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sinsofsummers · 11 months

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push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then?

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.

Now…now you needed him inside you.

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

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eyebagshawty · 4 months

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Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 romance #gale dekarios #gale x reader #halsin x reader #halsin #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #18+ content #please read tags #angst

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luxshine · 9 months

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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: ఎవడు | Yevadu (2014), Oosaravelli, RRR (2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Sathya (Yevadu)/Tony (Oosaravelli), Charan (Yevadu)/Tony (Oosaravelli) Characters: Sathya (Yevadu), Tony (Oosaravelli), Charan (Yevadu) Additional Tags: Body Horror, loss of self, Reincarnation, Possession, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death Summary:

Two men on the brink of death at the same time, in the same place. One wants to live, the other one wants to die.

Fate has decided that only one of them can survive, and which one will survive, but science has other ideas.

One body, two souls.

Who will be the real survivor?

#Sathya (Yevadu)#Tony (Oosaravelli)#Charan (Yevadu)#Tony/Charan #Yevadu #Oosaravelli #Body Horror #loss of self #Reincarnation #Possession #Suicidal Thoughts #Canon-Typical Violence #Canonical Character Death #Self-loathing

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 5 months

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In My Time of Dying

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of injury, kidnapping, held hostage, mentions of suicide

Words: 2.9k

Synopsis: The clock is ticking...

You are currently reading part 12 of The Roommate Series

You’re not sure how long you’ve been stuck here.

Here, you assumed, had to be some abandoned building. The air was humid and filled with mildew that filled your nose. The must and mold made your headache worse and the more you sat against the cold concrete walls, the more it felt like it seeped into your skin.

You sniffled, hot tears continuously running down your face as you struggled to breathe. You had been stuck in a state of panic since you woke up in the SUV but it got worse when they tied you to a rusted pipe in the dark room you assumed was going to be your tomb.

Everything in your body hurt.

The men who had kidnapped you weren’t friendly in transporting you from your apartment to wherever you were right now. They had shoved you and pulled you in every direction while demanding something of you, all while you had a bag shoved over your head so you couldn’t see where they put you.

Pain split from your temple and made you dizzy. The man had hit you incredibly hard and caused blood to pour down the side of your face. You were sure the amount you had lost contributed to the dizziness, though you were sure he had caused a concussion too. You could hardly move in your spot without feeling so nauseous that you were sure you were going to throw up.

A whimper escaped your lips as pain struck you and you keeled over, more tears falling as the pain worsened.

You weren’t entirely sure why they wanted you, you suspected that it was because of who you lived with, but you still didn’t understand why. You weren’t someone special, you had no significant amount of money and you certainly didn’t have any valuable information about Simon’s line of work. You didn’t even know what his job was until two weeks ago.

Simon. You wished he was here, if he had been none of this would have happened. You wished you were in the safety of his arms, to feel his warmth against you and to hear his voice. If you had known that it would be your last time, you would’ve savored the moments longer, would’ve told him you loved him more, would’ve done something more.

Your chest hurt and you let out a soft sob.

The thought of Simon being left alone after everything he told you, the possibility that he may never even find your body when he gets home made you want to scream sob into the empty room.

You didn’t deserve this and he didn’t deserve to deal with the aftermath.

Tears blurred your vision and yet crying didn’t make you feel any better. Your head still hurt and you were still trapped, waiting for your potential slaughter.

You had to get out. You had to escape. They had left you hours ago…or what you assumed was hours ago and made no indication that they’d be back any time soon. You had a chance to run, to get help and call Simon.

You tugged on your restraints and the pipes groaned. You gasped and blinked away the tears as you stared up at them in the darkness. You focused on the pipe you were tied to and tugged as hard as you could, watching it shake from the force and nearly come loose.

Hope grabbed your throat and between your labored breaths you began to continuously pull against it despite the ropes biting into your skin.

For a split second you thought it would break, but then you heard voices.

Your heart stopped and you froze, fear taking over you once more.

They were coming back and who knows what they would do to you if they saw you trying to escape. You missed your chance by being terrified and your mind conjured up the worst scenarios of what was going to happen when they showed up.

The door to the room opened and you instinctively pushed yourself against the wall. You watched them walk in with wide eyes, your attention jumping to the floodlights they turned on that blinded you to the man who had taken Simon’s gun.

He still held the gun but in his other hand was your bookbag. One of his men set down a foldable chair where he set the bookbag on before he opened it up.

The silence was deafening as you watched his rifle through your belongings, occasionally throwing items onto the floor with no care. He threw your phone on the ground, almost as if to taunt you with the idea of safety before he glanced up at you.

“I’m sorry about the-” His voice made you jump as he gestured to the side of his head to mimic the wound he gave you. “But I did warn you.”

You couldn’t find your voice as you watched him continue to go through your things. Instead you sat there shaking uncontrollably while your eyes never left him.

Just a prey caught in a hunter’s trap.

He pulled out the burner phone and your mouth went dry. He inspected it and tossed your backpack on the ground, taking its place in the chair.

“Why?” Your voice was broken and small, shaking to the point you were surprised you even got the word out.

The man looked at you with raised eyebrows as if he was confused by your question. He leaned forward on his knees and thought for a moment before he shrugged as if this was something entirely normal.

“You were the only way to get what I want.” He scoffed. “Well…not the only way but you were closer, easier than the others.”

Others? Your heart hurt more and your stomach dropped about the thought of there being more who had to go through this, more who might die for whatever he wanted.

“What do you know?” His voice was calm but the intent behind his eyes meant he wouldn’t take much to anger.

You shook your head frantically despite the pain. More tears threatened to fall at the thought of him not believing you about the fact that you had no knowledge about Simon’s line of work.

“N-Nothing! I don’t know anything.” You pleaded frantically. “Please, whatever you think I know, I don’t. I’m just a college student.”

You were prepared to beg and plead until you lost your voice. Anything to keep him satiated enough to keep you alive until you had another opportunity to escape. You hoped your panic would make it believable because you were telling the truth.

He stared at you, his eyes scrutinizing you as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. For a moment you thought he didn’t believe you until he held up the burner phone.

“Tell me, does this phone reach Ghost?” He asked and it was your turn to look at him with confusion.

You had never heard of that “name”, especially from that burner phone. The only two numbers in there went to someone named Laswell and to Simon. There wasn’t a Ghost…unless he meant Simon.

It was the only thing that made sense. The phone connected you to Simon and it seemed like the man wanted to get to him but knew him as “Ghost”. You had no clue why he wanted him, what the reason was but it only made more fear build up inside of you.

What was he going to do when he found Simon?

He didn’t seem to like your hesitance because he sent you a warning glare, a look that sent a chill to your bones and made your heart beat faster.

Simon had to be Ghost to you now. For the sake of your life and his privacy…though if the man saw the dog tags hidden underneath your shirt, it wouldn’t matter.

“It does.” You nodded and he turned on the phone.

“Which number?” He demanded and you paused.

Your life was on the line but what if Ghost’s was too? You couldn’t be the reason he’d get hurt again, you couldn’t be the one who would get him killed-

The man backhanded you with enough force that your sore head hit the pipes behind you. He didn’t care as you cried out in pain, the sting from his slap radiating off your skin, before he grabbed you by the hair and made you look at him.

“Which number?” He repeated, his voice ice cold and deadly.

“The second one.”

He let go of your hair with a shove and stood up. He called the number on the phone and held it up to his ear, his eyes glaring at you as he flaunted the gun he stole.

A reminder of your fate.

Ghost followed closely behind Price to the extraction point. He listened to Price call in the information they worked the last twenty-four hours on and kept his eyes trained on the area surrounding them.

It didn’t take long for him to get back into the routine of work, in fact it was only hours after he had gotten back to base that they were shipping out to the next target, right where they left off two weeks ago.

Price had been a little worried. Ghost saw him keeping an eye on his lieutenant but he proved to him quickly that there was no reason to be worried.

“Couple more days and we’re done.” Price told them as they settled down at the extraction point. He made an effort to look at Ghost as he said it. “Laswell will need to look over the intel we got before we can make our next move.”

“Bet you’re thrilled, Lt.” Soap teased as he sat down on a rock.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be the first one out of all of us to have someone waiting for them.” Gaz joined in and sent a smug smile his way.

Ghost sent them both a look that didn’t deter either of them so he just rolled his eyes. Though, he wouldn’t outwardly admit to them now but he was incredibly happy to be able to get back home to you sooner rather than later.

Between the fact that he only had those three days and then two weeks to spend with you, he was really starting to crave the many months of interrupted time with you. He was waiting to get back into the regular routine of being deployed for a couple months and then coming back for a couple months just so he could have the time to actually spend with you.

No wounds to be healed, no calls from Price, just you and him alone like how it had been for three years.

He was ready to do whatever you wanted and ready to take on more dates.

“Cheeky.” Ghost grumbled and they snickered. “I won’t be thinking of either of you when I’m in bed, not alone.”

Soap and Gaz groaned, causing Ghost to snicker to himself while Price shook his head. He set his gun down and pulled out a cigarette, begrudgingly giving Soap and Gaz one when they began to beg for one of their own.

“Should make you run for them.” He tossed them the lighter.

“Don’t be cruel, Lt.”

“Yeah, Cap wouldn’t make us run for them.”

“I wouldn’t?”

They shared a laugh and for a moment, even after the atrocities they had seen, things were good. But then a ring tone sounded out from a pock on Ghost’s tactical vest and his heart dropped.

The others looked confused but Ghost had gone completely serious. He threw the cigarette on the ground, not even taking the time to extinguish it before he scrambled to find the burner phone.

“What’s that?” Soap wondered.

“Burner phone.” He explained, his voice having a slight edge to it. “She’s supposed to call only if there’s an emergency.”

That made them perk up and they gave each other serious looks.

On the outside Ghost was calm like he usually was but on the inside there was a slow building anxiety that began to spread across every part of his body. He hoped that this wasn’t an emergency, that maybe this was a butt dial or was you calling him because you missed him. He didn’t want to listen to the thoughts that maybe something was terribly wrong as he answered the phone.

“What’s wrong-”

“Nice to finally speak to you, Ghost.”

His blood went cold. His heart stopped and he immediately tensed up, his body going so rigid that his muscles ached. He felt bile in the back of his throat while his mouth went dry and adrenaline coursed through his veins. All sense of ease had been ripped from him and now he was back in his work mind, back on the field and ready to find the bastard who spoke through your phone.

You wouldn’t give the phone to anyone and the fact that the man knew his callsign meant it had been taken from you.

They got to you and this time they were mocking him. This time they were going to tell him and this time there was going to be more hell to pay.

“Where is she?”

Ghost spoke in a cold tone that made the rest of the 141 freeze. The anger was palpable and their expressions fell into their usual seriousness as the situation laid itself out plainly, though behind their eyes he could see their own fear about it.

“Alive for now.” The man didn’t try to assure him and he swallowed hard. “I want to speak to the captain as well.”

Ghost put the phone on speaker, his hands gripping it with enough strength to possibly break the phone while the three stepped closer. He glared at the screen as if he could see the man and force the thoughts of your dead body, you beat and bloody body out of his mind.

“Speak.”

“I have a proposal,” the man got straight to the point but he hated the sound of his voice. Vile like a snake. “That information you took from us months ago was valuable and I’d like something in return.”

“Your business is with us.” Price grunted out. “Whatever you’re planning-”

“I never would’ve been able to reach you. Her life isn’t in my hands, Captain, it’s in yours.”

The guilt that struck Ghost in the stomach made him grip the phone even tighter. The love of his life had been taken from him, like his family had been all those years ago. All of his past mistakes hit him and he found it hard to not keep his emotions under control.

If it weren’t for Price he’d panic, if it weren’t for the sergeants he’d be in an inconsolable rage.

How could he let this happen again?

“What do you want?” Price kept his cool and he was thankful he was doing the talking or else you’d probably get shot.

All of his training for this seemed to go out the window. He was too blindsided that he couldn’t get control of himself when you most needed it.

“Plans. Intel on what your next missions will be, what weapons you, everything about what you do and what you plan to do. I want to be repaid for what you stole from me and if you don’t give it, she dies.”

Ghost thought he may have heard you cry in the background but maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him. His mind was already tormenting him about letting you get captured and if you died, he’d follow.

“What’s the time limit?” Price demanded. “Eight hours. You’ll meet my men at the location I give you. You give me the intel, you get your hostage. Try anything and she dies.”

The call ended and the words hung in the air. Ghost could hardly think, his mind overcome with the realization that just getting back would take a couple hours which was too slow for him. He was starting to lose himself in the images of his butchered family, your own corpse mixed in with them.

The nightmare, you clutching onto him, he’d be too late-

Price placed a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeezed it tight, enough to ground him back in reality. His blue eyes were serious and cold, enough for everyone to understand it was time to get back on business, especially as the helo came into view.

“We will get her.” He said with no doubt in his voice.

All they had to do was their job. Your life was in an hourglass and every second counted.

“Yes, sir.”

Price nodded and gave him a firm pat. He immediately radioed to Laswell, filling her in on the situation and asked her to search for your phone location, your real phone, and anything else. A missing persons report, a break in, any suspicious activity around your neighborhood.

Ghost followed him to the helo and with every step he took, more and more of the panic fell underneath the fire of pure rage that coursed through his veins. There was no doubt the lengths he would go to get you back.

He’d be covered in blood, a mangled, hollow version of himself just to have you safe in his arms. The world would burn if you died and the men who took you would beg him just to end their lives.

A side of himself that he had long forgotten about would see the light of day again but he didn’t care.

Ghost would do anything to get you back.

Link to part 13

a/n: unhinged Ghost who's going to kill everyone is my favorite

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags:

@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #mw2 ghost

605 notes · View notes

etfrin · 4 months

Text

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter seventeen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | canon typical death, violence, mentions of self harm, Coriolanus Snow, mentions of suicide | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 coriolanus snow is now a peacekeeper.

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i wrote this at four am, please forgive me if it's not good, give me your feedback!! And uhm.. i am gonna pull an all nighter, coz if i sleep now i won't be able to wake up in time tmr, wish me luck!!

Beta read by 🩶 @nowitsmissing 🩶

masterlist | navigation | series taglist

Coriolanus was on the train. He had nothing but mere minutes to pack his belongings and say goodbye to his life in the Capitol. Tigris was in tears. And he knew the hug he gave grandma’am would be the last he ever received from her. Peacekeepers have to serve for twenty years after all.

He was on his way to district twelve. Not once had you come to visit him. He would lie to himself if he said he thought you would be at the train station. He expected an explanation. He was ready to accept lies. But no one was waiting for him. He was all alone.

Snow has lost his previous blonde curls as all officers had to have a buzzcut. He also had been sprayed with extremely cold water before he was given the blue uniform of peacekeepers. Coriolanus had gone over a small handbook and he realized hierarchy is everything. There are ways to raise rank but what's the point of it all?

What's the point?

He will never be president.

The Snow name will fall.

He will never have you.

He should just end it all.

That's when the door to his train cabin opens. The person who enters is completely unsuspected. Sejanus Plinth. His… friend.

Sejanus sits before him. Coriolanus doesn't even greet him. He's shocked. He blurts out, “Before you came, I was thinking about the merits of suicide.”

Sejanus replied with a chuckle, “Don't give them the satisfaction, Coryo.”

Coriolanus nods. He won't. He will make it out somehow.

“Why are you here?”

“I volunteered,” Sejanus said proudly, “as a medic. I will make a real difference like you said I can.”

Coriolanus wants to roll his eyes but doesn't. He likes the company he has right now, it's better than nothing. He smiles, all nice and fake. “Of course, Sejanus. You'll also meet your songbird.”

Sejanus Plinth blushed, “That too.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The First Week.

Ma Plinth sends letters regularly to Sejanus. She also sends him various goods including pastries that Sejanus shares with him. He hates it. Coriolanus still finishes his share of the sweet as it's so rare to find in the districts.

They don't have a day off yet. Sejanus hasn't found Lucy Gray. He's worried. Coriolanus speaks false words to put the poor boy at ease. It works more often than not.

The training is hard but Coryo excels. He's noticed by several of the recruits. They're friendly. He doesn't reveal that he's from the Capitol, nor does Sejanus Plinth. The gifts from his Ma are kept a secret.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The First Month.

Coriolanus Snow trains more and more. He trains harder than everyone. Snow eats well. He has more muscles than he had in the academy. Coryo could beat several people in combat now. He had gained the respect of his peers.

He was angry.

That’s the only reason he trained so much. Because if he thinks too much, he won't be able to live. He checks his mail every day. He gets them weekly from Tigris. It doesn't say much except the fact they're doing well.

Coryo rarely writes her back.

He yelled at Sejanus today.

It's the first time he ever yelled at the boy. Sejanus looks like he is about to cry and Coriolanus doesn't know what to do.

Coriolanus Snow is mad at you. And you aren't here to take the burn.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Second Month.

Coriolanus caves in. He writes. He writes and writes dozens of letters addressed to you. It's about the smallest thing. How heavy the gun was for him to carry in the beginning and how it is now. How the air is fresh in some parts of the district and horrible near the factories. How bright the sun is. How pretty the flowers are. He speaks about the culture he thought district people could never have. He speaks about the people who are… kind. Different than he thought so.

Coriolanus doesn't send them to you.

However, Sejanus Plinth does.

Sej is sure you'll reply.

You don't.

He stops writing the letters.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Second Month; Second Week

He begs onto the paper. So much ink is wasted.

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please.

SAY SOMETHING BACK

He scrawls the words roughly onto the letter over and over again. Tears falling from his eyes and ruining the ink. It makes some of the words ineligible. He doesn't care. You'll get it.

You get him.

Out of all the people, why did you abandon him like this?

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Second Month; Fourth Week

Snow doesn't get a reply. It doesn't matter.

Whatever healing his soulmate scar had gone through had reversed. It was the same ugly scar now. It didn't matter. Nothing does.

Sejanus says he's colder now. Angrier. He has a temper. Coriolanus doesn't care.

Sejanus Plinth forces Coryo to enjoy his day off. He drags him to The Hob, the bar in District Twelve. He sees Lucy Gray dancing and singing around. He meets with the Covey. He laughs for the first time in a while.

The same night he kisses someone. He doesn't remember who. He hates it. It felt like spiders crawling on his skin. He vomits outside of the bar. Sejanus is concerned. Coriolanus Snow quietly cries himself to sleep that night.

He doesn't touch his soulmate's scar for comfort anymore. He wishes he could cut all the skin off from his wrist where the mark was.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Third Month; First Week

When he comes back to the Capitol, he will. He will kill you. He will ruin you like you ruined him. The next time you meet Coriolanus Snow you aren't coming out alive.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Third Month; Fourth Week

Coryo can imagine his life here. With Sejanus and the Covey. Lucy Gray quickly becomes his friend (somewhat). Maude Ivory, her younger cousin, is sweet and considers Coryo like a brother figure.

It means a lot to him.

The music they play. The cabin in the woods. The cool lake is hidden in the forest. It's nice. A life worth having (he's lying to himself).

He hates the heat.

He misses the Capitol.

He misses you. Though he will never admit it.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Fourth Month; First Week.

Coryo finds out what the hanging tree is named after. It's a tree used for hanging the rebels. And some rebels were caught recently. Their names were called out by the captain. And they were sentenced to death.

Coriolanus had to stand up straight and keep a poker face as they were punished. A girl calls out the unfairness of it all. Pleads that they were doing nothing wrong. Snow wants to scoff. The rebels tried to escape, flee to the north, away from the safety that Panem offered. That's betrayal in Coriolanus' book.

The girl is taken away as a rebel as well.

As it should be.

Dumb district girl.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Fourth Month; Third Week.

A few officials have come from the Capitol to district twelve on a mission nobody knows anything about. Coryo hears rumors about it being about district thirteen and he's reminded of you. He doesn't pay much attention to it as they were just baseless rumors. District thirteen ceased to exist and his family had to face the consequences because of it.

Commander Hoff gathers every peacekeeper in the Nauen radio station. Hoff begins with a speech, “Today I call you here to let you know about the prestigious guests staying in District twelve for the time being. It is suffice to say that they expect the best from you as one of you will be assigned to be each of their bodyguard for their safety. They're from the Capitol, remember their lives matter more than yours. Do not let me down.”

Commander Hoff calls out names one by one and the peacekeeper is assigned to the person. He calls out your name. Coriolanus freezes, perhaps he heard wrong. He looks around onto the stage where the officials are and sees you for the first time in months.

Fuck. You're so beautiful.

He fists his hands. He bites the inside of his cheeks. It takes him everything not to descend into madness.

“...is assigned to Coriolanus Snow.”

You're under him now.

Good luck.

Next Part

368 notes · View notes

visforvengeance · 8 days

Text

so they would know that it was me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Notes: okokok. So this was heavily inspired by The Diner from Billie Eilish's new album, hit me hard and soft. If you've heard this song, doesn't it make you think about our fave hothead? I tried to do the Instagram caption thing but uhhh yeah. I wrote this in 3 hours and I went batshit insane writing it. I wonder if you pinpoint when I went fucking berserk. but anyway. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: boy where do i start. ok. p in v, cursing as always, cunnilingus, choking, creampie, suicide (mentioned), canon typical violence, biting/bruising, just reader and rafe being freak nasty.

song

Rafe watched while you danced with your friends. It was almost like you were dancing only for him, beckoning him to come closer. He tuned out Top and Kelce, he didn’t care for their conversation. Not when you were near. You danced so freely and without care, and it was because of him.

Everyone in the OBX knew you were his and his only. From the moment you two were kids, Rafe had always…protected you. Meaning he beat the ever-loving shit out of any boy who looked your way. And, you were none the wiser. You weren’t aware of his predatory behavior. So, when he’d have you sitting in his lap all the time or just casually made you blow him when you’ve been bad, it never occurred to you that this wasn’t normal best friend behavior. You rather liked when he called you baby or how he let you kiss him nasty when you were bored (which was quite often). But, there were still some guys who thought Rafe wouldn’t be on their ass if he even thought they wanted you. Yeah, you were only his and there’s no getting around that.

He watched as some drunk asshole made their way over to you, rudely pushing away your friends and cornering you. They stood around looking for Rafe as he made sure they knew the drill, which was to look for him immediately in these situations. If he wasn’t already aware, that is. Which was rare, as rare as other guys getting this close to you. Rafe had molded you into his perfect girl over the years, shaped you so that you only needed him. If you wanted something, you’d call on Rafe to get it for you. He’s your chauffeur, your atm, your noncommittal boyfriend, your everything. So, when you realized it wasn’t Rafe grabbing on your waist, you began to panic. You tried pushing the guy away while searching for Rafe but he wouldn’t budge.

Then, suddenly this 6’2 shadow cast over both of you. Rafe had an unnervingly calm expression on his face. He politely tapped the man on his shoulder, before knocking him on his ass. He settled on top of him landing punch after punch on the man’s face. His face and shirt splattered with his blood. The dude had no chance and if you didn’t get Rafe off of him soon, he’d kill him.

“Rafe,”

Then, he stopped. Abruptly. Instantly. When he looked over to you, it wasn’t fear that he saw. But, anger. “Baby,” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before you cut him off.

“Home. Now.”

He followed behind you like a lost puppy, leaving the crowd to deal with the aftermath. You never saw Rafe handle these situations. You never saw him in this light. You knew he was not to be fucked with, though. Of course, you knew your boy had a temper. You weren’t that oblivious. But, you didn’t know that he could get like this. The drive to his house was silent. You sat in his passenger seat (which has your name stitched into it) with your arms crossed, head straight, and fire in your eyes. Rafe had always managed to dodge your anger, but not tonight.

He was slowly starting to get more and more irritated, though. Every time he looked at your face, he’d only be met with your immaculate side profile. You even moved your leg away from his hand when he tried to rest it there. He knew it wasn’t because of the blood that had dried on his hands, you were never bothered by that but, it was because of his actions. His failure to maintain his composure.

Before you two were able to reach his neighborhood, blue and red lights flashed behind you. Rafe cursed himself as he looked through the rearview mirror. How the fuck was he going to explain the blood that was on him? He hurriedly tried to clean the blood off of him as he changed his shirt. He managed to make himself look at least halfway decent before the cop arrived at his window, knocking lightly.

Usually, because of who Rafe’s father was, he only received a slap on the wrist. But, not in this situation. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and get away this time. You rolled your eyes as you listened to him lie through his teeth. He was very charming, you’d give him that. He charmed this female officer right out of being arrested and being sent to prison for aggravated assault.

You scoffed at the audacity of her to ask for his number and him actually giving it to her. She couldn’t have been much older than the two of you, maybe 25. Baby-faced and fresh out of the academy. You laughed bitterly as he watched her walk back to her patrol car. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Rafe.” His head snapped in your direction, those were the first words you had said to him in the entire 30 minutes he’d been driving.

Would it be insane of him to assume that you were jealous? Would it be absolutely fucking psychotic if he said that it turned him on to see you so angry and jealous? He smirked softly as he resumed driving.

You slammed his truck door shut. You didn’t care if he’d get mad about it. You stomped to his front door, impatiently rushing him to open it. He shook his head as he laughed at your brattiness. He loved when you acted like a spoiled child for him. You knew he never had the intention of pursuing that girl, but something in you couldn’t stand the thought of it.

He took his time opening the door, relishing in the moment before he had to hear your annoying yapping. When the moment was right, he’d know the perfect way to shut you up. He’d argue with you just for the hell of it, then he’d guilt trip you and tell you something like; ‘you’re right, baby, I’m sorry. Ok?’ And, then you’ll find him between your legs, delirious and begging that you forgive him.

When you made it to his bedroom, you wasted no time ripping into him. First, about the fight he started, and then about giving that cop his number. But, he only stood there with that stupid fucking smirk. “So, you’re not going to say anything? Just stand there smirking?”

He closed the gap between the two of you. He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning your face, if you weren’t so pissed, you’d be on your knees with him looking at you the way he was. He brought his hand up enough to grip your chin, softly at first. “You can’t be mad at me about two different things, baby, pick your battles carefully.” By the end of his statement, his grip had gotten harsher.

Who the fuck does he think he is? You wrapped your hand around his forearm, caressing it. But, then he felt the growing sting of your nails digging into his flesh. “Aggravated assault in the first degree, babe? That’s a $250,000 bond. Do you think your daddy can afford that? Or will I have to get my daddy’s money to bail you out?” You looked up at him with doe eyes. The silence between you both appeared again. The only sounds heard in his bedroom were his harsh breaths as he tried to remain calm. But, you were really fucking pushing it.

You forced his hand away and plopped down on his bed. “I just think that you shouldn’t have done that, Rafey.” You pouted as you watched him get down on his knees before you. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he placed his hands on the back of your knees, massaging up to your thighs while pushing his way between them.

“First off, I am your daddy, babe. And, second, you know how I get when guys try to push up on my girl. Especially when I know how scared you get when it’s not me,” he said while leaving kisses on your neck and chest.

You scoffed, “I don’t get scared. Just slightly uncomfortable.” You let your hand grasp the back of his neck, fingers dancing softly along the lines of his buzzcut. “Same thing, darlin'. When you’re not happy, that’s when I have a problem. I can’t have my best girl out here feeling nothing but happiness, you get what I’m saying?” He kissed his way up to your chin before pulling away and looking deeply into your eyes.

“Yeah, daddy, I know. Just don’t want you to go to jail, is all.” You pecked his lips softly. He nodded before kissing you meaningfully. “I’ll be careful next time, huh? That what you want me to say?” You nodded your head as best as you could with your jaw in his grip. You stared back into his eyes as your cheeks spilled between his fingers, and your lips puckered up slightly. It made his dick hard.

He kissed you again, sloppy this time. The smacking of your lips and the moans that escaped both of you filled the room. He pushed you back on his bed while trailing kisses down your body. While doing so, he slid your panties down, tossing them somewhere behind him. He didn’t care. He didn’t bother riding you of the rest of your clothes just yet. Just hiking up your skirt and leaning back to admire the view. You sat up on your elbows, breathing heavily. You hiked one of your legs up, giving him a better view. “Come on, baby, don’t be a tease.” You were practically begging him to taste you. And, who was he to deny his baby?

He chuckled, “alright, princess. Calm it down.” He watched as you clenched from the nickname. It was taking everything in him not to eat you until you were begging him to stop. Even then, he didn’t know if he had that kind of control. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to your heat. Before delving in, he inhaled your scent. You could’ve sworn you saw the white of his eyes while they rolled to the back of his head, but you were quivering with excitement. Too out of it to try and comprehend that.

He placed your leg over his shoulder and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He placed one long lick from your clit to your entrance, he couldn’t help himself as he let out a moan at the taste of you. Rafe didn’t think he was the kind of guy to be so affected by a woman, of any kind. But, he’d let you slut him out whenever you pleased. Whatever you wanted, he never said no. Not to his baby.

He would gladly drop to his knees for you. There’d even be times when he’d be the one asking for your permission to taste you. And, just like him, you never said no.

He began teasing you by repeatedly placing kisses along your clit, when he noticed your whines he fucking laughed. “Rafe, quit it.” You sounded like an intolerant child but that’s what he liked about you. “Ok, ok, baby. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sorry at all.

He wrapped his lips around it while slowly sliding a finger into you. Your hips jerked at the intrusion but soon relaxed. He added another finger, but at this point, you weren’t sure who was moaning more, you or him. You were silently thanking God that his family was out on vacation as neither of you were exactly quiet. If anyone had heard, they could easily guess what was going on.

Rafe pumped his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace, repeatedly hitting that spongy spot inside of you, while his tongue worked on your clit. He didn’t care that he could hardly breathe as you pressed his face into you, he’d die happily this way.

Your moans grew louder while your back arched off of the bed. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, easing it inside you with little resistance. His nose bumped against your clit just right as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you flush against him. You held the sheets tightly in your grip, your moans had turned into screams which then turned into nothingness. The sound had simply ceased as you began to clench around his tongue.

Rafe humped the frame of his bed as he came in his pants. He was moaning into your pussy like a madman. He’d most certainly be ashamed about this later but he thinks this was one of the most amazing orgasms he’s had with you. But, he’s not done with you yet. He had to have you, all of you. He’d kill himself if he didn’t, swears it on his soul.

When he untangled himself from you, the bottom half of his face was left glistening in the moonlight. He breathed heavily as he started to remove his and your clothing. Both of you were naked, eyes roaming over each other’s bodies. You had never gone this far. Maybe some dry-humping here and there but actual fucking? You were trying (and failing) to contain your excitement. As was Rafe, as he pumped his half-hard cock to full hardness.

His face held his signature half-lidded eyes look, it was truly a sight to see. You laid back completely flat with your legs spread as you waited for Rafe. You were startled when you felt his hand on your knee. You felt the height of him laying flat against your core. He slotted himself between your lips, and let his spit drip down as he rubbed himself against you. “I want you to try to relax, okay, baby? I don’t wanna hurt you,” you nodded as you tried to follow his directions. Rafe was bigger than you had expected and he was your biggest yet. You took a deep breath as you signaled to him that you were ready. He lined himself up with your entrance as his tip poked at it. Slow, subtle prodding turned into slowly being filled.

Per your previous orgasm, your fluids and his saliva made it easier. He let out a dragged-out ‘fuck’ as he eased himself into you. When you were filled to the brim with him, he pressed your bodies together, placing his lips onto yours. You could taste remnants of yourself, making you moan into the kiss. Rafe began thrusting into you, softly at first. At first.

Then, he began pounding into you relentlessly. His hand was wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides. Your eyes remained in the back of your head for a while, your back arched as you tried to hold onto his forearm. “Tell me you love me,” he said. But, you didn’t hear him. You couldn’t. You were too fucked out. Until you weren’t. Because he stopped. Because he had to hear you say it. And you were so close too.

“Baby,” he slapped your cheek a few times, trying to get your attention. You will yourself to look at him, he’s admiring you. Your eyes were barely open and your lips were still shining from the lipgloss you were wearing earlier in the night. “Tell me that you love me.” He started thrusting his hips again, but this time it was achingly slow. “Rafe, please.” If you were in your right mind, you’d tell him without a heartbeat. But, he was just fucking you stupid mere seconds ago. “Come on, doll. Just say it and I’ll keep going, promise.” His soft neck kisses turned into harsh sucking with a little bit of biting.

“I love you, Rafe. Fuck.” He sped up his pace while whispering ‘I love you’ into your skin over and over again. Your stomach tightened as your orgasm approached rapidly. “I fucking love you so much,” Rafe moaned into your lips. You felt the warmth of his cum seeping into you, which triggered your orgasm. He slumped over you as you clenched around him repeatedly. His body twitched as he groaned at the sensitivity. He pulled himself off of you, heading to his bathroom to get a wet towel to clean you up with. After he was done, he peppered you with kisses. Apologizing if he was too rough, making sure you had a glass of water before bed. You were asleep within a matter of minutes, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

You woke up to an empty bed, the bright ass sum staring right at you, and the constant pinging of your phone. After stewing in bed for 10 minutes, you picked up your phone to see what all the fuss was about.

“rafe.cameron tagged you in a photo!”

You hadn’t expected the photo to be of you sleeping soundly with a palette of reds, blues, and purples littered upon your skin.

“rafe.cameron i left a calling card…”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks imagine #obx

271 notes · View notes

the-sunflower-room · 6 months

Text

✧ to die by your side ✧

dazai x fem!reader

☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort

☆ wc: 9.5k

☆ summary: dazai’s girlfriend is kidnapped by a revenge-seeking enemy and must count down the agonizing minutes to her death. dazai and the rest of the ada race to save her before time runs out.

☆ warnings: kidnapping, violence, language, mentions of blood/torture/drugging, dazai-typical suicide mentions, brief mentions of throwing up, self-loathing dazai, panic attacks, etc- overall just pretty angsty! slightly canon divergent with the way i wrote dazai’s ability. i also threw in some comfort at the end as a little treat <3

………………………………………………………………………………….

Pain. Blinding pain.

That was the first thing Y/N noticed as she slowly regained consciousness. Her skull felt like it was on fire, her temple throbbing and wrists aching. A heavy weight sat on her chest and made the simple act of breathing difficult. A faint but persistent beeping noise seemed amplified in her ringing ears, worsening her pounding headache while the heavy scent of blood in the air made her stomach churn.

What was going on?

Confusion persisted until her mind began to register the other noises in her surroundings.

A man’s voice she didn’t recognize.

The soft beep of a video camera starting to record.

Something about the agency.

Dazai’s name.

Her body broke into a cold sweat at the sudden mention of her boyfriend.

Realizing her eyelids were too heavy to even open, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened. The last thing she remembered was kissing Dazai goodnight outside of her apartment, then quietly getting ready for bed once he had left. What could have possibly happened between then and now? Whose voice was echoing around her? Why did her body feel so heavy, and why were her thoughts so incoherent? If she could just get up-

Oh.

Her wrists were bound behind her, the rest of her body anchored to the chair she was sat in by chains of steel. There was something large strapped to her abdomen emitting a beeping noise every few seconds.

Her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest as she slowly put together what was happening in her hazy mind.

“-Pay for your crimes by letting her die. This pretty little thing only has three hours left,” the gruff voice continued, sounding much clearer and much closer than before. Her panic increased tenfold as she realized the mystery man was directly behind her. Before she could fully prepare for it, a large hand suddenly grabbed a fistful of hair on her scalp and yanked her slumped head upwards. The pain forced her eyes open and she was greeted with a camera pointed at her, along with a room full of armed men. Her eyes slowly widened in terror and clarity as it all finally clicked in that moment, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit what was happening to her.

I’ve been kidnapped as a means to get back at the agency.

There’s a bomb strapped to me.

I have three hours to live.

The tears started then. Even though she could vaguely recognize that she was being recorded for the Agency’s viewing and it would only worry Dazai more if he saw her in so much distress, she couldn’t help her panic. No matter how strong she wanted to be for him, this was terrifying. Her life was suddenly on the line and she would die at the hands of these men if the agency couldn’t find her in time.

“Please,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling pathetic as she let out a choked sob. Her voice cracked from disuse and she felt like she might hyperventilate. “Please, no. I don’t want to die.” The room filled with cruel laughter at her naive pleas, and she could only sink further into despair as the gravity of her situation became painfully evident. These were ruthless killers who were happy to see an innocent woman die for nothing more than the sake of revenge.

“Hear that, detectives? She’s begging for her life. What are you gonna do about it? The clock is ticking,” The man behind her sneered, grabbing her face in his calloused hand and squeezing it. She weakly attempted to yank her head away from his grasp and maintain her last shred of dignity. He was taunting them with her, the bastard.

Weaponizing their good nature and care for her. Trying to break them; trying to break her sweet Dazai.

Oh god- Dazai.

The more she thought about him, the more her tears flowed. Dazai, whose greatest fear was putting her in danger with his line of work. Dazai, who had lost so much more than a person should. Dazai, who loved and cared for her more than anyone she had ever known. The mere idea of him sitting at the agency headquarters, watching in horror while these unknown men teased him with her life, was too much to bear.

Through her cries of terror, Y/N could just barely overhear the man saying something else into the camera before ordering one of his subordinates to cut the footage. Dread filled the pit of her stomach as they turned their full attention on her and she realized she was truly alone with these psychopaths.

She had no way of knowing if the ADA was coming for her, or if they would be able to get to her in time. Hell, she didn’t even know if they would be able to diffuse the complicated bomb even if they did manage to reach her before it was set to detonate. She certainly didn’t want them to risk their own lives just to save her, even if the thought of dying in an explosion shook her to her core.

She felt her hope drain away with each new tick of the bomb, her body shaking with fear. Three hours was an awfully short time.

Please, Osamu.

My time is running out.

Dazai had never felt a rage quite like this before.

He knew that something was wrong the moment the agency had received a video from an untraceable source and Y/N hadn’t texted him about her day. That didn’t stop his heart from dropping clear to his stomach when he saw her on the monitor, chained up and bloody with a bomb on her chest.

No. Not her.

He avoided the nervous gazes of Atsushi and the rest of the agency members as he stared at her unconscious body on the screen, jaw clenched unimaginably tight and hands gripping the wood of the conference room table. The man standing in front of her was droning on about how Dazai had personally wronged his pathetic organization —something about putting a stop to their human trafficking network with the help of Kunikida— but he couldn’t bring himself to listen or even care.

He was attempting to keep his composure by focusing on the facts of the case. Namely, the extent of her injuries and her location.

Blood was dripping down the side of her face from her temple, some of it dried and caked in her hair. The bastards had likely hit her with some sort of blunt object to knock her out. His fury only grew at the thought of her being treated with such senseless violence. She still seemed dazed and confused as the man forced her awake to face the camera, a sure sign of a concussion or even drugging to further subdue her. She had a few more bruises and bloody cuts on her face, and he knew by the way the metal chains cut into her skin that they would cause serious irritation at the very least.

He couldn’t help but screw his eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath as her weak and desperate pleas reached his ears. The complete and utter terror in her voice as she begged her captors for mercy was nothing short of gut-wrenching to him. Even worse, the man was taunting Dazai with her pain. Smugly showing off her broken body like some sort of prize. She’s suffering because of you, a small voice in his head spat, making Dazai grit his teeth even more. No. Focus, you idiot. Focus on where they’re keeping her.

She looked to be trapped in some kind of metal room, potentially reinforced with anti-ability precautions to keep them from easily reaching her. The cell was dingy, dark, and silent, leading him to wonder if she was being kept somewhere underground. That would be a likely spot for these despicable cockroaches to hide. There were just over a dozen guards surrounding her, although they wouldn’t be an issue in the grand scheme of things; the ADA could certainly handle a few thugs with guns. What concerned him most was the bomb strapped to her chest.

There were plenty of geniuses among their ragtag team, but bombs were tricky. There could be dozens of triggers on it, or someone could detonate it remotely if anyone got too close to her. A single misstep or miscalculation could immediately cost Y/N’s life, and that was a risk Dazai certainly wasn’t willing to take.

He was furious at himself for letting this happen. He was so careful- always keeping tabs on her, steering her away from involvement in ADA antics, keeping an ear to the ground for trouble in the Yokohama underworld. He was constantly calculating and preparing for every outcome, always several steps ahead of his enemies with his dizzying plans. And yet, somehow, this measly organization he could hardly remember had managed to snatch his girlfriend out from under him with almost no trouble at all.

She was in mortal danger, and it was all his fault.

“Snap out of it, Dazai, I can hear your thoughts from all the way over here,” Kunikida piped up from across the room, his voice sympathetic but stern as he glared at his partner. “You need to keep your head on straight if we want to get her back.” He could tell just by reading Dazai’s expression how much inner turmoil the man was going through. How much he blamed himself for Y/N’s capture. But if they were going to rescue her before the three hours were up, there was no time for wallowing in self pity.

“Kunikida’s right,” Fukuzawa’s booming voice spoke, causing Dazai’s distant gaze to snap over to his boss in an instant. The fact that he was involved in the case at all revealed just how seriously the entire agency was taking her kidnapping. “Time is not on our side. We must be swift and rational if we are to have any hope of getting to Y/N and disabling the bomb in time.” Their words struck Dazai to his core. It was hard to remember that the other ADA members also cared deeply for his girlfriend, and they were willing to go so far as to put their lives at risk to help him get her back. Their unwavering support seemed to snap him out of his stupor and focus on the task at hand.

Get her back from those sorry motherfuckers.

“Right,” he nodded curtly, his expression suddenly devoid of all emotion as he turned to face the team with renewed focus and determination. “Ranpo-san, what’s the plan?”

The raven-haired detective, who had been quietly perched on the window sill and shadowed by the deep orange sunlight filtering into the room, suddenly jumped down from his seat and whipped out his pair of glasses in a flash. His trademark smirk spread across his face as he placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, poised to activate his ability.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Fifteen minutes.

That’s what the little timer read—from what she could tell, anyway. Y/N’s heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. She was drenched in sweat from the overwhelming fear taking over her body, despite her cell being practically freezing. The men had left her alone a while ago, but not before roughing her up for good measure. She now sported a throbbing bruise under her eye and a few new cuts on her face and neck, but she had blocked all of the pain out. All she could feel was pure panic as the countdown to her impending doom grew shorter and shorter.

She had no idea if Dazai and the rest of the ADA were even close to figuring out where she was, and her hope was beginning to run out. How could they possibly find her and disarm the bomb in a mere fifteen minutes? It didn’t seem at all possible, no matter how skilled they were. A single tear ran down her cheek as the reality set in. She was really going to die.

Trying to find some form of comfort as the seconds ticked away and she neared what she assumed were her last moments, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and forced her mind to go somewhere else—anywhere else—to escape this hell.

Dazai’s soft laughter filled her ears.

It was a lazy Sunday morning- the couple’s favorite time to lay in bed for the whole day and forget their actual adult responsibilities. They were tangled up in fresh sheets, warm sunlight streaming through the windows as Dazai playfully teased her about her refusal to let him get up.

“Five more minutes!” Y/N grumbled sleepily, burying her head into the crook of Dazai’s neck and breathing in his fresh scent. He still smelled like the floral body wash he had used in the shower the night before; the same body wash she had bought him when he insisted he loved the way it smelled on her and needed some for himself. Catching traces of its scent on him always brought a smile to her face.

“You said that five minutes ago,” he chuckled, his voice still husky from sleep. His hand absentmindedly massaged her scalp as he held her tight to his chest. “You can hear my stomach practically begging for food. Are you trying to starve me, my love?” Y/N was seemingly unaffected by his dramatic ploy to escape her embrace. “Yes,” she answered simply, burrowing further into his t-shirt to hide her smile that would give away her crumbling resolve. Of course, there was no hiding anything from Dazai Osamu.

“I saw that!” He gasped, playfully poking at her face. “My Y/N does care about me, who would have thought!” She couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her lips at her boyfriend’s theatrics. He was always blowing things out of proportion, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t love it.

Daring to peek up at him with heavy eyelids, her eyes met gentle brown staring back at her with nothing but warmth and fondness. The lovesick smile plastered across his face sent butterflies rushing through her stomach and she suddenly felt shy. His eyes were so pretty. “If you get up, I’ll be so lonely without you,” she pouted, hands snaking around his waist as she gave him her best puppy dog eyes. She knew she was playing dirty by pulling the pity card, but she also couldn’t stand the thought of being away from his comforting embrace for even a moment.

Dazai heaved a sigh, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as his hand moved to her face and gently brushed some of her hair away from her eyes. “Well how could I ever say no to that? I would rather starve than see my belladonna lonely and upset.” She rolled her eyes a let out an amused huff at his words, craning her neck so she was mere inches away from his face. “So you’ll stay?” She whispered, knowing that she’d already won the minute he hadn’t actually gotten up when he announced he needed breakfast.

Instead of responding right away, Dazai leaned down and planted a gentle kiss to her pouting mouth. She was just so irresistible. “Of course, darling,” he murmured against her lips, pulling her head back into his chest and smiling as he felt her snuggle closer. She truly was his everything. “Five more minutes with you is nothing short of pure bliss.”

Five minutes left.

Y/N thought she might pass out from the sheer terror that consumed her, threatening to pull her under completely. She would never see her friends again, including all of the agency members she had grown to call her family. She would die before saying goodbye to her loved ones- to Dazai. How would he react when he found her body, or what was left of it? How would he cope? The very thought forced a watery sob from her throat.

This is the end.

I’m going to die without seeing him one last time.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded outside of the door to her prison and startled her out of her despair. It sounded like someone throwing their body against the heavy steel door. She froze, swallowing back her tears and preparing herself for the worst. Maybe the men were back to torture her one last time before setting off the bomb. As her mind came up with the worst possible scenarios, a familiar grunt reached her ears through the metal walls. It couldn’t be. After a beat, she heard the noise again. Then- “Y/N?”

She nearly stopped breathing at the sound of his angelic lilt. “…Samu?” She called out weakly, afraid to let herself be filled with hope in case it was some kind of cruel trick. “Y/N!” He yelled back, a mixture of desperation and relief in his voice as the banging noises continued. It was incredible how quickly hearing his voice had managed to relax her, even if she knew she was still in immediate danger. He always did have a calming effect on her. “Osamu, I don’t have much time left,” she gasped, desperately struggling against her restraints. Now that she knew he was here, she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“I know, I know. I’m gonna get you out of here, baby,” he assured her through the cold metal door, giving the handle another frustrated jolt. Why couldn’t he have been blessed with a strength-related ability? “Those assholes had some ability users up their sleeve, so the others are busy trying to break through their defenses,” he explained in a rush, throwing his body into the door again despite the blooming pain in his shoulder. He wouldn’t have the help of Atsushi or Kenji like they had originally planned, and that worried him. “I promise, I won’t stop until I get into that room and you’re safe.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a voice suddenly boomed over a hidden speaker, catching the attention of both Dazai and Y/N as their heads snapped upwards in near unison. Her blood ran cold as she recognized it as the voice of her captor. “Break into that room, and we’ll set off the bomb early. Didn’t you listen to us? This is your penance, Dazai,” he spoke, clear amusement in his tone. The bastard was watching them from somewhere else in the underground facility, enjoying their pain. Using it as entertainment.

Three minutes left.

Dazai grimaced outside of the door, hands balling into fists as a new fear and rage ignited inside of him. There was never going to be a way to reach her without the bomb going off. It was a cruel way to torture him; forcing him to either live with the guilt of leaving her and save his own life, or stay with her until the bitter end. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make.

As Y/N pieced together the new information, she quickly came to the same conclusion as her boyfriend and felt her eyes go wide. “Dazai, NO! Get away from here, now!” She screamed, fresh tears already burning in her eyes. She knew that he was selfless and loved her more than anything, but in that moment she wanted him to turn his back on her. To break her heart and leave her behind to save himself.

Ramming his now probably broken shoulder into the cold, unforgiving metal one last time, Dazai shook his head as he slowly sank to the floor. His hands were raw and bleeding from practically clawing at the wall for a weak point, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered anymore but staying with her. “I won’t leave you,” he said simply, leaning his head against the wall. The agony of knowing that she was in that room, alone and afraid, minutes away from her death, was crushing. But if he could offer her even the smallest comfort before that timer hit zero, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Y/N was on the verge of a panic attack. Tears streamed down her face and she struggled to breathe, completely overwhelmed by what was happening. To have to accept that she really was about to die a horrible and graphic death in a few minutes was terrifying, but to know that Dazai was right outside the door and would also die if he stayed; that was too much. She knew how stubborn he was, but she had to try to make him leave anyway. Anything to get him to save himself.

“Please,” she cried desperately, consumed with grief as sobs wracked through her body. “You can’t stay, Dazai, you have to GO!” Hearing her in so much pain was like a thousand knives to the heart, but despite everything, Dazai couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto his face. She really didn’t get it. “Go where, huh? There’s nowhere in this world I would go without you,” he spoke softly, shutting his eyes and letting out a small sigh. He seemed strangely content.

She continued to sob, choking on her breaths as the timer reached one minute. He was so stupid and selfless and wonderful- she couldn’t let him die. “Please…you can’t do this to me, you have to leave…you can’t stay,” she whimpered almost incoherently, barely able to yell anymore. Her strength was running out, her body exhausted from all of the mental turmoil. Still, she continued to strain against the chains wrapped tightly around her as if she could break them by sheer will. “Don’t be scared, Y/N,” he called to her, the smile still on his face. “I’m right here with you and I’m not leaving you. It’s gonna be okay.” Through the walls he could hear her voice break as she wailed in agony at his words, the sound blood-curdling.

Thirty seconds.

Dazai thought it ironic that this was the way he was going out; a tragic double suicide with his lover. It was almost funny. Almost. “I love you, darling. My sweet belladonna. Not even death can keep us apart,” he reassured her, opening his eyes and staring at the wall as if he could look straight through the metal and meet her gaze. His heart squeezed in his chest as she let out another horrible, strangled sob. “There- isn’t much time- left,” she gasped in between breaths, her whole body trembling. Why couldn’t he leave her? Why couldn’t he save himself? He was too important to the ADA, to the world, to die. The guilt was eating her alive.

Ten seconds.

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, and he was never more sure of his words. She let out one last piercing, guttural scream, pulling at the chains so hard her skin started to bleed. She thought she might faint from the agonizing anticipation as the clock counted down her last moments of life; their last moments. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut in defeat. He shook his head once again. She had nothing to be sorry for. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered one final time, placing his bloody hand against the door. Offering his comfort in their last seconds alive.

Three.

Two.

One.

Silence. A flash of white hot light. A horrible booming noise. Then, nothing.

The rest of the ADA halted in their battle at the sound of the explosion, staring at one another in horror. Smoke billowed out from one of the dingy tunnels, the familiar scent of flames filling the air. There was no way they had failed…right? The couldn’t have lost Y/N and Dazai; not when they had worked so hard to get out of the situation with everyone unharmed.

The sound of cackling laughter echoed through the underground base mere moments after the explosion, drawing their attention to a man emerging from the shadows. They immediately recognized him as the man from the video- the organization’s leader who had personally tormented Y/N.

“The great Dazai Osamu is dead,” he shrieked, his crazed laughter forcing him to double over. The rest of the organization’s thugs began to jeer and laugh along with him, celebrating their victory over the ADA’s elusive genius. Atsushi felt tears welling in his eyes, not just for the tragic and sudden loss of his brilliant mentor whom he deeply cared for, but for Y/N as well. Those pieces of shit didn’t even care that they had killed her too; to them she was just a means to an end. The sweet woman who had shown him nothing but kindness when he joined the ADA and brought so much joy into their lives…dead.

To his left, Kunikida was also fighting back angry tears, refusing to accept that his frustrating but brilliant partner had truly been killed by these incompetent fools. Kyoka and Kenji’s eyes were blown wide in shock while Tanizaki panted heavily, his mouth gaping. It seemed that none of them could actually comprehend that the pair were truly dead and gone.

“You detectives are nothing but a bunch of sentimental fools!” The man cackled, face red and eyes bulging. He looked insane. “I can’t believe your genius was lured and killed by such an easy trap. All it took was kidnapping that little bitch and blowing her up!” All of the ADA members tensed, looking visibly appalled by his cruel, demeaning words. Not only was this man completely unhinged, but he was outright mocking an innocent woman’s death.

It was sickening.

Just as the sinking feeling of dread began to settle in the pit of Atsushi’s stomach, a distant but familiar voice called out from the smoke to interrupt their little celebration. “Ah, you underestimate me…” the voice drawled, jerking everyone’s attention to the smoking tunnel. All of the color drained from the leader’s face as he watched three silhouettes slowly emerge from the haze. “No…that’s impossible!” He screeched, all confidence gone and white as a ghost as he pointed at the trio with a shaking finger. “I watched you die! I-I saw it with my own eyes!”

Dazai, Y/N, and Dr. Yosano appeared at the entrance of the tunnel as the smoke cleared, Y/N leaned against Dazai for support while Yosano brandished her weapon. Y/N looked slightly stunned and shaken up, but the two survivors otherwise seemed completely unharmed, no trace of any injuries on their bodies.

“You did,” Dazai flashed his signature shit-eating grin, eyes flicking over to their team’s resident doctor. “Thankfully we had a backup plan in case you tried anything dirty, like you did.”

Ranpo had luckily had the foresight to bring in Yosano from a different entry point and position her near the cell that Y/N was being held in once they figured out her location, in the event that things went wrong and the bomb went off. That way she was there to immediately patch them up with her ability once it detonated, making it so that the harm was only temporary. There had never been any real threat of death; as long as Yosano worked fast enough, that is.

“You were a fool to play with this woman’s life to get back at an enemy,” Yosano spat, pointing her cleaver at the now trembling man before her. “Those who do not properly respect life will receive the ultimate punishment!” The rest of the thugs glanced around uneasily, sensing a shift in the power dynamic of the fight. Suddenly their main target was alive and well, and the rest of the agency seemed even more bloodthirsty than before.

“I-Impossible! No!” He cried, slowly backing towards another tunnel. The ADA members adjusted their stances and stared him down with what could only be described as murderous glints in their eyes, making it clear that he wouldn’t be getting away without a gruesome fight. He gulped. “Take this as a lesson!” Dazai announced cheerfully, still smiling but now with a terrifyingly cold and emotionless look in his eyes.

“There are grave consequences for those who hurt the people I love. And you’ve stupidly chosen to hurt the person I love most.”

It was a blur after that, all hell breaking loose. Dazai quickly ordered Tanizaki to cloak Y/N with his ability and get her safely to the surface as fighting broke out all around them. She wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes told her that he just wanted to get her out of harm’s way for the time being and that’d he be back at her side as soon as he was done dealing with the room of pitiful men. She certainly didn’t want to stick around and see what he and the rest of the ADA had in store for them. He pressed one last comforting kiss to her forehead before sending her off to escape with the ginger detective, his fiercely protective gaze never once leaving her as she fled the scene.

Covering the two of them with Light Snow, Tanizaki grabbed Y/N by the wrist and rushed her out of the disgusting underground hideout, pulling her away from the violent fight that had broken out. He knew that it would only be a few minutes until the team was done putting those miserable scumbags in their place.

They eventually reached the entrance of the base after a few tense minutes of running through winding tunnels, finding Ranpo and a trusted driver from the agency waiting in a running car. Tanizaki carefully opened the backseat door for her and made sure she was safely in the car before stepping back, flashing a comforting smile. “I’m so happy to see that you’re safe, Y/N. Ranpo will take care of the rest and make sure you get back to the agency safely,” he quickly explained, nodding at the driver before closing the car door and giving her a small wave.

Although she was still shellshocked, she managed a small wave in return and and even smaller smile. “Thank you,” she mouthed as the car pulled away, grateful for his help in getting her out of that hellhole. She was happy to leave the horrible place behind.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ranpo greeted from the seat next to her, drawing her attention away from the now small spec that was Tanizaki. Seeing her old friend sitting next to her filled her with so much relief she could hardly breathe. She opened her mouth to thank him for everything, knowing that the elaborate rescue plan was his doing, but the words caught in her throat. Everything had happened so fast that she barely had any time to process it. The bomb going off, practically dying, being saved by Yosano, briefly reuniting with Dazai, escaping the underground labyrinth. She was so overwhelmed with emotion as she realized she was actually alive and safe. Dazai was alive and safe.

We survived…

but we almost didn’t.

She promptly bent over and threw up onto the floor of the car.

Ranpo shrank into the corner of his seat, looking wildly uncomfortable but biting back his usual snarky and tone-deaf remarks. She had been through a lot, and her body had to expel all of those suffocating emotions somehow. “I had a feeling you would do that,” he grimaced, but he nonetheless leaned over and gently pat her back in a small act of comfort. Coughing on bile, Y/N felt hot tears burning the back of her eyes at the detective’s kind gesture. Everyone at the agency had shown up to help her in one way or another, and it was staggering to see just how much they cared.

Even in this very vulnerable moment, Ranpo was offering his genuine support, something that was incredibly rare for him. She would have to buy him a big care package of his favorite snacks later to show her gratitude for all he had done for her.

Eventually the car arrived at the agency, the normally bustling streets of Yokohama quiet and deserted in the late hour. Y/N apologized profusely to the driver for the small mess in the car, thoroughly embarrassed even though she hadn’t been able to help it. He simply dismissed it with a wave of his hand and an understanding smile. “No problem whatsoever, miss. You just take it easy.”

With that, Ranpo carefully guided her into the safety of the agency, leading her upstairs with one arm draped over her shoulder. When the pair finally reached the office, Y/N practically collapsed into one of the couches in the lounge area, letting out a sigh and massaging her temples to try and soothe her pounding head. Being dehydrated and malnourished for nearly 24 hours wasn’t exactly helping her stress-induced headache that had quickly developed in the car ride over.

Once again, as if reading her mind, Ranpo disappeared for a moment before returning with a water bottle, a few snacks, medicine, and a blanket in his arms, placing them on the coffee table in front of her. It was like he knew everything she needed- and he probably did. “Rest up and take care of yourself,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I’m sure Dazai will be here soon to take you home, but in the meantime try to relax and get some food and water in you. You’ve had a long day.” She smiled gratefully, albeit a little tiredly, at the gesture. Yet another rare display of his care.

“Thank you, for everything,” she whispered, trying to convey just how sincerely she meant those words. She wouldn’t soon forget his help. He flashed her a small, lopsided grin before waving her off dramatically. “It was nothing for the world’s greatest detective!” He declared, pointing a finger into the air before turning on his heels and making his way back to his desk, munching on a snack of his own. Just like that, Y/N was alone.

She quietly opened one of the snacks Ranpo had provided her, washing down some pain-relief pills with the water after she’d eaten a few bites. When her nauseous stomach began to protest the food, she forced herself to stop. Although she was still incredibly hungry, she certainly didn’t want to end up with another mess to clean up. Shuddering at the thought, she wrapped herself up with the plush blanket and tried to calm her racing heart. Her mind was still reeling from everything. The constant thoughts of the traumatic events she had just undergone only made her headache and nausea worse by the minute, and her brain felt like it might explode.

She was exhausted.

If she could just clear her mind and close her eyes for a moment…

Without even realizing she had dozed off on the couch, she awoke some time later to the feeling of a slender hand cupping her cheek, stroking her jaw with delicate precision. She didn’t even have to open her eyes to know it was Dazai. “Wake up, my love,” his hushed voice cooed, immediately pulling her from her slumber. Slowly blinking her eyes open, she was met with his comforting smile, but his eyes were unimaginably sad. Her heart ached.

“Ready to go home?”

Nodding sleepily, Y/N slowly picked herself up from the couch, shrugging the blanket off her shoulders and neatly folding it up before placing it back on the coffee table. After gathering her bearings, she realized that some of the other agency members had also returned to the office, likely to fill out paperwork before heading home for the night. She felt a pang of guilt shoot through her as she realized they would have to do extra work because of her. If you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself kidnapped, they would all be home sleeping right now.

A dreadful thought suddenly crossed her mind. Would she have to fill out paperwork and recount what had happened to her? It seemed likely, as they kept track of nearly every incident like this. The very idea made another wave of nausea roll through her.

As if sensing her worry, Kunikida rounded the corner with a stack of papers in-hand, taking in her dead-tired appearance with a single glance. “Just so you know, we will need a statement on what happened eventually, Y/N, but I don’t want you to even think about it until you’re recovered and ready to talk,” he instructed, concern and sympathy evident in his expression despite his no-nonsense tone. He was truly glad to see her safe and back under the protection of the agency. Y/N nodded, relieved that she wouldn’t have to recount the traumatic events until she was ready. At the moment she couldn’t even imagine a time when she would ever feel ready.

Turning his attention to Dazai, the sympathetic look vanished from Kunikida’s face and morphed into one of general annoyance. “Don’t think that you’re getting out of doing the paperwork just because you almost died,” he barked, jabbing an accusing finger at his partner’s chest. “It’s no excuse to be lazy.”

Dazai placed a hand to his heart and looked aghast, as if the very insinuation of him trying to avoid paperwork was ridiculous. “Me? Getting out of paperwork? Really, Kunikida-kun, what do you take me for?” He gasped, earning a growl and a sharp smack to the head with a roll of papers.

Their antics miraculously drew out a soft chuckle from Y/N’s lips, but it was half-hearted at best. As enjoyable as Dazai and Kunikida’s banter was, her eyes still drooped with fatigue and her anxious mind longed to rest in the comfort of her own home. She just wanted this horrible day to be over with. Gaze dropping to Y/N’s face at the sound of her reserved amusement, Dazai quickly noted the weight of her exhaustion and took it as their cue to leave.

“I think it’s time for us to get home,” he announced, glancing back up at Kunikida and sharing a knowing look with him. The blond held his stare for a moment before sighing, giving a small nod before politely bidding the two a good night and moving on to pester Ranpo about doing his work.

Placing a hand on the small of her back, Dazai carefully led Y/N out of the agency and into the streets of Yokohama below, glancing at her every few minutes to make sure she was doing ok. She was quiet during the walk home, her expression blank and her eyelids heavy. He found himself wishing he could figure out what she was thinking. Normally he could read her like a book, always knowing exactly how she was feeling or what was troubling her. Now she just seemed numb. A dark part of his mind feared that she was distancing herself from him because their relationship had nearly gotten her killed.

Would she even want to be with him anymore? Would she leave him to heal the trauma he had caused her? He shuddered at the thought.

Eventually arriving at their destination, Y/N quickly realized that Dazai had led her back to his apartment instead of her own. That’s right. Mine was broken into, and no one’s been around to clean up the mess that was probably left behind. She was grateful for his thoughtfulness. There was no way she would’ve been able to keep her composure if she had walked into her home and seen the evidence of her capture.

Walking into the entryway after Dazai had unlocked the door, Y/N immediately wanted to cry as the warm, familiar scent of his apartment hit her. It just smelled like him, something she thought she’d lost mere hours ago. The familiarity of the space nearly brought tears to her eyes.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Noticing her distant, watery gaze, Dazai quickly swooped in to distract her, helping her slip out of her shoes and guiding her to the bedroom to change out of her clothes. Although Yosano had done away with all of the physical injuries on her body, she still felt dirty, the scent of mold and metal clinging to her shirt. It drew her back to that room and the horrible, agonizingly slow ticking of the bomb. The memories lingered in the back of her mind as she discarded her old clothes, slipping into a comfortable t-shirt and a soft pair of shorts that she kept in Dazai’s drawer for the nights when she slept over.

“Better?” Dazai questioned softly when she had finished changing, eyes searching hers almost frantically for any sign of discomfort. He wanted to help her in any way possible, but for once in his life, he didn’t know what to do. The day had taken a toll on him as well and he was struggling to maintain his calm facade. Staring deep into his eyes, she gave the slightest of nods and opened her mouth to reassure him, to tell him that she was ok now. She was home, she was safe thanks to him, she was with him- everything had turned out just fine. But for the second time that night, the words refused to come out.

Instead, she just stared in silence before collapsing into a sudden fit of sobs, knees buckling and sending her falling to the hardwood below. Panicked, Dazai scrambled to meet her at the floor, strong arms holding her steady while she attempted to muffle her pained cries with the palm of her hand. Her sudden tears had him terrified that he had done something wrong. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter, angel? Please, let me help-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before she threw herself into his arms, holding him tighter than she had ever held anyone.

Her desperation to feel him and be close to him now was due to the fact that their reunion in the underground base had been so short lived. Y/N was in too much shock, not understanding how she had gone from dying a gruesome death to perfectly fine in only a matter of seconds. She could barely even register Dazai’s arms wrapped around her in a bone crushing hug or the sweet encouragements he was whispering in her ear.

Dazai was used to Yosano’s incredible ability. Having been saved by it countless times, being revived by the dark-haired doctor was practically second nature to him. But Y/N was still reeling from the excruciating pain she had experienced moments ago that had just vanished. It was like it had tattooed itself under her skin, a painful memory of her near-death.

The shock of being revived clouded her mind as Dazai had clutched her body close, kissing her forehead and squeezing her tight. She couldn’t even enjoy the pure relief that normally would have filled her when she pieced together that she was alive and safe in her loving boyfriend’s arms. Before she could comprehend what was going on, he had already helped her off the ground and had begun to walk her down the hallway with Yosano, headed towards the main fight.

Now, on the floor of Dazai’s dark bedroom, her mind had finally registered exactly what had transpired mere hours ago. He sacrificed himself just so I wouldn’t be alone in my last moments. He stayed with me until the very end, and he was the first thing I saw after I was healed by Yosano. He means more to me than anyone ever has- and I almost got him killed.

Shushing her cries of despair, Dazai cradled her head to his chest, feeling tears building in his own eyes. He just wanted to take all of her pain away. “Shhh…it’s alright, darling, you’re safe,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her grip around him tighten even more. She was gasping for breath, practically hyperventilating. It seemed her distress was never ending. “Please, my love…please tell me what’s wrong…I want to help you,” he muttered, stroking her hair and pressing gentle kisses into the crown of her head. Her muffled cries only grew louder and he only felt more helpless.

Eventually, after a few minutes of his hushed reassurances and tight, comforting hold, she managed to catch her breath enough to speak. When she pulled away from his chest and finally looked up at him, her eyes held a sorrow so deep that it broke Dazai’s heart all over again. “I- I’m so sorry,” she rasped, sounding completely broken. “You almost died because of me. I hurt you.” Another watery sob escaped her throat before she hung her head and pressed a hand to her lips yet again to stifle her pained cries.

Her words left him in utter shock. He couldn’t imagine how she could possibly think any of this was on her. Not when the truth was the complete opposite. It was time for him to be honest about his feelings, no matter how terrifying it was. “Hey…will you look at me?” He questioned gently, tilting her chin upwards with his finger to guide her gaze back to his. The smallest of smiles graced his lips when she finally complied, glassy eyes locking on his own. “There you are. It hurts that you blame yourself at all, darling. Especially when it’s me you have to blame for all of this.” When her distraught expression morphed into one of confusion, his hands made their way to her own, squeezing them tight. She absentmindedly stroked her thumb along his wrist in a comforting gesture, urging him to explain.

“…I knew Yosano would be there the whole time we were trying to rescue you. I knew she was waiting for us in case things went wrong, and that she would heal us if the bomb went off,” he began, staring intently into her eyes as he spoke. “But listening to you in there, scared and alone, waiting for it to detonate, was horrible. It was the worst possible scenario that we tried so hard to avoid. And knowing that you would have to endure the god awful pain of the explosion even for a moment, and I could do nothing about it, made me sick. It was just another cruel reminder that I always end up hurting the people I care for.”

His sincere confession had stunned Y/N. Though she and her boyfriend were incredibly close, Dazai was a fairly private person who didn’t often air his deep insecurities. The fact that he was being so vulnerable in this moment told her just how genuine his words were, and it hurt like hell to hear. Before she could say anything to rebut his confession, he continued. “I just feel like…a curse to the people I love most. They’ll always be hurt or worse because of me. And it’s so hard to live with myself because of that.”

Eyes widening, Y/N shook her head in disbelief. She couldn’t even imagine where his horrible self-deprecating talk was coming from. “How could you even say that? You saved me. I’m only here and alive because of you and the agency.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle at her words, his gaze distant. “I failed you, my love. You were almost killed because of me.” He practically spat the word out, like he was disgusted with himself. His grip on her hands tightened.

“The whole reason those men took you in the first place was to get revenge on me. To force me to choose to live with the guilt of letting you die, or die alongside you. The fact that you had to be wrapped up in all that, traumatized and hurt and almost killed because of my enemies, my line of work…” he trailed off, his voice nearly breaking as his eyes begged her to understand. “No matter how careful I was and how much I tried to protect you, it meant nothing in the end.”

The guilt inside of him was all-consuming. Yes, they had saved her. Yes, they had made sure that the organization would never lay a finger on her or anyone else ever again. But what if something had gone wrong? What if they had been outsmarted, and Yosano hadn’t been waiting in the wings to heal them after the bomb went off? Y/N had been tortured, terrified, in pain because of him. To know that it was his fault that she had been scarred so deeply was his own personal hell.

In a way, the assholes who kidnapped her had won. It was Dazai’s penance, as their leader had called it- still living with the crushing guilt even after he had saved her. Hating himself over and over again for putting her in that position in the first place. Remembering her in the video, bruised and bloody and scared for her life. Constantly reliving her desperate cries for him to leave her in those final moments while he was utterly helpless to save her.

It was torture.

He just felt so stupid for being outsmarted by the lowly organization and allowing his precious lover to get hurt in the process.

“Dazai,” Y/N spoke sharply, effectively snapping him out of his spiral. She rarely called him Dazai unless she was being serious, and she couldn’t stand hearing him blame himself for one more second. “I won’t lie to you and say that today wasn’t one of the worst days of my life. The fear I felt, knowing I’d been taken from my home, having to count down the minutes to my death…” she paused, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head as if willing away the unpleasant memories. He patiently waited for her to come back to herself, giving her hands a comforting squeeze.

“…It’ll take me a long time to get over that,” she finally admitted after a moment. “But the worst part of it wasn’t being kidnapped, or hurt by those men, or waiting for the inevitable explosion. It was thinking that I was going to lose you too. All I could focus on in those last minutes was you behind that door, too stubborn to leave me. All I could think about was how much I loved you, and how much I wanted you to be selfish for once and save yourself.”

She watched as he blinked back tears, a mystified expression in his face. As if the very thought of someone worrying about him and his life was completely foreign. Wanting to make herself absolutely clear, she kept going, no matter how much it hurt to see him struggling to understand her love for him. “I could never blame you for what happened. Those men did this to us- they caused all this pain and hurt. Not you.”

Her words left him dumbfounded, to say the least. They managed to remind him of why he loved her as fiercely as he did- she was the good in his life. Even after such a traumatic experience, she was incapable of blaming him for what had happened. Her love and compassion for him despite the darkness he brought into their lives was eye opening, forcing him to realize that no matter how much he thought it untrue, he was capable of being loved.

And how lucky he was to be loved by her.

Unable to articulate his complicated feelings any other way, Dazai cupped her face and surged forward, pressing his lips into her own and kissing her with such genuine fervor that it left Y/N breathless. Although she was momentarily shocked by his sudden show of affection, it quickly wore off as she melted into him. This was the first time they had truly kissed since reuniting, and they were each aching to communicate just how much they loved one another. How close they were to losing their other half; the person that completely them.

Her hands raked through his brown curls almost erratically, desperate to compensate for those long, torturous hours spent away from him. He seemed equally if not more hungry for her touch, like he was trying to prove to himself that she was really there with him after their near death experience. His slender fingers glided across her body and gripped her closer to him, nearly feral in his pursuit to feel every inch of her. She tugged at the hair near the base of his head and elicited a low, rumbling moan in return.

“My beautiful girl,” he rasped as he briefly pulled away, eyes roaming over her body with a look of complete infatuation. She was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen—and he’d almost lost her. His arm snaked around her waist to tug her impossibly closer, practically pulling her into his lap. She didn’t mind.

He continued to plant kisses all over her face, her hair, her jaw- anywhere he could reach. His lips ghosted over every inch of skin that had previously been covered in blood or bruises, almost as though he had memorized the exact locations of all her injuries just from watching the video hours ago. Knowing Dazai, he probably had committed all of her injuries to memory.

In between kisses, he muttered gentle praises and affections into her ear, all of which made her face flush a deep red. She would never tire of the way his whispered adorations made her heart race and the feeling of his soft lips against her skin. “My darling. My sweet belladonna. You’re everything to me. Everything,” he breathed, kissing the tip of her nose. “Words cannot even describe how much you mean to me. I’m nothing without you.”

Y/N rolled her head back as his lips trailed up her neck and neared her jawline, sucking in a sharp breath when his hands moved into her hair and his grip tightened. His kisses were becoming more passionate, more anxious to prove to her how grateful he was that she was finally back in his arms. That he would never let anyone lay a hand on her again. She allowed his love the wash over her, happily reciprocating when his lips finally captured her own once again.

He tasted like salty tears and home.

Eventually breaking away from one another to catch their breath, Y/N rested her forehead against Dazai’s and let out a shaky sigh, finally letting herself feel safe after what had felt like an eternity of fear and unease. Just being in his presence was enough to help alleviate some of crushing panic she had felt just hours ago.

“Thank you for being with me. For always protecting me, even when you think you’re not. And for never leaving me behind,” she whispered, glancing up into his big brown eyes that were mere inches away from her own. Although the thought of him almost dying with her in the explosion filled her entire being with dread, his determination to stay with her and offer her comfort until the very end meant more to her than she could explain.

“I wouldn’t dream of abandoning you. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life protecting you and making sure something like this never happens again,” he assured her with nothing but sincerity in his soothing voice, taking her hands and gently brushing his lips over her knuckles. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gesture. “You are the most wonderful thing in my life. My reason for living at all. It’s hard to wrap my head around what I’ve possibly done to deserve you, but I promise I’ll do everything within my power to cherish you and keep you safe as long as I live.”

Y/N felt herself genuinely smiling for the first time in hours at her lover’s words. She was filled with such utter relief to be back in the safety of his arms. To be home, alive, and in love despite it all. Her heart felt like it would burst from all the love it held for Dazai Osamu.

“I love you,” she breathed, eyes meeting gentle brown once again. She was desperate for him to understand just how much she meant those words. To convey how safe he made her feel, and how much his presence comforted her. That no matter the danger she was in, she knew he would always be there for her.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied effortlessly, a part of him melting at the sight of her smile. He would burn the world just to keep that beautiful expression on her face. He made a silent vow to himself in that moment— no matter what it took, he would never lose her again.

The two eventually ended up in Dazai’s bed, practically clinging to one another as they shifted into a comfortable position. There would be no such thing as personal space that night. Y/N, who had been worried that the horrors she had faced would keep her exhausted body awake through the night, was pleasantly surprised to find that she was calm and content in Dazai’s embrace, already dozing off. He chuckled softly as her whole body relaxed against him.

“Sleep tight, my love. I’ve got you,” he mumbled into her hair, his warm breath fanning across her neck. She shivered and nuzzled herself further into his embrace, a soft smile on her face. No harm would come to her so long as she was in his arms.

Though they were both still riddled with guilt and turbulent emotions from the terrible night, they silently agreed to let go of their baggage for the time being and just appreciate one another, falling asleep in each other’s embrace.

Safe and home at last.

………………………………………………………………………………….

☆ note: yeahhhh dazai fic! i literally haven’t written in ages but i’ve been knee-deep in my bungo stray dogs era and dazai is taking up most of my brain capacity at the moment. this feels both rushed and wayyyy too long at the same time lol, i just had that feral writing energy and had to get it off my chest as soon as possible. it might be a mess but i’m exhausted and i’ve reread it too many times to catch all my mistakes lmaooo whatever. thanks so much for reading :)

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me-and-your-husband · 1 year

Text

if you lie down with me || e.w.

summary: there's one thing you and ellie don't have in common: immunity.

warnings: not beta read, swearing, blood, canon typical violence, death by suicide, ellie has concerning ideations, smut, oral, scissoring, multiple orgasms, angst!, crying during sex, arguing, probably more

word count: 6k

a/n: i know, i'm sorry for using this photo 😭 actually i'm sorry i wrote this entire thing

The end never feels like the end, does it? When you wake in the morning, the air is as fresh as the day before and the sun streams through the window at the same angle. You smile fondly at the incessant banging on your door, and at her urging tone when she tells you to get out of bed. “We have patrol,” she says, like she's said a thousand times before. What makes today any different?

The gravel road feels the same as it crunches under your boots as she leads you to the gate. Her auburn hair shines the same in the light, the same way you've admired since you were fourteen and she had just settled in Jackson.

You were helping out in the library, arms full of books stacked above your head. You struggled trying to keep them up with one hand and shelve them with the other. She noticed you from the corner, where she sat with a pile of beaten comics and a Walkman. “Need some help?” she asked, standing up from her spot on the ground. She took half the books from your pile and put them wherever you told her. After, when you asked her about the comics she was reading, her face lit up and she knew that you'd be a part of her life until death. Finally, someone was interested in knowing her.

The friendly faces of the watchmen at the gate were the same as they were yesterday, a week ago, a month ago, a year. They waved at you and wished you good luck as you mounted your horse and rode alongside Ellie onto the trail. The way she shoved her pistol in her back pocket and slung her bow over her shoulders was always the same. The way your horse galloped evenly alongside Shimmer did not deviate from the norm.

When she spoke up, her words were usual.

“Look, babe. A hummingbird,” she said with glee, pointing to the frosty trees.

You smiled at her excitement. “Poor thing, it's so cold out.”

“Don't you remember?”

“Of course I remember, El,” you laughed. “How could I forget?”

How could you forget? It was a humid summer afternoon, shortly after Ellie had turned sixteen. You had snuck out of Jackson to explore a creek you had found the day prior on group patrol. You so badly wanted to show Ellie, to share every part of you with her. You didn't know what to call it, but you assumed it was just because you were really good friends.

The soft rush of the water and the gentle breeze across your skin contrasted to the beating sun plastering your hair to your skin. You and Ellie sat with your backs against a wide oak, watching minnows skip through the water.

“Do you think animals have feelings? Like us?” Ellie thought out loud.

You hummed, “I do, but not as complicated as ours.”

She nodded in agreement before her eyes drifted to the source of a new sound, a gentle humming. She saw the gentle bird sucking nectar from a flower, tapping your shoulder gently and pointing.

“Look, a hummingbird,” she whispered.

“Woah!” You beamed, “I’ve only seen them in those nature books in the library. That's so cool. Did you know the sound actually comes from its wings?”

As you watched the hummingbird, she watched you. “It’s really pretty.”

You agreed. She said your name, but looked away from you.

“Yeah?”

“I think I like girls.”

You let the words settle in the air.

“I think I do too.”

It was the first indication that something else could happen between you and her, something less platonic than you would've thought. After that, neither of you said anything about it, confident in the fact that something more could exist in the spaces between.

It was the same confidence you had today as you followed her through the Wyoming woods, putting your trust in her. You took the same path almost every time you went out on patrol, knowing your way around, knowing the landmarks of the area. You knew you were getting close to the danger zone when you saw your favourite tree, the one you and Ellie would lean against by the creek, telling each other secrets into the night, crossing your heart to never tell another soul. Each of you knew that the other’s soul was the only one that mattered, anyways.

It was just over a year ago that you’d both carved your initials into that tree, reminders of that early morning on patrol bringing a smile to your face.

You had stopped for a moment to take a short break against the tree, letting your horses get some rest. Ellie leaned up against the tree as you pet Shimmer. The sun shone despite the snow and the brisk weather, illuminating your features gently. She admired the curve of your lips and the shape of your eyes, imagining her fingers tracing your skin under lamplight late at night. You looked up at her when your name tumbled from her lips.

“Yeah?” You said, continuing to pet Shimmer.

“I like you.”

The air stilled and your hand faltered, breath hitching. But what if she didn’t mean it like that?

You forced a laugh. “Well, I’d hope so. We’ve been friends for how long?”

“No, I…” she struggled for the right words. “I want to be more than friends. I like you. Like…romantically. And stuff.”

She played with her fingers, shuffling her feet back and forth in the snow, not meeting your gaze.

“Ellie, look at me. Please,” you whispered. She raised her eyes to yours, but still kept her head low, not bringing it up until your hand cupped her jaw. She moved her hand on top of yours, trapping it there, wondering if it was just a dream.

She closed her eyes tight when she saw you leaning in, praying that you weren't messing with her. When she finally felt your lips ghosting across hers, she leaned into you. Your touch was fire on her skin, leaving a red blush in its wake. She pressed your mouth to hers hungrily, never wanting this to end.

“I like you too,” you mumbled against her lips.

When you finally broke for air, chests heaving, you were both beaming. Ellie nervously reached into her pocket for her pocket knife, flicking it open. She held the blade against the bark of the tree, grabbing our hand and putting it on the hilt, sliding hers over top of it.

She guided your hand as you carved your initials into the tree, trapping them inside of a heart. It was cliche, but it meant everything to you.

It was the same tree that, a year later, you and Ellie passed on almost every patrol. The same tree that symbolized your everlasting love for each other. The same tree that stood since the dawn of your and Ellie’s time.

You rode casually in comfortable silence until you got to the watchtower, negative memories plaguing both you and Ellie. The floorboards still held the echoes of your voices yelling, still soaked in your tears.

Four months ago, when the rabbits were still brown and the path was clear of snow, you'd come through this watchtower to find two clickers. It caught you both off guard, as Jesse and Dina had just cleared it as safe the day before.

Ellie, always being the hero, snuck up behind one, taking it out easily, and lunged at the other. The second one, however, pinned her to the ground, and she held it by the neck, its arms clawing hers.

The sound of your pistol rang out as the body slumped on top of Ellie. She rolled it off and got up from the ground, chest heaving.

“Well,” she said, brushing dirt from her jeans, “that was pretty close. Thanks.”

When you didn't respond, she turned to see you standing with your pistol still in both hands, brows furrowed as you watched the dead body of the clicker intently. She called your name.

“What is it?”

You shook your head.

“Come on, tell me-”

“Every fucking time, Ellie,” you said, shoving your pistol back in your pocket and turning away from her. “Why do you have to run head-first into danger like that every time?”

She didn't say anything, gaze on your back as she watched you turn back around.

“What would I have done if you had gotten bit?” You said, voice a little watery. “Say something.”

She stumbled over her words, not knowing what to say. “I don't try to, you know, it’s just…” she sighed.

“You know, Ellie, sometimes I think that I value your life more than you do.”

The words hung in the air between you two, both of you knowing that you were right. Knowing that she could've been more, done so much more, saved so many people. But she was stripped of that. So what kind of meaning could she give to her life? What did she really have to live for? Before Joel, she never really had someone she knew would care if she died. Now she had you, and she didn't know how her recklessness would affect you. Now she did.

“Okay, you're right. I’m too reckless. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll start thinking before I react,” she said, voice softening.

You huffed, “I just worry about you, El. I don't know what I’d do without you.”

She hugged you tight, letting you nuzzle into her chest. She knew how you felt. Before you, she was hopeless. She didn't see a point in doing anything if her life couldn't be used by someone. What was it all for? Everything she'd struggled through? All she'd suffered?

Now she knew that she was forced to experience it all so that she could end up with you. And she’d do it a million times over.

She breathed your name. “I need to tell you something.”

You pulled away from her, “Well that's one way to start a conversation.”

She laughed nervously. “No, it's nothing bad. It's just…it might be hard to swallow.”

She gestured at an old, ratty chair. You sat and watched her intently.

She took a deep breath, drawing it into her lungs and releasing it. “Do you remember why I got my tattoo?”

“Yeah, to cover up that chemical burn.”

“I lied,” she said. “That's not why I got the tattoo.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, silently begging her to go on.

“When I was fourteen, I was bitten. On my arm.”

You sat back in your chair.

“I waited and waited for my mind to go, for my body to go, for anything to happen, but it never did. So…I’m immune, or whatever,” she said, searching for a reaction.

Seconds of silence passed. It was shattered with a laugh.

“That's a good one, Ellie. Real funny.”

“It’s true! Ask Joel. Tommy. Maria. They're the only ones who know…”

“And you expect me to believe this?”

“Just trust me. Please. It's all I ask, is for you to trust my word. Why would I lie to you about this?” She pleaded.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because Joel thinks it's dangerous for people to know. That's how we met, you know. He was hired to get me to the fireflies…they were going to make a cure,” she said, voice trailing off towards the end.

“It didn't work, I take it?”

She shook her head. “Joel says they didn't need me.” Joel says.

“Okay,” you said, making her look up at you. “I believe you. But that doesn't mean I’m fine with you running head-first into infected like that again. Just because you're…immune, doesn't mean you can't be torn apart. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said, crouching in front of you and putting her hands on your thighs. “God, I love you.”

You cleared out the watchtower and made your way back to the path. This part was one of your favourites, winding through the mountains. Your horses trotted casually beside each other.

“Okay, okay, here's one: What do you say when a chef dies?”

“Oh god, I don't know?”

“He pasta-way!” She said, giggling before she could even say the answer.

Her laughter was contagious, sending it bubbling through your chest. “That's so bad that it's good.”

“Come on, just admit that I’m a top-notch comedian. If the world wouldn't have ended, I’d’ve been up there with Dave Chapelle.”

“Who’s Dave Chapelle?”

“I don't actually know. Some old ass comedian Joel told me about.”

You both laughed, smiles painted across your faces. However, the giggles subsided as you felt your horse start to shake slightly.

“Woah, Shimmer, you okay girl?” Ellie said, patting her side.

“Beau’s shaking too.”

“Maybe they’ve got…I don't know, a cold or something? Can horses even get colds?” You shrugged. “Maybe we should let them rest for a bit.”

You agreed, dismounting your horse and planting your feet on the ground. The shaking underneath you didn’t stop. You looked at Ellie, who looked at the mountain behind you. She yelled your name as you looked behind you.

A loud, grating noise sounded as you watched the earth of the mountain loosen from its side, rocks and boulders tumbling from it, falling in your direction.

You hurriedly mounted your horses again, kicking their ribs to get them to go. You rode as fast as you could, attempting to beat the oncoming landslide. You'd never seen one before, only heard stories and read of them in books. You were about three quarters of the way through the mountain range when the land detached from the mountain and began to slide.

“Go, go, go!” You yelled, Ellie a few feet ahead of you as her horse was younger than Beau. She glanced behind her every few seconds to make sure you were still there.

The rocks falling created a settlement of dust around you, making it increasingly harder to breathe. You finally saw the green clearing outside of the mountain range. Almost there.

The grating noise died, and you peered behind you to see the path completely covered in rubble. A few boulders still tumbled from the mountain, or whatever was left of it.

“Watch out!” Ellie yelled. You looked to your right, seeing a massive boulder rolling down the mountain, coming right for you.

You acted before you could think, much like Ellie, and propelled yourself forward off your horse as the boulder hit Beau and rolled atop of his body. You landed on the ground near Ellie, propping yourself up on your elbows to gawk at the sight.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, running to Beau. His body was mangled, bones sticking out of the skin and blood painting the grass. You felt like vomiting.

Ellie dismounted her horse, still shaking from the adrenaline, and put her hands on your shoulders, attempting to get you standing.

“Wait,” you said, leaning back down, planting a teary kiss on Beau's muzzle.

You stood, holding her tight. “Let's never come through here again.”

“Don't think we can, sweetheart,” she said, looking back at the obstruction. “Come on, we've gotta find a new way back home.”

She was about to help you mount Shimmer when you both froze in your tracks. A low, husky groan rung out through the air, scaring Shimmer. She ran into the clearing out of fright.

“Shit,” Ellie breathed.

“We’ll find her later. Come on, we have to go. It's either a bloater or a shambler, and I don't really want to stick around to find out.”

You turned to leave when the ground shook again. You turned around, looking back at the mountain. It wasn't the mountain shaking this time. Spewing through the hole the landslide left like spiders were hundreds—if not thousands—of infected. Clickers, runners, stalkers, bloaters, shamblers. Everything.

There was no way you were making it out of this unless you legged it now.

In unison, you and Ellie started sprinting to your last checkpoint— the old cabin. You ran faster than you ever had before, the sounds of hungry infected hot on your heels. You couldn't feel your legs, the burning in your flesh too intense. When the cabin finally came into view, you couldn't even allow yourself a breath of relief. You and Ellie had your guns out, shooting behind you as you ran, picking off as many infected as you could. When you were close enough to the cabin, the idea hit you. You knew that the creaky boards of the cabin wouldn't hold that many infected off. You knew what you had to do.

“Ellie, cover me!” You yelled as you slung your backpack off your shoulder and grabbed what you'd need. You grabbed an old bottle of whiskey you and Ellie had found at the watchtower and a rag. Stuffing the rag in the bottle, you lit it with your lighter.

In the ten seconds it took you to do this, the infected crept closer and closer to you. Ellie tried picking off as many as she could, keeping them away from you. Until her magazine ran out.

You threw the molotov in front of the hoard of infected. It exploded, creating a wall of fire between you and your death.

Until a single clicker went at you from the side. The light of the fire flickered in your irises and cast an orange glow across your face, and you didn't even hear it creeping up amidst the roar of the flames. You didn't even hear Ellie yell your name.

It tackled you to the ground before you could even turn your head all the way, talons scratching your arms and legs, sinking into your stomach. Its jaw was inches away from your neck, begging to gnaw on your jugular. In the struggle for your life, you couldn't even tell where you were and weren't hurt, what was bleeding and what wasn't.

Blood gushed into your hair and eyes as you watched Ellie slice its head clean off with her pocketknife. The same one you'd carved your initials into that old oak with.

Something inside of you rattled knowing that something could be used so innocently and yet so dangerously.

Ellie picked you up from the ground and helped you limp into the cabin, reeds of grass tickling your wounds. When you entered, you stood in the centre of the room as she barricaded the entrances.

“There,” she said, returning to you. You were both coming off adrenaline, suddenly feeling the ache in your bones to an indescribable extent.

You put your hands on your knees and leaned on them, heaving a little. “Ellie. We were so close.”

She just nodded in understanding. Her eyes survey you from top to bottom. You had a scratch across your cheek, a few minor lacerations across your arms and chest, and a few on your legs. She couldn't see any bites.

You brought your right arm up to run it shakily through your hair. That's when she saw it, brutal and bloody, painted into your skin like a brand. One that would decide your fate. Except that it had already been decided.

The sight of the bite on your forearm turned her stomach. She blinked over and over again, hoping that she was seeing wrong. Maybe she was still coming off of adrenaline. “Your arm…” she breathed.

“What?” You asked, confused. You looked over your left, then your right, and…oh. “Oh.”

The silence was deafening. It wasn't like you'd been badly injured, still with a sliver of possibility for recovery. No, this bite sealed your fate.

In the next day, you were going to become something Ellie had to detest. Something she had to kill.

You felt the bile rise in your throat just in time to grab a decayed flower pot. You choked out everything in your stomach and more.

Ellie grabbed her stomach as she felt her body start to shake, that feeling creeping up her spine again. Her breath felt like it was being siphoned out of her. She needed air, but her lungs would not take any in. She hyperventilated as she threw herself back against the wall, legs giving out.

A sweat broke out across her body, knowing that she's losing you tonight.

Her mind shoved memories into her vision that she swore to never bring up again.

“There're a million ways we should've died before today. And a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But we fight…for every second we get to spend with each other. Whether it's two minutes…or two days. We don't give that up.”

She remembers the small, impossible slice of hope in Riley’s eyes, one that she knew was futile. Riley was her first love. She thought they were both going to die. She felt…horrible. You would be her last love, though she knew only you were fated to die. She knew she would die too.

Your voice calling her name broke her out of her fit. One look at you wiping your face and shaking was enough to make her want to break something, anything.

“Ellie,” you called. She stood and began pacing, running her hands over her face. “Ellie, stop it.”

“There's gotta be…there has to…we need…” she babbled, still pacing. An idea clicked, “give me your arm.”

You held out your shaking arm to your lover, expecting her to inspect the area. Instead, she took out her pocket knife and pressed the blade into her hand without any hesitation.

“Ellie! What the fuck?!” You said, trying to stop her hand from bleeding.

“Give me your arm,” she said firmly, a major contrast from before. When you hesitated, her hard gaze met yours. Her eyes softened when she saw the fear in your eyes. “Please,” she whispered.

You gave her your arm and let her rub her blood into the bite.

She took your arm and rubbed the blood into the bite knowing it wouldn’t work.

It wouldn't work on you.

She knew that.

She tried anyway.

As she massaged the blood as deep into the wound as she could get, all she could think about was that she would've been able to save you if they made the cure. Her life would've had meaning, so much meaning. She would've been able to cure you from this. But she was helpless, cursed to watch you suffer.

“Ellie,” you said, putting your hand atop hers to get her to stop and look at you. She could see in your eyes that you just needed to be close to her in that moment. She needed it too, needed to be impossibly closer as to grip into you forever.

She buried her head into your neck and you did the same, holding your breath. For if you breathed, time would pass. If time passed, you'd be gone.

You don't know how long you held each other like that, but it was long enough that your legs nearly collapsed with exhaustion. You were the first to speak.

“I need you to promise me something,” you whispered.

Ellie knew what you were going to say before the words left your mouth.

“No-” she began pulling away from you, but you squeezed her tighter.

“When it starts to happen…when I can feel it, I’m going to take my gun-”

“Stop it-”

“-and I’m going to go outside. You’ll know it's over-”

“-Stop-”

“-when you hear it. Just promise me you won't look.”

“Stop, please,” she begs, tears brimming in her eyes again. She takes a step back from you and turns around.

“Promise me.”

The words get caught in her throat. Her lip trembles. “Okay.”

Outside, rain starts to fall softly, tapping against the rotting wood of the cabin.

She breaks the new silence. “I should've been there. I should've taken my rifle out, anything-”

“El, it's not your fault. Look at me,” you say. She looks at you over her shoulder. You nearly crumble at her red eyes and wet cheeks. “Never blame yourself. You hear me?”

She just squeezes her eyes shut, willing for this to all go away.

You walk to her, putting your hands on her shoulders and leaning your forehead against her back. You tried not to look at the bite.

“Ellie.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you give me one last good night?”

The soft pattering of the rain against the wood, trickling off the roof and into the ground.

“Please?”

She says nothing, instead turning around and gently capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bloodied hands find her wet cheeks, noting that the tears haven't stopped.

Ellie wanted to give you everything you wanted and more, and she had sworn she would from the moment she met you. If this was the last thing you ever asked from her, she would give it to you.

But it was so unbelievably hard knowing that this time would be your last.

She pushed you back against the wall, nearly devouring you. The salty mix of your tears and hers slipped into the kiss, but you didn't care. She moved her hand down to cup you where you wanted her.

You bucked your hips into the friction, already needing her. You began to undo your belt, but Ellie’s hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” She said, voice gravelly.

“Yes, El,” you said. “I don't know where I’ll be tomorrow, or…what I’ll be,” she let out a shaky breath, “but I know I want to be with you right now.”

She sniffled and nodded, getting on her knees to take your belt off. She threw it to the side, unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down along with your panties. You opened your legs wider for her.

She ran two fingers through your slit before sinking one into your hole, tongue giving kitten licks to your folds.

You could tell that she wasn't going to be as vocal as usual.

You couldn't really blame her.

You whimpered as she added another finger, pumping them in and out of you, filling the air with obscene sounds. She lapped at your cunt, trying her hardest to give you what you want.

“Ellie, don't stop,” you moaned, whimpering when she used her other arm to hold your hips down against the wall. “Almost there.”

You could feel the coil tightening inside if you quickly, your climax coming in record time. You thought for a moment that it was because of how sensitive you were in this moment.

You moaned wantonly and grabbed her hair as you came, her tongue working on your clit and her fingers scissoring you open.

You expected her to stop, but she kept going. In fact, she added a third finger.

You heard her moan into your pussy, looking down to find her grinding into the floor, a wet spot forming on her jeans. She was so messy, your juices coating her face, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair, rutting into nothing and moaning into your cunt.

When the fabric of her jeans caught her clit just right, she took her mouth of your pussy, replacing it with her thumb instead, and leaned her forehead against your stomach. You came with her from the sensitivity, both of your moans filling the air, pleading for more.

When she laid you down on a thin blanket from her backpack and undressed both of you, you noted the scared look in her eyes. The way she looked at you, drinking you in, knowing this would be your last time together. Some part of you wished that neither of you knew about the bite, that you didn't have to treat this so differently. That you could enjoy it. Enjoy your last moments together.

She threw her leg over yours, kissing you messily, yet softly, as she ground into you, folds slotting against each other. You both moaned each time your clits touched.

As she grew closer to her climax, she buried her face into your neck. You tried to ignore the feeling of her tears trickling down and pooling at your nape.

You came together. You moaned, but she cried out, more guttural than you'd ever heard from her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you—!” she cried into your neck as she came.

When you slowed down, she held you like that without words.

“I love you too, Ellie,” you whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the rain.

You held each other as the sun set, through the night, and through the rain.

The golden rays of the sun shone through the cracks in the walls and shudders, dancing across her bare body pressed into your side. Hours ago, her body had stopped shaking and her tears stopped spilling onto your chest, your hands running patterns across her skin lulling her into an exhausted sleep.

Your eyes had never closed, however. You knew you wanted to be awake to feel it happening, to know when you were losing control over your body. For Ellie’s sake.

The rain had stopped and the clouds were cleared. Birds sang outside and all the animals went about their day. You thought it strange that the world would continue on without you, that people will age and new ones will be born, that people will die and people will forget about you in time. Your impermanence had never struck you as hard as it did now.

You felt the twitching in your feet first, unnoticeable at first, but is it crawled up your limbs, you knew it was happening. It happened over three or four hours, and once you felt your neck jerk the first time, you knew.

Your blood didn't feel like your own anymore, like someone exsanguinated it and replaced it with jelly, slowing you down. Your vision wasn't gone, but you couldn't focus it on anything. It constantly sounded like you were underwater, drowning, gasping for air to no avail.

Your eyes hardly left the woman in your arms, clinging to you even in sleep. You know she'd curse herself for falling asleep, but you were thankful for it. You were thankful that you could press a tearful kiss to her forehead before gently escaping her grasp, muffling your sobs behind your hand. You threw your shirt and jeans on quietly, dizzy, slipping your shoes on. Your world spun, your lungs burned, your head throbbed.

You picked up your pistol, watching Ellie stir slightly in her sleep, creamy skin illuminated in the sun, her freckled face creased slightly with worry, even in sleep. You put the gun in your pocket.

You tried, as silently as you could, to move the barricade from the door. You were thankful that she was a heavy sleeper.

You were thankful that you didn't have to see the despair in her eyes when you said a forceful goodbye, thankful that you didn't have to convince her to let you go, thankful that your last memory of her was this, thankful that her last memory of you was bliss.

Through your sobs, you squeezed through the door and shut it behind you, leaning your head against it, willing for this all to be a nightmare. It wasn't, because you started to feel something else take over your will.

Before you could lose it completely, you forced yourself into a dense brush of greenery, somewhere you hoped she wouldn't look.

You panted, sweating, trembling, as you took the pistol out of your pocket. It shook with your hand as you held it to your temple, bright eyes taking in all of the world that you could before it was gone.

You squeezed them tightly, willing yourself to stop shaking. You conjured the image of your lover in your mind, her auburn hair, milky skin, pretty green eyes, and those familiar freckles. How could you ever forget her?

You took a breath in, and breathed out: “I love you.”

Ellie sat up in terror when she heard the sound of a single gunshot ring through the air, seeping in through the cracks of the window and underneath the door. It took her a moment to process what it was, reaching for her pistol next to her discarded clothes. When her fingertips brushed the gun, it settled in. She craned her head to look beside her, half expecting you to still be asleep.

When she remembered what the sound of the gunshot meant, what you had made her promise, her lungs collapsed and she couldn't take any air in. Tears spilled from her eyes as she heaved, clawing at her chest for any relief. It didn't come.

She knew it never would.

When Joel got word that you and Ellie still hadn't returned from patrol, he worried that you'd gotten stuck in the landslide. He pleaded with Tommy and Jesse to go out with him to search, knowing he wouldn't be at peace without knowing what happened.

When the two agreed, they set off on horses to clear all of the checkpoints. It took an extra day to get around the mountain range that was blocked off by rubble.

When they only had one more checkpoint to clear, Joel got increasingly worried. If you weren't here, where were you?

When the three men got to the cabin, they held their breath as they dismounted their horses. Joel tried pushing the door open, but the barricade stopped him. It took the three of them to open the door, pushing the barricade out of the way.

The open door shed light on the figure against the back wall covered in a thin blanket, trembling. Joel let out the breath he was holding in when he saw Ellie. She was clutching your backpack to her chest, trying to keep any remaining part of you alive, hers.

She had hardly noticed Joel pick her up and carry her to his horse, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to see the world without you in it.

“Ellie,” Joel’s gruff voice intruded her thoughts, “where is she?”

Ellie’s words failed her. All she could do was point to her forearm, to the bite that only Joel and Tommy knew hid underneath the tattoo.

She doesn't remember what happened after that.

It was warmer now, the flowers blossoming and the green coming back to Jackson’s landscape. Ellie sat facing your headstone, wishing you could've seen it. Wishing she could've shown it to you.

“It’s summer now,” she began. “We started planting these new flowers in your garden…Joel thinks you would've liked them. I think so too. They're really colourful…you know.”

She hesitated.

“Sometimes I wonder if you can hear me. Or if I’m just talking to myself like a crazy person. Joel says it's good for me. I don't know if I believe him.”

She played with her hands, tracing her tattoo.

“I wish you were still here,” she whispered. Her eyes drifted over all the flowers left by your grave from all the people who loved you.

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched a pretty red hummingbird land on your grave, searching for pollen in the flowers.

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