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echoedcrosshairs · 8 months

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Unseen Scars ~ p.2

Summary: Female Jedi survived order 66 hides out in the underground of Ord Mantell. Hiding out in Cid's parlor keeping your head down you see Rex's face and get sent backward in time. (Gif by @dreamswithghosts)

Warning: Order 66 Jedi Trauma, Feeling Haunted, Soft Rex, Angsty and Love

Word count: 2.7

Masterlist part 1

Facing all that you fear will free you from yourself. Your nerves were still on edge tempting you to flee being around the rest of clone force 99 even if their chips weren't activated they were still at risk at going nuclear at any moment. Although the walk back to the parlor soothed your nerves being Echo and him again but going into the parlor into such a cramped space didn't help. Rex positioned you behind him hoping it would help sooth you, his arm went around your waist ready to shove you away if necessary. Nonchalantly Echo had placed himself between Rex and the rest of his brothers, he may have trusted them with every bone in his body since they rescued him but you were still the commander to him. They both wanted to protect you even from a non existed threat. It was comforting that after all this time Rex and Echo just had to look at each other to know what the other was thinking. The 501st may be gone but the bond between them lives on.

"Do you think the Commander will rehabilitate?" Tech said flatly looking at you then back to Rex mind conversation, "Obviously I disagree with the systematic eradication of the Jedi, she does not possess the same mental fitness as we clones have been bred to endure and the order has seem to take a heavy toil on her mental aptitude for returning to the fight."

"The Commander-" Rex started, "Can speak for herself," you cut in.

You swallowed looking at Tech, "A wise man once said Truth enlightens the mind, but won't always bring happiness to your heart. It is a lot to accept and understand but it doesn't heal the fact my own men, men I trusted with my life and fought beside for years, tried to terminate me nor the death of so many allies. That same man also said 'Ignore your own instincts at your own peril," you paused to look at them and up at Wrecker before your eyes shot back down, you couldn't help feel that something was wrong but the force was beckoning your silence, "I am not ready to find myself in that position again."

"Well get them out," Echo said defiantly, "We'll never be a threat to you, ever."

"I'll be in touch," Rex nodded pulling you away from them towards the exit but waited to speak until he put a decent amount of distance between you and Hunter, "The force is telling you something isn't it?"

"They have to get them out, soon. How did you get yours out?"

Jesse... Vaughn... Your mind wandered to the battlefield, having the 501st at your side. The boys always wanted to die in battle but never like that. You wiped the corner of your eyes, "They were good men," you choked out when he was done.

"The best."

The both of you continued down the street in silence, at some point your hand found his. It still hurt to look at him but his presence helped the pain, "Now what?" you whispered.

"You can stay here... or you can help me save my brothers, I have to try."

You looked at him, the conviction as dedication across his face was the same one he had before a battle, "I'll come," you whispered before you had time to think it through, "Don't know how much use I'll be, Tech has a point."

"It doesn't matter, just having a Jedi with us is enough especially you Commander," Rex said squeezing your hand, "We should gather your belongings, the boys are destined to pick me up shortly."

Weaving between side streets it was an easy back track to your tiny place, Rex found a bag and quickly packed your clothes as your hand rested against the slats in the floor concealing your past. You scooted up lifting the slate with the force letting your free hand dig out the pouch after putting the board back you opened it retrieving the saber. The weight felt foreign in your grasp, the metal cool to the touch. You flicked it up into the air catching it with the other hand, just like riding a speeder. Looking over you saw Rex observing with a small smile before he returned to packing, you tucked the saber away.

"Are you sure about this?" he said slinging the bag over his shoulder but not looking at you trying to hide the grim expression. He would keep giving you a chance to go back to a normal life if you wanted one even if it hurt him, the war took so much from you he didn't want to be the reason you lost any more.

"Facing all that you fear will free you from yourself," you stated with a heavy breath, it wasn't the simple answer you knew Rex wanted but it was the truth, "If you remember Anakin and I were never one for running when things got tough. I think I've hidden in the shadows long enough." That statement was the first sliver of hope you had in a long time. Your eyes found Rex's, fondness had swept over them at the mention of the old days, the simple days. Keeping eye contact you took the short steps across to him tucking your face in his neck holding him. Your body still screamed run but your heart told you not to let go.

His hand found your back rubbing it, "We should get going," he sighed not wanting the tender moment to end, "Let's meet the 105th," he smirked.

"Did you really just switch the numbers?" you said with real genuine laughter.

"No, but I think I'll start calling us that if you make that beautiful sound again," he said putting your arm through the crook of his, "Let's go."

Finding the ship wasn't hard, it was discreet for the most part in the back of the docking station. The only tell tale sign that it was different then any of the standard ships around the port had been a barely noticeable white mark barely indistinguishable in the shape of Ashoka facial mark hidden near the bottom of the haul by the ramp.

Rex squeezed your hand tightly finding the nervous expression on your face, "None of these men will ever be a threat to you," he said giving the ship three solid knocks.

Your heart shook as the anticipation grew, these are Rex's men. Deserters of the Empire, they could be trusted. Right? I trusted my men... Clam grew over your skin as the ramp finally touched the ground. Looking up you found a green trooper looking down at you, one of master Yoda's men? You watched the trooper salute, standing at attention coughing to get the attention of the other trooper hanging near by who repeated his attention.

"Commander, this is Nemec and the brother over there is Fireball, at ease," Rex said giving them a stiff nod.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Nemec said as you walked on board after Rex.

"She's a little skittish around us clones so give her breathing room."

"Don't blame her," Fireball murmured, "I barely ever want to see our face again," he heard Nemec cough finding the glare he was giving him, "Just saying, I can barely stand to look at it after what our brothers did."

"His chip's defective, deteriorated but unlike Tup's it didn't execute the order early. It's out now. He took the loss of his General hard and found me soon after," Rex whispered.

"Let's get out of here, I'm going to show the Commander around," Rex said gesturing away from them, "Refresher, their room, my room, mess... sorta," he shrugged, "storage closet, I could turn that into your private room if you want one," he shrugged again nervously rubbing his neck at the unspoken question hanging in the area.

"I think I should share yours Captain, I'll want my own bed of course."

Rex's heart skipped a beat, "I can arrange that," he tried to keep his stern dignified expression but felt like a cadet, of course their had been nights together but never like this coexisting in the same place, "Sorry," he coughed finding the responsive blush across your face. "Anyway, you can take my bed for now. I'll go grab a spare mat from the storage room," he said setting the pack down on his bed excusing himself so you to get settled in. It's not like before di'kut, the reminder settled in his bones wondering if all of the closeness had been to much. He tried to steal himself to that possibility. Taking a seat outside the room, he forced himself to clear his mind until Nemec walked over.

"You sure about this, Captain," he said jetting his chin towards the door, "We need a Jedi on our side but are we sure being in these cramped quarters is good for her?"

Rex understood his brothers concern, he looked at the door for a moment before placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "She was always the backbone holding the men together after every major loses and always giving us hope. It's time we do the same for her." His tone was firm, "I trust her, she choose to come with me for a reason. I believe she knows she can work through this."

"Did you ever think she came because she loves you?"

"Trust her judgement, Vod," Rex smiled taking his hand off his shoulder, "Let's head to base." Turning on his heel Rex rummaged through the storage closet grabbing the rolled up mat before heading back to his room. Our room, he thought smiling. When he returned all of your belonging had already taken up the spade signifying your stay with him.

"I haven't seen or slept on one of those in ages," you smiled softly looking at the poor express for a bed as he laid it out, "I'll take the mat if you want the bed-."

"Don't even think about taking the floor Mesh'la," he said bringing his gaze to yours, "We'll head to our base to plan to get The Bad Batch's chips out and you can see everyone else, I know their's a couple other 501st troopers who'd love to see you," he smiled.

"Who?" You asked going wide eyed.

"Hawk and Dogma," his grinned widen, "I definitely didn't expect it either," he cautiously said walking forward letting one hand fall to your hip, "A Jedi and a captain, whatever are they going to think," he jested hearing you laugh melting some of the burdens in his heart, "I've missed you every passing moment, Cyare," his grin faltered for a second before returning, "No matter how long it takes I'll wait for you to be ready again," he said letting go, "the rest of my life if need be. Now I have to try to figure out how to get their chips out."

"Captain?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?"

You took the step back towards him wrapping your arms around his neck, the familiar scent, feel of him and the warm tiny tug through the force, "Thank you for being patient," you pulled away wrapping your arms at your side, "We can use the republic scrap yard, their were rumors of a ship being delivered."

"And you know this how?" Rex smiled crossing his arms.

"I did have a salvaging job to get by."

"I'll let the boys know and we can devise a plan, welcome back Commander."

You followed after him, skin prickling at Nemec and Fireballs presence. They each offered a small smile as you took the sit next to the Captain as he started planning. He was quiet for what seemed like forever when he hand stretched out and rested in your thigh as he kept working. You looked down at it, lip quivering as tears threaten to fall again. It's a different time, you placed your hand over his as you chimed it time to time with what little information you had.

"Rex?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?" he said not lifting his eyes from the task at hand.

"I'll love you the rest of my life too," you whispered squeezing his hand, "I think we're getting ready to land again," you said feeling the ship slowing down.

Rex gave a tiny nod standing up interweaving his fingers with yours, guiding you towards the cockpit finding Fireball bringing the ship down. You observed the low tech handmade building and the small cluster of troopers already waiting outside, greens, greys, a red and then the 501st blue. You saw the familiar valiant tattoo across Dogma's face and then the red hawk wing tattoo's on Hawk's temples. Walking off the ship Rex placed himself between you and the rest of them, each set of eyes noticing the hands bound together. You felt like you were going to be sick being around this many troopers, it apparently must have paled you.

"Commander, you're not looking so good," Hawk pointed out.

"Let's get some air Cyare," he said softly, "Hawk, Dogma both of you are coming with me to help a couple of our brother's get their chips out."

"Yes, Sir."

Gently you felt Rex stir you away from the crowd away from prying eyes towards the edge of the small base, guiding you towards a crate to sit on overlooking the forest, "Better?" he asked quietly.

"Do you think Tech's right? What if-."

"A wise woman once told me when I was losing faith in myself; A soldier's most powerful weapon is courage. Courage begins by trusting oneself. You choose to come with me, Commander, you could have stayed on Ord Mantell and lived out a regular civilian life but you didn't."

"You've been waiting since Tibrin to toss that back at me, haven't you?" you said with a smile sad laugh, your gaze travelled to the sky remembering other sayings you were taught; Who we are never changes, who we think we are does. One must let go of the past to hold on to the future. To seek something is to believe in its possibility. I was- I am Jedi, a Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic and partner of one of the most highly decorated Captain's. I do not run when the battle get's rough, I stand beside my men and face evil head first. I am survivor of Order 66, I lived to fight another day. You exhaled a breath you were apparently holding. Turning your head, you took his appearance forcing your mind to calm down and body to still. The familiar earthly tone of his eyes; the arrays of brown to shimmering golds, the short blonde hair, the expressive eyes just for you and a smile that puts very sun to shame. While your body tried to fight but your mind had already come to terms with reality, it might take for your body to catch up but it would be worth it. Rex would be worth it. You watched his hand come up and caress your cheek, your breath hitched as you leaned into it bringing your hand to his.

"Possibly," he smiled finally answering the question, "Ready to go back?"

"Yeah, I want to see the boys," you smiled.

Rex pulled you closer to him, "Let's go see the boys," he affirmed keeping his hand around your waist stirring you around troopers until he found the two other blues in the back rolling up their sleeping packs.

"Sir," Dogma saluted before staring down at Rex's arm, "Regulations-"

"No longer exist," Hawk pointed out, "Called it," he chuckled.

"Nice to see you too, Dogma."

"Sorry, still getting use to it," he added nervously.

"Me too," you mumbled.

"I am happy for the two of you," Dogma quickly added, "When are we leaving?"

"In a couple hours," Rex said feeling your body slowly continue to tense. His mouth fell agape when you reached out hugging the two of them, "I've missed you, boys," you whispered before pulling back. Rex's hand found your waist again feeling the muscles constrict themselves into knots. He stirred both of you back to the ship to your's room, "That was bold," he murmured eyeing you cautiously as you climbed onto the bed.

"With great risk comes great rewards," you offered, gently tugging his hand towards the bed smiling as redness flushed across his face. Sheepishly he removed his poncho and armor discarding it to a regulation neat pile on the floor, “How about until we leave I try to get use to being next to you again?”

“There is no other place I rather be then next to you, Commander,” Rex smiled climbing into the bed, “Just tell me when it becomes to much, I don’t mind taking my time with the scars I can’t see.”

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frogspond200 · 7 months

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𝚈𝚊𝚗!𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Requested by: @xoxo-maeve-xoxo

Ask: Could you write yandere! Poly Huntlow × gn! Reader who like... DOESNT believe the two are obsessed with them?

Warning: General Yandere, Insecure Reader

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Hunter and Willow are completely infatuated with you, but you can’t wrap your head around why. They’re both talented and unique individuals, and you often question why they’d choose you. They both have their own ways of expressing their affection, from Willow’s sweet gestures to Hunter’s subtle protective instincts, but you chalk it up to them being friendly or caring in general.

You use humor as a defense mechanism to cope with your insecurities. Whenever they compliment you or act affectionate, you make jokes or deflect with sarcasm, not believing their sincerity. Deep down, you’re afraid that if you take their affection seriously, you’ll only set yourself up for disappointment when they eventually realize you’re not as special as they think.

worthiness of their attention. You think, “Why would they like me when there are so many other interesting people out there?” This feeling of inadequacy often leads you to self-doubt, but you try to push those thoughts aside to enjoy their company.

Despite your doubts, you’re continually surprised by how devoted Hunter and Willow are. They go out of their way to spend time with you, make you smile, and protect you when needed. You secretly cherish these moments but try not to let your guard down too much.

You convince yourself that their affection is temporary, that they’ll eventually lose interest in you and move on to someone better. This fear haunts you even in the happiest moments with them. You haven’t fully accepted that they genuinely love you, even though their actions say otherwise.

Your internal struggle is a constant battle between your feelings for them and your self-doubt. You want to believe in their love but fear being hurt if it’s not real. Sometimes, you seek reassurance from them, asking if they’re sure about their feelings, hoping they’ll convince you it’s not just a passing fascination.

𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

Hunter tends to be more protective when cuddling. He wraps his arms around you securely, often placing a hand on your waist or back to make sure you feel safe and comfortable. His touches are warm and reassuring.

Hunter displays physical affection by small, protective gestures. He might place a hand on your lower back when guiding you or subtly intertwine his fingers with yours when walking together. His affection is quiet but constant.

Hunter’s hugs are firm and comforting. He embraces you in a strong and reassuring manner, making you feel safe and protected in his arms. His hugs convey a sense of security.

When you all sleep together, it’s a cozy and intimate experience. Hunter likes to be the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you, and Willow, forming a protective cocoon of warmth.

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

Willow, on the other hand, is gentle and nurturing. She likes to spoon you from behind, holding you close with her arms draped over you. Her touches are tender, and she loves leaving soft kisses on your neck or shoulder.

Willow is indeed the better cook between the two. She’s a natural in the kitchen and loves experimenting with different recipes and flavors. She often prepares delicious meals for you and the others, and her dishes are always a hit.

Willow is more openly affectionate. She loves holding your hand, cuddling, and showering you with kisses on the cheek or forehead. Her warmth and affection are palpable in every touch.

Willow’s hugs are tender and full of love. She holds you close, resting her head on your shoulder, and often sways gently when hugging. Her hugs are warm and make you feel cherished.

Willow often rests her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she drifts off to sleep. Hunter keeps watch, making sure you all have a peaceful night’s rest.

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 1 year

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Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 3

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1694

Warnings:

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Don't Stop Believin' Half of My Heart

****

Juliette

As the night continued, the tension in Hangman became more and more prominent. Juliette noticed the tightness in his posture compared to his usual relaxed stance, the well-hidden wariness in his green eyes, and the way he avoided Ghost by standing opposite wherever she did. His gaze rarely left her, but he watched her more like prey waiting for the hunter to strike. That, in particular, unnerved Juliette. Nothing rattled Hangman, so who exactly was Ghost to him to make him react like that?

He stuck to playing pool, and although he laughed and joked with the Daggers, his smile never reached all the way across his face like it usually did. Juliette fought back the urge to drag him away from the group and force the truth out of her friend but now wasn't the time. He would tell her when he was ready.

"I heard some of y'all went on a hell of a mission," Ghost remarked, taking a sip of her beer.

"And some-" Juliette eyed her fiancé- "decided a death-defying mission wasn't enough and decided to steal an enemy jet with his dad."

"Says the girl who helped my dad steal a different jet to prove a point to an admiral and escaped punishment without so much as a slap on the wrist," Rooster countered, wrapping his arms around Juliette's waist and kissing her cheek.

"I still want to know what kind of favors people owe you," Payback said, pointing at her with his empty bottle, "and who all owes you favors."

Juliette grinned. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you, and I like having you around."

"What about you, Blackwood? What have you been up to?" The question, surprisingly, came from Hangman. All eyes flicked between him and Ghost, and despite the cacophony of the crowd surrounding them, a deathly silence settled in, causing Juliette to think: Seriously, what the hell is going on here?

Ghost took the pool stick from Payback and lined up to take a shot. "Mostly black ops, but that's what ghosts are good at. Doing things without being seen and disappearing when needed," Ghost replied, nailing the shot. She set her sights on another solid, which missed going into the pocket by a hair's breadth. "You? Lead anyone else to their watery grave?"

Hangman's playful grin shifted into a fake and guarded smile, easily mistaken as a genuine one for those who didn't know him, but Juliette did.

"He stopped Mav and me from crashing into ours, so I guess you could say he saved our lives," Rooster said casually, coming to the shocking defense of Hangman. Then, apparently unable to resist, he joked, "But you'll never get me to admit that again."

"It's okay. I have witnesses to corroborate the statement. I'm going to get more drinks. Want anything?" Hangman said, striding up to them and stopping next to Ghost. Juliette requested a lemonade while the others asked for another round of beers. Hangman faced Ghost, his chest nearly touching hers they stood so close. "I'd ask you what you want, but I already know."

Winking at her, he backed off and disappeared through the crowd. Ghost stared after him with an infuriated glare. Juliette craned her head up and whispered in Rooster's ear, "Are they going to fight or fuck?"

"Depends on which one you ask," he responded, his hands moving to cradle her stomach. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good. Thankfully the nausea has disappeared for now."

"Well, if anything changes-"

"I'll let you know." Juliette pecked him on the cheek. "I do, however, need the bathroom. I'll be back."

Sliding off the stool, she hurried to her intended destination. On her way, Juliette noticed Hangman standing outside on the phone. Figuring he must've received a call on his way to the bar, she ignored it, rushing inside the bathroom before her bladder burst. While she washed her hands, a wave of dizziness hit her. Juliette gripped the counter and ran one of her wrists under the cold water, attributing the dizzy spell to the fact that she might melt in a puddle it was so warm in the Hard Deck. It took a few minutes, but the dizziness passed, and Juliette felt safe enough to move. She'd keep this quiet from Rooster. He worried about her enough.

Juliette stepped out of the bathroom and began heading to the Daggers when she noticed Hangman still standing outside, but instead of talking on the phone, he stared at the device in his hand. After his earlier interactions with Ghost, Juliette's concern for him diverted her path toward Hangman. Stepping outside into the cool air, a welcome sensation compared to the stifling heat of the Hard Deck, she shuffled quietly to his side.

"I'm pretty sure you order drinks inside," Juliette joked lightly, causing Hangman's head to snap up.

A genuine smile spread across his face. "What are you doing out here?"

"Needed some air. I also noticed you hadn't joined the Daggers yet, so I thought I'd check on you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Got an unexpected phone call."

Juliette raised a brow at him. "I can't tell if it's good or bad."

His smile finally faltered. "It's a family thing. Long story."

"As long as your story with Ghost?"

Hangman sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to interrogate me about that."

"If you don't want to talk about it, I won't push, but her comment earlier about you leading another person to their watery grave... it seemed out of line."

"Maybe, but it's not a lie. Hell, it's practically the same thing Rooster said to me when we met at the Hard Deck the first night we arrived for the training detachment. But hey, nothing I can't handle. Still doesn't equate to the verbal beatdown you gave me after I antagonized Rooster that one day."

Juliette chuckled, sitting on the bench when another bout of dizziness hit her. "That feels like forever ago."

"It certainly does," he agreed, sitting beside her. Hangman slipped off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders when he noticed her shiver. "How are you doing? Where's your shadow?"

"Don't call him that," she said, laughing and lightly kicking Hangman's leg. "Rooster's inside, although I'm sure he'll come looking for me if I'm not back soon."

"Why has he become so... so..."

"Worried? Protective?"

"Yeah. He's always been protective of those he loved, but it's gotten ten times worse since you announced you were pregnant."

"Rooster doesn't trust doctors. Their misdiagnosis of his mom's illness has made him question every diagnosis the doctors have given me regarding my pregnancy."

"What have they been diagnosing?"

"When I fainted on Christmas, it was because my blood pressure dropped too low. It almost happened again about a month later because my iron levels were deficient, so I just had to up my intake since my prenatal vitamins weren't providing enough."

Hangman's brow furrowed. "I didn't know you passed out a second time."

"Outside of Mom and Mav, we didn't say anything to anyone else. Didn't see the point, to be honest. It was an easy fix."

"It got rid of it completely? No more fainting? Not getting dizzy?" Juliette hesitated for a second before she said "no," but Hangman caught it and prodded gently yet sternly, "Princess, is it still happening?"

She clutched his jacket tightly around her shoulders, her shaking having no correlation to the cold air. "Yes. Not much, but enough for me to notice. I'm keeping an eye on it, and if it gets worse, I'll go to the doctor. For now, though, I'm staying quiet."

"So I'm correct in assuming Bradshaw doesn't know?"

"Yes... I don't want to worry him about something that might not be a problem. Rooster's going to kill himself stressing over me before he ever meets his kids if he's not careful. I know this is a lot to ask, but please don't say anything to him about this."

"Since you think it's nothing serious, and since I'm not seeing anything super concerning, I'll stay quiet for now, but if it gets worse and you refuse to tell him, I will say something."

"I know you will. It's why I trusted to tell you," Juliette admitted, smiling appreciatively at her friend. As much as she loved and adored the other Daggers, she couldn't help but believe that when it came to this particular situation, their loyalty to Rooster would override their promise to keep her secret, and they would tell him anyway. Coyote's loyalty may not have, but he also wouldn't want to endure Rooster's wrath if Rooster found out Coyote had been keeping such a secret. Hangman was different. He wasn't afraid of Rooster, and he respected Juliette's decision and trusted her enough to speak up when she believed something might truly be wrong. Juliette trusted Jake Seresin implicitly, and some, if not most, people probably questioned that judgment call, but she ignored them.

"We should probably head back inside before people come looking for us," she mused, peering over her shoulder into the Hard Deck when she recognized Rooster's piano skills at work. Sure enough, he sat the musical instrument, singing along to 'Don't Stop Believin' with the Daggers and Ghost, but his gaze roamed the room. She knew why.

Hangman stood and helped Juliette up. The pair reentered the building and went to the bar, grabbing a round of drinks for everyone. Then, carefully, they navigated over to the Daggers. Juliette slid onto the stool with Rooster, who leaned over and kissed her while still skillfully playing the piano. A cheer rose up around them, making them both laugh. She sang along with him to all different songs until her voice went hoarse, but Juliette kept a careful eye on Hangman. Instinct told her something wasn't right, that the appearance of Ghost and the 'family thing' phone call he received earlier afflicted him on a much deeper level than he let on, both now and in the past.

If only she'd known how much.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @majdoline @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3

If you're on the tag list, it's because I copied from the India Lima Yankee tag list. If you don't wish to be tagged for this story, just let me know! If you're not on the tag list and want to be, comment below :)

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marveloushunter · 3 years

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Kissing His Scars

Crosshair x F!Reader

Crosshair has nightmares that still haunts him and he can’t forgive himself.

Hunter

You wake up to Crosshair’s naked back. His scar on right side of his head catches your attention. You are fighting with the urge to caress it. You don’t want him to wake up since he already had a bad night and you want him to rest a little bit more.

You see Crosshair murmurs in his sleep. You can’t figure it out what he says but from his body language, it doesn’t seem to good. His brows frown, sweats on his forehead and his breath is heavy. He is tossing his blanket as his murmurs become louder.

‘‘I tried to kill you! All of you!’’ he wakes up as he shouts. You are as frightened as he is.

He sits on edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands. You sit next to him.

‘‘Again?’’ you ask.

He nods.

Even though it’s been two years since Crosshair had saved from Empire, his mind never stops hunting him. The constant feeling of guilt, regret, self hatred, that he almost killed his brothers. His own brothers. Crosshair can’t manage to forgive himself no matter how many times his brothers reassure him about it isn’t his fault, he never believes them. He refuses to believe them. He thinks he should be punished for all of this. He hates those dreams but in the deep down of his heart, he knows that he deserves this pain. That is what he believes.

You kiss his shoulder lightly enough to not to disturb him more.

‘‘How can I help you?’’

‘‘You can’t.’’

‘‘You don’t need to shut me down.’’ you reach out to get his hands out of his face. He doesn’t face you but you hold his chin and make him look at you. He lets you see the tears down his cheek this time. You try to show him you have empathy for him, you understand him, you don’t judge him and you don’t see him as he thinks himself.

Your face is loving as always. You wipe away his tears and kiss his cheeks.

‘‘It’s not your fault, my love.’’ you force him to look at you in the eyes. ‘‘It never was. The more you continue believe that it was all you, the more you will be hunt in your dreams. Stop it. Let it go. Forgive yourself.’’ you hug his waist, he dips his head to your neck, to suppress his hiccup.

‘‘I forgave you, your brothers forgave you. Now it’s your time to forgive yourself.’’

Your hand goes to his side but you hesitate to touch him.

‘‘It’s okay.’’ Crosshair says. You feel a bit ashamed of getting catch off.

‘‘I didn’t know you were awake,’’ you hug his back. ‘‘You should sleep more.’’

He holds your hand and kisses your palm. You give him a kiss on his nape as a response.

He remains silent. His scar catches your attention again. You touch it lightly this time. Your fingers trail over it. ‘‘It doesn’t hurt, does it?’’

‘‘It doesn’t.’’

You caress it a little more. Then you get up on your elbows.

You start kissing his scar. Every inch of it. Crosshair lays on his back, holds you firmly by waist. You kiss his forehead this time. His brows, his eyelids, his cheekbones, his corner of lips. You continue with kissing his jawline and neck, his shoulder that he also has scar on. You end up kissing his chest for the last and then you put your head on it.

You look up at him.

‘‘I love you. The way you are.’’ Crosshair surprised by your confess. It doesn’t matter how many times he has heard these words from you. It’s still surprises for him to believe somebody is out there for him. Only for him.

‘‘You don’t have to say it back.’’ you say and turn your head from him and close your eyes to sleep more with him.

Crosshair swipes his hand over your back up and down and pull you closer to him, to feel you better.

‘‘I love you, too.’’

#I was planning to write this for Hunter but then I thought writing it for Cross would be more touchy #tell me I was right #the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb #the bad batch fics #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you

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eureka-its-zico · 3 years

Text

Half Bitten Pt.5

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: You find yourself alone, without Jimin, and inside Namjoon’s home. Trapped with his followers and his need for dominance, you try and think of ways to escape. Your only options seem to either submit to him or learn to harness your dormant powers in hopes to give you your own bargaining tool: power. But is it possible to become the hunter when Namjoon, and now Jungkook, hunt for a taste of you at every turn.

Pairing- Jimin x Reader, Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Reader x BTS in general atp

Genre- Vampire!AU, Witch!AU, Heavy Smut 🔞 sub/dom mentions,

Words: 13k

Warnings: this chapter contains sexual content and small mentions of violence.

A/N: Okay, so this has taken a long time. I had to sit and really think about what and how I wanted this story to take shape and (after a lot of anxiety and a lot of stop/starts) I finally figured it out. I hope you all enjoy this labor of love. I hope the storyline peaks your Interest and that as always, you very much enjoy. Much Love, Jenn.

shout out to @dearneverlander for being amazing, reading over this, and entertaining me about this and other fic ideas. You are the best.

Tag list: @giveonslove @pjmnoir

For what felt like a recurring theme, you found yourself in a room you’d never seen. Your legs resting on someone’s hips as his body eclipsed yours in a bed that definitely wasn’t yours. No matter how foreign it seemed, this man, whose lips were coaxing you to open up to him, felt like home. He buried your body against the sheets and his touch became something your body shamefully craved. Except this man wasn’t the same one who’d haunted you for the past months. This man who moved above you like sin, whose lips and tongue formed against yours as if he’d mapped out your entire body with his tongue, wasn’t Jimin.

You knew who he was by the strength of his hold. The curve of his muscles that bowed under your fingertips. His head pulled up and away from your lips to leave love bites across your collarbone like a set of crimson pearls. This man, who had taken you in the most intimate way with his lips latched on your throat, was Jungkook.

Your mind couldn’t make sense of what was taking place. How you’d ended up in a mess of sheets. Your bodies beaded in sweat with your skin decorated in snake bites under your breasts, and hidden inside the inner curve of your thighs. The only thing you were sure of was the way you dived into him and let him drown you with each new crashing wave of his hips.

In between each crushing new weight of an orgasm, Jungkook sunk his teeth into a new spot. Your shoulder. Neck. The bend of your arm. Bites were strung across your back like a string of erotic galaxies that he’d mapped out in his continued efforts to explore everything you were willing to offer.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this bed. How long you’d been exposed to his overwhelming presence as his hands and mouth continued to roam the contours of your skin. Even his bites seemed to only escalate each new orgasm. Your body seemed to buckle and start all over at just a graze of his teeth along your skin. So eager it was to be penetrated a second time, much more animalistic, that it felt like a drug how badly you seemed to crave it. And every time your body was met with what it so badly craved it was only able to voice breathless moans that were silenced with a crimson soaked tongue.

You knew, ultimately, Jungkook was trying to devour you. To own every last inch of your soul and bend your body until all he needed to do was look at you, and you’d turn into a puddle at his feet. The thought should’ve been enough to push him away, but a twisted part of you was too turned on at the exhilaration of being owned. At the thought of him coming at any moment and his mouth easily claiming you as his.

You were barely starting to come down from your latest orgasm. You felt spent and raw, but Jungkook’s hips were still moving between your thighs as his arm moved to wrap underneath your arched back. A hand on the small of your back helping to prop you up higher, closer to his mouth so his tongue could reach out and flick across your hardened nipple.

The accompanying sensation of his tongue with the continuous movement of his cock pushing back inside you, riding out your orgasm to bring you to another, made your back arch harder. Your walls clenching tighter against him as your fingers dug into his hair with a hushed prayer for him to not stop escaping you. Pleading for him to do what you knew was coming next. Those soft flicks of his tongue that circled your nipple were only the beginning, and Jungkook did not disappoint.

He’d waited until your second orgasm came. Your body grew more sensitive with each continued stroke and, suddenly, his teeth penetrated down into the soft flesh of your breast. This time Jungkook was too occupied to keep down the moan that tore free from your chest. It moved inside the room like a living thing and bounced on every wall until it reverberated all around you.

Your arms had moved to wrap around his shoulders to bring him closer so he could drink you down faster. Your hands still locked tight to his hair as he moved to echo your movements with his arms moved to wrap around your waist. A hand dropped down to push away the bundled sheets at your hips to lift your back off the bed up and bring you to straddle him.

Your hips were now keeping up the speed Jungkook had created as he relaxed down on the bed. The hand he’d used to to push back the sheets between you had now moved to your ass. Using it to move you to the rhythm he was trying to commit with his own hips. You grinded down hard on him taking every last inch of him inside you. You tightened yourself around him to stroke and tease him with every new rise and fall of your hips and loved the way his grip tightened on your ass.

Jungkook lifted bloody lips from your breast. His own moan tearing free from him as you worked your hips over his cock. You watched him as his eyes fluttered closed and, with that stern playfulness off of his face, you were able to see just how beautiful he was. His head tilted back just enough that the light of the room showcased a mole under his lip, another decorated the side of his neck, and a scar on his cheek. An indent you were sure came from a time long ago when he was much more alive.

The sound of his moan spurred you to ride him faster. A part of you craved to bring another moan from him as his eyes opened back up and struggled to focus back on you. Jungkook knew what you were trying to do and a smirk quickly raised his lips.

“The only one who's going to be making any kind of noise here, Pet, is you.”

His nickname for you didn’t seem to register as a strong hand on your neck forced your lips crashing down into his. You opened up for him instantly and felt yourself tasting the copper of your blood back on his tongue and underneath that, was the sweet taste of your juices from when his mouth had been between your thighs lapping up every last bit of your first orgasm.

A moan gasped against his mouth as you tore away. The feeling of him so deep inside you was beginning to make your orgasm begin to build; threatening to spill as his hands took control of your hips and had you take him impossibly deeper. His fingertips were bruising against your flesh but you didn’t care. You needed more. You wanted to wear each marking he gave you, could give you, like decorations to your new favorite holiday.

You were so close to coming again. So close to another mind blowing release when you saw him.

Jimin.

His body perfectly formed into the chair with a leg carefully thrown over the other. A forearm resting on the chair's arm as his hand strategically placed itself over his mouth. You were sure it was to hide a frown that had set on his pouty lips. His eyes watching helplessly at the show you continued to give him.

The betrayal at being caught; being seen in such a position made you tear your lips away from Jungkook’s kiss. Your body, however, wasn’t ready to unlatch itself from him. Not when you were so, so close.

“Jimin?”

You knew Jungkook must have heard you. Was he unaware of the man sitting in the corner chair? Or was Jungkook putting on a show of how he’d taken your body so easily from him?

In part, you received your answer. In a blur of speed Jungkook placed you back on the mattress. His fingers hooking under the knee of one leg to hoist it up towards your stomach and placed your calf on his shoulder. It was such a small movement, but it somehow intensified his next thrust.

A moan that was more a scream crawled its way from your throat and out into the room. Your eyes fluttering shut on Jimin’s figure as you focused on the way this new position made you tighten around Jungkook’s cock. The width of him as he stretched and filled you up to the point your body began to shake. The only way you knew how to release the pleasure Jungkook rolled through you with every pounding of his hips was by shouting his name and marking him as your nails dug into his hips.

You were so close. So close and when you opened your eyes, Jimin was no longer sitting in the chair. No. He was now kneeling beside the bed, his face inches from yours and watching as your hips eagerly pushed off the bed to meet Jungkook’s.

It would be hard to deny that watching Jimin’s eyes take in the swell of your breasts, moving down the plains of your stomach, and ending, eyes hungrily watching Jungkook enter you, isn’t what made you cum. Because it was. Underneath that sadness he showed. The anger at seeing someone else touch you, was a lust at watching you cum under another man that made you feel like you’d left your body.

You came screaming and clawing feverishly at Jungkook’s back and arms. Your legs cramping through the strain of staying propped up to keep the power of his thrusts from breaking as you waited for it to end.

What you were really waiting for was the feel of Jungkook’s teeth setting into the soft flesh lol somewhere. Your body vibrating with the need to feel that soft pinch and the wave of euphoria that came right after, but none came.

You craved it so badly, you were practically writhing in disappointment underneath him when it never came. A whine left you pleading and the devilish smile on Jungkook’s lips didn’t surprise you. It only infuriated you more that he’d treat this like a game.

“Do you want me to bite you, Pet? Do you want me to taste you?”

Jungkook pulled away from you and began to move himself down towards your feet. He made sure to keep his body from touching you. The motion leaving a small view of his naked body exposed to the room and that alone was enough to make you keen into the room. Your lower half bucked up towards his face as he passed, but he easily dodged the motion.

Your eyes looked wildly up for Jimin. He was still there and the betrayal was coming back, but his earlier sadness was now replaced by understanding.

“What the hell is going on?”

You’d like to say that you sounded like yourself. That you weren’t still focused on the man now moving between your legs, inching your legs up to bend at the knee, and were more focused on getting some answers. Or the fact that you wanted Jimin to kiss you right when you felt Jungkook kiss at the crease of your inner thigh.

“You’re dreaming.”

Jimin stated it so matter-of-fact it hit your body like a smack to the face. It gave you enough clarity to look at him, really look at him, and then to the room around him.

“This has been a dream the whole time?”

This time your voice did sound more like yourself. Jimin moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. His eyes looking at you with an expression you didn’t deserve as he gently caressed his hand down the edge of your face.

“I’m guessing somehow you must have gotten a taste of Jungkook’s blood. A considerable amount it would seem.”

A soft smirk tilted the corner of his mouth as he looked down at your body and at the other man in question. You couldn’t help yourself. Your own gaze moved down to glance at Jungkook and found him, smiling, and looking dead at Jimin. A challenge in his eyes as his fangs began to grow past his lips and, instantly, the insane aching to be his toy knocked the air of sanity right from your lungs.

You knew you should reply but the only thing you found yourself doing was bucking your hips helplessly towards him. Your head falling back onto the mattress in frustration as you tried to grasp at some form of clarity.

“Why does this keep happening?”

Your words came out a panting, heaving, mess with your eyes shut tight. As if that would ever be enough to get your body back to normal and not be this lust crazed thing.

“I’m sorry. I should have protected you better. I should have been more cautious when I approached you. It was foolish of me to think Namjoon didn’t have his own plans in motion.”

You listened closely to Jimin’s words. Your mind scrambled to hold on to each one like a drowning man searching for a life jacket. You opened your eyes and found him smiling sadly down at you. His fingers moved through your hair, and tucked a piece behind your ear. That pain, that sadness, he tried to keep at bay was consuming even his smile now. All you wanted was to kiss his worries away. You knew he meant it. That all Jimin ultimately wanted was to keep you safe, always.

The thought alone was enough to bring you back. Your hand moved out to touch him. To grab a hold of his hand and bring it to your lips just so you could give it a gentle kiss.

“Namjoon probably asked Jungkook to give you blood. But I am sure that Namjoon doesn’t know he’s doing this.”

At the mention of his name, a growl came from the man in question and it took everything you had left in you not to look back down at him. Your eyes were trained solely on Jimin, and were determined to stay that way.

“Namjoon wouldn’t let him do this?”

Jimin shook her head as he spoke, “Namjoon would have asked him to watch over you. Heal you if you need it, but this-“ Jimin looked around the bedroom for added emphasis before bringing a disapproving gaze back to you. “This is more for Jungkook than anyone else.”

“I couldn’t help myself. She tastes so good.”

Jungkook’s voice touched along your skin like velvet. It worked its way like an invisible hand along your body, until it felt like it tightened around your throat demanding for your attention. You wanted to give it to him. To see that pretty face still waiting, teasingly, between your thighs with fangs exposed. You only gave him the satisfaction of letting him see you shiver.

“I still don’t understand how this is possible. How you can just enter my mind and create dreams like this.”

“I told you, Y/N. Blood is the conduit to the soul. Once it’s shared, it cannot be unshared. It helps us to see your desires and it leaves them exposed to us.”

“Are you trying to tell me I wanted this?”

You should’ve been past feeling embarrassed, especially in your current state, but with Jimin’s statement you felt exactly like he’d stated: exposed. The embarrassment in your chest hot as you fight the urge to cover up.

“In some way; yes. A part of you wants Jungkook and, because of the shared blood, he now knows it. And he capitalized on it to create this moment.”

Your mouth was open, ready to fight back at the idea you’d want any of them, but Jungkook was quick to silence you. Proving you to be nothing but a liar.

“You both talk too much.”

His teeth sunk down into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and your back arched up off the bed. A moan violently erupted from you as your hands curled into the sheets and threatened to rip them apart. You were barely aware of your body when Jimin’s lips formed around yours and, before you were able to fully register his lips, his tongue danced across your bottom lip and you were quick to give him entrance just before you were thrown from your dream.

Your body lurched forward off of the mattress. The sheets crumbled at your waist as the haze of the dream kept your vision cloudy. You were struggling hard for your vision to clear and, in your haste, you only seemed to make it worse. Your world was swimming in dizziness as objects seemed either too close to you or too far; lurching forward and back until they stopped in their original spots.

It wasn’t until you were able to fully calm yourself that you were aware of the bodies in the room. The first you noticed was the one you weren’t exactly able to see, but you could feel them. Your skin came alive with goosebumps as fear rolled through you. It took everything you had not to turn around; to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around even if your life depended on it, because that second body, the one you knew was there, was right in front of you.

With his hips cocked against the large dresser and his arms resting behind him he was the picture perfect image of seduction. The devilish smile on his lips was a tell-tale sign as his gaze drank in your position in the bed that he knew what you were thinking. But how could he not? Even then, with him fully clothed, your mind was able to recall the bunch of muscles in his chest that combined into his stomach. The way your hands dipped inside the plains of his back as his hips worked himself deeper inside you making you come undone beneath him. No. You knew his body the way that he no doubt knew yours.

“Jungkook?”

His name fell from your lips in a whisper. One that was either a curse or excitement or possibly both. You weren’t entirely sure. What you were sure of was the itch in your palms to rub them against your eyes. To see if he was still there, like a bad dream caught on a loop. Thinking of him like that felt wrong, somehow and that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

You watched as he ran a thumb along his bottom lip. The knowing in his eyes as they moved across your body like a touch sent you shivering in response against the covers. If your mind and body were aware of the dream then so was he. The dream that felt real. A touch your body now longed to feel with him this close. To be used up and your skin decorated with his mouth and teeth like a scandalous map of where he’d conquered.

Your eyes were so heavily trained on him; sinfully watching every drawn out movement he made that you could hardly pay attention to anything else. How you could’ve missed the other body next the bed was something you couldn’t fathom. Of course you would’ve known that the vampire V, was right beside you. But you were so shamelessly engrossed in the show Jungkook happily provided, that you weren’t aware of him until his fingers were stroking through your hair.

Your body gave a violent jolt as it turned to face him. An odd child-like mischief swept across his face like a wildfire. Setting off sparks in his eyes that roared to life as his gaze hungrily drank you in and, without speaking, knew you were in trouble.

His hand reached out to touch you again, and you found yourself struggling against the bundled sheets at your waist to back away. You cursed under your breath. The harder you seemed to struggle the more your legs became hopelessly tangled further in the sheets.

V was wasting no time as he moved to join you on the large bed. The muscles in his arms and back strained against the thin silk fabric of his shirt. His body movements gracefully calculated with each inch he covered as he made his way towards you. His hands moved seamlessly over the sheets without getting caught up in them. Unlike you, who only seemed to tangle yourself further the more you struggled against them. No, the way he moved and how he looked at you made it painfully obvious that he was the predator here. And you? You were nothing more than prey.

You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to tell that your heart was clamoring to escape your chest. The terror you felt was very much real. Not a figment of your imagination or a feeling in your subconscious left over from a dream. The more you seemed to struggle against the knowledge that if V got a hold of you, you’d be his breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the more your panic made your movements frantic. And in their frenzy it made you increasingly clumsy.

You were almost to the edge of the bed. The anxiety that had begun to blossom left a sickening thought in your mind that you weren’t going to make it. When you quickly glanced behind you it all but dissipated. You’d somehow made it. You were just a few inches to freedom. You were going to make this! And suddenly, V’s hand appeared like magic on your arm. It snuffed out what hope you’d felt. His fingers tightened against the skin of your forearm and, without giving you a second to recover, began to pull you towards him.

The scream that’d been building in your chest finally tore free when he tugged you towards him. Your hand clamored uselessly at his fingers in a weak attempt to make them release his hold, and when that wasn’t working, you swung your feet around. You were ready to strike; to kick out at him in panic induced spurts when V suddenly let you go. A more level headed you would’ve considered why he’d done it. But you weren’t levelheaded. You weren’t fucking calm. You were stuck in flight mode, instead of fighting, and with your brain stuck on autopilot you could only consider one thing: running.

Those eyes that swore they would tear you apart were no longer looking at you, but were focused on someone behind you. Instead of being careful and glancing to see what it was - who it was - you scrambled back and ended up colliding into someone else’s chest.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was. You’d experienced this chest for what felt like an eternity in your dreams. Your tongue traced sinful outlines across his chest like a paintbrush and committed every single stroke to memory. No, you didn’t need to look to know Jungkook was at the end of this bed. And yet…

Your head tilted back until the top of it rested comfortably in his stomach. Your eyes gazed up to find he was already looking at you. That infamous smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes took you in. You couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. Did you look frightened? Or did he see blown out pupils exposing your desire for him. Did your body give you away when your next breath came out ragged with need or was it like that from fear? Were your eyes already swimming with desire for him to touch you, for real this time?

He brought a hand to the side of your neck and it took what little willpower you had left to keep from nuzzling your cheek into him. If Jungkook knew this he wouldn't have shown it. Instead, he continued to draw his index finger across your jawline until it came up to connect with your lips. The soft smile that he’d worn now turned into something dangerous. His eyes bleeding the deep crimson that signified his teeth weren’t far behind and there, exactly when that knowledge hit you, is when your lust burst into overdrive.

You were shot back to hazy memories of your bodies intertwined in sheets just like the ones on this bed. His mouth, teeth, all over your body. His hands positioned on your hips to keep you trapped. Just so he could keep you close and feel every new thrust as he tore fresh pleasure from your lips.

The flashback of your dream only seemed to escalate your hunger for him. The images played out fresh in your mind until you knew if either of them placed a hand between your thighs, it would come away soaked and slick with your desire. The overwhelming need for him to touch you felt like a current of fire along your skin. It screamed and ached for him to come and soothe you.

You felt V’s hands back on your body. Their roughness gone now replaced to tease up your calves until his fingers were edging wickedly up your thighs. Past the fabric of your skirt and closer to your core. Each touch left a trial of goosebumps along your skin that were only spreading with each touch between him and Jungkook. You dared for a moment to take your eyes off of Jungkook. Just enough to be able to see that V’s own eyes were now matching the man above you. A wicked smirk showcasing pointed canines that he used to nip at the top of your knee.

“Oh, Jungkook, she must really like you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped.

You wanted to sound defiant. You wanted your voice to shake the room with it. Instead, it sounded weak and wanton and only caused V to flash his fangs and a chuckle to ripple through Jungkook.

“If that’s what you would prefer, Witch. We would be more than happy to oblige.”

V’s eyes swam with heat as his voice teased along your skin. The sane part of you, or what was left of it, was screaming at you to remove yourself from the bed. That letting your legs inch wider for V to trail his hands closer to your core was wrong. That you shouldn’t be Focusing on Jungkook’s hands that were trailing inside your shirt until it cupped a breast. And you most definitely should not be moaning in approval as his other free hand laced itself inside your hair and pulled back, hard, for you to look up at him. But your body was full of sensations - full of a deep seeded need - and only Jungkook promised to deliver.

Jungkook’s hand began to massage your breast as simultaneously the hand in your hair pulled tighter. The motion exposing your neck fully to the room. Your scalp was flaring to life in pain, but Jungkook’s deft fingers teased across your nipple causing your pain and pleasure to blur. Your body responded in earnest. Your hips shamelessly began to gyrate into the sheets, into V’s wandering hands, as Jungkook’s pulled tighter. You knew he was trying to break a moan from your lips and you refused to give him the satisfaction. But your eyes were still helplessly glued to him. Eagerly scanning his face for when he would expose his canines and when he finally did, lips torn back in all their wickedness, the gasp he’d been waiting for finally escaped free.

Your arousal was instant and shameless. Your back already arching to give him a better view of any area he wanted while your hips moved against V’s touch. Another moan was building - hot and molten - on your lips. Just as you opened up to release it, Jungkook bent down to crash his mouth down on yours.

The kiss silenced you until you felt V’s fingers at the tops of your thighs. His earlier teasing completely gone as they edged inside your panties, making your body shiver against Jungkook and a moan sound deep against his lips.

“Jungkook. She’s soaked.”

V groaned the words into the room. His own desire makes you shiver as his lips, his teeth, kissed hungrily on the inside of your thigh. Your body gave a jolt at the contact. Another moan crushing down on you as your tongue moved to stroke against Jungkook’s.

In the middle of the kiss, your tongue accidentally nicked a canine. The pain was instantaneous and sharp with the taste of blood quickly swimming between you and the softness that Jungkook had shown when his lips had originally taken yours was gone. In a blur of movement, his hand in your hair pulled back brutally hard, tearing a scream from your throat. Jungkook responded with a growl vibrating along your lips, as he started to try and eat you from the mouth down. Scream and all.

You were so enraptured in the moment you were willing to give in. To let them both have you because, honestly, what was the worst that could happen? The answer: a lot. The struggle to come back to yourself and to not be consumed by them was like trying to swim out of quicksand. It felt impossible. It was impossible. Until your mind flashed with the image of Jimin.

The way he sat in the corner chair of the room. The way he’d watched Jungkook, and you, move in a tangle of sheets. How he’d watched you allow Jungkook to mark you over and over in every intimate spot he could taste. To own your body and almost your mind. There had been hunger in his eyes as he watched, but there was no denying the sadness that lurked below the surface. That image of Jimin sitting so stoically in the chair, fingers on his lips, and chin resting in his palm was what you needed.

Immediately, you lurched forward. Your body flying sideways off the bed and rolling until you fell, not so gracefully, onto the floor below. There was no doubt in your mind that the two vampires in the room had let you. You knew that if they wanted to keep you there, there you’d have stayed. Held hostage by their embrace and hunger.

You were clamoring off of the floor and facing them. Your hands moved around you to try and make sure your skirt was back in place and you looked as modest as you could. It was somewhere in your hurried attempt to make sure your clothes were intact that you realized the cut on your leg that Namjoon had given you from the window was gone. The area was perfectly healed with not a mark to show the trauma that had broken the skin hours before.

“I was ordered to give you blood by Namjoon.” Jungkook’s voice ripped your attention away from examining your leg. Commanding all of your focus to him. “You’d lost quite a bit of blood and he was…worried.”

“And did he ask you to -'' you couldn’t bring yourself to speak out loud what had gone on in your head.

Jungkook didn’t share the same sentiment. On the contrary, that wickedness spread across his face showcasing the ends of his fangs. His arm was now wrapped around one of the posts on the four post bed. His body swung around the corner of the bed in a way that oddly mimicked a child.

“To fuck you, taste you, and leave you begging for me to continue? Oh no, he didn’t ask me to do any of that. That was all my choice, Pet.”

Your cheeks flush from his words and you struggled not to turn away from him. But wasn’t it all supposed to just be a dream? It couldn’t be real. Could it? Out of your peripheral’s you noticed V was moving himself off the bed. His body exiting the bed as seductively as he’d entered it. His own teasing smile drowned out the hunger that was still spread across the heat in his eyes.

“And here I thought witches only rode broomsticks.”

“They ride more than that,” Jungkook quipped.

The two of them equally seemed to enjoy your growing embarrassment, and you hated the fact your body was white hot with it. They were already honing in on your position. One coming from your left and the other the right. That reckless part of you was curious what would happen if they got to you, but another part reminded you this wasn’t a game. You wouldn’t respawn and the price of losing was your life or freedom.

So you found your feet edging you closer and closer to the corner of the room. You were fully aware that it was a dead end and knew that if Jungkook and V wanted to, they would’ve already taken you. The thrill of the hunt was what they were after. You, unfortunately, just happened to be the prey.

They were only a few feet from you when the door to the room suddenly opened and Alice stepped in. Or at least it looked like Alice. This woman didn’t resemble the girl you shared classes or an apartment with. She looked ethereal. Her corn yellow hair in soft waves with a braid for a crown and her dress delicately embroidered in a design you saw more in the 1920’s. For all the memories of friendship you held, the beauty she showed, the only thing your heart felt looking at her was contempt.

Jungkook and V turned to see who entered and both seemed unimpressed with their new visitor. Alice shared in their open distaste for one another. She finished coming through the doorway and walked to the bed placing what you assumed were clothes for you to change into.

“What exactly do you think the two of you are doing?” Alice’s voice was scolding. Her distaste only seemed to rise as she took in a scent of the air. “Someone has been Dream Touched in here. Recently. Jungkook, I’m pretty sure Namjoon told you watch over her not fuck her.”

There it was again. It was just a dream! Why did they talk like it actually happened? The blush that was beginning to leave your cheeks came flaring back. It took everything in you not to look down at the floor in shame.

“What can I say? I got bored waiting for her to wake up.”

“If Namjoon finds out you touched her-“

“Who is going to tell him, hmm?” In a blur of speed Jungkook had Alice pressed up against the wall. His hand wrapped around her neck as her feet dangled at his legs. “Are you going to tell him? You think being a snitch is going to put you back in his good graces? In his bed? He’s already discarded you like the trash you are. So don’t forget how easily you could be replaced.”

If looks could kill the two of them would’ve exploded. The hatred that came off the pair felt like it could suffocate with every inch of air being sucked from the room. Your blood was now coursing with adrenaline as you watched their exchange. If you needed any reminding that they could kill you without you even blinking, this was all you needed.

Alice lifted up a weak hand and you noticed the blue flame inside her palm, her lips moving wordlessly, and pure rage in her eyes. She went to swing her hand down at him and Jungkook easily caught it with his remaining free hand. Easily pinning her wrist against the wall next to her head and smoke now coming rising where the flame once was.

V walked over casually, his hands deep in his pockets before he dug a hand out. He grabbed Jungkook by his shoulder and gently tugged as if to pull him away.

“Come on, Jungkook. She’ll have her day, but it's not now. We don’t need any more trouble.”

You watched Jungkook reluctantly let her go. The way he stepped away from her in disgust. His hands wiping down his clothes as if just being around her was enough to stain them entirely. He didn’t spare a passing look her way as he moved with V to exit the room. V’s exit came without giving a passing look, but Jungkook, somehow you knew, before he turned and waved at you, that he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. The hatred in his eyes quickly dissolved back to his earlier hunger as he told you a promise: “See you later, Pet,” and closed the door behind him.

You were now left alone in the room with your ex-best friend who was still trying to regain her composure in a heap on the floor. You felt bad. You couldn’t deny that. The ethereal beauty she’d come in with - a princess out of a fairytale - had completely dissolved. Now, she looked angry with a smidgen of terror. Her tear stained cheeks were rubbed red from her hands as she slowly started to stand.

At first, she wasn’t acknowledging you at all. When she moved to stand up, however, and smoothed out the front of her dress she gave you her full attention. That hatred Alice shared, that contempt, that’d come alive in her eyes at the sight of Jungkook and V in the room, was now placed heavily on you.

“What are you looking at,” she spat. “You need to hurry up and get dressed. Namjoon has been waiting long enough for you to wake up.”

You glanced at the pile of clothes that had been left on the bed and back at Alice. None of her attention was on you. She was too busy running her hands furiously down the front of her dress. You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment that kept her head turned away from you or if she just wanted to pretend like you weren’t there. If it was the latter, you were more than happy to do the same.

You moved to look at what she’d brought for you to change into, and your nose crinkled up in disgust. It wasn’t as fancy as what Alice was wearing, but it was a dress, and nothing you wanted any part in. How the hell were you supposed to try to escape in something like this? The fabric of the dress was soft to the touch and you knew once you put it on it would feel good against your skin. The way expensive and fancy things usually did. It appeared floor length, its color a deep garnet, and the complete opposite of the pure white of Alice’s.

It felt comical that Alice deemed herself worthy to be the one to wear white.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you chided.

Your hands grabbed at the dress's top and lifted it up. It was pretty. Very pretty, but a dress? Really? Alice stopped her pacing and turned her attention back to you. The annoyance creased her brows so harshly she resembled a basset hound.

“Just put the damn thing on, Y/N. Namjoon wants you to wear it so - end of discussion.”

“And does everyone always do what Namjoon wants them to do?”

Her eyes narrowed on you and you could’ve sworn it felt like insects were crawling on your skin. It took every last bit of self-control you had not to start tapping wildly at your skin.

“Let me help you understand something sooner rather than later, Y/N.You are in the King’s sanctuary. Whatever Namjoon wants, he gets and right now you happen to be a very high priority on his list.”

“If I could be unprioritized on his list that would be great,” you quipped.

Your humor seemed to make Alice’s irritation rise as she walked slowly towards the bed. Her eyes roamed over the sheets you’d just struggled out of seconds before she’d walked in. A part of you as secretly glad she hadn’t walked in during that particular time.

“Namjoon is - will be - your King. He wants to bring the coven, the oldest there is, back together. For centuries, our coven lived among the vampires. A deal struck between our Headmistress and King of the vampires. A deal that offered limitless power for the coven. It remained this way until the day your great-great grandmother and Jimin tried to change it.”

“My great-great grandmother and Jimin?”

Alice gave a quick nod as her arm wrapped around the post of the bed and leaned into it. Her eyes remained roaming the bed instead of giving you any of her attention as she spoke. You were okay with it. Your own attention fastened to every word. Each one painting a picture of information that you were eager to hear. Maybe in all of this nonsense you could find something that did make sense and use it to save yourself.

“If you don’t do as he says, if you don’t try to learn what I have to teach you, Namjoon won’t let you go, Y/N. He’ll kill you.”

She looked at you then and a large part of you wished Alice had kept her eyes on the bed. She wasn’t trying to spook you or send you screaming for the hills. They’d all done enough before now to do that already. Alice was making sure that you understood. You either submit or you died. In this reality, where you currently lived, and Namjoon reigned supreme, you didn’t have a second or third option.

In all of this, it wasn’t hard to notice the admiration that dripped in her voice at the mention of his name. The way her body sighed at the thought of him. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she was in love with Namjoon. Hopelessly, in fact. The thought of you being anywhere near him is what she probably hated and even more knowing that ever since he’d found you, he’d discarded her just like Jungkook mentioned. It no doubt stung. It no doubt made her hate you, but Alice would never tell you, but what she did tell you was true. Whatever Namjoon couldn’t own he would destroy and, unfortunately for you, you were currently on the receiving end of being his latest thing to own.

You weren’t sure what to say. If being in denial was even worth trying to mask the cold lump of dread that was forming in your chest. What were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t wait around for Jimin to save you this time, but how were you supposed to begin to help yourself? While you waited for the universe to bring a solid plan to you, you began to undress.

You didn’t mind getting rid of the clothes from the day before. It had given you a false sense of security. As if leaving them haphazardly on the floor around you was enough to save you from your current reality. It wasn’t until you were stepping into the dress Alice brought that you were reminded that this was all too real.

You struggled to close the back of the gown and hated that with every passing second you knew you were going to have to ask her for help. Clearing your throat, you glanced in her direction. You found Alice sitting on the bed. Her hands draped loosely in her lap with her gaze in a land - somewhere far far away. Her thoughts took her somewhere that wasn’t you or this room. The sound of your voice finally uprooting her gaze to land on you.

“Could you - do you - do you think you could help me with this?”

You half expected her to break out into a lopsided grin. To start teasing you about your lack of coordination or make one of the worst jokes you’d ever heard as she moved towards you. Alice, the Alice you remembered, loved dad jokes. They were her terribly timed thing. But the Alice you knew was gone, and replaced with one you didn’t want to know. Was this really who she was, and not who she pretended to be?

She didn’t answer you right away. Well, she didn’t really answer you at all. The only way you knew that she’d agreed was when she calmly moved towards you. Her expression remained blank, but her eyes were searching for something and acted as if you held the map to every explanation she needed.

You brushed your hair to the side so she could get a clear view of the last couple hitches that need to be fastened. You turned your back to her and waited to feel her hands closing what was left. While the dress was floor length and beautiful, it sure was leaving a large part of your chest exposed. A tsk of displeasure escaped your lips.

“What was the price the coven paid?”

You weren’t sure why you felt brave enough to ask Alice so close. If you thought it would be enough to get her to answer you at all. Your short burst question faded to the background of her continued silence.

“The price we paid?”

When her words cut through it practically had you jumping on the spot. Your tongue quickly darted between your lips to wet them before you replied, “For the power upgrade. Everything comes at a cost when it comes to magic, no?”

You swore it felt like she was smiling behind you. Or maybe you just needed to imagine she was smiling with softness like your imaginary friend used to.

“Namjoon offered us blood. His blood, and the blood of his people. In exchange, the coven bowed under his rule with the promise of serving him for all eternity.”

“That seems like a mighty steep price to pay.”

“And one we will continue to pay until the debt is paid in full. Your great-great-great grandmother believed she could fight this pact. She believed she was above the coven, and it’s order.”

“It sounds to me like she was the only one with her head on straight” you mentioned.

With the last clasp finished on the dress you took a step away from Alice. Your feet guided you in a wide circle until you stood to face her, shoulders squared, and eyes narrowed in challenge.

“She fled believing she could save her future generations from their duty to our king, but there is no hiding from your destiny. Elyssa should’ve remembered that.”

You hadn’t heard her name in years. Your own mother hardly ever spoke of your grandmother or your great grandmother. Avoided them at all costs like a plague that could cause an infection from just the slightest mention. You grew up normal enough. You’d had your small family. Never any grandparents or aunts or uncles. You were too young to question it, but your parents made you feel like you weren’t missing anything. There were family vacations and Saturday’s mapped out with storybook adventures in the woods. You never imagined you were lacking anything until the day your father mysteriously disappeared after going to work one day. After he left, mom was never the same.

You never cared to dwell on sad facts. Maybe he’d just run away. Maybe his heart had found a family capable of building the life he’d wanted instead of the quiet one your mother desired in her handmade cottage in the woods. Now, staring back at Alice, you couldn’t help but wonder about something much darker.

“Let me give you some friendly advice.” You weren’t sure why her voice caused you to jump. “When a vampire shares his blood with you and you share yours with him, they form a connection with the soul of that person. It’s what makes us more vulnerable to being Dream Touched. The sex is phenomenal, but the bite is the real kicker. It’s easy for them to turn you into a junkie for it.”

Your head was still spinning out memories of a childhood you’d mostly tried to keep hidden. Her words echoed in the hollow chamber in your mind where you were only able to catch a few of them. Confusion edged your brow closer together as you tried shaking out bad memories to focus on the current one being made.

“Why are you telling me all this? I’ve never had sex with any of them.”

Looking at her you were able to see she wasn’t telling you this out of the kindness of her heart. The emptiness of her face had been replaced by what you could only assume was hatred.

“Because when you’re Dream Touched it forms an unmistakable connection with the vampire who gave it to you. It’s why you most likely still feel Jimin, even if it's dull. And what you think is a ‘dream’ is very much real. Dream Touched encounters are the real thing. The feelings. The tastes. The bites. You reek of Jungkook. Namjoon will know and it will be my ass for picking Jungkook to be the one to watch you. Now come on, we need to go. He’s waiting.”

You were still trying to process what she was telling you, but Alice wasn’t interested in giving you time to digest her words. All the time she had in coming to the room had apparently evaporated. The only thing left was the sense of urgency her pace created. Her long legs were already at the door and swinging it open.

While you weren’t a hundred percent sure about following her anywhere, an open door piqued your interest. Wherever they were holding you it was obviously a home of some kind and every home and two things: doors and windows. The thought of escaping before this shit show went from bad to astronomically worse sent your heart racing. A melding of fear and excitement swirled in your chest that maybe, just maybe, you could get out of this and save yourself.

All the best laid plans were made on the fly, anyway.

With a breath of indecision heavy in your chest you took your first step towards the door. What you found waiting for you on the other side wasn’t what you’d envisioned. You’d imagined that wherever Namjoon kept you it’d be somewhere desolate. A run-down mansion. Maybe an abandoned factory to add up the spook factor. If the bedroom you’d exited was any indication, Namjoon’s home was far from run-down or factory-esque.

The hallway you found yourself in carried with the same deep wood that had been in the bedroom. The wood was polished white and went the entirety of the hallway. The intricate inlays of gold designs on the wood and crown molding only seemed to add to the opulence of the house. You were sure if a home designer from HGTV found their way in here, they’d probably explode with their love for everything they saw. You did notice the windows the heavy curtains covered and, from the view you were getting, your brain deduced trying to escape through one of them this high would be a bad idea.

Without waiting for you further, Alice began to make her way down the hallway. She didn’t seem worried that you would try to run or that you wouldn’t follow. Alice appeared confident that you would just follow behind her without giving her any problems. Sure, the windows were a definite no-go, but the doors?? There seemed to be plenty of them that you could see. What made her so certain you wouldn’t try and escape through any? It didn’t matter if you didn’t know where they would lead. Anywhere would be better than where Alice was no doubt leading you. So why didn’t you run?

Realistically, you didn’t know what was more terrifying. The unknown of what could possibly be behind those doors or Namjoon waiting for you somewhere in the house.

Alice made a right at the end of the hall and ended your inner monologue of indecision. She was no longer sending backwards glances to make sure you were there. Her confidence at your submission was a heavy annoyance in your chest and the questions that still weighed there demanded that you return the favor.

“If you have more you want to ask, Y/N, just ask it. I know you want to.”

You wanted to be childish and tell her you didn’t want to ask her shit. In the end, the lie didn’t seem worth the trouble and getting a little more information wouldn’t seem to hurt.

“Alright. Where are we?”

“Really?” she snorted. “Out of everything you could ask, that's what you came up with?”

“You said I could ask anything. It’s reasonable to ask where your kidnappers have taken you. If I’m still in Seoul or if you’ve moved me miles from the city to somewhere else.”

The silence after your words departed your lips crushed in around you. As if every ounce of air had been taken from your lungs. Were you holding your breath without realizing it? You continued to walk behind Alice not knowing when she would answer or even if she would. She said you could ask questions, but hadn’t specified if she would reply.

“We are in the original home of the Coven. The home that was made between our headmistress and Namjoon to house us centuries ago.”

“You keep saying ‘we’, like I’m somehow part of a secret club.”

“We are a coven - not a club.”

“There’s that word, 'we’ again.”

You expected Alice to turn on you at any second. Your patronizing was obviously beginning to get to her by the tightness that formed in her shoulders with every smart remark you shot back in response. You expected her next words to be biting, and ready to scratch their annoyance across your skin. The both of you came to stand before a pair of ornate double doors. The wood had been intricately carved to show a woman surrounded by cherubs and flowers surrounding them. It was a beautiful crafted work of art and one that screamed it wasn’t made this century.

Her hand was poised on its handle, waiting to turn it to expose what lay ahead, and her attention was fully on you. An upturned smile of amusement did little to keep the icy glare off her face. That same coldness ready to send a cruel joke your way, and you were the butt of it.

“I say, ‘we,’ because you are part of the coven. Your great-great-great grandmother, along with the headmistress, founded our pact with The Blood King. He offered us the chance of gaining our own power. Our own immortality.”

“All power comes with a cost.”

Even without knowing diddly squat about magic this much you knew to be true. Your mind remembering in a nightmarish haze the sickly voices that pierced inside your head. Each one promises to give you the power to hurt Alice, and those who wished to do you harm. All they demanded was blood. A life in return for a life. You did not want to be a slave to darkness nor did you want to be a slave of any immortal man.

Alice confirmed your earlier statement with a nod of her head. Her hand finally pushed open the door to expose the landing of a grand double-sided staircase. The room below was as embellished as the halls you’d just walked and the great doors you came through. It screamed old world money. A home that was as timeless as the inhabitants that currently resided inside its walls. Before you moved to stand near the railing you noticed that this floor held another set of long hallways on either side. The doors beyond them created a labyrinth of rooms that hummed with a promise of getting lost if you chose to run.

“Yes it does. The coven knew this and we accepted that cost. The blood of vampires was everything that we had hoped it would be, and more. Their blood heightened our natural abilities. It connected us deeper to the earth and the death underneath. We were able to control living and dead creatures - to speak love into existence and ruin it. We controlled elements and contorted the bodies of Namjoon’s enemies into pretty bows of flesh. We stay in this house to share in giving blood, as well as taking.”

“This sounds like every single one of you pledged your soul to the devil.”

Her words still fresh in your ear you followed her to stand at the edge of the banister. What you saw waiting for you on the ballroom size floor below caused your hands to latch against the wood. Your fingers dug in tight and tighter as you struggled to get your racing heart under control. Panicking now wouldn’t save you. Would anything?

“We are all willing to sell our soul in exchange for something, Y/N. I’m sure you’d sell your soul for your freedom again and, because of that, we choose our own devil to serve.”

The devil Alice meant in particular was seated alone on a long plum velvet couch. His long arms draped coolly across the top and his lean frame draped in a silken shirt that ran like water along his skin. His long legs in black slacks and dress shoes that ticked in time with the impatience the rest of his body didn’t seem to show. Everything about him screamed of power and sex. A dangerous energy and the eyes of this devil were solely on you.

In one last weak attempt, you turned to your ex-best friend and prayed that she could see the terror that raged inside your veins. That pried your eyes wide with fright and left a desert inside your mouth as you struggled to swallow.

“Please, Alice. I don’t belong here. I’m just me. Plan old Y/N, Y/L/N who has midterms, finals, and an apartment I shared with my best friend. Whoever you’re looking for, it's not me.”

But Alice remained unforgivingly brutal. Your words might as well have been said to the wall behind you, with as much emotion as she showed.

“You are here, Y/N, because the blood that flows in your veins belongs here. Your entire life is meant to serve our King the way you great-great-great grandmother did. To speak a curse like a prayer into homes and bend the air in someone’s lungs until not an ounce is left. I’ve been tasked to show you how to do as she did, because Namjoon demanded it. He wants the old ways back, and it is my duty, your duty, to do as he commands.”

She stated each word like it was gospel. Her voice never wavering in its calm determination like it all made absolute sense to her. Maybe it did. Alice believed her life was meant to submit. As for you, you had a hard time submitting to the rules of showing up on time for class so...good luck with that. You realized then no amount of screaming, panicking, or attempt to run would save you. No childish acts of stomping your feet and demanding your one phone call like a prisoner would garner you anything but pain. What Namjoon wanted - he got. What he wanted was plain for all to see as he watched you begin your descent down the staircase.

It felt like it had taken forever for your fingers to pry off the warmth of the wood. For you to be able to feel your feet again just to get them to move you forward. The room was scattered with what you could only assume were other vampires. Their eyes roamed over Alice and you with curiosity, and others with hunger. You realized if Namjoon gave the word, you could be torn to pieces so they could feed. Alice too. The fear that came after that thought was bitter, and the acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat threatened to coat the stairs. You were struggling too hard to control the rush of blood in your ears.

You needed an anchor. A thought. An object. Anything to keep your mind from racing to a thousand and one ways your life couldn’t suck any harder than this moment. Your eyes finally landed on an all too familiar face.

Jungkook stood off to Namjoon’s left. His arms casually at his sides and the curtain of loose waves covered his eyes. Through that curtain of hair you could barely make out that his attention was focused on your every step. When those same eyes roamed the expanse of your body, taking in its new outfit that adorned it, you swore you could feel each flick like a soft brush against your skin. As if his fingers were reaching out to melt into your skin and caress it into submission at his touch.

The fear that held you prisoner since you’d woken up here was replaced by the insatiable sensation to touch him. To be touched by him. The craving felt demanding and it forced you to concentrate hard on not sprinting to his side. Jungkook must have felt it too, because when he looked back into your eyes, that unapologetic smirk was on his face. Eagerly waiting for you to lose your self-control and come running to his arms.

Alice’s abrupt hand cautioning you to stop jerked your eyes away from him and back to the present. With your eyes diverted from Jungkook, you were free to notice you were standing inches away from Namjoon. You’d been so focused on Jungkook you hadn’t realized Alice herded you before him. You hated yourself for not paying attention when it mattered. Looking at Namjoon now, as his arms drew back to his body, his feet moving to push him off the couch, made you wish you could have a do over.

The previous times that you’d seen Namjoon the dim-light from your apartment’s kitchen or the streetlights had cascaded around his features. It’d projected his face in part shadow never allowing it to be fully seen. Now, with him only a few feet from you, and the room perfectly lit, you were able to see how strikingly handsome he was.

The crescent of his eyes reminded you of a predator. Their calculating gaze took in more than just whatever he saw in front of him; saw past what you were desperately trying to hide. He was all high cheekbones and lips that were pink and pouty like he’d been feverishly kissed. And god, was he always this tall?

You couldn’t stop yourself from swallowing the rising dread in your chest as he stood before you. Namjoon moved towards you with the narcissistic grace of a king and the power of something more deadly. That power radiated along your skin with a sickening promise to consume you. Everything you could give he would take even the things you weren’t willing to part with. Namjoon’s power was demanding. Forceful. It was everything to be feared.

It took every last ounce of strength you had not to backpedal away from him. Or to listen to the small voice of fear that’d begun to rage a war inside your chest bringing your panic back to life. The voice, no matter how small, told you it was now or never. As if your chance of running and surviving in a room full of vampires was greater than one percent. Somehow, you found the courage to stifle the blind panic and stand before him without budging, but all bets were off when his face clouded over in rage.

You heard a stifled scream and realized it was you. Your feet no longer held their ground as you went to take that step back from him, but Namjoon was just there. A controlling hand on the back of your neck, his jaw clenched tight, and pulling you to him forcing a plea of, “Please don’t,” to fall from your lips before you could stop it.

Namjoon’s eyes had already bled to crimson and were darting wildly in anger around your face. As if he could see some unseen string that would lead him to whatever unspoken transgression had occurred. Your hands were pushing at his chest trying desperately to put space between you, but it only made him pull you tighter to him.

When his neck bent down to bring his nose across your cheek you hated the squeak of terror your body made. He took in a long scent from your neck with his nose trailing up until he was back to your cheek. His blackened pupils dilating as recognition replaced the question of who, or what, had caused his earlier confusion.

“I’m not a candle. Quit sniffing me so hard.”

Palm. Face. What in the actual hell were you thinking?

His eyes floated down to give you his full attention and you realized you didn’t want it. You seriously didn’t want it. Luckily for you, Namjoon seemed to have something bigger to take care of. With his hand securely around your neck he used it to pull you with him. All the unforgiveness of his rage finally turned to direct itself behind him to none other than Jungkook.

Jungkook had balls. Big balls. Instead of cowering at the power that was emanating from his King, Jungkook replied simply by wearing a smirk. His eyes were full of challenge as it finally dawned on you that what Namjoon had smelt on your skin was Jungkook.

“She reeks of being dream touched and I know damn well this time it wasn’t Jimin! You just couldn’t help yourself, could you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Namjoon knew as much as the two of you did that while he’d been patiently waiting for you to wake up, Jungkook had been fucking you into satin blue sheets and marking every part of your body for his own. Now, Namjoon probably didn’t know how extensive all of it was. You, however, did know and at the thought every single person in that room knew what happened between the two of you sent an embarrassment so hot through your body you were sure you matched Namjoon’s eyes.

Jungkook was somehow able to stay smug. His shrug came off unbothered, reckless, and god you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Even now with a part of you hating him and wishing you could cuss him out for turning you into this wanton thing - you still wanted him.

Namjoon must have realized it too or maybe it was the way you were currently making googly eyes in Jungkook’s direction. Like the sun shined out of his ass. Whatever it was, it only made his eyes blaze brighter with hatred. Namjoon looked over your face one last time before looking back at the other man. With his eyes trained on Jungkook’s face he made sure he watched as Namjoon brought his right hand into view. You watched as Namjoon’s thumb nail began to extend out - forming into a sharp stiletto. While you watched this it finally brought you back to your senses. Back to the reality that he held you pressed tightly against his chest.

The hold on your neck he’d used to control you in place was now forcing you to arch back until your chest was exposed to the room. The mounds of your breasts peaked out from the top of the dresses fabric and it was there that Namjoon’s nail found a home in its soft skin. When Namjoon drew it down across the skin you sucked in a sharp hiss of air. The burning sensation of blood meeting the air being more of a nuisance than actual pain.

“Forgive me,” he spoke. The baritone of his voice caressed across your skin and cascaded in a shiver down your spine. “Jungkook is still young. He is quick to make bold decisions while forgetting whom it is he serves and who it is you belong to.”

You were ready to spit out you belonged to no one. The burning of your cut quick to remind you how much shit you were in. Before you could even open your mouth to send an insult, his eyes dropped down to meet yours. His hand on your neck flexing as those same eyes roamed the expanse of your neck until he came to the open wound he’d created.

In a blur of speed he whipped you around to make sure Jungkook had a clear view before an ungodly scream left from between Namjoon’s full lips. Your own rose up to match him as your arms lashed out in one final attempt to push him back. Namjoon knocked your arms back down before crushing you further to his chest and, with his eyes turned up to Jungkook, sank his teeth into your breast.

The pain was explosive and immediate. There was a split second, however brief it was, where your mouth was trapped open. A scream caught deep in your throat and all you wanted was to release it, but your body was wrapped up in agony. Namjoon could’ve made this experience more pleasurable. You weren’t sure how you knew, but you had to believe anything was better than being treated like a bone for a ravenous dog. But this…this was meant to be a punishment. A punishment meant more for Jungkook than for yourself and, unfortunately, you were forced along on this ride.

The pain made it hard to focus on anything else. You were aware of Namjoon’s mouth kneading into the soft skin of your breast. The way he made sure his teeth scraped at the tissue inside causing a sharp pain that resembled a bee sting to hit at every nerve. Your vision began to blur with unshed tears as they held their position looking up at the opulent ceiling. Your mind struggled to imagine yourself somewhere else; anywhere but here. Somewhere safe back in your apartment watching reruns of your latest Netflix obsession or drinking an endless supply of poorly made coffee to cram for exams, because you always procrastinate everything. Trying out the latest cafes or finding comfort in getting lost in the shelves of the latest hole-in-the-wall bookstore you could find.

You were ready to make your home in your latest scenario when another voice rose up around you. A scream that turned into a roar of pure rage filled the room and forced you out of your haze. This second voice was equally as terrifying and when Namjoon lifted his mouth off of your breast, you found yourself terrified to find the home that housed that voice. You didn’t have to look far.

Directly in front of you with his body trapped behind the couch was Jungkook, but not the Jungkook you’d meet under fluorescent street lights and full of giddiness for the hunt. It wasn’t the one you’d experienced in your dreams or greeted you the moment you woke up. No, this Jungkook lit goosebumps of fear along your skin and the breath to stop cold in your lungs.

This man - this creature - your eyes glanced over could only be described as a nightmare. All the fairytales and their monsters must have gotten their inspiration from him.

Jungkook’s jaw was horribly distended, fangs longer, as another scream racked through his body. His crimson eyes wide in all his building fury and kept darting back and forth between Namjoon’s lips hovering over the fresh bite on your breast and back to you. He looked ready to strike. His hands grasping on the back of the couch like he was seconds from hauling himself over.

“She’s mine! I claimed her and she chose me!”

The bass of his words reverberated off the walls and came crashing against your chest crushing the breath you’d been holding in your lungs. You were struggling to get any air, but the terror you felt looking between him and the man who still held you hostage by your neck, pressed against his body, kept you paralyzed.

“She was never yours to claim!” Namjoon’s reply brought your eyes back to him and you instantly regretted it. “You forget your place, Jungkook, but I will be more than happy to remind you. Alice.”

Like a dog called by its master, Alice wove her way through the people to stand a few inches in front of Namjoon. It was comical the way she acted like his bodyguard and the way she used her body as a barrier. How did she expect to stand a chance against something like Jungkook?

You didn’t have a chance to try and understand how she could be so cocky. So sure of herself. The curiosity you felt was quickly shifted into a rage so potent it turned your vision black. It filled your mouth with bile and evicted a scream from deep in your belly. Your own roar that sounded reminiscent of Jungkook’s.

“You call your bitch to do your dirty work, my king?”

Jungkook’s voice dripped with acid. His hatred of the woman standing a few inches in front of you evident in the heavy mockery of his tone. It wasn’t lost on Namjoon. His own hand tightening on your neck until you weren’t sure if he was going to snap it, but the rage in your belly wouldn’t allow you to care. It came with an unforgiveness and wanted one simple thing: to make them bleed.

Your eyes began to snap back and forth between Namjoon and Alice. The movement flickering like a movie reel where the frame never changed, but with each passing new image of their face a snarl raised further up your lips. Your chest heaving in ragged breaths where you were sure at any minute you’d start foaming at the mouth.

These people! No, these fucking witches! I hate them. Every last single fucking one of them. If I ever get the chance, they’ll all die screaming with my teeth ripping their throat open. See how quick their hocus pocus saves them, then.

The toxicity of your thoughts felt like they were yours, but they couldn’t be. Weren’t you, yourself, a witch? You didn’t have any intention of offing yourself anytime soon. The craziness of how extreme the thoughts were was enough to clear your head. Your eyes blinking past the blackening dots of your anger to turn your head and look at Jungkook. His chest heaving as hard as yours and that rage that had contorted his face, the hatred in his eyes, seemed to be the perfect mirror of your own.

And just before his anger took over again - yes, his anger - it dawned on you these emotions weren’t your own. Your body now housed the feelings of this man and a million other questions began to spread through your mind. All those questions would have to wait, because as soon as you had a moment of clarity it was gone once more in a fit of rage. A strength you didn’t think you could possess tore you free from Namjoon. His brows lifted in surprise just before your fist connected with a plop against his jaw. You weren’t strong enough to actually hurt him, but stun him was all you were after.

That rage that was brewing in the pits of your stomach released in another scream. The sound of Jungkook’s own resonated with yours until Namjoon answered. His jaw cracking open further to show further razor sharp teeth. You knew he was pissed and was done playing nice, but you couldn’t see past Jungkook’s rage.

Jungkook made a move to hurl himself over the couch, snapping Namjoon’s attention back to him. The look on his eyes spoke plainly that there would be no mercy.

“Alice!”

The demand in Namjoon’s voice was grave and Alice responded immediately.

“With pleasure,” she purred.

Her full attention brought to the rushing vampire before her. There was a moment, where everything felt like it stopped in slow motion. The beat of your heart skips as you realize Namjoon had set her up to fail. Alice was going to die, ripped apart, and screaming by the one who hated her the most and yet, she was unafraid of death. She stood her ground; body powerful and stoic. A single hand rose up just a few inches before Jungkook would’ve collided with her and she spoke: “Flecte concrescentes putrescunt*.”

One second, Jungkook was inches from tearing her throat out and the next he was a twisted mess on the floor. Whatever Alice had done caused Jungkook’s legs to snap at angles that weren’t normal. His back cracking and reshaping as if the spine itself had been split on the inside. It was a grotesque image. An image that would haunt your dreams in its darkest corners; the imagery of Jungkook’s screams of agony only adding to it as his body continued to crack and rotting the flesh away to expose dying organs underneath.

You tried to run to him - to turn away - but Namjoon was back to holding you in place and forcing you to watch. Jungkook continued to scream until his throat caved in from rot and still his mouth stayed open. A silent one filling the air as his eyes full of fire watched with hunger on Alice’s position.

You couldn’t believe what’d just taken place. How words forced this powerful being to crumble at her feet like sand, but Alice had her own power. You’d felt it in the way the air shifted in the room and felt the oppression of it before she’d given, whatever it was, a place to call home.

Namjoon brought you back to his side. His face no longer showing its truth and back to being the well-hidden mask of beauty he’d always worn. He gave you a cautionary smile before his eyes drifted over Jungkook’s contorted figure on the floor and nodded to some men.

“Take him back to his room and seal the door. Let him stay locked inside for a few days so his hunger can build.” Namjoon forced you to move forward with him, his long legs purposely stepping over his underling as he gave him one last fleeting glance. “You are forbidden to eat for two weeks, Jungkook. Let’s see if your anger and pride can keep you from going mad, hmm.”

With his words hanging in the air as if they were law, Namjoon continued to hold him close to his body. You weren’t sure where he was taking you and you couldn’t seem to care. The lingering sensations of Jungkook’s anger were still boiling beneath the surface and it took every ounce of control you had not to turn back and look at him one last time.

Namjoon draped his arm across your shoulders to pull you in tight. His lips landed in your hair as he spoke, “You two will be staying away from each other from now on.”

You wanted to tell him you agreed, but you knew it would be a lie. He - nor anyone else - would ever be able to keep Jungkook from you now, and you weren’t a hundred percent sure if you were worried or excited at the prospect. You should’ve been focused on where Namjoon was taking you with Alice close at his heels. Your mind, however, had unfortunately found a home inside insidious doe eyes and a soft bunny smile.

to be cont’d

* bend and rot

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

Text

Comfort

Summary: Henry had a rough day of filming, and you are there to comfort him when he gets home late.

Word Count: 1300 ish

Pairing: Henry and Reader

Warnings: None really. This is pure comfort fluff

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so be as critical as you want, I adore feedback. I may write more if I get inspired to, so if you want to be on a tag list let me know.

Taglist- @rmtndew

The sound of his footsteps roused you from sleep. They were heavy, tired. Bleary-eyed, you glanced at your phone on the bedside table; it was well after midnight. The sound of Kal’s nails clicked on the hardwood softly as he followed Henry to the bedroom. Normally Henry tried to be quieter, but tonight he didn’t seem to have it in him. The shoot must have been a hard one.

The door to the bedroom silently swung open, the hall light dimly lighting the room. Rather than calling the landlord, you had fixed the door’s squeak earlier that day. With the all the late nights of filming, the door was becoming the bane of your sleep. Henry’s large frame, backlit by the light, filled the frame of the door, casting a shadow over the bed. Squinting, you tried to see his face, tried to know what he was thinking, but couldn’t make anything out.

“Sorry to wake you, love.” Henry’s low voice rumbled across the room. His voice both excited you and calmed you. And it was in that voice that you heard how exhausted he actually was. Not just physically, but mentally.

“Long day?” You cleared your throat before asking, but it didn’t help the husky quality sleep gave it.

Henry stayed silent, but you knew you had hit the nail on the head. He shuffled into the bedroom, kicking his shoes off as he made his way over to the bed. You flipped the covers off his side of the bed, but he ignored them. Instead he flopped onto the bed, giving into his exhaustion, his heavy arm laying across your stomach. You offered him the only comfort you could while being pinned to the bed, and stroked his arm, lightly scratching your nails up and down his forearm. Your other hand found his soft curls, and delved in. Running your fingers through his hair had the added benefit of relaxing you as well as your boyfriend.

You didn’t know how long you lay like that, gently coaxing the tension out of him, but you knew he wasn’t asleep. His arm curled, his hand cupping the side of your ribcage as Henry pulled you closer to him. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you let him position you how he wanted, and soon you found your hips under his shoulders, his head resting on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you in an awkward but comforting hug. You continued to play with his curls, running your fingers through his longer hair. You liked his hair this length, it gave him a teddy bear quality that you knew he had but didn’t often see outside the walls of your house.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You quietly asked. You knew enough about the movie he was filming, Night Hunter, to know that it wasn’t the easiest subject matter to film. Usually Henry talked about it a little as sometimes he struggled with the harder scenes, but other times he kept his pain to himself. Even though it was all acting, you knew this movie was weighing him. It wasn’t a farfetched subject, so it couldn’t have been easy for an actor who got invested in his work the way Henry did.

“Not tonight, sorry, love.” Henry’s voice was barely audible. You accepted his answer, not wanting to push him. He slid his hands under your tank top, pushing it up, so he could lay his head directly on your skin. His beard scratched your skin as he kissed your stomach just below your belly button. The sensation caused your breath to hitch.

Eventually, Henry shifted off the bed, giving your stomach one more kiss before he took his weight fully off you. Even though it was super late, you knew he was heading for the shower as you listened to him shuffle out into the hall. You could hear him sigh deeply as he turned on the water, and it was enough to make the decision for you. You were going to join him. Even though he didn’t want to talk, he needed you.

You allowed yourself a brief moment as you stood in the doorway to admire your boyfriend’s physique. He stood under the stream of water, the water running over the back of his head and over his neck. He had one hand on the tiled wall, bracing himself as he took in the comforting warmth of the steam and water. A hunger began to form in you as you raked your eyes over his muscled back, but you shoved that down. Maybe later you would act on it, but not now.

Shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, you silently slid into the shower behind Henry. Tentatively, you stroked your fingertips over his shoulder blade and down his back. When he didn’t react, you stepped closer, pressing your body to his as you hugged him from behind. His free hand found yours as you stroked his chest. As you twined your fingers with his, you planted comforting kisses across his back.

“Let me help you wash before the water runs cold.” You spoke just loud enough to be heard over the water. You knew he had heard you when he let go of your hand and straightened. A small smile curved your lips when he turned to face you. The pained look in his eyes chipped at your heart, so you reached behind him for his shampoo, squeezing a decent amount on your hands.

Leaning forward so you could reach his hair, you began running your lather covered fingers through his curls. He rested his forehead on your shoulder with a low rumbling groan as you massaged his scalp, working the shampoo into his hair. His hands gripped your waist, holding onto you as though you were a lifeline to staying awake. You slowly worked your way down to the ends of his curls, lavishing them with attention.

“Hey, big guy, time to rinse.” You whispered into his ear, hoping he was awake enough to stand straight. He grunted in response, but didn’t move immediately. “Come on, the sooner we get you showered, the sooner we can go to bed. Unless Kal is hogging it all again.”

At the mention of his dog’s antics, Henry chuckled; the sound was enough to make your heart sing. A little slice of Henry had come back to you. Giving your hips an appreciative squeeze, he stood up and rinsed his hair. After quickly washing his body off with your favourite of his body washes, you both stepped out. Though he still looked tired physically, he looked a little better mentally as you both towelled off.

“Thank you for the help in the shower.” Henry draped an arm over your shoulders, tugging you to his side as you walked back to the bedroom. He kissed the side of your head, breathing your scent in deeply, as though trying to chase away the last of what haunted him. “I really needed this tonight, love.”

“I know you did.” You wrapped an arm around his back in a half hug.

When you got to the bedroom, Kal was surprisingly not on the bed. Taking advantage of all the room, you and Henry climbed into bed, shedding your towels on the way. Henry lay on his back with his arm under your head. His fingers brushed back and forth across your lower back as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. Your fingers buried in his chest hair as you stroked his chest in a soothing way. His free hand reached for your leg, hitching it up over his hip, so you lay almost on top of him.

It didn’t take long before you felt Henry’s body relax into sleep. His fingers made a few last, weak strokes on your back as he fully drifted off, and his hand on your thigh slipped onto his stomach. You kept stroking his chest until you knew he wasn’t going to wake up until his alarm went off.

“Good night, Henry.” You whispered ever so quietly into his neck, kissing him there softly as you drifted back to sleep.

#henry cavill x female reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x Reader #Night Hunter

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http-lovelyknow · 3 years

Text

Infuriating -Johnny Suh Pt2

Hello! The long awaited Infuriating pt2 is here!!

Thank you to everyone for requesting a part 2 and I’m sorry it took me so long😅

Part 1 Here

And I want to give a special thank you to @flowerboykun for proofreading this and making this incredible banner for me I appreciate you so much!

And big thank you to @se-onghwa for proofreading and all the words of support!

This is part 2 to the Infuriating I posted on my old blog @we-are-luxury-and-treasure hope you like it!

TW NSFW - Dom(softish) Johnny, Sub(reader) but those are the only TW I think? Sorry if I missed anything

Word count - 3,195

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To say that Johnny was stalking you would be an overstatement, it was more like haunting.

Ever since you snapped at him a couple of weeks ago you feel like he’s just been. . . watching you. He’s always just somewhere around the corner and you start to feel like prey. His dark amber eyes seem to follow you everywhere and record your every move.

You often recall his threat of “Next time you’ll be punished, so please behave.” At the worst times it never fails to send shivers down your spine.

Today is no different, except instead of shivering alone in the safety of your house away from Johnny, you're thinking of his threat right in front of him like the idiot you are.

Currently trying not to sweat, you're applying makeup to his face for an interview they have, and while the boys behave better, Johnny is still acting up and pushing your buttons just not in the same way. Now he does things like, winking at you, putting his hand on your back to move past even if he didn't need to, leaning too close to whisper something to you, etc, etc but today he’s actually been well mannered.

You lightly hum to yourself as you carefully place eyeshadow onto Johnny's eyelids, his calm breathing is slightly suspicious, he never sits still, but you’ll take what you can get.

The lively sounds of the boys roughhousing behind you fill the room while you stand between Johnny's knees to get every detail right. You shift your weight to one side, you lean over, and grab a clean brush on the table behind his shoulder.

Mark then decided this would be a perfect time to stumble back, knocking you into Johnny which wouldn’t have been so bad had Johnny not immediately gripped the back of your thighs much tighter than was necessary, effectively holding you against him.

A small yip escapes you when you make contact and you quickly try to scan his face to see if there was a mistake in his makeup due to you being pushed, when you find none you look up and notice Johnny staring at you.

His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips a couple of times before he takes in a shaky breath and you realize you're still on top of him.

You feel the burn of embarrassment through your spine to the pit of your stomach and try to move away.

He flexes his fingers for a second demanding you meet his gaze one more time.

And you swear to god the spark his amber eyes ignite is enough to set your every nerve on fire.

The whole ordeal takes less than five seconds, Mark is already pulling you up and off of Johnny and starts spilling apologies through his laughter.

You brush him off as well as yourself with a soft “no harm done” and everyone went about their business, but Johnny suddenly seemed. . . off

So here you are, waiting behind the camera of the well-lit studio trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Johnny, he keeps avoiding eye contact and shifting around in his seat.

The lights have caused a slight sheen of sweat to appear on your skin, and just as you go to wipe your brow you finally notice what made Johnny so uncomfortable.

The poor man has a boner.

And there's nothing he can do about it.

The situation is almost laughable until you happen to catch his eye and he sees you smirking.

You’ve never seen such a livid fire in someone’s eyes.

I’m absolutely and royally fucked.

The interview ended much too quickly in your opinion, you’re all ushered into the ‘backstage’ area.

As you’re gently wiping the makeup off Yuta’s face a very impatient Johnny hovers close by you.

Everyone packs up and leaves, you remain in the semi-lit room gathering all the little tools and brushes.

Hearing footsteps approach, your heart drops, you know exactly who it is, and how much trouble you’re in.

“Do you happen to remember what was said the last time we spoke?” He’s behind you, “Cause I remember a very clear warning was given to you.” Too afraid to turn around, you remain with feet frozen and gently lift your head to catch his reflection in the mirror. Big mistake.

It never ceases to amaze you just how intimidating the usually sweet but large man is, especially when he’s looking at you like that.

Like he’s a hunter who has fatally cornered his prey, you.

A hot chill shoots through your body as you watch him approach your backside, trying to steady yourself as you grip the makeup table in front of you when he's finally close enough to touch you.

“You think you’re so slick don’t you?” Oh shit, he knows

He smirks as he continues with a taunting cadence in his voice “Think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting? Always standing closer to me than you do the others when you do our make up, always leaning further into me,” He presses himself against you pushing you roughly into the table with his own causing a sharp pain in your hip bones as he leans in closer dropping his tone “Wearing clothes that show just a little more skin, wearing a hint more perfume than normal. . . you really think you’d get away with that shit going unnoticed?”

And that’s just the thing, you wanted him to catch you.

His hands have begun to wander up to your hips and sides, tracing your shoulders, left hand going back to your waist as the other wraps itself into your hair tugging your head to the side, you make eye contact in the mirror and holy shit does he look delicious. He’s in a white shirt and jeans leftover from the interview, bare face and hair tousled.

And he’s looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

You’re all but gasping for breath at this point, he’s literally knocked the wind from your lungs.

And that’s when a scary thought strikes you. . . he’s hardly even touched you yet.

“Now tell me, pretty baby, did I not give you a very clear warning about what would happen if you didn't behave?”

Unable to nod with his hand holding your hair you whimper out a weak yes.

“And what did you do today that caused you this situation?”

He punctuates the last word with a knee coming in between your legs from behind, the action makes all the words you’ve ever learned flee from your brain.

“You should know better than to ignore me. . . but I’ll make it real clear for you just this once” He lets go of your hair and begins to roam with his fingertips, surprisingly gentle

“You left me painfully hard right before the interview.”

Fingers gripping your wrists he brings your hand back to start feeling his toned waist through the soft material of his shirt

“You just had to walk in looking like that today...had to let Mark push you right into me. . . just had to leave me hanging like nothing happened”

His teasing tone is too much, you have to keep stopping yourself from making any noise to not embarrass yourself.

He must notice your attempts at the silence and all it does is piss him off.

“Oh absolutely not baby, let me hear you.”

His hands release yours and one goes to your thigh while the other slips under your shirt caressing your stomach a little more firm than his touch was before, cold rings on his fingers cause a chill to run through you leaving goosebumps behind

He’s being assertive and maybe a little aggressive but you know if you told him to stop he would. He knows you want this as bad as he does, if not even a little more. You had been teasing him after all, you wanted to push all his buttons until he snapped.

“I’m a man of my word baby. It’s time for you to be put in your place and learn who’s boss.”

You begin to push back against his hips with your own, feeling the bulge starting in his pants is driving you wild, you want so bad to run your mouth and get smart with him, but his hands on your bare skin feel so damn good you can’t bring yourself to say anything, not trusting your voice to not come out as a whine.

“What did I say about letting me hear you, baby?”

He grips the thigh he’s holding tightly and finally starts to slip his hand under your bra giving you some relief from your ever-growing frustrations.

He begins to toy with your nipple and knead your breast while his other hand travels closer to where you need him most.

The action causes you to finally let out a soft but deep moan, you reach back and grip his hair while your eyes close, head falling back onto his toned chest

“Oh god. . . that’s it baby, loosen up a bit” He encourages your sounds with a harder grip on your breast and contact with the point between your legs.

He begins to rub you through your pants, the sounds spilling from your lips become more frequent

“Finally behaving and giving me what I want. . . Now be a good girl and tell me what it is you want from me huh?”

It takes all your willpower to reign yourself back in and attempt to speak despite him torturing you through your clothes like this.

You open your eyes and take in the sight of the two of you in the mirror. His hair is still being gripped by you, his eyes are on fire and he looks like it’s taking everything in him to hold back in case you change your mind.

But you finally have Johnny Suh with his hand up your shirt and down your pants offering you the night of your life, no way in hell you’re gonna tell him no.

You look back up into his eyes in the mirror while gripping his hair and wrist tighter

You challenge him with the most sultry tone you can muster “Johnny, I want you to ruin me, and show me who’s really in charge”

You can see in his eyes the exact moment he snaps while you speak, pupils blowing out and grip almost bruising he spins you around to face him.

He grips your jaw the way he did after you yelled at him, except instead of scolding you like he did then, he’s pressing his lips onto yours.

Moaning into his mouth you strain onto your tippy toes to match his ridiculous height, without much luck but neither of you was focusing on that at the moment.

He lifts you by the back of your thighs onto the makeup table, bringing a hand up to your chin again he tugs your jaw open to slip his tongue inside to run against your own.

And you’ll be damned if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever felt, you vocalize this to him with another rather loud moan.

He leans back and you whine at the loss of contact as his long fingers find the bottom of your shirt.

“God baby you keep making noises like that and I can’t promise to control myself. . .”

He goes back in for another kiss as his hands make their way up your shirt again much to your relief.

“Then don’t. . .” The words are mumbled into Johnny’s mouth but he hears them nonetheless.

He lets out a rather dark chuckle at your attitude.

“Oh baby, you have some manners to learn” With that, he cocks his hand back and lands a loud but rather pain-free smack to the part of your thigh exposed by your high waisted shorts causing the muscles to clench on contact at the warning and a noise you didn’t know you could make left your mouth much to his delight.

He smooths over the afflicted skin with his large palms while whispering sweet sweet praises into your ear. Johnny gently lifts your shirt over your head, he begins trailing hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone and goddamn does it make you wet.

You can feel yourself get hotter the farther down his mouth travels and you feel like if he doesn’t quit teasing you with his lips and fingertips you're gonna explode

And this is when the whining starts “Johnny. . . please do something I’m gonna die” you curl your fingers back into his hair when he laughs at how desperate you sound.

“I love the way you sound when you whine my name baby.”

“I mean it, Johnny, I'm gonna die please do something, please” your begging seems to have done the trick cause now Johnny is on his knees in front of you still looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

“Lift your hips”

That definitely wasn’t a request and you are more than willing to comply. He slips your shorts down your legs (you barely register not knowing when he unbuttoned them) along with your now-soaked underwear, your thick scent sticking in the air.

He groans at the smell of your arousal and the sight of your soaked heat “Oh fuck baby look at you. . .” using both hands he spreads your legs farther causing your lips to part “Can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner”

And with that, he dives right into biting at your soft thighs causing the sweetest sound he’d ever heard to fall from your pretty lips and he knows he’s already addicted.

“Are you ready sweet baby?” You nod.

He slaps your thigh again but harder this time leaving a full outline of his long slender hand “Use your words, baby, be a good girl and answer me properly yeah?”

“Yes Johnny, yes I’m ready, please, please I’m ready” Not your most eloquent of sentences but it satisfies him to hear your smart mouth not be so smart anymore.

“Good girl. . .” That causes a shiver to run down your whole body “Aw does my baby like being told how good she is?”

You start to nod but remember that he wants words

“Yes dear god I love it. . .” you're honestly on the verge of tears by now, he’s been so close yet so far this whole time “Good girls get rewards, so behave.” He finally leans forward and delivers a soft lick to your sensitive clit and you don’t think you’ve ever moaned so loud in your whole life, you’ve been driven shameless by him and his mouth.

His hands hold your legs open as he works over you with his mouth, tongue applying just the right amount of friction and pressure to start pushing you to climax.

His name falls from your mouth like a prayer and it does nothing but boost his ego and drive him crazy, he’s so hard and trapped by his pants but he couldn’t care less when he finally has you on his tongue after months of secret pining and he isn’t gonna throw this chance away.

He wants to make sure you keep coming back again, and again, and maybe even agree to be his.. But you’ll have that talk later, right now your fingernails are grazing his scalp making him groan into you, sending vibrations up your core.

Waves of white-hot electricity crash over your body, thighs trembling and tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Johnny is by far the most talented man you’ve had between your legs and you're already almost about to cum, it’s so fast you’re almost embarrassed but you know that he’s doing it on purpose, proving a point to you about how you’ll now be ruined for anyone else. No one will be as good as him and you both know it.

You’re begging him to keep going but he takes it one step further by easing a slender finger into your beyond slick heat.

“Ahhh fuck. . .” He looks up at you and the sight mixed with his tongue and fingers almost does you in right there.

“Fuck Johnny, I’m so so close please, more please”

It’s official, he’s reduced you to nothing more than a begging, sobbing, mess.

He smirks into you while adding a third finger with the others,

“Johnnyyy”

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow

“Can I please, please cum? I can’t hold it anymore please”

You weren’t sure why you were asking, it just seemed like something you should do.

And you were right.

“Since you asked so nicely” He picked up the pace in all the right ways that had you falling apart right there on top of the makeup table.

You tried to stay as quiet as possible but he made that very challenging, his fingers and tongue worked you through your high in the most perfect way possible, firm but not too much to make you overly sensitive, but he knew exactly what to do to make it last as long as possible.

You're a panting sweaty mess when he stands up

“Open” remembering what he said about good girls getting rewards you immediately obey, wanting to make him pleased with you.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth and you make a point to look directly into his eyes while you clean them with your mouth, leaving little to the imagination about what you'd be doing if it wasn't his fingers..

“Fuck baby..” He groans at the sight and feeling of you “Let's get out of here yeah?” He takes a half step back and wipes his hand on his jeans,

He picks up your shirt and hands it to you. You nod and slip the light fabric over your head.

Johnny gently lifts your chin to look at him and you aren't fully prepared for the softness in his eyes “You did so good baby, such a fast learner” Warmth spreads through you at this praise and you can't help but smile.

You gently slip off the table onto shaky legs and go to fix your shorts when Johnny does it for you, you mumble a soft thank you, still unsure of your voice and the state it's in.

Then he surprises you again by pulling you into a hug, it's comforting but firm. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and holds your head to his chest and strokes your hair with the other. You’re quick to hold him back, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the improvised aftercare.

“Wanna head back to my place?” You feel his chest softly rumble as he lets out a sweet laugh knowing the other option is the dorm “I’d love to”

He helps you pack up your things while making pleasant small talk, knowing a more serious conversation and more fun would be had once you get home.

You could both tell this was gonna be the start of something you both would quite enjoy.

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Thank you for reading!

Taglist - @flowerboykun @se-onghwa

#nct 127 johnny #johnny x reader #johnny suh #nct smut #nct johnny smut #johnny imagine #http-lovelyknow

142 notes · View notes

elysiadjarin · 3 years

Text

Sword and Shield 10

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 9: Shatter

Warnings: very much 18+, minors DNI you have been warned, TW for trauma and PTSD, PIV unprotected sex (irl please be safe and use protection), everything is consensual, overstimulation, oral, cockwarming, dom/sub interactions, choking, subspace mentions, poly relationship. Also I swear Wrecker will get a chapter too, don’t come at me!!

I know it’s been a while but I hope this long chapter makes up for it!

10: Recover, Relive

Two more smaller missions later, the Bad Batch had been given a break. You’d pushed through the healing and the expected night of nightmares just fine thanks to being able to curl up to the warmth of Tech and Wrecker. The entire team had been pretty careful with you for the past couple of days, letting you have your space to recover while you continued to work alongside them for missions.

Crosshair hadn’t said anything, really, but his willingness to just let you quietly sit in his presence or in the back of his mind and polish your Rifle form was his way of showing support that you appreciated.

You'd been relieved for the break, knowing that you needed a moment to reset and devote everything to recovering. While you'd started to get over the worst nightmares and the last of your injuries had completely healed, you were still struggling with flashbacks and keeping your focus.

Sitting curled up on Hunter's bunk, you leaned your chin against your knees pulled up to your chest and sighed. Everytime you closed your eyes, you could see Skarla's maniacal eyes and bloodstained grin as she reached into your body and reveled in your pain. You could still hear your own screams echoing through your memories. You'd buried them so deep, the inhibitor chips having contributed to the suppression, and now... well, it was coming back and demanding to be dealt with.

The 501st had already helped you deal with so much of your past. But not everything. And this... these memories had been ones that you’d barely disclosed to even them.

“Shiv.”

You looked up to see Hunter standing in front of the bunk, carefully sitting down on the edge. “Oh... hi.” You smiled faintly.

He observed you carefully. “Are you doing okay?”

For a moment, the temptation to just say “I’m fine” hovered on your lips. But you remembered how disappointed all your Vod’ika had been when they discovered you’d been suffering and hadn’t told them. And the Bad Batch... the ones you loved, deserved better. You knew that.

So you looked down at your knees, then back up at him. “A memory for a memory?” you offered.

Surprise flickered through his eyes, then he scooted backward and leaned against the wall. “I guess that’s fair,” he admitted. Eyebrows furrowing, he thought for a minute before finally answering. “There was one mission,” he said slowly. “It was pretty early on. Everything... almost went wrong to the point of failure. In the end, it was my fault that I didn’t listen and got Tech nearly killed.” His chest heaved with a sigh, his head shaking. “It taught me a valuable lesson, and made me a better leader. Tech forgave me. But sometimes... I still hate myself for it.” Bitterness laced his tone. “I can still hear him screaming in pain, and remember how I felt when I realized what I’d done. I’ll never forget how my own stupidity and pride allowed me to fail the team. In some ways... what happened to you on our first mission reminded me of that.”

You sat in silence for a minute, mulling over his story. In retrospect, it would make sense why Hunter had seemed to loathe himself overmuch and take too much blame for your injury on that mission. Still, you knew that most of it had been your own fault for getting distracted and allowing yourself to get sidetracked from the mission.

“Skarla,” you said abruptly. You felt his surprise over the Bond before it faded away. “She...” Your lips twisted. “She is who she is for a reason. But she’s also... extremely cruel. I... I can survive and heal from wounds that most can’t, because of what I am,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “So my wounds sometimes— they seem a lot worse to others than to me because my scale of survival is different. Skarla has... well,” you said, shifting, “she’s well aware of that fact. Every time I would fail to defeat the Guardian, she would be allowed to punish me for fifteen minutes in whatever way she pleased.”

Fifteen minutes of Nine Corellian Hells. Fifteen minutes of begging for death.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve been torn open, ribs cracked, my guts rearranged,” you said, exhaustion lining your voice. “Honestly, I’ve forgotten a lot of it. My brain... couldn’t handle keeping the memories and still staying sane, I was told. I guess it’s better I don’t. What I do still remember... it haunts me. Just the memory of the pain, wishing for death. Staring up at the ceiling of the chamber and hearing my own blood splatter against the walls, hearing myself scream like a stranger. They’re some of my worst memories. Being back there... it was hard but...” You looked down thoughtfully at your hands.

“As hard as it was... it wasn’t unbearable. Not anymore. Knowing that- that all of you were there, and that— that you believed in me, trusted me... Even Tech: he trusted me. It gave me a strength to face not just my past but my nightmares and memories now because... because I have all of you.” You gave Hunter a small but genuine smile. “Being able to feel that strength... it helped me to defeat my past.”

Hunter met your gaze with a softness in his eyes that warmed you. He held out his hand, and you took it gratefully. “We’re here for you, Shiv. In whatever way you need.”

You nodded, then scooted closer to him and leaned into his side. “I’m here, too. I want... I want to return the strength you’ve given me.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “You do already. In more ways than you know.”

Despite yourself, you had to duck your head as heat rose to your face. Your mind wouldn’t stop supplying you with memories of Hunter thrusting into you, his hands gripped around your waist and siding down your back, pulling you into his hips. His face buried between your legs, fingers sliding into you— Crosshair’s lithe fingers wrapping around your throat as Hunter came inside you, moaning—

Hunter let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, did you remember something else in particular, Shiv?”

Thoroughly embarrassed, you buried your face in your hands with a whimper, knowing he could feel the heat coming from you and probably even smell you at this point. But for some reason... the memories wouldn’t stop. You.... wanted it. Wanted him.

Hunter’s mouth brushed against your throat, even as he pulled you back and into his chest. “If you want to make new memories, I’d be glad to help with that.”

You whined, biting your lips. “I...”

He kissed your neck, sliding up to your jaw. His hand reached up and gently tilted your chin to his face. “Is this what you want, Shiv?” he asked it in a low, husky tone, his dark eyes darting down to your mouth with a flare of desire.

You swallowed, then nodded. Yes. You wanted Hunter.

He bent and kissed you. His kiss this time was a bit different. Maybe because this time you were alone, you didn’t know, but... there was something about his kiss that was more tender, more... slow, as though he were savoring you, memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

“Come here,” Hunter rasped, turning you towards himself. Reaching up, he pulled his shirt off and dragged you close again, his hands sliding down your back as he kissed you. His mouth was hungry, his hands taking yours and placing them against his chest. His fingers gently slid under your top, and he pulled back for a moment.

“Can I?”

You nodded shyly, letting him slide your shirt and bra off. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts in his hands and admiring them for a moment.

“Can’t blame Tech for being obsessed,” Hunter admitted after a moment, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

You whimpered, shivering under the touch as you bit your lip. His calloused hands were warm and firm, and the deft confidence in the way he touched you brought back memories of his hands effortlessly wielding you as a blaster. Hunter’s touch was one of a leader, confident and respectful of the power he held, knowing its limits and its capacities and treating it accordingly.

“So you feel that, too,” Hunter murmured, making you realize that his Bond with you was alight with shared sensation.

His hand moved down, splaying over your bared stomach. He paused, his eyes curious as he simply gazed at his fingers, his palm covering your navel. Your chest heaved with breath as you wondered what he was thinking. A little embarrassed at the intensity that had crept into his gaze, your fingers twitched on the waist of his trousers.

Hunter bent forward, then, and caught your mouth in a long, languid kiss that brimmed with appreciation. His hands swept down to your waist, settling on your hips. “You’re beautiful, Shiv,” he murmured against your mouth.

A little surprised, you pulled back to blink up at him. Hunter had never really struck you as one to pay attention to that sort of thing, so his soft, earnest comment surprised you.

He reached up, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know all of us love all of you, and admittedly some of us might be especially appreciative of specific things. But whenever I see you, all I think of is... you,” he said slowly, eyes trailing over your face. “Watching you interact with the team, seeing you get excited when you’re successful in Transference, or even just... sitting on a bunk somewhere. I think just your astral form is enough for me to know it’s you, mesh’la.” He leaned his forehead against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to smile and close your eyes. The warmth curled in you, and you let your happiness spill over the Bond.

“Mm. Although I do think that you’re a different kind of pretty when you’re clearly enjoying getting fucked,” Hunter chuckled, his voice deepening as he leaned closer to your ear.

The filthy words accompanied by the way Hunter’s hands sensually trailed up your front made you bite your lip and flush, looking down. Despite yourself, a thought popped into your head and you suddenly giggled, reaching up to press your fingers against your lips.

“Something funny?” Hunter asked, amusement lacing his own voice.

“My Vod’ika,” you giggled. “They’d all be losing their minds if they knew that I—“ you burst into a fresh wave of laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Maker, Kix is protective enough, he’d want to kill all of you- and Fives, oh, Fives—“ Tears of laughter welled in your eyes as you thought about it. Fives wouldn’t know whether to tease you or want to fight the Bad Batch. Hawk and Dogma would be in shock that you were with four people.

Hunter laughed with you, shaking his head. “Not sure if I should laugh or be offended that you’re thinking of other men while I’m touching you,” he teased.

You suppressed your laughter, grinning up at him. “Sorry, Hunter,” you managed. “I promise I’m paying attention to you.” You lifted his hand to your face, leaning your cheek into his palm with a smile.

His eyes darkened, and he tipped you back. Catching you gently, he lowered you onto the bunk and pulled the pillow under your head. Shifting himself above you, he bent to kiss you and pull your body against his. His fingers played against your shorts, and you had to squirm a little at the way your body sparked at the friction. Letting out a little noise into his mouth, you canted your hips up as he ground against you.

Hunter let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, nipping at your lips. “You want these off, mesh’la?” His hands tugged at your shorts.

You lifted your hips, letting him slide them off. To your vague surprise, he left your underwear on. He started to kiss down your neck and chest. His fingers slid around the thin underwear, and he grunted as he felt how slick you’d already gotten. His fingers found barely any friction as they slid into your core.

You gasped, back arching as he pressed his fingers up into you. He worked you in a way that had you whining, entirely at his mercy as he proved how diligent he’d been in exploring your body and leaning your curves and edges. He traveled down your body, kissing your thigh as he continued to work his fingers and stretch you. The way he stared at your drooling core sent a flush of heat through you.

Then his thumb pushed aside more of the underwear, and his face lowered.

You let out a strangled gasp, back arching as your hands flew down and found purchase in his hair. His breath was hot against your core, his tongue dizzyingly familiar with your body. He grunted as your fingers tightened and twisted in his hair, his fingers finding that spot that had you arching into his mouth with a moan.

“Hunter,” you moaned, trembling against him as you felt that coil tighten in your abdomen.

After one last, long lick, Hunter lifted his mouth and licked you off of his lips with a satisfied look. Shifting himself back up your body, he slid his fingers out of you and instead brought them to your mouth.

You let him slide his fingers between your lips, the flavor bursting in your mouth. His fingers pushed against your tongue, and he surveyed you with dark eyes and a lazy smile. After a moment, he pulled his hand away and slid his trousers off, bending to kiss you again. He settled himself between your legs, his cock resting heavily against your core and up your lower belly. Something slick dripped onto your skin, warm and thick.

“Is this okay, Shiv?” Hunter asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, reaching up to slide your hands up his shoulders. Over the Bond, you could feel the way his utter desperation to be inside you heightened. His mind, as he lost control of the Bond, kept focusing on the way your body melted into his hands, the way his body burned as he pressed against you, the way he gravitated towards you. He let out a quiet gasp as his cock slipped against you, his eyes squeezing shut above you.

He slowly, ever so slowly, eased into you. Every inch earned you another low groan, and you had to stare up at his face in awe. Hunter’s face twisted in pleasure, his jaw clenched and his eyelashes fluttering.

“Maker, mesh’la,” he choked, shuddering above you as he completely bottomed out, buried deep inside you. “I can’t— you’re so kriffing tight.” His eyes, when he opened them to stare down at you, looked practically drugged.

You abruptly remembered Hunter’s enhanced senses, especially as a wave came over his side of the Bond of his overwhelmed pleasure. Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands, trying to make sure he wouldn’t overdo himself.

“Just relax,” you whispered, feeling the way he trembled against you. You knew that the moment he started moving you’d be dangerously close to the edge thanks to his own pleasure he was sharing across the Bond. Not to mention the way Hunter was practically collapsed on top of you, his body pressed against yours, his low groans spilling into your ear as his mouth pressed against your skin. His arms braced himself on either side of you, your legs propped up against his hips.

“Gonna— gonna move,” he hissed, slowly pulling back out so only his tip stayed in you. “Kriff,” he mumbled under his breath.

You were already making sloppy sounds, and you whimpered as he pushed back into you. The way his movements were so precise and sure, the way his mouth pressed against yours with a burning need made that tightness in you start to snap. You whined, already so close to coming.

“You gonna cum, Shiv?” Hunter chuckled, his voice raspy. “You’re so kriffing wet around me.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering as he started to thrust, pitching into you smoothly. His hand reached down between you, and his thumb found your clit.

“You feel so good, so hot and wet and tight,” he murmured, beginning to praise you even as his hips started to stutter. “Kriff, mesh’la, you take me so well. So pretty, under me like this.”

You whimpered, reveling in the soft praises and touches that he showered on you. You could feel him starting to get close himself, his movements a little more erratic as he lost control.

“So lucky to have you, that you love us,” Hunter rasped against your neck, his kiss almost reverent. “Gonna— gonna cum, mesh’la—“

His finger twitched against your clit and you were arching, crying out his name as the heat washed through you, white hot. Pleasure burst behind your eyelids as you came, just as he slammed into you and ground, groaning your name. He spilled into you, filling you up, then shuddered and collapsed against you. His body leaned against yours, his face burying into the crook of your shoulder.

The heat that pooled in your belly as Hunter kept you plugged made your eyelashes flutter. Letting out a soft sigh of contentment, you reached up and gently drew your fingers through his hair.

His chest heaved for breath, and his hands ran down your sides appreciatively. “I love you, so much,” he whispered, his voice getting heavy.

You reached up and pressed a shy kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you too, Hunter. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He fell asleep rather quickly, though you guessed it was in part due to the overstimulation. You waited until he was asleep before carefully sliding out from underneath him. You quickly adjusted your underwear to catch Hunter’s cum starting to run down your leg. You needed to make it to the fresher, but had to lean against the wall halfway there as your knees almost gave out.

You finally managed to go get yourself cleaned up, and went to go change underwear and fetch your bra. You made rounds to collect laundry, putting in a load and blowing out a breath. Pushing hair away from your face, you went to the common area to go find a T-shirt you knew you’d left in there.

Looking around, you finally caught sight of the large shirt and perked up, going to go grab it and slide it over yourself. Tech was the only other one in the common room, and you made a quick decision as you walked over to him.

“Tech?” you asked softly.

He looked up at you, blinking owlishly as he registered your presence. “Ah, Shiv.” He readjusted his goggles. “Can I assist you with something?”

You tilted your head, clasping the edge of the shirt in your fingers. “If... if you’re not busy, can I— can I talk with you?” you asked, suddenly a bit nervous.

He turned fully toward you. “Sure, Shiv. I was just working on a few odds and ends anyway.”

You glanced down at his legs. “Um, can I— can I sit?”

Some confusion flickered across his face. “Of course-“

You got closer to him and slid into his lap, facing him with your legs on either side of him and your hands twisted in the hem of your shirt. He let out a small noise of surprise, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said softly, still not looking up at his face.

“Thank me? For what, Shiv?” Tech asked curiously. His hands tugged at you, bringing you a little closer to him.

“I know I said it before, but— but I really wanted to thank you properly,” you said, scrambling for words. “For how you trusted me, back during the... the ritual.” You made a little, nervous gesture. “I mean— it means more to me than I think you realize. It’s— the ritual is one that’s... that’s fueled by blood, whether yourself or your Champion. Skarla— she’s always been very powerful and- and she... she was very cruel to me, a long time ago. Going back there was...” your face twisted in misery as you looked down. “It was really difficult, and I— it brought back a lot of fear.”

Taking a breath, you made yourself look up at him. “But you trusted me, believed in me. You didn’t even question me when I led you towards dangerous places, and did everything I asked without hesitating. You trusted me to the point that when faced with something unusual... you readily gave your blood for me.” Your heart was in your throat even as you said it. “It— it meant so much to me, Tech,” your voice wavered, your eyes welling with tears. “The only reason I actually won that match... is because of you.” You met his eyes, trying to convey how much it truly meant.

Tech’s eyes widened as he gazed at you with surprise, his fingers tightening around your waist.

“You gave me the strength I needed to push through, and the way you believed in me...” You reached up and wiped away the grateful tears that had sprang to your eyes. “I fought a battle against my fear and the memories of my failure, too,” you whispered. “But your faith in me was what really gave me the power to win. And I wanted— I needed to thank you. So you know... know what it means to me.”

Tech leaned forward. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, taken a bit aback by the suddenness. But it felt so good, the way his mouth pressed against yours and the way his emotions started to spill over the Bond to you. Tech was... his kiss always made you lean into him, eyes fluttering closed as you melted into the gentle, desperate affection. His precise, clinical nature softened whenever he kissed and touched you.

“I am glad that you are all right,” Tech said, his voice quiet and earnest. “It was... frightening, to see you fight alone. I am pleased to know that I could give you strength in any way I could.”

You leaned forwards and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he murmured back. He let out a sigh as you shifted, his hands gripping around your hips. “Shiv— could I ask a favor?”

You blinked, pulling back to look up at him.

He glanced down at the hem of your shirt, and an image flashed across the Bond. You, leaning against Wrecker’s chest, fast asleep, Wrecker’s thick cock buried inside you as your chest rose and fell with breath and your face flushed with the arousal. Color crept up Tech’s neck.

“I— um—“

You looked up at him with a shy smile, a bit embarrassed but also flattered that he seemed to be so enamored with your body as well. Leaning down, you grasped his hand and brought it up to the hem of your shirt, pushing his fingers up under it.

Tech swallowed, his hand trailing upward, sliding to the edge of your bra. He glanced at you for permission, and you answered by reaching down and unzipping his trousers. His breath hitched as you began to slowly pump him, your fingers playing a little with his tip. His hand slid under your bra, brushing over your nipple as you bit your lips at the stimulation. Your body was still a little sensitive after Hunter, and you were starting to feel the tiredness pluck at your eyelids.

Tech slid his fingers around your underwear, only to feel you dripping wet and still leaking a bit of Hunter. He brought his fingers up and didn’t seem to be surprised at the white, simply sticking it in his mouth.

“Shiv,” Tech murmured, bending to press a kiss to your throat.

You scooted forwards, letting him guide himself into you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you had to let out a soft moan as he sank fully into you, stuffing you so perfectly. Tech really was the perfect girth for this, you thought dizzily. He just hit every spot inside you as he stuffed you full and kept you sitting still on his cock. It almost made you feel torn between wanting to move and wanting it to stay there, resting perfectly inside you, lighting you up in the best way possible.

He let out a groan against your ear, his hands keeping your hips pressed against his, keeping you completely pressed into his chest, every curve of your body melting against his. Letting out a shuddering breath, he shifted and scooted forwards, beginning to resume his work.

Despite yourself, you had to open your mouth against the crook of his neck and shoulder, biting down gently and beginning to absently suckle. His skin had a hint of salt, but just the warmth of his skin comforted you, your eyes fluttering closed as you suckled a mark into his neck.

Eventually you fell asleep, happily cradled against him and stuffed completely full.

“Oh, hey, there’s Shiv! I was wondering where she was.”

Stirring, you started to wake up. Reaching up, you rubbed at your eye and felt the yawn build in your mouth.

“You woke her up, Wrecker,” Tech sounded a bit morose.

“Huh? Oh— sorry, Shiv.” Wrecker’s voice sounded closer.

You sat up a little, arms still flung across Tech’s shoulders. Stretching, you let the yawn stretch your mouth and your eyes flutter open. Sleep still sticking in your eyes, you blinked up at Wrecker, lips parted.

Wrecker grinned. “Did you have a good nap?”

You nodded belatedly, reaching up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. For a moment, you just blankly stared at Tech’s collar as you woke up more fully. Then shaking your head, you looked up at his face. He gazed back down at you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. He brushed his thumb across your skin, and you suddenly realized why your lower body felt warm with a pulsing heat. He was still buried hilt deep inside you, his cock thick and hard as it pressed up inside you.

“You’ve been asleep for a chron,” Tech said, his voice surprisingly even.

Your mind fizzled for a moment. He hadn’t moved for a whole chron? He hadn’t cum, obviously, so... Then your lips parted, and you tilted your head at him. But your breath caught in your throat, and you instead shivered and looked down, your face blooming with warmth. Reaching up, you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth to suppress your whimper.

“Ah— th-thank you, I— I think I needed that nap,” you admitted, trying to scrape yourself together. “Um-“ You glanced up to see Tech’s knowing, little smile that he gave you. His hand slid down to your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin. His eyes glittered with the knowledge that at the moment, the T-shirt was the only thing hiding the way your body was clenching around him, making a wet spot against his trousers, drooling all over him, coating your thighs in slick. Every time he pulsed, you felt his cock press up against your g-spot.

“Wrecker, can you hand Shiv her datapad? I think it’s still on the table,” Tech said, his voice still frustratingly calm considering how clearly desperate his body was.

You glanced up at him in a bit of despair, wondering if he was really going to still not move. Though it didn’t surprise you that Tech’s patience and endurance were so high, still. This was on the verge of being cruel. Your body clearly had been frustrated this whole time you’d been asleep, denied movement and friction.

Wrecker handed you the datapad, and you took it with a weak smile. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Tech’s hand squeezed a handful of your thigh. Stay still for me, cyar’ika. And because it was Tech, somehow the order was still coated with that enamored desperation that made you want to obey, just to give him whatever he wanted.

Leaning forward again, you rested your chin against Tech’s shoulder and propped your arms over his shoulders, opening up the datapad. You also realized that Tech had taken off your bra, though you wondered where he’d put it. Not that you cared, particularly. He leaned forward a little as well, reaching for a tool, and pressed your breasts against his chest.

You whined across the Bond, pouting at how mean he was.

He just chuckled, the loving affection pouring across the Bond a satisfactory compensation.

Wrecker sat across from you, beginning to chatter about how he’d been training. You listened, humming and nodding as you pulled up the schematics that Tech had uploaded to your datapad for Wrecker’s combat gloves. You’d been studying and modifying them so that hopefully Wrecker would be able to have them by the next mission.

Just then, Crosshair strolled in. “Hunter says there’s a bit of turbulence ahead,” he drawled, just as the ship jolted.

You let out a choked gasp as it made you rise a little and slam back down on Tech’s cock. Eyes widening, you tried to keep your composure as you gripped onto your datapad. Tech’s grunt had been lost, but the way he throbbedinside you was a sweet sort of revenge.

“Whoa.” Wrecker grabbed onto his seat. “What is it?”

“Asteroid belt,” Cross said, grabbing onto the nearest steady surface. “We have to manually fly through some of it.”

Your mind was already short circuiting. Tech had somehow gotten bigger inside of you, and you were almost on the verge of tears thanks to the way he was pressing into all your sensitive spots. At this point, you were just desperately trying to hold still while your body clamped down on his cock and inched so much closer to the edge. Tech’s hand on your lower back still somehow kept you grounded, reminding you not to move. You didn’t want to disobey. You wanted to make Tech happy.

“Hey Shiv, what’re you working on?” Wrecker asked, turning to you. The ship still dipped and swerved once in a while.

You fumbled with your datapad, connecting it to the holoscreen and transferring the data. “Your- your gloves,” you managed, trying to keep yourself at least coherent. But it was so hard when Tech’s warmth was engulfing you, his hand sweeping down your back, across your thigh, pressing your chest into his.

“I’m trying to modify them before our next mission,” you continued, highlighting the list of mods you’d created off to the side of the schematic. “These are the ones that have already been done, and these are the ones that I’d like to try to do-“

The ship jolted, taking a sharp turn up before coming straight back down and banking. This time, you barely managed to keep yourself from letting out a filthy, desperate moan. Tech had slid his hand down as though to brace you, but his thumb slid under the hem of the shirt and instead slicked up your clit.

You’re doing very well, Shiv, Tech’s voice puddled in your mind. You already came twice while you were asleep. You were so good for Hunter, do you think you could be good for me just a little longer?

So you bit back your sob and instead sank your teeth into your lip so hard you swore you’d leave a mark. You weren’t surprised that Tech knew about you and Hunter’s earlier session: Hunter always projected unconsciously once he was on sensory overload.

“That looks super cool, Shiv! I can’t wait to test it out.” Wrecker was grinning.

“Ah— sorry, Shiv. I need to grab this for a moment,” Tech said, just before moving forward and pressing his hand against your lower back. He grabbed something, then leaned back again and trailed his hand up your back.

Crosshair met your gaze across the room, his lips tilting up in a knowing smirk. His eyes swept over you, a hint of appreciation buried in his dark eyes. He said nothing, but you knew that he’d figured out exactly what was happening. You were past the point of embarrassment. Not only because your body was desperate, but also because the boys all quite clearly appreciated the projections over the Bonds and the sight of you being made a mess over and over.

The final jolt back into hyperspace proved to be too much for you. The way it pressed you wholly into Tech’s front and caused your clit to grind against his hip. The way your body clenched even wrenched a grunt from him.

The datapad fell from your weak fingers, clattering to the floor. Your head dropped down, your breaths quick and shallow as your entire face flushed, eyes fluttering closed. Lips parted, you peeled open drugged and teary eyes.

“Shiv? You okay?” Wrecker asked, looking at you in some surprise.

“Cruel, Tech,” Hunter’s amused voice came from the doorway. He jerked his head. “I’m going to go get some more shut-eye. Take care of her.” He disappeared down the hall.

“Huh?” Wrecker looked thoroughly confused.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “Wrecker, she’s been sitting there for over a chron.”

Tech turned the chair to give Wrecker the full view. His hand slid up your thigh, bringing the edge of the shirt up as his hand traveled further up your hip and waist. “She’s been cockwarming me,” Tech said almost casually. “I wanted to see how sensitive she could get. A... pleasant experiment, if you will.”

You were shivering at that point, your mouth watering as tears slipped down your cheeks. The overstimulation was a pleasure you simultaneously wished would end and yet never stop. Your entire body felt like you were trying to completely melt into Tech, legs trembling.

Wrecker laughed, eyes lighting up. “Whoa Tech, I guess you really must have wanted it. A whole chron?” He shook his head, but his eyes trailed over you. “I mean, Shiv does look really pretty like that, though,” he admitted.

Crosshair approached, bending to tilt your chin up to his face with his finger. “Well, it looks like our little kitten is rather happy about your experiment. But also getting... desperate.” A smirk curled the corner of his lips as he stared at you through half-lidded eyes. “How... appealing.” He brushed a tear off of your chin, then straightened and walked back toward the door. “Take care of her, Tech. I’ll be back to talk to her once she’s... available.”

“Good luck, Shiv. I’m gonna go get a snack,” Wrecker said cheerfully, following Cross out the door with a wave.

“It seems as though we all liked the results of this experiment,” Tech remarked, sounding satisfied.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, nails scraping across his back. Lips parting, you breathed his name in a soft, half-drunk voice that dripped with pleasure. You wanted to cum, yes, but more than that, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing Tech praise you for not moving, for being good. Just his hand on your back and the steady affection that poured over the Bond was enough to make you seek more, whatever the means.

Tech shivered under you at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, and his fingers tightened on your waist. “You’ve done so well, cyar’ika,” he murmured, kissing your ear. “Thank you for being patient. Can I make it up to you, now?”

Your mouth watered at the idea, and you pulled back a little to be able to look up at his face. You knew you were a wreck, lips trembling and tear streaks down your face, but you wanted it. Wanted to ask.

“Can I-“ You swallowed thickly, feeling your face flush. “Can you...” You licked your lips. “In my mouth?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes for a moment, then he reached forward and cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tear-tracks, and his eyes softened. “If that’s what you want, of course. But I’d like to make you feel good, first.”

Your mind fuzzed with confusion. Make you feel good? But that’s literally all you’d been feeling the whole time, wasn’t it? He was the one that hadn’t cum yet.

All remaining coherent thought flew out of your head the moment Tech’s fingers found your clit. He leaned forward, drawing you into a tender kiss that sharply contrasted the way he dragged his fingers against you. His hips snapped up into you once, and you broke.

You wailed.

The pent-up release that had been building as he edged you over and over had you seeing stars, fireworks, whole galaxies. It burst inside you with a heat that washed over you and stole your breath, searing into your bones and wrenching a shattered sob from your mouth. You hardly registered that Tech’s name was spilling from your lips in a litany of prayer, too wrecked to even remember your own name.

You slowly wound down from the devastating high, trembling, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body sparked and shuddered, humming in the aftermath in a way that left a glowing ember of satisfied warmth deep inside you. Coming undone had never so intensely walked the line of pleasure just this side of pain.

Tech’s arms were wrapping around your waist, one hand coming up to cup your face as he pulled you to lean against him. You started to register his steady stream of praise as he kissed your cheek and trailed his lips down your neck and shoulder.

“You did so well, cyar’ika. You deserve to feel good. So pretty, cumming for me.”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you slowly recovered, your body all but boneless against his chest. Snuggling into him, you tucked your face into his neck and sighed softly. You just... wanted a moment. To just press against Tech and feel his presence, his hands gently skimming over you, soothing you.

“Are you okay?” Tech checked, his voice low and inquisitive.

You hummed and nodded against his shoulder, basking in the glow of the high. “Thank you, Tech,” you murmured shyly.

He coaxed your head back so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “For what? You’re the one who had to put up with my experiment.” The words were half-teasing, but his thumb stroked over your cheek with a tenderness that showed his mild concern.

You shook your head, reaching up to delicately brush your fingers across his face, peering up from under your lashes. “You take really good care of me, even though you’re feeling it a lot too...”

He had to be almost on the verge of pain. The way he was still buried inside you at the moment gave you an acute knowledge of how much his cock was throbbing, straining inside you.

His breath came out a bit shaky. “You come first, cyar’ika.”

Reaching up, you pulled him into a grateful kiss. Before the 501st, and even then rarely, no one had ever put you first in anything. The way the Bad Batch had taken care of you even in the middle of war had been a first in so many ways. And even now, Tech had put your wellbeing and comfort first, before his own. You wanted to return the favor.

Tech leaned into the kiss, clearly growing desperate for relief. Still, the kiss was tender for all its hunger, and his hands smoothed over your waist gently.

Pulling back, you slid out of his lap and all but puddled to the floor, your knees completely weak after the force of your orgasm. Still, that’s all you needed. Scooting forward a little, you reached out and brushed your fingers against the swollen, almost purpled head of his weeping cock. He was straining, and he let out a hiss as your fingers dragged across him. A thought struck you, and you tilted your head.

“What do you want, Tech?” you asked, your fingers smearing with your own slick coating his cock. You looked up at him, wanting to please him in the way he wanted.

He lurched forward a little, then looked down at you and panted. “I— wh-what... I...”

You paused in your stroking, your thumb rubbing on the underside. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Before he could quite help himself or stop it, a thought rocketed across the Bond. Color burst in his neck, creeping up to the tips of his ears. Despite yourself, you had to stifle a giggle and instead smile a little, wholly unsurprised even if his reaction did amuse you.

Shuffling forward, you pulled your shirt up and over your head. You had to think about it for a moment, but you decided to just give it your best shot regardless of the potential awkwardness. For Tech... you’d try your best. You pushed yourself closer to his lap, letting his straining cock fall between your breasts. Reaching up, you pushed your chest together and felt the slick slide against your skin.

Tech let out a low, tortured groan that made your already-battered body pulse with appreciation. He shuddered, eyes squeezing shut as pure pleasure flashed across his face. His eyes peeled open in time to see you kitten lick the tip of his cock just peeking from between your breasts.

Readjusting yourself, you found a position that let you move a little bit while still having access for your mouth. Sliding lower, you took the whole head into your mouth. It had swollen to the point that it was almost a struggle to get it in your mouth. The moment the heat of your mouth hit his cock, he let out a strangled moan and lurched, shuddering.

“I’m not— not going to last, Shiv,” he gasped, his whole body starting to tremble.

You lifted your mouth. “S’okay, Tech,” you said shyly. “You can use me.”

You knew that he was close, but you really had underestimated the effect the visual was having on him. You’d just stretched your mouth open around him again when he let out a half-choked cry. It took you by surprise, not expecting it that quickly.

Taken off guard, the first burst into your mouth made you squeak. Every spurt of his cum kept gathering in your mouth faster than you could swallow, and soon your mouth was completely full. It started to trickle out of the corners of your mouth, while you braced yourself for balance by splaying your palm against Tech’s stomach. His hand reached down and tangled in your hair, twitching weakly as he groaned.

He was gasping for breath by the time he rode out his high. His fingers loosened, and your mouth popped off of his cock as you fell back onto the floor. Mouth still full, you whined in protest as it started to drip out of your mouth. Some splashed onto your chest, and you lifted your fingers to your lips as you swallowed. You still hadn’t swallowed all of it by the time you opened your mouth for breath, so more of it ended up on your chest.

You pouted a little, wishing you hadn’t wasted so much. Tech’s cum, for some reason, was just enough of that tangy-sweet flavor with a hint of salt to make you not hate it. Besides, now you’d have to clean yourself off more than you’d normally have to otherwise. Looking down, you smeared a bit over your chest with your slick fingers, sticking them in your mouth.

Tech had slumped over in his chair, getting his breath back.

You crawled up closer to him again, getting his attention. “Are you okay, Tech?” you asked, a little concerned.

Tech looked at you, and his eyes riveted on your mouth, trailing down to your chest. Swallowing thickly, he nodded. “Maker, yes,” he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.

You smiled up at him. “I’m glad.” Looking back down at yourself, you hummed. “I should go clean up again...”

“Sorry,” Tech blurted.

You looked up, surprised. “F-for what?”

“I— I made a mess...” He glanced down at you. “Didn’t get to warn you.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, Tech. I don’t mind.” You gave him a smile, standing slowly to make sure your knees would get you to the fresher. Scooping up the T-shirt, you headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”

You cleaned up, pulling the T-shirt back over yourself before heading back to the common area. Finding your poor datapad, you picked it up from where you’d dropped it. Tech came up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, Shiv. I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

You nodded back, giving him a smile. Turning back to your datapad, you decided to resume a bit of work you’d been doing. Taking a break from Wrecker’s gloves, you pulled up a series of footage you’d meant to assess from a recent mission. Hooking up the datapad to the holoscreen, you started to scrutinize the footage.

You’d wanted to see if you could better understand Crosshair’s personal preferences as far as vantage point and strengths went in order to better accommodate for him. Though you did know a few of his tells as a sniper, you still felt a little in the dark when it came to any patterns he had. You wanted to try to see if you could learn anything more, also wanting to see how he handled you as a weapon from an outsider’s perspective. Sometimes, it helped you adjust better.

As usual, you lost yourself in the familiar work and completely lost track of your surroundings. Hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your hips and bringing you out of your focused haze.

“Well, it looks like I found our little kitten doing something interesting,” a voice hummed into your ear, low and smooth.

Color leaped into your face as you gasped, pulled back into his chest. “O-oh, Crosshair...”

One hand anchoring your hip to him, his other hand started to trail up your front. “And what exactly were you doing, Shiv?” he drawled, lazy but not displeased.

You swallowed. “I— I was trying to analyze footage a little more,” you answered, voice pitching a little higher. “I just— I feel like I don’t know your preferences enough, and- and I wanted to see if I could do— do better for you—“

Crosshair’s fingers came up to your neck, tracing the side of your throat down to your shoulder. “Is that right? Don’t you think we should be the ones analyzing you a little more?”

The comment had something.... else to it. An edge that made you pause, tilting your head to look up into his face. Was he upset about something?

A soft sigh blew over your skin, the only way you even knew he’d done it at all. “We stood by and watched as you fought the Guardian and weren’t able to do anything. Didn’t even know you could fight like that. What’s the point in having you be our weapon if we don’t even know anything about you?”

You closed your eyes. “It’s not your fault if I didn’t tell you,” you pointed out quietly. “And I... I should have, I know. That’s on me, not you.”

Cross grunted. “You blame yourself too much,” he grumbled.

You gasped as his teeth sank into the crook of your neck, not hard enough to bruise but definitely enough for you to feel it. Your back arched automatically, though his fingers tightened around your throat and held your head back and neck accessible.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers grappled against his trousers for some sort of stability. Everything seemed to be spinning, Crosshair’s mouth hot against your skin. His hand on your hip pulled you into him, and he ground against your ass in a way that left you squirming on the verge of embarrassment. He chuckled.

“Is my little kitten going to be good for me?” A hint of stubble rasped against your neck, leaving you shuddering.

“Yes,” you whimpered, already trembling. Cross may not have been physically as large or intimidating as Wrecker, but the lithe strength in his arms and the deft confidence of his thin, calloused fingers did something to you that left you utterly weak.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, voice slick. His hand slid under the oversized T-shirt, trailing up your hip. His fingers hooked on your underwear, playing with the fabric. His mouth moved lazily over the back of your neck as he tilted your head forward a little for access.

“Next time we make a stop, I think we’re going to have go get you some... things, hmm?” he remarked casually, just as his hand twisted.

The underwear snapped, slipping off of your hips and leaving you feeling oddly... vulnerable. You trusted Crosshair with your life, of course. But somehow... you felt so much more self-conscious around him than the others. Maybe it was the way you couldn’t read him as easily as the others? Or just the way he tended to not be as expressive as the others toward you? What was it that made you cherish his affection in such a different way compared to the others?

Crosshair nudged you forward, letting your hands land against the holotable for support. His other hand let go of your hip, only to slide your shirt up over your back before reaching back to unzip his trousers.

“You seemed to enjoy Tech’s experiments,” he noted, fingers sliding around your hip. His fingers spread you open, revealing how slick you were already. “And do you think you can take me too?”

You nodded faintly, then gasped as his cock slid against you. “I don’t think I heard you, kitten,” he drawled.

“Y-yes, I-I can,” you stammered, already shivering. Your body felt hypersensitive, both from your previous session with Tech as well as the way Cross somehow knew exactly how to touch you in every sensitive spot. Had he really observed you that much-?

He slid two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them as he kept a vise-like grip on your jaw. The movement was simple, but the way it made you feel so completely controlled, trapped between him and the table, made you go pliant. He handled your body as confidently as he did your Rifle form, tracing over you with a sort of muted reverence that you began to recognize as your memory drew parallels. The confidence was reassuring, as though he were subconsciously saying that you could trust him, that he knew how to handle you expertly, that you could leave it in his capable hands.

You whimpered around his fingers as your mind fully leaned into the reassurance, leaving you open and pliant to him.

“That’s right, Shiv.” Crosshair’s voice slid around you, through you. “Bend over.”

You obeyed almost without thinking, sliding down onto your elbows and then completely collapsing against the table. The cool metal pressed against your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed as your breath shallowed. Your lips parted in a soft moan as you felt Cross start to slide into you.

For a moment, he only kept the tip in you, letting you flutter around him and adjust. Then he reached down and pulled both of your legs up, pushing them up on the table so you looked like you were in a sitting position, your legs both on one side and pulled against his hip. His fingers wrapped around your ankle like a vise, just as he thrust up into you.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table as you choked.

It was the first time Cross had actually penetrated you, and it was already about to drive you over the edge. His cock was long, and while not as thick as Tech, it definitely stretched you in different ways. He pressed up inside you in depths you didn’t know were possible. You swore you could taste him in your throat, he was so far inside you.

Bending over you, Cross started to mercilessly fuck up into you, barely giving you a moment to breathe. The way he had your legs together and bent up put a pressure on your clit that spiked every time he bottomed out; and at the pace he’d set, you could feel yourself careening closer to the edge. He grunted, his iron grasp on your hips definitely about to leave bruises littered over your skin.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling so he could lower his mouth back onto your throat. Every other thrust was punctuated with a sloppy kiss to your neck, a contrast that only made you moan louder. Your body rocked with the brutal pace, and you could swear that Cross was molding you around his cock.

Somewhere in the jumble of your mind, his name managed to slur off of your tongue. You weren’t sure how or why, but your mind was starting to blur and fuzz, focusing solely on the way Crosshair’s body was hunched over yours, his hands controlling you so deftly, taking control over your body, your pleasure. Everything else faded into the background, until all you knew was him, and the way his fingers wrapped around your throat as he fucked you into the table.

You weren’t sure how long you drifted in the haze, but when you managed to focus, you found yourself gazing up into Crosshair’s dark eyes. His thin lips tilted in a smug smile as he noticed.

“Looks like someone’s back.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well then. How about you cum for me, hmm?” a hint of amused indulgence laced his tone. “You want it Shiv, don’t you? To cum all over me like the cock-dumb kitten you are?”

You whined, the pressure around your throat grounding you just enough to keep you present. The pleasure kept flowing through your body like a steady, unrelenting stream, smothering you. You did want it. Wanted to please him.

He leaned closer, not letting up his pace as his hips continued to snap up into you. “Such a good kitten,” he murmured, “with my fingers wrapped around your pretty little throat. Cum for me, Shiv. Show me how good I make you feel.”

It drove you off the cliff. Your orgasm seemed to burst from inside you, rippling up through your veins, your limbs, arching your body. It sent a wave of white heat washing through you, leaving you weak and completely lax in its wake. A sob spilled weakly from your lips as you opened tear-filled eyes to focus on him through the pleasure.

Crosshair let go of your throat, his jaw clenching as he stared down at your face. His hips started to stutter, his chest heaving with breath.

Swallowing thickly, you reached up and traced the tattoo that ringed his eye and trailed down his cheek. “Please, Cross,” you murmured dreamily. “Please, cum inside me.”

His shoulders locked as he snapped his hips into you one last time. A low groan hissed between his gritted teeth as he came, still buried deep inside you.

The liquid heat pooled inside you, and your eyelashes fluttered with contentment.

Crosshair's breath washed over your ear. "You're ours, Shiv," he murmured, voice husky with the high.

"Yours," you repeated obediently, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. Sleepiness plucked heavily at your eyes, the aftermath of three sessions tugging insistently at your consciousness.

"Mmm, fresher first, kitten," Cross chided. His arms slid around you, lifting you up as he slid out of you.

You whined in protest, leaning against his shoulder, even though you knew he was right. Everything was too comfortable, the sleepiness heavy and warm.

"I'll take you to Wrecker's bunk once you're done. Clean up." Cross stayed unmovable, his voice dry as he set you down on your feet in front of the fresher.

But you still clung to his shirt for another moment, looking up at his angled face and dark eyes. A wistfulness flitted through you as you wished that you could stay with him for a little while longer. But you didn't want to ask, didn't want to bother him.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand on your waist steadying your weak legs. "Unless you want to start dripping everywhere, Shiv," he glanced pointedly down at you, "though I wouldn't complain." He smirked.

You swallowed, then looked down. "O-okay," you mumbled, shuffling into the fresher. Even as you sluggishly cleaned yourself though, you had to swallow back a few tears. You weren't entirely sure why, but something in you so desperately craved to be near Cross, to just receive some form of quiet reassurance from him through just a touch or word that he... he cared.

Shaking your head and smearing away the tears, you sucked in a steadying breath and walked back out of the fresher. You'd slowly lost some article of clothing to each of them along the way, so now all you had was the oversized T-shirt. Wobbling back out, you found yourself a bit startled to see Cross still standing there by the doorway, a toothpick clenched between his teeth.

He jacked himself off of the wall and approached you. Bending a little, he picked you up effortlessly and began walking down the hallway of the ship. Ducking into a room, he walked over to the bed.

Wrecker looked up in surprise. "Oh, Cross, Shiv." He grinned. His head tilted as he observed you. "You alright, Shiv?"

You nodded faintly, not trusting your voice not to break. Cross set you down on the bed, while Wrecker shifted over to make room. Then Cross rolled his eyes.

"Move, Wrecker."

"Alright, alright, I'm moving," Wrecker whined, shuffling to the back of his bunk. Lying down next to you, he reached out and gently pulled your back to his chest, wrapping his large arm around your waist. His warmth pressed up behind you, easing some of the pain that curled in your chest.

Then, to your surprise, Crosshair slid into the bunk in front of you. Wordlessly, eyes half-lidded, he scooted closer and ran his hand down your side.

Hesitantly, you squirmed closer, tangling your fingers in the chest of his shirt again. You could feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, and you bit your lip and glanced up at him tentatively.

Something flickered through his eyes as he gazed down at you, his hand gripping your thigh. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head adamantly. "No!" you blurted, your face crumpling despite yourself. "No-" your voice cracked.

Cross sighed, his thumb stroking over your bare skin. "You seem hesitant around me."

Tears welled in your eyes. "No— I-I'm just never sure if... if I'm bothering you, and-" You sniffled, the ache in your chest deepening. "I—I look up to you so much, Cross," you confessed. "Every time you let me Transfer with you and- and I can be near you or with you, I... it makes me feel so safe. I just-" your shoulders hitched, "I want to make you happy, but I feel like... like I never know if it's okay to get close to you. I don't want to bother you..."

Crosshair pulled you closer, tucking your leg up over his hip so you fit against him like a puzzle piece. "You don't bother me, Shiv," he said, voice low. "We've all been... worried about you."

You nodded, pushing your face into his chest. You decided to take the risk and reached out over the Bond, asking for attention. The Bond lit with acknowledgement, more subdued than the others' but still undeniably there. Crosshair's attention was quietly intense, making up for its more subtle nature.

Shyly, you pushed across your feelings. The way you felt safe around him, the way you looked up to his stern concentration of his craft, his diligence in working, his attention to keeping his teammates safe. The way whenever his lithe fingers handled you, whether weapon or body, it soothed and comforted you regardless of what was happening. The way you wanted his approval, his attention.

Cheeks flushing, you peeked up at him from where you'd buried your face into his chest. A hint of a smile crossed his thin lips, and his dark eyes softened as they observed you.

Reaching up, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. "Good girl, cod'ika," he murmured.

Relief burst through you as he accepted your feelings. Even though all you felt over the Bond was a soft pulse of acknowledgement and a hint of pleased affection, it was more than enough. Cross didn't need to say much to make his point, and you realized better than before that every word he spoke to you was deliberate, honest. None of his words even in the heat of pleasure were idle or empty. You clung to the knowledge, soothed with the reassurance that Cross did care, in his own unique way.

"Thank you," you whispered shyly, knowing that he didn't have to reassure you. But he cared enough about you to listen, to answer.

Wrecker grumbled behind you, scooting forward so he pressed more tightly against your back. "Share a little, Cross," he groaned, "Shiv is soft and warm and I wanna feel."

Cross rolled his eyes, the moment broken. "Selfish."

"Hey!" Wrecker protested, leaning his chin against the top of your head. "You're the selfish one here-"

You giggled, tugging at Wrecker's hand to drape over both you and Crosshair. "Let me take a nap, Wrecker, and then I'll let you cuddle more," you promised. Letting out a wide yawn, you snuggled into both of them. "Love you," you murmured sleepily.

"Love you too, Shiv!" Wrecker squeezed you.

"Kar'taylir darasuum, cod'ika," Crosshair murmured in your ear.

You fell asleep to warmth, content.

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whatanoof · 3 years

Text

Of Angels and Promises

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: ~12.2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, violence, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, daddy boba is a warning all on his own, implied throne fucking

Summary: Promises are bad. They imply attachment and accountability, both very hard to come by in the maker-forsaken deserts of Tatooine. Falling in love inspires promises that one isn’t able to keep, and you let your guard down with him.

You saw the ship. It soared through the sky, slicing through the air like an arrow. It was the same one that he had drawn for you on the rough sketching paper in your mechanic’s workshop, and it was even more beautiful in person. It was a cloudless day, and the green paint contrasted the sky perfectly. You could track every movement across the blue expanse and expected to watch the ship set down directly by your hut. But it didn’t. It continued, stretching farther away in the direction of the palace with every passing second that you stood, frozen in space and time.

So you do what every other abandoned lover would. You ignore it and tell yourself that you were mistaken. It’s easy to pretend you’d imagined it. Because if Boba ever came back, he would come back to you, right?

A gentle knock on the doorframe rouses you from the depths of overthinking, and you accidentally slam your head on the shelf in surprise. “Shit! Motherkriffing, dank fucking farri-”

Your first name echoes through the building and cuts through your vicious curses like a bell, and you stop in shock. No one out here calls anyone by name. Your hand drops to your workbench and grasps a heavy wrench. You slowly approach the door and slide to one side of the frame to prepare an ambush. The voice calls your name again, and this time you register that it’s female, low-pitched and soothing. An arm appears through the doorway, and you swing the wrench with all of your might.

You expect at the very least to graze the limb appearing through the doorway of your workshop, but you’re sorely disappointed when you miss entirely. You stumble forward, off-balance from the misplaced strike. A hand seizes your wrist, torquing it violently to one side and forcing you to drop the makeshift weapon. Before you can blink, you’re pinned against the wall with your arm twisted behind your back.

“Let me go!” You struggle against the grip, but it’s too strong, and you grunt at the strain in your joints. “Please, I have water, maybe a handful of credits in the house.”

She doesn’t release you and your name is muttered sharply again. “Is that you?”

“You found me. If you’re going to kill me,” You turn your head enough to spit on the ground, “Tell Bib that I’ll come back to haunt him and shove it where the suns don’t shine.”

“I don’t come on Fortuna’s orders.” She spits the Twi'lek name like a curse. Now you’ve pissed her off. If you weren’t going to die before, you would now. “I come on Boba Fett’s.”

You stop struggling immediately, “What?”

“Boba Fett sent me to bring you to him.” You inhale sharply at the confirmation.

Betrayal flashes through you like lightning. “Let me go.” The words are an angry hiss, reminiscent of a desert serpent ready to spit venom.

She does so and you turn, rubbing your shoulder. The woman is deceptively small, with dark hair in a long braid down her back. A form fitting leather tunic and coat accents her slim waist and fit body. She’s wearing a helmet, though you can see dark eyes through the visor, and a long rifle rides on her back.

“Who are you? Are you a bounty hunter?”

“I am.” You wait for her to reach for her rifle, “But that is not why I am here.” She disengages her helmet lock and pulls it off. She’s too pretty to be a hunter. You wish that wasn’t your first thought, because now you can’t help but stare. You’re vaguely aware that you probably look stupid, but you’re too busy gaping at her smooth skin and fine features. The only indicator of her profession is the stern set of her mouth and perfectly shaped eyebrows, okay you need to stop.

Because you weren’t mistaken earlier. Boba is back on Tatooine, and you’re not sure how to handle that after so much time.

---

“Come on, don’t do this to me right now. No, no no no no n--” A puff of smoke drifts from the comm unit, and you drop the screwdriver with a defeated sigh. Kriffing hell. Weeks of searching for the right parts, the blazing hope within you that you might be able to finally get off this ball of sand when you saw the Imperial signal boosting unit, all ending in a smoking and sparking mess in your hands. Anger flashes hot through your veins, and your hand flies up and whacks the communicator hard, hard enough that the stinging impact chases away the anger momentarily. Then the fury returns, doubling in intensity, and the sheer injustice almost makes your vision white out.

The distant grinding of the sandcrawler shakes you out of your fervor, and you haul yourself to your feet with a sigh. Trading days always... intensify you. But you can’t afford to get hung up on one comm unit. It has been years of fried comm units. Even if you managed to patch together a working one on your limited knowledge, who would you call? A single name flits across your mind, but you veto it instantly. Even if he was in range, he wouldn’t come to get you.

So, back to the original plan. The long plan, the one that has stranded you on this planet for solar cycles. You busy yourself with the various scavenged parts that you’d collected over the past month, polishing and dusting the pieces until they glint like gems in the late afternoon suns. Every small scratch garners another twelve minutes of debate over whether the rebuilt astromech viewport would be worth the trade for the polished transparisteel, or the additional inhibitor units.

The first thing that’s off is the Jawas themselves. They seem… tense. No, that’s underselling it. They’re always high strung, running around and worrying about different bargains and barters. But today, they’re absolutely freaked out. Dual sun-stroked. High on their anxiety. Which is good for you; they’ll be distracted and maybe they won’t try to barter for your spare vapor consolidator again this time.

So you naturally pay it no mind while setting up your line of wares. You had a good haul this week, enough to make the water taxes this month.

The Jawas crowd out of the sandcrawler deck, and you greet them as you recognize them. A flurry of Jawaese flies around your head as they run about, laying out the wares for you to examine. One scurries to your offerings this week: random parts and a series of old mouse droids that you had reprogrammed. They examine the small droids while speaking to each other too quickly for you to follow. Finally, they come back with two of the small droids, nodding to each other as they present the desired pieces to you.

“Got any working EC processors lying around in there to trade?”

They look at each other, and one says a single phrase that you translate roughly to, ‘Bring him out.’

“Bring what out?” But you’re too late and the Jawas are already inside, hauling a mass covered in sackcloth down the ramp. “Is that a patch-in droid? Where the hell did you scavenge a whole one fr…”

The second thing that’s off is the human body. They rip the sackcloth off of the form, and you trail off. “What in the kriffing hell is that?” After further examination you confirm that it is probably a he. His eyes are closed, and he’s lying in the sun too limply to be healthy. There are bruises and cuts on the skin that you can see, but he’s draped in dark clothing that has to be sweltering hot in the Tatooine suns. A Tusken gaffi stick lies pinned underneath his body.

The Jawas erupt in a storm of chattering, waving their arms around their heads as you try to keep up your limited Jawaese. You crouch by the man. He’s breathing shallowly, and you don’t see any visible injuries, but dammit, you don’t know much about first aid. “Slow down, please!”

They don’t slow down, and you’re left scrambling trying to remember the difference between preterite verb forms while continuing to try to check on the man’s health. “He broke into the sandcrawler, killed your warriors, and took a nap?”

More unpleased Jawaese flies around your head, “He broke in, killed your warriors, and didn’t try to escape, just sat down and tried to interrogate you. And then you knocked him out and broke his legs.” The Jawas cheer gleefully in affirmation, and you sigh. A second glance at the man reveals the sunken skin around his eyes and the unnaturally pale color of his skin. There are white scars over his face that look like acid burns. “Maker, how long has he been in there?” The Jawas keep talking, but you’re not paying attention. He won’t last another day without attention, and that is coming from an inexperienced mechanic. You may not know medicine, but you can’t leave him in good conscience.

“I’ll take him off of your hands. Keep the mouse droids.”

It’s a kriffing miracle that you manage to get him back inside your hut and onto the cot without pulling a muscle. You don’t even know if he’s going to wake up. He just lies there, and the weight of the situation slams down on you in a single crushing moment. “What the hell did I just do?” You rake your fingers through your hair, “Take in a dying stranger, why don’t you? Sign away half of your supplies, half of your food, half of your water, half of the credits meant to get you out of this damned place? Dumbass.”

He groans, and you start. He’s awake. With a heavy sigh, you face the newest burden in your life. “Here, drink some water.” You grab the half-empty jug from the table and kneel beside the cot. “You’re lucky that the Jawas decided to meet me today. If they had gone to Tokonu’s farm, you might not have lived through the next few hours.” You reach to prop his head up.

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have tried to touch him. There’s an explosion of movement, and you suddenly find yourself pinned to the ground, arms locked painfully behind your back. Maker, he’s half-dead, and you barely saw him move. “Where am I?” The growl is so deep that you can feel it in your toes, though the roughness of his voice suggests that it hasn’t been used in a while.

You look over your shoulder, and you see dark eyes piercing into you. A shudder runs the length of your spine at the predatory gaze, and you’re feeling less like an unlikely caretaker and more like trapped prey. This is a dangerous man, no matter the state of his health. Then he curses and the weight on your back lifts as he falls to the side and you remember the broken legs.

You shakily roll to the side and sit up, studying the man next to you on the floor, who’s clutching his legs and muttering rude phrases about Jawas and thieves that you’d rather not repeat. He’s older, with creased skin and a dark scowl contorting his features. Scars run the length of his face, adding to the aged appearance. His dark clothing masks most of his body, though you’re sure that the rest of his skin bears similar scars to the ones slicing through his features.

“You done staring?” The rasping voice makes you jump and look away hurriedly, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment.

You stand. You have to find a way to splint his legs. “I don’t see many other Terrans out here.” He grunts, and you hurry to your workshop. You need wood, or metal, or something straight. Fuck you’ve never set a broken bone before, but you grab the bacta from the back cabinet. Your gaze lands on the ladder in the corner of the room.

“Hey.” His head lifts when you re-enter the room, lugging the ladder through the door frame. You dump it on the floor in front of him, and he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Angel, I’m not going to be climbing anywhere anytime soon.”

You ignore the endearment and the sass, “I’ve never set a broken leg before. I need your help if you ever want to walk normally again.”

“You’re going to set my legs?” He asks.

“I’m assuming that you know how to.”

He doesn't confirm your theory, instead tilting his head and looking at you more seriously, “Big assumptions.”

“If you know how to break an arm, you know how to set one.”

He just leans back and laughs, “You have a tongue on you.” You won’t dignify that with an answer, and his smile only grows. “Break the ladder. I need two straight planks.”

---

The massive palace is dank and cold, the polar opposite of the planet outside. It’s a new world compared to the heatwaves and sand dunes. The silence amplifies your quiet footsteps as Fennec leads you through the hallways. Speaking of which, she is absolutely silent. Her footsteps are nonexistent even on the cold metal floor. She put her helmet back on when you entered the palace, so you can’t even hear her breathing. The only sounds are the ones made by you, and the walls seem to amplify them to the point where you’re sure that wherever you’re going, you will be expected.

You can’t help but feel like you’re walking to an execution, though you haven’t decided if it’s your own yet. It could be. You don’t know if he’s changed. It’s been years. You’ve changed, that’s for sure. Actually, scratch that. You know that he’s changed, because he didn’t come straight to you.

You frown. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, though you can’t place your finger directly on it just yet. After years of being tied to no one, of being perfectly free and independent, why would he come back to Tatooine? What is tethering him to this desert of a planet besides his own suffering?

Out of nowhere, a staircase yawns in front of you, and you hesitate slightly before following after Fennec. The arched ceiling opens into a large room that prominently displays a raised dais, though it all falls away when you see who is seated on the throne.

It’s been a long time since you’d seen him, and you’d never seen his armor in color, only a sketch. The smooth green and red accents are color combinations that are in short supply on Tatooine, he cuts a menacing figure against the dark throne. He’s splayed out on a throne built for a Hutt thrice his size, legs spread and arms resting on the sides. It might be intimidating if it were a stranger, but you keep telling yourself that he’s not a stranger. It’s easy to imagine that he is, due to the blatant showmanship and armor. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, but this suit of armor isn’t the Boba that you knew.

---

“What’s that?” You’re sitting at the workbench while he’s in a kitchen chair that was dragged into the workshop so that he could have a place to rest. He’s recently become mobile, though he’s only allowed to move under your sharp eye, making sure that he doesn’t try anything stupid that will leave him bedridden for another month. That would be another seven weeks of extreme food rationing and existing on supplies only meant for one. That being said, he mentioned that he was willing to lend an extra pair of hands in your workshop, and you’re not one to deny free help, so long as he promised to not push himself too hard. Your measurement tools were left on the table, and to your surprise, he picked up the stubby pencil and began sketching with it. The rough parchment now shows evidence of a human-like figure.

“My armor.”

“What color is it?”

“Green.” Another purposeful sketch on the paper and there’s a prominent blemish in the helmet. “And red.” Stars, it’s like pulling teeth.

“Did you lose it?” Maybe you’re intruding, but you’ve been taking care of him for the past month, so you’ll excuse yourself from this one.

“Yes. These--” He waves a hand around his face, indicating the pale scars, “--are from a Sarlaac. When I fell in, I lost consciousness. Woke up without the armor. I need to find it.”

The Sarlaac pit is an execution site for those who oppose the Tatooine crime syndicate. You’ve never heard of anyone surviving either the wrath of the Hutts or the Sarlaac. “It’s important to you.” “The armor belonged to my father.” It’s hard to imagine the toughened man in front of you ever being dependent upon someone else. Though, you suppose that everyone comes from somewhere. You wonder not for the first time where this man came from. “It’s part of who I am.”

---

“Boba?” The name is a quiet whisper that echoes emptily through the chamber.

He says your name in return, but his deep baritone makes it sound so much more full than his did floating in the air. “Just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

“Can’t say that I can make the same observation.” You shift nervously. It’s too empty and cold in here, the absolute antithesis of the world you made your own. You can feel the dampness leeching the energy from the air.

“That’s fair.” There’s a beat of silence.

“How have you been?” It’s a passive question, nothing more than something to say to break the silence.

“Good. And you?” The conversation is stunted and awkward, though it only used to be stunted. Now, you’re looking at this man and you don’t know him anymore. Even before, he was your friend above all else. Now you’re stuck making basic observations about him.

“You got your armor back.”

The helmet inclines once, barely an acknowledgement of a statement that you feel should receive so much more. “Found it through a friend.”

“Some friend. Am I going to get that story?”

“Later.” It’s infuriating, the distinct lack of personalization. For solar cycles, you had Boba. Then, nothing. Now you have Boba Fett, the bounty hunter.

---

“What’s your name?” You can’t believe it’s taken you this long to ask, though in all fairness, there’s not much need for names when there are only two people around for leagues. You simply speak, and he assumes you’re talking to him. He rarely speaks, so when he does, he’s always talking to you.

He doesn’t answer at first, only continuing to hold the sheet of metal in place so that you can continue welding it shut over the gap in the droid’s body. You don’t mind. If he wants to answer, he’ll answer. Though it would be nice to have a name to place to the stoic face. It would also be nice to have a name to whisper when you touch yourself at night.

You hadn’t meant for it to end up like this, but you can’t help but admit that you had been setting yourself up to fail. Living with a man, especially one so tall, strong, so… kriffing dominant in how he carries himself? You’re just surprised that it took the dreams half a solar cycle to start up. But now you can’t stop thinking about how it would feel for him to back you up against a wall and pin you to the rough stone with just one of those wonderfully strong hands.

“Watch it angel--”

You snap back to the present just in time to see your torch drifting dangerously close to your hand. You yank it away, but the damage is done and your glove is burning. He curses, bare hands immediately flying to the thick cloth and yanking your arm forward. A few rough pats later, and your glove is smoldering. Shit. That had been your last good pair. You sigh, pulling the glove off and getting up to find another. You snag a mismatched glove from the bottom compartment of your storage unit and settle back down to finish the job.

You’re two inches into the welding line when he speaks. “If I had known you’d be so distracted by silence I would have spoken.” The tone is dry and sardonic, and your gaze darts up to meet his deadpan one before flicking back down to your work in time to keep the welder from drifting again.

“No you wouldn’t have.” It’s the truth, based on how he doesn’t seem to have a snappy answer.

Finally, he sighs, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” This time, you know better than to look away from your work.

You raise an eyebrow at the sheet metal, “I know.” You finish and click off your torch, settling it carefully down on the work station beside you. “No one ends up in a Sarlaac pit by following the law.” Air puffs out of him a little more forcefully than normal, and you squint. Was that a laugh?

“I wasn’t the one getting executed.”

“Didn’t take you for a clumsy person.” He doesn’t dignify the jab with a response, and you suppose that you deserve that. You examine the weld before pulling the torch back out. It’s a little sloppy. “Do you regret those things?”

“No. The sum of a person’s lifetime is found in his actions. Regrets or none, they are who I am.” That… is shockingly poetic considering that you’d only asked for a name.

“You’ve killed people.” It’s not a question, there is no doubt in your mind of the answer, but you want to hear it from him.

“Yes.” A beat of silence. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Depends.” You inhale slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase this, “I… understand that you don’t have an easy past.” He snorts at that, and you glower at him before continuing. “Tatooine doesn’t need more war.”

“You’re scared.” It’s a pointed statement, blunt and uncaring about the blatant assumption.

“No.” No, a million times no. You had not cowered in fear during the Clone Wars, you had picked yourself up and survived. But ever since Bib Fortuna took over the syndicate, violence had been minimal. You do not need more. “As long as you live here, I do not want you to be the one who brings it back.” You’re on shaky ground here, considering that you really don’t have much control over him or his choices. But this is the only request you have made of him so far.

He grunts in response, a thoughtful silence settling over the workshop. “You really care for this planet?”

“No. I fucking hate deserts. I’m blowing this joint as soon as I can.” You yank the glove off with more force than perhaps you needed. Whatever, it got the job done. You squint down at your calloused hands, “I just don’t want to be the reason that more innocent people get hurt around here. Bib does enough on his own.”

Bib Fortuna. The Twi-lek that currently commands the most powerful force planet-side on Tatooine: the crime syndicate that was left leaderless after Jabba the Hutt died in mysterious circumstances involving a Jedi and a Sarlaac execution. Wait a minute...

“No violence?”

You shake your head, chasing away the puzzle pieces that just began to slot together. “Only self-defense.” You’re not unreasonable, Tatooine may be more peaceful than during the war, but lowlifes still exist. “And if you get a chance to get off-world, take me with you.”

“Steep price.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I saved your life. You may as well return the favor.”

“Fair enough. You have my word as a…” He slaps a hand over his chest, but trails off before finishing the sentence, as if only realizing then that his armor is not there. He amends, “You have my word as a man.”

An awkward silence settles over the shop again, though there is no logical reason why it should be awkward, giving you the moment to remember the seed of the conversation. “A man with a name?” It’s a fumbling and clumsy attempt to turn the conversation back towards your objective, and you can tell that he picked up on it.

He looks at you with amusement, “Persistent.” There’s a half-beat of silence as he considers you. “You may recognize my name.”

“I live in the middle of nowhere.” You counter. “Who would I tell?”

“That’s not why I don’t want to tell you.”

Oh. You can’t really think of a response to that, so you stand and begin cleaning your station. Rusty bits of scrap go into that bin, useful parts go into that one over there so you can tinker late at night when you can’t sleep.

“I don’t know your name either.”

You turn a prop a hand on your hip, dramatically lowering your voice, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” There! Another huff of breath, and a halfway crooked smirk from the usually grim-faced and unreadable man. You smile back, “Trade?”

He considers it briefly, “First names only.”

You grin. That’ll do nicely. “Deal.”

“Boba.”

You introduce yourself, “Nice to meet you, Boba.”

---

“Why are you back?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” He sounds amused.

“I am.” You shift back and forth on your feet. “Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you. To know that you’re alive and healthy.” He’s avoiding answering.

“That’s only half of my question.” Your voice becomes small, “Why didn’t you come home?”

“If I had come to the farm, Bib would have sent hunters out again. You know how that ended last time. You have to cut the krayt’s head off, or it will just keep coming.” You don’t miss how he’s avoiding calling the farm his home.

“You don’t have to pretend, Boba. You have your armor and your ship, you don’t need me anymore. If you came back to take over the syndicate, I won’t be angry.” Even if it means that he’s throwing you away and not looking back. Your heart would heal.

“I--” He hesitates to finish the sentence, and your stomach drops as you expect him to confirm your suspicions. “I didn’t only come back for the throne. I still wanted to see you.”

“If that were true, you would have come yourself.”

“Ang--”

“Stop making excuses.” Your gaze narrows onto the visor blade, meeting his cloaked eyes, “If you really wanted to see me, you would have come to the farm, not sent your lackey. You have your armor and your ship. Why are you back?”

---

It’s all he talks about anymore. And it’s not like he talked that much before, so now ninety-nine percent of the conversations that you have with him are about the nearest pawn stalls, or the Jawa trading route, or the ship scrap yards scattered around the planet. He’s been moving about independently for the past two months, each day venturing out further into the sand hills in search of his armor.

The jug of water is disgustingly lukewarm, but refreshing all the same. You swipe a hand over your forehead as you pace around, propping open all of the windows and shoving the door open. You don’t want to work anymore, it’s too hot for this shit. Late afternoon is the worst, hanging the promise of sunset overhead while continually beating the world into submission with the heat that makes it feel like you’re dragging fire into your lungs. With nothing better to do, you slowly sweep the floor of the house, brushing sand outside just as it continues to blow inward.

The moisture vaporator is functioning passably, your supplies were restocked two days ago, and you made decent headway in your workshop. Nothing is urgent enough to spur you into action. All there is to do is wait for Boba to come home. That’s the brightest point of your day; seeing his figure appear in the shimmering heat waves as he treks through the sand towards you.

He still doesn’t talk much. Neither do you, but there is a comfortable sense of companionship every night when you set the meal down and eat together. If conversation is needed, then it’s needed. But until then, you’re content to sit with him. He’s my friend. The stark realization nearly makes you stop in your tracks. You’re friends with the gruff man who you took in with two broken legs and who leaves you alone for the better part of the day. The man who you imagine on the rough nights when you long for a body beside you.

Finally, finally it’s sunset. You climb to the top of a nearby dune. He’s there in the distance, he always is. You watch the suns sink beneath the horizon and turn to head inside.

You don’t hear him come in, though to be fair, you never do. You expect him to sit at the table. Instead he appears at your elbow, silent as a wraith but as large and solid as any human. You nearly jump out of your skin, “Stars, Boba, you kriffing scared m--” You turn, but are stopped short because he’s right there, crowding you against the counter and there’s something feral in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, face hovering an inch away from yours and gaze fixed on your lips. Your eyes are glued to his almost black ones. His flick up to meet yours. You can smell him, something spicy and musky that’s drawing you in. Stars, you want to fuck him.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips and the tension shatters. He shoves past you, planting his hands on the counter. He hasn’t changed out of his gear, and the gaffi stick sways threateningly on his back. The tip is darkened and shines in the dim light of the lantern.

Dread pokes your heart. “Boba, are you hurt?” You try to look over the rest of his body for hints of injury, but his baggy clothing masks his body. He seems to be moving fine.

There’s a strained silence before he rips himself away from the counter and stalks away with a terse, “I need to change.” He halfway out of the door when he stops, and you watch him carefully as his head turns back halfway. “Meet me in the bedroom.” The ‘fresher door bangs in the distance, and you nearly collapse against the counter.

You’re not sure how you make it to the room. You’re a trembling ball of nerves, anxious and fidgeting as you stare at the corner of the room. He killed someone. Someone is dead, because of him, and he doesn’t seem to be torn up about it. Only… tense. Like he’s more concerned about the consequences on you than him. You remember his promise.

He’s standing there now, dressed in clean clothes and looking at you like you’re the most complex problem in the room. He seems calmer, though he’s in this mode that you can’t describe with a single word, though you had witnessed it before when you first brought him into your home. There’s a feral intensity about him, almost primal. You don’t know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut.

Finally, he speaks, “I would never hurt you, angel.”

You nod. There’s a shared understanding of this, though it had never been verbalized. He has your back, and you have his. A mutual survival and benefit exists between you two.

“Will you come here?” There’s an underlying question to read in the rasped question. Will you go to him? There’s also a warning. He’s not a safe man, but you’re willing to ignore your fears about that if it means you'll have him. You stand and walk towards him purposefully, each step sealing your choice. You stand in front of him, barely allowing yourself to breath as he scrutinizes you. A hand comes up and tilts your chin upwards carefully.

And then he’s kissing you, more like absolutely devouring you with how far his tongue is down your throat. It’s sensory overload, because all at once he’s so close and so there right in front of you, pressing against your front so closely that you can feel him hardening against your thigh. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair, and you gasp as he yanks your head back.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle, angel.” His pupils are blown, dark eyes even blacker with desire and boring into yours. You can see the restrained lust in his eyes, and you shiver at the silent promise in them.

You grin, only barely aware that it’s slightly feral, “No one asked you to be.”

His own responding smile is nothing short of primal. “Maker, you’re fucking perfect.” His hand roughly smooths over your hair, and you melt into his touch. “Now strip.”

You can’t yank your shirt off quickly enough, but he stops you as soon as the offending fabric flutters to the ground. A hand traces over your collarbone, the rough calluses scraping over the crisp outline of the ink. “What’s this?”

You hesitate before answering, “It’s, uh, it’s artistic.” He makes his skeptical face at you, and you step in closer to him, pressing your body against his more clothed one, “I saw the design in a shop and liked it.”

The distraction seems to work, because he crushes his mouth to yours again, his hands removing the rest of your clothes so that you stand completely bare before his piercing gaze. You fight the urge to cover yourself. He has this way of making you feel like an open book even when you’re clothed, and now you feel that he can look into your soul without any other barriers.

“Beautiful.” The compliment is growled into the tension filled air. Blood rushes to your face, and you duck your head shyly. A hand tilts your chin back upwards to meet his eyes, “Get on the bed.”

He pushes you backwards gently so that you land on the mattress, bouncing slightly as you watch him remove his coverings. With every delicious inch of skin revealed, you feel another shot of heat between your legs. You hadn’t seen much of his body since that first day, and it’s like watching a gift unwrapped in front of you. When he pulls the last of it off, your eyes unavoidably drift between his legs, and your heart stutters at the sight. Stars he’s thicker than you’d expected.

You don’t get anymore time to overthink because then Boba is caging you to the mattress with his body. Your breasts heave, nipples brushing against his chest with every inhale. One thick finger slides through your folds, and you almost cry at the contact. Maker, you’ve wanted this for so long. He pushes into your heat and you swear your body seizes at the sensation.

Boba grunts, “Angel, you’re so tight.” His hips jerk seemingly of their own volition against your leg, his erection sliding over your skin. “Want to be inside of you. But--” He adds another finger, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more, “--I think I’d break you.”

The heel of his hand grinds into your clit, “Boba. Please, fuck. Told you not--” He curls his fingers against your g-spot and you gasp, “--not to be gentle.”

He pulls his fingers out with a growl and flips you around to your hands and knees. You shiver in anticipation as you glance over your shoulder while he aligns his hips to yours. He barely gives you any time to prep before he sinks into your heat.

Oh shit.

He is so much thicker than you expected. The stretch burns so good, and-- you spare another glance over your shoulder as it just keeps coming. Your arms give and you collapse to your elbows with a whine. Your teeth clench as you focus on taking him, and your hand slaps the mattress as you tense. He stops behind you, “Angel, you need to relax.”

You exhale shakily. Fuck, you can’t relax, it’s too much. He’s going to split you in two. You’d told him to be rough, but you hadn’t been prepared for this. So you crouch on the bed, trying to breathe enough to allow yourself to form words.

“I can stop.” His cock inches marginally out of you, and you panic.

“No! Fu-- keep--keep going. I can do it.” He’s holding himself back. You can tell in the tiny quiver of his hips as he inches further into you. All you can focus on is the feeling of him rubbing against the inside of your cunt. His fingers rub your clit, and a garbled moan escapes your throat as your hips press backwards into him. The pain mixes with pleasure, a bone-deep one that you feel through your entire body as it arches against the bedsheets.

When his hips finally fit to yours, you let out a breathy moan. But he doesn’t continue. He just rests there, which is ridiculous considering how every nerve ending in that region of your body is firing with pleasure and how is he staying so still when this feels like fucking paradise? You might go insane just lying here with him bottomed out so deep inside of you that you can feel it in the back of your throat. His hand leaves your clit to grasp your waist. He eases out of you, the satisfying fullness retreating until the head of his cock hovers at your entrance, just barely inside of you. He’s teetering on a cliff, all of that potential energy built up behind his body as he hovers there, waiting for something. He’s trembling, Boba is trembling as he waits for something that he never asked you for. There’s molten lust creeping through your veins, you need him to move, to fuck you nine ways to next week. “Move. Please. Need--need it.”

He rolls his hips forward and you swear the world implodes behind your eyelids. He doesn’t stop this time, just yanks you closer on the bed and fucking wrecks you. The pace is unforgiving and rough, and the obscene slapping sound of skin on skin echoes through the small home, making you ever more grateful that there are no neighbors for miles.

A whine escapes your throat before you can help it, and you clap a hand over your mouth. He chuckles as he pushes back into your dripping pussy, “Oh, you like that angel?” His hand seizes your hair and drags your back flush against his body, “Ah ah ah. Take it off your mouth.” You do so, your hand trembling, “I want to hear every.” Thrust. “Beautiful.” Thrust. “Noise.” Thrust. You could almost feel him in the back of your throat with that last one, and a strangled cry is ripped from you. “Understand?”

You whimper and nod at the velvety purr against your throat and he hums in satisfaction. “Good.” He shoves you back down onto the sheets, one hand pinning you to the cot by your neck, the other curling around your waist. Without your hand to muffle the noises, your sounds come without you intending; choppy moans that are only broken by the force of his thrusts. He’s anything but quiet himself, a series of soft grunts and curses coming from the general vicinity of his head as he continues to slam into your body.

Your orgasm peaks without warning, ripping through your body before you can think to prepare yourself for it. The climax ripples outwards from your center, white flashes appearing behind your eyelids as you keen high in the back of your throat. Your floor muscles clamp down on Boba, and his rhythm stutters.

“Angel--” With a curse, he rips himself out of you, painting your ass with his release. You’re in a daze of pleasure as you come down from your high, the sheets smooth beneath your cheek and his cum warm on your back. He pulls the sheet, and you whine in protest as he yanks the comfortable bedding from underneath you. He cleans you up with the cloth, tossing it to the side into a random corner of the room.

It’s dark now. The only light in the room comes from the flickering lamp in the corner. Boba pulls blankets over your cock-dumb body, and you snuggle down into your bed, fully expecting him to leave. He doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he naps on the floor with a blanket or two. You don’t expect him to climb into bed behind you, arms wrapping firmly around your waist and pulling you close to him. You drift before finally surrendering to peaceful sleep.

You wake when he moves behind you. The sunrise glints through the window, spraying warm light around the room. You’d have to get up soon, but not yet. He doesn’t have to go. You turn and look at him.

Your voice is raspy with sleep, but it cuts decidedly through the silence of early morning. “I trust you. You know that, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, because if you don’t say it now, you probably won’t have the courage to do it later, “It’s not hard to earn my trust. It’s hard to keep it, and even harder to regain it.” He’s quiet, and you can feel his deep, even breaths against your front and how his arms tighten fractionally around your waist.

He rolls over, and you feel the mattress dip as he stands. “I need to cover another sector by tonight.”

You turn on your side so that you can’t see the door. Best not to get attached anyway.

---

“Should I be calling you a title or something?” You’re hesitant to refer to him as anything in your mind. He’s just Boba. Not your boyfriend, or your lover, because you only name things you expect to endure. If you find a super cute loth cat, but you can’t keep it, you don’t name it, that's just a rule of life. Don’t label it if you don’t want to keep it. Don’t get attached to something that will not stay. “Lord Boba? King Boba? Master?”

He snorts, “Not necessary, Angel. Though I wouldn’t mind that last one.” You blink at the old nickname, the familiarity of the endearment stirring up emotions that you’d thought had long since been buried. “I’m still me.”

“Are you?” The question slips out before you can think to restrain yourself, the tone more accusatory than you expected.

“Do you want me to be?”

Now you’re the one caught off guard. You had thought about it, in the empty silence while he was gone, when the bed was too cold and empty after so much time adjusting to his weight on the other side of the mattress. No decision had been made. But once, in the darkest hours of the morning, right after you’d made yourself cum on your own fingers that couldn’t hope to measure up to him, you’d wished. You had wished that you had labelled it when you had the chance. Because maybe you had wanted the relationship to stay.

---

“Why do you call me that?” The words are whispered into the darkness of another early morning. He’s curled around you, the heat of his body keeping you warm despite the freezing cold desert night. You need to start thinking about getting up soon. It’s a new day, a fresh start, a time to restart. Chores are waiting, like they always are. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to want to move when he’s at your back.

He shifts, breathing in the scent of your hair, “Call you what?” His arms tighten around your midsection and you wiggle slightly in his grip, your hips pressing back against his half-hard length. “Ohhhh, angel you’re going to start something that you won’t be able to finish.”

You turn so that you’re facing him in the darkness, his features just a ghost of an outline against the early dawn rays glowing faintly through the doorway. “That. Angel. Why do you call me that?” He grinds against you, and you stifle a whimper at his heavy erection against your thigh. “Stop distracting me.”

He sighs heavily, but he does stop and allow you to regain your focus, “I call you angel because of that first day. Do you remember?”

You roll your hips against his, “Hard to forget.”

“Yes.” His teeth sink into the bare flesh of your shoulder, licking and sucking until you’re sure that there’s a mark. “I was in that sandcrawler for days, it’s a haze in my memory. Just blinking in and out, hoping that the sound would stop, that the world would stop moving, that those damn creatures would stop jeering at me for just a few minutes.” Your hand slips down and grasps his erection, and he inhales sharply, “And--and then. They’re grabbing me and dragging me out of that hell. And you’re there, standing above me, framed by the suns. And my first thought was that you--” He grunts as he thrusts up into your fist. His cock is leaking profusely over your hand, and you swipe your thumb over his head, “-- you must be an angel. How could you be anything else? You saved my life.”

“Bold of you to think that I’m from heaven.” With a wicked smile, your other hand drops to fondle his balls, massaging the flesh in your hand as you continue to slowly jerk him off. He snarls quietly, hand anchoring in your hair and tugging your head back so that he has access to the bare flesh of your neck and shoulder.

“Now, you’ve become more of a devil in my bed, my angel of death.” His teeth sink into the juncture of your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark. You were prepared for the pain, but you weren’t ready for his hand zeroing in on your sensitive clit, rubbing with the exact amount of pressure that could cause you to come in seconds, and you have other plans.

You roll on top of him, swinging your leg over his hips and positioning his head at your entrance, “So you try to break the arm of every angel you encounter?”

“That was your fault.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hands reach to grasp you around the waist. “For pushing me, like you are doing now.” His hips roll up, and your eyes roll back. The day can wait.

---

The surge of emotions only serves to make you more frustrated, and that’s not going to help matters. You may have a long fuse, but once your anger ignites, it burns hot and long. He knows this, and yet he continues to push you. “I came down here because I owe you one, for saving my ass. So you better talk if you’re going to keep me here.”

“I saved your beautiful ass twice in return.” He’s amused, and that only serves to make you angrier. “So you owe me two, one for coming and one for staying while I explain.”

Hell no, he doesn’t get out of this by throwing in a shabby compliment, though you furiously fight the rising embarrassment all the same, “No, the first one repaid me for dragging your dying carcass out of the sandcrawler. And the welding incident hardly counts, so you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“Angel--”

“No, you are going to stop with this pretentious bullshit and tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing.” Your arms are waving in the air, you’re on the verge of hyperventilating, your voice is rising in pitch and you’re vaguely aware that you shouldn’t be working yourself up like this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care, because he’s there. And you’re here, at the foot of the throne.

“Why are you so angry, angel?”

A laugh explodes out of you so forcefully that your throat stings, “Your fucking audacity, is pissing me off. You leave without explaining. You come back, and don’t think to come to find me yourself. You send your incredibly attractive, what are you, his sidekick?” Fennec raises her chin in response, though you don’t know if that’s a confirmation or not. “You drag me down here where I find out that you’ve killed Bib Fortuna and become Tatooine’s newest crime lord. And yet, you still haven’t shown the basic decency of telling me why I’m here. Do you have to kill me because of some new fucked up bounty hunter code? Because you know that I won’t go down easy, whether you have me two to one or not.” You’re scarily aware of Fennec’s gaze boring into the back of your neck.

Silence screams into the empty air as Boba freezes on the throne. “You know.”

“That you’re a bounty hunter? I’m not an idiot. It was smart to not give me your last name that first time I asked. As soon as the hunters told me, I knew. Jango Fett was your father.” The name drops a bombshell in the center of the throne room.

“What do you know of Jango Fett?”

“Not much. Only what Hondo told me.” Hondo Ohnaka. The pirate, the outlaw, the man who had morals enough to take in a starving child rather than leaving her to die.

“Hondo Ohnaka.” He leans forward, clearly interested once he recognizes the name. “But you’re not Weequay.”

“Fortunately, the man cared for children. He wouldn’t abandon one in need. He fed me, essentially raised me.” You’d been caught picking his pocket. Instead of killing you, Hondo took you in. You feel the corner of your mouth quirking up at the memory of the old pirate and the small-time smuggling jobs he’d allowed you to help out on, with your small size and quick fingers. “He’d always remind me that he used to be a feared outlaw throughout the galaxy, and that he wouldn’t be as soft the next day.”

“But he kept you anyway.”

You shrug, “He lived by a code.”

“The pirate code?” There’s skepticism in his voice, and you don’t blame him.

“Hondo… didn’t exist by societies’ laws. He was honorable, but never good. Told me to be the same.” The advice was the best that you’d ever gotten. It allowed you to move on from guilt, to live isolated from the chaos of the galaxy. It taught you to live on your own and to be independent, to not feel for the suffering of the collective galaxy. But it also commanded you by the morals that saved your life. Don’t steal from the poor, but the rich won’t miss a handful of credits. Don’t hurt a sick child who’s just trying to eat. Don’t kill a helpless enemy, even if he hijacked your ship and crashed it onto a desert planet in the middle of nowhere. Leave him to die in the sand instead.

“I was stranded on Tatooine a few years ago. I had no money, and no ship. I found the abandoned farm, and put together something so that I could save enough to escape one day.” No communicator either, and you’d only just struck out on your own too. Hondo was lightyears away by the time you’d thought to try to comm him, and none of the technology was current enough to reach that far. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have come to pick you up anyway. “Whe--” Your voice breaks, and you curse your emotionally sensitive vocal cords. You clear your throat, “When you left--” “You think that I could have taken you with me.”

“You could have!”

“It was dangerous, angel. I hated that I had to leave the way that I did, but--”

“You smeared bacta on me and disappeared. Was I supposed to feel happy?”

---

The day he left started the same as any other. The moisture filter needed replacing, but you didn’t have the credits yet. So you had a date with an ancient filter and your multitool. You look up, flicking hair out of your face when you hear the footsteps behind you. “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer, as per usual, but he nods and rubs your hair with a gloved hand. “I’m scouting towards the flats today. Only a day trip, I’ll be home before dark.”

“Sounds good. See you.” You turn back to your multitool. You’re too focused on tweaking the settings to allow for a greater flow rate to see him smile, a rare one-sided grin before he turns to leave. His path takes him south, so he doesn’t see the three dark shapes in the heat waves approaching from the north.

The vaporator beeps loudly, protesting the absence of the filter and loudly proclaiming that it needs the filter to harvest water from the atmosphere. You tune out the obnoxious sound. After a ten minute struggle, you snap the filter’s frame out of place, exposing the internal wiring. You’re going to need a smaller drill point to reach the last resistor knob. You walk towards the workshop, wiping the sweat out of your eyes, fiddling with the screen as you do so. You’re too distracted by the tech in your hands to notice the figure slipping around the outside wall of your hut.

You grab the smaller bit and unlatch the last knob, absentmindedly walking outside to get better light into the inner workings. Despite the heat, Tatooine’s afternoons were perfect for mechanics, with the twin suns illuminating all but the tiniest crevices. Unfortunately, with your attention elsewhere, it doesn’t reveal the crime syndicate members waiting outside your door.

The air rushes out of you as something slams into your midsection, effectively knocking you onto your ass on the sand. The filter flies out of your hands, but you’re focused instead on the helmeted figure standing over you, vibroblade levelled at your throat. “Where is he?”

Your hands are shaking as you raise them in the air, attention fixated on the masked figure. Adrenaline surges through your veins, and you almost don’t notice the second one hanging back near the wall. A third, the only unhelmeted one, stands beyond the first, smiling nastily. The blade grazes your throat, and you whimper at the cool metal against your skin. “I said. Where is he?”

“Who? Maker, please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fett! Boba Fett!”

Your stomach drops at the surname. The hunter curses viciously, holstering the weapon and grabbing you by the front of your shirt. You’re yanked to your feet, “Intel said that he’s here, so I’m guessing that you’re his little pretty piece on the side.” An arm presses over your throat, and you gasp as your airway is almost cut off. “Where is he?” The question is purred into your ear silkily.

He must be insane if he thinks that you’re giving him that information. “I don’t know, he said he’s going towards the Dune Sea today. I swear, he’s gone. Left an hour ago.” You inhale sharply as the blade stops against your jaw.

“You’re pretty.” Your stomach turns at the sneer, and you fight the urge to bite him. Better to bide your time. “But an awful liar.” The angle changes so that the point is pressing into your skin and you cringe in anticipation of the cut.

A sharp command rings through the air and your captor stops. You exhale shakily, but don’t allow yourself to feel any hope. Boba’s gone and will be all day. They’re going to kill you, or use you as leverage when he returns. Or both. You’re not getting out of this alive, but you’re not going to lay down and die. Your eyes fix on the knife in front of you, but you’re visualizing where the hunter’s holster is.

Blaster fire explodes behind you, and you duck as sparks shower down onto you and your captor slumps to the ground. You don’t waste a second, ducking to rifle through the hunter’s pockets, snatching the blaster. Boba is there, features contorted in rage. He’s standing over a body, blaster in one hand and his staff in the other. Your eyes lock, and for a moment, you can almost hear him asking if you’re okay. You nod your head almost imperceptibly, but he gets the message.

A laugh rings through the air, and the moment shatters. There is a single hunter left, the one who was hanging by the hut while the other one threatened you. The cocksure swagger tells that this is the one in charge, the one who gave the command to keep you alive. And yet, the favor doesn’t hold any value to you as the helmet tilts up at Boba, “Boba Fett. You’re a hard man to find.” Boba doesn’t answer, instead jerking his head and you move towards him, “Bib Fortuna wants to talk.”

Now Boba responds, “I don’t.”

“150,000 credits to me says that you will.” Another blaster(fucking blasters) points at you, and you stop in your tracks, fighting to keep your breathing steady. He’s only a few meters away, a dead shot if he decides to let his finger slip.“Because he may want you alive, but not her. And she lied to me. Drop the blasters, or I shoot her now.”

You slowly lay the weapon down, eyes fixed on the barrel. Boba does the same, his hands raising placatingly as the shiny metal plops into the sand, “She’s nothing to me.”

“You can try to tell Bib Fortuna that, but he’ll believe it even less than I do. I’ll cut you a deal. You come with me, I get my credits, she gets to live.” You focus on Boba’s face, trying to steal some of his stony calm.

Boba smirks, “You’re even stupider than you look.” Then he’s moving, eating up the meters between them faster than you can blink. The staff arcs up, the wicked point glinting in the sun before smashing into the hunter’s helmet, crushing the metal with stunning ease. Your mouth is still hanging open when white-hot pain flares through your shoulder. Fucking blasters. You drop to the sand, curling in on yourself as your entire body seems to throb in agony. There’s no blood on your hand when you pull it away, but the smell of burnt flesh almost makes you vomit. The suns are too bright and you blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in your vision.

A form crouches over you, blocking out the light. Someone is saying your name repeatedly, slapping your face gently as they support your head and neck, “Wake up, stay with me. Gotta get bacta on that shoulder.”

You blink blearily. The world is swimming before your eyes and nothing is focusing correctly. It’s a struggle to stay awake, never mind focusing on what Boba is saying to you. The sand is so warm. Sleep would be nice. You wouldn’t have to stay awake and focus on the implications of what just went down. You wouldn’t need to feel the hole burned in your shoulder. Fuck, Boba had been shot before? How did he bear it?

He turns away, but he’s instantly back, gloved hands ripping apart your shirt at the shoulder. You mutter, “Leave it. Self cauterizes. Best way to get hurt.” The suns blend into twin slurs of light across the sky. ‘Meteors,’ you think, ‘They look like meteors. Or shooting stars.’ People make wishes on those, right?

Boba snorts, “Bantha shit.” He smears the bacta on the wound, and you shudder as the pain lessens marginally. He starts talking as he works, though it’s a struggle to understand anything when you’re so distracted by the world spinning beneath you. “Angel, I have to leave. They’ll be coming for me. I can’t stay here with you. Do you understand? Tell me you understand.”

Okay. Okay, you tell yourself it’s okay. You’ve been expecting this day for some time. He’s a dangerous man, it was right to assume that he’s wanted by someone, you just didn’t expect the someone to be the resident crime lord of the planet he is kriffing living on. It’s hard to stay in one place for some time, but he did. For you. And now it’s your turn to let him go, to sacrifice for him because he sacrificed for you. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to say it. You have to settle for a shaky breath and a tiny nod.

He lifts you and carries you inside, arranging you on the bed. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, a second of tranquility before he turns and begins gathering supplies. You fight against the encroaching sleep, resolving yourself to watch and savor these last moments. He won’t be coming back, not while Bib Fortuna holds the bounty on him, and Bib has a long memory.

So you commit every detail of him to memory. His grim and stoic face and the deadpan sarcastic humor that you’ve grown to love. His broad shoulders remind you of the first time you met him. It was absolute hell fitting his massive frame through the small doorway of your home, only for him to flatten you to the ground when you moved wrong. His careful and smooth gait that you observed every time he walked out into the dunes and away from you. His lips, which sometimes wear that devastatingly attractive sideways smirk that promises trouble, but more rarely wear a genuine smile that you’ve only seen once or twice. His powerful legs that pinned you to the mattress more than a few times. And you wish on the twin meteors outside that this wouldn’t be your last memory of him.

You try to summon words to your dry throat, but they come out as a raspy cough on your first attempt. “Boba.”

He’s by your side instantly, so quickly that you would do a double take if you had any strength to do so. “Here.” He offers the water jug to you and you sip, remembering the first day that you met him.

But there’s no time to reminisce, “I know that you have to go. I know that I probably won’t se--” Your voice breaks, but there’s no need to finish the sentence. “But I’ll be here. If you ever come back.”

---

“You broke your promise that last day.”

“It was self-defense.” A huff of air echoes through the modulator, and he sits back on the throne, “Angel, everytime I kill, I kill for a reason. It’s not senseless.” No, that’s not what you’re talking about.

“You broke your promise when you left Tatooine without me.” You took a chance on him. You trusted him to hold to his word. And he’d betrayed that trust.

“I was trying to protect you. You couldn’t come with me, it would have been too dangerous. You have an entire life ahead of you. Coming with me off-world would have thrown it all away.”

You laugh scornfully, “So what, you just made that promise without ever intending to keep it? Is that all your word as a man is worth?”

“I made the promise intending to keep it.” His voice is stiff, mirroring his posture as he regards you with all of the bearing of a king lording over his subject. You hate it. “But my loyalties changed, angel.” You open your mouth to continue, but he cuts you off, “I couldn’t bring you into my life within good conscience. I promised to save you in any opportunity promised. My way of saving you was leaving you here.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“Angel, if you had come with me, I would have been violating both aspects of the promise. You would have seen killing, pointless and meaningless death. And it would have destroyed you, whatever good hope for the universe you had left.”

You scoff, “I am not a good person. I have flaws, Boba, you just refuse to see them.” You tear your collar open, revealing the tattoo inked into your skin. You’d told him that it was artistic, and it was the most beautiful reminder of your old life that you had. It’s the mark of a thief on your home planet, curling into your skin and reminding you everyday of what you had run from. “I lied and cheated and stole my way through life. I am not too naive to hear the real reasons for you coming back.” Because that’s why he didn’t tell you. He thought you were too pure to know about his job. He thinks you’re too innocent to know why he’s back. Well, you're done with him handling you with kid gloves.

“If you ever cared about me, you’ll explain why you’re here now. Because I won’t stay.” You stare down the emotionless visor, knowing that you can’t hold your ground. Your anger is still burning white hot, but it’s beginning to subside for lack of fuel. You’re exhausted, and you have no power here. You inhale, ready to continue to ream him out except the breath catches in the back of your throat and comes out a strangled half-sob. You continue to stare at him, but all you can manage is a little, “You promised.”

The suit of armor staring back at you holds the power, and he could kick you out in an instant without a backwards look. What’s a few solar cycles compared to a lifetime of independence? But someone is going to have to give ground here, and you’re almost convinced that it’s going to be you when he speaks.

“Fennec.” Without a single word, she turns and leaves. You watch her retreating back, not knowing if you should feel relieved or trapped. “Do you want to know why I came back today? Or that day?”

A rebellious tear slips down your cheek, and you scrub it away angrily. “Pick one first.”

He’s silent again for several heart breaking moments, and you’re terrified that you’re going to have to leave, “I didn’t break my promise at first. I didn’t leave Tatooine that day.”

“What?” The tears have stopped, and that’s one little victory you won’t have to fight for here.

“The day that I left.” His hand rubs against the visor of his helmet, and you can almost imagine that he’s rubbing the visor of his helmet, right over the bridge of his nose the same way he always used to when he was stressed. “I went to Bib and bargained. A year of my service to leave you alone. I had no choice, it was the only way I could try to protect you after they came after me.”

Your heart drops and rises in your chest simultaneously, making you feel both like you’re plummeting off of a cliff while bound to a torn parachute. Puzzle pieces click into place too quickly, laying out a picture that’s still unfinished, but one that you understand primitively. The next command from Boba is unexpected, slicing through your problem solving.

“Up.”

You blink, “Excuse me?”

“Come here.” You stand and walk to him. “Give me your hands.” His grip is gentle, guiding your fingertips under the lip of the green painted beskar. His hands stay on your wrists as you carefully lift the helmet, inch by inch, and it’s a good thing that they did because without his support your hands might have been shaking too hard to get the damn thing off.

He looks the same as when he left all that time ago. Same strong chin, stern mouth, and scarred skin. But you look at his eyes, and you know that he did change in the time away. There’s a soft look in his eye that you had never seen before.

“What happened to you?” Your hand grazes over his skin, and he leans into your touch.

“I fell into a Sarlaac pit.” The familiar sardonic smirk appears, but you don’t smile along with him. It vanishes, “I--” He breaks eye contact with you, looking down and licking his lips as if he’s trying to gather the words to explain, “I met a man. And a child.” He looks back up, and you almost melt at the muted shine in his eyes, “They reminded me of what is important. I came back.”

You gently set the helmet on the ground and raise your hands to cup his face. “Boba--”

“I came back that last day because I realized that I loved you. I turned around and came back to tell you, and it’s a good thing I did.” His hands come up to cover yours, and there’s the wicked spark of humor in his eye. “I wanted to stay, angel. I wanted to stay so bad, but you were safer if I didn’t.” Your eyes slip closed as you lean down and graze your forehead against his, the way that he taught you. His hand leaves yours to plant on the back of your neck and holds you there. “We couldn't be together until Bib was dead. I was wrong, to come here first and to send Fennec for you. But I needed time to… prepare.”

He had to prepare for the possibility that the bargain didn’t work, or that you had moved on. He hadn’t needed to worry, because you promised that you’d be here. You slip onto his lap, straddling his thigh without moving your head away from his. “I’m here.”

“Are you still upset?” A hand comes up and ghosts over your hair. You lean into the touch almost subconsciously.

“I’m working through it.” You pull back and fix him with a stern gaze. “This isn’t resolved.”

“But?”

“We’ll work through it.” He nods, his mouth hanging slightly open in a look of contemplation.

“I won’t stay.” What? You freeze, dread spiking through your chest. He must feel the tension in your body because he rushes to clarify, “I-- uh I, ah shit that was a bad way to put it.” He pulls away and meets your eyes, “I will leave this. I’ll be Boba. Not Boba Fett. Not king of the crime underworld. I’ll be anything for you. We’ll escape off-world together or some shit. We can go find Hondo, if he’s still alive.”

You snort, “That old man is too tough to die.” You tap his nose with your fingertip, “Like one other that I know.”

He snaps his teeth playfully at your finger, and you squeal happily. “My point is--” He looks up at you with such peace in his eyes that you want to curl up against his chest and never leave, “We can do whatever you want. Just the two of us. But I want to stay with you, this time around. That past life is all done. We’ll find something else to do, besides hunting bounties.”

Your eyes track towards the doorway that Fennec disappeared through, and his gaze follows. “Fennec will be fine. I’ll release her from my service. Hell--” He chuckles dryly, “Maybe I’ll leave the throne to her.”

That’s a terrifying thought that you’re not quite ready to consider just yet. “You’d give this all up for me?”

“Angel, that’s what love is. Sacrifice. I just didn’t learn it soon enough.”

You kiss him, a real one this time, melting into his lips, “Love can be compromise. And this is a point I’m willing to give on.”

“What?”

“I’ll admit,” You tilt your head, a mischievous grin sliding across your face, “Queen of the crime underworld has a nice ring to it after being a moisture farmer for several years.”

He smiles, the real one this time, “I like the title on you.” His hands attach to your hips, holding you down on the hard ridge of his thigh as he grinds the leg up into your cunt. “Makes me wanna act out, Your Majesty.”

You gasp at the surge of wetness between your legs. Stars, it’s been so long that you almost forgot how much you loved the feeling of his body beneath you. “Boba--”

“Ah ah, is that any way to address your king?” So this is how he wants to play? Fine.

“No, Your Royalness.” Wrong answer. One hand comes down hard on your ass, and there’s going to be a mark for sure. “Your Excellency?” Nope, and another spank burns on your butt. “My king?” You brace yourself for another, but the hand stays.

“Hmmm, I like that one.” His grip tightens, and you know that you’re going to have finger shaped bruises on the pillowy flesh. He captures your lips against his, and you roll your hips downwards onto his thigh. His erection rests heavy against the inside of your thigh, and you purposefully angle your hips to create more friction against it. “Angel, I want nothing more than to take you now, but--” He stands with a grunt, easily hoisting you into the air with his hands supporting your butt.

“--I’d rather taste you first.”

A/N: Okay wow this took me so long. This project has literally been in the works for months, and I found a way to finish it finally! I’m not sure if the Boba Fett craze has passed yet, but either way here we have Boba. Some throne-fucking for those of you who would care for it.

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #smut #fluff #violence #daddy boba #could rail me anyday and I would THANK him #sir #just a crumb of cock please

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thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters · 3 years

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Nothing Like You

Summary: Sam’s usually not the pining kind. He’s put his feelings for you aside some time ago. A chance encounter brings everything back, but this time things are different and Sam is done pretending.

Created for: @princessmisery666 ‘s Daily Mix Challenge

Prompt: ‘Nothing Like This’ by Blonde and Craig David

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Sam is smitten, bad humor on my part

Word count: 1.5K

A/N: Stacey, you absolutely wonderful darling of an angel, thank you for being you. As promised, here’s my entry for your challenge. Hope you like it <3

Beta: @slytherkins (So are you, btw. Wonderful. Amazing. A gift.)

|| JJ’s Masterlist || Tip me <3

(gif)

Sam hadn’t seen you since that hunt in Mississippi. The one where he almost kissed you. Dean had ripped him a new one when they were back in Baby, on their way home to the bunker. He had seen the look in Sam’s eyes whenever they were focused on you and Dean knew his little brother well enough to recognize what it had meant. It was the first time in a while they had met a new pair of hunters they worked well with. Seeing as they always had a new fight ahead of them, it would be nice to be able to continue calling the couple their allies. However, as Dean had told Sam that night in the car, staying on good terms with their new acquaintances wouldn’t be an option anymore if the guy caught Sam drooling over his girlfriend.

It hadn’t been like Sam at all to fall for someone so fast and so hard. Out of him and his brother, he was usually better at keeping things professional whenever needed. And with you already being in a relationship, this had definitely been the case. Yet, there was something about you, something about the way you made him feel, that had convinced him the two of you were meant to be more than just friends. But that was then, and despite his silent hoping, you hadn’t crossed paths since.

Until he found himself back in Mississippi and back in your presence. Sam wasn’t quite sure what it was about the southern state and running into you, but he wasn’t complaining.

A haunting at a mansion had brought you both to the same city. You’d both shown up to the crime scene where the victim was lying in a pool of her own blood - not exactly the kind of setting in which Sam had hoped he would see you again.

The victim left behind a distraught husband and two children, who had all said they’d noticed some cold spots but hadn’t seen anything strange. The family’s staff hadn’t been able to help you out either. Though, they did mention something that was of interest to the two faux FBI-agents: one of the staff members had unexpectedly quit earlier that day.

After having asked around a bit, they found out the best way to get a hold of their possible witness was to visit him at the nightclub he frequented on the weekends.

“We should probably make sure we blend in a little more before we head into a place like that,” you had suggested while heading back to your respective cars.

“I’d do anything you say,” Sam had kept to himself while he watched you drive off to your motel.

Another thing he hadn’t mentioned was the lack of backup you had shown up with. For just a second, he had allowed himself to think maybe you weren’t with Rowan anymore. But he knew there were plenty of reasons why the other hunter hadn’t joined you on this simple hunt. After all, Dean hadn’t come with Sam on this one either, simply because he had been called elsewhere. The same could just as easily have been true for your boyfriend.

Inside the club, it was even louder than Sam had expected when the two of you entered. Music was blasting from every direction and people were talking loudly while moving along on the dancefloor to the beat. Sam had changed out of his fed suit and into some worn out jeans and a gray shirt. He hadn’t exactly been sure what you had meant by ‘blending in’ to a place like this, since this kind of scene had never been his thing.

Luckily, you hadn’t gone all out, either. Unluckily, you didn’t have to do much to drive Sam crazy. Your pantsuit had been traded in for a playful light blue dress that hung loosely around your frame, reaching just above your knees. Your hair was down for a change, only a few strands being pinned up and secured at the back of your head. With your line of work, you always had your hair tied where it couldn’t get in the way. Sam had never seen your locks catch in the wind like they’d done outside before they entered the nightclub. He’d been unaware he had been staring until you put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was ready to head inside.

How he’d made it inside and onto the dancefloor with you, he couldn’t quite remember. But somehow he had ended up in front of you, surrounded by a bunch of people moving in ways that might’ve even made Dean blush.

“Sam,” you called over the music. “Sam, hey!” Your hand was waving in front of his face and eventually he managed to focus his eyes back on yours. “You’re all stiff!” you said, laughing.

Sam’s eyes grew wide with panic and his head shot down so fast it should’ve given him whiplash. His face burned red as he looked down at his crotch but nothing seemed to be going on down there. In front of him, your laughing became louder.

Your hand reached for his chin to push his head back up and make him look at you. “I meant your dancing,” you said, clearly trying to suppress another fit of laughter. “Loosen up a bit, we’re trying to look like we’re supposed to be here, remember?”

Sam’s cheeks burned an even brighter red as he felt your hand fall from his face and move to his arm, sliding all the way down until you could wrap your hand around his. You grabbed his other hand as well, and when Sam realized you were trying to pull his body into motion, he did his best to attempt something that might have been viewed by some people as dancing. If those people were squinting, from a couple miles away, and it was completely dark.

You laughed again and Sam almost wanted to just keep embarrassing himself so he could keep hearing that wonderful sound. No doubt people around you were watching him struggle, too. But all he could focus on was you, that was all that mattered to him in that moment.

Undoubtedly realizing your attempts weren’t doing much so far, you changed tactics by placing your hands on his waist and moving closer to him. You beckoned him to lean in and Sam dipped his head so he could hear you better.

“Try to relax,” you instructed him with that sweet voice of yours. “Just follow my lead.”

With that, your body started moving and Sam wouldn’t have been able to resist moving along with you if he had wanted to. Which he definitely, one hundred percent, did not.

Your bodies moved in sync, perfectly fitting against each other as the music blasted on in the background. Everything around you faded away until it was just him and you. Sam let you guide him effortlessly and tried to loosen up like you told him.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You made him feel a certain way, a way he hadn’t experienced before. It was killing him not to act on it. The way you were moving against him wasn’t helping much, either.

“Where’d you learn to move like…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he looked at you, his eyes darkening, “...this.”

You grinned at him, causing his heart to be flung right out of his chest. “We all have our ways to blow off steam,” you explained, moving your lips closer to his ear so you wouldn’t have to speak as loud. “I used to go out like this a lot when I first started hunting.”

“With your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” You barely missed a beat.

The simple word could have just been plain information, a life-update to a friend who hadn’t caught up yet. But there was this look in your eyes that told Sam you meant something different by telling him.

After all this wondering, and thinking ‘what if’, Sam wasn’t sure if he should act so fast. Then he saw you raise an eyebrow, and your bottom lip was sucked between your teeth as you looked straight into his eyes.

All the doubt that had forced him to hold back was thrown out the window in a single motion. He finally let go and his large hands grabbed your ass to pull you even closer against him. Your hands moved to his neck and in an instant, your lips were on his. He kissed you hungrily, music drowning out even further into the background. All Sam could hear was the pounding in his ears and the sweet sounds you made when his teeth tugged at your bottom lip.

Let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!

Team Game Face (Everything tags) @princessmisery666 || @lyarr24 || @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Team Bitch Face (Sam tags) [empty. poor sammy]

#JJ's fics #PMDailyMix666 #supernatural #sam x reader #spn oneshot #pining #Sam Winchester #sam winchester oneshot #spnfanficpond

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rickywritesstuff · 3 years

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our best wasn't good enough - paul x marko (the lost boys)

warnings: main character death

desc: how i think paul reacted during marko's death scene + some added gayness

Paul slept relatively well, as did most vampires. He had gotten so used to sleeping through the noises and chaos of the day, that he didn't expect to get woken up that day, especially not by vampire hunters and a piercing scream.

Marko's scream.

"Marko!" Paul screamed as his friend thumped head-first to the ground. David flew past him and Dwayne, chasing after the vampire hunters.

"Shit," Dwayne muttered. "I'll go see if there's- I- wait, is- is he alive?" He didn't know what to do. He was just standing there as Paul scrambled over to Marko.

"Marko?" Paul whispered. He could feel Marko's shallow breath below his hand. "Shit, Dwayne he's alive. He's alive! Go get a- I don't know, anything. Bandages? Do we have- I don't know, just do something!"

Dwayne nodded, running off to find something of use, leaving Paul and Marko alone. Paul took off his jacket to cover Marko's wound. He knew it probably wouldn't work, I mean, for God's sake, there was a giant hole in his chest, but it was something.

"Paul-"

Paul shook his head. "No, stop, shut up. Please. Just don't- don't say anything, okay? We're gonna get you fixed up, okay, Marko? You'll be fine, I promise." Paul was crying, visibly shaking as he held Marko's hand in his own.

Marko squeezed Paul's hand. He was looking at him now, doing his best to smile. "We both know that's not true."

Paul bit back a sob. "Shut up, don't say that. You're gonna be fine and we're gonna kick those shitheads asses, okay?" He smiled, too, fighting back even more tears.

Marko laughed slightly, then winced in pain. "It's a nice thought, Paul." He paused for a moment to catch his breath. "But I- I'm dying."

Paul began sobbing, leaning down so his head touched Marko's neck. "No, stop! Stop saying that! You're f-fine, you're not gonna die! Please. You can't die."

Marko began crying, too, lifting his arm up as best as he could to touch Paul's head, burying his hand in his hair. "I love you, Paul," he said quietly, his voice cracking.

Paul began crying more. He stopped momentarily to say, "I love you, too."

His sobs quieted slightly as Dwayne came back, looking defeated. "I couldn't find anything," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Paul didn't know what to say. He had more or less come to terms with the fact that Marko was going to die in a matter of seconds. It was a miracle he had even survived this long. Still, nothing? He wanted to break down into sobs all over again. So he did, holding onto Marko's waist, attempting to hold him closer than he already was.

"There can't- there can't just be nothing. No. No, there has to be something, Dwayne. I can't let you die, Marko, I can't. I can't." Paul's voice cracked as he felt Marko's breathing get shallower and shallower.

"We did our best, Paul. It's okay."

"We did our best and he's still dying, Dwayne!" Paul screamed, sitting up now. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. "Why can't our best be good enough to save Marko?"

"Paul-"

"Get out, Dwayne." He spoke quietly. "I'm sorry. Please. I just-" He didn't have to continue, because Dwayne nodded in understanding. Paul was closer to Marko than either him or David. He couldn't imagine how he was feeling at that moment.

Paul turned back to Marko as Dwayne left to another part of the cave. "Marko?" Paul's voice was trembling. He was afraid and weak and he wished he could do something more. No, he wished Marko hadn't been goddamned staked in the first place. He wanted to tear apart the pieces of shit that staked him, if they weren't already dead.

Marko's eyes met Paul, and he gave him a small smile, a sign to show him he was still alive. He couldn't speak now, they both knew it was too much for him.

"Marko..." Paul fought back the tears threatening to come pouring down his face again. The last words Marko would hear couldn't be sad or grim. He didn't want that for him. This was a bad enough situation as it was. He swallowed. "Marko, if there is an afterlife or something, you promise to haunt me forever, right?" he joked, giving a half-hearted smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Marko laughed. "Absolutely," he said quietly, his voice dry and croaky. He swallowed, pushing past the amount of pain he felt when he spoke. "I love you, Paul."

Paul smiled, kissing Marko quickly before he felt the other's breathing stop and heard his hand fall to the ground with a light thump. Paul broke down into sobs, leaning his head against Marko's chest. He was shaking again, letting all the tears that he had previously been holding in out.

As he held Marko's lifeless body in his arms, all he could think about was one thing.

He was gonna kill those bastards that night, that was for goddamn sure.

#might make a sequel to this ngl🏃💨#tlb #the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #parko #paul tlb #marko tlb

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sekceesimps · 3 years

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A Rose Made of Chains Ch 1

a/n Thanks for the 50 followers everyone! Keep sending us feedback and requests.

As promised here is chapter 1. Monday (tomorrow) night I’ll be publishing chapter 2 and then chapter 3 on Tuesday night. More info shortly but when we hit another milestone I’ll be publishing chapters 4-6.

Once again, thank you so much for the support! We never thought that we’d get this much appreciation from everyone. Hope you enjoy!

sincerely,

Coffee

Teaser Ch 2 Ch 3

teaser for part 2, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7

Kurapika (aged up) x Reader x Chrollo

Soulmate AU where you can find your soulmate through matching soulmarks.

Chapter 1

The rocking of the dingy boat made it hard for you to stand, but you did so nonetheless. Bitter water and a nervous type of air had taken over your senses. Your determination to get to the exam had forced you to ignore the wobbling of your legs ad you pushed yourself even further to get to the wheelhouse. When you had finally reached it, you noticed a small kid and two others also struggling to stay on their feet as the storm raged on. You had smiled queasily at the tall man with glasses. You don’t remember much during that moment, at least, not until the blonde passenger began a passionate speech. You tuned most of it out until you saw those glowing scarlet eyes, filled with fiery rage and fervor. Those eyes that haunt your dreams and still stick with you even now. You remember looking deep into that vermillion and knowing exactly who the blonde was in that moment. After his dramatic reveal, you yourself had quietly taken out your contacts and looked at him with a matching passion. In that moment, the two of you knew you were destined to be together, two survivors on the hunt for vengeance.

»»————-　　————-««

The exam itself wasn’t too rough for you. You and the blonde Kurta, who had later told you that his name was Kurapika, had shared stories as you ran together through the first phase with ease. You had learned that he had been the lone survivor of the massacre. He listened intently when you informed him that you weren’t fully part of the clan, but rather that your father had been and you were raised to be a hunter with your mother far away from the Lukso Province. At that time, you were still hesitant to tell him about your home life, wanting to only listen to him and memorize how he looked in case he was also taken from you. You had always believed yourself to be unlucky for inheriting the scarlet eyes. You had viewed it as a mark of death and a hideous trait from your father, as it had been drilled into your head for the past five years. You had confided in Kurapika about this self hatred, sobbing softly at the thought of you and your family being hunted down for them. You hoped these words wouldn't be intense enough for him to leave you too. When the both of you had reached the end of the tunnel, he had pulled you in close and told you that nothing was more important to him than protecting you, the last member of his clan. You remember how passionate he was with this promise, nuzzling his face into your hair. The rose surrounded by chains inked onto his wrist, the one that was also on your body, had gone unnoticed by you.

»»————-　　————-««

The second phase of the exam was when you truly began bonding with Kurapika’s companions. Your initial wariness, that his friends had initially interpreted as aloofness, began fading away as you took on a more helpful role for them, a role which would later turn into a sisterly one. After the examiner had let you all loose in the forest, you had quickly joined up again with the blonde Kurta, while also going with the people who were on the boat with you. The green haired boy named Gon and the tall man named Leorio stuck close as you led them through the foggy swamp. Through your trek, you had learned more about who they were and in that time you vowed to yourself that you would protect the young boy and try to help him on his quest to becoming a hunter. His demeanor and passion was something you admired and wished to see more of. You remember how in that trek, your small party had come across the magician named Hisoka that Kurapika had initially told you to be wary of before the exam had even started. You were all crouching and watching as the red haired man ruthlessly slaughtered a capable group of examinees. The rest of what happened was a little blurry to you, but you remember your anger when the magician had smirked at you and told you how ravishing you looked and in that moment you had chosen to fight. It had ended rather quickly, his combat skills were much better than you could have ever imagined. Somehow he had still managed to flirt with you while you and Gon tried to attack. You attributed your flushed red face to the fight rather than some of the steamy words he had whispered before tossing you to the ground. Hisoka had easily taken out Leorio but happily said that your group had passed, whatever that meant. The atmosphere was uncomfortable to say the least as you and your companion continued on your way. You and Gon successfully met up again with Kurapika and Gon’s white haired friend from the first phase. Kurapika had quietly asked if you were okay as he tended to a minor wound on your arm. You fondly remember the concentration on his face as you reassured him of your safety, no one you had ever met showed you this type of warmth before. That moment was when you had realized that you cared deeply for him.

»»————-　　————-««

The rest of the exam had been fairly unmemorable. There was a whole struggle with the gourmet hunters, but you had powered through with Kurapika at your side, as usual. The third phase was unfortunately when you and your new friends had gotten separated. The five of you had lined up on the tiles at the top of trick tower and jumped in. You didn’t know what happened to your companions, but you recognized the urgency of passing the phase and went down the dark hallway alone. You recall the surprise of meeting up with Hisoka during the test, teaming up to brave the last part of the tower together. The two of you ended up successfully being the first and second people to pass, with days left to spare. As the hours passed with you and the magician wordlessly sitting together in silence, you couldn’t help but think of what Kurapika and the rest of the boys were doing right now. Your anxiety only increased when other examinees continued coming through and the blonde was still nowhere in sight.

“Darling, what’s got you looking so stressed. Your eyebrows are too crinkled,” Hisoka had interrupted your endlessly running fearful thoughts about 50 hours into the exam. You only sighed and ignored him. “You know, we make an incredible team. I’d love to truly fight you one day. You have this certain aura that I would just love to break” he continued and licked his lips, looking down on you with eyes of pure malice.

“I’ve got a delicious idea that could tire you out easily,” the man grinned with mischief and scooted closer to you. You glared at him in response, frantically trying to push him away. He chuckles at your pitiful attempt, but leaves you be for now.

“Thanks for the concern, I guess. I’m just tired and I can’t seem to fall asleep.” you mumbled and fiddled with your hands. You wished that Kurapika were with you, his presence somehow always filled you with ease.

It was down to the wire, when your hope ran out and you had accepted that your companions would not pass this phase. Sighing you went to Hisoka for a conversation, at this point he was the only person you knew since everybody else around you filled you with uncertainty. It was at that moment that your four companions and some other guy burst into the clearing at the last possible second. You grinned and waved at Kurapika, but he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was glaring daggers at Hisoka, who had put his hand on your waist when you hadn’t noticed. You shrugged him off and gave the blonde teen the warmest of smiles. You hoped that it made his heart melt, he had seemed cold after you two had been seperated.

»»————-　　————-««

Zevil Island was unbearably hot. The whole area was much too warm for your liking. It was almost off putting how hot it was, a sharp contrast to the freezing cold demeanors of your fellow examinees. As you got off the boat, Gon had smiled and congratulated you on coming in second. This meant that you were one of the first to get off the boat and begin the trial. Kurapika looked far away as you had told him how you planned to stick by his side this time. He nodded solemnly as you told him that you would be off first so you would find him when he started. You had hidden in a tree and waited hours for him to finally get there. You remember grinning and how that instantly put him in a less tense position after you had jumped down and surprised him. You hoped that his ease with you was a sign that he cared about you too. Fortunately, neither of you had a target you knew, so you had both got your buttons fairly quickly, the two of you truly being excellent partners. The rest of the test was spent helping Leorio again, as the two of you powered through together, back to your friendly dynamic. You treasured how he said he wouldn’t let you out of his sight again. With that phase over, and all of you at rest before the final phase, you saw it fit to bring up soulmates with Kurapika.

“Kurapika! How are you.” You caught him as he was pacing the area in front of his room.

“Huh? Oh, hey Y/N,” he had grinned with surprise at seeing you, “do you want to go on a walk with me?” His invitation made your cheeks flush red, but you gave an enthusiastic yes and followed him. You talked about meaningless things like music taste at first, then your ambitions, your thoughts on the future, and then finally you brought up the one subject you were anxious about covering. You were beginning to have a suspicion that the blonde was your soulmate. The two of you had just gotten along so perfectly. It seemed like fate intervening when you two had met on that boat and he had revealed his identity. You hoped that it would be him who you’d spend your life with. He was so intelligent and calm. Not to mention, also incredibly attractive. You weren’t too sure how to ask him if he had a soulmate. Your own soulmark was inked onto your thigh, a place that made it hard for others to be able to identify you as their own soulmate. The placement made it much easier to pass off as someone without a soulmate. It was common for people not to have a soulmate now. In fact, it was also a common occurrence for people to lose their soulmate and then their mark would disappear. There were also terrible people in this world who would leave their soulmates, not everyone had a happily ever after and you were especially aware of this, your own parents being a soulmate couple that split up. The concept of a soulmate was once incredibly appealing to you as you grew up, but the more pain you saw in the world the more you gave up on the dream of a perfect partner determined by fate. Yet you silently prayed to whatever God that was listening for his mark to be a blooming rose being wrapped up by heavy chains.

“So, what are your thoughts about soulmates?” you inquired casually. He looked at you with a slightly surprised smile before answering,

“I think it’s definitely an interesting concept. I want to find someone one day. The idea of a person matching and completing my soul is so fulfilling. But it would be too much of a danger for me to have a soulmate right now. I want to meet them later, after I’ve done what I need to do. I just can’t have them be with me, it wouldn’t be fair to them,” he stated seriously, “what about you?” Those few words promptly break your heart. If you were his soulmate, you promised yourself in that instance to hold strong and wait for him. His heart is too heavy right now to take on the burden of you.

You sit next to him in silence for a bit, unsure of how to answer him, so instead you ask “What’s your soulmark,” breaking the awkwardness. He smiles and shows his wrist to you. In sharp contrast to his pale skin you see black and red marking his left wrist. A crimson rose encased in black chains, it matches yours perfectly. Your stomach drops. You don’t want to seem suspicious so you run your fingers lightly over his delicate skin and smile, you compliment the design and tell him how lucky he is.

“Y/N, can I see your soulmark” he had asked so sweetly and looked at you with the soft smoky eyes you had begun to love.

“I actually don’t have one,” you grin, trying to hide your pained words. It hurt you more than anything to lie to him, to have to see his small amount of joy dissipate. It’s all for the best you think to yourself. Someone as perfect as him shouldn’t have to weigh himself down with someone like me. You smile softly again and change the topic before wishing him a goodnight.

»»————-　　————-««

Passing the hunter exam and gaining your license didn’t fill you with as much excitement as you expected it to. You felt bad for Gon, seeing as his friend didn’t pass. You liked the green haired boy quite a bit and wanted to help him the best you could. So when your soulmate said that he was going to go off on his own and earn money for the auction, you decided in that moment that it was time for you two to part. You wanted to help Gon find Killua and you needed some time without Kurapika so that you could think of your own future. You told him this but not without a vow to see him again.

“I promise that I’ll see you again” you declared with angry resolve. Kurapika smiles softly and places a light kiss on your forehead. You sigh and interlocked your fingers with his for one last time.

“As do I,” he replied, backing away and waving to you and your travel companions. You were going to fight tooth and nail to see him again in York New City.

»»————-　　————-««

Icy water splashed across your frail sleeping form. You sharply gasp as the frigid splash wakes you from your dreams about the past. You don’t know how long you’ve been here or even where you are. You let out another sharp yelp in pain when a blade as quick as light rips the skin on your barely healed cheek apart. It always starts like this. A man comes in and jolts you awake, then he reopens the wounds from when they took you, before implementing some new form of injury. The last form of torture is always expected in your day and you weren’t sure in the first few sessions, but in all of them the same dark figure stood behind in the shadows. Watching but never saying anything. You were in agony at the end of every day, but your decisiveness remained the same each time. At the end of these sessions your torturer would ask if you wanted to join his group, you would let out a snarky reply saying no, then he would leave you in darkness for several days before coming back and starting it all over again. However, your resolve was becoming shorter and shorter with each passing day. You didn’t know if your friends even knew you were here. You were starting to believe that no one was coming to save you, no happy ending in sight. All you want is to see your blonde soulmate one last time. The dark quickly closes in again as the door closes shut, leaving you to your dream like state again.

a/n Chrollo in the next chapter, I promise. Please leave some feedback, as this is my first chapter fic. Anyways hope you enjoyed, Ch 2 out tomorrow!

~Happy Holidays!~

#kurapika #kurapika x reade #angst #smut #dub con #chrollo #chrollo x reader #x reader smut #soulmate au #kurapika x reader #soulmark #hisoka #hisoka x reader #fem!reader #kurta!reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #fluff

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