alongside you, resting half of you ontop of her. she couldn’t of cared less about the dirty floor, frankly caring to have you lay on her instead of the dirty public pavement.

she lulled you and hummed against your ear as you sobbed uncontrollably in her arms, no thoughts just tears. “c’mon baby, we’re almost there and everything will be okay” her whispers sounded like angels talking as she covered your shaking body with her arms.

you gasped out through choked sobs “i—can’t—go home like this!” you cried out, you can’t imagine what you would have to tell your parents; with them having to see you bloody with bruises.

Ellie mustered up her strength to pick you up from ontop of her, her hands strongly holding you up by your waist; hauling your body softly “s’okay, its all okay—i can talk to Joel—shit! lets cross everything off tonight!” she jokes light-heartedly, trying to ease up the overwhelmed tension inside you.

it works, of course it works.

she knew how to make you laugh, you couldn’t breathe almost from how much you laughed earlier during dinner. you couldn’t help but let a teary smile tug your flushed face as you looked into Ellie’s eyes, giving her small meek chuckle.

her heart shattered just seeing you cry, she takes one of the hand that was around your waist tightly; once you reached the doors of her car, she took your face and wiped the tears that dripped down your cheeks.

Ellie felt a hulking weight on her shoulders seeing you breakdown the way you did, she could care less about the ravenous rage she just seen you go through. she cared more about the fragile woman she had in her arms.

this was completely different, this moment exposed your vulnerability; not only yours, but Ellie’s aswell, to each other.

this whole situation completely contrasted the side you showed to everyone, the side Ellie was used too. the woman who walks into any room with her head held high, challenging, and ready to take on anything with your fierce self.

“I really really dont want to meet your dad covered in blood and bleeding” your tone was no longer shaky or croaked, still keeping its sensitive tone as you spoke back light-heartedly.

ellie knew you were serious through your playful tone. she gave you a soft smile as she opened the car door for you, even helping your aching body get in carefully.

once you were both in the car and settled, you calmed down more; even quicker than you thought with the help of Ellie’s embrace and reassurance.

“can you take me to Dina’s—you can come, but i understand if after tonight—” once you began to speak, you were cut off by ellie immediately.

“no, i don’t care to hear what leaves your mouth—it ain’t true, pretty. wherever you go, im going.” ellie poured out, looking into both of your eyes like she was searching in them.

“if that’s okay with you” she finishes, her eyes glistened softly as her eyes loved on you.

you could almost start crying again. well, you did.

“put dina on the phone—let’s call it night, alright?” she wiped each singular tear that dropped from each of your eyes, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie helped you up the apartment hallway stairs, helped you all the way towards the elevator till you were at Dina’s front door; even holding you up as you jingled the keys into the lock.

this was a definitely story-time.

you unlock the door, hand turning the knob as you let yourselves in; almost immediately you hear your name being called out by Dina through her apartment.

you were greeted by your bestfriend who ran up to you, engulfing you. you rocked back slightly, catching yourself on your feet at the impact of her hug.

“are you okay? what the fuck happened?” Dina’s rushes out, anxiety evident in her voice.

“Jesse?” you heard Ellie call out as your eyes examined the room, falling onto the man who was sat on the couch.

“i was here when Dina got the call…you good?”

it was endearing watching them, the way he picked up on how ellie didn’t even want to speak, just leaning into his side for a hug.

you let out a sigh, your arms grew weak as they loosen trying to embrace her. Dina held your body as she motioned for you to step out of your shoes.

your legs wobbled out with each little movement.

“hey jesse—sorry i look like a crime scene.” you joke out which he just gave a slight smile too “you look bad-ass.” he chuckles causing you to giggle, finally stepping your bare-feet onto dina’s wooden floor.

“you gonna be okay, ___?” jesse was concerned just as much through his wittiness. you give him a confident smile and nod, not wanting to let up your vulnerability again.

“im gonna get her cleaned up, ellie would you like a change of clothes?” Dina lets them know, wrapping her arm around you to hold you up, leaning herself into your semi-limp body to help you step.

“i’d appreciate it Dina, thank you!—also i hate to fucking ask but i need a smo—”

“Bong’s on the kitchen table, Jesse has the pack.” Dina smiles out before helping you down her apartment hallway into her bathroom.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

“remember Cameron?” you nettled out, breaking the silence between the two of you as Dina bathed you.

“that one guy you tried to get me to go on a double date on with you and your ex?”

“yeah, him—he works at the restaurant we went to eat at.”

“jesus christ—” you cut her off.

“he recognized me the second he got to our table Deens—he was giving me this fucking look.”

“what the fuck did he say?”

“he didn’t say anything at first—as we were walking out of the restroom—”

“i thought you guys were eating, why were you both in the—”

“Deens, let me fucking finish!” you whine out as she continues to scrub down your naked body with the personal loufa you leave for when you sleepover; washing away the blood into the water down into the bath-drain.

“sorry sorry—im listening.” she gets up momentarily to open one of her bathroom cabinets.

“we were about to literally leave, Dina—so close through those fuckin’ doors—he goes ‘i wonder how he would feel if he knew his girl was a dyke’ i just lost it.”

“wait, ‘he’ as in….” Dina began to trail off.

“yes!—hearing ese’pendejo mention him—then that fucking word.” you grumbled out, feeling angry again.

Dina came back with hydrogen peroxide, rubbing alcohol, and a couple healing ointments along with the cotton pads to tend to your wounds.

Dina had already got done helping you finish washing up in the bathtub, the hot water was still running to keep your tense muscles from aching continuously.

your knees were a bit scraped up, slight yellow tint underlying in your skin;you knew you would wake up with those to be purple the next day.

Dina picked up one of your arms first, later on tending to the other.

“he did this?”

she looked at each puncture in your skin, a crease-cutting through indents of each five nails digging into each of your arms.

you scoff. “Si no lo hubiera hecho en su lugar de trabajo, me estarías rescatando de la cárcel ahora mismo.” (if he didn’t do it at his workplace, you would be bailing me out right this moment.)

you weren’t kidding. Dina knew you weren’t, even with the slight giggles you both let out to lighten the mood as she tended to all your wounds precisely. she finished up by aiding each arm, wrapping around a white gauze around before putting her fluffy robe on you.

you both made it back to your room for you to change into comfortable clothes and pick out some of your clothing for ellie to wear.

the midnight definitely made up for the encounter you and ellie had to go through earlier. the four of you spent the night passing the bong around, you and ellie specifically getting so high out your asses.

you were all indulging in the sweet playful haze the terpenes fogged inside your bodies. nothing was serious, popping jokes left and right; shit, even the whole shitty was situation turned into a meer joke with the four of you.

“anything is fighting attire for this one!” Dina laughs out pointing at you, coughing out the smoke after.

“eesh! i believe it—you should’ve seen—she looked like a cheetah pouncing with that dress on!” ellie chuckles out, following Dina’s joke as her high low-eyes rake through you.

“idiotás…” you laugh out as you pass the bong to Jesse.

“hey! i’m not the one callin’ you ‘national geographic’—what does that even mean?” Jesse retorts playfully before hitting the bong.

“bro just add the ‘ass’ to idiot” Ellie makes fun of Jesse playfully while completely butchering the spanish syllable.

“oh ellie, stop talking!—your first spanish lesson will be with ___ tomorrow.” Dina teases.

you all soaked in the Dina’s living room full of marijuana smoke until the high laughter shared between all of you would take you all out into a slumber. it was later than 3 am by the time you all knocked out.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

it was the next morning, probably the best morning’s you’ve ever had even with the excruciating pain you woke up with.

you woke up entangled in ellie’s arms, you both fell asleep on Dina’a couch while Jesse and Dina slept in her bedroom.

you fluttered your eyes open, head on her chest while each one of her arms was wrapped around you almost protectively. you could hear each beat of her heart as her chest heaved softly, mumuring in a pattern underneath the side of your head.

the feeling of her heartbeat was like listening to the pleasing sound of rain tricking against a window; bringing the same bliss, maybe even more as listening to her heartbeat lulled you in and out of sleep.

‘esto tiene que ser como se siente el paraíso.’ (this must be what heaven feels like)

ellie had her hands loomed into and through the texture of your hair, holding the back-side of your head slightly; cradling your head almost.

the atmosphere was incensed by the mixture of body-heat you shared through each others bodies. the warm felt like something stronger than a blanket.

the sun-ray shines through Dina’s tall curtains that covered her wide-spread windows, enhancing the two of you under nature’s glow.

you took in the way her fair skin contrasted your bronze one beautifully, the way her tattoos illuminated, especially the tattoo of her fern and moth; you admired all her small other tattoos.

she had a a cursive J on her other wrist, Joel’s initial.

on the same arm, on her arm cephalic she had a line that was a thin as a guitar string. you observed the small prominent ink and the way it wrapped around her arm.

ellie’s tattoos were simple but you knew they were symbolic in some way which made her tattoos completely beautiful to you. unknowningly, your hands had been caressing the soft skin of her arms as you traced over her tattoos; getting lost in her shut eyes.

“buenos días” you could hear ellie’s morning voice, her thick rasp as she grumbled out.

your eyes widen slightly taken aback, you were hoping she hadn’t sensed you staring. you dipped your face into the crevess between eachother’s arms; slightly embarrassed.

“mírala, primera día conmigo y ya sabes.” (look at her, first day with me and you already know.) you played with her as you hid your face away.

“hold on hold on, don’t get too confident in me now.” ellie retorts quickly, her eyes completely widen out of groggy slumber at the smooth quick pace of your accent; almost not catching onto any of the foreign words.

you let out a bit of louder laugh, god, she could even wake you up with a laugh.

“buenos días, bombón” the tension was like dripping sugary corn syrup, the most honeyed atmosphere you had ever been engulfed with and exposed too.

there was no way you could ever compare your ex to ellie. not in one singular way could the love you were feeling for ellie ever be compared to the love you have felt.

“should’ve payed more attention to spanish in highschool and Joel’s tutoring.” you tease her with a smile at the mention, how she miserably failed all four years of spanish even with Joel’s basic—practically ‘personal google-translate’ help.

Ellie grabs the pillow she was laying her head on to playfully hit you with it. your arm reflexes and reaches out your hand, just in time to stop the pillow from hitting your side. you both burst into a fit of giggles as you begin a soft playful morning tussle.

you grab ahold of the pillow that ellie tries to push closer to you with her hands, you eventually find the perfect moment to slip it out of her tight grip and throwing it across the room; taking one leg and hoisting it on her hip as you both laid on your sides.

Ellie rolled you over, trying to tip you onto Dina’s huge black furry carpet. you immediately caught yourself on the rest of couch arm-rest, leaving you on top of her, each leg bent to each of her sides.

this position was compromising in someway, you felt more connected to her like this. the smiles from your faces didn’t falter for second, but only shifted into admiration.

you both admired eachother, both of your eyes holding overflowing adoration. your essences soak into each other as ellie traces your tattoos. she replicated the treatment you were showing her from earlier as you studied the shape of her lips, how long her lashes were, and the way her hair fell down; few strands falling onto her face.

you were so used to seeing her with her hair up, she mentioned to you how it was just more comfortable for her, how she grew to enjoy the feeling of the breeze of her neck. maybe it wasn’t a big deal, but it was for you.

in some way you felt this as a way of ellie’s vulnerability, dropping her guard and allowing you to see her with such intimacy and in ways you had never seen her before,—you knew this was different for her too.

that was the thing with her, your thoughts to yourself continue as you lean closer into her, chests pressing together; aligning heartbeats as you got lost in a strong energetic haze.

the scene was ethereal.

the sun glowing trancing your deep embrace, silhouetting your skin-to-skin held contact onto the shined-on carpet covered floor. the way your head laid ontop of Ellies as her own dipped into the clavicle of your shoulder, her deep breathing feathering your collarbone and tickling you.

eventually your heads meet, foreheads touching as your eyes poured into each other. you watched the way Ellie’s eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes, then repeating. it seemed like an all natural action when your lips met.

the kiss was so gentle and soft, yet overfilled with so much. your lips tingled against the warm feeling of Ellie’s tongue swiping over your bottom lip, wanting more of your lips.

there wasn’t a single worry between the two of you. you brought your gauzed up hand to caress her cheek which she softly grabbed your wrist, departing from the kiss you shared to peck your bandaged bruised knuckles.

“i’m sorry about—”

”don’t you ever apologize for something you don’t have too.” Ellie told you sincerely, cutting you off.

“but you don’t understand—” you continued to push.

“ill understand with you, and if i don’t. you will teach me.”

Ellie didn’t even want you trying to protest once more, pulling you back into her lips softly. your lips continuing moving in a plush motion.

your hands found their way to her hair, entangling them through her smooth straight locks, massaging your fingertips into her scalp. you hummed contently into the savorful kiss that you shared; your mind wanting more, craving and needing more.

it felt like each wet passionate lock between each other was an eternity of bliss.

Ellie’s hands caress up and through your back, her fingers tracing your spine before resting them onto the dip of your hips.

“lesbians are making on my couch—okay! going back inside my room!” Dina calls out before quickly retreating into her own bedroom.

you both whipped your heads around, breaking your kiss instantly; just to catch the door closing shut.

you both fell into a fit of giggles as each other’s doed out eyes soaked into the morning aroma together.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the way the four of you spent the day together.

you all started off the day by settling to go to the classic old diner down the road for a good breakfast. it was 10:20 AM by the time you guys were smoking out of your purple ‘alien-looking’ pipe, as described by Ellie, herself.

maybe it was this morning, maybe last night.

it has now more than ever became clear to you exactly how Ellie had you feeling, being more handsy on both ends. you couldn’t help but feel as your skin was burning, if her hands weren’t there to cool you down.

definitely now more than ever, it was crystal clear.

“uhm, earth to the both of you!” Dina clears her throat, calling out loudly to the both of your attention.

a moment ago, your legs were on ellies lap as her hands caressed all up and down your exposed legs due to you wear some simple shorts. it wouldn’t be believable but you didn’t understand how quickly just a couple loveable leg rubs led to a mini make-out sesh behind Dina and Jesse in the passenger seat.

you both jumped away from each other, as if you had both been pulled into a trance as you both blinked away at your friends reactions.

“lets go before y’all eat each other for breakfast.” Jesse jokes out as he opens his passenger door causing a heat to rush onto ellie’s cheeks shut up—you kept us up all night.—ellie’s smart and quick to remark teasingly.

once finally seated into the cute diner, very vintage americana looking diner. the four of you were all seated into a red-seats booth that had a table with fake cherries for table decor.

you scanned the menu below, taking in all the options of different breakfast entrees; the variety of omelettes, sandwiches, toasts, and pancakes. you settled on frosted fluffy strawberry french toast while you ordered coffee.

“jeez, you and Joel—coffee lovers, bleh!” ellie grimaced in fake disgust and disbelief, making a forced disgusted noise after ordering herself.

“why thank you, Joel and I have taste.” you sarcasm out, giggling slightly. Ellie just admired the way your smile tugged your cheeks and creased your eyes joyfully.

Ellie matched your small chuckle as you spoke up. “we will mock your hate over our hot cup of coffee!” you lean in, bringing your pointer finger to poke at her dimpled cheek which she reactively crinkle her nose.

everyone finished ordering their choice of meals, indulging in humorous banter all together. you learned about how about ellie’s summer this one time Joel had a fling with this sweet mexican woman he completely fell infatuated with, how it was probably the best summer of her life due to the countless of grill-outs they both loved to have.

“oh so, your thing for latinas runs in the family?” you quirk causing Jesse to let out a holler as Dina snorts out, using her hand to cover her mouth.

“uh—what—how did you even come up with that?” Ellie stumbles over her word.

“nah yeah, it definitely run in the family.” Jesse chimes in with a smirk causing you to clap and laugh out just more.

“the both of you don’t have a single fuckin’ idea on what your on about!” Ellie retorts, for some reason, her cheeks rushing fusion.

as you were about to speak up, the waitress came with each one of your plates. you all ate silently, yet peacefully and happily. the silence connecting you all more if anything.

one hand held your dullish knife as your other hand held your fork; you held your toast down with your fork as your cut off a piece off your toast, gathering the maple syrup along with the topped frosted butter. you let out a moan of content as the sweet combination hit your tastebuds as your eyes widen in pure foodie-bliss.

the scene of you trying a delicious meal, savoring it too was possibly the most adorable and gorgeous thing you’ve done in the past month you spent with her, exploring eachother. you took a few more bites before your little amused grin while you swallowed your bites of food turned your grin into a smile as you began to cut another piece of your toast. you repeat the same steps before asking, well not really.

you held the fork up as you hummed loudly and excitedly—ready to airplane a spoonful into Ellie’s mouth.

“tè va a’ gustar…” you muttered under your blissed breath.

Ellie opens her mouth, grinning as she hears the little spanish sentence fall from your lips. you playfully do a small swerve, then eventually holding it close to her mouth for her to close her lips around. she kept eyes contact with you as she ate the piece of toast off your fork, eyesbrows raising in delight which you only nod your head, knowingly too.

Jesse and Dina watched the both of you amused before returning to their own conversation, how it was dina’s dream to roadtrip to California. you could hear her small talk drown out from your ears as the world felt like it spun, making it feel like it was just you two.

“it’s delicious, mama.” she hums out.

“i know, now say ‘que deliciosó’!”

Ellie tries her best to repeat after you, stuttering over her pronunciation.

“that was absolutely!—horrendous.” Dina fakes enthusiasm before completely deadpanning her expression.

“i would love to hear Jesse try!” Ellie claims, leaning into her own seated side of the booth.

“kay!—deli—si-o-so!”

you shared an awkward glance to Dina as Dina lips flatline completely, biting back a laugh as Ellies eyes meet yours before glancing at Dina. the table was silent as Jesse questioned what he said wrong, not holding in your laughter as you all laugh collectively.

“just stick to english, babe.” Dina consoles teasingly as you and Ellie try to catch your breath.

“i definitely did not sound like that!” Ellie laughs out, trying to catch her breath.

“easy Jesse!” you follow along, laughing in sync.

“the spanish lessons are for Ellie—not me.” Jesse immediately raised his hands up in the air as defense before going back to dig into the omelette he ordered.

now it was Ellie’s turn, she picked up the loaded crossiant sandwhich carefully. you shot her a small smile, moving your hair out the way slightly as you leaned in to take a bite out of her breakfast sandwich. you savored the buttery bread from the crossiant as the mix of cheese, hash brown, and mapled sausage mix into your mouth.

“ta—tè gusta?” she stumbled but managed to say it right. if your stomach wasn’t fluttering like a swarm of butterflies before, it definitely was now.

“mm!, muy rico.” you smile as you hear Dina clap, putting her fork down onto her plate of pancakes.

“okay spanish 101!, call Joel!—tell him Carne Asada at my house!” she exaggerates.

“girl, i know you kidding, but now, i want carne asada.” you tutt out before sipping on your coffee.

you all enjoyed your dinners together, laughing, conversating, and more importantly, bonding all the same.

“so, we hittin’ the store after this?” Jesse chimes with a stupid smile.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the trip to the grocery store was definitely….something.

Ellie and Jesse were like toddlers while you and Dina spent time hunting for the ingredients throughout the store.

“how about you get the drinks and let the—ahem, adults handle this.” Dina clears her throw, pointing back and forth between you and her.

“uh what—” Ellie began to protest.

“you—i need you to get limes, cilantro, and white onion.” you listed as you pointed to Ellie, whom immediately stopped talking.

“yes ma’am.” was all she said, before pulling you in for a kiss which you instinctively went to place your hand behind her neck gently, momentarily before pulling away.

“my beautiful man in the entire universe of ugly rotting men—who also happens to be of legal age!—get your sexy girlfriend liquor?” Dina remarks sweetly and dramatically.

“wow!, coarsing me into buying alcohol for you guys—that’s illegal.”

“look at you! knowing the law and shit—get us a bottle of Pátron Silver.” Dina quirked, giving him a kiss on the lips.

you all split up, each to their own getting what they needed. you picked out rice, brown beans, queso fresco, pepper/jalapeno, avocados, and of course, the steak. Dina grabbing any other ingredients needed.

once everyone was set, meeting at the store cart that Ellie strolled around.

“awe look at you guys! wasn’t so hard, huh?”

Dina playfully snarks out as you guys walk towards self-checkout. you watched the way Jesse playfully smacked Dina’s butt, kissing her forehead while at it. then, feeling a small arm sneak around the back of your waist.

“look at that straight shit.” she playfully icks out, getting a small giggle out of you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

once you entered Dina’s—it was go-time.

the sound of the kitchen rustling with a bunch of noise coming from the hustling around from yourself, along with Dina. you got to marinating the steaks as Jesse got the mini grill that was outside of Dina’s balcony.

music tunes through Dinas personal handheld speaker as you got your freshly washed hands dirty. you cut multiple limes, then bringing out the salt and pepper.

the entire time, every time you grabbed a piece of raw steak; squeezing the lime juice onto the meat before sprinkling bit by bit salt & pepper, Ellie watched.

she couldn’t help not too stare.

she admired the concentration you carried with the biggest smile on your face—especially impressed by the way you squeezed the half-piece lime with one hand completely.

“what’s meat in spanish?” Ellie asks innocently, slightly hovering closer to you.

your smile widen, your teeth glimmer as you passed the seasoned steak onto an empty glass platter for Dina to take outside.

“say carne, baby.” you keep an eye on her as you spoke.

“carne—oh!, its in the name.”Ellie slightly confuses.

you lean in to give her a small peck “ay cariño, you are so cute.”

“you did say spanish 101 today—what did you call me?”

“special nickname—just for you!” you shot her a playful wink. you could still see unsurity in her face. “nothing bad, baby—it’s a term of endearment.” you finish off, placing the second marinated steak onto the glass plate.

“venga para acá, let me show you how.” you signal with your messy hand. Ellie made her way around from the counter she was leaning on, walking uo slightly behind you before standing next to you.

“come over here, empieza a poner sal y pimienta—start to put salt and pepper.” you repeated after yourself. you obeserved carefully the way she began to pronounce each foreign word.

“slow baby—you got it, pi-me-yen—tà.” you her at the end as she didn’t sound too bad for her first try. Ellie tries once again as she lathers the meat in the salt and pepper, flipping the meat over to do the same on the other side.

you got closer, leaning your head on her shoulder as your hands went to grab the salt as she rubbed in the lime juice. you pour a bit of salt onto your hand as you get ready to sprinkle it. Ellie’s hand made moved away slightly before going back to the spots you sprinkle salt to rub it in; the both of your arms ontop of another, almost entangled as you both began to season together.

the intimacy was different, yes it was romantic; definitely not sexual—this entire moment shared together gave you both a sensibility of home. the sweet tension divert into domestic parallels as Ellie’s back met your chest like magnets, feeling the way your breath feathered against the back of her neck in gentle rhythm.

it wasn’t just the physical touch that made the both of your bodies feel like electricity firing through each other’s veins.

the senses you both individually carried feeling like it invisibly oozed into each other, interlocking your connected hearts.

Ellie melted into you, her head moving the tiniest bit. you took it as a signal to dip your head intonthe crevess of her neck and peppering kisses as both of your hands smeared among the meat. you hward the way a sweet little symph of a hum was enough to have your heart jumping out your chest.

you gave a Ellie’s hands a bit of space, letting her transfer the piece of meat with the rest of the seasoned pieces on the glass plate. Ellie turned her head to the side, the side of her face, partly almost facing you completely; that was till she turned her head completely, moving a hand away in the process to not keep her encaged.

you just poured into each other’s eyes, neither of you wanted to leave the aroma of this feeling.

Ellie leaned in, eyes jumping from your eyes to your lips. you both kept your hands lowered as they were covered in the seasoning and lime juice; nothing stopping her from the way her lips locked into yours intoxicatingly.

“lets take these out to them, mama” she pulls away with a goofy smile, hinting at the meat.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the sun had set and the late evening arrived, watching the way the orange sky smiled back at the four of you as you all created a night to remember.

the sound of Bachatá Xtremè’s ‘Te Extraño’ playing through as you and Dina took slight dance-like steps between each shot, chasing it by sucking on a piece of lime.

you both started off chill at first—making yourselves a little drink to sip on as you finished cooking and smashing the beans, dina finishing up the rice, and making the guacamole—the more spanish bangers came on, your amount drinks had gotten hefty.

Jesse was on the Grill, occasionally being pulled away from a very drunk dina to dance with her—kudos to Jesse though, he kept a pretty good pace.

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: AGORA HILLS

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

right now, you were sat ontop of Ellies lap, puffing on the blunt she rolled. she had one arm cradling the back of you as the other passed the smoke between the both of you.

Ellie spent the day admiring the way you ran around all day, now that you were here; with her sat and seated. it was your turn to admire the strong gorgeous woman.

although the sun had set, the slight glow from the toned out blue sky perfectly sharpened her freckles specking across her soft face, the way her t-shirt hugged her, and especially the small muscle in her biceps that flex each time she took a drag.

“whatcha lookin’ at, mama?” she caught you, giving you a small smile as she passed you the Dutch.

“sorry—really wanted you to pass the blunt already.” your sarcasm lacing your sweet tone as you gave her fake look of dissatisfaction.

“oh! really!?” Ellie gawks, playing into fake offense.

you gave her a big smile you couldn’t falter. you brought the cigarillo up to your lips, inhaling and then exhaling before speaking, “i never said thank you.” you began.

“thank you for what?” she questions, the hand she used to hold the blunt to caress your face.

“for standing up for me, for being there, for literally—being here. you could’ve ran off and you didn’t.” your voice was sincere, nothing more.

“i would do it all again in a heartbeat, mama.”

your entire heart felt like a floodgate opening, allowing the sweetest taste of serotonin rush through.

“there isn’t a single thing i would do differently—change—now, i would give everything to not meet that jack-ass waiter.” Ellie says, her eyes not leaving yours as her words went straight into your heart.

you chuckle out “fuck him—that guy’s a friend of my ex. i didn’t even know he worked there.” you explained, reminiscing a bit.

Ellie was quick to stop any moment longer. “fuck them both, they mad to see you doing good.” she devotes, pulling you into her to kiss your forehead. the reassurance made your stomach flutter up.

“and with someone greater, too—in all ways.” you whisper out, leaning your head down slightly so your foreheads met.

you were in love with Ellie Williams, a feeling that you had never felt so strong.

“i wanna tell everyone you’re mine—show you off, make them all fuckin’ mad.”

before Elle could say anything else, you hear a drunk Dina cheer Listos para comer! (we ready to eat!) .

you all helped bring the food inside, setting the dinner table as chatter wisped between the four of you. the dinner table was scattered with all the delicious plates you all bonded over cooking.

it was like a cute family dining scene from a movie.

you all began to dig in, Dina looking over at you with a look that you knew exactly to return as you both silently waited at the table; your eyes moving from meeting Dina’s to Ellie and Jesse, watching them chew. you both waited with big grins as they both let slight moan and gasp from their savorful meals.

you and dina cant help the fit of laughter you break into which only confuse the both of them.

“don’t know what’s funny—you’re not gonna be laughing when im on one knee though.” Ellie was dead serious.

“ouh! i better be a bridesmaid!” Dina exclaims excitedly.

needless to say, you were beaming a deep rose through your cheeks, bringing your Soda Jarritos to try to cover your face.

the dinner bled into the night, completely being filled with overjoyed laughter and deep conversations—still, slightly making fun of their spanish pronunciations.

Ellie was sat right next to you.

“pass me a tortilla, amor.” you let it out without a thought, you caught yourself, slightly stumbling as you tried to excuse the little epithet that left your lips.

you saw the way a wide shiteating smile tugged her lips as she reached her arm aceoss the table to pass you the traditional tortilla warmer for you to make tacos out of the asada.

you thought Ellie pretended to not hear atleast, as you began to bite into your taco; Ellie leaned into your ear.

“we’re gonna make sure everybody knows you’re mine—as i’ve been yours since that night, mama.”

dolls-taglist: ̗̀➛ @snowy-vee @elliesleftflap @tphmnv @starrkissezz @we-loveebony @lavenderhazelsworld @marsworlddd @kissthedewdrops @elliewilliamsgirl3 @graviewaviee @gato-chino @bunnyrose01 @bready101 @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @cosmopolitanaut @yumimak @elliewilliamgfooc @evangelinexo @yondaimekazzy @moonyvs4 @tearouthearts @ride4els @luzthenarnian

a/n: i am indeed the mexican woman ellie is talking about that used to date joel 💖💓💞 matter of fact he in my bed rn !!! also i didnt add lyrics because i feel like the scene was too short ( might add them later still thinking)

in all seriousness though, thank you so much for the patience cus its basically EXAMS MONTH for my ass 😭 yall are amazing and @openupforme for keeping me going😽

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fandom #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us ellie #ellie williams the last of us #ellie tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #GATÚ🌺

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op-sys-chaos · 4 months ago

Text

A prompt I just saw by @brucewaynehater101 inspired me so have a sad DC prompt with a happy ending, ft. violence and character death and so much angst but also a good conclusion :)

What if the pits’ effects weren’t forever? What if instead, when you were revived with the Lazarus Pits, the Pit Rage picked a single goal and latched onto it. Not until after the Pit Madness fully fades and leaves only the Pit Rage, so it takes time, but the second you get your mind back the Rage gets a goal. Luckily, once you fulfill that goal, the Rage goes away and you get your mind back fully. Unluckily, it’s a rage-based goal, so it’s usually not pretty.

Jason is still in the midst of the Madness stage when Talia informs him of Tim becoming Robin. He’s almost out of it, but he’s not fully himself yet. The Rage latches onto Jason’s anger at being replaced. So Jason’s Rage goal is this:

Kill Tim.

Jason won’t get hit sanity back, won’t be rage-free, until Tim is dead.

Talia finds out about this and is instantly upset. This time, she’s not just delaying Jason’s return home by sending him to train with a lot of people for Bruce’s sake; she’s also doing it for Tim and Jason. She doesn’t think Tim deserves to die for the crime of putting Bruce back together and she knows Jason will be appalled by what he’s done once he’s fully sane again. So she delays as long as she can. But, like in the comics, Jason still goes home and enacts his plan.

Under the Red Hood still happens pretty much the same. Jason’s still in there, after all, and he’s still mad at Bruce. The only difference is this: during Jason’s attack on Titans Tower, he doesn’t stop. The Pit Rage is screaming at him with single-minded focus to kill Tim. So he does.

And, less than a second after the light fades from Tim’s eyes, Jason gets his full sanity back.

Jason gets his sanity back and the first thing he sees is the body of the little brother he just killed.

He can see it all now. How fucked up some of his plans were. How he never wanted to murder in the first place; the Pit Rage pushed him to do it. He doesn’t even blame Bruce for not getting there in time and not avenging him. He figured after all the shit he just did, they’re even. More than even; Jason just killed Tim. Bruce has the moral high ground now. Maybe he always did, Jason thinks. But he doesn’t have time to analyze his mistakes. Tim’s only been dead for a few seconds. Maybe there’s something Jason can do to save him.

He starts CPR.

Another Titan, maybe Kon, barges into the room (idk where the Titans are, I rest most of UtRH but I never read the Titans Tower bit so all my knowledge here is second hand) and sees Jason kneeling over Tim’s body doing chest compressions. Jason looks up and notices the Titan and tells them to start bandaging Tim’s wounds so he doesn’t lose any more blood.

Jason knows this probably won’t work. He’s desperate to fix it anyway.

The Titan starts bandaging, wanting to ask what happened but more focused on saving Tim, and Jason just keeps doing CPR. Jason doesn’t even notice himself getting tired as he does it; he’s got way too much adrenaline in him right now to care.

It’s been three minutes of CPR. The Titan has tears streaking down their face, knowing Tim isn’t surviving this. They’re about to tell Jason to give up.

And then Tim inhales. And coughs. And he’s breathing again, he’s alive, he’s okay-

Actually, he’s very much not okay, he’s immediately unconscious again and he’s very very injured. They rush him to the med bay at once and get him attached to the machines he needs to start healing. Jason, who followed, finds and needle and thread and starts stitching up the worst of the wounds and replaces the hastily applied bandages with better ones.

Tim stabilizes, but is in a coma for the next two days.

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is the Titan who found him, followed by the rest of his team. They’re all so glad he’s alive and okay.

“How… how did I survive that?” Tim manages to whisper the second he finds his voice.

The Titan who found him looks at him with an unreadable expression, then says “Jason.”

“What?”

“When I found you, Jason was doing CPR. He ordered me to bandage up your wounds so you wouldn’t lose any more blood. He… he didn’t give up. Tim, he did CPR for three minutes straight to save you.”

Tim’s confused. “How?? Why??”

“You can ask him when you can leave the bed. Right now, he’s in a cell. We haven’t told anyone he’s here; we’re waiting for you to decide what to do with him.”

“We also may have told Batman that you had stayed up for three all nighters so we knocked you out to get you to sleep. That’s why he’s not here; he just thinks you’re getting some much needed rest,” another Titan (probably Bart) explains.

(…Do I even have the Titans roster right for this time period? I just realized I’m thinking of Tim’s YJ team not his TT team I have no clue who’s on TT rn. Anyway.)

“Let me see him,” Tim demands. So they stick him in a wheelchair and roll him to Jason’s cell.

Jason looks up, sees Tim, and pure relief is on his face as he says “You’re okay…” and then instantly breaks down sobbing. The team can make out the sounds of the words “I’m so sorry” over and over if they pay enough attention to the sounds coming out of Jason’s mouth.

Eventually, Tim asks Jason to explain. And Jason tells him that his Pit Rage goal was killing Tim. (The way that Pit Rage works in this AU is well known to the bats.) He explains how that ended up as his goal too. And Tim looks at him with a mix of pity and horror as he realizes. “You finally got your mind back for the first time in 4 years and the first thing you saw…”

“Was my little brother’s dead body,” Jason confirms with a whisper. Tim hides his shock at the fact that Jason called him his little brother right away and moves on with the conversation.

“So you ended up with my death as your goal, because you heard about me becoming Robin while still under Pit Madness and your mind, which was only 3/4 there at that point, decided that B replaced you and that I had to die to prove that Robins just get killed and he should have no more Robins. You end up in the Pit Rage state, leading to all the crime lord stuff, and you’re stuck in it for YEARS.”

“I think Talia delayed me as much as she could,” Jason chimes in. “I’m grateful to her for that. I wish she’d delayed me forever, though.”

Tim’s confused at that. “Jason, you would’ve been in that state forever.”

“It’s better than knowing that I killed my new little brother, even if I managed to undo it right after,” Jason admits, staring at the floor. “How… how can I go home and look B in the eyes after that?”

Tim smiled softly at that. He understood. “Jason, look at me.” With a gulp, Jason looked up. “We don’t victim blame here. We’re Robins. We comfort victims. You were a victim of the Pits, and we all know how the Pits affect a person.”

Jason looks back at his feet, but hope blossoms in his chest for the first time in 4 years. It’s nice to be able to feel that emotion again. “You mean it?”

Tim smiled at him, and instead of answering, said “Welcome home, big brother. You’ve been missed these last four years. I’m glad you’re finally, truly, fully alive again. As far as I’m concerned, the man who killed me died at the same time, and in his place my older brother was resurrected. It’s nice to finally meet you, Jason.”

Jason starts bawling at that. At Tim’s gesture, the Titans unlock Jason’s cell, and Tim rolls his wheelchair close enough to finally hug his brother. He’s not much of a hugger, but this is a hug-worthy occasion.

Jason is by Tim’s bedside for the rest of his recovery, being brotherly and making sure Tim heals. Eventually, Tim goes home, and he brings Jason with him. (None of the bats knew Jason’s identity at this point, besides Tim who figured it out bc he’s Tim.) People are suspicious about his spontaneous resurrection, until they mention that it’s not spontaneous at all. “He had to fulfill his Pit Rage goal first. Don’t worry, it was nothing that couldn’t be undone. We’ve already fixed it, so don’t ask,” Tim says, putting the matter more or less to rest. The Red Hood retires, leaving a message saying “I’ve seen the light and I’m gonna go join it.” No one knows if that means that he’s now a good guy or he left to go off himself. Most people assume the latter.

Jason rejoins the Batfamily after a few weeks of family bonding and healing under a new moniker (dealer’s choice). He’s wearing a domino (and Hood never too his helmet off) so no one really associates the two besides conspiracy theorists who think Hood’s message meant the first option. They’re right, of course, but Jason denies it when asked. Batman never finds out who was under the Red Hood, but Tim says “don’t worry, I know, and he’s gone now” and proceeds to make Batman regret asking whenever he brings it up again by being the most cryptic mf alive. Jason thinks it’s hilarious and helps Tim come up with vague ominous shit to say whenever B asks.

Eventually, Damian joins the family, and Jason jumps to Tim’s defense the second Damian tries to kill him. Damian doesn’t get in more than two swings before he’s stopped, and quickly learns that this family loves each other and murder isn’t okay. (He didn’t do it because Talia convinced him that Tim stole his spot as heir or anything; he just decided that all on his own, so when he was proven wrong it didn’t take all that long to convince him unlearn that notion.) Within a few months of Damian settling in, Tim passes on the Robin mantle willingly and becomes his own hero (the name is again dealer’s choice).

When the BruceQuest happens, Tim isn’t alone this time. When he insists Bruce is alive, Jason sides with him, saying “I came back from the dead, I’m sure Bruce can too.” (Half of the reason he sides with Tim is lingering guilt from the Tower, honestly, but hey it’s someone who believes him, Tim will take it.) Tim shows Jason how he arrived at that conclusion and Jason thinks it through and ends up fully on board. Between Tim and Jason, they get Dick to sit down long enough to hear Tim out, and within minutes the whole family is sure Bruce is alive. It helps that Damian was already Robin so that lingering angst didn’t hurt the already limited conversational abilities of the batfam. They all work together, and Bruce gets back in a week. Dick doesn’t have to take over as Batman and Tim doesn’t lose his spleen or get nearly SAed or any of the other horrendous shit that happens during that comic run (which is actually really well written and I recommend you read it, for Tim’s inner monologue at minimum. He’s so sassy, I love it. But I digress). As a side effect, the LoA is still going strong because Tim didn’t have to take it down, but it also means they don’t have Tim’s help with the Council or Spiders and the two groups do a great job of destroying each other.

Eventually, years pass, and Jason and Tim’s relationship has healed enough to start making jokes about what happened. To each other quietly at first, but one day, the family is playing Among Us and Jason (the imposter) kills Tim. In the ghost chat, Tim goes “smh, this betrayal hurts worse than when he actually killed me” and Duke, Babs, and Steph, who are already dead, start freaking out about “Tim what do you mean he killed you when did this happen are you okay are you fucking with us what happened???” Other people who die join the chat to pure chaos and Tim just silently laughing and screenshotting the whole thing, sending the images to Jason, who’s also cracking up. The second the game ends, everyone explodes with questions. All Tim says is “what happens in 20xx stays in 20xx” and doesn’t elaborate any further. The whole family starts digging through the reports from that year but of course find nothing. Jason and Tim think it’s hilarious. Everyone else is concerned. Eventually, though, the decide it’s just some prank or inside joke between the two. Until one day, Tim makes a joke about it when the Titan who found him initially is around, and the Titan goes “ugh, don’t remind me, seeing your dead body was horrifying.” The family goes straight back into freak out mode. Jason and Tim are too busy cracking up to answer, and the Titan shrugs and goes “I’ve been informed that what happened in 20xx stays in 20xx.”

Eventually, though, the group is in some situation where they have to confess secrets. Maybe there’s truth serum involved, or it’s like that secrets cave from Once Upon a Time where you have to share a secret to get out. And Tim admits that Jason’s Pit condition was killing Tim, and that the first thing Jason did when he got his sanity back a moment later was bring back his little brother. Tim also admits that he’s glad that that was the condition, because it meant he could be there to help Jason the second he came back to himself. Everyone is understandably horrified, but Jason’s touched that Tim was glad he could help him. Besides, Tim and Jason have been joking about it for a while now, so clearly, they’ve moved on from it. They’re okay. And then it’s Jason’s turn on the confessional. And he confesses to being the Red Hood. Batman and Nightwing of course freak out, but to the rest, they’ve only heard vague stories and seen the personnel file on Hood. They don’t get the big deal. Luckily, Dick realizes that Hood’s disappearance, followed by a note soon after announcing his retirement, coincided with the end of the Pit Rage. Batman, on the other hand, figures out that the Titans lied to him about Tim being on bed rest at that time and that Tim was actually recovering from his death. The Teen Titans get a massive lecture later, but Dick calms Bruce down eventually. They also update Hood’s file, noting that he’s retired and was under the influence of something during his time as a villain.

All in all, it ends well. The family is okay, the siblings are all actually on pretty good terms with each other, and Bruce has all of his kids home safe and sound whenever it’s time for weekly family dinner. Are they perfect? Of course not. It’s the batfamily, they’re still emotionally constipated af. But they’re a family, and they’re all as sane as they can be. And that’s what matters.

Ok it got a tiny bit heavy again at the end, I meant to end it with the among us bit, but still. What do yall think? :)

#if ppl want I’ll make this a full fic just lmk

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gothicbabydollz · 2 years ago

Note

You try to run away from dark!Azriel and he's not very happy about it.

Warnings: dark, dubcon, prey/predator vibes, azriel’s a bit delusional

Read at your own risk

↬ 𝐑𝐮𝐧, 𝐫𝐮𝐧, 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 ↫

In…

Out.

In…

Out.

Your lungs burn. Each breath feels like sucking down broken glass. You’ve never been one to really care about staying fit, though now you curse yourself for it. Pure adrenaline is all that’s keeping your legs moving. You can’t stop. You can’t rest. There’s no time to spare in this situation.

In all your time spent as his prisoner, locked away. A damsel in distress. Although there’s no knight in shining armour coming to your rescue. Only the beast, who taunts you, watches over you, makes it impossible to every run free.

Until tonight.

So you took your chance, ran off, barefoot and half dressed. Hoping to put as much distance as possible between you and the winged male. He frightens you. A towering bulk of dark skin and even darker features, perfect for blending into shadows. You wonder if he’s watching you know, hiding in the darkness, waiting to strike. Releasing a sob, you push forward. If he wasn’t so…so fucking insane, you would probably yearn for a male like him.

The stray branches are invisible to your eyes, as you try your hardest to keep up pace, whipping through the tree line to possible freedom.

That’s why a surprised shout escapes you when your foot is sliced as you step down on splintered wood. Your hands are next, bracing your landing as you fall forward. Fresh tears soak your cheeks, hot against your skin. “No, no, no, no,” you cry, scrambling to get back on your feet, “Fuck.” Your foot throbs in pain, your palms scuffed, knees bruised. Yet, you keep going, using the trees for support as you limp forward. Your lip bleeds from how hard you bite, trying to keep your sobs at bay. The sound would draw too much attention.

You make it another 10 yards before you feel his presence. The temperature drops to freezing and chills cover the expanse your body. You halt, clamping a hand over your mouth as you cry harder. Knowing you’ve been caught. There’s no use trying to run or trying to hide. The male has told you countless of times how much your scent affects him, how he could sniff you out from miles away.

Something wraps around your bare ankle, wispy yet strong. You don’t get the chance to look before it’s pulling hard. You’re flung back onto the ground from the sheer force it possesses. Dirt, leaves and branches tug at you as you’re dragged along the forest floor. Fingers scrambling for purchase, as pain nips at you from every direction.

You stop. And silence fills the space. You try to push yourself up, eyes darting the surrounding area. As soon as the quiet began, it ends. A large hand grips your shoulder and you squirm as you’re flipped onto your back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The male glares down at you, venom laced in his voice, that scarred hand of his now squeezing your jaw in a vice like grip. “Stupid girl, you could have been killed. What would I have done then huh? Mates don’t fall from fucking the sky!” He jerks your face, as if trying to shake sense into you. He’s cages you to the ground. His face right above yours. His knee trapped between your thighs, pressing into your core. Heat blossoms reluctantly. Your unconscious attraction makes you sick to the stomach.

Breathing heavily, you glare right back, seething. “I’m not your fucking mate!”

You regret the outburst the moment those words leave your lips. The male goes still…quiet. However you can see the rage bubbling behind his eyes. You can’t help the pathetic sob you let out, truly scared he’s going to kill you and leave you out here for the animals to fight over. “If i was to check right now…would your cunt be wet?”

You almost choke with surprise.

Lips tight and quivering, you shake your head as best as possible. Not trusting your own voice. He grunts, shifting to slip his hand down between your bodies. Your eyes widen, yet all he does is smile down at you. As if he already knows the answer. Your underwear is ripped from your body with ease. You whimper as thick, warm fingers slide through your folds, damp with slick, as expected. The male chuckles darkly. Gotcha. He says with the action.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” You try, involuntarily bucking your hips when the heal of his hand brushes your clit. He plays with your slick, palm grinding purposely against your clit as he speaks, “Oh, but it does. You hate me….but your body doesn’t.” His canines flash in the moonlight streaking through the trees, he’s grinning as he notes your body’s reaction to the stimulation. Your breath turned shallow, brows furrowed, lips parted. “Your body knows your soul intertwines with my own, even if you’re too dumb to realise.” He scoffs, yet leans down, hot breath fanning over your skin as he nears your ear, “Tell me this doesn’t feel good,” He whispers as two fingers slowly sink into your cunt, your walls hugging him immediately.

You can’t stop the way your eyes roll back, or the pleasured sound which leaves your throat. “Let me show you we’re meant to be, bunny,” he says, softer than how he spoke before. His fingers curl against your walls and you mewl, squirming. “Let me show you…and maybe, just maybe i’ll forget the little stunt you pulled tonight.”

#azriel #azriel smut #dark!azriel #azriel x reader #dark fic #azriel x reader smut #azriel acotar

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andreas-river · 1 year ago

Note

47 and 30 please please pleas-

Prompts: 30. "make me." & 47. "bite me." with Ghost.

A/N: hello anon! I saw your submission telling me which character you wanted, don't worry I gotcha ;)

TW: fem!reader so description of female body, reader gets to his nerves but for a good reason, smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, male masturbation, some hurt/comfort and fluff at the end.

Want to make a request with other prompts?

NSFW under the cut, please MDNI!

You've been playing with him more than usual lately, trying to get to his nerves so he could finally let off some steam. You had a specific goal in mind, because it wasn't even the first time that Simon came back to the barracks with the need to break something for the stress he was facing.

Being a Lieutenant was hard, you could tell when he sat at the end of the day, breathing heavily and trying to calm down. Still, it felt wrong to take it all out on you, but you made it hard to hold back. So that night, you didn't want to leave his room until he was completely relaxed.

You stood in front of his bed, your arms crossed, your eyes burning. He stared at you, the look in his eyes telling you that he had finally given up.

He took a deep breath and came closer. "You should go."

You take a step too, a cocky smile on your face as you whisper right into his lips, still covered by his mask.

"Make me."

His eyes light up as if your words flipped a switch inside him, firm hands already on the exposed skin of your neck as he pushes you onto the bed, your body pinned between the mattress and his weight, leaving you breathless for a moment.

Simon's eyes are wild on your form beneath him, searching for something - some trace of remorse or perhaps a grimace of pain, but the only thing he sees is a cocky expression on your face that begins to drive him into a lustful rage - awakening him much more than he expected, the adrenaline rushing wildly through both of your bodies.

"Is this what you want, mh?" he quickly removes his mask, not giving you enough time to catch his full face as he begins to plant sloppy kisses around your neck, feeling a trail of saliva dripping down.

Your breath is heavy as he helps you out of your clothes, removing them without taking his eyes off of you.

Your body burns with desire, the need to feel him whole, skin brushing against skin, calloused fingers as he presses firmly against your hips, pulling his body down to your core.

You feel his mouth exploring every inch of your skin - as if he had never felt it against his lips, burning hot like lava ready to explode - he makes you squirm beneath him, trying to wriggle away, but he stops you, but you need more.

"Simon…" your lips quiver, your whole body actually shakes, feeling like you are being pulled like a violin string.

He hums something against you, acknowledging your voice but continuing to kiss your tights.

"Please… bite me…" your cheeks burn at your own admission, and you gasp in surprise as his mouth finally lands in your wet folds, instinctively grabbing the sheets beneath you.

A wave of pleasure runs down your spine as his tongue explores all around, but your body jerks in surprise as he sinks his teeth right where your clit is, your mouth open in a silent scream. It doesn't hurt at all, it's a kind of pain that goes at the same pace as the pleasure.

He caught you off guard as he alternated between these two actions, his tongue and then biting, enough to leave the mark but without doing you any real harm.

A series of pleas leave your mouth, finally giving you what you want - but actually giving him what he needed - as he slides two fingers right into your cunt, the squelching sound making you feel even closer to your climax.

Your ears begin to ring as he buries his digits deeper, hitting that special spot that makes you see stars in your vision, sucking even more hungrily at your clit, hips jerking as you arch your back as your ogasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as you desperately try to get a grip on the reality around you, your eyes squeezed shut, feeling your heartbeat in your throat as you try to regain your senses.

You almost didn't feel it when he stood up, stroking your breast lazily as he kissed it, then felt something fall on your stomach, making you finally open your eyes and meet his, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

The realization hits you only when your eyes travel down his body, his cock pressed against your skin. "Did you just jerk off?"

And he laughs, the sound so foreign to your ears - it's a rasp, like it's coming directly from his chest - and you end up giggling with him, your chest warming at the thought of him finally relaxing, and because he really deserved it.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x female reader #simon riley x reader #smut #call of duty #cod mwii #cod #call of duty mw2 #request #request open

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years ago

Note

I saw you were considering doing hcs, so I thought to request, how do you think dream would feel about a s/o's reaction to them getting mad mad at something and becoming eldritchy saying 'mark me down as Scared and horny' (i feel like he'd make the shocked Pikachu face lmao) you're writing always turns me to human spaghetti 💜

This is the BEST way to end a rough week. Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope I've understood it clearly. Pulled an all-nighter for work and am a little on the loopy side.

Entirely unedited. Just for fun!

Strong Feelings

Dream is terrifying.

He understands this. That's why he's drawn to the few who don't curl away in fear like flowers against a hard rain.

You've never cowered. And he was - is - drawn.

He frowned at you with starlit eyes in the dark and you grinned at the entity so far beyond mortal ken.

A grin. Not a smile.

You smile when he wears jeans and goes barefoot in the palace. You smile when he curls his knuckles into the cup of your palm and presses just close enough to share the thrumming energy of your living heartbeat.

Dream does not try to be terrifying. Not to you.

Maybe he is without meaning to be. But he doesn't want to be terrifying.

Until he does.

Until he's angry and wants you to remember who he is and how very small you are.

Until he's afraid

He becomes stronger than the moon's pull on the sea.

His voice travels through black holes - too dark and heavy to be anything but felt.

He lets his eyes flare with stellar fires and lets his rage become a palpable mass that floods the throne room.

His subjects scatter, and a billion dreamers writhe in their nightmares.

And you -

grin.

You stare into the depths beyond the abyss to hold his star-cold gaze with the little hairs along your arms and neck standing on end.

"Well, mark me down as scared and horny."

The tide falls free of his grip. The howling of space goes quiet. The nebula he gazes through softens. Blinks.

Dream doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand as bring the trembling tips of your fingers to his, as you pull yourself into the endless embrace of his cloak, as your cheeks flush even as your heart flutters.

But you share it all back with him.

Your fear. Your passion. The thrill of reaching out to embrace the lightning.

Every mortal anxiety turned eager by curiosity.

Your kiss is adrenaline and teeth, and you don't leave his arms and the darkness curled around him until it's dawn and he's learned something new.

He knows your grin and what it means. He knows you've never been fearless, and he no longer wishes you to be.

And

Sometimes, after that, Dream means to be terrifying.

#headcanon #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #asks

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imaslutforcuddles · 1 year ago

Text

Vampire

(Moodboard made by me.)

August Walker x Reader

Vampire, By Olivia Rodrigo.

Summary: You two had been like peas in a pod, close and comfortable. You both knew each other or so you thought. It was only a matter of time before the truth came out. August knew this, and he pushed it as far away as he could. But you're smarter than that.

Words: 942

Warnings: Swearing, spoilers, mentions of sex, yelling, manipulation, angst, violence, minor character death, not a happy ending, August Walker is a walking red flag.

A/N: This goes along with mission impossible six, except reader works alongside August. Like most of my other fics, this one corresponds with a song. Banner below by cafekitsune.

"If you don't hear from us," Ethan looked over to August as he cocked his gun.

"I'll do it my way."

August had always been a brute and someone who wouldn't hesitate to get a job done.

After years of working alone, he was a complete change of direction; and you loved it.

The thrill alone of working with him was great, but the thrill he gave you almost every night in bed kept you warm inside.

He nodded to Ethan.

"Don't take your eyes off him."

August grunted as the others left, he had wanted you to stay safe and far away from him. Yet, he couldn't help but yearn for you.

He shook his head returning to the reason he had gone on this mission in the first place.

After unplugging the camera watching Lane, he filled a syringe with adrenaline, before walking back to where Lane was held captive.

The door was opened and he almost shoved the syringe into Lane grunting as he gasped awake.

"Enough games, I'm taking you out of here."

It was like a mouse and cat. Ethan was chasing a piece of cheese that couldn't be found, unknowing of the cat running after him.

August huffed, un-doing his cuffs.

"Where's Hunt?"

Lane had almost looked scared when he spoke.

"He's gone to the meeting, with a copy of you."

August was huffing with rage at this point and Lane could feel it. He raised a hand and sucked in a breath.

"Calm down. Call the apostles. Warn them."

August's face contorted, almost in disgust; but mainly annoyance.

"I have no way of contacting them. For their safety and mine."

He glared at him.

"What I do have is an extraction team with satellite overwatch and prearranged rendezvous. They'll know as soon as we leave the building."

He turned to leave before Lane continued, "No, I'm staying here."

He shifted in his seat as August stopped.

"I haven't finished with Hunt yet."

August whipped his body around, full of annoyance and anger, before stomping back to him.

"Why'd you have to make this so fucking complicated?"

Lane's head turned, "I don't understand what you mean."

August looked absolutely done, he felt done too.

"The deal was simple. I help you frame Hunt, you give me the plutonium. You're wasting time."

"There cannot be peace without first a great suffering."

He moved his face away, trying not to beat the shit out of him.

"The greater the suffering, the greater the peace."

August was losing his patience.

"When I wrote those words I wasn't referring to your peace or Hunt's suffering. The old world order needs dismantling, and we have the tools to dismantle it. All you seem to care about is that Hunt lives to take the blame. That's not anarchy."

Lane's face becomes widened and amused, and he nods slightly.

"That's revenge."

Lane leaned forward.

"Yes it is. And when I have what I want, the apostles with give you the plutonium."

Walker sighs and starts walking away, only before turning back around to spit out more words like their his last.

"Hunts the only friend you've got. You're only alive today because he didn't have the guts to kill you. Sloan was right, the IMF is like halloween. Nothing but grown men wearing,"

He pauses, something hadn't felt right earlier and things were starting to add up. He looks over to the computer they had made a copy of lanes face with.

Lane looks behind him and smiles, shifting in his seat.

"What?" He clears his throat uncomfortably.

August starts walking over to lane before aggressively ripping off his mask, revealing:

"Was it just the job?" You growl.

He was taken aback, expected anyone but you. He prayed it would be anyone but you.

You hadn't specified but he knew what you were asking.

The restraints holding you to the chair had been fake the whole time, just like his affection for you.

"You know, i had almost left this whole job when Hunt was sure you were John Larke. I couldn't believe you had faked our,"

You pause trying to find the words for the relationship you had made with him.

"He begged me to just sit here and act, that you may be exactly what he thought you were." You scoff before turning your head.

"And he was right."

August just stands there, annoyed and unresponsive. It makes you want to scream and kick him, but you stay patient.

"Was i just some stupid fuck you thought would help you when things turned out in the end?"

He finally opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is acid.

"I could never love you."

it strikes something in you. Maybe a fire, maybe something hotter than that, but it burns.

And you snap.

You reach behind him and grab his gun, it had happened all too fast. He couldn't contemplate what to say to you.

"Your fucking pathetic you know that? Going after your own teammate because you couldn't find a man to fuck you." He snorts trying to push you.

"That's rich coming from you asshole."

Your hands shake and he doesn't miss it. He counts on your failure, he thinks your weak.

"Oh you think i wouldn't kill you?" You laugh and his smirk turns bitter.

"Goodbye August, or whatever your name is."

Your words pierce his heart before the bullet does, but they don't reach his brain fast enough to make a move.

His words had rung in your head long after his body fell motionless.

But you had no choice, and he wasn't worth it.

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill #august walker imagines #henry cavill fanfic #vampire #henry cavill imagine #mission impossible: fallout

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academyofbrokenhearts · 11 months ago

Text

Standing in the Wake of Devastation

Suna and Kaya, in the aftermath of the storm. Taken from episode 51. One-shot.

Author (lengthy) note:

Okay, listen, LISTEN. Episode 51 was quite intense as far as KaySun goes, and I have to say I disagree with many of the takes I saw in the fandom following it. One of the major takes I disagree with was "Suna knew Kaya would never hurt her, she was frightened for him, not of him". No, friends, she did not know that, and judging by the way Beril Pozam played the scene, I am quite sure she was frightened of him during his outburst of rage. Suna is a victim of severe physical and psychological abuse, and has been for most of her life. That has to leave some scars. Plus, she has only known Kaya for a short while, and even if he has treated her quite well up until now (especially compared to the other men in her life), it doesn't mean she trusts him blindly.

BUT ALSO. While I wasn't a fan of him telling him the following morning that she was going to be even more sorry if something similar were to happen again, and while it did sound very close to a threat for me, it obviously wasn't the case for her, considering that she is linking arms with him on her own volition in their next scene, even if he's obviously still upset with her. So I tried my best to illustrate her inner voice.

Does she love him? Probably not yet, but she is loyal to him (as seen in the scene with Abidin), and she is attracted to him, and I do think there is potential for more there. They need to TAAAAAAAAAAAAALK. But alas, they are too damaged at the moment for that.

And yes, I do believe that the writer made the correct choice by not making them talk after Kaya's outburst. I know you all wanted otherwise, but to me it makes sense. They need to build more trust, I think, and that comes with time. People like them will not open up so easily. Hell, it's actually a miracle they were so honest with each other up until this point.

Title inspired by Linkin Park's "Iridescent".

AO3 link here.

It has to be the adrenaline from earlier in the night that keeps Suna from wavering on her feet when Kaya's rage explodes.

That, and the certain something in her that shifted ever since she understood he intended to keep his promise to support her. She doesn't even have to think too much before jumping in his way and trying to stop him from hurting himself, as he's hitting his head on the wardrobe in anger, his previous words, the pain of betrayal echoing in every sound.

didn't we promise to be open and honest with each other didn't we say we were going to walk together on this way

I trusted you

Then his hands are all of a sudden on her wrists, her back to the wardrobe, and she cannot move, and in the blink of an eye, it's like time freezes, and the old fear seeps into her bones, because she knows the story so well from here on out, and it's her heart that cries, because he didn't promise her a fairy tale, but he did promise he will support her always, and why didn't she come to him, he's not his mother, he would have understood, he would have helped, and now it's like he's someone else, and why does every single action of hers, every single decision, turn out to be so wrong, and she was mistaken and she did something bad and now he's angry, and with blood frozen in her veins and heart in her throat, part of her expects a hit that never comes, because he just pushes her away.

She doesn't even have time to process what happened, before he starts hitting his head again. And it goes against everything she learned, against every single act of self-preservation she has internalised, but she hurries in his direction once more.

"Kaya, stop!"

She drags him away, and before she knows it, she's on her knees, Kaya crying with his face buried in her shoulder, holding her as if she's the only thing stopping him from drowning.

For a few moments, she doesn't know what to do with her hands. She's tentatively holding him, traces of her temporary fear still lingering, but in spite of it all, she whispers to him that it's okay, although things are so far from being okay. He cries even harder, and she feels one of his hands holding her head, caressing her hair.

This is also a story she knows well.

She knows how to console a child who is crying, has always knew. How many times did she hold Seyran just like this?

There's nothing scary about a hurt child crying in one's arms, after all.

So she goes through the motions. She embraces him fully, she returns his caresses, she's murmuring gibberish, until his eyes grow heavy, until he allows her to guide him back to bed, until he's lying there with his head on her chest, occasional sobs still rattling his chest.

They don't speak. Seyran and her never spoke either, back then. What's there to say in such moments?

In the morning, Kaya is calm and composed, but rigid, and more distant than Suna ever saw him. She does apologise; she didn't intend to offend him or hide things from him, not really, but the situation is complicated as it is, and she doesn't really see how she could have included Kaya in Seyran's escape plan, with Ferit and Abidin also around.

Part of her hates that Abidin can still affect her so much. She has chosen her way, what good is it to linger on the past? They were never in sync, and with the way things are going, it looks like they will never be.

"I don't want you to see me like this ever again, Suna," Kaya says.

"I don't want to see you like this either," she replies. It's far from being a lie; the memory of his voice, of his entire demeanour, still gives her slight chills, but there are also some parts that make her heart flutter weirdly in her chest.

He trusted her.

He really, really wanted to support her.

She's overwhelmed with a sudden urge to touch him, like she did during the night, but she refrains herself. Not yet. Not yet. Because he speaks again:

"If something like this happens again, you will be even more sorry."

It sounds like a threat, and she should perceive it as such, but strangely, she does not. He leaves, and all she feels is a flicker of disappointment.

I trusted you

I'm an idiot

I trusted you

It's shortly before the formal event they are supposed to attend, and she knows he must have heard the click of her high heels on the floor, but he doesn't turn towards her.

He's fully dressed in black, just like she is. Always in sync, her and Kaya - except when they are not.

She comes by his side, but his gaze remains ahead, unmoved, his hands in his pockets, his posture rigid. Like she isn't even there.

She understands he's not going to move, so she takes a deep breath, links her arm with his. He still does not look at her, still does not touch her in return, but she thinks she can feel his body relaxing, ever so slightly.

He doesn't touch her on their way there either.

It's only later, when Seyran comes after the Korhans, after their father, on television, metaphorical guns out, later, when she stands at the reception petrified (of admiration? of apprehension? maybe both?), that she feels Kaya's hand covering hers, squeezing gently, and although it's a difficult moment, and she doesn't know what the future has in store for her, for them both, she feels a weight in her chest she wasn't even aware of dissipating.

He still trusts her.

He still supports her, after all.

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tworoadsandapenny · 1 year ago

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What You Wish For: Chapter 15. Raph

It's all the title. This one is all about Raph. Which means I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.

Lots of blood in this one. You have been warned.

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“RAPH!”

His voice tears through the ire, bringing me back to the here and now. I catch a glimpse of my right arm gushing blood and basically useless, and try to thin the haze from my mind while I gather my surroundings.

The pause was clearly the opening my opponent had been waiting for. I see it coming in my periphery, but with my right arm as it is, I’m too slow to stop it.

The blade sinks deep. I can feel it digging around near my liver. But as I’m waiting for the final blow, my mind clears enough to notice it’s Hun’s only weapon. And his right eye is covered in blood and probably not working so good.

Blue bandana tails whip past me on my left, and I hear him whisper.

“—the right moment.”

My lip curls up in a grin as blood pours down my leg. Hun looks at me like I’m a madman, which only makes my smile broader.

It’s in the details, right Big Bro?

I clamp my hand on his wrist like a pit bull to a bone, pulling him closer—the blade digs deeper into my innards, but I needed to close the distance—and make sure his face is mere inches from mine before I talk.

“You lose.”

By the time his blood soaked eye catches what’s happening, my sai is so deep in his skull, I can almost see it popping out the other end. It takes a moment, like his brain was trying to understand what just happened, before his eyes close and his body crumples to the floor like a broken marionette.

Year and years I’ve wanted to sink my sai into that bastards skull. Hot damn did that feel good!

I use the adrenaline from my kill to pull the blade from my side—as carefully as possible, because I know Don’s gonna freak out as it is—and I stand over the body. His brain is leaking blood all over the floor and I know for damn sure he’s not getting up again. But still. I can’t help myself. My rage is not quelled. My thirst for vengeance still demands more.

I pry my sai from his rotting brain and lord it over his bleeding corpse, right over his enlarged chest. My hands are trembling with rage. “This,” I say with venom dripping from every syllable. “This is for my brother.” And I drive the blade deep into his heart. Deeper. Until my hand is nearly inside his ribcage.

“Leo!” I reach a hand down to the one he’s covering his wound with, pulling it away slightly so I can take a look and see how bad.

He’s been shot. Leo’s been shot.

I pull my weapon free only to plunge it back into his chest with just as much fury. More.

His chest ain’t moving. I can’t hear his breath anymore. He looks so peaceful…

Again and again and again, I stab him in a frenzy as my ire pours out in a loud and building scream.

And suddenly I can’t feel anything anymore.

My body goes numb, my brain shuts down, and all I can do is sit there, staring at my big brother, waiting for my heart to rip out of my chest.

Finally. It’s done.

I stare at the body, my hands covered in as much blood as his chest, and I know with certainty that the man who orchestrated my brother’s death is finally eradicated from existence. As he should be. As he deserved.

But the pain in my chest is still there.

It still hurts. As much as it did three months ago. As much as it did when I watched him take in his last breath.

As much as it did when I realized my dumb, worthless ass, had gotten my brother killed.

A sudden dizzy spell brings me out of my stupor, and my eyes dart around the room in a panic. My family. They’re here, I saw them. The explosion… I heard more Dragons being thrown about on that side of the warehouse, which means someone is over there. I need to go look. To find them. To protect them. To keep them from leaving me like he did…

What if I just got them all killed? What if they’re all…

I sink to my knees without realizing, my body feeling heavier every second. There’s a pain in my side now too, and it takes a moment for me to remember I’ve been hurt. My hand goes to cover the wound immediately.

“Pressure.”

He whispers in my ear. I do as he says. I haven’t the heart to argue anymore. I want to do what he says. I want to hear him bark orders.

“Keep pressure. Stop the bleeding.”

I want him to be here. With me.

“Keep them bright eyes open. If you pass out, I can’t give you CPR.”

I can’t help but crack a smile. I still can’t see him, but I feel him sitting next to me, his hand over mine as he helps me keep the pressure on. “Duly noted.” I say before spitting a hock of blood from my airways.

The room’s gettin’ mighty fuzzy. I feel myself list to one side, but when I go to catch myself Leo stops me, holding his hand over mine to keep the blood at bay.

“If I leave, you bleed out.”

I’m about to reply with my own wit when I hit the floor. Right… I was falling. But his hand’s still on my side. Still helping keep me here. Keep me safe.

Always.

“Leo…” I still can’t see him. I keep looking for that blue bandana and those fretting eyes, but they're not anywhere in the room. Everything’s starting to go dark. My family… where are my—

I feel his hand though.

“Leo…”

“It’s okay, dude, we got you.”

That’s not Leo’s voice. Still familiar. Still comforting. But not Leo.

I know that voice. “Mi—“ I’m suddenly coughing, the familiar taste of bile and copper mixing in my mouth. But I gotta be sure. They’re here. They’re okay. “Mikey?”

“I’m here!” He sounds desperate. “I’m here, just squeeze my hand if you can’t see me.”

I hadn’t even noticed his hand was in mine. Gripping tightly. I think. Can’t feel it. Can’t feel much. But I can hear just fine, and his terror rings out clear as a bell.

I’ve scared him. Again.

It’s always me. The big screwup…

“You’re not.”

Blue flickers at the edges of my vision. Just beyond the dark. Just out of sight. Just… barely…

“You’re a much better person than you think you are.”

I don’t know if it’s what he’s saying or the fact that I still can’t find him, but I start to panic, coughing as I try and sit up. He’s here. I need to find him. See him. Just once. “C-Come back!” I’m spittin’ blood, and I know I shouldn’t move, there’s a voice saying I shouldn’t move, but I have to. I have to find him!

“You still don’t get it.”

It’s driving me crazy the way he keeps saying that! “Get what!?”

But it’s not Leo that answers.

“Get out of here. Casey and Sensei can only hold them off for so long.”

Don. He’s safe too.

“I won’t lose another brother to your temper!”

Don knows. He knows the truth. Knows what I am. The thought is another knife in my chest. I try to find his eyes, but they’re focused on something in my side. My wound? Am I still bleeding? Can’t feel it anymore…

I need to—I should say something. Don and Mike, they don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve me. My brain ain’t workin’ right and my lips feel as numb as my hands, but I need to tell them. It takes a good solid effort—damn I’m gettin’ tired—but I finally manage to clear the blood from my throat so I can speak.

“Don…”

I sound pathetic. Weak. And I don’t get past the name before my strength fades again. But I need them to know. Should have said it before. Should have told them all the time. Should have…

Shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have shouted.

“I DON’T NEED YOU!”

Dammit. I can’t make my mouth work. I don’t know if it’s because I’m bleedin’ out or because I’m so damn bad at telling them how much I care, but I can’t do it.

Gotta try again. “D-Don…”

My eyes finally manage to focus a little, and I can see Don and Mikey trying to stand me up, Mike taking point with his nunchaku out and spinning, and Don beside me with my arm over his shoulder, trying to drag my ass through the warehouse.

There are tears running down his cheeks.

Dammit.

“Just save your strength, Raph. We can talk after we get you fixed up, okay? After we’re home and safe.”

“Save the lecture for after we get home.”

The thought suddenly strikes me that I might not make it home. I’ve been thinking it all night, but just now it really sinks in. Becomes real. Maybe it’s because I can feel it happening. I can feel myself going. The darkness at the edge of my vision keeps growing and I know this is it.

I slide my eyes over to peak at Mikey who’s whipping his weapon in an unsuspecting Dragon’s face. Makes me proud, I gotta admit.

Dammit.

A sudden chill runs down my body as the cold hand of dread snakes through my veins. I can’t… I can’t leave ‘em. But I don’t think I got a choice in the matter anymore. Can’t feel. Can’t think. Can barely keep my eyes open. Thoughts are draining through my mind like a sieve and I can barely tell if my feet are under me anymore.

I think… I think I’m leaving…

Dammit!

If only I hadn’t gone out on my own.

“You shouldn’t have left.”

It’s always me. I’m always the one screwing it all up. If only I’d stayed.

“Because you took off! And I didn’t want you out here fighting alone.”

If only I’d listened.

“We’re going back. Now.”

Why didn’t I listen?

“We’re a team Raph. We need to stick together.”

If only…

“RAPH!”

If only Leo was—

“Still here.”

My eyes snap open—when did I close them?—and the room’s gone. Everything’s disappeared and I’m standing in the middle of this endless white. I can hear Mike and Don shouting frantically around me, but I can’t see them anymore.

It feels like I should be panicking, but there’s something about this place that soothes my frayed nerves in a way that’s almost… familiar.

And then he steps forward. Blue bandana flitting behind his head, one katana upon his back, and a knowing smile across his face.

Not a vision. Not a figment or an apparition. It’s really him. In the flesh.

“…Leo?”

I hear him chuckle at how tentative my voice is.

“Hey Raph.”

It’s his voice. Really his. He’s here, speaking to me. Staring at me. And suddenly I can’t breathe.

“Still getting into trouble, I see.”

He looks at me like he’s waiting for a response, but I can’t give one. I can’t remember how to make my lungs work. He just smiles and walks towards me, eyes bright and almost dancing behind that blue bandana of his. I look him over as he walks and… and there’s no more… no more blood. His stomach is fine, his plastron fully intact, not a drop of red anywhere to be seen.

He’s suddenly right in front of me and I know if I could move I’d be doing something embarrassing like hugging him or something. But I can’t. Can. Not. Move.

If I move he might…

I close my eyes to try and find some semblance of balance when I feel a tight embrace. I feel his breath against my head, feel his heart beating against my chest.

“I’m here.”

I don’t know what happened. Something in me snaps, I can feel the break as it gives way. And suddenly there’s water streaking down my face as my arms shoot around my brother’s shell.

He’s here. Just like he said he’d be.

There are no words… I can’t…

His hand comes up to my neck, holding me there for a moment, when I hear him sniffle. I pull away quickly to see tears streaking down his cheeks.

I ain’t ever seen Leo cry before.

He must have understood the dumb look on my face because he just smiles wide at me and wipes the streaks away.

“I’ve missed you.”

His words strike a chord somewhere deep in my chest. I want to reply, but I… I got nothin’. I just stare at him, wondering when the dream is gonna end and trying not to grip his arms too tight. I watch as he looks me up and down like he always did when he was checking for wounds or injuries I wasn’t coppin’ to.

Finally he clamps my shoulder with his hand—warm and firm and not a spec of blood on it—and gives me a bit of a shake.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Before I can even bat an eyelash in protest he’s pointing past my shoulder. I turn and see Mike and Don, almost faded behind this veil of white, like a movie screen with the brightness level way too high. They’re kneeling beside something on the ground that looks like it’s covered in—

Wait… is that…me?

I look from the body to my hands and back at least four times before I finally find my voice. “…Am I—“

“—dead?” Leo shakes his head humorously. “No, not yet. But you don’t have much time.”

My mind is reeling. I can’t seem to find purchase on anything he says. I’m still standing there, probably looking as confused as I feel, when he walks past me to stare at Mike and Don, a familiar twinge to his eyes.

Fondness and worry. Or “Forry” as Mike had dubbed it at one point. I just knew it as the “Leo look”.

He watches quietly, his eyes moving from one brother to the other like he’s trying to drink in every detail before they disappear. Suddenly Sensei is there beside them, his hand on—I guess that would be my head?—and Leo’s face shifts to something that looks awfully close to shame. He holds up his hand, like he’s going to reach out and touch the picture of our father, before pulling it back and closing his eyes.

I don’t think I’m breathing. I’m just watching him in silence, studying every inch of his face while my heart thumps so heavily in my chest, I’m surprised it hasn’t burst through my plastron yet.

“They’re in so much pain…”

The way he speaks… it’s like daggers. Thin needles, poking just deep enough to pierce the nerve and flare with pain. He sounds tormented. Hurt. And the scariest part is he’s not trying to hide it.

“Leo…” His name croaks out like I’ve just swallowed a cigar, but as I’m about to try again, he’s speaking. Low and calm and unjudgemental.

His back in still to me. Still facing our brothers. Our family.

“If you wanted to live, you’d already be fighting your way back to them. It would be close, but you could make it. We both know you could. But you’re not fighting. You’re here.”

Wait… what? Was he saying I’m choosing to die? That’s not—

“Are you?”

An ire burns in my stomach that makes me want to shout in his face for even suggesting something so stupid. But it dies the moment I realize the pain in my chest is gone. For the first time in three months I don’t feel like someone is staking my heart with a hot rod-iron.

I… I want to be here. With my brother. With Leo. I don’t want to leave him.

“I…” But the words won’t come. Everything clogs at the back of my throat as I turn to stare at my family—Casey standing over me with his hands in fists and blood on his knuckles, Sensei stroking my head and whispering like he’s trying to coax me to wake up, Mikey clutching my hand like it’s tethering him to sanity, and Don working frantically to patch me up while I bleed all over the roof—and I can feel my fingers curling into my palm.

DAMMIT.

“I can’t. I can’t leave them.”

I know it’s cowardly, but I keep my eyes on the ground ‘cause I know if I look up—if I see his face all sad and worried and filled with shame and telling me he misses me—I’m going to lose it. I’m going to give in. I’m gonna stay by his side and refuse to leave, consequences be damned.

I think my whole body is shaking as I stand there. I’m barely holding it together when I feel his hand on my shoulder. Don’t Leo… just don’t…

“Thank God.”

I can’t help but look up in my surprise and he’s standing there in front of me, a big wide smile on his face and something glinting in his eyes that makes my bones ache I’ve missed it so much.

Pride.

He wants me to go.

“They need you.”

I don’t mean to scoff, but I can’t help it. I know he’s trying to be nice and all, but we both know the truth. Know it all too well…

He’s suddenly got his arm around my shoulder, turning me to face our family. The white haze that separates us has grown thicker to the point that I can barely see them, but I still make out the general shapes. They’re at the lair now, in Don’s medical bay. Don’s standing over me as April—when did she get there?—hands him bandages and Casey watches from a distance. Mikey’s still holding my hand for dear life, tears falling on my skin as he sits beside me with Sensei’s arm draped over his shoulder.

The fear is so thick I can taste it.

“They need you, Raph.”

I want to believe him. I do. I know my family would miss me.

They shouldn’t. Not after I—

Casey would throw a fit. Mikey would cry. Don would wall himself away.

They should be thankful. I only cause trouble. I never listen. If I’d listened, Leo would still be—

April would square her shoulders and bare it for everyone’s sake. And Sensei would be left to pick up the pieces.

I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. I didn’t mean what I said. I swear. Leo, I swear I didn’t—

“Raph.”

His hand’s on my shoulder again, squeezing to get my attention. I just stare at him. Stare at his blue bandana. Stare at his green skin. Stare at those eyes that never stop worrying.

“I don’t need your orders.”

Not hurt or angry.

“I don’t need your leadership.”

Why aren’t they angry? They should be. I deserve it.

“I DON’T NEED YOU!”

What have I done?

I fall to my knees, my muscles all failing from the anguish now charging through me. How could I? Why did I want to hurt him so badly? He was just being protective big brother. Just being Leo. How could I… I…

I was just being me.

Just being…

Just let me be. Let me stay here. Let me stay with him.

“NO!”

His voice is almost shrill with fear, so much so it startles me into looking at him. He grabs my other shoulder so tightly, I nearly wince at the pressure.

“You can’t stay. You can’t. Please. I can’t stop you—I can’t make you go—but you have to! You have to!”

I’m still trying to form my reply when he takes me by the back of the head and touches his forehead to mine. I fall silent, leaning into the touch more than I ever have before.

“Please Raph, you have to understand. I want you here. I do. I want you to stay with me. I miss you more than I can…” He pauses, and I can hear the brokenness in his voice being forced to the back. “But they need you. You have to go back to them. Please. Please.”

I almost didn’t hear what he was saying ‘cause I’m so focused on the touch. His forehead against mine is such an unexpected comfort… I don’t want to think about anything else. I want to stay. I need to stay. I can’t leave him. Not again. Never again. I can’t—

But Mike and Don. I can’t leave them either. Can’t leave them alone to deal with everything—three months I’ve been out of it, I don’t even know how badly they’ve been hurtin’—I can’t leave ‘em. I can’t.

But Leo…

I can’t.

I…

“Raph!”

I look up and Leo’s glancing back at the picture of the others. It’s fading again, the picture washing out so much I can barely see anything. Mikey’s standing up—I think it’s Mikey—and shouting at me on the table. I ain’t seen him cry like that since the rooftop…

I must be fading. It’s now or never, I can feel it. Stay or go. Either way, I abandon a brother.

I don’t know what to do!

I know I’m of no use to them over there, Mike and Don are better off without me. But they’ll hurt… they’ll morn… and I can’t stand to see ‘em cry.

But Leo. I can’t. Leave. Leo.

He suddenly stands me up, his face hardened in resolution, looking to me as he steps aside. “Whatever you decide. I’m with you.”

I stare at the fading picture of my family huddled around me, holding my hands, shoutin’ for me to stay with ‘em, begging me to open my eyes.

And my feet don’t move.

I look to Leo—my leader, my elder, my brother—and I feel ashamed. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry!”

I can’t do it. I can’t…

And he just looks at me with those kind eyes again.

Kind and sad.

“I know.” His voice is so calm as he touches me on the shoulder. Always calm. Always in control.

I hate him.

I miss him.

I need him.

But I can’t stay.

I reach out and touch the picture of my family, a cold film—like brushing the surface of the lake out at the farmhouse—meets my hand. Suddenly there’s a pain in my chest, sharp and intense, like a blade cutting out my heart. I can’t help it, I fall to my knees clutching my torso and gasping for breath, staring at Leo.

Still here. Hasn’t left. Still here.

“It’s okay.” He whispers quietly, hand still on my shoulder as he kneels beside me. “Let me help.” He reaches out and touches the film, grabbing a handful in his fingers and tearing a chunk away. He flinches, his eyes pinching shut like they do when he’s fighting off a serious bout of pain and—

Connection. I don’t know why or how but I don’t care to ask because suddenly I can feel him. I can feel Leo. I hear his thoughts, I know his fears and desires, I feel his pain.

We’re connected. For this one brief moment I know my brother better than I ever did before. I know he’s hurting. I know he’s desperate for me to leave, to go back and protect our family.

I know he wishes more than anything that he could come with me.

The sting is intensifying with each passing second. It’s like bolts of electricity jolting from one nerve to next, setting my skin on fire. I reach out and pull at the film, tearing it away as Leo was, ripping it apart as best I can amidst the throbbing of my body.

I can see beyond the screen now. Nothing but darkness. Endless. Emtpy. And suddenly I’m terrified of it.

“Go Raph!” Leo shouts at me amidst his grunts of pain, trying his damnedest to keep this barrier at bay so I can squeeze through. “Quickly! You’re out of time!”

I know. I know! Now or never. Literally. But I look up at Leo—stare at those heavy shoulders and those eyes alight with fire and determination—and I can’t help but pause. Because I feel him. And I feel something I never thought I would in his mind.

Fear.

Afraid that I’m leaving.

Afraid that I won’t.

The pain is too much. “Leo—“

“RAPHAEL!”

Mikey. That was Mikey’s voice. Hurt and scared. I suck in as deep a breath as I can and turn to my older brother. To see him. To take him in.

One last time.

“I know you don’t need me.” He says before I can open my mouth. “You never got it, Raph.” My stomach churns. “That it’s not—“

“Leo,”

“That I need—“

“Wait,”

“Remember what I told you. That night. The last thing I said. Remember it. Please… never forget it.”

“ LEO!”

I let go.

My body slips through the barrier and the pain disappears. I’m floating in the darkness, my body practically weightless.

My eyes locked on Leo.

He lets go of the film, a huff of exhaustion blowing past his lips as he looks almost shocked that I actually made it through.

He waves at me. Smiling. Tears running down his cheeks.

My heart is in my throat as part of me is suddenly panicking, clawing to go back and bring him with me. But the other half is just as desperate to get back home. Back to Sensei. Back to Casey and April.

Back to my brothers.

My skin is tingling.

Something warm washes through my body like a breeze of hot air, warming me inside and out. It’s comforting. I try to focus on it, focus on the warmth and ignore the dread. My stomach finally starts to settle as I breathe deep.

Another pain hits me, duller than before, more like the constant ache of a sore muscle. In my stomach this time. I go to reach for it, but my hand is like lead. I suck in a breath and steady myself—just like liftin’ weights—and force my hand to move. It’s slow, shaky, but does the job. I feel around my stomach—it feels different, smoother—till I come to something soft. Gauze, if I had to guess. Must be bandaged. No doubt the result of a sleepless night for—

“Raph?”

Don. I don’t need to see him to know he’s exhausted. His voice is as tired and weary as it always is when one of us is out of commission. And if he’s here, that means Mikey must be nearby.

“Raph!”

Right on cue. I can feel the others around me stir, gathering closer. Can feel Mikey squeeze my free hand tightly (can't see, but I know it’s him).

My heart feels like it’s beatin’ out of my chest, and it’s not because of the effort it’s taking to drag air into my lungs.

I’m scared. Scared to face them. After everything that’s happened… after everything I did.

“He told you not to go!”

And they don’t even know everything. They weren’t there. They didn’t see…

I should tell them. Everything. But if I do they’ll know it was me. They’ll know it was my fault. That none of this would have happened if I’d been paying attention. And I can’t handle having them look at me like that.

“You owe us for getting our brother killed!”

It feels like there’s a cinderblock on my chest. I try to speak, to tell them what happened—I swear I do—but the words just won’t come out.

“It’s okay, bro.” Mikey’s wrapping his other hand around mine and gripping tight, his voice as steady as a rock. “You’re home and safe and that’s all that matters right now.”

Mikey and his insight, I swear. “Mike…”

“We can talk when you’re feeling better.”

I’m still trying to figure out how in the hell he knew when I’m steamrolled by a headache. I flinch as I feel exhaustion overpower my senses. Still can’t open my eyes. The fatigue is growing with each passing second, and I suddenly don’t know why I’m fighting it.

“Rest, Raphael. “

Sensei’s voice is like a breath of fresh air. It feels like I haven’t heard him talk in months. Maybe I haven’t. Can’t remember… but damn it’s good to hear it now. And he sure doesn’t have to tell me twice, I don’t think it’s a minute before my body relaxes and I’m out like a light.

Last thing I remember is Sensei placing a hand on my chest and leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Yoku nemuru, my son.”

And after three months of running, I’m finally home.

~*~*~*~*~*~ Previous < - > Next Masterpost

See, I told you we'd find comfort eventually.

Comments/Critiques are always welcome.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

#tmnt fanfiction #tworoadsandapenny #traap #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #what you wish for #Raph #angst #hurt/comfort #we're finally getting to the comfort #tmnt hun

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sl-newsie · 1 year ago

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Cool Your Jets- Ch. 10: Stabbed (Riff x newcomer)

It’s not easy to slip through the streets. Everywhere I look I see cop cars patrolling everywhere, but they pay little attention to an innocent-looking girl walking the streets at night. One copper even calls out to say if I need a ride home, but I just smile and politely decline.

I follow the railroad tracks down to the trainyards, and up ahead I see Anybodys following Tony. Guess I’ll just follow everyone to the rumble.

I finally reach my destination: a metal warehouse. I see Tony and a Shark member slip in, and then Anybodys creeps in afterwards, but that leads me with no means of getting in myself. But when I look up I see a small window next to some crates, one big enough for me to squeeze through. After climbing the makeshift ladder I quietly sneak across the catwalk up in the warehouse rafters.

It’s a big warehouse, used for storing salt for winter roads. They keep the lights off, which only makes my vision on the situation worse. Another downfall is that the rumble’s already started, with Riff fighting Bernardo dead-on in the center of a circle-a both gangs.

Wait- is that a knife? They’re fighting with switchblades!

Quickly, I scramble down from the rafters and rush up to where Anybodys is hiding. Now that I’m closer I can see the fear in Riff’s eyes, like a caged animal. But he’ll never back down-

And just like that, Bernardo suddenly jerks forward and drives his knife right into Riff’s chest.

“NO!” I screech.

I try to struggle past a chainline fence but Anybodys pulls me back.

“No, Marilyn! You can’t-!”

“Watch me!” I hiss as I climb the fence and swing over.

Meanwhile Riff just stands there, looking between Bernardo and the switchblade in his chest. Slowly, he turns around to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and shake his head.

“‘S ok. It’s ok.” Then he falls flat to the ground in a pile of blood, and I sprint over to kneel next to him.

It’s also nearly dead-quiet so you could hear a pin drop, until Tony’s eyes fill with murderous rage and he goes to jab Riff’s knife into Bernardo’s chest. I don’t pay attention to the violence that emerges all around me- all I can focus on is the life draining from Riff’s eyes. I hear police sirens blur in and out of my thinking, and the cops must be on their way because the two gangs start dispersing.

“I tried to stop him!” Tony sobs as he holds Riff’s hand. “I tried to talk with Bernardo-!”

“Tony, you gotta go! C’mon!” Anybodys drags Tony away, leaving only me with Riff.

Riff’s almost gone- I can see it.

When he sees me, he starts panicking.

“N-No- Marylin. You gotta leave- get outta here! Get-!” Riff goes off in a coughing fit and clutches his chest.

I rub his wrist and try to calm him down, already pushing my scarf against Riff’s bleeding wound. “Shh, shh. I ain’t going anywhere without you, Riff. But ya gotta breathe steady to keep your pulse down so ya don’t bleed out. Now-” I wrap my arms around his neck and legs. “I’m gonna carry you-” I grunt as I attempt to lift his nearly-dead weight.

“No- I’m too heavy. Just leave me and get outta here!” Riff moans.

“I’ll be damned if I leave you to die alone here, Gariff Lorton!” A quick adrenaline rush helps me find extra energy and I begin to stagger towards the exit, but not before a police siren blares outside.

“Shit!” I huff as I frantically look for a way out.

“Señorita! Over here!”

I look over and see Juano holding a gate open. Quickly, I heave Riff’s limp body over and follow the Shark towards a scrap metal pile.

“We can’t stay here,” I pant as I gently lay Riff down. “I- I have to get Riff outta here! To a doctor!”

Juano shakes his head. “Señorita, you are too weak to carry him. Besides, the cops will arrest him if he lives.”

I glare at the Puerto Rican. “And I will not be able to live with myself if he dies! I’m taking him to a doctor!”

Beside me I hear Riff groan in pain. “N-No- Can’t go there- you’ll be caught-”

“Shh.” I lift Riff’s torso up so I can pick him up again. “It’s ok, Riff. I have a connection in the local clinic, and they won’t ask questions. Just- just stay alive long enough to get you stitched up.” I look up at Juano. “Will Bernardo be ok?”

He nods. “Last I knew they patched up the bleeding, but he was still unconscious when Pepe and the others carried him out.”

“Ok. Let me know if there’s any news. Not all the Sharks saw him get taken, so they think he’s still dead. Same with Riff. But part-a me thinks that if we let everybody know they lived then they’ll be want’n to set up another rumble. You know as well as I do that both Bernardo and Riff need to recuperate, so we should keep this quiet ‘til they’re patched up.”

Riff groans again, and I pick him up all the way.

“Hang on, Riff. It’ll only take a few minutes.” I try run’n as best I can towards the hospital.

¡Que Dios te acompañe! Godspeed, my friend!” Juano calls after me.

I hurry as fast as I can to the clinic, ducking in and out of alleys to avoid the cops- but they seem to all be swarming over the warehouse. When I get to the clinic I immediately flag down Josephina, and when she sees Riff her face freezes.

“Dear God! What happened?”

“Riff- he got stabbed,” I pant as I still try to hold up his dead weight. “Please, Josephine! You gotta help me stitch him up!”

She frowns. “He’s that Jet boy that’s always in trouble! Does he deserve another chance?”

“Josephina- please! I’ll pay whatever it costs, just please help him! I luv him!”

“I’m not talking about costs, chica. How many times does he have to learn his lesson?”

“He needs my help, and I’ll always regret it if I can’t save him!” I sob.

Josephina comes over to pat my shoulder and take some of Riff’s weight. “Shh, shh. Just get him on an operating table and I’ll get my supplies.”

I quickly wipe my face and lift Riff up again. “Thank you- thank you!” I set him on a table in a private room and start ripping off his blood-soaked clothes. It’s a simple but deep wound, which means it might be easier to close. God I hope his organs didn’t get pierced.

“Marilyn… Marilyn...” Riff slurs.

“It’s ok, Riff. We’re gonna stitch you up.”

“No… don’t…” He drifts off again.

Josephina comes back in and starts prepping the surgery equipment. Here we go…

After what seems like an eternity, we’ve finally gotten Riff fixed up as best we can. He’s still asleep, so I stay with him while Josephine goes to check on other patients. God, what a night. I sit in a chair across the room and start to drift off as the comforting sound-a Riff’s breathing lulls me to sleep…

“Ah!”

I jolt awake and remember where I am, then react to Riff’s scream.

He’s awake and try’n to sit up, look’n around and unsure of where he is. I quickly stand up and go over to the bedside.

“It’s ok, Riff! It’s ok! It’s me!”

“Lynnie? Marilyn... What happened? Where am I?”

“West Side Emergency Clinic. I brought you here after the rumble. God… you nearly died, Riff.”

“You- you didn’t leave me? Why- why did ya do that? You coulda just left me to die.”

“Well the Jets couldn’t tie their shoes without you, so I had to do someth’n.” I try to tease, but Riff won’t have it.

“Damn it, Marylin. I was supposed to die- I wanted to die!” He groans.

My face freezes. “What? Riff, you- you try’n to tell me that you were gonna commit suicide by gangfight? Why the Hell would you do that?!”

“You’ve heard what the cops say, Lynnie. Pretty soon all-a my turf is gonna be gone, and I’ll just be some poor bum in the streets without two nickels to rub togedda.”

“Life without the Jets is still life, Riff! There are odda things that give life meaning! You could get a job, see the woild- there’s so much opportunity but you’ve been so stubborn to ignore it! A dumb gang shouldn’t make you wanna die. Do you know how many people would miss you?” I fight back tears.

Riff huffs. “Not much. There’s kind’ve a grow’n list-a people that hate me, Lynnie.”

“Not everyone hates you, Riff. Tony was devastated when he saw you get stabbed, and right now he’s probably at Doc’s right now beat’n himself up over it ‘cause he still thinks you’re dead. And…” I take a deep breath and rethink one last time before I spill the truth. “I care too, Riff. Believe it or not, you helped me adjust to this big city life and if it’s selfish to want to keep the man I luv alive then God can send me to Hell!” I choke down a sob.

There. That’s it. I told him, and now he’ll just start laugh’n.

“Marilyn... you luv me?”

I nod, unable to speak anymore.

Then, I nearly faint when I feel Riff’s hand touch my cheek. I look up with watery eyes and see him with a wide smile on his face. Not a tease’n one, one that makes him look as if he’s won a million bucks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I gulp and try to look away again, but Riff won’t let me. “‘Cause I thought it was just me be’n a hopeless romantic and that you’d never want me around. I’d rather keep quiet and be your friend than spill my guts and have you hate me.”

“Oh, Lynnie.”

Riff gently grips my face and crashes his lips against mine, causing me to gasp in surprise. He leans back again and smirks. “What? You didn’t think I ever thought-a you as just a friend, didja?”

I moan and pull his shirt to smash our faces togedda again. “Who told you to stop?”

Riff’s eyes brighten and he pulls me into the bed with him in a big hug.

“God, I don’t wanna leave you, Lynnie. I didn’t think anyone would ever care or notice if I suddenly fell dead in the dirt, and right now you’re the only one I’d miss. You sweet, wonderful goil.”

I try to answer, but I just start smiling and leaking tears of joy.

“I’m never letting you go to another rumble again, Jet Boy.

(Could We Start Again, Please? from Jesus Christ Superstar)

I've been living to see you

Dying to see you

But it shouldn't be like this

This was unexpected

What do I do now?

Could we start again, please?

I've been very hopeful, so far

Now, for the first time

I think we're going wrong

Hurry up and tell me

This is just a dream

Or could we start again, please?

I think you've made your point now

You've even gone a bit too far to get the message home

Before it gets too frightening

We ought to call a halt

So, could we start again, please?”

When I finish, Riff’s looking at me with a tired, grateful smile, and it suddenly occurs to me just how exhausted he must be.

“Riff, you should get some sleep-” I try to lay him down.

“Oh no, I can’t sleep after I just learned the goil I’m sweet on luvs me back!”

I shake my head. “Riff, you’ve lost a lotta blood. You’re too weak to sit up, let alone walk. Just lay down and get some sleep.”

The Jet leader thinks for a minute, then says; “Alright. But only if you come sleep next to me.”

He pats a spot on the bed next to him and looks at me with a giddy smile.

I sigh. “You won’t go to sleep willingly unless I agree, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Fine,” I smile as I gently settle down next to Riff, careful not to touch his bandages. “If you need anything, just wake me up.”

Riff doesn’t answer. He just holds my hand and lays his head back with a blissful look on his face, as if he’s finally at peace.

“I luv you, Lynnie.”

I’m startled at the comment, but it feels… right.

“I luv you too, Jet Boy.”

#west side story #west side story x reader #west side story imagine #riff west side story #riff west side story x reader #riff x reader #riff (west side story) x reader #riff lorton #maria west side story #tony west side story #anita west side story #bernardo west side story #mouthpiece west side story

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verlie-redlocke · 2 years ago

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[ Play ] - Cass

one summer's day

tw: reluctant teenage vampire donors, general ick surrounding teenagers being fed upon, & blood.

spring before Cass goes to Hogwarts, Verlie (16) Cass (10)

Verlie laid herself down beside Cass, careful not to pant into his ear even as her limbs shook and quaked under her weight. The girl let herself settle into the blankets, curling up tight around herself, breathing out through her nose in order to stop her head from spinning.

The party had been raging, and Verlie had lost track of the laps she'd been transferred to, the arms wound around her, the tune's she'd been swayed to.

Worse still there was blood drying on her neck, soaking into the thin collar of her dress, flaking off the back of her ear, and dribbling from punctures in her cheeks.

The teenager sighed, willing the world to halt for just a moment. She wasn't entirely sure how she'd ended up at the Halestorms, only that she'd been deposited outside of Cass's door and been pushed inside. The ten-year-old was fast asleep, curled around a blanket and snoring.

Verliad lay awake, the adrenaline of the Feeding still thrumming through her used body, watching the sun slowly rise in the sliver of the blackout curtains when Cass began to wake, blinking blearily at her, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes.

He was taller, growing every week they were apart. No longer just the little boy who toddled after her and licked the blood from her forever-healing puncture wounds.

"V?" Cass's voice had the cadence of a child, and the teenager roped an arm around him, tucking his head against her neck. He could smell the blood, feel the thin dress she'd laid down in, his little fingers finding the holes and ripping, the edges stained in brown blood. It'd be thrown away by afternoon, a new one presented, a blood-replenishing potion poured down her throat as she was sent away for bathing and pampering before that night's event.

But at this moment Verlie hummed, sliding her fingers through Cass's dense curls. She didn't want to think about the party tonight, or the waltzes she'd do, the hands on her neck and opening her veins for a little taste.

She let her fingers strum notes on Cass's skull, dancing between the curls and locks, lulling him into a state of half-sleep.

"Want me to play you a song? It's too early for you to be awake." Cass nodded, still mute in the grey morning and Verlie rose from the bed, leaving stains behind as if she'd gotten her monthlies. Her bags were left outside the door, the wooden case holding a violin she'd been told to use that night though she preferred her cello or the piano.

"I went to a muggle theater last week," Verlie whispered, "and they were playing this wonderful cartoon from Japan," she settled on the edge of Cass's bed, the boy sitting up, tucking his scrawny knees to his chest, "it was about this girl who was spirited away to another world and her adventures working as an indentured slave."

The boy's eyes were wide like galleons, sparkling as she lifted the violin to her neck, testing the strings with a slide of her bow.

"I spent hours trying to find this song on that blasted Interwebs the Muggles used... but I loved the tune..." lifting the violin to her neck Verlie closed her eyes, "I think you'd love the film, Cass, there was even a train there, like the one that takes you to Hogwarts."

It'd been all he was talking about, week in and week out, Hogwarts-Hogwarts-Hogwarts. So close and yet so far, it was probably going to be the last Spring she spent with Cass

"Don't make fun of me, okay, I've only played it twice..." Verlie set her fingers on the frets and began to play.

autumn 2020

Verlie looked over the piano, it stood grand in the manor, covered in a light layer of dust. Unplayed though, as Verlie peeked into the insides, not out of tune. Verlie settled herself onto the velvet seat and opened up the keyboard, letting her fingers dance over the keys, but not touching them.

"You auditioning for the band?" Cass lounged over the edge of the stairs, swathed in a silk robe Verlie had brought him from Japan, all cherry blossoms and swirling leaves.

"As if I'd join your subpar teen bitchfest," Verlie retorted, but let her fingertips stroke the ivories, had she been human a sneeze would build in her nose. But an impermanent death meant a lack of bodily functions like breathing, though thankfully arousal still existed, the evidence of such lying a floor above her head swaddled in silk and velvet, snoozing the night away. Verlie had left the girl with bites and rope burns, but kissed away each hurt and slathered them with healing lotions, tucking her safety to bed and with assurances of her good work.

Verlie couldn't admit to loving, but she took care of her pets, and the one above her head deserved a diamond collar and nothing less than her weight in platinum.

Cass sat beside her, the arch of his back so lovely a painter might've asked for a posing shot. Each of his curls sticking out of place, his skin beset with acne from a previous binge of ice cream, but it didn't do much but highlight the excellent bone structure and how pretty his skin would be once he used the face creams she'd brought him from Paris.

"What are you going to play?" he ventured, tilting her head to her fingers still ghost dancing over the keys.

"I don't play much piano anymore."

"Doesn't mean you should not play, you sat here didn't you?"

Verlie did, and with a breath she tapped on a set of keys, the tone clear and high, ringing through the room. Carefully she picked her way through the song, the musical notes playing like a record in the back of her head, she let her eyes close, touching the ivory keys with a gentleness she'd forgotten she was able to give.

Cass let out a punch of air from his chest.

"I know this song--" Verlie shushed him, but he persisted, "You played me this, with a violin, when I was still a kid..."

So long ago, when the days blurred and time nonexistent. Verlie played through, keeping her eyes closed. The song used to play during the Feedings and dances, through the opened doors and closed blackout curtains, it sang in her brain as she was laid out on couches opening herself open with a little knife. It had rung when Cass left for Hogwarts, on a train far away, and Verlie while he'd been getting sorted was at a mixer, sitting on a stool auctioning away a bottle of her finest red, finally mature, made 5 years previously.

"It's from a film," Verlie said, "it's the Disney of Japan," she opened her eyes as the last of the notes fell off her fingertips, "I watched it a dozen times when I stayed in Tokyo, maybe a hundred." She let out a rattled breath, still instinct. "We should watch it, make it a double date?" She offered Cass a grin who stood disgusted and shaking his mane of curls.

"Oh fuck off about a date--”

Verlie snapped, "We treat our Doners well Cass, that's what makes us better. So we’ll take them on a movie date, it’s cliche, but they deserve it a bit don’t they?" Didn’t they deserve it, a touch of softness, a shred of something beyond base primal instinct to rut, orgasm and lie gasping. Beyond their own sustenance. Verlie closed the piano, dust flying up, "Go check movie times for Spirited Away, I'll charter us a jet if I have to." That bottle she'd sold at 16 cemented her promise as luxury donor, and the payouts still came, if reluctantly from the Redlocke's accounts into her own. Her blood by the barrelful, poured all over the world, the gold lining her pockets, made even more expensive by her permenant removal from the Redlocke rotation.

"I'll wake my pet, go wake your toy, we're going out."

The morning sun peaked through the windows, and Verlie tugged the blackout curtains closed with a snap.

#drabble #with cass #/ sincerely unsure where i was going with this #it just spilled out im not even sure if it makes SENSE #/also the title is a link to the song Verlie plays listen to it while reading

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huntershowl-moving · 3 months ago

Text

IT'S WRONG, IT'S DANGEROUS, BUT IZUKU'S kiss makes her blood sing. persephone has to stifle a noise in her throat when he tangles his fingers in their hair and pulls; they hear their fingernails digging into the floor by his head, reacting to that held-back instinct. and then, it softens like a passing storm. izuku's hand is warm on her cheek. she leans into the touch just a bit. but the water rushes at her feet, ankles, knees again. with her eyes closed, even surrounded by izuku's scent, a hand is just a hand and lips are just lips. suddenly the palm feels larger, longer, calloused and rough. whose lips are these? where is she? where are they?

it happens like a car crash. their entire body goes rigid in an instant. their heartbeat spikes so fast it sends a spike of pain through their chest, their throat closes up, suddenly they're struggling to breathe, but they can't — exit — they can't — this could be her only chance, he's drunk and vulnerable, and the gun lethe smuggled in is too far away to grab now. think. think.

the water rises over her head.

the last time she tried to kill him like this, it went terribly. they'd just come back from the most emotionally draining event either of them had been to in a while. persephone remembers how drunk they both were that night. it was one of the better times they'd spent together, honestly, both irritated out of their minds by the fucking derege family and their dumbfuck backhanded compliments. seph and adeo exchanged so many exhausted, mutually-judgemental and dryly amused looks that by the end of the night, they'd almost created a silent language between them.

seph was the one who ordered a cab. they didn't even think about how easy it would have been to run. he normally didn't let her have a phone, but in his drunkenness she insisted. alright, alright. whatever you say. handed her the smartphone from his pocket. seph remembers staring at it blankly, a liquor-dulled realization coursing through her body, that she could just call sage right now. she could get through to fletch. she could call orion. if they did it right, he wouldn't even know who was coming to pick them up. they could get help, they could call a hotline, they could —

and then they were in a cab, being driven home. she hadn't done any of it. instead, she lay her head on adeo's shoulder and stared numbly out the windshield as he threaded tan fingers through silk-gloved prosthetic ones.

by the time they got home, persephone was sober and disgusted with herself. adeo hadn't been a heavy drinker since his kingkiller years, his late teens and early twenties — his tolerance had gone out the window with his conscience, if he'd ever had one. he passed out on the bed. she swore he was passed out on the bed. it is still crystal clear in her memory, persephone staring at his dark-suited form, staring at her hands ( no, they'd leave a distinct mark ), and then she was on him, one knee holding down his chest and her hands dug into a pillow as she shoved it down into his face. the rush of blood blinded her senses to the world around them. It was just her and him and the rage, coming alive —

—his thrashing form knocked her head against the bedpost, but she did not falter—

—his movements started to slow—

—then there were hands, arms, hooking around her waist and dragging her off of him—

persephone heard someone scream. through the pounding drumbeat in her ears and the dizzy haze of adrenaline, she realized that it was her.

adeo sat doubled over on the bed, gasping for air, his dark eyes burning into hers. in the adjacent vanity mirror, persephone locked eyes with his guard-attendant-cook-spy as he wrestled their arms behind their back. how? had he been watching them? was there a panic button they hadn’t clocked before? had it all been a test — the alcohol, the phone, the sleep?

this was it. she’d had one chance. hope had been in her grasp for a single, fleeting moment, and it had slipped out of her hands like water.

adeo’s loyal attendant held persephone tighter as she thrashed against them, their grip surprisingly strong for someone with such a slight frame. once adeo had caught his breath, he signaled with his hand. they shoved persephone to the floor in front of him. her knees knocked hard on the wood, sending a spike of pain through her bones, prompting a low hiss that she quickly swallowed. the attendant faded back into the shadows of the room. silence fell over them like a frost, save for two sets of labored breath.

a grim future stretched out before her. this would never end. he would never let it end.

at first, persephone thinks the pressure in her hands is her palms curling into fists at her sides, waiting for the strike she knows will come. but when they try to flex them, they realize they are not clenched into fists — they are wrapped around izuku's throat. she is shaking all over, adrenaline and panic spasming her muscles in an uncontrollable exposed-wire fritz; she is staring down at him with eyes wide and enraged and terrified and distant and shiny with unshed tears. she is not breathing. he cannot breathe.

with a gasp, persephone yanks herself off of him, stands, stumbles backwards until her back hits the opposite wall. she slides down to the floor again, pressed up against it, breathing in shallow gasps through a closed throat. oh god. oh god, they killed him. they killed him, they killed him —

That moment, that blink and you'll miss it split second of change in Persephone's expression doesn't go unnoticed. It brings back whatever hid behind Izuku's own face, another laugh building up in the back of his throat like a wave, deep and cheerful as he lets out, "What?"

Maybe if he were sober, he would recognize it for what it was. A reverence he does not deserve to ever be an object of. Wonder that so rarely comes so pure. Maybe if he knew, he would, too, laugh through it.

As Izuku's plan succeeds, he tangles his fingers in Seph's hair, so velvety soft underneath his hands that it's a blasphemy to touch it with the roughness of a pull. But it fits right in with this new energy Persephone gives their kiss, and once his hand on their cheeks softens the blow, it could be excused.

#>> IN.#vsagis #implied abuse cw #{ HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOD. }#{ WHEW. OKAY. IM GONNA TAKE A FUCKING LAP AROUND THE ROOM }

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saphirered · 3 years ago

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Hey, could you do some angst to fluff with Percy de Rolo please? If not, then just fluff would be great. Thank you 😊

Angst to fluff incoming. Hope you enjoy! 😘

Briskly paced Percy makes his way through the halls of Whitestone castle. His boots leave trails and smears of blood, dirt and ash. Red stains his clothes, some of it his own, most of it not. All in all he looks like he took a tumble off a cliff into a forest of thorns and then rolled into some bog. He’s scratched, bruised and bloodied to hell and back and every muscle in his body tells him to stop and find the nearest flat surface to collapse onto and not move for the next month or so. Despite his body fighting him; it’s sheer stubbornness and spite that keeps him going as well as the burning anger and adrenaline from the battle not long since past, quite recently actually. He’d heard the footsteps and groans of the group split off and go their own way; them faring not much better than he is. One set of footsteps kept trailing him and while there were no words spoken to him directly he could hear the grumbled curses aimed at him. He ignores them. Perhaps that alone is more frustrating than anything else. Will you just leave him be? He is not in the mood for a lecture.

How fucking dare he? How fucking dare he! Pompous self-centred prick. Yet again his god complex gets in the way of it all. Self-sacrificial bastard. He just had to play hero didn’t he? He just had to move in and almost get himself killed? You speak every curse known to mankind but do so to yourself. Despite your rage you still have half the mind to not explode right here right now. You still have the mind to realise simply cursing the complete and utter arsehole accomplishes nothing other than more conflict and bad blood. It’s already a miracle the others; who too are very much upset with Percy backed off when they saw the look of determination and fury in your eyes. They might have their own grievances but you’ll tear Percy a new one and anyone who stands in your way will be turned to dust. They’ll take what’s left, if there’s even anything left once you’re done because they have never seen you this irate.

The footsteps behind him pick up until they fall in step besides him. Percy would look to his side but it’s unmistakably you and there’s something very frustrating about it. He isn’t in the mood for socialising or being put in his place, despite most definitely needing it. His ego is inclined to disagree and quite frankly he doesn’t have the energy; nothing but burning rage left in his veins. He’ll gladly take your lashing once he’s gotten a week of sleep because he can’t truly deny he doesn’t deserve it but in his whirlwind of emotions he feels unwise even speaking a single word in fear it might blow up in his face. So once the door to his workshop is in sight he has half the mind to breathe in relief.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem facing a difficult situation but minutes ago.” You sneer as Percy reaches for the door handle as you slam your own hand against the wooden panel. He goes to open it, something in his mind looking forward to the satisfaction of slamming that door in your face to bring across his point; he does not want to deal with anything right now but you’re clever, and quick because while the handle sinks, the door does not open. Locked. You pull your hand away and leave behind a golden handprint. Swallowing whatever words threatened to spill past his tongue he instead just strides on to the next convenient door but you do it again; locked before he can open it. And again. And again.

“At one point you’re bound to run out of components.” Percy deadpans as you make a show, waving your hand covered in gold dust and wiggling your fingers very much mockingly so.

“Will that be before or after you give up? We’re having this talk and we’re going to have it now.” You demand pointing an accusatory finger at the man. He fights the urge to roll his eyes. Is he going to give up? He has no intention to do so but he’s seen the servants and other inhabitants of the castle the two of you passed give you some rather questioning looks and despite his better efforts Percy still has some hardwired needs to appear somewhat civilised and responsible despite what image Vox Machina and their antics might give him. He somewhat cares about his reputation and keeping it somewhat pristine… You’re making that very difficult for him right now by undermining him at quite literally every door.

“Since my own desire to do literally anything else is overruled by yours to pester me until I submit,; fine. Fine.” Percy speaks exasperated. He’s not happy and still finds himself debating wether he should just make a break for it or something but then it comes down to his reputation again and just avoiding the inevitable. You’re not going to let this go. He won’t know peace until you’re done. Best just get this over with. So he begins leading the way to your chambers, brisk pace not once faltering, footsteps echoing eerily through the quiet halls like a heartbeat, falling in rhythm with the pounding in his head. He can’t help but notice from the corner of his eyes you take a deep but easier breath; like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders already. You’re still tense and definitely in a mood that could tear down mountains, but something has shifted and for a brief instance sadness peaks through. Just briefly before your face goes back to a steel mask once more. You’ve got plenty go raging emotions of your own. You’re entitled to keep them to yourself as much as he is, but then again you were the one to slap him in the face with the fact that bottled up grievances only lead to heartache and pain in the end… Perhaps there's a core of truth in that. No, he is not saying he’s wrong for wanting to sleep and just bury this all under the rug but maybe he can see your side of it all, the side of the others. Okay, maybe you’re just right but he won’t admit it.

With half the mind to use that spell once again just to make a statement you refrain from doing so when Percy opens the door and allows you to step in before him. You can see him eye the hallway for a brief second while you enter and look back and you half expect him to act on the impulse to avoid conflict but he doesn’t. Were you in a different mood you might have had a sense of pride brewing but you’re not. You’re angry but more than anything you’re hurt. Hurt because of what he did. Hurt because of those thoughtless actions. Hurt because of his shortsightedness. How could he do something like that to you, to his friends, and family? How could he do so without a second thought? Has he no sight on the consequences of his actions? Or maybe it does’t matter to him when he’s not the one to pay the price for it.

Percy sets down his things, placing his guns on the table, getting ready to give them a proper cleaning, discards his coat over the back of the chair adjacent to it and rolls up his sleeves ready to get to work but you’re not having it. The moment he sits down and goes to open the toolbox he keeps in the bottom of your wardrobe, you place your fingers upon it and when he turns the key, it won’t turn any further. One last casting. One last spell and now you’re out. Again that finger points at him.

“No.” That’s all you say. He doesn’t quite know how to place that tone of yours but it’s somewhere between telling a pet to do a thing or scolding a child in for a severe punishment. He doesn’t like either of those. So he steps back and raises his hands, showing he’s done trying before he braces his palms on the table, let his head drop and groans rocking back and forth on his heels until he turns his head to look at you.

“Fine. You have my attention. Say your piece and leave me the hell alone.” That came out harsher than he intended and that pang of hurt sparking in your eyes for that brief instance has a hint of regret beginning to brew in the pit of his stomach.

“My piece-my piece? How fucking dare you put yourself at risk like that? You could have died! You would have died had Pike not put every ounce of magic at her disposal in returning you!”

“And I’m still here, aren’t I?” Percy counters as he watches you clench and unclench your fists, nails digging into your skin undoubtedly to release some of the tension from your body; keeping it somehow under control. Despite everything you’re still restraining your fury even though he might deserve the brunt of it. Even if he did what he did for the right reasons; in the end he’s still the cause of this bad blood. Doing something for the right reasons doesn’t make you right, nor does it exempt you from the consequences. A lesson hard learned but one taught by you and drilled into his mind. Still, it’s one he chose to ignore in the moment knowing fully well. Perhaps that makes him selfish. Then again, he’ll always be selfish, despite acts of selflessness, at heart he’ll always be selfish.

“That is not the point! You unnecessarily put your life on the line and for what? A moment of glory? Do you need to be the hero of the story so bad?” That is a dig. You know it hits home because that’s been a fear of Percy; people putting expectations upon him he doesn’t want. It was a cheap shot and you took it either way. You feel bad for it and regret the words the moment you spoke them. They leave a sour taste in your mouth but you pull through.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I don’t know what overcame me.” You breathe much calmer now, the rage ebbing and making way for that sadness and post-battle stress, and vulnerability. Your fingers brush over the toolbox and the spell fizzles. “I think I’m going to freshen up. I won’t keep you here but I’d prefer to still have this conversation when we both have had time to cool down.” Percy nods and not expecting any further verbal confirmation you make for the bathroom.

A solid cry, existential crisis and thorough scrubbing later you exit the bathroom having exchanged your ruined clothes for a comfy robe, bare feet now padding across the cold stone providing some comfort and sense of grounding in this whirlwind of everything. You find Percy exactly how you expect to find him, albeit quite a bit calmer. Not quite as calm and relaxed you’ve seen him go through the motions of cleaning and repairing the pepperbox, but very much an improvement from half an hour ago. Then again you feel safe to assume that might look the same for you. You feel completely and utterly drained and at this point just want to crawl into bed, smothered by blankets and pillows in a warm embrace. But after everything, you don’t feel right about asking such a thing of Percy, nor do you think he’ll even welcome you with open arms like so. The issue is not gone. It’s still there and things are still… tense, for the lack of a better term and very much feel like a looming storm. The difference now is that perhaps you’ve both gotten some time to reevaluate what’s been said and done and have found yourselves in reasonable enough states to discuss civilly like adults and not bickering children ready to lash out or for one to throw the first punch.

“Hey.” You mutter as you hesitantly take a few steps towards the table. Percy puts down his tools, straightens his spine and turns to face you better. You wait for a response holding your breath in anticipation as Percy deliberates his next move. Then he pushes the chair back from the table and holds out his hand, inviting you closer. You do and with each step feel the air in the room lightening, pressure floating out with it as you see that corner of his lips turn upward just enough to notice. It’s not in the half smile but in his eyes you notice he too had some thinking done during your moments alone. With a sharp intake of breath and slow exhale through his nose Percy pulls you to him when you take his hand, inviting you to sit with him and you do, taking place on his lap. You just sit there in silence for a moment. Your fingers stay intertwined. His free hand finds your waist and rubs reassuring circles into the fabric covered skin.

“I’m sorry too.” Percy sighs as your head leans against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean t-I didn’t think-“ You snort at his words but not maliciously so.

“That’s right.” You mutter and earn a nudge from his fingers in your side. You repress to squeal and slap at his hand scoldingly as he continues.

“I did what I thought best but I understand how that may have placed others in a precarious situation instead. That was not my intention and I will apologise for that.”

“And…” You urge him to continue because you feel there’s more to this and plenty of things that are most definitely excluded from that apology.

“And I don’t regret doing what I did. Now I don’t care for being a hero but I do care about saving the lives of my loved ones and you are definitely at the top of that list. If I hadn’t done what I did you would have been the one in my place and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t let that happen. I took a risk knowing fully well where it might got me and the bet didn’t pay off this time but I’d do it again and again if it meant saving you. I can’t bare to watch you suffer but I care little for my own suffering and maybe that’s selfish, but if it keeps you alive and safe then so be it.” Percy knows that his reasoning might not be the most healthy of ways but at least he’s admitting to it now. He still has a long road to go but he’s working on it and that’s why he needs you with him. You’re his compass and he’s just lost. He doesn’t know what he has done to deserve you here with him because he honesty doesn’t think he’s worthy of you, yet here you are and still offer him love and kindness, and show him compassion at the end of the day. Will you forget what you both went through? Hell no. But you’ve shown him he’s worthy of your forgiveness should he wish to earn it and he does.

“We’ll work on your hero complex at some point but for now despite it all I’ll say thank you. Thank you for caring. Despite my disagreeing with your reasonings and approach.” You close your eyes for a second to take in the moment and then slip from the warmth of Percy. Questioning he looks at you and you just raise an eyebrow and urge him to follow holding out your hand which he takes without a moment of doubt. you pull him to his feet and begin leading the way to the bathroom.

“You desperately need a bath.” You claim as the door opens and you turn to fill the tub sitting on the edge as Percy who’s not in the mood to argue for several reasons eyes you.

“Why do I feel like this will be revenge?” He undoes the buttons of his vest, tossing it with the pile of dirty clothes in the basket you’d already set aside. You dance your fingers over the water surface testing the temperature.

“But of course it is, Percy dear.” You grin and watch every movement as he disrobes with satisfaction.

#critical role x reader #vox machina x reader #tlovm x reader #percival de rolo x reader #percy de rolo x reader #percival x reader #percy x reader #critrole x reader #critical role fanfic #critical role fanfiction #critical role imagine #critical role #vox machina #legend of vox machina #percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #percy de rolo

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gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

#darksaber!din #dark!din #dark!din x reader #dark!din x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw fanfic #darksaber #Im so sorry #dom!din #haunted!din

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