#his story is slightly the same but with a good ending and skull fucking hates him

[smokbeast]

and you should never try to be

#This was meant to be a silly chibi thing #but I had sad fang and skull thoughts #for context fang is not skull he is a pacifist route horror sans #his story is slightly the same but with a good ending and skull fucking hates him #But yeah.. silly fellers #art #my art #undertale au #bad sanses #My ocs #Fang #horror sans #fang horror sans #undertale fanart #undertale #But fang is a lil different something is just a bit off about he :) #And in my story nightmare really has interest in him for it

[in-ky]

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster  and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith #au!negan #the walking dead #twd smut #twd negan

[damselofblueroses]

The Name of the Rose, Chapter 3

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo made a mistake on his delicate relationship with the reader, then he could not find a way of apologizing. Reader made his life harder than he could imagine. They accepted that they mutually have some feelings however they could not name them. Catastrophy begins with Kyungsoo’s acceptance of reader’s interesting and unexpected offer.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Series Masterlist

Prettier than Roses

Perhaps Kyungsoo was still punishing himself even after all this time, whether he was aware of his regrets or not. But he was punishing himself, for not being vocal about his feelings for you. He burned for you, he followed you just as a bloody puppy dog tail, but he always kept his heart’s desires in his chest.

He was resisting the urge of confessing, the dire need of being more than a friend for you as he was performing all roles of a friend, but God, he hated his role in your life. Even though he strongly believed that he did not have a chance with you, not even in the slightest, not after he played his role very well, more than he wanted and resulted in being your very dear and close friend. A friend, but nothing more nothing less. He hated so much, if he could, he would change everything in the blink of an eye.

He knew that he had to take you back to the safety of your room immediately. Before he was going to lose his shit. Before he was going to make a mistake. Before he was going to fuck the things up so bad. He was determined to take the cab and keeping you away from himself.

He did not want any distraction, shit he fucking dreamed of ripping that bloody dress off you during the dinner, he did not wish anything but managing to lock himself inside of his room before doing something stupid.

His clenched his fists in order to focus on a different thing. When he saw the cab coming to your direction, he was on the verge of praying.

However, when he turned to you, he just lost his shit.

You were looking at him with you big-doe eyes, a pout on your lips. The city lights were painting you with a dim yellow shine, multiplying your summer rose vibe. To Kyungsoo’s dismay, the wind carried your floral fragrance to him.

He remembered what you asked him.

He remembered what you requested.

Kyungsoo would do it right, he would touch you rightly and correctly, goddamn, he was fucking dreamed of how he could touch you since years. He was not better than the men you went out with, he was fantasizing a lot about you, he felt bad since he did not have your permission, fucking hell if he would ask your permission, but at the same time he knew that he was just helpless when those thoughts about you popped up in his imagination.

Unfortunately, all those dreams were so vivid.

You were like an island to him. A place for self-isolation, a place of happy utopias, a place of loneliness, a place of joy and fruitful ways of living, a place of exile and a place of connection. You were his island, his harbour and he needed to make you his, only his.

Since the day you were asleep on his shoulder in the bloody library, Kyungsoo wanted nothing but you.

Since the day you jumped in front of Kyungsoo out of nowhere with your fucking Cheshire cat grin, Kyungsoo only wished for being able to stick to you till the end. He did not care if he was torturing himself by dreaming of you when he knew he could not have you.

Your scent was too good.

Kyungsoo did not think what the heck he was doing, his mind could not catch his actions. His breath caught in the center of his throat like he was thirsty since ages, he could feel all dryness. He watched himself out of his body, he reached to you and dragged you into the cage of his arms.

Your smell was something else and Kyungsoo was immediately drunk in your scent.

“It is okey, Kyungsoo.” he heard your sweetest voice.

Kyungsoo did not need anything more to hear. The cab just disappeared into the darkness he caressed your face.

“You are so beautiful.” the words he was desperate to say finally fell from his tongue, mingled with the air. Your eyes slightly widened, and he heard your little gasp, that was the nail of Kyungsoo’s coffin. “Goddamn, you are fucking beautiful.”

“Kyungsoo” you literally moaned his goddamn name, and if there was still a kind of sanity left in Kyungsoo’s mind, your moan unconditionally destroyed it.

He kissed you and it took your breath away, both of you.

He kissed you enough to empty your lungs, and made your mind go to mush.

You were the one who broke the kiss in order to catch your thoughts. Your mind was scattered all around. You leaned over to your shaking knees and held them tightly.

“This… This…” you were panting, trying to find an excuse in the book in order to justify the kiss he gave to you.

“This means nothing.” Kyungsoo muttered but he could also reject to his claim with two reasons. First, It definitely did not fell like fucking nothing, and he never want something more than kiss you.

“Well, it means a lot to me.” you could not help but spill the beans. “Where in the hell you learned how to kiss like this?”

“I told you that you never have a proper taste of me.” Kyungsoo tensely chuckled, hell, he was aware of he was doing everything in his not-to-do list, but the spell you put on him made him impervious to anything except you.

“If you kiss every girl like this,” you hesitated to tell what you wanted to say, then you just gave up. JesusfuckingChrist, if he did not want to hear, he would better not to kiss you. Since he turned your brain into mush, he had to listen. “There is no surprise they are chasing you every day.”

“I do not kiss every girl first and foremost.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed. “If they want to chase me, what can I do?”

“And now you are bragging about yourself.” Your mood quickly changed into a less pleasurable and preferrable situation. “Can we go back?”

“Yes, of course.” he nod but you knew that you just destroyed everything was building between you in the blink of eye. You bite your upper lip so hard, preventing you from crying. Not now. Not before you were going to be under your blanket.

That kiss, that fucking kiss, it was all Kyungsoo’s fault.

He gave you a proper taste of himself, and you just wanted to cry, you were deeply sad because of you were not able to have him, you could not have him. He would not come to you as he boldly stated that the kiss meant nothing.

You were angry.

You were sad.

You were disappointed of yourself.

You just wanted to go back to the safety of your room and being able to talk with Chanyeol. He would understand. You knew that Baekhyun would give you a lot of advice in order to seduce Kyungsoo, but you did not want even to hear them.

He told you the kiss meant nothing.

Hell, if you could agree with this shitty statement, you would be lying your ass off.

Fuck off, you bastard you thought. You were fighting with your tears, trying to send them back. You were a big, strong girl and you could control your feelings.

You always were extremely strong, and you were famous for your self-control. You were not going to let Kyungsoo to destroy your inner peace or seeing you in tears because of his fucking rejection. You thought Kyungsoo would do it better, kissing you better, making you feel good, but the only thing he did was dismantling your foolish dreams.

He put you in your place, he gave you a lesson about your place in his eyes.

Nothing.

Kyungsoo could not look at you while you two were in the cab, going back to the hotel.

He knew that he fucked the things up so bad and he could not think a way to claim back from the pit he fell down by himself.

He kissed you, goddamn, it was the best kiss of his whole life, then he just said it meant nothing.

He cursed himself, he wished for the earth cracked like an egg and swallow his worthless presence. He made you upset, that’s why he could not look at your face. He knew what he was going to see, your eyes were going to mirror his mistake.

He lost in the moment, and while he was trying to give you a justification of that kiss, he just irrevocably ruined everything.

When you arrived at the hotel, you paid for the cab without saying a single word to Kyungsoo and directly walked to the inside of the hotel.

Kyungsoo was dying to grab you and apologizing on his knees, but your face telling him not to dare touching you.

He did not enter the hotel, he just sat on a chair in the garden. He was lost in his self-hatred, dreadful overthinking that had his skull feeling stuffed and a lifeless gaze washed all his feature.

He expected nothing but long days where the minutes bled into hours, hours into days and the inability to differentiate one day from the other. He mentally prepared himself for more than self-hatred, he knew that depression, isolation, and numbness were on their way to finish him, to eat him alive. Your face expression when he told you it was nothing was carved behind his eyelids, whenever he closed his eyes.

Kyungsoo was ready for flashbacks and nightmares, disturbing recollections that would render him for the following days.

Comatose, Kyungsoo thought. It was going to be a comatose for him.

How could he think he was better than those guys you went out? They did not destroy your expectations; they did not blend your self-confidence as Kyungsoo did in the seconds.

You did not know but there was a reason why Kyungsoo hopelessly tried to spare you from his kiss. You did not know but Kyungsoo heard a conversation between you and Chanyeol for once, when Chanyeol was telling that Kyungsoo was different for you, Kyungsoo was caring you more than anyone else, Kyungsoo was always there for you before anyone else just like he forgot how to shut his mouth as he continued. Chanyeol was the one who told you about Kyungsoo’s feelings.

And you just giggled of disbelief as Chanyeol went on about everything Kyungsoo wanted to tell you. Open your eyes to the facts.

You just laughed at his feelings coming from Chanyeol’s mouth and you told him it was impossible, you declared that there was nothing could be happened between Kyungsoo and you. You told Chanyeol, Kyungsoo was a good guy, but you did not think he was for you.

He wanted to save you from an unwanted situation which Kyungsoo could put you in by kissing you. It was sake, telling him to teach you, and Kyungsoo stupidly fell for it.

Till now he preferred to hide in the shadows, dancing around the subject than jumping onto it.

But this logic that his mind was following did not change how much he hated himself right now.

He had no regrets on kissing you, god knew that. He still could taste your velvety lips under his lips, he knew that moment was going to live with him till the end of his life. That kiss was grounding but inebriating, he was feeling sane while bringing both of you to the edge of insanity, your lips burned him like a fire.

When you touched him, you marked his skin, your touch stayed on him.

But he hated himself so much, enough to made him feel suffocating.

He found himself standing up and heading to your room before he could understand what the heck he was aiming for. The deep rumble of his chest that he could almost feel vibrate through the air as he walked through the way coming to you, helped him to prepare himself to face with you.

What could it be? he asked to himself. You could tell him get the fuck off, but he was not going to obey to your wish this time.

It was going to be a rumbling, he knew your possible reactions when you were sad, Goddamnit, you were extraordinarily upset with him, but he did not let this fact to disheartened him. He was not a coward; he was going to fix his mistake.

Kyungsoo raised his hand to knock your door, but before doing it, he heard your voice. As he thought, you were talking with Chanyeol or Baekhyun, he was not sure. He came closer to the door as much as he could, and did not give a shit to the rightful concern what if someone saw him while he was leaning on a single woman’s room like a stalker pervert?

He did not care.

He only cared for hearing your words after the incident.

Your voice was cracked, and he could not hear you properly, your voice was coming and going like a goddamn ancient radio. He could hear some words but there was no consistency or no chance of building a logical sentence of your words. He could perceive his name, with couple of words which Kyungsoo hoped not to be used with his name again, some broken lines on how disappointed you were, and he caught your oh-god-fucking-damn-it type of annoyance against Kyungsoo.

He gave up and knocked your door.

Twice.

There was no sign from you, and Kyungsoo was tired of patiently waiting.

He did his waiting. Seven years. In a fucking friendzone he put himself in.

He aggressively knocked on your door, and he did not stop until you gave up and opened the door.

“Shit.” he cursed when he saw your face. “You look horrible.”

Oh really? you thought.

After leaving Kyungsoo, you did not spend a single second to lock yourself in your secure and lonely room, then you just pressed the right numbers to make a call. Chanyeol was there for you, he listened your rambling and gibberish without a sign of inconvenience. He let you to curse Kyungsoo as much as you wanted, he joined you for the little party of swearing at Kyungsoo and he was generous on his vocabulary.

But you cried even when Chanyeol managed to put a broken smile on your face by telling you maybe Kyungsoo was not interested in girls, otherwise he had to be on his knees for you.

You cried for Kyungsoo more than anything made you cry till now.

Your sadness caught you off guard, even you did not expect to be upset with him like this, your feelings were like a blunt blade, it was turning in your heart over and over, using your own blood to be sharp again, then continuing its spinning in your heart. Pain made you numb; you could do only cry.

Your eyes were puffed and literally red. Your cheeks were red. Your lips were red.

Of course, you looked goddamn horrible as Kyungsoo, this asshole, proudly observed. Applause time for him for his greatest deduction.

“Nothing can escape from your eyes, Sherlock.” you murmured. “Couldn't you pay your attention on the fact that we already passed the midnight? Why are you here?”

“May I come in?” Kyungsoo kindly asked but something in his eyes were telling you to be on your toes and careful.

“No.” You congratulated yourself because of your refined answer. You were an idiot for sure, instead of playing with him and showing that he had no impacts on you, you chose to manifest how much you were broken by him. Good for you.

Transformation started in his eyes. Those chocolate brown and very warm eyes, reminding the deer’ beauty, perfectly shaped as almonds turned into crescents, and it was a bloody indicator of his mood was shifted into something dangerous. He was always quick to switch the moods, but he had never looked intimating at this level. You really could not believe what the heck he did, he just grabbed your fucking wrists, dragged you inside of your fucking room without your permission and pressed you on your fucking wall.

“Kyungsoo, fuck off!” you hissed at him, trying to save yourself from his iron grasp, swallowing hard.

“Tell me just one thing and save both of us from misery.” he whispered; his low-pitched voice gave you goosebumps which you really tried to take no notice of, but your traitor body willingly has been taking everything if the giver was Kyungsoo. “Why did you cry?”

“What if I do not want to tell you?” you lifted your chin, you needed to distance yourself from him, he already ruined the progress just a couple of hours ago. His statement clearly taught you whatever your friendship was not the best way to build a new kind of relationship, and you strongly opposed to be friends with benefits or those kinds of agreements. You would not go for them, you wanted Kyungsoo as your lover, not as your fuckbuddy.

“Do me a favor,” he enunciated each syllable and moved his right hand to your shoulder, pressing you into wall just like he wished to ground you right there. “Tell me.”

He leaned on you, his palm made contact with your shoulder, sliding up to your neck and staying there. His touch was heavy again, hotter than before.

He was goddamn close.

When you tried to save your body from him again, Kyungsoo’s hips rutted against yours.

Well, now you could feel more than before.

“Stop fucking moving!” he grunted, surprising you with the sudden and macho voice tone. He looked like very uncomfortable. “You and your idiotic behaviour!”

“If you do not like it, let me go!” you hissed, but you felt a knot was forming in the pit of your stomach. You were afraid of his impacts on you, especially after that fucking kiss. He had you over there as melted like a chocolate under heat.

Even while you were fighting to free yourself, your eyes unconsciously gravitated along his features, all you could do was thinking of him all the time you had spent with him. Those piercing brown eyes and those plump, smooth and heart-shaped lips that are always set in a witty line, the smallest moles and a couple of freckles all around his tiny nose and rosy cheeks, his long eyelashes, and that bloody soft hair of him, caused you to desire running your fingers through.

He was driving you fucking crazy, and you hated his power on you.

“Oh, believe me if I do not like even your idiotic side,” he leaned forward, closed the little proximity between your bodies and you felt the air left your lungs with your sanity. “I would not kiss you, damn woman.”

You were lost for words, you were run down, the only thing you could voice was an exasperated huff. Kyungsoo stared at you, refusing to loosen his grip around your body, instead he held you for his dear life and his gaze was nothing but absolutely penetrating.

You turned your head, trying to find something else to fix your eyes upon while you had been seeking the meaning of his words about liking your idiotic side.

Did he convey his feelings? Did he really stand for liking you, if he liked even your idiotic side, did it indicate that he liked all of you?

If he kissed you because he liked you, did that kiss imply more than nothing for him?

If yes, why he told you it meant nothing?

“Look at me.” his left hand cupped your face gently, on the contrary of his eyes, burning with fires, you could see the red was invading chocolate brown circles. “Do not avert your eyes.”

You blinked and shut your eyelids tightly. Suddenly, the silence in the room was more palpable than it was before, drowning both of you in a foggy swamp of riddles.

You were pissed off, broken and now, thanks to his complicated words, you were more than confused.

Kyungsoo was pissed off, broken and now, thanks to your complicated reactions, he was more than confused.

“If you were so keen on trying to convince yourself that I meant that kiss was nothing,” his jaw flexed, and his eyes were clouded. “I was trying to make amend for my fault. I should have not kiss you.”

You shivered, despite it was a very hot summer night, and Kyungsoo’s warm body made your temperature skyrocketed.

“Why?” you asked. “You do not make any sense, Kyungsoo.”

“Look, who is talking?” he rolled his eyes back. “You never make any sense about our fucking relationship since the beginning. I told you many times, pay your attention.”

You should be warned to follow the signs. Collect them and find the hidden meaning. Kyungsoo was sure on his patience, he could wait for you as much as you wished, he could give you time as much as you needed, but he had no patience to hide in the shadows anymore.

He knew that his constant shifting between one side to the other surprised you, hell it surprised even himself, he did not think about any of this, but since that kiss happened between you, since Kyungsoo got a taste of you, since he could touch you… Everything was changed.

He did not want to let you go.

He could not let you go.

He was aware of you did not belong to him, maybe you did not perceive Kyungsoo as a man, but he could not be your friend anymore. He wanted to tell you how much he adored you more than before. He wanted to kiss you more than before. He wanted to see your face when he woke up, he wanted to cuddle you when he was sad, he wanted to lean on your shoulder when he was broken, he wanted to cook for you, he wanted to sing for you, he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to be your harbour to shelter from the stormy seas, your rock to build your home.

He wanted to live his life with you. He wanted to share even the smallest detail of his fucking life with you.

“I told you that I even like your idiotic side,” he clarified. “And you still avert your eyes from me.”

That ignited the fire of your soul.

“Hell, excuse me for my idiotic side but if I remember correctly and my memory never fails me, I told you that it was fucking okey just before you kissed me, after I shared my catastrophic first kiss experience with you,” your voice was not trembling anymore. It was firm, fuelled by your anger. “Then, all you could say was that kiss stands for nothing. What do you expect me to say?”

“Even if you are upset with me, talk to me!” he frowned. “I ask nothing but your words, truly and fully. Is this too much to expect? Hell, you were the one who said that I am a good guy but not made for you, why you are so upset with me because I made an excuse for that kiss?!”

It was your turn to froze. Kyungsoo finally let you go, he stepped back, and his arms crossed over his chest, but you froze to death. You could not move but looking at his unchanging expression like an idiot he just named it correctly.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath. If Kyungsoo said this to your face, it meant that he wanted you to face a revelation. He wanted you to know that he heard your words about him, the words which you vividly remember as you said them to Chanyeol without knowing that Kyungsoo was able to hear them. If he heard them, you owed an explanation to him. Maybe you were just searching an excuse in the book, but you gave up. You were going to tell him what you think of him. “It was me. I still have the same observation. You are damn good for me, if I would say the opposite, I would be lying my ass off.”

Kyungsoo’s face went blank.

What did you say to him? He wanted you to talk truly, however right now he was nothing but almost regretful what he had said to you. Kyungsoo hoped for you did not mean that for real, he wished it was just a gibberish.

Were you a goddamn fool?

He knew the low level of your self-confidence, but your statement was nothing but the shittiest one he has ever heard.

“What?” he murmured. “You think I am good for you?”

“Yes.” you nod. “Look at yourself, Kyungsoo! You are damn good at everything you do, you are clever, hard-working, funny, firm and always trustable, I even do not go for your physical quality, it is fucking obvious, you are handsome as fuck. Of course, I could not say anything different, you were not made for me.”

Suddenly, your hands became the focus of your attention, you fixed your eyes onto them instead of looking at Kyungsoo, who took his time before registering and recording your words in his brain. Then, his hands started were smashed together unintentionally.

“And during all this time,” he heard his own voice trembling, as if being blown by the brute force that he was trying to contain inside of his chest. “I thought you are the cleverer one.”

“Ha?”

“I really do not understand why I think you can follow the signs I have been giving to you like a bloody idiot.” he could not help but growled at you. “In my opinion, you are the only girl who deserves to feel fucking good, and if I can be that one to bring you to such a high, I would willingly do it.”

“I do not un-

“Because you do not want to see!” Kyungsoo could not control himself but go ballistic because of your blockheadedness. How could a woman be clueless at this level? What should he do, continue to scream at you about his feelings or should he bring a testimony that was approved by lawyers?

Didn’t you understand how much he cared for you?

Didn’t you see his almost tangible desires for you?

Everyone could sense his love for you, but you could fucking not, and Kyungsoo was burned out because of your total ignorance.

“Are you,” your whisper reached to his ears. “Are you interested in me?”

Kyungsoo decided that, on the contrary of your academic success, you were literally a retard.

“Why do you think I follow you everywhere like I am your dog tail?” he clenched his fists. Quickly, he walked towards you, but stopped just in front of your trembling body. “What do you think of me, do I look like a lost puppy?”

“No.” you were offended by his words. Dog tail? Puppy? He was not that much cute at first place with his level of being witty and shitty! However, after one look at him, you were not sure anymore, even he was clearly pissed off, he was fucking gorgeous and cute. “Shit, Kyungsoo, you are annoying.”

“You are the damn annoying one.” Kyungsoo started to question himself, he wanted nothing more than to fuck this attitude out of you right there, in your double sized bed. “All I did was finding an excuse which can make you relaxed with me, and I accepted my failure. I should have neither kiss you nor lie about it. But I did, and I apologize for my misbehaviour. Let’s look at you, you are just asking goddamn questions and ignoring my answers. Who is the annoying one?”

You whipped your head around; your eyes were glistering with a layer of tears, forming in the edges.

“Are you interested in me, or not?” you cried. Kyungsoo glanced up, he registered the sudden stiffness in you, and how you consciously averting your eyes away from him. He remembered that same stiffness invaded your posture when you wanted to learn what happened to your dad while he was in emergency, or you were hopelessly driving into Busan when you received after the news of Chanyeol’s motorcycle crash.

He finally understood what you needed to hear.

You wanted his words.

You wanted him to say those words.

“I have always been interested in you.” he gave up. Your heart jumped into your throat at his blunt answer, you did not know how you feel about this information, having a place in Kyungsoo’s head was something you always hoped for, but never believe it could be real. Half of you thrilled with a delicious excitement, while the other half wanted to run away because of fear.

What if he was going to fuck around with you then ditch you?

What if he was going to try being with you then decide to leave you?

What if he was going to pour happiness into your life, you even could not dream of, then disappear?

Your dilemma was in your head. Carved into your mind, body, and soul.

Your biggest fear was losing Kyungsoo.

“I hate this eerily silence between us.” Kyungsoo cut you off before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole. How could you tell him he was everything and more you wanted from this life? How could you make him to understand how much you devoted yourself to him unconditionally? You watched him with darkening eyes, darkening with your fears, with your concerns, with your worries. Your eyes were dark as the pitch-black. “I am sorry to disturb you. See you tomorrow morning if you want to have a breakfast with me.”

Every layer of privacy and secrecy that you desperately tried to build till now in order to keep your weakest point from him were dissolved when he directly headed to the door. You did not even realize but threw yourself in order to stop him.

“Do not go.” you let the tears fall then and held his toned arm for your dear life. You could not let him to leave you behind, otherwise you would be damned. “Do not leave me, before you really have to do.”

“Why should I have to leave you?” Kyungsoo turned back to you. You saw the hesitation of his moves, he wanted to caress your face, but he was holding himself. “I cannot do it, even if I want to. You are too precious for me, bookworm.”

Your face was softened by his rich baritone voice and the nickname he gave you. Calling you as a bookworm was reserved to Kyungsoo, he beaten the shit out of even Baekhyun when he also called you like Kyungsoo.

“One day you will, Soo.” you were lost in your nightmares, mulling over horrendous scenarios your subconscious had been giving you in a fucking row. “One day someone will steal you from me, one day you will fall in love with a girl and leave me behind.”

Something told you that you should have been keeping this logic to yourself, but you were extremely emotional at the very moment. Your expectations, dreams, fears, hopes, everything was mixed up and conjoined with the amount of sake you just consumed.

You were talkative tonight, something very rare for you and Kyungsoo was happy for that. Even though you had been going through a hell of a night. He was also oversensitive, his mind was clouded by his own dreads and doubts, however when you sharply deducted on his not-existed-because-of-you love affairs, he could not help but chuckled.

“First, I have to see the girls.” his throat was like a sandpaper as he swallowed. The rosy tint on your cheeks was obviously growing, invading your skin, and heading to the south. He hardly took his eyes off your neck and the rest of the direction. “Excuse me, but I have eyes only for you.”

“You cannot say that!” you winced, by fanning your face with your hands.

“Then enlighten me.” he defended himself. “How should I say it? Sorry, but I believe in monogamy.”

Your knuckles paled as your grip around his arm tightened.

How could you name the hunger that driving you into crazy? How could you tell him even looking at him, even if you have not a single clue what was going to be happen, riling you up? You supposedly liberated yourself from Kyungsoo, but tearing his gaze away was impossible for you.

You wanted him. So, fucking bad.

You wanted his hands. His lips. His body.

You wanted his soul. His heart.

You were starting to pull him to yourself without noticing, Kyungsoo’s eyes were widened when you took the initiative to your hands.

Literally.

“Do you remember what I asked to you?” you whispered.

“About?” Kyungsoo exhaled with your unexpected shifting between moods. He did not trust his voice, not now, not when you were so close to him, enough to feel your breath on his lips.

His throat was like the deserts of Egypt right now.

“About teaching me.” you murmured into his fucking ear. “When it comes to touch someone?”

“Yeah.” he swallowed very hard, biting a tsunami of cursing back.

“Will you teach me?” your hands wandered around his arms to his chest and stopped there. “For the future references?”

“If I were you,” he groaned. “I would not think about future references.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your hands back off his body. Kyungsoo caught your hands and put them back on his chest, while he was aggressively dragged you into his arms.

“I am going to teach you.” his eyebrows were furrowed. “How you should be touched.”

Kyungsoo was never going to forget how your eyes glowed after his words with excitement.

He was not sure but it seemed like you wanted him almost like how he wanted you.

Desperately and fucking needy.

He carried you to the bed.

#doh kyungsoo #kyungsoo imagines #exo do kyungsoo #kyungsoo scenarios #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo fanfic #exo smut #exo fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #exo kyungsoo #exo d.o. #kyungsoo x reader #do kyungsoo #kyungsoo exo #kyungsoo #kyungsoo fluff #exo d.o #exo series #d.o. exo #exo fanfic #exo x reader

[writing-in-april]

Star Wars vs. Star Trek

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

This is my entry for the secret fic swap that was organized by the ever amazing @imagining-in-the-margins 

The person I got was-  @sunlight-moonrise  who is an amazing little bunny that I love

Thankies all around to my lovely helpers @definitelynotkatesblog , @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ and @httpnxtt  Plus I was inspired by all the asks that @reidscardigan​ gets, it fuels my smutty thoughts!

Warnings: Jealous!Spencer, Rough sex, Impact play (on the heavy side), Face fucking, Light degradation, Choking, Bruising/Marking, Hair Pulling, Unprotected sex, and Orgasm Denial

A/N: I had a great time writing this I think its one of my best works! Feel free to drop a request in my inbox if you have a request (No duplicate requests please)

Word count: 3.6K

Masterlist   

  Spencer and I finally have some vacation time, and my god it feels like it’s been forever. We both worked ridiculously hard at the BAU, so Hotch had finally determined that it was time for the team’s mandatory two-week break this year.  

As soon as we got home the both of us stripped of our work clothes and cuddled up on the couch to watch some movies. Spencer had the remote in his hand scrolling through to find a movie, the cursor landed on Star Trek. I could feel his puppy dog eyes looking up at me through his glasses that he only wore at home trying to convince me into letting him choose it. “Noooo Spencer, we watched it last week” I groaned. Sometimes it felt like your relationship was Spencer and Spock, and you as the delightful third wheel. “Ok what about a different one? We don’t have to watch any of the vintage ones, the new movies aren’t my favorite but they’re still extraordinary pieces of film art!” he ranted enthusiastically. “No, why don’t we watch Star Wars?” I begged, he knew it was my favorite but still insisted that Star Trek was better. “No, because I know you’ll ask to watch the sequels and I don’t like them, the story is just a repeat of the originals.” his eyes rolled and I was surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head. Spencer and I have had this argument many times. The back and forth on which series was better was exhausting but so exhilarating. “Star Wars looks better, has better music, and better plot lines overall!” My voice slightly raised, I hated it when he tried to prove me wrong about this. Star Wars was my cemented favorite just as his was Star Trek. “Star Wars has straight up inaccuracies while Star Trek has improbabilities, not outright errors.” Spencer snarked back. I could tell neither of us were going to win this debate anytime soon. We always ended up in a shouting match about  why we thought our favorite series was better. “Fuck you! I’m right, Star Wars is so much better! I mean look at Kylo Ren, he’s so much better then Kirk or Spock!” Spencer’s face turned into an expression mixed with jealousy and rage. “And look how good he looks during that interrogation scene!” I continued. “You think he’s hot?!” He accused profiling the look I had on my face as I was talking about Kylo “What are you jealous of a fictional character?” I asked mockingly, a knowing smirk adorning my face. Maybe I could get him riled up enough to get something else out of tonight. “N-no of course not that’s absurd!” He squeaked out, giving away how he truly felt. A coquettish smirk grew on my face as I got an evil idea. I deftly snuck my hands into my sleep shorts, slipping under my cotton panties and started to rub soft circles on my clit, not fully giving myself the stimulation that I desired. Spencer’s eyes bugged out of his head getting whiplash from the conversation switch. “Kylo” I moaned out with a simper, gathering my slick arousal I slid down my folds, pushing a finger inside, immediately crooking the digit to locate my g spot. I wanted to push Spencer to the edge of jealousy till he snapped. He got practically feral if I worked him up enough. I continued my descent into a selfish climax- adding another finger, as I picked up the speed of my thrusts into my dripping heat. My mind was so lost in the pleasure I forgot Spencer was there- until my hand was violently jerked from my pussy by a tight clasp on my forearm, just before I was about to fall into bliss. “What do you think you're doing?” Spencer spat.

That voice was usually reserved for unsubs, which served to further dampen my panties, his mind had switched into his dominant persona that was prevalent in the bedroom. “Just indulging myself, Spencer, since you won’t.” I bit back, irritated I’d been brought back from the edge of toe-curling bliss. He shot me a harsh look and tightened his grip on my arm, a warning if you will. I could tell I had just gotten myself into deep trouble, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to rile him up further. “Get in the bedroom and strip. You’ve earned yourself a punishment, brat.” His tone had gotten down right deadly at this point, but I didn’t let that deter me. I was on a mission. I decided to further dig myself in a hole by ignoring his order, simply crossing my arms and turning my head away. I could feel his bitter gaze boring into the back of my skull as I continued to defy his order, my excitement pooling in anticipation for the brutal punishment I’d surely earned. We sat like that for a while- refusing to break out of my sass, and him making sure that I was really ready for what he had in store for me. My legs started to squirm, the tension was almost unbearable. Just before I was about to give him another smart remark his other hand shot out to my leg, holding it firmly so I was no longer moving. A surprised squeak escaped my lips as Spencer  flipped me onto my stomach, my knees coming to rest on the floor and my chest pressed into the couch. I tried to regain my balance in an attempt to crawl away from him but he quickly moved to hover over my form, boxing me in with his arms. “Are you trying to get in more trouble, Dolly?” he asked, his tone dark and condescending. A pathetic little whimper escaped my throat. When I failed to reply quick enough by his standards, a large palm came down on my backside, forcing an answer out of me.

“Yes! I’m sorry Sir, I was trying to get in t-trouble.” “Tsk tsk. Only bad girls like punishment, Doll.” He sounded disappointed. I dug my nails into the plush and hid my face into the cushion, trying to escape from under his heavy gaze. He pulled my hands to rest behind my back, tying my hands with what felt like a drawstring from sweatpants. He’d learned to improvise during our time together; had he left to find more appropriate rope, there was no guarantee I’d be in the same position he left me in by the time he got back. He snaked his hands through my hair, yanking hard to pull my body flush against his own. “Color?” He asked quickly, checking in with me, which only made the situation hotter-what can I say? Consent is sexy. “Green” I replied with a grin. Being disciplined was always exhilarating. “What’s my punishment, Sir?” He let go of the grip on my hair, his hands swiftly moving to remove my shorts and now soaked cotton thong, revealing my bare bottom to him. I rubbed my legs together trying to get some sort of friction but was interrupted by Spencer wrenching my legs apart. “You do that again I’ll add 20 more and you’ve already earned yourself 40- plus a little extra something.” His words hummed against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver trickling down my spine. I groaned in protest and tried to wiggle myself away from him, his hand coming down onto my left cheek in response. “Doll-“ He warned sharply. “If you keep this up I won't let you cum for a week.” His words shook me to my sassy core; I was greedy and there was no way I was going to get myself in more trouble. “I’m sorry...” I muttered into the couch cushion. “Say it louder, Dolly.” The sing song tone/cadence of his voice felt like a trap- contrasted to his previously dark tone and warning smack brought down on my backside. “I’m really sorry, Sir!” I shouted. With my cry, I gave up control to Spencer entirely.  He loved when I acted like this, no matter how angry he pretended to be. “Do you mean it this time?” I could hear the devilish smile on his lips. “Yes!” I confirmed on a shaky breath. I was done fighting him. “You’re so good to me a-and I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous.”

Although he couldn’t see my eyes, I put on my biggest, sweetest set of puppy dog eyes to really drive my point home.

“So you’re going to sit pretty and take your spankings like a good girl, right?”

I nodded sheepishly, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe if I was good enough that I might get to come tonight. He let me stew in my thoughts for a minute before resuming his assault on my behind. His hand gripped both cheeks into his palms, kneading the tender flesh that was about to be covered in black and blue handprints. As the first strikes landed on my right side, he grabbed a blanket for me to cuddle into as he landed each smack, his full strength being used in each one, exhibiting just how much I pissed him off. My nerves were prickling, my ass had already started to sting and he hadn’t even reached the 10th strike. I’d definitely be able to feel the pain for the next week- maybe longer. Teardrops started to coat from my lashes onto my cheeks as he switched to the left cheek. By the time he’d reached the halfway mark, the blanket had become soaked by my uncontrolled muffled sobs. His rhythm never faltered as he continued to pepper the now-raw skin of my bottom with more punishing blows. “What are you?” He finally spoke as he was nearing the end of his count, my fingers digging into my palms to help me get through the last few. “I’m a bad girl, Sir” I pathetically whimpered into the blanket.

A brutal THWACK landed against my backside, letting me know he was looking for me to use my big girl voice.  A sob raked through my chest, sending more tears down the blushed apples of my cheeks. “I’M A BAD GIRL, SIR!” My bruised bottom felt like it had been burned by hot coals with welts forming as evidence, as Spencer drew out the last few at a languid pace. When he finally finished, he dropped his head down to plant kisses on each injured cheek, a sign of appreciation for behaving. “You dirty girl, you're getting off to this ” He said matter of factly, moving to run his finger through my drenched folds, his fingers probed my entrance trying to get me more worked up. Surging forward, he replaced his fingertips with his tongue stirring a fire deep in my belly, placing delicate kitten licks along my folds. My body writhed against his touch and for a moment, I thought I might get off easy. Until, again, he pulled away just as I was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Sirrrrr, please?” I begged, my clit was throbbing in tandem with the blood pounding under the skin of my raw and tender bottom. His threat from earlier became evident- he wasn’t going to let me cum easily. “No, Doll, you still haven’t proven that you’re sorry enough.” He roughly yanked me off the sofa, positioning me on my knees in front of him, his clothed cock sitting right in my eye-line. The sweatpants that he had dawned were taken off quickly, I drank in the sight of his hard cock through tear-stained eyes. “Color?” He asked while cradling my jaw. The realization hit me, and I became blissfully aware of one thing: he was about to fuck my face. “Green.” I was always happy to give Spencer pleasure, and to see all the power just my mouth had over him was insanely erotic to me. He gripped his cock in one hand, pulling my chin down to open my mouth with the other. I stuck out my tongue for him and leaned forward, wrapping my lips around the head of his erection to begin gently sucking. Precum filled my mouth as I started to bob my head, working my way farther down his length each time until I reached the base of his cock. I choked slightly, my nose nuzzling against the hairs of his waistline. He gripped my hair on both sides with each of his hands and did a shallow experimental thrust forward, giving me a taste of what was coming. My eyes screwed shut as he set a fast pace, his tip hitting the back of my throat, tears starting to prick at the corners of my eyes again. The hardwood grinding against my knees sourced a new pain, but all I was focused on was the cock  being shoved down my throat and pleasuring the man it was attached to. “Open your eyes, Doll. I want you to see what you do to me.” I glanced up with my glassy red rimmed eyes to gaze at the beautiful sight of Spencer, his head was tilted back, sweat coating his ruffled curls, with his mouth hung open in a silent gasp. Even through my tears I could see this man was an angel.  I groaned, somehow I was even more turned on, so much so that I could feel a pool forming on the floor from my arousal. He rutted harder into my mouth signaling that he was close to his release, drool was now dripping from the sides of my mouth, wetting the thin material of my pajama top. Hot spurts shot down my throat with a strangled cry from him. Tasting his salty release on my tongue, I drank him in, savoring every last drop he had to give me. As he pulled himself out of my mouth, the string of spit connecting my lips to the head of his cock snapped, falling down my chin. Saltwater still cascading down my cheeks met with the mess on my chin, creating  a messy mixture. Spencer pressed a thumb to my cheek, pushing the few drops of cum that escaped along with some spit into my mouth. “You being a cry baby, Dolly?” he cooed condescendingly, wiping away the drops that accumulated onto my cheek bones as I sent him a little pout. “You should’ve thought about the consequences before you broke the rules, Doll.” Turning me around, he pressed my chest into the coffee table across from the couch. Though I still had on my shirt, the cold surfaces rubbed against my sensitive nipples making them harden to a peak. He hadn’t done anything for a minute, so I tried to turn my head to see what he was doing. I was met with a harsh tug at my jaw forcing it to prop up facing the tv. The television flicked to life flooding the screen with the Disney+ logo I tried to glance back again to shoot him an incredulous look, but again I was repositioned roughly to stare at the screen. He clicked through until landing on the Force Awakens. My brows furrowed, but I decided not to push my luck by asking any questions. He pressed play and started fast forwarding until he landed on the scene I had been referencing that got in me trouble in the first place. Kylo Ren graced the screen, starting his interrogation with Rey. Was he going to sit here and make me watch it? Was he going to let me cum? Or was he going to edge me the whole night and hang me out to dry? I was snapped out of my thoughts by a tug at my neck, his palms wrapping around like a necklace, pulling my torso up so that my eyes locked perfectly to the moving figures on the screen. “You think he could fuck you better then I can, Doll?” he ground out. “That pathetic boy compensates with his saber, yet you have the whole package right here sweetheart.” I gasped and wriggled at his words, becoming down right desperate to have him do anything to me. He finally relented, dragging his free hand up my folds, still just barely touching me- ghosting around my clit. He sucked dark bruises into my neck, and as his teasing touches continued, I impatiently whined. “Please, Sir I need you.” “Why should I? You have Kylo don’t you?” “I already said I’m sorry, Sir! And I mean it really!” My begs filled our apartment, loud enough to completely mask the sound of the movie. I had been completely ignoring the film, focusing solely on trying to gain some sort of pleasure from the man endlessly denying it. “Ok, Dolly but only if you promise to never do it again.” I tried my best to nod against  his vise grip on the column of my throat. He deftly snuck two fingers into my pussy, fitting snugly inside of me causing my body to unconsciously move my lower half against him. He started to pump and curl them, expertly hitting the perfect spot each time making stars appear behind my eyes. Suddenly he removed his fingers, quickly replacing it with something far more satisfying before I could complain. His cock bottomed out, filling me to the hilt eliciting a surprised squeak from me. He always made me feel so full-it felt like heaven. His hips propelled forward starting a rough rhythm that left almost no room to breathe, the movie had been completely muffled by our moans and sounds of slapping skin, a heavy dose of sex lingering in the air. His thrusts were irritating the already brutalized flesh off my ass, but the stinging sensation just aided in ecstasy that flowed through my veins. “You look so much prettier with these bruises.” He grunted as I tried to arch my back to a steeper angle so I could take him as deep as possible. “It shows everyone who’s mine, even if they are a fictional character.” Spencer was repeatedly hitting my g spot sending me closer and closer to the edge, but I knew I had to ask permission before I came. “Please, Sir, Please! I’m so close! Can I cum?” “Why do you think you deserve to cum Doll?” He asked, I should’ve known he was still going to throw one last tease in before letting me orgasm. “Because- I - I don’t know I just need it!” I let out a frustrated sob as he continued to thrust with reckless abandon. “Ok. Doll. Let. Go.” he said, accentuating each word with a sharp rock with his hips. My eyes rolled far into the back of my head as I was sent careening into pleasure, the coil that sat deep in my belly snapped, sending me into violent waves of pleasure. As I rode out my delicious high, Spencer’s hips stuttered and the grip on my neck was tightened as he shot ropes into me, stuffing me to the brim. He let go of my neck letting me relax my head onto the table. I’m sure I had a messy, freshly-fucked look on my face but I couldn’t be bothered to care.“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked once he had caught his breath. I nodded meekly, knowing full well I’d be back on my brattiest behavior as soon as these bruises faded. We both groaned as he slipped his softening cock from out of my folds. He slowly padded away to grab his items for aftercare-my favorite part. I had never had a partner show so much care for me like Spencer had. He came back with everything he needed and got to work, starting by cleaning my folds with a washcloth, then switching to a fresh one wiping the tears and spit away from my face. Aloe that he had made sure to warm up was then squirted onto my cheeks, he rubbed the liquid in softly massaging the abused flesh with gentle care. My limbs still felt like jello when it was time to stand, so Spencer helped guide me into new clean pajamas, he even made sure to pick out the velvet ones I liked, they always felt like little soft caresses were being peppered against my skin when I wore them. “You ok, Doll? You haven’t said anything.” He whispered gently, as if afraid he’d startle me. “Yeah” I croaked.My voice had been thoroughly abused throughout the night making rasp harder than normal. “Just feel a little woozier than normal.” He quickly enveloped my form into a hug, drawing me in close so I could smell the cologne that made itself a part of everything he owned. Sitting us both down on the couch, he found as many blankets and as possible making a little fort of warmth around us.

“I’m sorry I was harsh, Doll.” “No no, I liked it, it was just intense.” My scratchy voice obviously made him cringe. “So you are jealous of a fictional character?” I cheekily quipped to try and cheer him up. He let out a chuckle in response and started to ghost little butterfly kisses all across my face.

“I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “Sing to me?” I asked softly. I cherished his horrible singing with all my heart, it made me  soft and mushy on the inside. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my dolly away.” I started to drift to sleep even though I was fighting to giggle at Spencer’s croaky singing. Despite his god awful singing in my ear, sleep found me, whisking me away to the land of sweet dreams. I drifted off in his arms, knowing I was his good girl- knowing he would love and cherish me until the ends of the Earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #Smut #fluff #aftercare #spencer reid fluff #comfort #criminal minds fanfiction

[oriigami]

we slept on the ocean last night

(My gift for @cozza for the @setsailexchange! Strawhat feel-good fluff, feat. nightmares, love, and platonic intimacy. Also on ao3 here!)

It starts like this: Luffy can’t sleep alone. 

Zoro discovers this about six hours after they set out to sea from Shells Town, just the two of them in Luffy’s little dinghy and no destination to speak of. The sun has sunk past the horizon, and the water all around their tiny boat is pitch black, scattered with the shimmering reflections of stars. 

Luffy yawns, stretching his jaw open wider than a human’s should rightly be able to go (and maybe the rubber thing still freaks Zoro out just a little bit, okay, he’s working on it) and then, without a word of warning, crawls over to where Zoro’s sitting and drops bonelessly into his lap, sprawling against his chest with his head pillowed over Zoro’s heart. 

Zoro goes tense immediately, only barely resisting the instinct to shove him away immediately; in a boat this size, that would definitely send Luffy over the edge, and his new dumbshit captain can’t swim. “What. Are you doing.” 

Luffy yawns again, and snuggles closer. “Mm. Sleepin’.”

“Okay,” Zoro says, with what he decides is a truly admirable degree of forced calm. “Why on me.” 

“Comfy,” Luffy mumbles into his shirt. “‘nd warm.”

“Well, get off,” Zoro says, and then, when there’s absolutely no response, “Luffy? Hey-” 

He looks down at Luffy’s face, already slack with sleep and dead to the world, and the rest of the sentence dissolves into a sigh. “...Nevermind.” 

Because- see, Zoro’s not a touchy kind of person. It’s probably been more than a year since he was last hugged, and even that was just because Johnny tended to get kind of over-affectionate when he was drunk. Sometimes he shakes hands when handing over a captured pirate for the bounty, and that’s about it. And that’s fine. 

Luffy’s whole weight is on top of him, warm and heavy and snoring softly against his chest, and Zoro’s pretty sure he can’t even remember the last time he was in this much contact with another person for this long. Luffy’s hair is unwashed and salt-encrusted, and it tickles his chin.

But. Well. It’s not bad. It’s definitely weird, and something about it makes Zoro feel oddly warm, but it’s not bad. So he just sighs again, and leans back to look up at the stars, and absently reaches up to rest an arm around Luffy’s shoulders. 

He falls asleep a lot faster than usual, that night.

-

It goes like this: Nami has nightmares. 

She’s good at hiding them. Her sobs are nearly silent, muffled into her pillow and rendered all but inaudible by the doors between her room and the boys’. But Usopp is nothing if not observant- and besides, he doesn’t sleep all that well either. When he closes his eyes he’ll see his mother’s face, too still and too pale with a cloth draped over her kind, sightless eyes. More recently, there have been fresher terrors filling up the inside of his head when he tries to sleep; chief among them Kaya, carved to pieces by Kuro’s claws. 

The point is this- when Nami slips out of her room in the middle of the night, her breaths uneven and stuttery from crying, and pads almost soundlessly up to the deck on unsteady feet, Usopp is already awake. He lies still for a minute or two, worrying his lower lip and deliberating on whether to follow her. It’s obvious she’s trying to keep to herself. If it’s something secret, he doesn’t want to bother her. It’s not like he knows that much about her, or about any of them, really.

But at the same time- they’re crew now, right? Even if they’re only been sailing together for a few days. And crew look after each other. Usopp might not have much experience with being a pirate yet, but he has spent years crying into his pillow, so that makes him qualified to deal with this, maybe. He cautiously maneuvers his way out from under Luffy’s arm and tiptoes to the door, careful not to wake his other two crewmates up. 

He finds her at the bow, sitting with her back against the railing and her head resting on her knees, shoulders shaking. She startles a little when he steps up onto the deck, jerking her head up and glaring over at him, but her shoulders slump again after a moment. 

After another moment of indecision, he sits down next to her. He’s never been good at staying quiet- his mouth has a tendency to open up on its own whenever he’s nervous- but he manages it this time, and just sits there with his arm pressed against hers as she cries.

Once she’s worked herself down to what seems like relative calm again, he offers, “Do you, um. Wanna… talk about it?” 

“No,” she says immediately, and then, quieter, “I… no. It’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

It’s one of the most blatant lies he’s ever heard, and he’s been responsible for some real whoppers, but he’d be a hypocrite to point it out. Instead, he says, “Okay, um… do you wanna hear about the time a giant eagle carried me away to its nest, and I had to climb all the way down a tree that was so tall it touched the clouds?” 

Nami chokes on a laugh, and it’s an ugly, wet sound, half a sob, but she leans her head against his shoulder, all the remaining tension running out of her body. “Y’know what? Sure. Tell me.” 

Usopp’s just reached the part of the story where he finds a whole village of people living in the tree’s roots when he realizes she’s fallen asleep, and he trails off. The ends of her short orange hair poke at his skin, and her cheek is pillowed against his shoulder. 

He guesses he’s not moving for the rest of the night, so he carefully wraps an arm around her narrow shoulders and lets his head tip against hers, and closes his eyes. 

For once, he doesn’t have any nightmares.

-

It goes like this: Sanji doesn’t sleep.

“Oi, dumbass,” Zoro says, leaning against the kitchen doorframe and folding his arms across his chest. “Why are you still awake?” 

It’s well into the dead silent hours of night, and even varying as bedtime tends to be on the Going Merry, everyone else is already long since asleep, aside from Usopp, on the lookout in the crow’s nest. It had been a long and tiring day, and most of them had hit the sack immediately after dinner- except for Sanji, who’s still mindlessly moving around the kitchen, like he’s killing time until daybreak. 

It’s a measure of how exhausted Sanji must be that he barely even bristles at the insult, only blinks a little and glances over at Zoro. Even with his stupid bangs hiding his face, the sleeplessness is still plain to see in his visible eye. “Hm?” He blinks again, then says, “Oh. It’s you.” 

“Why are you still awake?” Zoro asks again, because he still hasn’t got an answer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sanji says, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth, either. “So I came up here to…” he trails off, makes a vague gesture at the pot bubbling on the stove. “It’s fine. I’m not even tired. I’m used to waking up early, for the breakfast crowd, so.”

There’s a lot of retorts hovering on Zoro’s tongue, but he bites them all back and just says, “Fuck that,” and reaches out and grabs Sanji by the wrist and drags him out of the kitchen without a backwards glance.  

“Jackass, what are you- let go of me- what the fuck, I said I’m fine- at least let me turn off the stove-” (Zoro does grant that one. Wouldn’t do for the kitchen to burn down.)

He’s probably lucky Sanji is so out of it, he muses as he hauls the cook belowdecks to the sleeping quarters- if not, he probably would have taken at least one bone-shattering kick to the skull by now. But then again, if Sanji wasn’t dead on his feet (and wasn’t a fucking idiot), Zoro wouldn’t be having to do this in the first place. They’ve just entered the most dangerous sea in the world. They need to get their sleep when they can get it so they’ll be ready for trouble when it comes.  

As usual, the shared bedroom is piled with pillows and slightly ragged blankets, transforming it into a comfortable little nest. Luffy is sleeping half-propped up against one of the walls, Nami napping with her head on his lap, and Sanji’s cursing goes quiet so as to not wake her up as soon as Zoro tows him inside, which Zoro is grateful for. It was starting to get kind of repetitive. 

He drops Sanji down directly next to Luffy, half on top of him, and nods to himself when a rubber arm almost immediately tightens around the cook’s chest, gently but firmly trapping him in place, and the captain snuggles up against Sanji’s side in his sleep. 

Sanji glares up at him and hisses, “I hate you,” or tries to, but he interrupts himself in the middle of the sentence with a yawn, which diminishes the impact considerably. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro rolls his eyes and then drops down on Sanji’s other side, letting his head flop onto Sanji’s shoulder and letting his eyes slide shut. “Just go to sleep.”

-

It goes like this: Robin doesn’t touch people. 

It takes a couple days for Chopper to notice, because she does tickle his sides and ruffle his ears, but… she only ever does that with the false hands she creates with her devil fruit, the ones that dissolve into cherry blossoms that tickle his nose. She keeps her real hands close, only touches out of necessity, never when she doesn’t need to, and even then it’s always fleeting. 

And she sleeps apart from everyone else, too. 

Theoretically, Chopper knows, there’s a boys’ room and a girls’ room. In practice, though, there’s really one room for everybody, and another room where Robin sleeps and Nami changes and keeps her things. 

(He asks Zoro, one of the first nights, why Nami often doesn’t sleep in the girls’ room, why the crew instead sleeps all piled up and tangled together when he hasn’t ever heard of humans doing that before. Zoro just shrugs in response. “It’s a comfort,” he says simply. “Won’t air out secrets that aren’t mine, but people don’t become pirates just for fun. Most of us have trouble sleeping.”)

Chopper finds Zoro is right. He likes sleeping together with the others. It’s just easier, when he’s got Luffy’s fingers tangled in his fur and Usopp’s head pillowed on his side, to stop the Doctor’s last words from echoing in his head. 

(Luffy also declares him the second-best pillow on the crew, after only Zoro, which absolutely doesn’t make him happy at all.)

It happens just after Skypiea, when they’re all still just beginning to recover, sheltered in the sky while they heal from the battle against the mad god. Robin easily concedes when Chopper asks her to come to the sickbay so he can check for lasting damage from the lightning bolt, and lies down on the cot to let him check her ears, her eyes, her heartbeat. 

He’s finished his checkup (no apparent lasting problems, miraculously) and is noting down her baselines in his notebook for future reference when he glances up and realizes she’s slipped into slumber, her eyes closed and her breaths slow. It’s not a surprise; they’re all exhausted. 

But… maybe it’s because Chopper still doesn’t have that much real experience with humans, but he can’t help but think the way Robin is sleeping doesn’t look all that restful. She’s kind of curled up, her arms folded up against her chest, fingers digging into her forearms tight enough to bruise. 

Zoro’s voice rings in his ears. It’s a comfort. People don’t become pirates just for fun.

He slips down from his stool and shifts into his full reindeer form, and carefully climbs up onto the narrow cot beside her, folding his legs up underneath him and letting his side press against her back. He can feel the miniscule trembles running through her body, tight with tension. 

He rests his head on the pillow next to hers and closes his eyes, and slowly, slowly, she stills, relaxing into his side, her tremors calming little by little. 

He thinks he hears her murmur something that might be, “Thank you, Doctor-san,” just before he drifts off to sleep, too. 

-

It goes like this: It’s a comfort.

They’re all hurting after Enies Lobby, all aching and grieving and above all tired, a bone-deep weariness borne of running and fighting and crying and nearly dying over and over again. They can barely stay on their feet for the boat ride back to Water Seven. Robin can’t seem to stop smiling, even through the painful abrasions around her wrists and the tear tracks drying on her cheeks and the ache that digs down to her bones. 

Iceberg gives them a whole suite of rooms to use in Galley-La’s temporary headquarters, all comfortable, all with their own big soft beds to sleep in. He means well, she’s certain, but he just doesn’t know how the Strawhat Pirates do things. But, then, there’s nobody else who does things quite like them.

Iceberg is barely out the door before Robin is folding her arms across her chest, ferrying mattresses and bedding and pillows and comforters into the main lounge, gathering them into a piled-up nest of comfort. The shared bedroom on the Going Merry had been outfitted much the same, she remembers, and the warmth of familiarity is the least she can offer them after all they’ve given her. 

(Later, Franky will see this, and make a bed big enough to hold all of them, soft and comfortable and warm; but for now, they’re all safe and all alive, and so pillows on the floor are plenty.)

They don’t lie down so much as they all fall together at once in a tangle of limbs and pillows, now that the adrenaline has long since faded away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Robin finds herself with her head on Nami’s chest and one of Luffy’s arms slung across her shoulders, and Chopper cuddled against her stomach. 

It shouldn’t be as easy as it is to melt into the embrace, to let go of the constant vigilant caution that’s kept her alive for so long, but she trusts these people, like she’s never trusted anyone in her life. She was ready to die for them, and they responded by telling her to live for them instead, and remembering that fills her heart with such soft fondness it nearly hurts. 

But they’re not quite all together. Not yet.

She shifts to cross her arms again, careful not to disturb any of the crewmates already fast asleep around and on top of her, and lets an arm blossom from a doorframe in the hall outside to catch Usopp by the collar before he can slip away. She hears his yelp of surprise from just outside the door, quickly muffled, and smiles to herself. 

A moment later, he peers inside, hiding behind the mostly-closed door. She meets his eyes and smiles with all the gratitude she can’t begin to put into words, and nods towards an unused mattress and pillow at her side. He hesitates for a moment, clearly uncertain, caught between anxiety and hope, so she takes his hand in a succession of hers and tugs him over. He stumbles, but doesn’t resist, and she can see the exhaustion in him when he practically topples over onto the mattress. 

Within minutes, he’s asleep too, face buried in the pillow, snoring softly, one warm hand still clasped in Robin’s. She knows he still has things to work out with Luffy, with the rest of the crew, and there’ll be time for that later. Right now, though, they’re alive, and she’s free, and it’s time to rest. 

She falls asleep smiling for the first time in years. 

-

It goes like this: Luffy can’t sleep alone. 

So Rusukaina is… it’s hard. He’s not alone, Rayleigh’s there, and sometimes Hancock and the others visit and let him hug them as long as he wants, and that’s nice, but it’s not the same, not really. He misses his crew, misses Zoro’s solid warmth and the fluffy cushion of Usopp’s hair and the fleecy softness of Chopper’s fur and Robin’s low, rhythmic breathing. 

(He’s never slept better than when he was seven, piled together with Ace and Sabo and some ratty stolen blankets on the rough-hewn floor of their treehouse, with the crickets singing outside and the stars shining bright through the window.)

(But now there’s no Ace and Sabo, not ever again, and no crew to keep him warm and chase away the nightmares in their absence, and so he doesn’t sleep well.) 

He fights through it, because that’s what he always does, what he’s always done- press through. He has to get stronger for the people he has left. 

Going back to the Sunny is nothing less than going home. 

When night comes, they’re deep underwater, en route to Fishman Island, the sunlit waters of the surface long since gone. Past the railings of the Sunny, the world is nearly pitch black, lit only by the occasional bioluminescent creature wriggling past.

Luffy couldn’t care less, because right here and right now, the Sunny is the world, and nothing past their bubble of light and warmth and safety matters at all. He grins, and throws his arms out to drag his whole crew together into a messy pile in the middle of the deck- Sanji swears and Chopper shrieks and so does Nami, but not one of them tries to dodge- before flopping into the midst of the chaos himself. 

He winds up sprawled half on Brook and half on Sanji, who complains but doesn’t kick him off, his head on Robin’s thigh and his arms tangled through all of them, holding on tight to every member of his crew, the most important treasures in the world, the touch promising him they’re there, really there. 

He’s not letting go of any of them, not again, not ever. 

He’s reaching the crown with all of them or not at all. 

Someone runs a hand through his hair, and it feels nice. Someone says, “Get some sleep, captain. We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He knows they will be.

#opfic #my writing #one piece #opfanfic #luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #nami #usopp #nico robin #chopper #strawhat pirates

[stubbychaos]

Something I Can Never Have

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4

Chapter 5 of Saviin’ika

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After days pass without you seeing your blue Mandalorian, you force yourself to make a promise that will ultimately strip you of your happiness, though you find it hard to stay true to your word. In the process, you also meet an unlikely companion that will teach you that not everything on Nevarro is ugly.

Rating: M for darker themes pertaining to abuse, animal neglect/fur trading, unresolved sexual tension.

Word Count: 10,000 (at least there’s finally plot lol)

Warnings: This chapter definitely starts off very dark and has descriptions of intense injuries. There’s pretty graphic descriptions of manipulation and abuse (I tried to keep all actual descriptions of the father actually abusing saviin’ika very non-detailed, but still, please read with caution if such topics make you upset and DM me if you want a safe summary of the chapter <3). There’s also a brief mention of animal neglect, but again, nothing descriptive at all!

A/N will be at end of the chapter!

“You know everything I do is for your own good, right? To make you stronger?”

You force yourself to nod when a crooked finger presses cruelly against the small gash at your hairline and you find yourself desperately missing the much softer touch of your Mandalorian; a few droplets of blood trickle past your brow and into the soft divot of your eyelid.

“Then why do you never learn?”

“I... I don’t know,” You whisper weakly, your body limp and weak against the uncomfortable cot, “I am sorry.”

“I only hurt you because I care about you--because I want you to be better. Do you understand that? If you just did your fucking job and listened to what I say, I wouldn’t have to hurt you all the time,” Your father informs you, though you’re certain he’s trying to rationalize his own actions so he can sleep at night, rather than actually comforting you, “I don’t want you wasting your time on someone who doesn’t care about you, not when you’re needed here and nowhere else. How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Two or three weeks?”

Your chest aches at his cruel words.

Sixteen days.

It’s been sixteen days since you’ve seen him and you’re certain it’s your own fault he stopped showing up without a word as to why. 

After your companion had taken you to see the waterfalls, your father had been utterly infuriated upon seeing you with the Beskar-clad warrior, lengthening your shifts from easier twelve hour days to shifts that nearly lasted twenty hours. After finally emerging from the infirmary nearly twenty hours after he’d taken you to watch the sunrise, you had been absolutely heartbroken to find that your blue Mandalorian had not been waiting for you in the wee hours of the morning. After nearly half an hour of standing around, you had shrugged it off and slowly made your way home; you honestly wouldn’t expect anyone to wait for you that long and figured you would see him at some point later. 

But then he’s not there the next day when you get off at a somewhat reasonable time--or the night after that.

Thinking that perhaps an emergency had arose in his tribe, you find yourself waiting against his usual spot the following nights when you are finally released from your agonizingly long shifts.

Still, he does not show up and while your faith in the Mandalorian is slightly shaken, it is not completely broken and hope still flickers in your chest like a tiny spark.

“It has been however many fucking days and you think he’s going to come back for an incompetent girl? He’s probably already forgotten about you. Why did the Maker curse me by having you as my last living blood?”

Your eyelids slip shut at the same time a tear trickles along the bridge of your nose and lands somewhere on the stiff cot that you physically cannot lift yourself from; you think you’ve heard him utter those words more times than he’s ever said ‘I love you’ or, ‘I’m proud of you’. You try to think of the last time he’s said something kind or encouraging to you, but your mind is foggy and the room around you is spinning wildly, breaths leaving your lungs in erratic little patterns that you have no control over.

You can’t even remember the last time he attempted a small smile in your direction, let alone a reassuring sentiment.

You’re certain that at least one of your ribs is fractured or broken and you vaguely remember patching up your blue Mandalorian upon your initial meeting, though that moment seems so far away and out of reach. You swear you can still feel how scalding his skin had been underneath your skilled hands and how the muscles in his abdomen had contracted and tensed upon feeling you rubbing that salve against sore ribs. 

Your dry throat constricts and you force a sob away when you remember that night he had carried you home and tenderly treated your wounds while you were in and out of sleep, going so far to even take out your braids and massage your tender scalp.

You ponder what he would say or think upon seeing your current state--curled up on your own medical cot, bruised and battered and unable to work. Even if he found you to be pitiful, you’re certain he would manage to make you feel better and you hate that the ache in your chest is worse than the one in your bruised ribs.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” He furiously demands and you reluctantly crack your eyelids open, your head aching from the fluorescent lighting that assaults your sensitive eyes; you think you must be concussed, “You’re wasting your time with the Mandalorian, you know that deep down, don’t you? Do you even realize what they would do to a weak woman like yourself? His people are known to be ruthless and unforgiving towards outsiders. He’s going to turn his back on you or take advantage of--”

You tune him out after that. 

Partially because you don’t wish to listen to the lies that he spits like venom and also because the ringing in your ears makes it hard to hear much of anything; you don’t want to hear what kind of torture he believes that the Mandalorians would ever inflict upon people like you when you know it to be false. It actually upsets you to the point of nausea--that another man who has hurt you so badly could attempt to convince you that the only man who’s ever shown you kindness and that you are absolutely infatuated with was against you--that he only wishes to harm you in the cruelest way possible.

Your Mandalorian--cruel?

Impossible.

You think you know your selfless, caring Mandalorian better than you know the back of your own hand and the horrific assumptions your father implies causes a terrible ache to form in the pit of your stomach--a disgusting feeling that makes you want to retaliate, though you force yourself to calm down. You truly do not want to intensify his anger; not when your ribs are aching something awful and the pounding in the back of your skull throbs more achingly the more he spews insults.

Ignoring the anger that quells deep in the pit of your belly, you let your eyes slip shut again and think of blue Beskar instead, or how lovely you think his visor looks in the moonlight, despite not being able to see what he truly looks like underneath his helmet. Though he threatened the life of the very man who hurt you so badly that you currently can’t even move, you think him to have the kindest soul you’ve ever known and you pray that he isn’t too upset when you see him again.

If you see him again.

As your father continues to remind you that you don't deserve the little happy moments that the Mandalorian has gifted you with in such a short amount of time, you try to ignore the fact your companion lied to you. You’re almost certain that it’s not his fault--that something complicated must have developed within his beloved tribe and though you worry for him, you also can’t help but to let your father’s venomous words manipulate your mind into briefly thinking that he’s completely abandoned you.

Usually your injuries are easy to hide with the long sleeves of your dress or longer leggings, but you can feel the contusion that's currently forming around your eye, as well as the blood that's starting to dry and grow crusty at your hairline. You’re only slightly grateful he hasn’t been there for you the past few days, knowing he would absolutely loathe to see what’s become of you and how messy and tangled your usually soft mane has become--

How you haven’t even bothered to decorate your messy braids with vibrant flowers because you no longer feel joy upon wearing them.

You think the skin that's visible must resemble your Mandalorian's dark blue armor and you find the irony of the realization sick and cruel; it’s unfair because you’ve always thought his scuffed up armor to be beautiful, but there’s nothing beautiful about your current state. 

If you possessed even a fraction of the Mandalorian’s strength, you would not be in this painful position and you wished you were somewhere so far away where your father's violent nature was nothing more than a distant, faded memory. You think of the planet your Mando had described to you just weeks ago--Felucia--and vibrant flora that towers over the heavy-infantry warrior; you wonder if he had been making the story up to cheer you up, though you know him to be an honest man.

“Maybe one day I will have the chance to take you there, mesh’la.”

The mere thought of traveling among the stars with the warrior is enough to subdue the pain that’s coursing through your bruised body and your lips barely stretch into a tiny smile; you know it’s something that will most likely come to fruition, but perhaps if you get lucky, it will come to you in the form of a lovely dream one night.

“Clean yourself and get up,” Your father grunts upon realizing that you’ve been ignoring his deprecating speech, “You have a long shift today.”

“My head though,” You grimace when his fingers curl into fists, tears burning something fierce in your eyes at the thought of simply moving, let alone working a full shift in your current state, “I--I think I’m concussed.”

“If you have the energy to complain, then you have the energy to work,” He hisses and you let out a pained yelp when he roughly grabs your elbow and yanks you into a sitting position; the room spins around you and bile rises in your esophagus, “You should be thanking me for not breaking anything important, like your hands or legs. You gonna thank me? Or you gonna keep being an ungrateful bitch all the time?”

You clench your jaw and swallow the lump in your throat, feeling absolutely pathetic as you speak through your teeth, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He spats and you cringe when you smell the alcohol and spice on his breath, “I will not have you disrespecting me when I’ve done so much for you. You’re going to stop seeing the Mandalorian if he shows back up again, okay? I don’t need him filling your head with such foolish fantasies and thoughts, especially when he’s distracting you from your job so much.”

“Father, please,” You beg, no longer caring about sounding so feeble because nothing leaves you feeling more bereft of all hope than the thought of not seeing your kindhearted Mandalorian if he chooses to ever come back “I promise I’ll be better and I’ll stop talking back all the time! Please, don’t make me do this. I’ll be a better daughter if you just--”

“If I just what?” He scoffs, sounding disgusted and you think his next words are probably the most heart-shattering words he’s ever uttered, “There is nothing I could do--nothing you could do--to ever make you be a better daughter.”

Tears trickle down your bruised cheeks as you force yourself not to sob, “Please don’t take him away from me.”

“Your Mandalorian has already given up on you, yet you try to defend him? If he truly cared, he would have been here for you days ago. Your cowardly warrior does not care for you like I do,” Your tears don’t affect him--they never have--and he almost seems amused as he wraps his dirty fingers around your wrist, squeezing until you cry out from the pain, “Don’t make me break your hands, little one,” He warns and you ponder how someone could be so cruel as to rob you of two of the only things that bring you the most joy, “They may bring in a lot of credits for me, but I would not be sad about breaking one or two fingers.”

It hurts to breathe, let alone cry, and you somehow manage to subdue your tears, though you have not felt such devastation in years. The pain in your ribs and the back of your skull is nothing more than a flicker of a thought as you contemplate what it is he wants you to give up. The anger you felt earlier upon hearing him talk so horrifically about your Mandalorian is nothing to the flames that currently dance wildly in your belly, making you feel absolutely feral and resentful towards your only living family.

“Don’t worry,” He coos when you sniffle and struggle to force your sobs away, “It wouldn’t be enough to keep you from doing your job, just enough to get the point across.”

Your body shakes with breathless, silent sobs that cause your ribs burn and throb in absolute agony, though you think your father’s words hurt far worse.

“No, mesh’la,” You remember your companion’s response upon hearing how you insisted that your father was family and didn’t deserve to be harmed, “He is a monster that deserves to feel shame for what he’s done to his own blood.”

“You really are a monster,” You speak the realization out loud, as if all the past abuse hadn’t been a clear indicator of that, “How could you be so cruel to your own daughter?”

He scoffs and finally releases your wrist from his painful grip, “I don’t have a daughter, just an incompetent nurse who can’t properly do her job because she’s too busy daydreaming about a future she’ll never have. Forget the Mandalorian and focus on your job, or else I’ll really make things far more miserable for the two of you and make sure you never help another fucking patient for the rest of your life.”

“You may be able to do this to me, but he would not let you lay a hand on him.”

“I can hurt him in other ways,” The cruel man reassures you, something dark and ruthless glimmering in his dark eyes; you wonder how a man can be filled with so much hatred and disgust towards their only blood, “If he cares for you as much as you think he does, then I think he wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly disappeared, if he thought you ran away. Shit, perhaps he just wouldn’t care at all.”

You’re certain it’s a threat against your life, but the way he says it so nonchalantly fills you with utter resentment towards him and your chest heaves. You think back to when the infirmary had been robbed a couple months ago and how the bandit threatening your life had held a blaster to your forehead, but that seems like nothing compared to your father’s violent promise. Though you haven’t seen your Mandalorian in over two weeks and there’s a chance that he’s already tired himself of you, the thought of him showing up one night to simply find out that you ‘ran away’--well, you’re certain he wouldn’t believe a word that comes out of your father’s mouth.

He wouldn’t, right?

...Right?

You’re not sure what thought is worse, your Mandalorian feeling betrayed at the thought you would simply take off without a word or his reaction upon finding your lifeless body wherever your father would dump it, should he be the one to discover it.

“He would kill you,” You weakly inform him, though you feel that you have already lost this fight, “He already wants to.”

“I have connections too, little one,” He refutes easily and you know he’s only telling the truth by the way he smirks, “Ones much more powerful than a coward who chooses to live a life hidden in the shadows.”

Your fingers loosely curl into a fist at the insult, but you remain silent when you see his own hands form into much tighter fists.

“Forget him,” The cruel man repeats in a hushed growl and you refuse to meet his angry glare, “Or else you will both regret it.”

The words hurt more than his fists and you loathe that your voice cracks when you speak in a broken whisper, “Yes father.”

“Now, get up and get to work--you look like a damn mess.”

You weakly nod and tiredly wipe a hand down your face as your father leaves your office with the slam of a door, making you flinch at the aggressive action. You wince upon feeling the new bruises splayed across your skin and carefully slide off the medical cot, gripping the metal railing with stiff fingers and pressing your other hand to your aching ribs. Wearily, you make your way to the mirror that sits on your desk and squeeze your eyes shut upon seeing purple and blue bruises covering nearly half of your face, along with your neck and jaw.

You think you look just as bad as you feel.

After washing your hands and retrieving your suture kit, you slowly sink into your chair and begin the painful process of cleaning and stitching the gash at your hairline. The pain that comes with the horrific sensation of a long, hooked needle piercing your skin and tugging bloodied skin back together is pretty intense, it’s nothing compared to the agony that threatens to rip you apart when it dawns on you that your father truly expects you to forget the Mandalorian, as though he’s some sort of toy that you’ve outgrown.

“Why me?” You question nobody in particular, or perhaps the Maker that has cruelly elected you to such a painful life, “Stars... why me?”

Even though your vision blurs with tears and the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is damn near incapacitating, you continue to stitch and treat your own wounds, and you grow bitter upon realizing you’re your own patient. This is not what you envisioned when your mother decided to teach you everything she knew, hoping that someday you would have the same skills she possessed, though she was far more of a talented nurse than you could ever hope to be.

You don’t remember much of your mother, nor her soft voice and kindhearted touch, but as you finish tending to your wounds and force yourself to forget the blue Mandalorian that never truly leaves your mind, you focus on the patients that slowly trickle in and out of the infirmary for the next twenty hours or so. You’re far too injured to be working and even though your vision is doubled and speckled by black dots, you force yourself to focus and do your job. Only a few mention your new wounds, but when you insist that you were simply mugged the night before, they promptly drop the subject and you continue with your day as best as you’re physically able to.

As you find yourself thinking of your Mandalorian’s deep baritone and how he would hold you like it was pure instinct, you realize now what the warrior truly meant when he spoke of you feeling homesick for a home you had never even known.

You think the warmth and safety of the blue Mandalorian’s arms are the closest you’ll ever know to having a home and it is the only think that gets you through the most painful shift of your life.

When your shift ends eighteen hours later, black spots dot your vision and you can barely breathe with the intense, agonizing pain in your side. 

You only make it a few buildings past the infirmary, nearly passing the dirty cantina you’ve known a few of your scummy regulars to frequent when you hear it.

It starts off as a high-pitched whine that eventually dissolves into pained whimpers that wrack your heart and pique your undying curiosity.

Despite the exhaustion that bleeds into every single one of your senses, the painfully heart wrenching noises of a creature beckoning for you to help it overpowers any other rational thought that your concussed mind can possibly conjure.

You know how absolutely dangerous the village is at this hour, but something about the hopeless whimpers combined with the fluorescent red eyes that seem to reflect underneath the moonlight absolutely haunts you. Though it’s difficult to make out anything in the dark, you’re very much aware of how desperate the strange creature sounds like it’s being tortured and despite the traumatizing events of the day you’ve just experienced, your natural instincts have you making your way to the helpless animal.

As you get closer, it reluctantly emerges from the safety of the dark corner it has been hiding in and you gasp out loud at the strange, yet astonishing sight in front of you.

The ethereal moonlight seems to reflect off of the creature’s gorgeous crystalline coat and you press the back of your hand to your mouth when you realize the poor animal is tied up to a kriffing dumpster on the outside of a disgusting cantina.

How could anyone tether something so absolutely beautiful to something so dirty?

You nearly sob and your heart aches something fierce as you cautiously make your way over to the whimpering creature, it’s bright crimson eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the night and you hesitate when it lets out a shrill noise as it moves in a way that must cause intense pain. 

The tiny cub shakes its beautiful coat and you startle a little when you hear the soft clinking of crystals jangling against one another, its coat seeming to be clad with some sort of stunning, reflective mineral. You’ve never seen something so ghostly or intangible and you raise your brows when the creature politely sits on its hind legs and stares up at you, its front paw lifted off the ground and you realize it must be injured if it refuses to support any weight on the wounded appendage.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” You coo, utterly entranced, but determined to help what seems to be such an innocent, beautiful creature; despite the horrific pain in your own ribs, you slowly sink to your knees and hold a soft hand out for the cute cub to sniff, “I only want to help you.”

The cub tilts its head to the side and you nearly giggle at how big its ears seem compared to its little head; the peaks of the crystalline ears look dangerously sharp and you remind yourself that this is a feral animal that could easily deal some serious damage upon feeling threatened. Keeping that in mind, you slowly reach into the pouch at your hip where you think you still have some sort of sustenance left over from your meek lunch.

Clumsily, the beautiful creature hobbles forward and eagerly accepts the piece of jerky you’re offering. For the first time since parting ways with your Mandalorian sixteen days ago, you find yourself grinning when the fox-like creature makes a hacking noise, as if it expects some sort of luxurious cuisine, rather than dried out meat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” You murmur, earning a curious tilt of the head from the clearly neglected animal, and your grin melts into a sad frown as you move to untie the thick rope that’s wrapped like a vice around its neck; it flinches severely and you think you understand its fear all too well, “It’s okay, I’m going to get you back to the infirmary and fix up that leg. I only wish to help, I promise.”

Something about the soft determination laced in your quiet voice must resonate with the creature, because it’s soulful, crimson eyes blink slowly up at youas it plops down and heaves a tired sigh. Using the vibroblade the blue Mandalorian had given you over a month ago, you carefully cut through the thick rope and your heart breaks when you realize the pale flesh underneath is absolutely rubbed raw and slightly bloody. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” You coo when it lets out a little whine as you inspect the extent of its injuries, though they seem fairly minor, “I’m going to take care of you, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You smile sympathetically and lean forward to carefully pick up the cub, marveling at how tiny the creature is and loathing that you can feel its ribs, even underneath its rocky coat. Slowly, you rise with the strange animal cradled cozily in your arms and ignore the pain in your ribs as you gently scratch its rocky chin. You’re met with the pleasant sound of a happy little shriek and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, not even noticing the sound of shuffling from behind you, nor the soft click of a weapon pointed in your direction.

“Drop the vulptex right now.”

You turn around so fast that you nearly knock yourself off balance, gasping when you realize the source of the voice belongs to a Trandoshan that towers over you by more than a foot; you tremble at how terrifying the reptilian species is. He’s pointing a rusty blaster right between your brows and you think that this day can’t possibly get any worse, what with your injuries, your father’s haunting words, and your Mandalorian’s continuous absence.

As if it senses your fear and sadness, along with the severity of the situation, the creature in your arms--the vulptex--whines a little and tucks its wet snout against the crook of your neck.

“Drop the mutt,” The Trandoshan hisses, his Basic a little choppy and slurred as he staggers closer until the cold barrel of his weapon is pressed firmly against your forehead; you’re shocked that you manage to not tear up from fear alone as you stare into his emotionless yellow eyes.

“I would not surrender this abused creature so easily--not when your intentions are cruel,” You whisper, grunting a little when he shoves the blaster against you and urges you backwards into the stone wall, the back of your already aching skull colliding against the unforgiving surface, “Why would you own such a beautiful animal, only to harm it?”

“You think I actually care about the damn noisy thing?” He scoffs, eyes darting down to the shaking creature that you hold so protectively to your chest, “Her coat right now could easily earn me over two thousand credits; I don’t give a shit if she’s hurt or not, I only care about the pretty reward she will bring me.”

You glare fiercely at him, hating that your eyes fill with tears simply from the thought of the precious creature being bred and born for no other purpose than the cruel intentions of a sick man. Unconsciously, you hold the vulptex tighter against you, hating the little squeaks and whimpers she lets out, as though she’s aware of the torture she will endure if she ends up in the hands of this monster.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you,” He steps closer until his scaly body is pressed against yours and it all feels wrong and gross and you force your mind to go anywhere else than the wall of a dirty cantina, “Though I don’t think I would mind seeing you with more bruises, little one--seems like I’m not the first one you’ve manage to piss off today.”

For the umpteenth time that day, anger swells like a grave wound in the pit of your stomach and you hate that it only makes your tears burn hotter in your eyes, leaving a trail of scorching fire down your cheek. You cringe when the Trandoshan reaches forward to grab your bruised face and you’re hasty and panicked as you speak up before he can do anymore damage to your already wounded skin.

“Put the blaster down and I’ll give her back, I swear!”

He makes a strange hissing noise and grips your bruised cheeks harder, making you cry out in pain, “This is not a negotiation, little one. Just hand over the fucking mutt and I might let you leave in one piece.”

Though your voice shakes, you somehow steel your nerves and stand your ground, “I will give you your animal once you put down the blaster. How do I know you won’t just shoot me dead as soon as I hand her over?” You question, realizing that the confusion in your voice must affect him severely and when you speak up again, your voice is filled with fury. 

“Put. It. Down.”

“Only because your anger is amusing.”

The Trandoshan clicks his tongue angrily at you and lets out the most vicious growl you’ve ever heard, though you must be convincing enough because he finally eases his body off of your much smaller one. Your heart pounds frantically in your chest as you watch him bend down a little to holster the unforgiving weapon and you remember what your Mandalorian had once told you in regards to defending yourself against enemies larger than you.

Without really thinking of the consequences, you promptly bring your knee up into the enormous Trandoshan’s groin, cringing at the loud yelp the man lets out and you further the damage by swinging your calf upwards when he nearly collapses, your ankle colliding with what you’re sure is his most sensitive appendage. 

The fox-like creature in your arms whines and squeaks profusely as you take advantage of the situation by sprinting to the end of the alleyway where you know you can make a quick escape into the infirmary that’s just a few buildings away from your current location.

Your feet move before your mind even registers your actions and all that you know is that your cruel attacker is bent down at the waist, nearly on his knees and crying out in pain as you quickly sprint as fast as your aching legs will allow you to. Pain is radiating throughout your entire body, but you ignore it as you focus your entire being on getting out of a dangerous situation in one piece. 

You think you’re safe and in the clear when a massive arm wraps tightly around your waist and tugs you close to them, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as you angrily kick your legs about. In a furious rage, you shriek and thrash against the impossibly tight grasp your new attacker has on you and it fills you with utter fury; it’s the third time today that someone’s hurt you and something about the realization fills you with resentment and grief.

Barely registering the familiar baritone that attempts to calm you in a softer, exasperated tone, you thrash wildly against the arm that holds you to an unyielding chest. It’s familiar, but you’re certain that your mind is playing cruel tricks on you and you are not willing to give in so easily to your captor.

“Let me go!” You shriek, absolutely blinded by fear and terror to register that the one holding you to his chest is your only other companion--the only man you’ve ever trusted. His arm is wrapped around the worst of your bruising and you feel as though you're being crushed so heavily by the weight of your own consequences, more so than his armor.

"Shh, It's me," The familiar voice shushes you and you feel shame that you didn't recognize it earlier, that you didn’t even realize it was Beskar digging into your broken body, "I've got you--you're safe. Please don’t… don’t cry, mesh’la. Shit, please don’t cry--it’s just me."

‘It’s just me.’

He says it like you haven’t been waiting for him every night for weeks and you nearly sob at how unconcerned he sounds when you spent so much time terrified that he had simply abandoned you or had gotten gravely injured.

Before you can even think about weakly asking him why he didn't show up all those nights ago, another voice--a much angrier one--echoes from down the sidewalk. You're not sure whether your shakiness is from fear or adrenaline, but the warrior doesn't lessen his grip and holds your back tightly to his Beskar-clad chest. You’re grateful when he removes his arm from around your tender ribs, deciding that just above your chest seems like a better option and if you weren’t so shaken up, you’d blush upon feeling his fingers gently squeeze your shoulder in a comforting way.

"You fucking little--"

Immediately, your attacker’s angry tone dies down as he realizes that someone new has entered the altercation, immediately spotting the irritated Mandalorian that’s holding you and the ethereal creature securely with one arm, his other stretched past your head as he steadily aims a long blaster in the Trandoshan's direction. Though the intimidating criminal stands just as tall as the blue heavy-infantry warrior, you're certain that he's not nearly as broad or as intimidating.

Definitely not as skilled in his drunken stupor.

Your attacker's eyes widen just a fraction upon realizing who's currently holding you and your breath catches in your throat when he refuses to lower his blaster--would he really be so foolish to challenge someone who was trained from childhood to be a skilled warrior? You feel the Mandalorian fist the material of your dress that covers your shoulder and if you weren't so focused on the tense situation, you would have complained about the burning pain that shoots through your side at how closely he holds you to him to his Beskar chest. Swiftly and not unkindly in the slightest, the warrior gently urges you behind him and you’re quick to let out a deep exhale that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in since he initially grabbed you.

"I don't want any trouble, Mando," The Trandoshan's voice drops, as though he can sense the anger rolling off of your Mandalorian's Beskar, "I just want the vulptex back--the girl is a thief and I want my reward."

“Thief, huh?” The blue warrior cocks his head to the side, like he's amused by the thought of you committing any sort of crime, "Seems to me like you're the thief. Vulptices only reside on Crait and are protected by law, even in the Outer Rim. I’m sure you already know that though."

“Since when do Mandalorians have morals?”

Your Mandalorian doesn’t say anything in response and you think that his silence is far more fearful than whatever else he could have said in retaliation. His leather-clad hand slowly reaches behind him and your cheeks burn something painfully fierce when you realize he’s reaching out for you, as though he’s worried that you’ve somehow vanished or that your visible injuries are because of the Trandoshan.

Despite the promise you made to your father earlier, you’re unable to resist the urge to reach out for him as well. As your fingers intertwine with his and you give them a gentle squeeze, your father’s words haunt you and tears fill your eyes when you remember you’re going to have to break off the tender relationship you’ve somehow formed with him in such a short amount of time. You thought that nothing would hurt worse than convincing your father that you would simply focus on work, rather than your Mandalorian, but now that he’s actually there and holding your hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held?

You’re absolutely terrified that your heart is going to break into hundreds of piercing shards and somehow hurt him, even with the protection of his precious Beskar armor.

Upon realizing that the heavy-infantry Mandalorian isn’t going to relent, your attacker seems to falter and finally lowers his blaster upon hearing the warrior’s next words.

“I’m sure a fur-trader like yourself would have a pretty big bounty on their head,” A squeeze of your own hand fills you with warmth and reassurance as he argues with the cruel man that holds such ill intentions for such a beautiful creature, "I would not mind handing you over to a bounty hunter and seeing how much I could make off of someone like yourself."

“You really don’t want to do this, Mando,” The Trandoshan hisses and you realize that he’s trying to convince your Mandalorian to hand you and your newest companion over, “They’re not worth it--I promise.”

Thick fingers curl tightly around yours and you hate that your heart skips a little when you realize he’s silently reassuring you that you are worth all this trouble, a notion that’s difficult for you to truly believe after the past few weeks. You want to be upset with him for disappearing without a word, but you’re certain that he must have a reasonable explanation and fear churns in the pit of your belly when you remind yourself of the promise you’d made to your father earlier.

“I think he wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly disappeared, if he thought you ran away…”

Tears burn painfully in your eyes as the Trandoshan relents with a furious growl, sending you one last glare as he angrily makes his way back into the cantina. The Mandalorian stands deathly still as he continues to stare at the spot where your attacker had previously occupied and you think that he must be collecting his thoughts before he speaks out loud. You’re certain that this isn’t how he expected your reunion to go--you pissing off a Trandoshan that rivals his own strength and having to yank you out of a bad situation--but as he slowly turns to regard you and the creature you cradle so closely to your chest, you think he’s not angry with you.

“Seems like you’ve had quite the day, saviin’ika,” He observes with a cocked helmet, his hand slowly moving to the underside of your jaw so he can tilt your head back to get a better view of your newest injuries; judging by the tension laced in his baritone, along with the way his chest heaves, you must appear as awful as you feel, “Not a good one, at that.”

The weight of his grave words fill your eyes with tears and you squeeze your eyes shut when the cold leather covering his calloused thumb ghosts along the apple of your bruised cheek; it brings you back to when he carried you to your hut and tended to your wounds. Somehow, his touch seems far gentler right now than it had that night, despite him wearing his gloves and it only makes you want to cry harder for the tender warrior.

“Y-You weren’t...” You force yourself not to sob, as you feel you’ve cried far too much for one day, “Where did you go? I-I waited, just like I promised. I know it was so late the first day, but after that I kept waiting and y-you never showed up and I thought you--”

Your voice cracks and you think from the way he slumps forward a little he must feel the pain that’s so prevalent in your broken words; he raises his hands in a pleading gesture as your tears burst like a kriffing dam. You’re certain it’s just the events of the day, combined with being concussed and absolutely exhausted that’’s making you so emotional, but you don’t care anymore and let it all out.

“I… I am sorry I have not been here for you,” He sounds ashamed as he leans down to tenderly press his Beskar-clad forehead against your bare one, taking great care to not bump into your stitches, “There were problems in the tribe that needed to be taken care of. I did not intend for it to last this long.”

You hesitate to open your eyes and peer up at him, though when you do, you find that the sight of his scuffed up helmet and visor bring you more comfort than what you’ve felt since his absence, “Are your people okay? I could help if someone is injured or--”

“No, mesh’la,” He still sounds pained as his fingers graze the edges of the bandage that covers the stitches at your hairline, “Everyone is okay, but thank you for your concern. It was just a dangerous mission that our bounty hunter needed help with and some negotiating with the tribe that I needed to be there for. I did not want to be away from you for this long--it was not my intentions--but I know that one day soon you will understand. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

“No, I just... there is nothing to forgive. Your tribe should always come first,” You shake your head as you viciously wipe the tears from your cheeks, “It’s been a long day and I’m just being... I’m just tired--I’m exhausted and hurt.”

“Then let me take care of you, little nurse.”

“You… you should not be here; you should be with your own people,” You force out in a tiny whisper, though he does not seem afraid by your words in the slightest, “This is--what we have..” You hate that your expression crumbles and your voice breaks, because he immediately tilts his helmet, as though he already sees right through your lies, “It is wrong.”

He scoffs and you’re barely aware of the way he gently curls his fingers around your hip, pushing you up against the infirmary you had somehow made it to in your hysteria. Judging by the way he shakes his helmet at you and easily backs you up until you're pressed to the brick wall of the broken down place you work at, you think he must not believe your words at all. You feel as though you do not have the strength to explain what is going on as he cockily rests a forearm right next to your cheek against the brick wall of the infirmary that he’s successfully trapped you against.

“This is wrong, mesh’la?” He questions softly--desperately--and you think your heart might combust at how gentle his modulated baritone is, “Is it so wrong that I couldn’t stop thinking of your eyes and smile every night I was away from you? Is it wrong that I dream of how soft your hair feels when I take off my gloves or that I only wish to hold you when I am alone in my bed at night? Would you really be so cruel to me after I traveled so long just to see your pretty face?"

“Was it not cruel of you to be away for so long without me knowing why? I thought you might have...” Your gaze lowers to his cuirass in embarrassment and shame, “I thought you were injured or that maybe you just didn’t... you didn’t want me anymore.”

He tenses, back straightening as he makes a strange choking noise, “I always want you--I always will. It pained me to not be able to see you in person, but you were in my dreams whenever I actually managed to get sleep. Do you really not want this anymore? Did I hurt you that badly?” He suddenly sounds fearful and your heart absolutely aches in your chest, “I would get on my knees and ask for forgiveness if that is what you wished for.”

“I would not allow your big ego to take that big of a hit,” You jokingly whisper--a poor attempt to lighten the situation, though it stops him right before he can fall to his knees, “This is--it’s just something that cannot go on any longer.”

“You are making no sense to me, mesh’la.”

You release a small sigh when his fingers drift up to the remnants of dried blood that have crusted into your roots, “I am not a cruel woman, Mandalorian, I am tired and I would not let you feel the same pain I have felt,” You whisper the last part as he gently nudges his forehead against yours, “I would not wish it upon anyone, especially you.”

“You think your father could hurt me?” The Mandalorian’s thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your hip as he tilts his helmet, forehead still pressed to yours and you force your expression not to crumble when you remember your father’s words from earlier, “He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me--he wouldn’t be able to even think about it before I’d have him in ashes at your feet.”

“Must you make everything so difficult?” You inquire lips trembling because he does not realize the true extent of the kind of pain your father it able to inflict on the fearless warrior without even laying a finger on him, “You should leave. P-Please, you do not understand what he is--what he can do to you.”

“What did he say to you? Please tell me he did not get inside that pretty head of yours,” He taps the underside of your chin and urges you to peer up at his visor and you fear that he’ll see the despair and agony burning something fierce in your shimmering eyes, “Is that really what you wish for, mesh’la? You gonna break my heart like this?”

“You know what I wish for, yet it is something I can never have, Mandalorian.”

“Don’t do this to me, to us,” He sounds just as devastated as you feel and it only complicates the situation more than you could ever hope to anticipate as he continues to speak in the same tone, “Don’t take this away from me--not when it’s the only good thing we’ve both had in so long and I... please let me help you.”

He sounds so despondent and the graveness of it causes your heart to ache terribly as you shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the leather covering his fingers.

“Let me take you away from here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and rest the back of your head against the wall he has you trapped to; all confidence you had in your attempts to break things off with the Mandalorian dissipates the very moment you feel the cool leather of his thumb kiss the corner of your mouth. He cocks his helmet to the side when you turn your head further against his hand and slowly let your eyelids slip shut when your lips meet the palm of his black glove; you long for the warmth of his rough skin instead. 

You simultaneously loathe and love that he has this effect on you--that he holds your heart so protectively in his palm--and you know you're playing a dangerous game as your free hand comes up to press against his much bigger one. You trap the cold leather close to your face and don’t care when you force him to apply the tiniest pressure to the blue and purple bruises covering half of your face.

You’re barely aware of the way he raises his fingers, so he causes you no pain.

He lets out a deep, dreamy sigh when you press a firm kiss to his palm and all thoughts pertaining to the promise you’d previously made to your father disappear as he tenderly strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I have to tend to her wounds, Mandalorian,” You murmur when the vulptex cub lets out an irritated whine and you feel emptier when he reluctantly pulls his hand away from your face, though he keeps your hand trapped firmly in his.

“Then I will tend to yours after, mesh’la.”

“They really aren’t that bad,” You insist, though the ache in your ribs and the throbbing in the back of your skull reminds you otherwise, “They look a lot worse than they feel.”

“You are a terrible liar,” He sighs again and gently squeezes your hand as you lead him into the infirmary, taking great caution to lock the entrance behind you, “I can tell by the way you are breathing that your ribs are injured. Let me--just, please let me take care of you."

You should tell him to leave, your father's threat lingering in the back of your mind, but the temptation of your Mandalorian's bare touch outweighs any rational thought you might have had. So, you relent with hardly any fuss, giving the stubborn man a small nod as you tiredly guide him into your office and turn on the lights.

"I do not want you to see my body like this," You warn him as you tenderly lay the wounded creature in the center of your medical cot, "I am ashamed of my bruises and scars."

You barely glance at the warrior as he lazily removes his heavy cannon, as well as the jetpack that's attached to the huge weapon. He freezes upon hearing your meek words and shakes his helmet as you begin to disinfect your tiny patient’s minor wounds, earning you soft squeaks and whines in the process.

"That shame belongs to him, mesh'la," Your Mandalorian reassures you in a firm tone that makes you think he's upset, "Never feel ashamed for the cruelty of others, especially when you did nothing to deserve any of this. As for the scars, there is nothing embarrassing about the stories that tell your survival."

“Do you have many?” You question, not able to meet his emotionless visor, though something about how terse he sounds makes you think he’s not as stoic as he always tries to appear to be, “I know when I stitched you up a couple of months ago you, I just didn’t see many scars.”

“The armor doesn’t always hold up,” He quietly admits and you finally turn your head to peer up at the dents in his helmet; dread pumps through your veins when you realize the scars on his Beskar must have been a result of a powerful blaster shot and you wonder if the bare skin beneath is scarred as well, “I have many scars as well. Some I’ve gotten from fights I’m not so proud of, but they are still a part of me and tell the story of who I am today.”

You contemplate his words carefully, observing all the scuffs and dents in his dull blue armor before collecting your thoughts, “I am not a warrior like you and I did not get these scars from fighting in battles. There is no honor behind my story--behind learning how to take beatings and keeping my mouth shut so I won’t be hurt worse. This is not a battle, it’s just learning to live with it.”

You turn away from him when you fear that you won’t be able to hold your composure any longer, tensing a little when the Mandalorian speaks in a low, deeper baritone, “Maybe it is not a battle you’re fighting, but that doesn’t make you any less of a warrior, mesh’la. You’re far braver than anyone in this damn village and I’ll keep telling you that until you finally believe it.”

“And what if I never believe it? What will you do then?”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until the day I die.”

You smile sadly and not knowing how to respond, you simply fall into a thoughtful silence as you check the cub for any broken bones or wounds that might not be visible; after confirming nothing is broken, you spin around in your chair to face the Mandalorian. He’s leaning against your desk, wood creaking underneath the weight of his body as he stares right back at you with his bare hands resting on his hips. Just the way he stands when he’s in a relaxed environment screams confidence and power and you think it to be amazing that someone can consistently exude that kind of energy, even to someone like you--someone who’s seen him grow shy and even sometimes vulnerable.

“Would you please hand me the antibacterial cream?” You politely ask as you situate yourself in the most comfortable position that your bruised ribs will allow you to sit, offering him a tiny smile when he nods and turns around to reach up to the top shelf bolted to the wall, “Thank you.”

“Sure,” He hums as he makes his way over to you in two wide strides, seeming to be unbothered by you ordering him around, “All this trouble over a vulptex that looks like a little runt?”

“All creatures matter the same to me, Mandalorian,” You gratefully accept the little jar he holds out for you to take and you scoop out the white cream on two fingers, “No matter how big or small they are, they all deserve basic medical attention.”

“You’re something else, saviin’ika,” He informs you, sounding amused as he holds a hand out for the cub to sniff, though the ethereal creature merely turns its nose away and blinks slowly at you; the Mandalorian shakes his helmet with a grunt and turns his attention to you as he leans against the back of your chair.

“Do you know much of this species?”

The Mandalorian hums as he lazily wraps his fingers around the top of the backrest of your chair, seeming entirely comfortable to be this close to you, “I know they’re native to the planet of Crait, but other than that, I don’t know much else outside of the fur trade and them being smuggled and slaughtered for their crystal coats.”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and you hate that tears immediately burn your eyes as you stare at the precious little creature and her soulful crimson eyes, “S-Slaughtered?”

“It is best not to think about it, little nurse, especially when your heart is so soft compared to everyone else’s,” He sighs and he must be mentally kicking himself in the back of his scuffed up blue helmet for exposing you to such terrible news, “You did a good thing--saving this little runt. Her fate would have been… unfavorable, to say the least.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he gently thumbs your braids that lack their usual vibrant flowers; they had all fallen out upon the beating you’d taken earlier and it felt so wrong to be without them, “Do you think her family--her mother--?”

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, dutifully stroking the unruly baby hairs away from your forehead as you continue to wonder what kind of trauma this beautiful creature must have gone through, “Like I said, it is best to not think about it.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop thinking about what that man would have done to this poor animal,” You confess in a meek whisper as he smooths a calloused hand over your braids in a comforting manner, “How can people be so…?”

Your question hangs heavily in the air like a dark gray cloud and the Mandalorian makes a small noise in response, wordlessly answering that he doesn’t know why people are capable of acting so cruelly to those who don’t deserve it.

“That Trandoshan… did he do anything to you? I could go back and--”

“Always so ready to fight,” You smile sadly, watching as the cub slowly falls asleep underneath your tender hands and the soothing sensation that your homemade cream bestows upon its burning wounds, “He did not hurt me. If anything, I hurt him.” 

You continue when he makes a questioning hum from the back of his throat, “I kind of uh, kicked him between his legs… twice?”

You blush fiercely when he makes a choked sound and reaches out to gently squeeze your nape, he sounds like he’s trying not to laugh when he speaks, “You kicked a man in the balls? A Trandoshan?”

“I was left with no other choice and did what I needed to.”

“You are much braver than you believe,” You think you hear a twinge of admiration in his cool baritone and shake your head a little at the sentiment, refusing to believe his words “I mean it. Not many with no fighting experience would have the courage to take on someone so much bigger to protect something so little, especially when you’re already hurt. You should feel proud.”

“Th-Thank you,” You whisper, shuddering when his hand slowly travels down your neck and settles on the space between your shoulder blades, rubbing the tension away from your aching muscle; your fingers fumble with the roll of gauze as you slowly finish wrapping it around the cub’s raw neck, “You are… you’re distracting me from my work, Mandalorian.”

“I would prefer to distract you in other ways, mesh’la,” That slight cockiness is back in his modulated voice and when you try so desperately to think of some sort of witty comeback, you find that your mind is full of thoughts of what other distractions he could possibly mean. His hand slowly trails up your back and around the slope of your shoulder, eventually stopping at the base of your throat and urging your head backwards so the back of your skull is gently pressed against his armored-clad abdomen and you’re peering up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. He barely uses any pressure to control you and it’s then that you realize it’s not dominance he seeks, but more so your trust in him, and knowing that he would never harm you with ill intent.

“I have a patient to treat.”

“So do I.”

“I’m still upset with you.”

He releases the gentle, barely-there grip on your throat at your weak words and you exhale a long, deep sigh as you finish wrapping up the vulptex’s sprained paw with a small splint and a tight layer of gauze to keep the bones from shifting. Grabbing the thin pillow from the top of the medical cot, you slowly rise from your chair, fully aware of your Mandalorian’s attention on you as you place the pillow in a safe corner of the room before retrieving a small, metal dish that you would typically use to discard debris into upon treating injured patients. Instead, you fill it with water before placing some dried meat into a smaller dish, just in case your newest companion becomes hungry at some point throughout the night.

Once you settle the healing creature near its water and food bowls, you hesitantly turn to the Mandalorian that now occupies your chair, legs splayed wide, as though he doesn’t give a damn about how much space he takes up in your little office. As you approach him after making sure the cub is sound asleep and comfortable in her cozy corner, you find that you don't mind his hulking stature in the slightest and place a gentle hand on the spot between his pauldron and the lip of his helmet.

“Mesh’la,” He greets you in a quiet huff as you slowly lower yourself onto the cot with a pained expression etched upon your features; his hand moves to your thigh and carefully tugs you closer to him, “Your wounds?"

"I've done all that I can already," You inform him weakly, putting up no fight when he gently guides you into a laying position on your side by placing a firm hand on your shoulder, "I don't have anything for fractured ribs."

"I do," He begins to pull a familiar jar from the pouch at his hip and you shake your head a little upon realizing it's the bacta salve you gave him two months ago, "Please, let me take care of you the same way you take care of everyone else."

“I’m not used to--”You swallow the lump in your throat and eventually nod your consent, melting into the stiff cot when he gently wraps his fingers around your bare calf and you speak in a weak whisper, "Okay, just please be careful, the bruising is--it's pretty bad."

"I would never--" His chest heaves and his head tilts as his visor lands on your face, "I'll always be gentle with you, mesh'la."

You nod and fully relax against the mattress, peering at his scuffed up helmet as his fingers curl into the hem of your dress; you think his hesitation is endearing because most men would not have the same reaction, "It is okay, I'm wearing shorts."

"How unfortunate."

So much for hesitation.

Your face grows so hot that you feel it spread to your earlobes and you shake your head at the man who's determined to be your own nurse. You think it’s ironic that you’re in the same position he had once been in during your initial meeting and you now understand why he had become so tense upon touching his warm skin. He’s barely touched you and your heart is beating harder than a war drum before battle; you briefly wonder if this is what he had in mind when he inquired about treating your wounds and you think he must enjoy watching you squirm a little.

Yet, you know his intentions are pure and he only wishes to help you.

"Do you flirt this way with everyone?"

"No," He sounds utterly amused by your exasperation and shy disposition, "Just pretty nurses who go around picking fights with Trandoshans."

You scoff at that, fully aware of what kind of game he’s playing with you, “It seems as though you are the nurse and I am your patient now, though.”

“I... uh, yes, it does seem that way, mesh’la.”

You roll your eyes at him, though a small smile threatens to break your stoic features, "It is not professional to flirt with your patients, Mandalorian."

He huffs a little, risking a cursory glance at your face before carefully sliding your dress up your thighs and stomach so he can get a good look at your ribs. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his calloused knuckles graze the outside of your bare thigh and you force your mind out of the gutter, reminding yourself that he’s doing this to tend to your wounds.

"Oh, saviin'ika," You hear him sigh gravely as he lightly drapes your dress just underneath your bust, exposing your severely bruised skin to him, "He… he did all of this to you? Wh-Why? Maker--how could anyone--?"

You flinch a little when he cautiously lays a warm hand near the darkest of the bruises and he’s astoundingly quick to yank his hand away, as though you’re the one that’s caused him such pain and you shake your head a little. You reach out to grab his warm hand in your colder one and guide it back to your bruised skin, longing to feel any sort of tender touch after the rough, violent week you’ve had.

"He caught me daydreaming instead of working. I should have--"

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this," He breathes, a twinge of devastation clear as day in his crackly voice, "Nobody deserves this kind of torture except for him and him only. I wish you would--" He sounds like he's in even more pain than you and your heart shatters upon realizing you've unintentionally reduced him to such a state, "I wish you would let me kill him for you. I could even make it fast so you wouldn't think me to be as cruel as him. Please, mesh--"

"I want to continue to be a nurse, Mandalorian," You weakly remind him, remembering your father’s threat as your own nurse glides a cautious thumb along your tender skin, remaining diligent in not applying any pressure, “I could not keep helping others if you killed him--the infirmary would close down and I would be left without a job.”

The Mandalorian shakes his head and you watch as his rough fingers collect a generous scoop out of the jar that looks just as filled as the night he’d carried you home and tended to your wounds then. You wonder if it’s simply an instinct for him to take care of others and you give him an encouraging smile when he begins to rub the warm gel against the worst of your bruises with far more tenderness than you’ve ever experienced. You can tell he’s utterly afraid of causing you further pain and you watch as he keeps his visor trained on his massive hand that’s currently soothing your wounds.

“What if you could though? What if there was a way you could continue to help others and not have to fear him?”

You force yourself not to ponder his words too much, knowing such wistful thinking will only end in more pain.

“I would think it to be a fairytale,” You finally murmur, eyes slipping shut as he continues to slowly and carefully soothe your bruises with a ghost of a touch; the bacta salve is pleasantly numbing and you’re suddenly grateful for the unexpected medical attention, “And I have never believed in fairytales, Mandalorian.”

He simply hums and doesn’t say anything else as he finishes rubbing the numbing salve against your tender skin; though the dull ache still lingers, you’re certain the pain will be minimal come morning. You think he’s finished when he kindly fixes your gray dress so the hem is settled against just above your knees once again, but then he’s standing up and you barely lift your head when you hear water running from the small sink that’s adjacent from where you lay. The Mandalorian seems like a man on a mission as he keeps his back to you and goes through a few drawers and cupboards before finding what it is he’s searching for.

You make a small questioning hum as he makes his way over to a little sink that you'd normally wash your hands in, "What are you doing?"

He barely turns his head to you as he harshly wrings out a soaking rag in the sink, "I am cleaning you up. You have blood in your hair."

"You don't--" Your heart swells at the gesture; you hadn't really had much time earlier to thoroughly clean yourself up and had felt the dried up blood crusted into your hairline all day, "Th-Thank you. That's really sweet of you."

He merely grunts as he shuts off the water and makes his way back to the cot you currently occupy and you blink in surprise when he gently slides a hand underneath your head and urges you to sit up just a little. It takes you a second to realize what he's doing and you carefully lean up on an elbow so he can carefully shift himself behind you on the cot and your face grows warm at the thought of him yearning to be so close to you. 

As he settles behind you and moves you up into more of a seated position between his splayed thighs, carefully wrapping his thick fingers around your biceps to pull you up further against his chest, you completely forget your father's foreboding threat. Now, you're focused solely on the way he curls himself around you to get a better look at the dried blood matted to your scalp.

"Nurses don't typically treat their patients like this, Mandalorian."

He lets out another grunt and firmly keeps his hand cupped to the underside of your jaw so he can tilt your head backwards, “I just wanted to be close to you after not seeing you for so long. Besides, I don’t hear you complaining at all, mesh’la,” He lowers his helmet a little as he gently dabs at the small section of matted, crusty hair, “Are you going to tell me the real reason why you tried to get me to leave you tonight?”

Your eyelids slip shut as he soothingly rubs your jaw with his thumb and you wish he wasn’t wearing his cuirass so you could melt against him easier, “This is dangerous for both of us."

The scratchy material of the cloth tugs at your skin a little, but it's nowhere near painful as he continues to dutifully clean the blood from your scalp, "What did he say to you?"

Tiredly, you rest your hands on top of his armor-clad thighs and lean further against his chest as you force yourself to lie to the only man you’ve ever admired, “Only the truth--that I need to stop getting distracted so much. I-I have a job to do.”

“That does not mean you shouldn’t be allowed to be happy,” He breathes and you keep your eyes closed when he moves to tend to the bruises; you don’t have the heart to tell him that your happiness would end with your demise, “You can still help people and... and be with me.”

Your brows furrow and your chest heaves as he affectionately rubs the soothing salve against your cheek before dutifully moving to the black and blue skin around your eye. You think of earlier when he spoke of your strength and scars and how you insisted you were no warrior, but as the Mandalorian drops his helmet until the chin of it is resting on your shoulder, you realize you are at war with yourself.

How could you possibly deny this man anything?

Even when the bacta is absorbed into your pleasantly numbed skin, he keeps caressing your cheeks, nose, and lips and you slowly turn your head until your nose bumps against his visor; if he weren’t so close to you, his next words would have been inaudible.

“I wish I could kiss you right now, mesh’la.”

His thumb barely parts your lips and you feel his other hand come up to feel the frenzied pulse at the hollow of your throat, seeming all too content to touch you anywhere you’d allow him to. You feel utterly warm and helpless when his thumb gently pulls at your bottom lip and a desperate noise somehow passes through his modulator.

“The things I would do for you,” He groans upon feeling the warm saliva on the inside of your lip, “The things you do to me...”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you speak, your words a weak promise that he doesn’t realize to be true in that moment, his mind only focused on the way your tongue barely grazes the rough pad of his thumb to register the weight of your statement.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Mandalorian.”

Saviin’ika= Little Violet

Mesh’la= Beautiful

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst​  (as always, please let me know if I missed anyone!!)

Author’s note: SO I literally say it every single chapter, but you guys are absolutely amazing and I’m so grateful for all the sweet words and support y’all have given me. When I started writing the first chapter, I only intended on it being 3-5 chapters at the most, but I literally adore these two lovebirds and now I’m over here planning out a whole ass novel for them lmao. 

Also if I take a long time to reply to your kind replies/reblogs/asks, please forgive me!! My dumb self gets so overwhelmed in such a good way and I never know how to respond :( I definitely see every like, every reply and reblog and ask you guys send me and I adore all of you <3

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader #mandalorian x reader #Paz vizsla x you #paz vizla x you #idk if it's vizla or vizsla anymore so im using both to be safe lmao #mandalorian fanfic #my writing #LORD THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO MUCH OUT OF ME #AT FIRST HE WASNT EVEN GONNA BE IN IT AND THEN I JUST COULDNT STOP MYSELF #AGHHH

[det-loki]

poison & wine part four

And you will destroy anyone who would try to harm her

But what happens when karma turns right around to bite you?  

warnings: angst, cursing

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 3,000

A/N: I don't know why I struggled with this chapter so much but I did. I finally got it to a place that makes me happy though. Again, feedback is welcomed. Enjoy! 💕

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You woke up feeling like death. Your brain was pounding against your skull, eyes sore, body aching, screaming for you to rest. You had no time to rest though. You sprawl your arm, reaching to the opposite side of the bed to hopefully find Loki but to no surprise, it was already vacant and cold. You rolled over to the bedside table, glancing at the clock, 5:46 A.M. You've got to be fucking kidding me. 

You stumbled blindly into the kitchen, your feet still heavy with sleep. Every step you took, your body screamed at you to lay back down, stars floating across your vision. You found David sitting at the kitchen table in his work clothes, sitting in silence, rigid. As you walked closer, you took notice of what was in his hands. A photo album. 

You almost collapsed on the spot, knees wanting to give out on you, your breath catching on your throat as you inhale sharply. Tears prick your eyes and your lip quivers as you step closer to David and the photo album. 

Reaching David, you lay a shaking hand on his shoulder, not daring to peer at whatever photo he was looking at. You knew which photo album it was, the bright pink making your brain foggy, the album stood out like a sore thumb in the minimal gray of the kitchen. You knew if you saw any of the pictures you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a month. David jumps slightly at your touch, snapping the album closed, a hand coming up to wipe away tears that had fallen down his face. 

You moved from standing behind him to sit next to him, your hands finding each other as you sat down in the wooden chair, your body sighing in relief at the position.

"What are you doing, Loke?" Your voice came out as a rasp, crackling and chipping, sounding like sandpaper, disturbing the silence in the kitchen. Your voice sounded as broken as you felt.

"I needed to see her. Remember what we're fighting for. I-I was starting to lose her, her- I was starting to forget what she looked like. What kind of father is that, huh? What kind of father does that make me?" Loki's voice was rough with emotion, each word was a knife through your heart. He was the best father to your little girl, she had him wrapped around her finger since the day she was born. He was soft and tender with her, terrified of breaking her. After finding out you were pregnant, Loki went on a spiral of how he couldn't be a father, he didn’t know how. His childhood was nowhere near ideal, in and out of foster homes and juvenile detentions, his parents a figment of his imagination. He said he couldn’t be good and decent, claiming he was broken and corrupt. The first ultrasound appointment snapped him out of it, tears welled up in his eyes as the sound of your baby's heartbeat filled the room, his hand intertwined tightly with yours.  There wasn’t a thing in the world  he wouldn’t do for her, the line didn’t exist. You knew somewhere in that photo album there was a picture of him with a pink crown on his head as your little girl was in his arms laughing. The memory caused a fresh wave of pain to hit you. 

"That makes you a grieving father who is in pain, Loki. Don't- please don't do this to yourself. She wouldn't want that for you. Or for either of us." The last thing you wanted was for David to fall down the spiraling hole of self-hatred. You could barely keep your head above water and you didn’t want him to drown with you. He deserved better.

"I know. I know. I just miss her. So fucking much, Y/N." David’s voice broke, crackling like static on a radio. 

"I know." There was nothing else to say, your brain was a jumbled mess, thoughts not making sense. You knew. 

"I went to her grave last week. I wasn't planning on it, I just ended up there. I'm sorry for not telling you, but it felt like something I needed to do alone. And then this fucking case, it doesn't feel real, it can't be a coincidence. It's like the universe knew." His words didn’t upset you, if anything it made you happy, he hadn’t visited her in a long time, he just wasn’t ready and you didn’t want to force him. You visited her regularly, in hopes to apologize or make things right, you didn’t know. The fact that he went made your heart warm temporarily, the cold would creep back in again eventually. 

"David, I'm not mad at you for visiting our daughter. I think that's good. I just- this case is eating us alive. We have to make it out of this alive, promise me we will." You needed to hear it, your ears, and heart desperate for a lifeline. Desperate for a life to come back to after this case ended. If it ever did.

“We will. I promise you we will.” David brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, brushing over the small black ink of a snake on your middle finger. You hoped he was right.

Hours later, you sat at your desk reading over the autopsy report of the man found in the priest’s basement. Nothing. Your phone rang loudly in front of you. It was David. You pick it up, nestling it between your ear and shoulder as you reread the report.

“Hey, I’m out here at a house on Fairmount Circle, the house the RV was parked in front of. It’s only been on the market a couple of months. I’m gonna track the owners down, see if they know anything. You got any new info on that corpse we found in the priest’s basement?”

You sighed into the phone, “No DNA, dental or fingerprint matches.”

“Nothing.” David replied in a monotonous tone, sounding fine, a stark difference than he was this morning. He was compartmentalizing, a little too well. You hated it when he did that.

“Priest is sticking to the story, too.” You had gotten report from a fellow detective who took the case, informing you about the priest’s questioning. 

Loki scoffed into the phone, frustrated, “All right.” 

You look up from your computer to see David walk into the station, walking to his desk opposite from yours. He sat down and immediately started typing. A few minutes pass before he looks over, eyes finding your hunched form, “Come here.”

You rose from your desk, your vision exploding with stars as you made your way over, leaving over his shoulder to read whatever he had been looking at. 

The headline read: “Conyers Boy Disappears” dated August 31st, 1987. Barry Milland, age seven when he went missing from his family home.

David spoke below you, “ Let’s go.” You already knew where you were going, to contact the mother of still missing Barry. 

You stood in the living room of Mrs. Milland’s home, Loki next to you as she sat in a recliner in front of a TV playing an old home video of Barry. Your fingers dug into your thigh and Loki’s hand was clamped over his mouth, the universe was playing with you, the tape that was playing was mocking the both of you, teasing you for the fact that you have done the very same thing as she was doing now, clutching onto the last good memories. 

“Same person who took him took those girls. I’m sure of it.” Mrs. Milland’s voice shook with age as she spoke, eyes never leaving the screen.

The tape temporarily faltered, screen going static before returning to normal, “Wearing out the tape, I guess. I watch it every day after breakfast. It’s the only video I have of him.” She sighs before continuing, “It was before your time. 26 years ago, August 19th. I took a nap in the afternoon, and when I woke up Barry was gone. No one could ever tell me what happened to him. He was playing in the front yard, just a few feet from where they sat that RV was parked.”

God, you wanted to scream. Playing in the front yard and then gone. You were familiar with the pain and shame in her voice, you felt the very same thing every single day. 

She speaks again, ripping you away from your thoughts, “What do you think that means?” 

Loki raised his eyebrows, shaking his head as he looked at the carpeted ground, “I’m more interested in what you think that means.” 

She shook her head, eyes still trained on the screen, “I don’t think we’ll ever know. It’s just like Barry. No one took them. Nothing happened. They’re just gone.” 

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, fingers digging harder into the jean covered flesh of your thigh. Gone.

You and Loki sat in the car silently, digesting what you had been told by Mrs. Milland. 

"Why are we doing this, David?" You weren’t referring to where you were, rather than what you were. How you got to this point in your life, why?

"What? Here?” David looked at you, confused.

"No. This. This job. This case. Is it to avenge her? Justice? Bring peace to other families like we couldn't have? I love my job, don't get me wrong, but I can't but help but question why is it this case? Why us?” You looked out the car window as you spoke, not catching David’s gaze.

"I don't know. I don't know, but we will get through this. I'm here, Y/N.” There was never a moment David wasn’t there for you, and vice-versa. You both knew each other better than you knew yourselves, able to take care of each other better than you could take care of yourself.

Loki’s phone buzzing in the cup holder made you jump, the bubble that had formed popping, David grabbing for the phone, reading whatever text he had been sent, “We might have something with the priest.”

You stood in the hallway, awaiting Detective Chemelinski to escort you to the priest’s interrogation room as David shifted his weight nervously. The fellow detective showed up, motioning for David to follow. Loki looked at you with mild panic in his eyes, silently pleading for you to follow. He didn’t want to face the priest alone. The memories would be too toxic for him to face without you. You nodded your head reassuringly, following David and Detective Chemelinski into the interrogation room Father Patrick Dunn was being held in. 

Loki walked in first, you next, and Chemelinski last. You leaned against the wall as Loki greeted Dunn, “How you doin’, Father?” 

“I’m...I’m- getting better.” Father Dunn avoided eye contact with everyone, eyes set on the table in front of him.

Loki sat across from him, “So Detective Chemelinski tells me that you have some specifics about the crime you claim that guy committed. The abductor.”

The priest nodded, “He was...waging a war against God.”

Loki chuckled, looking over at Chemelinski in disbelief and shaking his head, “Great. That’s great. I thought you said he had something specific.” Loki continued to shake his head, stammering at the other detective and gesturing in disbelief in front of him with his hands. 

Detective Chemelinski looked at Father Dunn, “Tell him how he took the kids.” If it wasn’t for David wanting you in the room, you would have avoided the conversation, rather having the information relayed than point-blank. This was too raw, images of Loki in the boy’s home feeling like a white hot poker in your brain.

“He said...he took them in the daylight.” You swore you were going to pass out, your hands beginning to tremble at your sides. You wished you were stronger, able to do your job without feeling like you were going to die from the constant resurfacing of horrific memories of your little girl. Broad daylight. Screaming.  

Why were you doing this?

The priest continued, “Sometimes...more than one child at a time.”

Loki rolled his eyes, “He said that?” The priest nodded. “-Did he say he was with anybody? He did it alone?”

“He...he said he had a family.” 

Loki sighed, “That’s it?” The priest nodded again. Loki stood from the chair, shaking his head at Detective Chemelinski, “All right.” He walked to the door, tattooed hand on the handle, glaring at the detective, “Informative.” He walked out, leaving you to briefly apologize to Chemelinski before you ran to find David. 

You found him in the locker room, sitting on the bench with his head in his hands.

You approached him slowly, “Hey, you okay?” It was a stupid question, of course he wasn’t okay. Neither of you were okay. 

He looked up at you with tired eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed a minute. The candlelight vigil is tonight if you wanna go.”

“I do. It’d be nice.” He nodded along with your words, you turned around and walked out of the room to give Loki sometime to himself. Sometimes silence could be healing, yet you didn’t think all of the silence in the world could heal these wounds. 

You stood in front of the microwave watching your mug of coffee spin in circles. Coffee was now the main staple of your diet. It was late at the station, you and Loki being the only few still left. The temperature had dropped outside rapidly, leaving a chill in the air. Loki was outside turning the car on so it would be heating up as you poured coffee in a thermos. 

You walked outside with thermos in hand, pulling your coat tighter as the wind bit through your coat. Loki was already inside the vehicle, waiting for you. You opened the passenger door, plopping down as the thermos sat at your feet. 

“You sure you wanna go to this thing?” Loki asked gingerly.

“Yeah. Do you not?” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to. If you’re not up for it we can go home. I don’t want you to push yourself.” Loki spoke softly as not to disturb the ambiance inside the vehicle. 

“I’m okay, David. I promise. It’ll be nice, show our respect, it’s not like we have to stay long.”

David nodded as he put the car in gear, pulling out of the police station parking lot. 

Loki pulled up to the vigil, outside of the Dover’s home. A group of people had already gathered, lighting candles, placing flowers, and teddy bears. 

You and David leaned against the car, watching in sorrow. You saw Franklin Birch double over, sobbing as his family held him. Your heart broke at the sight, you wished nothing more than to bring his daughter back unharmed. Each passing day caused unease to spread further and further in your body, day four setting a new record of turmoil.  

Time passed as people started to leave, the group diminishing slightly. Beside you,  Loki put on a stocking cap and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He still refused to wear gloves.  He abruptly pushed himself off the car, walking closer to the vigil, obviously taking notice of something you didn’t. You walked next to him slowly, unsure of what exactly he was doing. Then you saw it, a man crouched down with his coat hood up, stroking a teddy bear that had been placed, his gloved hand gliding over it in a manner that made you uncomfortable. He looked up, locking eyes with Loki, and then stood up stiffly, Loki’s eyes following every move. The man glanced at you and then turned away. Loki walked closer, trying to trail him as the man continued walking away. You had an inkling that he was going to run, so you turned around towards the car as Loki made his way through the crowd. 

Looking over your shoulder, you saw David take off in a dead sprint. Fuck.

You opened the driver’s side door of the car and sat down, grabbing the radio from the console. 

“Dispatch, this is 13-43, we have a police pursuit on foot, 13-40 is responding.  ”

The radio crackled to life, “10-4 detective, we have patrol rolling your way.”

“10-4” You sat the radio down, now all you had to do was wait for Loki to either come back or for him to call you to come get him.

30 minutes later, Loki came into view, slightly limping. He walked up to the car as you got out of the driver’s seat, “You should have stretched.”

Loki shrugged past you, “Yeah, fuck off. Now get out of my spot.”

You chuckled slightly as you walked around the car and pulled the door open and sat in your designated spot. Loki grabbed for the radio with his non-dominant hand, “Dispatch, this is 13-40. Pursuit has ended, the offender fled. Put a BOLO out, description will be given by an officer.”

Loki sighed heavily as he put the radio down, hand coming up to rub his right shoulder, “What happened, David?”

“The fucker jumped on me from a tree. I’m fine.” You rolled your eyes, Loki could be mauled by a bear and thrown into the ocean and he would still say he was fine. He was even more stubborn than you. 

You got home that night at 2 A.M., going to the station after the vigil for David to write up a media release on the guy that ran and to give a description. You tried to get David to let you look at his shoulder but he refused, claiming he was fine, even when moving it he winced slightly. 

That night you slept restlessly, dreams of hospitals and antiseptic haunting you. Making you question everything.

tag list: @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee @pinkpunkdynamite

#detective loki #detective loki imagine #detective loki x reader #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #fanfiction #poison and wine #hugh jackman #keller dover #jake gyllenhaal fanfic

[votederpycausemufins]

Alright, we’re reaching the end. let’s at least see if I can reach 100k words!

@petrichormeraki 

and also @helleborusangel I’m worried about you. You haven’t touched your tumblr in about 2 and a half weeks. if anyone has heard from them, please let me know, I am worried aaaaaaaaaa.

An explosion shook the room, making Grifter use his wings as cover for both himself and Sense. A moment later he flapped his wings to clear the air and see what had caused the explosion. He growled upon seeing a group of people at the door, recognizing that most of them were hermits. Standing there were both Xisuma and Xannes, Joe, Zedaph, Scar and Cub. There were also two non-hermits, one of which being Techno since he had brought the other hermits. The last was someone Grifter recognized all too well. Kristen. And she was also holding onto both Grifect and Sefter.

Grifter tried not to look angry or yell and attack, even using a wing to keep Sense back. “Oh thank goodness you all came! This is going to help so much!” Grifter couldn’t say more before a trident was thrown at his head, him barely dodging it. “What are you doing, I’m the good guy here?”

“I have a hard time believing that.” Xannes huffed, but Grifter gestured to where Nightmare lay dazed on the floor.

“No, you don’t understand. He’s the bad guy in this situation. He was after both Theseus and Tommy. I was told I had to deal with him. I didn’t have any choice!”

Xannes scoffed. “A likely story.” And weapons were pointed at Grifter. The avian’s eyes continued to go between Nightmare as well as Kristen as she held his kids, but he held his arms up in surrender.

From behind the group, Xisuma made his way over to Tommy. Grifter paid no attention to him, But Sense did, pulling out a weapon. Techno was the first to move to stop the attack, but Grifter beat him to the punch, using his wing to hit the weapon out of Sense’s hand. “As I said. Good guys here. Unless of course you are here to hurt Tommy, then things change.”

“You destroyed half of the server.” Techno said.

“I made sure to take precautions. None of this is permanent. Everything is backed up and I made sure everyone could respawn. Meanwhile you’re got Grian running around with one of his sons, not even worried about the bug in his system.”

“What-” Someone started to say, Grifter wasn’t sure who, when Nightmare moved. Grifter moved out of the way, having been watching the admin. Nightmare’s attack missed, but he quickly adjusted, his axe aiming for Xisuma’s neck. Sense pulled out another weapon and pointed it at Nightmare, firing it. The blast hit Nightmare’s wrist, making him lose his weapon, but in order to take the shot, it also went through part of Grifter’s wing.

“There…” Grifter said, holding his wing. “Believe us now?”

Weapons slowly moved from pointing at Grifter to pointing at Nightmare. A quick glance around the room let him know that Xannes seemed to be the only one left with his guard up, but that was fine, he wasn’t the most dangerous one here. Cub and Scar both had vex magic, but only both of them working together had been enough to break Grifter’s barrier, so while they could potentially be dangerous, they also weren’t the biggest threat. Techno was probably the least threatening of the bunch, Xisuma as a close second. He may be admin, but this wasn’t his server, so for now he was essentially powerless.

But the last three were much more dangerous. Kristen had the same aura around her that his dad did, meaning she would have to be death here. But it also didn’t help that she wasn’t the only one with that energy. And then of course ‘Joe Hills’. He was arguably the most dangerous, but he also had an easy weakness right now. 

“Do any of you know someone named Eret?” Grifter spoke up, glad to see Joe look up and over at him.

“I do. Why’re ya askin’?”

“We couldn’t quite get down there, but there seemed to be some prison cells and someone with that name was there. I was pretty sure the name was familiar, but of course, since this is another dimension, I figured I’d ask you guys.” Grifter explained, then hissing slightly as Sense tried to help with his wound.

Joe briefly looked over at Xisuma, who nodded. After taking one last look around the room, the man left the room. One down, two to go. Kristen was off the table with the boys in her arms, but if push came to shove, they could take care of themselves. Grifter used a bit of magic to heal himself, noticing that the world setting had been changed, letting people naturally heal and respawn again. He quickly changed that back and readied his magic for an attack.

Both of the Convex noticed something was up and they started to say something, but Grifter was faster. He flew into the air just enough to get a height advantage before attacking Zedaph with such a powerful attack, he broke through the floor. At the same time, Sense pulled Xisuma away from Tommy, messing with his helmet and breaking the filters on it. 

Xannes tried to grab Grifter, but the Listener was prepared and he drew a swirl symbol in the air, and a moment later Xannes was gone. Grifter was left panting and he couldn’t do much more after using so much magic. Sense was busy taking care of the Convex, so he couldn’t help much more. Grifter barely managed to get out of the way of Techno attacking him, but it just moved him closer to Kristen. 

“What did you do with Phil?” She asked, just making Grifter chuckle.

“Nothing bad. And even if it was, I doubt it would affect Dad.” He laughed again. “So, why are you here? I would have thought you’d stay away.”

Kristen didn’t answer as Sefter’s hand changed into a sword and he stabbed her in the side. Her shock made her drop both him and Grifect, who quickly ran to Grifter’s side. “Awe uwu okay dad? Uwu wook tiwed. I'm sowwy I messed up.”

“Aww, it’s okay pumpkin. You did just fine.” Grifter patted Grifect’s head and Sefter faced Techno, ready to fight him. “Now now everyone. I’m sure we can all stand down at this point.”

“You were the one to attack first.” Techno huffed, making Grifter pout.

“You all barged in here ready to attack me with my children as hostages. Now they are free and everyone is fine.”

“Xisuma is suffocating!” Cub yelled, and Grifter rolled his eyes and used a bit of magic to fix the helmet.

“There, is that any better?” Grifter huffed, still panting a bit. “You’re all ready to work with Xannes but I try to help and suddenly I’m the worst thing in the world.”

“Even he hates you.”

“And he also hates his brother, but you guys are fine with him. But sure, make that the defining answer.” Grifter grumbling, trying to ignore the nudge in his side from Sense. “Now how about we just all calm down, I deal with my job, and we all go home safe and sound.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Scar asked, and Grifter nodded his head in Kristen’s direction, as well as Zedaph’s as he was just pulling himself out of the hole he had been stuck in.

“What are we talking about?” Zed asked, looking around, not having any context.

Kristen gestured to Grifter. “He’s got a request from Death that he needs to finish.”

“What? I never gave him anything like that. Was that you?”

“No, I assume it came from one of those in his world.”

“Oh yeah, that would do it. Oh by the way, look who I found!” And Zedaph helped Grian, Ranboo and Grumbot out of the hole. 

“Oh for fucks sake!” Grifter growled. “I just managed to salvage this two fucking times. Why aren’t you all dead?”

As soon as he had said that, everyone turned on Grifter once more, though this time he wasn’t trying to wriggle his way out of it. “Perhaps we should-” Sense started to say before the Listener slapped him. “Shut up! I don’t care how it happens, I am getting rid of that son of a whore admin! Now stay alive long enough to come back.” And three portals opened up next to Sense, Sefter and Grifect, pulling them in. 

“Fine. Gloves are off now.” Grifter said, staring directly at Grian, who knew exactly what that meant. Grian moved to pull Grumbot closer to himself while Kristen was the first to move and attempt to attack Grifter.

Before she could cause any harm, Grifter placed down some TNT which immediately exploded. The explosion blocked her view just long enough for him to move elsewhere and get the upper hand, shoving her to the floor. “Oh please, Dad’s already terrified I’ll kill him and become the next death or something. And seeing as how my uncle never shows his fucking face, I’m guessing he keeps shaking in his little pink lined boots.”

Xisuma was the next to attack, but Grifter kicked at the man, boots starting to tear at the seams. “And your brother is too much of a cocksucking ditz to cause any sort of trouble for me. Hacking skills or not. I had to deal with plenty in Deevo. And that’s when I was still learning everything!”

Grifter was whacked in the back, causing loose feathers to go flying. He turned to see that Techno had attacked with an axe, blood now dripping down the avain’s back. “You’re an improvement over the original at least. Euro’s one of the biggest cowards I’ve seen. I can hear when he kills himself from a mile away. It’s too bad he keeps getting to respawn, but when death doesn’t want you dead, it doesn’t happen.” One of Grifter’s wings hit Techno, the feathers stiff and sharp, opening wounds all over the piglin hybrid.

Next, vex magic attacked the Listener from both sides, leaving him cornered. “You two. Hah, now this is a challenge. Sort of. But I don’t give a fuck right now!” And Grifter pulled out a shovel, not having a better weapon readily available. He walked towards Cub, not caring as the magic started to burn away his clothes, revealing the discolored skin beneath. Cub did his best to increase his power and move away, and for a few moments it worked, pushing Grifter back, but then the shovel connected with his skull, knocking him to the ground. A few more whacks followed from Grifter for good measure, staining the metal red.

“Now, who’s up next?!” The Listener asked with a laugh, turning to face everyone. His outfit was a mess; torn and bloody, hanging limply on his body while his boots lay shredded to the side, talons having replaced his feet. His eyes were glossy, cataracts covering them leaving him essentially blind, but his ears had shifted, changing into something few had seen, the ears of a warden.

“What the heck?” Ranboo asked, having stuck by Grian’s side. “What is that?”

“Listener.” Grian responded, horrified. “When Watchers, and I guess also Listeners, use too much magic, their body shifts to better use it. I’ve apparently gone off the deep end once or twice and ended up something like that. Basically, if he was dangerous before… it’s worse now.”

True to what Grian had just said, Grifter moved swiftly, at Zedaph’s side the moment after he took a step. He was thrown against a wall, winding him before a metal clamp covered his mouth, making it so he couldn’t speak. As he pulled at it while also catching his breath, Grifter yanked out a handful of his feathers, blood pouring from the freshly plucked wing and the Listener’s own hand. He threw the feathers at Xisuma, them acting as throwing knives sent at the admin. A good number of them missed, but a few hit and sliced into his armor, fortunately also missing his helmet.

Kristen attacked Grifter next, getting an upper hand and using some of his own stray feathers as weapons. The Listener just stared at her, smiling as the edge of the blade like feathers pressed into his skin, drawing blood. “You aren’t going to kill me. Are you? You can’t. That’s how it works~ You’re the one who can’t interfere~ That’s your brother’s job. And oh, sounds like he can’t do that right now, can he?”

Kristen was going to do it. In this situation, she wasn’t bound by the laws of death. Grifter wasn’t from this dimension, so she had free reign. But the Listener’s words got to her, and for a split second, she looked away. Suddenly, Grifter’s wings moved and a number of his feathers were embedded in her chest, him laughing evilly. “Now don’t die~ I wouldn’t like that happening. Especially since he’s busy.”

Techno tried attacking Grifter again, but he was just swatted to the side. Scar was at Cub’s side, having pulled out some crystals to heal him. Zedaph was busy trying to free himself and Kristen was dealing with her own wounds. Grifter stepped closer to Xisuma before picking him up and breaking one of his helmet’s filters with his hand. Though it wouldn’t kill the admin, it would certainly cause him plenty of pain. 

Tossing Xisuma aside, Grifter finally made it to Nightmare. “Now, I should have been finished with you ages ago!” The Listener spoke, his voice filled with stifled laughter. “But this ends now. Dream? He’s easy. Everything’s already in a console because he was a little bitch who used children for his own benefit. I may not have many lines to draw, but I still have some.”

Nightmare started screaming as green magic surrounded him. For a moment, a figure of a second person stood next to him before it dissolved, disappearing completely. “Next, we need to get rid of those silly little admin powers you have because Dad wanted you dethroned.”

As Nightmare started to scream again, Grifter was attacked from the side. Out of all the people he expected, this was the last. Tommy stood, balanced mostly on his uninjured leg, holding a sword he had gotten from Xisuma. Grifter tisked a few times at Tommy, crossing his arms. “Theseus, Theseus, Theseus. What are you doing? Trying to get your revenge? That’s the same fucking mistake that put us in this situation in the first place. Why’d Dad even let you out?”

“Wrong person.” Tommy said weakly. He was light headed from blood loss as well as standing there, but he still swung his sword in an attempt to hit Grifter.

“Right, right. Well, I’m not called a Listener for no reason.” And then a wing swiped across the ground, hitting Tommy’s feet out from under him. “Stay out of this before you make it so much worse.”

Grifter turned back to Nightmare, continuing to use magic on the admin. No one had enough energy left to do anything as they listened to his screams. Slowly, they grew strained before it was finally quiet again. Grifter frowned and kicked Nightmare, the limp body giving no resistance. “Aww, it’s broken. Hmm, I guess I can have a little more fun with it.”

He started stomping on the body, making absolutely sure Nightmare was truly dead, damaging the body beyond recognition. The whole time, Grifter was smiling and having fun. Around him, everyone was slowly tending to each other’s wounds, the Listener not caring. Kristen checked on Grian who was helping her with the feathers still stuck in her. Zedaph assisted Xisuma with his helmet, managing to not make it more complicated than it needed to be. At the same time, he helped Tommy out a bit as the two were right near each other. Scar was still helping Cub, and for lack of anyone else to help out, Techno stayed near Ranboo and Grumbot.

Finally, Grifter stepped away from Nightmare, hands on his hips as he ‘looked’ at his work proudly. “Well, that could have gone better, but it was still nice! Now, since you all caused so many problems, who do I get to have fun with next?” When no one answered, Grifter pouted before turning to Tommy. “Hmm, let’s see-”

Before he could say anything else, Kristen was in front of Tommy and Grian was attacking Grifter from the back. Grifter growled, using plenty of magic to attack them back, nearly killing Grian in the process. But just as it looked like Grifter was going to win, he was suddenly thrown against the throne with enough force to break it. “Now why’d you go and start without me?”

Joe had entered the room, followed by Eret. “I’m sure we could have found a much more non-violent approach, left everyone in much better shape.” He stopped over at Zedaph, helping get the metal covering his mouth off. “I’m guessing he’s dead?” Joe gestured to Dream’s body.

“Eh, that’s Krist’s side of things, not mine. I’m busy keeping an eye on her husband.” Zedaph replied, jabbing his thumb off in the general direction of Phil. “That’s part of the reason she’s here is because I filled her in.”

Joe nodded and walked over to Kristen, who was sitting on the ground next to Tommy. “Zed said to check in with you. How’s he looking?” Joe gestured to Dream’s body again.

“It’s a bit complicated with the fact that a hels person got mixed up with things, but for all intents and purposes, they’re both dead.”

Joe nods. “And how’s Tommy doing? Not too hurt?”

“No, he’s doing fine. I’m… more concerned about Grian.”

Joe looked over his shoulder to look at Grian. In attacking Grifter with Kristen, he was using magic he really couldn’t easily use, leaving him in a similar situation to Grifter. At that moment in time, Grian had plopped himself down on the ground and was summoning plenty of wheat. “Oh yeah, he’s fine. I’d say you should get him to stop using magic right now, but it’s nothing dangerous and he could use a break. Maybe stick around a bit.”

“I’m not sure. With my job-”

“Zed takes breaks all the time. You can let yourself have a few too. I mean, you must’ve taken a few to have a family, take some more to spend time with them. I know that’s what I’m planning to do.” And Joe half gestured to Eret, who was currently looking over the damaged room.

Kristen wanted to say more, but then Grian came over and started dragging Tommy away, Kristen quickly following behind. Grian had used the wheat to make plenty of hay bales which were spread out in the approximation of a nest. Tommy had been placed down within it in a rather cushy area, glad for something other than the hard ground.

Grian doted on Tommy for a bit more before hopping away, leaving Tommy chuckling. “Pfft, bird brain.” He then leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and looking over to Kristen. “So, seeing you is different.”

“Hi Tommy.”

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #hc x dsmp #hels!grian #hels!Mumbo #xisumavoid #xisuma #evil xisuma #joe hills #zedaph #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #technoblade #mumza #mumza as death #zedeath #dreamwastaken #hels!dream #ranboo #grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #avian!Grian #grumbot #tommyinnit

[breadboylovin]

NEW POST FOR MY 95060 PLAYLIST!!! complete with explanations of every song choice under the cut because i love explaining my own creative decisions for some reason (PLEASE DO NOT FEEL COMPELLED TO READ ALL OF IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO ITS VERY LONG LOL). i may add a few songs here and there later on, or more likely rearrange what i've already put in slightly, but for now i consider it done.

alright now heres a look into my twisted mind

PART 1: TEMPTATION

Franz Ferdinand - Michael: It's a song about seducing someone named Michael. What more can I ask for (serious explanation is that it’s also very homosexually charged like you just have to listen to it… also feels taunting in a way where it’s like ‘oooooh you want me so bad’ and he’s RIGHT Michael DOES want him so bad). Also credit to this post for letting me know this song existed and inspiring me to make this playlist in the first place :-3

Mystery Skulls - Paralyzed: Just another song about how Michael is awestruck by David and feels compelled to follow him for whatever reason (the reason is that he wants him so bad)

TAEMIN - WANT: This is one of three Taemin songs on here because I think if David survived until present day he would fucking LOVE Taemin. Anyways this is a song about knowing you’re hot shit and everyone wants you and I think after seducing Michael through fucking?? Fatal motorcycle races and evil noodle mind tricks??? David deserves to feel that

Glass Animals - Gooey: OHGHGHGHFH THIS SONG… the vibes are impeccable on this one, Dave Bayley’s alluring voice feels like a slight remix of what David is going for and the way it feels like the singer is trying to convince the listener of something (even though it’s purposely vague) just FEELS like David with Michael. The line “I can’t take this place, I can’t take this place/I just need to go where I can get some space” especially fits when imagining how Michael is new to Santa Carla and may want a place to belong that David and the boys are happy to provide

TAEMIN - Impressionable: I see this as the moment that Michael downs the bottle of “wine”, where this song is David’s internal monologue reveling in how easy it was to charm Michael and get him to join. I always thought this sounded like a taunting villain song so it just fits. Also it’s like ridiculously horny which is a plus

PART 2: THE RELATIONSHIP ITSELF

MGMT - Me and Michael: In my head this is directly after Michael drinks the “wine”, and if it were an actual song in the movie, it’d play instead of Cry Little Sister in that scene. I already made art related to this but I really just love the juxtaposition between something that Michael will later see as horrible (becoming a half-vampire) and David seeing it as a perfect slow-dance moment. Also “Me and Michael, it’s not a question now” because the blood drinking has now linked them together… mmmmm. Credit to this post again for making me find this song!!

ALI - DESPERADO: This one is less about David and Michael specifically and more about how the night in the cave went down for everyone there, starting with a soft slowness as they ate and then descending into chaos as Michael downs the wine and they celebrate a new addition to the pack. The bacchanal energy is off the charts

Dorian Electra - Man to Man: This song is just one that I attribute to all of the boys because I think they do a lot of homoerotic sparring. Also the part of the movie where Michael punches David in the face and David just goes >:-3 back at him

Chase Atlantic - Friends: I don't know what it is about this one but it just Hits… The chorus kinda sounds like David and the boys trying to convince Michael to stay with them instead of coming back to human society after drinking the blood, in the same sort of taunting manner that they had when David (presumably?) made Michael hallucinate the bike lights and sounds outside of his house

Taking Back Sunday - You're So Last Summer: THIS SONG IS JUST REALLY GOOD. I don't know what it is about this one either… I guess the “Maybe I should hate you for this/Never really did ever quite get that far” part could represent the first glimpse of Michael’s more conflicted feelings about David. Also the second half of verse 2 not only fucks so hard but could also be indicative of Michael’s repressed gay feelings, lying to himself about how he wanted to be around David because he’s cool or whatever but he actually just has the hots for him and would let him do anything if he asked to

MGMT - Little Dark Age: Mostly here just for vibes. Have y’all seen that one edit set to this song? Yeah

The Neighborhood - Prey: I feel like this song captures the general unease that Michael feels right before he sees the boys kill for the first time, knowing that he’s probably turning into a vampire and something horrible is happening… especially with “Something is wrong, I feel like prey” just generally describing what it must feel like to be a human among vampires (though he’s not fully human anymore at this point)

PART 3: REALIZATION + FIGHTING BACK

TAEMIN - Criminal: YET ANOTHER TAEMIN SONG!!!! It’s all about realizing you're with someone who’s like, an evil manipulative villain and genuinely bad for you but you can’t escape just yet because you’re kinda into it. I don't think David is THAT bad of a guy, but Michael could be like “I need to get out of this situation because this man is a vampire but I feel attracted to him and it’s hard to really get away”. Also the line “My hands holding yours that stabbed me are not clean either” just HITS cus Michael hates David’s vampirism but HE’S a half-vampire now so it’s not like he’s innocent either. This is just a really good 95060 song AND a good song in general, listen to it even if you don't normally like K-pop cus it slaps

Glass Animals - Wyrd: This would be the moment where Michael snaps out of it and just starts running away, but to no avail, because he’s still a half-vampire (“You can’t run so you must hide” meaning that he can’t outrun his new monstrous nature, the best he can do is hide it until it eats him alive). Meanwhile David laments over how this is a stupid decision from his perspective (“So, my friend, our time is done/You and I could’ve had so much”)

Moonface - Minotaur Forgiving Theseus: This is a very veeeeery bitter song from Michael’s perspective about David being a vampire… with the “You’re just a hitman” repetition referencing how David. Y’know. Eats people. And the “I heard you're coming for me now” references both how David first approached him and the impending confrontation

The Neighborhood - The Beach: This song goes from the bitterness of the previous one to a pseudo-acceptance of the end of their brief friendship and what’s inevitably going to happen next. However, I think the bridge of the song illustrates the little bit of Michael that doesn’t want this to happen, that wants this relationship to somehow work out because he cares about David even if he is a vampire (unfortunately he ends up repressing this because he feels a duty to kill David now)

Gorillaz - Rhinestone Eyes: This is mostly in here because of the music video, the buildup to a battle just echoes in my head whenever I hear this song now. In the context of this playlist it makes me imagine David looking up at the Emerson’s house from the hotel (and Michael doing the opposite) knowing that something’s about to happen and it’s going to be horrible

Glass Animals - JDNT: This entire song feels like the climax of the movie. Verse 1 feels like the Emersons and Frogs getting ready to attack the cave (“I’m all armored up”) with “I feel that final poke” being when Marko gets staked, and the chorus right after is a tinge of regret that Michael feels once the plan starts to take shape. Verse 2 is the other boys waking up to see that Marko is dead + them dying themselves (“Where my funny friends gone?”) and the bridge is Michael and David’s fight before Michael finally gores David on the antlers. The outro of “You can’t breathe without me” VERY much feels like David taunting Michael from beyond the grave, knowing how much Michael loved him and how horrible what he’s just done is

PART 4: GRIEF

The Brazen Youth - Burn Slowly/I Love You: Ooooooghghgh the conflicted feelings about their relationship is STRONG in this one… The “Burn Slowly” part being him trying to convince himself that he did the right thing by killing David while the “I Love You” part is him realizing that he really did love David and it fucking hurts

Sufjan Stevens - The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us: MAN. MAN… Everything past “I can’t explain the state that I'm in” is just so… it’s Michael realizing what he had even more and just how much it hurts that he’s lost it. He knows he was in love now and it fucking hurts SO MUCH!!!!!

Sufjan Stevens - The Only Thing: [head in my fucking hands] Michael moping around Santa Carla because it feels empty without David. All the “should I tear my eyes out now?/Should I tear my heart out now?” parts oh my GOOOOOOOOD sufjan stevens i'm going to slap you on the head.

Paramore - Tell Me How: THIS SONG HURTS SO MUCH ITS SO. It’s another one about conflicting feelings so theoretically it should be earlier in the story but I always envision something very morbid when listening to this (and have now written a fic about it so check that out)… Michael going back to the hotel where he put David’s body and musing to no one, asking how he’s supposed to feel now, the “And always coming to your defenses” where Michael keeps defending David and their relationship to his family who all think David was a horrible monster… this song fucking hurts. Also I unintentionally drew a parallel between JDNT’s “You can’t breathe without me” and this song’s “Do I suffocate or let go?” and now that I’ve realized that it hurts even more. Fuck this song

#the lost boys #michael emerson #the lost boys david #95060 #michael x david #david x michael #text #Spotify #i have thought sooooo hard about this playlist fr and theres so many individual lyrics and bits that i want to make art for #if i had all the time in the world i would #but. for now. enjoy :-3

[radiosandrecordings]

So @pitviperofdoom wrote a beautiful piece I have not stopped thinking about a while ago with QPPs Jon and Gerry that you should go and read here. They kindly allowed to let me go off on a tangent inspired by it, so here’s a conversation from the night before that fic where I just get emotional over these two and let myself indulge in their dynamic. 

Background GerryOliver and JonMartin. Warnings for alcohol consumption and general drunkenness. 

“Who’re you gonna bring, eh?” 

It was rounding on eleven o’clock, and they were both sprawled about the room, letting the dull buzz of alcohol set in. Jon was slumped on the couch, and Gerry had, at some point, collapsed into the IKEA chair with the weird curved bar holding it up that Jon had never quite trusted the stability of. He’d kicked off his boots after they’d finished eating, his socked feet now resting on the coffee table, nestled between discarded takeaway boxes and bottles of drink. The scotch still stood there uncapped, and minus three glasses. Jon had taken one when Gerry had poured it for him, and Gerry a second after that, while Jon switched to some dark, fruity cider Gerry had found for him at the back of the fridge.

Jon jolted slightly. “What?” He was on his second bottle and the only thing stopping him from nodding off then and there was the fact that suddenly, the fridge was humming incredibly loudly and it was a great distraction. That’s what he gets for getting hammered on a friday straight from work. Was he hammered? A bottle and a half of cider and one glass of scotch didn’t seem like enough to do that but the way that persistent buzzing was pounding at his skull suggested maybe that was enough for the evening. 

“Well you get a plus one. Two, if you want, best man privileges and all that.” 

Jon’s mouth was dry. He should really get some water. But also, he didn’t really like the thought of having to stand up. “I… Don’t know. I usually bring you.” He pulled a face. “I’m not sure I know anyone that you wouldn’t be inviting anyway.” 

“No one from team spooky you’d want to bring to cry on after you walk me down the isle?” 

Gerry let out an overdramatic ‘Oof’ as Jon half heartedly attempted to reach over and slap him on the leg. “Stop! Calling us! That!” 

“I’ll stop calling you it when the shoe stops fitting. You’re a spooky little team that investigates spooky spooky things. You’re gonna have to accept that one day.” 

“Says the man in the process of opening an exclusively horror-based bookshop with his- Well I suppose he’s going to be your husband now. Huh. God, I feel old.” 

“I will not hear the good name of ‘Spine Chilling’ slandered in my household Jonathan! And- Well fuck, yeah, you’ve got a point there don’t you. Shit, when did I become ‘Bookshop Husband #2’. We used to be cool. Now we pay taxes and shit. Ripe old age of thirty.” 

Jon laughed, and it only hurt his head a little bit. Small mercies. “I would argue you’re still rather cool. In my books at least.” He paused for a moment, letting the air settle into a more sombre tone. “Do you… Do you regret any of it?”

“Not for a second,” Gerry said, running his fingers along the ring that rested on his left hand. He shifted in his seat, and began to tug his hair out of the plait that had been draped over one shoulder. “You never answered the question though. What’ll it be, are we going to have to drunk find you a date? I’m sure there’s an app for fake wedding dates now. Bloody app for everything.” 

“Do I need one?” Jon replied, and it came out dangerously close to a whine. 

“Well no, but I can’t pay attention to you all day because apparently I’ll have a husband to stare in wonder at or some shit, and Georgie might snap if you spend more than an hour crying on her. And don’t give me that look, you’ll cry! You always say you won’t but you teared up earlier when I told you so I am doing my duty and trying to get you a cuddle buddy.” 

“That’s-” Jon started, sounding almost tetchy, before deflating slightly. With Gerry, at least, he knew when to admit defeat. “Okay, so you might have a point… Has Oliver picked anyone out already?” 

“You won’t like it.” 

“Oh, christ.” 

“Yup. Well what did you expect? Jane is his best friend, I’m sorry I know you don’t get on but I can’t exactly tell him no, you can tolerate each other for a day!”

“Worms! All over my archive! How she got them past Rosie still boggles the mind, and really-” 

Gerry waved a hand as he tried to cut him off, “Okay, okay, yes I’ve heard the story more than once, I get it, I won’t even put you at the same table. If it makes it better I’ll see what whatever venue we choose’s policy on animals is. Admiral seems like he’d make a good emotional support cat. Get him a little tux or something.” 

“As much as I like the idea, I’m not quite sure he’d appreciate it. Unless you’re getting wed in somewhere with copious amounts of radiators, I think he’d be better off at home.” 

“You don’t know!” Gerry said, pointing wildly, some of his energy seeming to kick back in after managing to maintain a conscious conversation, “Could be getting hitched in a radiator factory. That’d be something.” 

And Jon was glad Gerry was starting to feel more lively, but by the way laughter made his head pound he certainly was not. He smiled through the grimace. “Maybe so.” He had apparently, in a stroke of genius earlier, left himself a glass of water on the table. He’d take that about now, thanks. 

“What about Martin?” 

And now there was water spilled down his front. Great. “I’m sorry?” He sputtered. 

“Don’t apologise, it’ll dry.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jon growled, setting the water back down. 

Gerry gave him a faux sweet smile. There was a lapse in the conversation while Jon tugged his jumper off and tossed it onto the sofa next to him. Once he was done wrestling with the wool, Gerry spoke up again. “Seriously though, what about him? I haven’t seen you act like that with anyone since Georgie.” 

“I act like that with you!” Jon cried.

“Yes, but I’m special,” Gerry said, pressing his fingers to his lips and blowing a kiss across the room. “And also, you did just admit you act a specific way with him, so. Check and mate.” 

“I hate drunk Jon,” he muttered. “Okay, so, we go out for lunch sometimes, and that means I have more anecdotes to tell about him than Tim or Sasha, so I end up talking about him more. And I notice more things about him, like how he has more freckles in the summer than the rest of the year, but that’s just because he spends more time in my office because he seems determined to win the record for most tea made in a workplace environment in a year. So what?” 

Gerry looked intolerably smug. “Oh, no, you keep going with your list there, really proving your point.” 

Jon groaned. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, I will, I will, I just.. You do clearly like him Jon. And I won’t pressure you into anything, obviously, but just give yourself a chance, huh? You’re discarding the thought out of hand.”

Jon made a ‘humph’ of petulance. “Right. Fine. Okay. When’s the wedding?” 

“Will you refuse to come if I say Halloween?” 

“I will get around to mocking it later, but no. That’s what…” And admittedly, the alcohol was enough that he had to count on his fingers for this one, “Nine? Nine months away?” 

“You got it in the end.” 

“Once again, Mr Delano-Banks, shut your mouth-”

“Hey-”

“I will update you in eight months time. Until then you are not to bring it up. Deal?” 

Gerry stuck out a bottom lip, “Not sure I was expecting that to be how I heard that name for the first time, but wow, okay. And yes, that’s a deal.” 

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I am promptly about to pass out on your sofa.” 

Gerry got up and stretched, the sound of his knuckles popping making Jon cringe. He glanced up at the clock, before moving the offending jumper away and letting himself drop down on the sofa next to Jon. “Not even midnight yet. What’d I say. Old men, the both of us.” 

“Shush. Pillows can’t talk,” Jon muttered, gently manoeuvring his partner so they were both lying horizontal on the sofa, before burying his face in Gerry’s shoulder. 

“G’night” he muttered into the sofa fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m really happy for you.” 

“Thanks,” Gerry said, pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s hair. “I am too.”

#My Post #god I struggle to write for SO LONG. and then these two have me writing 1.5K in one sitting. huh #Jongerry #The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Gerard Keay #Gerry Delano #the professional tag and the better tag #... okay so it has it referenced so I can get away with tagging it #Jonmartin #My Writing

[thirstyforcharacters]

1. Winter Storm Warning

Part 1 of 4 of the Winter Storm Warning Series

Summary: A sect of the First Order is attempting to clear out the former Rebel base on Hoth and turn it into a First Order safe haven. When Finn discovers this, Leia sends out two of her best pilots to care of them. The only problem? They absolutely hate each other.

Notes: Hello! The snowstorm that hit my area last week inspired me to write a snowy, tension filled fic! Though this isn't explicit yet, there will most likely be smut in the last chapter, so stay tuned for that haha. This is a 4 chapter story (you can find chapters 2, 3, and 4 here), so I hope you end up enjoying it! (use of she/her pronouns in future chapters, no y/n)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, smut in future chapters (18+ only!), light angst for now (mostly petty arguing), but will get angstier in the future

WC: (almost) 2.3k

“Admiral, I need you to do this.”

“With all due respect, General Organa, I can’t. You know how much I despise him. It’s not going to go well.”

“You two are the best pilots in the Resistance. There’s no way you’ll reach Hoth in time to catch them without your skill. I know you don’t get along, but I need you to try, just this once. Then, you can go back to hating each other in peace,” the general pleaded.

You knew that eventually, you would say yes. The mission to Hoth was vital; a small subsection of enemy forces were attempting to clean out the old Rebel base on the planet and turn it into a hidden First Order haven. The Resistance was incredibly lucky that Finn had stumbled across that intel, or perhaps lucky that someone had betrayed the First Order to get you that information. Either way, you knew you had to do something about it. You just didn’t particularly want to do it with Poe.

See, from the moment you two had met in flight school, you were bitter rivals. At some point in your careers, one of you just barely out flew the other. And in the wake of your flying rivalry came a seething hatred that translated to real life. Since joining the Resistance, you had taken on a higher title than him because you were better at administration, which left you grounded more often. Unfortunately, that meant that Poe had taken the title of best pilot, despite the fact that you were just as good. At least you were an Admiral and he was a Commander. You could still hold that over his head.

But you knew that Leia was right, so you said, “Fine. He just better not do anything stupid.”

The general smiled gently and placed a hand on your shoulder, “If he does anything too stupid, I’ll set him straight when he gets back.”

“I appreciate that, General. Oh, speak of the devil.”

Poe strode in then, with Finn and Rey on either side. They were both laughing at something he said; knowing him, it was probably dumb as hell. Poe waved at General Organa and didn’t even glance at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Good morning, General,” he greeted her cheerily.

“Good morning, Commander,” she replied warmly.

Finn and Rey looked at you sympathetically and both waved hello. At least his friends were nice. You didn’t understand how two kind and wonderful people would hang out with his sorry ass. The two made their way to Lieutenant Connix, who had a mission of their own for them. Poe finished crossing the room to the two of you and only then did he look at you. He still didn’t speak, though, making you roll your eyes again. He glared at you, but still said nothing.

“Alright, you two, I know that historically, pairing you together doesn’t work out well. But I need your combined piloting prowess and fighting skill in order to make this work,” the general began.

“What for? I’m the best pilot here,” Poe interrupted, making your blood boil.

“You’re just scared that I’ll out-fly you and take your precious title. Best Pilot in the Resistance, my ass,” you growled back.

Poe’s brow furrowed in anger and he opened his mouth to retort when Leia snapped, “That’s enough out of you. Poe, be respectful. You and I both know that the admiral is one of the best pilots around. And you, Admiral, need to control your temper as well. The Resistance is relying on you, and I can’t have you two failing this mission because you’re bickering like an old married couple. Now, are you ready to act like mature adults and do this mission?”

You both nodded sheepishly.

“Good. You’ll be taking the Falcon since you’ll be flying a considerable distance. It will also be a bit better suited for the harsh weather of Hoth than your X-Wings. I know your original mission was just to take out the First Order forces, but we also want you both to un-repair anything that they might have already fixed. That way, no one can use it. I wish we could use it, but the First Order would definitely find us there if we take out some of their guys.”

“We’ll play nice, General, don’t worry,” you replied with what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

When trudging to the cockpit of the Falcon an hour later, you were already eating those words. Poe spent the entire time you were loading the ship complaining about how you were stacking your supplies instead of helping you. You wanted to tear his hair out of his skull, but you restrained yourself because you were still in the General’s presence. As soon as you were out of there, you knew you were going to rip him a new one. You threw yourself into the pilot’s seat and Poe entered into the cockpit behind you. You could practically sense the frown spreading across his face.

“Shouldn’t the real pilot be the one flying?”

“Shouldn’t the ‘real pilot’ have been helping to load the ship instead of bitching about it the whole time?”

“Get out of that seat. It’s mine.”

“No. You know I’m just as good, if not better than you. I’m flying this thing.”

You didn’t leave him any room to argue as you started up the ship. Flipping the levers and pressing the buttons may seem sort of random to any passersby, but you knew exactly what you were doing. Soon, the ship was roaring to life.

He groaned and flopped into the co-pilot’s chair, “Fine, but I’m flying on the way home.”

“Fine. Have fun trying to takeoff in a blizzard.”

“Have fun trying to land in it,” Poe retorted.

“I think I can manage. Now, do us both a favor and shut the hell up before I strangle you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Not if I do it to you first.”

You rolled your eyes hard as you pulled the Falcon out of the hangar and flew into the vast expanse of space. This was going to be a long mission.

“I’m bored.”

“Good for you.”

He was like a child. Petulant. Whiny. Doesn’t know when to shut up. You two had been in hyperspace for a while now, and you had half a mind to turn this rattler around. The only reason you didn’t was because you didn’t want to face the wrath of Leia. But somehow, right now, that sounded preferable than being stuck in a flying death trap with this idiot.

“Let me fly.”

“No. You get the way home, remember?”

“But I’m better than you.”

Oh yeah, and there was him trying to convince you to let him fly. More like annoy you into jumping out of the ship.

“Do you want me to throw you out of this ship, Dameron? Because I’ll do so with pleasure.”

“And cost the general her favorite pilot? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You scoffed, “You really care about favorites? This isn’t about who likes who more it’s about saving the fucking galaxy. Come on, Dameron, I thought you’d at least be less childish than that, though I guess I’ve learned not to expect much from you.”

“And you’re not being childish by pettily arguing with me? Please, you’re not one to talk about maturity,” he snapped back.

“Fuck off. I don’t need to hear another word out of you until we land. We have to form some sort of plan.”

“Fine by me. I don’t particularly want to hear you, either,” he muttered in response.

The rest of the journey through hyperspace was made in tense silence.

It was only broken when you said, “Exiting hyperspace now.”

The two of you exited hyperspace and approached the snow covered planet. All seemed quiet so far, but you knew that it probably wouldn’t stay this way. You also knew that Leia had sent the two of you because almost no one else would be able to fly, land, or takeoff in Hoth’s harsh weather conditions. Now was the time to be sure that her faith in you wasn’t unfounded.

You entered the planet’s atmosphere not too far from where the former Rebel base was located, but still far away enough that hopefully you could land undetected by First Order forces. The winter storm whipping through the air made it extremely difficult to see, but you’d be damned if Poe thought you were having trouble. So, you kept a neutral expression, despite the fact that you were panicking slightly about the lack of vision. You cautiously navigated through the poor conditions until you found a fairly clear area to land. Without too much trouble (for the conditions you were in), you lowered the landing gear and found your footing on the pure white snow.

You turned to Poe to make a snarky comment about the smooth landing, but he had already left the cockpit. You scowled. Any other person who had been your co-pilot would have complemented you on a job well done, but of course Dameron doesn’t offer a word. What a nerf herder.

You swiftly exited the cockpit as well, and Poe was already putting on his winter gear. The puffy jacket, thick pants, gloves, and goggles were good for keeping you warm in the snow, but not exactly ideal for fighting. Unfortunately, if you didn’t want to freeze, you’d just have to make do. You began to do the same as him, and you got dressed in silence. You almost preferred the arguing between the two of you over the tense silence. It felt more stifling.

As soon as you had finishing changing and strapped on all of your weapons, Poe left the ship. You rolled your eyes. Guess you were coming up with a plan on the way there. You charged out of the ship after him right into the harsh snowstorm. Wind whipped at your bodies, the chill threatening to soak right through your thick clothing. You could barely make out the other pilot’s figure just a few feet ahead of you.

“Hey!” you shouted, “shouldn’t we be coming up with some sort of plan?”

Either he couldn’t hear you over the wind (which was entirely plausible) or he was ignoring you (which would be much more in character). If that was the case, he was being absolutely ridiculous! You needed to have some sort of attack plan in order to be able to take this base back. You sprinted through the heavy snow to catch up to him.

“Did you hear me? We need to have a plan of attack,” you yelled.

He shook his head, “My plan is to attack.”

“But how? There’s gonna be way more of them than us. We need to figure something out,” you exclaimed.

“We’ll be fine, Admiral. They don’t know we’re coming. No matter what we do, we’ll take them by surprise. Now be quiet. We’re almost there.”

You were absolutely seething. How dare he be so reckless? And he ran ahead of you, so you couldn’t even tell him how much of a dumbass he was! You knew this wasn’t gonna end well. Even if it was true that this was a surprise attack, you at least needed some type of strategy. Everyone should know that, especially the commander in a resistance that exists to save the galaxy! And he practically dismissed your opinion as bullshit! You knew you were right; going in without a plan was definitely going to be your demise. Maybe he wasn’t as great as he thought he was.

At any rate, even if you were going in blind, you knew you needed to calm down a bit so you could concentrate on the upcoming fight. You took steady, deep breaths in and out, like you always did when you were nervous. It may seem simple to most, but it really helped you center yourself.

When you finally caught up to Poe again, you were almost at the base. You both hid behind a snowdrift, and you could see a couple Stromtroopers straggling around the outside of the base.

“See, there’s only like 5 of them. We can just shoot them and be on our way,” Poe said with a smirk.

“It’s never that easy,” you grumbled under your breath.

Apparently, Poe thought it was, because he popped up from behind the snowbank and got a direct headshot on one of the troopers before ducking back down.

“Hey, who the hell was that?” one of the troopers questioned.

“Grab your weapons! We’re under attack!” another shouted.

You sighed and popped up from behind it as well, taking out two more of the guards. When you settled back down, Poe was gone.

“Oh, fuck me,” you muttered, glancing around for the reckless commander.

You saw him behind one of the supply boxes. He ran out from behind it and shot the remaining two guards who were standing in front of the entrance to the base.

He gestured to you, “See, easy.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door opened and 5 more troopers came rushing out, tackling Poe to the ground. You jumped out from behind the snowbank and blasted as many of the troopers as you could, but more kept spilling out from the door until there were more than what you could keep up with. You knew it. You knew this would go poorly. Soon enough, you were surrounded.

“Welcome to Hoth, Rebel scum,” one of the troopers spat.

That was the last thing you saw before the world went black.

#star wars #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #leia organa #finn #rey #light angst #multichapter #multi chapter fic #x reader #poe dameron angst #x reader angst #x reader fic #x reader fanfiction #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #sequel trilogy #star wars sequel fic #star wars sequel trilogy #fluff and smut in future chapters

[aclosetfan]

are u still doing the ask game? can i ask for 19 or 20?

for you anon, of course! 20 is actually a really lame two-sentence note that isn't worth anyone's time, so I'll do 19!

19 is a really sad story tbh. I've always really liked the character Sedusa and it kills me that the writers never did more with her. I believe they said the reason why was because they couldn't think of many kid-friendly scenarios to put her in, which is fair lmao.

lol one of my notes for this outline is "this is my dark manifesto to [Sedusa] and it comes off like a bad CW remake," which was written way before the CW show announcement. so not to get a big ego about things, but I totally beat them to the punch. This fic is my only rated M fic (though arguably Acting Normal may also change into M just for its dark themes as well).

This story is adequately tilted "Sedusa" and it follows how a plain jane named Sara became one of Townsville's most notorious villains. The plot's below, though content warning, please don’t read if your triggered by abusive relationships, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault/harassment, or gore. The outline won't be detailed (and tbh the actual story won't be heavily detailed either) but i believe that everyone still deserves a fair warning :)

The outline doesn't do the plot justice, but it's all I got so hopefully people just Get It.

CHARACTER NOTES:

Canonically, I believe the Sedusa's character was supposed to represent envy and lust. So, one of the main themes I try to stick with when writing her character is the definition of envy, which is a "feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

PLOT:

Sara is a sweet and mousy little girl, who tries her best to stay invisible. She's rather plain-looking except for her really beautiful long dark hair. Originally, she's not from Townsville, but somewhere in the "country" where a person could be considered a bumpkin. Sara's a smart young girl, but her intelligence is rather unrefined. She spends most of her time obsessing over greek and Egyptian mythology.

She's from a rather big family, but she's the baby. Her father is abusive. Her mother is neglectful and Sara resents her mother for just standing by while abuse is occurring. To cope, Sara dreams of running away and falls deeper into her mythology obsession--specifically Medusa. Sara feels like Medusa would understand her.

At 16, she runs away to Townsville where she tries to be a hairdresser. With no money, she ends up in a really seedy part of town and the beauty parlor she works for ends up being a front for more illicit activities. She still does hair, but really makes her money as a call-girl of sorts. Just one of those girls who gives handjobs in the back to sad old men. It's easy money (I'm pro-sex work lol so I don't make this a big deal, but she's still a minor and it's wrong), but she's disgusted with herself (and men). At this time, she isn't very good at manipulating men--it's more like they have power over her and it reminds her of her father, only making her angrier and angrier.

It is also of note that while she's working at the Parlor, she encounters Sarah Bellum via tv (Ms. Bellum is just an intern with the Mayor at this point). She's instantly fascinated by this other Sarah and forms an odd (slightly toxic) parasocial relationship with her. Sara thinks it's amazing that Sarah went to school and is just so glamourous. Ms. Bellum is really everything Sara wants to be.

*time skip*

Sara falls in love with some jackass. Still slightly obsessed with Sarah Bellum. Still working at the parlor. Sara feels stagnant and worthless. Her jackass boyfriend and a few of his shitty friends end up attacking Sara and cutting off her hair (which was her prized possession). She gets away, but not totally unscathed.

In the process of running away, she bumps into a mysterious man who promises He can fix whatever is troubling her. The mysterious man manipulates an affirmative answer out of Sara and he "fixes" her problem. The man is HIM and he transforms her into the woman we all know as Sedusa (who goes by Ima when disguised).

“And what is it that you want?” HIM tsked, almost sounding bored.

She looked back at the mirror, at her broken reflection and lipstick smeared down her face. With a sore, croaking voice she sneered, “I want my fu-fucking hair back.”

Behind her, the entity smiled, Its facing splitting wide into two, “Oh, now that I can do.”

She watched through the shattered glass how It—HIM—snapped its odd monstrous claw. HIM’s smile grew more grotesque, as a thin bead of sweat began to break out on her forehead.

“This might hurt a little bit,” the entity giggled as she began to hyperventilate, “but what is that you little humans say?" HIM paused, watching her with a tilt of Its head as pain shot through her temples, "Oh, that’s right—”

She gasped and then screamed, dropping to her knees as she clutched at her head. Something wiggled underneath her scalp, pushing harder and harder to break against the resistance of her skin. It felt as if something was pressing against her brain, trying to carve away at her skull.

“—beauty is pain.” HIM growled, appearing next to her so Its voice—now low and baritone—was right in her ear, and It grasped her by the chin forcing her to watch the mirror as snake-like tendrils sprouted from her skull. She cried out at the sight and her body trembled with the pain.

One black, oily, twisted snake after another shot out of a bloody crater on her head. She tried her best through the pain to shake HIM off—to look away—but It held her still with a twisted laugh. She thrashed and howled in agony as the blood poured down her face in rivets. HIM didn't let go. Instead, HIM forced her still, grabbing her by the chin so she'd peer directly into the broken mirror.

Sara paled right before her very eyes, from a peachy skin tone to a white paste. She tried to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop welling in her eyes—the green of them becoming more acidic with every passing second.

“The fun should be ending soon.” HIM giggled again, Its voice back to a soprano, but she was too forgone to hear him, as her eyes began to lull into the back of her head.

Eventually, when the transformation is complete, we see this:

Sara had stayed collapsed on her knees after HIM vanished into thin air. She stared with wide eyes as blood, sweat, and tears dripped onto and rolled off her thighs. She hardly paid attention to her surrounding, all she could do was listen. She listened to her hair. She listened to the constant moving, living, mass that slithered around her head, neck, and shoulders. The coils almost seemed to be cooing at her, comforting her through her pain, offering sweet apologies for what they had done. They promised her nothing bad would ever happen again. They were a dangerous shield forged from her own body to protect her.

Her body. A vessel for this odd new life.

“Heh.” A deranged giggle escaped her mouth, “Heh. Heh ha—hahaha!” She laughed until her throat burned and tightened, her tears finally drying.

It was instantaneous. It was powerful. Sara had never known love before, but she loved them. She loved every single one of them.

And here she had thought she'd never be a mother.

Sara becomes Sedusa--taking inspiration from Medusa, her childhood fascination. She wonders if HIM knew, but she wouldn't bother asking. She feels sexy, powerful, and unstoppable. Her hair has instilled a new confidence in her and she's finally able to stand up for herself. Soon, she realizes that she's an "exotic" beauty and has men eating out of her hand. She isn't someone who kills, but if she gets bored (or feels threaten) she will.

Things are going good until the PowerPuff Girls are finally created. When she sees them for the first time, she pities them, especially when they're run out of town. She relates to them for not being loved little girls, but is completely shocked when she finds out they've won the town over. This shock turns into resentment and she decides she'll get even with the girls

Then, cue canon. Sedusa seduces the Professor. We see what happens in that episode plus a little more. Sedusa takes out a lot of her repressed childhood trauma on the girls and is plain awful to them. By the time her stint with the Professor is over, she hates them all.

Then, there's the episode with Bellum. Bellum becomes the Athena to Sedusa's medusa. Bellum is still this elevated person in Sedusa's mind, and it only makes sense to Sedusa that she should become Bellum. To become Bellum, Sedusa seduces Bellum and they end up having a brief relationship. (Sedusa pretends to be an intern at City Hall and the two ladies bond over having the same first name). Eventually, Sedusa reveals her plot and the canon events happen. (Bellum is heartbroken over Sedusa).

I'd like to emphasize that Sedusa's relationship with Bellum almost turns her "good," but her hair coils (HIM's curse) prevents her from taking those steps. Her coils prevent close loving relationships--since they're supposed to be shield that keeps people out, preventing any chance that Sedusa's heart may be broken again. [coils represent her inability to heal from the past]

Then we run through a quick montage of her other appearances.

[throughout all of this, I would write how her hair coils are making her more and more insane]

*time skip to after the events of the og show*

This is where my plot can go anywhere. I think Sedusa becomes sloppy, maybe kills a politican. She's spirialing out of control and mad that she can't find any real happiness in her life. I think it'd be interesting to show her interacting with the rrb, not necessarily to show their relationship, but to show how Sedusa would be infuriated that HIM had sons, especially sons who hurt girls for fun ( i.e. the ppg) (a real 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' moment for her). She's also infuriated at HIM for turning her into a monster, so being mad about his "sons" is just an excuse to get even with the entity.

To hurt HIM, she decides to hurt the boys, but the girls interfere. They won't let innocent live be taken, no matter the person's moral alignment. This infuriates Sedusa even more than HIM ever could. Because again, despite all the shitty things that have happened to the Girls, they are still good as opposed to Sedusa, who ended up bad. She doesn't understand why she had to end up the way she did.

However, the girls aren't the people who finally "defeat" Sedusa. Instead, that honor is left to Ms. Bellum (Sedusa's "Athena"), who Sedusa still very much loves in her own sick twisted way. Paralleling the Sedusa/Bellum episode in the og show, the girls (while protecting the boys) are almost defeated by Sedusa until Bellum intervenes. It's revealed that Bellum had a shitty childhood too (again enforcing the parallels/differences between the two women) and believes that it's not too late for Sedusa to change her ways (it’s a real “I’m rotten work” “no it isn’t. Not if it’s you” moment) In a moment of mental clarity, where the coils (and by extension HIM) cannot affect her judgement, Sedusa releases the boys and the girls. Sedusa doesn't stay though, like Bellum pleads, she gets scared and runs away. (but does tell Bellum she’d always love her, whatever that’s good for)

[also I decide bellum to defeat sedusa to show that the girls are still to young and that adults should be the ones dealing with other adults] [and bellum has a good track record of doing just that]

Idk if she'd be gone forever, but it's implied that she hasn't been seen in Townsville for a long time. What she gets up to is left ambiguous. She can't be good because of her hair coils, but she doesn't want to be bad. idk I don't want it to have a sad ending, but I don't think it can really be happy.

-----

I try hard to play with the concept of beauty, womanhood, purity, love and how negative/positive responses to trauma affect these concepts. Idk it's really rough and needs to be thought out more, especially the end, but I think Sedusa deserves her own story.

#this isn't edited sorry I'm tired #outline ask game #my outlines #sedusa #this story is near and dear to me #but i don't think i have the skills to write it yet #my writings #the boys are literally not important btws they’re knocked out the whole time or something idk #this story ain’t about them

[butgilinsky]

hard decisions // ds

warning; language, mentions of sex ig, angst (i’m so sorry) 

summary; you and drew have to come to a decision, even if neither of you like the one you choose.

word count; 3.6k+ of absolute heartbreak 

based off of these blurbs that i wrote and keep getting reqs for a part three or a whole ass fic so- i think we knew which one i chose.

i love madelyn, so pls don’t think this reflects my feelings on her bc it doesn’t, i just had to pick a person to get caught in the crossfire

you were starting to regret this dinner. you loved your friends, and you were happy to spend time with them when you weren’t all filming for outer banks or all of your side projects, but it was a less than ideal situation at the moment for you. 

you were picking at the nail polish on your fingernails to distract yourself from the conversation playing out at the dinner table. this dinner was a mistake, and coming while you and drew still had unresolved problems between the two of you was a mistake.

you should’ve at least come to a common ground before coming out tonight, or maybe you should’ve just stayed home. it was hard, when some of the people at the table had no idea about the rising tension between you and drew. they’d noticed you two were less touchy and smiley with each other than usual, but they tried not to think too far into it. 

the only people that knew the severity of the situation were austin, along with both maddies. one of those reasons being that madelyn was slightly involved in the mess of it, though she didn’t ask to be. madison and austin became your crutch along the way, being the ones you’d turn to when things got messy and you needed a place to stay after your apartment grew to tense. 

drew was talking to maddie while you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself and listen to the story austin had been telling. you were trying to block out drew and maddie, truthfully, but you that proved to be hard when he made yet another comment about the top she was wearing.

“can you quit flirting? i’m right here.” you snapped, your eyes burning a hole in the boy beside you. you earned a few glances around the table, and drew looked down at you, practically mortified at your outburst. 

“i didn’t mean to-”

“well you did, and it’s annoying as fuck.” his eyes widened, as well as a few across the table while maddie stared at her lap, feeling her shoulders slump at the idea that she was unintentionally causing rifts between you and your boyfriend. 

it was unlike you to start a conversation like this in front of all of your friends. you and drew were good at keeping your cool until you got in the car, leaving your friends to believe that nothing was going on just before world war three began on your drive home. 

they knew things were off between you two, but you both plastered believable smiles on your faces and tolerated each other long enough to at least make it to the elevator of each building without even making a snide comment. 

“can we not do this right now?” his voice lowered, and he spoke through his teeth to try to underplay the anger bubbling inside of him, but you knew you only had to push a little further to get him to give in.

“can you not flirt with my best friend right now?” drew rolled his eyes again, breathing out through his nose before standing up.

“y/n, we’re not doing this right now.” he turned away from you, looking at the less than exciting table cloth in front of him, desperately trying to ignore the gazes on him. you let out a short laugh, making his eyes snap over to you momentarily. 

“it’s never the right time to do this, isn’t it?” he sighed heavily, realizing there was no way out of this conversation with you. 

“if you want to talk about this now, can we at least go outside?” you scoffed softly but stood up anyways, letting drew apologize to the group while you walked towards the entrance of the restaurant.

he was hot on your heels after apologizing to your friends, forcing a short smile at them waving him off, telling him to go deal with the mess you both made. they whispered about the two of you after you left, but neither of you needed to know that. though, they did find it odd that madelyn didn’t contribute much to the gossip. 

“you’re unbelievable you know that? you can’t let it go for one fucking night? what’s wrong with you?” you paused in stride, turning on the balls of your feet to peer up at your boyfriend, who was fuming right in front of you.

“i’m unbelievable? i’m not the one that’s been acting like we aren’t even dating anymore! if you want to be with maddie so bad-”

“for the last fucking time, i don’t want to be with maddie! i don’t know what’s got that so heavily ingrained into your thick skull but i don’t see her like that!” people were trying to ignore the two of you in order to walk into the restaurant, but it was hard when you were so close to the front door, in the middle of the sidewalk.

“could’ve fooled me, drew. anybody with a set of eyes would think that you’re trying to make passes at her.” he groaned loudly again, sending his foot into the brick wall beside the two of you. “you know what, you go back inside and spend time with everyone, i’m going to go home.”

“y/n, don’t do this tonight. this is one of the last times everybody will be in the same place at the same time before we start filming. just come back inside-”

“i don’t want to, drew! i can’t act like we’re fine right now, and i sure as hell don’t want to listen to you talk to maddie all night long. so i’ll see you at home.” part of you wanted him to keep fighting for it. you wanted him to want you to come back inside, but the small part of him that wanted that was outweighed by the part of him that wanted a break from your incessant attitude. 

you would’ve felt bad for taking the car, given that you two showed up to dinner together, but you knew maddie would’ve been more than happy to drive drew home, which was just another thing you’d argue about once he got home. drew had half a thought to follow you, go home with you and fix this situation before it progressed, but he ignored the thought and walked back inside of the restaurant.

you cried in the car, punching your steering wheel a few times until your hand started to hurt and you tried to clear your vision. you started your car and drove home, earning a few texts along the way. madison and austin asked if you were okay, given that they were the closest to you out of the group and probably had more insight than the others about the situation you were in. 

you sent a quick ‘i’m home, i’m okay’ text to both of them and threw your phone onto the counter before sinking yourself into the couch. you didn’t get to catch the look that the the two of them sent each other across the table, neither of them believing you from the way drew was tense the rest of the dinner. 

you sat on the couch, staring at the glass of wine in your hands that you poured over an hour ago and had only taken a few sips from. you had full intentions of drinking it faster than you sat down, but that proved to be difficult with the thoughts running through your mind. you figured alcohol would only make those thoughts harder to think through. 

you sighed when a knock on the door echoed off of the walls, placing the glass on the coffee table and standing up. you reached for the handle, but paused, staring at the door in front of you.

“baby, i don’t have my keys.” you sighed gently, the lump in your throat making you hesitate from swinging the door open. “y/n, please.”

you opened the door, watching drew sigh heavily when your eyes met. you turned on your heels and walked away from the door, letting him catch it for himself before he walked inside.

“are we going to settle this?”

“i don’t know, drew. are you going to stop acting like maddie’s your girlfriend just to tell me that it’s nothing and i shouldn’t worry about it?” he groaned loudly, kicking his shoes off by the door.

“y/n, this is getting out of hand. i’m sorry if i’ve crossed a line here and there, but-”

“crossed a line here and there is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?” he growled softly, hating when you cut him off and didn’t give him room to speak. “you haven’t talked to me like that in weeks, drew! you compliment her every time you see her, you dance with her when we’re out and barely talk to me the whole night. if you want to be with her, drew-”

“you know, y/n, despite the fact that i keep telling you that i don’t want to be with her every single time we have this conversation, you’re sure as hell making me want to be.” he growled at you, standing face to face with you and watching your tough demeanor diminish.

your lips parted, and you tried to say something, anything in response. but you couldn’t. too many thoughts swam through your mind and none of them could break the barrier to actually come out.

“maddie wouldn’t act like this, y/n.”

“i hate you.” it came quickly, and it stayed soft. every crack in your heart that built up over the weeks pouring into the three words.

“no you don’t.” he shook his head, his shoulders slumping. he knew you didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him to hear it. you had never said things like that to him. “no you don’t.” he repeated.

you shook your head then, your chest tightening at the situation as a whole. you didn’t know what was going on between the two of you but it needed to end soon, or it would end forever.

“we need to stop doing this, baby.” you nodded, eyes watering at the thought that you’d possibly lose drew forever, sooner than you ever expected. 

you had been arguing more in the past few weeks than you had in the entirety of your relationship. you didn’t know what it was, or how things progressed to this point, but you knew that things were tougher than they ever had been. 

you knew that every time you saw drew with maddie, your skin crawled. it was hard enough in the group when maddie and chase separated, and you didn’t want to add to that by splitting up from drew. it wasn’t that you wanted to, because you’d convinced yourself that you were going to spend the rest of your life with drew, but if things stayed like this, that didn’t seem likely anymore. 

“c’mon, let’s go to bed. we can talk about it in the morning.”

you nodded again, feeling a pair of lips press against your forehead before drew walked around you and towards your bedroom. you turned around, facing the door that he stood in front of.

“come to bed, baby. i’m sorry.” you sighed, eyes glued to your feet as your chest continued to ache.

“not until you apologize.” drew sighed softly, restraining himself from getting angry all over again.

“y/n, i just said i’m fucking sorry.” he caught himself getting angry again and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “i don’t want to fight all night baby, please can we just go to sleep?” you nodded, though you knew you wouldn’t sleep well that night. 

and you didn’t. neither of you did, but you weren’t about to find comfort in one another when that was the sole reason you weren’t sleeping well. you’d been in and out of sleep for a few hours when you pushed yourself out of bed completely, throat scratchy and head slightly throbbing. 

you walked out of your room, shutting the door behind you in an attempt to muffle any noise you would make in the kitchen, and slightly hoping that drew was sleeping soundly. he wasn’t. 

you made coffee, something that you usually did when one of you couldn’t sleep, and despite every bone in your body telling you to sit out there by yourself, you poured drew a cup. you made it the way you knew he would and took it back into the room, seeing him sitting up against the headboard and rubbing at his eyes. 

he had a book in his lap, the lamp on his side of the bed switched on. he looked up at you once the door opened, a soft smile creeping onto his lips at the sight of you holding two cups. 

you knelt down on the bed and moved to the top of it, handing drew his cup and smiling at the soft ‘thank you’ he offered. you drank most of your cup in silence, letting drew read the chapter in his current novel, before setting an almost empty cup of, now room tempered, coffee on your nightstand. 

you sat beside drew, dropping your head on his shoulder and letting out a sigh through your nose. he folding the corner of his page once he finished his paragraph and shut the book, letting it fall onto his lap as a signal that you had his attention - if you wanted it. 

“do you think we’re going to make it?” you whispered, picking at the almost nonexistent nail polish on your fingers, despite the fact that you painted them yesterday. 

“i don’t know.” he spoke truthfully, which you appreciated, but it tugged at your heart. it hurt to know that the two of you were on the same page of not knowing where this path was leading the two of you. “i hope so.” 

“me too.” you said softly, feeling the tears in your eyes come back from hours before. 

the sleep deprivation along with the unruly emotions you had put yourself through for the last couple of weeks was enough to bring tears to your eyes within seconds. there was no point in blinking them away, or trying to hide them from drew. 

they were falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulders in record time, making you unsure if you were glad he wasn’t wearing a shirt or not. on one hand, you weren’t ruining one of his shirts - which you had plenty of experience with - but on the other other hand, he was able to recognize the feeling of a wet shoulder within seconds. 

“baby, come here.” he whispered softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. he knew there was almost nothing he could do to cease your tears, since they were built up from all of the argument you’d been having. he couldn’t take back his words or his actions, but he could prevent them in the future - hopefully. 

“i don’t know how to fix this, drew.” his hand found its way underneath the shirt you were wearing, tracing small shapes across your back. it was something he did a lot, when you couldn’t sleep or were stressed out from work. it was one of the only things that seemed to soothe you without fail. 

“i don’t either.” he whispered back, setting his chin on top of the head resting against his chest. 

truth be told, he’d done everything he could think of. he’d given you space when he thought you needed it, and that didn’t seem to work. he tried to not get angry without reason, but he couldn’t seem to help it. he tried to minimize the amount of arguments, as well as the severity of each one. nothing worked. 

the two of you were in a rut, and neither of you knew how to get out of it. you were due for season two of outer banks in a few months, and you didn’t know how that was supposed to work. if you two had to get on a plane and fly out tomorrow, you knew it would end badly. 

you knew that if the two of you had to act together right now, the scenes between your characters weren’t going to help your relationship at all. your characters were both hotheads, spending most of your shared screen time yelling at one another. 

“what do we do?” you asked through your tears, not bothering to hide the crack in your voice. 

“there’s only so much we can do, y/n. we either have to find a way to fix this or we have to-” he stopped himself, his voice cracking before he could even mutter his next suggestion. his heart was breaking, as was yours. 

truth be told, your hearts were breaking because you knew what you should do. you knew that despite everything that the two of you felt for each other, there was only one way to truly fix the unbreakable tension between you and your boyfriend. 

staying together didn’t seem to provide any solution. you’d tried to work on this, and it ended in a different argument every time. neither of you saw a light at the end of the tunnel, and the only way out was an emergency exit. 

“i don’t want to.” you didn’t want to say it. you didn’t need to say it. he knew exactly what you meant, because he didn’t want that either, but it seemed to become clearer to both of you that that was the solution for right now. 

“neither do i.” you clung tighter to him, and he held onto you when your body started to shake. 

it was hard, to come to a solution that neither of you liked the idea of. you told yourself that no matter how much it sucked to fight with drew, you’d rather fight with him every day than go a single day without seeing him. you’d seen him everyday for the past year and a half. working with your partner offered that luxury, and now you weren’t going to have that opportunity for a few more months. 

“i guess i should go in the morning.” you shook your head at his words, wanting to rid yourself of the growing feeling in your chest. 

“i’ll go. your name’s on the lease.” he didn’t say anything after that, having no desire to get into an argument about who moved out of the apartment you’d been sharing ever since you got back from filming. 

“can you stay until the sun comes up?” you nodded, not wanting to move even when the sun peeked through the curtains, but you knew that if you didn’t go then, you’d never go and the two of you would spiral into the same pit you’d found yourself in for months. 

so you laid there, wrapped in one another’s embrace for the next few hours. there were shared words and tears, as well as kisses and touches. there was a connection between the two of you that neither of you had felt in what seemed like forever, but it gave you hope. hope that if you revisited this part of your life anytime soon, you’d be able to pick it up from where you left off before you dove into this rut. 

and when the sun came up, you unwrapped yourself from the boy, eyes bloodshot and bags darker than they’d ever been before. you didn’t want to leave, a soft but noticeable voice in your head telling you that the last few hours might have been the beginning to the next era with drew. 

but you got up and packed your bags, because you knew that was the right choice. you packed a duffle bag and slipped the essentials into your backpack after drew told you you were welcome to come back a different day for the rest of it. 

he was hoping that the next time you stepped into the apartment, you’d stay. 

and you found yourself standing at the door, both of you crying just as you had done just a few hours earlier. he kissed you once, longer than a normal kiss but shorter than a suggestive kiss. he was asking you to stay, and you were telling him you wanted to. 

but you turned on your feet and you walked down the hall, leaving the apartment and the boy that lived in it behind you. and it took you all of ten seconds of being in the elevator for you to break down, body shaking and tears freely flowing. 

you were able to stop them long enough to make the short drive, but the second you’d turned your car off they started again, not stopping even when you knocked on the familiar door and austin stood in front of you, understanding without saying a single word. 

he wrapped you in a hug, because this hadn’t come as a surprise to him, and he held you while you violently sobbed into him. you didn’t have to tell him with drew, and you didn’t have to ask to stay here, because the bags under your bloodshot eyes and the bag on your shoulder told him you needed a place to stay. 

“drew and i broke up.” he sighed softly, hand holding your head into his chest as he racked his brain for ways to make this situation any less shitty. 

he didn’t come up with any. 

“can i stay here?”

“of course you can. come inside.” 

#drew starkey #drew x reader #obx #the obx #the outer banks #outer banks #outer banks netflix #angst

[rockandroobuckaroll]

Shyan Mafia Au - Chapter Two

I was very excited to write this chapter, less so when it came to proof reading. It’s a long one haha

Thanks to everyone who said they enjoyed the first chapter, I hope this story lives up to your expectations!

There was a pounding in Ryan's head as he slowly regained consciousness, pain splitting across his temple and tapering down his spine. He pulled his head up with great effort and winced, opening his eyes slowly to see that he was tied to the spare chair he was intending on using against 'Legs' in case things went wrong with the metal pole.

Now he was tied up just like 'Legs', bound way too tight against something that was giving off heat. For a moment or two Ryan's panicking mind thought maybe he woke up just as he was being tortured, probably set on fire to leave no evidence behind. No one would find him if he was just ash and bones. The somewhat underused rational side of Ryan's mind informed him that it would probably hurt a lot more if he was, in fact, cooking like a shrimp that fell under the grill at a barbeque.

After further inspection Ryan found that the heat source also gave off the faint smell of alcohol along with a musky aftershave he was pretty sure he owned at home. It was also moving, Ryan flinching forwards as his head collided with whatever it was, groaning as the pain in his skull amplified considerably.

"Come on, man, you've already knocked me out once tonight. Please try not to do it a second time." It was 'Legs' and he didn't sound overjoyed to find Ryan bound against his back, his voice still sounded groggy, however now it seemed to be mixed with strain.

"Oh great..." Ryan wasn't too thrilled either though he was more concerned with the pulsing running through his skull with every frantic beat of his heart. "God, my head's killing me!"

"Yeah, feels like shit, doesn't it?" He muttered sarcastically to Ryan, spitting out blood afterwards as if to prove some sort of point. It didn't travel very far, in fact it pitifully just dribbled down his chin and landed straight in his lap. "That was supposed to look more badass." Ryan couldn't see what he had done so he wondered who he was talking to, though he assumed whoever had knocked him out was stood behind him and in front of 'Legs'.

Ryan tried his best to ignore him and instead took to looking around the room. Things were mostly how he left them, though he couldn't help but notice a dark patch on the floor beneath the two chairs. It didn't take a genius to recognise what it was, the glisten coming from the reflection of the bulb above them showing hints of a deep red - the same red that was stained in Ryan's mind. He closed his eyes and looked away for fear he would be sick if he looked at it any longer.

There wasn't much blood and it was closer to 'Legs' than it was Ryan but it still gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach as reality came crashing upon him. He was going to die here. He came here on a job that he knew could very well kill him, but he'd almost managed to pull it off; now thanks to his own carelessness he'd managed to get them both killed by some third psychopath. If only Ryan had remembered to lock the door.

"Good to see you awake, Ricky. Bloody Mary sends her thanks." A voice Ryan didn't recognise cut through the silence.

"Bloody Mary?" Ryan hadn't heard of that name before. "Wait, how do you know my name?" It dawned on Ryan that he may have been tracked from the second he landed in New Orleans, he hadn't exactly been careful.

"Me and Roberto had a lovely chat before you woke up." 'Legs' informed him. "I told him everything I know - which is nothing at all, so if you wouldn't mind letting me go now. I promise I'll forget this whole thing-" A gunshot pierced Ryan's ears, startling him so much he raised a good few inches off his seat. He saw the sparks fly off the wall in front of him: a warning shot.

"I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut?" The man sounded way more intimidating than Ryan could ever hope to be. Ryan assumed just talking in a smooth, low voice would be enough but evidently not. "You really don't shut up, do you?"

"That's what I've been saying..." Ryan scoffed under his breath.

"You got something to say, Ricky?" Ryan's whole body tensed up and his eyes widened. He hated how he found himself leaning back into 'Legs' slightly, as though being closer to him would give him comfort - it wasn't like he had just been trying to kill the guy or anything.

"No, sir!" Ryan's lip quivered as he spoke; he hadn't been this scared since the night his family died. "Sorry, sir!"

"Wow, you're such a tough guy." 'Legs' remarked, helping to ground Ryan in the strangest of ways. He found himself focusing on how someone could be so calm after having two people come for his life in the same night; the guy was tied to a chair and had a loaded gun pointed at him for fucks sake! It also helped him to think through the situation carefully, assess his best way out of this with his person still intact. "I can't believe this is the guy that brought me here! Can you believe this shit, Roberto?"

"You came here of your own free will, 'Legs'." Ryan reminded him in a shaky tone, terrified of the reality that he could get shot any second but still wanted to defend his honour.

"Yeah, 'cause I thought we were gonna... ah, y'know what, maybe we shouldn't discuss this in front of Roberto" 'Legs' cleared his throat, adjusting his position in his seat which caused the ropes to dig further into Ryan's chest.

"Stop moving around, asshole!" Ryan retaliated by nudging him with his elbow. It didn't hit very hard due to him not being able to move much but the satisfaction it gave Ryan was unmatched.

"I don't get paid enough for this shit... also I don't know where you got Roberto from, that's not my name. That's not even my nickname!" The man ranted, stalking around the two of them and entering Ryan's view so he could finally get a better look at him. He looked way too cliché for Ryan's liking, it was far too tasteless. He had the typical black suit, buttoned neatly with a grey tie beneath it and shoes that were shined so hard Ryan could see his own reflection in them. He had a red handkerchief folded neatly and peeking neatly out of his blazer pocket and, of course, he was wearing a fedora. Ryan felt this guy was trying to sell the look too hard, it was almost embarrassing to look at although as a person he wasn't that bad looking.

It took for Ryan to have the guy's pistol placed under his chin to stop judging his fashion choices and pay attention to what was happening. "I don't know what you're doing here, buddy, but you're getting in my way." He threatened, "We've been after 'Legs' for months... we finally get him right where we want him and you show up out of nowhere? Who are you, really? You from Chicago like him? Jersey maybe?"

"I'm not telling you anything!" Ryan only wished he sounded braver and not like a kid who'd lost his mom at a theme park. "Look, I was here to get rid of him too. We're on the same team here."

"Wow, thanks for having my back, pal." 'Legs' laughed to himself at his stupid joke - if he could even call it that. "Get it, 'cause you're-"

"Oh my god, 'Legs' shut the fuck up!" Ryan had his eyes closed as the man pressed the gun into his skin. "How the fuck are you making jokes right now? What is wrong with you?"

"Tell me what you're doing here and I'll think about letting you go." The man bargained, Ryan considering it. Selling out the mob of his home town wasn't something he could get away with easily. "If not... your brains'll end up painting the back of this guys big head."

"My head is proportional to my body I'll have you know." 'Legs' had a specific tone to his voice as if he'd had the conversation before. "It's not easy being this tall you know!"

"Can you please stop being so fucking casual about this!" Ryan practically begged 'Legs' to shut up, the comfort his stupid comments had once given him no longer there to protect him now that there was a loaded gun under his chin.

"You get used to this kind of thing, Ricky." Having his life threatened wasn't something he wanted to get used to. For the whole trip to New Orleans he had been questioning his decision to actually join a group of people known for their dangerous lifestyle. He knew his logic was flawed and that it was a reckless move, but he was desperate. In hindsight he knew that he really should have just took the plunge and reintroduced himself into the world, slowly reuniting with friends and family and maybe even his therapist. The mafia really should have been the very, very last resort.

"You better get used to talking too or else you'll have to get used to being dead." The man rushed Ryan for an answer.

"Okay... okay. I was sent here to kill him. I haven't been told what exactly for, but apparently he's been getting in a lot of people's bad books." Ryan tried to be as vague as possible, not wanting to give away the names of those who sent him. "I'm uh... I'm a hitman, I'm just here to take care of business, get paid then I'm out of here." Another half truth.

"Believable." 'Legs' muttered, Ryan losing his temper with him.

"Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up!" Ryan attempted to elbow him again, putting his whole body weight into it. The result ended up with the two of them tumbling to the side, landing with a thud on the cold concrete floor.

"Fuck." 'Legs' winced, seemingly taking the blow harder than Ryan; although given that Ryan's face was now resting in a small puddle of blood he correctly assumed 'Legs' was pained for another reason. The both of them sighed at the same time, Ryan to steady his nerves and 'Legs' to ease his pain.

"You okay?" They both asked each other on instinct. There was a silence in the room for a second, nothing but the sound of a very aggravated mob guy at his wits end with the both of them. Any second now Ryan assumed he would get fed up with trying to get answers out of them and just shoot them both.

"Did you just ask me if I was okay?" Ryan couldn't believe 'Legs' was still considering his wellbeing, although his response wasn't as shocked as Ryan's was, in fact he sounded rather furious.

"Don't fucking ask me if I'm okay when this is all your fault!" He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Man, if you'd have just shut up I'd have killed you by now! You wouldn't be suffering right now! This is on you!" He knew that wasn't true, this was all on Ryan, but it felt good to release all his adrenaline out on someone.

"Can you both shut up?" The mob guy crouched down and held his gun in Ryan's face.

"Why don't you just hurry up and get on with this, you walking cliché?" So Ryan wasn't the only one who thought the guy was trying too hard with his outfit.

"Cliché?"

"Yeah, the outfit is a bit much." Ryan joined in, unable to help himself. He should have known better, he really should have but there was something about hearing the pain in 'Legs' voice that made him want to cheer him up just a little; Ryan wasn't doing a good job of convincing himself that it was guilt that was motivating him to wind up the guy with murderous intent.

"This suit was expensive! You two are-" The man stopped as his phone started ringing. "Don't you two move." He warned, firing another warning shot near Ryan's head, the shot so loud it made his ears ring. Ryan's eyes were squeezed shut so he couldn't physically see what was happening but he could just about make out the sound of the man answering his phone and walking up the stairs, locking them in the basement.

"He's just gonna leave us here? What now? What if we're down here forever? I'm not starving to death down here and no way I'm resulting to cannibalism!" Ryan panicked, writhing around on the floor to try and get free of his bonds.

"Calm down, Ricky." 'Legs' kicked him. "Listen to me, you've got to untie me. Look over there, he kicked your gun under the boiler. If we can get it, we can get out of here... but we've got to work together."

"Yeah, no fucking chance." Ryan scoffed. "The second I untie you you're gonna grab that gun, blow a hole in my brain and be on your merry way."

"Ricky, we're literally tied together. When you untie me you're untying yourself."

"Then why would you suggest that I had to be the one to untie you?" Ryan couldn't trust him, there was no way anyone would trust a man like him. "How about you untie me?"

"We don't have time to argue about this, dammit!" He snapped, seeming desperate. "Look, I'm in no shape here to be putting up a fight anyway. If you wanted to overpower me you could in an instant... even if I don't believe for one second that you're some fucking hitman. No way, you're way too unprofessional."

"Oh give me a break, this is my first job!" Ryan rolled his eyes, moving his hands to try and find the knot that was between them. He yanked on 'Legs' fingers at first, resulting in another kick, though eventually he managed to find the knot. It took him a while but he finally loosened it to the point the two of them could break free. Ryan immediately rushed to grab the gun, checking to make sure it was still loaded before turning back to 'Legs'.

Ryan froze when he laid eyes on his face, his jaw falling slightly slack. 'Legs' face was bruised, his eye swollen slightly and his lip was split, straight down the middle. He had blood running out his nose, down into his mouth and onto his chin: he looked like he had just had a run in with the killer in a horror movie. He was also on his hands and knees, his right arm keeping him stable on the ground whilst he clutched his stomach with his left... Ryan certainly didn't do this to him when he had the chance. That guy upstairs really was going to kill them if he saw they were free.

"Get up, come on." Ryan had a plan. Hide beneath the basement stairs, wait for the man to come back down then shoot him at the first chance he got. This wasn't like the concept of shooting 'Legs', 'Legs' didn't act like the killer he was, he had been a complete jackass to him as soon as Ryan betrayed him like he had, but that was only fair. That man upstairs was a stone cold, calculated killer, not some idiot in a flower shirt who just wanted to have a good night.

Ryan's hand still shook as he held the gun: it still didn't feel right being held in his hand. He knew he would have to shoot this man, he would have to join 'Legs' in becoming a murderer... but he feared that even with his life at risk he didn't have it in him.

"I don't think I can." 'Legs' was struggling to even speak, his teeth gritted together and his eyes were closed as though he was trying to meditate his way out of pain.

"He's gonna come back any second now, move your ass!" Ryan's fear was causing him to be harsh, but he knew there was no point in sugar-coating the situation. "Come on!" Ryan grabbed his arm and pulled him up, 'legs' leaning against him heavily and doing his best to keep up. Ryan shrugged him off his shoulder and took a steady breath, hoping the shake in his hands wouldn't throw off his aim. "I don't know if I can do this... can't you kill him? You're the fucking expert or whatever."

"Ricky, I can barely stand right now, much less perfectly aim and shoot someone." He had a valid point, even if Ryan had trouble accepting it.

"'Legs' I really don't think I can do this." Ryan was starting to panic. "Can't I just... wait!" He pointed to the metal pole that had been dropped casually in the middle of the room. "That thing I can use!" He tucked his gun away in his belt, opting for his trusty metal pole instead - even if it had been used against him that evening too. That only meant one thing to Ryan however: it hurt like a motherfucker.

The door opened far before Ryan was prepared for it, his heart sinking to the shrill screech of the metal scraping against the concrete. Ryan felt a hand on his shoulder, 'Legs' breathing sounding heavy; he couldn't tell if the guy was just nervous (though he doubted that given how nonchalant he had been about having a loaded gun being pointed at him) or about to pass out. Ryan certainly felt a mixture of both, he felt nauseous and dizzy from the fear alone.

The sound of the man coming down the stairs sang in sync with the pounding of Ryan's heart, drumming adrenaline into his body that he could hopefully use to knock the guy spark-out. The man seemed furious that the two had managed to escape, cursing under his breath and pulling his gun out. The sight made Ryan's blood run cold but he knew it was now or never: if the guy saw them first it would be all over.

He took a few cautious steps forward, sneaking up behind him and trying to hold his breath to be as silent as he possibly could. He had the pole raised, ready to strike when the man turned around. Ryan had never moved so quick in his life, jumping to his left whilst swinging the pole like a baseball bat. He connected with the back of the guys head just has he pulled the trigger. He didn't fall quite as quickly as 'Legs' had, instead stumbling forward a few paces before dropping down.

"I did it... holy shit! I did it!" Ryan wasn't so sure it was something to celebrate but his neurons were firing off in every direction, he couldn't contain it. "Did you see that!" He turned to 'Legs' who was now on the floor, clutching his thigh as blood pooled under his fingers.

Ryan looked down at the man he had knocked out, at the gun that lay at his feet. He did the smart thing and picked it up, putting the safety on and storing it in his belt with his own gun. He then looked back up at 'Legs', the guy who was supposed to be long dead by now at his own hand. If he left him here there was no chance he could get out, his leg had a hole in it now and he could barely even stand before. Ryan could just shut the basement door, lock the two men down there and leave. They'd probably kill each other and Ryan wouldn't have to worry about a thing.

The light coming from the lobby upstairs beckoned him, Ryan answering its call and approaching the stairs, looking through the gaps at 'Legs' who was trying to pull himself up. The second he made eye contact Ryan's plan suddenly had a moral dilemma attached.

"Don't go... please!" He begged, struggling to drag his body closer to Ryan - to the stairs and the only way out that he now guarded like Cerberus. "Come on, man, this guy's gonna kill me!"

"That's your problem." Was the most cold-hearted, badass thing Ryan could think of in the moment before he started walking up the stairs. He reached the top and hovered his hand over the handle of the door. All he had to do now was shut the door and lock it... 'just walk away Ryan, pretend this never happened' his mind reminded him of his plan.

'Legs' had managed to pull himself to the bottom of the stairs, cautiously glancing over at the unconscious man in the middle of the room. Ryan looked down at him, looking into the same eyes that crinkled into thin lines when he laughed earlier, the same eyes that had been a calming presence when he was having a panic attack at the diner. One of those eyes was now swollen and the other had a glint of terror Ryan recognised in his own eyes every time he looked in a mirror. This was all his fault: he'd caused this.

Being alone all his life had kept him alive. Having no ties to anyone had kept him safe. This guy would put him in more danger than he'd ever been in his life if he helped him out here; he could prevent that by simply closing the door and walking away... but Ryan couldn't just leave him there.

"Dammit." He groaned, rushing back down the stairs, grabbing 'Legs' roughly and pulling him up, the taller of the two yelping and gripping onto Ryan to steady himself. "One step at a time, but you've got to be quick. He's gonna wake up any second."

"Shit..." Was all 'Legs' mumbled, wobbling about on the spot.

"Hey man, you pass out on me and I leave you here." Ryan moved up the first step, 'Legs' slowly following him. It took them a while, each step agonisingly slow for the both of them, but eventually they made it to the top, 'Legs' panting heavily as Ryan sat him down on one of the sofas in the lobby. "Wait here."

Ryan locked the basement door, using the metal pole to secure it and one of the sofas to blockade it just to be on the safe side. He dusted his hands off and approached 'Legs' again, holding his hand out so he could use it to pull himself up.

"Come on, I'll take you to a hospital. It's the least I can do." He offered though it was quickly turned down.

"You heard that guy, he was sent by Bloody Mary... If she's after me then the hospitals aren't safe. She'll find me there. She'll come for you too now, Ricky. We're gonna have to stick together on this one." That certainly complicated things, the two of them didn't exactly get along after Ryan tried to murder him. This Bloody Mary woman also sounded like a big deal, she was probably a higher up, a boss or at the very least an associate of the New Orleans Mafia's boss. Ryan had never even heard of her, his own ties to the mob not warning him about her before flying him out here. "There's a hotel on the edge of town, the owners are real nut jobs who believe in ghosts and shit. Bloody Mary wont go near the place, she's got a thing for respecting spirits... we can hide there for now."

"You're going to bleed out, man. Isn't there some shady black market surgeon I can take you to?" It was worth a shot, granted 'Legs' had the ties of course.

"Yeah, 'cause I look like the kind of guy that keeps company with people who steal kidneys." He glowered, resting his head in his hands as he sighed. "I'm fine, I swear. I just need to clean it out and get some rest."

"Okay... okay, you win." Ryan gave in. "But are you going to be alright to give directions? No offence man but you look like shit. Are you're about to pass out?" 'Legs' pulled a series of expressions that tried to seem flippant and he waved it off with his hand.

"I'm fine. Big tough guy like me? This is nothing." Ryan would have to have been an idiot to believe him.

"Oh yeah? Let's go then." He took his offered hand back and walked over to the front doors. "Come on, flower shirt, thought you said this was nothing?" Ryan did think it was a shame that the shirt that suited the guy so well was probably stained forever and would have to be thrown away.

"Ricky, I literally have a hole in my leg." He reminded him, "You want to try walking with a hole in your leg? Give me one of your guns and let's find out if you can do it."

"Not a chance. Just because I saved your sorry ass doesn't mean I can trust you enough to give you a gun." Ryan walked back over to him, crouching down in front of the sofa. "But, just this once and I mean it: just this once... climb on my back." 'Legs' seemed somewhat taken aback by the offer.

"You do realise you're, like, three feet shorter than me, right? Can you even carry me?" Even now he was cracking jokes, Ryan was still considering the possibility that there was something seriously wrong with his brain. He wouldn't admit there was a sort of charm to how carefree he was though, he just liked to think it was because he saw him as a parallel to himself, he was just envious of him, that's all.

"You really are insufferable, you know that?"

"I know." He slid forward and wrapped his arms around Ryan's shoulders, Ryan hooking his arms under 'Legs' legs. "Most people say that about me."

"I can't imagine why." Ryan's words were laced with sarcasm. "Alright, then. Let's go."

'Legs' had managed to keep himself awake as he guided Ryan through the back streets of New Orleans, pointing out where to go at every turning whilst growing heavier and heavier on Ryan's back. He felt a little bit of pride for him to be able to fight off unconsciousness for that long, it was quite frankly impressive!

They arrived at the hotel about half an hour later, 'Legs' climbing off Ryan's back and keeping his head down as to not look suspicious. Ryan had a better idea and left him outside however, only booking a room with one, single sized bed so it would be on record that he came here alone. He liked to think he was playing it smart, but it also dawned on him that he would now have to spend the night with the guy who couldn't shut up with stupid jokes. Either that or he could just ditch him there.

Not to mention, as 'legs' had briefly mentioned: the hotel was supposedly haunted. Ryan believed in ghosts, he'd been scared of them all his life yet had always been fascinated by them. He'd never once stayed somewhere that was haunted, not even by coincidence; so when he saw the name of the hotel, being the Dauphine Orleans Hotel he felt a cold shiver down his spine. He had read about this place online, about how footsteps could be heard in vacant rooms and shadows moved around on their own. To say he was nervous about staying the night there was an understatement.

As he made his way back outside and towards the rooms he spied 'Legs' sitting against the same wall Ryan had left him at, his head leaning back and tilting up towards the sky. His eyes were closed and for a moment or two Ryan thought he had finally passed out, or worse (or better, depending on how Ryan felt in the moment) he was dead.

"Come on, idiot." Ryan nudged him with his foot to bring him back into action. "Let's get you in bed."

"Wow, coming on a bit strong, aren't you Ricky?" 'Legs' opened his eyes and looked up at him with a lopsided grin.

"I could just leave you out here, you know?" Ryan was very tempted, especially when his own face betrayed him and he blushed. In Ryan's defence he had been on a pretty fun date with the guy just before everything went very, very wrong.

He smuggled 'Legs' into the room with relative ease; there was hardly anyone about at this time of night and the hotel was remarkably understaffed. Once the door was closed Ryan felt like he could breathe for the first time that night, though he knew he still had one job left to do.

'Legs' slowly made his way over to the bed, dropping down on it with a groan as he held his leg tightly. Meanwhile Ryan explored the bathroom to find the first aid kit: luckily the hotel supplied one. He looked at where the bullet wound was and bit his lip, there was no subtle way to say what he was about to say.

"You're gonna need to take off your jeans." He knew he would receive a smirk for that one, Ryan doing his best to just move past it and helped 'Legs' slide the tight fabric down over his wound. It looked painful, Ryan wincing when he looked at it and almost gagging at the sight of blood that returned so many awful memories.

As always, 'Legs' seemed to find a way to make things both more awkward but calming at the same time. "You know, this isn't the way I imagined you would be taking my pants off tonight."

"Okay... I'm gonna need you to shut up." Ryan shook his head and took an alcohol wipe out from the first aid kit. "This is probably going to sting, by the way. If you behave maybe I'll be gentle."

"Oh, to hear you say that under different circumstances." He was clearly intent on making things more awkward, Ryan doing his best to try and ignore him as he gently wiped the blood surrounding the wound. "Y'know..." 'Legs' spoke through gritted teeth, "It's crazy to think that just a few inches north I would have got shot in the dick."

"Dude, please shut up." Ryan was blushing just thinking about it. "Though I know now why people know you as 'Legs'... these things are fucking long, man!"

"Yeah, that's not the only thing that's long - ow!" Ryan applied more pressure over the wound, effectively shutting him up. Working in silence was much easier, if not slightly more awkward. Ryan managed to clean away all the blood and take to wrapping 'Legs' upper thigh in bandages.

"That'll do for now. Let me know if it starts bleeding through it." Ryan took to disposing the wipes in the bathroom bin, returning to the room where 'Legs' was still silent. Ryan could tell there was something eating away at him, something he was dying to ask but couldn't quite find the words. He wasn't so sure that he was ready for such a potentially heavy conversation with a guy like him just yet so he let the two of them to continue to marinate in the silence, just until 'Legs' was ready to talk.

"Why did you come back for me back there? Wasn't it your job to kill me?" Ryan was still unsure of the answer to that himself. "Wouldn't it have just been easier to let that guy take care of me?" It must be a hard life he lived when the question that had been eating away at him was why someone had shown him sympathy. Ryan couldn't imagine 'Legs' had many opportunities to have people show him compassion and not shoot on sight.

Ryan thought about that for a second or two, avoiding eye contact with him as he did. He eventually just shrugged and finally met his eye, trying to be as nonchalant as 'Legs' usually was. "It wouldn't have felt right to leave you with him..." He started with, promptly adding. "I wanted to kill you myself."

"Well, I'm sat here in front of you, probably about to pass out. I've got a hole in my leg and you're blocking the door and only way out... what's stopping you from killing me now?" It was a fair question, though Ryan knew it was more of a test. 'Legs' still viewed him as someone who was incompetent at their job, someone who didn't have the guts to kill; Ryan didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified to find out how much of a coward he was... at least he was a coward with a moral compass, right?

"I still might just do it, you're a pretty annoying guy." Ryan spoke jokingly. "You know, if I was stuck in a room with you and the most evil, twisted guy on the planet and I had two bullets, I'd probably shoot you twice."

"Wow, aren't you a nice guy - and completely original, might I add." 'Legs' rolled his eyes, "I bet your mom would be so proud of that answer."

'Legs' had been making jokes all evening, making a new sarcastic comment every few minutes or disingenuous insult whenever someone said anything he didn't quite agree with. Ryan hadn't taken anything he had said to heart, nothing had even come close to insulting him so he was able to play off what he was saying and banter with the guy. It had been frustrating at times and at times it had remined him of his childhood, bickering with his brother over who got to be player one in a video game or who got to have the slightly bigger scoop of ice cream.

However when 'Legs' innocently made a joke about Ryan's mother, whom he had been with in her final moments as she faded from life on the kitchen floor, Ryan's mind decided in a split second that it was too far. Something within him snapped, his face dropping from mildly amused to blind fury.

Ryan took one of the guns from his belt and stormed over to 'Legs' who wore a confused and equally concerned expression on his face. Ryan pressed the gun against the taller man's temple, his finger aching to pull the trigger.

"Don't you dare even fucking talk about her!" Ryan's whole body was boiling with anger. How dare someone who had murdered people himself talk about his mom, about his family in general. The thought had even crossed his mind that maybe 'Legs' was the one who killed his family that night. It was baseless, just a throw away theory but it was enough of a possibility for Ryan to see red, especially as 'Legs' continued to be painfully casual about the situation.

"Can you do it?" He smiled that same lopsided grin he had worn outside the hotel, as though he was above the situation. "Can you really become a killer?" He could tell Ryan had never killed anyone before by the way that the gun trembled slightly against his temple. He looked Ryan directly in his eyes, an impish glint reflecting in them. "You've not got it in you, I can see it in your beady little eyes."

It was as if time stood still for Ryan, his anger getting the better of him.

He pulled the trigger.

'Legs' flinched, bringing his hands up to his head to try and protect himself as he squeezed his eyes closed. A moment or two later as he realised there wasn't a bullet in his brain or a ringing in his ears he untensed his body and opened his eyes, meeting Ryan's equally shocked and terrified expression. He knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, based off Ryan's expression, but he found himself asking it anyway in a timidly quiet voice.

"Did... did you know the safety was on?" His voice only brought more panic to Ryan, knowing the guy who had been so cavalier about this whole evening was now terrified of the guy he'd branded a coward - someone who wasn't capable of pulling the trigger.

Ryan shook his head, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. He slowly backed away from 'Legs' and sat down against the wall beside the bed. He brought his knees up to his chest and held his head in his hands, the gun still quivering in his grip.

"I just shot you." Ryan's voice was vacant, his mind fogging over and leaving him in a state of shock, alone in the mist with only 'Legs' voice to try and save him from getting lost.

"Hey, it's okay, Ricky! I'm not dead, look I'm alive." He assured, shuffling over to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over, it hurt to move and gave 'Legs' a queasy feeling from the constant ache, but he was reliant on Ryan right now; he couldn't walk on his own and had no chance of getting out of New Orleans alive without him. He needed to push through the pain and be there for him, even if the guy had literally just pulled the trigger on him.

"I shot you!" Ryan spoke louder, trying his best to hold in his emotions and not become hysterical.

"I was just being an asshole, that was on me. I wound you up when I should have been... I should have... I'm sorry, Ricky." He actually apologised, the words not helping Ryan with his hysterics but it certainly cut a path through the fog in his mind.

"It's not that, it's the fact that I feel bad about it! I shouldn't feel bad! I should have just shot you back in the basement and been done with it, but I couldn't fucking do it! That guy who was going to kill us? I couldn't bring myself to kill him either!" 'Legs' tentatively placed his hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Maybe that's a good thing?" He tried to talk some sense into Ryan, "You're a good guy, Ricky."

"How the hell could I have protected them back then... I always thought if I joined the mob I'd be brave and maybe... maybe I could convince myself that if I'd been at home I could have protected them but..." 'Legs' tried not to show his visual confusion over the topic, his brain whirring and trying to figure out just what he was talking about. "If I'd have been home it wouldn't have made any difference. They'd still be dead and I'd still be alone."

Crushing realisation hit 'Legs' like the bullet that hit his thigh: Ryan was talking about his family. "I'm so sorry, Ricky. I really didn't know... I was being a dick earlier, honestly I'm sure your mom would be proud of you for not being some vengeful murderer."

"I've joined the fucking Mafia, 'Legs'! How could she be proud of that?" Ryan hit himself on the head with the gun, not hard but enough to clearly hear the sound of the impact. Even if the safety was on 'Legs' was still cautious of the way Ryan had moved it around so suddenly.

"I'm sure you had your reasons." 'Legs' was certainly in no position to judge Ryan on his life choices, given that he was part of the same lifestyle.

"I wanted protection. I was just so fucking alone and scared all the time! I just wanted to feel safe!" Ryan wasn't quite comfortable with the fact that he was having a heart-to-heart with a murderer. He really should have been having this conversation with his therapist - if he even still had her number saved to his phone. He had a feeling she would be slightly more judgemental than 'Legs' was being about this whole situation.

"I understand where you're coming from, Ricky." 'Legs' tried his best to empathise with Ryan, although he didn't quite seem comfortable to talk about his own woes. "I've been alone for so long because of the Mob. I know what it feels like to want protection... but this isn't the way forward, buddy."

Ryan shook his head and looked up with a slightly tainted version of his furious expression from earlier. "I'm not your fucking buddy!" He clicked the safety off this time and aimed the gun at him, 'Legs' raising his hands in surrender. "You're a fucking murderer! Why should I be scared about killing you?"

"Come on... we both know this isn't the right thing to do." His voice was so calm it drove Ryan mad. "Give me the gun, Ricky."

Ryan glared at him for what felt like an eternity before turning the gun on himself, closing his eyes and feeling the cool metal of his revolver against his skin. The clatter of the bullets in the chamber rattled in tune with his shaking hand. If he couldn't shoot the guy who kept taunting him there was no way he could pull the trigger on himself, though Ryan had to admit there was something much more simple about shooting himself instead.

"Ricky... give me the gun." 'Legs' leaned forward, holding his hands towards the gun and inching closer as slow as a lion stalking an innocent antelope. "This isn't the way forward, you know it's not. Please... give me the gun." Ryan felt 'Legs' hands cover his own, pulling the gun away from him with ease; Ryan didn't even put up a fight. 'Legs' took the gun and clicked the safety back on, placing it at the far side of the bed and letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

When he turned back to Ryan the shorter of the two stood up, wiping his eyes which were now wet with tears and made sure to tread quickly as he shut himself in the bathroom. As much as he hated the feeling: he just needed to be alone for a moment. Despite having a breakdown in front of the guy twice now he didn't want 'Legs' to see him crying, as if that was where he drew the line and aiming a gun at him not once, not twice but three times was okay.

Having a shower would hopefully clear his head, or at least Ryan prayed it would. Washing away the blood that had been staining his bruised temple and cheek certainly helped him feel a little bit better, that was for certain; the warmth of the water also helping his tense muscles to unwind and melt into the steam. It wasn't until after he was finished that he realised there was a jacuzzi tub that he regretted not slipping into instead, though when he tested it he was disappointed to find the jets didn't work.

He stepped out the shower feeling slightly more human, able to breathe a little bit deeper and think a little bit clearer. He dried himself off with the towel the hotel supplied and dressed himself in his suit once more, wishing he had different clothes to wear. If he was going on the run he'd make sure to buy an outfit that made him less conspicuous for sure.

When the bathroom door opened Ryan was expecting 'Legs' to ask him if he was okay in his own unique, jovial way; the two weren't exactly friends after all. He was expecting a subtle comment or joke to ease the tension between them. Instead all Ryan heard was a croaky groan coming from him as he opened one eye to glance over before closing it again.

'Legs' was now lying on his side, cheek pressed firmly into the side of the pillow with the duvet pulled up to his chin. He was paler than before, his bruises and split lip standing out in stark contrast on his face in a way that made Ryan wince. He couldn't believe this guy still hadn't passed out, although he had a feeling it was only a matter of seconds.

"You look like shit, man." Ryan gave a helpful observation, receiving a middle finger in response. "You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"'M sure." He mumbled in response, Ryan walking over to the bed and sighing as he looked to the small table beside it. 'Legs' had placed the gun there, right beside the little table lamp that struggled to illuminate the room. There was still something within Ryan that knew his troubles here in New Orleans would be over if he just picked it up and shot him. He could call Father Thomas and be out of there by sunrise, his own personal bodyguards meeting him at the airport. He knew what he had to do, the gun was right there and 'Legs' was barely conscious but he was right about Ryan and had been all along: he didn't have it in him.

Ryan sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the gun, looking at his distorted reflection and sighing. "What's the real reason you didn't kill me?" 'Legs' mumbled from the pillow, eyes still closed. "If we're stuck with each other I'd at least like to know why."

"We're not stuck with each other. No one said anything about his being stuck together." Ryan denied as he put the gun down. "I'm heading back to LA anyway, keeping my head low on the way. I don't need your massive noggin giving me away. You can head on back to Chicago or wherever that guy said you're from and tell your little mob friends you gave ol' Goldsworth the slip." Ryan hoped if he left 'Legs' in the state he was in someone from the Orleans Mafia would take care of him eventually; either that or he wouldn't survive the night which would make everything so much easier on Ryan.

"I uh... I would but I kinda quit." 'Legs' admitted, opening his eyes now. Ryan turned back to him with a sceptical look, unable to take his words at face value. For all he knew it could be some type of trick to get him to lower his guard and 'Legs' could kill him in his sleep. "I was out here trying to lay low, blend in... I was hoping to just be free of all this shit. Right up until you came along... guess I was in idiot to think you can get out once you get in."

"Sure." Ryan scoffed, trying not to think about the misty eyed look he was currently facing. "No one just quits the mob. What were you really up to here? Hm? Stirring more shit?" I bet you were planning on killing more of the New Orleans Mafia, weren't you? Is that why that guy came after you - why this Bloody Mary lady is still after you?" Ryan chose not to believe him, he's always been good at letting his paranoia get the better of him, after all. It was part of the reason he wanted protection from the mob in the first place.

"I'm not some fuckin' crazed murderer, Ricky." 'Legs' sounded offended. "I don't know why that guy showed up when he did. I thought he was from the lot in Chicago I used to run with who'd come after me... or I thought maybe that he was part of your crew... right up until he knocked your sorry ass out." Ryan rolled his eyes at his own unprofessionalism; he was still kicking himself about not locking the door. "I guess they're after us both now, so well done on that."

"How's that my fault? How could I have possibly known they'd come after you at the same time I did?" He was getting rather sick of 'Legs' belittling him. He didn't know Ryan, he didn't know his plight or how he got to the spot he was in, not really. He might think he knew, but Ryan was stubborn in believing 'Legs' didn't know a single thing about him - he didn't even know his name.

"I guess you couldn't have known that... but I bet your precious lil' LA gangsters probably did." His voice was croaky but his mind was still sharp, "You got duped, Ricky. They sent you after someone even they had trouble getting to and in a city they had high tensions with... they weren't expecting you to come back." He hit the nail on the head, annoyingly so.

"They didn't dupe me. They told me you would be a hard guy to kill. I knew that coming into this. I was ready for it and, dammit, I came pretty close to succeeding!" Ryan glowered at him, "I had nothing left to lose. I needed to do this! I need their protection! It's hard for a guy to sleep at night in LA when he lives on his own, y'know? Especially after my parents... well, you don't need to know anything more about that." Ryan stopped himself before he gave away all his deepest and personal secrets. He knew 'Legs' had pieced together what had happened to them, but he didn't want him to think Ryan trusted him enough to tell him all the gory details.

"They told you about me and you still came out here? Are you stupid?" Ryan didn't like the holes he was poking in his logic. "Wait... wait, hang on. Let me get this straight.... you wanted to feel safe so you joined a gang? Not a great plan."

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" Ryan huffed as he stood up and headed for the door.

"You're leaving?" 'Legs' pulled himself up slightly, wincing at the pain his leg when he did.

"Yeah. I'm not staying around here with you. I need to get back to LA before those guys find you and kill us both." Ryan didn't feel safe with 'Legs' around, even if his annoying comments were giving him a sense of comfort. "You should just get some sleep. Wash your bandages out in the morning, else you're gonna get an infection. Good luck with trying to get that peace you wanted, 'Legs'."

"Shane."

"Huh?" Ryan turned back to him.

"My name's Shane." He wasn't looking at Ryan anymore, instead he was fidgeting with the duvet. "Shane Madej... I take it you're not actually called Ricky? Well, you might be, but Goldsworth sounds obviously made up. I sussed that out the second you told me."

"I'm not telling you my name just because you're stupid enough to tell me yours." Ryan was a little bit harsh with him, but deep down he felt flattered that 'Legs' - no, Shane had told him his real name. It meant that on some level Shane trusted him... either that or it was because he was tired of going by a nickname associated with a life he was trying to leave behind. "Get some sleep, Shane." Ryan opened the door and stepped out of the room. He breathed in the cool mid-summer's night air and looked up to the sky, leaning his head back against the door.

What the hell was he doing here? Everything had gone so wrong. He was miles from home, he was all alone, probably being tracked as he stood there in the open like a fool. To make matters worse: he knew he was trapped. He couldn't go back by plane, the New Orleans mob would be expecting that. He didn't have a car, he didn't have a stable place to stay and he had no friends or family that could bail him out. The only person in the entire state that he knew was Shane.

Shane...

Ryan felt like screaming, crying or falling to his knees and cursing whichever god had been laughing at all his plans; perhaps he would do all three. He knew giving into his fears and crying about things wouldn't do him any favours though. He had to do his best to keep his head held high, if he gave up now he knew that eventually it would get him killed.

Ryan looked up at the stars, watching them burn brightly from millions of miles away. Stargazing was calming, something he'd always taken comfort in on particularly difficult nights, but he knew standing out in the cold whilst he was a wanted man would do him no favours. As much as he hated to admit it: he was stuck with Shane. He knew his way around the city and had far more connections than Ryan could hope to have; Shane was his best shot of getting out of this alive.

He swallowed his pride and stepped back into the room, Shane opening his eyes with heavy lids and frowning at him. "Thought you were leaving?" Ryan was only outside for five minutes at most but Shane already sounded worse than before. Ryan hoped he was just tired and not showing signs of an infection.

"Yeah, well... change of plans." Ryan locked the door behind him and stepped further into the room. "It dawned on me that I don't really know my way around here... I've got no transport, I can't get to the airport without these mob guys tracking me down. I've got no friends out here, not even old acquaintances... I hate to say it, but all I have is you."

"You saying you'd miss me if you wandered off, Ricky?" Shane joked, even if his humour didn't quite break through his groggy speech. "I'm flattered."

"Ryan." He figured, what the hell, they're in this together like it or not. "Ryan Bergara... but let me tell you now, Shane. If you even think about going behind my back and getting me in even more danger I'll put a bullet between your eyes - and I mean it this time!"

"Mm... okay." Shane agreed to that fairly quickly, not believing Ryan in the slightest. He knew Ryan was a troubled individual, but the two had hopefully bonded enough by now for Shane to bypass Ryan's wannabe mobster side. "So, what's the plan?"

"It's gonna take weeks - no, probably months to walk it back to LA. We'd have to be total idiots to do that... so hopefully the mob won't track us if we do." Ryan's plan was certainly flawed and needed a few revisions or perhaps a total overhaul, but for now it was all he could think to do.

"Your plan is to literally walk half way across the state?" Shane closed his eyes again and sighed, his breath shaking as it hit the air. "You're full of bright ideas, aren't you? I'm shocked you actually managed to track me down in the first place. It's even a miracle we're both still alive."

"Hey, man, shut up." Ryan huffed, "There's not a lot of options, besides, like I said... it's our best shot of getting out of Louisiana without a bullet between the eyes."

"Okay, so by some miracle we do make it to LA... what then? Your mob pals are gonna welcome me, the guy they sent you to kill, with open arms? Hm?" Shane had a point, Ryan begrudgingly admitted. "You just turn up and say, 'hey, don't worry, he's with me, we're pals now' and expect them to not kill us both on sight?"

"I don't know!" Ryan snapped and pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a long sigh to calm down. "I don't know, okay... I just - I just want to go home..." The words were quiet as they left his tongue, but they spoke volumes to Shane. He knew exactly how Ryan felt.

"Alright..." Shane opened his eyes once more and patted the small space on the bed next to him. "Come on, we've got a long day ahead of us. We should both get some sleep."

Ryan looked down at the bed like it had just stomped on an innocent butterfly. "I'm not sharing a bed with you, dude. I was literally going to kill you half an hour ago."

"Alright, fine." Shane shrugged. "More room for me. You can enjoy the floor." He was very good at getting under Ryan's skin.

"Actually, no. Fuck you, move up." Ryan changed his mind after considering his only other options were sleeping in the jacuzzi or on the hard, cold floor. Shane shuffled backwards, wincing as he moved his leg. "You alright?" Ryan asked, forgetting for a moment that this was in fact the guy who was supposed to be dead at his hand.

"Yeah, this is nothing." Shane waved it off. "Just caught me off guard." Ryan climbed into the bed next to him, paranoid he was about to fall off the edge, his body didn't quite fit on all the way, but he also didn't want to ask Shane to move closer to the wall. As much as the taller man didn't want to admit it, Ryan could tell he was in more pain than he was letting on. "This isn't the way I expected to be in bed with you tonight... I'm still kind of offended you only wanted to go out with me because you were planning on killing me. Makes it hard for a guy like me to get over his trust issues, y'know?"

"Please shut up and go to sleep." Ryan sighed, debating going to find some duct tape and shutting Shane up for the entire journey.

It was silent as the two lay there together, Ryan fidgeting as he kept inching closer to Shane to get away from the edge of the bed, then inching closer to the edge of the bed to get away from Shane. He seriously regretted booking a room with a single, small bed now. He should have gone with at least a double. If only he hadn't been planning on leaving Shane here from the start.

"You want me to move over more?" Shane mumbled, Ryan giving in and deciding, what the hell, he didn't like the guy anyway, who cares if he was in pain?

"Yeah." Ryan muttered, Shane taking a deep breath before shuffling backwards so that his back was pressed into the wall. There still wasn't much space, but there was just enough so that Ryan could get onto the bed fully without touching Shane.

More silence.

It was quiet... too quiet.

"Be honest with me, Ryan..." Shane broke the silence, his breath against Ryan's neck as he spoke which sent involuntary shivers down his spine. "Why didn't you just leave me to die down there? You'd be out of here by now, home free... but you threw that away for me. Why?"

"You're supposed to be this big mafia tough guy from Chicago. You've killed dozens of people and got away with every single one. You've got hundreds of men after you and yet you were just partying in New Orleans? Right out in the open? You seemed like the bravest, yet most fuckin' insane guy I'd ever met." Ryan tilted his head to look at Shane, pulling his head back slightly when he realised just how close he was lying to him. "I guess I didn't expect you to look so terrified when that guy showed up and knocked me out."

"I wasn't scared." Shane denies, "He just caught me off guard. It was surprise on my face, not fear."

"Right." Ryan looked back up at the ceiling. "I couldn't just leave you there though. I've never done this before-"

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Fuck you, I'm trying to be genuine here! I mean it though, I've got no fucking clue what I'm doing here..." The frustration Ryan felt was unparalleled. He felt so useless and naïve. "The only thing I was sure of was... was that I wouldn't have been able to sleep at night if I just left you there. You're welcome, by the way."

"Thanks for endangering me then backing out at the last second." Shane didn't sound very sincere, although he was grateful deep down. "Guess that means you'll sleep like a baby tonight then... that was a hint to shut up and go to sleep now by the way."

"You were the one who started the conversation!" 'This guy is a total jackass' Ryan thought with a glare aimed in his direction. "Why don't you go to sleep first? I'm not even tired."

"Neither am I." Shane very clearly was, he was struggling to keep his eyes open and his head kept dipping into the pillow. "Besides, you're the one who was threatening to murk me earlier! How do I know you're not going to blow my brains out the second I let my guard down?"

"I could say the same about you." Ryan retorted.

"Fine. Guess I'm not sleeping then." He folded his arms with a pout. Shane wasn't even going to blink, Ryan too. The both of them ending up in a staring contest that was more of a test of wills than a matter of endurance.

"Fine. Guess we'll just stay here all night. I'm not falling asleep first." Ryan could be just as stubborn as Shane if he wanted to.

"Neither am I. Get ready for a sleepless night, Bergara." Ryan moved so he was lying on his side, glaring into Shane's tired yet unblinking eyes. He'd crack any second, Ryan knew it. What he didn't expect was for Shane to smirk and blow into Ryan's eyes, forcing him to blink.

"That's cheating, you asshole!" Ryan cursed and shoved Shane on his arm. He didn't nudge him hard but it was enough force to cause the taller man's body to judder on the bed slightly, which was when pain flared up in his thigh. Shane squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the wound on his leg.

"Motherfucker!" Shane hissed under his breath at no one in particular.

"You had that one coming." Ryan said, although he had been meaning to apologise.

"Sorry..." Shane said for him, taking Ryan off guard. Why was he apologising? Ryan was the one who went and caused him pain. Ryan was the one who'd lured him to a hotel a few hours ago and tied him to a chair in the basement. Ryan was the one who'd knocked him out and eventually led him to getting shot in the leg. This was all Ryan's fault, so why the hell was Shane apologising?

He was certainly a hard guy to read. It was like he was just as clueless as Ryan. Ryan had a feeling Shane was plotting something; no one could be as careless as he was, partying in new Orleans like he wasn't a wanted man. There was more to it, Ryan would get to the bottom of it eventually.

"You really should have gone to a hospital." Ryan felt bad about their hasty thinking. A shady, haunted hotel in the middle of nowhere was a good hideout to keep them alive, but it would be for nothing if Shane bled out before morning.

"I'm fine, Ryan." Shane spoke through gritted teeth. "Big tough guy like me, this is tame."

"I dread to think." Ryan wasn't so sure getting used to being shot was the right lifestyle he was seeking. In fact, this whole time he was more scared than he had been the night he was left all on his own as a child. "Either way, let me have a look. You might have bled through the bandages by now."

"It's fine, Ryan." Shane swatted him away when Ryan moved his hand to grab the duvet. "Or do you just like staring at my long legs, huh?"

"I'm not - you... I'm... you're insufferable!" Ryan was flustered but it didn't stop him pulling the duvet back and inspecting Shane's wound. The bandages he had wrapped him with were holding but they were already starting to show spots of various shades of red. "You're still bleeding."

"Well yeah, there's a hole in my leg, genius." Shane mumbled. "Don't worry about it. It's fine." Shane hoped that if he kept repeating that he was fine Ryan would finally start to believe him.

"I'll change the bandages in the morning and the first place we'll head for is a pharmacy for better wraps. I'll see if I can get something to help with the pain too." Ryan at least wanted to help ease the pain... that and he didn't want to carry him for the entire journey.

"You'd need a prescription unless you plan on getting something that wont even help with a headache. They could probably track us through that." Shane informed him.

"Oh... yeah, I guess." Ryan moved back, sitting against the headrest. Shane looked up at him and nudged his arm lightly.

"Don't look so worried. If I can spend a week in the same city without really trying to hide we can get out of this alive." Shane adjusted his position so he was more comfortable, though the burning in his leg wasn't helpful in that. "Stick with me and everything will be fine."

"I guess..." Ryan sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Really, Ryan, don't worry. I'll keep you safe... just as long as you promise to do the same for me." Shane wasn't asking much, just that they would look out for each other whilst they worked together. Ryan wasn't so sure he'd be capable of protecting Shane, but it did make him feel better knowing he would have some trained, master assassin looking after him. Even if he was an asshole.

"Okay." It wasn't very assuring, but it was enough for Shane.

"Great... now shut up and go to sleep."

Ryan struggled to fall asleep, spending most of his night staring at the ceiling and listening to whoever was above them stomping around constantly. He managed to convince himself that it was just whoever was in the room above him pacing out some serious life changing decision; perhaps a new job offer or what to have for breakfast. His mind did keep drifting back to the idea that maybe Bloody Mary stayed away from this place for a reason. Maybe there really were malicious spirits haunting the hotel.

By the time Shane started snoring like a bear Ryan gave in to the idea that he wouldn't be getting much sleep. His mind was too preoccupied anyway. He spent the night thinking over every horrible possibility that could happen when morning rolled around. He thought about whether they would even survive leaving the hotel, or survive leaving the street the hotel was on. What if they got caught before they even left the block?

He couldn't focus much on the positives, on what it would feel like to relax for the first time in a long, long time. To spend time with someone who was actually looking out for him, someone who he could joke around with if he just learned to let go a little. It hadn't crossed his mind that being stuck with Shane was more of a blessing than a curse.

Before Ryan could realise it, the stress of the day caught up with him and he drifted slowly off to sleep, anxious about what the future could possibly hold.

#Shyan #mafia au #my work #skeptic believer

[hammerhorrorshow]

OC: Quinn’s Statement

A/N: Hey guys! This is a Drabble from a story I’ve been working on lately. In very ‘me’ fashion I wrote the trauma reveal but first, and I thought I’d post it here! Any kind of feedback (or even just a like or reblog!) is much appreciated!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: BIG RAPE / NONCON TW. DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200. Additional warnings for violence , kidnapping , trauma / trauma discussion , self - hatred , and , once again , discussion of rape / noncon . Stay safe !

Also I apologize for the spacing / lack of editing (this hellsite is MOSTLY to blame :/)

“Whatever you tell me isn’t going to make me think any less of you.”

“Yeah, you say that now”. Quinn’s smile quickly fades.

Vinny clicks the tape recorder on.

“Tell me the first thing you remember.”

“I woke up.”

Everything hurt. I was groggy. Took a while to realize where I was.

I still don’t know exactly where I was.

My arms were pulled above me. Medieval style, to the ceiling. Not chains but ropes. Rough ropes.

Ropes that cut.

Then I realized I was cold. Looked and saw

I was naked except my boxers.”

“And how did you feel?”

Pity. Quinn hates it. He wants to rip it off Vinny’s his face.

“Confused-

Scared.”

A knowing silence fills the room.

“Terrified.”

Vinny is satisfied. “What happened next?”

“Fuck.”

“Are you ok?”

Quinn hates him right now.

“I’m fine. I’m ok. I just- fuck. Ok.

The door to the room opened.”

“The room?”

Fuck you, Vinny.

“More like a cell, I guess,” Quinn says, begrudgingly.

He continues:

“He came in.”

Vinny senses him cringe. He doesn’t want to ask: “Who did?”

Quinn glares at him, but answers:

“It took me a minute to figure out it was Greg Gerrickson.”

“Like, Greg Gerrickson, Greg Gerrickson? Owner of ‘The Hound’, Greg Garrison?”

This was a bad idea.

“That’s the one.”

Quinn forgets he’s being questioned. He spaces out.

Vinny has to bring him back:

“And what did he do?”

He’s back, with another glare. Quinn starts to feel bad about the dirty looks.

“He came in. He closed the door behind him.

He walked up to where I was tied.

He paused-

EXAMINING me, and he said: Why do you think you’re here?’”

Quinn rapidly bounces his foot.

“And I said I didn’t know.

Quinn stops. Vinny feels like he pushes his friend further and further underwater with each question.

“And what happened next?” he asks, strained.

Quinn isn’t angry this time. His mental ‘fuck you’s’ are desperate instead.

“I remember that he smiled.”

Grimace.

“He smiled this stupid fucking smile. This stupid fucking KNOWING smile.

He said: ‘Well I’ll tell you: the same reason the other three men are here’.

And he pointed to the corners of the cell, so I’d know they were beyond those walls.

‘You’re here because of me. I met you at a bar. I so I slipped something in your drinks. Brought you back here.’”

Quinn sighs.

“Then he asked me if I knew who he was. I said yes. There’s a time and place for snark, y’know?

And he fucking smiled again. I wanted to strangle him, but I only asked him: ‘Why?’”

‘Because you trusted me’.

And he paused. Every time he paused it scared the shit out of me.

‘So I think I’ll keep you here for a while’”.

Quinn looks like he’s about to explode.

“FUCK”

He slams a hand down on the table.

Vinny jumps, not expecting it from the usually quiet man.

Quinn remembers he’s not alone, and is being recorded.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t want Vinny to say ‘it’s okay’, and he loves him when he doesn’t.

Vinny knows, and it pains him to say: “Please continue.”

Quinn sighs. It’s heavy, and pained. It almost shudders.

“All I said was ‘why?’ Just like before.

And he said: ‘Because I just felt like it.’

I was so goddamn angry that I spit at him. He only fucking smiled again.

He said: ‘I hope you know that isn’t getting you anywhere, Quinton’”.

There is real fear in Quinn’s face:

“He knew my goddamn name, Vin.

I wanted to kill him. I didn’t know why the fuck I was there. I was more terrified then I’ve every been in my fucking life.

Then started pacing- and I was fucking nervous about this, ok? And he fucking knew I was”.

Quinn lets out a heavy sigh, and puts his head down on the table.

For his own sake, Vinny wishes his reaction wasn’t so physical. He figures it just makes it harder for him to do his job.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck you, Vinny.”

Vinny clicks the recorder off.

“I know it’s hard, Quinn.”

“Oh, do you? You know it’s fucking hard? I’ll tell you how fucking hard it is. I-“

“Quinn, stop.”

Quinn stops.

He puts his head in his hands and lets out a shuddered sigh.

“Fuuck, Vinny.”

“I know.”

Quinn glares, but doesn’t say anything.

Vinny continues:

“Do you wanna stop for today?”

“What would be the point? I’d just have to do more tomorrow. Give it time to fucking stir.”

“Ok. Tell me when you wanna pick up again.”

“Stop being so fucking nice to me.”

“I’m always fucking nice to you.”

Quinn shuts up.

“Ok.”

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Vinny clicks the recorder back on, and continued his questioning

“Ok, so he started pacing. What happened next?”

“He stopped behind me and he-

got closer.

I could feel his- his breath on m- on my neck.”

Vinny watches Quinn instinctively bend his neck away from something imaginary.

It fills Vinny with a horrible sadness.

Without prompt, Quinn starts again.

“He leaned in and grabbed my hips.

He dug his f-

fingers in and he moved his face near the crook of my neck.”

“And h

“I was fucking terrified, Vinny.

Vinny stops. This doesn’t feel like his

“He said-“

Quinn stops.

“He said : ‘There’s only one way you’re gonna get out of here any time soon’.

As he said it he slipped the waistband of my boxers down my hips.

Ever so slightly.”

Almost to himself: “Ever so fucking slightly.”

This time Vinny didn’t prompt him to continue. He just catches Quinn’s eye. For a moment, they plead with each other.

“I just- I just-

Didn’t know what else I could do.

I didn’t know if he was gonna kill me. The other guys could have been dead; I mean I didn’t fucking know.

Shit, I mean..”. Quinn stops

“And what was it that you d-“

This time, Quinn didn’t have to cut him off.

Vinny just trailed off by himself.

There is silence. A silence that seems so much longer than it is.

“I just played along.”

It takes a moment for him to continue.

For Vinny, it doesn’t take long enough.

“It was the best case scenario.

I would hate myself for it, I knew that, but I had to.

It’s like my survival instincts kicked in, like...”

Quinn wells up, slightly

“He moved his fingers down my waist.

Slowly.

His hands lingered.

So close to- But not-“

Vinny can see the effort it takes Quinn to continue.

“And I feel his lips on my neck and he said-

he f-“

Defeated.

“What did he say?”

Breathed, immediately: “Do you want me to fuck you?”

This silence is heavy. Unresolved.

On the verge on tears: “And I said ‘yes’.”

Vinny stops the recorder and Quinn starts to sob.

Vinny opens his mouth to say-

“Don’t fucking speak to me,” Quinn says curtly, cutting him

Quinn tries to stop the sobs that break from his body. When he succeeds, he says:

“Unpause the tape.”

He doesn’t try and stop his tears, and Vinny wants this to end.

He unpauses the tape.

“He grabbed my hair and pulled my face towards him and kissed me.

It was so rough.

And his hand moved down.

His hand moved down, and-

he grabbed me”.

“Grabbed you where?”

“Where the fuck do you think, Vinny?”

“I need to know for the record.”

Quinn refuses.

Professionalism is hard for the lawyer.

“Your genitals?”

Through gritted teeth: “Yes.”

There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence.

“He started-

he started massage me. Y’know, and-

I just- I g- I just gave in, I mean I c- I just gave in”.

Quinn changed his tone.

“Jesus, anybody can tell where this is going”.

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t fucking apologize to me.”

“We need as much detail as possible.”

“What sick fuck is getting off on this, anyway?”

“A jury.”

Silence. Then Quinn continues.

“It hurt. So bad. He didn’t give a fuck. And he kept touching me, and- and-

Quinn starts to cry again.

“He just kept going and it hurt so goddamn bad, and then it felt good. I didn’t want it to, but it did. And it just- just, like-

it was like how they put you under before surgery. They have to cut you open, so they might as well put you asleep so you forget. That’s what it was like.

Like making the best out of-“

He can’t say it.

He sighs, now physically shaking.

“I just let that feeling take over. The euphoria.

It was that or the pain or the shame or the guilt. And I just rode that dirty fucking high until-“

Quinn sobs and forced his head into his hands

“Quinn?”

Vinny reaches out to touch him when he doesn’t answer. Quinn jumps back a mile, almost tipping his chair.

Vinny hates himself for the look of guilt on his face. He knows that Quinn does too.

“Please continue.”

“I can’t, Vin.”

“Yes you can.”

“Jesus, Vinny! You wanna know? You really wanna fucking know? He made me beg, Vin. That’s what happened next. Is that what you wanted to hear? That media mogul Greg Gerrickson made me beg him to fuck me? Does that really do it for you, Vinny”?

Vinny tries to speak over the lump in his throat. He fails

Quinn’s face falls.

“Sorry.”

Silence again.

“Would you like to finish your story?” Vinny says it with nothing but sympathy.

Quinn takes a moment.

“At some point it was over. He- finished, and he put his head down on my shoulder.

I remember that he-

he started to kiss me.

And I remember he told me how good it was”.

Quinn’s face twists in anger.

“He told me I was the only one. That the other guys wouldn’t let him near them.

He puts his head down again.

Vinny can see his whole body convulse with sobs.

Vinny stops the tape.

“Vinny, if you don’t turn on that goddamn tape recorder, I’m going to drive it through your fucking skull”.

Vinny turns it back on.

“The worst part was, I knew they could hear it all, too.

And I knew they could hear praise me, and I just shuddered.

Then he- he got down on his knees-“

Quinn looks at Vinny, begging with his eyes for just this one favour.

Vinny speaks for him.

“Did he perform oral sex?”

Quinn sighs: “Yeah.

And he kept going until I- I finished.”

Vinny can see his face burn with shame.

“What happened after that?”

“He got up and untied my arms. He took a blindfold out from his pocket. Put it over my eyes.

I couldn’t resist. I was fucking done for.

And I heard him leave the room.

Almost immediately I felt two people grab my arms and lead me out.

We walked for what felt like forever.

I was put into a car, and after a while, pushed out.

When I took off my blindfold I was at my house.

He knew where I fucking lived”.

Quinn puts his head down. He’s clocked out.

“6:32 PM. Statement concluded.”

Vinny shuts the tape recorder off.

——

Then they’re walking to the parking lot.

Quinn is a shell.

Vinny can see it.

“Jesus, Quinn, I can’t let you drive home like this.”

Quinn only looks at him.

“You’re coming home with me.”

Wordlessly, they walk to Vinny’s Prius, and helps Quinn into the passenger seat.

Quinn lets him, and they drive home.

#whump #whump community #whump prompt #writing #intimate whumper #whump writing #whump drabble #whumper #noncon touching #noncon tw #rape tw #non con #tw noncon #violence tw #kidnapping #kidnapping tw #emotional whump #trauma reveal #angst #whumpee #caretaker #original content #whumplr #whump blog #whumpblr #new whump blog #whump oc #i put them through so much like wtf #creepy whumper #my writing

[ninnodesu]

The New Matriarch, ch 6

AN: Okay, this chapter is A LOT better than chapter 5 in my opinion, hahah. I'm just churning out chapters right now during christmas break, it's great!

Again; Thank you sooo much for reading! It's so much fun seeing the statistics and see that people like my little story. <3 Oh! Regarding the name "Kit": This is mostly just a placeholder name, do not fear! It is still You/Reader friendly ;)

TW: None, really. Maybe some light mentions of bullying!

Thomas B. Hewitt.

Thomas was grumpier than usual today at work. When he’d arrived, his work station had been vandalized.  There were snickers and giggles behind his back as he had to clean up his little corner of the slaughterhouse almost all morning. It was covered in trash. People had literally dumped at least one trash can all over his station, might’ve been two, even. Rotten food all over his bench, some stuck to his cleaver. Everyone thought it was hilarious to mess with the residence retard. It was one of those days. One of those days where he was - apparently - only at work as some kind of comical relief to lighten the mood of the otherwise gloomy workers, at least that’s what they had decided.

At one point the ones responsible for the mess he had to clean had even pushed one of the shy girls right into Thomas’ chest, making cat calls and whistling towards them as a way to mock both at the same time.

The girl because she was shy and cried easily, and Thomas because… well… he looked like he did.

He wasn’t able to properly start butchering until maybe an hour before lunch, his boss yelling at him a handful of times before that.

What did I ever do to any of you assholes… Not only did he have to clean up the entire morning, there wasn’t enough food at home so he couldn’t bring lunch… and his cleaver was getting dull. A mental note to bring it home the next day to sharpen it.

This. Was not. His. Day.

I just want to go ho- , his inner sentence was interrupted by a hard dunk on his back, knocking a bit of air out of him.

“Hewiiiitt!”, one of the several bullies he’s had comes up with two of his friends holding his arms out wide, they’re smirking.

So you did this.

“Did ya’ like our present, Hewitt?”, he nods towards the trash can and starts laughing, “We got it specially for you.”, he chuckles before continuing, “Oh, and, I hope you don’t mind I take Laurie for myself, since you uh… wouldn’t know what to do with’er even.” A barking laughter erupts from the three of them at the end of his jab against Thomas, making everything personal. The end of his sentence makes Thomas turn towards them and glare down through his dark curls. The men take a step back, they can probably literally feel how Thomas’ anger starts boiling as he straightens up and flexes his biceps towards them. A clear sign they’re starting to royally piss him off.

He would never use his strength to physically hurt people, but he does know how to make them leave him alone, at least for a short period of time, they know he could crush their skulls if he wanted to. And they never go into fist fights with the giant. All they do is emotionally drain him, they make him know he’s different, not like everyone else, and that he never will be. He’s the village dumb animal and that’s his only purpose in life.

They laugh nervously as he stares them down. “Haha, you really are an animal, Hewitt.”, they just laugh as they turn and leave him alone in the now empty slaughterhouse. He plants his hands flat on his table and glances over at all the parts he has left to cut up before he can leave without getting reprimanded by his boss the following day and sighs heavily.

I fucking hate all of you.

It’s dark out when he’s finally done with his work, thankfully, his dull cleaver made it so he could snag more pieces of rejected meat with him home. At least something good came out of this shitty day at work. More food for his - now - bigger family and he tried looking at that like a consolation prize as he lumbered home in the dark, letting his mind wander.

I want a name for her.

Even if he didn’t want to speak to her, he still wanted to give her a name until she could remember her own, she couldn’t walk around with no name in the house.

Sure, I’m not going to openly talk to her…

He cleared his throat at that as a reminder for himself that he still had vocal cords. He made a conscious choice not to speak several years ago. But on lonely nights, or when he was alone - and knew no one could hear him - in general, he hummed, or spoke to himself, thinking aloud or mumbled reminders for only him to hear, to make sure his vocal cords were still there. The two words he had spoken in the barn a few days back the most he had actually spoken in… months, maybe years. His family had gotten used to his body language and mannerisms when they talked to him.

I can alwa-, again, interrupted. But this time by a family of foxes running across the dirt road. He stopped and just stared at the bigger one as it stopped in the high grass in the ditch on the other side, looking over at a small collection of babies that sprinted across it after looking over at the giant in the distance.

He smiled as he figured out what to call her.

Kit.

He hummed slightly, picturing her in his mind. Her face, the kind eyes that always crinkled when she smiled at him or his family, trying out the new name to see if it would fit her face.

Yeah. Yeah, I like Kit.

He readjusted the bag he had thrown over his shoulder and kept trudging home through the night, a tired sigh leaving him as he started to see the outline of the big house in the distance.

The house was silent, obvious evidence that everyone else was asleep, so he made sure to walk as quietly as he could on his way to the stairs leading to the basement, snagging a few pieces of the leftovers and shoving them into his mouth on the way down to the damp and musty basement where the coolers were loudly brumming and vibrating. Alone, he seized the moment to talk to himself.

“Let’s see… ”. His voice was raspy, but deep, and vibrated throughout his body. He rummaged and rearranged in the freezer box to take out the packages whose date seemed to run out to put it on top of the ones he had brought today. “Pen… penpenpen… ”, almost having to turn the entire basement over to find the one he usually uses - and mentally punishing himself for never putting it in one specific place - he scribbles down today’s date before putting them in the bottom of the box. As he stands and stretches he’s greeted with a series of tired pops in his spine. “Getting old, Thomas. ”, he mumbles before lumbering over to his basement corner. Not having the energy to climb the stairs.

He just wanted to sleep. Unbuckling his mask he rubs his hands all over his dried cheeks to ease the blasted itching all over him before kicking off his boots and laying down on the creaky bed. A yawn that transcends into a small, deep moan escapes him as he tucks one arm under his pillow and the other reaches under his shirt to scratch a spot on his stomach. “Kit. ”, he says out loud to try it on his tongue. “Mmmh. Kit is good. ”, is the last sound that leaves the basement before his snoring takes over.

-----------------------------------------------

You

You woke up in your bed, not really remembering when you went to sleep, but you decided to cuddle up a bit under your blanket before the morning heat reached your body and you had to force yourself up out of bed.

As usual, it was quiet in the house. “It’s really starting to get lonely here…”, you muttered to yourself as you descended the stairs. You were greeted by a few piglets running around in the kitchen as you entered.

A yellow paper struck you in the otherwise white and gray kitchen.

A note.

“Mornin’, dear. Breakfast is on the table.

Love

- Luda Mae.”

You looked up from the note and towards the table, and sure enough. There it was. A plate with a few sausages, a fried egg and a small piece of bread. You mentally thanked Luda Mae as you sat down, tucking a leg under yourself and started munching on your - now cold - breakfast while watching a few piglets running around. Occasionally you threw a piece of sausage at them which they happily ate. “I wonder why you live in here, piggies.”, you said to them as you downed the last of the meal. You hummed a bit at a thought before heading over to clean your plate and fork.

After drying your hands and putting the dishes away to dry on their own you turned on your heels and leaned back at the sink just looking around. “Now what…”, you giggled as you poked a pig with your feet and watched it twitch. “What should we do now, little guy?”

You sauntered away from the kitchen, into the dining room and just looked around. Taking in the homely - but not the cleanest - house you were in. You’ve never seen this before, never seen these people. But then again, maybe you weren’t even from around here… Everything before meeting Thomas in the barn was a blur, a darkness you really couldn’t remember. And right now, at this moment? You were happy you couldn’t remember anything. All you knew at this point was that you were relaxed.

You knew you’d been on the run, you remember the Box, but no details. Not your name, not where you came from, you knew an estimated age of yourself, but still no details.

You came from the darkness, yes, and Thomas was your light. Your beacon of hope.

Your venture took you into a room with a piano and a couch. You approached the piano and started tinkling on the keys, it was really out of tune and you couldn’t help but to laugh at how bad it sounded. But you shrugged and sat down in front of it and started poking the keys. Thinking you knew any kind of melody you could play, but it was fun nonetheless. After your solo concert you found yourself sitting in the grass outside, legs sprawled in front of you under a tree, the shirt you’d borrowed tickling slightly as a breeze caressed your skin and you closed your eyes. “This is nice.”, sure it was quiet, and sure you were lonely… and bored . But it was a relaxing kind of silence where you could lay in the grass if you wanted, take a nap on the porch if you felt like it. No stress and no need to live up to any expectations.

It isn’t until late afternoon that you finally notice the family starting to drop in. You’re on the couch in front of the TV lazily watching, not even paying attention to what is on when someone suddenly kicks the sofa. “Fuck you think you doin’?”, you jerk and look up at the grumpy man, Charlie, standing there with his hands on his hips shooting daggers at you. “Been home all day and not done anything ‘round the house.”, you don’t even get the chance to reply to him so you resort to shrinking in on yourself. “I uh…”, he interrupts you before you get any chance to defend yourself. “Listen here, girlie.”, he gets down low and right up in your face and grab it harshly to make sure you’re looking at him, “Mama might be treatin’ you good n'all, hell, she won’t stop talking ‘bout ya’”, he sneers and looks annoyed, “But you’re in my house, so you listen’ to my rules.”

His grip starts to loosen on you.

“So, ya’ see, honey. If you want to stay here, livin’ a good ass life, ya’ better do ya part, understand?” All you can do is nod weakly, after you do, he pats your cheek a little harder than he had to and gave you a tobacco smelling kiss on your forehead before he left. You mind starts hurting slightly, the treatment making something you can’t fully decipher before your eyes

You didn’t dare move off the couch after your meeting with Charlie. You kept your place on the couch until dinner was served. The other older man, Monty, had joined you, but you didn’t care. He didn’t care and acted like you weren’t even there. Dinner was just as uneventful, you all ate, but without Thomas. A knot started growing in your stomach when he wasn’t present, Charlie scared you already. And you had only been there for about three to four days. Barely talking to him, the few times you did meet him he shot you nasty glances. Eyes that traveled uncomfortably over your body.

After dinner was over and done with, Luda Mae invited you to have evening tea with her on the porch, and you, happy to accept, almost sprinted out to get away from mainly Charlie. He didn’t seem to dare say or do anything against you when Luda Mae was in ear shot.

Your house my ass... , you thought when you’d notice that small detail.

So, here you were having a cozy evening with at least one you enjoyed spending time with.

“You seem tense, darlin’”, she spoke up from her crocheting and glanced at you. “Is everything alright?” You looked over at her and gave a crooked smile. “I’m… I’m alright. It’s just…”, you shook your head and proceeded to rest your chin on your hand. “Can I ask you something, miss Mae?”, you tilted your head. “Mmhm.”, she hummed as she went back to her crocheting, the tone of her voice seemingly knowing what you were about to ask about.

Thomas.

The two of you ended up talking about Thomas for several hours. Luda Mae told you she found him in a dumpster outside the very slaughterhouse he works in, how he from an early age suffered from a skin disease they couldn’t afford to treat due to her and her family already living on the verge of poverty. She told you he was heavily bullied in school, and when he was around twelve left it altogether. Charlie helped him get a job at the slaughterhouse and that’s where he’s been since. He’s a gentle giant to the ones he considers family, he’s strong but never abuses his power.

“So, uhm… is there any specific reason he doesn’t speak?” She folded her hands in her lap and sighed heavily at that question, she had been teary eyed all through Thomas’ story, but now it seemed they started falling. “Due to him takin’ a knife to his face it hurt him too much to speak, and even eat. He stopped eating for a long time. He utters a word sometimes, but… that’s it.”, her voice trembled and she took a deep breath to continue, “My poor boy stopped talking completely when he was around… fifteen. And I haven’t talked to him since then.” You did the numbers in silence before gasping slightly “He hasn’t talked for nineteen years?”, she shook her head slightly. “I do miss talkin’ to him. He always did have the best laugh I’ve ever heard.”, she smiled to you. “Ya’ know the deep, rumbling kind, I remember him always laughing until he folded over.” You giggled slightly at that, picturing Thomas folded over in a deep laugh with his arms clutching his stomach.

It was a lovely image.

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction